Things go along just 'sif they were asleep.

We've got six saw-mills 'round this town, but nobody ever gets tangled in the machinery and sawed in half.

We've got a gunpowder-factory out beyond the turnpike, but will that ever go up?
It wouldn't if you was to toss a red-hot stove in among the powder--leastways, not while I'm coroner.
There's a river down there, but nobody ever drowns in it where I can have a hitch at him; and if there's a freshet, everybody at once gets out of reach.

If there's a fire, all the inmates get away safe, and no fireman ever falls off a ladder or stands where a wall might flatten him out.

No, sir; I don't have a fair show.