Wilmington to Philadelphia and from Philadelphia out to Byrn
Mawr; and from the parked and shaded beauty of Byrn Mawr over the
rolling farming country of Pennsylvania with its beautiful cultivation
and its substantial stone farmhouses, up through Trenton and Newark and
across the ferry to New York. We are once more on the Lincoln Highway as
we travel northeast from Philadelphia. It is a joy to travel again by
the familiar red, white, and blue signs. We know the pleasant open
country of New Jersey through which the noble Highway runs for these
last miles, and are at last At Home.

CHAPTER XIII

The Lincoln Highway is destined to be a much-traveled road. Already the
motorists of the West are turning the hoods of their motor cars to face
the East and the motorists of the East are starting Westward. Happy is
the man who has his hotel or inn situated on the road marked by the red,
white, and blue. The traveler is bound to come his way, and the traveler
is bound to alight at his door if only he has something to offer that is
worthy of the name of hospitality. But he can no longer afford to be
careless. There is an unwritten rule of the open road which reads that
the traveler shall tell his fellow traveler of places at which to halt
and of places to avoid. It is inevitable that in the course of a short
time the slovenly and careless inn-keeper must be supplanted by a better
man.

The tourist does not enjoy looking out of his hotel window on piles of
old tin cans and heaps of barrel staves and discarded packing boxes. Nor
does he enjoy looking at mounds of ashes, and quantities of vegetable
parings. He will not long endure a soiled table cloth, horrible green
tea, and indifferently cooked food. Nor will he endure a lack of hot
water and utterly careless sanitary arrangements. He may say little
about them to the landlord who entertains his party, but he will very
soon see to it that better inns take the place of the old ones of
careless and indifferent management. The hotel keeper congratulates
himself that his open door looks out on the Lincoln Highway, and that
his own sign proudly bears the three distinguishing bars of red, white,
and blue. He must have more than this to make his inn a success. It is
surprising how fast the news of a clean, well kept inn, with excellently
cooked food, travels from mouth to mouth.

In France there is a roll of honour for inn-keepers under the direction,
if I mistake not, of the Tou