I found when I got to Sloane Square
That my ticket was gone; my despair
Was awful to see,
Till at last to my glee
I looked in my hat--it was there!

* * * * *

'ILL-LUMINANTS!

["Sir E. WATKIN is about to introduce the Electric Light on
the summit of Snowdon."--_Daily Paper_.]

Just started up Snowdon by Sir E. WATKIN's combined Galvano-Electric
and Pneumatic Despatch Line, from Llanberis. Goes nearly to top. What
a blessing! Saved all the bother of the mount. Go in tennis-shoes, as
I'm told there's next to no climbing to be done.

Splendid day for view. Comfortable carriages. Hullo! what's this?
Find myself suddenly shot into a mountain tarn. A Yankee would call
it "tarnation cold." Get out dripping. Guard of train explains that
"battery must be rather too strong this morning." Train put on line
again. Up we go! Shivery. If I'd known this sort of thing went on, I'd
have brought towels.

At Terminus, three-quarters way up, in a bleak and exposed crag,
plastered with advertisements. Day not quite so glorious. Fog coming
on. Or is it "Scotch mist?" But what has a Scotch mist to do in Wales?
Ask engine-driver's opinion. He has none. "Then which is the way
up?" Doesn't know. "_His_ way is down." Must speak to Sir E.W. about