Every truthful physician will frankly tell you--if you ask him--that worrying is often the worst part of the trouble; in other words, that if you never did a thing in these cases that distress you, but would quit your worrying, the discomfort would generally disappear of its own accord.
One result of this kind of worry is that it genders a nervousness that unnecessarily calls up to the mind pictures of a large variety of possible dangers.

Who has not met with this nervous species of worrier?
The train enters a tunnel: "What an awful place for a wreck!" Or it is climbing a mountain grade with a deep precipice on one side: "My, if we were to swing off this grade!" I have heard scores of people, who, on riding up the Great Cable Incline of the Mount Lowe Railway, have exclaimed: "What would become of us if this cable were to break ?" and they were apparently people of reason and intelligence.

The fact is, the cable is so strong and heavy that with two cars crowded to the utmost, their united weight is insufficient to stretch the cable tight, let alone putting any strain upon it sufficient to break it.
And most nervous worries are as baseless as this.
"Yet," says some apologist for worries, "accidents do happen.

Look at the _Eastland_ in Chicago, and the loss of the _Titanic_.

Railways have wrecks, collisions, and accidents.