e 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