It was night when they reached the Car’el station; but the Sandboys, unused to travelling, and tired out with the misadventures of the day, were all fast locked in sleep. Postlethwaite was the only one belonging to them whose eyes were open, but he unfortunately was—what he termed, with a natural desire to take the best possible view of his infirmity—a “_little_ hard of hearing;” so that when the train stopped, and the porters paced the platform, shouting “Change here for Lancaster! Change here for London!” not one of the party heard the important summons; but, still dozing, were whirled away, in blissful ignorance, towards the capital of Scotland instead of England. It was past midnight when the train halted for the collection of tickets, a little way out of Edinburgh. The letting-down of the carriage-window by the railway officer on the platform roused the still slumbering Mr. Sandboys. “Tickets please! Tickets!” shouted the official, as he turned his bull’s-eye full into the face of the yawning, dazzled, and bewildered Cursty. That gentleman proceeded with as much alacrity as he could, under the circumstances, to draw out from the bottom of his purse the several pieces of card-board which had been handed to him on paying his fare to town. The collector no sooner glanced his eye at the tickets delivered to him, than he exclaimed, quickly, “These wont do, sir!—these here are for London, and this is Edinburgh.” “Edinburgh!” echoed Mr. Sandboys, his jaw dropping like a carriage dog’s at the sound of the word. “Edinburgh!” repeated Mrs. Sandboys! “Oh, Cursty—Oh, Cursty, what iver ’ull become of us aw.” “Edinburgh!” cried Jobby, waking up. “Oh my! here’s a lark, Elcy.” “Yes, sir, it’s Edinburgh, sure enough,” returned the railway official. “You should have changed carriages at Carlisle.” Then, holding out his hand to the amazed Mr. Sandboys, who kept rubbing his eyes to rouse himself out of what he fancied must be a continuation of his dream, the collector added, “Three pound fifteen shillings, and a quarter-past nine, sir.” “What dustea mean, man, by three paund fifteen shilling, and a wharter-past nine?” angrily inquired Mr. Sandboys. “I thought you asked me, what you had to pay, sir, and when the next train left for London.” “I did nowt of t’ kind, man; and I tell tha plain, I wunnet pay nae mair. I’se paid aboon twa paunds, an’ been carrud twa hunderd meyle out of t’ way awruddy.” But Mr. Sandboys soon found all opposition was useless. On his leaving the carriage, he was taken between two policemen to the station, and there plainly given to understand, that if the money were not forthcoming, he would have to finish the night in durance vile; and though Cursty was ready to become a martyr, rather than submit to be “imposed upon,” still Mrs. Sandboys was of a different way of thinking, and reminded him of his determination to enjoy himself under all circumstances.