trees,* five miles away, that Burfield 

 guided me, and it was on this ride that 

 the wily wheel, stripped of all its glam- 

 our of shady roads, tete-a-tetes, down 

 grades, and asphalts, appeared as its 

 true, heavy, small seated, stubborn self. 

 I can undertake to cure any bicycle 

 enthusiast. The receipt is simple and 

 here given away. First, take two 

 months of Rocky Mountains with a 

 living sentient creature to pull you up 

 and down their rock-ribbed sides, to 

 help out with his sagacity when your 

 own fails, and to carry you at a long 

 easy lope over the grassy uplands some 

 eight or ten thousand feet above the 

 sea in that glorious bracing air. Sec- 

 ondly, descend rapidly to the Montana 

 plains hot, oppressive, enervating or 

 to the Raven Agency, if you will, and 

 attempt to ride a wheel up the only hill 



