phone man raised his instrument of torture; the inside of the
great automobile began to thump and throb like the heart of a coffee
drinker. The top-riders nervously clung to the seats; the old lady from
Valparaiso, Indiana, shrieked to be put ashore. But, before a wheel
turns, listen to a brief preamble through the cardiaphone, which shall
point out to you an object of interest on life's sightseeing tour.

Swift and comprehensive is the recognition of white man for white man in
African wilds; instant and sure is the spiritual greeting between mother
and babe; unhesitatingly do master and dog commune across the slight
gulf between animal and man; immeasurably quick and sapient are the
brief messages between one and one's beloved. But all these instances
set forth only slow and groping interchange of sympathy and thought
beside one other instance which the Rubberneck coach shall disclose. You
shall learn (if you have not learned already) what two beings of all
earth's living inhabitants most quickly look into each other's hearts
and souls when they meet face to face.

The gong whirred, and the Glaring-at-Gotham car moved majestically upon
its instructive tour.

On the highest, rear seat was James Williams, of Cloverdale, Missouri,
and his Bride.

Capitalise it, friend typo--that last word--word of words in the
epiphany of life and love. The scent of the flowers, the booty of the
bee, the primal drip of spring waters, the overture of the lark, the
twist of lemon peel on the cocktail of creation--such is the bride. Holy
is the wife; revered the mother; galliptious is the summer girl--but the
bride is the certified check among the wedding presents that the gods
send in when man is married to mortality.

The car glided up the Golden Way. On the bridge of the great cruiser the
captain stood, trumpeting the sights of the big city to his passengers.
Wide-mouthed and open-eared, they heard the sights of the metropolis
thundered forth to their eyes. Confused, delirious with excitement
and provincial longings, they tried to make ocular responses to the
megaphonic ritual. In the solemn spires of spreading cathedrals they saw
the home of the Vanderbilts; in the busy bulk of the Grand Central depot
they viewed, wonderingly, the frugal cot of Russell Sage. Bidden to
observe the highlands of the Hudson, they gaped, unsuspecting, at the
upturned mountains of a new-laid sewer. To many the elevated railroad
was the Rialto, on the stat