way carriage windows. We got rather too much of those views that
morning. Even Wordsworth, though he did write an early morning sonnet
on Westminster Bridge, would not have cared to meditate on "Houses
Asleep" for an hour and a quarter before he got a wash or anything to
eat.

I interviewed the R.T.O. when I reached the station and found that I
could not continue my journey till 5 o'clock in the afternoon. I was
not altogether sorry to have the whole day before me in a town which
I had never visited. I recollected that I had a cousin stationed
there and made up my mind to rely on him, if I could find him, for
entertainment.

My servant's lot was less fortunate. He belonged, of course, to that
part of the army which is officially described as "other ranks"; and
only commissioned officers are trusted to wander at will through that
town. The "other ranks" spend the day in the railway station. They
are dependent on a Y.M.C.A. canteen for food and on themselves for
amusement.

I spent a pleasant day, finding my cousin quite early and visiting
with him a large number of churches. Some day I mean to work out
thoroughly the connection between that town and Ireland and discover
why pious Frenchmen dedicated several of their churches to Irish
saints.

At 4 o'clock--I like to be in good time for trains--I went back to
the station. My servant was sitting patiently on my valise. A long
train lay ready. As in the train in which I had travelled the night
before, all the coaches and waggons were carefully and clearly
labelled, but this time with the names of the places to which they
were going. I went the whole length of the train and read every
label. No single carriage was labelled for B., my destination. I
walked all the way back again and read all the labels a second time.
Then I fell back on the R.T.O. for guidance. I found not the man I
had met in the morning, but a subordinate of his.

"I'm going," I said, "or rather I hope to go to B. What part of the
train do you think I ought to get into?"

"What does your party consist of?" he asked. "How many men have you?"

"One," I said. "You can hardly call it a party at all. There's only
my servant and myself."

He lost all interest in me at once. I do not wonder. A man who is
accustomed to deal with battalions, squadrons, and batteries cannot
be expected to pay much attention to a lonely padre. I quite
understood his feelings.

"Still," I said, "I've got to get there."