r English, though with a slight Somersetshire accent, explaining to a
porter for the tenth time, as he informed us, the simple fact that though
he himself had a ticket for Donaueschingen, and wanted to go to
Donaueschingen, to see the source of the Danube, which is not there,
though they tell you it is, he wished his bicycle to be sent on to Engen
and his bag to Constance, there to await his arrival. He was hot and
angry with the effort of the thing. The porter was a young man in years,
but at the moment looked old and miserable. I offered my services. I
wish now I had not--though not so fervently, I expect, as he, the
speechless one, came subsequently to wish this. All three routes, so the
porter explained to us, were complicated, necessitating changing and re-
changing. There was not much time for calm elucidation, as our own train
was starting in a few minutes. The man himself was voluble--always a
mistake when anything entangled has to be made clear; while the porter
was only too eager to get the job done with and so breathe again. It
dawned upon me ten minutes later, when thinking the matter over in the
train, that though I had agreed with the porter that it would be best for
the bicycle to go by way of Immendingen, and had agreed to his booking it
to Immendingen, I had neglected to give instructions for its departure
from Immendingen. Were I of a despondent temperament I should be
worrying myself at the present moment with the reflection that in all
probability that bicycle is still at Immendingen to this day. But I
regard it as good philosophy to endeavour always to see the brighter side
of things. Possibly the porter corrected my omission on his own account,
or some simple miracle may have happened to restore that bicycle to its
owner some time before the end of his tour. The bag we sent to
Radolfzell: but here I console myself with the recollection that it was
labelled Constance; and no doubt after a while the railway authorities,
finding it unclaimed at Radolfzell, forwarded it on to Constance.

But all this is apart from the moral I wished to draw from the incident.
The true inwardness of the situation lay in the indignation of this
Britisher at finding a German railway porter unable to comprehend
English. The moment we spoke to him he expressed this indignation in no
measured terms.

"Thank you very much indeed," he said; "it's simple enough. I want to go
to Donaueschingen myself by train; from