THE UPPER ENGADINE IN 1914. 165 



August 27th saw us early aboard one of the very few only trains 

 now availahle for passengers, and by evening, after various ticket 

 troubles at Zurich, etc., we were in comfortable quarters in Berne. 



August 28th. — Ten o'clock sharp saw us at the office of the organiser 

 of the British trains, a most courteous gentleman. To my statement 

 of our business, he doubted his ability to find room for us as the two 

 succeeding daily trains, the last, were already made up, and then he 

 put into my hands an astounding telegram from the British Consul at 

 St. Moritz, stating that we had given up all hopes of the government's 

 scheme of return, and had decided to go on our own to Geneva. Why 

 this deliberate mistatement was sent after we had left St. Moritz with 

 the full knowledge and advice of the Consul of all we had done and 

 were going to do, I do not know. However, " alls well that ends well," 

 the representative himself set to work, not leaving anything to his assist- 

 ants, and secured us seats in the already over-full train which was start- 

 ing early the next morning, the 29th. I can only add that the British 

 authorities were particularly happy in their choice of Mr. Skipworth, for 

 the arrangements right throughout the three days' journey home were 

 admirable, and carried out without a hitch, in spite of the inconveniences 

 inherent in a long journey. The rest of the day was spent in revising 

 our knowledge of the beauties of the fine old city of Berne, and in a 

 visit to the Exhibition of the year now destined to be a failure. 



August 29th saw us up betimes and with our allotted and numbered 

 seat in the train we started at last, our good friend the organiser 

 coming down to the station to bid us bon voyage. Second class carriages, 

 corridor train, with 857 aboard bound for Geneva, we sped rapidly 

 across the watershed, the high plateau where Freibourg stands between 

 the Rhine basin and that of the Rhone, down towards the lake of 

 Geneva, with the glorious mountains of Savoy in front, we reached the 

 city from which the lake gets its name. Here we find that we have to 

 change the Swiss train for a French train and that M'e are virtually 

 prisoners. We pass out into the station yard in numbered order, pass 

 into the other end of the station to be scrutinised by a double row of 

 smiling French soldiers who perfunctorily examine the one hand-bag 

 of moderate proportions each was allowed to carry, on into a numbered 

 seat in the French train. Some of us I fear were much increased in 

 bulk by bulging pockets, and by receptacles hung on various " coigns 

 of vantage," the latter mainly containing rations of which we were 

 advised to carry sufficient for several days. No one was allowed to 

 leave the platform but the Swiss boy scouts were at our disposal, and 

 most helpful they proved themselves to the old and infirm, and useful 

 in getting food and refreshment for those who wished, refusing all 

 gratuity. On again to Bellegarde, the custom-house station. No trouble 

 this time, again smiling French officials and cheers of welcome. Well 

 on in the evening we entered the station of Lyons. What a scene ! 

 The whole of the station, platforms and permanent way, was filled 

 from end to end with people, cheering, singing, waving flags. A trained 

 choir sang the Marseillaise, some fine soloists added their quota, the 

 British National Anthem was sung, and every traveller was decorated 

 with a small tricolor by enthusiastic maidens. Three Indian gentle- 

 men were discovered in one of the carriages and had a great ovation. 

 Such a scene of scenes one can never forget. After an hour and a half 

 of this we entrained again and passed away into the night. Several 



