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HE first objects to meet his sight when he opened his eyes a moment later were his feet pointing skyward at an angle of about forty-five degrees. He had an indistinct recollection of having turned one complete somersault after striking the bank. Now he was lying on his back with his head and shoulders far below the level and eyes, nose and mouth filled with snow. After a struggle he pulled his body up and his feet down, and then scrambled and slid out of his soft couch and gained the track. Snow had worked down his neck and up his sleeves and into his shoes, and for awhile he was busy shaking himself and stamping and wiping his moist face with his handkerchief, and when he finally looked toward the station platform