Two Thousand Miles on an Automobile. Arthur Jerome Eddy

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?"