In the early days of railroading in this country, an elderly gentleman
was asked by the conductor for his ticket. The train had stopped at
every little station, town and hamlet on the way, and was two hours
late. "Your ticket, please," said the conductor. The man fumbled a great
while in his vest pocket and finally presented a half-fare cardboard.
"Come," said the conductor, "this won't do, not for a man with hair as
gray as yours, any way--this is a child's ticket."
"Well," responded the weary traveller, "I was a child when this train
started, and I guess I'll be as old as Methusaleh by the time it gets me
to where I want to go."