What hurts the motorist's feelings most of all, however, is to be
regarded by the public as a sort of licensed assassin. Yet almost any
one can think of people who drive a car and take no pleasure in spilling
blood. The common belief that automobile killing is a favourite sport
among our best families seems to be based on the fact that in nine cases
out of ten the occupants of a man-slaying automobile bear such
well-known Knickerbocker names as Mr. William Moriarty, chauffeur; his
friend, Mr. James Dugan, who is prominent in coal-heaving circles; and
their friends, the Misses Mayme Schultz and Bessie Goldstein. At bottom,
it would seem, most of the criticism directed against the automobile is
based on its failure to take a hog and turn him into a gentleman. But in
this respect automobiles are like many of our colleges. The comforting
thing is that the life of the automobile hog is an uncertain one. Sooner
or later he runs down a steep place into the sea, like certain of his
species mentioned in the Bible, and the question adjusts itself.
Meanwhile, however, the decent motorist must suffer for the other's
sins.
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