§ 93 As a Favor to the Railroad
A New Yorker had a bad attack of grippe and went South to recuperate. He stopped a few days in a small town in South Carolina. When he got ready to leave for the North he found the official bus had vanished; probably the driver had gone joy riding. There was no conveyance, public or private, to be had; in order to catch his train the Northerner was compelled to labor afoot over a mile and a half of dusty road, with a valise in either hand.
When he staggered up to the tiny station there was no one in sight except an old darky who was sitting on the platform.
“Uncle,” inquired the New Yorker, “why in the name of goodness did they build this depot so far from town?”
The old man scratched his head.
“I don’t know, boss,” he said—“onless it wuz because dey wanted to git it closer to de railroad.”