We were bounding along, said a recent traveler on a local South African single-line railway, at the rate of about seven miles an hour, and the whole train was shaking terribly. I expected every moment to see my bones protruding through my skin. Passengers were rolling from one end of the car to the other. I held on firmly to the arms of the seat. Presently we settled down a bit quieter; at least. I could keep my hat on, and my teeth didn't chatter. There was a quiet looking man opposite me. I looked up with a ghastly smile, wishing to appear cheerful, and said:
"We are going a bit smoother, I see."
"Yes," he said, "we're off the track now."
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