further trouble from this source.

It was half-past five before we left Syracuse for Oneida. The road
is good, and the run of twenty-seven miles was made in little over
two hours, arriving at the small, old-fashioned tavern in Oneida
at exactly seven forty-five.

A number of old-timers dropped into the hotel office that evening
to see what was going on and hear about the strange machine. Great
stories were exchanged on all sides; the glories of Oneida quite
eclipsed the lesser claims of the automobile to fame and
notoriety, for it seemed that some of the best known men of New
York and Chicago were born in the village or the immediate
vicinity; the land-marks remain, traditions are intact, the men
departed to seek their fortunes elsewhere, but their successes are
the town's fame.

The genial proprietor of the hotel carried his seventy-odd years
and two hundred and sixty pounds quite handily in his
shirt-sleeves, moving with commendable celerity from office to
bar-room, supplying us in the front room with information and
those in the back with refreshment.

"So you never heard that those big men were born in this locality.
That's strange; tho't ev'rybody knew that. Why 'Neida has produced
more famous men than any town same size in 'Merika,--Russell Sage,
General New,--comin'" (to those in the bar-room); "say, you
fellers, can't you wait?" As he disappeared in the rear we heard
his rotund voice, "What'll you take? Was jest tellin' that chap
with the threshin'-machine a thing or two about this country. Rye?