["I have personal knowledge of marriages resulting from motor-car
courtships."--The HON. C. S. ROLLS.--_Daily Express._]
When Reginald asked me to drive in his car
I knew what it meant for us both,
For peril to love-making offers no bar,
But fosters the plighting of troth.
To the tender occasion I hastened to rise,
So bought a new frock on the strength of it,
Some china-blue chiffon--to go with my eyes--
And wrapped up my head with a length of it.
"Get in," said my lover, "as quick as you can!"
He wore a black smear on his face,
And held out the hand of a rough artisan
To pilot me into my place.
Like the engine my frock somehow seemed to mis-fire,
For Reginald's manner was querulous,
But after some fuss with the near hind-wheel tyre
We were off at a pace that was perilous.
"There's Brown just behind, on his second-hand brute,
He thinks it can move, silly ass!"
Said Reggie with venom, "Ha! Ha! let him hoot,
I'll give him some trouble to pass."
My service thenceforth was by Reggie confined
(He showed small compunction in suing it)
To turning to see how far Brown was behind,
But not to let Brown see me doing it.
Brown passed us. We dined off his dust for a league--
It really was very poor fun--
Till, our car showed symptoms of heat and fatigue,
Reggie had to admit he was done.
To my soft consolation scant heed did he pay,
But with taps was continually juggling,
And his words, "Will you keep your dress further away?"
Put a stop to this incipient smuggling.
"He'd never have passed me alone," Reggie sighed,
"The car's extra heavy with you."
"Why ask me to come?" I remarked. He replied,
"I thought she'd go better with two."
When I touched other topics, forbearingly meek,
From his goggles the lightnings came scattering,
"What chance do you give me of placing this squeak,"
He hissed, "when you keep up that chattering?"
At that, I insisted on being set down
And returning to London by train,
And I vowed fifty times on my way back to town
That I never would see him again.
Next week he appeared and implored me to wed,
With a fondly adoring humility.
"The car stands between us," I rigidly said.
"I've sold it!" he cried with agility.
His temples were sunken, enfeebled his frame,
There was white in the curls on his crest;
When he spoke of our ride in a whisper of shame
I flew to my home on his breast.
By running sedately I'm certain that Love
To such passion would never have carried us,
Which settles the truth of the legend above--
It was really the motor-car married us.
* * * * *
Illustration: _Miller_ (_looking after cyclist, who has a slight touch
of motor mania_). "Well, to be sure! There do be some main ignorant
chaps out o' London. 'E comes 'ere askin' me 'ow many 'orse power the
old mill ad got."
* * * * *
Illustration:
_Cyclist_ (_whose tyre has become deflated_). "Have you such a thing as
a pump?"
_Yokel._ "'Ees, miss, there's one i' the yard."
_Cyclist._ "I should be much obliged if you would let me use it."
_Yokel._ "That depends 'ow much you want. Watter be main scarce wi' us
this year! Oi'll ask feyther."
* * * * *
Illustration: _Smart Girl_ (_to keen motorist_). "My sister has bought
a beautiful motor-car." _Keen Motorist._ "Really! What kind?" _Smart
Girl._ "Oh, a lovely sage green, to go with her frocks."
* * * * *
Illustration: _Mrs. Binks_ (_who has lost control of her machine_).
"Oh, oh, Harry! Please get into a bank soon. I must have something soft
to fall on!"
* * * * *
Illustration: _Miss Heavytopp._ "I'm afraid I'm giving you a lot of
bother, but then, it's only my _first_ lesson!"
_Exhausted Instructor_ (_sotto voce_). "I only hope it won't be my
_last_!"
* * * * *