here was a placard saying the negro attendant
will answer _all_ questions! I hope he gets a very high salary!

It was eight o'clock at night before we left Vancouver, and as there is
a capital dining-car on the train, we had better get dinner at once.
But the fun begins when we go to bed. I send you along first and say
I'll turn in after a last smoke, but I have hardly settled down to an
interesting conversation with a man in the smoking-car before I see you
standing beside me looking very troubled. Well, what is it? In a low
whisper you say--

"I can't go to bed there; there's a lady in the same car."

"Never mind! She has her own bunk, I suppose?"

"Yes, but----" a long pause--"she drops her hairpins on to me!"

My laugh makes the man beside us very inquisitive. Never mind, old man!
Pick them up and return them to her in a neat little packet to-morrow,
but whatever you do don't go to sleep with your mouth open!

It certainly is funny. When I join you I find that the lady is in the
upper bunk above that which you and I are going to occupy together. The
curtains hang straight down and it is a very tight fit indeed to wriggle
into my place without pulling open the top part, and a still more
difficult job to get out of my clothes lying in a space like a ship's
berth.

In the morning I take care to get up early and rouse you, and as we
vanish out of the compartment we hear a little giggle, and looking back
I see a long lock of brown hair hanging down over the edge of an upper
bunk. I hope you gave her back her hairpins!

We are surprised that the train is standing still, and want to find out
why. We saunter along to the observation car and breathe the glorious
freshness of the air, chilled by the great white peaks which rise
shining up against a clear sky. Seeing that several of the men
passengers have climbed down on to the track and are wandering along it
we follow, and round the next corner come upon a cattle-train off the
lines and blocking the way. She was just turning on to a siding to wait
for our coming when the disaster occurred, and now she lies helpless,
with twenty cars filled with cattle who are lowing in a disconsolate
questioning way. Just look at the poor beasts, they are packed tighter
than ever we see them in England, simply jammed up against each other
like sardines in a tin. One of them has fallen, and the others bulging
out over the space thus made are trampling on him. A fine-looking
fellow,