I had previously learnt that if I went to Mecco by the express I should see nothing of the country, and had consequently proposed to travel by a stopping train, perhaps breaking my journey a few times. But when I mentioned this to Sheep he said it would be impossible. I could not stop at any place to make a stay of less than three days, and each of the places I stopped at would have to be notified. I must either go direct to Mecco, or to some other city. So here I was, almost flying to Mecco. After about an hour, one of the guards came in to see that everything was in order. He wore a chocolate uniform, with a number of stripes and other symbols to indicate his particular grade, occupation and years of service. After stamping my ticket he grinned good-humouredly for a Meccanian, and said, "So you are going to see the wonders of our wonderful Mecco. Lucky man! There is nothing like it anywhere in the world." "Indeed," I said, "you have travelled abroad a good deal, then?" "Oh no. I have never been out of Meccania, thank God!" "What makes you think there is nothing like it, then, in any other country?" I asked. "Oh, the wide streets, the buildings, the gardens, the monuments, the uniforms, the music, everything--it is c-o-l-o-s-s-a-l! When you have seen the great monument, the statue of Prince Mechow! There is nothing like it anywhere. You will see! And you must not miss the Memorial Museum of Prince Mechow! I tell you it is a privilege to live in Mecco. But I must not gossip," he said, as if half ashamed; "I have many duties," and off he went. Towards the end of the journey, which lasted a little over two hours, he looked in again and said, "You must not leave Mecco until you have seen the great festival on Prince Mechow's birthday." I promised to remember it.