And, too, like true Shandyism "it opens the heart and the lungs."
Whoso hath ears, let him hear! Once and for all, if the mad world did
but know it, the best, the most exquisite automobile is a
walking-stick; and one of the finest things in life is going a journey
with it.

No one, though (this is the first article to be observed), should ever
go a journey with any other than him with whom one walks arm in arm, in
the evening, the twilight, and, talking (let us suppose) of men's given
names, agrees that if either should have a son he shall be named after
the other. Walking in the gathering dusk, two and two, since the world
began, there have always been young men who have time to one another
plighted their troth. If one is not still one of these, then, in the
sense here used, journeys are over for him. What is left to him of
life he may enjoy, but not journeys. Mention should be made in passing
that some have been found so ignorant of the nature of journeys as to
suppose that they might be taken in company with members, or a member,
of the other sex. Now, one who writes of journeys would cheerfully be
burned at the stake before he would knowingly underestimate women. But
it must be confessed that it is another season in the life of man that
they fill.

They are too personal for the high enjoyment of going a journey. They
must be forever thinking about you or about themselves; with them
everything in the world is somehow tangled up in these matters; and
when you are with them (you cannot help it, or if you could they would
not allow it), you must be forever thinking about them or yourself.
Nothing on either side can be seen detached. They cannot rise to that
philosophic plane of mind which is the very marrow of going a journey.
One reason for this is that they can never escape from the idea of