"Can't--wish I could," returns SKURRIE, "but I've got to go off to Petersburgh by night mail. Business. Should have been delighted to have looked after you and seen you through, but you've got it all down and can't make any mistake. _Au plaisir!_" And he is off. So are we. Oh, this journey!! Everything changes. My health, the scenery, the weather, all becoming worse and worse. Poor Cousin JANE, too. Oh, the changes of carriage! The rushing about from platform to platform, carrying that confounded bag, and sticks, and umbrellas, and small things, of which JANE--poor JANE!--has her share, and, but for her sticking to every basket and package, I should, in despair, have surrendered to chance, left them behind me somewhere, and should have never seen them again. All aches and pains, and weariness! At last at Bale, rattled over stones and bridge in a jolting omnibus, through pouring rain to the hotel of "The Three Kings." Our treatment in the _salle-a-manger_ of that Monarchical Hostelrie is enough to make the most loyal turn republican. A willing head-waiter with insubordinate assistants--and we are miserable. Off early to Heidelberg. Delighted, at all events, to bid farewell to the worthy Monarchs. This trip seemed to invigorate us, and if civility, polite attention, good rooms, and an excellent _cuisine_ could make any invalid temporarily better, then our short stay at the Prinz Karl Hotel--a really perfectly managed establishment--ought to have revived us both considerably. And so it did. A lovely drive to the heights among the pine woods and in the purest air went for something, but alas the knowledge that we had to rise at 5 A.M., to be off by six--it turned out to be a 6.30 train--drove slumber from our eyes, and only by means of a cold bath, the first thing on tumbling out of bed, could I brace myself for the effort. Then on we went, taking SKURRIE'S pre-arranged tour. Let the remainder be a blank.