o them
like some monstrous, unthinkable brute. And, all considered, the
horses are the wisest of the animals---wiser even than men--for the
yellow peril--is as nothing to the black one.

Still, we are having a mighty good time. When the road is clear, the
car spreads her wings and flies. Her gentle pliancy seems incompatible
with her hurtling force. Each moment, she accumulates momentum so that
we feel a sensation of tremendous power without pity. For the nonce,
we are potential murderers and pigmy men had better have a care how
they lounge across our paths. This mad car doesn't know a hill when
she comes to it and even sings a long-metre song on the ascent. She
might fairly be considered to have conquered gravitation. On! On!
with bird-like swoop she goes, fairly skimming the ground and taking
the corners just as if she knew what was there.

You can never believe how stretched out the world is till you motor
this way north and see the long ribbons of road that unfold at every
turn, the silver illimitable distances that suggest both a mystery and
an invitation. I love these open trails, and to be of the earth earthy
is not so wicked after all.

Gur--r--r--umph! Our 50 H.P. had dwindled to less than one-pony power
and we haven't a leg to stand on. I will never say we burst a tyre: we
cast a shoe.

"It is neither, Madam," said the Vancouver editor who was helping to
prise up the wheel. "It is a valvular disease. Our viary accident is
the result of a vicious valve that, of its own volition, has put a veto
on our volacious voyage."

"Avant!" retorts the editor from Edmonton. "I will vouch that the
accident to the vitals of our vehicle was a voidable one and arose from
violent vibrations and vulgar velocity."

"Your verbose verdicts will never make the vamp or fill the vacuum,"
says the more practical M.P. "Bring me the vade-mecum this instant,
you vacillating vagabonds."

I cannot think of any assonant words so I am content with fining each
man a "V" or "vifty" days. I told you I was guiltily feminine.

Sitting at the side of a road, waiting for a plaster to dry on a valve,
is about as exciting an occupation as knitting. Men should see to it
that women learn to smoke if only that the women may take breakdowns
more placidly. I can understand smoking becoming a means of grace.
Besides, the sun is very hot this day and burns my face and neck to a
vivid scarlet. Each man in the party produces a tal