Friday, March 14.—Yesterday evening, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury, we left Johannesburg for Pretoria, capital of the Transvaal and of the South-African United States. The distance is thirty-eight miles, and the road good. Flying Bristow made the trip in an hour and three minutes. Thirty-eight miles an hour in an automobile does not sound very fast, but ride it over country roads in South Africa, and you will agree that it is a terrific pace. I never before traveled at such a speed in an automobile. There are many hills on the way to Pretoria, and Flying Bristow crept up these, as the Atterbury machine is not a good hill-climber. It is a Talbott, made in England, and during the past two years has traveled 40,000 miles in attending to the affairs of the African Realty Trust, of which Mr. Atterbury is general manager. On a level, and down the hills, I have no doubt we traveled fifty miles an hour yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Atterbury rode in front, but had no more influence with Bristow than has her husband. When we stepped out of the machine at Pretoria, I remarked to Mr. and Mrs. Atterbury that we had just had a very speedy ride, whereupon Flying Bristow smilingly said that Mr. Schlessinger, his other employer, would consider our pace a slow one. So Mr. Schlessinger seems to be responsible for Flying Bristow. And if Mr. Schlessinger doesn't look out, he won't live to see his five institutions take a high place in South-African finance, for Bristow undoubtedly drives too fast. He has never had an accident, but one is coming to him, and I sincerely hope that when it arrives, neither Mr. Atterbury nor Mr. Schlessinger will be in the machine. . . . Mr. and Mrs.
