to say nothing of dogs and poultry. Almost everybody had something
charged against Harry. He was highly unpopular, but a good fellow at
heart.

"I got the judge to release him on his promise to abandon motoring for
three years.

"Thus he rushed out of the motor-car stage of his career into that of
the drag and tandem.

"He had had more narrow escapes and suffered greater perils than Rob
Roy.

"Yes, bulls are a good thing--a comparatively soft thing. I recommend
them to every motorist who may have to look for a place to land. Don't
ever throw yourself on the real estate of New England. It can hit
harder than you can."

II

WHICH BEGINS THE STORY OF THE BISHOP'S HEAD

"Harry is the most modern character in my little museum," said the
Honorable Socrates Potter, as I sat with him in his cozy office. "I
was really introduced to Harry by the Bishop of St. Clare, who died in
1712. I didn't know his heart until the Bishop made us acquainted.
Strange! Well, that depends on the point of view. You see, the Bishop
was acquired and imported as an ancestor by one of the best families,
and that's how I happened to meet him. They would have got William the
Conqueror--of England and Fifth Avenue--if he hadn't been well
hidden.

"I am inclined to converse long and loudly on the reconstruction of
Pointview. Of course I shall talk too much, but I am a licensed liar,
and the number of my machine is 4227643720, so if I smash a dog here
and there, make a note of the number and charge it. I'm going fast and
shall not have time to stop for apologies.

"In Pointview even Time has quickened his pace. Last year is ancient
history. Lizzie has been succeeded by Miss Elizabeth, who needs a
maid, a chauffeur, a footman, and a house-party to maintain her
spirits. Harry and his drag have taken the place of Dan and his
runabout.

"The enemy has arrived in force. We are surrounded by country-houses
and city abdomens of appalling size and arrogance. Mansions crown the
slopes and line the water-front. The dialect of the lazy Yankee and
his industrious hens are heard no more in the hills of Pointview.
Where the hoe and the sickle were stirred by the fear of hunger, the
golf-club and the tennis-racket are moved by the fear of fat. The
sweat of toil is now the perspiration of exercise. The chatter of
society has succeeded that of the goose and the polliwog. Land has
gone up. Rocks have become real estate even while they belonged to
Chr