actory 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