And lamp depots, we saw its old familiar handle shining in
the distance, and knew that there, beside it, we should find our
loved and lost one.
When any very long time elapsed without our coming across it, we
would go up to one of the officials, and ask to be directed to it.
"Please can you tell me," we would say, "the nearest way to the door
of the third-class refreshment room?"
When three o'clock came, and still we had not found the 3.10 train,
we became quite anxious about the poor thing, and made inquiries
concerning it.
"The 3.10 train to Ober-Ammergau," they said. "Oh, we've not
thought about that yet."
"Haven't thought about it!" we exclaimed indignantly. "Well, do for
heaven's sake wake up a bit. It is 3.5 now!"
"Yes," they answered, "3.5 in the afternoon; the 3.10 is a night
train. Don't you see it's printed in thick type? All the trains
between six in the evening and six in the morning are printed in fat
figures, and the day trains in thin. You have got plenty of time.
Look around after supper."
I do believe I am the most unfortunate man at a time-table that ever
was born. I do not think it can be stupidity; for if it were mere
stupidity, I should occasionally, now and then when I was feeling
well, not make a mistake. It must be fate.
If there is one train out of forty that goes on "Saturdays only" to
some place I want to get to, that is the train I select to travel by
on a Friday. On Saturday morning I get up at six, swallow a hasty
breakfast, and rush off to catch a return train that goes on every
day in the week "except Saturdays."
I go to London, Brighton and South Coast Railway-stations and
clamour for South-Eastern trains. On Bank Holidays I forget it is
Bank Holiday, and go and sit on draughty platforms for hours,
waiting for trains that do not run on Bank Holidays.
To add to my misfortunes, I am the miserable possessor of a demon
time-table that I cannot get rid of, a Bradshaw for August, 1887.
Regularly, on the first of each month, I buy and bring home with me
a new Bradshaw and a new A.B.C. What becomes of them after the
second of the month, I do not know. After the second of the month,
I never see either of them again. What their fate is, I can only
guess. In their place is left, to mislead me, this wretched old
1887 corpse.
For three years I have been trying to escape from it, but it will
not leave me.
