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Show Real Auto Poem. Iwj Arthur niddle, the old-tlmo phlloso- pher, mndo a poem out of tho automo- bllo, ns follows: Ma "I llko tho smell of tho gas so woll, ' B and tho smell of the gasoline, nnd 1 g llko tho purr and electric' whirr of the 4 buzzmobllo machine What a Joy to m rldo o'er tho countrysldo with a gnle Jit tearing by your ears, as you 11 j ijj' through spaco at a wicked pace with j never a thought of fears. Clear oul 3 of mind Is tho to.wn behind, for noth- S Ing Is rent, Indeed, but your metcoi J red, nnd tho road ahead nnd tho dizzy j delight of speed till tho sudden shod 4 when a cruel rock destroys your dream $ with a Jerk. Tho car breaks down j and you walk to town, half a day late k to Work." Atlanta Constitution. 4 |