Mr. Punch Awheel - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Mr. Punch Awheel Part 4 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
_Second Y. G._ They say in Paris that no one should become an habitual cyclist without "medical authorisation."
_First Y. G._ Yes. Quite right. Then, when you are permitted, you ought to travel at a moderate pace. About five miles an hour is quite enough for a beginner.
_Second Y. G._ Enough! Why, too much! You can't be too careful! Then, if you break off for a time, you ought to begin all over again. You should "gradually acquire speed"; not rush at it!
_First Y. G._ Certainly. I read in the _Lancet_ only the other day that merely increasing the pace of a bike a couple of miles an hour was sufficient to send up the normal pulse to 150!
_Second Y. G._ Most alarming! And yet I can see from your costume you are a cyclist.
_First Y. G._ Not at all. I am pleased with the costume, and, like yourself, have adopted it. Now do not laugh at me. But, between ourselves, I have never been on a bicycle in my life!
_Second Y. G._ No more have I! [_Curtain._
Ill.u.s.tration: "ENOUGH IS AS GOOD AS A FEAST."--_Nervous Lady Cyclist._ "I hope it isn't very deep here."
_Ferryman._ "Sax hunderd an' fefty-nine feet, Miss."
The provincial journal which, the other day, published the following paragraph:--"Private letters from Madagascar state that two cyclists have visited the island, causing the loss of 200 lives and immense damage to property," and followed it up with a leader virulently attacking motor-cyclists, now informs us that the word should have been "cyclones." The printer has been warned.
"Anti-Motor" writes to point out that one advantage of holding motor races like those that have just taken place in Ireland is that after each race there are fewer motors.
THE TRAIL OF THE MOTOR.--"COLLECTOR.
Young man wants collecting."--_Advt. in Provincial Paper._
Ill.u.s.tration: _Old Farmer Jones_ (_who has been to a local cattle-show, and seen a horseless carriage for the first time_). "Mosher carsh may be all very well--(_hic!_)--but they can't find 'er way home by 'emshelves!"
SHOULD MOTORISTS WEAR MASKS?
["Plus de lunettes speciales pour MM. les chauffeurs. Ils devront conduire comme les cochers ordinaires a yeux nus ou avec les lunettes ordinaires de myopes ou de presbytes. Nos sportsmen declarent que ces lunettes de motoristes favorisent l'anonymat. Ces lunettes sont de veritables masques. On fait sous ce masque ce qu'on n'oserait pas faire a visage decouvert. En France il est defendu de se masquer en dehors du temps de carnaval ... si le masque tombe, la vitesse des motors deviendra fatalement normale."--_M. N. de Noduwez in the "Times."_]
MR. PUNCH has collected a few brief opinions upon the subject of the above-quoted letter.
MR. KIPLING writes: "Through dirt, sweat, burns, bursts, smells, b.u.mps, breakdowns, and explosions I have attained to the perfect joy of the scorcher. I have suffered much on the southern British highways. My Tibetan devil-mask shall therefore add to their terrors. Besides, I wore gig-lamps at school. What do they know of Suss.e.x who only Burwash know?"
MR. BEERBOHM TREE telephones: "The most beautiful of all arts is that of make-up. We cannot all resemble _Caliban_, but why should not the motorist aspire in that direction? Life is but a masque, and all roads lead to 'His Majesty's.'"
Miss MARIE CORELLI telegraphs: "I am all for anonymity and everything that tends to the avoidance of advertis.e.m.e.nt. If people must ride in motors, let them have the decency to disguise themselves as effectually as possible, and shun all contact with their kind."
Mr. JEM SMITH, cabdriver, in the course of an interview, said: "Masks?
Not 'arf! Let 'em out on the Fifth of November, and throw a match in their oil-tanks--that's what _I_'d do! _I_'d anonymous the lot of 'em!"
POLICEMAN XX. (in the _role_ of a labourer behind a hedge on the Brighton road): "'Oo are you a-gettin' at? Do you see any mote in my eye? If you want to know the time, I've a stop-watch!"
Ill.u.s.tration: DIVISION OF LABOUR.--It is not the business of ducal footmen to clean the family bicycles. The ladies Ermyntrude and Adelgitha have to do it themselves.
_Enthusiastic Motorist_ (_to Perfect Stranger_). _I_ swear by petrol, sir; always use it myself. Now what, may I ask, do _you_ use?
_Perfect Stranger._ Oats!
Ill.u.s.tration: JUGGERNAUTICAL.--_Unfortunate Cyclist_ (_who has been bowled over by motor-car_). "Did you see the number?"
_Jarge._ "Yes, there was three on 'em. Two men and a woman."
Ill.u.s.tration: EXPECTATION.--The Browns welcoming the Robinsons (awfully jolly people, don't you know,) from whom they have had a letter saying that they will arrive early in the day by motor.
Ill.u.s.tration: REALISATION.--The Browns, when the arrivals have removed their motor gla.s.ses, etc., disclosing not the Robinsons, but those awful bores, the Smiths.
THERE WAS A NEW WOMAN
(_Neo-Nursery Rhyme_)
There was a New Woman, as I've heard tell, And she rode a bike with a horrible bell, She rode a bike in a masculine way, And she had a spill on the Queen's highway.
While she lay stunned, up came Doctor Stout, And he cast a petticoat her "knickers" about, To hide the striped horrors which bagged at the knees.
When the New Woman woke, she felt strange and ill at ease; She began to wonder those skirts for to spy, And cried, "Oh, goodness gracious! I'm sure this isn't I!
But if it is I, as I hope it be, I know a little vulgar boy, and he knows me; And if it is I, he will jeer and rail, But if it isn't I, why, to notice me he'll fail."
So off scorched the New Woman, all in the dark, But as the little vulgar boy her knickers failed to mark, He was quite polite, and she began to cry, "Oh! Jimmy doesn't cheek me, so I'm sure this _isn't_ I!"
THE PACE THAT KILLS
Have a care how you speed!
Take the motorist's case:-- On his tomb you can read, "Requiescat in pace."