Mr. Punch Awheel Part 6

Thought it was so easy. Cling for dear life to handle, as beginners in horsemans.h.i.+p cling to the reins. Instructor says I must not. Evidently cannot hold on by my knees. Ask him what I am to hold on by. "Nothing,"

he says. How awful! Feel suspended in the air. That is what I ought to be. At present am more on ground; anyway one foot down. Even when in movement position of feet uncertain. Go a few yards, supported. Muscular instructor rather hot and tired, but says civilly, "You're getting on nicely, sir." At this get off unexpectedly, and, when I am picked up, reply, "Very likely," only my feet were off the pedals all the time.

Then rest, and watch little children riding easily. One pretty girl.

Wonder whether she laughed at me. Probably. Shall have another try.

_Second Lesson._--Held on by another instructor, who urges me "to put more life into it." Hope it won't be the death of me. Work in a manner which even the treadmill, I imagine, could not necessitate, and get the wheel round a few times. Painful wobbling. Instructor says I must pedal more quickly. Can't. Rest a minute. Panting. Awfully hot. Observe little children going round comfortably. Pretty girl here again, looking as fresh and cool as possible. Suddenly manage to ride three yards unsupported. Then collapse. But am progressing. Shall come again soon.

_Third Lesson._--Endeavour to get on alone. Immediately get off on other side. Nearly upset the pretty girl. Polite self-effacement impossible when one is at the mercy of a mere machine. After a time manage better.

And at last get started and ride alone for short distances. Always tumble off ignominiously just as I meet the pretty girl. Instructor urges me to break the record. Hope I shan't break my neck. Finally go all round the ground. Triumph! Pretty girl seems less inclined to laugh.

Delightful exercise, bicycle riding! Shall come again to-morrow.

_Fourth Lesson._--High north-east wind. Hot sun. Regular May weather.

Clouds of coal-dust from track. Pretty girl not there at all. Start confidently. Endeavour to knock down a wall. Wall does not suffer much.

Start again. Faster this time. The pretty girl has just come. Will show what I can do now. Career over large hole. Bicycle sinks, and then takes a mighty leap. Unprepared for this. Am cast into the air. Picked up.

Can't stand. Something broken. Doctor will say what. Anyhow, clothes torn, bruised, disheartened. Dare not catch the eye of pretty girl.

Carried home. Shall give up bicycle riding. Awful f.a.g, and no fun.

In its "Hints for Bicyclists," _Home Chat_ says: "A little fuller's earth dusted inside the stockings, socks and gloves, keeps the feet cool." Nothing, however, is said of the use of rubber soles as a protection against sunstroke.

OVERHEARD AT A MOTOR MEETING.--

_Inquirer._ "I wonder what they call those large, long cars?"

_Well-informed Friend._ "Those? Oh, I believe those are the Flying Kilometres, a French make."

People who are in favour of increasing the rates--Motorists.

Ill.u.s.tration: THE PERILS OF CYCLING.--(_A sketch in Battersea Park._)

_Angelina._ "Come along, dear!"

Ill.u.s.tration: MOTORING PHENOMENA--AND HOW TO READ THE SIGNS

Ill.u.s.tration: _The Squire._ "But I tell you, sir, this road is private, and you shall not pa.s.s except over my prostrate body!"

_Cyclist._ "All right, guv'nor, I'll go back. I've done enough hill climbing already!"

THE MORAL BIKE

_Truth_ has discovered that temperance is promoted, and character generally reformed, by the agency of the bicycle--in fact, the guilty cla.s.s has taken to cycling.

That is so. Go into any police-court, and you will find culprits in the dock who have not only taken to cycling but have also taken other people's cycles.

Ask any burglar among your acquaintance, and he will tell you that the term Safety Bicycle has a deeper and truer meaning for him, when, in pursuit of his vocation, he is anxious not to come in collision with the police.

Look, too, at the Scorcher on his Sat.u.r.day afternoon exodus. Where could you have a more salient and striking example of pushfulness and determination to "get there" over all obstacles? He is, in fact, an example of Nietzsche's "Ueber-mensch," the Over-man who rides over any elderly pedestrian or negligible infant that may cross his path.

Then the Lady in Bloomers. She is a great reforming agent. She looks so unsightly, that if all her sisters were dressed like her flirtation would die out of the land and there would be no more cakes and ale.

Think also of all the virtues called into active exercise by one simple puncture: Patience, while you spend an hour by the wayside five miles from anywhere; Self-control, when "swears, idle swears, you know not what they mean, swears from the depth of some divine despair rise in the heart and gather to the lips," as Tennyson has so sympathetically put it; Fort.i.tude, when you have to shoulder or push the Moral Agent home; and a lot of other copy-book qualities.

Lastly, the adventurer who proceeds without a light within curfew hours, the sportsman who steals a march on the side-walk, and the novice who tries a fall with the first omnibus encountered--are all bright instances of British independence, and witnesses to _Truth_.

Truly, the bike is an excellent subst.i.tute for the treadmill and the reformatory!

Ill.u.s.tration: "AS OTHERS SEE US."--

_Obliging Motorist._ "Shall I stop the engine?"

_Groom._ "Never mind that, sir. But if you gents wouldn't mind just gettin' out and 'idin' behind the car for a minute,--the 'orses think it's a menagery comin'."

Ill.u.s.tration: THE MILTONIC CYCLIST

WAKE UP, ENGLAND!

["British lady motor-drivers," says _Motoring Ill.u.s.trated_, "must look to their laurels. Miss Rosamund Dixey, of Boston, U.S.A., invariably has her sweet, pet, fat, white pig sitting up beside her in the front of her motor car."]

We are losing our great reputation Our women are not up-to-date; For a younger, more go-a-head nation Has beaten us badly of late; Is there nowhere some fair Englishwoman Who'd think it not too _infra dig._ To be seen with (and treat it as human) A sweet--pet--fat--white--pig?

There is no need to copy our Cousins, A visit or two to the Zoo Will convince you there must be some dozens Of animal pets that would do, With a "grizzly" perched up in your motor, Just think how the people would stare, Saying, "Is that a man in a coat or A big--grey--tame--he--bear?"

Think how _chic_ it would look in the paper (_Society's Doings_, we'll say), "Mrs. So-and-so drove with her tapir, And daughter (the tapir's) to-day.

Mrs. Thingummy too and her sister Drove out for an hour and a half, And beside them (the image of Mr.) A dear--wee--pink--pet--calf!"

Ill.u.s.tration:

"Did you get his number?"