At Tergnier we alighted for dinner, being allowed twenty minutes for five courses and dessert. But hunger of a violent kind prevented any unreasonable grumbling, and we fortified ourselves for a long night's journey. Of course, when our dinner had digested, we thought of all the horrors of midnight railway journeys, and remembered seeing the poor Curate of St. Pancras after the same journey into Switzerland a year or two ago. His head was plastered and bandaged, and he, poor fellow, looked a sorry pickle after the burglary and attempted murder, but was it not a splendid subject for a sermon when he found himself at Chamounix and able to preach! And did he not profit by the unusual opportunity! In thinking of this we each said our prayers quietly, when we fancied the other was not looking, and towards midnight we wound up our watches, which we understand are seldom remembered by travellers on night journeys. At this stage of the narrative it seems highly desirable to describe ourselves, and we hasten to prove a total absence of any reluctance: No. 1 is a slim youth just over twenty, with a delicate complexion and curly hair, but whose digestion is atrocious, frequently causing his normally amiable character to be tinged with viciousness, and No. 2 is ten years older and the reverse of No. 1 in feature and figure, and also (alas!) in disposition, being crotchety and irritable whenever events turn out uncomfortably, as frequently happens when there are no members of the fair sex near to make the passage through life's waters smooth. He remembers, though would fain forget, some trifling difficulties in the matter of mending, button sewings, &c., which caused him to prove a less desirable companion than might otherwise have been expected. [Illustration: FLUeELEN.] However, the two arrived safely at Bale, and, after a matutinal bath in a slop basin at the station, and a very hot breakfast in two minutes in the refreshment room, proceeded direct to Lucerne, where they put up at the Swanen. Old Haefeli always pretends the keenest interest in the latest arrival, so we were not surprised on the following day that our hotel bill was not less than usual. Of course, before leaving that lovely town we did the "lion" and the "lions" of the place, including the picturesque old bridge, with its numerous paintings of horrible subjects connected with the eventful lives of SS. Leodegar and Maurice, the patrons of Lucerne. But, although there seems to be no way of getting at the details of the story, thus primitively depicted, which evidently embraces old priests without heads and warriors worshipping the phenomenon, we admired the colouring and quaint drawings of the pictures. The Rigi was partly covered with snow, so that it was impossible to get either on foot or by train higher than Kaltbad--and when once an official saw us attempting to walk through a likely field for a better view, warned us sternly against any such foolhardy attempt.