("Is this the Hend?"--_Miss Squeers_.)
[Illustration]
SKURRIE puts us in the train, gives us our COOK'S tickets all ready
stamped and dated. No trouble. Then he insists on comparing his notes of
our route with mine, to see that all is correct.
"Wednesday," he says, "that's to-day. Geneva _dep_. 12, Bale _arr_.
7.45." He speaks a _Bradshaw_ abbreviated language. "Change twice,
perhaps three times, Lausanne, Brienne, Olten. Not quite sure; but you
must look out." Oh, the trouble and anxiety of looking out for where you
change! "Then," he goes on, "Thursday, Bale _dep_. 9.2 A.M., Heidelberg
_arr_. 1.55."
"Any change?" I ask, as if I wanted twopence out of a shilling.
"No; at least I don't think so. But you had better ask," he replies. Ah!
this asking! if you are not quite well, and don't understand the
language (which I do not in German Switzerland), and get hold of an
austere military station-master, or an imbecile porter, and then have to
carry that most inconvenient article of all baggage, a hand-bag, which
you have brought as "so convenient to hold everything you want for a
night," and which is so light to carry until it is packed! "Then," goes
on the imperturbable SKURRIE, "you'll 'do' Heidelberg, dine there, sleep
there, and on Friday Heidelberg _dep_. 6 A.M.----"