But the dissension a quarter will cause!  A battle royal was once produced by a dollar.  They had all assisted, but, like the workers in the vineyard, some had come early and some late.  The automobile, in trying to turn on a narrow road, had dropped off the side into low wet ground; the early comers could not quite get it back, but with the aid of the later it was done; the division of a dollar left behind raised the old, old problem.  Unhappily, it fell into the hands of a late comer for distribution, and it was his contention that the final lift did the work, that all previous effort was so much wasted energy; the early comers contended that the reward should be in proportion to expenditure of time and muscle and not measured by actual achievement,—­a discussion not without force on both sides, but cut short by a scrimmage involving far more force than the discussion.  All of which goes to show the disturbing influence of money, for in all truth those who had assisted did not expect any reward; they first laughed to see the machine in the ditch, and then turned to like tigers to get it out.

This whole question of paying for services in connection with automobiling is as interesting as it is new.  The people are not adjusted to the strange vehicle.  A man with a white elephant could probably travel from New York to San Francisco without disbursing a penny for the keeping of his animal.  Farmers and even liverymen would keep and feed it on the way without charge.  It is a good deal so with an automobile; it is still sufficiently a curiosity to command respect and attention.  The farmer is glad to have it stop in front of his door or put up in his shed; he will supply it with oil and water.  The blacksmith would rather have it stop at his shop for repair than at his rival’s,—­it gives him a little notoriety, something to talk about.  So it is with the liveryman at night; he is, as a rule, only too glad to have the novelty under his roof, and takes pride in showing it to the visiting townsfolk.  They do not know what to charge, and therefore charge nothing.  It is often with difficulty anything can be forced upon them; they are quite averse to accepting gratuities; meanwhile, the farmer, whose horse and cart have taken up far less room and caused far less trouble, pays the fixed charge.

These conditions prevail only in localities where automobiles are seen infrequently.  Along the highways where they travel frequently all is quite changed; many a stable will not house them at any price, and those that will, charge goodly sums for the service.

It is one thing to own an automobile, another thing to operate it.  It is one thing to sit imposingly at the steering-wheel until something goes wrong, and quite another thing to repair and go on.

There are chauffeurs and chauffeurs,—­the latter wear the paraphernalia and are photographed, while the former are working under the machines.  You can tell the difference by the goggles.  The sham chauffeur sits in front and turns the wheel, the real sits behind and takes things as they come; the former wears the goggles, the latter finds sufficient protection in the smut on the end of his nose.