seemed, not so much like a tour through Belgium and part of Northern
Germany, as a visit to the neighbourhood where this man's family
resided.

I was careful to take a seat facing the engine at Ostend. I prefer
to travel that way. But when I awoke a little later on, I found
myself going backwards.

I naturally felt indignant. I said:

"Who's put me over here? I was over there, you know. You've no
right to do that!"

They assured me, however, that nobody had shifted me, but that the
train had turned round at Ghent.

I was annoyed at this. It seemed to me a mean trick for a train to
start off in one direction, and thus lure you into taking your seat
(or somebody else's seat, as the case might be) under the impression
that you were going to travel that way, and then, afterwards, turn
round and go the other way. I felt very doubtful, in my own mind,
as to whether the train knew where it was going at all.

At Brussels we got out and had some more coffee and rolls. I forget
what language I talked at Brussels, but nobody understood me. When
I next awoke, after leaving Brussels, I found myself going forwards
again. The engine had apparently changed its mind for the second
time, and was pulling the carriages the other way now. I began to
get thoroughly alarmed. This train was simply doing what it liked.
There was no reliance to be placed upon it whatever. The next thing