Lest you, too, be tempted to sleep and miss your station, we offer this warning from the November 25, 1898 Skidmore Standard:
The joke is on Harry Hoblitzell; and since he will not treat, here goes. He was down to Oregon, yesterday, to east Thanksgiving dinner, and was in the land of nod and dreams when the train pulled into town last evening. He was alone, in a forest surrounded by countless numbers of turkeys, great monstrous fellows, all bent upon his destruction. One big gobbler, the largest and fiercest one of them all, pounced upon him and was shaking him unmercifully – just then he heard the conductor say: “You’d better hustle out of this young man, we have passed your station.” Harry had to walk a quarter of a mile to get back to town.