Punch (99.1890)

184 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [October 18, 1890.

TO ENGELBERG AND BACK.

Being a Few Notes taken en route in Search of a Perfect Cure.

I don't exactly know how I got mixed up with it, but I found
myself somehow "fixed," as our American cousins would say, to
join a party who were going to see Old Jephson (the Q.C.), who had
broken " down," or broken " up," or had gone through some mental
and physical smashing process or other, that necessitated an imme-
diate recourse to mountain air,—to where he could, get it of the right
sort and quality with as little strain or tax on his somewhat shat-
tered nerves as might be compatible with a dash into the heart of
Switzerland at the fag-end of the swarming tourists' season. " Mur-
ren will be too high for him: distinctly too high for him,"
thoughtfully observed the. distinguished specialist who had been
called in, and had at once prescribed the " air tonic" in question ;
"and the Burgenstock would be too low. His condition requires an
elevation of about 3500 feet. Let me see. Ha! Engelberg is the place
for him. My dear lady," he continued, addressing Mrs. Jephson,
who had already imbibed the theory that every altitude, from Prim-
rose Hill to Mont Blanc, suited its special ailment, the only thing
necessary being to hit on the right one, "My dear lady, get your
good husband to Engelberg at once. Write to Herr Cattani, Hotel
Titlis, Engelberg, Unterwalden, asking what day he can receive you
(use my name), and then, as soon as you can possibly get off, start.
I can promise you it will do wonders for our patient."
So, in about five days, we found ourselves, a^party of six (including

young Jessiman,

^ lk\^^=>^^S>Miik^r J^sJ^Wifeil sa*^ that, though

he saw no difference
between Lucerne and
Bayswater, except
that Bayswater was a
"howling site bigger,"
he would come, "if
only for the lark of
seeing the dilapidated
old boy " (his way of
referring to his invalid
Q. C. Uncle) "sho-
velled about the Ber-
nese Oberland like a
seedy Guy Faux,")
crossing the silver
streak on that valued,
steady - going, and
excellently well-found
Channel friend, the
Calais - Douvres. Of
course we made a fresh
friend for life on board
— one always does.
We counted up fifty-
seven fresh friends for
life we had made, one
way and another, on
Lit de Luxe ! our way, before we got

home agam. lhis was

a Dr._ Melohisidec, who at once yielded his folding-chair to the
Dilapidated One, and, finding himself bound also for Engelberg,
attached himself as a sort of General-Director and Personal Con-
ductor to our party. " Had we got our tickets through Cook, and
asked him to secure our places in the train ? " he inquired. "We
had." "Ha! then it would be all right." And it was. On our
arriving at Calais, no crash, or excitement, and fighting for places.
We were met by three courteous, military-looking officials, who
talked four languages between them, and ushered us to our
" reserved" places. Royalty could not have fared better. " You 're
all right with Cook," observed Dr. Melohisidec. "He's got a
man everywhere ; and, if there's any hitch, you've only got to call
him in. A clear case of too many Cooks not spoiling the broth."
And so we found it. I had always hitherto considered Cook's
Excursionists as rather a comic institution, and as something to be
laughed at. Nothing of the sort. " Blessed be Cook !" say I. All
I know is, that we found his name a perfect tower of strength along
the entire route we traversed.

And now we were whirling along towards Basle in the rather stuffy
splendours provided for us by the Compagnie Internationale des
Wagons Lits, that reminded one, as much as anything of being
fixed into one's allotted place in a sort of gigantic Gladstone Bag—an
illusion assisted, no doubt, by the prominence of a deal of silver-
plated fittings, in the shape of knobs and door-handles, all somewhat
tarnished and dusty. True, the compartment, which gave on to a
corridor running the whole length of the carriage, was provided with
a table, an inkstand, a large pan for cigar-ash, and a colossal
spittoon ; but as one had no immediate need of any of these things,

and they filled up the already sufficiently limited space, one was
strongly disposed, but for the presence of the military official of the
Wagons Lits who paced the corridor before alluded to, to pitch them
all out of the window then and there. But it was drawing on
towards seven o'clock, and the question of feeding naturally came
to the_ fore. How was the Dilapidated One to get his meal at
Tergnier, the place where the military official informed us we should
find "an excellent repast, 'ot, and ready, with plenty of time to
dispose of 'im with every facility." waiting for us.

Young Jeeryman suggested the luncheon-basket, which he saw
an American get through the
other day, containing two pork
sandwiches, nine inches long;
half a fowl, a couple of rolls,
three peaches, a bunch of grapes,
a jam-tart, and a bottle of wine;
but Dr. Melohisidec put his
veto on this, and, looking at the
Dilapidated One critically, as if
he was wondering how much he
weighed, if it came to carrying
him, came in with a judicial
"JSb! no! I think we can
manage to get him to the Buffet,"
which settled the matter; and
with the announcement that we
had all of us " vingt-trois minutes
d'arret," we found ourselves
stepping across the growing
dusk of the platform, into the
cheerful and brightly - lighted
Station Restaurant, where a
capital and comfortable meal, " C'est tout, Monsieur f"

excellently served, was awaiting

us. And, 0 ye shades of Rugby, Swindon, Crewe, Grantham, and
I know not what other British Railway feeding centres, at which I
have been harassed, scalded, and finally hurried away unfed, would
that you could take a lesson from the admirable management, con-
sideration for the digestion of the hungry passengers, and general
all-round thoughtfulness that characterises the taking of that meal
" de voyage " at Tergnier.

To begin with, you have about finished your soup, when a station
official appears at the door and informs all the feeding passengers in
an assuring and encouraging voice that they have " encore dix-huit
minutes"— as much as to say, "Pray, my dear Monsieur, or Madame,
as the case may be, do not hurry over that capital portion oi bceuf
braise a VImperiale, but enjoy its full flavour at your perfect leisure.
There is not, pray believe
me, the remotest occasion for
any excitement or hurry."
A little later on, in your
repast, when you are just,
perhaps, beginning to won-
der whether you oughtn't
to be thinking about return-
ing to the -train, the good
fairy official again appears
at the door, this time an-
nouncing that you have
'' encore douze minutes " in
the same encouraging tones,
that seem to say, "Now, i
beg you will quite finish that
excellent ' poulet' and ' sa-
lade.' Believe me, you have
ample time. Trust to me. I
charge myself with the re-
sponsibility of seeing that
you catch your train calmly
and comfortably ; " which he
certainly does, looking in
again as Madame comes
round, and you pay her her
modest demand of three
francs fifty for her excel-
lently - cooked and well -
served repast (vin compris),
with the final announcement
of, " Maintenant en voiture,

Mesdames et Messieurs," Nach En°-elb°rg'

that finds' you comfortably b continued till further notice,

seated m your place again,

with three minutes to spare before the departure of the train.
But perhaps the best testimony to the excellence of the manage-
ment may be found in the fact that the Dilapidated One was not only
got out, but well fed, and put back in his place, with a whole minute