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Two Thousand Miles 
 on an Automobile 
 
u 
 
 Two Thousand Miles 
 on an Automobile 
 
 BEING A DESULTORY NARRATIVE OF 
 
 A TRIP THROUGH NEW ENGLAND, 
 
 NEW YORK, CANADA, AND 
 
 THE WEST 
 
 BY 
 
 " CHAUFFEUR 
 
 WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY 
 
 FRANK VER BECK 
 
 Philadelphia and London 
 
 J. B. Lippincott Company 
 
 1902 
 
Copyright, IQO2 
 By J. B. Lippincott Company 
 
 Published September, 1902 
 
 Printed by 
 J, B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A. 
 
To L. O. E. 
 
 Who for more than sixteen hundred miles 
 of the journey faced dangers and discom 
 forts with an equanimity worthy a better 
 cause, and whose company lightened the 
 burdens and enhanced the pleasure of the 
 
 CHAUFFEUR" 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS 9 
 
 II. THE MACHINE USED 20 
 
 III. THE START 27 
 
 IV. INTO OHIO 42 
 
 V. Ox TO BUFFALO 60 
 
 VI. BUFFALO 73 
 
 VII. BUFFALO TO CANANDAIGUA 83 
 
 VIII. THE MORGAN MYSTERY 98 
 
 IX. THROUGH WESTERN NEW YORK 120 
 
 X. THE MOHAWK VALLEY 131 
 
 XI. THE VALLEY OF LEBANON 137 
 
 XII. AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEI 159 
 
 XIII. THROUGH MASSACHUSETTS 168 
 
 XIV. LEXINGTON AND CONCORD 188 
 
 XV. RHODE ISLAND AND CONNECTICUT 259 
 
 XVI. ANARCHISM 277 
 
 XVII. NEW YORK TO BUFFALO 292 
 
 XVIII. THROUGH CANADA HOME . 308 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 To disarm criticism at the outset, the writer acknowl 
 edges a thousand imperfections in this discursive story. 
 In all truth, it is a most garrulous and incoherent 
 narrative. Like the automobile, part of the time the 
 narrative moves, part of the time it does not; now it 
 is in the road pursuing a straight course; then again 
 it is in the ditch, or far afield, quite beyond control and 
 out of reason. It is impossible to write coolly, calmly, 
 logically, and coherently about the. automobile; it is 
 not a cool, calm, logical, or coherent beast, the exact 
 reverse being true. 
 
 The critic who has never driven a machine is not 
 qualified to speak concerning the things contained 
 herein, while the critic who has will speak with the 
 charity and chastened humility which spring from 
 adversity. 
 
 The charm of automobiling lies less in the sport 
 itself than in the unusual contact with people and 
 things, hence any description of a tour would be in 
 complete without reflections by the way ; the imagina 
 tion once in will not out; it even seeks to usurp the 
 humbler function of observation. However, the ar- 
 
 7 
 
8 Foreword 
 
 rangement of chapters and headings like finger-posts 
 or danger signs is such that the wary reader may 
 avoid the bad places and go through from cover to 
 cover, choosing his own route. To facilitate the find 
 ing of what few morsels of practical value the book 
 may contain, an index has been prepared which will 
 enable the casual reader to select his pages with dis 
 crimination. 
 
 These confessions and warnings are printed in this 
 conspicuous manner so that the uncertain seeker after 
 " something to read" may see at a glance the poor sort 
 of entertainment offered herein, and replace the book 
 upon the shelf without buying. 
 
_ *-* ::. > 
 
 * ^ 
 
 THE 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ANY woman can drive an electric automobile, any 
 man can drive a steam, but neither man nor woman 
 can drive a gasoline; it follows its own odorous will, 
 and goes or goes not as it feels disposed. 
 
 For this very wilfulness the gasoline motor is the 
 most fascinating machine of all. It possesses the 
 subtle attraction of caprice; it constantly offers some 
 thing to overcome ; as in golf, you start out each time 
 to beat your own record. The machine is your tricky 
 and resourceful opponent. When you think it con 
 quered and well-broken to harness, submissive and re- 
 
 9 
 
 A cap 
 beast 
 
io On an Automobile 
 
 signed to your will, behold it is as obstinate as a mule, 
 balks, kicks, snorts, puffs, blows, or, what is worse, 
 refuses to kick, snort, puff, and blow, but stands in 
 stubborn silence, an obdurate beast which no amount 
 of coaxing, cajoling, cranking will start. 
 
 One of the beauties of the beast is its strict im 
 partiality. It shows no more deference to maker than 
 to owner; it moves no more quickly for expert me 
 chanic than for amateur driver. When it balks, it 
 balks, inventor, manufacturer, mechanic, stand puz 
 zled; suddenly it starts, they are equally puzzled. 
 
 Who has not seen inventors of these capricious 
 motors standing by the roadside scratching their heads 
 in despair, utterly at a loss to know why the stubborn 
 thing does not go? Who has not seen skilled me 
 chanics in blue jeans and unskilled amateurs in jeans 
 of leather, so to speak, flat on their backs under the 
 vehicle, peering upward into the intricacies of the 
 mechanism, trying to find the cause, the obscure, the 
 hidden source of all their trouble? And then the 
 probing with wires, the tugs with wrenches, the wrest 
 ling with screw-drivers, the many trials, for the most 
 part futile, the subdued language of the bunkers, and 
 at length, when least expected, a start, and the machine 
 goes off as if nothing at all had been the matter. It 
 is then the skilled driver looks wise and does not be 
 tray his surprise to the gaping crowd, just looks as if 
 the start were the anticipated result of his well-directed 
 efforts instead of a chance hit amidst blind gropings. 
 A Frenchman s One cannot but sympathize with the vanity of the 
 French chauffeur who stops his machine in the midst 
 of a crowd when it is working perfectly, makes a few 
 
Preliminary Observations 1 1 
 
 idle passes with wrenches and oil-cans, pulls a lever 
 and is off, all for the pleasure of hearing the populace 
 remark, " He understands his machine. He is a good 
 one." While the poor fellow, who really is in trouble, 
 sweats and groans and all but swears as he works in 
 vain to find what is the matter, to the delight of the 
 onlookers who laugh at what seems to them ignorance 
 and lack of skill. 
 
 And why should not these things be? Is not the Them 
 multitude always with us or against us? There is no c 
 spot so dreary, no country so waste, no highway so far 
 removed from the habitations and haunts of man that 
 a crowd of gaping people will not spring up when an 
 automobile stops for repairs. Choose a plain, the 
 broad expanse of which is unbroken by a sign of man ; 
 a wood, the depths of which baffle the eye and tangle 
 the foot ; let your automobile stop for so long as sixty 
 seconds, and the populace begin to gather, with the 
 small boy in the van; like birds of prey they perch ( 
 upon all parts of the machine, choosing by quick in 
 tuition those parts most susceptible to injury from 
 weight and contact, until you scarcely can move and 
 do the things you have to do. 
 
 The curiosity of the small boy is the forerunner of 
 knowledge, and must be satisfied. It is quite idle to 
 tell him to " Keep away !" it is worse than useless to 
 lose your temper and order him to " Clear out !" it is 
 a physical impossibility for him to do either; the law 
 of his being requires him to remain where he is and 
 to indefatigably get in the way. If he did not pry into 
 everything and ask a thousand questions, the thought 
 ful observer would be fearful lest he were an idiot. 
 
12 On an Automobile 
 
 The American small boy is not idiotic ; tested by his 
 curiosity concerning automobiles, he is the fruition of 
 the centuries, the genius tfre world is awaiting, the 
 coming ruler of men and empires, or who knows? 
 the coming master of the automobile. 
 
 His eiders Happily, curiosity is not confined to the small boy ; 
 
 it is but partially suppressed in his elders, and that 
 is lucky, for his elders, and their horses, can often 
 help. 
 
 The young chauffeur is panicky if he comes to a 
 stop on a lonely road, where no human habitation is 
 visible ; he fears he may never get away, that no help 
 will come; that he must abandon his machine and 
 walk miles for assistance. The old chauffeur knows 
 better. It matters not to him how lonely the road, how 
 remote the spot, one or two plaintive blasts of the horn 
 and, like mushrooms, human beings begin to spring 
 up ; whence they come is a mystery to you ; why they 
 come equally a mystery to them, but come they will, 
 and to help they are willing, to the harnessing of 
 horses and the dragging of the heavy machine to such 
 place as you desire. 
 
 to help This willingness, not to say eagerness, on the part 
 of the farmer, the truckman, the liveryman, in short, 
 the owner of horses, to help out a machine he despises, 
 which frightens his horses and causes him no end of 
 trouble, is an interesting trait of human nature ; a veri 
 table heaping of coals of fire. So long as the machine 
 is careering along in the full tide of glory, clearing and 
 monopolizing the highway, the horse owner wishes 
 it in Hades; but let the machine get into trouble, 
 and the same horse owner will pull up out of the ditch 
 
Preliminary Observations i 3 
 
 into which he has been driven, hitch his horses to the 
 cause of his scare, haul it to his stable, and make room 
 by turning his Sunday carryall into the lane, and four 
 farmers, three truckmen, and two liverymen out of five 
 will refuse all offers of payment for their trouble. 
 
 But how galling to the pride of the automobilist to Humiliation 
 see a pair of horses patiently pulling his machine along 
 the highway, and how he fights against such an un 
 natural ending of a day s run. 
 
 The real chauffeur, the man who knows his machine, 
 who can run it, who is something more than a puller 
 of levers and a twister of wheels, will not seek or per 
 mit the aid of horse or any other power, except where 
 the trouble is such that no human ingenuity can repair 
 on the road. 
 
 It is seldom the difficulty is such that repairs can 
 not be made on the spot. The novice looks on in de 
 spair, the experienced driver considers a moment, 
 makes use of the tools and few things he has with him, 
 and goes on. 
 
 It is astonishing how much can be done with few with limited 
 tools and practically no supplies. A packing blows 
 out; if you have no asbestos, brown paper, or even 
 newspaper saturated with oil, will do for the time 
 being; if a wheel has to be taken off, a fence-rail 
 makes an excellent jack; if a chain is to be riveted, 
 an axe or even a stone makes a good dolly-bar and 
 your wrench an excellent riveting hammer ; if screws, 
 or nuts, or bolts drop off, and they do, and you 
 have no extra, a glance at the machine is sure to dis 
 close duplicates that can be removed temporarily to the 
 more essential places. 
 
On an Automobile 
 
 The hoodlum 
 
 A problem. 
 
 Then, too, no one has ever exhausted the limitless 
 resources of a farmer s wagon-shed. In it you find the 
 accumulations of generations, bits of every conceivable 
 thing, all rusty, of course, and seemingly worthless, 
 but sure to serve your purpose on a pinch, and so acces 
 sible, never locked; just go in and help yourself. 
 Nowadays farmers use and abuse so much complicated 
 machinery, that it is more than likely one could con 
 struct entire an automobile from the odds and ends of 
 a half-dozen farm-yards. 
 
 All boys and most girls under twelve say, " Gim 
 me a ride ;" some boys and a few girls over twelve 
 say, " You look lonesome, mister." What the hoodlums 
 of the cities say will hardly bear repetition. In spite of 
 its swiftness the automobile offers opportunities for 
 studying human nature appreciated only by the driver. 
 
 The city hoodlum is a most aggressive individual ; 
 he is not invariably in tattered clothes, and is by no 
 means confined to the alleys and side streets. The 
 hoodlum element is a constituent part of human na 
 ture, present in every one; the classification of the 
 individual depending simply upon the depth at which 
 the turbulent element is buried, upon the number and 
 thickness of the overlying strata of civilization and 
 refinement. In the recognized hoodlum the obnoxious 
 element is quite at the surface ; in the best of us it is 
 only too apt to break forth, no man can be considered 
 an absolutely extinct volcano. 
 
 One can readily understand why owners and drivers 
 of horses should feel and even exhibit a marked aver 
 sion towards the automobile, since, from their stand- 
 
Preliminary Observations 15 
 
 point, it is an unmitigated nuisance; but why the 
 hoodlums who stand about the street corners should be 
 animated by a seemingly irresistible desire to hurl 
 stones and brickbats as well as epithets at passing 
 automobiles is a mystery worth solving ; it presents an 
 interesting problem in psychology. What is the mental 
 process occasioned by the sudden appearance of an 
 automobile, and which results in the hurling of the 
 first missile which comes to hand? It must be a re 
 version to savage instincts, the instinct of the chase; 
 something strange comes quickly into view; it makes 
 a strange noise, emits, perhaps, a strange odor, is pass 
 ing quickly and about to escape; it must be killed, 
 hence the brickbat. Uncontrollable impulse! poor 
 hoodlum, he cannot help it; if he could restrain the 
 hand and stay the brickbat he \vould not be a hood 
 lum, but a man. Time and custom have tamed him so 
 that he lets horses, bicycles, and carriages pass; he 
 can t quite help slinging a stone at an advertising van 
 or any strange vehicle, while the automobile is alto 
 gether too much. 
 
 That it is the machine which rouses his savage in 
 stincts is clear from the fact that rarely is anything 
 thrown at the occupants. Complete satisfaction is 
 found in hitting the thing itself; no doubt regret 
 would be felt if any one were injured, but if the stone 
 resounds upon the iron frame of the moving devil, the 
 satisfaction is felt that the best of us might experience 
 from hitting the scaly sides of a slumbering sea- 
 monster, for hit him we would, though at immediate 
 risk of perdition. 
 
1 6 On an Automobile 
 
 varieties of The American hoodlum has, withal, his good points. 
 
 If you are not in trouble, he will revile and stone you; 
 if in trouble, he will commiserate and assist. He is 
 quick to put his shoulder to the wheel and push, pull 
 or lift ; often with mechanical insight superior to the 
 unfortunate driver he will discern the difficulty and 
 suggest the remedy; dirt has no terrors for him, oil 
 is his delight, grease the goal of his desires; mind 
 you, all this concerns the American hoodlum or the 
 hoodlum of indefinite or of Irish extraction ; it applies 
 not to the Teutonic or other hoodlum. He will pass 
 you by with phlegmatic indifference, he will not throw 
 things at you, neither will he help you unless strongly 
 appealed to, and then not over-zealously or over-in- 
 telligently ; his application is short-lived and he hurries 
 on ; but the other hoodlum will stay with you all night 
 if necessary, finding, no doubt, the automobile a pleas 
 ant diversion from a bed on the grass. 
 
 The root of evil But the dissension a quarter will cause! A battle 
 royal was once produced by a dollar. They had all 
 assisted, but, like the workers in the vineyard, some 
 had come early and some late. The automobile, in 
 trying to turn on a narrow road, had dropped off the 
 side into low wet ground ; the early comers could not 
 quite get it back, but with the aid of the later it was 
 done; the division of a dollar left behind raised the 
 old, old problem. Unhappily, it fell into the hands of 
 a late comer for distribution, and it was his contention 
 that the final lift did the work, that all previous effort 
 was so much wasted energy; the early comers con 
 tended that the reward should be in proportion to 
 
Preliminary Observations i 7 
 
 expenditure of time and muscle and not measured by 
 actual achievement, a discussion not without force on 
 both sides, but cut short by a scrimmage involving 
 far more force than the discussion. All of which goes 
 to show the disturbing influence of money, for in all 
 truth those who had assisted did not expect any re 
 ward ; they first laughed to see the machine in the 
 ditch, and then turned to like tigers to get it out. 
 
 This whole question of paying for services in con- Paying fo> 
 nection with automobiling is as interesting as it is new. services 
 The people are not adjusted to the strange vehicle. A 
 man with a white elephant could probably travel from 
 New York to San Francisco without disbursing a 
 penny for the keeping of his animal. Farmers and 
 even liverymen would keep and feed it on the way with 
 out charge. It is a good deal so with an automobile; 
 it is still sufficiently a curiosity to command respect 
 and attention. The farmer is glad to have it stop in 
 front of his door or put up in his shed ; he will supply 
 it with oil and water. The blacksmith would rather 
 have it stop at his shop for repair than at his rival s, 
 it gives him a little notoriety, something to talk 
 about. So it is with the liveryman at night; he is, 
 as a rule, only too glad to have the novelty under his 
 roof, and takes pride in showing it to the visiting 
 townsfolk. They do not know what to charge, and 
 therefore charge nothing. It is often with difficulty 
 anything can be forced upon them; they are quite 
 averse to accepting gratuities ; meanwhile, the farmer, 
 whose horse and cart have taken up far less room and 
 caused far less trouble, pays the fixed charge. 
 
 These conditions prevail only in localities where au- 
 
i8 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 The real 
 chauffeur 
 
 The sham 
 chauffeur 
 
 tomobiles are seen infrequently. Along the highways 
 where they travel frequently all is quite changed ; 
 many a stable will not house them at any price, and 
 those that will, charge goodly sums for the service. 
 
 It is one thing to own an automobile, another thing 
 to operate it. It is one thing to sit imposingly at the 
 steering-wheel until something goes wrong, and quite 
 another thing to repair and go on. 
 
 There are chauffeurs and chauffeurs, the latter 
 wear the paraphernalia and are photographed, while 
 the former are working under the machines. You can 
 tell the difference by the goggles. The sham chauf 
 feur sits in front and turns the wheel, the real sits 
 behind and takes things as they come; the former 
 wears the goggles, the latter finds sufficient protection 
 in the smut on the end of his nose. 
 
 The expert 
 mechanic 
 
 There is every excuse for relying helplessly on an 
 expert mechanic if you have no mechanical ingenuity, 
 or are averse to getting dirty and grimy ; but that is 
 not automobiling ; it is being run about in a huge 
 perambulator. 
 
 The real chauffeur knows every moment by the 
 sound and " feel" of his machine exactly what it is 
 doing, the amount of gasoline it is taking, whether the 
 lubrication is perfect, the character and heat of the 
 spark, the condition of almost every screw, nut, and 
 bolt, and he runs his machine accordingly ; at the first 
 indication of anything wrong he stops and takes the 
 stitch in time that saves ninety and nine later. The 
 sham chauffeur sits at the wheel, and in the security 
 
Preliminary Observations 19 
 
 of ignorance runs gayly along- until his machine is a 
 wreck; he may have hours, days, or even weeks of 
 blind enjoyment, but the end is inevitable, and the re 
 pairs costly; then he blames every one but himself, 
 blames the maker for not making a machine that 
 may be operated by inexperience forever, blames the 
 men in his stable for what reason he knows not, blames 
 the roads, the country, everything and everybody but 
 himself. 
 
 It is amusing to hear the sham chauffeur talk. Distributing 
 
 the credit 
 
 When things go well, he does it ; when they go wrong, 
 it is the fault of some one else ; if he makes a success 
 ful run, the mechanic with him is a nonentity; if he 
 breaks down, the mechanic is his only resource. It is 
 more interesting to hear the mechanic the real chauf 
 feur talk when he is flat on his back making good 
 the mistakes of his master, but his conversation could 
 not be printed verbatim et literatim, it is explosive 
 and without a muffler. 
 
 The man who cannot run his machine a thousand 
 miles without expert assistance should make no pre 
 tense to being a chauffeur, for he is not one. The 
 chauffeur may use mechanics whenever he can find 
 them; but if he can t find them, he gets along just as 
 well ; and when he does use them it is not for informa 
 tion and advice, but to do just the things he wants 
 done and no more. The skilled enthusiast would not 
 think of letting even an expert from the factory do 
 anything to his machine, unless he stood over him and 
 watched every movement; as soon would a lover of 
 horses permit his hostlers to dope his favorite mount. 
 
-mm % 
 
 v^ 
 
 MASCiNG PEAiJv" TC ST^ 
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 THE MACHINE USED 
 
 The horse 
 power 
 
 THE machine was just an ordinary twelve hundred 
 dollar single-cylinder American machine, with neither 
 improvements nor attachments to especially strengthen 
 it for a long tour ; and it had seen constant service 
 since January without any return to the shop for re 
 pairs. 
 
 It was rated eight and one-half horse-power; but, 
 as every one knows, American machines are overrated 
 as a rule, while foreign machines are greatly under 
 rated. A twelve horse-power American machine may 
 mean not more than eight or ten ; a twelve horse- 
 20 
 
The Machine Used 21 
 
 power French machine, with its four cylinders, means 
 not less than sixteen. 
 
 The foreign manufacturer appreciates the advantage 
 of having it said that his eight horse-power machine 
 will run faster and climb better than the eight horse 
 power machine of a rival maker ; hence the tendency 
 to increase the power without changing the nominal 
 rating. The American manufacturer caters to the de 
 mand of his customers for machines of high power by 
 advancing the nominal rating quite beyond the power 
 actually developed. 
 
 But already things are changing here, and makers 
 show a disposition to rate their machines low, for the 
 sake of astonishing in performance. A man dislikes to 
 admit his machine is rated at forty horse-power and to 
 acknowledge defeat by a machine rated at twenty, when 
 the truth is that each machine is probably about thirty. 
 
 The tendency at the present moment is decidedly The French 
 towards the French type, two or four cylinders y e 
 placed in front. 
 
 In the construction of racing-cars and high-speed 
 machines for such roads as they have on the other 
 side, we have much to learn from the French, and we 
 have been slow in learning it. The conceit of the 
 American mechanic amounts often to blind stubborn 
 ness, but the ease with which the foreign machines 
 have passed the American in all races on smooth roads 
 has opened the eyes of our builders; the danger just 
 now is that they will go to the other extreme and copy 
 too blindly. 
 
22 On an Automobile 
 
 In the hands of experts, the foreign racing-cars are 
 the most perfect road locomotives yet devised; for 
 touring over American roads in the hands of the ama 
 teur they are worse than useless; and even experts 
 have great difficulty in running week in and week out 
 without serious breaks and delays. To use a slang 
 phrase, " They will not stand the racket." However 
 " stunning" they look on asphalt and macadam with 
 their low, rakish bodies, resplendent in red and 
 polished brass, on country roads they are very fre 
 quently failures. A thirty horse-power foreign ma 
 chine costing ten or twelve thousand dollars, accom 
 panied by one or more expert mechanics, may make a 
 brilliant showing for a week or so ; but when the time 
 is up, the ordinary, cheap, country-looking, American 
 automobile will be found a close second at the finish ; 
 not that it is a finer piece of machinery, for it is not ; 
 but it has been developed under the adverse condi 
 tions prevailing in this country and is built to sur 
 mount them. The maker in this country who runs his 
 machine one hundred miles from his factory, would 
 find fewer difficulties between Paris and Berlin. 
 
 The temptation is great to purchase a foreign ma 
 chine on sight; resist the temptation until you have 
 ridden in it over a hundred miles of sandy, clayey, and 
 hilly American roads; you may then defer the pur 
 chase indefinitely, unless you expect to carry along a 
 man. 
 The Machine for machine, regardless of price, the com- 
 
 companson . .,1111 r 
 
 parison is debatable ; but price for price, there is no 
 comparison whatsoever ; in fact, there is no inexpen- 
 
The Machine Used 23 
 
 sive imported machine which compares for a moment 
 with the American product. 
 
 A single-cylinder motor possesses a few great ad- The single 
 
 cylinder 
 
 vantages to compensate for many disadvantages; it 
 has fewer parts to get out of order, and troubles can 
 be much more quickly located and overcome. Two, 
 three, and four cylinders run with less vibration and 
 are better in every way, except that with every cylinder 
 added the chances of troubles are multiplied, and the 
 difficulty of locating them increased. Each cylinder 
 must have its own lubrication, its ignition, intake, and 
 exhaust mechanisms, the quartette that is responsible 
 for nine-tenths of the stops. 
 
 Beyond eight or ten horse-power the single cylinder 
 is hardly practicable. The kick from the explosion is 
 too violent, the vibration and strain too great, and 
 power is lost in transmission. But up to eight or ten 
 horse-power the single-cylinder motor with a heavy 
 fly-wheel is practicable, runs very smoothly at high 
 speeds, mounts hills and ploughs mud quite success 
 fully. The American ten horse-power single-cylinder 
 motor will go faster and farther on our roads than 
 most foreign double-cylinder machines of the same 
 horse-power. It will last longer and require less 
 repairs. 
 
 The amateur who is not a pretty good mechanic For the 
 
 amateur 
 
 and who wishes to tour without the assistance of an 
 expert will do well to use the single-cylinder motor; 
 he will have trouble enough with that without seeking 
 further complications by the adoption of multiple 
 cylinders. 
 
24 On an Automobile 
 
 It is quite practicable to attain speeds of from twenty 
 to thirty miles per hour with a single-cylinder motor, 
 but for bad roads and hilly countries a low gear with 
 a maximum of twenty to twenty-five miles per hour 
 is better. The average for the day will be higher be 
 cause better speed is maintained through heavy roads 
 and on up grades. 
 
 Tires So far as resiliency is concerned, there is no com 
 
 parison between the French double-tube tire and the 
 heavy American single tube, the former is far ahead, 
 and is, of course, easily repaired on the road, but it 
 does not seem to stand the severe wear of American 
 roads, and it is very easily punctured. Our highways 
 both in and out of cities are filled with things that cut, 
 and bristle with wire-nails. The heavy American 
 single-tube tire holds out quite well; it gets many 
 deep cuts and takes nails like a pin-cushion, but com 
 paratively few go through. The weight of the tire 
 makes it rather hard riding, very hard, indeed, as 
 compared with a fine Michelin. 
 
 Luggage There are many devices for carrying luggage, but 
 
 for getting a good deal into a small compass there is 
 nothing equal to a big Scotch hold-all. It is water 
 proof to begin with, and holds more than a small 
 steamer-trunk. It can be strapped in or under the 
 machine anywhere. Trunks and hat-boxes may remain 
 with the express companies, always within a few 
 hours call. 
 
 clothes What to wear is something of a problem. In late 
 
 autumn and winter fur is absolutely essential to com 
 fort. Even at fifteen or twentv miles an hour the wind 
 
The Machine Used 25 
 
 is penetrating and goes through everything but the 
 closest of fur. For women, fur or leather-lined coats 
 are comfortable even when the weather seems still 
 quite warm. 
 
 Leather coats are a great protection against both Leather 
 cold and dust. Unhappily, most people who have no 
 machines of their own, when invited to ride, have 
 nothing fit to wear; they dress too thinly, wear hats 
 that blow off, and they altogether are, and look, quite 
 unhappy to the great discomfort of those with them. 
 It is not a bad plan to have available one or two good 
 warm coats for the benefit of guests, and always carry 
 water-proof coats and lap-covers. In emergency, thin 
 black oil-cloth, purchasable at any country store, makes 
 a good water-proof covering. 
 
 Whoever is running a machine must be prepared for The 
 emergencies, for at any moment it may be necessary chau ff eur s 
 to get underneath. 
 
 The man who is going to master his own machine 
 must expect to get dirty; dust, oil, and grime plenti 
 fully distributed, but dirt is picturesque, even if ob 
 jectionable. Character is expressed in dirt ; the bright 
 and shining school-boy face is devoid of interest, an 
 artificial product, quite unnatural; the smutty street 
 urchin is an actor on life s stage, every daub, spot, and 
 line an essential part of his make-up. 
 
 The spic and span may go well with a coach and 
 four, but not with the automobile. Imagine an engi 
 neer driving his locomotive in blue coat, yellow waist 
 coat, and ruffles, quite as appropriate as a fastidious 
 dress on the automobile. 
 
26 On an Automobile 
 
 People are not yet quite accustomed to the grime 
 of automobiling ; they tolerate the dust of the golf 
 links, the dirt of base-ball and cricket, the mud of 
 foot-ball, and would ridicule the man who failed to 
 dress appropriately for those games, but the me 
 chanic s blouse or leather coat of automobiling, the 
 gloves saturated with oil these are comparatively 
 unfamiliar sights ; hence men are seen starting off 
 for a hard run in ducks and serges, sacks, cutaways, 
 even frocks, and hats of all styles; give a farmer a 
 silk hat and patent leather boots to wear while thresh 
 ing, and he would match them. 
 
 Every sport has its own appropriate costume, and 
 the costume is not the result of arbitrary choice, but 
 of natural selection ; if we hunt, fish, or play any out 
 door game, sooner or later we find ourselves dressing 
 like our associates. The tenderfoot may put on his 
 cowboy s suit a little too soon and look and be very 
 uncomfortable, but the costume is essential to success 
 in the long run. 
 
 The Russian cap so commonly seen is an affectation, 
 it catches the wind and is far from comfortable. 
 The best head covering is a closely fitting Scotch cap. 
 
SS THIS THE ROAD TO 
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 THE START 
 
 THE trip was not premeditated it was not of 
 malice aforethought; it was the outcome of an idle 
 suggestion made one hot summer afternoon, and de 
 cided upon in the moment. Within the same half- 
 hour a telegram was sent the Professor inviting him 
 for a ride to Buffalo. Beyond that point there was 
 no thought, merely a nebulous notion that might take 
 form if everything went well. 
 
 Hampered by no announcements, with no record to 
 make or break, the trip was for pleasure, a mid 
 summer jaunt. We did intend to make the run to 
 
 27 
 
 A ""^ 
 
28 On an Automobile 
 
 Buffalo as fast as roads would permit, but for ex 
 hilaration only, and not with any thought of making 
 a record that would stand against record-making 
 machines, driven by record-breaking men. 
 
 It is much better to start for nowhere and get 
 there than to start for somewhere and fall by the 
 wayside. Just keep going, and the machine will carry 
 you beyond your expectations. 
 
 where The Professor knew nothing about machinery and 
 
 ignorance is ...... .... 
 
 bliss less about an automobile, but where ignorance is bliss 
 
 it is double-distilled folly to know anything about the 
 eccentricities of an automobile. 
 
 To enjoy automobiling, one must know either all or 
 nothing about the machine, a little knowledge is a 
 dangerous thing; on the part of the guest it leads to 
 all sorts of apprehensions, on the part of the chauffeur 
 to all sorts of experiments. About five hundred miles 
 is the limit of a man s ignorance; he then knows 
 enough to make trouble; at the end of another five 
 hundred he is of assistance, at the end of the third he 
 will run the machine himself your greatest pleasure 
 is in the first five hundred. With some precocious 
 individuals these figures may be reduced somewhat. 
 
 The The Professor adjusted his spectacles and looked at 
 
 Professor s 
 
 first impression the machine : 
 
 " A very wonderful contrivance, and one that re 
 quires some skill to operate. From lack of experience, 
 I cannot hope to be of much practical assistance at 
 first, but possibly a theoretical knowledge of the laws 
 and principles governing things mechanical may be of 
 service in an emergency. Since receiving your tele- 
 
The Start 29 
 
 gram, I have brushed up a little my knowledge of both 
 kinematics and dynamics, though it is quite apparent 
 that the operation of these machines, accompanied, as 
 it is said, by many restraints and perturbations, falls 
 under the latter branch. In view of the possibility- 
 remote, I trust of the machine refusing to go, I have 
 devoted a little time to statics, and therefore feel that 
 I shall be something more than a supercargo." 
 
 " Well, you are equipped, Professor ; no doubt your 
 knowledge will prove useful." 
 
 " Knowledge is always useful if people in this busy 
 age would only pause to make use of it. Mechanics 
 has been defined as the application of pure mathe 
 matics to produce or modify motion in inferior bodies ; 
 what could be more apt ? Is it not our intention to pro 
 duce or modify motion in this inferior body before us ?" 
 
 Days after the Professor found the crank a more 
 useful implement for the inducing of motion. 
 
 It was Thursday morning, August I, at exactly 
 seven o clock, that we passed south on Michigan Ave 
 nue towards South Chicago and Hammond. A glori 
 ous morning, neither hot nor cold, but just deliciously 
 cool, with some promise afterwards more than ful 
 filled of a warm day. 
 
 The hour was early, policemen few, streets clear, 
 hence fast speed could be made. 
 
 As we passed Zion Temple, near Twelfth Street, the 
 home of the Dowieites, the Professor said: 
 
 " A very remarkable man, that Dowie." 
 
 " A fraud and an impostor," I retorted, reflecting 
 current opinion. 
 
3 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 " Possibly ; but we all impose more or less upon one 
 another ; he has simply made a business of his imposi 
 tion. Did you ever meet him?" 
 
 " No ; it s hardly worth while/ 
 
 " It is worth while to meet any man who influences 
 or controls a considerable body of his fellow-men. 
 The difference between Mohammed and Joseph Smith 
 is of degree rather than kind. Dowie is down towards 
 the small end of the scale, but he is none the less there, 
 and differs in kind from your average citizen in his 
 power to influence and control others. I crossed the 
 lake with him one night and spent the evening in con 
 versation." 
 
 " What are your impressions of the man ?" 
 
 " A shrewd, hard-headed, dogmatic Scotchman, 
 who neither smokes nor drinks." 
 
 " Who calls himself Elijah come to earth again." 
 
 " I had the temerity to ask him concerning his pre 
 tensions in that direction, and he said, substantially, 
 I make no claims or assertions, but the Bible says 
 Elijah will return to earth; it does not say in what 
 form or how he will manifest himself ; he might choose 
 your personality ; he might choose mine ; he has not 
 chosen yours, there are some evidences that he has 
 chosen mine." 
 
 " Proof most conclusive." 
 
 " It satisfies his followers. After all, perhaps it does 
 not matter so much what we believe as how we believe/ 
 Another tempie A f ew moments later we were passing the new 
 Christian Science Temple on Drexel Boulevard, a 
 building quite simple and delightful, barring some 
 garish lamps in front. 
 
The Start 31 
 
 " There is another latter-day sect," said the Pro 
 fessor ; " one of the phenomena of the nineteenth cen 
 tury." 
 
 " You would not class them with the Dowieites?" 
 " By no means, but an interesting part of a large 
 whole which embraces at one extreme the Dowieites. 
 The connecting link is faith. But the very architecture 
 of the temple we have just passed illustrates the vast 
 interval that separates the two." 
 
 " Then you judge a sect by its buildings?" 
 " Every faith has its own architecture. The temple 
 at Karnak and the tabernacle at Salt Lake City are 
 petrifactions of faith. In time the places of worship 
 are the only tangible remains witness Stonehenge." 
 
 Chicago boasts the things she has not and slights Lake 
 the things she has; she talks of everything but the and bo levfl * ds 
 lake and her broad and almost endless boulevards, yet 
 these are her chief glories. 
 
 For miles and miles and miles one can travel boule 
 vards upon which no traffic teams are allowed. From 
 Fort Sheridan, twenty-five miles north, to far below 
 Jackson Park to the south there is an unbroken 
 stretch. Some day Sheridan Road will extend to 
 Milwaukee, ninety miles from Chicago. 
 
 One may reach Jackson Park, the old World s Fair 
 site, by three fine boulevards, Michigan, broad and 
 straight ; Drexel, with its double driveways and banks 
 of flowers, trees, and shrubbery between ; Grand, with 
 its three driveways, and so wide one cannot recognize 
 an acquaintance on the far side, cannot even see the 
 policeman frantically motioning to slow down. 
 
32 On an Automobile 
 
 TO Hammond it does not matter which route is taken to the Park, 
 the good roads end there. We missed our way, and 
 went eighteen miles to Hammond, over miles of poor 
 pavement and unfinished roads. That was a pull 
 which tried nerves and temper, to find at the end 
 there was another route which involved but a short 
 distance of poor going. It is all being improved, and 
 soon there will be a good road to Hammond. 
 
 Through Indiana from Hammond to Hobart the 
 road is macadamized and in perfect condition ; we 
 reached Hobart at half-past nine ; no stop was made. 
 At Crocker two pails of water were added to the cool 
 ing tank. 
 
 At Porter the road was lost for a second time, 
 exasperating. At Chesterton four gallons of gasoline 
 were taken and a quick run made to Burdick. 
 
 Roads are fair The roads are now not so good, not bad, but just 
 good country roads, some stretches of gravel, but gen 
 erally clay, with some sand here and there. The coun 
 try is rolling, but no steep hills. 
 
 A uttie rusty up to this time the machine had required no atten 
 tion, but just beyond Otis, while stopping to inquire 
 the way, we discovered a rusty round nail embedded 
 to the head in the right rear tire. The tire showed 
 no signs of deflation, but on drawing the nail the 
 air followed, showing a puncture. As the nail was 
 scarcely three-quarters of an inch long, not long 
 enough to go clear through and injure the inner 
 coating on the opposite side, it was entirely practical 
 to reinsert and run until it worked out. A very fair 
 
The Start 
 
 33 
 
 temporary repair might have been made by first dip 
 ping the nail in a tire cement, but the nail was rusty 
 and stuck very well. 
 
 An hour later, at La Porte, the nail was still doing 
 good service and no leak could be detected. We wired 
 back to Chicago to have an extra tire sent on ahead. 
 
 From Chicago to La Porte, by way of Hobart, the 
 roads are excellent, excepting always the few miles 
 near South Chicago. Keep to the south even as far 
 south as Valparaiso rather than to the north, near 
 the lake. The roads are hilly and sandy near the lake. 
 
 Beware the so-called road map; it is a snare and a Road maps 
 delusion. A road which seems most seductive on the 
 bicycler s road map may be a sea of sand or a veri 
 table quagmire, but with a fine bicycle path at the 
 side. As you get farther east these cinder paths are 
 protected by law, with heavy fines for driving thereon ; 
 it requires no little restraint to plough miles and miles 
 through bottomless mud on a narrow road in the Mo 
 hawk valley with a superb three-foot cinder path 
 against your very wheels. The machine of its own 
 accord will climb up now and then; it requires all 
 the vigilance of a law-abiding driver to keep it in 
 the mud. where it is so unwilling to travel. 
 
 So far as finding and keeping the road is concerned, Keeping the 
 and it is a matter of great concern in this vast coun- road 
 try, where roads, cross-roads, forks, and all sorts of 
 snares and delusions abound without sign-boards to 
 point the way, the following directions may be given 
 once for all : 
 
 If the proposed route is covered by any automobile 
 3 
 
34 On an Automobile 
 
 hand-book or any automobile publication, get it, carry 
 it with you and be guided by it ; all advice of ancient 
 inhabitants to the contrary notwithstanding. 
 
 If there is no publication covering the route, take 
 pains to get from local automobile sources informa 
 tion about the several possible routes to the principal 
 towns which you wish to make. 
 
 If you can get no information at all from automobile 
 sources, you can make use with great caution of 
 bicycle road maps, of the maps rather than the red- 
 lined routes. 
 
 About the safest course is to spread out the map 
 and run a straight line between the principal points on 
 the proposed route, note the larger villages, towns, 
 and cities near the line so drawn, make a list of them 
 in the order they come from the starting-point, and 
 simply inquire at each of these points for the best 
 road to the next. 
 
 If the list includes places of fair size, say, from 
 one to ten or twenty thousand inhabitants, it is reason 
 ably certain that the roads connecting such places will 
 be about as good as there are in the vicinity ; now and 
 then a better road may be missed, but, in the long run, 
 that does not matter much, and the advantage of 
 keeping quite close to the straight line tells in the way 
 of mileage. 
 
 It is usually worse than useless to inquire in any 
 place about the roads beyond a radius of fifteen or 
 twenty miles; plenty of answers to all questions will 
 be forthcoming, but they simply mislead. In these 
 days of railroads, farmers no longer make long over 
 land drives. 
 
The Start 35 
 
 It is much easier to get information in small vil 
 lages than in cities. In a city about all one can learn 
 is how to get out by the shortest cut. Once out, the 
 first farmer will give information about the roads 
 beyond. 
 
 In wet weather the last question will be, "Is the 
 road clayey or bottomless anywhere?" In dry weather, 
 " Is there any deep, soft sand, and are there any sand 
 hills?" 
 
 The judgment of a man who is looking at the ma 
 chine while he is giving information is biased by the 
 impressions as to what the machine can do; make 
 allowances for this and get, if possible, an accurate 
 description of the condition of any road which is pro 
 nounced impassable, for you alone know what the 
 machine can do, and many a road others think you 
 cannot cover is made with ease. 
 
 To the farmer the automobile is a traction engine, 
 and he advises the route accordingly; he will even 
 speculate whether a given bridge will support the 
 extraordinary load. 
 
 Once we were directed to go miles out of our way 
 over a series of hills to avoid a stretch of road freshly 
 covered with broken stone, because our solicitous 
 friends were sure the stones would cut the rubber 
 tires. 
 
 On the other hand, in Michigan, a well meaning 
 old lady sent us straight against the very worst of 
 sand hills, not a weed, stone, or hard spot on it, so 
 like quicksand that the wheels sank as they revolved; 
 it was the only hill from which we retreated, to find 
 
On an Automobile 
 
 A woman s 
 mind 
 
 that farmers avoided that particular road on account 
 of that notorious hill, to find also a good, well-travelled 
 road one mile farther around. These instances are 
 mentioned here to show how hazardous it is to accept 
 blindly directions given. 
 
 " Is this the road to 
 
 is the chauffeur s ever 
 
 recurring shout to people as he whizzes by. Four 
 times out of five he gets a blank stare or an idiotic 
 smile. Now and then he receives a quick " Yes" or 
 " No." 
 
 If time permits to stop and discuss the matter at 
 length, do so with a man; if passing quickly, ask a 
 woman. 
 
 i A woman will reply before a man comprehends 
 what is asked ; the feminine mind is so much more 
 alert than the masculine; then, too, a woman would 
 rather know what a man is saying than watch a ma 
 chine, while a man would rather see the machine than 
 
 listen ; in many ways the automobile differentiates 
 
 the sexes. 
 
 Of a group of school children, the girls will answer 
 more quickly and accurately than the boys. What they 
 know, they seem to know positively. A boy s wits go 
 wool gathering; he is watching the wheels go round. 
 
 Towards South 
 Bend 
 
 At Carlyle, on the way to South Bend, the tire was 
 leaking slightly, the nail had worked out. The road 
 is a fine wide macadam, somewhat rolling as South 
 Bend is approached. 
 
 By the road taken South Bend is about one hundred 
 miles from Chicago, the distance actually covered 
 
The Start 37 
 
 was some six or eight miles farther, on account of 
 wanderings from the straight and narrow path. The 
 hour was exactly two fifty-three, nearly eight hours 
 out, an average of about twelve and one-half miles an 
 hour, including all stops, and stops count in automo- 
 hiling; they pull the average down by jumps. 
 
 The extra tire was to be at Elkhart, farther on, and Mending the 
 the problem was to make the old one hold until that *"" 
 point would be reached. Just as we were about to 
 insert a plug to take the place of the nail, a bicycle 
 repairer suggested rubber bands. A dozen small 
 bands were passed through the little fork made by the 
 broken eye of a large darning-needle, stretched tight 
 over a wooden handle into which the needle had been 
 inserted; some tire cement was injected into the punct 
 ure, and the needle carrying the stretched bands deftly 
 thrust clear through ; on withdrawing the needle the 
 bands remained, plugging the hole so effectually that 
 it showed no leak until some weeks later, when near 
 Boston, the air began to work slowly through the 
 fabric. 
 
 Heavy and clumsy as are the large single-tube tires, 
 it is quite practicable to carry an extra one, though we 
 did not. One is pretty sure to have punctures, 
 though two in twenty-six hundred miles are not many. 
 
 Nearly an hour was spent at South Bend ; the river 
 road, following the trolley line, was taken to Elkhart. 
 
 Near Osceola a bridge was down for repairs; the Fording a 
 stream was quite wide and swift but not very deep. 
 From the broken bridge the bottom seemed to be sand 
 and gravel, and the approaches on each side were not 
 
38 On an Automobile 
 
 too steep. There was nothing to do but go through 
 or lose many miles in going round. Putting on all 
 power we went through with no difficulty whatsoever, 
 the water at the deepest being about eighteen to twenty 
 inches, somewhat over the hubs. If the bottom of the 
 little stream had been soft and sticky, or filled with 
 boulders, fording would have been out of the ques 
 tion. Before attempting a stream, one must make sure 
 of the bottom ; the depth is of less importance. 
 
 Goshento We did not run into Elkhart, but passed about two 
 
 Ketidallville < 1 i r ,1 j_ /-* 1 
 
 miles south in sight of the town, arriving at Goshen at 
 four fifteen. The roads all through here seem to be 
 excellent. From Goshen our route was through Ben- 
 ton and Ligonier, arriving at Kendallville at exactly 
 eight o clock. 
 
 The day s run The Professor with painstaking accuracy kept a log 
 of the run, noting every stop and the time lost. 
 
 In this first day s run of thirteen hours, the distance 
 covered by route taken was one hundred and seventy 
 miles; deducting all stops, the actual running time 
 was nine hours and twenty minutes, an average of 
 eighteen miles per hour while the machine was in 
 motion. 
 
 For an ordinary road machine this is a high aver 
 age over so long a stretch, but the weather was per 
 fect and the machine working like a clock. The roads 
 were very good on the whole, and, while the country 
 was rolling, the grades were not so steep as to compel 
 the use of the slow gear to any great extent. 
 
 The machine was geared rather high for any but 
 favorable conditions, and could make thirty-five 
 
The Start 39 
 
 miles an hour on level macadam, and race down grade 
 at an even higher rate. Before reaching Buffalo we 
 found the gearing too high for some grades and for 
 deep sand. 
 
 On the whole, the roads of Northern Indiana are Indiana roads 
 good, better than the roads of any adjoining State, 
 and we were told the roads of the entire State are 
 very good. The system of improvement under State 
 laws seems to be quite advanced. It is a little galling 
 to the people of Illinois, Michigan, and Ohio to find 
 the humble Hoosier is far ahead in the matter of road 
 building. If all the roads between Chicago and New 
 York averaged as good as those of Indiana, the trip 
 would present fewer difficulties and many more de 
 lights. 
 
 The Professor notes that up to this point nine and Gasoline 
 three-quarters gallons of gasoline have been con- consumed 
 sumed, seventeen miles to the gallon. When a motor 
 is working perfectly, the consumption of gasoline is 
 always a pretty fair indication of the character of the 
 roads. Our machine was supposed to make twenty 
 miles to the gallon, and so it would on level roads, 
 with the spark well advanced and the intake valve 
 operating to a nicety ; but under adverse conditions 
 more gasoline is used, and with the hill-climbing gear 
 four times the gasoline is used per mile. 
 
 The long run of this first day was most encour- The long puii 
 aging ; but the test is not the first day, nor the second, 
 nor even the first week, nor the second, but the steady 
 pull of week in and week out. 
 
40 On an Automobile 
 
 With every mile there is a theoretical decrease in 
 the life and total efficiency of the machine; after a 
 run of five hundred or a thousand miles this decrease 
 is very perceptible. The trouble is that while the dis 
 tance covered increases in arithmetical progression, the 
 deterioration of the machine is in geometrical. Dur 
 ing the first few days a good machine requires com 
 paratively little attention each day ; during the last 
 weeks of a long tour it requires double the attention 
 and ten times the work. 
 
 AS an exercise No one who has not tried it can appreciate the great 
 strain and the wear and tear incidental to long rides on 
 American roads. Going at twenty or twenty-five miles 
 an hour in a machine with thirty-two-inch wheels and 
 short wheel-base gives about the same exercise one 
 gets on a horse ; one is lifted from the seat and thrown 
 from side to side, until you learn to ride the machine 
 as you would a trotter and take the bumps accord 
 ingly. It is trying to the nerves and the temper, it 
 exercises every muscle in the body, and at night one is 
 ready for a good rest. 
 
 Lovers of the horse frequently say that automobilirig 
 is to coaching as steam yachting is to sailing, all of 
 which argues the densest ignorance concerning auto- 
 mobiling, since there is no sport which affords any 
 thing like the same measure of exhilaration and 
 danger, and requires anything like the same amount 
 of nerve, dash, and daring. Since the days of Roman 
 chariot racing the records of man describe nothing 
 that parallels automobile racing, and, so far as we 
 have any knowledge, chariot racing, save for the 
 
The Start 41 
 
 plaudits of vast throngs of spectators, was tame and 
 uneventful compared with the frightful pace of sixty 
 and eighty miles an hour in a throbbing, bounding, 
 careering road locomotive, over roads practically un 
 known, passing persons, teams, vehicles, cattle, ob 
 stacles, and obstructions of all kinds, with a thousand 
 hair-breadth escapes from wreck and destruction. 
 
 The sport may not be pretty and graceful; it lacks AS a spot t 
 the sanction of convention, the halo of tradition. It 
 does not admit of smart gowns and gay trappings ; it 
 is the last product of a mechanical age, the triumph 
 of mechanical ingenuity, the harnessing of mechanical 
 forces for pleasure instead of profit, the automobile 
 is the mechanical horse, and, while not as graceful, is 
 infinitely more powerful, capricious, and dangerous 
 than the ancient beast. 
 
THE 
 DAJLDOAD 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 INTO OHIO 
 
 Curry hi g the 
 steed 
 
 A FIVE o clock call, though quite in accordance with 
 orders, was received with some resentment and re 
 sponded to reluctantly, the Professor remarking that 
 it seemed but fair to give the slow-going sun a reason 
 able start as against the automobile. 
 
 About fifty minutes were given to a thorough ex 
 amination of the machine. Beyond the tightening of 
 perhaps six or eight nuts there was nothing to do, 
 everything was in good shape. But there is hardly 
 a screw or nut on a new automobile that will not re 
 quire tightening after a little hard usage ; this is quite 
 42 
 
Into Ohio 43 
 
 in the nature of things, and not a fault. It is only 
 under work that every part of the machine settles into 
 place. It is of vital importance during the first few 
 days of a long tour to go over every screw, nut, and 
 bolt, however firm and tight they may appear. 
 
 In time many of the screws and nuts will rust and 
 corrode in place so as to require no more attention, 
 but all that are subjected to great vibration will work 
 loose, soon or late. The addition of one or two extra 
 nuts, if there is room, helps somewhat; but where it 
 is practical, rivet or upset the bolt with a few blows 
 of the hammer; or with a punch, cold chisel, or even 
 screw-driver jam the threads near the nut, these de 
 structive measures to be adopted only at points where 
 it is rarely necessary to remove the bolts, and where 
 possibilities of trouble from loosening are greater than 
 any trouble that may be caused by destroying the 
 threads. 
 
 We left Kendallville at ten minutes past seven ; a starting in the 
 light rain was falling which laid the dust for the first 
 two miles. With top, side curtains, and boot we were 
 perfectly dry, but the air was uncomfortably cool. 
 
 At Butler, an hour and a half later, the rain was 
 coming down hard, and the roads were beginning to be 
 slippery, with about two inches of mud and water. 
 
 We caught up with an old top buggy, curtains all 
 on and down, a crate of ducks behind, the horse slowly 
 jogging along at about three miles per hour. We 
 wished to pass, but at each squawk of the horn the 
 old lady inside simply put her hand through under the 
 rear curtain and felt to see what was the matter with 
 
 rain 
 
44 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 The squawk of 
 the horn 
 
 her ducks. We were obliged to shout to attract her 
 attention. 
 
 In the country the horn is not so good for attracting 
 attention as a loud gong. The horn is mistaken for 
 dinner-horns and distant sounds of farmyard life. 
 One may travel for some distance behind a wagon-load 
 of people, trying to attract their attention with blasts 
 on the horn, and see them casually look from side to 
 side to see whence the sound proceeds, apparently 
 without suspecting it could come from the highway. 
 
 The gong, however, is a well-known means of warn 
 ing, used by police and fire departments and by trolley 
 lines, and it works well in the country. 
 
 T^he Professor 
 is cold 
 
 For some miles the Professor had been drawing 
 things about him, and as he buttoned a newspaper 
 under his coat remarked, * The modern newspaper is 
 admirably designed to keep people warm both inside 
 and out. Under circumstances such as these one can 
 understand why it is sometimes referred to as a 
 blanket sheet. The morning is almost cold enough 
 for a yellow journal, " and the Professor wandered 
 on into an abstract dissertation upon journalism gen 
 erally, winding up with the remark that, " It was the 
 support of the yellow press which defeated Bryan ;" 
 but then the Professor is neither a politician nor the 
 son of a politician being a Scotchman, and therefore 
 a philosopher and dogmatist. The pessimistic vein in 
 his remarks was checked by the purchase of a rever 
 sible waterproof shooting- jacket at Butler, several 
 sizes too large, but warm ; and the Professor re 
 marked, as he gathered its folds about him, " I was 
 
Into Ohio 45 
 
 never much of a shot, but with this I think I ll make 
 a hit." 
 
 " Strange how the thickness of a garment alters our 
 views of things in general," I remarked. 
 
 " My dear fellow, philosophy is primarily a matter 
 of food ; secondarily, a matter of clothes : it does not 
 concern the head at all." 
 
 At Butler we tightened the clutches, as the roads 
 were becoming heavier. 
 
 At Edgerton the skies were clearing, the roads were 
 so much better that the last three miles into Ridgeville 
 were made in ten minutes. 
 
 At Napoleon some one advised the road through The wron 
 Bowling Green instead of what is known as the River 
 road; in a moment of aberration we took the advice. 
 For some miles the road was being repaired and 
 almost impassable ; farther on it seemed to be a suc 
 cession of low, yellow sand-hills, which could only be 
 surmounted by getting out, giving the machine all its 
 power, and adding our own in the worst places. 
 
 Sand deep, bottomless sand is the one obstacle an in the sam 
 automobile cannot overcome. It is possible to traverse 
 roads so rough that the machine is well-nigh wrenched 
 apart ; to ride over timbers, stones, and boulders ; 
 plough through mud ; but sand deep, yielding sand 
 brings one to a stand-still. A reserve force of 
 twenty or thirty horse-power will get through most 
 places, but in dry weather every chauffeur dreads 
 hearing the word sand, and anxiously inquires con 
 cerning the character of the sandy places. 
 
 Happily, when the people say the road is " sandy," 
 
46 On an Automobile 
 
 they usually mean two or three inches of light soil, or 
 gravelly sand over a firm foundation of some kind 
 that is all right ; if there is a firm bottom, it does not 
 matter much how deep the dust on top ; the machine 
 will go at nearly full speed over two or three inches 
 of soft stuff; but if on cross-examination it is found 
 that by sand they mean sand, and that ahead is a suc 
 cession of sand ridges that are sand from base to sum 
 mit, with no path, grass, or weeds upon which a wheel 
 can find footing, then inquire for some way around 
 and take it ; it might be possible to plough through, 
 but that is demoralizing on a hot day. 
 
 Happily, along most sandy roads and up most hills 
 of sand there are firm spots along one side or the 
 other, patches of weeds or grass which afford wheel - 
 hold. Usually the surface of the sand is slightly 
 firmer and the large automobile tires ride on it fairly 
 well. As a rule, the softest, deepest, and most treach 
 erous places in sand are the tracks where wagons 
 travel these are like quicksand. 
 
 The sun was hot, the sand was deep, and we had 
 pushed and tugged until the silence was ominous ; at 
 length the lowering clouds of wrath broke, and the 
 Professor said things that cannot be repeated. 
 
 By way of apology, he said, afterwards, while shak 
 ing the sand out of his shoes, " It is difficult to pre 
 serve the serenity of the class-room under conditions 
 so very dissimilar. I understand now why the golf- 
 playing parson swears in a bunker. It is not right, 
 but it is very human. It is the recrudescence of the 
 
Into Ohio 47 
 
 old Adam, the response of humanity to emergency. 
 Education and religion prepare us for the common 
 place ; nature takes care of the extraordinary. The 
 Quaker hits back before he thinks. It is so much 
 easier to repent than prevent. On the score of scarcity 
 alone, an ounce of prevention is worth several tons of 
 repentance ; and 
 
 It was so apparent that the Professor was losing 
 himself in abstractions, that I quietly let the clutches 
 slip until the machine came to a stop, when the Pro 
 fessor looked anxiously down and said, 
 
 " Is the blamed thing stuck again ?" 
 
 We turned off the Bowling Green road to the River The River road 
 road, which is not only better, but more direct from 
 Napoleon to Perrysburg. It was the road we origi 
 nally intended to take ; it was down on our itinerary, 
 and in automobiling it is better to stick to first inten 
 tions. 
 
 The road follows the bank of the river up hill and 
 down, through ravines and over creeks ; it is hard, 
 hilly, and picturesque ; high speed was quite out of 
 the question. 
 
 Not far from Three Rivers we came to a horse 
 tethered among the trees by the road-side; of course, 
 on hearing and seeing the automobile and while we 
 were yet some distance away, it broke its tether and 
 was off on a run up the road, which meant that unless 
 some one intervened it would fly on ahead for miles. 
 Happily, in this instance some men caught the animal 
 after it had gone a mile or two, we, meanwhile, creep 
 ing on slowly so as not to frighten it more. Loose 
 
48 On an Automobile 
 
 horses in the road make trouble. There is no one to 
 look after them, and nine times out of ten they will 
 go running ahead of the machine, like frightened deer, 
 for miles. If the machine stops, they stop ; if it starts, 
 they start ; it is impossible to get by. All one can do 
 is to go on until they turn into a farmyard or down a 
 cross-road. 
 
 s Pike The road led into Toledo, but we were told that by 
 turning east at Perrysburg, some miles southwest of 
 Toledo, we would have fifty miles or more of the 
 finest road in the world, the famous Perry s Pike. 
 
 All day long we lived in anticipation of the treat to 
 come; at each steep hill and when struggling in the 
 sand we mentioned Perry s Pike as the promised land. 
 When we viewed it, we felt with Moses that the sight 
 was sufficient 
 
 In its day it must have been one of the wonders of 
 the West, it is so wide and straight. In the centre is 
 a broad, perfectly flat, raised strip of half-broken lime 
 stone. The reckless sumptuousness of such a highway 
 in early days must have been overpowering, but with 
 time and weather this strip of stone has worn into an 
 infinite number of little ruts and hollows, with stones 
 the size of cocoanuts sticking up everywhere. A 
 trolley-line along one side of this central stretch has 
 not improved matters. 
 
 Perry s Pike is so bad people will not use it ; a road 
 alongside the fence has been made by travel, and in 
 dry weather this road is good, barring the pipes which 
 cross it from oil-wells, and the many stone culverts. 
 
Into Ohio 49 
 
 at each of which it is necessary to swing up on to the 
 pike. The turns from the side road on to the pike at 
 these culverts are pretty sharp, and in swinging up 
 one, while going at about twenty-five miles an hour, 
 we narrowly escaped going over the low stone wall 
 into the ditch below. On that and one other occasion 
 the Professor took a firmer hold of the side of the 
 machine, but, be it said to the credit of learning, at no 
 time did he utter an exclamation, or show the slightest 
 sign of losing his head and jumping as he afterwards 
 remarked, "What s the use?" 
 
 To any one by the roadside the danger of a smash-up The secret f 
 
 good driving 
 
 seems to come and pass in an instant, not so to the 
 person driving the machine; to him the danger is 
 perceptible a very appreciable length of time before the 
 critical point is reached. 
 
 The secret of good driving lies in this early and 
 complete appreciation of difficulties and dangers en 
 countered. " Blind recklessness" is a most expressive 
 phrase ; it means all the words indicate, and is contra 
 distinguished from open-eyed or wise recklessness. 
 
 The timid man is never reckless, the wise man 
 frequently is, the fool always; the recklessness of 
 the last is blind; if he gets through all right he is 
 lucky. 
 
 It is reckless to race sixty miles an hour over a 
 highway ; but the man who does it with his eyes wide 
 open, with a perfect appreciation of all the dangers, 
 is, in reality, less reckless than the man who blindly 
 runs his machine, hit or miss, along the road at thirty 
 miles an hour, the latter leaves havoc in his train. 
 
 4 
 
50 On an Automobile 
 
 The margin of One must have a cool, quick, and accurate apprecia 
 tion of the margin of safety under all circumstances; 
 it is the utilization of this entire margin to the very 
 verge that yields the largest results in the way of 
 rapid progress. 
 
 Every situation presents its own problem, a prob 
 lem largely mechanical, a matter of power, speed, 
 and obstructions ; the chauffeur will win out whose 
 perception of the conditions affecting these several 
 factors is quickest and clearest. 
 
 One man will go down a hill, or make a safe turn 
 at a high rate of speed, where another will land in the 
 ditch, simply because the former overlooks nothing, 
 while the latter does. It is not so much a matter of 
 experience as of natural bent and adaptability. Some 
 men can drive machines with very little experience and 
 no instructions ; others cannot, however long they try 
 and however much they are told. 
 
 Accidents on the road are due to 
 
 Defects in the road, 
 
 Defects in the machine, or 
 
 Defects in the driver. 
 
 American roads are bad, but not so bad that they 
 can, with justice, be held responsible for many of the 
 troubles attributed to them. 
 Roads a con- The roads are as they are, a practically constant, 
 
 stant factor < < , 1 -L 1 
 
 and, for some time to come, an unchangeable quan 
 tity. The roads are like the hills and the mountains, 
 obstacles which must be overcome, and machines must 
 be constructed to overcome them. 
 
 Complaints against American roads by American 
 
Into Ohio 51 
 
 manufacturers of automobiles are as irrelevant to the 
 issue as would be complaints on the part of traction- 
 engine builders or wagon makers. Any man who 
 makes vehicles for a given country must make them to 
 go under the conditions good, bad, or indifferent 
 which prevail in that country. In building automo 
 biles for America or Australia, the only pertinent ques 
 tion is, " What are the roads of America or Aus 
 tralia ?" not what ought they to be. 
 
 The manufacturer who finds fault with the roads 
 should go out of the business. 
 
 Roads will be improved, but in a country so vast s 
 and sparsely settled as North America, it is not con 
 ceivable that within the next century a net-work of 
 fine roads will cover the land ; for generations to come 
 there will be soft roads, sandy roads, rocky roads, 
 hilly roads, muddy roads, and the American auto 
 mobile must be so constructed as to cover them as they 
 are. 
 
 The manufacturer who waits for good roads every 
 where should move his factory to the village of Fall 
 ing Waters, and sleep in the Kaatskills. 
 
 Machines which give out on bad roads, simply be 
 cause the roads are bad, are faultily constructed. 
 
 Defects in roads, to which mishaps may be fairly 
 attributed, are only those unlooked for conditions 
 which make trouble for all other vehicles, such as 
 wash-outs, pit-holes, weak culverts, broken bridges, 
 in short, conditions which require repairs to restore 
 the road to normal condition. The normal condition 
 may be very bad; but whatever it is, the automobile 
 
52 On an Automobile 
 
 must be constructed so as to travel thereon, else it is 
 not adapted to that section of the country. 
 
 It may be discouraging to the driver for pleasure to 
 find in rainy weather almost bottomless muck and mud 
 on portions of the main travelled highway between 
 New York and Buffalo, but that, for the present, is 
 normal. The manufacturer may regret the condition 
 and wish for better, but he cannot be heard to com 
 plain, and if the machine, with reasonably careful 
 driving, gives out, it is the fault of the maker and not 
 the roads. 
 
 It follows, therefore, that few troubles can be 
 rightfully attributed to defects in the road, since what 
 are commonly called defects are conditions quite nor 
 mal to the country. 
 
 Fremont, It was nearly six o clock when we arrived at Fre 
 
 mont. The streets were filled with people in gala 
 attire, the militia were out, bands playing, fire 
 crackers going, a belated Fourth of July. 
 
 When we stopped for water, we casually asked a 
 small patriot, 
 
 " What are you celebrating ?" 
 
 " The second of August," was the prompt reply. I 
 left it to the Professor to find out what had happened 
 on the second of August, for the art of teaching is the 
 concealment of ignorance. 
 
 With a fine assumption of his very best lecture-room 
 manner, the Professor leaned carelessly upon the deli 
 cate indicator on the gasoline tank and began: 
 
 " That was a great day, my boy." 
 
 " Yes, sir, it was." 
 
Into Ohio 
 
 53 
 
 " And it comes once a year." 
 
 " Why, sure." 
 
 " Ahem " in some confusion, " I mean you cele 
 brate once a year." 
 
 " Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it 
 comes every year." 
 
 " Quite right, quite right ; always recall with ap 
 propriate exercises the great events in your country s 
 history." The Professor peered benignly over his 
 glasses at the boy and continued kindly but firmly : 
 
 " Now, my boy, do you go to school ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Very good. Now can you tell me why the people 
 of Fremont celebrate the second of August?" 
 
 " Sure, it is on account of " Just then a curious 
 
 on-looker nudged the Professor in the ribs and began, 
 as so many had done before, 
 
 " Say, mister, it s none of my business " 
 
 " Exactly," groaned the Professor ; " it weighs a 
 ton two tons sometimes more in the sand; it cost 
 twelve hundred dollars, and will cost more before we 
 are done with it. Yes, I know what you are about 
 to say, you could buy a purty slick team for that 
 price, in fact, a dozen nags such as that one leaning 
 against you, but we don t care for horses. My friend 
 here who is spilling the water all over the machine 
 and the small boy, once owned a horse, it kicked 
 over the dash-board, missed his mother-in-law and hit 
 him ; horse s intention good, but aim bad, since then 
 he has been prejudiced against horses ; it goes by gaso 
 line sometimes; that is not a boiler, it is the cooler 
 on hot days we take turns sitting on it ; explosions, 
 
54 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 At Norwalk 
 
 Ohio roads 
 
 electric spark, yes, it is queer; man at last stop 
 made same bright remark ; no danger from explo 
 sions if you are not too near, about a block away is 
 safer; start by turning a crank; yes, that is queer, 
 queerer than the other queer things ; cylinder does get 
 hot, but so do we all at times ; we ought to have water 
 jackets that is a joke that goes with the machine; 
 
 yes, it is very fast, from fifty to seventy miles per ; 
 
 per what ? you say ; well, that depends upon the 
 roads, not at all, I assure you, no trouble to antici 
 pate your inquiries by these answers it is so seldom 
 one meets any one who is really interested you can 
 order a machine by telegraph; any more information 
 you would like ? No ! then my friend, in return, will 
 you tell me why you celebrate the second of August?" 
 
 " Banged if I know." 
 
 And we never found out. 
 
 At Bellevue we lighted our lamps and ran to Nor 
 walk over a very fair road, arriving a few minutes 
 after eight. Norwalk liveries did not like automo 
 biles, so we put the machine under a shed. 
 
 This second day s run was about one hundred and 
 fifty miles in twelve hours and fifty-four minutes 
 gross time ; deducting stops, left nine hours and fifty- 
 four minutes running time an average of about 
 fourteen and one-half miles per hour. 
 
 Ohio roads are by no means so good as Indiana. 
 Not until we left Painesville did we find any gravel 
 to speak of. There was not much deep sand, but roads 
 were dry, dusty, and rough; in many localities hard 
 clay with deep ruts and holes. 
 
Into Ohio 55 
 
 A six o clock call and a seven o clock breakfast gave 
 time enough to inspect the machine. 
 
 The water-tank was leaking through a crack in the water-t 
 side, but not so badly that we could not go on to Cleve 
 land, where repairs could be made more quickly. A 
 slight pounding which had developed was finally lo 
 cated in the pinion of a small gear-wheel that operated 
 the exhaust-valve. 
 
 It is sometimes by no means easy to locate a pound- Locatin 
 
 . i knock 
 
 ing in a gasoline motor, and yet it must be found and 
 stopped. An expert from the factory once worked 
 four days trying to locate a very loud and annoying 
 pounding. He, of course, looked immediately at the 
 crank- and wrist-pins, taking up what little wear was 
 perceptible, but the pounding remained; then eccen 
 tric strap, pump, and every bearing about the motor 
 were gone over one by one, without success ; the main 
 shaft was lifted out, fly-wheel drawn off, a new key 
 made; the wheel drawn on again tight, all with no 
 effect upon the hard knock which came at each ex 
 plosion. At last the guess was made that possibly the 
 piston was a trifle small for the cylinder; a new and 
 slightly larger piston was put in and the noise ceased. 
 It so happened that the expert had heard of one other 
 such case, therefore he made the experiment of trying 
 a fractionally larger piston as a last resort; imagine 
 the predicament of the amateur, or the mechanic who 
 had never heard of such a trouble. 
 
 There is, of course, a dull thud at each explosion; 
 this is the natural " kick" of the engine, and is very 
 perceptible on large single-cylinder motors; but this 
 
On an Automobile 
 
 A pint of bran 
 
 Norwalk to 
 Cleveland 
 
 Cleveland 
 
 dull thud is very different from the hammer-like 
 knock resulting from lost motion between the parts, 
 and the practised ear will detect the difference at once. 
 
 The best way to find the pounding is to throw a 
 stream .of heavy lubricating oil on the bearings, one by 
 one, until the noise is silenced for the moment. Even 
 the piston can be reached with a flood of oil and tested. 
 
 It is not easy to tell by feeling whether a bearing on 
 a gasoline motor is too free. The heat developed is so 
 great that bearings are left with considerable play. 
 
 A leak in the water-tank or coils is annoying; but 
 if facilities for permanent repair are lacking, a pint 
 of bran or middlings from any farmer s barn, put in 
 the water, will close the leak nine times out of ten. 
 
 From Norwalk through Wakeman and Kipton to 
 Oberlin the road is rather poor, with but two or three 
 redeeming stretches near Kipton. It is mostly clay, 
 and in dry weather is hard and dusty and rough from 
 much traffic. 
 
 Leading into Oberlin the road is covered with great 
 broad flag-stones, which once upon a time must have 
 presented a smooth hard surface, but now make a 
 succession of disagreeable bumps. 
 
 Out of Elyria we made the mistake of leaving the 
 trolley line, and for miles had to go through sand, 
 which greatly lessened our speed, but towards Stony 
 River the road was perfect, and we made the best time 
 of the day. 
 
 It required some time in Cleveland to remove and 
 repair the water-tank, cut a link out of the chain, take 
 up the lost motion in the steering-wheel, and tighten 
 
Into Ohio 57 
 
 up things generally. It was four o clock before we 
 were off for Painesville. 
 
 Euclid Avenue is well paved in the city, but just Road to 
 outside there is a bit of old plank road that is dis- Pai " esville 
 gracefully bad. Through Wickliff, Willoughby, and 
 Mentor the road is a smooth, hard gravel. 
 
 Arriving at Painesville a few minutes after seven, 
 we took in gasoline, had supper, and prepared to start 
 for Ashtabula. 
 
 It was dark, so we could not see the tires ; but just A slight 
 before starting I gave each a sharp blow with a pur 
 wrench to see if it was hard, a sharp blow, or even 
 a kick, tells the story much better than feeling of the 
 tires. 
 
 One rear tire was entirely deflated. A railroad spike 
 four and three-quarters inches long, and otherwise 
 well proportioned, had penetrated full length. It had 
 been picked up along the trolley line, was probably 
 struck by the front wheel, lifted up on end so that 
 the rear tire struck the sharp end exactly the 
 right angle to drive the spike in lengthwise of the 
 tread. 
 
 It was a big ragged puncture which could not be 
 repaired on the road ; there was nothing to do but stop 
 over night and have a tire sent out from Cleveland 
 next day. 
 
 While waiting the next morning, we jacked up the Removing a 
 wheel and removed the damaged tire. 
 
 It is not easy to remove quickly and put on heavy 
 single-tube tires, and a few suggestions may not be 
 amiss. 
 
58 On an Automobile 
 
 The best tools are half-leaves of carriage springs. 
 At any carriage shop one can get halves of broken 
 springs. They should be sixteen or eighteen inches 
 long, and are ready for use without forging filing or 
 other preparation. With three such halves one man 
 can take off a tire in fifteen or twenty minutes; two 
 men will work a little faster ; help on the road is never 
 wanting. 
 
 Let the wheel rest on the tire with valve down; 
 loosen all the lugs; insert thin edge of spring-leaf 
 between rim and tire, breaking the cement and par 
 tially freeing tire ; insert spring-leaf farther at a point 
 just about opposite valve and pry tire free from rim, 
 holding and working it free by pushing in other irons 
 or screw-drivers, or whatever you have handy ; when 
 lugs and tire are out of the hollow of the rim for a 
 distance of eighteen or twenty inches, it will be easy 
 to pass the iron underneath the tire, prying up the 
 tire until it slips over the rim, when with the hands 
 it can be pulled off entirely ; the wheel is then raised 
 and the valve-stem carefully drawn out. 
 
 All this can be done with the wheel jacked up, but 
 if resting on the tire as suggested, the valve-stem is 
 protected during the efforts to loosen tire. 
 
 Putting on a To put on a single-tube tire properly, the rim should 
 
 be thoroughly cleaned with gasoline, and the new tire 
 put on with shellac or cement, or with simply the lugs 
 to hold. 
 
 Shellac can be obtained at any drug store, is quickly 
 brushed over both the tire and the rim, and the tire 
 put in place that holds very well. Cement well ap 
 plied is stronger. If the rim is well covered with old 
 
Into Ohio 59 
 
 cement, gasoline applied to the surface of the old 
 cement will soften it; or with a plumber s torch the 
 rim may be heated without injuring enamel and the 
 cement melted, or take a cake of cement, soften it in 
 gasoline or melt it, or even light it like a stick of 
 sealing-wax and apply it to the rim. If hot cement is 
 used it will be necessary to heat the rim after the tire 
 is on to make a good job. 
 
 After the rim is prepared, insert valve-stem and the 
 lugs near it ; let the wheel down so as to rest on that 
 part of the tire, then with the iron work the tire into 
 the rim, beginning at each side of valve. The tire 
 goes into place easily until the top is reached where 
 the two irons are used to lift tire and lugs over the 
 rim; once in rim it is often necessary to pound the 
 tire with the flat of the iron to work the lugs into their 
 places; by striking the tire in the direction it should 
 go the lugs one by one will slip into their holes ; put 
 on the nuts and the work is done. 
 
 In selecting a half-leaf of a spring, choose one the 
 width of the springs to the machine, and carry along 
 three or four small spring clips, for it is quite likely a 
 spring may be broken in the course of a long run, and, 
 if so, the half-leaf can be clipped over the break, mak 
 ing the broken spring as serviceable and strong for 
 the time being as if sound. 
 
GEE 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 ON TO BUFFALO 
 
 Painesville to 
 Ashtabula 
 
 FROM Painesville three roads led east, the North 
 Ridge, Middle Ridge, and South Ridge. We fol 
 lowed the middle road, which is said to be by far the 
 best ; it certainly is as good a gravel road as one could 
 ask. Some miles out a turn is made to the South 
 Ridge for Ashtabula. 
 
 There is said to be a good road out of Ashtabula; 
 possibly there is, but we missed it at one of the 
 numerous cross roads, and soon found ourselves 
 wallowing through corn-fields, climbing hills, and 
 threading valleys in the vain effort to find Girard, 
 60 
 
On to Buffalo 61 
 
 a point quite out of our way, as we afterwards 
 learned. 
 
 The Professor s bump of locality is a depression. 
 As a passenger without serious occupation, it fell to 
 hfs lot to inquire the way. This he would do very 
 minutely, with great suavity and becoming gravity, 
 and then with no sign of hesitation indicate invariably 
 the wrong road. Once, after crossing a field where 
 there were no fences to mark the highway, descending 
 a hill we could not have mounted, and finding a stream 
 that seemed impassable, the Professor quietly re 
 marked, 
 
 " That old man must have been mistaken regarding 
 the road ; yet he had lived on that corner forty years. 
 Strange how little some people know about their sur 
 roundings !" 
 
 " But are you sure he said the first turn to the left?" 
 " He said the first turn, but whether to the left or 
 right I cannot now say. It must have been to the 
 right." 
 
 " But, my dear Professor, you said to the left." 
 " Well, we were going pretty fast when we came to 
 the four corners, and something had to be said, and 
 said quickly. I notice that on an automobile decision 
 is more important than accuracy. After being hauled 
 over the country for three days, I have made up my 
 mind that automobiles are driven upon the hypothesis 
 that it is better to lose the road, lose life, lose anything 
 than lose time, therefore, when you ask me which way 
 to turn, you will get an immediate, if not an accurate, 
 response ; besides, there is a bridge ahead, a little vil 
 lage across the stream, so the road leads somewhere." 
 
62 On an Automobile 
 
 Now and then the Professor would jump out to 
 assist some female in distress with her horse; at first 
 it was a matter of gallantry, then a duty, then a bur 
 den. Towards the last it used to delight him to see 
 people frantically turning into lanes, fields, anywhere 
 to get out of the way. 
 
 About horses j^e horse is a factor to be considered and pla 
 cated. He is in possession and cannot be forcibly 
 ejected, a sort of terre-tenant ; such title as he has 
 must be respected. 
 
 After wrestling with an unusually notional beast, to 
 the great disorder of clothing and temper, the Pro 
 fessor said, 
 
 " The brain of the horse is small ; it is an animal 
 of little sense and great timidity, but it knows more 
 than most people who attempt to drive." 
 
 In reality horses are seldom driven; they gener 
 ally go as they please, with now and then a hint as to 
 which corner to turn. Nine times out of ten it is the 
 driven horse that makes trouble for owners of auto 
 mobiles. The drunken driver never has any trouble ; 
 his horses do not stop, turn about, or shy into the 
 ditch ; the man asleep on the box is perfectly safe ; 
 his horse ambles on, minding its own business, giving 
 a full half of the road to the approaching machine. 
 It is the man, who, on catching sight of the automo 
 bile, nervously gathers up his reins, grabs his whip, 
 and pulls and jerks, who makes his own troubles; he 
 is searching for trouble, expects it, and is disappointed 
 if he gets by without it. Nine times out of ten it is 
 the driver who really frightens the horse. A country 
 
On to Buffalo 63 
 
 plug, jogging quietly along, quite unterrified, may be 
 roused to unwonted capers by the person behind. 
 
 Some "take the antics of their horses quite philo 
 sophically. One old farmer, whose wheezy nag tried 
 to climb the fence, called out, 
 
 " Gee whiz ! I wish you fellers would come this 
 way every day; the old hoss hasn t showed so much 
 ginger for ten year." 
 
 Another, carrying just a little more of the wine of 
 the country than his legs could bear, stood up un 
 steadily in his wagon and shouted, 
 
 " If you (hie) come around these pa-arts again with 
 that thres-in ma-a-chine, I ll have the law on you, 
 d ye hear?" 
 
 The personal equation is everything on the road, as 
 elsewhere. 
 
 It is quite idle to expect skill, courage, or common 
 sense from the great majority of drivers. They get 
 along very well so long as nothing happens, but in 
 emergencies they are helpless, because they have never 
 had experience in emergencies. The man who has 
 driven horses all his life is frequently as helpless under 
 unusual conditions as the novice. Few drivers know 
 when and how to use the whip to prevent a runaway 
 or a smash-up. 
 
 With the exception of professional and a few ama 
 teur whips, no one is ever taught how to drive. Most 
 persons who ride even country boys are given 
 many useful hints, lessons, and demonstrations; but 
 it seems to be assumed that driving is a natural 
 acquirement. 
 
64 On an Automobile 
 
 As a matter of fact, it is much more important to be 
 taught how to drive than how to ride. A horse in 
 front of a vehicle can do all the mean things a horse 
 under a saddle can do, and more; and it is far more 
 difficult to handle an animal in shafts by means of 
 long reins and a whip. 
 
 If people knew half as much about horses as they 
 think they do, there would be no mishaps; if horses 
 were half as nervous as they are supposed to be, the 
 accidents would be innumerable. 
 
 The truth is, the horse does very well if managed 
 with a little common sense, skill, and coolness. 
 
 The law As a matter of law, the automobile is a vehicle, and 
 
 has precisely the same rights on the highway that a 
 bicycle or a carriage has. The horse has no monopoly 
 of the highway, it enjoys no especial privileges, but 
 must share the road with all other vehicles. Further 
 more, the law makes it the business of the horse to 
 get accustomed to strange sights and behave itself. 
 This duty has been onerous the last few years; the 
 bicycle, the traction engine, and the trolley have come 
 along in quick succession ; the automobile is about the 
 last straw. 
 
 Until the horse is accustomed to the machine, it is 
 the duty by law and common sense of the auto 
 mobile driver to take great care in passing; the care 
 being measured by the possibility and probability of an 
 accident. 
 
 The sympathy of every chauffeur must be entirely 
 with the driver of the horse. Automobiles are not so 
 
On to Buffalo 65 
 
 numerous in this country that they may be looked for 
 at every turn, and one cannot but feel for the man or 
 woman who, while driving, sees one coming down the 
 road. The best of drivers feel panicky, while women 
 and children are terror-stricken. 
 
 It is no uncommon sight to see people jump out of; 
 their carriages or drive into fields or lanes, anywhere,! 
 to get out of the way. In localities where machines) 
 have been driven recklessly, men and women, thougH; 
 dressed in their best, frequently jump out in the mud \ 
 as soon as an automobile comes in sight, and long. 
 before the chauffeur has an opportunity to show tljat I 
 he will exercise caution in approaching. All this is j 
 wrong and creates an amount of ill-feeling hard to / 
 overcome. 
 
 If one is driving along a fine road at twenty or 
 thirty miles an hour, it is, of course, a relief to see 
 coming vehicles turn in somewhere; but it ought not 
 to be necessary for them to do so. Often people like 
 to turn to one side for the sake of seeing the machine 
 go by at full speed; but if they do not wish to, the 
 automobile should be so driven as to pass with safety. 
 
 On country roads there is but one way to pass horses 
 without risk, and that is let the horses pass the 
 machine. 
 
 In cities horses give very little trouble ; in the coun- The wa -y to 
 try they give no end of trouble; they are a very great 
 drawback to the pleasure of automobiling. Horses 
 that behave well in the city are often the very worst in \ 
 the country, so susceptible is the animal to environment. 
 
 On narrow country roads three out of five will be- 
 5 
 
66 On an Automobile 
 
 have badly, and unless the outward signs are unmis 
 takable, it is never safe to assume one is meeting an 
 old plug, even the plug sometimes jumps the ditch. 
 
 The safe, the prudent, the courteous thing to do is to 
 stop and let the driver drive or lead his horse by; if a 
 child or woman is driving, get out and lead the horse. 
 
 By stopping the machine most horses can be gotten 
 by without much trouble. Even though the driver mo 
 tions to come on, it is seldom safe to do so ; for of all 
 horses the one that is brought to a stand-still in front 
 of a machine is surest to shy, turn, or bolt when the 
 machine starts up to pass. If one is going to pass a 
 horse without stopping, it is safer to do so quickly, 
 the more quickly the better; but that is taking great 
 chances. 
 
 Whenever a horse, whether driven or hitched, shows 
 fright, a loud, sharp " Whoa !" from the chauffeur will 
 steady the animal. The voice from the machine, if 
 sharp and peremptory, is much more effective than 
 any amount of talking from the carriage. 
 
 Much of the prejudice against automobiles is due 
 to the fact that machines are driven with entire dis 
 regard for the feelings and rights of horse owners ; 
 in short, the highway is monopolized to the exclusion 
 of the public. The prejudice thus created is mani 
 fested in many ways that are disagreeable to the 
 chauffeur and his friends. 
 
 Rate of speed The trouble is not in excessive speed, and speed 
 ordinances will not remedy the trouble. A machine 
 may be driven as recklessly at ten or twelve miles an 
 
On to Buffalo 67 
 
 hour as at thirty. In a given distance more horses 
 can be frightened by a slow machine than a fast. It 
 is all in the manner of driving. 
 
 Speed is a matter of temperament. In England, the 
 people and local boards cannot adopt measures strin 
 gent enough to prevent speeding; in Ireland, the 
 people and local authorities line the highways, urging 
 the chauffeur to let his machine out; in America, we 
 are suspended between English prudence and repres 
 sion on the one side and Irish impulsiveness and reck 
 lessness on the other. 
 
 The Englishman will not budge ; the Irishman cries, 
 " Let her go." 
 
 Speaking of the future of the automobile, the Pro- The 
 
 e . Professor s 
 
 fessor said, forecast 
 
 " Cupid will never use the automobile, the little god 
 is too conservative; fancy the dainty sprite with oil 
 can and waste instead of bow and arrow. I can see 
 him with smut on the end of his mischievous nose and 
 grease on the seat of the place where his trousers 
 ought to be. What a picture he would make in over 
 alls and jumper, leather jacket and cap; he could not 
 use dart or arrow, at best he could only run the ma 
 chine hither and thither bunting people into love 
 knocking them senseless, which is perhaps the same 
 thing. No, no, Cupid will never use the automobile. 
 Imagine Aphrodite in goggles, clothed in dust, her 
 fair skin red from sunburn and glistening with cold 
 cream; horrible nightmare of a mechanical age, 
 avaunt ! 
 
68 On an Automobile 
 
 on High " The chariots of High Olympus were never 
 
 greased, they used no gasoline, the clouds we see 
 about them are condensed zephyrs and not dust. 
 Omniscient Jove never used a monkey-wrench, never 
 sought the elusive spark, never blew up a four-inch 
 tire with a half-inch pump. Even if the automobile 
 could surmount the grades, it would never be popular 
 on Olympian heights. Mercury might use it to visit 
 Vulcan, but he would never go far from the shop. 
 
 " As for conditions here on earth, why should a 
 young woman go riding with a man whose hands, 
 arms, and attention are entirely taken up with wheels, 
 levers, and oil-cups? He can t even press her foot 
 without running the risk of stopping the machine by 
 releasing some clutch ; if he moves his knees a hair s- 
 breadth in her direction it does something to the mech 
 anism ; if he looks her way they are into the ditch ; 
 if she attempts to kiss him his goggles prevent; his 
 sighs are lost in the muffler and hers in the exhaust ; 
 nothing but dire disaster will bring an automobile 
 courtship to a happy termination; as long as the 
 machine goes love-making is quite out of the ques 
 tion. 
 
 Dear old " Dobbin, dear old secretive Dobbin, what differ 
 
 ence does it make to you whether you feel the guiding 
 hand or not? You know when the courtship begins, 
 the brisk drives about town to all points of interest, 
 to the pond, the poorhouse, and the cemetery; you 
 know how the courtship progresses, the long drives in 
 the country, the idling along untravelled roads and 
 woodland ways, the moonlight nights and misty 
 meadows; you know when your stops to nibble by 
 
On to Buffalo 69 
 
 the wayside will not be noticed, and you alone know 
 when it is time to get the young couple home; you 
 know, alas ! when the courtship blissful period of 
 loitering for you is ended and when the marriage is 
 made, by the tighter rein, the sharper word, and the 
 occasional swish of the whip. Ah, Dobbin, you and 
 I " The Professor was becoming indiscreet. 
 
 " What do you know about love-making, Profes 
 sor?" 
 
 " My dear fellow, it is the province of learning to 
 know everything and practise nothing." 
 
 " But Dobbin- 
 
 " We all have had our Dobbins." 
 
 For some miles the road out of Erie was soft, dusty, out of Erie 
 narrow, and poor by no means fit for the proposed 
 Erie-Buffalo race. About fifteen miles out there is a 
 sharp turn to the left and down a steep incline with 
 a ravine and stream below on the right, a dangerous 
 turn at twenty miles an hour, to say nothing of forty 
 or fifty. 
 
 There is nothing to indicate that the road drops so 
 suddenly after making the turn, and we were bowling 
 along at top speed; a wagon coming around the 
 corner threw us well to the outside, so that the mar 
 gin of safety was reduced to a minimum, even if the 
 turn were an easy one. 
 
 As we swung around the corner well over to the 
 edge of the ravine, we saw the grade we had to make. 
 
 Nothing but a succession of small rain gullies in the 
 road saved us from going down the bank. By so 
 steering as to drop the skidding wheels on the out- 
 
7 o 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Wire wheels 
 and wood 
 
 Lake Erie 
 
 side into each gully, the sliding of the machine re 
 ceived a series of violent checks and we missed the 
 brink of the ravine by a few inches. 
 
 A layman in the Professor s place would have 
 jumped; but he, good man, looked upon his escape 
 as one of the incidents of automobile travel. 
 
 " When I accepted your invitation, my dear fellow, 
 I expected something beyond the ordinary. I have not 
 been disappointed." 
 
 It was a wonder the driving-wheels were not dished 
 by the violent side strains, but they were not even 
 sprung. These wheels were of wire tangential spokes ; 
 they do not look so well as the smart, heavy, substan 
 tial wooden wheels one sees on nearly all imported 
 machines and on some American. 
 
 The sense of proportion between parts is sadly out 
 raged by spindle-wire wheels supporting the massive 
 frame-work and body of an automobile ; however 
 strong they may be in reality, architecturally they are 
 quite unfit, and no doubt the wooden wheel will come 
 more and more into general use. 
 
 A wooden wheel with the best of hickory spokes 
 possesses an elasticity entirely foreign to the rigid 
 wire wheel, but good hickory wheels are rare; paint 
 hides a multitude of sins when spread over wood; 
 and inferior wooden wheels are not at all to be relied 
 upon. 
 
 Soon we begin to catch glimpses of Lake Erie 
 through the trees and between the hills, just a blue 
 expanse of water shining in the morning sun, a 
 
On to Buffalo 71 
 
 sapphire set in the dull brown gold of woods and 
 fields. Farther on we come out upon the bluffs over 
 looking the lake and see the smoke and grime of 
 Buffalo far across. What a blot on a view so beau 
 tiful ! 
 
 " Civilization/ said the Professor, " is the subjec- civilization 
 tion of nature. In the civilization of Athens nature 
 was subdued to the ends of beauty ; in the civilization 
 of America nature is subdued to the ends of useful 
 ness; in every civilization nature is of secondary im 
 portance, it is but a means to an end. Nature and the 
 savage, like little children, go hand in hand, the one 
 the complement of the other; but the savage grows 
 and grows, while nature remains ever a child, to sink 
 subservient at last to its early playmate. Just now we 
 in this country are treating nature with great harsh 
 ness, making of her a drudge and a slave ; her pretty 
 hands are soiled, her clean face covered with soot, her 
 clothing tattered and torn. Some day, we as a nation 
 will tire of playing the taskmaster and will treat the 
 playmate of man s infancy and youth with more con 
 sideration ; we will adorn and not disfigure her, love 
 and not ignore her, place her on a throne beside us, 
 make her queen to our kingship." 
 
 " Professor, the automobile hardly falls in with 
 your notions." 
 
 " On the contrary, the automobile is the one abso 
 lutely fit conveyance for America. It is a noisy, dirty, 
 mechanical contrivance, capable of great speed; it is 
 the only vehicle in which one could approach that 
 distant smudge on the landscape with any sense of the 
 eternal fitness of things. A coach and four would be 
 
J2 On an Automobile 
 
 as far behind the times on this highway as a birch-bark 
 canoe on yonder lake. In America an automobile is 
 beautiful because it is in perfect harmony with the 
 spirit of the age and country; it is twin brother to 
 the trolley; train, trolley, and automobile may travel 
 side by side as members of one family, late offsprings 
 of man s ingenuity." 
 
 " But you would not call them things of beauty?" 
 Beauty " Yes and no ; beauty is so largely relative that one 
 
 cannot pronounce hideous anything that is a logical 
 and legitimate development. Considered in the light 
 of things the world pronounces beautiful, there are 
 no more hideous monstrosities on the face of the earth 
 than train, trolley, and automobile; but each genera 
 tion has its own standard of beauty, though it seldom 
 confesses it. We say and actually persuade ourselves 
 that we admire the Parthenon ; in reality we admire the 
 mammoth factory and the thirty-story office building. 
 Strive as we may to- deceive ourselves by loud protes 
 tations, our standards are not the standards of old. 
 We like best the things we have; we may call things 
 ugly, but we think them beautiful, for they are part 
 of us, and the automobile fits into our surroundings 
 like a pocket in a coat. We may turn up our noses 
 at it or away from it, as the case may be, but none the 
 less it is the perambulator of the twentieth century." 
 
 Buffalo it was exactly one o clock when we pulled up near 
 
 the City Hall. Total time from Erie five hours and 
 fifty minutes, actual running time five hours, distance 
 by road about ninety-four miles. 
 
THE 
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 BUFFALO 
 
 HOUSING the machine in a convenient and well- The 
 appointed stable for automobiles, we were reminded 
 of the fact that we had arrived in Buffalo at no ordi 
 nary time, by a charge of three dollars per night for 
 storage, with everything else extra. But was it not 
 the Exposition we had come to see? and are not Ex 
 positions proverbially expensive to promoters and 
 stockholders as well as visitors? 
 
 Then, too, the hotels of Buffalo had expected so 
 much and were so wofully disappointed. Vast arrays 
 of figures had been compiled showing that within a 
 
 73 
 
74 On an Automobile 
 
 radius of four hundred miles of Buffalo lived all the 
 people in the United States who were worth knowing. 
 The statistics were not without their foundation in 
 fact, but therein lay the weakness of the entire scheme 
 so far as hotels were concerned ; people lived so near 
 they could leave home in the morning with a boiled 
 egg and a sandwich, see the Exposition and get back 
 at night. Travellers passing through would stop over 
 during the day and evening, then go their way on a 
 midnight train, it was cheaper to ride in a Pullman 
 than stay in Buffalo. 
 
 We might have taken rooms at Rochester, running- 
 back and forth each day in the machine, though 
 Rochester was by no means beyond the zone of exor 
 bitant charges. Notions of value become very much 
 congested within a radius of two or three hundred 
 miles of any great Exposition. 
 
 The sight by The Exposition was well worth seeing in parts by 
 day and as a whole by night. The electrical display 
 at night was a triumph of engineering skill and archi 
 tectural arrangement. It was the falls of Niagara 
 turned into stars, the mist of the mighty cascade crys 
 tallized into jewels, a brilliant crown to man s triumph 
 over the forces of nature. 
 
 It was a wonderful and never-to-be-forgotten sight 
 to sit by the waters at night, as the shadows were fold 
 ing the buildings in their soft embrace, and see the 
 first faint twinklings of the thousands upon thousands 
 of lights as the great current of electricity was turned 
 slowly on ; and then to see the lights grow in strength 
 until the entire grounds were bathed in suffused radi- 
 
Buffalo 75 
 
 ance, that was as wonderful a sight as the world of 
 electricity has yet witnessed, and it was well worth 
 crossing an ocean to see ; it was the one conspicuous 
 success, the one memorable feature of the Exposition, 
 and compared with it all exhibits and scenes by day 
 were tame and insipid. 
 
 From time immemorial it has been the special prov- The Midwa\ 
 ince of the preacher to take the children to the circus 
 and the side show ; for the children must go, and who 
 so fit to take them as the preacher? After all, is not 
 the sawdust ring with its strange people, its giants, 
 fairies, hobgoblins, and clowns, a fairy land, not really 
 real, and therefore no more wicked than fairy land? 
 Do they not fly by night? are they not children of 
 space? the enormous tents spring up like mushrooms, 
 to last a day ; for a few short hours there is a medley 
 of strange sounds, a blare of trumpets, the roar of 
 strange beasts, the ring of strange voices, the crack 
 ing of whips ; there are prancing steeds and figures 
 in costumes curious, then, flapping of canvas, creak 
 ing of poles, and all is silent. Of course it is not real, 
 and every one may go. The circus has no annals, 
 knows no gossip, presents no problems ; it is without 
 morals and therefore not immoral. It is the one 
 joyous amusement that is not above, but quite out 
 side the pale of criticism and discussion. There 
 fore, why should not the preacher go and take the 
 children ? 
 
 But the Midway. Ah! the Midway, that is quite 
 a different matter; but still the preacher goes, 
 leaving the children at home. 
 
On an Automobile 
 
 Curiosity of 
 learning 
 
 The streets of 
 Cairo 
 
 Learning is ever curious. The Professor, after 
 walking patiently through several of the buildings 
 and admiring impartially sections of trees from Cuba 
 and plates of apples from Wyoming, modestly ex 
 pressed a desire for some relaxation. 
 
 " The Midway is something more than a feature, it 
 is an element. It is the laugh that follows the tears; 
 the joke that relieves the tension; the Greeks in 
 variably produced a comedy with their tragedies ; hu 
 man nature demands relaxation; to appreciate the 
 serious, the humorous is absolutely essential. If the 
 Midway were not on the grounds the people would 
 find it outside. Capacity for serious contemplation 
 differs with different peoples and in different ages, 
 under Cromwell it was at a maximum, under Charles 
 II. it was at a minimum ; the Puritans suppressed the 
 laughter of a nation; it broke out in ridicule that 
 discriminated not between sacred and profane. The 
 tension of our age is such that diversions must recur 
 quickly. The next great Exposition may require two 
 Midways, or three or four for the convenience of the 
 people. You can t get a Midway any too near the 
 anthropological and ethnological sections ; a cinemato 
 graph might be operated as an adjunct to the Fine 
 Arts building; a hula-hula dancer would relieve the 
 monotony of a succession of big pumpkins and prize 
 squashes." 
 
 At that moment the Professor became interested in 
 the strange procession entering the streets of Cairo, 
 and we followed. Before he got out it cost him fifty 
 cents to learn his name, a quarter for his fortune, ten 
 cents for his horoscope, and sundry amounts for gems, 
 jewels, and souvenirs of the Orient. 
 
Buffalo 77 
 
 Through his best hexameter spectacles he surveyed 
 the dark-eyed daughter of the Nile who was telling 
 his fortune with a strong Irish accent; all went 
 smoothly until the prophetess happened to see the 
 Professor s sunburnt nose, fiery red from the four 
 days run in wind and rain, and said warningly, 
 
 " You are too fond of good eating and drinking ; 
 you drink too much, and unless you are more temper 
 ate you will die in twenty years." That was too much 
 for the Professor, whose occasional glass of beer a 
 habit left over from his student days would not dis 
 color the nose of a humming-bird. 
 
 There were no end of illusions, mysteries, and de 
 ceptions. The greatest mystery of all was the eager 
 desire of the people to be deceived, and their bitter and 
 outspoken disappointment when they were not. As 
 the Professor remarked, 
 
 " There never has been but one real American, and 
 that was Phineas T. Barnum. He was the genuine 
 product of his country and his times, native ore with 
 out foreign dross. He knew the American people as 
 no man before or since has known them ; he knew 
 what the American people wanted, and gave it to them 
 in large unadulterated doses, humbug." 
 
 Tuesday morning was spent in giving the machine 
 a thorough inspection, some lost motion in the eccen 
 tric was taken up, every nut and screw tightened, and 
 the cylinder and intake mechanism washed out with 
 gasoline. 
 
 It is a good plan to clean out the cylinder with gaso- cleaning the 
 line once each week or ten days; it is not necessary, c - 
 but the piston moves with much greater freedom and 
 the compression is better. 
 
78 On an Automobile 
 
 However good the cylinder oil used, after six or 
 eight days hard and continuous running there is more 
 or less residuum ; in the very nature of things there 
 must be from the consumption of about a pint of oil 
 to every hundred miles. 
 
 Many use kerosene to clean cylinders, but gasoline 
 has its advantages ; kerosene is excellent for all other 
 bearings, especially where there may be rust, as on 
 the chain; but kerosene is in itself a low grade oil, 
 and the object in cleaning the cylinder is to cut out 
 all the oil and leave it bright and dry ready for a 
 supply of fresh oil. 
 
 After putting in the gasoline, the cylinder and every 
 bearing which the gasoline has touched should be 
 thoroughly lubricated before starting. 
 
 Lubrication Lubrication is of vital importance, and the oil used 
 
 makes all the difference in the world. 
 
 Many makers of machines have adopted the bad 
 practice of putting up oil in cans under their own 
 brands, and charging, of course, two prices per gal 
 lon. The price is of comparatively little consequence, 
 though an item; for it does not matter so much 
 whether one pays fifty cents or a dollar a gallon, so 
 long as the best oil is obtained ; the pernicious feature 
 of the practice lies in wrapping the oil in mystery, 
 like a patent medicine, " Smith s Cylinder Oil" and 
 " Jones s Patent Pain-Killer" being in one and the 
 same category. Then they warn patent medicine 
 methods again purchasers of machines that their 
 particular brand of oil must be used to insure best 
 results. 
 
Buffalo 79 
 
 The one sure result is that the average user who 
 knows nothing about lubricating oils is kept in a state 
 of frantic anxiety lest his can of oil runs low at a 
 time and place where he cannot get more of the patent 
 brand. 
 
 Every manufacturer should embody in the direc 
 tions for caring for the machine information concern 
 ing all the standard oils that can be found in most 
 cities, and recommend the use of as many different 
 brands as possible. 
 
 Machine oil can be found in almost any country 
 village, or at any mill, factory, or power-house along 
 the road ; it is the cylinder oil that requires fore 
 thought and attention. 
 
 Beware of steam-cylinder oil and all heavy and cylinder on 
 gummy oils. Rub a little of any oil that is offered 
 between the fingers until it disappears, the better the 
 oil the longer you can rub it. If it leaves a gummy 
 or sticky feeling, do not use ; but if it rubs away thin 
 and oily, it is probably good. Of course the oiliest of 
 oils are animal fats, good lard, and genuine sperm ; 
 but they work down very thin and run away, and 
 genuine sperm oil is almost an unknown quantity. 
 Lard can be obtained at every farmhouse, and may be 
 used, if necessary, on bearings. 
 
 In an emergency, olive oil and probably cotton-seed 
 oil may be used in the cylinder. Olive oil is a fine 
 lubricant, and is used largely in the Italian and 
 Spanish navies. 
 
 Many special brands are probably good oils and safe 
 
80 On an Automobile 
 
 to use, but there is no need of staking one s trip upon 
 any particular brand. 
 
 All good steam-cylinder oils contain animal oil to 
 make them adhere to the side of the cylinder ; a pure 
 mineral oil would be washed away by the steam and 
 water. 
 
 To illustrate the action of oils and water, take a 
 clean bottle, put in a little pure mineral oil, add some 
 water, and shake hard; the oil will rise to the top 
 of the water in little globules without adhering at all 
 to the sides of the bottle; in short, the bottle is not 
 lubricated. Instead of a pure mineral oil put in any 
 steam-cylinder oil which is a compound of mineral and 
 animal ; and as the bottle is shaken the oil adheres to 
 the glass, covering the entire inner surface with a 
 film that the water will not rinse off. 
 
 As there is supposed erroneously to be no moist 
 ure in the cylinder of a gas-engine, the use of any 
 animal oil is said to be unnecessary ; as there is moist 
 ure in the cylinder of a steam-engine, some animal oil 
 is absolutely essential in the cylinder oil. 
 
 For the lubrication of chains and all parts exposed 
 to the weather, compounds of oil or grease which con 
 tain a liberal amount of animal fat are better. Rain 
 and the splash of mud and water will wash off mineral 
 oil as fast as it can be applied ; in fact, under adverse 
 weather conditions it does not lubricate at all; the 
 addition of animal fat makes the compound stick. 
 
 Graphite and Graphite and mica are both good chain lubricants, 
 but if mixed with a pure mineral base, such as vase 
 line, they will wash off in mud and water. 
 
 mica 
 
Buffalo 8 1 
 
 Before putting on a chain, it is a good thing to dip 
 it in melted tallow and then grease it thoroughly from 
 time to time with a graphite compound of vaseline 
 and animal fat. 
 
 One does not expect perfection in a machine, but imperfect 
 there is not an automobile made, according to the re 
 ports of users, which does not develop many crudities 
 and imperfections in construction which could be 
 avoided by care and conscientious work in the factory, 
 crudities and imperfections which customers and 
 users have complained of time and time again, but 
 without avail. 
 
 At best the automobile is a complicated and diffi 
 cult machine in the hands of the amateur, and so fat- 
 it has been made almost impossible by its poor con 
 struction. With good construction there will be 
 troubles enough in operation, but at the present time 
 ninety per cent, of the stops and difficulties are due 
 to defective construction. 
 
 As the machine comes it looks so well, it inspires 
 unbounded confidence, but the first time it is seen in 
 undress, with the carriage part off, the machinery laid 
 bare, the heart sinks, and one s confidence oozes out. 
 
 Parts are twisted, bent, and hammered to get them 
 into place, bearings are filed to make them fit, bolts 
 and screws are weak and loose, nuts gone for the want 
 of cotter-pins ; it is as if apprentice blacksmiths had 
 spent their idle moments in constructing a machine. 
 
 The carriage work is hopelessly bad. The build 
 ing of carriages is a long-established industry, em- 
 
 6 
 
82 On an Automobile 
 
 ploying hundreds of thousands of hands and millions 
 of capital, and yet in the entire United States there 
 are scarcely a dozen builders of really fine, substantial, 
 and durable vehicles. Yet every cross-road maker of 
 automobiles thinks that if he can only get his motor 
 to go, the carpenter next door can do his woodwork. 
 The result is cheap stock springs, clips, irons, bodies, 
 cushions, tops, etc., are bought and put over the 
 motor. The use of aluminum bodies and more metal 
 work generally is helping things somewhat ; not that 
 aluminum and metal work are necessarily better than 
 wood, but it prevents the unnatural union of the light 
 wood bodies, designed for cheap horse-vehicles, with 
 a motor. The best French makers do not build their 
 bodies, but leave that part to skilled carriage builders. 
 
E OF THE COUNTRY MECHANIC 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 BUFFALO TO CANANDAIGUA 
 
 THE five hundred and sixty-odd miles to Buffalo had 
 been covered with no trouble that delayed us for more 
 than an hour, but our troubles were about to begin. 
 
 The Professor had still a few days to waste frivo 
 lously, so he said he would ride a little farther, 
 possibly as far as Albany. However, it was not 
 our intention to hurry, but rather take it easily, 
 stopping by the way, as the mood or our friends 
 seized us. 
 
 It rained all the afternoon of Tuesday, about all 
 night, and was raining steadily when we turned off 
 
 83 
 
 
84 On an Automobile 
 
 Main Street into Genesee with Batavia thirty-eight 
 miles straight away. We fully expected to reach there 
 in time for luncheon ; in fact, word had been sent 
 ahead that we would " come in," like a circus, about 
 twelve, and friends were on the lookout, it was four 
 o clock when we reached town. 
 
 The road is good, gravel nearly every rod, but the 
 steady rain had softened the surface to the depth of 
 about two inches, and the water, sand, and gravel 
 were splashed in showers and sheets by the wheels 
 into and through every exposed part of the mech 
 anism. Soon the explosions became irregular, and 
 we found the cams operating the sparker literally 
 plastered over with mud, so that the parts that should 
 slide and work with great smoothness and rapidity 
 would not operate at all. This happened about every 
 four or five miles. This mechanism on this particu 
 lar machine was so constructed and situated as to 
 catch and hold mud, and the fine grit worked in, 
 causing irregularities in the action. This trouble we 
 could count upon as long as the road was wet; after 
 noon, when the sun came out and the road began to 
 dry, we had less trouble. 
 
 The batteries When about half-way to Batavia the spark began 
 to show blue ; the reserve set of dry batteries was put 
 in use, but it gave no better results. Apparently there 
 was either a short circuit, or the batteries were used 
 up; the bad showing of the reserve set puzzled us; 
 every connection was examined and tightened. The 
 wiring of the carriage was so exposed to the weather 
 that it was found completely saturated in places with 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 85 
 
 oil and covered with mud. The rubber insulation had 
 been badly disintegrated wherever oil had dropped on 
 it. The wires were cleaned as thoroughly as possible 
 and separated wherever the insulation seemed poor. 
 The loss of current was probably at the sparking coil ; 
 the mud had so covered the end where the binding 
 parts project as to practically join them by a wet con 
 nection. Cleaning this off and protecting the binding 
 parts with insulating tape we managed to get on, the 
 spark being by no means strong, and the reserve bat 
 tery for some reason weak. 
 
 If we had had a small buzzer, such as is sold for 
 a song at every electrical store, to say nothing of a 
 pocket voltmeter, we would have discovered in a mo 
 ment that the reserve battery contained one dead cell, 
 the resistance of which made the other cells useless. 
 At Batavia we tested them out with an ordinary 
 electric bell, discovering at once the dead cell. 
 
 After both batteries are so exhausted that the spark Linking ceils 
 is weak, the current from both sets can be turned f e "" iplesor 
 on at the same time in two ways; by linking the 
 cells in multiples, that is, side by side, or in series, 
 tandem. 
 
 The current from cells in multiples is increased in 
 volume but not in force, and gives a fat spark; the 
 current from cells in series is doubled in force and 
 gives a long blue hot spark. Both sparks, if the cells 
 are fresh, will burn the points, though giving much 
 better explosions. 
 
 As the batteries weaken, first connect them in mul 
 tiples, then, as they weaken still more, in series. 
 
86 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Insulation 
 
 The Professor 
 is tired 
 
 Always carry a roll of insulating tape, or on a pinch 
 bicycle tire-tape will do very well. Wrap carefully 
 every joint, and the binding-posts of the cells for the 
 tape will hold as against vibration when the little 
 binding-screws will not. In short, use the tape freely 
 to insulate, protect, and support the wires and all 
 connections. 
 
 If the machine is wired with light and poorly insu 
 lated wire, it is but a question of time when the wiring 
 must be done over again. 
 
 When we pulled up in Batavia at an electrician s for 
 repairs, the Professor was a sight and also tired. 
 The good man had floundered about in the mud until 
 he was picturesquely covered. At the outset he was 
 disposed to take all difficulties philosophically. 
 
 " I should regret exceedingly," he remarked at our 
 first involuntary stop, " to return from this altogether 
 extraordinary trip without seeing the automobile 
 under adverse conditions. Our experiences in the 
 sand were no fault of the machine; the responsibility 
 rested with us for placing it in a predicament from 
 which it could not extricate itself, and if, in the heat 
 of the moment and the sand, I said anything deroga 
 tory to the faithful machine, I express my regrets. 
 Now, it seems, I shall have the pleasure of observing 
 some of the eccentricities of the horseless carriage. 
 What seems to be the matter?" and the Professor 
 peered vaguely underneath. 
 
 " Something wrong with the spark." 
 
 " Bless me! Can you fix it?" 
 
 " I think so. Now, if you will be good enough to 
 turn that crank." 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 87 
 
 " With pleasure. What an extraordinary piece of 
 mechanism 
 
 " A little faster." 
 
 * The momentum 
 
 " A little faster." 
 
 " Very heavy fly-wheel 
 
 " Just a little faster." 
 
 " Friction mechanics overcome " 
 
 " Now as hard as you can, Professor." 
 " Exercise, muscle, but hard work. The spark, 
 is it there ? Whew !" and the Professor stopped, ex 
 hausted. 
 
 It was the repetition of those experiences that 
 sobered the Professor and led him to speak of his 
 work at home, which he feared he was neglecting. 
 At the last stop he stood in a pool of water and turned 
 the crank without saying anything that would bear 
 repetition. 
 
 While touring, look out for glass, nails, and the The country 
 country mechanic, of the three, the mechanic can do mechamc 
 the largest amount of damage in a given time. His 
 well-meant efforts may wreck you ; his mistakes are 
 sure to. The average mechanic along the route is a 
 veritable bull in a china shop, once inside your ma 
 chine, and you are done for. He knows it all, and 
 more too. He once lived next to a man who owned 
 a naphtha launch ; hence his expert knowledge ; or 
 he knew some one who was blown up by gasoline, 
 therefore he is qualified. Look out for him ; his look 
 of intelligence is deception itself. His readiness with 
 hammer and file means destruction; if he once gets 
 
88 On an Automobile 
 
 at the machine, give it to him as a reward and a re 
 venge for his misdirected energy, and save time by 
 walking. 
 
 Even the men from the factory make sad mistakes ; 
 they may locate troubles, but in repairing they will 
 forget, and leave off more things than the floor will 
 hold. 
 
 Fresh batteries ^ t gatavia we put in new batteries, repacked the 
 
 and new cfum 1 
 
 pump, covered the coil with patent leather, so that 
 neither oil nor water could affect it, and put on a new 
 chain. Without saying a word, the bright and too 
 willing mechanic who was assisting, mainly by look 
 ing on, took the new chain into his shop and cut off 
 a link. A wanton act done because he " thought the 
 chain a little too long," and not discovered until the 
 machine had been cramped together, every strut and 
 reach shortened to get the chain in place; meanwhile 
 the factory was being vigorously blamed for sending 
 out chains too short. During it all the mechanic was 
 discreetly silent, but the new link on the vise in the 
 shop betrayed him after the harm was done. 
 
 Machine works The run f rom Batavia to Canandaigua was made 
 over roads that are well-nigh perfect most of the way, 
 but the machine was not working well, the chain being 
 too short. Going up stiff grades it was very apparent 
 something was wrong, for while the motor worked 
 freely the carriage dragged. 
 
 On the level and down grade everything went 
 smoothly, but at every up grade the friction and waste 
 of power were apparent. Inspection time and again 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 89 
 
 showed everything clear, and it was not until late in 
 the afternoon the cause of the trouble was discovered. 
 A tell-tale mark on the surface of the fly-wheel showed 
 friction against something, and we found that while 
 the wheel ran freely if we were out of the machine, 
 with the load in, and especially on up grades with the 
 chain drawing the framework closer to the running 
 gear, the rim of the wheel just grazed a bolt-head in 
 a small brace underneath, thereby producing the pecu 
 liar grating noise we had heard and materially check 
 ing the motor. The shortening of the struts and 
 reaches to admit the short chain had done all this. 
 As the chain had stretched a little, we were able to 
 lengthen slightly the struts so as to give a little more 
 clearance ; it was also possible to shift the brace about 
 a quarter of an inch, and the machine once more ran 
 freely under all conditions. 
 
 Within twenty miles of Canandaigua the country Geared too 
 is quite rolling and many of the hills steep. Twice hish 
 we were obliged to get out and let the machine mount 
 the grades, which it did ; but it was apparent that for 
 the hills and mountains of New York the gearing was 
 too high. 
 
 On hard roads in a level country high gearing is all High gears 
 
 . versus low 
 
 well enough, and a high average speed can be main 
 tained, but where the roads are soft or the country 
 rolling, a high gear may mean a very material dis 
 advantage in the long run. 
 
 It is of little use to be able to run thirty or forty 
 miles on the level if at every grade or soft spot it is 
 
90 On an Automobile 
 
 necessary to throw in the hill-climbing gear, thereby 
 reducing the speed to from four to six miles per hour ; 
 the resulting average is low. A carriage that will take 
 the hills and levels of New York at the uniform speed 
 of fifteen miles an hour will finish far ahead of one 
 that is compelled to use low gears at every grade, even 
 though the latter easily makes thirty or forty miles on 
 the level. 
 
 value of The machine we were using had but two sets of 
 
 intermediate , _ ~\ . 
 
 gears gears, a slow and a fast. All intermediate speeds 
 
 were obtained by throttling the engine. The engine 
 was easily governed, and on the level any speed from 
 the lowest to the maximum could be obtained without 
 juggling with the clutches; but on bad roads and in 
 hilly localities intermediate gears are required if one 
 is to get the best results out of a motor. As the gaso 
 line motor develops its highest efficiency when it is 
 running at full speed, there should be enough interme 
 diate gears so the maximum speed may be maintained 
 under varying conditions. As the road gets heavy or 
 the grades steep, the drop is made from one gear down 
 to another ; but at all times and under all conditions 
 if there are enough intermediate gears the machine 
 is being driven with the motor running fast. 
 
 With only two gears where roads or grades are 
 such that the high gear cannot be used, there is noth 
 ing to do but drop to the low, from thirty miles an 
 hour to five or six, and the engine runs as if it had 
 no load at all. American roads especially demand in 
 termediate gears if best results are to be attained, the 
 conditions change so from mile to mile. 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 91 
 
 Foreign machines are equipped with from three to 
 five speed-changing gears in addition to the spark 
 control, and many also have throttles for governing 
 the speed of the engine. 
 
 Going at full speed down a long hill about two miles Rear-axle 
 out of Canandaigua, we discovered that neither power 
 nor brakes had any control over the machine. The 
 large set-screws holding the two halves of the rear- 
 axle in the differential gears had worked loose and 
 the right half was steadily working out. As both 
 brakes operated through the differential, both were 
 useless, and the machine was beyond control. An 
 obstacle or a bad turn at the bottom meant disaster; 
 happily the hill terminated in a level stretch of softer 
 road, which checked the speed and the machine came 
 slowly to a stop. 
 
 The sensation of rushing down hill with power and 
 brakes absolutely detached is peculiar and exhila 
 rating. It is quite like coasting or tobogganing ; the 
 excitement is in proportion to the risk ; the chance of 
 safety lies in a clear road ; for the time being the 
 machine is a huge projectile, a flying mass, a ton of 
 metal rushing through space ; there is no sensation of 
 fear, not a tremor of the nerves, but one becomes for 
 the moment exceedingly alert, with instantaneous 
 comprehension of the character of the road ; every rut, 
 stone, and curve are seen and appreciated ; the possi 
 bility of collision is understood, and every danger is 
 present in the mind, and with it all the thrill of ex 
 citement which ever accompanies risk. 
 
 During: the entire descent the Professor was in bliss- 
 
92 On an Automobile 
 
 ful ignorance of the loss of control. To him the hill 
 was like many another that we had taken at top speed ; 
 but when he saw the rear wheel far out from the 
 carriage with only about twelve inches of axle holding 
 in the sleeve, and understood the loss of control 
 through both chain and brakes, his imagination began 
 to work, and he thought of everything that could have 
 happened and many things that could not, but he 
 remarked philosophically, 
 
 " Fear is entirely a creature of the imagination. We 
 are not afraid of what will happen, but of what may. 
 We are all cowards until confronted with danger; 
 most men are heroes in emergencies." 
 
 Repairs by Detaching a lamp from the front of the carriage, 
 
 repairs were made. A block of wood and a fence rail 
 made a good jack; the gear case was opened up, the 
 axle driven home, and the set-screws turned down 
 tight; but it was only too apparent that the screws 
 would work loose again. 
 
 The next morning we pulled out both halves of the 
 axle and found the key-ways worn so there was a 
 very perceptible play. As the keys were supposed to 
 hold the gears tight and the set-screws were only for 
 the purpose of keeping the axle from working out, it 
 was idle to expect the screws to hold fast so long as 
 the keys were loose in the ways ; the slight play of the 
 gears upon the axles would soon loosen screws, in 
 fact, both were found loose, although tightened up 
 only the evening before. 
 
 As it had become apparent that the machine was 
 geared too high for the hills of New York, it seemed 
 better to send it into the shop for such changes as 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 93 
 
 were necessary, rather than spend the time necessary 
 to make them in the one small machine shop at Can 
 andaigua. 
 
 Furthermore the Professor s vacation was drawing 
 to a close; he had given himself not to exceed ten 
 days, eight had elapsed. 
 
 " 1 feel that I have exhausted the possibilities and 
 eccentricities of automobiling ; there is nothing more 
 to learn ; if there is anything more, I do not care to 
 know it. I am inclined to accept the experience of 
 last night as a warning ; as the fellow who was blown 
 up with dynamite said when he came down, to repeat 
 the experiment would be no novelty. 
 
 And so the machine was loaded on the cars, side 
 tracked on the way, and it was many a day before 
 another start could be made from Buffalo. 
 
 It cannot be too often repeated that it is a mistake 
 to ever lose sight of one s machine during a tour; it 
 is a mistake to leave it in a machine shop for repairs ; 
 it is a mistake to even return it to the place of its 
 creation ; for you may be quite sure that things will 
 be left undone that should be done, and things done 
 that should not be done. 
 
 It requires davs and weeks to become acquainted A machitl ^ is 
 
 1 11 i ",. . . r fi ckle 
 
 with all the peculiarities and weaknesses of an auto 
 mobile, to know its strong points and rely upon them, 
 to appreciate its failings and be tender towards them. 
 After you have become acquainted, do not risk the 
 friendship by letting the capricious thing out of your 
 sight. It is so fickle that it forms wanton attachments 
 for every one it meets, for urchins, idlers, loafers, 
 
94 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Lonesome 
 riding alone 
 
 Lost to the 
 world 
 
 mechanics, permits them all sorts of familiarities, so 
 that when, like a truant, it comes wandering back, it 
 is no longer the same, but a new creature, which you 
 must learn again to know. 
 
 It is monotonously lonesome running an automobile 
 across country alone; the record-breaker may enjoy 
 it, but the civilized man does not ; man is a gregari 
 ous animal, especially in his sports ; one must have an 
 audience, if an audience of only one. 
 
 The return of the Professor made it necessary to 
 find some one else. There was but one who could go, 
 but she had most emphatically refused; did not care 
 for the dust and dirt, did not care for the curious 
 crowds, did not care to go fast, did not care to go 
 at all. To overcome these apparently insurmountable 
 objections, a semi-binding pledge was made to not run 
 more than ten or twelve miles per hour, and not more 
 than thirty or forty miles per day, promises so ob 
 viously impossible of fulfilment on the part of any 
 chauffeur that they were not binding in law. We 
 started out well within bounds, making but little over 
 forty miles the first day; we wound up with a glori 
 ous run of one hundred and forty miles the last day, 
 covering the Old Sarnia gravel out of London, On 
 tario, at top speed for nearly seventy miles. 
 
 For five weeks to a day we wandered over the east 
 ern country at our own sweet will, not a care, not a re 
 sponsibility, days without seeing newspapers, finding- 
 mail and telegrams at infrequent intervals, but much of 
 the time lost to the world of friends and acquaintances. 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 95 
 
 Touring on an automobile differs from coaching, 
 posting, railroading, from every known means of loco 
 motion, in that you are really lost to the world. In 
 coaching or posting, one knows with reasonable cer 
 tainty the places that can be made ; the itinerary is laid 
 out in advance, and if departed from, friends can be 
 notified by wire, so that letters and telegrams may be 
 forwarded. 
 
 With an automobile all is different. The vagaries vagaries of an 
 of the machine upset every itinerary. You do not 
 know where you will stop, because you cannot tell 
 when you may stop. If one has in mind a certain 
 place, the machine may never reach it, or, arriving, the 
 road and the day may be so fine you are irresistibly 
 impelled to keep on. The very thought that letters 
 are to be at a certain place at a certain date is a bore, 
 it limits your progress, fetters your will, and curbs 
 your inclinations. One hears of places of interest off 
 the chosen route ; the temptation to see them is strong 
 exactly in proportion to the assurances given that you 
 will go elsewhere. 
 
 The automobile is lawless ; it chafes under restraint ; 
 will follow neither advice nor directions. Tell it to go 
 this way, it is sure to go that ; to turn the second 
 corner to the right, it will take the first to the left ; 
 to go to one city, it prefers another ; to avoid a certain 
 road, it selects that above all others. 
 
 It is a grievous error to tell friends you are coming ; DO not notify 
 it puts them to no end of inconvenience ; for days they f riends 
 expect you and you do not come ; their feeling of relief 
 that you did not come is destroyed by your appearance. 
 
96 On an Automobile 
 
 The day we were expected at a friend s summer 
 home at the sea-side we spent with the Shakers in 
 the valley of Lebanon, waiting for a new steering- 
 head. Telegrams of inquiry, concern, and consola 
 tion reached us in our retreat, but those who expected 
 us were none the less inconvenienced. 
 
 Then, too, what business have the dusty, grimy, 
 veiled, goggled, and leathered party from the machine 
 among the muslin gowns, smart wraps, and immacu 
 late coverings of the conventional house party ; if we 
 but approach, they scatter in self-protection. 
 
 From these reflections it is only too plain that the 
 automobile like that other inartistic instrument of 
 torture, the grand piano is not adapted to the draw 
 ing-room. It is not quite at home in the stable; it 
 demands a house of its own. If the friend who in 
 vites you to visit him has a machine, then accept, for 
 he is a brother crank ; but if he has none, do not fill 
 his generous soul with dismay by running up his 
 drive-way, sprinkling its spotless white with oil, leav 
 ing an ineradicable stain under the porte-cochere, and 
 frightening his favorite horses into fits as you run into 
 the stable. 
 
 just leave But it is delightful to go through cities and out-of- 
 
 the-way places, just leaving cards in a most casual 
 manner upon people one knows. We passed through 
 many places twice, some places three times, in career 
 ing about. Each time we called on friends; some 
 times they were in, sometimes out; it was all so 
 casual, a cup of tea, a little chat, sometimes with 
 out shutting down the motor the briefest of calls, 
 
Buffalo to Canandaigua 97 
 
 all the more charming because brief, really, it was 
 strange. 
 
 We see a town ahead ; calling to a man by the road 
 side, 
 
 "What place is that?" 
 
 " L " is the long drawn shout as we go fly 
 ing by. 
 
 " Why, the S s live there. I have not seen her 
 since we were at school. I would like to stop." 
 
 " Well, just for a moment." 
 
 In a trice the machine is at the door ; Mrs. S 
 is out will return in a moment; so sorry, cannot 
 wait, leave cards ; call again some other day ; and we 
 turn ten or fifteen or twenty miles to one side to see 
 another old school-friend for five or ten minutes just 
 long enough for the chauffeur to oil-up while the 
 school-mates chat. 
 
 The automobile annihilates time; it dispenses with 
 watch and clock; it vaguely notes the coming up and 
 the going down of the sun ; but it goes right on by 
 sunlight, by moonlight, by lamplight, by no light at 
 all, until it is brought to a stand-still or capriciously 
 stops of its own accord. 
 

 THE OLD 
 
 STONE BLACKSMITH SHOP AT STAFFGPD 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 THE MORGAN MYSTERY 
 
 IT was Wednesday, August 22, that we left Buf 
 falo. In some stray notes made by my companion, I 
 find this enthusiastic description of the start. 
 Toofitoof! "Toof! toof! on it comes like a gigantic bird, its 
 
 red breast throbbing, its black wings quivering; it 
 swerves to the right, to the left, and with a quick 
 sweep circles about and stands panting at the curb 
 impatient to be off. 
 
 " I hastily mount and make ready for the long 
 flight. The chauffeur grasps the iron reins, something 
 is pulled, and something is pressed, Chic chic 
 
The Morgan Mystery 99 
 
 whirr whirr r r, we are off. Through the rich 
 foliage of noble trees we catch last glimpses of beau 
 tiful homes gay with flags, with masses of flowers and 
 broad, green lawns. 
 
 " In a moment we are in the crowded streets where 
 cars, omnibuses, cabs, carriages, trucks, and wagons 
 of every description are hurrying pell-mell in every 
 direction. The automobile glides like a thing of life 
 in and out, snorting with vexation if blocked for an 
 instant. 
 
 " Soon we are out of the hurly-burly ; the homes 
 melt away into the country ; the road lengthens ; we 
 pass the old toll-gate and are fairly on our way ; fare 
 well city of jewelled towers and gay festivities. 
 
 " The day is bright, the air is sweet, and myriads of 
 yellow butterflies flutter about us, so thickly covering 
 the ground in places as to look like beds of yellow 
 flowers. 
 
 " Corn-fields and pastures stretch along the road 
 sides ; big red barns and cosey white houses seem to 
 go skurrying by, calling, I spy/ then vanishing in a 
 sort of cinematographic fashion as the automobile 
 rushes on." 
 
 As we sped onward I pointed out the places only 
 too well remembered where the Professor had 
 worked so hard exactly two weeks before to the 
 day. 
 
 After luncheon, while riding about some of the less The Morgan 
 frequented streets of Batavia, we came quite unex- monument 
 pectedly to an old cemetery. In the corner close to the 
 tracks of the New York Central, so placed as to be 
 
ioo On an Automobile 
 
 in plain view of all persons passing on trains, is a 
 tall, gray, weather-beaten monument, with the life-size 
 figure of a man on the top of the square shaft. It 
 is the monument to the memory of William Morgan 
 who was kidnapped near that spot in the month of 
 September, 1826, and whose fate is one of the mys 
 teries of the last century. 
 
 To read the inscriptions I climbed the rickety fence ; 
 the grass was high, the weeds thick ; the entire place 
 showed signs of neglect and decay. 
 
 The south side of the shaft, facing the railroad, was 
 inscribed as follows: 
 
 SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF 
 WILLIAM MORGAN, 
 
 A NATIVE OF VIRGINIA, 
 
 A CAPT. IN THE WAR OF l8l2, 
 
 A RESPECTABLE CITIZEN OF 
 
 BATAVIA, AND A MARTYR 
 
 TO THE FREEDOM OF WRITING, 
 
 PRINTING, AND SPEAKING THE 
 
 TRUTH. HE WAS ABDUCTED 
 FROM NEAR THIS SPOT IN THE 
 
 YEAR 1826 BY FREEMASONS, 
 
 AND MURDERED FOR REVEALING 
 
 THE SECRETS OF THE ORDER. 
 
 The disappearance of Morgan is still a mystery, 
 a myth to most people nowadays; a very stirring 
 reality in central and western New York seventy-five 
 years ago ; even now in the localities concerned the 
 old embers of bitter feeling show signs of life if 
 fanned by so much as a breath. 
 
The Morgan Mystery 101 
 
 Six miles beyond Batavia, on the road to Le Roy, is Stafford 
 the little village of Stafford ; some twenty or thirty 
 houses bordering the highway; a church, a school- 
 house, the old stage tavern, and several buildings that 
 are to-day very much as they were nearly one hundred 
 years ago. This is the one place which remains very 
 much as it was seventy-five years ago when Morgan 
 was kidnapped and taken through to Canandaigua. 
 As one approaches the little village, on the left hand 
 side of the highway set far back in an open field is an 
 old stone church long since abandoned and disused, 
 but so substantially built that it has defied time and 
 weather. It is a monument to the liberality of the 
 people of that locality in those early days, for it was 
 erected for the accommodation of worshippers regard 
 less of sect ; it was at the disposal of any denomina 
 tion that might wish to hold services therein. Appar 
 ently the foundation of the weather-beaten structure 
 was too liberal, for it has been many years since it has 
 been used for any purpose whatsoever. 
 
 As one approaches the bridge crossing the little The Masonic 
 stream which cuts the village in two, there is at the 
 left on the bank of the stream a large three-story 
 stone dwelling. Eighty years ago the first story of 
 this dwelling was occupied as a store ; the third story 
 was the Masonic lodge-room, and no doubt the events 
 leading up to the disappearance of Morgan were 
 warmly discussed within the four walls of this old 
 building. Across from the three-story stone building 
 is a brick house set well back from the highway, sur 
 rounded by shrubbery, and approached by a gravel 
 walk bordered by old-fashioned boxwood hedges. 
 
IO2 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 This house was built in 1812, and is still well pre 
 served. For many years it was a quite famous private 
 school for young ladies, kept by a Mr. Radcliffe. 
 The old Across the little bridge on the right is a low stone 
 
 blacksmith ,.,,. 1,1 , 
 
 shop building now used as a blacksmith shop, but which 
 
 eighty years ago was a dwelling. A little farther on 
 the opposite side of the street is the old stage tavern, 
 still kept as a tavern, and to-day in substantially the 
 same condition inside and out as it was seventy-five 
 years ago. It is now only a roadside inn, but before 
 railroads were, through stages from Buffalo, Albany, 
 and New York stopped here. A charming old lady 
 living just opposite, said, 
 
 " I have sat on this porch many a day and watched 
 the stages and private coaches come rattling up with 
 horn and whip and carrying the most famous people 
 in the country, all stopped there just across the road 
 at that old red tavern ; those were gay days ; I shall 
 never see the like again ; but perhaps you may, for 
 now coaches like yours stop at the old tavern almost 
 every day." 
 
 The ballroom of the tavern remains exactly as it was, 
 a fireplace at one end filled with ashes of burnt-out 
 revelries, a little railing at one side where the fiddlers 
 sat, the old benches along the side, all remind one of 
 the gayeties of long ago. 
 
 oid prejudices In connection with the Morgan mystery the village 
 of Stafford is interesting, because the old tavern and 
 the three-story stone building are probably the only 
 buildings still standing which were identified with the 
 events leading up to the disappearance of Morgan. 
 
The Morgan Mystery 103 
 
 The other towns, like Batavia and Canandaigua, have 
 grown and changed, so that the old buildings have 
 long since made way for modern. One of the last to 
 go was the old jail at Canandaigua where Morgan was 
 confined and from which he was taken. When that 
 old jail was torn down some years ago, people carried 
 away pieces of his cell as souvenirs of a mystery still 
 fascinating because still a mystery. 
 
 As we came out of the old tavern there were a num 
 ber of men gathered about the machine, looking at it. 
 I asked them some questions about the village, and 
 happened to say, 
 
 " I once knew a man who, seventy-five years ago, 
 lived in that little stone building by the bridge." 
 
 That was in Morgan s time," said an old man, and 
 every one in the crowd turned instantly from the auto 
 mobile to look at me. 
 
 " Yes, he lived here as a young man." 
 
 They stopped at this very tavern with Morgan on 
 their way through," said some one in the crowd. 
 
 " And that stone building just the other side of the 
 bridge is where the Masons met in those days," said 
 another. 
 
 That s where they took Miller," interrupted the 
 old man. 
 
 " Who was Miller?" I asked. 
 
 " He was the printer in Batavia who was getting out 
 Morgan s book; they brought him here to Stafford, 
 and took him up into the lodge-room in that building 
 and tried to frighten him, but he wasn t to be fright 
 ened, so they took him on to Le Roy and let him 
 ero." 
 
104 On an Automobile 
 
 " Did they ever find out what became of Morgan?" 
 I asked. 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then the old 
 man, looking first at the others, said, 
 
 " No-o-o, not for sartain, but the people in this 
 locality hed their opinion, and hev it yet." 
 
 " You bet they have," came from some one in the 
 crowd. 
 
 Thursday we started for Rochester by way of Staf 
 ford ad Le Roy instead of Newkirk, Byron, and Ber 
 gen, which is the more direct route and also a good 
 road. 
 
 The morning was bright and very warm, scarcely a 
 cloud in the sky, but there was a feeling of storm in 
 the air, the earth was restless. 
 
 As we neared Stafford dark clouds were gathering 
 in the far distant skies, but not yet near enough to 
 cause apprehension. Driving slowly into the village/ 
 we again visited the three-story stone house. Here, 
 no doubt, as elsewhere, Morgan s forthcoming expo 
 sures were discussed and denounced, here the plot to 
 seize him if plot there was may have been formed ; 
 but then there was probably no plot, conspiracy, or ac 
 tion on the part of any lodge or body of Masons. Mor 
 gan was in their eyes a most despicable traitor, a man 
 who proposed to sell not simply disclose, but sell 
 the secrets of the order he joined. There is no reason 
 to believe that he had the good of any one at heart; 
 that he had anything in view but his own material 
 prosperity. He made a bargain with a printer in 
 Batavia to expose Masonry, and lost his life in at- 
 
The Morgan Mystery 105 
 
 tempting to carry out that bargain. Lost his life! 
 who knows? The story is a strange one, as strange 
 as anything in the Arabian Nights ; there are men 
 still living who faintly recollect the excitement, the 
 feuds and controversies which lasted for years. From 
 Batavia to Canandaigua the name of Morgan calls 
 forth a flood of reminiscences. A man whose father 
 or grandfather had anything to do with the affair is 
 a character in the community; now and then a man 
 is found who knew a man who caught a glimpse of 
 Morgan during that mysterious midnight ride from 
 the Canandaigua jail over the Rochester road, and on 
 to the end in the magazine of the old fort at Lewiston. 
 One cannot spend twenty-four hours in this country 
 without being drawn into the vortex of this absorbing 
 mystery ; it hangs over the entire section, lingers along 
 the road-sides, finds outward sign and habitation in 
 old buildings, monuments, and ruins ; it echoes from 
 the past in musty books, papers, and pamphlets ; it 
 once was politics, now is history ; the years have not 
 solved it ; time is helpless. 
 
 At Le Roy we sought shelter under the friendly roof The story toid 
 of an old, old house. How it did storm ; the Rochester 
 papers next day said that no such storm had ever 
 been known in that part of the State. The rain fell 
 in torrents; the main street was a stream of water 
 emptying into the river ; the flashes of lightning were 
 followed so quickly by crashes of thunder that we 
 knew trees and buildings were struck near by, as in 
 fact they were. It seemed as if the heavens were lay 
 ing siege to the little village and bringing to bear all 
 nature s great guns. 
 
106 On an Automobile 
 
 The house was filled with old books and mementoes 
 of the past; every nook and corner was interesting. 
 In an old secretary in an upper room was found a 
 complete history of Morgan s disappearance, together 
 with the affidavits taken at the time and records of 
 such court proceedings as were had. 
 
 These papers had been gathered together in 1829. 
 One by one I turned the yellow leaves and read the 
 story from beginning to end ; it is in brief as follows : 
 
 in the year j n ^ ie summer o f i$ 2 6 it was rumored throughout 
 
 Western New York that one William Morgan, then 
 living in the village of Batavia, was writing an ex 
 posure of the secrets of Free Masonry, under con 
 tract with David Miller, a printer of the same place, 
 who was to publish the pamphlet. 
 
 Morgan was a man entirely without means ; he was 
 said to have served in the War of 1812, and was 
 known to have been a brewer, but had not made a 
 success in business ; he was rooming with a family in 
 Batavia with his wife and two small children, one a 
 child of two years, the other a babe of two months. 
 He was quite irresponsible, and apparently not over 
 scrupulous in either contracting debts or the use of 
 the property of others. 
 
 There is not the slightest reason to believe that his 
 so-called exposure of Masonry was prompted by any 
 motives other than the profits he might realize from 
 the sale of the pamphlet. Nor is there any evidence 
 that he enjoyed the confidence of the community where 
 he lived. His monument as in many another case 
 awards him virtues he did not possess. The figure of 
 
The Morgan Mystery 107 
 
 noble bearing- on the top of the shaft is the idealization 
 of subsequent events, and probably but illy corre 
 sponds with the actual appearance of the impecunious 
 reality. The man s fate made him a hero. 
 
 On August 9 the following notice appeared in a A uttie 
 newspaper published in Canandaigua: 
 
 " NOTICE AND CAUTION. If a man calling himself William 
 Morgan should intrude himself on the community, they 
 should be on their guard, particularly the Masonic Frater 
 nity. Morgan was in the village in May last, and his con 
 duct while here and elsewhere calls forth this notice. Any 
 information in relation to Morgan can be obtained by calling 
 at the Masonic Hall in this village. Brethren and Com 
 panions are particularly requested to observe, mark, and 
 govern themselves accordingly. 
 
 " Morgan is considered a swindler and a dangerous man. 
 
 " There are people in the village who would be happy to 
 see this Captain Morgan. 
 
 " CANANDAIGUA, August 9, 1826." 
 
 This notice was copied in two newspapers published 
 in Batavia. 
 
 About the middle of August a stranger by the name 
 of Daniel Johns appeared in Batavia and took up his 
 lodgings in one of the public houses of the village. 
 He made the acquaintance of Miller, offered to go in 
 business with him, and to furnish whatever money 
 might be necessary for the publication of the Morgan 
 book. Miller accepted his proposition and took the 
 man into his confidence. As it afterwards turned out, 
 Johns s object in seeking the partnership was to 
 secure possession of the Morgan manuscript, so that 
 Miller could not publish the work; the man s subse- 
 
io8 On an Automobile 
 
 quent connection with this strange narrative appears 
 from the affidavit of Mrs. Morgan, referred to farther 
 on. 
 
 During the month of August, Morgan with his 
 family boarded at a house in the heart of the village ; 
 but to avoid interruption in his work he had an upper 
 room in the house of John David, on the other side of 
 the creek from the town. 
 
 The trouble August 1 9 three well-known residents of the vil 
 
 lage accompanied by a constable from Pembroke went 
 to David s house, inquired for David and Towsley, 
 who both lived there with their families, and on being 
 told they were not at home, rushed up-stairs to the 
 room where Morgan was writing, seized him and the 
 papers which he was even then arranging for the 
 printer. He was taken to the county jail and kept 
 from Saturday afternoon until Monday morning, 
 when he was bailed out. 
 
 On the same Saturday evening the same men went 
 to the house where Morgan boarded, and saying they 
 had an execution, inquired of Mrs. Morgan whether 
 her husband had any property. They were told lie 
 had none, but nevertheless two of the men went into 
 Morgan s room and made a search for papers. On 
 leaving the house one of them said to Mrs. Morgan, 
 " We have just conducted your husband to jail, and 
 shall keep him there until we find his papers." 
 
 A midnight September 8, James Ganson, who kept the tavern at 
 
 Stafford, was notified from Batavia that between forty 
 and fifty men would be there for supper. The men 
 
The Morgan Mystery 109 
 
 came and late at night departed for Batavia, where 
 they found a number of men gathered from other 
 points. From an affidavit taken afterwards it seems 
 the object of the party was to destroy Miller s office, 
 but they found Miller and Morgan had been warned. 
 At any rate, the party dispersed without doing any 
 thing. Part of them reassembled at Ganson s, and 
 charges of cowardice were freely exchanged ; certain 
 of the leaders were afterwards indicted for their part 
 in this affair, but no trial was had. 
 
 To this day the business portion of Batavia 
 stretches along both sides of a broad main street; 
 instead of cross-streets at regular intervals there are 
 numerous alleys leading off the main street, with here 
 and there a wider side street. In those days nearly 
 all the buildings were of wood and but one or two 
 stories in height. Miller s printing-offices occupied 
 the second stories of two wooden buildings ; a side 
 alley separating the two buildings, dividing also, of 
 course, the two parts of the printing establishment. 
 
 On Sunday night, September 10, fire was discovered 
 under the stairways leading to the printing-offices ; on 
 extinguishing the blaze, straw and cotton balls satu 
 rated with turpentine were found under the stairways, 
 and some distance from the buildings a dark lantern 
 was found. 
 
 On this same Sunday morning, September 10, a 
 man the coroner of the county in the village of 
 Canandaigua, fifty miles east of Batavia, obtained 
 from a justice of the peace a warrant for the 
 arrest of Morgan on the charge of stealing a shirt 
 
i io On an Automobile 
 
 and a cravat in the month of May from an innkeeper 
 named Kingsley. 
 
 Having obtained the warrant, which was directed 
 to him as coroner, the complainant called a constable, 
 and together with four well-known residents of 
 Canandaigua they hired a special stage and started for 
 Batavia. 
 
 At Avon, Caledonia, and Le Roy they were joined 
 by others who seemed to understand that Morgan was 
 to be arrested. 
 
 At Stafford they stopped for supper at Ganson s 
 tavern. After supper they proceeded towards Ba 
 tavia, but stopped about a mile and a half east of the 
 village, certain of the party returning with the stage. 
 
 Arrest of Early the next morning Morgan was arrested, and 
 
 an extra stage engaged to take the party back. The 
 driver, becoming uneasy as to the regularity of the 
 proceedings, at first refused to start, but was per 
 suaded to go as far as Stafford, where Ganson 
 whom the driver knew said everything was all right 
 and that he would assume all responsibility. 
 
 At About sunset of the same day Monday, Septem 
 
 ber ii they arrived at Canandaigua, and Morgan 
 was at once examined by the justice; the evidence was 
 held insufficient and the prisoner discharged. 
 
 The same complainant immediately produced a 
 claim for two dollars which had been assigned to 
 him. Morgan admitted the debt, confessed judg 
 ment, and pulled off his coat, offering it as security. 
 
The Morgan Mystery 1 1 1 
 
 The constable refused to take the coat and took 
 Morgan to jail. 
 
 Tuesday noon, September 12, a crowd of strangers Arrest of 
 appeared in Batavia, assembling at Donald s tavern. 
 A constable went to Miller s office, arrested him, and 
 took him to the tavern, where he was detained in a 
 room for about two hours. He was then put in an 
 open wagon with some men, all strangers to him. The 
 constable mounted his horse and the party proceeded 
 to Stafford. Arriving there Miller was conducted to 
 the third story of the stone building beside the creek, 
 and was there confined, guarded by five men. 
 
 About dusk the constable and the crowd took Miller 
 to Le Roy, where he was taken before the justice who 
 had issued the warrant, when all his prosecutors, to 
 gether with constable and warrant, disappeared. As 
 no one appeared against the prisoner, the justice told 
 him he was at liberty to go. 
 
 From the docket of the justice it appeared that the 
 warrant had been issued at the request of Daniel 
 Johns, Miller s partner. 
 
 The leaders were indicted for riot, assault, and false 
 imprisonment, tried, three found guilty and im 
 prisoned. At the trial there was evidence to show 
 that on the morning of the I2th a meeting was held 
 in the third story of the stone building at Stafford, a 
 leader selected, and plans arranged. 
 
 On the evening of Tuesday I2th a neighbor of Mor- Atthejaiiin 
 gan s called at the Canandaigua jail and asked to see Cananda > z" a 
 Morgan. The jailer was absent. His wife permitted 
 
1 1 2 On an Automobile 
 
 the man to speak to Morgan, and the man said that he 
 had come to pay the debt for which Morgan was com 
 mitted and to take him home. Morgan was asked if 
 he were willing to go; he answered that he was will 
 ing, but that it did not matter particularly that night, 
 for he could just as well wait until morning; but the 
 man said " No," that he would rather take him out 
 that night, for he had run around all day for him 
 and was very tired and wished to get home. The man 
 offered to deposit with the jailer s wife five dollars 
 as security for the payment of the debt and all costs, 
 but she would not let Morgan out, saying that she did 
 not know the man and that he was not the owner of 
 the judgment. 
 
 out of jail The man went out and was gone a few minutes, 
 
 and brought back a well-known resident of the vil 
 lage of Canandaigua and the owner of the judgment; 
 these two men said that it was all right for the jailer s 
 wife to accept two dollars, the amount of the judg 
 ment, and release Morgan. Taking the money, the 
 woman opened the inside door of the prison, and 
 Morgan was requested to get ready quickly and come 
 out. He was soon ready, and walked out of the front 
 door between the man who had called for him and 
 another. The jailer s wife while fastening the inside 
 prison-door heard a cry of murder near the outer door 
 of the jail, and running to the door she saw Morgan 
 struggling with the two men who had come for him. 
 He continued to scream and cry in the most distress 
 ing manner, at the same time struggling with all his 
 strength; his voice was suppressed by something 
 that was put over his mouth, and a man following 
 
The Morgan Mystery 1 1 3 
 
 behind rapped loudly upon the well-curb with a stick; 
 a carriage came up, Morgan was put in it by the two 
 men with him, and the carriage drove off. It was a 
 moonlight night, and the jailer s wife clearly saw all 
 that transpired, and even remembered that the horses 
 were gray. Neither the man who made the complaint 
 nor the resident of Canandaigua who came to the jail 
 and advised the jailer s wife that she could safely let 
 Morgan go went with the carriage. They picked up 
 Morgan s hat, which was lost in the struggle, and 
 watched the carriage drive away. 
 
 The account given by the wife of the jailer was 
 corroborated by a number of entirely reliable and 
 reputable witnesses. 
 
 A man living near the jail went to the door of his 
 house and saw the men struggling in the street, one 
 of them apparently down and making noises of dis 
 tress ; the man went towards the struggling man, and 
 asked a man who was a little behind the others what 
 was the matter, to which he answered, " Nothing ; 
 only a man has been let out of jail, and been taken on 
 a warrant, and is going to be tried, or have his trial." 
 
 In January following, when the feeling was grow 
 ing against the abductors of Morgan, the three men 
 in Canandaigua most prominently connected with all 
 that transpired at the jail on the night in question 
 made statements in court under oath, which admitted 
 the facts to be substantially as above outlined, except 
 they insisted that they did not know why Morgan 
 struggled before getting into the carriage. These men 
 expressed regret that they did not go to the assist 
 ance of Morgan, and insisted that was the only fault 
 
 8 
 
ii4 ^ n an Automobile 
 
 they committed on the night in question. They ad 
 mitted that they understood that Morgan was com 
 piling a book on the subject of Masonry at the insti 
 gation of Miller the publisher at Batavia, and alleged 
 that he was getting up the book solely for pecuniary 
 profit, and they believed it was desirable to remove 
 Morgan to some place beyond the influence of Miller, 
 where his friends and acquaintances might convince 
 him of the impropriety of his conduct and persuade 
 him to abandon the publication of the book. 
 Convictions I n passing sentence, the court said : 
 
 " The legislature have not seen fit, perhaps, from the sup 
 posed improbability that the crime would be attempted, to 
 make your offence a felony. Its grade and punishment have 
 been left to the provisions of the common law, which treats 
 it as a misdemeanor, and punishes it with fine and imprison 
 ment in the common jail. The court are of opinion that your 
 liberty ought to be made to answer for the liberty of Mor 
 gan : his person was restrained by force; and the court, in 
 the exercise of its lawful powers, ought not to be more 
 tender of your liberty than you, in the plenitude of lawless 
 force, were of his." 
 
 What they J t J g qu j te c j ear tnat up tQ tnis t j me nQne Q ^ 
 
 intended to do J 
 
 parties connected directly or indirectly with the ab 
 duction of Morgan had any intention whatsoever of 
 doing him bodily harm. If such had been their pur 
 pose, the course they followed was foolish in the ex 
 treme. The simple fact was the Masons were greatly 
 excited over the threatened exposure of the secrets 
 of their order by one of their own members, and they 
 desired to get hold of the manuscript and proofs and 
 prevent the publication, and the misguided hot-heads 
 
The Morgan Mystery 1 1 5 
 
 who were active in the matter thought that by getting 
 Morgan away from Miller they could persuade him 
 to abandon his project. This theory is borne out by 
 the fact that on the day Morgan was taken to Canan- 
 daigua several prominent men of Batavia called upon 
 Mrs. Morgan and told her that if she would give up 
 to the Masons the papers she had in her possession 
 Morgan would be brought back. She gave up all the 
 papers she could find ; they were submitted to Johns, 
 the former partner of Miller, who said that part of 
 the manuscript was not there. However, the men 
 took Mrs. Morgan to Canandaigua, stopping at Avon 
 over night. These men expected to find Morgan still 
 in Canandaigua, but were surprised to learn that he 
 had been taken away the night before, whereupon 
 Mrs. Morgan, having left her two small children at 
 home, returned as quickly as possible. 
 
 So far as Morgan s manuscript is concerned, it 
 seems that a portion of it was already in the hands 
 of Miller, and another portion secreted inside of a bed 
 at the time he was arrested, so that not long after his 
 disappearance what purports to be his book was pub 
 lished. 
 
 Nearly two years later, in August, 1828, three men The midnight 
 were tried for conspiracy to kidnap and carry away ride 
 Morgan. At that time it was believed by many that 
 Morgan was either simply detained abroad or in 
 hiding, although it was strenuously insisted by others 
 that he had been killed. All that was ever known of 
 his movements after he left the jail at Canandaigua 
 on the night of September n was developed in the 
 testimonv taken at this trial. 
 
n6 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Onto 
 Rochester 
 
 The old fort 
 
 One witness who saw the carriage drive past the 
 jail testified that a man was put in by four others, 
 who got in after him and the carriage drove away; 
 the witness was near the men when they got into the 
 carriage, and as it turned west he heard one of them 
 cry to the driver, " Why don t you drive faster? why 
 don t you drive faster?" 
 
 The driver testified that some time prior to the date 
 in question a man came to him and arranged for him 
 to take a party to Rochester on or about the I2th. 
 On the night in question he took his yellow carriage 
 and gray horses about nine o clock and drove just be 
 yond the Canandaigua jail on the Palmyra road. A 
 party of five got into the carriage, but he heard no 
 noise and saw no resistance, nor did he know any of 
 the men. He was told to go on beyond Rochester, 
 and he took the Lewiston road. On arriving at Han- 
 ford s one of the party got out; he then drove about 
 one hundred yards beyond the house, stopping near a 
 piece of woods, where the others who were in the 
 carriage got out, and he turned around and drove 
 back. 
 
 Another man who lived at Lewiston and worked as 
 a stage-driver said that he was called between ten and 
 twelve o clock at night and told to drive a certain 
 carriage into a back street alongside of another car 
 riage which he found standing there without any 
 horse attached to it; some men were standing near 
 it. He drove alongside the carriage, and one or two 
 men got out of it and got into his hack. He saw no 
 violence, but on stopping at a point about six miles 
 farther on some of the men got out, and while they 
 
The Morgan Mystery 1 1 7 
 
 were conversing, some one in the carriage asked for 
 water in a whining voice, to which one of the men 
 replied, " You shall have some in a moment." No 
 water was handed to the person in the carriage, but 
 the men got in, and he drove them on to a point about 
 half a mile from Fort Niagara, where they told him 
 to stop; there were no houses there; the party, four 
 in number, got out and proceeded side by side to 
 wards the fort; he drove back with his carriage. 
 
 A man living in Lewiston swore that he went to his 
 door and saw a carriage coming, Which went a little 
 distance farther on, stopping beside another carriage 
 which was in the street without horses ; he recognized 
 the driver of the carriage and one other man; he 
 thought something strange was going on and went 
 into his garden, where he had a good view of what 
 took place in the road ; he saw a man go from the 
 box of the carriage which had driven by to the one 
 standing in the street and open the door; some one 
 got out backward with the assistance of two men in 
 the carriage. The person who was taken out had no 
 hat, but a handkerchief on his head, and appeared to 
 be intoxicated and helpless. They took him to the 
 other carriage and all got in. One of the men went 
 back and took something from the carriage they had 
 left, which seemed to be a jug, and then they drove 
 off. 
 
 At the trial in question the testimony of a man by in the 
 the name of Giddins, who had the custody of old Fort 
 Niagara, was not received because it appeared he had 
 no religious beliefs whatsoever, but his brother-in-law 
 testified that on a certain night in September, shortly 
 
1 1 8 On an Automobile 
 
 after the events narrated, he was staying at Giddins s 
 house, Which was twenty or thirty rods from the 
 magazine of the old fort; that before going to the 
 installation of the lodge at Lewiston he went with 
 Giddins to the magazine. Previously to starting out 
 Giddins had a pistol, which he requested the witness 
 to carry, but witness declined. Giddins had some 
 thing else with him, which the witness did not recog 
 nize. When they came within about two rods of the 
 magazine, Giddins went up to the door and something 
 was said inside the door. A man s voice came from 
 inside the magazine ; witness was alarmed, and 
 thought he had better get out of the way, and he at 
 once retreated, followed soon after by Giddins. 
 
 From the old records it seemed that the evidence 
 tracing Morgan to the magazine of old Fort Niagara 
 was satisfactory to court and jury ; but what became 
 of him no man knows. In January, 1827, the fort and 
 magazine were visited by certain committees appointed 
 to make investigations, who reported in detail the con 
 dition of the magazine, which seemed to indicate that 
 some one had been confined therein not long before, 
 and that the prisoner had made violent and reiterated 
 efforts to force his way out. A good many hearsay 
 statements were taken to the effect that Morgan was 
 as a matter of fact put in the magazine and kept there 
 some days. 
 
 Governor De Witt Clinton issued three proclama 
 tions, two soon after September, 1826, and the last 
 dated March 19, 1827, offering rewards for " Authen 
 tic information of the place where the said William 
 Morgan has been conveyed," and " for the discovery 
 
The Morgan Mystery 1 1 9 
 
 of the said William Morgan, if alive; and, if mur 
 dered, a reward of two thousand dollars for the 
 discovery of the offender or offenders, etc." 
 
 In the autumn of 1827 a body was cast up on the The end 
 shore of Lake Ontario near the mouth of Oak Orchard 
 Creek. Mrs. Morgan and a Dr. Strong identified the 
 body as that of William Morgan by a scar on the foot 
 and by the teeth. 
 
 The identification was disputed ; the disappearance 
 of Morgan was then a matter of politics, and the anti- 
 masons, headed by Thurlow Weed, originated the say 
 ing, " It s a good enough Morgan for us until you 
 produce the live one," which afterwards become cur 
 rent political slang in the form, " It s a good enough 
 Morgan until after election." 
 
THE MUD 
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 THROUGH WESTERN NEW YORK 
 
 THE afternoon was drawing to a close, the rain had 
 partially subsided, but the trees were heavy with 
 water, and the streets ran rivulets. 
 
 out of Le Roy Prudence would seem to dictate remaining in Le 
 Roy over-night, but, so far as roads are concerned, it 
 is always better to start out in, or immediately after, 
 a rain than to wait until the water has soaked in 
 and made the mud deep. A heavy rain washes the 
 surface off the roads ; it is better not to give it 
 time to penetrate; we therefore determined to start 
 at once. 
 
 120 
 
Through Western New York i 2 1 
 
 There was not a soul on the streets as we pulled 
 out a few moments after five o clock, and in the entire 
 ride of some thirty miles we met scarcely more than 
 three or four teams. 
 
 We took the road by Bergen rather than through 
 Caledonia ; both roads are good, but in very wet 
 weather the road from Bergen to Rochester is apt 
 to be better than that from Caledonia, as it is more 
 sandy. 
 
 To Bergen, eight miles, we found hard gravel, with 
 one steep hill to descend ; from Bergen in, it was 
 sandy, and after the rain, was six inches deep in 
 places with soft mud. 
 
 It was slow progress and eight o clock when we 
 pulled into Rochester. 
 
 We were given rooms where all the noises of street Rochester 
 and trolley could be heard to best advantage ; sleep 
 was a struggle, rest an impossibility. 
 
 Hotel construction has quite kept pace with the 
 times, but hotel location is a tradition of the dark ages, 
 when to catch patrons it was necessary to get in their 
 way. 
 
 At Syracuse the New York Central passes through 
 the principal hotels, the main tracks bisecting the 
 dining-rooms, with side tracks down each corridor 
 and a switch in each bed-room ; but this is an extreme 
 instance. 
 
 It was well enough in olden times to open taverns Hotels on 
 on the highways; an occasional coach would furnish hi * hways 
 the novelty and break the monotony, but people could 
 sleep. 
 
122 On an Automobile 
 
 The erection of hotels in close proximity to railroad 
 tracks, or upon the main thoroughfares of cities where 
 stone or asphalt pavements resound to every hoof- 
 fall, and where street cars go whirring and clang 
 ing by all night long, is something more than an 
 anachronism ; it is a fiendish disregard of human 
 comfort. 
 
 Paradoxical as it may seem, a pious but garrulous 
 old gentleman was one time invited to lead in prayer ; 
 consenting, he approached the throne of grace with 
 becoming humility, saying, " Paradoxical as it may 
 seem, O Lord, it is nevertheless true," etc., the phrase 
 is a good one, it lingers in the ear, therefore, once 
 more, paradoxical as it may seem, it is nevertheless 
 true that those who go about all day in machines do 
 not like to be disturbed by machines at night. 
 
 villages versus | We soon learned to keep away from the cities at 
 Inight. It is so much more delightful to stop in smaller 
 ^towns and villages ; your host is glad to see you ; you 
 are quite the guest of honor, perhaps the only guest; 
 there is a place in the adjoining stable for the ma 
 chine; the men are interested, and only too glad to 
 care for it and help in the morning; the best the 
 house affords is offered ; as a rule the rooms are quite 
 good, the beds clean, and nowadays many of these 
 small hotels have rooms with baths ; the table is plain ; 
 but while automobiling one soon comes to prefer plain 
 country living. 
 
 In the larger cities it costs a fortune in tips before 
 the machine and oneself are well housed ; to enter 
 Albany, Boston, or New York at night, find your 
 
Through Western New York 123 
 
 hotel, find the automobile station, find your luggage, 
 and find yourself, is a bore. 
 
 No one who has ever ridden day after day in the city riding 
 country cares anything about riding in cities ; it is as 
 artificial and monotonous as riding a hunter over pave 
 ments. If one could just approach a city at night, 
 steal into it, enjoy its lights and shadows, its confu 
 sion and strange sounds, all in passing, and slip 
 through without stopping long enough to feel the 
 thrust of the reality, it would be delightful. But the 
 charm disappears, the dream is brought to earth, the 
 vision becomes tinsel when you draw up in front of 
 a big caravansary and a platoon of uniformed porters, 
 bell-boys, and pages swoop down upon everything you 
 have, including your pocket-book ; then the Olympian 
 clerk looks at you doubtfully, puzzled for the first 
 time in his life, does not know whether you are a 
 mill-hand from Pittsburg who should be assigned a 
 hall bed-room in the annex, or a millionaire from 
 Newport who should be tendered the entire establish 
 ment on a silver platter. 
 
 The direct road from Rochester to Syracuse is by out of 
 way of Pittsford, Palmyra, Newark, Lyons, Clyde, Rochester 
 Port Byron, and Camillus, but it is neither so good 
 nor so interesting as the old roads through Geneva 
 and Auburn. 
 
 In going from Buffalo to Albany via Syracuse, 
 Rochester is to the north and some miles out of the 
 way ; unless one especially desires to visit the city, 
 it is better to leave it to one side. 
 
124 O an Automobile 
 
 Genesee Street out of Buffalo is Genesee Street 
 into Syracuse and Utica; it is the old highway be 
 tween Buffalo and Albany, and may be followed to-day 
 from end to end. 
 
 Instead of turning to the northeast at Batavia and 
 going through Newkirk, Byron, Bergen, North Chili, 
 and Gates to Rochester, keep more directly east 
 through Le Roy, Caledonia, Avon, and Canandaigua 
 to Geneva ; the towns are old, the hotels, most of them, 
 good, the roads are generally gravel and the country 
 interesting; it is old New York. No one driving 
 through the State for pleasure would think of taking 
 the direct road from Rochester to Syracuse; the 
 beautiful portions of this western end of the State 
 are to the south, in the Genesee and Wyoming Valleys, 
 and through the lake region. 
 
 By way of \y e j e f t Rochester at ten o clock, Saturday, the 24th, 
 
 J?<ryht 
 
 intending to go east by Egypt, Macedon, Palmyra, 
 the Oriental route, as my Companion called it; but 
 after leaving Pittsford we missed the road and lost 
 ourselves among the hills, finding several grades so 
 steep and soft that we both were obliged to dismount. 
 
 An old resident was decidedly of the opinion that 
 the roads to the southeast were better than those to 
 the northeast, and we turned from the Nile route 
 towards Canandaigua. 
 
 Though the roads were decidedly better, in many 
 places being well gravelled, the heavy rains of the 
 previous two days made the going slow, and it was 
 one-thirty before we pulled up at the old hotel in 
 Canandaigua for dinner. 
 
Through Western New York 125 
 
 As the machine had been there before, we were Sambo 
 greeted as friends. The old negro porter is a char 
 acter, quite the irresponsible head of the entire estab 
 lishment. 
 
 " Law s sakes ! you heah agen ? glad to see you ; 
 whar you come from dis time? Rochester! No, foh 
 sure? dis mawning? you doan say so; that jes 
 beats me ; to think I live to see a thing like that ; it s 
 a reg lar steam-engine, aint it?" 
 
 " Sambo," called out a bystander, making fun of the 
 old darkey, " do you know what you are looking at ?" 
 
 " Well, if I doan, den I can t find out frum dis yere 
 crowd." 
 
 "What do they call it, Sambo?" some one else 
 asked. 
 
 u Sh-sh h that s a secret ; an if I shud tell you, 
 YOU cudn t keep it." 
 
 "Is it yours?" 
 
 " I dun sole mine to Mistah Vand bilt las week ; 
 he name it de White Ghos after me." 
 
 " You mean the Black Devil." 
 
 " No, I doan ; he didn t want to hu t youah feel 
 ings ; Mistah Vand bilt a very consid rate man." 
 
 Sambo carried our things in, talking all the time. 
 
 " Now you jes go right into dinnah; I ll take keer 
 of the auto bile; I ll see that nun of those ign rant 
 folk stannin roun lay their han s on it; they think 
 Sambo doan know an auto bile ; didn t I see you heah 
 befoh ? an didn t I hole de hose when you put de watah 
 in? Me an you are de only two pussons in dis whole 
 town who knows about de auto bile, jes me an 
 you." 
 
126 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 To Geneva 
 
 The roof 
 garden 
 
 After dinner we rode down the broad main street 
 and around the lake to the left in going to Geneva. 
 Barring the fact that the roads were soft in places, the 
 afternoon s ride was delightful, the roads being gen 
 erally very good. 
 
 It was about five o clock when we came to the top 
 of the hills overlooking Geneva and the silvery lake 
 beyond. It was a sight not to be forgotten by the 
 American traveller, for this country has few towns 
 so happily situated as the village of Geneva, a cluster 
 of houses against a wooded slope with the lake like 
 a mirror below. 
 
 The little hotel was almost new and very good ; the 
 rooms were large and comfortable. There was but 
 one objection, and that the location at the very corner 
 of the busiest and noisiest streets. But Geneva goes 
 to bed early, even on Saturday nights, and by ten 
 or eleven o clock the streets were quiet, while on Sun 
 day mornings there is nothing to disturb one before 
 the bells ring for church. 
 
 We were quite content to rest this first Sunday out. 
 
 It was so delightfully quiet all the morning that we 
 lounged about and read until dinner-time. In the 
 afternoon a walk, and in the evening friends came to 
 supper with us. In a moment of ambitious emulation 
 of metropolitan customs the small hotel had estab 
 lished a roof garden, with music two or three even 
 ings a week, but the innovation had not proven profit 
 able; the roof remained with some iron framework 
 that once supported awnings, several disconsolate 
 tables, and some lonesome iron chairs ; we visited this 
 
Through Western New York 1 27 
 
 scene of departed glory and obtained a view of the 
 lake at evening. 
 
 The irregular outlines of the long shadows of the 
 hills stretched far out over the still water ; beyond 
 these broken lines the slanting rays of the setting sun 
 fell upon the surface of the lake, making it to shine 
 like a mass of burnished silver. 
 
 Some white sails glimmered in the light far across ; 
 near by we caught the sound of church-bells ; the twi 
 light deepened, the shadows lengthened, the luminous 
 stretch of water grew narrower and narrower until it 
 disappeared entirely and all was dark upon the lake, 
 save here and there the twinkle of lights from moving 
 boats, shifting stars in the void of night. 
 
 The morning was bright as we left Geneva, but the Geneva to 
 roads, until we struck the State road, were rough and 
 still muddy from the recent rains. 
 
 It was but a short run to Auburn, and from there 
 into Syracuse the road is a fine gravel. 
 
 The machine had developed a slight pounding and Syracuse 
 the rear-axle showed signs of again parting at the 
 differential. 
 
 After luncheon the machine was run into a machine 
 shop, and three hours were spent in taking up the lost 
 motion in the eccentric strap, at the crank-pin, and in 
 a loose bushing. 
 
 On opening up the differential gear case both set- 
 screws holding the axles \vere found loose. The fac 
 tory had been most emphatically requested to put in 
 larger keys so as to fit the key-ways snugly and to 
 
128 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Oneida 
 
 In the hotel 
 office 
 
 lock these set-screws in some way neither of these 
 things had been done; and both halves of the rear- 
 axle were on the verge of working out. 
 
 Small holes were bored through the set-screws, 
 wires passed through and around the shoulders of 
 the gears, and we had no further trouble from this 
 source. 
 
 It was half-past five before we left Syracuse for 
 Oneida. The road is good, and the run of twenty- 
 seven miles was made in little over two hours, arriving 
 at the small, old-fashioned tavern in Oneida at exactly 
 seven forty-five. 
 
 A number of old-timers dropped into the hotel office 
 that evening to see what was going on and hear about 
 the strange machine. Great stories were exchanged 
 on all sides ; the glories of Oneida quite eclipsed the 
 lesser claims of the automobile to fame and notoriety, 
 for it seemed that some of the best known men of 
 New York and Chicago were born in the village or 
 the immediate vicinity; the land- marks remain, tradi 
 tions are intact, the men departed to seek their for 
 tunes elsewhere, but their successes are the town s 
 fame. 
 
 The genial proprietor of the hotel carried his 
 seventy-odd years and two hundred and sixty pounds 
 quite handily in his shirt-sleeves, moving with com 
 mendable celerity from office to bar-room, supplying 
 us in the front room with information and those in 
 the back with refreshment. 
 
 " So you never heard that those big men were born 
 
Through Western New York 129 
 
 in this locality. That s strange ; tho t ev rybody knew 
 that. Why Neida has produced more famous men 
 than any town same size in Merika, Russell Sage, 
 General New, comin " (to those in the bar-room) ; 
 " say, you fellers/ can t you wait ?" As he disap 
 peared in the rear we heard his rotund voice, ft What ll 
 you take? Was jest tellin that chap with the threshin - 
 maohine a thing or two about this country. Rye? no, 
 that s Bourbon the reel corn juice ten years in 
 wood " 
 
 " Mixed across the street at the drug store ha ! ha ! 
 ha !" interrupted some one. 
 
 " Don t be faceshus, Sam ; this ain t no sody-foun- 
 tin." 
 
 " Where d that feller cum frum with his steam 
 pianer, Syr cuse ?" 
 
 " Naw ! Chicago." 
 
 " Great cranberries ! you don t say so, all the way 
 from Chicago ! When did he start ?" 
 
 " Day fore yesterday," replied the old man, and we 
 could hear him putting back the bottles-; a chorus of 
 voices, 
 
 " What !" 
 
 " Holy Mo 
 
 " Day afore yester say, look here, you re jokin ." 
 
 " Mebbe I am, but if you don t believe it, ask him." 
 
 " Why Chicago is further n Buf lo an that s 
 faster n a train." 
 
 " Yes," drawled the old man ; " he passed the Em 
 pire Express th other side Syr cuse." 
 
 " Get out." 
 
 "What do you take us fer?" 
 9 
 
130 On an Automobile 
 
 " Wall, when you cum in, I took you fer fellers who 
 knowed the diff rence betwixt whiskey and benzine, 
 but I see my mistake. You fellers shud buy your 
 alc hol across the way at the drug store ; it don t cost 
 s much, and burns better." 
 
 " Thet s one on us. Your whiskey is all right, 
 grandpa, the reel corn juice ten year in wood too 
 long in bottl spile if left over night, so pull the 
 stopper once more." 
 
IN THE 
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 THE MOHAWK VALLEY 
 
 ON looking over the machine the next morning, 
 Tuesday, the 27th, the large cap-screws holding the 
 bearings of the main-shaft were found slightly loose. 
 The wrench with the machine was altogether too light 
 to turn these screws up as tight as they should be; it 
 was therefore necessary to have a wrench made from 
 tool steel ; that required about half an hour, but it 
 was time well spent. 
 
 The road from Oneida to Utica is very good; roll- 
 ing but no steep grades; some sand, but not deep; 
 some clay, but not rough; for the most part gravel. 
 
 Utica 
 
132 On an Automobile 
 
 The run of twenty miles was quickly made. We 
 stopped only for a moment to inquire for letters and 
 then on to Herkimer by the road on the north side 
 of the valley. Returning some weeks later we came 
 by the south road, through Frankford, between the 
 canal and the railroad tracks, through Mohawk and 
 Ilion. This is the better known and the main travelled 
 road ; but it is far inferior to the road on the north ; 
 there are more hills on the latter, some of the grades 
 being fairly steep, but in dry weather the north road 
 is more picturesque and more delightful in every way, 
 while in wet weather there is less deep mud. 
 
 At Herkimer, eighteen and one-half miles from 
 Utica and thirty-eight from Oneida, we had luncheon, 
 then inquired for gasoline. Most astonishing! in the 
 entire village no gasoline to be had. A town of most 
 respectable size, hotel quite up to date, large brick 
 blocks of stores, enterprise apparent but no gasoline. 
 Only one man handled it regularly, an old man who 
 drove about the country with his tank-wagon dis 
 tributing kerosene and gasoline; he had no place of 
 business but his house, and he happened to be entirely 
 out of gasoline. In two weeks the endurance run of 
 the Automobile Club of America would be through 
 there; at Herkimer those in the contest were to stop 
 for the night, and no gasoline. 
 
 In the entire pilgrimage of over two thousand 
 miles through nine States and the province of On 
 tario, we did not find a town or village of any size 
 where gasoline could not be obtained, and fre 
 quently we found it at cross-road stores, but not 
 at Herkimer. 
 
The Mohawk Valley 133 
 
 Happily there was sufficient gasoline in the tank to 
 carry us on; besides, we always had a gallon in re 
 serve. At the next village we found all we needed. 
 
 When we returned through Herkimer some weeks 
 later nearly every store had gasoline. 
 
 If hotels, stables, and drug stores, wherever automo- Gasolin 
 biles are apt to come, would keep a five-gallon can ***** 
 of gasoline on hand, time and trouble would be saved, 
 and drivers of automobiles would be only too glad to 
 pay an extra price for the convenience. 
 
 The grades of gasoline sold in this country vary 
 from the common so-called " stove gasoline," or sixty- 
 eight, to seventy-four. 
 
 The country dealers are becoming wise in their 
 generation, and all now insist they keep only seventy- 
 four. As a matter of fact nearly all that is sold in 
 both cities and country is the " stove gasoline," be 
 cause it is kept on hand principally for stoves and 
 torches, and they do not require higher than sixty- 
 eight. In fact, one is fortunate if the gasoline tests 
 so high as that. 
 
 American machines, as a rule, get along very well 
 with the low grades, but many of the foreign ma 
 chines require the better grades. If a machine will 
 not use commercial stove gasoline, the only safe thing 
 is to carry a supply of higher grade along, and that 
 is a nuisance. 
 
 It is difficult to find a genuine seventy-four even in 
 the cities, since it is commonly sold only in barrels. 
 If the exhaust of a gasoline stationary engine is heard 
 anywhere along the road-side, stop, for there will gen- 
 
134 ^ n an Automobile 
 
 erally be found a barrel or two of the high-grade, and 
 a supply may be laid in. 
 
 The best plan, however, is to have a carburetor and 
 motor that will use the ordinary " stove-grade ;" as 
 a matter of fact, it contains more carbon and more 
 explosive energy if thoroughly ignited, but it does not 
 make gas so readily in cold weather and requires a 
 good hot spark. 
 
 in the valley All day we rode on through the valley, now far up 
 on the hill-sides, now down by the meadows ; past 
 Palatine Church, Palatine Bridge ; through Fonda and 
 Amsterdam to Schenectady. 
 
 It was a glorious ride. The road winds along the 
 side of the valley, following the graceful curves and 
 swellings of the hills. The little towns are so lost in 
 the recesses that one conies upon them quite unex 
 pectedly, and, whirling through their one long main 
 street, catches glimpses of quaint churches and build 
 ings which fairly overhang the highway, and narrow 
 vistas of lawns, trees, shrubbery, and flowers ; then 
 all is hidden by the next bend in the road. 
 
 During the long summer afternoon we sped onward 
 through this beautiful valley. Far down on the tracks 
 below trains would go scurrying by ; now and then a 
 slow freight would challenge our competition ; train 
 men would look up curiously ; occasionally an engi 
 neer would sound a note of defiance or a blast of 
 victory with his whistle. 
 
 The distant river followed lazily along, winding- 
 hither and thither through the lowland, now skirting 
 
The Mohawk Valley 135 
 
 the base of the hills, now bending far to the other side 
 as if resentful of such rude obstructions to its once 
 impetuous will. 
 
 Far across on the distant slopes we could see the 
 cattle grazing, and farther still tiny specks that were 
 human beings like ourselves moving upon the land 
 scape. Nature s slightest effort dwarfs man s might 
 iest achievements. That great railroad with its many 
 tracks and rushing trains seemed a child s plaything, 
 a noisy, whirring, mechanical toy beside the lazy 
 river ; for did not that placid, murmuring, meandering 
 stream in days gone by hollow out this valley? did 
 not nature in moments of play rear those hills and 
 carve out those distant mountains? Compared with 
 these traces of giant handiwork, what are the works of 
 man? just little putterings for our own conveni 
 ence, just little utilizations of waste energies for our 
 own purposes. 
 
 One should view nature with the setting sun. It By sunset 
 may gratify a bustling curiosity to see nature at her 
 toilet, but that is the part of a " Peeping Tom." 
 
 The hour of sunrise is the hour for work, it is the 
 hour when every living thing feels the impulse to do 
 something. The birds do not fly to the tree-tops to 
 view the morning sun, the animals do not rush forth 
 from their lairs to watch the landscape lighten with 
 the morning s glow ; no, all nature is refreshed and 
 eager to be doing, not seeing ; acting, not thinking. 
 Man is no exception to this all-embracing rule; his 
 innate being protests against idleness ; the most secret 
 
136 On an Automobile 
 
 cells of his organization are charged to overflowing 
 with energy and demand relief in work. 
 
 Morning is not the hour for contemplation ; but 
 when evening conies, as the sun sinks towards the 
 west, and lengthening shadows make it seem as if all 
 nature were stretching herself in repose, then do we 
 love to rest and contemplate the rich loveliness of the 
 earth and the infinite tenderness of the heavens. 
 Every harsh line, every glare of light, every crude 
 tone has disappeared. We stroke nature and she 
 purrs. We sink at our ease in a bed of moss and 
 nature nestles at our side ; we linger beside the silvery 
 brook and it sings to us; we listen attentively to the 
 murmuring trees and they whisper to us; we gaze 
 upon the frowning hills and they smile upon us. And 
 by and by as the shadows deepen all outlines are lost, 
 and we see vaguely the great masses of tone and color ; 
 nature becomes heroic ; the petty is dissolved ; the 
 insignificant is lost; hills and trees and streams are 
 blended in one mighty composition, in the presence of 
 which all but the impalpable soul of man is as nothing. 
 
 TO Albany We left Sclienectady at nine o clock, taking the 
 
 Troy road as far as Latham s Corners, then to the 
 right into Albany. 
 
 We reached the city at half-past ten. Albany is 
 not a convenient place for automobiles. There are no 
 special stations for the storing of machines, and the 
 stables are most inaccessible on account of the hills 
 and steep approaches. 
 
THE SICK TURKEY 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 THE VALLEY OF LEBANON 
 
 IT was four o clock, next day, when we left Albany, over the ridges 
 going down Green Street and crossing the long bridge, 
 taking the straight road over the ridges for Pittsfield. 
 
 Immediately on leaving the eastern end of the bridge 
 the ascent of a long steep grade is begun. This is the 
 first ridge, and from this on for fifteen miles is a 
 succession of ridges, steep rocky hills, and precipitous 
 declines. These continue until Brainerd is reached, 
 where the valley of Lebanon begins. 
 
 These ridges can be partially avoided by turning 
 down the Hudson to the right after crossing the bridge 
 
138 On an Automobile 
 
 and making a detour to Brainerd ; the road is about 
 five miles longer, but is very commonly taken by 
 farmers going to the city with heavy loads, and may 
 well be taken by all who wish to avoid a series of stiff 
 grades. 
 
 Many farmers were amazed to hear we had come 
 over the hills instead of going around, and wondered 
 how the machine managed to do it. 
 
 Some popular Popular notions concerning the capabilities of a ma 
 chine are interesting; people estimate its strength and 
 resources by those of a horse. In speaking of roads, 
 farmers seem to assume the machine like the horse 
 will not mind one or two hills, no matter how steep, 
 but that it will mind a series of grades, even though 
 none are very stiff. 
 
 Steam and electric automobiles do tire, that is, 
 long pulls through heavy roads or up grades tell on 
 them, the former has trouble in keeping up steam, 
 the latter rapidly consumes its store of electricity. 
 The gasoline machine does not tire. Within its limi 
 tations it can keep going indefinitely, and it is im 
 material whether it is up or down grade save in the 
 time made; it will go all day through deep mud, or 
 up steep hills, quite as smoothly, though by no means 
 so fast, as on the level; but let it come to one hole, 
 spot, or hill that is just beyond the limit of its power, 
 and it is stuck ; it has no reserve force to draw upon. 
 The steam machine can stop a moment, accumulate 
 two or three hundred pounds of steam, open the 
 throttle and, for a few moments, exert twice its nor 
 mal energy to get out of the difficulty. 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 139 
 
 It is not a series of hills that deters the gasoline 
 operator, but the one hill, the one grade, the one bad 
 place, which is just beyond the power he has avail 
 able. The road the farmer calls good may have that 
 one bad place or hill in it, and must therefore be 
 avoided. The road that is pronounced bad may be, 
 every foot of it, well within the power of the machine, 
 and is therefore the road to take. 
 
 In actual road work the term " horse-power" is very Horse-power 
 misleading. 
 
 When steam-engines in early days began to take the 
 place of horses, they were rated as so many horse 
 power according to the number of horses they dis 
 placed. It then became important to find out what 
 was the power of the horse. Observing the strong 
 dray horses used by the London breweries, Watt 
 found that a horse could go two and one-half miles 
 per hour and at the same time raise a weight of one 
 hundred and fifty pounds suspended by a rope over a 
 pulley ; this is equivalent to thirty-three thousand 
 pounds raised one foot in one minute, which is said 
 to be one horse-power. 
 
 No horse, of course, could raise thirty-three thou 
 sand pounds a foot or any portion of a foot in a min 
 ute or an hour, but the horse can travel at the rate of 
 two and one-half miles an hour raising a weight of 
 one hundred and fifty pounds, and the horse can do 
 more ; while it cannot move so heavy a weight as 
 thirty-three thousand pounds, it can in an emergency 
 and by sudden strain move much more than one hun 
 dred and fifty pounds ; with good foothold it can pull 
 
140 On an Automobile 
 
 more than its own weight along 1 a road, out of a hole, 
 or up a hill. It could not lift or pull so great a weight 
 very far; in fact, no farther than the equivalent of 
 approximately thirty-three thousand pounds raised one 
 foot in one minute ; but for the few seconds necessary a 
 very great amount of energy is at the command of the 
 driver of the horse. Hence eight horses, or even four, 
 or two can do things on the road that an eight horse 
 power gasoline machine cannot do; for the gasoline 
 machine cannot concentrate all its power into the 
 exertion of a few moments. If it is capable of lifting 
 a given load up a given grade at a certain speed on its 
 lowest gear, it cannot lift twice the load up the same 
 grade, or the same load up a steeper grade in double 
 the time, for its resources are exhausted when the 
 limit of the power developed through the lowest gear 
 is reached. The grade may be only a mud hole, out 
 of which the rear wheels have to rise only two feet 
 to be free, but it is as fatal to progress as a hill a mile 
 long. 
 
 Of course it is always possible to race the engine, 
 throw in the clutch, and gain some power from the 
 momentum of the fly-wheel, and many a bad place 
 may be surmounted step by step in this way ; but 
 this process has its limitations also, and the fact 
 remains that with a gasoline machine it is possible 
 to carry a given load only so fast, but if the machine 
 moves it all, it will continue to move on until the load 
 is increased, or the road changes for the worse. 
 
 When the farmer hears of an eight horse-power 
 machine he thinks of the wonderful things eight good 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 141 
 
 horses can do on the road, and is surprised when the 
 machine fails to go up hills that teams travel every 
 day; he does not understand it, and wonders where 
 the power comes in. He is not enough of a mechanic 
 to reflect that the eight horse-power is demonstrated 
 in the carrying of a ton over average roads one hun 
 dred and fifty miles in ten hours, something eight 
 horses could not possibly do. 
 
 Just as we were entering the valley of Lebanon, A wheel off 
 beyond the village of Brainerd, while going down a 
 slight descent, my Companion exclaimed, 
 
 The wheel is coming off." I threw out the clutch, 
 applied the brake, looked, and saw the left front wheel 
 roll gracefully and quite deliberately out from under 
 the big metal mud guard ; the carriage settled down 
 at that corner, and the end of the axle ploughed a 
 furrow in the road for a few feet, when we came to 
 a stop. 
 
 The steering-head had broken short off at the in 
 side of the hub. We were not going very fast at the 
 time, and the heavy metal mud guard which caught 
 the wheel, acting as a huge brake, saved us from a 
 bad smash. 
 
 On examination, the shank of the steering-head 
 was found to contain two large flaws, which reduced 
 its strength more than one-half, and the surprising 
 thing was that it had not parted long before, when 
 subjected to much severer strains. 
 
 This was a break that no man could repair on the 
 road. Under pressure of circumstances the steering- 
 head could have been taken to the nearest blacksmith 
 
142 On an Automobile 
 
 shop and a weld made, but that would require time, 
 and the results would be more than doubtful. By far 
 the easier thing to do was to wire the factory for a 
 new head and patiently wait its coming. 
 
 office Happily, we landed in the hands of a retired farmer, 
 whose generous hospitality embraced our tired selves 
 as well as the machine. 
 
 Before supper a telegram was sent from Brainerd 
 to the factory for a new steering-head. 
 
 While waiting inside for the operator to finish sell 
 ing tickets for the one evening train about to arrive, 
 a curious crowd gathered outside about my host, and 
 the questions asked were plainly audible; the names 
 are fictitious. 
 
 " What r ye down t the stashun fur this hur o day, 
 Joe?" 
 
 " Broke my new aut mobile," carelessly replied my 
 host, flicking a fly off the nigh side of his horse. 
 
 " Shu !" 
 
 "What r given us?" 
 
 " Git out 
 
 " You ain t got no aut mobile," chorused the crowd. 
 
 " Mebbe I haven t ; but if you fellows know an aut 
 mobile from a hay rake, you might take a look in my 
 big barn an let me know what you see." 
 
 " Say, Joe, you re jokin , hev you really got one?" 
 
 " You can look for yourselves." 
 
 " I saw one go through here bout six o clock," in 
 terrupted a new-comer. " Great Jehosephat, but t 
 went like a streak of greased lightnin ." 
 
 "War that your n, Joe?" 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 143 
 
 " Well " 
 
 " Naw," said the new-comer, scornfully. " Joe ain t 
 got no aut mobile; there s the feller in there now 
 who runs it," and the crowd turned my way with such 
 interest that I turned to the little table and wrote the 
 despatch, quite losing the connection of the subdued 
 murmurs outside; but it was quite evident from the 
 broken exclamations that my host was rilling the popu 
 lace up with information interesting inversely to its 
 accuracy. 
 
 " Mile a minute faster n a train Holy Moses ! 
 what s that, Joe? broke axle telegraphed how 
 many four more you don t say so? what s his 
 name? I ll bet it s Vanderbilt. Don t you believe 
 it it costs money to run one of those machines. I ll 
 bet he s a dandy from way back stopping at your 
 house bridal chamber that s right you want to 
 kill the fatted calf for them fellers say- 
 But further comments were cut short as I came out, 
 jumped in, and we drove back to a good supper by 
 candle-light. 
 
 The stars were shining over head, the air was clear 
 and crisp, down in the valley of Lebanon the mist 
 was falling, and it was cool that night. Lulled by the 
 monotonous song of the tree-toad and the deep bass 
 croaking of frogs by the distant stream, we fell asleep. 
 
 There was nothing to do next day. The new steer- The shaker 
 ing-head could not possibly arrive until the morning 
 following. As the farm was worked by a tenant, our 
 host had little to do, and proposed that we drive to 
 the Shaker village a few miles beyond. 
 
144 ^ n an Automobile 
 
 The visit is well worth making, and we should have. 
 missed it entirely if the automobile had not broken 
 down, for the new State road over the mountain does 
 not go through the village, but back of it. From the 
 new road one can look down upon the cluster of large 
 buildings on the side of the mountain, but the old 
 roads are so very steep, with such interesting names 
 as " Devil s Elbow," and the like, that they would not 
 tempt an automobile. Many with horses get out and 
 walk at the worst places. 
 
 One wide street leads through the settlement ; on 
 each side are the huge community buildings, seven in 
 all, each occupied by a " family," so called, or com 
 munity, and each quite independent in its management 
 and enterprises from the others ; the common ties 
 being the meeting-house near the centre and the 
 school-house a little farther on. 
 The North We stopped at the North Family simply because it. 
 
 was the first at hand, and we were hungry. Ushered 
 into a little reception-room in one of the outer build 
 ings, we were obliged to wait for dinner until the 
 party preceding us had finished, for the little dining- 
 room devoted to strangers had only one table, seating 
 but six or eight, and it seemed to be the commendable 
 policy of the institution to serve each party sepa 
 rately. 
 
 A printed notice warned us that dinner served after 
 one o clock cost ten cents per cover extra, making the 
 extravagant charge of sixty cents. We arrived just 
 in time to be entitled to the regular rate, but the dila 
 tory tactics of the party in possession kept us beyond 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 145 
 
 the hour and involved us in the extra expense, with 
 no compensation in the shape of extra dishes. Morally 
 and having tendered ourselves within the limit 
 legally we were entitled to dine at the regular rate, 
 or the party ahead should have paid the additional 
 tariff, but the good sister could not see the matter in 
 that light, plead ignorance of law, and relied entirely 
 upon custom. 
 
 The man who picks up a Shaker maiden for a fool 
 will let her drop. 
 
 Having waited until nearly famished, the sister 
 blandly told us, as if it were a matter of local interest, 
 but otherwise of small consequence, that the North 
 Family were strict vegetarians, serving no meat what 
 soever ; the only meat family was at the other end of 
 the village. 
 
 We were ready for meat, for chickens, ducks, green 
 goose, anything that walked on legs ; we were not 
 ready for pumpkin, squash, boiled potatoes, canned 
 peas, and cabbage ; but a theory as well as a condition 
 confronted us; it was give in or move on. We gave 
 in, but for fifteen cents more per plate bargained for 
 preserves, maple syrup, and honey, for something 
 cloying to deceive the outraged palate. 
 
 But that dinner was a revelation of what a good 
 cook can do with vegetables in season ; it was the 
 quintessence of delicacy, the refinement of finesse, the 
 veritable apotheosis of the kitchen garden ; meat 
 would have been brutal, the intrusion of a chop in 
 excusable, the assertion of a steak barbarous, even a 
 terrapin would have felt quite out of place amidst 
 
146 On an Automobile 
 
 things so fragrant and impalpable as the marvellous 
 preparations of vegetables from that wonderful Shaker 
 kitchen. 
 
 Everything was good, but the various concoctions 
 of sweet corn were better ; and such sweet corn ! it 
 is still a savory recollection. 
 
 Then the variety of preserves, jellies, and syrups ; 
 fifteen cents extra were never bestowed to better ad 
 vantage. We cast our coppers upon the water and 
 they returned Spanish galleons laden with good 
 things to eat. 
 
 A temperance After dining, we were walked through the vari 
 ous buildings, up stairs and down, through kitchens, 
 pantries, and cellars, a wise exercise after so boun 
 tiful a repast. In the cellar we drank something from 
 a bottle labelled " Pure grape juice," one of those non 
 alcoholic beverages with which the teetotaler whips 
 the devil around the stump ; another glass would have 
 made Shakers of us all, for the juice of the grape in 
 this instance was about twenty-five per cent, proof. 
 If the good sisters supply their worthy brothers in 
 faith with this stimulating cordial, it is not unlikely 
 that life in the village is less monotonous than is com 
 monly supposed. It certainly was calculated to add 
 emphasis to the eccentricities of even a " Shaking 
 Quaker." 
 
 The shakers Although the oldest and the wealthiest of all the 
 socialistic communities, there are only about six thou 
 sand Shakers in the United States, less than one- 
 fourth of what there were in former times. 
 
 At Mt. Lebanon, the first founded of the several 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 147 
 
 societies in this country, there are seven families, or 
 separate communities, each with its own home and 
 buildings. The present membership is about one 
 hundred and twenty, nearly all women, scarcely 
 enough men to provide the requisite deacons for 
 each family. 
 
 Large and well-managed schools are provided to 
 attract children from the outside world, and so re 
 cruit the diminishing ranks of the faithful ; but while 
 many girls remain, the boys steal away to the heathen 
 world, where marriage is an institution. 
 
 Celibacy is the cardinal principle and the curse of Celibacy 
 Shakerism ; it is slowly but surely bringing the sect 
 to an end. It takes a lot of fanaticism to remain single, 
 and fanaticism is in the sere and yellow leaf. In 
 Massachusetts, where so many women are compelled 
 to remain single, there ought to be many Shakers ; 
 there are a few, and Mt. Lebanon is just over the line. 
 
 Celibacy does not appeal strongly to men. A man 
 is quite willing to live alone if it is not compulsory, 
 but celibates cannot stand restraint; the bachelor is 
 bound to have his own way until he is married. Tell 
 a man he may not marry, and he will ; that he must 
 marry, and he won t. 
 
 The sect which tries to get along with either too 
 little or too much marriage is bound to peter out. 
 There were John Noyes and Brigham Young. John 
 founded the Oneida Community upon the proposition 
 that everything should be in common, including hus 
 bands, wives, and children ; from the broadest pos 
 sible communism his community has regenerated into 
 
148 On an Automobile 
 
 the closet of stock companies " limited," with a capital 
 stock of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars, a 
 surplus of one hundred and fifty thousand, and only 
 two hundred and nineteen stockholders. 
 
 In the palmy days of Mormonism the men could 
 have as many wives as they could afford, a scheme 
 not without its practical advantages in the monotonous 
 life of pioneer settlements, since it gave the women 
 something to quarrel about and the men something to 
 think about, thereby keeping both out of mischief, 
 but with the advent of civilization with its diverse in 
 terests, the men of Salt Lake, urged also by the law, 
 are getting tired of more than one wife at a time, and 
 the community will soon be absorbed and lost in the 
 commonplace. The ancient theory of wives in mul 
 tiples is giving place to the modern practice of wives 
 in series. 
 
 A backslider -pi ie s tory is told that a dear Shaker brother once 
 
 fell from grace and disappeared in the maelstrom of 
 the carnal world ; in a few years he came back as 
 penitent as he was penniless, with strange accounts of 
 how men had fleeced him of all he possessed save the 
 clothes none too desirable on his back. Men were 
 so scarce that the credulous sisters and charitable 
 deacons voted to accept his tales as true and receive 
 him once more into the fold. 
 
 Ann Lee j^ was j n 1770, while in prison in England, thai 
 
 Ann Lee claimed to have had a great revelation con 
 cerning original sin, wherein it was revealed that a 
 celibate life is a condition precedent to spiritual re- 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 149 
 
 generation. Her revelation may have been biased by 
 the fact that she herself was married, but not com 
 fortably. 
 
 In 1773, on her release from prison, another reve 
 lation told her to go to America. Her husband did 
 not sympathize with the celibacy proposition, left 
 " Mother Ann," as she was then known, and went 
 off with another woman who was unhampered by 
 revelations. This was the beginning of desertions 
 which have continued ever since, until the men are 
 reduced to a corporal s guard. 
 
 The principles of the Shakers, barring celibacy, are what they 
 sound and practical, and, so far as known, they live 
 up to them quite faithfully. Like the original Oneida 
 community, they believe in free criticism of one an 
 other in open meetings. They admit no one to the 
 society unless he or she promises to make a full con 
 fession before others of every evil that can be recalled, 
 women confess to women, men to men ; these re 
 quirements make it difficult to recruit their ranks. 
 They are opposed to war and violence, do not vote, 
 and do not permit corporal punishment. They pay 
 their full share of public taxes and assessments and 
 give largely in charity. Their buildings are well built 
 and well kept, their farms and lands worked to the 
 best advantage; in short, they are industrious and 
 thrifty. 
 
 Communism is one of those dreams that come so Communism 
 often to the best of mankind and, lingering on through 
 the waking hours, influence conduct. The sharp dis- 
 
150 On an Automobile 
 
 tinctions and inequalities of life seem so harsh and 
 unjust; the wide intervals which separate those who 
 have from those who have not seem so unfair, that 
 in all ages and in all countries men have tried to de 
 vise schemes for social equality, equality of power, 
 opportunity, and achievement. Communism of some 
 sort is one solution urged, communism in property, 
 communism in effort, communism in results, every 
 thing in common. 
 
 In 1840 Emerson wrote to Carlyle, " We are all a 
 little wild here with numberless projects of social re 
 form. Not a reading man but has a draft of a new 
 community in his waistcoat pocket. I am gently mad 
 myself, and am resolved to live cleanly. George Rip- 
 ley is talking up a colony of agriculturists and scholars, 
 with whom he threatens to take the field and book. 
 One man renounces the use of animal food ; another 
 of coin ; and another of domestic hired service ; and 
 another of the State; and on the whole we have a 
 commendable share of reason and of hope." 
 
 Ripley did found his Brook Farm, and a lot of good 
 people went and lived there not Emerson ; he was 
 just a trifle too sane to be won over completely, but 
 even he used to go into his own garden and dig in a 
 socialistic way until his little boy warned him not to 
 dig his foot. 
 
 Absolutism of That is the trouble with communism, those who dig 
 
 communism are apt to fag their feet. It is easier to call a spade 
 
 a spade than to use one. Men may be born free and 
 
 equal, but if they are, they do not show it. From his 
 
 first breath man is oppressed by the conditions of his 
 
The Valley of Lebanon i 5 1 
 
 existence, and life is a struggle with environment. 
 Freedom and liberty are terms of relative not absolute 
 value. The absolutism of the commune is oppression 
 refined, each man must dig even if he digs his own 
 foot. The plea of the anarchist for liberty is more 
 consistent than the plea of the communist, the one 
 does demand a wild, lawless freedom for individual 
 initiative ; the other demands the very refinement of 
 interference with liberty of mind and body. 
 
 The evolutionist looks on with philosophic indiffer 
 ence, knowing that what is to be will be, that the 
 stream of tendency is not to be checked or swerved 
 by vaporings, but moves irresistibly onward, though 
 every thought, every utterance, every experiment, how 
 ever wild, however visionary, has its effect. 
 
 We of the practical world sojourning in the Shaker weofthe 
 village may commiserate the disciples of theory, but outerworld 
 they are happy in their own way, possibly happier 
 in their seclusion and routine than we are in our hurly- 
 burly and endless strife for social, commercial, and 
 political advantages. Life is as settled and certain for 
 them as it is unsettled and uncertain for us. No prob 
 lems confront them ; the everlasting query, " What 
 shall we do to-morrow ?" is never asked ; plans for 
 the coming summer do not disturb them ; the seashore 
 is far off; Paris and Monte Carlo are but places, 
 vague and indistinct, the fairy tales of travellers ; their 
 city is the four walls of their home; their world the 
 one long, silent, street of the village ; their end the 
 little graveyard beyond; it is all planned out, fore 
 seen, and arranged. 
 
152 On an Automobile 
 
 communal Hfe Such a life is not without its charms, and it is small 
 wonder that in all ages men of intellect have sought 
 in some form of communistic association relief from 
 the pressure of strenuous individualism. We may 
 smile with condescension upon the busy sisters in their 
 caps and gingham gowns, but, who knows, theirs may 
 he the better lot. 
 
 Life with us is a good deal of an automobile race, 
 a lot of dust, dirt, and noise; explosions, accidents, 
 and delays ; something wrong most of the time ; now 
 a burst of headlong speed, then a jolt and sudden 
 stop ; or a creeping pace with disordered mechanism ; 
 no time to think of much except the machine ; less 
 time to see anything except the road immediately 
 ahead ; strife to pass others ; reckless indifference to 
 life and limb; one long, mad contest for success and 
 notoriety, ending for the most part in some sort of 
 disaster, possibly a sea of flame. 
 
 If we possessed any sense of grim, sardonic humor, 
 we would appreciate how ridiculous is the life we lead, 
 how utterly absurd is our waste of time, our dissipa 
 tion of the few days and hours vouchsafed us. We 
 are just so many cicadas drumming out the hours and 
 disappearing. We have abundance of wit, and a good 
 deal of humor of a superficial kind, but the penetrating 
 vision of a Socrates, a Voltaire, a Carlyle is denied the 
 most of us, and we take ourselves and our accustomed 
 pursuits most seriously. 
 
 riidin s 0n Olir wav 1^^ from the village we stopped at 
 
 the birthplace of Samuel Tilden, an old-fashioned 
 white frame house, situated in the very fork of the 
 
The Valley of Lebanon i 5 3 
 
 roads, and surrounded by tall trees. Not far away is 
 the cemetery, where a stone sarcophagus contains the 
 remains of a man who was very able if not very great. 
 
 Probably not fifty people in the United States, aside 
 from those living in the neighborhood, know where 
 Tilden was born. We did not until we came abruptly 
 upon the house and were told ; probably not a dozen 
 could tell exactly where he is buried. Such is fame. 
 And yet this man, in the belief of most of his country 
 men, was chosen president, though never seated ; he 
 was governor of New York and a vital force in the 
 politics and public life of his times, now forgotten. 
 
 What a disappointment it must have been to come 
 so near and yet miss the presidency. Before 1880 came 
 around, his own party had so far forgotten him that he 
 was scarcely mentioned for renomination, though 
 Tilden decrepit was incomparably stronger than Han 
 cock " the superb. It was hard work enthusing over 
 " Hancock and Hooray" after " Tilden and Reform ;" 
 the latter cry had substance, the former was just fustian. 
 
 The Democratic party is as iconoclastic as the Re- The two parties 
 publican is reverential. The former loves to pick flaws 
 in its idols and dash them to pieces ; the latter, with 
 stolid conservatism, clings loyally to its mediocrities. 
 The latter could have elected Bryan, the former could 
 not; the Democratic stomach is freaky and very 
 squeamish ; it swallows many things but digests few ; 
 the ostrich-like Republican organ has never been 
 known to reject anything. 
 
 Republicans swear stanchly by every president they 
 have ever elected. Democrats abandoned Tilden and 
 
i 54 On an Automobile 
 
 spurned Cleveland, the only two men they have come 
 within a thousand miles of electing in ten campaigns. 
 The lesson of well-nigh half a century makes no im 
 pression, the blind are leading the blind. 
 
 It is a far cry from former leaders such as Tilden, 
 Hewitt, Bayard, and Cleveland to those of to-day ; a 
 party which seeks its candidate among the populists 
 of Nebraska courts defeat. The two nominations of 
 Bryan mark low level in the political tide ; it is not 
 conceivable that a great political party could sink 
 lower ; for less of a statesman and more of a dema 
 gogue does not exist. The one great opportunity the 
 little man had to show some ability as a leader was 
 when the treaty of Paris was being fiercely debated 
 at Washington ; the sentiment of his party and the 
 best men of the country were against the purchase of 
 the Philippines ; but this cross-roads politician, who 
 could not see beyond the tip of his nose, hastened to 
 Washington, played into the hands of the jingoes by 
 persuading the wiser men of his own party men who 
 should not have listened to him to withdraw their 
 opposition. 
 
 Bryan had two opportunities to exhibit qualities of 
 statesmanship in the beginning of the war with Spain, 
 and in the discussion of the treaty of Paris ; he missed 
 both. So far as the war was concerned, he never had 
 an idea beyond a little cheap renown as a paper colonel 
 of volunteers; so far as the treaty was concerned, he 
 made the unpardonable blunder of playing 1 into the 
 hands of his opponents, and leaving the sound and 
 conservative sentiment of the country without ade 
 quate leadership in Washington. 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 155 
 
 While we were curiously looking at the Tilden Peripatetic 
 homestead, an old man came walking slowly down phl osophy 
 the road, a rake over his shoulder, one leg of his 
 patched trousers stuck in a boot-top, a suspender miss 
 ing, his old straw hat minus a goodly portion of its 
 crown. He stopped, leaned upon his rake, and looked 
 at us inquisitively, then remarked in drawling tone, 
 
 " I know d Sam Tilden." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, I know d him ; he was a great man." 
 
 "You are a Democrat?" 
 
 " I wuz, but ain t now," pensively. 
 
 " Why ar n t you?" 
 
 * Well, you see, I wuz allus a rock-ribbed Jack 
 son ian fr m a boy ; seed the ole gen nil onc t, an I 
 voted for Douglas an Seymore. I skipped Greeley, 
 fur he warn t no Dem crat ; an I voted fur Tilden 
 an Hancock an Cleveland ; but when it come to votin 
 fur a cyclone fr m N braska, jest wind an nothin 
 more, I kicked over the traces." 
 
 ; Then you don t believe in the divine ratio of six 
 teen to one?" 
 
 Young man, silver an gold come out r the ground, 
 jes lik corn an wheat. When you kin make two 
 bush ls corn wu th a bush l wheat by law an keep 
 em there, you can fix the rasho twixt silver an gold, 
 an not before," and the old man shouldered his rake 
 and wandered on up the road. 
 
 Before leaving the birthplace of Tilden, it is worth Tammany 
 noting that for forty years every candidate favored by 
 Tammany has been ignominiously defeated; the two 
 
156 On an Automobile 
 
 candidates bitterly opposed by the New York ma 
 chine were successful. It is to the credit of the party 
 that no Democrat can be elected president unless he 
 is the avowed and unrelenting foe of corruption 
 within and without the ranks. 
 
 A tipsy turkey The farmer with whom we were staying had earlier 
 in the summer a flock of sixty young and promising 
 turkeys ; of the lot but twenty were left, and one of 
 them was moping about as his forty brothers and 
 sisters had moped before, ready to die. 
 
 * Ah, he ll go with the others," said the farmer. 
 * Raising turkeys is a ticklish job ; to-day they re 
 scratching gravel for all they re worth ; tomorrow 
 they mope around an die ; no telling what s the 
 matter." 
 
 " Suppose we give that turkey some whiskey and 
 water ; it may help him." 
 
 " Can t do him any harm, fur he ll die anyway ; but 
 it s a waste of good medicine." 
 
 Soaking some bread in good, strong Scotch, di 
 luted with very little water, we gave the turkey what 
 was equivalent to a teaspoonful. The bird did not 
 take unkindly to the mixture. It had been standing 
 about all day first on one leg, then on another, with 
 eyes half closed and head turned feebly to one side. 
 In a few moments the effect of the whiskey became 
 apparent; the half-grown bird could no longer stand 
 on one leg, but used both, placing them well apart 
 for support. It began to show signs of animation, 
 peering about with first one eye and then the other; 
 with great gravity and deliberation it made its way 
 
The Valley of Lebanon 157 
 
 to the centre of the road and looked about for gravel ; 
 fixing its eye upon an attractive little pebble it aimed 
 for it, missed it by about two inches and rolled in the 
 dust ; by this time the other turkeys were staring in 
 amazement ; slowly pulling itself together he shook 
 the dust from his feathers, cast a scornful eye upon 
 the crowd about him and looked again for the pebble : 
 there it was within easy shot ; taking good aim with 
 one eye closed he made another lunge, ploughed his 
 head into the dust, making a complete somersault. 
 By this time the two old turkeys were attracted by the 
 unusual excitement ; making their way through the 
 throng of youngsters, they gazed for a moment upon 
 the downfall of one of their progeny, and then giving 
 vent to their indignation in loud cries pounced upon 
 their tipsy offspring and pecked him until he struggled 
 upright and staggered away. The last we saw of the 
 young scapegrace he was smoothing his ruffled plum 
 age before a shining milk-pail and apparently admon 
 ishing his unsteady double. It is worth recording that 
 the turkey was better the next day, and lived, as we 
 were afterwards told, to a ripe old Thanksgiving age. 
 
 The new steering-head came early the next morn- 
 ing; in thirty minutes it was in place. Our host and 
 hostess were then given their first automobile ride ; 
 she, womanlike, took the speed, sudden turns, and 
 strange sensations more coolly than he. As a rule, 
 women and children are more fearless than men in 
 an automobile ; this is not because they have more 
 courage, but men realize more vividly the things that 
 might happen, whereas women and children simply 
 
158 On an Automobile 
 
 feel the exhilaration of the speed without thinking of 
 possible disasters. 
 
 We went down the road at a thirty-mile clip, made 
 a quick turn at the four corners, and were back almost 
 before the dust we raised had settled. 
 
 That s something like," said our host ; " but the 
 old horse is a good enough automobile for me." 
 
 The hold-all was soon strapped in place, and at 
 half -past nine we were off for Pittsfield. 
 
 Passing the Tilden homestead, we soon began the 
 ascent of the mountain, following the superb new 
 State road. 
 
 over the The old road was through the Shaker village and 
 
 contained grades which rendered it impossible for 
 teams to draw any but the lightest loads. It was 
 only when market conditions were very abnormal that 
 the farmers in the valley would draw their hay, grain, 
 and produce to Pittsfield. 
 
 The new State road winds around and over the 
 mountain at a grade nowhere exceeding five per cent. 
 and averaging a little over four. It is a broad mac 
 adam, perfectly constructed. 
 
 In going up this easy and perfectly smooth ascent 
 for some six or seven miles, the disadvantage of hav 
 ing no intermediate-speed gears was forcibly illus 
 trated, for the grade was just too stiff for the high 
 speed gear, and yet so easy that the engine tended to 
 race on the low, but we had to make the entire ascent 
 on the hill-climbing gear at a rate of about four or 
 five miles an hour ; an intermediate-gear would have 
 carried us up at twelve or fifteen miles per hour. 
 
THE CQUF7T CONSIDERS THE MATTER 
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL 
 
 IN Pittsfield the machine frightened a lawyer, not 
 a woman, or a child, or a horse, or a donkey, but just 
 a lawyer ; to be sure, there was nothing to indicate he 
 was a lawyer, and still less that he was unusually 
 timid of his kind, therefore no blame could attach for 
 failing to distinguish him from men less nervous. 
 
 That he was frightened, no one who saw him run 
 could deny ; that he was needlessly frightened, seemed 
 equally plain ; that he was chagrined when bystanders 
 laughed at his exhibition, was highly probable. 
 
 Now law is the business of a lawyer ; it is his refuge 
 
i6o 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Si.vty cents 
 
 A fishing 
 tpisude 
 
 in trouble and at the same time his source of revenue ; 
 and it is a poor lawyer who cannot make his refuge 
 pay a little something every time it affords him con 
 solation for real or fancied injury. 
 
 In this case the lawyer collected exactly sixty cents 
 worth of consolation, two quarters and a dime, the 
 price of two lunches and a cup of coffee, or a dozen 
 " Pittsfield Stogies/ if there be so fragrant a brand ; 
 the lay mind cannot grasp the possibilities of two 
 quarters and a ten-cent piece in the strong and re 
 sourceful grasp of a Pittsfield lawyer. In these 
 thrifty New England towns one always gets a great 
 many pennies in change ; small money is the current 
 coin ; great stress is set upon a well-worn quarter, and 
 a dime is precious in the sight of the native. 
 
 It so happened that just about the time of our ar 
 rival, the machinery of justice in and about Pittsfield 
 was running a little wild anyway. 
 
 In an adjoining township, on the same day, ex- 
 President Cleveland, who was whiling away time in 
 the philosophic pursuit of fishing, was charged with 
 catching and retaining longer than the law allowed a 
 bass which was a quarter of an inch under the legal 
 limit of eight inches. Now in the excitement of the 
 moment that bass no doubt felt like a whale to the 
 great man, and as it neared the surface, after the 
 manner of its kind, it of course looked as long as a 
 pickerel ; then, too, the measly fish was probably a 
 silver bass, and once in the boat shrunk a quarter of 
 an inch, just to get the eminent gold Democrat in 
 trouble. At all events, the friend who was along gal- 
 
An Incident of Travel 161 
 
 lantly claimed the bass as his, appeared in the Great 
 Harrington district court, and paid a fine of two 
 dollars. 
 
 Now these things are characteristic of the place, 
 daubs of local coloring; the summer resident upon 
 whom the provincials thrive is not disturbed ; but the 
 stranger who is within the gates, who is just passing 
 through, from whom no money in the way of small 
 purchases and custom is to be expected, he is legiti 
 mate plunder, even though he be so distinguished a 
 stranger as an ex-President of the United States. 
 
 A local paper related the fishing episode as follows : A very smaii 
 
 bass 
 
 " Ex-President Grover Cleveland, who is spending the 
 summer in Tyringham, narrowly escaped being arrested at 
 Lake Garfield, in Monterey, Thursday afternoon. As it was, . 
 he received a verbal summons to appear in the Great Bar- 
 rington district court this morning and answer the charge of 
 illegal fishing. But when the complainants learned who the 
 distinguished person was with whom they were dealing, they 
 let drop the matter of swearing out a warrant, and in Mr. 
 Cleveland s place appeared Cassius C. Scranton, of Monterey. 
 
 " He pleaded guilty to catching a bass less than eight inches 
 in length, which is the minimum allowed by law, and was 
 fined two dollars by Judge Sanford, but as Mr. Cleveland 
 said that he caught the fish, there is still a good deal of doubt 
 among the residents of southern Berkshire as to which one 
 was actually guilty. However, if the hero of the Hawaiian 
 enterprise was the unlucky angler who caught the bass, he 
 was relieved of the unpleasant notoriety of being summoned 
 into court on a warrant by the very charitable act of Mr. 
 Scranton, of Monterey, who will forever go down in the his 
 tory of that town as the stalwart defender of the ex-presi 
 dent. 
 
 ii 
 
162 On an Automobile 
 
 It is not conceivable that such a ridiculous display 
 of impecunious justice would be made elsewhere in the 
 country. In the South the judge would dismiss the 
 complainant or pay the fine himself; in the West he 
 would be mobbed if he did not. New York would 
 find a tactful and courteous way of avoiding the sem 
 blance of an arrest or the imposition of a fine ; but in 
 thrifty Massachusetts, and in thrice thrifty Great 
 Barrington, and in twice thrice thrifty Pittsfield, 
 pennies count, are counted, and most conscientiously 
 received and receipted for by those who set the wheels 
 of justice in motion. 
 
 The timid North Street is broad and West Street is broad, and 
 
 there is abundance of room for man and beast. 
 
 At the hour in question there were no women, chil 
 dren, or horses in the street ; the crossings were clear 
 save for a young man with a straw hat, whose gen 
 eral appearance betrayed no sign of undue timidity. 
 He was on the far crossing, sixty or seventy feet dis 
 tant. When the horn was sounded for the turn down 
 into West Street, he turned, gave one look at the 
 machine, jumped, and ran. In a few moments the 
 young man with the straw hat came to the place where 
 the machine had stopped. He was followed by a 
 short, stubby little friend with a sandy beard, who, 
 while apparently acting as second, threatened each mo 
 ment to take the matter into his own hands and usurp 
 the place of principal. 
 
 Straw Hat was placable and quite disposed to accept 
 an expression of regret that fright had been occa 
 sioned. 
 
An Incident of Travel 163 
 
 Sandy Beard would not have it so, and urged Straw 
 Hat to make a complaint. 
 
 Straw Hat spurred on his flagging indignation and 
 asked for a card. 
 
 Sandy Beard told Straw Hat not to be deterred by 
 soft words and civility, and promised to stand by him, 
 or rather back of him ; whereupon something like the 
 following might have occurred. 
 
 Sandy Beard. Then you know what is to be done? 
 
 Straw Hat. Not I, upon my soul ! 
 
 Sandy Beard. We wear no clubs here, but you 
 understand me. 
 
 Straw Hat. What ! arrest him. 
 
 Sandy Beard. Why to be sure ; what can I mean 
 else? 
 
 Straw Plat. But he has given me no provocation. 
 
 Sandy Beard. Now, I think he has given you the 
 greatest provocation in the world. Can a man com 
 mit a more heinous offence against another than to 
 frighten him? Ah! by my soul, it is a most unpar 
 donable breach of something. 
 
 Straw Hat. Breach of something! Ay, ay; but 
 is t a breach of the peace? I have no acquaintance 
 with this man. I never saw him before in my life. 
 
 Sandy Beard. That s no argument at all ; he has 
 the less right to take such a liberty. 
 
 Straw Hat. Gad, that s true. I grow full of anger, 
 Sir Sandy ! fire ahead ! Odds, writs and warrants ! 
 I find a man may have a good deal of valor in him, 
 and not know it! But couldn t I contrive to have a 
 little right on my side? 
 
164 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Odds, writs 
 and warrants 
 
 We got up the. 
 complaint 
 
 Sandy Beard. What the devil signifies right when 
 your courage is concerned. Do you think Verges, or 
 my little Dogberry ever inquired where the right lay? 
 No, by my soul ; they drew their writs, and left the 
 lazy justice of the peace to settle the right of it. 
 
 Straw Hat. Your words are a grenadier s march 
 to my heart ! I believe courage must be catching ! I 
 certainly do feel a kind of valor rising as it were, a 
 kind of courage, as I may say. Odds, writs and war 
 rants ! I ll complain directly. 
 
 (With apologies to Sheridan.) 
 
 And the pair went off to make their complaint. 
 
 Suppose each had been given then and there the 
 sixty cents he afterwards received and duly receipted 
 for, would it have saved time and trouble? Who 
 knows ? but the diversion of the afternoon would have 
 been lost. 
 
 In a few moments an officer quite courteously re 
 freshing contrast notified me that complaint was in 
 process of making. 
 
 I found the chief of police with a copy of the city 
 ordinance trying to draw some sort of a complaint 
 that would fit the extraordinary case, for the charge 
 was not the usual one, that the machine was going at 
 an unlawful speed, but that a lawyer had been fright 
 ened ; to find the punishment that would fit that crime 
 was no easy task. 
 
 The ordinance is liberal, ten miles an hour; and 
 the young man and his mentor had not said the speed 
 of the automobile was greater than the law allowed, 
 
An Incident of Travel 165 
 
 hence the dilemma of the chief; but we discussed a 
 clause which provided that vehicles should not be 
 driven through the streets in a manner so as to en 
 danger public travel, and he thought the complaint 
 would rest on that provision. 
 
 However lacking the bar of Pittsfield may be in the 
 amenities of life, the bench is courtesy itself. There 
 was no court until next day; but calling at the judge s 
 very delightful home, which happens to be on one of 
 the interesting old streets of the town, he said he 
 would come down and hear the matter at two o clock, 
 so I could get away that afternoon. 
 
 The first and wisest impulse of the automobilist is 
 to pay whatever fine is imposed and go on, but fright 
 ening a lawyer is not an every-day occurrence. I once 
 frightened a pair of army mules ; but a lawyer, the 
 experience was too novel to let pass lightly. The 
 game promised to fte worth the candle. 
 
 The scene shifts to a dingy little room in the base- in court 
 ment of the court-house ; present, Straw Hat and 
 Sandy Beard, with populace. 
 
 To corroborate wise precaution on the part of a 
 lawyer in his own court their story, they bring along 
 a volunteer witness in over-alls, the three making a 
 trio hard to beat. 
 
 Straw Hat takes the stand and testifies he is an 
 unusually timid man, and was most frightened to 
 death. 
 
 Sandy Beard s testimony is both graphic and cor 
 roborative. 
 
1 66 On an Automobile 
 
 The witness in over-alls, with some embellishments 
 of his own, supports Sandy Beard. 
 
 The row of bricks is complete. 
 
 The court removes a prop by remarking that the 
 ordinance speed has not been exceeded. 
 
 The bricks totter. 
 
 Whereupon, Sandy Beard now takes the matter into 
 his own hands, and, ignoring- the professional acquire 
 ments of his -principal, addresses the court and urges 
 the imposition of a fine, a fine being the only satis 
 faction, and source of immediate revenue, conceivable 
 to Sandy Beard. 
 
 Meanwhile Straw Hat is silent ; the witness in 
 over-alls is perturbed. 
 
 The court considers the matter, and says " the em 
 barrassing feature of the case is that it has yet to be 
 shown that the defendant was going at a rate exceed 
 ing ten miles an hour, and upon this point the wit 
 nesses did not agree. There was evidence tending to 
 prove the machine was going ten miles an hour, but 
 that would not lead to conviction under the first clause 
 of the ordinance ; but there is another clause which 
 says that a machine must not be run in such a manner 
 as to endanger or inconvenience public travel. What 
 is detrimental to public travel ? Does it mean to run 
 it so as not to frighten a man of nerve like the chief 
 of police, or some timid person ? It is urged that not 
 one man in a thousand would have been frightened 
 like Mr. - ; but a man is bound to run his machine 
 in the streets so as to frighten no one, therefore the 
 defendant is fined five dollars and costs." 
 
 The fine is duly paid, and Messrs. Straw Hat, 
 
An Incident of Travel 1 67 
 
 Sandy Beard, and Over-alls come forward, receive 
 and receipt for sixty cents each. 
 
 Their wrath was appeased, their wounded feelings 
 soothed, their valor satisfied, one dollar and eighty 
 cents for the bunch. 
 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 THROUGH MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 77<^ Berkshirfs 
 
 THERE are several roads out of Pittsfield to Spring- 
 field, and if one asks a half-dozen citizens, who pre 
 tend to know, which is the best, a half-dozen violently 
 conflicting opinions will be forthcoming. 
 
 The truth seems to be that all the roads are prettv 
 good, that is, they are all very hilly and rather soft. 
 One expects the hills, and must put up with the sand. 
 It is impossible to get to Springfield, which is far on 
 the other side of the mountains, without making some 
 stiff grades, few grades so bad as Nelson s Hill out 
 of Peekskill, or worse than Pride s Hill near Fonda ; 
 1 68 
 
Through Massachusetts 169 
 
 in fact, the grades through the Berkshires are no 
 worse than many short stiff grades that are to be 
 found in any rolling country, but there are more of 
 them, and occasionally the road is rough or soft, 
 making it hard going. 
 
 The road commonly recommended as the more di 
 rect is by way of Dalton and Hinsdale, following as 
 closely as possible the line of the Boston and Albany ; 
 this winds about in the valleys and is said to be very 
 good. 
 
 We preferred a more picturesque though less Through 
 travelled route. We wished to go through Lenox, 
 some six or seven miles to the south, and if anything 
 a little to the west, and therefore out of our direct 
 course. 
 
 The road from Pittsfield to Lenox is a famous 
 drive, one of the wonders of that little world. It is 
 not bad, neither is it good. Compared with the superb 
 State road over the mountain, it is a trail over a 
 prairie. As a matter of fact, it is just a broad, graded, 
 and somewhat improved highway, too rough for fast 
 speed and comfort, and on the Saturday morning in 
 question dust was inches deep. 
 
 The day was fine, the country beautiful ; hills every- over the 
 where, hills so high they were almost mountains. The 
 dust of summer was on the foliage, a few late blossoms 
 lingered by the roadside, but for the most part flowers 
 had turned to seeds, and seeds were ready to fall. The 
 fields were in stubble, hay in the mow and straw in the 
 stack. The green of the hills was deeper in hue, the 
 valleys were ripe for autumn. 
 
170 On an Automobile 
 
 People were flocking to the Berkshires from sea 
 shore and mountains; the " season" was about to begin 
 in earnest ; hotels were filled or rapidly filling, and 
 Lenox dear, peaceful little village in one of nature s 
 fairest hollows was most enticing as we passed 
 slowly through, stopping once or twice to make sure 
 of our very uncertain wav. 
 
 The slowest automobile is too fast for so delightful 
 a spot as Lenox. One should amble through on a 
 palfrey, or walk, or, better still, pass not through at 
 all, but tarry and dream the days away until the last 
 leaves are off the trees. But the habit of the automo 
 bile is infectious, one goes on and on in spite of all 
 attractions, the appeals of nature, the protests of 
 friends. Ulysses should have whizzed by the Sirens 
 in an auto. The Wandering Jew, if still on his rounds, 
 should buy a machine ; it will fit his case to a nicety ; 
 his punishment will become a habit ; he will join an 
 automobile club, go on an endurance contest, and, in 
 the brief moments allowed him for rest and oiling up, 
 will swap stories with the boys. 
 
 With a sigh of relief, one finishes a long day s run, 
 thinking it will suffice for many a day to come ; the 
 evening is scarce over before elfin suggestions of pos 
 sible rides for the morrow are floating about in the 
 air, and when morning comes the automobile is taken 
 out, very much as the toper who has sworn off the 
 night before takes his morning dram, it just can t be 
 helped. 
 
Through Massachusetts 1 7 1 
 
 Our way lay over October Mountain by a road not Over October 
 much frequented. In the morning s ride we did not 
 meet a trap of any kind or a rider, something quite 
 unusual in that country of riders and drivers. The 
 road seemed to cling to the highest hills, and we 
 climbed up and up for hours. Only once was the grade 
 so steep that we were obliged to dismount. We passed 
 through no village until we reached the other side, 
 but every now and then we would come to a little 
 clearing with two or three houses, possibly a forlorn 
 store and a silent blacksmith shop ; these spots seemed 
 even more lonely and deserted than the woods them 
 selves. Man is so essentially a gregarious animal that 
 to come upon a lone house in a wilderness is more 
 depressing than the forests. Nature is never alone ; 
 it knows no solitude; it is a mighty whole, each part 
 of which is in constant communication with every 
 other part. Nature needs no telephone; from time 
 immemorial it has used wireless telegraphy in a con 
 dition of perfection unknown to man. Every morning 
 Mount Blanc sends a message to Pike s Peak, and it 
 sends it on over the waters to Fujisan. The bosom of 
 the earth thrills with nervous energy ; the air is charged 
 with electric force ; the blue ether of the universe 
 throbs with motion. Nature knows no environment ; 
 but man is fettered, a spirit in a cage, a mourn 
 ful soul that seeks companionship in misery. Soli 
 tude is a word unknown to nature s vocabulary. The 
 deepest recesses of the forest teem with life and joy- 
 ousness until man appears, then they are rilled with 
 solitude. The wind-swept desert is one of nature s 
 play-grounds until man appears, then it is barren with 
 
172 On an Automobile 
 
 solitude. The darkest mountain cavern echoes with 
 nature s laughter until man appears, then it is hollow 
 with solitude. The shadow of man is solitude. 
 
 Instead of coming out at Becket as we expected, 
 we found ourselves way down near Otis and West 
 Otis, and passed through North Blandford and Bland- 
 ford to Fairfield, where we struck the main road. 
 
 We stopped for dinner at a small village a few 
 miles from Westfield. There was but one store, but 
 it kept a barrel of stove gasoline in an apple orchard. 
 The gasoline was good, but the gallon measure into 
 which it was drawn had been used for oil, varnish, 
 turpentine, and every liquid a country store is sup 
 posed to keep not excepting molasses. It was 
 crusted with sediment and had a most evil smell. 
 Needless to say the measure was rejected; but that 
 availed little, since the young clerk poured the gaso 
 line back into the barrel to draw it out again into a 
 cleaner receptacle. 
 
 The gasoline for sale at country stores is usually 
 all right, but it is handled in all sorts of receptacles ; 
 the only safe way is to ask for a bright and new 
 dipper and let the store-keeper guess at the measure. 
 
 Trouble with At Westfield the spark be^an to cnve trouble; the 
 
 ignition , . . 
 
 machine was very slow in starting, as if the batteries 
 were weak ; but that could not be, for one set was 
 fresh and the other by no means exhausted. A care 
 ful examination of every connection failed to disclose 
 any breaks in the circuit, and yet the spark was of 
 intermittent strength, now good, now weak. 
 
Through Massachusetts 173 
 
 When there is anything wrong with an automobile, 
 there is but one thing to do, and that is find the source 
 of the trouble and remedy it. The temptation is to 
 go on if the machine starts up unexpectedly. We 
 yielded to the temptation, and went on as soon as the 
 motor started ; the day was so fine and we were so 
 anxious to get to Worcester that we started with the 
 motor, knowing all the time that whatever made the 
 motor slow to start would, in all likelihood, bring us 
 to a stand-still before very long ; the evil moment, 
 possibly the evil hour, may be postponed, but seldom 
 the evil day. 
 
 At two o clock we passed through Springfield, stop- Through 
 ping only a moment at the hotel to inquire for mail. s ^ 
 Leaving Springfield we followed the main road to 
 wards Worcester, some fifty miles away. The road 
 is winding and over a rolling country, but for the most 
 part very good. The grades are not steep, there are 
 some sandy spots, but none so soft as to materially 
 interfere with good speed. There are many stretches 
 of good gravel, and here and there a piece a sample 
 of State road, perfectly laid macadam, with signs 
 all along requesting persons not to drive in the centre 
 of the highway, this is to save the road from the 
 hollows and ruts that horses and narrow-tired wagons 
 invariably make, and in which the water stands, ulti 
 mately wearing the macadam through. We could not 
 see that the slightest attention was paid to the no 
 tices. Everybody kept the middle of the road, such 
 is the improvidence of men ; the country people 
 
174 On an Automobile 
 
 Crumble at the great expense of good roads, and then 
 take the surest way to ruin them. 
 
 Good-,-oad While it is true that the people in the first instance 
 
 grumble at the prospective cost of these well-made 
 State roads, no sooner are they laid than their very 
 great value is appreciated, and good roads sentiment 
 becomes rampant. The farmer who has worn out 
 horses, harness, wagons, and temper in getting light 
 loads to market over heavy roads is quick to appre 
 ciate the very material advantage and economy of 
 having highways over which one horse can pull as 
 much as two under the old sandy, rough, and muddy 
 conditions. 
 
 A good road may be the making of a town, and it 
 increases the value of all abutting property. Already 
 the question is commonly asked when a farm is offered 
 for sale or rent, " Is it on a State road ?" Lots will 
 not sell in cities unless all improvements are in ; soon 
 farmers will not be able to sell unless the highways 
 are improved. 
 
 One good thing about the automobile, it does not 
 cut up the surface of a macadam or gravel road as do 
 steel tires and horseshoes. 
 
 The spark that At the outskirts of the little village of West Brook- 
 field we came to a stand-still ; the spark disappeared, 
 or rather from a large, round, fat spark it dropped 
 to an insignificant little blue sparklet that would not 
 explode a squib. 
 
 The way the spark acted with either or both bat 
 teries on indicated pretty strongly that the trouble 
 
Through Massachusetts 175 
 
 was in the coil ; but it is so seldom a coil goes wrong- 
 that everything was looked over, but no spark of any 
 size was to be had, therefore there was nothing to 
 do but cast about for a place to spend the night, for 
 it was then dark. 
 
 As good luck would have it, we were almost in 
 front of a large, comfortable, old-fashioned house 
 where they took summer boarders ; as the season was 
 drawing to a close, there was plenty of room and they 
 were glad to take us in. The machine was pushed 
 into a shed, everybody assisting with the readiness 
 ever characteristic of sympathetic on-lookers. 
 
 The big, clean, white rooms were most inviting; the Overnight at 
 homely New England supper of cold meats and hot 
 rolls seemed under the circumstances a feast for a 
 king, and as we sat in front of the house in the even 
 ing, and looked across the highway to a little lake 
 just beyond and heard the croaking of the frogs, the 
 chirping of crickets, and the many indistinguishable 
 sounds of night, we were not sorry the machine had 
 played us false exactly when and where it did. 
 
 The automobile plays into the hands of Morpheus, 
 the drowsy god follows in its wake, sure of his vic 
 tims. No sleep is dreamless. It is pretty difficult to 
 exhaust the three billions of cells of the central ner 
 vous system so that all require rest, but ten hours on 
 an automobile in the open air, speeding along like the 
 wind most of the time, will come nearer putting all 
 those cells to sleep than any exercise heretofore dis 
 covered. The fatigue is normal, pervasive, and per 
 suasive, and it is pretty hard to recall any dream on 
 waking. 
 
176 On an Automobile 
 
 A rainy It was Sunday morning, September I, and raining, 
 
 a soft, drizzly downpour, that had evidently begun 
 early in the night and kept up or rather down 
 steadily. It was a good morning to remain in-doors 
 and read ; but there was that tantalizing machine 
 challenging combat; then, too, Worcester was but 
 eighteen or twenty miles away, and at Worcester we 
 expected to find letters and telegrams. 
 
 A young and clever electrician across the way came 
 over, bringing an electric bell, with which we tested 
 the dry cells, finding them in good condition. We 
 then examined the connections and ran the trouble 
 back to the coil. There was plenty of current and 
 plenty of voltage, but only a little blue spark, which 
 could be obtained equally well with the coil in or out 
 of the circuit, and yet the coil did not show a short 
 circuit, but before we finished our tests the spark 
 suddenly appeared. 
 
 Again, it would have been better to remain and find 
 the trouble ; but as there was no extra coil to be had 
 in the village, it seemed fairly prudent to start on and 
 get as far as possible. Possibly the coil would hold 
 out to Worcester ; anyway, the road is a series of 
 villages, some larger than Brookfield, and a coil might 
 be found at one of them. 
 
 The spark goes When within two miles of Spencer the spark gave 
 out again ; this time no amount of coaxing would 
 bring it back, so there was nothing to do but appeal 
 
Through Massachusetts 1 77 
 
 to a fanner for a pair of horses to pull the machine 
 into his yard. The assistance was most kindly given, 
 though the day was Sunday, and for him, his men 
 and his animals, emphatically a day of rest. 
 
 Only twice on the entire trip were horses attached 
 to the machine ; but a sparking coil is absolutely essen 
 tial, and when one gives out it is pretty hard to make 
 repairs on the road. In case of necessity a coil may 
 be unwound, the trouble discovered and remedied, but 
 that is a tedious process. It was much easier to leave 
 the machine for the night, run into Worcester on the 
 trolley which passed along the same road, and bring 
 out a new coil in the morning. 
 
 Monday happened to be Labor Day, and it was Labor Day 
 only after much trouble that a place was found open 
 where electrical supplies could be purchased. In addi 
 tion to a coil, the electrician took out some thoroughly 
 insulated double cable wire ; the wiring of the ma 
 chine had been so carelessly done and with such light, 
 cheap wire that it seemed a good opportunity to re 
 wire throughout. 
 
 The electrician a very competent and quick work- 
 mar, he proved to be was so sure the trouble could 
 not be in the coil that he did not wish to carry out a 
 new one. 
 
 When ready to start, we found the trolley line 
 blocked by a Labor Day parade that was just begin 
 ning to move. The procession was unusually long on 
 account of striking trades unionists, who turned out 
 in force. As each section of strikers passed, the elec- 
 
 12 
 
i 7 8 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 trician explained the cause of their strike, the number 
 of men out, and the length of time they had been 
 out. 
 
 Strikes and 
 strikers 
 
 The strike 
 habit 
 
 It seemed too bad that big, brawny, intelligent men 
 could find no better way of adjusting differences with 
 employers than by striking. 
 
 A strike is an expensive luxury. Three parties are 
 losers, the community in general by being deprived 
 for the time being of productive forces ; the em 
 ployers by loss on capital invested ; the employees 
 by loss of wages. The loss to the community, while 
 very real, is little felt. Employers, as a rule, are pre 
 pared to stand their losses with equanimity ; in fact, 
 when trade is dull, or when an employer desires to 
 make changes in his business, a strike is no inconve 
 nience at all ; but the men are the real losers, and 
 especially those with families and with small homes 
 unpaid for ; no one can measure their losses, for it 
 may mean the savings of a lifetime. It frequently does 
 mean a change in character from an industrious, fru 
 gal, contented workman with everything to live for, to 
 a shiftless and discontented man with nothing to live 
 for but agitation and strife. 
 
 It is easy to acquire the strike habit, and impossible 
 to throw it off. A first strike is more dangerous than 
 a first drink ; it makes a profound and ineradicable 
 impression. To quit w r ork for the first time at the 
 command of some central organization is an experi 
 ence so novel that no man can do it without being 
 affected ; he will never again be the same steady and 
 
Through Massachusetts 179 
 
 indefatigable workman ; the spirit of unrest creeps 
 in, the spirit of discontent closely follows ; his life 
 is changed ; though he never goes through another 
 strike, he can never forget his first. 
 
 In the long run it does not matter much which side The ultimate 
 wins, the effect is very much the same, strikes are 
 bound to follow strikes. Warfare is so natural to 
 men that it is difficult to declare a lasting peace. But 
 some day the men themselves will see that strikes are 
 far more disastrous to them than to any other class, 
 and they will devise other ways and means ; they will 
 use the strength of their organizations to better ad 
 vantage ; above all, they will relegate to impotency 
 the professional organizers and agitators who retain 
 their positions by fomenting strife. 
 
 It is singular that workmen do not take a lesson 
 from their shrewder employers, who, if they have or 
 ganizations of their own, never confer upon any officer 
 or committee of idlers the power to control the trade. 
 An organization of employers is always controlled by 
 those most actively engaged in the business, and not 
 by coteries of paid idlers ; no central committee of 
 men, with nothing to do but make trouble, can involve 
 a whole trade in costly controversies. The strength 
 of the employer lies in the fact that each man con 
 sults first his own interest, and if the action of the 
 body bids fair to injure his individual interests he 
 not only protests, but threatens to withdraw; the 
 employer cannot be cowed bv any association of which 
 he is a member ; but the employee is cowed by his 
 union, that is the essential difference between the 
 
180 On an Automobile 
 
 two. An association of employers is a union of inde 
 pendent and aggressive units, and the action of the 
 association must meet the approval of each of these 
 units or disruption will follow. Workingmen do not 
 seem to appreciate the value of the unit ; they are 
 attracted by masses. They seem to think strength lies 
 only in members ; but that is the keynote of mili- 
 tantism, the death-knell of individualism. The real, 
 the only strength of a union lies in the silent, uncon- 
 sulted units; now and then they rise up and act and 
 the union accomplishes something; for the most part 
 they do not act, but are blindly led, and the union 
 accomplishes nothing. 
 
 A workman s It was interesting to hear the comments of the in 
 
 telligent young mechanic as the different trades passed 
 by. 
 
 Those fellows are out on a sympathetic strike ; no 
 grievance at all, plenty of work and good wages, but 
 just out because they are told to come out; big fools, 
 I say, to be pulled about by the nose. 
 
 " There are the plumbers ; their union makes more 
 trouble than any other in the building trades ; they 
 are always looking for trouble, and manage to find it 
 when no one else can. 
 
 " Unions are all right for bachelors who can afford 
 to loaf, but they are pretty hard on the married man 
 with a family. 
 
 " What s gained in a strike is lost in the fight. 
 
 What s the use of staying out three months to get 
 a ten per cent, raise for nine? Jt doesn t pay. 
 
 " Wages have been going up for two hundred 
 
Through Massachusetts 1 8 i 
 
 years. I can t sec that the strike has advanced the 
 rate of increase any. 
 
 " These fellows have tried to monopolize Labor 
 Day ; they don t want any non-union man in the 
 parade ; the people will not stand for that very long ; 
 labor is labor whether union or non-union, and the 
 great majority of workingmen in this country are not 
 members of any union." 
 
 The parade, like all things good, came to an end, 
 and we took the trolley for the place where the auto 
 mobile had been left. 
 
 On arriving we took out the dry cells, tested each 
 one, and then rewired the carriage complete and in a 
 manner to defy rain, sand, and oil. The difficulty, 
 however, was in the coil. Apparently the motion of 
 the vehicle had worn the insulation through at some 
 point inside. The new coil, a common twelve-inch coil, 
 worked well, giving a good, hot spark. 
 
 The farmer who had so kindly pulled the machine 
 in the day before would accept nothing for his trouble, 
 and was, as most farmers are, exceedingly kind. It is 
 embarrassing to call upon strangers for assistance 
 which means work and inconvenience for them, and 
 then have them positively decline all compensation. 
 
 The ride into Worcester was a fast one over good TO Bosto 
 gravel and macadam. 
 
 Immediately after luncheon we started for Boston. 
 Every foot of the road in from Worcester is good hard 
 gravel and the ride is most delightful. As it was a 
 holiday and the highway was comparatively free of 
 traffic, we travelled along faster than usual. 
 
1 82 On an Automobile 
 
 It was our intention to follow the main road through 
 Shrewsbury, Southborough, Framingham, and Wel 
 lesley, but though man proposes, in the suburbs of 
 Boston Providence disposes. About Southborough 
 we lost our road, and were soon angling to the north 
 east through the Sudburys. So far as the road itself 
 was concerned the change was for the better, for, 
 while there would be stretches which were not grav 
 elled, the country was more interesting than along the 
 main highway. 
 
 The turnpike The old " Worcester Turnpike" is Boyleston Street 
 in Boston and through Brookline to the Newtons, 
 where it becomes plain Worcester Street and bears 
 that name westward through Wellesley and Natick. 
 
 The trolley line out of Worcester is through Shrews 
 bury and Northborough to Maryborough, then a turn 
 almost due south to Southborough, then east to 
 Framingham, southeast to South Framingham, east 
 through Natick to Wellesley, northeast through 
 Wellesley Hills to Newton, then direct through 
 Brookline into Boston. 
 
 The road, it will be noted, is far from straight, and 
 it is at the numerous forks and turns one is apt to go 
 astray unless constant inquiries are made. 
 
 At Marlborough we kept on to the east towards 
 Waltham instead of turning to the south for South- 
 borough. It is but a few miles out of the way from 
 Marlborough to Concord and into Boston by way of 
 Lexington ; or, if the road through Wellesley and 
 Newton is followed, it is worth while to turn from 
 Wellesley Hills to Norembega Park for the sake of 
 
Through Massachusetts 183 
 
 stopping a few moments on the spot where Norembega 
 Tower confidently proclaims the discovery of America 
 and the founding of a fortified place by the Norsemen 
 nearly five hundred years before Columbus sailed out 
 of the harbor of Palos. 
 
 Having wandered from the old turnpike, we thought 
 we would go by Concord and Lexington, but did not. 
 The truth is the automobile is altogether too fast a 
 conveyance for the suburbs of Boston, which were laid 
 out by cows for the use of pedestrians. There are an 
 infinite number of forks, angles, and turnings, and by 
 a native on foot short cuts can be made to any objec 
 tive point, but the automobile passes a byway before 
 it is seen. Directions are given but not followed, be 
 cause turns and obscure cross-roads are passed at high 
 speed and unobserved. 
 
 Every one is most obliging in giving directions, but Among- the 
 the directions run about like this : 
 
 To Concord? yes, let me see ; do you know the 
 Old Sudbury road ? No ! strangers ? ah ! that s too 
 bad, for if you don t know the roads it will be hard 
 telling you but let me see ; if you follow this road 
 about a mile, you will come to a brick store and a 
 watering trough, take the turn to the left there ; 
 I think that is the best road, or you can take a turn 
 this side, but if I were you I would take the road at the 
 watering trough ; from there it is about eight miles, 
 and I think you make three turns, but you better in 
 quire, for if you don t know the roads it is pretty hard 
 to direct vou." 
 
184 On an Automobile 
 
 " We follow this road straight ahead to the brick 
 store and trough, that s easy. 1 
 
 " Well, the road is not exactly straight, but if you 
 bear to the right, then take the second left hand fork, 
 you ll be all right." 
 
 All of which things we most faithfully performed, 
 and yet we got no nearer that day than " about eight 
 miles farther to Concord." 
 
 In circling about we came quite unexpectedly upon 
 the old " Red Horse" tavern, now the " Wayside Inn." 
 We brought the machine to a stop and gazed long and 
 lovingly at the ancient hostelry which had given shelter 
 to famous men for nearly two hundred years, and 
 where congenial spirits gathered in Longfellow s days 
 and the imaginary " Tales of a Wayside fnn" were 
 exchanged. 
 The ^Red f j ie mellow light of the setting sun warmed the 
 
 Horse Tavern" . . 
 
 time-worn structure with a friendly glow. The sign 
 of the red horse rampant creaked mournfully as it- 
 swung slowly to and fro in the gentle breeze ; with 
 palsied arms and in cracked tones the old inn seemed 
 to bid us stay and rest beneath its sheltering eaves. 
 Washington and Hamilton and Lafayette, Emerson 
 and Hawthorne and Longfellow had entered that door, 
 eaten and drunk within those humble walls, the great 
 in war, statecraft, and literature had been its guests ; 
 like an old man it lives with its memories, recalls the 
 associations of its youth and prime, but slumbers ob 
 livious to the present. 
 
 The old inn was so fascinating that we determined to 
 come back in a few days and spend at least a night 
 
Through Massachusetts 185 
 
 beneath its roof. The shadows were so rapidly length 
 ening that we had to hurry on. 
 
 Crossing the Charles River near Anhurndale a sight A fleet of 
 of such bewitching beauty met our astonished gaze 
 that we stopped to make inquiries. Above and below 
 the bridge the river was covered with gayly decorated 
 canoes which were being paddled about by laughing 
 and singing young people. The brilliant colors of the 
 decorations, the pretty costumes, the background of 
 dark water, the shores lined with people and equipages, 
 the bridge so crowded we could hardly get through, 
 made a never-to-be-forgotten picture. It was just a 
 holiday canoe-meet, and hundreds of the small, frail 
 craft w r ere darting about upon the surface of the water 
 like so many pretty dragon-flies. The automobile 
 seemed such an intrusion, a drone of prose in a burst 
 of poetry, the discord of machinery in a sylvan sym 
 phony. 
 
 We stopped a few moments at Lasell Seminary in A gh-rs school 
 Auburndale, where old associations were revived by 
 my Companion over a cup of tea. A girl s school is 
 a mysterious place ; there is an atmosphere of sup 
 pressed mischief, of things threatened but never quite 
 committed, of latent possibilities, and still more latent 
 impossibilities. In a boy s school mischief is evident 
 and rampant ; desks, benches, and walls are whittled 
 and defaced with all the wanton destructiveness of 
 youth ; buildings and fences show marks of contact 
 with budding manhood ; but boys are so openly and 
 notoriously mischievous that no apprehension is felt, 
 
i86 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 for the worst is ever realized ; but those in command 
 of a school of demure and saintly girls must feel like 
 men handling dynamite, uncertain what will happen 
 next ; the stolen pie, the hidden sweets, the furtive 
 note are indications of the infinite subtlety of the 
 female mind. 
 
 Boston 
 
 The North 
 Shore 
 
 From Auburndale the boulevard leads into Common 
 wealth Avenue and the run is fine. 
 
 It was about seven o clock when we reached the 
 Hotel Touraine, and a little later when the machine 
 was safely housed in an automobile station, a part of 
 an old railway depot. 
 
 A few days in Boston and on the North Shore 
 afforded a welcome change. 
 
 Through Beverly and Manchester the signs " Auto 
 mobiles not allowed" at private roadways are nu 
 merous ; they are the rule rather than the exception. 
 One young man had a machine up there, but found 
 himself so ostracized he shipped it away. No ma 
 chines are allowed on the grounds of the Essex Coun 
 try Club. 
 
 No man with the slightest consideration for the com 
 fort and pleasure of others would care to keep and 
 use a machine in places where so many women and 
 children are riding and driving. The charm of the 
 North Shore and the Berkshires lies largely in the 
 opportunities afforded for children to be out with their 
 ponies, girls with their carts, and women with horses 
 too spirited to stand unusual sights and sounds. One 
 automobile may terrorize the entire little community ; 
 
Through Massachusetts 187 
 
 in fact, one machine will spread terror where many 
 would not. 
 
 It is quite difficult enough to drive a machine care 
 fully through such resorts, without driving about day 
 after day to the discomfort of every resident. 
 
 In a year or two all will be changed ; the people own 
 ing summer homes will themselves own and use auto 
 mobiles ; the horses will see so many that little notice 
 will be taken, but the pioneers of the sport will have an 
 unenviable time. 
 
 A good half-day s work was required on the machine Some repairs 
 before starting again. 
 
 The tire that had been plugged with rubber bands 
 weeks before in Indiana was now leaking, the air 
 creeping through the fabric and oozing out at several 
 places. The leak was not bad, just about enough to 
 require pumping every day. 
 
 The extra tire that had been following along was 
 taken out of the express office and put on. It was a 
 tire that had been punctured and repaired at the fac 
 tory. It looked all right, but as it turned out the repair 
 was poorly made, and it would have been better to 
 leave on the old tire, inflating it each day. 
 
 A small needle-valve was worn so that it leaked ; 
 that was replaced. A stiffer spring was inserted in the 
 intake-valve so it would not open quite so easily. A 
 number of minor things were done, and every nut and 
 bolt tried and tightened. 
 

 THE 
 
 INN 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 LEXINGTON AND CONCORD 
 
 SATURDAY morning, September 7, at eleven o clock, 
 we left the Touraine for Auburndale, where we 
 lunched, then to Waltham, and from there due north 
 by what is known as Waltham Street to Lexington, 
 striking Massachusetts Avenue just opposite the town 
 hall. 
 
 Paul Revere Along this historic highway rode Paul Revere ; at 
 
 his heels followed the regulars of King George. Tab 
 lets, stones, and monuments mark every known point 
 of interest from East Lexington to Concord. 
 1 88 
 
Lexington and Concord 189 
 
 In Boston, at the head of Hull Street, Christ Church, 
 the oldest church in the city, still stands, and bears a 
 tablet claiming for its steeple the credit of the signals 
 for Paul Revere ; but the Old North Church in North 
 Square, near which Revere lived and where he attended 
 service, and from the belfry of which the lanterns were 
 really hung, disappeared in the conflict it initiated. In 
 the winter of the siege of Boston the old meeting 
 house was pulled down by the British soldiers and 
 used for firewood. Fit ending of the ancient edifice 
 which had stood for almost exactly one hundred years, 
 and in which the three Mathers, Increase, Cotton, and 
 Samuel, father, son, and grandson, had preached 
 the unctuous doctrine of hell-fire and damnation : 
 teaching so incendiary was bound sooner or later to 
 consume its own habitation. 
 
 Revere was not the only messenger of warning. The night of 
 For days the patriots had been anxious concerning i 
 the stores of arms and ammunition at Concord, and 
 three days before the night of the i8th Revere himself 
 had warned Hancock and Adams at the Clarke home 
 in Lexington that plans were on foot in the enemies 
 camp to destroy the stores, whereupon a portion was 
 removed to Sudbury and Groton. Before Revere 
 started on his ride, other messengers had been de 
 spatched to alarm the country, but at ten o clock on 
 the memorable night of the i8th he was sent for and 
 bidden to get ready. He got his riding-boots and 
 surtout from his house in North Square, was ferried 
 across the river, landing on the Charlestown side about 
 eleven o clock, where he was told the signal-lights had 
 
190 On an Automobile 
 
 already been displayed in the belfry. The moon was 
 rising as he put spurs to his horse and started for Lex 
 ington. 
 
 The troops were ahead of him by an hour. 
 
 He rode up what is now Main Street as far as the 
 " Neck," then took the old Cambridge road for Somer- 
 ville. 
 
 To escape two British officers who barred his way, 
 he dashed across lots to the main road again and took 
 what is now Broadway. On he went over the hill to 
 Medford, where he aroused the Medford minute-men. 
 Then through West Medford and over the Mystic 
 Bridge to Menotomy, now Arlington, where he 
 struck the highway, now Massachusetts Avenue, 
 to Lexington. Galloping up to the old Clarke house 
 where Hancock and Adams were sleeping, the patriot 
 on guard cautioned him not to make so much noise. 
 
 " Noise ! you ll have enough of it here before long. 
 The Regulars are coming." 
 
 Awakened by the voice, Hancock put his head out 
 of the window and said, 
 
 " Come in, Revere; we re not afraid of you." 
 
 Soon the old house was alight. Revere entered the 
 * living room" by the side door and delivered his mes 
 sage to the startled occupants. Soon they were joined 
 by Dawes, another messenger by another road. After 
 refreshing themselves, Revere and Dawes set off for 
 Concord. On the road Samuel Prescott joined them. 
 When about half-way, four British officers, mounted 
 and fully armed, stopped them. Prescott jumped over 
 the low stone wall, made his escape and alarmed Con 
 cord. Dawes was chased by two of the officers until. 
 
Lexington and Concord 191 
 
 with rare shrewdness, he dashed up in front of a de 
 serted farm-house and shouted, " Hello, boys ! I ve 
 got two of them," frightening off his pursuers. 
 
 Revere was captured. Without fear or humiliation 
 he told his name and his mission. Frightened by the 
 sound of firing at Lexington, the officers released their 
 prisoner, and he made his way back to Hancock and 
 Adams and accompanied them to what is now the town 
 of Burlington. Hastening back to Lexington for a 
 trunk containing valuable papers, he was present at 
 the battle, the fulfilment of his warning, the red after 
 glow of the lights from the belfry of Old North 
 Church. 
 
 He lived for forty-odd years to tell the story of his 
 midnight ride, and now he sleeps with Hancock and 
 Adams, the parents of Franklin, Peter Faneuil, and a 
 host of worthy men in the " Granary." 
 
 The good people of Massachusetts have done what oid names and 
 they could to commemorate the events and obliterate 
 the localities of those great days ; they have erected 
 monuments and put up tablets in great numbers ; but 
 while marking the spots where events occurred, they 
 have changed the old names of roads and places until 
 contemporary accounts require a glossary for inter 
 pretation. 
 
 Who would recognize classic Menotomy in the tinsel 
 ring of Arlington? The good old Indian name, the 
 very speaking of which is a pleasure, has given place 
 to the first-class apartments, steam-heated, electric- 
 lights, hot and cold water, all improvements in appel 
 lations of Arlington and Arlington Heights. A tablet 
 
192 On an Automobile 
 
 marks the spot where on April 19 " the old men of 
 Menotomy" captured a convoy of British soldiers. 
 Poor old men, once the boast and glory of the place 
 that knew you ; but now the passing traveller curi 
 ously reads the inscription and wonders " Why were 
 they called the old men of Menotomy ?" for there is 
 now no such place. 
 Massachusetts Massachusetts Avenue Massachusetts Avenue ! 
 
 Avenue , , , . . . 
 
 there s a name, a great, big, luscious name, a name 
 that savors of brown stone fronts and plush rockers; 
 a name which goes well with the commercial pros 
 perity of Boston. Massachusetts Avenue extends from 
 Dorchester in Boston to Lexington Green ; it has ab 
 sorbed the old Cambridge and the old Lexington roads ; 
 the old Long Bridge lives in history, but, rechristened 
 Brighton Bridge, the reader fails to identify it. 
 
 Concord remains and Lexington remains, simply be 
 cause no real estate boom has yet reached them, but 
 Bunker Hill, there is a feeling that apartments would 
 rent better if the musty associations of the spot were 
 obliterated by some such name as " Buckingham 
 Heights/ or " Commonwealth Crest ;" The Acropo 
 lis" has been prayerfully considered by the freemen of 
 the modern Athens ; whatever the decision may be, 
 certain it is the name Bunker Hill is a heavy load for 
 choice corners in the vicinity. 
 
 There are a few old names still left in Massachu 
 setts, Jingleberry Hill and Chillyshally Brook sound 
 as if they once meant something; Spot Pond, named 
 1)y Governor Winthrop, has not lost its birthright ; 
 Powder-Horn Hill records its purchase from the In 
 dians for a hornful of powder probably damp; 
 
Lexington and Concord 193 
 
 Drinkwater River is a good name, Strong Water 
 Brook by many is considered better. It is well to 
 record these names before they are effaced by the 
 commercialism rampant in the suburbs of Boston. 
 
 At the Town Hall in Lexington we turned to the Foiicn church 
 right for East Lexington, and made straight for Pollen 
 Church, and the home of Dr. Pollen close by, where 
 Emerson preached in 1836 and 1837. 
 
 The church was not built until 1839. ^ n January, 
 1840, the congregation had assembled in their new 
 edifice for the dedication services. They waited for 
 their pastor, who was expected home from a visit to 
 New York, but the Long Island Sound steamer 
 Lexington, by strange coincidence it was called had 
 burned and Dr. Pollen was among the lost. His home 
 is now the East Lexington Branch of the Public 
 Library. 
 
 We climbed the stairs that led to the small upper 
 room where Emerson filled his last regular charge. 
 Small as was the room, it probably more than sufficed 
 for the few people who were sufficiently advanced for 
 his notions of a preacher s mission. He did not be 
 lieve in the rites the church clung to as indispensable ; 
 he did not believe in the use of bread and wine in the 
 Lord s Supper ; he did not believe in prayers from the 
 pulpit unless the preacher felt impelled to pray ; he 
 did not believe in ritualism or formalism of any kind, 
 in short, he did not believe in a church, for a church, 
 however broad and liberal, is, after all, an institution, 
 and no one man, however great, can support an insti 
 tution. A very great soul and Emerson was a great 
 
 13 
 
194 n an Automobile 
 
 soul may carry a following through life and long 
 after death, but that following is not a church, not an 
 institution, not a living organized body, until forms, 
 conventions, and traditions make it so; its vitalizing 
 element may be the soul of its founder, but the frame 
 work of the structure, the skeleton, is made up of the 
 more or less rigid conventions which are the results 
 of natural and logical selection. 
 
 The ritual of Rome, the service of England, the dry 
 formalism of Calvinism, the slender structure of Uni- 
 tarianism were all equally repugnant to Emerson ; he 
 could not stretch himself in their fetters ; he was not 
 at ease in any priestly garment. Born a prophet, he 
 could not become a priest. By nature a teacher and 
 preacher, he never could submit to those restrictions 
 which go so far to make preaching effective. He 
 taught the lesson of the ages, but he mistook it for his 
 own. He belonged to humanity, but he detached him 
 self. He was a leader, but would acknowledge no 
 discipline. Men cried out to him, but he wandered 
 apart. He was an intellectual anarchist of rare and 
 lovely type ; few sweeter souls ever lived, but he defied 
 order. 
 
 Not that Emerson would have been any better if he 
 had submitted to the discipline of some church ; he 
 did what he felt impelled to do, and left the world a 
 precious legacy of ideas, of brilliant, beautiful 
 thoughts; but thoughts which are brilliant and 
 beautiful as the stars are, scattered jewels against 
 the background of night with no visible connection. 
 Is it not possible that the gracious discipline of an 
 
Lexington and Concord 195 
 
 environment more conventional might have reduced 
 these thoughts to some sort of order, brought the stars 
 into constellations, and left suggestions for the order 
 ing of life that would be of greater force and more 
 permanent value ? 
 
 His wife relates that one day he was reading an old 
 sermon in the little room in the Pollen mansion, when 
 he stopped, and said, " The passage which I have just 
 read I do not believe, but it was wrongly placed." 
 
 The circumstance illustrates the openness and frank 
 ness of his mind, but it is also a commentary on the 
 want of system in his intellectual processes. His habit 
 through life was to jot down thoughts as they came 
 to him; he kept note-books and journals all his life; 
 he dreamed in the pine woods by day and walked be 
 neath the stars by night ; he sat by the still waters and 
 wandered in the green fields ; and the dreams and the 
 visions and the fancies of the moment he faithfully 
 recorded. These disjointed musings and disconnected 
 thoughts formed the raw material of all he ever said 
 and wrote. From the accumulated stores of years he 
 would draw whatever was necessary to meet the needs 
 of the hour; and it did not matter to him if thought 
 did not dovetail into thought with all the precision of 
 good intellectual carpentry. His edifices were filled 
 with chinks and unfinished apartments. 
 
 He saw things in a big way, but did not always see 
 them as through crystal, clearly; nor did he always 
 take his staff in hand and courageously go about to see 
 all sides of things. He never thought to a finish. His 
 philosophy never acquired form and substance. His 
 
196 On an Automobile 
 
 thoughts are not linked in chain, but are just so many 
 precious pearls lightly strung on a silken thread. 
 
 In 1852 he wrote in his journal, " I waked last 
 night and bemoaned myself because I had not thrown 
 myself into this deplorable question of slavery, which 
 seems to want nothing so much as a few assured 
 voices. But then in hours of sanity I recover myself, 
 and say, God must govern his own world, and knows 
 his way out of this pit without my desertion of my 
 post, which has none to guard it but me. I have quite 
 other slaves to free than those negroes, to wit, im 
 prisoned spirits, imprisoned thoughts, far back in the 
 brain of man, far retired in the heaven of invention, 
 and which, important to the republic of man, have no 
 watchman or lover or defender but me, " thereby 
 naively leaving to God the lesser task. 
 
 But he wrongs himself in his own journal, for he 
 did bestir himself and he did speak, and he did not 
 leave the black men to God while he looked after the 
 white; he helped God all he could in his own peculiar, 
 irresolute way. At the same time no passage from the 
 journals throws more light on the pure soul of the 
 great dreamer. He was opposed to slavery and he felt 
 for the negroes, but their physical degradation did not 
 appeal to him so much as the intellectual degradation 
 of those about him. To him it was a loftier mission to 
 release the minds of men than free their bodies. With 
 the naive and at the same time superb egoism which 
 is characteristic of great souls, he consoles himself 
 with the thought that God can probably take care 
 of the slavery question without troubling him ; he 
 
Lexington and Concord 197 
 
 will stick to his post and look after more important 
 matters. 
 
 What a treat it must have been to those assembled 
 in the Follen house to hear week after week the very 
 noblest considerations and suggestions concerning life 
 poured forth in tones so musical, so penetrating, that 
 to-day they ring in the ears of those who had the great 
 good fortune to hear. There was probably very little 
 said about death. Emerson never pretended to a vision 
 beyond the grave. In his essay on " Immortality" he 
 says, " Sixty years ago, the books read, the services 
 and prayers heard, the habits of thought of religious 
 persons, were all directed on death. All were under 
 the shadow of Calvinism and of the Roman Catholic 
 purgatory, and death was dreadful. The emphasis of 
 all the good books given to young people was on death. 
 We were all taught that we were born to die ; and 
 over that, all the terrors that theology could gather 
 from savage nations were added to increase the gloom. 
 A great change has occurred. Death is seen as a natu 
 ral event, and is met with firmness. A wise man in 
 our time caused to be written on his tomb, Think on 
 Living. That inscription describes a progress in 
 opinion. Cease from this antedating of your experi 
 ence. Sufficient to to-day are the duties of to-day. 
 Don t waste life in doubts and fears ; spend yourself 
 on the work before you, well assured that the right 
 performance of the hour s duties will be the best prep 
 aration for the hours or ages that follow it." 
 
 Such was the burden of Emerson s message : make 
 the very best of life ; let not the present be palsied by 
 fears for the future. A healthy, sane message, a loud, 
 
198 On an Automobile 
 
 clear voice in the wilderness of doubt and fears, the 
 very loudest and clearest voice in matters spiritual and 
 intellectual which America has yet produced. 
 
 A service in It was during the days of his service in East Lex 
 
 ington that he went to Providence to deliver a course 
 of lectures ; while there he was invited to conduct 
 the services in the Second (Unitarian) Church. The 
 pastor afterwards said, " He selected from Green 
 wood s collection hymns of a purely meditative char 
 acter, without any distinctively Christian expression. 
 For the Scripture lesson he read a fine passage from 
 Ecclesiasticus, from which he also took his text. The 
 sermon was precisely like one of his lectures in style ; 
 the prayers, or what took their place, were wholly 
 without supplication, confession, or praise, but only 
 sweet meditations on nature, beauty, order, goodness, 
 love. After returning home I found Emerson with his 
 head bowed on his hands, which were resting on his 
 knees. He looked up to me and said, Now, tell me 
 honestly, plainly, just what you think of that service/ 
 I replied that before he was half through I had made 
 up my mind that it was the last time he should have 
 that pulpit. You are right/ he rejoined, and I thank 
 you. On my part, before I was half through, I felt 
 out of place. The doubt is solved. 
 
 He dwelt with time and eternity on a footing of 
 familiar equality. He did not shrink or cringe. His 
 prayers were sweet meditations and his sermon a lect 
 ure. He was the apostle of beauty, goodness, and 
 truth. 
 
Lexington and Concord 199 
 
 Lexington Road from East Lexington to the Centre Lexington 
 is a succession of historic spots marked by stones and 
 tablets. 
 
 The old home of Harrington, the last survivor of 
 the battle of Lexington, still stands close to the road 
 side, shaded by a row of fine big trees. Harrington 
 died in 1854 at the great age of ninety-eight; he was 
 a rifer-boy in Captain Parker s company. In the early 
 morning on the day of the fight his mother rapped on 
 his bedroom door, calling, " Jonathan, Jonathan, get 
 up ; the British are coming, and something must be 
 done." He got up and did his part with the others. 
 Men still living recall the old man ; they heard the story 
 of that memorable day from the lips of one who 
 participated therein. 
 
 At the corner of Maple Street there is an elm planted Monroe raven, 
 in 1740. On a little knoll at the left is the Monroe 
 Tavern. The square, two-storied frame structure 
 which remains is the older portion of the inn as it 
 was in those days. It was the head-quarters of Lord 
 Percy; and it is said that an inoffensive old man who 
 served the soldiers with liquor in the small bar-room 
 was, killed when he tried to get away by a rear door. 
 When the soldiers left they sacked the house, piled up 
 the furniture and set fire to it. Washington dined in 
 the dining-room in the second story, November 5, 1789. 
 The house was built in 1695, and is still owned by a 
 direct descendant of the first William Monroe. 
 
 Not far from the tavern and on the same side of the 
 street is a house where a wounded soldier was cared 
 
2oo On an Automobile 
 
 for by a Mrs. Sanderson, who lived to be one hundred 
 and four years old. 
 
 Near the intersection of Woburn Street is a crude 
 stone cannon which marks the place where Lord Percy 
 planted a field pine pointing in the direction of the 
 Green to check the advancing patriots and cover the 
 retreat of the Regulars. 
 
 The common On the triangular " Common," in the very heart of 
 the village, a flat-faced boulder marks the line where 
 the minute-men under Captain Parker were formed to 
 receive the Regulars. " Stand your ground ; don t 
 fire unless fired upon ; but if they mean to have a war, 
 let it begin here was Parker s command to his men, 
 and it was there the war did begin. The small band 
 of patriots were not yet in line when the red-coats 
 appeared at the east end of the meeting-house, coming 
 on the double-quick. Riding ahead, a British officer 
 called out, " Disperse, you rebels ! Villains, disperse !" 
 but the little band of rebels stood their ground until 
 a fatal volley killed eight and wounded ten. Only 
 two of the British were wounded. 
 
 The victors remained in possession of the Green, 
 fired a volley, and gave three loud cheers to celebrate 
 a victory that in the end was to cost King George his 
 fairest colonies. 
 
 The soldiers monument that stands on the Green 
 was erected in 1799. In 1835, in the presence of 
 Daniel Webster, Joseph Story, Josiah Quincy, and a 
 vast audience, Edward Everett delivered an oration, 
 and the bodies of those who fell in the battle were 
 removed from the old cemetery to a vault in the rear 
 
Lexington and Concord 201 
 
 of the shaft, where they now rest. The weather-beaten 
 stone is over-grown with a protecting mantle of ivy, 
 which threatens to drop like a veil over the long in 
 scription. Here, for more than a century, the village 
 has received distinguished visitors, Lafayette in 
 1824, Kossuth in 1851, and famous men of later 
 days. 
 
 The Buckman Tavern, where the patriots assembled, The Bu 
 built in 1690, still stands with its marks of bullets and 
 Hood of old associations. 
 
 These ancient hostelries Monroe s, Buckman s, 
 Wright s in Concord, and the Wayside Inn are by 
 no means the least interesting features of this historic 
 section. An old tavern is as pathetic as an old hat : 
 it is redolent of former owners and guests, each room 
 reeks with confused personalities, every latch is elec 
 tric from many hands, every wall echoes a thousand 
 voices; at dusk of day the clink of glasses and the 
 resounding toast may still be heard in the deserted 
 banquet-hall ; at night a ghostly light illumines the 
 vacant ballroom, and the rustle of silks and satins, the 
 sound of merry laughter, and the faint far-off strains 
 of music fall upon the ear. 
 
 We did not visit the Clarke house where Paul Re 
 vere roused Adams and Hancock ; we saw it from the 
 road. Originally, and until 1896, the house stood on 
 the opposite side of the street ; the owner was about 
 to demolish it to subdivide the land, when the His 
 torical Society intervened and purchased it. 
 
 Neither did we enter the old burying-ground on 
 Elm Street. The automobile is no respecter of persons 
 
2O2 On an Automobile 
 
 or places; it pants with impatience if brought to a 
 stand for so much as a moment before a house or 
 monument of interest, and somehow the throbbing, 
 puffing, impatient machine gets the upper hand of 
 those who are supposed to control it ; we are hastened 
 onward in spite of our better inclinations. 
 
 Lexington to The trolley line from Lexington to Concord is by 
 way of Bedford, but the direct road over the hill is the 
 one the British followed. It is nine miles by Bedford 
 and the Old Bedford Road, and but six miles direct. 
 
 A fatal duel A short distance out of Lexington a tablet marks 
 
 an old well ; the inscription reads, " At this well, April 
 19, 1775, James Hay ward, of Acton, met a British 
 soldier, who, raising his gun, said, You are a dead 
 man. And so are you, replied Hayward. Both 
 fired. The soldier was instantly killed and Hayward 
 mortally wounded." 
 
 Grim meeting of two thirsty souls ; they sought 
 water and found blood ; they wooed life and won death. 
 War is epitomized in the exclamations, " You are a 
 dead man," " And so are you." Further debate would 
 end the strife; the one query, "Why?" would bring 
 each musket to a rest. Poor unknown Britisher, exiled 
 from home, what did he know about the merits of the 
 controversy? What did he care? It was his business 
 to shoot, and be shot. He fulfilled most completely in 
 the same moment the double mission of the soldier, to 
 kill and be killed. Those who do the fighting never 
 do know very much about what they are fighting for, 
 if thev did, most of them would not fight at all. In 
 
Lexington and Concord 203 
 
 these days of common schools and newspapers it be 
 comes ever more and more difficult to recruit armies 
 with men who neither know nor think; the common 
 soldier is beginning to have opinions ; by and by he 
 will not fight unless convinced he is right, then there 
 will be fewer wars. 
 
 Over the road we were following the British The 
 
 . minute-men 
 
 marched in order and retreated in disorder. The un 
 disciplined minute-men were not very good at standing 
 up in an open square and awaiting the onslaught of a 
 company of regulars, it takes regulars to meet regu 
 lars out in the open ; but behind trees and fences, from 
 breast-works and scattered points of advantage, each 
 minute-man was a whole army in himself, and th n 
 regulars had a hard time of it on their retreat, the 
 trees and stones which a few hours before had been 
 just trees and stones, became miniature fortresses. 
 
 The old vineyard, where in 1855 Ephraim Bull pro- The 
 duced the now well known Concord grape by using gia e 
 the native wild grape in a cross with a cultivated 
 variety, is at the outskirts of Concord. 
 
 A little farther on is " The Wayside," so named by " The. 
 Hawthorne, who purchased the place from Alcott in H a - ysj(ie 
 1852, lived there until his appointment as Consul at 
 Liverpool in 1853, and again on his return from Eng 
 land in 1860, until he died in 1864. But " The Way 
 side" was not Hawthorne s first Concord home. He 
 came there with his bride in 1842 and lived four years 
 in the Old Manse. 
 
204 On an Automobile 
 
 old Manse There has never been written but one adequate de 
 scription of this venerable dwelling, and that by Haw 
 thorne himself in " Mosses from an Old Manse." To 
 most readers the description seems part and parcel of 
 the fanciful tales that follow ; no more real than the 
 " House of the Seven Gables/ We of the outside 
 world who know our Concord only by hearsay cannot 
 realize that " The Wayside" and the " Old Manse" 
 and Sleepy Hollow" are verities, verities which the 
 plodding language of prose tails to compass, unless the 
 pen is wielded by a master hand. 
 
 zvindow-pavt Q^ ] n a window-pane of one of the rooms were 
 left these inscriptions : " Nat l Hawthorne. This is 
 his study, 1843." " Inscribed by my husband at sun 
 set, April 3d, 1843, m the gold light, S. A. H. Man s 
 accidents are God s purposes. Sophia A. Hawthorne, 
 1843." 
 
 Dear, devoted bride, after more than fifty years your 
 bright, loving letters have come to light, and through 
 your clear vision we catch unobstructed glimpses of 
 men and things of those days. After years of devo 
 tion to your husband and his memory it was your lot 
 to die and be buried in a foreign land, while he lies 
 lonely in " Sleepy Hollow." 
 
 When the honeymoon was still a silver crescent in 
 the sky she wrote a friend, " I hoped I should see you 
 again before I came home to our paradise. I intended 
 to give you a concise history of my elysian life. Soon 
 after we returned my dear lord began to write in 
 earnest, and then commenced my leisure, because, till 
 we meet at dinner, I do not see him. . . . We were 
 
Lexington and Concord 205 
 
 interrupted by no one, except a short call now and then 
 from Elizabeth Hoar, who can hardly be called an 
 earthly inhabitant ; and Mr. Emerson, whose face 
 pictured the promised land (which we were then en 
 joying), and intruded no more than a sunset or a rich 
 warble from a bird. 
 
 " One evening, two days after our arrival at the Old 
 Manse, George Milliard and Henry Cleveland appeared 
 for fifteen minutes on their way to Niagara Falls, and 
 were thrown into raptures by the embowering flowers 
 and the dear old house they adorned, and the pictures 
 of Holy Mothers mild on the walls, and Mr. Haw 
 thorne s study, and the noble avenue. We forgive them 
 for their appearance here, because they were gone as 
 soon as they had come, and we felt very hospitable. We 
 wandered down to our sweet, sleepy river, and it was 
 so silent all around us and so solitary, that we seemed 
 the only persons living. We sat beneath our stately 
 trees, and felt as if we Avere the rightful inheritors of 
 the old abbey, which had descended to us from a long 
 line. The tree-tops waved a majestic welcome, and 
 rustled their thousand leaves like brooks over our 
 heads. But the bloom and fragrance of nature had be 
 come secondary to us, though we were lovers of it. 
 In my husband s face and eyes I saw a fairer world, 
 of which the other was a faint copy." 
 
 Nearly two weeks later she continues in the same 
 letter, " Sweet, dear Mary, nearly a fortnight has 
 passed since I wrote the above. I really believe I will 
 finish my letter to-day, though I do not promise. That 
 magician upstairs is very potent ! In the afternoon 
 and evening I sit in the study with him. It is the 
 
206 On an Automobile 
 
 pleasantest niche in our temple. We watch the sun, 
 together, descending in purple and gold, in every 
 variety of magnificence, over the river. Lately, we go 
 on the river, which is now frozen ; my lord to skate, 
 and I to run and slide, during the dolphin death of 
 day. I consider my husband a rare sight, gliding over 
 the icy stream. For, wrapped in his cloak, he looks 
 very graceful ; impetuously darting from me in long, 
 sweeping curves, and returning again again to shoot 
 away. Our meadow at the bottom of the orchard is 
 like a small frozen sea now ; and that is the present 
 scene of our heroic games. Sometimes, in the splendor 
 of the dying light, we seem sporting upon transparent 
 gold, so prismatic becomes the ice ; and the snow takes 
 opaline hues from the gems that float above as clouds. 
 It is eminently the hour to see objects, just after the 
 sun has disappeared. Oh, such oxygen as we inhale ! 
 After other skaters appear, young men and boys, 
 who principally interest me as foils to my husband, 
 who, in the presence of nature, loses all shyness and 
 moves regally like a king. One afternoon Mr. Emer 
 son and Mr. Thoreau went with him down the river. 
 Henry Thoreau is an experienced skater, and was 
 figuring dithyrambic dances and Bacchic leaps on the 
 ice, very remarkable, but very ugly methought. Next 
 him followed Mr. Hawthorne, who, wrapped in his 
 cloak, moved like a self -impelled Greek statue, stately 
 and grave. Mr. Emerson closed the line, evidently 
 too weary to hold himself erect, pitching headforemost, 
 half lying on the air. He came in to rest himself, and 
 said to me that Hawthorne was a tiger, a bear, a lion, 
 in short, a satyr, and there was no tiring him out; 
 
Lexington and Concord 207 
 
 and he might be the death of a man like himself. And 
 then, turning upon me that kindling smile for which 
 he is so memorable, he added, Mr. Hawthorne is 
 such an Ajax, who can cope with him ! 
 
 Of all the pages, ay, of all the books, that have been with poetic 
 printed concerning Emerson, Hawthorne, and Tho- 
 reau, there is not one which more vividly and accu 
 rately set the men before us and describe their essential 
 characteristics than the casual lines of this old letter: 
 Thoreau, the devotee of nature, " figuring dithy- 
 rambic dances and Bacchic leaps on the ice," joyous 
 in the presence of his god ; the mystic Hawthorne, 
 wrapped in his sombre cloak, " moved like a self- 
 impelled Greek statue, stately and grave," with 
 magic force these words throw upon the screen of 
 the imagination the figure of the creator of Hester 
 Prynnc and Arthur Dimmesdale ; while Emerson is 
 drawn with the inspiration of a poet, " evidently too 
 weary to hold himself erect, pitching headforemost, 
 half lying on the air ;" " half lying on the air," the 
 phrase rings in the ear, lingers in the memory, at 
 taches itself to Emerson, and fits like a garment of 
 soft and yielding texture. 
 
 The letter concludes as follows : " After the first 
 snow-storm, before it was so deep, we walked in the 
 woods, very beautiful in winter, and found slides in 
 Sleepy Hollow, where we became children, and en 
 joyed ourselves as of old, only more, a great deal. 
 Sometimes it is before breakfast that Mr. Hawthorne 
 goes to skate upon the meadow. Yesterday, before he 
 went out, he said it was very cloudy and gloomy, and 
 
208 On an Automobile 
 
 lie thought it would storm. In half an hour, oh, 
 wonder ! what a scene ! Instead of a black sky, the 
 rising sun, not yet above the hill, had changed the 
 firmament into a vast rose ! On every side, east, west, 
 north, and south, every point blushed roses. I ran to 
 the study and the meadow sea also was a rose, the 
 reflection of that above. And there was my husband, 
 careering about, glorified by the light. Such is Para 
 dise. 
 
 " In the evening we are gathered together beneath 
 our luminous star in the study, for we have a large 
 hanging astral lamp, which beautifully illumines the 
 room, with its walls of pale yellow paper, its Holy 
 Mother over the fireplace, and pleasant books, and its 
 pretty bronze vase on one of the secretaries, filled with 
 ferns. Except once, Mr. Emerson, no one hunts us 
 out in the evening. Then Mr. Hawthorne reads to me. 
 At present we can only get along with the old English 
 writers, and we find that they are the hive from which 
 all modern honey is stolen. They are thick-set with 
 thought, instead of one thought serving for a whole 
 book. Shakespeare is pre-eminent; Spencer is music. 
 We dare to dislike Milton when he goes to heaven. 
 We do not recognize God in his picture of Him. There 
 is something so penetrating and clear in Mr. Haw 
 thorne s intellect, that now I am acquainted with it, 
 merely thinking of him as I read winnows the chaff 
 from the wheat at once. And when he reads to me, 
 it is the acutest criticism. Such a voice, too, such 
 sweet thunder ! Whatever is not worth much shows 
 sadly, coming through such a medium, fit only for 
 noblest ideas. From reading his books you can have 
 
Lexington and Concord 209 
 
 some idea of what it is to dwell with Mr. Hawthorne. 
 But only a shadow of him is found in his books. The 
 half is not told there." 
 
 Just a letter, the outpouring of a loving young heart, 
 written with no thought of print and strange eye, 
 slumbering for more than fifty years to come to light 
 at last ; just one of many, all of them well worth 
 reading. 
 
 The three great men of Concord were happy in their 
 wives. Mrs. Hawthorne and Mrs. Alcott were not 
 only great wives and mothers, but they could express 
 their prayers, meditations, fancies, and emotions in 
 clear and exquisite English. 
 
 It was after the prosperous days of the Liverpool 
 Consulate that Hawthorne returned to Concord to 
 spend the remainder of his all too short life. 
 
 He made many changes in " The Wayside" and sur 
 rounding grounds. He enlarged the house and added 
 the striking but quite unpicturesque tower which rises 
 from the centre of the main part ; here he had his study 
 and point of observation ; he could see the unwelcome 
 visitor while yet a far way off, or contemplate the lazy 
 travel of a summer s day. 
 
 Just beyond is " Orchard House," into which the 
 Alcotts moved in October, 1858. 
 
 A philosopher may not be a good neighbor, and 
 Alcott lived just a little too near Hawthorne. " It 
 was never so well understood at The Wayside that 
 
 14 
 
210 On an Automobile 
 
 its owner had retiring habits as when Alcott was re 
 ported to be approaching along Larch Path, which 
 stretched in feathery bowers between our house and 
 his. Yet I was not aware that the seer failed at any 
 hour to gain admittance, one cause, perhaps, of the 
 awe in which his visits were held. I remember that 
 my observation was attracted to him curiously from 
 the fact that my mother s eyes changed to a darker 
 gray at his advents, as they did only when she was 
 silently sacrificing herself. I clearly understood that 
 Mr. Alcott was admirable, but he sometimes brought 
 manuscript poetry with him, the dear child of his own 
 Muse. . . . There was one particularly long poem 
 which he had read aloud to my mother and father ; 
 a seemingly harmless thing, from which they never 
 recovered." 
 
 AS others see ns The appreciation the great men of Concord had of 
 one another is interesting to the outside world. Great 
 souls are seldom congenial, popular impression to the 
 contrary notwithstanding. Minds of a feather flock- 
 together ; but minds of gold are apt to remain apart, 
 each sufficient unto itself. It is in sports, pastimes, 
 business, politics, that men congregate with facility; 
 in literary and intellectual pursuits the leaders are anti 
 pathetic in proportion to their true greatness. Now 
 and then two, and more rarely three, are united by 
 bonds of quick understanding and sympathy, but men 
 of profound convictions attract followers and repel 
 companions. 
 
 Emerson s was the most catholic spirit ; he under 
 stood his neighbors better than they understood one 
 another ; his vision was very clear. For a man who 
 
Lexington and Concord 211 
 
 mingled so little with the world, who spent so much 
 of his life in contemplation in communing with his 
 inner self Emerson was very sane indeed; his idio 
 syncrasies did not prevent his judging men and things 
 quite correctly. 
 
 Hawthorne and Emerson saw comparatively little of 
 each other ; these two great souls respected the inde 
 pendence of each other too much to intrude. " Mr. 
 Hawthorne once broke through his hermit usage, and 
 honored Miss Ellen Emerson, the friend of his 
 daughter Una, with a formal call on a Sunday 
 evening. It was the only time, I think, that he ever 
 came to the house except when persuaded to come in 
 for a few moments on the rare occasions when he 
 walked with my father. On this occasion he did not 
 ask for either Mr. or Mrs. Emerson, but announced 
 that his call was upon Miss Ellen. Unfortunately, she 
 had gone to bed, but he remained for a time talking 
 with my sister Edith and me, the school-mates of his 
 children. To cover his shyness he took up a stereo 
 scope on the centre-table and began to look at the 
 pictures. After looking at them for a time he asked 
 where those views were taken. We told him they 
 were pictures of the Concord Court and Town Houses, 
 the Common and the Mill-dam ; on hearing which he 
 expressed some surprise and interest, but evidently was 
 as unfamiliar with the centre of the village where he 
 had lived for years as a deer or a wood-thrush would 
 be. He walked through it often on his way to the 
 cars, but was too shy or too rapt to know what was 
 there." 
 
2 1 2 On an Automobile 
 
 Emerson on. Emerson liked Hawthorne better than his books, 
 
 Hawthorne . . 
 
 the latter were too weird, uncanny, and inconclusive. 
 In 1838 he noted in his journal, " Elizabeth Peabody 
 brought me yesterday Hawthorne s Footprints on 
 the Seashore to read. I complained there was no 
 inside to it. Alcott and he together would make a 
 man." 
 
 Later, when Hawthorne came to live in Concord, 
 Emerson did his best to get better acquainted ; but it 
 was of little use ; they had too little in common. Both 
 men were great walkers, and yet they seldom walked 
 together. They went to Harvard to see the Shakers, 
 and Emerson recorded it as a " satisfactory tramp ; we 
 had good talk on the way." 
 
 After Hawthorne s death, Emerson made the follow 
 ing entry in his journal : "I thought him a greater 
 man than any of his works betray ; there was still a 
 great deal of work in him, and he might one day show 
 a purer power. ... It would have been a happiness, 
 doubtless, to both of us, to come into habits of unre 
 served intercourse. It was easy to talk with him ; there 
 were n.o barriers ; only he said so little that I talked 
 too much, and stopped only because, as he gave no 
 indication, I feared to exceed. He showed no egotism 
 or self-assertion ; rather a humility, and at one time 
 a fear that he had written himself out. ... I do not 
 think any of his books worthy his genius. I admired 
 the man, who was simple, amiable, truth-loving, and 
 frank in conversation, but I never read his books with 
 pleasure ; they are too young." 
 
 Emerson was greedy for ideas, and the pure, limpid 
 literature of Hawthorne did not satisfy him. 
 
Lexington and Concord 2 1 3 
 
 Hawthorne s estimate of Emerson was far more just Hawthorne on 
 
 Emerson 
 
 and penetrating; he described him very correctly as 
 " a great original thinker whose " mind acted upon 
 other minds of a certain constitution with wonderful 
 magnetism, and drew many men upon long pilgrim 
 ages to speak with him face to face. Young vision 
 aries to whom just so much of insight had been im 
 parted as to make life all a labyrinth around them 
 came to seek the clew that should guide them out of 
 their self-involved bewilderment. Gray-headed theo 
 rists whose systems, at first air, had finally im 
 prisoned them in an iron framework travelled pain 
 fully to his door, not to ask deliverance, but to invite 
 the free spirit into their own thraldom. People that 
 had lighted on a new thought, or a thought that they 
 fancied new, came to Emerson, as the finder of a glit 
 tering gem hastens to a lapidary to ascertain its quality 
 and value. Uncertain, troubled, earnest wanderers 
 through the midnight of the moral world beheld his 
 intellectual face as a beacon burning on a hill-top, and, 
 climbing the difficult ascent, looked forth into the 
 surrounding obscurity more hopefully than hitherto. 
 .... For myself, there had been epochs in my life 
 when I, too, might have asked of this prophet the 
 master word that should solve me the riddle of the 
 universe, but, now, being happy, I feel as if there were 
 no question to be put, and therefore admired Emerson 
 as a poet of deep and austere beauty, but sought noth 
 ing from him as a philosopher. It was good neverthe 
 less to meet him in the wood-paths, .or sometimes in 
 our avenue, with that pure, intellectual gleam diffused 
 about his presence like the garment of a shining one; 
 
214 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Emerson on 
 Alcott 
 
 and he, so quiet, so simple, so without pretension, en 
 countering each man alive as if expecting to receive 
 more than he could impart." 
 
 It was fortunate for Hawthorne, doubly fortunate 
 for us who read him, that he could withstand the in 
 fluence of Emerson, and go on writing in his own 
 way; his dreams and fancies were undisturbed by the 
 clear vision which sought so earnestly to distract him 
 from his realm of the imagination. 
 
 On first impressions Emerson rated Alcott very high. 
 " He has more of the godlike than any man I have 
 ever seen, and his presence rebukes, and threatens, 
 and raises. He is a teacher." " Yesterday Alcott left 
 us after a three days visit. The most extraordinary 
 man, and the highest genius of his time." This was 
 in 1835. Seven years later Emerson records this im 
 pression. " He looks at everything in larger angles 
 than any other, and, by good right, should be the great 
 est man. But here comes in another trait ; it is found, 
 though his angles are of so generous contents, the lines 
 do not meet; the apex is not quite defined. We must 
 allow for the refraction of the lens, but it is the best 
 instrument I have ever met with." 
 
 Alcott on 
 Emerson 
 
 Alcott visited Concord first in October, 1835, and 
 found that he and Emerson had many things in com 
 mon, but he entered in his diary, " Mr. Emerson s fine 
 literary taste is sometimes in the way of a clear and 
 hearty acceptance of the spiritual." Again, he naively 
 congratulates himself that he has found a man who 
 could appreciate his theories. " Emerson sees me, 
 
Lexington and Concord 2 1 5 
 
 knows me, and, more than all others, helps me, not 
 by noisy praise, not by low appeals to interest and 
 passion, but by turning the eye of others to my stand 
 in reason and the nature of things. Only men of like 
 vision can apprehend and counsel each other." 
 
 With the exception of Hawthorne, there was among 
 the men of Concord a tendency to over-estimate one 
 another. For the most part, they took themselves and 
 each other very seriously ; even Emerson s subtle sense 
 of humor did not save him from yielding to this ten 
 dency, which is illustrated in the following page from 
 Hawthorne s journal : 
 
 "About nine o clock (Sunday) Hilliard and I set 
 out on a walk to Walden Pond, calling by the way at 
 Mr. Emerson s to obtain his guidance or directions. 
 He, from a scruple of his eternal conscience, detained 
 us until after the people had got into church, and then 
 he accompanied us in his own illustrious person. We 
 turned aside a little from our way to visit Mr. Hosmer, 
 a yeoman, of whose homely and self-acquired wisdom 
 Mr. Emerson has a very high opinion." " He had a 
 fine flow of talk, and not much diffidence about his 
 own opinions. ... I was not impressed with any re 
 markable originality in his views, but they were sen 
 sible and characteristic. Methought, however, the 
 good yeoman was not quite so natural as he may have 
 been at an earlier period. The simplicity of his char 
 acter has probably suffered by his detecting the im 
 pression he makes on those around him. There is a 
 circle, I suppose, who look up to him as an oracle, and 
 so he inevitably assumes the oracular manner, and 
 speaks as if truth and wisdom were attiring themselves 
 
21 6 On an Automobile 
 
 by his voice. Mr. Emerson has risked the doing him 
 much mischief by putting him in print, a trial few 
 persons can sustain without losing their unconscious 
 ness. But, after all, a man gifted with thought and 
 expression, whatever his rank in life and his mode of 
 uttering himself, whether by pen or tongue, cannot be 
 expected to go through the world without finding him 
 self out ; and, as all such discoveries are partial and 
 imperfect, they do more harm than good to the char 
 acter. Mr. Hosmer is more natural than ninety-nine 
 men out of a hundred, and is certainly a man of in 
 tellectual and moral substance. It would be amusing 
 to draw a parallel betweeen him and his admirer, 
 Mr. Emerson, the mystic, stretching his hand out of 
 cloudland in vain search for something real ; and the 
 man of sturdy sense, all whose ideas seem to be dug 
 out of his mind, hard and substantial, as he digs his 
 potatoes, carrots, beets, and turnips out of the earth. 
 Mr. Emerson is a great searcher for facts, but they 
 seem to melt away and become unsubstantial in his 
 grasp." 
 
 Genius They took that extraordinary creature, Margaret 
 
 Fuller, seriously, and they took a vast deal of poor 
 poetry seriously. Because a few could write, nearly 
 every one in the village seemed to think he or she 
 could write, and write they did to the extent of a small 
 library most religiously shelved and worshipped in its 
 own compartment in the town library. 
 
 Genius is egotism; the superb confidence of these 
 men, each in the sanctity of his own mission, in the 
 plenitude of his own powers, in the inspiration of his 
 
Lexington and Concord 217 
 
 own message, made them what they were. The last 
 word was Alcott s because he outlived them all, and his 
 last word was that, great as were those who had taken 
 their departure, the greatest of them all had fallen just 
 short of appreciating him, the survivor. A man pene 
 trates every one s disguise but his own ; we deceive no 
 one but ourselves. The insane are often singularly 
 quick to penetrate the delusions of others ; the man 
 who calls himself George Washington ridicules the 
 claim of another that he is Julius Caesar. 
 
 Between Hawthorne and Thoreau there was little in Hawthorn 
 common. In 1860, the latter speaks .of meeting Haw- Thoreau 
 thorne shortly after his return from Europe, and says, 
 " He is as simple and childlike as ever. 
 
 Of Thoreau, Mrs. Hawthorne wrote in a letter, 
 " This evening -Mr. Thoreau is going to lecture, and 
 will stay with us. His lecture before was so enchant 
 ing; such a revelation of nature in all its exquisite 
 details of wood-thrushes, squirrels, sunshine, mists and 
 shadows, fresh vernal odors, pine-tree ocean melodies, 
 that my ear rang with music, and I seemed to have 
 been wandering through copse and dingle ! Mr. 
 Thoreau has risen above all his arrogance of manner, 
 and is as gentle, simple, ruddy, and meek as all 
 geniuses should be ; and now his great blue eyes fairly 
 outshine and put into shade a nose which I thought 
 must make him uncomely forever." 
 
 In his own journal Hawthorne said, " Mr. Thoreau 
 dined with us. He is a singular character, a young 
 man with much of wild, original nature still remaining 
 in him ; and so far as he is sophisticated, it is in a way 
 
21 8 On an Automobile 
 
 and method of his own. He is as ugly as sin, long- 
 nosed, queer-mouthed, and with uncouth and some 
 what rustic, though courteous, manners, corresponding 
 very well with such an exterior. But his ugliness is 
 of an honest and agreeable fashion, and becomes him 
 much better than beauty." 
 
 Aicottand Alcott helped build the hut at Walden, and he and 
 
 Emerson spent many an evening there in conversation 
 that must have delighted the gods in so far as they 
 understood it. 
 
 Of Alcott and their winter evenings, Thoreau has 
 said, " One of the last of the philosophers. Connecti 
 cut gave him to the world, he peddled first his wares, 
 afterwards, as he declares, his brains ; these he peddles 
 still, prompting God and disgracing man, bearing for 
 fruit his brain only, like the nut in the kernel. . . . 
 His words and attitude always suppose a better state 
 of things than other men are acquainted with, and he 
 will be the last man to be disappointed as the ages 
 revolve. ... A true friend of man, almost the only 
 friend of human progress. He is perhaps the sanest 
 man and has the fewest crotchets of any I chance to 
 know, the same yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow. 
 .... Ah, such discourse as we had, hermit and 
 philosopher, and the old settler I have spoken of, we 
 three; it expanded and racked my little home;" to 
 say nothing of the universe, which doubtless felt the 
 strain. 
 
 Referring to the same evening, Alcott said, prob 
 ably after a chastening discussion, " If I were to 
 proffer my earnest prayer to the gods for the greatest 
 
Lexington and Concord 2 1 9 
 
 of all human privileges, it should be for the gift of 
 a severely candid friend. . . . Intercourse of this kind 
 I have found possible with my friends Emerson and 
 Thoreau ; and the evenings passed in their society 
 during these winter months have realized my concep 
 tion of what friendship, when great and genuine, owes 
 to and takes from its objects." 
 
 Nearly twenty years after Thoreau s death, Alcott, 
 while walking towards the close of day, said, " I 
 always think of Thoreau when I look at a sunset." 
 
 Emerson was fourteen years older than Thoreau, but Emerson and 
 between the two men there existed through life pro 
 found sympathy and affection. Emerson watched him 
 develop as a young man, and delivered the address at 
 his funeral ; for two years they lived in the same 
 house, and concerning him Emerson wrote in 1863, 
 a year after his death, " In reading Henry Thoreau s 
 journal, I am very sensible of the vigor of his consti 
 tution. That oaken strength which I noted whenever 
 he walked or worked, or surveyed wood-lots, the same 
 unhesitating hand with which a field laborer accosts 
 a piece of work which I should shun as a waste of 
 strength, Henry shows in his literary task. He has 
 muscle, and ventures in and performs feats which I 
 am forced to decline. In reading him I find the same 
 thoughts, the same spirit that is in me, but he takes a 
 step beyond and illustrates by excellent images that 
 which I should have conveyed in a sleepy generaliza 
 tion. Tis as if I went into a gymnasium and saw 
 youths leap and climb and swing with a force unap 
 proachable, though these feats are only continuations 
 
220 On an Automobile 
 
 of my initial grapplings and jumps." One is re 
 minded of Mrs. Hawthorne s vivid characterization 
 of the two men as she saw them on the ice of the 
 Musketaquid twenty years before. 
 
 In our reverence for a place where a great man for 
 a time has had his home, we must not forget that, 
 while death may mark a given spot, life is quite an 
 other matter. A man may be born or may die in a 
 country, a city, a village, a house, a room, or, nar 
 rower still, a bed ; for birth and death are physical 
 events, but life is something quite different. Birth is 
 the welding of the soul to a given body ; death is the 
 dissolution of that connection ; life is the relation of 
 the imprisoned soul to its environment, and the content 
 of that environment depends largely upon the indi 
 vidual ; it may be as narrow as the village in which 
 he lives, or it may stretch beyond the uttermost stars. 
 A man may live on a farm, or he may visit the cities 
 of the earth, it does not matter much ; his life is the 
 sum total of his experiences, his sympathies, his loves, 
 of his hopes and ambitions, his dreams and aspirations, 
 his beliefs and convictions. 
 
 To live is to love, and to think, and to dream, and 
 to believe, and to act as one loves and thinks and 
 dreams and believes, that is life ; and, therefore, no 
 man s life is bounded by physical confines, no man 
 lives in this place or that, in this house or that ; but 
 every man lives in the world he has conquered for him 
 self, and no one knows the limits of the domains of 
 another. 
 
 The farmer s boy who sows the seed and watches the 
 
Lexington and Concord 221 
 
 tender blades part with volcanic force the surface of 
 the earth, making it to heave and tremble, who sees the 
 buds and flowers of the spring ripen into the fruit and 
 foliage of autumn, who follows with sympathetic vision 
 all the mysterious processes of nature, lives a broader 
 and nobler life than the merchant who sees naught 
 beyond the four walls of his counting-room, or the 
 traveller whose superficial eye marks only the strange 
 and the curious. 
 
 In the eyes oj: those about them Hawthorne " lived" 
 a scant mile from Emerson ; in reality they did not live 
 in the same spheres ; the boundaries of their worlds 
 did not overlap, but, like two far-separate stars, each 
 felt the distant attraction and admired the glow of 
 the other, and that was all. The real worlds of Thoreau 
 and Alcott and Emerson did at times so far overlap 
 that they trod on common ground, but these periods 
 were so brief and the spaces in common so small that 
 soon they wandered apart, each circling by himself in 
 an orbit of his own. 
 
 Words at best are poor instruments of thought ; the words 
 more we use them the more ambiguous do they be- tnade< * uate 
 come ; no man knows exactly what another means 
 from what he says ; every word is qualified by its 
 context, but the context of every word is eternity. 
 How long shall we listen to find out what a speaker 
 meant by his opening sentence? an hour, a day, a 
 week, a month? these periods are all too short, for 
 with every added thought the meaning of the first is 
 changed for him as well as for us. 
 
 " Life" in common speech may mean either mere 
 organic existence or a metaphysical assumption ; we 
 
222 On an Automobile 
 
 speak of the life of a tree, and the life .of a man, and 
 the life of a soul, of the life mortal and the life im 
 mortal. Who can tell what we have in mind when 
 we talk of life? No one, for we cannot tell ourselves. 
 We speak of life one moment with a certain matter 
 in mind, possibly the state of .our garden ; in the in 
 finitesimal fraction of a second additional cells of our 
 brain come into activity, additional areas are excited, 
 and our ideas scale the walls of the garden and scatter 
 over the face of the earth. If we attempt to explain, 
 the very process implies the generation of new ideas 
 and the modification of old, so that long before the 
 explanation of what we meant by the use of a given 
 word is finished, the meaning has undergone a change, 
 and we perceive that what we thought we meant by no 
 means included all that lurked in the mind. 
 
 The boundaries In every-day speech we are obliged to distinguish by 
 elaborate circumlocution between a man s place of resi 
 dence and that larger and truer life, his sphere of 
 sympathies. Emerson lived in Concord, Carlyle in 
 Chelsea ; to the casual reader these phrases convey the 
 impression that the life of Emerson was in some way 
 identified with and bounded by Concord ; that the life 
 of Carlyle was in some way identified with and 
 bounded by Chelsea ; that in some subtle manner the 
 census of those two small communities affected the 
 philosophy of the two men; whereas we know that 
 for a long time the worlds in which they really did 
 move and have their being so far overlapped that they 
 were near neighbors in thought, much nearer than they 
 
Lexington and Concord 223 
 
 would have been if they had " lived" in the same 
 village and met daily on the same streets. 
 
 The directory gives a man s abode, but tells us noth 
 ing, absolutely nothing, about his life ; the number of 
 his house does not indicate where he lives. It is pos 
 sible to live in London, in Paris, in Rome without 
 ever having visited any one of those places ; in truth, 
 millions of people really live in Rome in a truer sense 
 than many who have their abodes there; of the in 
 habitants of Paris comparatively few really live there, 
 comparatively few have any knowledge of the city, its 
 history, its traditions, its charms, its treasures, but 
 outside Paris there are thousands of men and women 
 who spend many hours and days and weeks of their 
 time in reading, learning, and thinking about Paris 
 and all it contains, in very truth living there. 
 
 Many a worthy preacher lives so exclusively in Jeru 
 salem that he knows not his own country, and his use 
 fulness is impaired ; many an artist lives so exclusively 
 in Paris that his work suffers ; many an architect lives 
 so long among the buildings of other days that he can 
 do nothing of his own. In fact, most men who are 
 devoted to intellectual, literary, and artistic pursuits 
 live anywhere and everywhere except at home. 
 
 The one great merit of Walt Whitman is that he 
 lived in America and in the nineteenth century ; he did 
 not live in the past; he did not live in Europe; he 
 lived in the present and in the world about him, his 
 home was America, his era was his own. 
 
 If we have no national literature, it is because those A national 
 who write spend the better part of their lives abroad ; literature 
 they may not leave their own firesides, but all their 
 
224 ^ n an Automobile 
 
 sympathies are elsewhere, all their inspiration is drawn 
 from other lands and other times. 
 
 We have very little art, very little architecture, very 
 little music of our own for the same reasons. We 
 have any number of painters, sculptors, composers, but 
 few of them live at home ; their sympathies are else 
 where ; they seem to have little or nothing in common 
 with their surroundings. Now and then a clear, fresh 
 voice is heard from out of the woods and fields, or 
 over the city s din, speaking with the convincing elo 
 quence of immediate knowledge and first-hand obser 
 vation ; but there are so few of these voices that they 
 do not amount to a chorus, and a national literature 
 means a chorus. 
 
 All this will gradually change until some day the 
 preacher will return from Jerusalem, the painter from 
 Paris, the poet from England, the architect from 
 Rome, and the overwhelming problems presented by 
 the unparalleled development and opportunities of 
 America will absorb their attention to the exclusion of 
 all else. 
 
 Allurements The danger of travel, the danger of learning, the 
 
 danger of reading, of profound research and extensive 
 observation, lies in the fact that some age, city, or 
 country, some man or coterie of men, may gain too 
 firm a hold, may so absorb the attention and restrict 
 the imagination that the sense of proportion is lost. 
 It requires a level head to withstand the allurements 
 of the past, the fascination of the foreign. Nothing 
 disturbed Shakespeare s equanimity. Neither Strat 
 ford nor London bounded his life. On the wings of 
 
Lexington and Concord 225 
 
 his imagination he visited the known earth and pene 
 trated beyond the blue skies, he made the universe his 
 home ; and yet he was essentially and to the last an 
 Englishman. 
 
 When we stopped before " Orchard House" it was orchard House 
 desolate and forsaken, and the entrance to the " Hill 
 side Chapel," where the " Concord School of Philoso 
 phy and Literature" had its home for nine years, was 
 boarded up. 
 
 Parts of the house had been built more than a cen 
 tury and a half when Mrs. Alcott bought it in 1857. 
 In her journal for July, 1858, the author of " Little 
 Women" records, " Went into the new house and 
 began to settle. Father is happy; mother glad to be 
 at rest ; Anna is in bliss with her gentle John ; and 
 May busy over her pictures. I have plans simmering, 
 but must sweep and dust and wash my dishpans a 
 while longer till I see my way." 
 
 Meanwhile the little women paper and decorate the 
 walls, May in her enthusiasm rilling panels and every 
 vacant place with birds and flowers and mottoes in old 
 English. 
 
 " August. Much company to see the new house. All 
 seem to be glad that the wandering family is anchored 
 at last. We won t move again for twenty years" (pro 
 phetic soul to name the period so exactly) " if I can 
 help it. The old people need an abiding place, and 
 now that death and love have taken two of us away, I 
 can, I hope, soon manage to take care of the remaining 
 four." 
 
 It is one of the ironies of fate that the fame of Bron- 
 15 
 
226 On an Automobile 
 
 son Alcott should hang upon that of his gifted 
 daughter. It was not until she made her great success 
 with " Little Women" in 1868 that the outside world 
 began to take a vivid interest in the father. From 
 that time his lectures and conversations began to pay ; 
 he was seized anew with the desire to publish, and 
 from 1868 until the beginning of his illness in 1882 
 he printed or reprinted nearly his entire works, some 
 eight .or ten volumes ; it is no disparagement to the 
 kindly old philosopher that his books were bought 
 mainly on the success of his daughter s. 
 The summer The Summer School of Philosophy was the last 
 
 School of 1 . . . . . , .. 
 
 Philosophy ambitious attempt of a spirit that had been struggling 
 for half a century to teach mankind. 
 
 The small chapel of plain, unpainted boards, nestling 
 among the trees on the hillside, has not been opened 
 since 1888. It stands a pathetic memento to a vision. 
 Twenty years ago the " school" was an overshadowing 
 reality, to-day it is a memory, a minor incident in the 
 progress of thought, a passing phase in intellectual 
 development. Many eminent men lectured there, and 
 the scope of the work is by no means indicated by the 
 humble building which remains ; but, while strong in 
 conversation and in the expression of his own views, 
 Alcott was not cut out for a leader. All reports indi 
 cate that he had a wonderful facility in the off-hand 
 expression of abstruse thought, but he had no faculty 
 whatsoever for so ordering and systematizing his 
 thoughts as to furnish explosive material for bellig 
 erent followers ; the intellectual ammunition he put 
 up was not in the convenient form of cartridges, nor 
 even in kegs or barrels, but just poured out on the 
 
Lexington and Concord 227 
 
 ground, where it disintegrated before it could be 
 used. 
 
 Leaning on the gate that bright, warm, summer 
 afternoon, it was not difficult to picture the venerable, 
 white-haired philosopher seated by the doorstep argu 
 ing eloquently with some congenial visitor, or chatting 
 with his daughter. One could almost see a small 
 throng of serious men and w.omen wending their way 
 up the still plainly marked path to the chapel, and 
 catch the measured tones of the lecturer as he ex 
 pounded theories too recondite for this practical age 
 and generation. 
 
 Philosophy is the sarcophagus of truth ; and most 
 systems of philosophy are like the pyramids, impres 
 sive piles of useless intellectual masonry, erected at 
 prodigious cost of time and labor to secrete from man 
 kind the truth. 
 
 A little farther on we came to the fork in the road Emerson s 
 where Lincoln Street branches off to the southeast. 
 Emerson s house fronts on Lincoln and is a few rods 
 from the intersection with Lexington Street. Here 
 Emerson lived from 1835 until his death in 1882. 
 
 It is singular the fascination exercised by localities 
 and things identified with great men. It is not enough 
 to simply see, but in so far as possible we wish to place 
 ourselves in their places, to walk where they walked, 
 sit where they sat, sleep where they slept, to merge 
 our petty and obscure individualities for the time being 
 in theirs, to lose our insignificant selves in the atmos 
 phere they created and left behind. Is it possible that 
 
228 On an Automobile 
 
 subtile distillations of personality penetrate and satu 
 rate inanimate things, so that aromas imperceptible to 
 the sense are given off for ages and affect all who come 
 in re:eptive mood within their influence? It is quite 
 likely that what we feel when we stand within the 
 shadow of a great soul is all subjective, that our emo 
 tions are but the workings of our imaginations stirred 
 by suggestive surroundings ; but who knows, who 
 knows ? 
 
 The fire in 1872 When this house was nearly destroyed by fire in 
 July, 1872, friends persuaded Emerson to go abroad 
 with his daughter, and while they were away, the 
 house was completely restored. 
 
 His son describes his return : " When the train 
 reached Concord, the bells were rung and a great com 
 pany of his neighbors and friends accompanied him, 
 under a triumphal arch, to his restored house. He was 
 greatly moved, but with characteristic modesty insisted 
 that this was a welcome to his daughter, and could 
 not be meant for him. Although he had felt quite un 
 able to make any speech, yet, seeing his friendly towns 
 people, old and young, in groups watching him enter 
 his own door once more, he turned suddenly back and 
 going to the gate said, My friends ! I know this is 
 not a tribute to an old man and his daughter returned 
 to their home, but to the common blood of us all one 
 family in Concord. 
 
 Last days The exposure incidental to the fire seriously under 
 
 mined Emerson s already failing health ; shortly after 
 he wrote a friend in Philadelphia, " It is too ridiculous 
 
Lexington and Concord 229 
 
 that a fire should make an old scholar sick; but the 
 exposures of that morning and the necessities of the 
 following days which kept me a large part of the time 
 in the blaze of the sun have in every way demoralized 
 me for the present, incapable of any sane or just 
 action. . . . These signal proofs of my debility and 
 decay ought to persuade you at your first northern ex 
 cursion to come and reanimate and renew the failing 
 powers of your still affectionate old friend." 
 
 The story of his last days is told by his son, who 
 was also his physician : 
 
 " His last few years were quiet and happy. Nature 
 gently drew the veil over his eyes ; he went to his 
 study and tried to work, accomplished less and less, but 
 did not notice it. However, he made out to look over 
 and index most of his journals. He enjoyed reading, 
 but found so much difficulty in conversation in asso 
 ciating the right word with his idea, that he avoided 
 going into company, and on that account gradually 
 ceased to attend the meetings of the Social Circle. As 
 his critical sense became dulled, his standard of in 
 tellectual performance was less exacting, and this was 
 most fortunate, for he gladly went to any public occa 
 sion where he could hear, and nothing would be ex 
 pected of him. He attended the Lyceum and all occa 
 sions of speaking or reading in the Town Hall with 
 unfailing pleasure. 
 
 " He read a lecture before his townpeople each 
 winter as late as 1880, but needed to have one of his 
 family near by to help him out with a word and assist 
 in keeping the place in his manuscript. In these last 
 years he liked to go to church. The instinct had always 
 
230 On an Automobile 
 
 been there, but he had felt that he could use his time to 
 better purpose." 
 
 HIS last illness In April, 1 882, a raw and backward spring, he 
 caught cold, and increased it by walking .out in the 
 rain and, through forgetfulness, omitting to put on 
 his over-coat. He had a hoarse cold for a few days, 
 and on the morning of April 19 I found him a little 
 feverish, so went to see him next day. He was asleep 
 on his study sofa, and when he awoke he proved to be 
 more feverish and a little bewildered, with unusual 
 difficulty in finding the right word. He was entirely 
 comfortable and enjoyed talking, and, as he liked to 
 have me read to him, I read Paul Revere s Ride, find 
 ing that he could only follow simple narrative. He 
 expressed great pleasure, was delighted that the story 
 was part of Concord s story, but was sure he had never 
 heard it before, and could hardly be made to under 
 stand who Longfellow was, though he had attended 
 his funeral only the week before." 
 
 It was at Longfellow s funeral that Emerson got up 
 from his chair, went to the side of the coffin and gazed 
 long and earnestly upon the familiar face of the dead 
 poet ; twice he did this, then said to a friend near him, 
 " That gentleman was a sweet, beautiful soul, but I 
 have entirely forgotten his name." 
 
 Continuing the narrative, the son says : " Though 
 dulled to other impressions, to one he was fresh as 
 long as he could understand anything, and while even 
 the familiar objects of his study began to look strange, 
 he smiled and pointed to Carlyle s head and said, 
 That is my man, my good man ! I mention this be- 
 
Lexington and Concord 231 
 
 cause it has been said that this friendship cooled, and 
 that my father had for long years neglected to write 
 to his early friend. He was loyal while life lasted, 
 but had been unable to write a letter for years before 
 he died. Their friendship did not need letters. 
 
 " The next day pneumonia developed itself in a por 
 tion of one lung and he seemed much sicker ; evidently 
 believed he was to die, and with difficulty made out 
 to give a word or two of instructions to his children. 
 He did not know how to be sick, and desired to be 
 dressed and sit up in his study, and as we had found 
 that any attempt to regulate his actions lately was very 
 annoying to him, and he could not be made to under 
 stand the reasons for our doing so in his condition, I 
 determined that it would not be worth while to trouble 
 and restrain him as it would a younger person who had 
 more to live for. He had lived free ; his life was 
 essentially spent, and in what must almost surely be his 
 last illness we would not embitter the occasion by any 
 restraint that was not absolutely unavoidable. 
 
 " He suffered very little, took his nourishment well, 
 but had great annoyance from his inability to find the 
 words which he wished for. He knew his friends and 
 family, but thought he was in a strange house. He 
 sat up in a chair by the fire much of the time, and only 
 on the last day stayed entirely in bed. 
 
 " During the sickness he always showed pleasure 
 when his wife sat by his side, and on one of the last 
 days he managed to express, in spite of his difficulty 
 with words, how long and happy they had lived to 
 gether. The sight of his grandchildren always brought 
 
232 On an Automobile 
 
 the brightest smile to his face. On the last day he 
 saw several of his friends and took leave of them. 
 
 " Only at the last came pain, and this was at once 
 relieved by ether, and in the quiet sleep this produced 
 he gradually faded away in the evening of Thursday, 
 April 27, 1882. 
 
 " Thirty-five years earlier he wrote one morning in 
 his journal : I said, when I awoke, after some more 
 sleepings and wakings I shall lie on this mattress sick ; 
 then dead ; and through my gay entry they will carry 
 these bones. Where shall I be then ? I lifted my head 
 and beheld the spotless orange light of the morning 
 streaming up from the dark hills into the wide uni- 
 
 After an j After a few more sleepings and a few more wakings 
 we shall all lie dead, every living soul on this broad 
 earth, all who, at this mathematical point in time 
 called the present, breathe the breath of life will pass 
 away ; but even now the new generation is springing 
 into life; within the next hour five thousand bodies 
 will be born into the world to perpetuate mankind ; the 
 whole lives by the constant renewal of its parts ; but 
 the individual, what becomes of the individual? 
 
 The five thousand bodies that are born within the 
 hour take the place of the something less than five 
 thousand bodies that die within the hour; the succes 
 sion is preserved ; the life of the aggregate is assured ; 
 but the individual, what becomes of the individual? 
 Is he immortal, and if immortal whence came he and 
 whither does he go? if immortal, whence come these 
 new souls which are being delivered on the face of the 
 
Lexington and Concord 233 
 
 globe at the rate of nearly a hundred a minute? Are 
 they from other worlds, exiled for a time to this, or 
 are they souls revisiting- their former habitation? 
 Hardly the latter, for more are coming than going. 
 
 One midsummer night, while leaning over the rail 
 of an ocean steamer and watching the white foam 
 thrown up by the prow, the expanse of dark, heaving 
 water, the vast dome of sky studded with the brilliant 
 jewels of space, an old man stopped by my side and 
 we talked of the grandeur of nature and the mysteries 
 of life and death, and he said, " My wife and I once 
 had three boys, whom we loved better than life; one 
 by one they were taken from us, they all died, and 
 my wife and I were left alone in the world ; but after 
 a time a boy was born to us and we gave him the name 
 of the oldest who died, and then another came and we 
 gave him the name of my second boy, and then a third 
 was born and we gave him the name of our youngest ; 
 and so in some mysterious way our three boys have 
 come back to us; we feel that they went away for a 
 little while and returned. I have sometimes looked in 
 their eyes and asked them if anything they saw or 
 heard seemed familiar, whether there was any faint 
 fleeting memories of other days ; they say no ; but I 
 am sure that their souls are the souls of the boys we 
 lost." 
 
 And why not? Is it not more than likely that there one soul 
 is but one soul which dwells in all things animate and 
 inanimate, or rather, are not all things animate and 
 inanimate but manifestations of the one soul, so that 
 the death of an individual is, after all, but the sup- 
 
2 34 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 pression of a particular manifestation and in no sense 
 a release of a separate soul ; so that the birth of a child 
 is but a new manifestation in physical form .of the one 
 soul, and in no sense the apparition of an additional 
 soul ? It is difficult to think otherwise. The birth and 
 death of souls are inconceivable ; the immortality of a 
 vast and varying number of individual souls is equally 
 inconceivable. Immortality implies unity, not number. 
 The mind can grasp the possibility of one soul, the 
 manifestation of which is the universe and all it con 
 tains. 
 
 The hypothesis of individual souls first confined in 
 and then released from individual bodies to preserve 
 their individuality for all time is inconceivable, since 
 it assumes to coin a word an intersoulular space, 
 which must necessarily be filled with a medium that 
 is either material or spiritual in its character ; if ma 
 terial, then we have the inconceivable condition of 
 spiritual entities surrounded by a material medium ; 
 if the intersoulular space be occupied by a spiritual 
 medium, then we have simply souls surrounded by 
 soul, or, in the final analysis, one soul, of which the 
 so-called individual souls are but so many manifesta 
 tions. 
 
 To the assumption of an all-pervading ether which 
 is the physical basis of the universe, may we not add 
 the suprasumption of an all-pervading soul which is 
 the spiritual basis of not only the ether but of life 
 itself? The seeming duality of mind and matter, of 
 the soul and body, must terminate somewhere, must 
 merge in identity. Whether that identity be the Crea 
 tor of theology or the soul of speculation does not much 
 
Lexington and Concord 235 
 
 matter, since the final result is the same, namely, the 
 immortality of that suprasumption, the soul. 
 
 But the individual, what becomes of the individual what becomes 
 in this assumption of an all-pervading, immortal soul, f n M* idua i f 
 of which all things animate and inanimate are but so 
 many activities? 
 
 The body, which for a time being is a part of the 
 local manifestation of the pervading soul, dies and is 
 resolved into its constituent elements ; it is inconceiv 
 able that those elements should ever gather themselves 
 together again and appear in visible, tangible form. No 
 one could possibly desire they ever should ; those who 
 die maimed, or from sickness and disease, or in the 
 decrepitude and senility of age, could not possibly wish 
 that their disordered bodies should appear again; nor 
 could any person name the exact period of his life 
 when he was so satisfied with his physical condition 
 that he would choose to have his body as it then was. 
 No ; the body, like the trunk of a fallen tree, decays 
 and disappears ; like ripe fruit, it drops to the earth 
 and enriches the soil, but nevermore resumes its form 
 and semblance. 
 
 The pervading soul, of which the body was but the The 
 physical manifestation, remains ; it does not return to 
 heaven or any hypothetical point in either space or 
 speculation. The dissolution of the body is but the 
 dissolution of a particular manifestation of the all- 
 pervading soul, and the immortality of the so-called 
 individual soul is but the persistence of that, so to 
 speak, local disturbance in the one soul after the body 
 has disappeared. It is quite conceivable, or rather the 
 reverse is inconceivable, that the activity of the per- 
 
236 On an Automobile 
 
 vading soul, which manifests itself for a time in the 
 body, persists indefinitely after the physical manifesta 
 tion has ceased ; that, with the cessation of the physical 
 manifestation, the particular activity which we recog 
 nize here as an individuality will so persist that here 
 after we may recognize it as a spiritual personality. 
 In other words, assuming the existence of a soul of 
 which the universe and all it contains are but so many 
 manifestations, it is dimly conceivable that with the 
 cessation, or rather the transformation, of any particu 
 lar manifestation, the effects may so persist as to be 
 forever known and recognizable, not by parts of the 
 one soul, which has no parts, but by the soul itself. 
 
 AH things Therefore all things are immortal. Nothing is so 
 
 lost to the infinite soul as to be wholly and totally ob 
 literated. The withering of a flower is as much the 
 act of the all-pervatling soul as the death of a child; 
 but the life and death of a human being involve ac 
 tivities of the soul so incomparably greater than the 
 blossoming of a plant, that the immortality of the one, 
 while not differing in kind, may be infinitely more 
 important in degree. The manifestation of the soul 
 in the life of the humming-bird is slight in comparison 
 with the manifestation in the life of a man, and the 
 traces which persist forever in the case of the former 
 are probably insignificant compared with the traces 
 which persist in the case of the latter ; but traces must 
 persist, else there is no immortality of the individual ; 
 at the same time there is not the slightest reason for 
 urging that, whereas traces of the soul s activity in the 
 form of man will persist, traces of the soul s activity 
 
Lexington and Concord 237 
 
 in lower forms of life and in things inanimate will not 
 persist. There is no reason why, when the physical 
 barriers which exist between us and the soul that is 
 within and without us are destroyed, we should not 
 desire to know forever all that the universe contains. 
 Why should not the sun and the moon and the stars be 
 immortal, as immortal in their way as we in ours, 
 both immortal in the one all-pervading soul? 
 
 ;< The philosophy of six thousand years has not The over-soui 
 searched the chambers and the magazine of the soul. 
 In its experiments there has always remained, in the 
 last analysis, a residuum it could not solve," said 
 Emerson in the lecture he called " Over-Soul." 
 
 What a pity to use the phrase " Over-Soul," which 
 removes the soul even farther aloof than it is in popu 
 lar conception, or which fosters the belief of an inner 
 and outer, or an inferior and a superior soul ; whereas 
 Emerson meant, as the context shows, the all-per 
 vading soul. 
 
 But, then, who knows what any one else thinks or The sounding 
 means? At the most we only know what others say, phrase 
 what words they use, but in what sense they use them 
 and the content of thought back of them we do not 
 know. So far as the problems of life go we are all 
 groping in the dark, and words are like fireflies leading 
 us hither and thither with glimpses of light only to go 
 out, leaving us in darkness and despair. 
 
 It is the sounding phrase that catches the ear. " For 
 fools admire and like all things the more which they 
 perceive to be concealed under involved language, and 
 determine things to be true which can prettily tickle 
 
238 On an Automobile 
 
 the ears and are varnished over with finely sounding 
 phrase," says Lucretius. We imagine we understand 
 when we do not; we do not really, truly, and wholly 
 understand Emerson or any other man; we do not 
 understand ourselves. 
 
 We speak of the conceivable and of the inconceivable 
 as if the words had any clear and tangible meaning 
 in our minds ; whereas they have not ; at the best they 
 are of but relative value. What is conceivable to one 
 man is inconceivable to another ; what is beyond the per 
 ception of one generation is matter of fact to the next. 
 
 The conceivable is and ever must be bounded by 
 the inconceivable; the domain of the former is finite, 
 that of the latter is infinite. It matters not how far 
 we press our speculations, how extravagant our hy 
 potheses, how distant our vision, we reach at length 
 the confines of our thought and admit the inconceiv 
 able. The inconceivable is a postulate as essential to 
 reason as is the conceivable. That the inconceivable 
 exists is as certain as the existence of the conceivable ; 
 it is in a sense more certain, since we constantly find 
 ourselves in error in our conclusions concerning the 
 existence of the things we know, while we can never 
 be in error concerning the existence of things we can 
 never know, being sure that beyond the confines of the 
 finite there must necessarily be the infinite. 
 
 We may indulge in assumptions concerning the in 
 finite based upon our knowledge of the finite, or, rather, 
 based upon the inflexible laws of our mental processes. 
 We may say that there must be one all-pervading soul, 
 not because we can form any conception whatsoever 
 of the true nature of such a soul, but because the alter- 
 
Lexington and Concord 239 
 
 native hypothesis of many individual souls is utterly 
 obnoxious to our reason. 
 
 To those who urge that it is idle to reason about 
 what we cannot conceive, it is sufficient answer to say 
 that man cannot help it. The scientist and the ma 
 terialist in the ardent pursuit of knowledge soon ex 
 perience the necessity of indulging in assumptions 
 concerning force and matter, the hypothetical ether 
 and molecules, atoms and vortices, which are as purely 
 metaphysical as any assumptions concerning the soul. 
 The distinction between the realist and the idealist is 
 a matter of temperament. All that separated Huxley 
 from Gladstone was a word ; each argued from the 
 unknowable, but disputed over the name and attributes 
 of the inconceivable. Huxley said he did not know, 
 which was equivalent to the dogmatic assertion that he 
 did ; Gladstone said he did know, which was a con 
 fession of ignorance denser than that of agnosticism. 
 
 Those men who try not to think or reason concern 
 ing the infinite simply imprison themselves within the 
 four walls of the cell they construct. It is better to 
 think and be wrong than not to think at all. Any 
 assumption is better than no assumption, any belief 
 better than none. 
 
 Hypotheses enlarge the boundaries of knowledge. 
 With assumptions the intellectual prospector stakes out 
 the infinite. In life we may not verify our premises, 
 but death is the proof of all things. 
 
 We stopped at Wright s tavern, where patriots used / the Square 
 to meet before the days of the revolution, and where 
 Major Pitcairn is said wrongfully in all probability 
 
240 On an Automobile 
 
 to have made his boast on the morning of the I9th, 
 as he stirred his toddy, that they would stir the rebels 
 blood before night. 
 
 One realizes that " there is but one Concord" as the 
 carriages of pilgrims are counted in the Square, and 
 the swarm .of young guides, with pamphlets and maps, 
 importune the chance visitor. 
 
 We chose the most persistent little urchin, not that 
 we could not find our way about so small a village, 
 but because he wanted to ride, and it is always inter 
 esting to draw out a child ; his story of the town and 
 its famous places was, of course, the one he had 
 learned from the others, but his comments were his 
 own, and the incongruity of going over the sacred 
 ground in an automobile had its effect. 
 
 The embattled It was a short run down Monument Street to the 
 farmers ^^ ^ beyond the Q ld Manse." Here the British 
 
 turned to cross the North Bridge on their way to 
 Colonel Barrett s house, where the ammunition was 
 stored. Just across the narrow bridge the " embattled 
 farmers stood and fired the shot heard round the 
 world." A monument marks the spot where the 
 British received the fire of the farmers, and a stone 
 at the side recites " Graves of two British soldiers," 
 unknown wanderers from home they surrendered 
 their lives in a quarrel, the merits of which they did 
 not know. " Soon was their warfare ended ; a weary 
 night march from Boston, a rattling volley of mus 
 ketry across the river, and then these many years of 
 rest. In the long procession of slain invaders who 
 passed into eternity from the battle-field of the revo- 
 
Lexington and Concord 241 
 
 lution, these two nameless soldiers led the way." 
 While standing by the grave, Hawthorne was told a 
 story, a tradition of how a youth, hurrying to the 
 battle-field axe in hand, came upon these two soldiers, 
 one not yet dead raised himself up painfully on his 
 hands and knees, and how the youth on the impulse 
 of the moment cleft the wounded man s head with the 
 axe. The tradition is probably false, but it made its 
 impression on Hawthorne, who continues, " I could 
 wish that the grave might be opened; for I would 
 fain know whether either of the skeleton soldiers has 
 the mark of an axe in his skull. The story comes home 
 to me like truth. Oftentimes, as an intellectual and 
 moral exercise, I have sought to follow that poor youth 
 through his subsequent career and observe how his 
 soul was tortured by the blood-stain, contracted as it 
 had been before the long custom of war had robbed 
 human life of its sanctity, and while it still seemed 
 murderous to slay a brother man. This one circum 
 stance has borne more fruit for me than all that his 
 tory tells us of the fight." 
 
 There are souls so callous that the taking of a human 
 life is no more than the killing of a beast; there are 
 souls so sensitive that they will not kill a living thing. 
 The man who can relate without regret so profound 
 it is close akin to remorse the killing of another no 
 matter what the provocation, no matter what the cir 
 cumstances is next kin to the common hangman. 
 
 From the windows of the " Old Manse," the Rev. 
 William Emerson, grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emer- 
 
 16 
 
242 On an Automobile 
 
 son, looked out upon the battle, and he would have 
 taken part in the fight had not his neighbors held him 
 back ; as it was, he sacrificed his life the following year 
 in attempting to join the army at Ticonderoga, con 
 tracting a fever which proved fatal. 
 
 sieepy Hollow Sleepy Hollow Cemetery lies on Bedford Street not 
 far from the Town Hall. We followed the winding 
 road to the hill where Hawthorne, Thoreau, the Al- 
 cotts, and Emerson lie buried within a half-dozen paces 
 of one another. 
 
 Thoreau came first in May, 1862. Emerson de 
 livered the funeral address. Mrs. Hawthorne writes 
 in her diary, " Mr. Thoreau died this morning. The 
 funeral services were in the church. Mr. Emerson 
 spoke. Mr. Alcott read from Mr. Thoreau s writings. 
 The body was in the vestibule covered with wild 
 flowers. We went to the grave." 
 
 Hawthorne came next, just two years later. " On 
 the 24th of May, 1864, we carried Hawthorne through 
 the blossoming orchards of Concord," says James T. 
 Fields, " and laid him down under a group of pines, 
 on a hillside, overlooking historic fields. All the way 
 from the village church to the grave the birds kept 
 up a perpetual melody. The sun shone brightly, and 
 the air was sweet and pleasant, as if death had never 
 entered the world. Longfellow and Emerson, Chan- 
 ning and Hoar, Agassiz and Lowell, Greene and 
 Whipple, Alcott and Clarke, Holmes and Hillard, and 
 other friends whom he loved, walked slowly by his 
 side that beautiful spring morning. The companion 
 of his youth and his manhood, for whom he would 
 
Lexington and Concord 243 
 
 willingly, at any time, have given up his own life, 
 Franklin Pierce, was there among the rest, and scat 
 tered flowers into the grave. The unfinished Ro 
 mance, which had cost him so much anxiety, the last 
 literary work on which he had ever been engaged, was 
 laid in his coffin." 
 
 Eighteen years later, on April 30, 1882, Emerson 
 was laid at rest a little beyond Hawthorne and Tho- 
 reau in a spot chosen by himself. 
 
 A special train came from Boston, but many could 
 not get inside the church. The town was draped; 
 " even the homes of the very poor bore outward marks 
 of grief." At the house, Dr. Furness, of Philadelphia, 
 conducted the services. " The body lay in the front 
 northeast room, in which were gathered the family 
 and close friends." The only flowers were lilies of the 
 valley, roses, and arbutus. 
 
 At the church, Judge Hoar, standing by the coffin, 
 spoke briefly; Dr. Furness read selections from the 
 Scriptures ; James Freeman Clarke delivered the 
 funeral address, and Alcott read a sonnet. 
 
 " Over an hour was occupied by the passing files 
 of neighbors, friends, and visitors looking for the last 
 time upon the face of the dead poet. The body was 
 robed completely in white, and the face bore a natural 
 and peaceful expression. From the church the proces 
 sion took its way to the cemetery. The grave was 
 made beneath a tall pine-tree upon the hill-top of 
 Sleepy Hollow, where lie the bodies of his friends 
 Thoreau and Hawthorne, the upturned sod being 
 concealed by strewings of pine boughs. A border of 
 
244 On an Automobile 
 
 hemlock spray surrounded the grave and completely 
 lined its sides. The services were very brief, and the 
 casket was soon lowered to its final resting-place. . . . 
 The grandchildren passed the open grave and threw 
 flowers into it." 
 
 In her " Journal," Louisa Alcott wrote, " Thursday, 
 27th. Mr. Emerson died at nine P.M. suddenly. Our 
 best and greatest American gone. The nearest and 
 dearest friend father ever had, and the man who has 
 helped me most by his life, his books, his society. I 
 can never tell all he has been to me, from the time 
 I sang Mignon s song under his window (a little girl) 
 and wrote letters a la Bettine to him, my Goethe, at 
 fifteen, up through my hard years, when his essays 
 on Self-Reliance, Character, Compensation, Love, and 
 Friendship helped me to understand myself and life, 
 and God and Nature. Illustrious and beloved friend, 
 good-by ! 
 
 " Sunday, 3oth. Emerson s funeral. I made a yel 
 low lyre of jonquils for the church, and helped trim 
 it up. Private service at the house, and a great crowd 
 at the church. Father read his sonnet, and Judge 
 Hoar and others spoke. Now he lies in Sleepy Hollow 
 among his brothers under the pines he loved." 
 
 On March 4, 1888, Bronson Alcott died, and two 
 days later Louisa Alcott followed her father. They lie 
 near together on the ridge a little beyond Hawthorne. 
 Initials only mark the graves of her sisters, but it has 
 been found necessary to place a small stone bearing 
 the name " Louisa" on the grave of the author of 
 " Little Women." She had made every arrangement 
 for her death, and by her own w r ish her funeral was in 
 
Lexington and Concord 245 
 
 her father s rooms in Boston, and attended by only a 
 few of her family and nearest friends. 
 
 " They read her exquisite poem to her mother, her 
 father s noble tribute to her, and spoke of the earnest 
 ness and truth of her life. She was remembered as she 
 would have wished to be. Her body was carried to 
 Concord and placed in the beautiful cemetery of 
 Sleepy Hollow, where her dearest ones were already 
 laid to rest. Her boys went beside her as a guard 
 of honor, and stood around as she was placed across 
 the feet of father, mother, and sister, that she might 
 take care of them as she had done all her life. 
 
 Louisa Alcott s last written words were the acknowl 
 edgment of the receipt of a flower. " It stands beside 
 me on Marmee s (her mother) work-table, and re 
 minds me tenderly of her favorite flowers ; and among 
 those used at her funeral was a spray of this, which 
 lasted for two weeks afterwards, opening bud by bud 
 in the glass on her table, where lay the dear old Jos. 
 May hymn-book, and her diary with the pen shut in as 
 she left it when she last wrote there, three days before 
 the end, The twilight is closing about me, and I am 
 going to rest in the arms of my children. So, you see, 
 I love the delicate flower and enjoy it very much." 
 
 Reverently, with bowed heads, we stood on that 
 pine-covered ridge which contained the mortal remains 
 of so many who are great and illustrious in the annals 
 of American literature. A scant patch of earth hides 
 their dust, but their fancies, their imaginings, their 
 philosophy spanned human conduct, emotions, beliefs, 
 and aspirations from the cradle to the grave. 
 
246 On an Automobile 
 
 The warm September clay was drawing to a close; 
 the red sun was sinking towards the west; the hill 
 top was aflame with a golden glow from the slanting 
 rays of the declining sun. Slowly we wended our way 
 through the shadowy hollow below ; looking back, the 
 mound seemed crowned with glory. 
 
 road Leaving Concord by Main Street we passed some 
 famous homes, among them Thoreau s earlier home, 
 where he made lead-pencils with the deftness which 
 characterized all his handiwork; turning to the left 
 on Thoreau Street we crossed the tracks and took the 
 Sudbury road through all the Sudburys, four in 
 number; the roads were good and the country all 
 the more interesting because not yet invaded by 
 the penetrating trolley. It would be sacrilegious for 
 electric cars to go whizzing by the ancient tombs 
 and monuments that fringe the road down through 
 Sudbury; the automobile felt out of place and 
 instinctively slowed down to stately and measured 
 pace. 
 
 In all truth, one should walk, not ride, through this 
 beautiful country, where every highway has its historic 
 associations, every burying-ground its honored dead, 
 every hamlet its weather-beaten monument. But if one 
 is to ride, the automobile incongruous as it may seem 
 has this advantage, it will stand indefinitely any 
 where; it may be left by the roadside for hours; no 
 one can start it; hardly any person would maliciously 
 harm it, providing it is far enough to one side so as not 
 to frighten passing horses ; excursions on foot may be 
 
Lexington and Concord 247 
 
 made to any place of interest, then, when the day 
 draws to a close, a half -hour suffices to reach the 
 chosen resting-place. 
 
 It was getting dark as we passed beneath the stately The 
 trees bordering the old post-road which leads to the 
 door of the " Wayside Inn." 
 
 Here the stages from Boston to Worcester used to 
 stop for dinner. Here Washington, Lafayette, Bur- 
 goyne, and other great men of Revolutionary days had 
 been entertained, for along this highway the troops 
 marched and countermarched. The old inn is rich in 
 historic associations. 
 
 The road which leads to the very door of the inn 
 is the old post-road; the finely macadamized State 
 road which passes a little farther away is of recent 
 dedication, and is located so as to leave the ancient 
 hostelry a little retired from ordinary travel. 
 
 A weather-beaten sign with a red horse rampant The Howe 
 swings at one corner of the main building. 
 
 " Half effaced by rain and shine, 
 The Red Horse prances on the sign." 
 
 For nearly two hundred years, from 1683 to 1860, the 
 inn was owned and kept by one family, the Howes, 
 and was called by many " Howe s Tavern," by others 
 " The Red Horse Inn." 
 
 Since the publication of Longfellow s " Tales of a 
 Wayside Inn," the place has been known by no other 
 name than the one it now bears. 
 
248 On an Automobile 
 
 " As ancient is this hostelry 
 As any in the land may be, 
 Built in the old Colonial day, 
 When men lived in a grander way, 
 With ampler hospitality; 
 A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall, 
 Now somewhat fallen to decay, 
 With weather-stains upon the wall, 
 And stairways worn, and crazy doors, 
 And creaking and uneven floors, 
 And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall." 
 
 A portrait of Lyman Howe, the last landlord of the 
 family, hangs in the little bar-room, 
 
 " A man of ancient pedigree, 
 A Justice of the Peace was he, 
 Known in all Sudbury as The Squire. 
 Proud was he of his name and race, 
 Of old Sir William and Sir Hugh." 
 
 And now as of yore 
 
 " In the parlor, full in view, 
 His coat-of-arms, well framed and glazed, 
 Upon the wall in colors blazed." 
 
 The small window-panes which the poet describes as 
 bearing 
 
 " The jovial rhymes, that still remain, 
 Writ near a century ago, 
 By the great Major Molineaux, 
 Whom Hawthorne has immortal made," 
 
 are preserved in frames near the mantel in the parlor, 
 one deeply scratched by diamond ring with name of 
 Major Molineaux and the date, " June 24th, 1774," 
 the other bears this inscription, 
 
Lexington and Concord 249 
 
 " What do you think ? 
 
 Here is good drink, 
 Perhaps you may not know it; 
 
 If not in haste, 
 
 Do stop and taste, 
 You merry folk will show it." 
 
 A worthy, though not so gifted, successor of the A true accomp 
 jolly major rendered the following " true accomp.," 
 which, yellow and faded, hangs on the bar-room wall : 
 
 " Thursday, August 7th, 1777. 
 s. d. 
 
 Super & Loging 014 
 
 8th. Brakfast, Dinar and 019 
 
 Super and half mug of tody . . .026 
 9th. Lodging, one glass rum half . . .026 
 
 & Dinar, one mes oats 014 
 
 Super, half mug flyp 030 
 
 loth. Brakf. one dram o i 8 
 
 Dinner, Lodging, horse-keeping ..020 
 one mug flyp, horse bating . . . .030 
 
 nth. horse keeping i 
 
 I3th. glass rum & Diner T 8 
 
 i4th. Horse bating . 006 
 
 Horse Jorney 28 miles o 5 10 
 
 A true accomp. total .... i 14 6 
 
 William Bradford. 
 Delivered to Capt. Crosby . . .226 
 
 Alas ! the major s inscription and the foregoing 
 " accomp." are hollow mockeries to the thirsty travel 
 ler, for there is neither rum nor " flyp" to be had ; the 
 bar is dry as an old cork; the door of the cupboard 
 into which the jovial Howes were wont to stick the 
 awl with which they opened bottles still hangs, worn 
 completely through by the countless jabs, a melancholy 
 
wine 
 
 250 On an Automobile 
 
 reminder of the convivial hours of other days. The 
 restrictions of more abstemious times have relegated 
 the ancient bar to dust, the idle awl to slow-consuming 
 rust. 
 
 It is amazing how thirsty one gets in the presence of 
 musty associations of a convivial character. The ghost 
 of a spree is a most alluring fellow ; it is the dust on 
 the bottle that flavors the wine; a musty bin is the 
 soul s delight ; we drink the vintage and not the wine. 
 
 A glass of Drinking is a lost art, eating a forgotten ceremony. 
 
 The pendulum has swung from Trimalchio back to 
 Trimalchio. Quality is lost in quantity. The tables 
 groan, the cooks groan, the guests groan, feasting is 
 a nightmare. 
 
 Wine is a subject, not a beverage ; it is discussed, not 
 drunk ; it is sipped, tasted, and swallowed reluctantly ; 
 it lingers on the palate in fragrant and delicious mem 
 ory; it comes a bouquet and departs an aroma; it is 
 the fruition of years, the distillation of ages ; a liquid 
 jewel, it reflects the subtle colors of the rainbow, run 
 ning the gamut from a dull red glow to the violet rays 
 that border the invisible. 
 
 But, alas ! the appreciation of wine is lost. Every 
 body serves wine, no one understands it ; everybody 
 drinks it, no one loves it. From a fragrant essence 
 wine has become a coarse reality, a convention. 
 Chablis with the oysters, sherry with the soup, sauterne 
 with .the fish, claret with the roast, Burgundy with 
 the game, champagne somewhere, anywhere, every 
 where ; port, grand, old ruddy port that has disap 
 peared ; no one understands it and no one knows when 
 
Lexington and Concord 251 
 
 to serve it; while Madeira, that bloom of the vinous 
 century plant, that rare exotic which ripens with pass 
 ing generations, is all too subtle for our untutored dis 
 crimination. 
 
 And if, perchance, a good wine, like a strange guest, 
 finds its way to the table, we are at loss how to receive 
 it, how to address it, how to entertain it. We offend it 
 in the decanting and distress it in the serving. We 
 buy our wines in the morning and serve them in the 
 evening to drink the sediment which the more fastidi 
 ous wine during long years has been slowly rejecting; 
 we mix the bright transparent liquid with its dregs and 
 our rough palates detect no difference. But the lover 
 of wine, the more he has the less he drinks, until, in 
 the refinement and exaltation of his taste, it is sufficient 
 to look upon the dust-mantled bottle and recall the 
 delicious aroma and flavor, the recollection of which 
 is far too precious to risk by trying anew ; he knows 
 that if a bottle be so much as turned in its couch it 
 must sleep again for years before it is really fit to 
 drink ; he knows how difficult it is to get the wine out 
 of the bottle clear as ruby or yellow diamond; he 
 knows that if so much as a speck of sediment gets into 
 the decanter, to precisely the extent of the speck is the 
 wine injured. 
 
 In serving wines, we of the Western world may 
 learn something from the tea ceremonies of the Japan 
 ese, ceremonies so elaborate that to our impatient 
 notions they are infinitely tedious, and yet they get 
 from the tea all the exquisite delight it contains, and 
 at the same time invest its serving with a halo of form, 
 tradition, and association. Surely, if wine is to be 
 
252 On an Automobile 
 
 taken at all, it is as precious as a cup of tea; and if 
 taken ceremoniously, it will be taken moderately. 
 
 What is the use of serving good wine? No one 
 recognizes it, appreciates it, or cares for it. It is served 
 by the butler and removed by the footman without 
 introduction, greeting, or comment. The Hon. Sam 
 Jones, from Podunk, is announced in stentorian tones 
 as he makes his advent, but the gem of the dinner, 
 the treat of the evening, the flower of the feast, an 
 Haut Brion of 75, or an Yquem of 64, or a Johannis- 
 berger of 61, comes in like a tramp without a word. 
 Possibly some one of the guests, whose palate has not 
 been blunted by coarse living or seared by strong drink, 
 may feel that he is drinking something out of the ordi 
 nary, and he may linger .over his glass, loath to sip 
 the last drop; but all the others gulp their wine, or 
 leave it with the indifference of ignorance. 
 
 Good wine is loquacious ; it is a great traveller and 
 smacks of many lands ; it is a bon vivant and has dined 
 with the select of the earth; it recalls a thousand 
 anecdotes; it reeks with reminiscences; it harbors a 
 kiss and reflects a glance, but it is a silent companion 
 to those who know it not, and it is quarrelsome with 
 those who abuse it. 
 
 It seemed a pity that somewhere about the inn, deep 
 in some long disused cellar, there were not a few 
 just a few bottles of old wine, a half-dozen port of 
 1815, one or two squat bottles of Madeira brought over 
 by men who knew Washington, an Yquem of 48, a 
 Margaux of 58, a Johannisberger Cabinet not for- 
 
Lexington and Concord 253 
 
 getting the " Auslese" of 61, with a few bottles of 
 Romani Conti and Clos de Vougeot of 69 or 70, 
 not to exceed two or three dozen all told ; not a plebeian 
 among them, each the chosen of its race, and all so 
 well understood that the very serving would carry one 
 back to colonial days, when to offer a guest a glass of 
 Madeira was a subtle tribute to his capacity and appre 
 ciation. 
 
 It is a far cry from an imaginary banquet with Boston baked 
 Lucullus to the New England Saturday night supper beans 
 of pork and beans which was spread before us that 
 evening. The dish is a survival of the rigid Puritan 
 ism which was the affliction and at the same time the 
 making of New England; it is a fast, an aggravated 
 fast, a scourge to indulgence, a reproach to gluttony; 
 it comes Saturday night, and is followed Sunday morn 
 ing by the dry, spongy, antiseptic, absorbent fish-ball 
 as a castigation of nature and as a preparation for the 
 austere observance of the Sabbath ; it is the harsh, but 
 no doubt deserved, punishment of the stomach for its 
 worldliness during the week ; inured to suffering, the 
 native accepts the dose as a matter of course; to the 
 stranger it seems unduly severe. To be sent to bed 
 supperless is one of the terrors of childhood ; to be sent 
 to bed on pork and beans with the certainty of fish- 
 balls in the morning is a refinement of torture that 
 could have been devised only by Puritan ingenuity. 
 
 At the very crisis of the trouble in China, when the 
 whole world was anxiously awaiting news from Pekin, 
 the papers said that Boston was perturbed by the re 
 ported discovery in Africa of a new and edible bean. 
 
254 O n an Automobile 
 
 To New England the bean is an obsession ; it is 
 rapidly becoming a superstition. To the stranger it 
 is an infliction ; but, bad as the bean is to the unini 
 tiated, it is a luscious morsel compared with the flavor 
 less cod-fish ball which lodges in the throat and stays 
 there a second Adam s apple for lack of something 
 to wash it down. 
 
 If pork and beans is the device of the Puritans, the 
 cod-fish ball is the invention of the devil. It is as if 
 Satan looked on enviously while his foes prepared 
 their powder of beans, and then, retiring to his bottom 
 less pit, went them one better by casting his ball of 
 cod-fish. 
 
 " But from the parlor of the inn 
 A pleasant murmur smote the ear, 
 Like water rushing through a weir ; 
 Oft interrupted by the din 
 Of laughter and of loud applause. 
 
 " The firelight, shedding over all 
 The splendor of its ruddy glow, 
 Filled the whole parlor large and low." 
 
 rhe "Young The room remains, but of all that jolly company 
 which gathered in Longfellow s days and constituted 
 the imaginary weavers of tales and romances, but one 
 is alive to-day, the " Young Sicilian." 
 
 " A young Sicilian, too, was there ; 
 In sight of Etna born and bred, 
 Some breath of its volcanic air 
 Was glowing in his heart and brain, 
 
Lexington and Concord 255 
 
 And, being rebellious to his liege, 
 
 After Palermo s fatal siege, 
 
 Across the western seas he fled, 
 
 In good king Bomba s happy reign. 
 
 His face was like a summer night, 
 
 All flooded with a dusky light; 
 
 His hands were small ; his teeth shone white 
 
 As sea-shells, when he smiled or spoke." 
 
 To the present proprietor of the inn the " Young 
 Sicilian" wrote the following letter : 
 
 ROME, July 4, 1898. 
 
 DEAR SIR, In answer to your letter of June 8, 1 am delighted 
 to learn that you have purchased the dear old house and care 
 fully restored and put it back in its old-time condition. I 
 sincerely hope that it may remain thus for a long, long time 
 as a memento of the days and customs gone by. It is very 
 sad for me to think that I am the only living member of that 
 happy company that used to spend their summer vacations 
 there in the fifties; yet I still hope that I may visit the old 
 Inn once more before I rejoin those choice spirits whom Mr. 
 Longfellow has immortalized in his great poem. I am glad 
 that some of the old residents still remember me when I was 
 a visitor there with Dr. Parsons (the Poet), and his sisters, 
 one of whom, my wife, is also the only living member of those 
 who used to assemble there. Both my wife and I remember 
 well Mr. Calvin Howe, Mr. Parmenter, and the others you 
 mention; for we spent many summers there with Professor 
 Treadwell (the Theologian) and his wife, Mr. Henry W. 
 Wales (the Student), and other visitors not mentioned in 
 the poem, till the death of Mr. Lymari Howe (the Landlord), 
 which broke up the party. The " Musician" and the " Spanish 
 Jew." though not imaginary characters, were never guests at 
 the " Wayside Inn." I remain, 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 LUIGI MONTI (the "Young Sicilian"). 
 
2 5 6 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 But there was a " Musician," for Ole Bull was once 
 a guest at the Wayside, 
 
 " Fair-haired, blue-eyed, his aspect blithe, 
 His figure tall and straight and lithe, 
 And every feature of his face 
 Revealing his Norwegian race." 
 
 The " Spanish Jew from Alicant" in real life was 
 Israel Edrehi. 
 
 The tales The Landlord told his tale of Paul Revere; the 
 
 " Student" followed with his story of love : 
 
 " Only a tale of love is mine, 
 Blending the human and divine, 
 A tale of the Decameron, told 
 In Palmieri s garden old." 
 
 And one by one the tales were told until the last was 
 
 said. 
 
 " The hour was late ; the fire burned low, 
 The Landlord s eyes were closed in sleep, 
 And near the story s end a deep 
 Sonorous sound at times was heard, 
 As when the distant bagpipes blow, 
 At this all laughed ; the Landlord stirred, 
 As one awaking from a swound, 
 And, gazing anxiously around, 
 Protested that he had not slept, 
 But only shut his eyes, and kept 
 His ears attentive to each word. 
 Then all arose, and said Good-Night. 
 Alone remained the drowsy Squire 
 To rake the embers of the fire, 
 And quench the waning parlor light ; 
 While from the windows, here and there, 
 
Lexington and Concord 257 
 
 The scattered lamps a moment gleamed, 
 And the illumined hostel seemed 
 The constellation of the Bear, 
 Downward, athwart the misty air, 
 Sinking and setting toward the sun. 
 Far off the village clock struck one." 
 
 Before leaving the next morning, we visited the an- The ballroom 
 cient ballroom which extends over the dining-room. 
 It seemed crude and cruel to enter this hall of bygone 
 revelry by the garish light of day. The two fireplaces 
 were cold and inhospitable; the pen at one end where 
 the fiddlers sat was deserted; the wooden benches 
 which fringed the sides were hard and forbidding; 
 but long before any of us were born this room was the 
 scene of many revelries ; the vacant hearths were 
 bright with flame ; the fiddlers bowed and scraped ; 
 the seats were filled with belles and beaux, and the 
 stately minuet was danced upon the polished floor. 
 
 The large dining-room and ballroom were added to 
 the house something more than a hundred years ago ; 
 the little old dining-room and old kitchen in the rear 
 of the bar still remain, but like the bar are no longer 
 used. 
 
 The brass name plates on the bedroom doors 
 Washington, Lafayette, Howe, and so on have no 
 significance, but were put on by the present proprietor 
 simply as reminders that those great men were once 
 beneath the roof; but in what rooms they slept or 
 were entertained, history does not record. 
 
 The automobile \vill bring new life to these deserted 
 hostelries. For more than half a century steam has 
 
 17 
 
258 On an Automobile 
 
 diverted their custom, carrying former patrons from 
 town to town without the need of half-way stops and 
 rests. Coaching is a fad, not a fashion; it is not to 
 be relied upon for steady custom; but automobiling 
 bids fair to carry the people .once more into the coun 
 try, and there must be inns to receive them. 
 
 some new Already the proprietor was struggling with the 
 
 problem what to do with automobiles and what to do 
 for them who drove them. He was vainly endeavor 
 ing to reconcile the machines with horses and house 
 them under one roof; the experiment had already 
 borne fruit in some disaster and no little discomfort. 
 
 The automobile is quite willing to be left out-doors 
 over night ; but if taken inside it is quite apt to assert 
 itself rather noisily and monopolize things to the dis 
 comfort of the horse. Stables to rob the horse of the 
 name of his home must be provided, and these should 
 be equipped for emergencies. 
 
 Every country inn should have on hand gasoline 
 this is easily stored outside in a tank buried in the 
 ground and lubricating oils for steam and gasoline 
 machines ; these can be kept and sold in gallon cans. 
 
 In addition to supplies there should be some tools, 
 beginning with a good jack strong enough to lift the 
 heaviest machine, a small bench and vise, files, chisels, 
 punches, and one or two large wrenches, including a 
 pipe- wrench. All these things can be purchased for 
 little more than a song, and when needed they are 
 needed badly. But gasoline and lubricating oils are 
 absolutely essential to the permanent prosperity of any 
 well-conducted wayside inn. 
 
CALLJNG THE FEPCV 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 RHODE ISLAND AND CONNECTICUT 
 
 NEXT morning, Sunday the 8th, we left the inn at 
 eleven o clock for Providence. It was a perfect morn 
 ing, neither hot nor cold, sun bright, and the air 
 stirring. 
 
 We took the narrow road almost opposite the en 
 trance to the inn, climbed the hill, threaded the woods, 
 and were soon travelling almost due south through 
 Framingham, Holliston, Medway, Franklin, and West 
 Wrentham towards Pawtucket. 
 
 That route is direct, the roads are good, the country 
 rolling and interesting. The villages come in close 
 
 259 
 
260 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Good roads 
 
 Tire leaking 
 
 Narragansctt 
 Pier 
 
 succession ; there are many quaint places and beautiful 
 homes. 
 
 In this section of Massachusetts it does not matter 
 much what roads are selected, they are all good. Some 
 are macadamized, more are gravelled, and where there 
 is neither macadam nor gravel, the roads have been so 
 carefully thrown up that they are good ; we found no 
 bad places at all, no deep sand, and no rough, hard 
 blue clay. 
 
 When we stopped for luncheon at a little village not 
 far from Pawtucket, the tire which had been put on 
 in Boston was leaking badly. It was the tire that had 
 been punctured and sent to the factory for repairs, 
 and the repair proved defective. We managed to get 
 to Pawtucket, and there tried to stop the leak with 
 liquid preparations, but by the time we reached Provi 
 dence the tire was again flat and as it proved after 
 wards ruined. 
 
 Had it not been for the tire, Narragansett Pier 
 would have been made that afternoon with ease; but 
 there was nothing to do but wire for a new tire and 
 await its arrival. 
 
 It was not until half-past three .o clock Monday that 
 the new one came from New York, and it was five 
 when we left for the Pier. 
 
 The road from Providence to Narragansett Pier is 
 something more than fair, considerably less than fine ; 
 it is hilly and in places quite sandy. For some distance 
 out of Providence it was dusty and worn rough by 
 heavy travel. 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 261 
 
 It was seven o clock, dark and quite cold, when we 
 drew up in front of Green s Inn. 
 
 The season was over, the Pier quite deserted. A 
 summer resort after the guests have gone is a mourn 
 ful, or a delightful, place as one views it. To the gre 
 garious individual who seeks and misses his kind, the 
 place is loneliness itself after the flight of the gay 
 birds who for a time strutted about in gorgeous plu 
 mage twittering the time away ; to the man who loves 
 to be in close and undisturbed contact with nature, 
 who enjoys communing with the sea, who would be 
 alone on the beach and silent, by the waves, the flight 
 of the throng is a relief. There is a selfish satisfaction 
 in passing the great summer caravansaries and seeing 
 them closed and silent ; in knowing that the splendor 
 of the night will not be marred by garish lights and 
 still more garish sounds. 
 
 Were it not for the crowd, Narragansett Pier would 
 be an ideal spot for rest and recreation. The beach is 
 perfect, hard, firm sand, sloping so gradually into 
 deep water, and with so little undertow and so few 
 dangers, that children can play in the water without 
 attendants. The village itself is inoffensive, the coun 
 try about is attractive ; but the crowd the crowd 
 that comes in summer conies with a rush almost to 
 the hour in July, and takes flight with a greater rush 
 almost to the minute in August, the crowd over 
 whelms, submerges, ignores the natural charms of the 
 place, and for the time being nature hides its honest 
 head before the onrush of sham and illusion. 
 
 Why do the people come in a week and go in a day ? 
 What is there about Narragansett that keeps every one 
 
262 On an Automobile 
 
 away until a certain time each year, attracts them for 
 a few weeks, and then bids them off within twenty- 
 four hours? Just nothing at all. All attractions the 
 place has the ocean, the beach, the drives, the country 
 remain the same; but no one dares come before the 
 appointed time, no one dares stay after the flight 
 begins; no one? That is hardly true, for in every 
 beautiful spot, by the ocean and in the mountains, 
 there are a few appreciative souls who know enough 
 to make their homes in nature s caressing embrace 
 while she works for their pure enjoyment her won 
 drous panorama of changing seasons. There are 
 people who linger at the sea-shore until from the steel- 
 gray waters are heard the first mutterings of ap 
 proaching winter; there are those who linger in the 
 woods and mountains until the green of summer 
 yields to the rich browns and golden russets of au 
 tumn, until the honk of the wild goose foretells the 
 coming cold; these and their kind are nature s truest 
 and dearest friends; to them does she unfold a thou 
 sand hidden beauties; to them does she whisper her 
 most precious secrets. 
 
 But the crowd the crowd the painted throng that 
 steps to the tune of a fiddle, that hangs on the moods 
 of a caterer, whose inspiration is a good dinner, whose 
 aspiration is a new dance, that crowd is never missed 
 by any one who really delights in the manifold attrac 
 tions of nature. 
 
 Newport Not that the crowd at Narragansett is essentially 
 
 other than the crowd at Newport the two do not 
 mix; but the difference is one of degree rather than 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 263 
 
 kind. The crowd at Newport is architecturally per 
 fect, while the crowd at Narragansett is in the adobe 
 stage, that is the conspicuous difference; the one is 
 pretentious and lives in structures more or less perma 
 nent ; the other lives in trunks, and is even more 
 pretentious. Neither, as a crowd, has more than a 
 superficial regard for the natural charms of its sur 
 roundings. The people at both places are entirely 
 preoccupied with themselves and their neighbors. 
 At Newport a reputation is like an umbrella lost, 
 borrowed, lent, stolen, but never returned. Some one 
 has cleverly said that the American girl, unlike girls 
 of European extraction, if she loses her reputation, 
 promptly goes and gets another, to be strictly accu 
 rate, she promptly goes and gets another s. What 
 a world of bother could be saved if a woman could 
 check her reputation with her wraps on entering the 
 Casino; for, no matter how small the reputation, it 
 is so annoying to have the care of it during social 
 festivities where it is not wanted, or where, like dogs, 
 it is forbidden the premises. Then, too, if the repu 
 tation happens to be somewhat soiled, stained, or 
 tattered, like an old opera cloak, what woman 
 wants it about. It is difficult to sit on it, as on a 
 wrap in a theatre ; it is conspicuous to hold in the 
 lap where every one may see its imperfections ; per 
 haps the safest thing is to do as many a woman does, 
 ask her escort to look out for it, thereby shifting the 
 responsibility to him. It may pass through strange 
 vicissitudes in his careless hands, he may drop it, 
 damage it, lose it, even destroy it, but she is reasonably 
 sure that when the time comes he will return her either 
 
264 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 Narragansett 
 
 versus 
 
 Newport 
 
 No room for 
 gossip 
 
 the old in a tolerable state of preservation, or a new 
 one of some kind in its place. 
 
 Narragansett possesses this decided advantage over 
 Newport, the people do not know each other until it 
 is too late. For six weeks the gay little world moves 
 on in blissful ignorance of antecedents and reputa 
 tions ; no questions are asked, no information volun 
 teered save that disclosed by the hotel register, in 
 formation frequently of apocryphal value. The gay 
 beau of the night may be the industrious clerk of the 
 morrow ; the baron of the summer may be the barber 
 of the winter; but what difference does it make? If 
 the beau beaus and the baron barons, is not the femi 
 nine cup of happiness filled to overflowing? the only 
 requisite being that beau and baron shall preserve 
 their incognito to the end ; hence the season must be 
 short in order that no one s identity may be discovered. 
 
 At Newport every one labors under the disadvan 
 tage of being known, for the most part too well 
 known. How painful it must be to spend summer 
 after summer in a world of reality, where the truth 
 is so much more thrilling than any possible fiction that 
 people are deprived of the pleasure of invention and 
 the imagination falls into desuetude. At Narragan 
 sett every one is veneered for the occasion, every 
 seam, scar, and furrow is hidden by paint, powder, 
 and rouge ; the duchess may be a cook, but the count 
 who is a butler gains nothing by exposing her. 
 
 The very conditions of existence at Newport de 
 mand the exposure of every frailty and every folly; 
 the skeleton must sit at the feast. There is no room 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 265 
 
 for gossip where the facts are known. Nothing is 
 whispered ; the megaphone carries the tale. What a 
 ghastly society, where no amount of finery hides the 
 bald, the literal truth ; where each night the same ones 
 meet and, despite the vain attempt to deceive by out 
 ward appearances, relentlessly look each other through 
 and through. Of what avail is a necklace of pearls 
 or a gown of gold against such X-ray vision, such 
 intimate knowledge of one s past, of all one s physi 
 cal, mental, and moral shortcomings ? The smile fades 
 from the lips, the hollow compliment dies on the 
 tongue, for how is it possible to pretend in the presence 
 of those who know? 
 
 At Narragansett friends are strangers, in Newport Recognition as 
 they are enemies ; in both places the quality of friend 
 ship is strained. The two problems of existence are, 
 Whom shall I recognize? and, Wlio will recognize 
 me? A man s standing depends upon the women he 
 knows ; a woman s upon the women she cuts. At 
 a summer resort recognition is a fine art which is 
 not affected by any prior condition of servitude or 
 acquaintance. No woman can afford to sacrifice her 
 position upon the altar of friendship; in these small 
 worlds recognition has no relation whatsoever to 
 friendship, it is rather a convention. If your hostess 
 of the winter passes you with a cold stare, it is a 
 matter of prudence rather than indifference; the out 
 side world does not understand these things, but is 
 soon made to. 
 
 Women are the arbiters of social fate, and as such 
 must be placated, but not too servilely. In society a 
 blow goes farther than a kiss ; it is a warfare wherein 
 
266 On an Automobile 
 
 it does not pay to be on the defensive; those are re 
 vered who are most feared; those who nail to their 
 mast the black flag and show no quarter are the recog 
 nized leaders, Society is piracy. 
 
 The summer Green s Inn was cheery, comfortable, and hospi 
 
 table; but then the season had passed and things had 
 returned to their normal routine. 
 
 The summer hotel passes through three stages each 
 season, that of expectation, of realization, and of 
 regret; it is unpleasant during the first stage, in 
 tolerable during the second, frequently delightful 
 during the third. During the first there is a period 
 when the host and guest meet on a footing of equality ; 
 during the second the guest is something less than a 
 nonentity, an humble suitor at the monarch s throne; 
 during the third the conditions are reversed, and the 
 guest is lord of all he is willing to survey. It is con 
 ducive to comfort to approach these resorts during the 
 last stage, unless, of course, they happen to be those 
 ephemeral caravansaries which close in confusion on 
 the flight of the crowd; they are never comfortable. 
 
 The road to The best road from Boston to New York is said to 
 
 be by way of Worcester, Springfield, and through 
 central Connecticut via Hartford and New Haven ; 
 but we did not care to retrace our wheels to Worcester 
 and Springfield, and we did want to follow the shore ; 
 but we were warned by many that after leaving the 
 Pier we would find the roads very bad. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the shore road from the Pier to 
 New Haven is not good ; it is hilly, sandy, and rough ; 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 267 
 
 but it is entirely practicable, and makes up in beauty 
 and interest what it lacks in quality. 
 
 We did not leave Green s Inn until half-past nine 
 the morning after our arrival, and we reached New 
 Haven that evening at exactly eight, a delightful run 
 of eighty or ninety miles by the road taken. 
 
 The road is a little back from the shore and it is 
 anything but straight, winding in and out in the effort 
 to keep near the coast. Nearly all day long we were 
 in sight of the ocean; now and then some wooded 
 promontory obscured our view; now and then we 
 were threading woods and valleys farther inland ; now 
 and then the road almost lost itself in thickets of 
 shrubbery and undergrowth, but each time we would 
 emerge in sight of the broad expanse of blue water 
 which lay like a vast mirror on that bright and still 
 September day. 
 
 We ferried across the river to New London. At 
 Lyme there is a very steep descent to the Connecticut 
 River, which is a broad estuary at that point. The 
 ferry is a primitive side-wheeler, which might carry 
 two automobiles, but hardly more. It happened to be 
 on the far shore. A small boy pointed out a long tin 
 horn hanging on a post, the hoarse blast of which 
 summons the sleepy boat. 
 
 There was no landing, and it seemed impossible for 
 our vehicle to get aboard; but the boat had a long 
 shovel-like nose projecting from the bow which ran 
 upon the shore, making a perfect gang-plank. 
 
 Carefully balancing the automobile in the centre so 
 
268 On an Automobile 
 
 as not to list the primitive craft, we made our way de 
 liberately to the other side, the entire crew of two men 
 engineer and captain coming out to talk with us. 
 
 The ferries at Lyme and New London would prove 
 great obstacles to anything like a club from New York 
 to Newport along this road ; the day would be spent 
 in getting machines across the two rivers. 
 
 A small boy It was dark when we ran into the city. This par 
 
 ticular visit to New Haven is chiefly memorable for 
 the exceeding good manners of a boy of ten, who 
 watched the machine next morning as it was prepared 
 for the day s ride, offered to act as guide to the place 
 where gasoline was kept, and, with the grace of a 
 Chesterfield, made good my delinquent purse by pay 
 ing the bill. It was all charmingly and not preco 
 ciously done. This little man was well brought up, 
 so well brought up that he did not know it. 
 
 The automobile is a pretty fair touchstone to man 
 ners for both young and old. A man is himself in the 
 presence of the unexpected. The automobile is so 
 strange that it carries people off their equilibrium, 
 and they say and do things impulsively, and therefore 
 naturally. 
 
 The odd-looking,, stranger is ever treated with scant 
 courtesy and unbecoming curiosity; the strange ma 
 chine fares no better. The man or the boy who is not 
 unduly curious, not unduly aggressive, not unduly 
 loquacious, not unduly insistent, who preserves his 
 poise in the presence of an automobile, is quite out 
 of the ordinary, my little New Haven friend was of 
 that sort. 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 269 
 
 It is a beautiful ride from New Haven to New New Haven to 
 York, and to it we devoted the entire day, from half- 
 past eight until half -past seven. 
 
 At Norwalk the people were celebrating the two 
 hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the founding of 
 the town; the hotel where we dined may have ante 
 dated the town a century or two. 
 
 Later in the afternoon, while wheeling along at 
 twenty miles an hour, we caught a glimpse of a sign 
 post pointing to the left and reading, " To Sound 
 Beach." The name reminded us of friends who were 
 spending a few weeks there ; we turned back and 
 made them a flying call. 
 
 Again a little farther on we stopped for gaso 
 line in a dilapidated little village, and found it was 
 Mianus, which we recalled as the home of an artist 
 whose paintings, full of charm and tender sentiment, 
 have spread the fame of the locality and river. It was 
 only a short run of two or three miles to the orchard 
 and hill where he has his summer home, and we re 
 newed an acquaintance made several years before. 
 
 It is interesting to follow an artist s career and note An artist s 
 the changes in manner and methods ; for changes are c 
 inevitable ; they come to high and low alike. The 
 artist may not be conscious that he no longer sees 
 things and paints things as he did, but time tells and 
 the truth is patent to others. But changes of manner 
 and changes of method are fundamentally unlike. 
 Furthermore, changes of either manner or method 
 may be unconscious and natural, or conscious and 
 forced. 
 
270 On an Automobile 
 
 For the most part, an artist s manner changes natu 
 rally and unconsciously with his environment and 
 advancing years; but in the majority of instances 
 changes in method are conscious and forced, made 
 deliberately with the intention frequently missed 
 of doing better. One painter is impressed with the 
 success of another and strives to imitate, adopts his 
 methods, his palette, his key, his color scheme, his 
 brush work, and so on; these conscious efforts of 
 imitation usually result in failures which, if not im 
 mediately conspicuous, soon make their shortcomings 
 felt; the note being forced and unnatural, it does not 
 ring true. 
 
 influence of A man may visit Madrid without imitating Velas- 
 
 environment 1 ..__, . . 
 
 quez ; he may live in Harlem without consciously 
 yielding to Franz Hals ; he may spend days with 
 Monet without surrendering his independence ; but 
 these strong contacts will work their subtle effects 
 upon all impressionable natures ; the effects, however, 
 may be wrought unconsciously and frequently against 
 the sturdy opposition of an original nature. 
 
 No painter could live for a season in Madrid with 
 out being affected by the work of Velasquez ; he might 
 strive against the influence, fight to preserve his own 
 eccentric originality and independence, but the very 
 fact that for the time being he is confronted with a 
 force, an influence, is sufficient to affect his own work, 
 whether he accepts the influence reverentially or re 
 jects it scoffingly. 
 
 There is infinitely more hope for the man who goes 
 to Madrid, or any other shrine, in a spirit of opposi- 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 271 
 
 tion, supremely egotistical, supremely confident of 
 his own methods, disposed to belittle the teaching and 
 example of others, than there is for the man who 
 goes to servilely copy and imitate. The disposition 
 to learn is a good thing, but in all walks of life, as 
 well as in art, it may be carried too far. No man 
 should surrender his individuality, should yield that 
 within him which is peculiarly and essentially his own. 
 An urchin may dispute with a Plato, if the urchin 
 sticks to the things he knows. 
 
 Between the lawless who defy all authority and the servile 
 
 , 11 n 1 1 submission 
 
 servile who submit to all influences, there are the 
 chosen few w r ho assert themselves, and at the same 
 time clearly appreciate the strength of those who 
 differ from them. The urchin painter may assert him 
 self in the presence of Velasquez, providing he keeps 
 within the limits of his own originality. 
 
 It is for those who buy pictures to look out for the 
 man who arbitrarily and suddenly changes his manner 
 or method; he is as a cork tossed about on the sur 
 face of the waters, drifting with every breeze, sub 
 merged by every ripple, fickle and unstable; if his 
 work possess any merit, it will be only the cheap 
 merit of cleverness ; its brilliancy will be simply the 
 gloss of dash. 
 
 It requires time to absorb an impression. Distance 
 diminishes the force of attraction. The best of paint 
 ers will not regain immediately his equilibrium after 
 a winter in Florence or in Rome. The enthusiasm of 
 the hour may bring forth some good pictures, but the 
 effect of the impression will be too pronounced, the 
 
272 On an Automobile 
 
 copy will be too evident. Time and distance will 
 modify an impression and lessen the attraction; the 
 effect will remain, but no longer dominate. 
 
 New York by It was so dark we could scarcely see the road as we 
 approached New York. 
 
 How gracious the mantle of night; like a veil it 
 hides all blemishes and permits only fair outlines to 
 be observed. Details are lost in vast shadows; huge 
 buildings loom up vaguely towards the heavens, im 
 pressive masses of masonry; the bridges, outlined by 
 rows of electric lights, are strings of pearls about the 
 throat of the dusky river. The red, white, and green 
 lights of invisible boats below are so many colored 
 glow-worms crawling about, while the countless lights 
 of the vast city itself are as if a constellation from 
 above had settled for the time being on the earth 
 beneath. 
 
 Night It is by night that the earth communes with the uni 
 
 verse. During the blinding brightness of the day our 
 vision penetrates no farther than our own great sun ; 
 but at night, when our sun has run its course across 
 the heavens, and we are no longer dazzled by its over 
 powering brilliancy, the suns of other worlds come 
 forth one by one until, as the darkness deepens, the 
 vault above is dotted with these twinkling lights. Dim, 
 distant, beacons of suns and planets like our own, 
 what manner of life do they contain ? what are we to 
 them? what are they to us? Is there aught between 
 us beyond the mechanical laws of repulsion and 
 attraction? Is there any medium of communication 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 273 
 
 beyond the impalpable ether which brings their light? 
 Are we destined to know each other better by and by, 
 or does our knowledge forever end with what we see 
 on a cloudless night? 
 
 It w r as Wednesday evening, September n, when we The Endm - 
 arrived in New York. The Endurance Contest or 
 ganized by the Automobile Club of America had 
 started for Buffalo on Monday morning, and the 
 papers each day contained long accounts of the heart 
 breaking times the eighty-odd contestants were having, 
 hills, sand, mud, worked havoc in the ranks of the 
 faithful, and by midweek the automobile stations 
 in New York were crowded with sick and wounded 
 veterans returning from the fray. 
 
 The stories told by those who participated in that Automobile 
 now famous run possessed the charm of novelty, the 3 
 absorbing fascination of fiction. 
 
 Once upon a time, two fishermen, who were mod 
 estly relating exploits, paused to listen to three chauf 
 feurs who began exchanging experiences. After lis 
 tening a short time, the fishermen, hats in hand, went 
 over to the chauffeurs and said, " On behalf of the 
 Ancient and Honorable Order of Fishermen, which 
 from time immemorial has held the palm for large, 
 generous, and unrestricted stories of exploits, we con 
 fess the inadequacy of our qualifications, the bald 
 literalness of our narratives, the sober and unadorned 
 realism of our tales, and abdicate in favor of the new 
 and most promising Order of Chauffeurs ; may the 
 blessing of Ananias rest upon you." 
 
 18 
 
274 O n an Automobile 
 
 It is not that those who go down the pike in auto 
 mobiles intend to prevaricate, or even exaggerate, but 
 the experience is so extraordinary that the truth is 
 inadequate for expression and explanation. It seems 
 quite impossible to so adjust our perceptions as to re 
 ceive strictly accurate impressions; therefore, when 
 one man says he went forty miles an hour, and another 
 says he went sixty, the latter assertion is based not 
 upon the exact speed, for that neither knows, but 
 upon the belief of the second man that he went much 
 faster than the other. The exact speeds were prob 
 ably about ten and fifteen miles an hour respectively ; 
 but the ratio is preserved in forty and sixty, and the 
 listening layman is deeply impressed, while no one who 
 knows anything about automobiling is for a moment 
 deceived. At the same time, in fairness to guests and 
 strangers within the gates, each club ought to post 
 conspicuously the rate of discount on narratives, for 
 not only do clubs vary in their departures from literal 
 truth, but the narratives are greatly affected by seasons 
 and events; for instance, after the Endurance Con 
 test the discount rate in the Automobile Club of 
 America was exceedingly high. 
 
 veracity Every man who started finished ahead of the others, 
 
 except those who never intended to finish at all. 
 Each man went exactly as far as he intended to go, 
 and then took the train, road, or ditch home. Some 
 intended to go as far as Albany, others to Frank 
 fort, while quite a large number entered the contest 
 for the express purpose of getting off in the mud and 
 
Rhode Island and Connecticut 275 
 
 walking to the nearest village ; a few, a very few, 
 intended to go as far as Buffalo. 
 
 At one time or another each made a mile a minute, 
 and a much higher rate of speed would have been 
 maintained throughout had it not been necessary to 
 identify certain towns in passing. Nothing happened 
 to any machine, but one or two required a little oiling, 
 and several were abandoned by the roadside because 
 their occupants had stubbornly determined to go no 
 farther. One man who confessed that a set-screw in 
 his goggles worked loose was expelled from the club 
 as too matter-of-fact to be eligible for membership, 
 and the maker of the machine he used sent four-page 
 communications to each trade paper explaining that 
 the loosening of the set-screw was due to no defect in 
 the machine, but was entirely the fault of the driver, 
 who jarred the screw loose by winking his eye. 
 
 Each machine surmounted Nelson Hill like a bird, 
 or would have, if it had not been for the machine in 
 front. There were those who would have made the 
 hill in forty-two seconds if they had not wasted valu 
 able time in pushing. The pitiful feat of the man 
 who crawled up at the rate of seventeen miles an 
 hour was quite discounted by the stories of those who 
 would have made it in half that time if their power 
 had not oozed out in the first hundred yards. 
 
 Then there was mud along the route, deep mud. vicissitudes 
 According to accounts, which were eloquently verified 
 by the silence of all who listened, the mud was hub 
 deep everywhere, and in places the machines were 
 quite out of sight, burrowing like moles. Some took 
 
276 On an Automobile 
 
 to the tow-path along the canal, others to trolley lines 
 and telegraph wires. 
 
 Each man ran his own machine without the slightest 
 expert assistance ; the men in over-alls with kits of 
 tools lurking along the roadside were modern brigands 
 seeking opportunities for hold-ups ; now and then they 
 would spring out upon an unoffending machine, knock 
 it into a state of insensibility, and abuse it most un 
 mercifully. A number of machines were shadowed 
 throughout the run by these rascals, and several did 
 not escape their clutches, but perished miserably. In 
 one instance a babe in arms drove one machine sixty- 
 two miles an hour with one hand, the other being 
 occupied with a nursing-bottle. 
 
 There were one hundred and fifty-six dress-suit 
 cases on the run, but only one was used, and that to 
 sit on during high tide in Herkimer County, where the 
 mud was deepest. 
 
 It would be quite superfluous to relate additional 
 experience tales, but enough has been told to illustrate 
 the necessity of a narrative discount notice in all 
 places where the clans gather. All men are liars, but 
 some intend to lie, to their credit, be it said, chauf 
 feurs are not among the latter. 
 
POH THE CHAT- 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN 
 
 ANARCHISM 
 
 DURING these days the President was dying in Buf 
 falo, though the country did not know it until Friday. 
 
 Wednesday and Thursday the reports were so as 
 suring that all danger seemed past; but, as it turned 
 out afterwards, there was not a moment from the hour 
 of the shooting when the fatal processes of dissolution 
 were not going on. Not only did the resources of 
 surgery and medicine fail most miserably, but their 
 gifted prophets were unable to foretell the end. Bul 
 letins of the most reassuring character turned out 
 absolutely false. After it was all over, there was a 
 
 277 
 
278 On an Automobile 
 
 great deal of explanation how it occurred and that 
 it was inevitable from the beginning; but the public 
 did not, and does not, understand how the learned 
 doctors could have been so mistaken Wednesday and 
 so wise Friday; and yet the explanation is simple, 
 medicine is an art and surgery far from an exact 
 science. No one so well as the doctors knows how 
 impossible it is to predict anything with any degree 
 of assurance; how uncertain the outcome of simple 
 troubles and wounds to say nothing of serious; how 
 much nature will do if left to herself, how obstinate 
 she often proves when all the skill of man is brought 
 to her assistance. 
 
 The angei of On Friday evening, and far into the night, Herald 
 Square was filled with a surging throng watching the 
 bulletins from the chamber of death. It was a dig 
 nified end. There must have been a good deal of 
 innate nobility in William McKinley. With all his 
 vacillation and infirmity of political purpose, he must 
 have been a man whose mind was saturated with fine 
 thoughts, for to the very last, in those hours of weak 
 ness when the will no longer sways and each word is 
 the half-unconscious muttering of the true self, he 
 shone forth with unexpected grandeur and died a 
 hero. 
 
 Late in the evening a bulletin announced that when 
 the message of death came the bells would toll. In 
 the midst of the night the city was roused by the 
 solemn pealing of great bells, and from the streets be 
 low there came the sounds of flying horses, of moving 
 feet, of cries and voices. It seemed as if the city had 
 
Anarchism 279 
 
 been held in check and was now released to express 
 itself in its own characteristic way. The wave of 
 sound radiated from each newspaper office and pene 
 trated the most deserted street, the most secret alley, 
 telling the people of the death of their President. 
 
 Anarchy achieved its greatest crime in the murder 
 of President McKinley while he held the hand of his 
 assassin in friendly grasp. 
 
 Little wonder this country was roused as never be 
 fore, and at this moment the civilized world is dis 
 cussing measures for the suppression, the obliteration, 
 of anarchists, but we must take heed lest we over 
 shoot the mark. 
 
 Three Presidents Lincoln, Garfield, and McKin- Three 
 ley have been assassinated, but only the last as the *****&** 
 result of anarchistic teachings. The crime of Booth 
 had nothing to do with anarchy; the crime of half 
 witted Guiteau had nothing to do with anarchy; but 
 the deliberate crime of the cool and self-possessed 
 Czolgoscz was the direct outcome of the " propaganda 
 of action." 
 
 Because, therefore, three Presidents have been as 
 sassinated, we must not link the crimes together and 
 unduly magnify the dangers of anarchy. At most the 
 two early crimes could only serve to demonstrate how 
 easy it is to reach and kill a President of the United 
 States, and therefore the necessity for greater safe 
 guards about his person is trebly demonstrated. The 
 habit of handshaking, at best, has little to recommend 
 it ; with public men it is a custom without excuse. 
 The notion that men in public life must receive and 
 
280 
 
 On an Automobile 
 
 mingle with great masses of people, or run the risk 
 of being called undemocratic, is a relic of the political 
 dark ages. The President of the United States is an 
 executive official, not a spectacle; he ought to be a 
 very busy man, just a plain, hard-working servant of 
 the people, that is the real democratic idea. There 
 is not the slightest need for him to expose himself to 
 assault. In the proper performance of his duties he 
 ought to keep somewhat aloof. The people have the 
 right to expect that in their interest he will take good 
 care of himself. 
 
 Anarchism in 
 the abstract 
 
 The seed 
 
 As for anarchism, that is a political theory that 
 possesses the minds of a certain number of men, some 
 of them entirely inoffensive dreamers, and anarchism 
 as a theory can no more be suppressed by law than 
 can any other political or religious theory. The law is 
 efficacious against acts, but powerless against notions. 
 But anarchism in the abstract is one thing and an 
 archism in the concrete is another. It is one thing to 
 preach anarchy as the final outcome of progress, it is 
 quite another thing to preach anarchy as a present rule 
 of conduct. The distinction must be observed, for 
 while the law is helpless against theories, it is potent 
 against the practical application of theories. 
 
 In a little book called " Politics for Young Ameri 
 cans," written with most pious and orthodox intent by 
 the late Charles Nordhoff, the discussion of govern 
 ment begins with the epigram, by no means original 
 with Nordhoff, " Governments are necessary evils." 
 
 Therein lurks the germ of anarchism, for if evil, 
 
Anarchism 281 
 
 why should governments be necessary? The anarchist 
 is quick to admit the evil, but denies the necessity ; 
 and, in sooth, if government is an evil, then the sooner 
 it is dispensed with the better. 
 
 When Huxley defines anarchy as that " state of 
 society in which the rule of each individual by himself 
 is the only government the legitimacy of which is rec 
 ognized," and then goes on to say, " in this sense, 
 strict anarchy may be the highest conceivable grade of 
 perfection of social existence ; for, if all men spon 
 taneously did justice and loved mercy, it is plain that 
 the swords might advantageously be turned into 
 ploughshares, and that the occupation of judges and 
 police would be gone," he lends support to the theo 
 retical anarchist. For if progress means the gradual 
 elimination of government and the final supremacy of 
 the individual, then the anarchist is simply the prophet 
 who keeps in view and preaches the end. If anarchy 
 is an ideal condition, there always will be idealists who 
 will advocate it. 
 
 But government is necessary, and just because it is Government 
 necessary therefore it cannot be an evil. Hospitals are 1lot "" evi1 
 necessary, and just because they are necessary there 
 fore they cannot be evils. Places for restraining the 
 insane and criminal are necessary, and therefore not 
 evil. 
 
 The weaknesses of humanity may occasion these 
 necessities ; but the evil, if any, is inherent in the con 
 stitution of man and not in the social organization. It 
 is the individual and not society that has need of 
 government, of hospitals, of asylums, of prisons. 
 
282 On an Automobile 
 
 Anarchy does not involve, as Huxley suggests, " the 
 highest conceivable grade of perfection of social exist 
 ence/ Not at all. What it does involve is the high 
 est conceivable grade of individual existence; in fact, 
 of a grade so high that it is quite beyond conception, 
 in short, it involves human perfectibility. Anarchy 
 proper involves the complete emancipation of every 
 individual from all restraints and compulsions ; it in 
 volves a social condition wherein absolutely no au 
 thority is imposed upon any individual, where no 
 requirement of any kind is made against the will of 
 any member man, woman, or child; where every 
 thing is left to individual initiation. 
 
 Anarchy a So far from such a " state of society" being " the 
 
 dreary scheme hi gj iest conceivable grade of perfection of social exist 
 ence," it is not conceivable at all, and the farther the 
 mind goes in attempting to grasp it, the more hope 
 lessly dreary does the scheme become. 
 
 When men spontaneously do justice and love mercy, 
 as Huxley suggests, and when each individual is 
 mentally, physically, and morally sound, as he must be 
 to support and govern himself, then, and not till then, 
 will it be possible to dispense with government; but 
 even then it is more conceivable than otherwise that 
 these perfect individuals would as a mere division 
 of labor, as a mere matter of economy adopt and 
 enforce some rules and regulations for the benefit of 
 all ; it would be necessary to do so unless the indi 
 viduals were not only perfect, but also absolutely 
 of one mind on all subjects relating to their wel 
 fare. Can the imagination picture existence more 
 inane ? 
 
Anarchism 283 
 
 But regardless of what the mentally, physically, and 
 morally perfect individuals might do after attaining 
 their perfection, anarchy assumes the millennium, 
 and the millennium is yet a long way off. If the future 
 of anarchy depends upon the physical, mental, and 
 moral perfection of its advocates, the outlook is gloomy 
 indeed, for a theory never had a following more im 
 perfect in alt these respects. 
 
 The patent fact that most governments, both na- The evils of 
 tional and local, are corruptly, extravagantly, and z vernment 
 badly administered tends to obscure our judgment, so 
 that w r e assent, without thinking, to the proposition 
 that government is an evil, and then argue that it is 
 a necessary evil. But government is not evil because 
 there are evils incidental to its administration. Every 
 human institution partakes of the frailties of the indi 
 vidual ; it could not be otherwise ; all social institutions 
 are human, not superhuman. 
 
 With progress it is to be hoped that there will be 
 fewer wars, fewer crimes, fewer wrongs, so that gov 
 ernment will have less and less to do and drop many 
 of its functions, that is the sort of anarchy every 
 one hopes for; that is the sort of anarchy the late 
 Phillips Brooks had in mind when he said, " He is the 
 benefactor of his race who makes it possible to have 
 one law less. He is the enemy of his kind who would 
 lay upon the shoulders of arbitrary government one 
 burden which might be carried by the educated con 
 science and character of the community." 
 
 But assume that war is no more and armies are 
 disbanded ; that crimes are no more and police are 
 
284 On an Automobile 
 
 dismissed ; that wrongs are no more and courts are 
 dissolved, what then ? 
 
 My neighbor becomes slightly insane, is very noisy 
 and threatening; my wife and children, who are ter 
 rorized, wish him restrained ; but his friends do not 
 admit that he is insane, or, admitting his peculiarities, 
 insist my family and I ought to put up with them ; 
 the man himself is quite sane enough to appreciate the 
 discussion and object to any restraint. Now, who 
 shall decide? Suppose the entire community save 
 the man and one or two sympathizing cranks is 
 clearly of the opinion the man is insane and should 
 be restrained, who is to decide the matter? and when 
 it is decided, who is to enforce the decision by im 
 posing the authority of the community upon the indi 
 vidual ? If the community asserts its authority in any 
 manner or form, that is government. 
 
 Some queries If every institution, including government, were 
 abolished to-morrow, the percentage of births that 
 would turn out blind, crippled, and feeble both men 
 tally and physically, wayward, eccentric, and insane 
 would continue practically the same, and the com 
 munity would be obliged to provide institutions for 
 these unfortunates, the community would be obliged 
 to patrol the streets for them, the community would 
 be obliged to pass upon their condition and support 
 or restrain them ; in short, the abolished institutions 
 including tribunals of some kind, police, prisons, 
 asylums would be promptly restored. 
 
 The anarchist would argue that all this may be done 
 by voluntary association and without compulsion ; but 
 
error 
 
 Anarchism 285 
 
 the man arrested, or confined in the insane asylum 
 against his will, would be of a contrary opinion. The 
 debate might involve his friends and sympathizers 
 until in every close case as now the community 
 would be divided in hostile camps, one side urging re 
 lease of the accused, the other urging his detention. 
 Who is to hold the scale and decide? 
 
 The fundamental error of anarchists, and of most A fundamental 
 theorists who discuss " government" and " the state," 
 lies in the tacit assumption that " government" and 
 " the state" are entities to be dealt with quite apart 
 from the individual ; that both may be modified or 
 abolished by laws or resolutions to that effect. 
 
 If anything is clearly demonstrated as true, it is 
 that both " government" and " the state" have been 
 evolved out of our own necessities ; neither was im 
 posed from without, but both have been evolved from 
 within ; both are forms of co-operation. For the time 
 being the " state" and " government," as well as the 
 " church" and all human institutions, may be modified 
 or seemingly abolished, but they come back to serve 
 essentially the same purpose. The French Revolution 
 was an organized attempt to overturn the foundations 
 of society and hasten progress by moving the hands 
 of the clock forward a few centuries, the net result 
 was a despotism the like of which the world has not 
 known since the days of Rome. 
 
 Anarchy as a system is a bubble,, the iridescent hues 
 of which attract, but which vanish into thin air on the 
 slightest contact with reality ; it is the perpetual motion 
 
286 On an Automobile 
 
 of sociology ; the fourth dimension of economies ; the 
 squaring of the political circle. 
 
 A queer lot The apostles of anarchy are a queer lot, Godwin 
 
 in England, Proudhon, Grave, and Saurin in France, 
 Schmidt ("Stirner"), Faucher, Hess, and Marr in 
 Germany, Bakunin and Krapotkin in Russia, Reclus 
 in Belgium, with Most and Tucker in America, sum 
 up the principal lights, with the exception of the 
 geographer Reclus, not a sound and sane man among 
 them ; in fact, scarcely any two agree upon a single 
 proposition save the broad generalization that govern 
 ment is an evil which must be eliminated. Until they 
 do agree upon some one measure or proposition of 
 practical importance, the world has little to fear from 
 their discussions and there is no reason why any 
 attempt should be made to suppress the debate. If 
 government is an evil, as so many men who are not 
 anarchists keep repeating, then the sooner we know 
 it and find the remedy the better ; but if government 
 is simply one of many human institutions developed 
 logically and inevitably to meet conditions created by 
 individual shortcomings, then government will tend 
 to diminish as we correct our own failings, but that 
 it will entirely disappear is hardly likely, since it is 
 inconceivable that men on this earth should ever attain 
 such a condition of perfection that possibility of dis 
 agreement is absolutely and forever removed. 
 
 violence no Anarchism as a doctrine, as a theory, involves no 
 
 part of 
 anarchism 
 
 act of violence any more than communism or social 
 
 ism. 
 
 Between the assassination of a ruler and the doctrine 
 
Anarchism 287 
 
 of anarchy there is no necessary connection. The 
 philosophic anarchist simply believes anarchy is to be 
 the final result of progress and evolution, just as the 
 communist believes that communism will be the out 
 come; neither theorist would see the slightest advan 
 tage in trying to hasten the slow but sure progress of 
 events by deeds of violence; in fact, both theorists 
 would regret such deeds as certain to prove reaction 
 ary and retard the march of events. 
 
 The world has nothing to fear from anarchism as 
 a theory, and up to thirty or forty years ago it was 
 nothing but a theory. 
 
 The " propaganda of action" came out of Russia 
 about forty years ago, and is the offspring of Russian 
 nihilism. 
 
 The " propaganda of action" is the protest of im- Propaganda of 
 patience against evolution ; it is the effort to hasten 
 progress by deeds of violence. 
 
 From the few who, like Bakunin, Brousse, and 
 Krapotkin, have written about the " propaganda of 
 action" with sufficient coherence to make themselves 
 understood, it appears that it is not their hope to de 
 stroy government by removing all executive heads, 
 even their tortured brains recognize the impossibility 
 of that task ; nor do they hope to so far terrify rulers 
 as to bring about their abdication. Not at all ; but 
 they do hope by deeds of violence to so attract atten 
 tion to the theory of anarchy as to win followers ; in 
 other words, murders such as those of Humbert, Car- 
 not, and President McKinley were mere advertise 
 ments of anarchism. In the words of Brousse, " Deeds 
 are talked of on all sides ; the indifferent masses in- 
 
288 On an Automobile 
 
 quire about their origin, and thus pay attention to 
 the new doctrine and discuss it. Let men once get 
 as far as this, and it is not hard to win over many of 
 them." 
 
 Hence, the greater the crime the greater the adver 
 tisement ; from that point of view, the shooting of 
 President McKinley, under circumstances so atrocious, 
 is so far the greatest achievement of the " propaganda 
 of action." 
 
 Nihilism It is worth noting that the " reign of terror" which 
 
 the Nihilists sought to and did create in Russia was 
 for a far more practical and immediate purpose. They 
 sought to terrify the government into granting re 
 forms ; so far from seeking to annihilate the govern 
 ment, they sought to spur it into activity for the benefit 
 of the masses. 
 
 The methods of the Nihilists, without the excuse of 
 their object, were borrowed by the more fanatical 
 anarchists, and applied to the advertising of their 
 belief. Since the adoption of the " propaganda of 
 action" by the extremists, anarchism has undergone a 
 great change. It has passed from a visionary and 
 harmless theory, as advocated by Godwin, Proudhon, 
 and Reclus, to a very concrete agency of crime and 
 destruction under the teachings of such as Bakunin, 
 Krapotkin, and Most ; not forgetting certain women 
 like Louise Michel in France and Emma Goldman in 
 this country who out-Herod Herod ; when a woman 
 goes to the devil she frightens him; his Satanic 
 majesty welcomes a man, but dreads a woman; to 
 a woman the downward path is a toboggan slide, to 
 a man it is a gentle but seductive descent. 
 
Anarchism 289 
 
 It is against the " propaganda of action" that legis- Effective 
 lation must be directed, not because it is any part of l 
 anarchism, but because it is the propaganda of crime. 
 
 Laws directed towards the suppression of anarchism 
 might result in more harm than good, but crime is 
 quite another matter. It is one thing to advocate less 
 and less of government, to preach the final disappear 
 ance of government and the evolution of anarchy ; it 
 is a fundamentally different thing to advocate the 
 destruction of life or property as a means to hasten 
 the end. 
 
 The criminal action and the criminal advice must be 
 dissociated entirely from any political or social theory. 
 It does not matter what a man s ultimate purpose may 
 be ; he may be a communist or a socialist, a Repub 
 lican or a Democrat, a Presbyterian or an Episco 
 palian ; when he advises, commits, or condones a 
 murder, his conduct is not measured by his convic 
 tions, unless, of course, he is insane ; his advice is 
 measured by its probable and actual consequences ; 
 his deeds speak for themselves. 
 
 A man is not to be punished or silenced for saying 
 he believes in anarchy, his convictions on that point 
 are a matter of indifference to those who believe other 
 wise. But a man is to be punished for saying or doing 
 things which result in injuring others; and the advice, 
 whether given in person to the individual who commits 
 the deed, or given generally in lecture or print, if it 
 moves the individual to action, is equally criminal. 
 
 On August 20, 1886, eight men were found guilty The Chicago 
 of murder in Chicago, seven were condemned to death anarchists 
 and one to the penitentiary; four were afterwards 
 
 19 
 
290 On an Automobile 
 
 hanged, one killed himself in jail, and three were im 
 prisoned. 
 
 These men were convicted of a crime with which, 
 so far as the evidence showed, they had no direct con 
 nection; but their speeches, writings, and conduct 
 prior to the actual commission of the crime had been 
 such that they were held guilty of having incited the 
 murder. 
 
 During the spring of 1886 there were many strikes 
 and a great deal of excitement growing out of the 
 " eight-hour movement in Chicago." There was much 
 disorder. On the evening of May 4 a meeting was 
 held in what was known as Haymarket Square, at this 
 meeting three of the condemned made speeches. 
 About ten o clock a platoon of police marched to the 
 Square, halted a short distance from the wagon where 
 the speakers were, and an officer commanded the 
 meeting to immediately and peaceably disperse. 
 Thereupon a bomb was thrown from near the 
 wagon into the ranks of the policemen, where it 
 exploded, killing and wounding a number. 
 
 The man who threw the bomb was never positively 
 identified, but it was probably one Rudolph Schnau- 
 belt, who disappeared. At all events, the condemned 
 were not connected with the actual throwing; they 
 were convicted upon the theory that they were co- 
 conspirators with him by reason of their speeches, 
 writings, and conduct which influenced his conduct. 
 
 An even broader doctrine of liability is announced 
 in the following paragraph from the opinion of the 
 Supreme Court of Illinois : 
 
Anarchism 291 
 
 " If the defendants, as a means of bringing about the social 
 revolution and as a part of the larger conspiracy to effect such 
 revolution, also conspired to excite classes of workingmen in 
 Chicago into sedition, tumult, and riot, and to the use of 
 deadly weapons and the taking of human life, and for the 
 purpose of producing such tumult, riot, use of weapons and 
 taking of life, advised and encouraged such classes by news 
 paper articles and speeches to murder the authorities of the 
 city, and a murder of a policeman resulted from such advice 
 and encouragement, then defendants are responsible there 
 for." 
 
 It is the logical application of this proposition that 
 will defeat the " propaganda of action." If it be 
 enacted that any man who advocates the commission 
 of any criminal act, or who afterwards condones the 
 crime, shall be deemed guilty of an offence equal to 
 that advocated or condoned and punished accordingly, 
 the " propaganda of action" in all branches of criminal 
 endeavor will be effectually stifled without the doubt 
 ful expedient of directing legislation against any par 
 ticular social or economic theory. 
 
UP THE HIL.L. 
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 NEW YORK TO BUFFALO 
 
 IT was Saturday, the I4th, at nine o clock, when we 
 left New York for Albany, following the route of 
 the Endurance Contest. 
 
 The morning was bright and warm. The roads 
 were perfect for miles. We passed Kings Bridge, 
 Yonkers, Hastings, and Dobbs Ferry flying. At Tar- 
 rytown we dropped the chain. A link had parted. 
 Pushing the machine under the shade of a tree, a 
 half-hour was spent in replacing the chain and rivet 
 ing in a new link. All the pins showed more or less 
 wear, and a new chain should have been put on in 
 New York, but none that would fit was to be had. 
 292 
 
New York to Buffalo 293 
 
 We dined at Peekskill, and had a machinist go over 
 the chain, riveting the heads of the pins so none 
 would come out again. 
 
 Nelson Hill, a mile and a half beyond Peekskill, A climb 
 proved all it was said to be, and more. 
 
 In the course of the trip we had mounted hills that 
 were worse, and hills that were steeper, but only in 
 spots or for short distances; for a steady steep climb 
 Nelson Hill surpassed anything we found in the entire 
 trip. The hill seems one-half to three-quarters of a 
 mile long, a sharp ascent, somewhat steeper about 
 half-way up than at the beginning or finish. Accurate 
 measurements were made for the Endurance Contest 
 and the results published. 
 
 The grade was just a little too much for the ma 
 chine, with our luggage and ourselves. It was tire 
 some walking so far beside the machine, and in at 
 tempting to bring it to a stop for a moment s rest the 
 machine got started backward, and was well on its 
 way down the hill, gaining speed every fraction of a 
 second. It was a short, sharp chase to catch the lever 
 operating the emergency brake, which luckily oper 
 ated by being pushed forward from the seat, a pull 
 on the lever and the machine was brought to a stop 
 with the rear wheels hanging over the edge of a gulley 
 at the side. After that experience the machine was 
 allowed to go to the top without any more attempts 
 to rest. 
 
 At Fishkill Village we saved a few miles and some A short cut 
 bad road by continuing on to Poughkeepsie by the 
 inland road instead of going down to the Landing. 
 
294 On an Automobile 
 
 We inquired the way from an old man, who said, " If 
 you want to go to P keepsie, follow the road just this 
 side the post-office ; you will save a good many miles, 
 and have a good road; if you want to follow the 
 other fellers, then keep straight on down to the Land 
 ing; but why they went down there, beats me." 
 
 It was six-thirty when we arrived at Poughkeepsie. 
 As the next day would be Sunday, we made sure of 
 a supply of gasoline that night. 
 
 A slight drizzle Up to this point the roads, barring Nelson Hill, and 
 the weather had been perfect, but conditions were 
 about to change for the worse. 
 
 Sunday morning was gray and drizzly. We left at 
 eight-thirty. The roads were soft and in places very 
 slippery ; becoming much worse as we approached 
 Albany, where we arrived at half-past three. There 
 we should have stopped. We had come seventy-five 
 miles in seven hours, including all stops, over bad 
 roads, and that should have sufficed; but it was such 
 an effort to house the machine in Albany and get set 
 tled in rooms, that we decided to go on at least as 
 far as Schenectady. 
 
 Mud To the park it was all plain sailing on asphalt and 
 
 macadam, but from the park to the gate of the ceme 
 tery and to the turn beyond the mud was so deep and 
 sticky it seemed as if the machine could not possibly 
 get through. If we had attempted to turn about, we 
 would surely have been stuck ; there was nothing to 
 do but follow the best ruts and go straight on, hoping 
 for better things. The dread of coming to a stand 
 still and being obliged to get out in that eight or ten 
 
New York to Buffalo 295 
 
 inches of uninviting mud was a very appreciable fac 
 tor in our discomfort. Fortunately, the clutch held 
 well and the motor was not stalled. When we passed 
 the corner beyond the cemetery the road was much 
 better, though still so soft the high speed could be 
 used only occasionally. 
 
 The tank showed a leak, which for some reason 
 increased so rapidly that a pail of water had to be 
 added about every half-mile. At last a pint of bran 
 poured into the tank closed the leak in five minutes. 
 
 On reaching Latham it was apparent that Schenec- into Troy 
 tady could not be made before dark, if at all, so we 
 turned to the right into Troy. We had made the two 
 long sides of a triangle over the worst of roads ; 
 whereas, had we run from Albany direct to Troy, we 
 could have followed a good road all the way. 
 
 The next morning was the i6th of September, the 
 sun was shining brightly and the wind was fresh ; 
 the roads were drying every moment, so we did not 
 hurry our departure. 
 
 The express office in Albany was telephoned for a Repairs 
 new chain that had been ordered, and in about an hour 
 it was delivered. The machine was driven into a side 
 street in front of a metal roofing factory, the tank 
 taken out and so thoroughly repaired it gave no fur 
 ther trouble. It was noon before the work was fin 
 ished, for the new chain and a new belt to the pump 
 had to be put on, and many little things done which 
 consumed time. 
 
 At two o clock we left Troy. The road to Schenec- 
 tady in good weather is quite good, but after the rain 
 
296 On an Automobile 
 
 it was heavy with half-dried mud and deep with ruts. 
 From Schenectady to Fonda, where we arrived at 
 six-thirty, the roads were very bad; however, forty- 
 five miles in four hours and a half was fairly good 
 travelling under the adverse conditions. If the ma 
 chine had been equipped with an intermediate gear, 
 an average of twelve or fifteen miles could have been 
 easily made. The going was just a little too heavy for 
 the fast speed and altogether too easy for the low, and 
 yet we were obliged to travel for hours on the low 
 gear. 
 
 Poor hotels From New York to Buffalo there is a succession of 
 
 cities and villages which are, for the most part, very 
 attractive, but good hotels are scarce, and as for way 
 side inns there are none. With the exception of Al 
 bany and one or two other cities the hotels are old, 
 dingy, and dirty. Here and there, as in Geneva, a 
 new hotel is found, but to most of the cities the hotels 
 are a disgrace. 
 
 The automobile, however, accustoms one to discom 
 forts, and one gets so tired and hungry at night that 
 the shortcomings of the village hotel are overlooked, 
 or not fully realized until seen the next morning by the 
 frank light of day. 
 
 Fonda is the occasion of these remarks upon New 
 York hotels. 
 
 More rain \\_ was cloudy and threatening when we. left Fonda 
 
 at half-past seven the next morning, and by ten the 
 rain began to fall so heavily and steadily that the roads, 
 none too dry before, were soon afloat. 
 
 It was slow going. At St. Johnsville we stopped to 
 
New York to Buffalo 297 
 
 buy heavier rubber coats. It did not seem possible we 
 would get through the day without coming to a stop, 
 but, strange to relate, the machine kept on doggedly 
 all day, on the slow gear nearly every mile, without a 
 break of any kind. 
 
 It was bad enough from St. Johnsville to Herkimer, The very worst 
 but the worst was then to come. 
 
 When we came east from Utica to Herkimer, we 
 followed the road on the north side of the valley, and 
 recalled it as hilly but very dry and good. The Endur 
 ance Contest was out of Herkimer, through Frank 
 fort and along the canal on the south side of the valley. 
 It was a question whether to follow the road we knew 
 was pretty good or follow the contest route, which 
 presumably was selected as the better. 
 
 A liveryman at Herkimer said, " Take my advice 
 and keep on the north side of the valley ; the road is 
 hilly, but sandy and drier ; if you go through Frank 
 fort, you will find some pretty fierce going; the road 
 is level but cut up and deep with mud, keep on the 
 north side." 
 
 We should have followed that advice, the more so 
 since it coincided with our own impressions ; but at 
 the store where we stopped for gasoline, a man who 
 said he drove an automobile advised the road through 
 Frankfort as the better. 
 
 It was in Frankfort that several of the contestants i-nnikfort 
 in the endurance run came to grief, right on the 
 main street of the village. There was no sign of pave 
 ment, macadam, or gravel, just deep, dark, rich muck ; 
 
298 On an Automobile 
 
 how deep no one could tell ; a road so bad it spoke 
 volumes for the shiftlessness and lack of enterprise 
 prevailing in the village. 
 
 A little beyond Frankfort there is about a mile of 
 State road, laid evidently to furnish inhabitants an 
 object lesson, and laid in vain. 
 
 A little farther on the black muck road leads between 
 the canal and towpath high up on the left, and a high 
 board fence protecting the railroad tracks on the right ; 
 in other words, the highway was the low ground be 
 tween two elevations. The rains of the week before 
 and the rains of the last two days had converted the 
 road into a vast ditch. We made our way slowly into 
 it, and then seizing an opening ran up on to the tow- 
 path, which was of sticky clay and bad enough, but 
 not quite so discouraging as the road. We felt our 
 way along carefully, for the machine threatened every 
 moment to slide either into the canal on the left or 
 down the bank into the road on the right. 
 
 Soon we were obliged to turn back to the road and 
 take our chances on a long steady pull on the slow 
 gear. Again and again it seemed as if the motor would 
 stop; several times it was necessary to throw out the 
 clutch, let the motor race, and then throw in the clutch 
 to get the benefit of both the motor and the momentum 
 of the two-hundred pound fly-wheel ; it was a strain 
 on the chain and gears, but they held, and the machine 
 would be carried forward ten or twelve feet by the 
 impetus ; in that way the worst spots were passed. 
 
 Towards Utica the roads were better, though we 
 nearly came to grief in a low place just outside the 
 city. 
 
New York to Buffalo 299 
 
 It required all Wednesday morning to clean and uticato 
 overhaul the machine. Every crevice was filled with J 
 mud, and grit had worked into the chain and every 
 exposed part. There was also some lost motion to be 
 taken up to stop a disagreeable pounding. The strain 
 on the new chain had stretched it so a link had to be 
 taken out. 
 
 It was two o clock before we left Utica. A little 
 beyond the outskirts of the city the road forks, the 
 right is the road to Syracuse, and it is gravelled most 
 of the way. Unfortunately, we took the left fork, and 
 for seven miles ploughed through red clay, so sticky 
 that several times we just escaped being stalled. It 
 was not until we reached Clinton that we discovered 
 our mistake and turned cross country to the right road. 
 The cross-road led through a low boggy meadow that 
 was covered with water, and there we nearly foun 
 dered. When the hard gravel of the turnpike was 
 reached, it was with a feeling of irritation that we 
 looked back upon the time wasted in the horrible roads 
 we need not have taken. 
 
 The day was bright, and every hour of sun and wind 
 improved the roads, so that by the time we were pass 
 ing Oneida Castle the going was good. It was dark 
 when we passed through Fayetteville ; a little beyond 
 our reserve gallon of gasoline was put in the tank and 
 the run was made over the toll-road to Syracuse on 
 " short rations." 
 
 A well-kept toll-road is a boon in bad weather, but Ton-roads 
 to the driver of an automobile the stations are a great 
 nuisance; one is scarcely passed before another is in 
 
300 On an Automobile 
 
 sight ; it is stop, stop, stop. There are so many old 
 toll-roads upon which toll is no longer collected that 
 one is apt to get in the habit of whizzing through the 
 gates so fast that the keepers, if there be any, have no 
 time to come out, much less to collect the rates. 
 
 Cold It was cold the next morning when we started 
 
 from Syracuse, and it waxed colder and colder all 
 day long. 
 
 The Endurance Contest followed the direct road to 
 Rochester, going by way of Port Byron, Lyons, Pal 
 myra, and Pittsford. That road is neither interesting 
 nor good. Even if one is going to Rochester, the 
 roads are better to the south ; but as we had no in 
 tention of visiting the city again, we took Genesee 
 Street and intended to follow it into Buffalo. 
 
 The old turnpike leads to the north of Auburn and 
 Seneca Falls, but we turned into the Falls for dinner. 
 In trying to find and follow the turnpike we missed it, 
 and ran so far to the north that we were within seven 
 or eight miles of Rochester, so near, in fact, that at 
 the village of Victor the inhabitants debated whether 
 it would not be better to run into Rochester and thence 
 to Batavia by Bergen rather than southwest through 
 Avon and Caledonia. 
 
 Having started out with the intention of passing 
 Rochester, we were just obstinate enough to keep to 
 the south. The result was that for nearly the entire 
 day the machine was laboring over the indifferent 
 roads that usually lie just between two main travelled 
 highways. It was not until dusk that the gravelled 
 turnpike leading into Avon was found, and it was 
 
New York to Buffalo 301 
 
 after seven when we drew up in front of the small 
 St. George Hotel. 
 
 The glory of Avon has departed. Once it was a Avon 
 great resort, with hotels in size almost equal to those 
 now at Saratoga. The Springs were famous and 
 people came from all parts of the country. The hotels 
 are gone, some burned, some destroyed, but old 
 registers are preserved, and they bear the signatures 
 of Webster, Clay, and many noted men of that genera 
 tion. 
 
 The Springs are a mile or two away ; the water is 
 supposed to possess rare medicinal virtues, and in 
 valids still come to test its potency, but there is no 
 life, no gayety; the Springs and the village are quite 
 forlorn. 
 
 At the St. George we found good rooms and a most 
 excellent supper. In the office after supper, with 
 chairs tipped back and legs crossed, the older resi 
 dents told many a tale of the palmy days of Avon 
 when carriages filled the Square and the streets were 
 gay with people in search of pleasure rather than 
 health. 
 
 It was a quick run the next morning through Gale- over good 
 donia to Le Roy over roads hard and smooth as a 
 floor. 
 
 Just out of Le Roy we met a woman, with a basket 
 of eggs, driving a horse that seemed sobriety itself. 
 We drew off to one side and stopped the machine to 
 let her pass. The horse stopped, and unfortunately 
 she gave a " yank" on one of the reins, turning the 
 
302 On an Automobile 
 
 horse to one side ; then a pull on the other rein, turn 
 ing the horse sharply to the other side. This was too 
 much for the animal, and he kept on around, overturn 
 ing the light buck-board and upsetting the woman, 
 eggs, and all into the road. The horse then kicked 
 himself free and trotted off home. 
 
 The woman, fortunately, was not injured, but the 
 eggs were, and she mournfully remarked they were 
 not hers, and that she was taking them to market for 
 a neighbor. The wagon was slightly damaged. Re 
 lieved to find the woman unhurt, the damage to wagon 
 and eggs was more than made good; then we took 
 the woman home in the automobile, her first ride. 
 
 It does not matter how little to blame one may be 
 for a runaway; the fact remains that were it not for 
 the presence of the automobile on the road the par 
 ticular accident would not have occurred. The fault 
 may be altogether on the side of the inexperienced 
 or careless driver, but none the less the driver of the 
 automobile feels in a certain sense that he has been 
 the immediate cause, and it is impossible to describe 
 the feeling of relief one experiences when it turns out 
 that no one is injured. 
 
 A machine could seldom meet a worse combination 
 than a fairly spirited horse, a nervous woman, and a 
 large basket of eggs. With housewifely instincts, the 
 woman was sure to think first of the eggs. 
 
 Buffalo once We stopped at Batavia for dinner, and made the 
 
 run into Buffalo in exactly two hours, arriving at four 
 o clock. 
 
 We ran the machine to the same station, and found 
 
 more 
 
New York to Buffalo 303 
 
 unoccupied the same rooms we had left four weeks 
 and two days before. It seemed an age since that 
 Wednesday, August 24, when we started out, so much 
 had transpired, every hour had been so eventful. 
 Measured by the new things we had seen and the 
 strange things that had happened, the interval was 
 months not weeks. 
 
 A man need not go beyond his doorstep to find a ourow* 
 
 1 , , . . 11 country 
 
 new world ; his own country, however small, is a uni 
 verse that can never be fully explored. And yet such 
 is the perversity of human nature that we know all 
 countries better than our own ; we travel everywhere 
 except at home. The denizens of the earth in their 
 wanderings cross each other en route like letters ; all 
 Europe longs to see Niagara, all America to see Mont 
 Blanc, and yet whoever sees the one sees the other, 
 for the grandeur of both is the same. It does not 
 matter whether a vast volume of water is pouring 
 over the sharp edge of a cliff, or a huge pile of scarred 
 and serrated rock rises to the heavens, the grandeur 
 is the same ; it is not the outward form we stand 
 breathless before, but the forces of nature which pro 
 duce every visible and invisible effect. The child of 
 nature worships the god within the mountains and the 
 spirit behind the waters ; whereas we in our great 
 haste observe only the outward form, see only the fall 
 ing waters and the towering peaks. 
 
 It is good for every man to come at least once in 
 his life in contact with some overpowering work of 
 nature ; it is better for most men to never see but one ; 
 let the memory linger, let not the impression be too 
 
304 On an Automobile 
 
 soon effaced, rather let it sink deep into the heart until 
 it becomes a part of life. 
 
 Like the winds Steam has impaired the imagination. Such is the 
 facility of modern transportation that we ride on the 
 ocean to-day and sit at the feet of the mountains 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Nowadays we see just so much of nature as the 
 camera sees and no more ; our vision is but surface 
 deep, our eyes are but two clear, bright lenses with 
 nothing behind, not even a dry plate to record the 
 impressions. It is a physiological fact that the cells 
 of the brain which first receive impressions from the 
 outward organs of sense may be reduced to a condi 
 tion of comparative inactivity by too rapid succession 
 of sights, sounds, and other sensations. We see so 
 much that we see nothing. To really see is to fully 
 comprehend, therefore our capacity for seeing is 
 limited. No man has really seen Niagara, no man 
 has ever really seen Mont Blanc ; for that matter, no 
 man has even fully comprehended so much as a grain 
 of sand ; therefore the universe is at one s doorstep. 
 
 Nature a unit Nature is a unit ; it is not a whole made up of many 
 diverse parts, but is a whole which is inherent in every 
 part. No two persons see the same things in a blos 
 soming flower; to the botanist it is one thing, to the 
 poet another, to the painter another, to the child a bit 
 of bright color, to the maiden an emblem of love, to 
 the heart-broken woman a cluster of memories ; to /io 
 two is it precisely the same. 
 
 The longer we look at anything, however simple, 
 the deeper it penetrates into our being until it becomes 
 
New York to Buffalo 305 
 
 a part of us. In time we learn to know the tree that 
 shades our porch, but years elapse before we are on 
 friendly terms, and a lifetime is spent before the 
 gnarled giant admits us to intimate companionship. 
 Trees are filled with reserve ; when denuded of their 
 neighbors, they stand in melancholy solitude until the 
 leaves fall for the last time, until their branches wither, 
 and their trunks ring hollow with decay. 
 
 And if we never really see or know or understand strange 
 the nature which is about us, how is it possible that 
 we should ever comprehend the people we meet? 
 What is the use of trying to know an Englishman or 
 a Frenchman when we do not know an American? 
 What is the use of struggling with the obstacle of a 
 foreign tongue, when our own will not suffice for the 
 communication of thoughts? The only light that we 
 have is at home ; travellers are men groping in the 
 dark ; they fancy they see much, but for the most part 
 they see nothing. No great teacher has ever been a 
 great traveller. Buddha, Confucius, and Mahomet 
 never left the confines of their respective countries. 
 Plato lived in Athens ; Shakespeare travelled between 
 London and Stratford ; these great souls found it quite 
 sufficient to know themselves and the vast universe as 
 reflected from the eyes of those about them. But then 
 they are the exceptions. 
 
 For most men including geniuses travel and de 
 liberate observation are good, since most men will not 
 observe at home. Such is the singularity of our na 
 ture that we ignore the interesting at home to study 
 the commonplace abroad. We never notice a narrow 
 and crooked street in Boston or lower New York, 
 
306 On an Automobile 
 
 whereas a narrow and crooked street in London fills 
 us with an ecstasy of delight. We never visit the 
 Metropolitan Art Museum, but we cross Europe to 
 visit galleries of lesser interest. We choose a night 
 boat down the majestic Hudson, and we suffer untold 
 discomforts by day on crowded little boats paddling 
 down the comparatively insignificant Rhine. 
 
 Our country Every country possesses its own peculiar advan 
 tages and beauties. There is no desert so barren, no 
 mountains so bleak, no woods so wild that to those 
 who dwell therein their home is not beautiful. The 
 Esquimau would not exchange his blinding waste of 
 snow and dark fields cf water for the luxuriance of 
 tropic vegetation. Why should we exchange the 
 glories of the land we live in for the footworn and 
 sight-worn, the thumbed and fingered beauties of other 
 lands? If we desire novelty and adventure, seek it 
 in the unexplored regions of the great Northwest ; if 
 we crave grandeur, visit the Yellowstone and the fast 
 nesses of the Rockies ; if we wish the sublime, gaze 
 in the mighty chasm of the Canon of the Colorado, 
 where strong men weep as they look down ; if we 
 seek desolation, traverse the alkali plains of Arizona 
 where the trails are marked by bones of men and 
 beasts ; but if the heart yearns for beauty more serene, 
 go forth among the habitations of men where fields 
 are green and sheltering woods offer refuge from the 
 noonday sun, where rivers ripple with laughter, and 
 the great lakes smile in soft content. 
 
 Unhappy the man \vho does not believe his country 
 the best on earth and his people the chosen of men. 
 
New York to Buffalo 307 
 
 The promise of automobiling is knowledge of one s The future 
 own land. The confines of a city are stifling to the 
 sport ; the machine snorts with impatience on dusty 
 pavements filled with traffic, and seeks the freedom of 
 country roads. Within a short time every hill and 
 valley within a radius of a hundred miles is a familiar 
 spot ; the very houses become known, and farmers 
 shout friendly greetings as the machine flies by, or 
 lend helping hands when it is in distress. 
 
 Within a season or two it will be an every-day sight 
 to see people journeying leisurely from city to city; 
 abandoned taverns will be reopened, new ones built, 
 and the highways, long since deserted by pleasure, will 
 once more be gay with life. 
 
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 THROUGH CANADA HOME 
 
 Customs 
 
 WE left Buffalo, Saturday the 2Oth, at four o clock 
 for St. Catharines. At the Bridge we were delayed 
 a short time by customs formalities. 
 
 In going out of the States it is necessary to enter 
 the machine for export and return, otherwise on 
 coming in again the officials on our side will collect 
 duty on its full value. 
 
 On crossing to the Canadian side, it is necessary 
 
 to enter the machine and pay the duty of thirty per 
 
 cent, on its valuation. The machine is entered for 
 
 temporary use in Canada, under a law providing for 
 
 308 
 
Through Canada Home 309 
 
 the use of bicycles, hunting and fishing outfits, and 
 sporting implements generally, and the port at which 
 you intend to go out is named ; a receipt for the duty 
 deposited is given and the money is either refunded 
 at the port of exit or the machine is simply identified 
 by the officials, and remittance made upon returning 
 the receipt to the port of entry. 
 
 It is something of a bother to deposit thirty per 
 cent, upon the valuation of an automobile, but the 
 Canadian officials are obliging ; and where it is clearly 
 apparent that there is no intention of selling the ma 
 chine in the province, they are not exacting as to the 
 valuation ; a two-thousand-dollar machine may be 
 valued pretty low as second-hand. If, however, any 
 thing should occur which would make it desirable to 
 leave or sell the machine in Canada, a re-entry at full 
 market valuation should be made immediately, other 
 wise the machine is very properly subject to con 
 fiscation. 
 
 Parties running across the river from Buffalo for 
 a day s run are not bothered at all. The officials on 
 both sides let the machines pass, but any one cross 
 ing Canada would better comply with all regulations 
 and save trouble. 
 
 It was six o clock when we arrived at St. Catha- / Canada 
 rines. The Wendell Hotel happens to be a mineral 
 water resort with baths for invalids, and therefore 
 much better as a hotel than most Canadian houses ; 
 in fact, it may be said once for all, that Canadian 
 hotels, with the exception of two or three, are very 
 poor; they are as indifferent in the cities as in the 
 
310 On an Automobile 
 
 smaller towns, being for the most part dingy and 
 dirty. 
 
 But what Canada lacks in hotels she more than 
 makes up in roads. Miles upon miles of well-made 
 and well-kept gravel roads cross the province of On 
 tario in every direction. The people seem to appre 
 ciate the economy of good hard highways over which 
 teams can draw big loads without undue fatigue. 
 
 We left St. Catharines at nine o clock Sunday morn 
 ing, taking the old Dundas road ; this was a mistake, 
 the direct road to Hamilton being the better. Off the 
 main travelled roads we found a good deal of sand ; 
 but that was our fault, for it was needless to take 
 these little travelled by-ways. Again, out of Hamilton 
 to London we did not follow the direct and better 
 road; this was due to error in directions given us at 
 the drug store where we stopped for gasoline. 
 
 Gasoline is not so easily obtained in Canada as in 
 the States; it is not to be had at all in many of the 
 small villages, and in the cities it is not generally kept 
 in any quantity. One drug store in Hamilton had 
 half-a-dozen six-ounce bottles neatly put up and 
 labelled "Gasoline: Handle with Care;" another had 
 two gallons, which we purchased. The price was high, 
 but the price of gasoline is the very least of the con 
 cerns of automobiling. 
 
 spring breaks On the way to London a forward spring collapsed 
 entirely. Binding the broken leaves together with 
 wire we managed to get in all right, but the next 
 morning we were delayed an hour while a wheelwright 
 made a more permanent repair. 
 
Through Canada Home 3 1 1 
 
 Monday, the 22cl, was one of the record days. 
 Leaving London at half-past nine we took the Old 
 Sarnia Gravel for Sarnia, some seventy miles away. 
 With scarcely a pause, we flew over the superb road, 
 hard gravel every inch of it, and into Sarnia at one 
 o clock for luncheon. 
 
 Over an hour was spent in lunching, ferrying across 
 the river, and getting through the two custom-houses. 
 
 Canada is an anachronism. Within the lifetime of Canada and 
 
 i . -r^. . MI 1 f annexation 
 
 men now living, the Dominion will become a part of 
 the United States ; this is fate not politics, evolution 
 not revolution, destiny not design. How it will come 
 about no man can tell ; that it will come about is as 
 certain as fate. 
 
 With an area almost exactly that of the United 
 States, Canada has a population of but five millions, 
 or about one-fifteenth the population of this country. 
 Between 1891 and 1901 the population of the Do 
 minion increased only five hundred thousand, or about 
 ten per cent., as against an increase of fourteen mil 
 lions, or twenty-one per cent., in this country. 
 
 For a new country in a new world Canada stag 
 nates. In the decade referred to Chicago alone gained 
 more in population than the entire Dominion. The 
 fertile province of Ontario gained but fifty-four thou 
 sand in the ten years, while the States of Michigan, 
 Indiana, and Ohio, which are near by, gained each 
 nearly ten times as much ; and the gain of New York, 
 lying just across the St. Lawrence, was over twelve 
 hundred thousand. The total area of these four 
 States is about four-fifths that of Ontario, and yet 
 
3 i 2 On an Automobile 
 
 their increase of population in ten years more than 
 equals the entire population of the province. 
 
 In population, wealth, industries, and resources On 
 tario is the Dominion s gem ; yet in a decade she could 
 attract and hold but fifty-odd thousand persons, not 
 quite all the children horn within her borders. 
 
 Present All political divisions aside, there is no reason in 
 
 abnormal tne world why population should be dense on the west 
 
 bank of the Detroit River and sparse on the east ; why 
 
 people should teem to suffocation to the south of the 
 
 St. Lawrence and not to the north. 
 
 These conditions are not normal, and sooner or later 
 must change. It is not in the nature of things that this 
 North American continent should be arbitrarily di 
 vided in its most fertile midst by political lines, and 
 by and by it will be impossible to keep the multiplying 
 millions south of the imaginary line from surging 
 across into the rich vacant territory to the north. The 
 outcome is inevitable ; neither diplomacy nor state 
 craft can prevent it. 
 
 When the population of this country is a hundred 
 or a hundred and fifty millions the line will have dis 
 appeared. There may be a struggle of some kind over 
 some real or fancied grievance, but, struggle or no 
 struggle, it is not for man to oppose for long inevitable 
 tendencies. In the long run, population, like water, 
 seeks its level ; in adjacent territories, the natural ad 
 vantages and attractions of which are alike, the popu 
 lation tends strongly to become equally dense ; politi 
 cal conditions and differences in race and language 
 may for a time hold this tendency in check, but where 
 
Through Canada Home 3 i 3 
 
 race and language are the same, political barriers must 
 soon give way. 
 
 All that has preserved Canada from absorption up Canada s 
 to this time is the existence of those mighty natural 
 barriers, the St. Lawrence and the great lakes. As 
 population increases in the Northwest, where the di 
 viding line is known only to surveyors, the situation 
 will become critical. Already the rush to the Klon 
 dike has produced trouble in Alaska. The aggressive 
 miners from this side, who constitute almost the en 
 tire, population, submit with ill-grace to Canadian 
 authority. They do not like it, and Dawson or some 
 near point may yet become a second Johannesburg. 
 
 In all controversies so far, Canada has been as bel- England 
 ligerent as England has been conciliatory. With rare 
 tact and diplomacy England has avoided all serious 
 differences with this country over Canadian matters 
 without at the same time offending the pride of the 
 Dominion; just how long this can be kept up no man 
 can tell ; but not for more than a generation to come, 
 if so long. 
 
 So far as the people of Canada are concerned, practi 
 cally all would be opposed to any form of annexation. 
 The great majority of the people are Englishmen at 
 heart and very English in thought, habit, speech, and 
 accent ; they are much more closely allied to the mother 
 country than to this; and they are exceedingly 
 patriotic. 
 
 They do not like us because they rather fear us, 
 not physically, not as man against man, but fear our 
 
314 On an Automobile 
 
 overwhelming size and increasing importance, fear for 
 the future, fear what down deep in their hearts many 
 of them know must come. Their own increasing in 
 dependence has taught them the sentimental and un 
 substantial character of the ties binding them to Eng 
 land, and yet they know full well that with those ties 
 severed their independence would soon disappear. 
 
 in Michigan Michigan roads are all bad, but some are worse than 
 
 others. 
 
 About Port Huron is sand. Out of the city there is 
 a rough stone road made of coarse limestone ; it did 
 not lead in the direction we wished to go, but by 
 taking it we were able to get away from the river and 
 the lake and into a country somewhat less sandy. 
 
 Towards evening, while trying to follow the most 
 direct road into Lapeer, and which an old lady said 
 was good " excepting one hill, which isn t very steep," 
 we came to a hill which was not steep, but sand, deep, 
 bottomless, yellow sand. Again and again the ma 
 chine tried to scale that hill ; it was impossible. There 
 was nothing to do but turn about and find a better 
 road. An old farmer, who had been leaning on the 
 fence watching our efforts, sagely remarked : 
 
 " I was afeard your nag would balk on that thar 
 hill; it is little the worst rise anywhere s about here, 
 and most of us know better n to attempt it; but I 
 guess you re a stranger." 
 
 We dined at Lapeer, and by dark made the run of 
 eighteen miles into Flint, where we arrived at eight- 
 thirty. We had covered one hundred and forty miles 
 in twelve hours, including all stops, delays, and diffi- 
 
Through Canada Home 315 
 
 culties. It was the Old Sarnia Gravel which helped 
 us on our journey that day. 
 
 At Flint another new chain was put on, and also a More repairs 
 rear sprocket with new differential gears. The old 
 sprocket was badly worn and the teeth of the gears 
 showed traces of hard usage. A new spring was sub 
 stituted for the broken, and the machine was ready for 
 the last lap of the long run. 
 
 Leaving Flint on Friday morning, the 26th, a round 
 about run was made to Albion for the night. The 
 intention was to follow the line of the Grand Trunk 
 through Lansing, Battle Creek, and Owosso, but, over- 
 persuaded by some wiseacres, a turn was made to 
 Jackson, striking there the olcl State road. 
 
 The roads through Lansing and Battle Creek can be 
 no worse than the sandy and hilly turnpike. Now 
 and then a piece of gravel is found, but only for a 
 short distance, ending usually in sand. 
 
 On Saturday the run was made from Albion to South 
 Bend. As far as Kalamazoo and for some distance 
 beyond the roads were hilly and for the most part 
 sandy, a disgrace to so rich and prosperous a State. 
 
 Through Paw Paw and Dowagiac some good 
 stretches of gravel were found and good time was 
 made. It was dark when we reached the Oliver House 
 in South Bend, a remarkably fine hotel for a place of 
 the size. 
 
 The run into Chicago next day was marked by no 
 incident worthy of note. As already stated, the roads 
 of Indiana are generally good, and fifteen miles an 
 hour can be averaged with ease. 
 
On an Automobile 
 
 The end 
 
 Some 
 
 reflections 
 
 It was four o clock, Sunday, September 28, when 
 the machine pulled into the stable whence it departed 
 nearly two months before. The electricity was turned 
 off, with a few expiring gasps the motor stopped. 
 
 Taking into consideration the portions of the route 
 covered twice, the side trips, and making some allow 
 ance for lost roads, the distance covered was over 
 twenty-six hundred miles ; a journey, the hardships 
 and annoyances of which were more, far more, than 
 counterbalanced by the delights. 
 
 No one who has not travelled through America on 
 foot, horseback, or awheel knows anything about the 
 variety and charm of this great country. We tra 
 versed but a small section, and yet it seemed as if we 
 had spent weeks and months in a strange land. The 
 sensations from day to day are indescribable. It is 
 not alone the novel sport, but the country and the 
 people along the way seemed so strange, possibly be 
 cause automobiling has its own point of view, and 
 certainly people have their own and widely varying 
 views of automobiling. In the presence of the ma 
 chine people everywhere become for the time-being 
 childlike and naive, curious and enthusiastic; they 
 lose the veneer of sophistication, and are as approach 
 able and companionable as children. Automobiling is 
 therefore doubly delightful in these early days of the 
 sport. By and by, when the people become accus 
 tomed to the machine, they will resume their habit of 
 indifference, and we shall see as little of them as if we 
 were riding or driving. 
 
 With some exceptions every one we met treated the 
 
Through Canada Home 317 
 
 machine with a consideration it did not deserve. Even 
 those who were put to no little inconvenience with their 
 horses seldom showed the resentment which might 
 have been expected under the circumstances. On the 
 contrary, they seemed to recognize the right of the 
 strange car to the joint use of the highway, and to 
 blame their horses for not behaving better. Verily, 
 forbearance is an American virtue. 
 
 The machine itself stood the journey well, all things Machine / 
 considered. It lacked power and was too light for s od condltwn 
 such a severe and prolonged test ; but, when taken 
 apart to be restored to perfect condition, it was aston 
 ishing how few parts showed wear. The bearings 
 had to be adjusted and one or two new ones put 
 in. A number of little things were done, but the 
 mechanic spent only forty hours time all told in 
 making the machine quite as good as new. A coat 
 of paint and varnish removed all outward signs of 
 rough usage. 
 
 However, one must not infer that automobiling is 
 an inexpensive way of touring, but measured by the 
 pleasure derived, the expense is as nothing; at the 
 same time look out for the man who says " My ma 
 chine has not cost me a cent for repairs in six months." 
 
 It is singular how reticent owners of automobiles 
 are concerning the shortcomings and eccentricities of 
 their machines ; they seem leagued together to deceive 
 one another and the public. The literal truth can be 
 found only in letters of complaint written to the manu 
 facturers. The man who one moment says his machine 
 is a paragon of perfection, sits down the next and 
 writes the factorv a letter which would be debarred 
 
3 i 8 On an Automobile 
 
 the mails if left unsealed. Open confession is good 
 for the soul, and owners of automobiles must culti 
 vate frankness of speech, for deep in our innermost 
 hearts we all know that a machine would have so tried 
 the patience of Job that even Bildad the Shuhite would 
 have been silenced. 
 
 Parallel j n the year 1735 a worthy Puritan divine, pastor 
 
 over a little flock in the town of Maiden, made the 
 following entries in his diary : 
 
 "January jj. Bought a shay for 27 IQS. The 
 Lord grant it may be a comfort and a blessing to my 
 family. 
 
 "March, 1755. Had a safe and comfortable jour 
 ney to York. 
 
 " April 24. Shay overturned, with my wife and I 
 in it ; yet neither of us much hurt. Blessed be our 
 generous Preserver! Part of the shay, as it lay upon 
 one side, went over my wife, and yet she was scarcely 
 anything hurt. How wonderful the preservation. 
 
 " May 5. Went to the Beach with three of the 
 children. The beast being frighted, when we were 
 all out of the shay, overturned and broke it. I desire 
 it (I hope I desire it) that the Lord would teach me 
 suitably to repent this Providence, and make suitable 
 remarks on it, and to be suitably affected with it. Have 
 I done well to get me a shay ? Have I not been proud 
 or too fond of this convenience? Do I exercise the 
 faith in the divine care and protection which I ought 
 to do? Should I not be more in my study and less 
 fond of diversion ? Do I not withhold more than is 
 meet from pious and charitable uses? 
 
Through Canada Home 319 
 
 " May 15. Shay brought home ; mending cost 
 thirty shillings. Favored in this beyond expecta 
 tion. 
 
 " May 16. My wife and I rode to Rumney Marsh. 
 The beast frighted several times. 
 
 "June 4. Disposed of my shay to Rev. Mr. 
 White." 
 
 MORAL. Under conditions of like adversity, let 
 every chauffeur cultivate the same spirit of humility, 
 and look for a Deacon White. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Accidents on the road caused by, 50, 51 
 
 Albany, 83, 102, 122, 123, 294; incon- i 
 venient for automobiles, 136 ; out of, j 
 295 ; to Brainerd, ridges between, 137, 
 138; to Pittsfield, 137, 138; to Troy, 
 295 
 
 Albion, 315 
 
 Alcott, as a neighbor, 209, 210; at | 
 Walden, 218 ; death and funeral, 244 ; 
 impressions of Emerson, 214, 215 ; not 
 a leader, 226 
 
 Alcott, Louisa, death and funeral, 244, j 
 245 ; her last words, 245 
 
 Alcotts and the Hawthornes, 209, 219 
 
 Amateur mechanics, 10 
 
 America, discovery of, by Norsemen, 
 183 ; unparalleled development and j 
 opportunities, 224 
 
 American and French automobiles, 20-22 
 
 American roads, 50, 51 ; wear and tear 
 on machine, 40 
 
 Amsterdam to Schenectady, 134 
 
 Anarchism, 277; a bubble, 285,286 ; and 
 Nihilism, 288; and Phillips Brooks, 
 283, 784 , a political theory, 280 ; apos 
 tles of, 286, 287 ; as a doctrine, 286, 287 ; 
 law in the case of the Chicago anarch 
 ists, 291 ; laws against acts rather than 
 theories, 289, 290 ; legislation against 
 propaganda of action," 289; " pro 
 paganda of action," 287, 288; seed of, 
 280, 281 ; the Chicago anarchists, 289- 
 291 
 
 Anarchists, errors of, 285, 286 
 
 Anarchy and Huxley, 282 
 
 Anarchy s greatest crime, 279 
 
 Ann Lee, 145-149 
 
 Arlington, 190 
 
 Army mules, 165 
 
 Artist, his career, 269, 270 
 
 Asbestos, substitute for, 13 
 
 Ashtabula, 57 ; roads out of, 60, 61 
 
 As others see us, 210, 211 
 
 Assistance, pay for, 16-18 
 
 Auburn, 123, 300 
 
 Auburndale, 188 
 
 Automobile. American z s. French, 20-22 ; 
 and civilization, 71, 72; and deserted 
 hostelries, 257, 258 ; and the law, 64 ; 
 and Morpheus, 175, 176; and time, 
 97 ; as a thing of beauty, 72 ; a strange 
 vehicle. 17; capricious, 93, 94; condi 
 tion of at end of trip, 317, 318 ; con 
 struction imperfect, 81, 82 ; do not lose 
 sight of, 93, 94 ; electric woman can 
 drive, 9 ; for amateurs, 23 ; gasoline, 
 capricious, 9 ; habit, 170 ; horse-power 
 of, 20, 21 ; no respecter of persons, 201, 
 202 ; " not allowed," 186 ; on high 
 Olympus, 67, 68 ; popular notions con 
 cerning, 138, 139 ; racing motor, 140 ; 
 road books, 34 ; stores, 142, 143 ; ter 
 ror of, 1 86, 187; touring, 95, 96; wear 
 and tear of, 40 ; works badly, 88, 89 
 
 Automobile Club of America, 132, 273 
 
 Automobiling, charm of, 7 ; clothing for, 
 25, 26 ; compared with yachting and 
 other sports, 40, 41 ; promise of, 307 ; 
 through historic places, 246, 247 
 
 Avon, no, 115, 124, 300, 301 ; glory of, 
 departed, 301 
 
 B 
 
 Ballrooms, ancient, 257 
 
 Batavia, 83, 84, 103, 105, 108, 109, no, 
 111,114,115; new batteries, 88 ; news 
 papers, 107 ; on return trip, 302 ; 
 second visit to, 99 ; to Canandaigua. 
 roads perfect, 88 ; to Geneva, 124 
 321 
 
3 22 
 
 Index 
 
 Batteries, 84 ; connecting, 85 ; testing, 85 i 
 
 Battle Creek, 315 
 
 Beans, Boston baked, 253 ; discovery of I 
 a new bean, 253, 254 
 
 Beast, gasoline automobile an obdurate, 
 10 
 
 Becket, 172 
 
 Bedford, 202 
 
 Bellevue, 54 
 
 Benton, Ind., 38 
 
 Bergen, 104, 121, 124 
 
 Berkshires, The, 161, 169 ; over the hills, 
 169, 170; roads through, 168 
 
 Beverly and Manchester, 186 
 
 Bicycle road maps, 33, 34 
 
 Blandford, 172 
 
 Boston, 122 ; and Christ Church, 189 ; 
 and commercialism, 192 ; arrival at, 
 186 ; baked beans, 253 ; departure 
 from, 1 88 ; from Worcester into, 181- 
 186 ; to New York, 266-272 
 
 Boulevards in Chicago, 31, 32 
 
 Bowling Green, road too sandy, 45 
 
 Boy, curiosity of the small, n 
 
 Brainerd, 137, 138, 141 ; telegraph office, 
 
 . 142 
 
 Brighton bridge, 192 
 
 Brook Farm, 150 
 
 Brookfield, 176 
 
 Brookline to the Newtons, 182 
 
 Bryan, 153, 154 ; a failure as a leader, 154 
 
 Buckman tavern, 201 
 
 Buffalo, 27, 39. 93, 102, 124; arrival at, 
 72 ; chapter on, 73 ; first glimpse of, 
 71 ; last view, 302, 303 ; leaving, 308 ; 
 starting from second time, 98; to 
 Albany by way of Syracuse, 123 ; to 
 Canandaigua, 83 
 
 Bunker Hill, 192 
 
 Burdick, Ind., 32 
 
 Burgundy, 250 
 
 Butler, Ind., 43 ; roads heavy, 45 
 
 Byron, 104, 124 
 
 Caledonia, no, 121, 124, 301 
 Calling on friends, 96, 97 
 Calling the ferry, 267 
 Camillus, 123 
 
 Canada, 308; annexation of, 311-314; 
 destiny of, 313, 314 ; England and 
 America, 313 ; is an anachronism , 311 
 
 Canadian hotels, 309, 310; roads, 310 
 
 Canandaigua, 89. 101, 103, 105, 109, no, 
 112, 113, 115; jail, in, 116; long hill 
 out of, 91 ; old negro porter, 125 ; to 
 Geneva, 124, 126 
 
 Caiioe meet on Charles River, 185 
 
 Carlyle, Ind., 36 
 
 Carlyle and Emerson, 222, 223 
 
 Celibacy, 147, 148 
 
 Chablis, 250 
 
 Chain breaks, 292 ; lubricating of, 80, 81 ; 
 repairing, 293 ; too short, 89 
 
 Champagne, 250 
 
 Charles River near Auburndale, 185 
 
 Charlestown, 189 
 
 Charm of automobiling, 7 
 
 Chauffeur, experienced, 18 ; real, 13 ; 
 sham, 18 ; stories of, 273, 274 ; sympa 
 thy with driver of horse, 64, 65 ; the 
 young, is panicky, 12 
 
 Chesterton, Ind., 32 
 
 Chicago, arrival at 315, 316 ; boulevards. 
 31, 32 ; roads of New York and, 39 
 
 Christ Church, 189 
 
 Christian Science, 31 
 
 Circus and the preacher, 75 
 
 Cities vs. Villages, 122 
 
 City riding, 123 
 
 Civilization and automobile, 71, 72 
 
 Claret, 250 
 
 Clarke house in Lexington, 189, 190, 201 
 
 Cleveland, 55, 56, 57, 154 
 
 Cleveland, Ex-president, illegal fishing. 
 160-162 
 
 Clos de Vougeot, 253 
 
 Clothes, 24, 25 
 
 Clyde, 123 
 
 Coaching compared with automobiling, 
 40, 41 ; coaching days, 102 
 
 Coasting, 91 
 
 Codfish balls, 253, 254 
 
 Coil defective, 175 
 
 Commonwealth Avenue, 186 
 
 Communism, 149, 150; absolutism of, 
 150, 151 
 
Index 
 
 3 2 3 
 
 Conceivable, the, and the inconceivable, 
 238 
 
 Concord, 182, 192 ; and Lexington, 183, 
 188 ; Concord grape, 203 ; leaving, 
 246; School of Philosophy and Litera 
 ture, 225 ; there is but one, 240 
 
 Connecticut and Rhode Island, 259; 
 through central, 266 
 
 Construction imperfect, 81, 82 
 
 Country, our own, 306, 307 ; the beauties 
 of a man s own, 303, 304 
 
 Court-house, Pittsfield, 165 
 
 Critic and cricicism, 7 
 
 Crocker, Ind., 32 
 
 Crowd, madding, n 
 
 Crowds and summer resorts, 261, 262 
 
 Cupid and the automobile, 67, 68 
 
 Curiosity cf older people, 12 ; of small 
 boy, ii 
 
 Customs, formalities, 308, 309 
 
 Cylinder, cleaning out, 77, 78; single vs. 
 multiple, 21-24 
 
 D 
 
 Dalton and Hinsdale, road through, 169 
 
 Daniel Johns, 107 
 
 Dawes, 190 
 
 Delusions of others, 217 
 
 Democrat, an old timer, 154 
 
 Democratic leaders, 154 ; party, icono 
 clastic, 153 
 
 Deserted hostelries and the automobile, 
 2 57 
 
 Devil s Elbow. 144 
 
 Dinner in Shaker village, 144-146 
 
 Dirt and grime, 25, 26 
 
 Dobbin, dear old, 68, 69 
 
 Dobbs Ferry, 292 
 
 Dolly-bar, substitute for. 13 
 
 Dorchester, 192 
 
 Dowagiac, 315 
 
 Dowieites, 29, 30 
 
 Drinking a lost art, 250, 251 
 
 Ducks, old lady with, 43, 44 
 
 Duplicate parts, 13 
 
 East Lexington. 
 Edgerton. 45 
 
 Egypt, 124 
 
 Electric automobile, woman can drive, 9 
 
 Elkhart, Ind., 37 
 
 Elyria, 56 
 
 | Emerson and Carlyle, 222, 223 ; and im 
 mortality, 232; and Mr. Hosmer, 215, 
 216 ; and ritualism, 193, 194 ; and the 
 slavery question, 196, 197; and the 
 spade, 150; and Thoreau, 219; the 
 apostle of beauty, 198; at Longfel 
 low s funeral, 230; at the Unitarian 
 Church in Providence, 198, 199 ; at 
 Walden, 218; at Wayside Inn, 184; 
 catholic spirit, 210; clear voice, 198; 
 described by Mrs. Hawthorne, 206 ; 
 
 i disconnected thoughts, 194, 195 ; frank 
 ness, 195 ; funeral, 243, 244 ; home, 
 227, 228; home destroyed by fire, 
 228 ; last days, 228-232 ; last words 
 about Carlyle, 230; message, 197, 
 198 ; method of thought, 195, 196 ; 
 naivete, 196 ; note-books and jour 
 nals, 195, 196; on communism, 150; 
 opinion of Alcott, 214 ; opinion of 
 Hawthorne, 212 ; thoughts concerning 
 death, 197; where a great man really 
 lives, 220-222 
 
 Endurance contest, 273; route of, 292, 
 293, 300; some accounts of, 274-276 
 
 Erie, roads out of, 69, 70 
 
 Euclid avenue, 57 
 
 Everett, Edward, oration at Lexington, 
 200 
 
 Expert mechanic, 18 
 
 Exposition at Buffalo, 73-75 
 
 Fairfield, 172 
 
 Farmer, willingness to help, 12 
 
 Farmer s wagon-shed, resources of, 14 
 
 Farmers and good roads, 173, 174 
 
 Fayetteville, 299 
 
 Ferries at New London and Lyme, 267 ; 
 
 from Sarnia to Port Huron, 311 
 Fish-balls, 253 
 Fishing episode, 160-162 
 Fishkill village, 293 
 Five weeks of touring, 94, 95 
 
3 2 4 
 
 Index 
 
 Flint, 314 ; leaving, 315 ; repairs at, 315 
 
 Fonda, 134, 168, 296 
 
 Follen Church, 193; and Emerson, 193, 
 
 194 
 
 Fording stream, 38 
 Foreword, 7 
 Fort Niagara, 117 
 Framingham, 182. 259 
 Frankfort, 297, 298 
 Franklin, 259 
 Freedom and liberty, 151 
 Freemont, August 2, 52 
 Frenchman s vanity, 10 
 Frightening a lawyer, 159, 160 
 
 Ganson, James, 108 ; Ganson s tavern, 
 no 
 
 Gasoline, 68, 133, 134 
 
 Gasoline automobile, capricious, 9 ; does 
 not tire, 138, 139 
 
 Gasoline consumed 39 ; receptacles not 
 clean, 172; stove grade, 134; supply, 
 general remarks, 133, 134 ; supply 
 poor in Canada, 310 
 
 Gearing, 39; too high, 89, 90; disadvan 
 tage in only two sets, 90, 91, 158 
 
 Genesee Street out of Buffalo, 124 
 
 Genesee Valley, 124 
 
 Geneva, 123, 126 ; lake at night, 127 ; to 
 Auburn, 127 
 
 Genius, 216, 217 
 
 Girard, 60 
 
 Good-roads sentiment, 174 
 
 Goshen to Kendallville, Ind., 38, 39 
 
 Government, evils of, 283 ; necessary 
 and not an evil, 281, 282 
 
 Graphite compounds, 80, 81 
 
 Great Barrington, 162; District Court, 
 161 
 
 Green s Inn out of season, 266 
 
 Groton, 189 
 
 H 
 
 Hamilton, Ont., 310 
 Hamilton at Wayside Inn, 184 
 Hammond, Ind., 32; to Hobart, 32 
 
 ; Hancock and Adams, 189, 190 
 Hanford s near Rochester, 116 
 I Harrington s home, 199 ; last survivor of 
 battle of Lexington, 199 
 
 Hartford, 266 
 
 Hastings, 292 
 
 Haul Brion, 252 
 
 Hawthorne, 206 : and Thoreau, 217, 218 ; 
 and the Wayside, 203 ; at Wayside 
 Inn, 184; call at the Emersons, 211 ; 
 death and funeral, 242, 243 ; described 
 by Mrs. Hawthorne, 206; estimate of 
 Emerson, 213: honeymoon, 204-210; 
 on over-appreciation, 215,216: reflec 
 tions on the graves of two British sol 
 diers, 240, 241 ; reserve, 211 ; return to 
 Concord, 209 
 
 Hawthorne, Mrs., letters of, 204-210 
 
 Hayward, James, of Acton, 202 
 
 Herald Square on the night of Presi 
 dent s death, 278 
 
 Herkimer, 132, 297 ; road through, 132 
 
 Hillside Chapel, 226 
 
 Hinsdale, 169 
 
 Hobart, Ind., 33 
 
 Holliston, 259 
 
 Home, 308 
 
 Homes of great men, fascination of, 227. 
 228 
 
 Hoodlums, 14-16 
 
 Horn vs. Gong, 44 
 
 Horse-power, American and foreign rat 
 ing, 20, 21 ; meaning of term, 139. 
 140 
 
 Horse, woman, and basket of eggs, 301, 
 302 
 
 Horses, assistance of, humiliating, 13 ; 
 and their drivers, 63, 64 : frightening, 
 302 ; how to pass, 65, 66 ; loose, 47, 48 ; 
 tethered by roadside, 47, 48 ; to be 
 considered, 62, 63 
 
 Hotel at Geneva, 126 ; Touraine, 186 
 
 Hotels in New York, 296 ; on noisy 
 streets, 121 
 
 Howe Family and Wayside Inn. 247, 
 248; Howe, Lyman, portrait 0^,248 
 
 Hudson River, 137 
 
 Huxley and anarchism, 282 
 
Index 
 
 3 2 5 
 
 Ignition, defective coil removed, 181 ; 
 effect, spark fails, 172, 173-175 ; locat 
 ing the trouble, 176, 177 
 
 Ignorance is bliss, 28 
 
 Illinois roads, 39 
 
 Imagination and steam, 304 
 
 Immortal, all things are, 236; immortal 
 ity of the_individual, 232-239 
 
 Indiana roads, 32, 33, 39 
 
 Individual soul. 232, 239 
 
 Insulation, 85, 86 
 
 Inventors puzzled, 10 
 
 Jack, substitute for, 13 
 Jackson, 315 
 Johannisberger, 252 
 Justice, administration of, 162 
 
 K 
 
 Kalamazoo, 315 
 
 Kendallville, starting from, 43 
 
 King s Bridge, 292 
 
 Kipton, 56 
 
 Kossuth at Lexington, 201 
 
 Labor Day in Worcester, 177; parade, 
 177, 178 
 
 Labor organizations and organization of 
 employers, 179, 180 
 
 Lafayette at Lexington, 201 ; at Way 
 side Inn, 184 
 
 Lake Erie, 70, 71 
 
 Lansing, 315 
 
 Lapeer, 314; sandy hill near, 314 
 
 Laporte, Ind., 33 
 
 Lasell Seminary, 185 
 
 Latham s Corners, 136 
 
 Law and the automobiles, 64 ; illegal 
 fishing, ex-President Cleveland, 160- 
 162 
 
 Lawyer, complaint by, 163, 164 ; fright 
 ened, 159, 160 ; timid, 162, 163 
 
 Learning, dangers of, 224 
 
 Lebanon, valley of, 96, 137 
 
 Lenox, 170; road through. 169 
 
 Le Roy, 101, 104, 105, no, in, 124, 301 ; 
 
 out of, in rain, 120 
 Letters of Mrs. Hawthorne, 204-210 
 Lewiston, 105, 117; road, 116 
 Lexington, 182, 183, 191, 192; and Con 
 cord, chapter on, 188; and Paul Re 
 vere, 190 ; battle of, 200 ; old burying- 
 ground, 201; ride from East Lexington 
 to the centre, 199 ; the Common, 200 ; 
 to Concord, 202 ; town hall and Follen 
 Church, 193 
 Liars, all men are, 276 
 Life, and a man s place of residence, 
 220-222 ; an automobile race, 152 ; 
 taking of human, 241 
 Ligonier, Ind., 38 
 Little Women, author of, 225, 226 
 Liverymen, willingness to help, 12 
 London, Ontario, 94, 310; to Sarnia, 311 
 Long Bridge, 192 
 Longfellow at Wayside Inn, 184 ; funeral, 
 
 230 
 
 Lord Percy s stone cannon, 200 
 Lubricants, 78-81 
 Lucullus, banquet of, 253 
 Luggage, devices for carrying, 24 
 j Lyme, ferry across river, 267 
 j Lyons, 123, 300 
 
 M 
 
 Macadamized roads, use of, 173, 174 
 Macedon, 124 
 Machine used, 20, 21 
 Madding crowd, n 
 Madeira, 251, 253 
 Madrid, effect of visit to, on an artist. 
 
 270,271 
 
 Magazine of Fort Niagara. 118 
 Maiden, 318 
 Manchester, 186 
 Manufacturers and American roads, 50. 
 
 52 
 
 Margaret Fuller, 216 
 Margaux, 252 
 Margin of safety, 50 
 
 Marlborough, 182 ; to Boston by Con 
 cord, 182 
 
 Masonic Lodge at Stafford, 101 
 Masons and Morgan, 104. 105 
 
326 
 
 Index 
 
 Massachusetts, 162 ; and obliteration of 
 old names, 191, 192; roads, 260; 
 through, 168 
 
 Mechanics, amateur, 10 ; beware, 87, 88 ; 
 expert, 18, 19 
 
 Medford, 190 
 
 Medway, 259 
 
 Menotomy, 190; and Arlington, 191; 
 old name of, 192 
 
 Mentor, 57 
 
 Miamis, 269 
 
 Michigan avenue, 29 
 
 Michigan roads, 39, 314 
 
 Midway, the, 75, 76 
 
 Miller, Morgan s publisher, 103, 109 ; 
 arrest, in 
 
 Mohawk Valley, 33, 131, 134, 135 
 
 Molineaux, Major, at Wayside Inn, 248, 
 249 
 
 Monroe tavern, 199 
 
 Monterey, 161 
 
 Monti, the Young Sicilian. 255 
 
 Morgan, abduction of, 112, 113 ; confes 
 sion of, 114, 115 ; abductors sentenced, 
 114; and Fort Niagara, 117, 118; 
 and the Masons, 104, 105 ; arrest, 108 ; 
 discharge by justice, no; discovery of 
 body, 119; history of, 104,105; kid 
 nappers tried, 115, 116; manuscript. 
 115; monument, 99, 100 ; papers, 108, 
 115; proclamations by Governor Clin 
 ton, 118, 119 ; release, 112 ; second ar 
 rest, 109, no; wife, 108 ; mystery, be 
 ginning of story, 106 
 
 Mormons, 147, 148 
 
 Morpheus and the automobile, 175, 176 
 
 Motor, pounding in, 55 ; single cylinder, | 
 23 ; single Z S. multiple cylinder, 21-24 
 
 Mount Lebanon, 146 
 
 Mud, between Poughkeepsie and Al- ; 
 bany, 294, 295 ; from Fonda to Utica, j 
 296, 297 ; in machinery, 84 
 
 N 
 
 I 
 
 Napoleon, Ohio, 45 ; to Perrysburg, 47 
 Narragansett Pier, 260 ; and Newport, 
 262-266; and the crowd, 261. 262 ; ar 
 rival at Green s Inn. 261 
 
 National literature, 223, 224 
 
 Natives and foreigners, 305, 306 
 
 Nature, about us, 305 ; and solitude, 171, 
 172 ; a unit, 304 ; by sunrise, 136 ; by 
 sunset, 135, 136 
 
 Nelson s Hill, 168, 293 
 
 Newark, 123 
 
 New England and beans, 254 ; supper, 
 175 ; towns are thrifty, 160 
 
 New Haven, 266, 268 ; to New York, 269 
 
 Newkirk, 104, 124 
 
 New London, ferry across river, 267 
 
 Newport, 123; and Narragansett Pier. 
 262-266 : life at, 262-266 
 
 Newton, 182 
 
 New York, 102, 122 ; approached by 
 night, 272 ; arrival in, 273 ; from Bos 
 ton, 266-272 ; leaving for Albany, 292 ; 
 roads to, 39; through western, 120; 
 to Buffalo, 292 ; State, hills of, 90 
 
 Night, effect of, upon scenery, 272, 273 
 
 Nile route to Canandaigua, 124 
 
 Norembega Park, 182 
 
 Norembega tower, 182 
 
 North bridge, 240 
 
 North Chili, 124 
 
 North Family in Shaker village, 144. 145 
 
 North shore, 186 
 
 Norwalk, Conn., celebration at, 269 
 
 Norwalk, Ohio, 54; to Cleveland. 56, 57 
 
 Noyes, John, 147 
 
 Oberlin, 56 
 
 Observations, preliminary, 9 
 
 October Mountain. 171 
 
 " Odds, writs and warrants," 163, 164 
 
 Ohio, into, 42 ; roads, 39, 54 
 
 Oils, lubricating. 78-80 
 
 Old Bedford Road, 202 
 
 Old fort at Lewiston, 116, 117 
 
 Old Manse, 192, 193, 203, 210, 240 ; 
 and Emerson s grandfather, 241, 242; 
 description of, by Hawthorne, 204 ; de 
 scription of by Mrs. Hawthorne, 204- 
 210; life of the Hawthornes at, 208, 
 209 
 
 Old names changed, 191-193 
 
Index 
 
 3 2 7 
 
 Old North Church, 189, 191 
 
 Old Sarnia gravel, 94 
 
 Old taverns, 201 
 
 Old well near Lexington. 202 
 
 Ole Bull, 256 
 
 Oneida Castle, 299 
 
 Oneida Community, 147 
 
 Oneida tavern, 128; old hotel proprietor, 
 
 128, 129 
 
 Oneida to Utica, 131, 132 
 Ontario, 132 
 Orchard House, 209, 225 
 Ordinances and speed, 66, 67 ; the law in 
 
 Pittsfield, 164, 165 
 Osceola, Ind., 38 
 Otis, 172 
 Otis, Ind., 32 
 
 Over-soul, Emerson s phrase, 237 
 Owosso, 315 
 
 P 
 
 Painesville, 57 ; roads out of, 60 
 
 Palatine Bridge, 134 
 
 Palmyra, 123, 124, 300; road. 116 
 
 Parker, Captain, 200 
 
 Paul Revere, 201 ; ride, 188-191 
 
 Paw-Paw, 315 
 
 Pawtucket, 259 ; leaky tire, 260 
 
 Pay for services, 16-18 
 
 Peekskill, 168, 293 
 
 Perrysburg, 47 
 
 Perry s Pike, 48, 49 
 
 Philippines, purchase of, 154 
 
 Philosophy and immortality, 232-239 ; 
 
 and truth, 227 
 Pittsfield, 137, 158; arriving in, 159; 
 
 courtesy of bench in, 165 ; decision of 
 
 court, 166; road to Lenox. 169; to 
 
 Springfield, 168, 169 
 Pittsford, 123, 124, 300 
 Popular notions concerning automobiles. | 
 
 I 3 8 , I 39 
 
 Pork and beans, 254 
 Port, 250 
 
 Port Byron, 123, 300 
 Porter, Ind,, 32 
 Port Huron, 314 
 Poughkeepsie, 294 
 Pounding, how to discover. 56 
 
 Preliminary observations, 9 
 
 Prescott, Samuel, 190 
 
 President, an executive official, 280 ; 
 President McKinley, death of, 277, 
 278; Presidents, assassination of, 279 
 
 Pride s Hill, 168 
 
 Professor, the, 27 ; and Christian Science. 
 31 ; and civilization, 71 ; and Dowie, 
 29-31 ; and the Midway, 75, 77; and 
 Dobbin, 68, 69 ; and horses, 62 ; and 
 lovemaking, 69; and yellow journals, 
 44, 45 ; an early call, 42 ; bump of lo 
 cality, 61; courage, 49; forecast, 67,68 ; 
 ignorance and learning, 28, 29 ; igno 
 rance is bliss, 91-93 ; is cold, 44, 45 ; is 
 tired, 86, 87 ; log, 38 ; makes inquiries 
 at Freemont, 52, 53 ; return, 94 ; vaca 
 tion ended, 93 ; wrath, 46, 47 
 
 Providence, 259 ; and Emerson at the 
 Unitarian Church, 198, 199 ; to Narra- 
 gansett Pier, 260 
 
 Punctured tires, 32, 33 ; repairing, 33 
 
 Pure grape juice, 146 
 
 Racing cars, 21, 22 
 
 Railroad spike in tire, 57 
 
 Rain, 43, 44; roads after, 120; very 
 heavy, 296, 297 
 
 Rainy weather, 83, 84, 294, 295 
 
 Rainy Sunday, 176 
 
 Recklessness, 49, 50 
 
 Red Horse Tavern, 184 
 
 Reflections on the journey, 316, 317 
 
 Repairs, 13 ; after dark, 92 ; beware ot 
 country mechanic, 87, 88 ; to differen 
 tial gears, 91 ; in Boston, 187 ; looking 
 over machine, 42, 43 ; Syracuse, 127. 
 128 
 
 Republican party, reverential, 153 
 
 Revere, Paul, his ride, 188-191 ; capture 
 of, 190, 191 ; death of, 191 
 
 Rhode Island and Connecticut, 259 
 
 Ridges out of Albany, 137 
 
 Ridgeville, 45 
 
 Ripley, George, and Brook Farm. 150 
 
 River road out of Napoleon, 45 
 
 Road maps, 33, 34 
 
328 
 
 Index 
 
 Roads, Albany and Troy, 295 ; Ameri 
 can, 50, 51 ; from Boston to New York, 
 266-272 ; Canadian, 310 ; clay or sand, 
 35 ; inquiring the way, 34, 36 ; finding 
 the, 33, 34 ; following directions about 
 Boston, 183; from Geneva to Auburn, 
 127: from Le Roy to Rochester, 121 ; 
 from London to Sarnia, 311 ; Massa 
 chusetts, 260 ; Michigan, 314, 315, 316 ; 
 Narragansett Pier to New Haven, 266, 
 267; New York to Albany, 292-295; 
 Ohio, 54; out of Cleveland, 57 ; Prov 
 idence to Narragansett Pier, 260; 
 Schenectady and Fonda, 296 ; Spring 
 field to Worcester, 173 ; through Frank 
 fort, 297 ; through Herkimer, 132 ; 
 Wayside Inn to Providence, 259, 260 ; 
 Worcester to Boston, 181-186 
 
 Rochester, 104, 105, 124, 300 ; and Mor 
 gan, 116 ; arrival at, 121 ; road to Syra 
 cuse, 123 
 
 Romani Conti, 253 
 
 Rubber bands, repairing tires, 37 
 
 Russian cap, 26 
 
 Sambo, 125 
 
 Sand hills, 35, 36 
 
 Sandy Beard, 162-167 
 
 Sandy roads, 45. 46 
 
 Sanford, Judge, 161 
 
 Sauterne, 250 
 
 Schenectady, 134, 294 ; to Fonda, 296 ; 
 to Albany, 136 
 
 Scotch cap, 26 
 
 Seneca Falls, 300 
 
 Shakers, 96, 146-152 ; beverage, 146 ; a 
 brother, 148 ; a maiden, 145 ; princi 
 ples of, 149, 150 ; revelation, 149 ; set 
 tlement, 144 ; village, 143, 144 ; village, 
 life in, 151, 152 
 
 Sheridan, apologies to, 163, 164 
 
 Sheridan Road, 31, 32 
 
 Sherry, 250 
 
 Shrewsbury, 182 
 
 Silver question, 155 
 
 Slavery question and Emerson, 196, 197 
 
 Sleepy Hollow, 204, 242 ; a last view, 245 , 
 
 246 ; described by Mrs. Hawthorne, 207 
 Society is piracy, 266 
 Soldiers, graves of two British, 240 ; 
 
 meeting at well, 202 ; mission, 202, 203 ; 
 
 monument at Lexington, 200, 201 
 Solitude, 171, 172 
 Sound Beach, 269 
 South Bend, 36, 315 
 Southborough, 182 
 Soul, the all-pervading, 232-239 
 Spain, treaty with, 154 
 Spanish Jew from Alicant, 256 
 Speed in England. 67 ; in Ireland, 67 ; 
 
 rate of, 66, 67 
 
 Spencer, ignition fails at, 176, 177 
 Sport, automobiling as a, 7, 40, 41 
 Spring breaks, 310, 311 
 Springfield, 168, 173, 266 
 St. Catharines, 308 ; to London, 310, 311 
 St. George Hotel, 301 
 St. Johnsville, 297 
 Stafford, 101, 103, 104, no, in ; tavern, 
 
 108, 109 
 
 Start, the, 17, 19 
 State road over mountain to Pittsfield, 
 
 144, 158 
 
 Steam automobile, man can drive, 9 
 Steering-head breaks, 141, 142 
 Stony River road, 56 
 Stories of chauffeurs, 273, 274 
 " Straw Hat," 162-166 
 Strikes and strikers, 177-180 
 Sudburys, 182, 189, 246 
 Summer hotels and crowds, 261, 262 
 Summer School of Philosophy, 226 
 Sunrise, nature by, 136 
 Sunset, nature by, 135, 136 
 Suspension bridge, 308 
 Syracuse, 124, 127 ; hotels, 121 ; leaving. 
 300 ; road from Rochester, 123 ; to 
 Buffalo, 300, 301 ; to Oneida, 128 
 
 Tales of a Wayside Inn, Young Sicilian . 
 
 254, 255 
 
 Tammany, influence of, 155. 156 
 Tarrytown, 292 
 
Index 
 
 329 
 
 Tavern, at Stafford, 102 ; Buckman. 201 
 
 Monroe, 201 ; Wright s, 201 
 Thoreau. appearance, 218; described by 
 Mrs. Hawthorne. 206 ; early home, 246 ; 
 funeral, 242 
 Three Rivers, 47 
 Tilden and Cleveland, 154 ; Tilden s 
 
 birthplace, 152, 153 
 Time and automobile. 97 
 Tire, leaking, 187. 260 
 Tires, how to remove and put on. 57. 58 ; 
 extra, 33; punctured, 32, 33, 57; re 
 pairing with rubber bands. 37 ; single 
 and double. 24 
 Toledo, 48 
 Toll-roads, 299. 300 
 Tools, 13 
 
 Touring on automobile, 95, 96 
 Town Hall, Lexington. 193 
 Travel, dangers of. 224; effect of. 305. 
 
 306 
 Troy, leaving, 295 ; repairs at. 295 ; 
 
 road, 136 ; to Schenectady. 296 
 Trunks and hat-boxes, 24 
 Turkey, the sick, 156, 1^7 
 Tyringham, 161 
 
 U 
 
 Ulysses and the Sirens, 170 
 Utica, 124. 131,132,297; arrival at, 298 ; 
 overhauling the machine, 299 ; to Syra 
 cuse, 299 
 
 V 
 
 Valley, Genesee and Wyoming, 124; 
 
 Mohawk, 131 ; of Lebanon, 137. 143, 
 
 157, 158 
 
 Valparaiso, hid., 33 
 Vegetarians, 145, 146 
 Velasquez, influence of, on painters. 270 
 Veracity of those who drive automobiles, 
 
 2/4, 275 
 Villages 7 .v. Cities. 122 
 
 W 
 
 Wakeman, 56 
 
 Walden, Emerson, Alcott, and Thoreau 
 at, 218, 219 
 
 Waltham, 188 ; Waltham Street to Lex 
 ington, 188 
 Wandering Jew, 170 
 
 Washington at Wayside Inn, 184 
 
 Water tank, leak in, 55 
 
 Wayside Inn, 184, 188, 201 : arrival at, 
 247 ; a true accomp., 249 ; ballroom, 
 257; departure from, 259; old bar is 
 dry at, 249, 250 ; tales of, 247-249 ; the 
 last tale, 256 
 
 Wayside, The. 203 
 
 Wear and tear of machine, 40 
 
 Wellesley, 182 
 
 Western New York, 124 
 
 Westfield, 172 
 
 West Medford, 190 
 
 West Wrentham, 259 
 
 What to wear, 24. 25 
 
 Wheel off in Valley of Lebanon, 141. 
 142 
 
 Wheels, wire ? s. wood. 70 
 
 Wickliff, 57 
 
 Willoughby, 57 
 
 Wine, is loquacious, 252 ; no longer un 
 derstood, 250. 251 ; received as a 
 strange guest, 251 ; serving of, 251, 252 
 
 Wives of the great men of Concord, 209 
 
 Woman can drive electric automobile, 9 
 
 Woman s wit, 36 
 
 Women the arbiters of social fate, 265. 
 266 
 
 Worcester. 173, 176, 177, 266 ; to Boston, 
 181-186 
 
 Wright s Tavern, 239, 240 
 
 Wyoming Valley. 124 
 
 Yachting compared with automobiling, 
 
 40, 41 
 
 Yellow journals and the Professor, 44. 45 
 Yonkers, 292 
 Young, Brigham, 147 
 Young Sicilian, 254, 255 
 Yquem, 252 
 
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