The Fly in the Hardsauce

WHEN I was on the verge of adolescence, a philosophical old tramp passed our country school one recess and, testing what results were being got with the taxpayers' money, held court by the roadside. He propounded a question which he seemed to think metered any intelligence--something about if you jumped straight up in a fast-moving passenger train where would you land provided your fare was paid?--and I answered the question quickly and correctly, having experimented, and possibly as the only bumpkin there who had ever been on a train, and the sage old tramp beamed upon me, patting my skull--a trifle firmly, I thought--and said, "Son, you've got a head on your shoulders."