f 



524 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



September, 1907 



Monthly Comment 



^%^^ ^^ ^^F SPEED is the chief end of travel, then 

 w^^j^^ everything must be sacrificed to that end. 



^^^^aj^^^t Modern tendencies are decidedly in this di- 

 I^W'^^^i'^^^T^ rection, the most marked developments in 

 ^^1^9 the railroad train and the automobile aim- 



^^^^^^^^^^ ing overwhelmingly at the attainment of 

 greater speed. Yet if this be really the ob- 

 ject of travel, the joys of those who go about on the surface 

 of the earth are limited to this one thing only. Obviously, 

 therefore, the modern traveler is bound to lose the larger 

 part of the delights of travel. Of the country through which 

 he is drawn or propelled at the highest possible rate of 

 speed, he sees little; of knowledge of it he obtains none at 

 all; of its wealth of natural beauty he absorbs only the 

 sketchiest reminiscences; of its people he scarce memorizes 

 so much as their costume; its intellectual treasures in the 

 way of art he perhaps misses altogether. For him there is 

 nothing but speed, speed, and speed. If the roads are good, 

 and he is traveling by motor car, he has a fine time; if they 

 are bad, he wishes he was in some other place where they 

 are good. 



There is joy in speeding over a good road. It is 

 marvelously fine to skim for miles at a rapid pace along 

 a smooth and safe highway, free from interruptions and 

 without the annoying supervision of the police. It is not 

 only fine, but it is fascinating, with a fascination that grips 

 and enthralls one. There is small wonder that every other 

 Idea is thrust out of mind In the delights of this splendid 

 sport. But let us put It in the right place. Let us admit, as 

 we should, that speeding and traveling are two different 

 things, and the equilibrium of travel will be restored. 

 Granted this distinction, the next step is manifest: speeding 

 should be limited to speedways, and the ordinary roads re- 

 stored to their ordinary uses for which they are intended. 

 Is it conceivable that every one will then be happy? Not 

 quite, perhaps; for so long as there are excellent roads along 

 which automobiles are forbidclen to travel at record-making 

 speed, just so long will the automobillst long for such un- 

 conquered highways. At present there is no sufficient means 

 of limiting this great new traffic. It seems to be assumed that 

 because a man possesses an apparatus that will travel over 

 any good road, therefore every good road must be placed 

 at his service. Yet, after all, the criticism against reckless 

 automoblllng is not directed against automobiles as such, 

 but against the careless and indifferent folk who ride heed- 

 lessly whithersoever they listeth, carrying, often enough, 

 death and destruction into an expedition that is intended to 

 be one of pure pleasure. 



The quiet traveler has many advantages compared with 

 the speed maniac. He travels slowly and leisurely, seeing 

 strange sights and strange people, appreciating wonderful 

 new scenery and, it may be supposed, attentively studying 

 every object of curiosity and Interest that presents itself to 

 his mind. If he is traveling for pleasure he seeks all the 

 transcendent pleasures of travel in a strange land. He may 

 not write a book about what he sees, and perhaps It is as 

 well he does not; but he stores up in his memory a vast fund 

 of new knowledge which, throughout his life, will be a con- 

 stant pleasure and relaxation. The old-time travelers, who 

 went abroad afoot, or journeyed through Europe horseback 

 or by stage coach, reaped many joys that the more convenient 

 and much more rapid methods of modern travel fail to re- 

 turn. If the object of travel is to cover as much ground in 



a single day as possible, there is nothing more to be said; 

 but if it is to see and enjoy a strange country to the fullest, 

 then some obvious changes are needed in modern methods. 



The roads of Europe are so almost universally good that 

 excellence In roadways is thoroughly characteristic of that 

 part of the world. It is a significant commentary on Amer- 

 ican progress that bad roads are distinctively characteristic of 

 this country. It is true, real progress is not wholly unknown 

 among us. The value of good roads is now everywhere 

 recognized, and much has been done in the way of bettering 

 and improving existing roads In many parts of America, 

 while a much greater care is exercised in laying out new 

 ones than was formerly the case. But the real significance 

 of the difference between the good roads of Europe and the 

 bad roads of America is not their relative excellence and bad- 

 ness, but the fact that the European roads were, from the 

 beginning, built In a thoroughly good way, and for years 

 have been the object of the most careful governmental care 

 and maintenance; while the good roads in America have 

 chiefly been promoted by the riders of bicycles and the 

 drivers of automobiles ! In other words, the good roads of 

 Europe represent the natural feeling of the government and 

 people toward roads, irrespective of the uses to which they 

 are put or the sort of machines that may travel over them. 

 It Is equally true that the bad roads of America represent 

 the national indifference to such matters. Europe has had 

 good roads for many years; in America they have existed 

 for less than the period of a single generation 



The city man who moves out Into the country is im- 

 mediately impressed with the "greenness" and density of the 

 rural population. To him, it Is at once the most amusing 

 and the most astonishing thing. He takes with him, it may 

 be presumed, all the qualifications of the advanced civiliza- 

 tion that chiefly thrives in a crowded metropolis, and then 

 finds there is nothing comparable to it In his new surround- 

 ings. But does the city man ever realize that while his rural 

 neighbors are as green as grass to him, he is even more 

 obtusely green to them? Harrowing as the thought is, it is 

 unquestionably true. The city boy who has never seen the 

 green fields finds the most ordinary of country sights and 

 sounds as strange as though they belonged to another world. 

 And the older man is equally dense. The doings of the city 

 folk, indeed, are quite as amusing and as full of absurdities to 

 the country folk, as the thoughts and ways of the latter are to 

 the former. Now that it has become the fashion for cooks 

 and chambermaids to write of the doings of their masters and 

 mistresses from their own lowly standpoint, the day may 

 not be far distant when some very green countryman will 

 turn the tables on the city man and depict his greenness in 

 the dense colors they deserve. It will be rich reading when 

 It comes. 



The countryside has its own standards, of which the city 

 folk know little enough and care less. The most ignorant 

 of city folk would never hitch a horse in backward, so its 

 head would be over the dashboard of the wagon and its tail 

 appear in the place the head Is usually looked for; but he 

 might not, at the beginning, know how to adjust the various 

 straps or understand their significance. The countryman, 

 however, would look upon a lack of knowledge of hitching 

 and driving as proof positive of the most dense and intense 

 Ignorance on ordinary matters of life that had come within 

 his knowledge. The only difference is in the point of view. 



