It moved off at once at a speed of about seven miles per hour, and was driven about one and one-half miles farther into the country. It was then turned about, and ran all the way into the city without making a single stop. I was convinced upon this return trip that there was a future for the “horseless carriage,” although I did not at that time expect it to be so brilliant and imposing. [Illustration: _Courtesy of Haynes Auto Co._ AMERICA’S FIRST CAR, BUILT BY ELWOOD HAYNES] The Story in a Sausage[20] Away back in the dark ages, even before the Christian era, a Chinese husbandman, so we are told, made a wonderful discovery--that pork was good to eat. No one had ever considered the possibility of eating pork, for in those days pigs were pets, and just as every family today has its dog “Rover,” so then, every family had its pig “Scraps.” One day the house of Char-Lee was burned to the ground. The cause of the fire is unknown. Char-Lee was filled with remorse and, as he walked about among the ruins of his home, he felt that the gods of Good Luck had indeed turned their backs on him. As he was thus bewailing his misfortunes, he stumbled over a charred timber and fell flat on the ground. In lifting himself to his feet, he burned the fingers of his right hand, and, as does a child, he immediately proceeded to suck those fingers. Imagine his amazement to find clinging to his fingers a substance most luscious to the taste, and most gratifying to the palate! He looked to see what it could be, and--behold, he saw that it was the remains of “Scraps,” who had been lost in the burning house and roasted as perhaps never has a pig been roasted since. Eager to further enjoy this new delicacy, Char-Lee proceeded to feast himself, and it was then he found that pork not only pleases and gratifies--but satisfies. Desiring to share his new delights with his friends and neighbors, he called them together and they had a wonderful feast. From that day to this we have eaten roasted pork. It was many, many years later that a Roman farmer, living on a beautiful little farm at the mouth of the Tiber, formed the habit of putting fresh pork in a covered pan and burying the whole deep in the cool sands by the water’s edge. But one day he put the pan too near the edge and at high tide the salt water from the ocean came up, filled the pan, and so smoothed the surface of the sands that he was unable to find the place where he had buried the container. After several fortnights he accidentally found his meat again. He examined it carefully and was surprised to find that it had seemingly kept in perfect condition, the only trouble being that the water had gotten into his pan and his meat was all wet. So he carried it to his house, and, putting a long skewer through the piece, he hung it high above the fire in his open hearth, to dry it off before he should wish to roast it.