I interviewed the R.T.O. when I reached the station and found that I could not continue my journey till 5 o'clock in the afternoon. I was not altogether sorry to have the whole day before me in a town which I had never visited. I recollected that I had a cousin stationed there and made up my mind to rely on him, if I could find him, for entertainment. My servant's lot was less fortunate. He belonged, of course, to that part of the army which is officially described as "other ranks"; and only commissioned officers are trusted to wander at will through that town. The "other ranks" spend the day in the railway station. They are dependent on a Y.M.C.A. canteen for food and on themselves for amusement. I spent a pleasant day, finding my cousin quite early and visiting with him a large number of churches. Some day I mean to work out thoroughly the connection between that town and Ireland and discover why pious Frenchmen dedicated several of their churches to Irish saints. At 4 o'clock--I like to be in good time for trains--I went back to the station. My servant was sitting patiently on my valise. A long train lay ready. As in the train in which I had travelled the night before, all the coaches and waggons were carefully and clearly labelled, but this time with the names of the places to which they were going. I went the whole length of the train and read every label. No single carriage was labelled for B., my destination. I walked all the way back again and read all the labels a second time. Then I fell back on the R.T.O. for guidance. I found not the man I had met in the morning, but a subordinate of his. "I'm going," I said, "or rather I hope to go to B. What part of the train do you think I ought to get into?" "What does your party consist of?" he asked. "How many men have you?" "One," I said. "You can hardly call it a party at all. There's only my servant and myself." He lost all interest in me at once. I do not wonder. A man who is accustomed to deal with battalions, squadrons, and batteries cannot be expected to pay much attention to a lonely padre. I quite understood his feelings. "Still," I said, "I've got to get there." "You can't get to B. in that train," he said. "It doesn't go there." I was not prepared to sit down under that rebuff without a struggle. "The R.T.O. who was here this morning," I said, "told me to travel by this train." "Sorry," he said. "But you can't, or if you do you won't get to B." "How am I to get there?" I asked. "I don't know that you can." "Do you mean," I said, "that no train ever goes there?" He considered this and replied cautiously. "There might be a train to-morrow," he said, "or next day."