they might make a petty gain by the payment which they demanded from travelers for the restoration of their effects.
Whether this be true or not, I cannot say. Certain it is, that I spared neither care nor inquiries to ascertain that my luggage and myself traveled in company. That I should ascertain that it was so, was impossible in the general darkness of the station.
I had great difficulty in finding my luggage at Geneva, and, when I had done so, in gaining possession of it. And I must remark, once for all, and that with regret, upon the want of order, the want even of common courtesy and humanity, which I often met with at the railway offices in Switzerland, and which I never found greater in any other country whatever. Many travelers have experienced it as well as myself and complained of it, and therefore I mention it here. On this occasion, at Geneva, I found this want in a more than ordinary degree. It is a very allowable thing that the gentlemen of the office should take their breakfast; but that they should go away for that purpose, at the very moment they had appointed for the traveler to find them at the office, in order to obtain his effects, and in the moment, also, in which he must continue his journey, seems to me unallowable, much less to be commended. In the present case, these gentlemen showed me my portmanteaux, at least, the locked door of the apartment which contained them, and—went their way. I waited some time: then asked a young man who alone remained behind the desk, why I could not have my property delivered to me?—that I was that
