An old lady was going from Brookfield to Stamford, and took a seat in the
train for the first and last time in her life. During the ride the train
was thrown down an embankment. Crawling from beneath the _débris_
unhurt, she spied a man sitting down, but with his legs laid down by some
heavy timber. “Is this Stamford?” she anxiously inquired. “No, madam,”
was the reply, “this is a catastrophe.” “Oh!” she cried, “then I hadn’t
oughter got off here.”