But such a happy state of things could not always be arranged. The usual course was this: The first good offers that came in were "booked" immediately, no matter what part of the United Kingdom they came from. The next applications had to be fitted in. Sometimes I managed to fit in, say, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday in Cornwall and Devonshire. Tuesday would be vacant, and rather than lose the day I would arrange, at a reduced fee, to give an entertainment at some very small institution. As a matter of advertisement that is a very bad thing to do. The larger institutions hear of it, and naturally expect you to do the same for them. Occasionally, through mismanagement or ill-luck, the engagements were arranged in a dreadfully inconvenient manner. Twice in one season I had to entertain in Edinburgh one night and London the next. One of these nights I shall not easily forget. I was singing at the private residence of a then popular Bailie, in Edinburgh. I hurried from the house to catch the night mail to London. The snow was terrible, and I got into a third-class carriage, tipping the guard to try and keep the compartment for myself, as I wanted to change my evening clothes for a warmer suit. The guard said, "All right, sir," took the tip, locked the door, then immediately unlocked it again and ushered in a drunken ruffian of the lowest type. There were no cushions to the seats of the third class carriages in those days, so I took out my two air-cushions--one to sit upon and the other to put at the back of my head. I began to blow them out, and as they expanded, the ridiculous operation evidently tickled the fancy of my distinguished fellow-passenger, who began to grin and chuckle in an idiotic fashion Thinking that after all he was a good-tempered fellow, I asked him if he had any objection to my changing my things. He leered at me and asked, "What for?" I said I had on a thin evening suit, that it was a bitterly cold night, and that I wanted to attire myself in something warmer. "You shan't do it if I can help it!" he said sulkily, and at the same time he shifted along the seat till he was exactly opposite to me. As there was no chance of the train stopping till we got to Carlisle, my feelings may be imagined. "Change your clothes, indeed," he kept muttering; "not while I'm here." I felt much vexed, and yet saw he was a very ugly customer to cross in temper. He began to fill his pipe, and I seized the opportunity to observe: "I don't object to your smoking, although this is not a smoking carriage." He replied, "I'm not going to ask you whether you object or not." "Very well, have your own way," I remarked. "I mean to," he grunted, and for the next quarter of an hour puffed away in silence. He was evidently thinking. So was I. I was thinking that if I had been the same size and weight as my delightful companion, we might have come to better terms. Presently he said, "What do you want to change your clothes for?"