Evening star., 1922-06-25

tide Pujol, in sole charge OF
IN automobile. went gayly
scattering over the roads OF
France. I use the word advisedls. IT
you had heard the awful thing as 1t
passed by you would agree that it Is
the only word adequate to express
it's hideous mode of progression. 1t
was a two-seated, scratched. battered,
ramshackle tin concern of hoary an
tiquity. belonging to the childhood OF
the race.
Not only horses, but other autono-
biles SHE'D at it. 1t was vehicle OF
derision. Yet Aristide regarded 1t
with glowing pride and drove 1t witn
such daredevilry that the parts must
-ava held together only through
sheer breathless wonder.
Had 1t not been for the car. he told
me, he would not have undertaken
the undignified employment in which
he was then engaged-the mounte-
bank selling Of corn cure III the
public places of small towns and viii
lagos. 1t was not d fitting pursuit
for a late managing director of
public company and an eX-professor
of French in an English academy for
Young ladies. He wanted to rise. ma
toi, not descend in the social scale.
But when hunger drives-que voulez-
vous: Besides. there was the auto
mobile. 1t Is true he had bound HIM
self by his contract to exhibit
board a, the back bearing flaming
picture of the success of the cure and
A legend. ..Guerissez vos cors.' and
10 display a banner with the same
device. when weather permitted. But.
still, there was the automobile.
!: 4 !; x
TT had been lying for many motor
L ages in the shhed of the proprie-
tors of the cure, the Maison Hieropath
of Marseille, neglected, forlorn. eaten
by rust and worm, when suddenly an
idea occurred to their business imagi-
nation. Why should they not use the
automobile to advertise and sell the
cure about the country? The apostle
N charge would pay for his own
petrol, take a large percentage on
sales. and the usual travellers COM
mission on orders that he might
place. But where to find an apostle:
Brave and desperate men came IN
high hopes. looked at the car anu
shaking their heads sorrowfully. went
away. AT last at the loosest Of ends
came Aristide. The splendor OF the
jdea-a poet, in his way, was Artstide.
and the idea was the thing that al
ways held him captive-the splendor
Of the idea Of dashing up to hotels
in his own automobile dazed him. he
beheld himself doing his hundred
kilometers an hour and training
crowds of glory whithersoever he
went. To q child a moth-eaten rock
tns>horse Is a fiery Arab OF the
plains; to Aristide Pujol this cheat OF
The scrap-heap was a sixty-horse-
mower thunderer and devourer Of
space.
How they managed to patch up her
interior so that she moved unpushed
is a mystery which Aristide. not d.
rining, could not reveal; and "hen
and where he himself learned to
drive a motor car Is also vague.
believe the knowledge came by ma
ture. He was a fellow of many weird
accomplishments He could con3ure;
could model birds and beasts out or
breadcrumb: could play the drum
SO well that he had kettledrum
hanging around his neck during most
Of his military service. He could
make omelettes and rabbit hutches;
could initiate any animal that ever
emitted sound-a gift that endeared
him to children: could do almost any
thing you please-save stay In one
place and acquire material posses
sions.
The fact that he had never done
thing before was to him no proof OF
his inability to do it. In his superb
self-confidence he would have under
taken to conduct the orchestra at
Covent Garden or navigate a liner
across the Atlantic. knowing this,
cease to bother my head about so
small a matter as the way in which
he learned to drive a motor car.
y 4 X
DEHOLD him, then, one raw March
- morning scattering along the
in Provence. He wore a goatskin coat
and a goatskin cap drawn down well
over his ears His handsome bearded
face. with it's lustrous. laughing eyes,
peeped out curiously human amid the
circumambient shagginess.
There was not a turn visible in the
long, straight road that lost itself
in the far distant mist; not a speck
on it signifying cart or creature.
Aristide Pujol gave himself up to the
delirium Of speed and urged the half
bursting engine to twenty miles an
hour. In spite of the racing-track
surface, the crazy car bumped and
Jolted; the sides Of the rickety bon
not clashed like cymbals; every
valve wheezed and squealed; every
nut seemed to have got loose and
,errihcally clattered. Rattling noises,
grunting noises, screechinE noises
escaped from every part. 1t creaked
and clanked like an overinsured
tramp steamer in typhoon. 1t
lurched as If afnicted with locomotor
ataxia; and noisome vapors belched
forth from the open exhaust pipe as
il the car were a tophet on wheels.
But all was music in the ears of
.Aristide. The car was going Ut did
not always go), the road scudded
under him, and the morning air
dashed stingingly into his face. For
tho moment he desired nothing more