d we had pushed and tugged
until the silence was ominous; at length the lowering clouds of
wrath broke, and the Professor said things that cannot be
repeated.

By way of apology, he said, afterwards, while shaking the sand out
of his shoes, "It is difficult to preserve the serenity of the
class-room under conditions so very dissimilar. I understand now
why the golf-playing parson swears in a bunker. It is not right,
but it is very human. It is the recrudescence of the old Adam, the
response of humanity to emergency. Education and religion prepare
us for the common-place; nature takes care of the extraordinary.
The Quaker hits back before he thinks. It is so much easier to
repent than prevent. On the score of scarcity alone, an ounce of
prevention is worth several tons of repentance; and--"

It was so apparent that the Professor was losing himself in
abstractions, that I quietly let the clutches slip until the
machine came to a stop, when the Professor looked anxiously down
and said,--

"Is the blamed thing stuck again?"

We turned off the Bowling Green road to the River road, which is
not only better, but more direct from Napoleon to Perrysburg. It
was the road we originally intended to take; it was down on our
itinerary, and in automobiling it is better to stick to first
intentions.

The road follows the bank of the river up hill and down, through
ravines and over creeks; it is hard, hilly, and picturesque; high
speed was quite out of the question.

Not far from Three Rivers we came to a horse tethered among the
trees by the road-side; of course, on hearing and seeing the
automobile and while we were yet some distance away, it broke its
tether and was off on a run up the road, which meant that unless
some one intervened it would fly on ahead for miles. Happily, in
this instance some men caught the animal after it had gone a mile
or two, we, meanwhile, creeping on slowly so as not to frighten it
more. Loose horses in the road make trouble. There is no one to
look after them, and nine times out of ten they will go running
ahead of the machine, like frightened deer, for miles. If the
machine stops, they stop; if it starts, they start; it is
impossible to get by. All one can do is to go on until they turn
into a farmyard or down a cross-road.

The road led into Toledo, but we were told that by turning east at
Perrysburg, some miles southwest of Toledo, we would have fifty
miles or more of the finest road in the