that 4. That's thin type got a little thick,
that's all."

"Well, it can't be 4 this afternoon," I argue. "It must be 4 to-morrow
afternoon! That's just what a German express train would like to
do--take a whole day over a six hours' job!"

He puzzles for a while, and then breaks out with:

"Oh! I see it now. How stupid of me! That train that gets to
Heidelberg at 4 comes from Berlin."

He seemed quite delighted with this discovery.

"What's the good of it to us, then?" I ask.

That depresses him.

"No, it is not much good, I'm afraid," he agrees. "It seems to go
straight from Berlin to Heidelberg without stopping at Munich at all.
Well then, where does the 1.45 go to? It must go somewhere."

Five minutes more elapse, and then he exclaims:

"Drat this 1.45! It doesn't seem to go anywhere. Munich depart 1.45,
and that's all. It must go somewhere!"

Apparently, however, it does not. It seems to be a train that starts out
from Munich at 1.45, and goes off on the loose. Possibly, it is a young,
romantic train, fond of mystery. It won't say where it's going to. It
probably does not even know itself. It goes off in search of adventure.

"I shall start off," it says to itself, "at 1.45 punctually, and just go
on anyhow, without thinking about it, and see where I get to."

Or maybe it is a conceited, headstrong young train. It will not be
guided or advised. The traffic superintendent wants it to go to St.
Petersburg or to Paris. The old grey-headed station-master argues with
it, and tries to persuade it to go to Constantinople, or even to
Jerusalem if it likes that better--urges it to, at all events, make up
its mind where it _is_ going--warns it of the danger to young trains of
having no fixed aim or object in life. Other people, asked to use their
influence with it, have talked to it like a father, and have begged it,
for their sakes, to go to Kamskatka, or Timbuctoo, or Jericho, according
as they have thought best for it; and then, finding that it takes no
notice of them, have got wild with it, and have told it to go to still
more distant places.

But to all counsel and entreaty it has turned a deaf ear.

"You leave me alone," it has replied; "I know where I'm going to. Don't
you worry yourself about me. You mind your own business, all of you. I
don't want a lot of old fools telling me what to do. I know what I'm
about."

What can be expected from such a train? The chances are that