By further figuring， it appeared that between New Yorkand Rochester the Erie ran eight passenger-trains each wayevery day—16 altogether； and carried a daily average of 6，000persons. That is about a million in six months—the populationof New York City. Well， the Erie kills from 13 to 25 personsof ITS million in six months； and in the same time 13，000 ofNew York’s million die in their beds！ My flesh crept， my hairstood on end. “This is appalling！” I said. “The danger isn’t intraveling by rail， but in trusting to those deadly beds. I willnever sleep in a bed again.”
I had figured on considerably less than one-half the lengthof the Erie road. It was plain that the entire road must transportat least eleven or twelve thousand people every day. There aremany short roads running out of Boston that do fully half asmuch； a great many such roads. There are many roads scatteredabout the Union that do a prodigious passenger business.
Therefore it was fair to presume that an average of 2，500passengers a day for each road in the country would be almostcorrect. There are 846 railway lines in our country， and 846times 2，500 are 2，115，000. So the railways of America movemore than two millions of people every day； six hundred andfifty millions of people a year， without counting the Sundays.
They do that， too—there is no question about it； though wherethey get the raw material is clear beyond the jurisdiction of myarithmetic； for I have hunted the census through and through，and I find that there are not that many people in the UnitedStates， by a matter of six hundred and ten millions at the veryleast. They must use some of the same people over again， likely.
San Francisco is one-eighth as populous as New York；there are 60 deaths a week in the former and 500 a week inthe latter—if they have luck. That is 3，120 deaths a year inSan Francisco， and eight times as many in New York—sayabout 25，000 or 26，000. The health of the two places is thesame. So we will let it stand as a fair presumption that thiswill hold good all over the country， and that consequently25，000 out of every million of people we have must die everyyear. That amounts to one-fortieth of our total population.
One million of us， then， die annually. Out of this millionten or twelve thousand are stabbed， shot， drowned， hanged，poisoned， or meet a similarly violent death in some otherpopular way， such as perishing by kerosene-lamp and hoopskirtconflagrations， getting buried in coal-mines， falling offhouse-tops， breaking through church， or lecture-room floors，taking patent medicines， or committing suicide in other forms.
The Erie railroad kills 23 to 46； the other 845 railroads kill anaverage of one-third of a man each； and the rest of that million，amounting in the aggregate to that appalling figure of 987，631corpses， die naturally in their beds！
You will excuse me from taking any more chances on thosebeds. The railroads are good enough for me.
And my advice to all people is， Don’t stay at home any morethan you can help； but when you have GOT to stay at homea while， buy a package of those insurance tickets and sit upnights. You cannot be too cautious.
（One can see now why I answered that ticket-agent in themanner recorded at the top of this sketch.）
The moral of this composition is， that thoughtless peoplegrumble more than is fair about railroad management in theUnited States. When we consider that every day and nightof the year full fourteen thousand railway-trains of variouskinds， freighted with life and armed with death， go thunderingover the land， the marvel is， NOT that they kill three hundredhuman beings in a twelvemonth， but that they do not kill threehundred times three hundred！