WINGED WHEELS
IN FRANCE
BY
MICHAEL MYERS SHOEMAKER
Author of "Islands of Southern Seas," "The Great Siberian
Railway," "The Heart of the Orient," "Prisons
and Palaces of Mary, Queen
of Scots," Etc.
ILLUSTRATED
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1906
Copyrighted 1906 by
Michael Myers Shoemaker
TO
My Dear Friend
Mrs.W. P. HULBERT
of Cincinnati
PREFACE
This is not a love story. These wings arewings of motion, not of Cupid, yet there ismuch of romance and story in these pages,—forwho can travel the plaisant pays de France andnot dip deeply into both?
When I entered my red machine at Nice noroute had been laid out,—to me there is smallpleasure in travel when that is done,—so I toldJean to start and left the direction to him. BeingFrench he naturally turned towards his owncountry, and knowing whither the superb highwaysand enchanting byways could lead one, Itacitly agreed, and we glided away by the levelsea and on into the olive-crowned hill of Provence,to where Aix—the home of politeness—dreamsthe years away and the air seems still to echo toKing René's music. Arles, Narbonne, fantasticCarcassonne, Lourdes, and Pau followed in rapidsuccession, and then we rested awhile at Biarritzwith short journeys into Spain. Turning northwardwe rolled off into Central France, pausingdaily in some ancient city or quaint village,climbing mountains to long forgotten castles, orrolling into valleys in search of deserted abbeys.
So we wandered through Auvergne, throughcourtly Touraine, sad Anjou, and stormy Brittany,until Normandy and Picardy smiled into ourfaces and Paris received us within her gates.Exploring the surroundings of that great city asone can do only in an auto, we finally glided offthrough the forest of Fontainebleau and Côte-d'Orto the mountains of the Vosges and thenceover the Schlucht to the Rhine Valley toFreiburg, and up to Baden-Baden. There thespirits of the woods seized upon us and we promptlygot lost in the Black Forest, and so rolled oninto Switzerland to Geneva and finally to Aix-les-Bains,where the journey ended and I badegoodbye to my staunch car which had carriedme without mishap or delay for near five thousandmiles. To its winged wheels the highest mountainsof France were no barrier.
If all this pleases you, read these pages—if not,drop the book.
M. S. M.
Union Club, N. Y.
June, 1906.