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, téte-a-tétes, 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 
\\ 
My 
iogsemoztas 
