Mr. Punch Awheel Part 8

Ill.u.s.tration: _Village Constable_ (_to villager who has been knocked down by pa.s.sing motor cyclist_). "You didn't see the number, but could you swear to the man?"

_Villager._ "I did; but I don't think 'e 'eard me."

Ill.u.s.tration: THE JOYS OF MOTORING.--No, this is not a dreadful accident. He is simply tightening a nut or something, and she is hoping he won't be much longer.

SUGGESTED ADDITIONAL TAXATION

__ _s._ _d._

For every Motor Car 4 4 0 If with smell 5 5 0 Extra offensive ditto 6 6 0

Motor Car proceeding at over ten miles an hour, for each additional mile 1 1 0

For every Bicycle used for "scorching" 0 10 0

THE ORIGINAL CLa.s.sICAL BICYCLIST.--"Ixion; or, the Man on the Wheel."

MY STEAM MOTOR-CAR

(1) Monday.--I buy a beautiful steam motor-car. Am photographed. (2) Tuesday.--I take it out. Pull the wrong lever, and back into a shop window. A bad start. (3) Wednesday morning.--A few things I ran over.

(4) Wednesday afternoon.--Took too sharp a turn. Narrowly escaped knocking down policeman at the corner. Ran over both his feet. (5) Thursday morning.--Got stuck in a ditch four miles from home. (6) Thursday evening.--Arrive home. Back the car into the shed. Miss the door and knock the shed down. (7) Friday.--Ran over my neighbour's dog.

(8) Sat.u.r.day.--Silly car breaks down three miles from home. Hire a horse to tow it back. (9) Sunday.--Filling up. Petrol tank caught fire.

Wretched thing burnt. Thank goodness!

Ill.u.s.tration: MY STEAM MOTOR-CAR

MODERN ROMANCE OF THE ROAD

["It is said that the perpetrators of a recent burglary got clear away with their booty by the help of an automobile. At this rate we may expect to be attacked, ere long, by automobilist highwaymen."--_Paris Correspondent of Daily Paper._]

It was midnight. The wind howled drearily over the lonely heath; the moon shone fitfully through the driving clouds. By its gleam an observer might have noted a solitary automobile painfully jolting along the rough road that lay across the common. Its speed, as carefully noted by an intelligent constable half-an-hour earlier, was 41.275 miles an hour. To the ordinary observer it would appear somewhat less. Two figures might have been descried on the machine; the one the gallant Hubert de Fitztompkyns, the other Lady Clarabella, his young and lovely bride.

Clarabella shivered, and drew her sables more closely around her.

"I am frightened," she murmured. "It is so dark and cold, Hubert, and this is a well-known place for highwaymen! Suppose we should be attacked?"

"Pooh!" replied her husband, deftly manipulating the oil-can. "Who should attack us when 'tis common talk that you p.a.w.ned your diamonds a month ago? Besides, we have a swivel-mounted Maxim on our machine. Ill would it fare with the rogue who--Heavens! what was that?"

From the far distance sounded a weird, unearthly noise, growing clearer and louder even as Hubert and his wife listened. It was the whistle of another automobile!

In a moment Hubert had turned on the acetylene search-light, and gazed with straining eyes down the road behind him. Then he turned to his wife. "'Tis Cutthroat giving us chase," he said simply. "Pa.s.s the cordite cartridges, please."

Lady Clarabella grew deathly pale. "I don't know where they are!" she gasped. "I think--I think I must have left them on my dressing-table."

"Then we are lost. Cutthroat is mounted on his bony Black Jet, which covers a mile a minute--and he is the most blood-thirsty ruffian on the road. Shut off steam, Clarabella! We can but yield."

"Never!" cried his wife. "Here, give me the lever; we are nearly at the top of this tremendously steep hill--we will foil him yet!"

Hubert was too much astonished to speak. By terrific efforts the gallant automobile arrived at the summit, when Clarabella applied the brake.

Then she gazed down the narrow road behind her. "Take the starting-lever, Hubert," she said, "and do as I tell you."

Ever louder sounded the clatter of their pursuer's machine; at last its head-light showed in the distance, as with greatly diminished speed it began to climb the hill.

"Now!" shrieked Clarabella. "Full speed astern, Hubert! Let her go!"

The automobile went backwards down the hill like a flash of lightning.

Cutthroat had barely time to realise what was happening before it was upon him. Too late he tried to steer Black Jet out of the way. There was a yell, a sound of crashing steel, a cloud of steam. When it cleared away, it revealed Hubert and Clarabella still seated on their machine, which was only slightly damaged, while Cutthroat and Black Jet were knocked into countless atoms!

Ill.u.s.tration: GREAT SELF-RESTRAINT.--_Lady in pony-cart_ (_who has made several unsuccessful attempts to pa.s.s persevering beginner occupying the whole road_). "Unless you soon fall off, I'm afraid I shall miss my train!"

Ill.u.s.tration: "These trailers are splendid things! You must really get one and take me out, Percy!"

Ill.u.s.tration: THE RIVAL FORCES.

(Scene--_Lonely Yorkshire moor. Miles from anywhere._)

_Pa.s.sing Horse-dealer_ (_who has been asked for a tow by owners of broken-down motor-car_). "Is it easy to pull?"

_Motorist._ "Oh yes. Very light indeed!"

_Horse-dealer._ "Then supposin' you pull it yourselves!"

[_Drives off._

Ill.u.s.tration:

_The Owner_ (_after five breakdowns and a spill_). "Are y-you k-keen on r-riding home?"

_His Friend._ "N-not very."