situated high and dry on a steep bank; but the river
which rolled between us and that town was a roaring,
boiling
stream, and the only possible way to cross
it, I found, was to walk over a railroad trestle, already
trembling under the force of the water.
There were hundreds of men on the river-bank
watching the flood, and when they saw me start
out on the empty trestle they set up a cheer that
nearly threw me off. The river was wide and the
ties far apart, and the roar of the
stream below was
far from reassuring; but in some way I reached the
other side, and was there helped off the trestle by
what the newspapers called ``strong and willing
hands.''
Another time, in a
desperateresolve to meet a
lecture
engagement, I walked across the railroad
trestle at Elmira, New York, and when I was half-
way over I heard shouts of
warning to turn back, as
a train was coming. The trestle was very high at
that point, and I realized that if I turned and faced
an oncoming train I would
undoubtedly lose my
nerve and fall. So I kept on, as rapidly as I could,
accompanied by the shrieks of those who objected
to witnessing a
violent death, and I reached the end
of the trestle just as an express-train thundered on
the
beginning of it. The next
instant a policeman
had me by the shoulders and was shaking me as if
I had been a bad child.
``If you ever do such a thing again,'' he thundered,
``I'll lock you up!''
As soon as I could speak I
assured him fervently
that I never would; one such experience was all I
desired.
Occasionally a flash of humor,
conscious or un-
conscious, lit up the gloom of a
trying situation.
Thus, in Parkersburg, West Virginia, the train I
was on ran into a coal-car. I was sitting in a sleep-
er, leaning back
comfortably with my feet on the
seat in front of me, and the force of the
collision lifted
me up, turned me completely over, and deposited
me, head first, two seats beyond. On every side I
heard cries and the crash of human bodies against
unyielding substances as my fellow-passengers flew
through the air, while high and clear above the
tumult rang the voice of the conductor:
``Keep your seats!'' he yelled. ``KEEP YOUR SEATS!''
Nobody in our car was
seriously hurt; but, so
great is the power of vested authority, no one smiled
over that order but me.
Many times my
medical experience was useful.
Once I was on a train which ran into a buggy and
killed the woman in it. Her little daughter, who
was with her, was badly hurt, and when the train
had stopped the crew lifted the dead woman and
the injured child on board, to take them to the next
station. As I was the only doctor among the pas-
sengers, the child was turned over to me. I made up
a bed on the seats and put the little patient there,
but no woman in the car was able to
assist me. The
tragedy had made them
hysterical, and on every
side they were
weeping and
nerveless. The men were
willing but inefficient, with the
exception of one un-
couth woodsman whose
trousers were tucked into
his boots and whose hands were phenomenally big
and
awkward. But they were also very gentle, as
I realized when he began to help me. I knew at
once that he was the man I needed, notwithstanding
his unkempt hair, his general ungainliness, the
hat he wore on the back of his head, and the pink
carnation in his buttonhole, which, by its very in-
congruity, added the final
accent to his unprepossess-
ing appearance. Together we worked over the child,
making it as comfortable as we could. It was hard-
ly necessary to tell my aide what I wanted done;
he seemed to know and even to
anticipate my efforts.