show places of
the island Girgenti of the Temples. And now we began to understand why
the millionaire Florio, with his four noble motor-cars panting in their
stalls, has not been able to induce his friends to stock their Sicilian
stables in the same way. We knew already that Italian roads were
generally inferior to French ones; that it was comparatively difficult
to buy petrol, especially _good_ petrol, or _essence_, in Italy, and I
loaded up the willing car with several reserve tins on leaving the
Igiea; but of course I had had to take the state of the roads on
hearsay. The surprise and interest of the crowd, even in Palermo, where
Signor Florio often drives, warned us that not many ventured with
"mechanically propelled vehicles" where we were about to venture, and I
was a little dubious, though the Goddess was in the highest spirits and
yearning for brigands. She had heard at the hotel of a very picturesque
one who owned a lair in the mountains, and urged me to pay the
chivalrous gentleman a morning call, but I was both obdurate and
unbelieving.

We started; occasionally, as we progressed, it was necessary to ask the
way. The peasants we passed on foot, on donkey back, or crowded into
their painted carts, were so wrapped in wonder at sight of us that it
was useless to shout at them without warning; they couldn't recover
themselves in time to answer before we had sped by. So I adopted a
method I have often found useful. I selected my man at a distance,
singling him out from his companions, and pointing my finger straight at
him as I approached. This excited his curiosity and riveted his
attention; he was then able to reply when I demanded a direction.

From Palermo on the north to Girgenti on the south of the island is
something over sixty miles the way we went--sixty miles of bad and
up-and-down road. Sicily is poor, and it could not but be to its
advantage if visitors came to it in larger numbers. I should say one of
the first things they ought to do is to improve the roads, and make them
decently passable for carriages, motor-cars, and bicycles. At present
the plan of mending the roads is to dump down so much "metal," and leave
the local traffic to grind it in. As everybody avoids it and there is
little rain, there it stays, and in consequence patches of sharp, loose
stones lie over the roads the year round. Steer with all the skill one
can, it's impossible always to dodge the stones, and our tyres got a
good pun