“And, my dear sir,” said the Q. C., who, more observant than myself, had noticed a pile of H’s accumulating in front of the man, “there is a much stronger English case, where one Martin arrived at a station less than two minutes before the time for the train to leave, and while running along the line—in a place where he should not have gone—in order to reach the train which was a little ahead, he stumbled over a switch handle, fell on his elbow, and was considerably hurt. The jury considered that the company had been guilty of negligence and want of proper care, and gave Martin £20, and the court would not interfere.”[421]
“Vell, hi think the Hinglish case is the one for my money,” quoth our new found friend. “Hand hi’ll rub my harm with a little hof this to prevent any ’arm,” he added, producing a pocket comforter that Job never knew of.
“Don’t waste good stuff that way,” said Mr. Smith. “Apply it internally, and rub your arm with the bottle.”
“Ho-ho-ho!” laughed John Bull at the wretched joke, which doubtless was first perpetrated “when the Memnonium was in all its glory.” He took the advice, however, and the brandy with a vengeance.
Some little while after I saw him steadying himself as he stood up on the seat, and poking with his stick at the top of the car: supposing he was striving to open the ventilator, I paid little attention to him. In a few minutes the train suddenly stopped,—in a few seconds more the conductor came rushing into the car, excitedly asking if any one had pulled the rope or communicator.
“C’mum ’cat’or?” asked J. Bull, “I wang the bell for some bwandy ’n-vater. And dooced ’ard work hi ’ad to reach hit. Where’s the ’andle?”[422] Speedily the train was again under weigh.
At length, after several hours more of journeying we arrived at our destination, thankful that as yet all bones were safe and sound. Alas, I was hallooing before I was out of the wood, for as I emerged, the light being very dim, I fancied I was stepping on the platform, but as I landed violently on the ground I found that the car was some feet beyond the platform. Of course railways should bring their trains to a halt at places convenient for passengers to alight. Bringing a car to a solemn stand-still at a spot at which it is unsafe to get out, under circumstances which warrant one in believing that it is intended he shall alight and that he may do so in safety (without giving him warning of his danger), amounts to negligence on the part of the company, for which an action may be maintained if the passenger has not in any way contributed towards the accident.[423] This highly sensible rule was adopted in the case of one Praeger, where—as I afterwards found—Lord Chief Justice Cockburn, of Geneva award renown, said: “I adopt most readily the formula which has been suggested as applicable to these cases, viz., that the company are bound to use reasonable care in providing accommodation for passengers, and that the passengers are also bound to use reasonable care in availing themselves of the accommodation provided for them.”[424] Of course, if it had been daylight, and I could have used my eyesight to any practical purpose, and had noticed that the car was not in the ordinary position with regard to the platform, I would certainly have exercised a little more caution in getting out and not have been such a ninny-hammer as to step down in the way I did, for I can assure the general public, that it is anything but agreeable to step upon thin air and be thrown violently upon one’s nasal organ,—which always seems tremendously projecting on such occasions,—abrasing one’s elbows and knees. t As I had my homeward journey to perform by rail, and there seemed a chance of my being reduced to an atomic condition before I once again saw the wife of my bosom, I then, for the benefit of my numerous readers (for, of course, I meant to publish a book, as every one does nowadays), dotted down a few decisions which I thought migh be useful for them to bear in mind in case they ever came to grief in alighting from a railway train; and here they are pro bono publico.
(N. B.—Those frivolous persons who only read to pass the time, had better turn at once to the next chapter.)
Where the train overshot the platform so that the car in which one Whitaker was sitting stood opposite to the parapet of a bridge, the top of which in the dusk looked like the platform; the porters having called out the name of the place, W. getting out on the parapet in the bonâ fide belief that he was stepping on the platform, fell over and was injured, but recovered from the company. Bovill, C. J., held that on this occasion there was a clear invitation to alight at a dangerous place, and that W. was misled by the appearance of the parapet, and so distinguished the case from the Bridges one, to which I will refer in a moment or two.[425] Where in the dark, a passenger on alighting fell into a culvert, over which the car had stopped, the company were held liable.[426]
Owing to the length of the train in which a Mr. and Mrs. Foy were journeying, there was not room for all the cars to be drawn up at the platform, and some of the passengers were desired to get out upon the line beyond it. The distance from the carriage to the ground was only three feet; Mrs. F. (instead of sensibly availing herself of the two steps of the carriage) with the aid of Mr. Foy jumped from the first step to the ground, and—not being a practised athlete or gymnast but a sweet little thing—came down upon the ground like a barrel of sugar with such a thud that the vertebræ of her back were jarred and the spine injured. The jury found that the company were guilty of negligence in not providing reasonable means of alighting, and that the lady had not contributed to the accident, and they gave her £500 to pay her doctor’s bills; and the court considered the verdict warranted and declined to interfere with the damages.[427] Bovill, Q. C., urged that if the lady, instead of jumping as she did, had turned herself round and availed herself of the assistance of both steps and of the handles of the carriage, the accident would not have happened; but Williams, J., said severely that “in the present fashion of female attire, the mode of descent suggested by the learned counsel would be scarcely decent!” This judgment was given in 1865, and as fashions change two or three times a year, one can hardly decide what a lady might or should do in this present year of grace, especially as the virtuous judge did not insinuate wherein in such a descent would lie the lack of woman’s crowning glory, modesty.