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f the Mercédès. Afterwards, though I had not reached the stage when confession is good for the soul, I sat wondering what there was expensive and at the same time disagreeable which I could give up for the sake of possessing a motor of my own. In various phases of my mental and spiritual development, I had framed different conceptions of a future state beyond this life. Never, even in my earliest years, had I s

t willingly injure so much as the end hair of the most moth-eaten mongrel's tail; therefore my brain sea

us (though I don't doubt that five minutes' wrestling with Baedeker might have made us feel small), and we had no wish to linger at this season. But, if we were deaf to the sirens who sing in the Rue de la Paix, Molly was not. She had discovered that there were some "little things she wanted, which she really thought she had better buy." I fancy that the little things were shoes; anyhow, it was to be Jack's blissful privilege to help her choose them, and he was of opinion (probably founded on experience) that it would take nearly all day. I decid

of dogs in front of the wheels gave Molly such frequent starts of anguish, that I wondered Jack had not thought of this simple preventive, and I congratulated myself on having remembered an advertisement of the weapon which I had seen in some magazine. It was, I thought, rather clever of me to remember, since in those days motors had been no affair of mine; but then, the illustration had been striking, in every sense of the word. It had represented a lovely girl, with hair unbound, saving from destruction the a

ve her car out to Madrid, and meet us at half-past seven, so that we can have the dinner by

gh the traffic of Paris? It must be a

Still, there was a kind of madness with method in it. Diabolical wretches, with their bets, and their dinners! Did they dream I would try to do it, and smash the car? "Nothing like driving a motor through traffic, to give one self-confidence after

s a nice smell of petrol in the place. I snuffed at it as a war-horse scents the battle, and promptly decided

up. He had now discovered that there was a sort of starting-handle to my name,

anything about my driv

in Paris, with cabs and automobiles all over the road, to say nothing of the trams; and then there's the keeping to the ri

e driven a four-in-hand through this blessed

okai's racing stables, a horse went mad and kicked me nearly to death. Then I was a racer in old bicycling days, and had several bad spills. This scar on my face I got in a smash with one of the first Benz cars made. My

me. I'm not sure it would exhilarate me much at the moment. We'll b

table curve to the door of the garage, and out in fine style. Gotteland also tried to look unconcerned. I think I must have seen this with my ears, as both eyes were fully occupied in searching a way through the surging current of street traffic, but I did s

steering a quivering smack towards harbour in a North Sea hurricane; an Indian guiding a bark canoe through the leaping rapids of a swollen river: to both of these I likened myself as the dragon threaded in and out among the adverse streams of traffic. The great crossing by th

single scratch upon her brilliant body, I do not know who did. I have no distinct memories, after the first, yet when we arrived at our destination, Gotteland generously compl

ich I yearned, arrived. Suddenly we came upon a yard of Dachshund wandering lizard-like across the road, accompanied by a pert Spitz. The waddler prudently retired, but the Spitz, with all the disproportionate courage of a knight of old attacking a fire-breathing dra

elled from its muzzle might blow the breath from that tiny body, which my sole wish was to warn from under the wheels of Juggernaut. Howeve

ered his nose with a drop or two, leaped at the weapon, and, irritated, I flung it at his head. It fell innocuously in the road and our last sight of the Spitz was when, rejoined by his lizard friend, he industriously gnawed at the pistol, mistaking it for a bone, while the Dachs

uch charm, too much beauty for the peace of mind of an imaginative traveller; there were so many valleys which one longed to explore, in which one felt one could be content without going farther, so many blue glimpses of mysterious mountains,

a of husbanding enthusiasm did not commend itself to me. Why not enjoy this moment, instead of waiting until the moment after next? It was too much like saving up

were chateaux with turret rooms where my book shelves would have fitted excellently; but always we fled on, on, until at

irect path. We chose this route simply and solely with the view of paying a visit to the Bears. Molly had never me

into a shop window. Suddenly the flame of my desire for the walking solo with a mule accompaniment (somewhat dim

(Molly was driving), "

hat is the matter?" she implored. "Ar

"What an outfit for a camping tour!

et him past the shop. He doesn't really want any of those things, and

I will have it at any cost. I know there's no other shop on the Continent like this, and I shal

ou'd forgotten all about him by this time, and ha

in Molly's mushroom. (Yet I thought she liked m

inutes. Of course he's going to have his mule trip. And as for this shop, all those dear l

of contention betwe

e choose," I meekly pleaded, in haste t

ised and the exact expression of the frog footman in "Alice in Wonderland." One would have sa

d spend. Everything to cover the outer, and nourish the inner sportsman, was to be had. I felt that I could scarcely be lonely or sad if I possessed a stock of these friendly artic

uld fancy myself becoming fond of the animal which was to be my companion in many wild and solitary places,

was "le couvercle de celui-ci," which served equally to measure the spirit, and there was a charming appareil brise vent which had the air of defying tornadoes. When I had secured this treasure, Molly drew my attention to a series of aluminium boxes made to fit eggs and sandwiches. I bought these also, and, pleased with the clean white metal, invested in plates, goblets, and water bottles of the same. Next came

sleeping bag and a tente de touriste, which she persuaded me would b

a greater burden. The attendant intimated that Swiss mules preferred heavy loads, and had they the vocal gifts of Balaam's ass, would demand them. Swayed by my desires and his arguments, I changed my pack for a larger one. After more than an hour in