Up, the, Seine Not one of the familiar rivers of
Europe is so agreeably neglected as the Seine, or for so little reason. If it were not for the well-known fact that every car-owner likes to dis- cover things for himself and, in his heart of hearts, takes no real interest in places he has only heard about, I would not dream of giving away the open secret of the Seine in this rash manner. As it is I feel sure, after a good many years' experience of road-travel and meeting others of my own kind, that the pleasant reaches of the Seine will not have their peace disturbed any more than they have been these twenty years or more by this superfluous tribute.
You must like simple things if you are to like the roads that run on either bank of the Seine, a broad and sunny stream; at certain times a very swift current, a kind of bore on which the local traffic travels upstream with impressive speed and not at all downstream; little towns and their quays busy with tiny affairs; ferries for which you ring if they are on the wrong side of the river; beechwoods—above all beechwoods.
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