CHAPTER XIX
REMINISCENCES
By The RT. Hom. Sir John H. A. Macdonald, K.C.B.
Lord Justice Clerk of Scotland
I ask to be allowed in making a start to go a little further back in reminiscence than the time of the present development of road traction. In my youth I was fond, as I still am, of horse-driving, and took driving tours in the centre of England and of Scotland, and most delightful they were. But in passing through charming country scenes which never meet the eye of the railway traveller, it was impossible to resist an occasional cloud of melancholy when traversing the magnificent old mail roads, often seeing no living person for miles and miles, and drawing up at grand old country posting inns with great empty yards and ranges of rooms above them with closed shutters; once the scenes of life and cheerfulness, but now reduced to a tap-room and accommodation for a lodger or two. The invasion of the rail had swept the country of its traffic, and the Red Lion and the Blue Boar languished, the boots of the Boar and the chambermaid of the Lion, reconciled by joint misfortune and agreeing for once—as Mr. D'Israeli recounted—in denouncing the 'igominy o' railroads.' Who at that time would have believed that at the end of the century, when the railways were congested with traffic, and the public under the tyranny of oppressive traffic rates, a new mode of locomotion would assert itself, reviving the road once more, not only for touring and social life, but also for the benefit of the farmer and the merchant, cheapening and facilitating road traffic both in town and country, and again giving the highways their place in ministering to public convenience and enjoyment? Yet this is the practical—the socially and nationally important lesson—which is brought to us by reminiscences of the few years in which the mechanical vehicle has been steadily asserting itself, in the face of unreasoning prejudice and pig-headed obstruction. The keenest opposition has come from the squire, the farmer, and the innkeeper, the very people for whom the development of power traction on the roads is certain to work out almost incalculable good.
It has always been so. Although our reminiscences carry us back but a very few years, we know that the idea of mechanical traction on roads germinated three-quarters of a century ago, and took practical shape both in England and Scotland; of this the Automobile Club possesses abundant proof, both literary and pictorial. And history tells how determined were the efforts of the obstructionists of those days to crush out the power vehicle, the opposition being carried even to the length of piling large stones on the road, or cutting ditches across it, to ruin the enterprise, by wrecking the vehicles, even at risk to human life. These tactics were only too successful, and delayed a great public advance in locomotion for more than half a century.
But before the Act of 1896 was passed there were a few automobile Hampdens, who were prepared to face the terrors of the law in order to bring the new locomotion into public notice, and to show to their fellow-citizens what was before them, if only obsolete statutes could be rolled out of the path of progress. And in these reminiscences they deserve to be the first to speak for themselves. Whether there were others I know not, but three I do know, two in England and one in Scotland. First I cull the following from the Hon. Evelyn Ellis. He relates that he first purchased a 'Panhard' 5 h.-p. two-cylinder car in 1894 for use in France, and when in 1895 Mr. Shaw Lefevre was about to bring in the Light Locomotives Act, but was prevented by the resignation of the Government, Mr. Ellis resolved to bring his car to England, in the hope that he might be summoned by the police and thus draw public attention to mechanical transit. An account of one of his drives was given by Mr. Frederick R. Simms, the originator of the Automobile Club of Great Britain and Ireland, who accompanied him, from which I make the following extracts:—
It was delightful travelling on that fine summer morning. We were not quite without anxiety as to how the horses we might meet would behave towards their new rival, but they took it very well, and out of 133 horses we passed on the road only two little ponies did not seem to appreciate the innovation. . . .
Going down the steep hill in Windsor, we passed on to Datchet, and we arrived right in front of the entrance hall of Mr. Ellis's house beyond Datchet at 5.40, thus completing our most enjoyable journey of fifty-six miles, the first ever made by a petroleum motor carriage in this country, in 5 hours 32 minutes, exclusive of stoppages. The average speed was 9·84 miles per hour. In every place we passed through we were not unnaturally the objects of a great deal of curiosity. Whole villages turned out to behold, open-mouthed, the new marvel of locomotion. The departure of coaches was delayed to enable their passengers to have a look at our horseless vehicle, while cyclists would stop to gaze enviously at us as we surmounted with ease some long and (to them) tiring hills.
Mr. Ellis continues:
I then drove from Datchet to Windsor, and from Windsor to Malvern. I was very little troubled by the police, and they were generally satisfied by my producing my ordinary carriage licence. One old stone-breaker threw down his hammer and threw up his arms in amazement as he saw the carriage approaching him, and said, 'Well, I'm blessed if Mother Shipton's prophecy ain't come true! Here comes a carriage without a horse.'
Mr. and Mrs. Koosen's enterprise and determination in the face of difficulties form an example for all. Their reminiscences are so interesting from many points of view that no excuse need be made for giving them nearly in extenso. It is delightful to find that one of the earliest pioneer endeavours was prompted by a lady, and when the reader has seen her account of the early adventures of an autocar I think he will agree that 'The Adventures of a Phaeton' were nothing to them, and that Mrs. Koosen has a right to the description of a good wife, the poet making the husband speak of her as Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing.
Mr. Koosen says:—
Early in 1895, while travelling in Germany, I saw the advertisement of a motor-car builder with an illustration of a car. My wife said she liked the look of the thing, so I ordered one. I had then never seen a motor-car, and was under the impression that you take your seats, press the button, and the machine does the rest. Well, at last, on November 21, 1895, the thing arrived at Portsmouth Town station.
I had been told in a letter from the maker that to start the engine you had to turn the fly-wheel towards you, which I did until darkness overtook me. The only result was a pair of worn-out gloves.
Mr. Koosen here seems to have found the trouble too much for him, for he says, 'And now I think perhaps it would be better to quote my wife's diary (I don't keep one myself).'
November 24.—Awfully cold; played with our motor no result.
November 25.—After luncheon saw to our motor, but didn't get it out of shed.
November 26.—Drove to Lee and took Smith and Penning (engineers); Penning spent the day on his back without results.
November 27.—Drove to Lee; first we drove to T. White & Co. to see about oil, but they gave us five gallons of the stuff costers burn in their flares over their barrows, which messed up our motor, which of course didn't go.
November 30.—Motor went with benzoline for first time; awfully pleased.
December 2.—Waiting for new oil from Bowley & Son.
December 9.—Drove to Lee at 10; motor sparked at once and went well. After lunch started for home in motor-car; came _0409.jpg)
'STEADY NOW—IT'S ALL RIGHT!'
round by Fareham; had lovely drive; police spotted us; awful crowd followed us at Cosham; had to beat them off with umbrella.
December 10.—Policeman called at 1.30, took our names re driving through Fareham without red flag ahead.
December 13.—Went drive round common; tyre came off; sent her to Penning.
December 16.—Took train to Fareham; met Hobbs (Hide and Hobbs, solicitors) and Mr. Heckett, and proceeded to Court House; filthy place; Hobbs spoke up well for motors (see police reports). Silly old magistrate fined us one shilling and costs, 15s. 1d.
December 27.—Frightened an unattended horse attached to a milk-cart, which bolted and sent the milk-cans flying in all directions.
December 31.—Straps slipped badly, had to get them tightened.
January 4, 1896.—Lost nut off air valve; pushed home.
January 6.—Stuck again, small tube supplying petrol to carburetter choked.
January 14.—Motor got stuck; made noises; sent her to Penning's.
January 19.—Moted to Eastney Lock; Jack got out to hold unattended horses, and I drove the car into the curb and smashed frame. Shoved into a stable close by.
April 14.—Accumulators gave out, bumped them into Penning's to get charged.
April 19.—Took fresh accumulators out to Lee, but they would not make the engine go, so took them back again.
April 22.—Took accumulators out again and started at once; did 30 miles for first time in 312 hours.
April 28.—Heard they wanted motor-cars at the Imperial Institute, so sent our car there.
May 11.—Drove different people about all day in the Imperial Institute.
May 14.—Took Cummins for a drive at Imperial Institute, blew out the asbestos joint of exhaust-box, made frightful explosion noises, and frightened Cummins into fits.
July 18.—By special permission all the cars were allowed to drive to Hurlingham, where we had an excellent lunch and drove round the grounds all the afternoon. On the way back something went wrong with the works, so we took a hansom; car was shoved back to Institute. Awful!
August 21. Sold our car and ordered another of same make (which we have driven many thousand miles in the last five years).Who will deny after the reading of Mrs. Koosen's diary that the autocar has given one more conclusive proof of the indomitable character of our race, and of the highest form of human unity, that of husband and wife, being a strength that overcomes all obstacles? Mrs. Koosen will live in history as the first lady of our land to steer an autocar and to have the moral courage to confess that her maiden effort ended in a smash; and Mr. Koosen can pose as the first English martyr of the autocar propaganda, though his suffering consisted only in the extraction from him of one shilling. I do think that if Mr. and Mrs. Koosen's first car can be traced, even though it be to a scrap heap, it should be preserved, and find a place in the museum which must be established for power-traction curiosities.
We had also a pioneer in Scotland, the Hon. T. R. B. Elliot, whose reminiscences of his early days of motor-car driving are as follows:—
My experience of motor-cars dates from 1895, for on December 27th of that year I received my first car—a four-seated Paris-built 312h.-p. Panhard phaeton.
Though I continued to use my car frequently months before the Bill passed, the Roxburghshire police undertook not to prosecute me unless a complaint was received from any of the public. Naturally I drove very carefully, and stopped for almost every horse I met, and was lucky enough to escape any complaint.
However, towards the end of February 1896, I thought I should like to break new ground, so, in order to get a clear road, I started one night at 10.30 p.m. for Berwick-on-Tweed—a distance of 30 miles.
Arriving at Berwick at 3 a.m. I proceeded to picnic under the shadow of the Town Hall, and was there soon surrounded by the entire police force on duty—13 men in all. The sergeant took my name, but did not think that any action against me would be taken. However this was not the case, as I was eventually fined the large sum of 6d., with 19s. 6d. costs, for 'using a horseless carriage without having a man on foot preceding it.'
It is interesting to notice that of my three selected pioneers the only one who was not haled before a judge was the devoted martyr, who hoped, by getting himself convicted, to call attention to the absurdity of the law. Mr. Ellis escaped, while Mr. Koosen and Mr. Elliot were both fined. It is also worthy to be noted that the fines contrast in a marked manner with those of more recent times. One can imagine the consultation on the J.P. Bench. 'There is no need to be hard on these lunatics.' 'Such absurdities as motor-cars will never make their way in this country.' 'The idea of any sane man using such a thing, when he can get a horse, is ridiculous.' 'Oh, fine the idiot 1s.,' &c., &c. Now, it is stop-watches, measured miles, policemen in disguise as yokels, 10l. and costs—the strongest possible proof of its being realised that automobilism is a permanency which must be reckoned with.
Circumstances did not admit of my being a pioneer myself, but I lay claim to have shown my interest early. I was present at both the Exhibitions, one at the Crystal Palace, and the other at the Imperial Institute, and at an early stage I engaged a seat to go from the club to the Crystal Palace for a competition there. Looking back on these three events now, I feel justified in saying that I have something of the doggedness shown by other pioneers, for anything more disheartening than my experiences it would be difficult to imagine. I took a considerable party down to Sydenham, and found hunting for autocars to be like seeking the proverbial needle in the bottle of hay. At last we found a shed in which were three or four cars and three or four men, machines and mechanics looking equally melancholy and unbusinesslike. After a long wait one car came out and went along the terrace. How it did jingle, and how it did smell, and how it did smoke! My party did not turn and rend me, but when I dilated on the future of this new mode of locomotion, their eyes looked past my head expressionless, and their lips uttered no sound. I could only, on the way back by train, silently chew the cud of discomfiture, hugging the thought in my heart that the day was soon coming when my friends would find that it was quicker to take the road by autocar to reach the Crystal Palace than to rely on the time-tables of any railway professing to carry passengers to that fairy-land at the breakneck time-table speed of eighteen miles an hour.
I was not prepared to face another party of friends, so I went to the Imperial Institute Exhibition alone. Not much encouragement there. A good many carriages on red baize platforms, but so beautiful in paint and varnish that one had an uneasy feeling that they had never known the road, and that no amount of handle labour would bring a grumble of life out of them. One car was going about, which I confess would have had more of my respect had I known that it was the car of the never-giving-in Mr. and Mrs. Koosen. After ten minutes I left the place much in the mood, though not I hope using the language, of Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse when he turned from the railings of the drive in Hyde Park on a certain Sunday afternoon.
These were the days when it was thought practical, as Mr Butler informs me, 'to turn out a car of one-and-a-half horsepower to carry two passengers, and luggage, spare parts and tools, consequently we had to get out and walk up all the hills, steering by the side, while the engine took the car up by itself; where the hills were very steep we had to help the engine by pushing the car up.' I think, as I am quoting from Mr. Butler, I may conveniently add his general remarks:—
German chains, links stretched and broke very often, and a common thing for a chain to come off; the chains being covered with black lead the hands were always black, and petrol often had to be used to clean them. Tyres German, solid ones, very often came off, and we had to wire them round and round to the wheel the best way we could, to keep them on. Soldering came undone, belts used to break and stretch, nuts came off as there were no pins through the bolts, &c.
Many a time, when miles from an inn and very hungry, would a breakdown occur, but afterwards took precaution never to go out on a car without a large flask of dry sherry and a tin of Bath Oliver biscuits.
_0415.jpg)
'THOSE HORRIBLE MOTORS!'
I shall here mention an incident which occurred to myself, illustrative of the maxim that in matters sporting you should not prophesy unless you know.
My third adventure, of which I spoke above, was an attempt to realise my prophecy about certain results of a competition in speed between the autocar and the South of London railways on the route to the Crystal Palace. A car engaged for the party came whirling round into Whitehall Court in great style, onto which the secretary, myself and my son, whom I wished to introduce to the joys of automobilism, mounted gaily. We started and rounded into the Embankment, driven by the principal engineer of a company that shall be nameless. A cautious driver evidently, as the pace showed. Too cautious apparently, as a further diminution of pace indicated. 'Give him the w'ip, Gov'ner,' from the delighted cabby. Engineer's face a study. Steers to near side; motion ceases. Crowd gathers; passengers try to look happy. 'Don't 'it 'im, sit on 'is 'ead! ' shouts the red-faced 'bus-driver. Passengers desert stranded wreck. End of experience No. 3. Yet, like Mr. Ellis, Mr. and Mrs. Koosen and my compatriot Mr. Elliot, I am as keen as ever.
I have this excellent little story from Mrs. Coleridge Kennard:
Mr. Carr relates the following:—
An enthusiastic friend of the designer of a new motor tricycle eagerly sought an opportunity of personally testing the wonderful machine, which was started and stopped by raising and lowering a back wheel. Off she bounded with a scuffle, and flew round the track. All went well until the E.F. thought he had had enough, when he was seen to be busily engaged with the lever.
As he passed his friends he shouted, ' The lever won't work! ' Roars of laughter rent the air. There was nothing for it but to sit it out till the supply tank was exhausted; and this kept our friend fully occupied for the space of an hour and a half. A good non-stop record, no doubt, but apparently more enjoyed by the spectators than by the performer. Report hath it that he had to be assisted home.
Here is a confession by Mr. Sturmey:—
The engine sounded as if pulling all right, but there was manifestly something wrong, so on went the overalls followed by a dive under the car. Suddenly one of the occupants of the car remarked, 'Why, you've got your brake on!' and so I had.
My own most vivid experiences of breakdown, which strongly illustrate the truth that the blame does not often lie with the vehicle but rather with those who turn it out, or who drive it, must be told at the expense of more than one important bfficial of the Automobile Club. The scene on both occasions is the London-Uxbridge road, the driver on both occasions the secretary of the club, assisted on one occasion by the honorary secretary as honorary mechanician. Let me take the last first. Starting hopefully from Whitehall Court we careered along until, just opposite the Wellington statue, the car said 'No further.' Whether it was 'I won't ' or 'I can't' we did not know. The imperturbable Johnson said nothing, but with great presence of mind turned round and gravitated to the front of the Wellington Club. All the secretarial skill addressed itself to trace the mischief. Suddenly, the sad word of a penitent came from the amateur mechanician on the back seat, ' Oh, I forgot to turn on the petrol.' Off again, and no adventure until, on clearing the town, the high speed was put on. Presently off flew the belt, when it was seen that it had been patched many times, and that badly, and being fastened with riveted holders was ill able to stand being joined up again. Another start made, and we approached Uxbridge with joyful anticipations of tea. Alas, just outside the town our engine refused to move. Again the contrite voice of the amateur mechanician behind intimating that he had omitted to turn on two of the lubricating taps. Engine hot, and patience the only cure.
My second experience was in the same car. I started for Gloucester with the secretary for the County Council demonstration. In answer to my question the assurance was given that the firm which provided the car had solemnly vouched that all spare parts were there except those necessary to rebuild the whole carriage. We had not gone far when it came home to us that we were going on one cylinder. Examination revealed a plug destroyed and exhaust-valve broken. Any spare valves? Tool-boxes and lockers turned out on the road. Nothing like a valve to be seen. Meanwhile I had got out a new plug. On applying it to the hole it went down out of sight. It was like putting a lady's hand into Daniel Lambert's glove. Nothing for it but to let the car descend a hill by gravitation and steer it on to the grass at the gate of a field. Returning to Uxbridge we relieved our minds per telephone to Long Acre, and got the assurance that a man was being despatched by next train with valves and plugs. We went to each train that came in. No man, no plug, no valves. Crestfallen to bed. Next morning, on reaching the station to go on by train, found, to our disgust, that a parcel had come the night before, but without a man, and that we could have got all put right that night. Since then I have formed the confident opinion that if Mark Tapley had lived in the early days of autocars, he would have lost his character. Nevertheless, such adventures have their uses. They teach valuable lessons.
Reminiscences would not be complete without a few words on two common troubles that afflict the (motoring) just—sideslips and punctures. Both of these would supply a volume of the Badminton Library in the way of anecdotes tragic and the opposite. As regards side-slips I shall mention only one. Mr. Edmunds was driving along Victoria Street, and intended to pass between two vehicles, when suddenly the guaranteed non-stop butcher's cart was driven by the unspeakable butcher's boy right into the vacant space. Mr. Edmunds did his best to pull up. The car did her best to turn round, and succeeded in going round all the points of the compass, all other vehicles flying before her pirouetting form. As she came round in went the clutch, and she rode gaily forward along the cleared road. Lady sitting behind leans over to Mr. Edmunds, and says sweetly, 'How delightful!—that was a most marvellous piece of steering. I wouldn't have missed seeing such a feat of skill for anything.'
Autocar punctures form the one exception to the rule against implicit belief in travellers' tales. No one can exaggerate about them, and no one would if he could. May I slightly alter the ancient prophet's word, and say, a propos of the pneumatic tyre, that 'man is born to trouble as the ' dust 'flies upwards'? The autocarist who runs on pneumatic tyres has atra cura ever sitting behind him in his chariot. At any moment his wheel and his spirits may go down literally 'like a shot,' and the gay spark who is beating records in speed and in dust raising, may find himself trying to look happy in the middle of a crowd that gapes, and it may be jeers, and in the English sense shows itself the profane vulgar, while he is toiling out his soul, and blowing up his car in more senses than one.
As a contrast to this let me give my experience when bringing my car from the builders in Paris; 150 miles had to be run in one day from Beauvais to Dunkirk before 8 o'clock to catch the steamer for Leith. At St. Omer I found a carpet stud up to the head in one tyre, and at another halt I found a scar about an inch long in the other driving tyre. Each of these would have made it impossible for us to cover the 150 miles in time had the tyres been pneumatic instead of solid. We drove on quite merrily, and after the car had reached Scotland and had been driven to Stirling, I got a cycle repairer to clean out the scar and fill it up with rubber. In doing so he probed on to something, and after working like a dentist at a stiff stump, he punched out a flint as big as a thumb-nail and more than an eighth of an inch thick, which was buried in the tyre, completely out of sight.
For the sake of any readers of Badminton who have never tested the fascinations of autocarism, I should like to recount some incidents which show that when the motorist's blood is up he will go though hardships equal to any that the most ardent votary of any sport will face, and these recitals give proof how motoring stimulates energy and invention.
Mr. Graham White gave an illustration on the 1,000 mile tour of what an autocarist will do rather than give in. I suppose it is the first instance of a human tiller being used for steering. On this run he on one occasion got down for a moment, asking his friend to steer, which the friend did by promptly running the car off the road and breaking the steering gear, putting the car in about the most hopeless disablement conceivable. There were many miles still to be traversed, and Mr. White accomplished the run by standing on the front of the car, and working the steering directly with his foot, thus bringing her through the crowded streets of Newcastle. I cannot tell you how he did it, but that he did it is certain.
Another case was that of Mr. Rolls driving a car from Paris in 1900. The story tells of the following mishaps: joints of waterpipe gone, bad junction to be replaced, bad cut in tyre of off front wheel; chain loose, burst of back tit, mackintosh loose and wound up in shreds on pump, leaking cylinder, whole upper ends of cylinders red-hot, pump jammed, leaks in radiator pipes, ignition tube burst twice, oil on the brakes, another tyre burst.
These were surely trials enough to break the bark of resolution, but what the Anglo-Saxon and the Gael will do and dare can be appreciated when I mention that all these troubles were encountered in mid-winter, sometimes in blinding snow and always in well nigh Arctic frost, most of them happening between dusk on one day and six in the morning of the next day, with icicles hanging from hair and beard, with the cold so intense that Mr. Hutchinson, from whom I quote, says that the following coverings were 'none too much,' 'a warm knickerbocker suit, a Cardigan jacket, a waterproof hunting-apron, a heavy double-breasted ulster, a waterproof cape, and a cap with ear-flaps, so that only the eyes and nose were exposed.' The proceedings involved two hours' stop at one place, burning waste soaked in petrol under the radiators, Mr. Rolls on his back mending leaks, while the water trickled all over him and down his sleeves and freezing till his leather coat was stiff with ice. Yet after all this the party, when they had set themselves up at a village with some bread and cheese—and, I presume, though the chronicler does not say so, with some vin du pays—decided to make a start once more, at 2.30 a.m., and reached Havre only in time to go to bed at six in the morning. No wonder foreigners think the English insane.[1] But it is a thing to be thankful for that it is an insanity which has its compensations, for not only in sport is Great Britain a living witness that 'dogged does it.'
There is no space to write of the humours of automobilism, but as a kind of savoury the following must be quoted.
Colonel Magrath says:—
'In one of my first drives I met an elderly woman on a quiet road, proceeding to market. She got dreadfully startled at seeing the car, and when she arrived in Wexford told everyone that she met a carriage from the other world, with a horribly ugly demon driving it, and she knew at once that the carriage was sent to take her to hell, but, thank God! she had sense enough to make the sign of the Cross, when carriage and ugly driver vanished.
I presume in its own dust.
Lord Edward Churchill relates how he got a motor-car to please his daughter- another instance of the ladies taking a lead, and curiously enough, as in the other case of Mr. and Mrs. Koosen, the gentleman, when he is too sad for words, refers you to the lady's diary. She describes how, having broken down, they had to
'wait ages for that horse, but at last a cart-horse turned up and was tied to the car with ropes. The man thought he would ride, my father would steer, I would keep things cheerful, and we would trot home. We did reckon without our host, and we may thank Heaven that horse was quiet. The man whacked it and it suddenly started on faster, so the car went on with a jump, the horse slowed down, and the natural consequence was the car ran hard on to the horse. The poor dear beast thought it its duty to hold back, so sat down on the dash-board and did not move. Of course it broke in half, my father in the agony of the moment having forgotten to put on the brake. Then I could have cried, but I did not, and there was more to follow. We suggested that the man had better walk as we had had enough of trotting. . . Then the horse got its leg over the rope and wound the rope round the wheel, then the wheel ran on its hoof, but it did not mind, and I was too sad to cry then, so I tried to laugh. We got home in the dark at eight o'clock. The boys and men in the village were insulting, and called out "Whoa Motor! that's the way to lead it whome," &c. Even my father smiled then. He said it was a beastly thing, and talked of selling it and a few other remarks of that sort.'
Nevertheless he too is still an ardent votary of the sport.
No reminiscences would be complete without a notice of the Thousand Miles Trial of 1900, which would by itself supply material for a volume. The demonstration of interest by the public was remarkable, and the strongest expressions of good will came from the very old people of both sexes. This was much remarked on at the time. I attribute it to the fact that these aged persons had been young when railways began to cover the country, and doubtless had heard them spoken against on all hands, prophecies made that they would ruin the country, denunciations thundered against them from all who had to do with horse traffic, and frantic efforts made to keep them from being sanctioned. These people had lived to see the folly of all such proceedings and predictions, and therefore, their minds were free to wish success to a new mode of traffic, which might be expected to bring many of the benefits of quicker and cheaper transit past their own doors by the road.
Another fact which made a strong impression upon me was the small fatigue of long road journeys, as compared with horse-drawn travelling. I suppose Colonel Magrath and I were the two oldest men who made the tour, and we rode on a car having solid tyres. Yet I cannot recall having felt any sensation of weariness even after the longest runs (e.g. 125 miles per day) and we both came to the end as fit, if not more fit, than when we started. Another remarkable feature of the event was that, although it was the first demonstration of the power vehicle on a large scale, so many of the cars completed the whole journey, notwithstanding that many devices which were still in the experimental stage must have been on trial. And of the breakdowns which did occur, a very large proportion were vehicle failures, and not machine failures. It was not surprising that with little experience of vehicles travelling on ordinary roads at higher speeds than was possible with horse traffic, and with greater dead-weight, and with the power applied direct to the wheels instead of by haulage, defects in frames and axles and wheels should show themselves, until experiment had reduced the requirements to formulas that might safely be followed.
Of the kindness with which we were received everywhere, we shall all cherish a delightful recollection. But I think everyone who took part in the tour will join with me in saying that what will be most remembered was the extraordinary success of the organisation, by which so great an undertaking was carried on without a hitch. The labour, the forethought, and the tact that must have been put out cannot be measured. Mr. Claude Johnson, Secretary of the Automobile Club of Great Britain and Ireland, who originated the scheme, and his subordinates deserve the place of honour in the history of Automobilism in this country up to the present time, and they will be wonderful contestants that succeed in wresting it from them in the future.
And now, as a last word, let me say what believe will be said by all who have enjoyed this new sport: that we value it for two reasons. The one is that it will open up to the community many advantages both social and commercial. The other I feel very strongly. It is that it extends in a delightful manner the range of one's personal friendships, and promotes pleasant social intercourse of both sexes, in healthy enjoyment of fresh air and cheerful surroundings. May we continue to be a friendly guild. Pioneers must always keep close together. Union overcomes difficulty, and our motto should be
Double the pleasure that friendship doth divide.
- ↑ Mr. Rolls thinks it is remarkable that I should have used this expression, as the hotel-keeper who received them at Havre, and who spoke a little English, said to the party, 'You English must be very "insanitary" to travel by road on such a night,'