effect of the traffic upon the surface noted. The result is certain, and would much surprise those who condemn motor-traffic as being destructive to roads. After a few months the arrangement should be reversed, and it would then be seen how the horsetraffic had so injured the road that the motor-traffic would complete the destruction, while the horse-traffic being turned on to the side of the loop that had been used for motor-traffic would soon pick into it with the hoofs, and crush into it with the narrow iron wheels. It is sincerely to be hoped that such an experiment may be tried. The result is not doubtful, and would tend to inform the public mind and prepare the way for effective road im. provement. It would also convince all whom it may concern that as the motor supersedes the horse more and more, so will the expense of upkeep of roads diminish. The comforts of a road without dusty holes in dry weather and muddy puddles in wet weather will make the road more and more a place of pleasure where often it is a place of annoyance and discomfort.

It will not be cause for surprise if many a reader should smile at such words as the above which speak of the motor "superseding the horse more and more." There are probably few in the community to whom such an idea will not seem absurd. People are slow to realize what is passing before their eyes day by day. There are even many who still think that the use of the power-vehicle is a thing of pastime only a passing craze like ping-pong or diabolo, and will soon come to an end. A gentleman of intelligence and much human experience was heard only a few months ago to say with a serious face-as if stating what must be accepted implicitly-that "in another ten years there would not be half the number of motor-cars on the road

that there are now;" and in so speaking he must have voiced the belief of many thousands who either have no observation of what is passing around them, or who, seeing, do not see, because their understanding is darkened.

Not only such people, but also the great mass of the community, will be astonished at the facts now to be stated, and for the accuracy of which the writer can vouch. First, it has long been true that everywhere throughout the land, whether in town or country, the number of private power-vehicles upon the road is largely in excess of the number of private horse-vehicles, and this in an increasing proportion month by month and year by year. It is equally true that in London the motor-cab is crushing the hansom-cab out of existence. A hansom-cab can be bought to-day for twenty shillings(!) and Lord Rosebery has been moved to promote a fund for relieving the distress and providing for the training of those hansom-cabmen who are not too old to learn how to drive the horseless vehicle. That fund was not started a moment too soon, as the latest statistics presently to be given will show.

In the former article the last words were as quoted above: "The question of power locomotion is already finally settled." But, as has been said already, there are some people-indeed, not a few-to whom this has not yet come home, and to whom it will only come home, to use Mrs. Browning's words, "by reiteration chiefly." But fortunately in this case the reiteration of the statement can be made telling by the increased power of the facts, and some of these facts shall now be brought to notice.

The writer remembers well how, before 1900, being much interested in mechanical traction he used to be elated when he could count six motorvehicles in one day in London, and an

occasional figure of five or four only was disappointing. Two or three years later he began to note the motor-carriages and the horse-carriages, and was much pleased when the former reached a figure equal to or over one-third of the latter. The following year it took one-half to content him. In two or three years more an equality sometimes gave delight. Then came majorities gradually increasing until there was not contentment with less than double, and three to one gave elation. Now three to one is, in its turn, merely what is to be expected, and four to one not uncommon. The following are the results of some comparative tests made in April of the present year on the Thames Embankment for an hour at a time:

Thus there were 2031 motor-vehicles passing along the Embankment, as against 471 horsed-vehicles, or considerably more than four to one. The percentages of the two classes are remarkable. It adds to the significance of these figures when the fact is noted that they were taken at the go-to-business hour-9.30 A.M. to 10.30 A.M.and therefore they indicate how mistaken is the idea still so firmly fixed in the minds of many that the autocar is nothing but a luxury-vehicle of the idle pleasure-seeker. Practically the whole of these vehicles were conveying business men to the great centre of business of the land-the City of London.

It was thought that something instructive might be learned by testing the traffic at such a place as the junction of the bottom of the Haymarket.

And this was done between twelve and one o'clock on the 19th of April. The test first made was confined to passenger-conveying carriages-private carriages, omnibuses, and cabs. The result was: motor passenger-vehicles, 763; horse passenger-vehicles, 260. Another test was made at the same place, in which all motor-vehicles, whether carrying passengers or not, were counted as against all similar horsed-vehicles moving at more than a walking pace. The numbers were: motor-vehicles, 887; horse-trotting vehicles, 639. These results were so striking that a still further test was made, the motor-vehicles being pitted against all horsed-vehicles, including carts and lorries moving at a walking pace. The result of the first test for an hour was: all motors, 894; all horsed-vehicles, 865. It was matter of great surprise, when the figures were made up, to find that even on such an absolute test of motor against horse there was a majority for the mechanical vehicle. It seemed astonishing that to-day, nine years from the time when the start of about seventy motorvehicles for the thousand miles' trial was an exciting event, gathering crowds at eight o'clock in the morning, the public should be looking on at the London traffic without surprise, when already the number of power-vehicles has become practically equal to the whole animal-traffic at the busy hours of the day. It was, therefore, thought well to make some further and more extended tests. Accordingly, on three separate occasions the numbers were tested over long distances and at all hours of the business day, the routes including the whole length of the Thames Embankment from Charing Cross to Blackfriars Bridge and by Haymarket and Piccadilly to the top of Sloane Street. The figures when they were added up brought out conclusively that the first test had been

Thus, putting the whole together, nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-one were seen, and so near were the numbers each time that on the first occasion the motors were in a majority of eleven, on the second occasion the horsed-vehicles were in a majority of one, and on the third occasion the motors were in a majority of five; the majority of the motors on the three occasions taken together being fifteen on a total number of nearly ten thousand! These facts are the more remarkable, seeing that the number of commercial motor-vehicles is still inconsiderable, being on the three occasions only fifty-seven in all, and for that reason the motor-vehicles could only be in a majority by the passenger motor-vehicles being so largely in excess that they practically equalled the horsed-vehicles of all classes.

It may be said with assurance that if any one had expressed himself on the morning of the start of the one thousand miles' trial to the effect that in nine years the motor-vehicle would in London be a practical rival to the horsed-vehicle, by the number of the motor-vehicles being brought to equal those drawn by animal power, he would have been laughed at as a harebrained enthusiast. It may be doubt

ful if even the most sanguine of those who rode out on that long journey harbored any such idea in his mind. But surely such facts as these must bring it home to the most obstinate opponent that mere obstructive tactics are not only useless but foolish, and that he must make up his mind to accept the inevitable and had better accept it with a good grace. One thing is quite certain, that motor traffic is now looked upon by the general public as a thing of course. No one can stand for a few moments at a busy corner in any great city without having the demonstration before his eyes that the traffic is-in itself and as generally conducted-not a cause of alarm to the foot-passenger, and no more dangerous than any other traffic; while, on the other hand, the more the power-vehicle displaces the horsed-vehicle the fewer will be the delays and blocks of traffic at busy hours. Let any corner-superintending constable be interrogated on the subject, and he will say unhesitatingly that when cross-traffic has been stopped to clear what was being detained in the crossroad, the way is cleared on resumption in half the time that used to be the case when only horsed-vehicles occupied the streets.

As it has thus become certain that the power-vehicle will in a year or two attain an absolutely predominant position, it becomes all the more clear that whatever is necessary to be done to make the road suitable for that traffic must be done, and must be done at once. It is, therefore, the more satisfactory to know that this matter is being taken up vigorously by the road authorities throughout the country. The necessity for a central authority to control the management of the main roads of the country is now practically recognized, and it is satisfactory to know that the road-money to be provided by the new taxes on motors and

petrol will not be frittered away parochially, but will be applied imperially for the general good under the highest skilled advice.

We may, therefore, look forward to efficient roads carrying an efficient passenger and goods traffic in the near future, and that such a development will conduce much to the national welfare there can be no doubt. Good roads and speedy conveyance are aids to national wealth that are not to be despised. The advent of the power-vehicle will force on the construction and maintenance of the one and will sup

Chambers's Journal.

ply the other. Those who have been votaries of the new traction from the first have had to bear much obloquy during past years, partly undeserved, partly deserved because of the misconduct of some. They can forget all that in realizing that already mechanical traction is becoming a normal and regular phase of road use, and they feel that they are not too sanguine in believing that its advantages for the good of the community are being gradually appreciated, so that it is becoming the dominant factor once and for all of road transit.

This story is as pretty as it is sad, and as sad as it is happy, and by the time you have mastered that paradoxical saying you will be quite ready to hear all about the Green Door.

I cannot tell you all about it-the history is too long and too intimate, and not even the Green Door itself could be brought to divulge all the secrets and the passionate vows to love for ever which have been whispered within its shadow.

Nevertheless the part about the Rector of West Mendip and Mary Wethered is what I say-pretty and sad and happy.

You shall judge for yourselves.

It began long before the Rector was made rector of anywhere, before even he was ordained, and Mary Wethered in those days had no streaks of gray in her curly hair. Neither was she, perhaps, as beautiful, although her face was unlined and smooth, and her eyes shone only with the radiance of youth and not the steady flame of a tried and matured soul.

Nevertheless, the story began with inexperience and youth-lovers' meeting and parting-and that brings us

to Mary's gray hairs and the thin, ascetic figure of the Rector.

The intervening years are not so long to look back upon as they took to

pass.

"Is it a green or a black door?"

Amy the dwarf looked up with a slow smile at the questioner's ignor

ance.

""Tis a green door!" she said with a grin; "tis allays called the green door."

"It looks black," said Mary Wethered. ""Tid'n, then; 'tis green! "Tis a'most like moss when the zun shines on 'en."

"I've never seen the sun shine on it," said Mary Wethered.

"Huh! you haven't been here long enough. There's days," Amy swept her arm in a comprehensive circle, "when the zun do start froliczome like up there beyond the church, and come round with the wind and strike full against the green door. Us do get some o' they days in January to times, but they're most certain to begin after the day o' Valentine; not o' nights tho'." Amy rocked herself to and fro in grotesque, inaudible mirth.

"Why?" said Mary curiously. "That 'ud be tellin'," said Amy mysteriously.

"Yes?" said Mary.

Nonplussed, Amy looked up at her sideways. ""Tis at the green door," she said, "that they do all meet!"

"Who are 'they'?"

"Why, all the courting couples," said Amy. "You can see them in the daytime often enough, but then they're single: 'tis a maid at that end," her finger pointed past the quadrangle enclosing the village on up the slope of highroad leading to the blacksmith's shop, "and a man down here," she nodded her head at the door; "but when the zun do. cease shinin' on the green door," she smiled a little wistful smile of pleasure, "and the night do fall down peaceful, they meet close to it fast enough, and then they do wander off down one 0' the lanes."

"I see," said Mary reflectively.

She looked up at the doorway, in front of which they sat on the pile of stones marking the cross roads.

"But what is the door really there for? Where does it lead?"

"Up to the Rect'ry," said Amy indifferently. ""Tis the Rector's private entrance. I ha'in't never been through ut, but Mary Simonds what lived to the Rector as parlor-maid told me there was another door and a long stately avenue of trees up above a little path; so I thought I'd look and "Tisn't much of it," she said dis

see.

contentedly.

"How did you manage to see?" said Mary with amusement. Into her mind there sprang with the question the memory of the gaunt and grim gray stone house standing like a barracks on a little eminence among the pinetrees, which was visible from the opposite side.

No view there of a noble avenue of trees, and she looked upward at the

high stone wall-no opportunity here either of seeing.

"How did you manage to see?" she repeated.

"I scrambled to the top of the wall; round there by the school-house ut do sort of hang over, and you can come out on the top-you couldn't, of course," eyeing the town lady's attenuated form with scorn, "but I did."

"And what did you see?" said Mary. "A thin windey path, some gurt beech-trees and primroses, and another little green door, and something else too," and her voice dropped to the mysterious.

In her week's stay in West Mendip Mary had learned the way to manage the girl with whom she talked: now she said nothing, just stayed with inquiring, candid eyes on her face.

"I stayed up there until evenin'," said Amy, "when I saw the Rector come down; he walks exactly," she rose lumberingly from her seat and marched along the bit of road, holding up an imaginary cassock from before nervous, hurried feet, and mincing from side to side in an exaggeration of a walk Mary had once known,-"exactly," she went on, “like Mary Ann Bridport when she goes round with the tracts. He didn't know I seed un," she added daringly.

"I should think not," Mary said severely.

She, too, rose from her pile of stones and turned to walk down the village street. Interest had suddenly gone from the conversation for her, a little pin-prick of memory-the unconscious reminiscence, she told herself, of what had once been engraved so indelibly on her heart-had whitened her cheek and darkened her eyes. When she reached the cottage where she lodged, her landlady met her with a concerned face.

"Amy, what have you bin doin' with Miss Wethered? Her do look com