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said the Leichenbegleiter enthusiastically, pointing
with his pipe to the other packing-case. “He
is perfectly wonderful, you would never believe
it was a corpse, even his eyes are wide-open. I
wonder why the stationmaster was so particular
about you,” he went on. “It is true you are
rather young to be a Leichenbegleiter but so far
as I can see you are respectable enough. All
you need is a shave and a brush-up, your clothes
are all covered with dog’s hair and surely you
cannot present yourself to-morrow at the Swedish
Consulate with such a chin, I am sure you have
not shaved for a week, you look more like a
brigand than a respectable Leichenbegleiter.
What a pity I have not got my razors with me
or I would shave you myself at the next stop.”
I opened my Gladstone bag and said I would
be much obliged if he would spare me the ordeal,
I never shaved myself if I could help it. He
examined my razors with the eyes of a
connoisseur, said the Swedish razors were the best
in the world, he never used any others himself.
He had a very light hand, he had shaved
hundreds of people and never heard a word of
complaint.
I have never been better shaved in my life
and I told him so with my compliments when
the train began to move again.
“There is nothing like travelling in foreign
countries,” said I as I washed the soap off
my face, “every day one learns something new
and interesting. The more I see of this country
the more I realize the fundamental differences
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