Third sin:

(a) Travelling in carriage of superior class to that for which ticket
was held.

(b) Refusing to pay difference when demanded by an official. (Again
George disputes the accuracy of the report. He turned his pockets out,
and offered the man all he had, which was about eightpence in German
money. He offered to go into a third class, but there was no third
class. He offered to go into the goods van, but they would not hear of
it.)

Fourth sin:

(a) Occupying seat, and not paying for same.

(b) Loitering about corridor. (As they would not let him sit down
without paying, and as he could not pay, it was difficult to see what
else he could do.)

But explanations are held as no excuse in Germany; and his journey from
Carlsruhe to Baden was one of the most expensive perhaps on record.

Reflecting upon the case and frequency with which one gets into trouble
here in Germany, one is led to the conclusion that this country would
come as a boon and a blessing to the average young Englishman. To the
medical student, to the eater of dinners at the Temple, to the subaltern
on leave, life in London is a wearisome proceeding. The healthy Briton
takes his pleasure lawlessly, or it is no pleasure to him. Nothing that
he may do affords to him any genuine satisfaction. To be in trouble of
some sort is his only idea of bliss. Now, England affords him small
opportunity in this respect; to get himself into a scrape requires a good
deal of persistence on the part of the young Englishman.

I spoke on this subject one day with our senior churchwarden. It was the
morning of the 10th of November, and we were both of us glancing,
somewhat anxiously, through the police reports. The usual batch of young
men had been summoned for creating the usual disturbance the night before
at the Criterion. My friend the churchwarden has boys of his own, and a
nephew of mine, upon whom I am keeping a fatherly eye, is by a fond
mother supposed to be in London for the sole purpose of studying
engineering. No names we knew happened, by fortunate chance, to be in
the list of those detained in custody, and, relieved, we fell to
moralising upon the folly and depravity of youth.

"It is very remarkable," said my friend the churchwarden, "how the
Criterion retains its position in this respect. It was just so when I
was young; the evening always wound up with a row at the Criterion."

"So meaningless," I remarked.

"So monotonous