omed the suggestion as a less evil than cathedrals and
art galleries. At least we should be out of doors and in the
exhilaration of rapid motion one might hope to forget the three young
ladies at brief and blessed intervals. One could not at the same time
think of the culture-pursuing trio and anything rapid.

It has been my curse in life that I have dabbled at so many things that
I can be made of smattering use in almost any circumstance. Our
chauffeur discovered this three and one-half minutes after the
occurrence of our first blow-out, when Aunt Sarah, taking pity upon his
sweating and dust-grimed brow, told me off to help him patch the
puncture. After that it was impossible to feign ignorance as to the
interior workings and deviltries of motor cars.

The Upper Corniche Road is perhaps the most charming driveway of the
world--and I say this with due reverence to Amalfi. By a road as white
as a fresh tablecloth and as smooth as a bowling alley one speeds to the
purring of his motor along the way thrown up for the tramping feet of
Bonaparte's battalions. From a commanding height the traveler looks
down, as from the roof of the world, with close kinship of peaks and
clouds, upon a panorama a-riot with breadth and depth and color.
Fascinating road-houses of stucco walls curtained behind a profusion of
clambering roses tempt one to pause and take his ease to the tinkle of
guitars and mandolins. But Aunt Sarah and the girls, ever bent upon
reaching the next cathedral with a stained glass window or the next
dingy canvas of a saint sitting on a cloud, were scarcely amenable to
the lure of road-house temptation.

They seemed to regard Europe as a transitory effect which might fade
like the glories of sunset before they had finished seeing it, and
anything savoring of the dilatory aroused their suspicion.

Far below us lay the outspread Mediterranean, blue beyond description
and upon her placid bosom sailboats shrunk to the size of swallows and
yachts seemed no larger than nursery toys.

One gracious afternoon, while I was occupying the front seat beside the
driver, I almost attained a state of contentment. I was pretending that
I had forgotten all about the human freight in the tonneau. My eyes were
drinking in the smiling beauty framed by the wide horizon, when suddenly
the droning of the motors fell quiet and with no warrantable reason the
automobile slid to a halt and declined to proceed farther.

CHAPTER II