A woman's world tour in a motor

Front matter

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H. H., THE MAHAKAJA OF BENARES

A WOMAN'S

Preface

IN presenting this book, I make a direct appeal to my readers. Many and elaborate works of travel are already at the disposal of the reading public ; but it may be that 1 have a story to tell which will engage the interest of folk who care for the unusual, the romantic, the practical and the adventurous. I expect no favors from flippant reviewers of the sort whose aim is to appear smart — often at the expense of truthfulness, and always at the expense of gentleness. From readers generally, I crave the same consideration which I shall give to them in the following pages. If I tell my story fairly, accurately, without exaggeration, and win the attention of readers whose humanity and interest in all things human I count one with my own, I shall be happy.

It is perfectly true that I run an anvil and vise factory in Trenton, New Jersey. Except for the yearly vacation customarily spent in my villa at

PREFACE

Lake Como, Italy, nothing else so consistently engages my time and energy. In the book which I now offer to the public I have only the plain unvarnished tale to tell of my trip around the world in a motor-car; the trip of a woman who had grown a little weary of the details of a useful but somewhat heavy business, and sought recreation under India's burning sun, in Ceylon, China, Japan, in many places where no motor-car had ever taken man or woman before.

Never have I cared inordinately for a display of frills. In a recent journey to the western part of these United States, which, unfortunately, I was obliged to make by train instead of motor, I encountered at a number of hotels a peculiar sort of diminutive apron — a cross between a dress-shield and a chrysanthemum, in appearance. It was affixed to all waitresses in the hotel dining-room, and was a truly frilly article. After many days I confessed my curiosity to a head waitress.

" Them? Oh, them! Why, cer'nly, ma'am; them is th' apron that's the' o-fficial badge of th' Waitresses' Union! We all wears 'em."

I fear I have no membership in the Authors' Union. I cannot flaunt the Literary Frill. I can only try unpretentiously to give you a true account of the things which seemed to me remarkable in the course of thirteen months' motoring which I enjoyed with my loyal little party — including my Devoted Dog.

PREFACE

More than six hundred letters, received from all parts of the world since the completion of my trip, have led me to believe that these enthusiastic inquirers would like to see their questions answered at length. Motorists, generally, will perhaps also be interested.

A number of letters were from people who wanted to know the total cost of the trip; how I had crated my car; how man} 7 different parts I had carried to make necessary repairs; the condition of the roads; where and how to obtain gasoline; how we did our cooking — all of which are answered in the book, except the cost. That, of course, depends entirely upon how one travels, and what one wishes to spend.

A wealthy woman in California wrote, asking if there had been published any account of the cooking utensils, sleeping accommodations, etc., carried on my car ; if the people were courteous ; if I had met with any disagreeable adventures in the way of impertinence from people who disliked motor-cars. She said that it was her ideal way of travelling, but that she had not dared think of it until she had read an account of my trip in the papers.

I feel that I shall be justified in contributing what I can to the sum total of knowledge as to the possibilities of the modern motor-car. I shall be as practical and as plain as possible.

When one from the Western world visits the strange scenes of the Far East, there is very much

PREFACE

more to be noted than mere guide-book details. There is indeed much more to be felt. The mind, as well as the eye, is entranced. The mystic quality of India — that wonderful magic of atmosphere and antiquity — is impressive. It is none the less impressive with a motor-car as means of transportation.

The strangely mingled beauties and horrors of the land, the pathos of human life and suffering, the oddities of custom, and the marvels of Oriental grandeur — these may not be described adequately by pen, much less by mine. But I have much to tell you of adventure, and not a little about the human beings, high and low, who made my world tour a memorable experience.

Harriet White Fisher.

Trenton, New Jersey, May 1, 1911

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Start and the Car 15

II. Good-by to Paris 24

II Good-by To Paris

WHEN once we were on our way to Contrexeville, it was like a continuous trip through a beautiful park. The trees line both sides of the road, and for miles and miles ahead you can see a clear road before you, with the exception of now and then a cart, or a few peasants. One thing that interested me greatly was the way the roads were kept in constant repair. On each side of the road was a pile of stones, piled up evenly and neatly, and you would see old men, boys, and even women in some cases, breaking them. These stones are brought there in their natural shape by employees of the road commissioner, and these people break them

GOOD-BY TO PARIS

into small pieces. In many instances the workers would otherwise be objects of charity; but having this to do in their own time, they earn enough to keep them in comfort, while the traveller gets the benefit of having good, smooth roadways. By each pile of stones is a pile of sand, and this also is piled up very neatly, so it does not disfigure the roadway or interfere with traffic. Every few miles you will meet an old man with a two-wheeled cart and horse, who will take a shovelful of the stones and a little of the sand, and from his water bucket in the cart he will mix the two materials and fill up any holes in the roadway. To all appearances this acts the same as a cement, making a solid concrete road.

At every corner are sign-posts, so that one is always able to tell in what direction to go, and every two miles you will find a milestone giving the number of miles between villages. In fact, a guide-book is hardly necessary if you know the names of the places you desire to reach. Always, in the smallest villages, you will be able to obtain a decent lunch or dinner. As for sleeping, that is a different matter, and it is always wise to select a city or a good-sized village in which to spend the night, in order to find comfortable sleeping quarters.

It is a pleasure to roll along these beautiful roads, turning in and out of the narrow, crooked streets, in and through the little French villages, where you never fail to see from one to a dozen girls and old women with their cushions in front of them, making lace or knitting. After four o'clock you will find in these same little villages, sheep or cattle huddled together in front of their owner's door, sharing, in fact, the same quarters with their masters and mistresses. I asked if they did not consider this unhealthful, and they smilingly answered, ' You see grandmama over there? She has lived here all her life in this way, and she is now over eighty." And a more bonny, sunny, healthy-looking old face one would never wish to see.

One of their reasons for having the animals so close to them is that they cannot then be stolen, and another is that the warmth from their bodies helps to keep warm the rooms of the human inhabitants.

Our first stop was at Troyes, where we spent the night. The hotel bill there was forty-one francs, which included dinner, lodging, and breakfast for four people, and accommodations for my motor.

We arrived in Contrexeville on August 5th, passing through Rouen and Chaumont. Even at this time of the year the air was so cool that I was obliged to put on two coats and a shawl, and felt none too warm. I remained at the Grand Hotel d'Etablissement for nearly three weeks, taking the cure there.

From Contrexeville we made several trips, visiting different places of interest, among them the birthplace of Jeanne d'Arc. One of our trips was especially interesting; from Contrexeville to Vittel, five kilometres; from Vittel to Mirecourt,

GOOD-BY TO PARIS

twenty- three kilometres ; from Mirecourt to Nancy, forty-seven kilometres, making seventy-five kilometres in all.

The second week we were in Contrexeville they gave a fete called a Gymkana. I was invited to take part with my motor-car, which invitation I accepted, my car being the only American representative among about forty cars of foreign make. I was indeed proud when my car took the first prize for artistic decoration and graceful manoeuvres in this floral fete. One of the tests to which we were put was balancing the car on two long planks placed upon a raised centre; the one able to balance the car the longest received the first premium. Another test was for smooth driving. A lady in each car carried a glass filled with water. The cars were driven over a very rough course, and the one bringing in the glass containing the most water at the end of the drive received the first prize. This premium also I had the pleasure of winning.

On August 26th we had to say farewell to Contrexeville, and after our different pieces of baggage, the tent, etc., were packed on the motor, we started for Basle, bearing bunches of roses from our friends. We had not proceeded very far on our road when we met with our first hold-up. As we were passing one of the farm-houses where we had enjoyed many pleasant dejeuners, we were suddenly stopped by a line of men and women extending across the road. Their faces, however, expressed only merriment and not danger, and we soon found ourselves seated at a table spread under an apricot tree, with a bountiful lunch before us. This surprise had been prepared for us by these friends in memory of the many pleasant occasions of the same kind that we had before experienced. Speeches were made, and bon voyage was drunk in the good old wine of the country; and I found a large basket had been packed for us containing chicken, bread and butter, a plum tart, and good French cake.

At every hotel at which we stopped on the way, we were warned about the mischievous children, and were told to be sure and carry a long whip with us, so as to keep order in the small towns and villages through which we were to pass. We did not arm ourselves with this whip, however, and I am happy to say we met with no accidents. Neither did we cause any. On the contrary, I would greet the people with " Gutentag " as we passed them, and the peasants would doff their hats, while the children threw little bunches of wild flowers into the car.

THE DEVIL S BRIDGE o