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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12380-0.txt b/12380-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f493ed0 --- /dev/null +++ b/12380-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8957 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12380 *** + +TWO THOUSAND MILES ON AN AUTOMOBILE + +BEING A DESULTORY NARRATIVE OF +A TRIP THROUGH NEW ENGLAND, +NEW YORK, CANADA, AND +THE WEST + +BY +"CHAUFFEUR" + + +1902 + + +WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS +BY +FRANK VERBECK + +__________ + +To L. O. E. + +Who for more than sixteen hundred miles +of the journey faced dangers and discomforts +with an equanimity worthy a better +cause, and whose company lightened the +burdens and enhanced the pleasure of the +"Chauffeur" + +----------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER +I.-----Some Preliminary Observations +II.----The Machine Used +III.---The Start +IV.----Into Ohio +V.-----On to Buffalo +VI.----Buffalo +VII.---Buffalo to Canandaigua +VIII.--The Morgan Mystery +IX.----Through Western New York +X.-----The Mohawk Valley +XI.----The Valley of Lebanon +XII.---An Incident of Travel +XIII.--Through Massachusetts +XIV.---Lexington and Concord +XV.----Rhode Island and Connecticut +XVI.---Anarchism +XVII.--New York to Buffalo +XVIII.-Through Canada Home + +---------- + +FOREWORD +------------------------------------------------------------------ + + +To disarm criticism at the outset, the writer acknowledges 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 incomplete without reflections by the way; the +imagination once in will not out; it even seeks to usurp the +humbler function of observation. However, the arrangement 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 finding +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 discrimination. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER ONE SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS +THE MADDING CROWD + +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 something 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 conquered +and well-broken to harness, submissive and resigned 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 impartiality. It +shows no more deference to maker than to owner; it moves no more +quickly for expert mechanic than for amateur driver. When it +balks, it balks,--inventor, manufacturer, mechanic, stand puzzled; +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 mechanics 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 wrestling 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 betray 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. + +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 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 crowd multitude +always with us--or against us? There is no 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 intuition +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 thoughtful observer would be +fearful lest he were an idiot. The American small boy is not +idiotic; tested by his curiosity concerning automobiles, he is the +fruition of the centuries, the genius the world is awaiting, the +coming ruler of men and empires, or--who knows?--the coming master +of the automobile. + +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. + +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 veritable 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 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 see a pair of +horses patiently pulling his machine along the highway, and how he +fights against such an unnatural 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 permit 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 cannot be made on +the spot. The novice looks on in despair, 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 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 disclose duplicates that can be removed temporarily to the +more essential places. + +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 accessible, 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 construct entire +an automobile from the odds and ends of a half-dozen farm-yards. + +All boys and most girls--under twelve--say, "Gimme 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 nature, 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 aversion towards the automobile, +since, from their stand-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 reversion 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 passing 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 would not be a hoodlum, 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 altogether too +much. + +That it is the machine which rouses his savage instincts 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. + +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-intelligently; +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 pleasant diversion from a bed on the +grass. + +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 contended that +the reward should be in proportion to 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 reward; 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 connection with +automobiling is as interesting as it is new. 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 without 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 automobiles 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 chauffeur 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. + +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 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 repairs 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. When things go +well, he does it; when they go wrong, it is the fault of some one +else; if he makes a successful 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 chauffeur +--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 pretense 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 information 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO THE MACHINE USED +MAKING READY TO START + +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 repairs. + +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 underrated. A twelve horse-power American +machine may mean not more than eight or ten; a twelve horse-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 horsepower machine of a rival maker; hence +the tendency to increase the power without changing the nominal +rating. The American manufacturer caters to the demand 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 towards the French +type,--two or four cylinders 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 +stubbornness, 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. + +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 amateur 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 frequently +failures. A thirty horse-power foreign machine costing ten or +twelve thousand dollars, accompanied 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 conditions prevailing in this country +and is built to surmount 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 machine 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 purchase indefinitely, unless you expect to carry along +a man. + +Machine for machine, regardless of price, the comparison is +debatable; but price for price, there is no comparison whatsoever; +in fact, there is no inexpensive imported machine which compares +for a moment with the American product. + +A single-cylinder motor possesses a few great advantages 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 successfully. 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 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. + +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 +because better speed is maintained through heavy roads and on up +grades. + +So far as resiliency is concerned, there is no comparison 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 comparatively few go through. The weight of the tire makes it +rather hard riding, very hard, indeed, as compared with a fine +Michelin. + +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 waterproof 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. + +What to wear is something of a problem. In late autumn and winter +fur is absolutely essential to comfort. Even at fifteen or twenty +miles an hour the wind 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 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 emergencies, +for at any moment it may be necessary to get underneath. + +The man who is going to master his own machine must expect to get +dirty; dust, oil, and grime plentifully distributed,--but dirt is +picturesque, even if objectionable. 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 engineer driving his locomotive in blue +coat, yellow waistcoat, and ruffles,--quite as appropriate as a +fastidious dress on the 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 mechanic'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 threshing, 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 outdoor 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +"IS THIS ROAD TO--" + +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 decided 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 Buffalo as fast as roads would permit,--but for +exhilaration 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. + +The Professor knew nothing about machinery and 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 Professor adjusted his spectacles and looked at the machine: + +"A very wonderful contrivance, and one that requires 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 telegram, +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 mathematics to produce or modify motion in +inferior bodies; what could be more apt? Is it not our intention +to produce 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 1, at exactly seven o'clock, that +we passed south on Michigan Avenue towards South Chicago and +Hammond. A glorious morning, neither hot nor cold, but just +deliciously cool, with some promise--afterwards more than +fulfilled--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. +"Possibly; but we all impose more or less upon one another; he has +simply made a business of his imposition. 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 conversation." + +"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 pretensions 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." + +A few 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. + +"There is another latter-day sect," said the Professor; "one of +the phenomena of the nineteenth century." + +"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 the things she +has; she talks of everything but the lake and her broad and almost +endless boulevards, yet these are her chief glories. + +For miles and miles and miles one can travel boulevards 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. + + 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 cooling +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. + +The roads are now not so good,--not bad, but just good country +roads, some stretches of gravel, but generally clay, with some +sand here and there. The country is rolling, but no steep hills. + +Up to this time the machine had required no attention, 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 +temporary repair might have been made by first dipping 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 delusion. A +road which seems most seductive on the bicycler's road map may be +a sea of sand or a veritable 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 Mohawk 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,--and it is a +matter of great concern in this vast country, 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 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 information 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 redlined 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 reasonably 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 +overland drives. + +It is much easier to get information in small villages 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 machine 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 +pronounced 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 +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. + +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 +machine, 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. + +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 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 automobiling; they pull +the average down by jumps. + +The extra tire was to be at Elkhart, farther on, and 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 puncture, 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 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 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 question. +Before attempting a stream, one must make sure of the bottom; the +depth is of less importance. + +We did not run into Elkhart, but passed about two 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 Benton and Ligonier, arriving at Kendallville at exactly +eight o'clock. + +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 average over so long a +stretch, but the weather was perfect 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 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 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 +delights. + +The Professor notes that up to this point nine and three-quarters +gallons of gasoline have been consumed,--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 encouraging; 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. + +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 distance covered increases in arithmetical +progression, the deterioration of the machine is in geometrical. +During the first few days a good machine requires comparatively +little attention each day; during the last weeks of a long tour it +requires double the attention and ten times the work. + +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, accordingly. 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 automobiling is to +coaching as steam yachting is to sailing,--all of which argues the +densest ignorance concerning automobiling, since there is no sport +which affords anything 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 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 unknown, passing persons, teams, vehicles, cattle, +obstacles, 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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +THE RAILROAD SPIKE + +A five o'clock call, though quite in accordance with orders, was +received with some resentment and responded to reluctantly, the +Professor remarking that it seemed but fair to give the slow-going +sun a reasonable start as against the automobile. + +About fifty minutes were given to a thorough examination 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 require +tightening after a little hard usage; this is quite 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 destructive 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 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 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 warning, used by +police and fire departments and by trolley lines, and it works +well in the country. + +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 generally, 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 +reversible waterproof shooting-jacket at Butler, several sizes too +large, but warm; and the Professor remarked, as he gathered its +folds about him, "I was 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 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 +succession 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 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 concerning the character of the sandy places. + +Happily, when the people say the road is "sandy," 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 succession of sand ridges that +are sand from base to summit, 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 treacherous 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 shaking the sand out +of his shoes, "It is difficult to preserve 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 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 Professor looked anxiously down +and said,-- + +"Is the blamed thing stuck again?" + +We turned off the Bowling Green road to the River road, which is +not only better, but more direct from Napoleon to Perrysburg. It +was the road we originally intended to take; it was down on our +itinerary, and in automobiling it is better to stick to first +intentions. + +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, creeping on slowly so as not to frighten it +more. Loose 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. + +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 limestone. 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, 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 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 encountered. "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. + +One must have a cool, quick, and accurate appreciation 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 problem 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. + +The roads are as they are, a practically constant,--and, for some +time to come,--an unchangeable quantity. 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 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 automobiles for America or Australia, the +only pertinent question is, "What are the roads of America or +Australia?" 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 and sparsely +settled as North America, it is not conceivable 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 automobile must +be so constructed as to cover them as they are. + +The manufacturer who waits for good roads everywhere should move +his factory to the village of Falling Waters, and sleep in the +Kaatskills. + +Machines which give out on bad roads, simply because 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 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 complain, 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 normal to the country. + +It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at Fremont. 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 delicate indicator on the +gasoline tank and began: + +"That was a great day, my boy." + +"Yes, sir, it was." + +"And it comes once a year." + +"Why, sure." + +"Ahem--" in some confusion, "I mean you celebrate once a year." + +"Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it comes every +year." + +"Quite right, quite right; always recall with appropriate +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--" 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 gasoline--sometimes; +that is not a boiler, it is the cooler--on hot days we take turns +sitting on it;--explosions,--electric spark,--yes, it is queer; +--man at last stop made same bright remark; no danger from +explosions 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 anticipate 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?" + +"Danged if I know." And we never found out. + +At Bellevue we lighted our lamps and ran to Norwalk over a very +fair road, arriving a few minutes after eight. Norwalk liveries +did not like automobiles, 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. + +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 side, but not so +badly that we could not go on to Cleveland, where repairs could be +made more quickly. A slight pounding which had developed was +finally located in the pinion of a small gear-wheel that operated +the exhaust-valve. + +It is sometimes by no means easy to locate a pounding 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 eccentric 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 explosion. 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 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 up things generally. It was four +o'clock before we were off for Painesville. + +Euclid Avenue is well paved in the city, but just outside there is +a bit of old plank road that is disgracefully 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 before +starting I gave each a sharp blow with a 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 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. + +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 partially 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. + +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 applied is stronger. If the rim is well +covered with old 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, making the broken spring as serviceable and strong for the +time being as if sound. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE ON TO BUFFALO +"GEE WHIZ!!" + +From Painesville three roads led east,--the North Ridge, Middle +Ridge, and South Ridge. We followed 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,--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 his 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 remarked,-- + +"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 surroundings!" + +"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 village across the stream, so the road +leads somewhere." + +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 burden. Towards the last it used to delight +him to see people frantically turning into lanes, fields, anywhere +to get out of the way. + +The horse is a factor to be considered--and placated. 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 Professor 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 generally 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 automobiles. 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 +automobile, 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 plug, jogging quietly along, quite unterrified, +may be roused to unwonted capers by the person behind. + +Some take the antics of their horses quite philosophically. 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 unsteadily in his wagon and +shouted,-- + +"If you (hic) 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 amateur 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. + +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. + +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. +Furthermore, 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 automobile driver to take great care +in passing; the care being measured by the possibility and +probability of at accident. + +The sympathy of every chauffeur must be entirely with the driver +of the horse. Automobiles are not so 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 that he will exercise caution +in approaching. All this is 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 country 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 behave badly, and +unless the outward signs are unmistakable, 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 motions 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 disregard 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 +manifested in many ways that are disagreeable to the chauffeur and +his friends. + +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 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 stringent 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 repression on the one side +and Irish impulsiveness and recklessness on the other. + +The Englishman will not budge; the Irishman cries, "Let her go." + +Speaking of the future of the automobile, the Professor said,-- + +"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 overalls and +jumper, leather jacket and cap; he could not use dart or arrow, at +best he could only run the machine 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! + +"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 mechanism; 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 question. + +"Dobbin, dear old secretive Dobbin, what difference 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 +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, Professor?" + +"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, 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 +margin 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 outside into each +gully, the sliding of the machine received 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, substantial wooden wheels one sees on nearly all imported +machines and on some American. + +The sense of proportion between parts is sadly outraged 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 sapphire set in the dull brown gold of woods and +fields. Farther on we come out upon the bluffs overlooking the +lake and see the smoke and grime of Buffalo far across. What a +blot on a view so beautiful! + +"Civilization," said the Professor, "is the subjection 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 usefulness; in every civilization nature is of secondary +importance, 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 +harshness, 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 consideration; 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 absolutely 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 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?" + +"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 generation 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 protestations, 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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX BUFFALO +THE MIDWAY + +Housing the machine in a convenient and well-appointed stable for +automobiles, we were reminded of the fact that we had arrived in +Buffalo at no ordinary 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 Expositions +proverbially expensive--to promoters and stockholders as well as +visitors? + +Then, too, the hotels of Buffalo had expected so much and were so +woefully disappointed. Vast arrays of figures had been compiled +showing that within a 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 exorbitant charges. Notions of value become very much +congested within a radius of two or three hundred miles of any +great Exposition. + +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 architectural arrangement. It was the falls +of Niagara turned into stars, the mist of the mighty cascade +crystallized 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 folding 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 +radiance,--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 province 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 crackling +of whips; there are prancing steeds and figures in costumes +curious,--then, flapping of canvas, creaking 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 outside the pale of +criticism and discussion. Therefore, 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. + +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 +expressed 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 invariably produced a comedy with their +tragedies; human 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 cinematograph 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. + +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 temperate 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 discolor +the nose of a humming-bird. + +There were no end of illusions, mysteries, and deceptions. 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 without 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 eccentric 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 gasoline once +each week or ten days; it is not necessary, but the piston moves +with much greater freedom and the compression is better. + +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 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 gallon. 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. + +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 directions for caring for +the machine information concerning 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 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 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 moisture in the +cylinder of a gas-engine, the use of any animal oil is said to be +unnecessary; as there is moisture 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 contain 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 mica are both good chain lubricants, but if mixed +with a pure mineral base, such as vaseline, they will wash off in +mud and water. 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 there is not an +automobile made, according to the reports 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 difficult machine in +the hands of the amateur, and so far it has been made almost +impossible by its poor construction. 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 building of carriages is +a long-established industry, employing 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. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN BUFFALO TO CANANDAIGUA +BEWARE OF THE COUNTRY MECHANIC + +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 frivolously, 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 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 mechanism. 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 particular 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. + +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 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 connection. 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 battery 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 moment 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 is weak, the +current from both sets can be turned 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 multiples, then, as +they weaken still more, in series. + +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 insulated 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 derogatory 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." + +"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, exhausted. + +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 country +mechanic,--of the three, the mechanic can do 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 machine, 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 at the machine, give it to him as a reward and a +revenge 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. + +At Batavia we put in new batteries, repacked the 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 +looking 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. + +The run from 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 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 peculiar grating noise we had +heard and materially checking 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 is quite rolling +and many of the hills steep. Twice 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 well enough, +and a high average speed can be maintained, but where the roads +are soft or the country rolling, a high gear may mean a very +material disadvantage 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 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. + +The machine we were using had but two sets of 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 gasoline motor develops its highest +efficiency when it is running at full speed, there should be +enough intermediate 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 nothing 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 +intermediate gears if best results are to be attained, the +conditions change so from mile to mile. + +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 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 exhilarating. 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 +possibility of collision is understood, and every danger is +present in the mind, and with it all the thrill of excitement +which ever accompanies risk. + +During the entire descent the Professor was in blissful 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." + +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 were necessary, rather than spend the time +necessary to make them in the one small machine shop at +Canandaigua. + +Furthermore the Professor's vacation was drawing to a close; he +had given himself not to exceed ten days, eight had elapsed. + +"I 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 days and weeks to become acquainted with all the +peculiarities and weaknesses of an automobile, 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, 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 gregarious 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 obviously impossible of fulfillment 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 glorious run of one hundred and +forty miles the last day, covering the Old Sarnia gravel out of +London, Ontario, at top speed for nearly seventy miles. + +For five weeks to a day we wandered over the eastern country at +our own sweet will, not a care, not a responsibility,--days +without seeing newspapers, finding mail and telegrams at +infrequent intervals, but much of the time lost to the world of +friends and acquaintances. + +Touring on an automobile differs from coaching, posting, +railroading, from every known means of locomotion, in that you are +really lost to the world. In coaching or posting, one knows with +reasonable certainty 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 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; it puts +them to no end of inconvenience; for days they expect you and you +do not come; their feeling of relief that you did not come is +destroyed by your appearance. + +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 consolation +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 immaculate 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 drawing-room. It is not quite at home in +the stable; it demands a house of its own. If the friend who +invites 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, leaving an ineradicable stain under the +porte-cochere, and frightening his favorite horses into fits as +you run into the stable. + +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 careering about. Each time we called on friends; +sometimes they were in, sometimes out; it was all so casual,--a +cup of tea, a little chat, sometimes without shutting down the +motor,--the briefest of calls, all the more charming because +brief,--really, it was strange. + +We see a town ahead; calling to a man by the roadside,-- + +"What place is that?" + +"L--" is the long drawn shout as we go flying 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. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT THE MORGAN MYSTERY +THE OLD STONE BLACKSMITH SHOP AT STAFFORD + +It was Wednesday, August 22, that we left Buffalo. In some stray +notes made by my companion, I find this enthusiastic description +of the start. + +"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--whirr--whirr--r--r,' we are off. Through +the rich foliage of noble trees we catch last glimpses of +beautiful 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; farewell 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 roadsides; 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 frequented +streets of Batavia, we came quite unexpectedly to an old cemetery. +In the corner close to the tracks of the New York Central, so +placed as to be 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 mysteries +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 1812, + 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. + +Six miles beyond Batavia, on the road to Le Roy, is the little +village of Stafford; some twenty or thirty houses bordering the +highway; a church, a schoolhouse, 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 regardless of sect; it was at the +disposal of any denomination that might wish to hold services +therein. Apparently 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 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, +surrounded by shrubbery, and approached by a gravel walk bordered +by old-fashioned boxwood hedges. This house was built in 1812, and +is still well preserved. For many years it was a quite famous +private school for young ladies, kept by a Mr. Radcliffe. + +Across the little bridge on the right is a low stone 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. + +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 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 number 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 automobile 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 frightened, so they took him on to Le Roy and let him go." + +"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 Stafford and Le Roy +instead of Newkirk, Byron, and Bergen, 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 +exposures 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 action on the part of any lodge +or body of Masons. Morgan 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 attempting 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 fends 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 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 laying siege to the little village and bringing to +bear all nature's great guns. + +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 summer of 1826 it was rumored throughout Western New York +that one William Morgan, then living in the village of Batavia, +was writing an exposure of the secrets of Free Masonry, under +contract 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 overscrupulous 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 noble bearing on the top +of the shaft is the idealization of subsequent events, and +probably but illy corresponds 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 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 Fraternity. Morgan was in the +village in May last, and his conduct 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 Companions 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 subsequent 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. + +August 19 three well-known residents of the village 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 he 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." + +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 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 anything. 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 saturated 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 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 Batavia, but stopped about a mile +and a half east of the village, certain of the party returning +with the stage. + +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 persuaded to go as far as Stafford, where Ganson--whom the +driver knew--said everything was all right and that he would +assume all responsibility. + +About sunset of the same day--Monday, September 11--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 judgment, and pulled off his coat, offering it as +security. + +The constable refused to take the coat and took Morgan to jail. + +Tuesday noon, September 12, a crowd of strangers 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, together 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 imprisoned. At the +trial there was evidence to show that on the morning of the 12th 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 12th a neighbor of Morgan's called at +the Canandaigua jail and asked to see Morgan. The jailer was +absent. His wife permitted the man to speak to Morgan, and the man +said that he had come to pay the debt for which Morgan was +committed and to take him home. Morgan was asked if he were +willing to go; he answered that he was willing, 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. + +The man went out and was gone a few minutes, and brought back a +well-known resident of the village 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 judgment, +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 distressing 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 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 distress; 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 growing 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 assistance of Morgan, and insisted that was the only fault +they committed on the night in question. They admitted that they +understood that Morgan was compiling a book on the subject of +Masonry at the instigation 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. + +In passing sentence, the court said: + +"The legislature have not seen fit, perhaps, from the supposed +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 imprisonment in the common jail. The +court are of opinion that your liberty ought to be made to answer +for the liberty of Morgan: 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." + +It is quite clear that up to this time none of the to do parties +connected directly or indirectly with the abduction of Morgan had +any intention whatsoever of doing him bodily harm. If such had +been their purpose, the course they followed was foolish in the +extreme. 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 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 Canandaigua 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 published. + +Nearly two years later, in August, 1828, three men were tried for +conspiracy to kidnap and carry away 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 11 was +developed in the testimony taken at this trial. + +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 12th. On the night in question he took +his yellow carriage and gray horses about nine o'clock and drove +just beyond 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 +Hanford'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 carriage 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 +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 towards 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 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 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 something else with +him, which the witness did not recognize. 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 condition 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 proclamations, two soon +after September, 1826, and the last dated March 19, 1827, offering +rewards for "Authentic information of the place where the said +William Morgan has been conveyed," and "for the discovery of the +said William Morgan, if alive; and, if murdered, 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 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 saying, "It's a good enough Morgan for us +until you produce the live one," which afterwards become current +political slang in the form, "It's a good enough Morgan until +after election." + + + + +CHAPTER NINE THROUGH WESTERN NEW YORK +IN THE MUD + +The afternoon was drawing to a close, the rain had partially +subsided, but the trees were heavy with water, and the streets ran +rivulets. + +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. + +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 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 on the highways; +an occasional coach would furnish the novelty and break the +monotony, but people could sleep. + +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 clanging 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. + +We soon learned to keep away from the cities at night. 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 +machine; 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 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 country cares +anything about riding in cities; it is as artificial and +monotonous as riding a hunter over pavements. If one could just +approach a city at night, steal into it, enjoy its lights and +shadows, its confusion 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 Pittsburgh who should be assigned +a hall bed-room in the annex, or a millionaire from Newport who +should be tendered the entire establishment on a silver platter. + +The direct road from Rochester to Syracuse is by way of Pittsford, +Palmyra, Newark, Lyons, Clyde, 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. +Genesee Street out of Buffalo is Genesee Street into Syracuse and +Utica; it is the old highway between 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. + +We left Rochester at ten o'clock, Saturday, the 24th, 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. + +As the machine had been there before, we were greeted as friends. +The old negro porter is a character,--quite the irresponsible head +of the entire establishment. + +"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. + +"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 feelings; 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." + +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 generally 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 Sunday +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 established +a roof garden, with music two or three evenings a week, but the +innovation had not proven profitable; the roof remained with some +iron framework that once supported awnings, several disconsolate +tables, and some lonesome iron chairs; we visited this 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 twilight 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 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 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 were found loose. The factory had been most emphatically +requested to put in larger keys so as to fit the key-ways snugly +and to 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, traditions are intact, the men +departed to seek their fortunes 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 commendable 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 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 disappeared in the rear we heard +his rotund voice, "What'll you take? Was jest tellin' that chap +with the threshin'-machine a thing or two about this country. Rye? +no, thet'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-fountin." + +"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 Empire Express th' +other side Syr'cuse." + +"Get out." + +"What do you take us fer?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER TEN THE MOHAWK VALLEY +IN THE 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; rolling but no steep +grades; some sand, but not deep; some clay, but not rough; for the +most part gravel. + +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 distributing 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 Ontario, we did not find a town or +village of any size where gasoline could not be obtained, and +frequently we found it at cross-road stores,--but not at Herkimer. + +Happily there was sufficient gasoline in the tank to carry us on; +besides, we always had a gallon in reserve. 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 automobiles 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," because 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 machines 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 generally 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. + +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 comes upon +them quite unexpectedly, and, whirling through their one long main +street, catches glimpses of quaint churches and buildings 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; trainmen would look up curiously; occasionally an +engineer 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 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 landscape. Nature's slightest effort +dwarfs man's mightiest 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 convenience, just little utilizations of +waste energies for our own purposes. + +One should view nature with the setting sun. It 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 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 comes, +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. + +We left Schenectady 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. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN THE VALLEY OF LEBANON +THE SICK TURKEY + +It was four o'clock, next day, when we left Albany, 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 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. + +Popular notions concerning the capabilities of a machine 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 +limitations it can keep going indefinitely, and it is immaterial +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 normal energy to get out of the difficulty. + +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 available. 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 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 displaced. 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 thousand pounds a +foot or any portion of a foot in a minute 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 hundred and fifty pounds; with good +foothold it can pull more than its own weight along 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 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 hundred and fifty miles in ten hours, something eight +horses could not possibly do. + +Just as we were entering the valley of Lebanon, 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 inside 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 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. + +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 selling 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," interrupted a +new-comer. "Great Jehosephat, but 't went like a streak of greased +lightnin'." + +"War that your'n, Joe?" + +"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 filling the populace 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 steering-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. + +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 community, 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. + +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 buildings, 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 separately. + +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 dilatory tactics of the party in possession kept us +beyond 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 whatsoever; 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 +inexcusable, the assertion of a steak barbarous, even a terrapin +would have felt quite out of place amidst 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 advantage. We cast our coppers +upon the water and they returned Spanish galleons laden with good +things to eat. + +After dining, we were walked through the various buildings, up +stairs and down, through kitchens, pantries, and cellars,--a wise +exercise after so bountiful 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 commonly supposed. +It certainly was calculated to add emphasis to the eccentricities +of even a "Shaking Quaker." + +Although the oldest and the wealthiest of all the socialistic +communities, there are only about six thousand 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 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 recruit 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 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 +husbands, wives, and children; from the broadest possible +communism his community has regenerated into 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 interests, 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 multiples is giving +place to the modern practice of wives in series. + +The story 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. + +It was in 1770, while in prison in England, that Ann Lee claimed +to have had a great revelation concerning original sin, wherein it +was revealed that a celibate life is a condition precedent to +spiritual regeneration. Her revelation may have been biased by the +fact that she herself was married, but not comfortably. + +In 1773, on her release from prison, another revelation 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 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 another in open meetings. They admit no one +to the society unless he or she promises to make a full confession +before others of every evil that can be recalled,--women confess +to women, men to men; these requirements 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 often to the best of +mankind and, lingering on through the waking hours, influence +conduct. The sharp distinctions 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 devise 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, everything in +common. + +In 1840 Emerson wrote to Carlyle, "We are all a little wild here +with numberless projects of social reform. 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 Ripley +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. + +That is the trouble with communism, those who dig are apt to dig +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 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 indifference, 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, however +wild, however visionary, has its effect. + +We of the practical world sojourning in the Shaker village may +commiserate the disciples of theory, but 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 problems 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, foreseen, and arranged. + +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 be 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 dissipation 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. + +On our way back from the village we stopped at the birthplace of +Samuel Tilden,--an old-fashioned white frame house, situated in +the very fork of the 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 countrymen, 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 Hancock "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 Republican 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 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 +impression, 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 demagogue 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 into the hands of his +opponents, and leaving the sound and conservative sentiment of the +country without adequate leadership in Washington. + +While we were curiously looking at the Tilden homestead, an old +man came walking slowly down the road, a rake over his shoulder, +one leg of his patched trousers stuck in a boot-top, a suspender +missing, 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 Jacksonian fr'm a boy; +seed the ole gen'ral 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 sixteen 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 noting that +for forty years every candidate favored by Tammany has been +ignominiously defeated; the two candidates bitterly opposed by the +New York machine 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. + +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; to-morrow 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, diluted 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 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 plumage before a shining milk-pail and apparently +admonishing 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 morning; in thirty +minutes it was in place. Our host and valley 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 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. + +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 macadam, perfectly constructed. + +In going up this easy and perfectly smooth ascent for some six or +seven miles, the disadvantage of having no intermediate-speed +gears was forcibly illustrated, 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL +"THE COURT CONSIDERS THE MATTER" + +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 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 consolation 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 resourceful +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 arrival, 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 gallantly claimed the bass as his, +appeared in the Great Barrington 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 legitimate 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: + +"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 Barrington 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 history of that town as the stalwart defender of the +ex-president." + +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 semblance +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. + +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, children, or horses +in the street; the crossings were clear save for a young man with +a straw hat, whose general appearance betrayed no sign of undue +timidity. He was on the far crossing, sixty or seventy feet +distant. 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 moment 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 occasioned. + +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 Hat.--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 commit a more heinous offence +against another than to frighten him? Ah! by my soul, it is a most +unpardonable 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? + +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 warrants! 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--refreshing +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 +frightened; 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, 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 endanger 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 frightening 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 be worth the candle. + +The scene shifts to a dingy little room in the basement 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 corroborative. + +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 acquirements of his principal, +addresses the court and urges the imposition of a fine,--a fine +being the only satisfaction, 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 embarrassing feature +of the case is that it has yet to be shown that the defendant was +going at a rate exceeding ten miles an hour, and upon this point +the witnesses 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, 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 +IN LENOX + +There are several roads out of Pittsfield to Springfield, and if +one asks a half-dozen citizens, who pretend 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 pretty 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; 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 direct 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 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 everywhere, 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. + +People were flocking to the Berkshires from seashore 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 way. + +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 +automobile 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 possible 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. + +Our way lay over October Mountain by a road not 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 themselves. 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 condition 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 mournful soul that seeks +companionship in misery. Solitude is a word unknown to nature's +vocabulary. The deepest recesses of the forest teem with life and +joyousness until man appears, then they are filled with solitude. +The wind-swept desert is one of nature's play-grounds until man +appears, then it is barren with 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 Blandford 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 supposed +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 gasoline +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. + +At Westfield the spark began to give trouble; the 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 careful examination of every connection failed to disclose any +breaks in the circuit, and yet the spark was of intermittent +strength,--now good, now weak. + +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, stopping only a +moment at the hotel to inquire for mail. Leaving Springfield we +followed the main road towards 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, ultimately wearing the macadam through. We could +not see that the slightest attention was paid to the notices. +Everybody kept the middle of the road, such is the improvidence of +men; the country people grumble at the great expense of good +roads, and then take the surest way to ruin them. + +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 appreciate 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. + +At the outskirts of the little village of West Brookfield 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 batteries on indicated +pretty strongly that the trouble 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 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 evening, 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 victims. No sleep is dreamless. +It is pretty difficult to exhaust the three billions of cells of +the central nervous 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 discovered. The fatigue is +normal, pervasive, and persuasive, and it is pretty hard to recall +any dream on waking. + +It was Sunday morning, September 1, 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 +indoors 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. + +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 to a farmer 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 essential, 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 only after much +trouble that a place was found open where electrical supplies +could be purchased. In addition to a coil, the electrician took +out some thoroughly insulated double cable wire; the wiring of the +machine had been so carelessly done and with such light, cheap +wire that it seemed a good opportunity to rewire throughout. + +The electrician--a very competent and quick workman 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 beginning 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 electrician +explained the cause of their strike, the number of men out, and +the length of time they had been out. + +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 employers 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 prepared 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 inconvenience 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, frugal, 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 work for the first +time at the command of some central organization is an experience +so novel that no man can do it without being affected; he will +never again be the same steady and 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 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 advantage; 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 organizations 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 consults 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 by any association of which he is a member; but the +employee is cowed by his union,--that is the essential difference +between the two. An association of employers is a union of +independent 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 +militantism, the death-knell of individualism. The real, the only +strength of a union lies in the silent, unconsulted 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. + +It was interesting to hear the comments of the intelligent 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? It doesn't pay. + +"Wages have been going up for two hundred years. I can't see 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 automobile 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 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. + +It was our intention to follow the main road through Shrewsbury, +Southborough, Framingham, and Wellesley, but though man proposes, +in the suburbs of Boston Providence disposes. About Southborough +we lost our road, and were soon angling to the northeast 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 gravelled, the country was more interesting than along the +main highway. + +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 Shrewsbury and +Northborough to Marlborough, 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 Southborough. 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 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 objective point, but the +automobile passes a byway before it is seen. Directions are given +but not followed, because turns and obscure cross-roads are passed +at high speed and unobserved. + +Every one is most obliging in giving directions, but 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 inquire, for if you don't know the roads it is pretty hard +to direct you." + +"We follow this road straight ahead to the brick store and trough, +that's easy." + +"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 Inn" were exchanged. + +The mellow light of the setting sun warmed the 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 oblivious 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 beneath its roof. The +shadows were so rapidly lengthening that we had to hurry on. + +Crossing the Charles River near Auburndale a sight 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 +were 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 symphony. + +We stopped a few moments at Lasell Seminary in 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 +suppressed 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, 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. + +From Auburndale the boulevard leads into Commonwealth 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 "Automobiles not allowed" +at private roadways are numerous; 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 machines are allowed +on the grounds of the Essex Country Club. + +No man with the slightest consideration for the comfort 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; in fact, one machine will spread terror +where many would not. + +It is quite difficult enough to drive a machine carefully 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 owning summer +homes will themselves own and use automobiles; 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 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 factory. 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN LEXINGTON AND CONCORD +"THE WAYSIDE INN" + +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. + +Along this historic highway rode Paul Revere; at his heels +followed the regulars of King George. Tablets, stones, and +monuments mark every known point of interest from East Lexington +to Concord. + +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. For days the +patriots had been anxious concerning the stores of arms and +ammunition at Concord, and three days before the night of the 18th +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 +despatched to alarm the country, but at ten o'clock on the +memorable night of the 18th 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 +already been displayed in the belfry. The moon was rising as he +put spurs to his horse and started for Lexington. + +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 Somerville. + +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 message 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 +Concord. Dawes was chased by two of the officers until, with rare +shrewdness, he dashed up in front of a deserted 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 fulfillment of +his warning, the red afterglow 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 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 interpretation. + +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 appellations of Arlington and Arlington Heights. A tablet 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 +curiously reads the inscription and wonders "Why were they called +the old men 'of Menotomy'?" for there is now no such place. + +Massachusetts Avenue--Massachusetts 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 prosperity of Boston. Massachusetts Avenue extends from +Dorchester in Boston to Lexington Green; it has absorbed 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 because 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 Acropolis" 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 Massachusetts,-- +Jingleberry Hill and Chillyshally** Brook sound as if they once +meant something; Spot Pond, named by Governor Winthrop, has not +lost its birthright; Powder-Horn Hill records its purchase from +the Indians for a hornful of powder--probably damp; 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 right for East +Lexington, and made straight for Follen Church, and the home of +Dr. Follen close by, where Emerson preached in 1836 and 1837. + +The church was not built until 1839. In 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. Follen +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 believe 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 +institution. A very great soul--and Emerson was a great 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 +framework 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 Unitarianism 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 himself. 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 environment more conventional might have reduced +these thoughts to some sort of order, brought the stars into +constellations, and left suggestions for the ordering 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 Follen 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 frankness 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 beneath +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 +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, imprisoned 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 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 natural 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 experience. 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 +preparation 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 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. + +It was during the days of his service in East Lexington 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 Greenwood's +collection hymns of a purely meditative character, 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 lecture. He was the apostle of beauty, goodness, +and truth. + +Lexington Road from East Lexington to the Centre 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 roadside, shaded by a row of +fine big trees. Harrington died in 1854 at the great age of +ninety-eight; he was a fifer-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 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 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. + +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 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 inscription. 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, built in 1690, +still stands with its marks of bullets and flood 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 electric 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 Revere 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 Historical +Society intervened and purchased it. + +Neither did we enter the old burying-ground on Elm Street. The +automobile is no respecter of persons 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. + +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 short distance out of Lexington a tablet marks an old well; the +inscription reads, "At this well, April 19, 1775, James Hayward, +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 they did, most of +them would not fight at all. In these days of common schools and +newspapers it becomes 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 marched in order and +retreated in disorder. The undisciplined 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 regulars 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 the 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 produced the now well +known Concord grape by using 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 Hawthorne, who +purchased the place from Alcott in 1852, lived there until his +appointment as Consul at Liverpool in 1853, and again on his +return from England in 1860, until he died in 1864. But "The +Wayside" was not Hawthorne's first Concord home. He came there +with his bride in 1842 and lived four years in the Old Manse. + +There has never been written but one adequate description of this +venerable dwelling, and that by Hawthorne 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. + +Cut in 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 sunset, April 3d, 1843, in 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 devotion 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 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 enjoying), 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 +Hilliard 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. Hawthorne'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 were 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 become 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 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. Emerson +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; 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 printed +concerning Emerson, Hawthorne, and Thoreau, there is not one which +more vividly and accurately set the men before us and describe +their essential characteristics than the casual lines of this old +letter:--Thoreau, the devotee of nature, "figuring dithyrambic +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 Prynne 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, attaches 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 enjoyed 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 he 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 +Paradise. + +"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. +Hawthorne'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 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 surrounding 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 its owner had retiring habits as when Alcott +was reported 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." + +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 understood his +neighbors better than they understood one another; his vision was +very clear. For a man who 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 idiosyncrasies 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 independence 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 stereoscope 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." + + +Emerson liked Hawthorne better than his books,--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 following 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 unreserved +intercourse. It was easy to talk with him; there were no 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. + +Hawthorne's estimate of Emerson was far more just 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 pilgrimages to +speak with him face to face. Young visionaries--to whom just so +much of insight had been imparted 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 theorists--whose +systems, at first air, had finally imprisoned them in an iron +framework--travelled painfully 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 +glittering 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 nothing from him as +a philosopher. It was good nevertheless 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; and he, so quiet, so simple, so without pretension, +encountering 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 influence 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 impression. "He looks at +everything in larger angles than any other, and, by good right, +should be the greatest 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 visited Concord first in October, 1835, and found that he +and Emerson had many things in common, 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, 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 tendency, 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 +remarkable originality in his views, but they were sensible 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 character has probably suffered by his detecting +the impression 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 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 unconsciousness. 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 +himself out; and, as all such discoveries are partial and +imperfect, they do more harm than good to the character. Mr. +Hosmer is more natural than ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and +is certainly a man of intellectual and moral substance. It would +be amusing to draw a parallel between 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." + +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 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 penetrates 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 common. In 1860, +the latter speaks of meeting Hawthorne 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 enchanting; 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 and method of his own. He is as ugly as sin, +long-nosed, queer-mouthed, and with uncouth and somewhat 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." + +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. Connecticut 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,--probably after a +chastening discussion,--"If I were to proffer my earnest prayer to +the gods for the greatest 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 conception 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 between the two +men there existed through life profound 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 constitution. 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 generalization. 'Tis as if I went into a +gymnasium and saw youths leap and climb and swing with a force +unapproachable, tho these feats are only continuations of my +initial grapplings and jumps." One is reminded 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 another matter. A man may be born or may die +in a country, a city, a village, a house, a room, or,--narrower +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 individual; +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 +himself, and no one knows the limits of the domains of another. + +The farmer's boy who sows the seed and watches the 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 of 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 more we use +them the more ambiguous do they become; 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 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 immortal. 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 infinitesimal 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. + +In every-day speech we are obliged to distinguish by elaborate +circumlocution between a man's place of residence 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 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 nothing, +absolutely nothing, about his life; the number of his house does +not indicate where he lives. It is possible 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 +inhabitants 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 Jerusalem that he +knows not his own country, and his usefulness 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 who write +spend the better part of their lives abroad; they may not leave +their own firesides, but all their 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 elsewhere; 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 eloquence of immediate +knowledge and first-hand observation; 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. + +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 Stratford nor London bounded his life. On the +wings of his imagination he visited the known earth and penetrated +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 desolate and +forsaken, and the entrance to the "Hillside Chapel," where the +"Concord School of Philosophy and Literature" had its home for +nine years, was boarded up. + +Parts of the house had been built more than a century 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 filling 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" (prophetic 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 Bronson 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 School of Philosophy was the last 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 +indicate 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 belligerent 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 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 arguing eloquently with some congenial +visitor, or chatting with his daughter. One could almost see a +small throng of serious men and women wending their way up the +still plainly marked path to the chapel, and catch the measured +tones of the lecturer as he expounded theories too recondite for +this practical age and generation. + +Philosophy is the sarcophagus of truth; and most systems of +philosophy are like the pyramids,--impressive piles of useless +intellectual masonry, erected at prodigious cost of time and labor +to secrete from mankind the truth. + +A little farther on we came to the fork in the road 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 +atmosphere they created and left behind. Is it possible that +subtile** distillations of personality penetrate and saturate +inanimate things, so that aromas imperceptible to the sense are +given off for ages and affect all who come in receptive 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 emotions are but the workings of our imaginations stirred by +suggestive surroundings; but who knows, who knows? + +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 company 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 unable to make any speech, yet, +seeing his friendly townspeople, 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.'" + +The exposure incidental to the fire seriously undermined Emerson's +already failing health; shortly after he wrote a friend in +Philadelphia, "It is too ridiculous 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 an decay ought to persuade you at +your first northern excursion 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 +associating 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 intellectual performance was less +exacting, and this was most fortunate, for he gladly went to any +public occasion where he could hear, and nothing would be expected +of him. He attended the Lyceum and all occasions 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 +been there, but he had felt that he could use his time to better +purpose." + +"In April, 1882, 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, finding +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 understand 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 because 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 portion 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 understand 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 together. The sight of his grandchildren always brought 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 universe.'" + +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 succession 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 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 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 +suppression 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 contains. + +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 +material, 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 manifestations. + +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 Creator of theology or the +soul of speculation does not much matter, since the final result +is the same, namely, the immortality of that suprasumption, the +soul. + +But the individual, what becomes of the individual in this +assumption of an all-pervading, immortal soul, 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 inconceivable 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 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 pervading soul, which manifests itself for a +time in the body, persists indefinitely after the physical +manifestation has ceased; that, with the cessation of the physical +manifestation, the particular activity which we recognize here as +an individuality will so persist that hereafter 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 particular +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. + +Therefore all things are immortal. Nothing is so lost to the +infinite soul as to be wholly and totally obliterated. The +withering of a flower is as much the act of the all-pervading soul +as the death of a child; but the life and death of a human being +involve activities 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 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 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 popular 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-pervading soul. + +But, then, who knows what any one else thinks or means? At the +most we only know what others say, 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 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 perception 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 hypotheses, how distant our vision, we reach at +length the confines of our thought and admit the inconceivable. +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 infinite 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 +alternative 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 materialist in the ardent pursuit of +knowledge soon experience 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 confession of ignorance +denser than that of agnosticism. + +Those men who try not to think or reason concerning 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 to meet before +the days of the revolution, and where Major Pitcairn is said-- +wrongfully in all probability--to have made his boast on the +morning of the 19th, 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 interesting 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. + +It was a short run down Monument Street to the turn just beyond +the "Old 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 musketry 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 revolution, 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 circumstance has borne more fruit for +me than all that history 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 +circumstances--is next kin to the common hangman. + +From the windows of the "Old Manse," the Rev. William Emerson, +grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 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, contracting a +fever which proved fatal. + +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 Alcotts, and Emerson lie buried within a +half-dozen paces of one another. + +Thoreau came first in May, 1862. Emerson delivered 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, Channing 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 willingly, at any time, have given up his own life, Franklin +Pierce, was there among the rest, and scattered flowers into the +grave. The unfinished 'Romance,' 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 Thoreau 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 +procession 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 +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 _… 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, 30th.--Emerson's funeral. I made a yellow 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 wish her funeral was in 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 earnestness 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 acknowledgment of the +receipt of a flower. "It stands beside me on Marmee's (her mother) +work-table, and reminds 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. + +The warm September day was drawing to a close; the red sun was +sinking towards the west; the hilltop 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. + +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 +anywhere; 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 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 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, Burgoyne, 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 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. + + "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,-- + + "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 jolly major +rendered the following "true accomp.," which, yellow and faded, +hangs on the bar-room wall: + +"Thursday, August 7, 1777" + L s. d. + Super & Loging . . . . . . . 0 1 4 +8th. Brakfast, Dinar and 0 1 9 + Super and half mug of tody 0 2 6 +9th. Lodging, one glass rum half 0 2 6 + & Dinar, one mes oats 0 1 4 + Super half mug flyp 0 3 0 +10th Brakf.--one dram 0 1 8 + Dinner, Lodging, horse-keeping 0 2 0 + one mug flyp, horse bating 0 3 0 +11th. horse keeping 1 +13th. glass rum & Diner 1 8 +14th. Horse bating 0 0 6 + Horse Jorney 28 miles 0 5 10 + + A true accomp.--total 1 14 6 + William Bradford, + Dilivered to Capt. Crosby 2 2 6 + +Alas! the major's inscription and the foregoing "accomp." are +hollow mockeries to the thirsty traveller, 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 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. + +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 memory; 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, running the gamut from a dull red glow to the violet rays +that border the invisible. + +But, alas! the appreciation of wine is lost. Everybody 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, everywhere; port, grand, old +ruddy port--that has disappeared; no one understands it and no one +knows when to serve it; while Madeira, that bloom of the vinous +century plant, that rare exotic which ripens with passing +generations, is all too subtle for our untutored discrimination. + +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 +fastidious 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 Japanese,--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 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 Johannisberger 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 ordinary, 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 forgetting 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 appreciation. + +It is a far cry from an imaginary banquet with Lucullus to the New +England Saturday night supper of pork and beans which was spread +before us that evening. The dish is a survival of the rigid +Puritanism 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 morning 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 fishballs 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 reported discovery in Africa of a new +and edible bean. + +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 uninitiated, it is a luscious morsel compared with +the flavorless 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 bottomless 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." + +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, + 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, I am delighted to +learn that you have purchased the dear old house and carefully +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. Lyman 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"). + +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 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, + 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 ancient 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 will bring new life to these deserted hostelries. +For more than half a century steam has 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 country, and there +must be inns to receive them. + +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 endeavoring 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 discomfort 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN RHODE ISLAND AND CONNECTICUT +CALLING THE FERRY + +Next morning, Sunday the 8th, we left the inn at eleven o'clock +for Providence. It was a perfect morning, neither hot nor cold, +sun bright, and the air stirring. + +We took the narrow road almost opposite the entrance 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 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 Providence the tire was +again flat and--as it proved afterwards--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. + +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 mournful, or a delightful, place-- +as one views it. To the gregarious 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 plumage +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 country +about is attractive; but the crowd--the crowd that comes in +summer--comes with a rush almost to the hour in July, and takes +flight with a greater rush almost to the minute in August,--the +crowd overwhelms, 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 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 wondrous 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 approaching 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 autumn, +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 thousand 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 attractions of nature. + +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 kind. The crowd at Newport is architecturally +perfect, 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 permanent; 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 +surroundings. 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 accurate, 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 reputation 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; perhaps 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 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 reputations; no questions are asked, no information +volunteered save that disclosed by the hotel register,-- +information 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 +feminine 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 disadvantage 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 Narragansett 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 demand the exposure of +every frailty and every folly; the skeleton must sit at the feast. +There is no room 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 outward 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 physical, 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 they are +enemies; in both places the quality of friendship is strained. The +two problems of existence are, Whom shall I recognize? and, Who +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 outside 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 it does not pay to be on the +defensive; those are revered who are most feared; those who nail +to their mast the black flag and show no quarter are the +recognized leaders,--Society is piracy. + +Green's Inn was cheery, comfortable, and hospitable; 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, intolerable 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 conducive 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 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; 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 as not to list +the primitive craft, we made our way deliberately 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. + +It was dark when we ran into the city. This particular 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 paying the bill. It was all +charmingly and not precociously 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 manners 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 machine 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. + +It is a beautiful ride from New Haven to New 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 antedated the town a century or two. + +Later in the afternoon, while wheeling along at twenty miles an +hour, we caught a glimpse of a signpost 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 gasoline 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 renewed an acquaintance made +several years before. + +It is interesting to follow an artist's career and note the +changes in manner and methods; for changes are 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. + +For the most part, an artist's manner changes naturally 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 immediately +conspicuous, soon make their shortcomings felt; the note being +forced and unnatural, it does not ring true. + +A man may visit Madrid without imitating Velasquez; 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 without 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 +rejects it scoffingly. + +There is infinitely more hope for the man who goes to Madrid, or +any other shrine, in a spirit of opposition,--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 who +submit to all influences, there are the chosen few who assert +themselves, and at the same time clearly appreciate the strength +of those who differ from them. The urchin painter may assert +himself 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 surface of the waters, drifting with +every breeze, submerged 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 painters 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 copy will +be too evident. Time and distance will modify an impression and +lessen the attraction; the effect will remain, but no longer +dominate. + +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, impressive 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. + +It is by night that the earth communes with the universe. 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 +overpowering 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 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 was Wednesday evening, September 11, when we arrived in New +York. The Endurance Contest organized by the Automobile Club of +America had started for Buffalo on Monday morning, and the papers +each day contained long accounts of the heartbreaking 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 now famous run +possessed the charm of novelty, the absorbing fascination of +fiction. + +Once upon a time, two fishermen, who were modestly relating +exploits, paused to listen to three chauffeurs who began +exchanging experiences. After listening 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 confess 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." + +It is not that those who go down the pike in automobiles 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 receive 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 probably 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 Contest the discount +rate in the Automobile Club of America was exceedingly high. + +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 Frankfort, +while quite a large number entered the contest for the express +purpose of getting off in the mud and 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 valuable 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. 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 +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 +unmercifully. 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, chauffeurs are not among the latter. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN ANARCHISM +"BULLETINS FROM THE CHAMBER OF DEATH" + +During these days the President was dying in Buffalo, though the +country did not know it until Friday. + +Wednesday and Thursday the reports were so assuring 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. Bulletins of the +most reassuring character turned out absolutely false. After it +was all over, there was a 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. + +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 dignified 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 weakness 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 below there came the sounds of flying horses, of moving +feet, of cries and voices. It seemed as if the city had 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 penetrated 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 before, and at this +moment the civilized world is discussing measures for the +suppression, the obliteration, of anarchists, but we must take +heed lest we overshoot the mark. + +Three Presidents--Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley--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 assassinated, 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 safeguards +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 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. + +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 anarchism +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 Americans," written +with most pious and orthodox intent by the late Charles Nordhoff, +the discussion of government begins with the epigram,--by no means +original with Nordhoff,--"Governments are necessary evils." + +Therein lurks the germ of anarchism,--for if evil, 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 recognized," 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 spontaneously 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 theoretical 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 necessary +therefore it cannot be an evil. Hospitals are necessary, and just +because they are necessary therefore 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 constitution 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. + +Anarchy does not involve, as Huxley suggests, "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence." Not at all. +What it does involve is the highest 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 involves a +social condition wherein absolutely no authority is imposed upon +any individual, where no requirement of any kind is made against +the will of any member--man, woman, or child; where everything is +left to individual initiation. + +So far from such a "state of society" being "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence," it is not +conceivable at all, and the farther the mind goes in attempting to +grasp it, the more hopelessly 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 individuals were not only perfect, but also absolutely +of one mind on all subjects relating to their welfare. Can the +imagination picture existence more inane? + +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 imperfect +in all these respects. + +The patent fact that most governments, both national and local, +are corruptly, extravagantly, and badly administered tends to +obscure our judgment, so that we 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 individual; 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 government 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 +conscience and character of the community." + +But assume that war is no more and armies are disbanded; that +crimes are no more and police are 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 terrorized, 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 imposing the +authority of the community upon the individual? If the community +asserts its authority in any manner or form, that is government. + +If every institution, including government, were abolished +to-morrow, the percentage of births that would turn out blind, +crippled, and feeble both mentally and physically, wayward, +eccentric, and insane would continue practically the same, and the +community 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 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 release of the +accused, the other urging his detention. Who is to hold the scale +and decide? + +The fundamental error of anarchists, and of most 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 imposed 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 of sociology; the fourth +dimension of economies; the squaring of the political circle. + +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 government 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 disagreement is absolutely and forever removed. + +Anarchism as a doctrine, as a theory, involves no act of violence +any more than communism or socialism. + +Between the assassination of a ruler and the doctrine 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 outcome; neither theorist would see the slightest advantage 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 reactionary 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 impatience 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 destroy 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 attention to the theory of anarchy as to win +followers;--in other words, murders such as those of Humbert, +Carnot, and President McKinley were mere advertisements of +anarchism. In the words of Brousse, "Deeds are talked of on all +sides; the indifferent masses inquire 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 advertisement; 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." + +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 reforms; so far from seeking to annihilate the +government, 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. + +It is against the "propaganda of action" that legislation must be +directed, not because it is any part of 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 +disappearance 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 Republican or a Democrat, a Presbyterian or an +Episcopalian; when he advises, commits, or condones a murder, his +conduct is not measured by his convictions,--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 otherwise. 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 of murder in +Chicago, seven were condemned to death and one to the +penitentiary; four were afterwards hanged, one killed himself in +jail, and three were imprisoned. + +These men were convicted of a crime with which, so far as the +evidence showed, they had no direct connection; 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 Schnaubelt, 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: + +"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 newspaper 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 therefor." + +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 doubtful expedient of directing +legislation against any particular social or economic theory. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN NEW YORK TO BUFFALO +UP THE HILL + +It was Saturday, the 14th, 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 Tarrytown 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 riveting 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. + +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, 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 machine, with our +luggage and ourselves. It was tiresome walking so far beside the +machine, and in attempting 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 operated 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 bad road by +continuing on to Poughkeepsie by the inland road instead of going +down to the Landing. + +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 +Landing; 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. + +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 settled in rooms, that we decided to go on at least +as far as Schenectady. + +To the park it was all plain sailing on asphalt and macadam, but +from the park to the gate of the cemetery 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 standstill and being obliged to get out in +that eight or ten inches of uninviting mud was a very appreciable +factor 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 Schenectady 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 16th 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 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 +further trouble. It was noon before the work was finished, 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 Schenectady in good +weather is quite good, but after the rain 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 machine 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. + +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 wayside inns there are none. With +the exception of Albany 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 discomforts, 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. + +It 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 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, 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 Endurance Contest was out of Herkimer, through +Frankfort 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 Frankfort, 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 in the +endurance run came to grief,--right on the main street of the +village. There was no sign of pavement, macadam, or gravel, just +deep, dark, rich muck; 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 between 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 towpath, 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. + +It required all Wednesday morning to clean and overhaul the +machine. Every crevice was filled with 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 foundered. 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 passing 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 to the driver +of an automobile the stations are a great nuisance; one is +scarcely passed before another is in 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. + +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, Palmyra, 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 intention 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 after seven when we drew +up in front of the small St. George Hotel. + +The glory of Avon has departed. Once it was a 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 generation. + +The Springs are a mile or two away; the water is supposed to +possess rare medicinal virtues, and invalids 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 residents 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 Caledonia 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 +horse to one side; then a pull on the other rein, turning the +horse sharply to the other side. This was too much for the animal, +and he kept on around, overturning 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. Relieved 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 particular 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. + +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 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 new world; his own +country, however small, is a universe 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 produce 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 falling 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 soon effaced, rather let it sink deep into the +heart until it becomes a part of life. + +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 condition 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 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 blossoming 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 no two is it +precisely the same. + +The longer we look at anything, however simple, the deeper it +penetrates into our being until it becomes 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 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 deliberate +observation are good, since most men will not observe at home. +Such is the singularity of our nature 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, +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. + +Every country possesses its own peculiar advantages 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 of 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 fastnesses of the Rockies; if we +wish the sublime, gaze in the mighty chasm of the Cañon 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 who does not believe his country the best on earth +and his people the chosen of men. + +The promise of automobiling is knowledge of one's 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 +HOME + +We left Buffalo, Saturday the 20th, 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 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 machine 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, anything 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, otherwise the machine is--very properly--subject to +confiscation. + +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 crossing Canada would better comply with all +regulations and save trouble. + +It was six o'clock when we arrived at St. Catharines. 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 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 Ontario in every direction. The people seem to +appreciate 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 morning, 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 concerns of automobiling. + +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. + +Monday, the 22d, 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 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 Dominion increased only five hundred thousand, or about ten +per cent., as against an increase of fourteen millions, or +twenty-one per cent., in this country. + +For a new country in a new world Canada stagnates. In the decade +referred to Chicago alone gained more in population than the +entire Dominion. The fertile province of Ontario gained but +fifty-four thousand 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 +their increase of population in ten years more than equals the +entire population of the province. + +In population, wealth, industries, and resources Ontario is the +Dominion's gem; yet in a decade she could attract and hold but +fifty-odd thousand persons,--not quite all the children born +within her borders. + +All political divisions aside, there is no reason in the 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 divided 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 statecraft can prevent it. + +When the population of this country is a hundred or a hundred and +fifty millions the line will have disappeared. 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 advantages +and attractions of which are alike, the population tends strongly +to become equally dense; political conditions and differences in +race and language may for a time hold this tendency in check, but +where race and language are the same, political barriers must soon +give way. + +All that has preserved Canada from absorption up 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 dividing line is known only to surveyors, the situation +will become critical. Already the rush to the Klondike has +produced trouble in Alaska. The aggressive miners from this side, +who constitute almost the entire 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 belligerent 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, practically 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 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 +independence has taught them the sentimental and unsubstantial +character of the ties binding them to England, and yet they know +full well that with those ties severed their independence would +soon disappear. + +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 +machine 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 +but 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 difficulties. + +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 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 substituted 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 old 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. + +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 allowance 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 traversed 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 because automobiling has its own point of view, +and certainly people have their own and widely varying views of +automobiling. In the presence of the machine people everywhere +become for the time-being childlike and naive, curious and +enthusiastic; they lose the veneer of sophistication, and are as +approachable and companionable as children. Automobiling is +therefore doubly delightful in these early days of the sport. By +and by, when the people become accustomed 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 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 considered. +It lacked power and was too light for such a severe and prolonged +test; but, when taken apart to be restored to perfect condition, +it was astonishing 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 +machine 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 manufacturers. The man who one moment says his machine is a +paragon of perfection, sits down the next and writes the factory a +letter which would be debarred the mails if left unsealed. Open +confession is good for the soul, and owners of automobiles must +cultivate 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. + +In the year 1735 a worthy Puritan divine, pastor over a little +flock in the town of Malden, made the following entries in his +diary: + +"January 31.--Bought a shay for L27 10s. The Lord grant it may be +a comfort and a blessing to my family. + +"March, 1735.--Had a safe and comfortable journey 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? + +"May 15.--Shay brought home; mending cost thirty shillings. +Favored in this beyond expectation. + +"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. + +END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile +by Arthur Jerome Eddy + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12380 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8124c6c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12380 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12380) diff --git a/old/12380-8.txt b/old/12380-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..633f3cc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12380-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9379 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile +by Arthur Jerome Eddy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile + Being A Desultory Narrative Of A Trip Through New England, New York, + Canada, And The West, By "Chauffeur" + + +Author: Arthur Jerome Eddy + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12380] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO THOUSAND MILES *** + + + + +Produced by Holly Ingraham + + + + +TWO THOUSAND MILES ON AN AUTOMOBILE + +BEING A DESULTORY NARRATIVE OF +A TRIP THROUGH NEW ENGLAND, +NEW YORK, CANADA, AND +THE WEST + +BY +"CHAUFFEUR" + + +1902 + + +WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS +BY +FRANK VERBECK + +__________ + +To L. O. E. + +Who for more than sixteen hundred miles +of the journey faced dangers and discomforts +with an equanimity worthy a better +cause, and whose company lightened the +burdens and enhanced the pleasure of the +"Chauffeur" + +----------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER +I.-----Some Preliminary Observations +II.----The Machine Used +III.---The Start +IV.----Into Ohio +V.-----On to Buffalo +VI.----Buffalo +VII.---Buffalo to Canandaigua +VIII.--The Morgan Mystery +IX.----Through Western New York +X.-----The Mohawk Valley +XI.----The Valley of Lebanon +XII.---An Incident of Travel +XIII.--Through Massachusetts +XIV.---Lexington and Concord +XV.----Rhode Island and Connecticut +XVI.---Anarchism +XVII.--New York to Buffalo +XVIII.-Through Canada Home + +---------- + +FOREWORD +------------------------------------------------------------------ + + +To disarm criticism at the outset, the writer acknowledges 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 incomplete without reflections by the way; the +imagination once in will not out; it even seeks to usurp the +humbler function of observation. However, the arrangement 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 finding +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 discrimination. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER ONE SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS +THE MADDING CROWD + +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 something 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 conquered +and well-broken to harness, submissive and resigned 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 impartiality. It +shows no more deference to maker than to owner; it moves no more +quickly for expert mechanic than for amateur driver. When it +balks, it balks,--inventor, manufacturer, mechanic, stand puzzled; +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 mechanics 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 wrestling 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 betray 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. + +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 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 crowd multitude +always with us--or against us? There is no 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 intuition +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 thoughtful observer would be +fearful lest he were an idiot. The American small boy is not +idiotic; tested by his curiosity concerning automobiles, he is the +fruition of the centuries, the genius the world is awaiting, the +coming ruler of men and empires, or--who knows?--the coming master +of the automobile. + +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. + +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 veritable 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 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 see a pair of +horses patiently pulling his machine along the highway, and how he +fights against such an unnatural 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 permit 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 cannot be made on +the spot. The novice looks on in despair, 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 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 disclose duplicates that can be removed temporarily to the +more essential places. + +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 accessible, 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 construct entire +an automobile from the odds and ends of a half-dozen farm-yards. + +All boys and most girls--under twelve--say, "Gimme 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 nature, 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 aversion towards the automobile, +since, from their stand-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 reversion 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 passing 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 would not be a hoodlum, 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 altogether too +much. + +That it is the machine which rouses his savage instincts 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. + +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-intelligently; +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 pleasant diversion from a bed on the +grass. + +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 contended that +the reward should be in proportion to 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 reward; 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 connection with +automobiling is as interesting as it is new. 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 without 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 automobiles 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 chauffeur 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. + +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 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 repairs 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. When things go +well, he does it; when they go wrong, it is the fault of some one +else; if he makes a successful 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 chauffeur +--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 pretense 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 information 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO THE MACHINE USED +MAKING READY TO START + +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 repairs. + +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 underrated. A twelve horse-power American +machine may mean not more than eight or ten; a twelve horse-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 horsepower machine of a rival maker; hence +the tendency to increase the power without changing the nominal +rating. The American manufacturer caters to the demand 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 towards the French +type,--two or four cylinders 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 +stubbornness, 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. + +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 amateur 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 frequently +failures. A thirty horse-power foreign machine costing ten or +twelve thousand dollars, accompanied 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 conditions prevailing in this country +and is built to surmount 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 machine 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 purchase indefinitely, unless you expect to carry along +a man. + +Machine for machine, regardless of price, the comparison is +debatable; but price for price, there is no comparison whatsoever; +in fact, there is no inexpensive imported machine which compares +for a moment with the American product. + +A single-cylinder motor possesses a few great advantages 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 successfully. 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 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. + +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 +because better speed is maintained through heavy roads and on up +grades. + +So far as resiliency is concerned, there is no comparison 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 comparatively few go through. The weight of the tire makes it +rather hard riding, very hard, indeed, as compared with a fine +Michelin. + +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 waterproof 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. + +What to wear is something of a problem. In late autumn and winter +fur is absolutely essential to comfort. Even at fifteen or twenty +miles an hour the wind 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 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 emergencies, +for at any moment it may be necessary to get underneath. + +The man who is going to master his own machine must expect to get +dirty; dust, oil, and grime plentifully distributed,--but dirt is +picturesque, even if objectionable. 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 engineer driving his locomotive in blue +coat, yellow waistcoat, and ruffles,--quite as appropriate as a +fastidious dress on the 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 mechanic'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 threshing, 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 outdoor 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +"IS THIS ROAD TO--" + +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 decided 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 Buffalo as fast as roads would permit,--but for +exhilaration 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. + +The Professor knew nothing about machinery and 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 Professor adjusted his spectacles and looked at the machine: + +"A very wonderful contrivance, and one that requires 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 telegram, +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 mathematics to produce or modify motion in +inferior bodies; what could be more apt? Is it not our intention +to produce 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 1, at exactly seven o'clock, that +we passed south on Michigan Avenue towards South Chicago and +Hammond. A glorious morning, neither hot nor cold, but just +deliciously cool, with some promise--afterwards more than +fulfilled--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. +"Possibly; but we all impose more or less upon one another; he has +simply made a business of his imposition. 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 conversation." + +"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 pretensions 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." + +A few 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. + +"There is another latter-day sect," said the Professor; "one of +the phenomena of the nineteenth century." + +"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 the things she +has; she talks of everything but the lake and her broad and almost +endless boulevards, yet these are her chief glories. + +For miles and miles and miles one can travel boulevards 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. + + 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 cooling +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. + +The roads are now not so good,--not bad, but just good country +roads, some stretches of gravel, but generally clay, with some +sand here and there. The country is rolling, but no steep hills. + +Up to this time the machine had required no attention, 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 +temporary repair might have been made by first dipping 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 delusion. A +road which seems most seductive on the bicycler's road map may be +a sea of sand or a veritable 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 Mohawk 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,--and it is a +matter of great concern in this vast country, 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 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 information 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 redlined 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 reasonably 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 +overland drives. + +It is much easier to get information in small villages 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 machine 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 +pronounced 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 +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. + +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 +machine, 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. + +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 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 automobiling; they pull +the average down by jumps. + +The extra tire was to be at Elkhart, farther on, and 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 puncture, 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 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 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 question. +Before attempting a stream, one must make sure of the bottom; the +depth is of less importance. + +We did not run into Elkhart, but passed about two 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 Benton and Ligonier, arriving at Kendallville at exactly +eight o'clock. + +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 average over so long a +stretch, but the weather was perfect 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 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 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 +delights. + +The Professor notes that up to this point nine and three-quarters +gallons of gasoline have been consumed,--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 encouraging; 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. + +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 distance covered increases in arithmetical +progression, the deterioration of the machine is in geometrical. +During the first few days a good machine requires comparatively +little attention each day; during the last weeks of a long tour it +requires double the attention and ten times the work. + +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, accordingly. 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 automobiling is to +coaching as steam yachting is to sailing,--all of which argues the +densest ignorance concerning automobiling, since there is no sport +which affords anything 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 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 unknown, passing persons, teams, vehicles, cattle, +obstacles, 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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +THE RAILROAD SPIKE + +A five o'clock call, though quite in accordance with orders, was +received with some resentment and responded to reluctantly, the +Professor remarking that it seemed but fair to give the slow-going +sun a reasonable start as against the automobile. + +About fifty minutes were given to a thorough examination 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 require +tightening after a little hard usage; this is quite 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 destructive 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 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 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 warning, used by +police and fire departments and by trolley lines, and it works +well in the country. + +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 generally, 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 +reversible waterproof shooting-jacket at Butler, several sizes too +large, but warm; and the Professor remarked, as he gathered its +folds about him, "I was 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 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 +succession 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 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 concerning the character of the sandy places. + +Happily, when the people say the road is "sandy," 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 succession of sand ridges that +are sand from base to summit, 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 treacherous 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 shaking the sand out +of his shoes, "It is difficult to preserve 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 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 Professor looked anxiously down +and said,-- + +"Is the blamed thing stuck again?" + +We turned off the Bowling Green road to the River road, which is +not only better, but more direct from Napoleon to Perrysburg. It +was the road we originally intended to take; it was down on our +itinerary, and in automobiling it is better to stick to first +intentions. + +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, creeping on slowly so as not to frighten it +more. Loose 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. + +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 limestone. 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, 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 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 encountered. "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. + +One must have a cool, quick, and accurate appreciation 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 problem 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. + +The roads are as they are, a practically constant,--and, for some +time to come,--an unchangeable quantity. 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 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 automobiles for America or Australia, the +only pertinent question is, "What are the roads of America or +Australia?" 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 and sparsely +settled as North America, it is not conceivable 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 automobile must +be so constructed as to cover them as they are. + +The manufacturer who waits for good roads everywhere should move +his factory to the village of Falling Waters, and sleep in the +Kaatskills. + +Machines which give out on bad roads, simply because 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 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 complain, 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 normal to the country. + +It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at Fremont. 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 delicate indicator on the +gasoline tank and began: + +"That was a great day, my boy." + +"Yes, sir, it was." + +"And it comes once a year." + +"Why, sure." + +"Ahem--" in some confusion, "I mean you celebrate once a year." + +"Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it comes every +year." + +"Quite right, quite right; always recall with appropriate +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--" 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 gasoline--sometimes; +that is not a boiler, it is the cooler--on hot days we take turns +sitting on it;--explosions,--electric spark,--yes, it is queer; +--man at last stop made same bright remark; no danger from +explosions 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 anticipate 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?" + +"Danged if I know." And we never found out. + +At Bellevue we lighted our lamps and ran to Norwalk over a very +fair road, arriving a few minutes after eight. Norwalk liveries +did not like automobiles, 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. + +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 side, but not so +badly that we could not go on to Cleveland, where repairs could be +made more quickly. A slight pounding which had developed was +finally located in the pinion of a small gear-wheel that operated +the exhaust-valve. + +It is sometimes by no means easy to locate a pounding 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 eccentric 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 explosion. 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 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 up things generally. It was four +o'clock before we were off for Painesville. + +Euclid Avenue is well paved in the city, but just outside there is +a bit of old plank road that is disgracefully 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 before +starting I gave each a sharp blow with a 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 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. + +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 partially 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. + +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 applied is stronger. If the rim is well +covered with old 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, making the broken spring as serviceable and strong for the +time being as if sound. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE ON TO BUFFALO +"GEE WHIZ!!" + +From Painesville three roads led east,--the North Ridge, Middle +Ridge, and South Ridge. We followed 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,--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 his 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 remarked,-- + +"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 surroundings!" + +"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 village across the stream, so the road +leads somewhere." + +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 burden. Towards the last it used to delight +him to see people frantically turning into lanes, fields, anywhere +to get out of the way. + +The horse is a factor to be considered--and placated. 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 Professor 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 generally 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 automobiles. 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 +automobile, 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 plug, jogging quietly along, quite unterrified, +may be roused to unwonted capers by the person behind. + +Some take the antics of their horses quite philosophically. 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 unsteadily in his wagon and +shouted,-- + +"If you (hic) 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 amateur 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. + +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. + +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. +Furthermore, 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 automobile driver to take great care +in passing; the care being measured by the possibility and +probability of at accident. + +The sympathy of every chauffeur must be entirely with the driver +of the horse. Automobiles are not so 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 that he will exercise caution +in approaching. All this is 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 country 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 behave badly, and +unless the outward signs are unmistakable, 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 motions 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 disregard 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 +manifested in many ways that are disagreeable to the chauffeur and +his friends. + +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 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 stringent 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 repression on the one side +and Irish impulsiveness and recklessness on the other. + +The Englishman will not budge; the Irishman cries, "Let her go." + +Speaking of the future of the automobile, the Professor said,-- + +"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 overalls and +jumper, leather jacket and cap; he could not use dart or arrow, at +best he could only run the machine 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! + +"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 mechanism; 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 question. + +"Dobbin, dear old secretive Dobbin, what difference 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 +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, Professor?" + +"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, 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 +margin 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 outside into each +gully, the sliding of the machine received 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, substantial wooden wheels one sees on nearly all imported +machines and on some American. + +The sense of proportion between parts is sadly outraged 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 sapphire set in the dull brown gold of woods and +fields. Farther on we come out upon the bluffs overlooking the +lake and see the smoke and grime of Buffalo far across. What a +blot on a view so beautiful! + +"Civilization," said the Professor, "is the subjection 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 usefulness; in every civilization nature is of secondary +importance, 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 +harshness, 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 consideration; 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 absolutely 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 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?" + +"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 generation 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 protestations, 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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX BUFFALO +THE MIDWAY + +Housing the machine in a convenient and well-appointed stable for +automobiles, we were reminded of the fact that we had arrived in +Buffalo at no ordinary 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 Expositions +proverbially expensive--to promoters and stockholders as well as +visitors? + +Then, too, the hotels of Buffalo had expected so much and were so +woefully disappointed. Vast arrays of figures had been compiled +showing that within a 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 exorbitant charges. Notions of value become very much +congested within a radius of two or three hundred miles of any +great Exposition. + +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 architectural arrangement. It was the falls +of Niagara turned into stars, the mist of the mighty cascade +crystallized 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 folding 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 +radiance,--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 province 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 crackling +of whips; there are prancing steeds and figures in costumes +curious,--then, flapping of canvas, creaking 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 outside the pale of +criticism and discussion. Therefore, 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. + +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 +expressed 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 invariably produced a comedy with their +tragedies; human 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 cinematograph 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. + +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 temperate 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 discolor +the nose of a humming-bird. + +There were no end of illusions, mysteries, and deceptions. 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 without 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 eccentric 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 gasoline once +each week or ten days; it is not necessary, but the piston moves +with much greater freedom and the compression is better. + +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 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 gallon. 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. + +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 directions for caring for +the machine information concerning 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 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 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 moisture in the +cylinder of a gas-engine, the use of any animal oil is said to be +unnecessary; as there is moisture 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 contain 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 mica are both good chain lubricants, but if mixed +with a pure mineral base, such as vaseline, they will wash off in +mud and water. 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 there is not an +automobile made, according to the reports 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 difficult machine in +the hands of the amateur, and so far it has been made almost +impossible by its poor construction. 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 building of carriages is +a long-established industry, employing 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. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN BUFFALO TO CANANDAIGUA +BEWARE OF THE COUNTRY MECHANIC + +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 frivolously, 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 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 mechanism. 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 particular 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. + +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 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 connection. 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 battery 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 moment 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 is weak, the +current from both sets can be turned 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 multiples, then, as +they weaken still more, in series. + +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 insulated 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 derogatory 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." + +"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, exhausted. + +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 country +mechanic,--of the three, the mechanic can do 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 machine, 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 at the machine, give it to him as a reward and a +revenge 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. + +At Batavia we put in new batteries, repacked the 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 +looking 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. + +The run from 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 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 peculiar grating noise we had +heard and materially checking 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 is quite rolling +and many of the hills steep. Twice 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 well enough, +and a high average speed can be maintained, but where the roads +are soft or the country rolling, a high gear may mean a very +material disadvantage 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 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. + +The machine we were using had but two sets of 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 gasoline motor develops its highest +efficiency when it is running at full speed, there should be +enough intermediate 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 nothing 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 +intermediate gears if best results are to be attained, the +conditions change so from mile to mile. + +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 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 exhilarating. 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 +possibility of collision is understood, and every danger is +present in the mind, and with it all the thrill of excitement +which ever accompanies risk. + +During the entire descent the Professor was in blissful 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." + +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 were necessary, rather than spend the time +necessary to make them in the one small machine shop at +Canandaigua. + +Furthermore the Professor's vacation was drawing to a close; he +had given himself not to exceed ten days, eight had elapsed. + +"I 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 days and weeks to become acquainted with all the +peculiarities and weaknesses of an automobile, 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, 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 gregarious 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 obviously impossible of fulfillment 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 glorious run of one hundred and +forty miles the last day, covering the Old Sarnia gravel out of +London, Ontario, at top speed for nearly seventy miles. + +For five weeks to a day we wandered over the eastern country at +our own sweet will, not a care, not a responsibility,--days +without seeing newspapers, finding mail and telegrams at +infrequent intervals, but much of the time lost to the world of +friends and acquaintances. + +Touring on an automobile differs from coaching, posting, +railroading, from every known means of locomotion, in that you are +really lost to the world. In coaching or posting, one knows with +reasonable certainty 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 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; it puts +them to no end of inconvenience; for days they expect you and you +do not come; their feeling of relief that you did not come is +destroyed by your appearance. + +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 consolation +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 immaculate 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 drawing-room. It is not quite at home in +the stable; it demands a house of its own. If the friend who +invites 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, leaving an ineradicable stain under the +porte-cochere, and frightening his favorite horses into fits as +you run into the stable. + +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 careering about. Each time we called on friends; +sometimes they were in, sometimes out; it was all so casual,--a +cup of tea, a little chat, sometimes without shutting down the +motor,--the briefest of calls, all the more charming because +brief,--really, it was strange. + +We see a town ahead; calling to a man by the roadside,-- + +"What place is that?" + +"L--" is the long drawn shout as we go flying 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. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT THE MORGAN MYSTERY +THE OLD STONE BLACKSMITH SHOP AT STAFFORD + +It was Wednesday, August 22, that we left Buffalo. In some stray +notes made by my companion, I find this enthusiastic description +of the start. + +"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--whirr--whirr--r--r,' we are off. Through +the rich foliage of noble trees we catch last glimpses of +beautiful 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; farewell 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 roadsides; 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 frequented +streets of Batavia, we came quite unexpectedly to an old cemetery. +In the corner close to the tracks of the New York Central, so +placed as to be 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 mysteries +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 1812, + 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. + +Six miles beyond Batavia, on the road to Le Roy, is the little +village of Stafford; some twenty or thirty houses bordering the +highway; a church, a schoolhouse, 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 regardless of sect; it was at the +disposal of any denomination that might wish to hold services +therein. Apparently 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 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, +surrounded by shrubbery, and approached by a gravel walk bordered +by old-fashioned boxwood hedges. This house was built in 1812, and +is still well preserved. For many years it was a quite famous +private school for young ladies, kept by a Mr. Radcliffe. + +Across the little bridge on the right is a low stone 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. + +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 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 number 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 automobile 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 frightened, so they took him on to Le Roy and let him go." + +"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 Stafford and Le Roy +instead of Newkirk, Byron, and Bergen, 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 +exposures 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 action on the part of any lodge +or body of Masons. Morgan 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 attempting 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 fends 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 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 laying siege to the little village and bringing to +bear all nature's great guns. + +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 summer of 1826 it was rumored throughout Western New York +that one William Morgan, then living in the village of Batavia, +was writing an exposure of the secrets of Free Masonry, under +contract 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 overscrupulous 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 noble bearing on the top +of the shaft is the idealization of subsequent events, and +probably but illy corresponds 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 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 Fraternity. Morgan was in the +village in May last, and his conduct 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 Companions 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 subsequent 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. + +August 19 three well-known residents of the village 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 he 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." + +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 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 anything. 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 saturated 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 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 Batavia, but stopped about a mile +and a half east of the village, certain of the party returning +with the stage. + +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 persuaded to go as far as Stafford, where Ganson--whom the +driver knew--said everything was all right and that he would +assume all responsibility. + +About sunset of the same day--Monday, September 11--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 judgment, and pulled off his coat, offering it as +security. + +The constable refused to take the coat and took Morgan to jail. + +Tuesday noon, September 12, a crowd of strangers 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, together 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 imprisoned. At the +trial there was evidence to show that on the morning of the 12th 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 12th a neighbor of Morgan's called at +the Canandaigua jail and asked to see Morgan. The jailer was +absent. His wife permitted the man to speak to Morgan, and the man +said that he had come to pay the debt for which Morgan was +committed and to take him home. Morgan was asked if he were +willing to go; he answered that he was willing, 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. + +The man went out and was gone a few minutes, and brought back a +well-known resident of the village 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 judgment, +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 distressing 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 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 distress; 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 growing 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 assistance of Morgan, and insisted that was the only fault +they committed on the night in question. They admitted that they +understood that Morgan was compiling a book on the subject of +Masonry at the instigation 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. + +In passing sentence, the court said: + +"The legislature have not seen fit, perhaps, from the supposed +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 imprisonment in the common jail. The +court are of opinion that your liberty ought to be made to answer +for the liberty of Morgan: 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." + +It is quite clear that up to this time none of the to do parties +connected directly or indirectly with the abduction of Morgan had +any intention whatsoever of doing him bodily harm. If such had +been their purpose, the course they followed was foolish in the +extreme. 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 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 Canandaigua 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 published. + +Nearly two years later, in August, 1828, three men were tried for +conspiracy to kidnap and carry away 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 11 was +developed in the testimony taken at this trial. + +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 12th. On the night in question he took +his yellow carriage and gray horses about nine o'clock and drove +just beyond 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 +Hanford'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 carriage 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 +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 towards 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 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 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 something else with +him, which the witness did not recognize. 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 condition 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 proclamations, two soon +after September, 1826, and the last dated March 19, 1827, offering +rewards for "Authentic information of the place where the said +William Morgan has been conveyed," and "for the discovery of the +said William Morgan, if alive; and, if murdered, 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 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 saying, "It's a good enough Morgan for us +until you produce the live one," which afterwards become current +political slang in the form, "It's a good enough Morgan until +after election." + + + + +CHAPTER NINE THROUGH WESTERN NEW YORK +IN THE MUD + +The afternoon was drawing to a close, the rain had partially +subsided, but the trees were heavy with water, and the streets ran +rivulets. + +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. + +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 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 on the highways; +an occasional coach would furnish the novelty and break the +monotony, but people could sleep. + +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 clanging 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. + +We soon learned to keep away from the cities at night. 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 +machine; 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 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 country cares +anything about riding in cities; it is as artificial and +monotonous as riding a hunter over pavements. If one could just +approach a city at night, steal into it, enjoy its lights and +shadows, its confusion 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 Pittsburgh who should be assigned +a hall bed-room in the annex, or a millionaire from Newport who +should be tendered the entire establishment on a silver platter. + +The direct road from Rochester to Syracuse is by way of Pittsford, +Palmyra, Newark, Lyons, Clyde, 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. +Genesee Street out of Buffalo is Genesee Street into Syracuse and +Utica; it is the old highway between 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. + +We left Rochester at ten o'clock, Saturday, the 24th, 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. + +As the machine had been there before, we were greeted as friends. +The old negro porter is a character,--quite the irresponsible head +of the entire establishment. + +"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. + +"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 feelings; 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." + +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 generally 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 Sunday +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 established +a roof garden, with music two or three evenings a week, but the +innovation had not proven profitable; the roof remained with some +iron framework that once supported awnings, several disconsolate +tables, and some lonesome iron chairs; we visited this 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 twilight 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 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 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 were found loose. The factory had been most emphatically +requested to put in larger keys so as to fit the key-ways snugly +and to 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, traditions are intact, the men +departed to seek their fortunes 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 commendable 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 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 disappeared in the rear we heard +his rotund voice, "What'll you take? Was jest tellin' that chap +with the threshin'-machine a thing or two about this country. Rye? +no, thet'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-fountin." + +"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 Empire Express th' +other side Syr'cuse." + +"Get out." + +"What do you take us fer?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER TEN THE MOHAWK VALLEY +IN THE 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; rolling but no steep +grades; some sand, but not deep; some clay, but not rough; for the +most part gravel. + +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 distributing 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 Ontario, we did not find a town or +village of any size where gasoline could not be obtained, and +frequently we found it at cross-road stores,--but not at Herkimer. + +Happily there was sufficient gasoline in the tank to carry us on; +besides, we always had a gallon in reserve. 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 automobiles 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," because 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 machines 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 generally 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. + +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 comes upon +them quite unexpectedly, and, whirling through their one long main +street, catches glimpses of quaint churches and buildings 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; trainmen would look up curiously; occasionally an +engineer 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 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 landscape. Nature's slightest effort +dwarfs man's mightiest 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 convenience, just little utilizations of +waste energies for our own purposes. + +One should view nature with the setting sun. It 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 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 comes, +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. + +We left Schenectady 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. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN THE VALLEY OF LEBANON +THE SICK TURKEY + +It was four o'clock, next day, when we left Albany, 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 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. + +Popular notions concerning the capabilities of a machine 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 +limitations it can keep going indefinitely, and it is immaterial +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 normal energy to get out of the difficulty. + +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 available. 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 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 displaced. 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 thousand pounds a +foot or any portion of a foot in a minute 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 hundred and fifty pounds; with good +foothold it can pull more than its own weight along 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 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 hundred and fifty miles in ten hours, something eight +horses could not possibly do. + +Just as we were entering the valley of Lebanon, 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 inside 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 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. + +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 selling 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," interrupted a +new-comer. "Great Jehosephat, but 't went like a streak of greased +lightnin'." + +"War that your'n, Joe?" + +"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 filling the populace 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 steering-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. + +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 community, 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. + +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 buildings, 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 separately. + +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 dilatory tactics of the party in possession kept us +beyond 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 whatsoever; 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 +inexcusable, the assertion of a steak barbarous, even a terrapin +would have felt quite out of place amidst 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 advantage. We cast our coppers +upon the water and they returned Spanish galleons laden with good +things to eat. + +After dining, we were walked through the various buildings, up +stairs and down, through kitchens, pantries, and cellars,--a wise +exercise after so bountiful 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 commonly supposed. +It certainly was calculated to add emphasis to the eccentricities +of even a "Shaking Quaker." + +Although the oldest and the wealthiest of all the socialistic +communities, there are only about six thousand 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 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 recruit 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 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 +husbands, wives, and children; from the broadest possible +communism his community has regenerated into 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 interests, 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 multiples is giving +place to the modern practice of wives in series. + +The story 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. + +It was in 1770, while in prison in England, that Ann Lee claimed +to have had a great revelation concerning original sin, wherein it +was revealed that a celibate life is a condition precedent to +spiritual regeneration. Her revelation may have been biased by the +fact that she herself was married, but not comfortably. + +In 1773, on her release from prison, another revelation 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 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 another in open meetings. They admit no one +to the society unless he or she promises to make a full confession +before others of every evil that can be recalled,--women confess +to women, men to men; these requirements 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 often to the best of +mankind and, lingering on through the waking hours, influence +conduct. The sharp distinctions 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 devise 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, everything in +common. + +In 1840 Emerson wrote to Carlyle, "We are all a little wild here +with numberless projects of social reform. 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 Ripley +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. + +That is the trouble with communism, those who dig are apt to dig +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 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 indifference, 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, however +wild, however visionary, has its effect. + +We of the practical world sojourning in the Shaker village may +commiserate the disciples of theory, but 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 problems 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, foreseen, and arranged. + +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 be 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 dissipation 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. + +On our way back from the village we stopped at the birthplace of +Samuel Tilden,--an old-fashioned white frame house, situated in +the very fork of the 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 countrymen, 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 Hancock "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 Republican 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 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 +impression, 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 demagogue 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 into the hands of his +opponents, and leaving the sound and conservative sentiment of the +country without adequate leadership in Washington. + +While we were curiously looking at the Tilden homestead, an old +man came walking slowly down the road, a rake over his shoulder, +one leg of his patched trousers stuck in a boot-top, a suspender +missing, 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 Jacksonian fr'm a boy; +seed the ole gen'ral 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 sixteen 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 noting that +for forty years every candidate favored by Tammany has been +ignominiously defeated; the two candidates bitterly opposed by the +New York machine 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. + +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; to-morrow 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, diluted 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 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 plumage before a shining milk-pail and apparently +admonishing 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 morning; in thirty +minutes it was in place. Our host and valley 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 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. + +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 macadam, perfectly constructed. + +In going up this easy and perfectly smooth ascent for some six or +seven miles, the disadvantage of having no intermediate-speed +gears was forcibly illustrated, 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL +"THE COURT CONSIDERS THE MATTER" + +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 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 consolation 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 resourceful +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 arrival, 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 gallantly claimed the bass as his, +appeared in the Great Barrington 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 legitimate 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: + +"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 Barrington 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 history of that town as the stalwart defender of the +ex-president." + +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 semblance +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. + +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, children, or horses +in the street; the crossings were clear save for a young man with +a straw hat, whose general appearance betrayed no sign of undue +timidity. He was on the far crossing, sixty or seventy feet +distant. 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 moment 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 occasioned. + +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 Hat.--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 commit a more heinous offence +against another than to frighten him? Ah! by my soul, it is a most +unpardonable 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? + +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 warrants! 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--refreshing +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 +frightened; 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, 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 endanger 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 frightening 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 be worth the candle. + +The scene shifts to a dingy little room in the basement 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 corroborative. + +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 acquirements of his principal, +addresses the court and urges the imposition of a fine,--a fine +being the only satisfaction, 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 embarrassing feature +of the case is that it has yet to be shown that the defendant was +going at a rate exceeding ten miles an hour, and upon this point +the witnesses 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, 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 +IN LENOX + +There are several roads out of Pittsfield to Springfield, and if +one asks a half-dozen citizens, who pretend 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 pretty 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; 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 direct 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 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 everywhere, 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. + +People were flocking to the Berkshires from seashore 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 way. + +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 +automobile 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 possible 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. + +Our way lay over October Mountain by a road not 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 themselves. 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 condition 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 mournful soul that seeks +companionship in misery. Solitude is a word unknown to nature's +vocabulary. The deepest recesses of the forest teem with life and +joyousness until man appears, then they are filled with solitude. +The wind-swept desert is one of nature's play-grounds until man +appears, then it is barren with 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 Blandford 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 supposed +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 gasoline +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. + +At Westfield the spark began to give trouble; the 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 careful examination of every connection failed to disclose any +breaks in the circuit, and yet the spark was of intermittent +strength,--now good, now weak. + +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, stopping only a +moment at the hotel to inquire for mail. Leaving Springfield we +followed the main road towards 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, ultimately wearing the macadam through. We could +not see that the slightest attention was paid to the notices. +Everybody kept the middle of the road, such is the improvidence of +men; the country people grumble at the great expense of good +roads, and then take the surest way to ruin them. + +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 appreciate 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. + +At the outskirts of the little village of West Brookfield 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 batteries on indicated +pretty strongly that the trouble 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 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 evening, 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 victims. No sleep is dreamless. +It is pretty difficult to exhaust the three billions of cells of +the central nervous 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 discovered. The fatigue is +normal, pervasive, and persuasive, and it is pretty hard to recall +any dream on waking. + +It was Sunday morning, September 1, 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 +indoors 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. + +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 to a farmer 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 essential, 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 only after much +trouble that a place was found open where electrical supplies +could be purchased. In addition to a coil, the electrician took +out some thoroughly insulated double cable wire; the wiring of the +machine had been so carelessly done and with such light, cheap +wire that it seemed a good opportunity to rewire throughout. + +The electrician--a very competent and quick workman 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 beginning 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 electrician +explained the cause of their strike, the number of men out, and +the length of time they had been out. + +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 employers 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 prepared 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 inconvenience 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, frugal, 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 work for the first +time at the command of some central organization is an experience +so novel that no man can do it without being affected; he will +never again be the same steady and 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 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 advantage; 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 organizations 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 consults 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 by any association of which he is a member; but the +employee is cowed by his union,--that is the essential difference +between the two. An association of employers is a union of +independent 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 +militantism, the death-knell of individualism. The real, the only +strength of a union lies in the silent, unconsulted 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. + +It was interesting to hear the comments of the intelligent 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? It doesn't pay. + +"Wages have been going up for two hundred years. I can't see 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 automobile 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 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. + +It was our intention to follow the main road through Shrewsbury, +Southborough, Framingham, and Wellesley, but though man proposes, +in the suburbs of Boston Providence disposes. About Southborough +we lost our road, and were soon angling to the northeast 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 gravelled, the country was more interesting than along the +main highway. + +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 Shrewsbury and +Northborough to Marlborough, 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 Southborough. 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 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 objective point, but the +automobile passes a byway before it is seen. Directions are given +but not followed, because turns and obscure cross-roads are passed +at high speed and unobserved. + +Every one is most obliging in giving directions, but 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 inquire, for if you don't know the roads it is pretty hard +to direct you." + +"We follow this road straight ahead to the brick store and trough, +that's easy." + +"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 Inn" were exchanged. + +The mellow light of the setting sun warmed the 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 oblivious 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 beneath its roof. The +shadows were so rapidly lengthening that we had to hurry on. + +Crossing the Charles River near Auburndale a sight 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 +were 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 symphony. + +We stopped a few moments at Lasell Seminary in 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 +suppressed 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, 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. + +From Auburndale the boulevard leads into Commonwealth 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 "Automobiles not allowed" +at private roadways are numerous; 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 machines are allowed +on the grounds of the Essex Country Club. + +No man with the slightest consideration for the comfort 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; in fact, one machine will spread terror +where many would not. + +It is quite difficult enough to drive a machine carefully 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 owning summer +homes will themselves own and use automobiles; 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 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 factory. 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN LEXINGTON AND CONCORD +"THE WAYSIDE INN" + +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. + +Along this historic highway rode Paul Revere; at his heels +followed the regulars of King George. Tablets, stones, and +monuments mark every known point of interest from East Lexington +to Concord. + +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. For days the +patriots had been anxious concerning the stores of arms and +ammunition at Concord, and three days before the night of the 18th +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 +despatched to alarm the country, but at ten o'clock on the +memorable night of the 18th 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 +already been displayed in the belfry. The moon was rising as he +put spurs to his horse and started for Lexington. + +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 Somerville. + +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 message 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 +Concord. Dawes was chased by two of the officers until, with rare +shrewdness, he dashed up in front of a deserted 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 fulfillment of +his warning, the red afterglow 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 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 interpretation. + +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 appellations of Arlington and Arlington Heights. A tablet 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 +curiously reads the inscription and wonders "Why were they called +the old men 'of Menotomy'?" for there is now no such place. + +Massachusetts Avenue--Massachusetts 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 prosperity of Boston. Massachusetts Avenue extends from +Dorchester in Boston to Lexington Green; it has absorbed 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 because 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 Acropolis" 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 Massachusetts,-- +Jingleberry Hill and Chillyshally** Brook sound as if they once +meant something; Spot Pond, named by Governor Winthrop, has not +lost its birthright; Powder-Horn Hill records its purchase from +the Indians for a hornful of powder--probably damp; 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 right for East +Lexington, and made straight for Follen Church, and the home of +Dr. Follen close by, where Emerson preached in 1836 and 1837. + +The church was not built until 1839. In 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. Follen +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 believe 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 +institution. A very great soul--and Emerson was a great 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 +framework 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 Unitarianism 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 himself. 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 environment more conventional might have reduced +these thoughts to some sort of order, brought the stars into +constellations, and left suggestions for the ordering 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 Follen 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 frankness 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 beneath +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 +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, imprisoned 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 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 natural 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 experience. 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 +preparation 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 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. + +It was during the days of his service in East Lexington 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 Greenwood's +collection hymns of a purely meditative character, 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 lecture. He was the apostle of beauty, goodness, +and truth. + +Lexington Road from East Lexington to the Centre 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 roadside, shaded by a row of +fine big trees. Harrington died in 1854 at the great age of +ninety-eight; he was a fifer-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 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 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. + +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 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 inscription. 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, built in 1690, +still stands with its marks of bullets and flood 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 electric 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 Revere 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 Historical +Society intervened and purchased it. + +Neither did we enter the old burying-ground on Elm Street. The +automobile is no respecter of persons 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. + +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 short distance out of Lexington a tablet marks an old well; the +inscription reads, "At this well, April 19, 1775, James Hayward, +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 they did, most of +them would not fight at all. In these days of common schools and +newspapers it becomes 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 marched in order and +retreated in disorder. The undisciplined 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 regulars 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 the 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 produced the now well +known Concord grape by using 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 Hawthorne, who +purchased the place from Alcott in 1852, lived there until his +appointment as Consul at Liverpool in 1853, and again on his +return from England in 1860, until he died in 1864. But "The +Wayside" was not Hawthorne's first Concord home. He came there +with his bride in 1842 and lived four years in the Old Manse. + +There has never been written but one adequate description of this +venerable dwelling, and that by Hawthorne 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. + +Cut in 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 sunset, April 3d, 1843, in 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 devotion 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 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 enjoying), 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 +Hilliard 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. Hawthorne'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 were 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 become 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 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. Emerson +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; 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 printed +concerning Emerson, Hawthorne, and Thoreau, there is not one which +more vividly and accurately set the men before us and describe +their essential characteristics than the casual lines of this old +letter:--Thoreau, the devotee of nature, "figuring dithyrambic +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 Prynne 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, attaches 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 enjoyed 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 he 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 +Paradise. + +"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. +Hawthorne'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 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 surrounding 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 its owner had retiring habits as when Alcott +was reported 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." + +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 understood his +neighbors better than they understood one another; his vision was +very clear. For a man who 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 idiosyncrasies 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 independence 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 stereoscope 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." + + +Emerson liked Hawthorne better than his books,--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 following 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 unreserved +intercourse. It was easy to talk with him; there were no 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. + +Hawthorne's estimate of Emerson was far more just 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 pilgrimages to +speak with him face to face. Young visionaries--to whom just so +much of insight had been imparted 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 theorists--whose +systems, at first air, had finally imprisoned them in an iron +framework--travelled painfully 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 +glittering 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 nothing from him as +a philosopher. It was good nevertheless 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; and he, so quiet, so simple, so without pretension, +encountering 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 influence 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 impression. "He looks at +everything in larger angles than any other, and, by good right, +should be the greatest 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 visited Concord first in October, 1835, and found that he +and Emerson had many things in common, 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, 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 tendency, 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 +remarkable originality in his views, but they were sensible 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 character has probably suffered by his detecting +the impression 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 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 unconsciousness. 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 +himself out; and, as all such discoveries are partial and +imperfect, they do more harm than good to the character. Mr. +Hosmer is more natural than ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and +is certainly a man of intellectual and moral substance. It would +be amusing to draw a parallel between 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." + +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 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 penetrates 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 common. In 1860, +the latter speaks of meeting Hawthorne 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 enchanting; 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 and method of his own. He is as ugly as sin, +long-nosed, queer-mouthed, and with uncouth and somewhat 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." + +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. Connecticut 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,--probably after a +chastening discussion,--"If I were to proffer my earnest prayer to +the gods for the greatest 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 conception 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 between the two +men there existed through life profound 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 constitution. 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 generalization. 'Tis as if I went into a +gymnasium and saw youths leap and climb and swing with a force +unapproachable, tho these feats are only continuations of my +initial grapplings and jumps." One is reminded 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 another matter. A man may be born or may die +in a country, a city, a village, a house, a room, or,--narrower +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 individual; +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 +himself, and no one knows the limits of the domains of another. + +The farmer's boy who sows the seed and watches the 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 of 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 more we use +them the more ambiguous do they become; 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 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 immortal. 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 infinitesimal 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. + +In every-day speech we are obliged to distinguish by elaborate +circumlocution between a man's place of residence 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 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 nothing, +absolutely nothing, about his life; the number of his house does +not indicate where he lives. It is possible 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 +inhabitants 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 Jerusalem that he +knows not his own country, and his usefulness 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 who write +spend the better part of their lives abroad; they may not leave +their own firesides, but all their 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 elsewhere; 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 eloquence of immediate +knowledge and first-hand observation; 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. + +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 Stratford nor London bounded his life. On the +wings of his imagination he visited the known earth and penetrated +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 desolate and +forsaken, and the entrance to the "Hillside Chapel," where the +"Concord School of Philosophy and Literature" had its home for +nine years, was boarded up. + +Parts of the house had been built more than a century 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 filling 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" (prophetic 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 Bronson 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 School of Philosophy was the last 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 +indicate 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 belligerent 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 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 arguing eloquently with some congenial +visitor, or chatting with his daughter. One could almost see a +small throng of serious men and women wending their way up the +still plainly marked path to the chapel, and catch the measured +tones of the lecturer as he expounded theories too recondite for +this practical age and generation. + +Philosophy is the sarcophagus of truth; and most systems of +philosophy are like the pyramids,--impressive piles of useless +intellectual masonry, erected at prodigious cost of time and labor +to secrete from mankind the truth. + +A little farther on we came to the fork in the road 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 +atmosphere they created and left behind. Is it possible that +subtile** distillations of personality penetrate and saturate +inanimate things, so that aromas imperceptible to the sense are +given off for ages and affect all who come in receptive 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 emotions are but the workings of our imaginations stirred by +suggestive surroundings; but who knows, who knows? + +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 company 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 unable to make any speech, yet, +seeing his friendly townspeople, 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.'" + +The exposure incidental to the fire seriously undermined Emerson's +already failing health; shortly after he wrote a friend in +Philadelphia, "It is too ridiculous 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 an decay ought to persuade you at +your first northern excursion 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 +associating 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 intellectual performance was less +exacting, and this was most fortunate, for he gladly went to any +public occasion where he could hear, and nothing would be expected +of him. He attended the Lyceum and all occasions 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 +been there, but he had felt that he could use his time to better +purpose." + +"In April, 1882, 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, finding +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 understand 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 because 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 portion 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 understand 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 together. The sight of his grandchildren always brought 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 universe.'" + +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 succession 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 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 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 +suppression 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 contains. + +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 +material, 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 manifestations. + +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 Creator of theology or the +soul of speculation does not much matter, since the final result +is the same, namely, the immortality of that suprasumption, the +soul. + +But the individual, what becomes of the individual in this +assumption of an all-pervading, immortal soul, 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 inconceivable 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 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 pervading soul, which manifests itself for a +time in the body, persists indefinitely after the physical +manifestation has ceased; that, with the cessation of the physical +manifestation, the particular activity which we recognize here as +an individuality will so persist that hereafter 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 particular +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. + +Therefore all things are immortal. Nothing is so lost to the +infinite soul as to be wholly and totally obliterated. The +withering of a flower is as much the act of the all-pervading soul +as the death of a child; but the life and death of a human being +involve activities 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 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 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 popular 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-pervading soul. + +But, then, who knows what any one else thinks or means? At the +most we only know what others say, 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 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 perception 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 hypotheses, how distant our vision, we reach at +length the confines of our thought and admit the inconceivable. +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 infinite 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 +alternative 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 materialist in the ardent pursuit of +knowledge soon experience 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 confession of ignorance +denser than that of agnosticism. + +Those men who try not to think or reason concerning 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 to meet before +the days of the revolution, and where Major Pitcairn is said-- +wrongfully in all probability--to have made his boast on the +morning of the 19th, 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 interesting 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. + +It was a short run down Monument Street to the turn just beyond +the "Old 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 musketry 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 revolution, 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 circumstance has borne more fruit for +me than all that history 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 +circumstances--is next kin to the common hangman. + +From the windows of the "Old Manse," the Rev. William Emerson, +grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 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, contracting a +fever which proved fatal. + +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 Alcotts, and Emerson lie buried within a +half-dozen paces of one another. + +Thoreau came first in May, 1862. Emerson delivered 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, Channing 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 willingly, at any time, have given up his own life, Franklin +Pierce, was there among the rest, and scattered flowers into the +grave. The unfinished 'Romance,' 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 Thoreau 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 +procession 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 +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 _… 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, 30th.--Emerson's funeral. I made a yellow 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 wish her funeral was in 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 earnestness 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 acknowledgment of the +receipt of a flower. "It stands beside me on Marmee's (her mother) +work-table, and reminds 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. + +The warm September day was drawing to a close; the red sun was +sinking towards the west; the hilltop 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. + +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 +anywhere; 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 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 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, Burgoyne, 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 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. + + "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,-- + + "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 jolly major +rendered the following "true accomp.," which, yellow and faded, +hangs on the bar-room wall: + +"Thursday, August 7, 1777" + L s. d. + Super & Loging . . . . . . . 0 1 4 +8th. Brakfast, Dinar and 0 1 9 + Super and half mug of tody 0 2 6 +9th. Lodging, one glass rum half 0 2 6 + & Dinar, one mes oats 0 1 4 + Super half mug flyp 0 3 0 +10th Brakf.--one dram 0 1 8 + Dinner, Lodging, horse-keeping 0 2 0 + one mug flyp, horse bating 0 3 0 +11th. horse keeping 1 +13th. glass rum & Diner 1 8 +14th. Horse bating 0 0 6 + Horse Jorney 28 miles 0 5 10 + + A true accomp.--total 1 14 6 + William Bradford, + Dilivered to Capt. Crosby 2 2 6 + +Alas! the major's inscription and the foregoing "accomp." are +hollow mockeries to the thirsty traveller, 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 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. + +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 memory; 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, running the gamut from a dull red glow to the violet rays +that border the invisible. + +But, alas! the appreciation of wine is lost. Everybody 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, everywhere; port, grand, old +ruddy port--that has disappeared; no one understands it and no one +knows when to serve it; while Madeira, that bloom of the vinous +century plant, that rare exotic which ripens with passing +generations, is all too subtle for our untutored discrimination. + +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 +fastidious 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 Japanese,--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 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 Johannisberger 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 ordinary, 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 forgetting 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 appreciation. + +It is a far cry from an imaginary banquet with Lucullus to the New +England Saturday night supper of pork and beans which was spread +before us that evening. The dish is a survival of the rigid +Puritanism 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 morning 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 fishballs 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 reported discovery in Africa of a new +and edible bean. + +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 uninitiated, it is a luscious morsel compared with +the flavorless 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 bottomless 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." + +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, + 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, I am delighted to +learn that you have purchased the dear old house and carefully +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. Lyman 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"). + +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 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, + 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 ancient 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 will bring new life to these deserted hostelries. +For more than half a century steam has 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 country, and there +must be inns to receive them. + +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 endeavoring 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 discomfort 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN RHODE ISLAND AND CONNECTICUT +CALLING THE FERRY + +Next morning, Sunday the 8th, we left the inn at eleven o'clock +for Providence. It was a perfect morning, neither hot nor cold, +sun bright, and the air stirring. + +We took the narrow road almost opposite the entrance 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 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 Providence the tire was +again flat and--as it proved afterwards--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. + +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 mournful, or a delightful, place-- +as one views it. To the gregarious 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 plumage +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 country +about is attractive; but the crowd--the crowd that comes in +summer--comes with a rush almost to the hour in July, and takes +flight with a greater rush almost to the minute in August,--the +crowd overwhelms, 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 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 wondrous 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 approaching 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 autumn, +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 thousand 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 attractions of nature. + +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 kind. The crowd at Newport is architecturally +perfect, 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 permanent; 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 +surroundings. 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 accurate, 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 reputation 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; perhaps 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 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 reputations; no questions are asked, no information +volunteered save that disclosed by the hotel register,-- +information 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 +feminine 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 disadvantage 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 Narragansett 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 demand the exposure of +every frailty and every folly; the skeleton must sit at the feast. +There is no room 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 outward 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 physical, 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 they are +enemies; in both places the quality of friendship is strained. The +two problems of existence are, Whom shall I recognize? and, Who +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 outside 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 it does not pay to be on the +defensive; those are revered who are most feared; those who nail +to their mast the black flag and show no quarter are the +recognized leaders,--Society is piracy. + +Green's Inn was cheery, comfortable, and hospitable; 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, intolerable 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 conducive 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 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; 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 as not to list +the primitive craft, we made our way deliberately 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. + +It was dark when we ran into the city. This particular 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 paying the bill. It was all +charmingly and not precociously 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 manners 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 machine 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. + +It is a beautiful ride from New Haven to New 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 antedated the town a century or two. + +Later in the afternoon, while wheeling along at twenty miles an +hour, we caught a glimpse of a signpost 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 gasoline 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 renewed an acquaintance made +several years before. + +It is interesting to follow an artist's career and note the +changes in manner and methods; for changes are 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. + +For the most part, an artist's manner changes naturally 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 immediately +conspicuous, soon make their shortcomings felt; the note being +forced and unnatural, it does not ring true. + +A man may visit Madrid without imitating Velasquez; 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 without 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 +rejects it scoffingly. + +There is infinitely more hope for the man who goes to Madrid, or +any other shrine, in a spirit of opposition,--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 who +submit to all influences, there are the chosen few who assert +themselves, and at the same time clearly appreciate the strength +of those who differ from them. The urchin painter may assert +himself 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 surface of the waters, drifting with +every breeze, submerged 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 painters 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 copy will +be too evident. Time and distance will modify an impression and +lessen the attraction; the effect will remain, but no longer +dominate. + +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, impressive 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. + +It is by night that the earth communes with the universe. 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 +overpowering 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 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 was Wednesday evening, September 11, when we arrived in New +York. The Endurance Contest organized by the Automobile Club of +America had started for Buffalo on Monday morning, and the papers +each day contained long accounts of the heartbreaking 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 now famous run +possessed the charm of novelty, the absorbing fascination of +fiction. + +Once upon a time, two fishermen, who were modestly relating +exploits, paused to listen to three chauffeurs who began +exchanging experiences. After listening 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 confess 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." + +It is not that those who go down the pike in automobiles 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 receive 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 probably 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 Contest the discount +rate in the Automobile Club of America was exceedingly high. + +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 Frankfort, +while quite a large number entered the contest for the express +purpose of getting off in the mud and 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 valuable 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. 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 +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 +unmercifully. 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, chauffeurs are not among the latter. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN ANARCHISM +"BULLETINS FROM THE CHAMBER OF DEATH" + +During these days the President was dying in Buffalo, though the +country did not know it until Friday. + +Wednesday and Thursday the reports were so assuring 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. Bulletins of the +most reassuring character turned out absolutely false. After it +was all over, there was a 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. + +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 dignified 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 weakness 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 below there came the sounds of flying horses, of moving +feet, of cries and voices. It seemed as if the city had 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 penetrated 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 before, and at this +moment the civilized world is discussing measures for the +suppression, the obliteration, of anarchists, but we must take +heed lest we overshoot the mark. + +Three Presidents--Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley--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 assassinated, 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 safeguards +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 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. + +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 anarchism +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 Americans," written +with most pious and orthodox intent by the late Charles Nordhoff, +the discussion of government begins with the epigram,--by no means +original with Nordhoff,--"Governments are necessary evils." + +Therein lurks the germ of anarchism,--for if evil, 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 recognized," 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 spontaneously 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 theoretical 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 necessary +therefore it cannot be an evil. Hospitals are necessary, and just +because they are necessary therefore 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 constitution 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. + +Anarchy does not involve, as Huxley suggests, "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence." Not at all. +What it does involve is the highest 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 involves a +social condition wherein absolutely no authority is imposed upon +any individual, where no requirement of any kind is made against +the will of any member--man, woman, or child; where everything is +left to individual initiation. + +So far from such a "state of society" being "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence," it is not +conceivable at all, and the farther the mind goes in attempting to +grasp it, the more hopelessly 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 individuals were not only perfect, but also absolutely +of one mind on all subjects relating to their welfare. Can the +imagination picture existence more inane? + +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 imperfect +in all these respects. + +The patent fact that most governments, both national and local, +are corruptly, extravagantly, and badly administered tends to +obscure our judgment, so that we 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 individual; 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 government 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 +conscience and character of the community." + +But assume that war is no more and armies are disbanded; that +crimes are no more and police are 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 terrorized, 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 imposing the +authority of the community upon the individual? If the community +asserts its authority in any manner or form, that is government. + +If every institution, including government, were abolished +to-morrow, the percentage of births that would turn out blind, +crippled, and feeble both mentally and physically, wayward, +eccentric, and insane would continue practically the same, and the +community 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 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 release of the +accused, the other urging his detention. Who is to hold the scale +and decide? + +The fundamental error of anarchists, and of most 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 imposed 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 of sociology; the fourth +dimension of economies; the squaring of the political circle. + +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 government 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 disagreement is absolutely and forever removed. + +Anarchism as a doctrine, as a theory, involves no act of violence +any more than communism or socialism. + +Between the assassination of a ruler and the doctrine 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 outcome; neither theorist would see the slightest advantage 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 reactionary 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 impatience 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 destroy 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 attention to the theory of anarchy as to win +followers;--in other words, murders such as those of Humbert, +Carnot, and President McKinley were mere advertisements of +anarchism. In the words of Brousse, "Deeds are talked of on all +sides; the indifferent masses inquire 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 advertisement; 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." + +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 reforms; so far from seeking to annihilate the +government, 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. + +It is against the "propaganda of action" that legislation must be +directed, not because it is any part of 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 +disappearance 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 Republican or a Democrat, a Presbyterian or an +Episcopalian; when he advises, commits, or condones a murder, his +conduct is not measured by his convictions,--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 otherwise. 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 of murder in +Chicago, seven were condemned to death and one to the +penitentiary; four were afterwards hanged, one killed himself in +jail, and three were imprisoned. + +These men were convicted of a crime with which, so far as the +evidence showed, they had no direct connection; 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 Schnaubelt, 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: + +"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 newspaper 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 therefor." + +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 doubtful expedient of directing +legislation against any particular social or economic theory. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN NEW YORK TO BUFFALO +UP THE HILL + +It was Saturday, the 14th, 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 Tarrytown 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 riveting 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. + +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, 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 machine, with our +luggage and ourselves. It was tiresome walking so far beside the +machine, and in attempting 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 operated 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 bad road by +continuing on to Poughkeepsie by the inland road instead of going +down to the Landing. + +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 +Landing; 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. + +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 settled in rooms, that we decided to go on at least +as far as Schenectady. + +To the park it was all plain sailing on asphalt and macadam, but +from the park to the gate of the cemetery 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 standstill and being obliged to get out in +that eight or ten inches of uninviting mud was a very appreciable +factor 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 Schenectady 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 16th 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 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 +further trouble. It was noon before the work was finished, 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 Schenectady in good +weather is quite good, but after the rain 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 machine 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. + +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 wayside inns there are none. With +the exception of Albany 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 discomforts, 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. + +It 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 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, 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 Endurance Contest was out of Herkimer, through +Frankfort 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 Frankfort, 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 in the +endurance run came to grief,--right on the main street of the +village. There was no sign of pavement, macadam, or gravel, just +deep, dark, rich muck; 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 between 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 towpath, 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. + +It required all Wednesday morning to clean and overhaul the +machine. Every crevice was filled with 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 foundered. 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 passing 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 to the driver +of an automobile the stations are a great nuisance; one is +scarcely passed before another is in 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. + +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, Palmyra, 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 intention 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 after seven when we drew +up in front of the small St. George Hotel. + +The glory of Avon has departed. Once it was a 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 generation. + +The Springs are a mile or two away; the water is supposed to +possess rare medicinal virtues, and invalids 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 residents 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 Caledonia 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 +horse to one side; then a pull on the other rein, turning the +horse sharply to the other side. This was too much for the animal, +and he kept on around, overturning 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. Relieved 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 particular 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. + +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 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 new world; his own +country, however small, is a universe 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 produce 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 falling 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 soon effaced, rather let it sink deep into the +heart until it becomes a part of life. + +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 condition 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 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 blossoming 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 no two is it +precisely the same. + +The longer we look at anything, however simple, the deeper it +penetrates into our being until it becomes 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 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 deliberate +observation are good, since most men will not observe at home. +Such is the singularity of our nature 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, +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. + +Every country possesses its own peculiar advantages 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 of 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 fastnesses of the Rockies; if we +wish the sublime, gaze in the mighty chasm of the Cañon 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 who does not believe his country the best on earth +and his people the chosen of men. + +The promise of automobiling is knowledge of one's 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 +HOME + +We left Buffalo, Saturday the 20th, 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 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 machine 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, anything 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, otherwise the machine is--very properly--subject to +confiscation. + +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 crossing Canada would better comply with all +regulations and save trouble. + +It was six o'clock when we arrived at St. Catharines. 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 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 Ontario in every direction. The people seem to +appreciate 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 morning, 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 concerns of automobiling. + +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. + +Monday, the 22d, 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 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 Dominion increased only five hundred thousand, or about ten +per cent., as against an increase of fourteen millions, or +twenty-one per cent., in this country. + +For a new country in a new world Canada stagnates. In the decade +referred to Chicago alone gained more in population than the +entire Dominion. The fertile province of Ontario gained but +fifty-four thousand 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 +their increase of population in ten years more than equals the +entire population of the province. + +In population, wealth, industries, and resources Ontario is the +Dominion's gem; yet in a decade she could attract and hold but +fifty-odd thousand persons,--not quite all the children born +within her borders. + +All political divisions aside, there is no reason in the 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 divided 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 statecraft can prevent it. + +When the population of this country is a hundred or a hundred and +fifty millions the line will have disappeared. 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 advantages +and attractions of which are alike, the population tends strongly +to become equally dense; political conditions and differences in +race and language may for a time hold this tendency in check, but +where race and language are the same, political barriers must soon +give way. + +All that has preserved Canada from absorption up 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 dividing line is known only to surveyors, the situation +will become critical. Already the rush to the Klondike has +produced trouble in Alaska. The aggressive miners from this side, +who constitute almost the entire 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 belligerent 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, practically 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 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 +independence has taught them the sentimental and unsubstantial +character of the ties binding them to England, and yet they know +full well that with those ties severed their independence would +soon disappear. + +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 +machine 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 +but 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 difficulties. + +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 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 substituted 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 old 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. + +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 allowance 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 traversed 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 because automobiling has its own point of view, +and certainly people have their own and widely varying views of +automobiling. In the presence of the machine people everywhere +become for the time-being childlike and naive, curious and +enthusiastic; they lose the veneer of sophistication, and are as +approachable and companionable as children. Automobiling is +therefore doubly delightful in these early days of the sport. By +and by, when the people become accustomed 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 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 considered. +It lacked power and was too light for such a severe and prolonged +test; but, when taken apart to be restored to perfect condition, +it was astonishing 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 +machine 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 manufacturers. The man who one moment says his machine is a +paragon of perfection, sits down the next and writes the factory a +letter which would be debarred the mails if left unsealed. Open +confession is good for the soul, and owners of automobiles must +cultivate 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. + +In the year 1735 a worthy Puritan divine, pastor over a little +flock in the town of Malden, made the following entries in his +diary: + +"January 31.--Bought a shay for L27 10s. The Lord grant it may be +a comfort and a blessing to my family. + +"March, 1735.--Had a safe and comfortable journey 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? + +"May 15.--Shay brought home; mending cost thirty shillings. +Favored in this beyond expectation. + +"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. + +END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile +by Arthur Jerome Eddy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO THOUSAND MILES *** + +***** This file should be named 12380-8.txt or 12380-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/8/12380/ + +Produced by Holly Ingraham + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/12380-8.zip b/old/12380-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9501c8b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12380-8.zip diff --git a/old/12380.txt b/old/12380.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b6b1f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12380.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9379 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile +by Arthur Jerome Eddy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile + Being A Desultory Narrative Of A Trip Through New England, New York, + Canada, And The West, By "Chauffeur" + + +Author: Arthur Jerome Eddy + +Release Date: May 18, 2004 [EBook #12380] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO THOUSAND MILES *** + + + + +Produced by Holly Ingraham + + + + +TWO THOUSAND MILES ON AN AUTOMOBILE + +BEING A DESULTORY NARRATIVE OF +A TRIP THROUGH NEW ENGLAND, +NEW YORK, CANADA, AND +THE WEST + +BY +"CHAUFFEUR" + + +1902 + + +WITH EIGHTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS +BY +FRANK VERBECK + +__________ + +To L. O. E. + +Who for more than sixteen hundred miles +of the journey faced dangers and discomforts +with an equanimity worthy a better +cause, and whose company lightened the +burdens and enhanced the pleasure of the +"Chauffeur" + +----------- + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER +I.-----Some Preliminary Observations +II.----The Machine Used +III.---The Start +IV.----Into Ohio +V.-----On to Buffalo +VI.----Buffalo +VII.---Buffalo to Canandaigua +VIII.--The Morgan Mystery +IX.----Through Western New York +X.-----The Mohawk Valley +XI.----The Valley of Lebanon +XII.---An Incident of Travel +XIII.--Through Massachusetts +XIV.---Lexington and Concord +XV.----Rhode Island and Connecticut +XVI.---Anarchism +XVII.--New York to Buffalo +XVIII.-Through Canada Home + +---------- + +FOREWORD +------------------------------------------------------------------ + + +To disarm criticism at the outset, the writer acknowledges 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 incomplete without reflections by the way; the +imagination once in will not out; it even seeks to usurp the +humbler function of observation. However, the arrangement 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 finding +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 discrimination. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER ONE SOME PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS +THE MADDING CROWD + +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 something 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 conquered +and well-broken to harness, submissive and resigned 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 impartiality. It +shows no more deference to maker than to owner; it moves no more +quickly for expert mechanic than for amateur driver. When it +balks, it balks,--inventor, manufacturer, mechanic, stand puzzled; +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 mechanics 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 wrestling 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 betray 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. + +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 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 crowd multitude +always with us--or against us? There is no 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 intuition +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 thoughtful observer would be +fearful lest he were an idiot. The American small boy is not +idiotic; tested by his curiosity concerning automobiles, he is the +fruition of the centuries, the genius the world is awaiting, the +coming ruler of men and empires, or--who knows?--the coming master +of the automobile. + +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. + +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 veritable 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 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 see a pair of +horses patiently pulling his machine along the highway, and how he +fights against such an unnatural 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 permit 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 cannot be made on +the spot. The novice looks on in despair, 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 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 disclose duplicates that can be removed temporarily to the +more essential places. + +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 accessible, 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 construct entire +an automobile from the odds and ends of a half-dozen farm-yards. + +All boys and most girls--under twelve--say, "Gimme 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 nature, 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 aversion towards the automobile, +since, from their stand-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 reversion 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 passing 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 would not be a hoodlum, 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 altogether too +much. + +That it is the machine which rouses his savage instincts 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. + +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-intelligently; +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 pleasant diversion from a bed on the +grass. + +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 contended that +the reward should be in proportion to 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 reward; 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 connection with +automobiling is as interesting as it is new. 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 without 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 automobiles 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 chauffeur 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. + +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 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 repairs 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. When things go +well, he does it; when they go wrong, it is the fault of some one +else; if he makes a successful 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 chauffeur +--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 pretense 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 information 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO THE MACHINE USED +MAKING READY TO START + +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 repairs. + +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 underrated. A twelve horse-power American +machine may mean not more than eight or ten; a twelve horse-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 horsepower machine of a rival maker; hence +the tendency to increase the power without changing the nominal +rating. The American manufacturer caters to the demand 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 towards the French +type,--two or four cylinders 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 +stubbornness, 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. + +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 amateur 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 frequently +failures. A thirty horse-power foreign machine costing ten or +twelve thousand dollars, accompanied 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 conditions prevailing in this country +and is built to surmount 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 machine 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 purchase indefinitely, unless you expect to carry along +a man. + +Machine for machine, regardless of price, the comparison is +debatable; but price for price, there is no comparison whatsoever; +in fact, there is no inexpensive imported machine which compares +for a moment with the American product. + +A single-cylinder motor possesses a few great advantages 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 successfully. 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 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. + +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 +because better speed is maintained through heavy roads and on up +grades. + +So far as resiliency is concerned, there is no comparison 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 comparatively few go through. The weight of the tire makes it +rather hard riding, very hard, indeed, as compared with a fine +Michelin. + +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 waterproof 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. + +What to wear is something of a problem. In late autumn and winter +fur is absolutely essential to comfort. Even at fifteen or twenty +miles an hour the wind 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 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 emergencies, +for at any moment it may be necessary to get underneath. + +The man who is going to master his own machine must expect to get +dirty; dust, oil, and grime plentifully distributed,--but dirt is +picturesque, even if objectionable. 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 engineer driving his locomotive in blue +coat, yellow waistcoat, and ruffles,--quite as appropriate as a +fastidious dress on the 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 mechanic'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 threshing, 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 outdoor 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +"IS THIS ROAD TO--" + +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 decided 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 Buffalo as fast as roads would permit,--but for +exhilaration 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. + +The Professor knew nothing about machinery and 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 Professor adjusted his spectacles and looked at the machine: + +"A very wonderful contrivance, and one that requires 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 telegram, +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 mathematics to produce or modify motion in +inferior bodies; what could be more apt? Is it not our intention +to produce 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 1, at exactly seven o'clock, that +we passed south on Michigan Avenue towards South Chicago and +Hammond. A glorious morning, neither hot nor cold, but just +deliciously cool, with some promise--afterwards more than +fulfilled--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. +"Possibly; but we all impose more or less upon one another; he has +simply made a business of his imposition. 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 conversation." + +"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 pretensions 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." + +A few 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. + +"There is another latter-day sect," said the Professor; "one of +the phenomena of the nineteenth century." + +"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 the things she +has; she talks of everything but the lake and her broad and almost +endless boulevards, yet these are her chief glories. + +For miles and miles and miles one can travel boulevards 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. + + 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 cooling +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. + +The roads are now not so good,--not bad, but just good country +roads, some stretches of gravel, but generally clay, with some +sand here and there. The country is rolling, but no steep hills. + +Up to this time the machine had required no attention, 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 +temporary repair might have been made by first dipping 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 delusion. A +road which seems most seductive on the bicycler's road map may be +a sea of sand or a veritable 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 Mohawk 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,--and it is a +matter of great concern in this vast country, 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 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 information 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 redlined 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 reasonably 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 +overland drives. + +It is much easier to get information in small villages 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 machine 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 +pronounced 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 +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. + +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 +machine, 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. + +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 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 automobiling; they pull +the average down by jumps. + +The extra tire was to be at Elkhart, farther on, and 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 puncture, 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 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 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 question. +Before attempting a stream, one must make sure of the bottom; the +depth is of less importance. + +We did not run into Elkhart, but passed about two 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 Benton and Ligonier, arriving at Kendallville at exactly +eight o'clock. + +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 average over so long a +stretch, but the weather was perfect 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 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 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 +delights. + +The Professor notes that up to this point nine and three-quarters +gallons of gasoline have been consumed,--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 encouraging; 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. + +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 distance covered increases in arithmetical +progression, the deterioration of the machine is in geometrical. +During the first few days a good machine requires comparatively +little attention each day; during the last weeks of a long tour it +requires double the attention and ten times the work. + +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, accordingly. 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 automobiling is to +coaching as steam yachting is to sailing,--all of which argues the +densest ignorance concerning automobiling, since there is no sport +which affords anything 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 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 unknown, passing persons, teams, vehicles, cattle, +obstacles, 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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER THREE THE START +THE RAILROAD SPIKE + +A five o'clock call, though quite in accordance with orders, was +received with some resentment and responded to reluctantly, the +Professor remarking that it seemed but fair to give the slow-going +sun a reasonable start as against the automobile. + +About fifty minutes were given to a thorough examination 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 require +tightening after a little hard usage; this is quite 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 destructive 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 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 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 warning, used by +police and fire departments and by trolley lines, and it works +well in the country. + +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 generally, 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 +reversible waterproof shooting-jacket at Butler, several sizes too +large, but warm; and the Professor remarked, as he gathered its +folds about him, "I was 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 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 +succession 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 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 concerning the character of the sandy places. + +Happily, when the people say the road is "sandy," 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 succession of sand ridges that +are sand from base to summit, 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 treacherous 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 shaking the sand out +of his shoes, "It is difficult to preserve 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 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 Professor looked anxiously down +and said,-- + +"Is the blamed thing stuck again?" + +We turned off the Bowling Green road to the River road, which is +not only better, but more direct from Napoleon to Perrysburg. It +was the road we originally intended to take; it was down on our +itinerary, and in automobiling it is better to stick to first +intentions. + +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, creeping on slowly so as not to frighten it +more. Loose 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. + +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 limestone. 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, 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 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 encountered. "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. + +One must have a cool, quick, and accurate appreciation 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 problem 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. + +The roads are as they are, a practically constant,--and, for some +time to come,--an unchangeable quantity. 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 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 automobiles for America or Australia, the +only pertinent question is, "What are the roads of America or +Australia?" 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 and sparsely +settled as North America, it is not conceivable 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 automobile must +be so constructed as to cover them as they are. + +The manufacturer who waits for good roads everywhere should move +his factory to the village of Falling Waters, and sleep in the +Kaatskills. + +Machines which give out on bad roads, simply because 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 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 complain, 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 normal to the country. + +It was nearly six o'clock when we arrived at Fremont. 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 delicate indicator on the +gasoline tank and began: + +"That was a great day, my boy." + +"Yes, sir, it was." + +"And it comes once a year." + +"Why, sure." + +"Ahem--" in some confusion, "I mean you celebrate once a year." + +"Sure, we celebrate every second of August, and it comes every +year." + +"Quite right, quite right; always recall with appropriate +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--" 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 gasoline--sometimes; +that is not a boiler, it is the cooler--on hot days we take turns +sitting on it;--explosions,--electric spark,--yes, it is queer; +--man at last stop made same bright remark; no danger from +explosions 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 anticipate 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?" + +"Danged if I know." And we never found out. + +At Bellevue we lighted our lamps and ran to Norwalk over a very +fair road, arriving a few minutes after eight. Norwalk liveries +did not like automobiles, 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. + +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 side, but not so +badly that we could not go on to Cleveland, where repairs could be +made more quickly. A slight pounding which had developed was +finally located in the pinion of a small gear-wheel that operated +the exhaust-valve. + +It is sometimes by no means easy to locate a pounding 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 eccentric 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 explosion. 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 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 up things generally. It was four +o'clock before we were off for Painesville. + +Euclid Avenue is well paved in the city, but just outside there is +a bit of old plank road that is disgracefully 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 before +starting I gave each a sharp blow with a 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 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. + +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 partially 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. + +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 applied is stronger. If the rim is well +covered with old 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, making the broken spring as serviceable and strong for the +time being as if sound. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE ON TO BUFFALO +"GEE WHIZ!!" + +From Painesville three roads led east,--the North Ridge, Middle +Ridge, and South Ridge. We followed 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,--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 his 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 remarked,-- + +"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 surroundings!" + +"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 village across the stream, so the road +leads somewhere." + +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 burden. Towards the last it used to delight +him to see people frantically turning into lanes, fields, anywhere +to get out of the way. + +The horse is a factor to be considered--and placated. 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 Professor 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 generally 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 automobiles. 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 +automobile, 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 plug, jogging quietly along, quite unterrified, +may be roused to unwonted capers by the person behind. + +Some take the antics of their horses quite philosophically. 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 unsteadily in his wagon and +shouted,-- + +"If you (hic) 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 amateur 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. + +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. + +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. +Furthermore, 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 automobile driver to take great care +in passing; the care being measured by the possibility and +probability of at accident. + +The sympathy of every chauffeur must be entirely with the driver +of the horse. Automobiles are not so 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 that he will exercise caution +in approaching. All this is 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 country 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 behave badly, and +unless the outward signs are unmistakable, 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 motions 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 disregard 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 +manifested in many ways that are disagreeable to the chauffeur and +his friends. + +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 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 stringent 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 repression on the one side +and Irish impulsiveness and recklessness on the other. + +The Englishman will not budge; the Irishman cries, "Let her go." + +Speaking of the future of the automobile, the Professor said,-- + +"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 overalls and +jumper, leather jacket and cap; he could not use dart or arrow, at +best he could only run the machine 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! + +"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 mechanism; 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 question. + +"Dobbin, dear old secretive Dobbin, what difference 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 +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, Professor?" + +"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, 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 +margin 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 outside into each +gully, the sliding of the machine received 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, substantial wooden wheels one sees on nearly all imported +machines and on some American. + +The sense of proportion between parts is sadly outraged 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 sapphire set in the dull brown gold of woods and +fields. Farther on we come out upon the bluffs overlooking the +lake and see the smoke and grime of Buffalo far across. What a +blot on a view so beautiful! + +"Civilization," said the Professor, "is the subjection 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 usefulness; in every civilization nature is of secondary +importance, 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 +harshness, 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 consideration; 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 absolutely 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 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?" + +"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 generation 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 protestations, 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." + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX BUFFALO +THE MIDWAY + +Housing the machine in a convenient and well-appointed stable for +automobiles, we were reminded of the fact that we had arrived in +Buffalo at no ordinary 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 Expositions +proverbially expensive--to promoters and stockholders as well as +visitors? + +Then, too, the hotels of Buffalo had expected so much and were so +woefully disappointed. Vast arrays of figures had been compiled +showing that within a 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 exorbitant charges. Notions of value become very much +congested within a radius of two or three hundred miles of any +great Exposition. + +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 architectural arrangement. It was the falls +of Niagara turned into stars, the mist of the mighty cascade +crystallized 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 folding 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 +radiance,--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 province 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 crackling +of whips; there are prancing steeds and figures in costumes +curious,--then, flapping of canvas, creaking 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 outside the pale of +criticism and discussion. Therefore, 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. + +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 +expressed 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 invariably produced a comedy with their +tragedies; human 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 cinematograph 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. + +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 temperate 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 discolor +the nose of a humming-bird. + +There were no end of illusions, mysteries, and deceptions. 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 without 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 eccentric 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 gasoline once +each week or ten days; it is not necessary, but the piston moves +with much greater freedom and the compression is better. + +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 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 gallon. 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. + +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 directions for caring for +the machine information concerning 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 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 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 moisture in the +cylinder of a gas-engine, the use of any animal oil is said to be +unnecessary; as there is moisture 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 contain 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 mica are both good chain lubricants, but if mixed +with a pure mineral base, such as vaseline, they will wash off in +mud and water. 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 there is not an +automobile made, according to the reports 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 difficult machine in +the hands of the amateur, and so far it has been made almost +impossible by its poor construction. 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 building of carriages is +a long-established industry, employing 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. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN BUFFALO TO CANANDAIGUA +BEWARE OF THE COUNTRY MECHANIC + +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 frivolously, 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 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 mechanism. 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 particular 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. + +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 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 connection. 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 battery 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 moment 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 is weak, the +current from both sets can be turned 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 multiples, then, as +they weaken still more, in series. + +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 insulated 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 derogatory 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." + +"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, exhausted. + +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 country +mechanic,--of the three, the mechanic can do 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 machine, 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 at the machine, give it to him as a reward and a +revenge 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. + +At Batavia we put in new batteries, repacked the 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 +looking 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. + +The run from 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 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 peculiar grating noise we had +heard and materially checking 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 is quite rolling +and many of the hills steep. Twice 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 well enough, +and a high average speed can be maintained, but where the roads +are soft or the country rolling, a high gear may mean a very +material disadvantage 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 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. + +The machine we were using had but two sets of 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 gasoline motor develops its highest +efficiency when it is running at full speed, there should be +enough intermediate 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 nothing 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 +intermediate gears if best results are to be attained, the +conditions change so from mile to mile. + +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 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 exhilarating. 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 +possibility of collision is understood, and every danger is +present in the mind, and with it all the thrill of excitement +which ever accompanies risk. + +During the entire descent the Professor was in blissful 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." + +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 were necessary, rather than spend the time +necessary to make them in the one small machine shop at +Canandaigua. + +Furthermore the Professor's vacation was drawing to a close; he +had given himself not to exceed ten days, eight had elapsed. + +"I 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 days and weeks to become acquainted with all the +peculiarities and weaknesses of an automobile, 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, 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 gregarious 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 obviously impossible of fulfillment 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 glorious run of one hundred and +forty miles the last day, covering the Old Sarnia gravel out of +London, Ontario, at top speed for nearly seventy miles. + +For five weeks to a day we wandered over the eastern country at +our own sweet will, not a care, not a responsibility,--days +without seeing newspapers, finding mail and telegrams at +infrequent intervals, but much of the time lost to the world of +friends and acquaintances. + +Touring on an automobile differs from coaching, posting, +railroading, from every known means of locomotion, in that you are +really lost to the world. In coaching or posting, one knows with +reasonable certainty 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 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; it puts +them to no end of inconvenience; for days they expect you and you +do not come; their feeling of relief that you did not come is +destroyed by your appearance. + +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 consolation +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 immaculate 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 drawing-room. It is not quite at home in +the stable; it demands a house of its own. If the friend who +invites 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, leaving an ineradicable stain under the +porte-cochere, and frightening his favorite horses into fits as +you run into the stable. + +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 careering about. Each time we called on friends; +sometimes they were in, sometimes out; it was all so casual,--a +cup of tea, a little chat, sometimes without shutting down the +motor,--the briefest of calls, all the more charming because +brief,--really, it was strange. + +We see a town ahead; calling to a man by the roadside,-- + +"What place is that?" + +"L--" is the long drawn shout as we go flying 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. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT THE MORGAN MYSTERY +THE OLD STONE BLACKSMITH SHOP AT STAFFORD + +It was Wednesday, August 22, that we left Buffalo. In some stray +notes made by my companion, I find this enthusiastic description +of the start. + +"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--whirr--whirr--r--r,' we are off. Through +the rich foliage of noble trees we catch last glimpses of +beautiful 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; farewell 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 roadsides; 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 frequented +streets of Batavia, we came quite unexpectedly to an old cemetery. +In the corner close to the tracks of the New York Central, so +placed as to be 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 mysteries +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 1812, + 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. + +Six miles beyond Batavia, on the road to Le Roy, is the little +village of Stafford; some twenty or thirty houses bordering the +highway; a church, a schoolhouse, 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 regardless of sect; it was at the +disposal of any denomination that might wish to hold services +therein. Apparently 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 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, +surrounded by shrubbery, and approached by a gravel walk bordered +by old-fashioned boxwood hedges. This house was built in 1812, and +is still well preserved. For many years it was a quite famous +private school for young ladies, kept by a Mr. Radcliffe. + +Across the little bridge on the right is a low stone 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. + +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 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 number 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 automobile 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 frightened, so they took him on to Le Roy and let him go." + +"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 Stafford and Le Roy +instead of Newkirk, Byron, and Bergen, 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 +exposures 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 action on the part of any lodge +or body of Masons. Morgan 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 attempting 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 fends 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 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 laying siege to the little village and bringing to +bear all nature's great guns. + +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 summer of 1826 it was rumored throughout Western New York +that one William Morgan, then living in the village of Batavia, +was writing an exposure of the secrets of Free Masonry, under +contract 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 overscrupulous 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 noble bearing on the top +of the shaft is the idealization of subsequent events, and +probably but illy corresponds 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 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 Fraternity. Morgan was in the +village in May last, and his conduct 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 Companions 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 subsequent 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. + +August 19 three well-known residents of the village 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 he 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." + +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 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 anything. 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 saturated 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 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 Batavia, but stopped about a mile +and a half east of the village, certain of the party returning +with the stage. + +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 persuaded to go as far as Stafford, where Ganson--whom the +driver knew--said everything was all right and that he would +assume all responsibility. + +About sunset of the same day--Monday, September 11--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 judgment, and pulled off his coat, offering it as +security. + +The constable refused to take the coat and took Morgan to jail. + +Tuesday noon, September 12, a crowd of strangers 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, together 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 imprisoned. At the +trial there was evidence to show that on the morning of the 12th 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 12th a neighbor of Morgan's called at +the Canandaigua jail and asked to see Morgan. The jailer was +absent. His wife permitted the man to speak to Morgan, and the man +said that he had come to pay the debt for which Morgan was +committed and to take him home. Morgan was asked if he were +willing to go; he answered that he was willing, 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. + +The man went out and was gone a few minutes, and brought back a +well-known resident of the village 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 judgment, +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 distressing 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 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 distress; 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 growing 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 assistance of Morgan, and insisted that was the only fault +they committed on the night in question. They admitted that they +understood that Morgan was compiling a book on the subject of +Masonry at the instigation 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. + +In passing sentence, the court said: + +"The legislature have not seen fit, perhaps, from the supposed +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 imprisonment in the common jail. The +court are of opinion that your liberty ought to be made to answer +for the liberty of Morgan: 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." + +It is quite clear that up to this time none of the to do parties +connected directly or indirectly with the abduction of Morgan had +any intention whatsoever of doing him bodily harm. If such had +been their purpose, the course they followed was foolish in the +extreme. 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 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 Canandaigua 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 published. + +Nearly two years later, in August, 1828, three men were tried for +conspiracy to kidnap and carry away 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 11 was +developed in the testimony taken at this trial. + +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 12th. On the night in question he took +his yellow carriage and gray horses about nine o'clock and drove +just beyond 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 +Hanford'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 carriage 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 +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 towards 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 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 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 something else with +him, which the witness did not recognize. 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 condition 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 proclamations, two soon +after September, 1826, and the last dated March 19, 1827, offering +rewards for "Authentic information of the place where the said +William Morgan has been conveyed," and "for the discovery of the +said William Morgan, if alive; and, if murdered, 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 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 saying, "It's a good enough Morgan for us +until you produce the live one," which afterwards become current +political slang in the form, "It's a good enough Morgan until +after election." + + + + +CHAPTER NINE THROUGH WESTERN NEW YORK +IN THE MUD + +The afternoon was drawing to a close, the rain had partially +subsided, but the trees were heavy with water, and the streets ran +rivulets. + +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. + +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 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 on the highways; +an occasional coach would furnish the novelty and break the +monotony, but people could sleep. + +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 clanging 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. + +We soon learned to keep away from the cities at night. 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 +machine; 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 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 country cares +anything about riding in cities; it is as artificial and +monotonous as riding a hunter over pavements. If one could just +approach a city at night, steal into it, enjoy its lights and +shadows, its confusion 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 Pittsburgh who should be assigned +a hall bed-room in the annex, or a millionaire from Newport who +should be tendered the entire establishment on a silver platter. + +The direct road from Rochester to Syracuse is by way of Pittsford, +Palmyra, Newark, Lyons, Clyde, 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. +Genesee Street out of Buffalo is Genesee Street into Syracuse and +Utica; it is the old highway between 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. + +We left Rochester at ten o'clock, Saturday, the 24th, 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. + +As the machine had been there before, we were greeted as friends. +The old negro porter is a character,--quite the irresponsible head +of the entire establishment. + +"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. + +"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 feelings; 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." + +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 generally 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 Sunday +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 established +a roof garden, with music two or three evenings a week, but the +innovation had not proven profitable; the roof remained with some +iron framework that once supported awnings, several disconsolate +tables, and some lonesome iron chairs; we visited this 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 twilight 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 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 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 were found loose. The factory had been most emphatically +requested to put in larger keys so as to fit the key-ways snugly +and to 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, traditions are intact, the men +departed to seek their fortunes 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 commendable 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 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 disappeared in the rear we heard +his rotund voice, "What'll you take? Was jest tellin' that chap +with the threshin'-machine a thing or two about this country. Rye? +no, thet'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-fountin." + +"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 Empire Express th' +other side Syr'cuse." + +"Get out." + +"What do you take us fer?" + +"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." + + + + +CHAPTER TEN THE MOHAWK VALLEY +IN THE 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; rolling but no steep +grades; some sand, but not deep; some clay, but not rough; for the +most part gravel. + +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 distributing 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 Ontario, we did not find a town or +village of any size where gasoline could not be obtained, and +frequently we found it at cross-road stores,--but not at Herkimer. + +Happily there was sufficient gasoline in the tank to carry us on; +besides, we always had a gallon in reserve. 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 automobiles 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," because 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 machines 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 generally 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. + +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 comes upon +them quite unexpectedly, and, whirling through their one long main +street, catches glimpses of quaint churches and buildings 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; trainmen would look up curiously; occasionally an +engineer 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 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 landscape. Nature's slightest effort +dwarfs man's mightiest 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 convenience, just little utilizations of +waste energies for our own purposes. + +One should view nature with the setting sun. It 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 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 comes, +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. + +We left Schenectady 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. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN THE VALLEY OF LEBANON +THE SICK TURKEY + +It was four o'clock, next day, when we left Albany, 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 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. + +Popular notions concerning the capabilities of a machine 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 +limitations it can keep going indefinitely, and it is immaterial +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 normal energy to get out of the difficulty. + +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 available. 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 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 displaced. 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 thousand pounds a +foot or any portion of a foot in a minute 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 hundred and fifty pounds; with good +foothold it can pull more than its own weight along 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 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 hundred and fifty miles in ten hours, something eight +horses could not possibly do. + +Just as we were entering the valley of Lebanon, 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 inside 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 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. + +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 selling 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," interrupted a +new-comer. "Great Jehosephat, but 't went like a streak of greased +lightnin'." + +"War that your'n, Joe?" + +"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 filling the populace 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 steering-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. + +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 community, 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. + +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 buildings, 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 separately. + +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 dilatory tactics of the party in possession kept us +beyond 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 whatsoever; 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 +inexcusable, the assertion of a steak barbarous, even a terrapin +would have felt quite out of place amidst 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 advantage. We cast our coppers +upon the water and they returned Spanish galleons laden with good +things to eat. + +After dining, we were walked through the various buildings, up +stairs and down, through kitchens, pantries, and cellars,--a wise +exercise after so bountiful 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 commonly supposed. +It certainly was calculated to add emphasis to the eccentricities +of even a "Shaking Quaker." + +Although the oldest and the wealthiest of all the socialistic +communities, there are only about six thousand 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 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 recruit 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 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 +husbands, wives, and children; from the broadest possible +communism his community has regenerated into 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 interests, 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 multiples is giving +place to the modern practice of wives in series. + +The story 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. + +It was in 1770, while in prison in England, that Ann Lee claimed +to have had a great revelation concerning original sin, wherein it +was revealed that a celibate life is a condition precedent to +spiritual regeneration. Her revelation may have been biased by the +fact that she herself was married, but not comfortably. + +In 1773, on her release from prison, another revelation 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 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 another in open meetings. They admit no one +to the society unless he or she promises to make a full confession +before others of every evil that can be recalled,--women confess +to women, men to men; these requirements 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 often to the best of +mankind and, lingering on through the waking hours, influence +conduct. The sharp distinctions 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 devise 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, everything in +common. + +In 1840 Emerson wrote to Carlyle, "We are all a little wild here +with numberless projects of social reform. 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 Ripley +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. + +That is the trouble with communism, those who dig are apt to dig +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 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 indifference, 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, however +wild, however visionary, has its effect. + +We of the practical world sojourning in the Shaker village may +commiserate the disciples of theory, but 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 problems 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, foreseen, and arranged. + +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 be 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 dissipation 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. + +On our way back from the village we stopped at the birthplace of +Samuel Tilden,--an old-fashioned white frame house, situated in +the very fork of the 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 countrymen, 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 Hancock "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 Republican 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 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 +impression, 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 demagogue 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 into the hands of his +opponents, and leaving the sound and conservative sentiment of the +country without adequate leadership in Washington. + +While we were curiously looking at the Tilden homestead, an old +man came walking slowly down the road, a rake over his shoulder, +one leg of his patched trousers stuck in a boot-top, a suspender +missing, 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 Jacksonian fr'm a boy; +seed the ole gen'ral 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 sixteen 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 noting that +for forty years every candidate favored by Tammany has been +ignominiously defeated; the two candidates bitterly opposed by the +New York machine 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. + +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; to-morrow 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, diluted 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 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 plumage before a shining milk-pail and apparently +admonishing 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 morning; in thirty +minutes it was in place. Our host and valley 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 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. + +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 macadam, perfectly constructed. + +In going up this easy and perfectly smooth ascent for some six or +seven miles, the disadvantage of having no intermediate-speed +gears was forcibly illustrated, 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. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL +"THE COURT CONSIDERS THE MATTER" + +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 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 consolation 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 resourceful +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 arrival, 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 gallantly claimed the bass as his, +appeared in the Great Barrington 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 legitimate 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: + +"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 Barrington 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 history of that town as the stalwart defender of the +ex-president." + +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 semblance +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. + +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, children, or horses +in the street; the crossings were clear save for a young man with +a straw hat, whose general appearance betrayed no sign of undue +timidity. He was on the far crossing, sixty or seventy feet +distant. 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 moment 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 occasioned. + +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 Hat.--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 commit a more heinous offence +against another than to frighten him? Ah! by my soul, it is a most +unpardonable 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? + +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 warrants! 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--refreshing +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 +frightened; 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, 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 endanger 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 frightening 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 be worth the candle. + +The scene shifts to a dingy little room in the basement 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 corroborative. + +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 acquirements of his principal, +addresses the court and urges the imposition of a fine,--a fine +being the only satisfaction, 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 embarrassing feature +of the case is that it has yet to be shown that the defendant was +going at a rate exceeding ten miles an hour, and upon this point +the witnesses 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, 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 +IN LENOX + +There are several roads out of Pittsfield to Springfield, and if +one asks a half-dozen citizens, who pretend 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 pretty 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; 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 direct 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 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 everywhere, 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. + +People were flocking to the Berkshires from seashore 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 way. + +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 +automobile 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 possible 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. + +Our way lay over October Mountain by a road not 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 themselves. 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 condition 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 mournful soul that seeks +companionship in misery. Solitude is a word unknown to nature's +vocabulary. The deepest recesses of the forest teem with life and +joyousness until man appears, then they are filled with solitude. +The wind-swept desert is one of nature's play-grounds until man +appears, then it is barren with 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 Blandford 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 supposed +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 gasoline +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. + +At Westfield the spark began to give trouble; the 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 careful examination of every connection failed to disclose any +breaks in the circuit, and yet the spark was of intermittent +strength,--now good, now weak. + +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, stopping only a +moment at the hotel to inquire for mail. Leaving Springfield we +followed the main road towards 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, ultimately wearing the macadam through. We could +not see that the slightest attention was paid to the notices. +Everybody kept the middle of the road, such is the improvidence of +men; the country people grumble at the great expense of good +roads, and then take the surest way to ruin them. + +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 appreciate 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. + +At the outskirts of the little village of West Brookfield 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 batteries on indicated +pretty strongly that the trouble 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 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 evening, 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 victims. No sleep is dreamless. +It is pretty difficult to exhaust the three billions of cells of +the central nervous 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 discovered. The fatigue is +normal, pervasive, and persuasive, and it is pretty hard to recall +any dream on waking. + +It was Sunday morning, September 1, 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 +indoors 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. + +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 to a farmer 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 essential, 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 only after much +trouble that a place was found open where electrical supplies +could be purchased. In addition to a coil, the electrician took +out some thoroughly insulated double cable wire; the wiring of the +machine had been so carelessly done and with such light, cheap +wire that it seemed a good opportunity to rewire throughout. + +The electrician--a very competent and quick workman 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 beginning 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 electrician +explained the cause of their strike, the number of men out, and +the length of time they had been out. + +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 employers 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 prepared 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 inconvenience 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, frugal, 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 work for the first +time at the command of some central organization is an experience +so novel that no man can do it without being affected; he will +never again be the same steady and 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 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 advantage; 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 organizations 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 consults 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 by any association of which he is a member; but the +employee is cowed by his union,--that is the essential difference +between the two. An association of employers is a union of +independent 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 +militantism, the death-knell of individualism. The real, the only +strength of a union lies in the silent, unconsulted 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. + +It was interesting to hear the comments of the intelligent 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? It doesn't pay. + +"Wages have been going up for two hundred years. I can't see 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 automobile 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 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. + +It was our intention to follow the main road through Shrewsbury, +Southborough, Framingham, and Wellesley, but though man proposes, +in the suburbs of Boston Providence disposes. About Southborough +we lost our road, and were soon angling to the northeast 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 gravelled, the country was more interesting than along the +main highway. + +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 Shrewsbury and +Northborough to Marlborough, 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 Southborough. 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 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 objective point, but the +automobile passes a byway before it is seen. Directions are given +but not followed, because turns and obscure cross-roads are passed +at high speed and unobserved. + +Every one is most obliging in giving directions, but 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 inquire, for if you don't know the roads it is pretty hard +to direct you." + +"We follow this road straight ahead to the brick store and trough, +that's easy." + +"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 Inn" were exchanged. + +The mellow light of the setting sun warmed the 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 oblivious 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 beneath its roof. The +shadows were so rapidly lengthening that we had to hurry on. + +Crossing the Charles River near Auburndale a sight 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 +were 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 symphony. + +We stopped a few moments at Lasell Seminary in 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 +suppressed 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, 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. + +From Auburndale the boulevard leads into Commonwealth 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 "Automobiles not allowed" +at private roadways are numerous; 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 machines are allowed +on the grounds of the Essex Country Club. + +No man with the slightest consideration for the comfort 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; in fact, one machine will spread terror +where many would not. + +It is quite difficult enough to drive a machine carefully 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 owning summer +homes will themselves own and use automobiles; 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 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 factory. 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN LEXINGTON AND CONCORD +"THE WAYSIDE INN" + +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. + +Along this historic highway rode Paul Revere; at his heels +followed the regulars of King George. Tablets, stones, and +monuments mark every known point of interest from East Lexington +to Concord. + +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. For days the +patriots had been anxious concerning the stores of arms and +ammunition at Concord, and three days before the night of the 18th +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 +despatched to alarm the country, but at ten o'clock on the +memorable night of the 18th 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 +already been displayed in the belfry. The moon was rising as he +put spurs to his horse and started for Lexington. + +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 Somerville. + +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 message 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 +Concord. Dawes was chased by two of the officers until, with rare +shrewdness, he dashed up in front of a deserted 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 fulfillment of +his warning, the red afterglow 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 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 interpretation. + +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 appellations of Arlington and Arlington Heights. A tablet 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 +curiously reads the inscription and wonders "Why were they called +the old men 'of Menotomy'?" for there is now no such place. + +Massachusetts Avenue--Massachusetts 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 prosperity of Boston. Massachusetts Avenue extends from +Dorchester in Boston to Lexington Green; it has absorbed 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 because 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 Acropolis" 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 Massachusetts,-- +Jingleberry Hill and Chillyshally** Brook sound as if they once +meant something; Spot Pond, named by Governor Winthrop, has not +lost its birthright; Powder-Horn Hill records its purchase from +the Indians for a hornful of powder--probably damp; 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 right for East +Lexington, and made straight for Follen Church, and the home of +Dr. Follen close by, where Emerson preached in 1836 and 1837. + +The church was not built until 1839. In 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. Follen +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 believe 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 +institution. A very great soul--and Emerson was a great 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 +framework 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 Unitarianism 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 himself. 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 environment more conventional might have reduced +these thoughts to some sort of order, brought the stars into +constellations, and left suggestions for the ordering 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 Follen 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 frankness 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 beneath +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 +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, imprisoned 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 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 natural 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 experience. 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 +preparation 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 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. + +It was during the days of his service in East Lexington 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 Greenwood's +collection hymns of a purely meditative character, 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 lecture. He was the apostle of beauty, goodness, +and truth. + +Lexington Road from East Lexington to the Centre 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 roadside, shaded by a row of +fine big trees. Harrington died in 1854 at the great age of +ninety-eight; he was a fifer-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 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 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. + +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 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 inscription. 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, built in 1690, +still stands with its marks of bullets and flood 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 electric 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 Revere 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 Historical +Society intervened and purchased it. + +Neither did we enter the old burying-ground on Elm Street. The +automobile is no respecter of persons 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. + +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 short distance out of Lexington a tablet marks an old well; the +inscription reads, "At this well, April 19, 1775, James Hayward, +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 they did, most of +them would not fight at all. In these days of common schools and +newspapers it becomes 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 marched in order and +retreated in disorder. The undisciplined 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 regulars 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 the 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 produced the now well +known Concord grape by using 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 Hawthorne, who +purchased the place from Alcott in 1852, lived there until his +appointment as Consul at Liverpool in 1853, and again on his +return from England in 1860, until he died in 1864. But "The +Wayside" was not Hawthorne's first Concord home. He came there +with his bride in 1842 and lived four years in the Old Manse. + +There has never been written but one adequate description of this +venerable dwelling, and that by Hawthorne 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. + +Cut in 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 sunset, April 3d, 1843, in 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 devotion 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 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 enjoying), 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 +Hilliard 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. Hawthorne'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 were 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 become 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 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. Emerson +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; 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 printed +concerning Emerson, Hawthorne, and Thoreau, there is not one which +more vividly and accurately set the men before us and describe +their essential characteristics than the casual lines of this old +letter:--Thoreau, the devotee of nature, "figuring dithyrambic +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 Prynne 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, attaches 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 enjoyed 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 he 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 +Paradise. + +"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. +Hawthorne'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 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 surrounding 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 its owner had retiring habits as when Alcott +was reported 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." + +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 understood his +neighbors better than they understood one another; his vision was +very clear. For a man who 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 idiosyncrasies 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 independence 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 stereoscope 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." + + +Emerson liked Hawthorne better than his books,--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 following 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 unreserved +intercourse. It was easy to talk with him; there were no 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. + +Hawthorne's estimate of Emerson was far more just 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 pilgrimages to +speak with him face to face. Young visionaries--to whom just so +much of insight had been imparted 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 theorists--whose +systems, at first air, had finally imprisoned them in an iron +framework--travelled painfully 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 +glittering 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 nothing from him as +a philosopher. It was good nevertheless 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; and he, so quiet, so simple, so without pretension, +encountering 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 influence 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 impression. "He looks at +everything in larger angles than any other, and, by good right, +should be the greatest 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 visited Concord first in October, 1835, and found that he +and Emerson had many things in common, 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, 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 tendency, 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 +remarkable originality in his views, but they were sensible 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 character has probably suffered by his detecting +the impression 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 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 unconsciousness. 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 +himself out; and, as all such discoveries are partial and +imperfect, they do more harm than good to the character. Mr. +Hosmer is more natural than ninety-nine men out of a hundred, and +is certainly a man of intellectual and moral substance. It would +be amusing to draw a parallel between 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." + +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 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 penetrates 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 common. In 1860, +the latter speaks of meeting Hawthorne 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 enchanting; 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 and method of his own. He is as ugly as sin, +long-nosed, queer-mouthed, and with uncouth and somewhat 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." + +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. Connecticut 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,--probably after a +chastening discussion,--"If I were to proffer my earnest prayer to +the gods for the greatest 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 conception 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 between the two +men there existed through life profound 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 constitution. 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 generalization. 'Tis as if I went into a +gymnasium and saw youths leap and climb and swing with a force +unapproachable, tho these feats are only continuations of my +initial grapplings and jumps." One is reminded 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 another matter. A man may be born or may die +in a country, a city, a village, a house, a room, or,--narrower +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 individual; +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 +himself, and no one knows the limits of the domains of another. + +The farmer's boy who sows the seed and watches the 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 of 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 more we use +them the more ambiguous do they become; 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 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 immortal. 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 infinitesimal 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. + +In every-day speech we are obliged to distinguish by elaborate +circumlocution between a man's place of residence 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 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 nothing, +absolutely nothing, about his life; the number of his house does +not indicate where he lives. It is possible 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 +inhabitants 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 Jerusalem that he +knows not his own country, and his usefulness 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 who write +spend the better part of their lives abroad; they may not leave +their own firesides, but all their 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 elsewhere; 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 eloquence of immediate +knowledge and first-hand observation; 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. + +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 Stratford nor London bounded his life. On the +wings of his imagination he visited the known earth and penetrated +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 desolate and +forsaken, and the entrance to the "Hillside Chapel," where the +"Concord School of Philosophy and Literature" had its home for +nine years, was boarded up. + +Parts of the house had been built more than a century 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 filling 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" (prophetic 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 Bronson 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 School of Philosophy was the last 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 +indicate 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 belligerent 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 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 arguing eloquently with some congenial +visitor, or chatting with his daughter. One could almost see a +small throng of serious men and women wending their way up the +still plainly marked path to the chapel, and catch the measured +tones of the lecturer as he expounded theories too recondite for +this practical age and generation. + +Philosophy is the sarcophagus of truth; and most systems of +philosophy are like the pyramids,--impressive piles of useless +intellectual masonry, erected at prodigious cost of time and labor +to secrete from mankind the truth. + +A little farther on we came to the fork in the road 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 +atmosphere they created and left behind. Is it possible that +subtile** distillations of personality penetrate and saturate +inanimate things, so that aromas imperceptible to the sense are +given off for ages and affect all who come in receptive 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 emotions are but the workings of our imaginations stirred by +suggestive surroundings; but who knows, who knows? + +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 company 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 unable to make any speech, yet, +seeing his friendly townspeople, 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.'" + +The exposure incidental to the fire seriously undermined Emerson's +already failing health; shortly after he wrote a friend in +Philadelphia, "It is too ridiculous 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 an decay ought to persuade you at +your first northern excursion 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 +associating 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 intellectual performance was less +exacting, and this was most fortunate, for he gladly went to any +public occasion where he could hear, and nothing would be expected +of him. He attended the Lyceum and all occasions 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 +been there, but he had felt that he could use his time to better +purpose." + +"In April, 1882, 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, finding +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 understand 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 because 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 portion 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 understand 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 together. The sight of his grandchildren always brought 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 universe.'" + +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 succession 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 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 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 +suppression 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 contains. + +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 +material, 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 manifestations. + +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 Creator of theology or the +soul of speculation does not much matter, since the final result +is the same, namely, the immortality of that suprasumption, the +soul. + +But the individual, what becomes of the individual in this +assumption of an all-pervading, immortal soul, 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 inconceivable 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 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 pervading soul, which manifests itself for a +time in the body, persists indefinitely after the physical +manifestation has ceased; that, with the cessation of the physical +manifestation, the particular activity which we recognize here as +an individuality will so persist that hereafter 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 particular +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. + +Therefore all things are immortal. Nothing is so lost to the +infinite soul as to be wholly and totally obliterated. The +withering of a flower is as much the act of the all-pervading soul +as the death of a child; but the life and death of a human being +involve activities 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 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 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 popular 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-pervading soul. + +But, then, who knows what any one else thinks or means? At the +most we only know what others say, 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 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 perception 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 hypotheses, how distant our vision, we reach at +length the confines of our thought and admit the inconceivable. +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 infinite 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 +alternative 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 materialist in the ardent pursuit of +knowledge soon experience 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 confession of ignorance +denser than that of agnosticism. + +Those men who try not to think or reason concerning 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 to meet before +the days of the revolution, and where Major Pitcairn is said-- +wrongfully in all probability--to have made his boast on the +morning of the 19th, 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 interesting 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. + +It was a short run down Monument Street to the turn just beyond +the "Old 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 musketry 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 revolution, 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 circumstance has borne more fruit for +me than all that history 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 +circumstances--is next kin to the common hangman. + +From the windows of the "Old Manse," the Rev. William Emerson, +grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 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, contracting a +fever which proved fatal. + +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 Alcotts, and Emerson lie buried within a +half-dozen paces of one another. + +Thoreau came first in May, 1862. Emerson delivered 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, Channing 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 willingly, at any time, have given up his own life, Franklin +Pierce, was there among the rest, and scattered flowers into the +grave. The unfinished 'Romance,' 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 Thoreau 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 +procession 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 +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 _... 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, 30th.--Emerson's funeral. I made a yellow 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 wish her funeral was in 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 earnestness 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 acknowledgment of the +receipt of a flower. "It stands beside me on Marmee's (her mother) +work-table, and reminds 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. + +The warm September day was drawing to a close; the red sun was +sinking towards the west; the hilltop 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. + +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 +anywhere; 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 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 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, Burgoyne, 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 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. + + "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,-- + + "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 jolly major +rendered the following "true accomp.," which, yellow and faded, +hangs on the bar-room wall: + +"Thursday, August 7, 1777" + L s. d. + Super & Loging . . . . . . . 0 1 4 +8th. Brakfast, Dinar and 0 1 9 + Super and half mug of tody 0 2 6 +9th. Lodging, one glass rum half 0 2 6 + & Dinar, one mes oats 0 1 4 + Super half mug flyp 0 3 0 +10th Brakf.--one dram 0 1 8 + Dinner, Lodging, horse-keeping 0 2 0 + one mug flyp, horse bating 0 3 0 +11th. horse keeping 1 +13th. glass rum & Diner 1 8 +14th. Horse bating 0 0 6 + Horse Jorney 28 miles 0 5 10 + + A true accomp.--total 1 14 6 + William Bradford, + Dilivered to Capt. Crosby 2 2 6 + +Alas! the major's inscription and the foregoing "accomp." are +hollow mockeries to the thirsty traveller, 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 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. + +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 memory; 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, running the gamut from a dull red glow to the violet rays +that border the invisible. + +But, alas! the appreciation of wine is lost. Everybody 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, everywhere; port, grand, old +ruddy port--that has disappeared; no one understands it and no one +knows when to serve it; while Madeira, that bloom of the vinous +century plant, that rare exotic which ripens with passing +generations, is all too subtle for our untutored discrimination. + +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 +fastidious 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 Japanese,--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 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 Johannisberger 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 ordinary, 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 forgetting 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 appreciation. + +It is a far cry from an imaginary banquet with Lucullus to the New +England Saturday night supper of pork and beans which was spread +before us that evening. The dish is a survival of the rigid +Puritanism 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 morning 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 fishballs 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 reported discovery in Africa of a new +and edible bean. + +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 uninitiated, it is a luscious morsel compared with +the flavorless 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 bottomless 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." + +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, + 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, I am delighted to +learn that you have purchased the dear old house and carefully +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. Lyman 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"). + +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 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, + 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 ancient 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 will bring new life to these deserted hostelries. +For more than half a century steam has 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 country, and there +must be inns to receive them. + +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 endeavoring 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 discomfort 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. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN RHODE ISLAND AND CONNECTICUT +CALLING THE FERRY + +Next morning, Sunday the 8th, we left the inn at eleven o'clock +for Providence. It was a perfect morning, neither hot nor cold, +sun bright, and the air stirring. + +We took the narrow road almost opposite the entrance 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 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 Providence the tire was +again flat and--as it proved afterwards--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. + +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 mournful, or a delightful, place-- +as one views it. To the gregarious 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 plumage +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 country +about is attractive; but the crowd--the crowd that comes in +summer--comes with a rush almost to the hour in July, and takes +flight with a greater rush almost to the minute in August,--the +crowd overwhelms, 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 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 wondrous 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 approaching 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 autumn, +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 thousand 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 attractions of nature. + +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 kind. The crowd at Newport is architecturally +perfect, 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 permanent; 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 +surroundings. 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 accurate, 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 reputation 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; perhaps 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 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 reputations; no questions are asked, no information +volunteered save that disclosed by the hotel register,-- +information 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 +feminine 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 disadvantage 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 Narragansett 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 demand the exposure of +every frailty and every folly; the skeleton must sit at the feast. +There is no room 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 outward 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 physical, 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 they are +enemies; in both places the quality of friendship is strained. The +two problems of existence are, Whom shall I recognize? and, Who +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 outside 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 it does not pay to be on the +defensive; those are revered who are most feared; those who nail +to their mast the black flag and show no quarter are the +recognized leaders,--Society is piracy. + +Green's Inn was cheery, comfortable, and hospitable; 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, intolerable 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 conducive 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 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; 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 as not to list +the primitive craft, we made our way deliberately 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. + +It was dark when we ran into the city. This particular 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 paying the bill. It was all +charmingly and not precociously 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 manners 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 machine 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. + +It is a beautiful ride from New Haven to New 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 antedated the town a century or two. + +Later in the afternoon, while wheeling along at twenty miles an +hour, we caught a glimpse of a signpost 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 gasoline 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 renewed an acquaintance made +several years before. + +It is interesting to follow an artist's career and note the +changes in manner and methods; for changes are 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. + +For the most part, an artist's manner changes naturally 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 immediately +conspicuous, soon make their shortcomings felt; the note being +forced and unnatural, it does not ring true. + +A man may visit Madrid without imitating Velasquez; 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 without 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 +rejects it scoffingly. + +There is infinitely more hope for the man who goes to Madrid, or +any other shrine, in a spirit of opposition,--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 who +submit to all influences, there are the chosen few who assert +themselves, and at the same time clearly appreciate the strength +of those who differ from them. The urchin painter may assert +himself 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 surface of the waters, drifting with +every breeze, submerged 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 painters 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 copy will +be too evident. Time and distance will modify an impression and +lessen the attraction; the effect will remain, but no longer +dominate. + +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, impressive 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. + +It is by night that the earth communes with the universe. 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 +overpowering 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 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 was Wednesday evening, September 11, when we arrived in New +York. The Endurance Contest organized by the Automobile Club of +America had started for Buffalo on Monday morning, and the papers +each day contained long accounts of the heartbreaking 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 now famous run +possessed the charm of novelty, the absorbing fascination of +fiction. + +Once upon a time, two fishermen, who were modestly relating +exploits, paused to listen to three chauffeurs who began +exchanging experiences. After listening 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 confess 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." + +It is not that those who go down the pike in automobiles 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 receive 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 probably 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 Contest the discount +rate in the Automobile Club of America was exceedingly high. + +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 Frankfort, +while quite a large number entered the contest for the express +purpose of getting off in the mud and 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 valuable 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. 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 +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 +unmercifully. 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, chauffeurs are not among the latter. + + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN ANARCHISM +"BULLETINS FROM THE CHAMBER OF DEATH" + +During these days the President was dying in Buffalo, though the +country did not know it until Friday. + +Wednesday and Thursday the reports were so assuring 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. Bulletins of the +most reassuring character turned out absolutely false. After it +was all over, there was a 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. + +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 dignified 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 weakness 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 below there came the sounds of flying horses, of moving +feet, of cries and voices. It seemed as if the city had 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 penetrated 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 before, and at this +moment the civilized world is discussing measures for the +suppression, the obliteration, of anarchists, but we must take +heed lest we overshoot the mark. + +Three Presidents--Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley--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 assassinated, 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 safeguards +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 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. + +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 anarchism +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 Americans," written +with most pious and orthodox intent by the late Charles Nordhoff, +the discussion of government begins with the epigram,--by no means +original with Nordhoff,--"Governments are necessary evils." + +Therein lurks the germ of anarchism,--for if evil, 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 recognized," 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 spontaneously 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 theoretical 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 necessary +therefore it cannot be an evil. Hospitals are necessary, and just +because they are necessary therefore 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 constitution 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. + +Anarchy does not involve, as Huxley suggests, "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence." Not at all. +What it does involve is the highest 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 involves a +social condition wherein absolutely no authority is imposed upon +any individual, where no requirement of any kind is made against +the will of any member--man, woman, or child; where everything is +left to individual initiation. + +So far from such a "state of society" being "the highest +conceivable grade of perfection of social existence," it is not +conceivable at all, and the farther the mind goes in attempting to +grasp it, the more hopelessly 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 individuals were not only perfect, but also absolutely +of one mind on all subjects relating to their welfare. Can the +imagination picture existence more inane? + +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 imperfect +in all these respects. + +The patent fact that most governments, both national and local, +are corruptly, extravagantly, and badly administered tends to +obscure our judgment, so that we 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 individual; 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 government 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 +conscience and character of the community." + +But assume that war is no more and armies are disbanded; that +crimes are no more and police are 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 terrorized, 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 imposing the +authority of the community upon the individual? If the community +asserts its authority in any manner or form, that is government. + +If every institution, including government, were abolished +to-morrow, the percentage of births that would turn out blind, +crippled, and feeble both mentally and physically, wayward, +eccentric, and insane would continue practically the same, and the +community 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 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 release of the +accused, the other urging his detention. Who is to hold the scale +and decide? + +The fundamental error of anarchists, and of most 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 imposed 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 of sociology; the fourth +dimension of economies; the squaring of the political circle. + +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 government 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 disagreement is absolutely and forever removed. + +Anarchism as a doctrine, as a theory, involves no act of violence +any more than communism or socialism. + +Between the assassination of a ruler and the doctrine 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 outcome; neither theorist would see the slightest advantage 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 reactionary 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 impatience 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 destroy 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 attention to the theory of anarchy as to win +followers;--in other words, murders such as those of Humbert, +Carnot, and President McKinley were mere advertisements of +anarchism. In the words of Brousse, "Deeds are talked of on all +sides; the indifferent masses inquire 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 advertisement; 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." + +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 reforms; so far from seeking to annihilate the +government, 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. + +It is against the "propaganda of action" that legislation must be +directed, not because it is any part of 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 +disappearance 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 Republican or a Democrat, a Presbyterian or an +Episcopalian; when he advises, commits, or condones a murder, his +conduct is not measured by his convictions,--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 otherwise. 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 of murder in +Chicago, seven were condemned to death and one to the +penitentiary; four were afterwards hanged, one killed himself in +jail, and three were imprisoned. + +These men were convicted of a crime with which, so far as the +evidence showed, they had no direct connection; 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 Schnaubelt, 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: + +"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 newspaper 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 therefor." + +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 doubtful expedient of directing +legislation against any particular social or economic theory. + + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN NEW YORK TO BUFFALO +UP THE HILL + +It was Saturday, the 14th, 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 Tarrytown 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 riveting 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. + +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, 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 machine, with our +luggage and ourselves. It was tiresome walking so far beside the +machine, and in attempting 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 operated 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 bad road by +continuing on to Poughkeepsie by the inland road instead of going +down to the Landing. + +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 +Landing; 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. + +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 settled in rooms, that we decided to go on at least +as far as Schenectady. + +To the park it was all plain sailing on asphalt and macadam, but +from the park to the gate of the cemetery 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 standstill and being obliged to get out in +that eight or ten inches of uninviting mud was a very appreciable +factor 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 Schenectady 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 16th 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 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 +further trouble. It was noon before the work was finished, 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 Schenectady in good +weather is quite good, but after the rain 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 machine 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. + +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 wayside inns there are none. With +the exception of Albany 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 discomforts, 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. + +It 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 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, 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 Endurance Contest was out of Herkimer, through +Frankfort 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 Frankfort, 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 in the +endurance run came to grief,--right on the main street of the +village. There was no sign of pavement, macadam, or gravel, just +deep, dark, rich muck; 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 between 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 towpath, 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. + +It required all Wednesday morning to clean and overhaul the +machine. Every crevice was filled with 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 foundered. 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 passing 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 to the driver +of an automobile the stations are a great nuisance; one is +scarcely passed before another is in 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. + +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, Palmyra, 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 intention 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 after seven when we drew +up in front of the small St. George Hotel. + +The glory of Avon has departed. Once it was a 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 generation. + +The Springs are a mile or two away; the water is supposed to +possess rare medicinal virtues, and invalids 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 residents 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 Caledonia 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 +horse to one side; then a pull on the other rein, turning the +horse sharply to the other side. This was too much for the animal, +and he kept on around, overturning 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. Relieved 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 particular 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. + +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 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 new world; his own +country, however small, is a universe 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 produce 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 falling 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 soon effaced, rather let it sink deep into the +heart until it becomes a part of life. + +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 condition 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 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 blossoming 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 no two is it +precisely the same. + +The longer we look at anything, however simple, the deeper it +penetrates into our being until it becomes 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 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 deliberate +observation are good, since most men will not observe at home. +Such is the singularity of our nature 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, +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. + +Every country possesses its own peculiar advantages 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 of 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 fastnesses 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 who does not believe his country the best on earth +and his people the chosen of men. + +The promise of automobiling is knowledge of one's 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 +HOME + +We left Buffalo, Saturday the 20th, 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 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 machine 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, anything 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, otherwise the machine is--very properly--subject to +confiscation. + +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 crossing Canada would better comply with all +regulations and save trouble. + +It was six o'clock when we arrived at St. Catharines. 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 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 Ontario in every direction. The people seem to +appreciate 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 morning, 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 concerns of automobiling. + +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. + +Monday, the 22d, 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 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 Dominion increased only five hundred thousand, or about ten +per cent., as against an increase of fourteen millions, or +twenty-one per cent., in this country. + +For a new country in a new world Canada stagnates. In the decade +referred to Chicago alone gained more in population than the +entire Dominion. The fertile province of Ontario gained but +fifty-four thousand 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 +their increase of population in ten years more than equals the +entire population of the province. + +In population, wealth, industries, and resources Ontario is the +Dominion's gem; yet in a decade she could attract and hold but +fifty-odd thousand persons,--not quite all the children born +within her borders. + +All political divisions aside, there is no reason in the 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 divided 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 statecraft can prevent it. + +When the population of this country is a hundred or a hundred and +fifty millions the line will have disappeared. 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 advantages +and attractions of which are alike, the population tends strongly +to become equally dense; political conditions and differences in +race and language may for a time hold this tendency in check, but +where race and language are the same, political barriers must soon +give way. + +All that has preserved Canada from absorption up 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 dividing line is known only to surveyors, the situation +will become critical. Already the rush to the Klondike has +produced trouble in Alaska. The aggressive miners from this side, +who constitute almost the entire 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 belligerent 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, practically 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 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 +independence has taught them the sentimental and unsubstantial +character of the ties binding them to England, and yet they know +full well that with those ties severed their independence would +soon disappear. + +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 +machine 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 +but 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 difficulties. + +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 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 substituted 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 old 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. + +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 allowance 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 traversed 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 because automobiling has its own point of view, +and certainly people have their own and widely varying views of +automobiling. In the presence of the machine people everywhere +become for the time-being childlike and naive, curious and +enthusiastic; they lose the veneer of sophistication, and are as +approachable and companionable as children. Automobiling is +therefore doubly delightful in these early days of the sport. By +and by, when the people become accustomed 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 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 considered. +It lacked power and was too light for such a severe and prolonged +test; but, when taken apart to be restored to perfect condition, +it was astonishing 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 +machine 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 manufacturers. The man who one moment says his machine is a +paragon of perfection, sits down the next and writes the factory a +letter which would be debarred the mails if left unsealed. Open +confession is good for the soul, and owners of automobiles must +cultivate 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. + +In the year 1735 a worthy Puritan divine, pastor over a little +flock in the town of Malden, made the following entries in his +diary: + +"January 31.--Bought a shay for L27 10s. The Lord grant it may be +a comfort and a blessing to my family. + +"March, 1735.--Had a safe and comfortable journey 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? + +"May 15.--Shay brought home; mending cost thirty shillings. +Favored in this beyond expectation. + +"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. + +END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Thousand Miles On An Automobile +by Arthur Jerome Eddy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO THOUSAND MILES *** + +***** This file should be named 12380.txt or 12380.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/3/8/12380/ + +Produced by Holly Ingraham + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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