gainst 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