My respiration was 8 to 1, my inspiration was 9 to 6 for a place,
and my perspiration was like a cloudburst.

I had made my will with a few mental and Indian reservations, and
was choking up for the last time when, with one mighty jump
forward, the train shook itself free from the tunnel and once more
we were out in the sunlight.

After picking enough sulphur off my clothes to make a box of
matches, I reached gently over and tried to put the window up, but
it was closed tighter than a sacred saloon on Sunday.

I gave the window-sash a couple of upper-cuts and a few short-arm
punches, but it sat there and laughed in my face.

The brakeman came through, and I spoke to him about the window. He
said, "The first time I see the president of the road I'll tell him
about it!" and left me flat.

Once more I tried to open that window, but I only succeeded in
opening my collar; so then I opened my mouth and made a short but
spicy announcement, whereupon the old lady in the seat ahead of me
got up and left the car.

Just then the train pulled into a station which I hadn't paid for,
but I went out and took it, because it contained a little fresh air.

Some day I will mention the name of this railroad company and make
them blush.