s, or the
worship of art, the three chief things for which the most of us
travel, unless we be mere vagabonds, and journey about for the sheer
love of being on the move. From Vienna to Prague, to Breslau, to
Berlin, Hanover, and Cologne, and finally to Paris via Reims finishes
the "_circuit,_" which for variety and excellence of the roads cannot
elsewhere be equalled.

This, or something very near to it, would be the very best possible
course for a series of reliability trials, and certainly nothing
quite so suitable or enjoyable for the participants could otherwise
be found. It is much better than a mere pegging away round and round
a two hundred and fifty kilometre circuit, as some trials and races
have been run. In all the distance is something like five thousand
kilometres, which easily divides itself into stages of two hundred
kilometres daily, and gives one an enjoyable twenty-five days or a
month of travel, which, in all its illuminating variety, is far and
away ahead of the benefits our forefathers derived from the box seat
of a diligence or a post-chaise.

On this trip one runs the whole gamut of the European climate, and
eats the food of Paris, of the Midi, of Italy, Austria, and Germany,
and wonders why it is that he likes the last one partaken of the
best. Given a faultlessly running automobile (and there are many
today which can do the work under these conditions) and no tire
troubles, and one could hardly improve upon the poetry of motion
which enables one to eat up the long silent stretches of roadway in
La Beauce or the Landes, to climb the gentle slopes skirting the
Pyrenees, or the ruder ones of Northern Italy, until finally he makes
that bee-line across half of Europe, from Berlin to Paris. One's
impressions of places when touring _en automobile_ are apt to be
hazy; like those of the energetic American who, when asked if he had
been to Rome, replied, "Why, yes; that's where I bought my panama
_(sic)_ hat!"

Such a "grand tour" as outlined by the "_Circuit Europeen_" presents
a variety which it is impossible to equal. It is a tour which
embraces country widely differing in characteristics--one which takes
in both the long, broad, ribbon-like roads of Central France, flanked
by meadows, orchards, and farmsteads, and lofty mountains from the
peaks of which other peaks capped with glistening snow may be gazed
upon, sunlit valleys and sparkling lakes. It is a tour which no man
could possibly make with