The avowed object of the PREMIER is to get away from people and politics and to have at last a little uninterrupted holiday.  Probably he counts on the difficulty of getting at him there, having regard to that terrible bit of the journey Bern—­Luzern, which covers sixty miles, takes three hours and involves twenty-four stops, even if you take the mid-day express.  There is a train in the afternoon (its number is 5666, and I warn you against it) which takes four hours, though it only stops twenty-four times also.  The sinister fact is that all the trains on this route stop as often as they can, which I attribute to that general wave of idleness which is to-day spreading over Europe.  But number 5666 is worse than others; or else it is getting old and tired.  I notice that among the trains doing the return journey there is no number 5666; I suppose it has just as much as it can do to get there and that it never does return.

The PREMIER was not far out to count on this protective element, and it is still the fact that, if you approach Luzern carelessly, it is ninety-nine to one that you will spend the best years of your young life on that particular stretch of railway.  But nowadays there is a back way round, by Basel.  Be quite firm in asking for your ticket.  If the ticket man says, “You mean Bale?” or, “You mean Basle?” say, “No, I don’t.  I mean Basel.”  You have me and my friend, Amtliches Schweizerisches Kursbuch, behind you.  Stick firmly to your point, and by approaching Luzern from the North you will approach it by a real express which only takes two hours to do its sixty miles and hardly stops at all to take breath.  So that finishes with Bern, as to the spelling of which, though you would personally like to see some more “e’s,” you now repose confidence in me.  Would you like me to quote my authority?...  All right; I won’t say it again if it frightens the children.

In the old days of Peace, Luzern was full of honeymoon couples, and, when Peace and honeymoons and all that sort of nonsense were put a stop to, it became full of German interned prisoners of war.  It boasts many first-class hotels.  One of them is patronised by the Greek ex-Royal Family.  A little unfortunate; but still you cannot expect to come and enjoy yourself in Switzerland without the risk of running into an ex-Royal Family every corner you go round, and, what is more, a Royal Family that wouldn’t be ex-if it wasn’t for you.  It is a very good hotel, and I recommend it for anyone who proposes just to pop over here.

Get hold of L.G. while he is not busy and explain to him how thoroughly misguided all his policies are, especially as to the Near East.  My idea is to group, according to subject and side, all those who intend to get hold of the PREMIER, while he is alone, and to have a quiet chat with him.  I have my eye on a large hangar on the other side of the Lake, which was built to house a dirigible and ought to hold the bulk of those who want a word about Ireland,