i58 



RECREA TION. 



the truth of the old saying: Clothes don't 

 make the man.' " 



" Ah, that reminds me," drawled the 

 tramp, and stepping to the spot where he 

 had left his coat and hat, he put them on. 



" Come with me," cried the Squire, " you 

 mustn't wear those things again." 



" On the contrary, I must," was the re- 

 ply. " You see, I'm trying to introduce 

 this style; and that's my object in traveling 

 around — a sort of advance agent of the 

 Prince of Wales you understand." 



At this moment Edward rode up looking 

 very tired. 



" Down from that wheel, Edward, and 

 turn it over to this man," cried the Squire. 

 Then to the tramp: " Here, my friend, is 

 the $100, and the wheel goes with it — you 

 have shown yourself worthy to ride it." 



The tramp thanked the Squire in his 

 drawling way; then, fishing in his pockets 

 and producing a cigarette, he lit it, doffed 

 his hat gracefully to the crowd, mounted 

 and pedalled slowly down the road. 



That evening at the village store, when 

 the usual crowd had gathered to talk over 

 the events of the day, the Squire appeared 

 with a $100 bill. " I've got $100," he said, 

 " to bet there isn't a man around here that 

 can beat that tramp. Any takers?" 



Touching the tandem, let's decide, 

 If they shall fall in love who ride — 

 Or if, as may be, this is all, 

 That they who ride in love, shall fall. 

 — Detroit Journal. 



USEFULNESS OF THE BICYCLE. 



Lack of suitable means of conveyance 

 has practically excluded many people from 

 the study of certain branches of science 

 and art. For instance, the study of micros- 

 copy. The student of the smaller things 

 in nature soon exhausts his immediate 

 field of investigation, but when the coun- 

 try, for miles around, is presented him by 

 use of the wheel, interest in the microscope 

 and bicycle are jointly augmented. The 

 discovery of new pools, each teeming with 

 a world of microscopic life, new plants and 

 insects, all add to the value of the wheel in 

 the estimation of the microscopist, and 

 whenever he goes out he is pretty sure to 

 carry his paraphernalia for gathering speci- 

 mens; so that he not only benefits by the 

 outing, but also secures the means of pass- 

 ing many profitable hours indoors. This 

 applies also to the geologist, mineralogist, 

 botanist, or any other student of nature. 



To the artist the bicycle is the missing 

 link between himself and nature. It carries 

 him outside of brick walls and burning 

 pavements, into open fields, among trees 

 and rocks and picturesque buildings where 

 he may sketch or study subjects in their 

 natural environment. 



The photographer finds in the wheel his 



natural ally. It carries him and his camera 

 to the objective point, and widens his range 

 beyond what could ever have been con- 

 templated before the invention of the bi- 

 cycle. 



Appliances are made for carrying, on the 

 bicycle, the instruments and apparatus of 

 these out-door students of nature, and it 

 would seem a simple matter to provide 

 others which would enable the wheelman 

 to proceed on his journey of investigation 

 without hindrance. 



The first American made bicycle was 

 sold March 13, 1878. 



" Give her air! Give her air! " "What's 

 the matter? Has the woman fainted?" 

 " No; her bicycle tire has flattened." 



— Philadelphia North American. 



A MONTANA DREAM. 

 JOHN V. COLE. 



I heard of a widow, one time; 



She was plump, she was pretty and neat. 

 At that time I hadn't a dime, 



But I wanted this widow, so sweet. 



She had stock on the ranges, they said; 



She had mines of both silver and gold; 

 It put me most out of my head, 



For where she was at, no one told. 



My cabin was lonesome and drear, 

 My placer mine all was dug out; 



My grub it was gone — pretty near, 



And my gum boots leaked all round 

 about. 



I was mending these old boots one night, 

 I had seated myself on the floor, 



When a lady rode up, on her bike, 

 And punctured her tire, at my door. 



She was hungry, and tired, and lost, 

 So I cooked her a meal right away; 



That gum boot cement it was boss 

 For mending bike tires so they'd stay. 



I saddled my broncho up then, 

 And escorted the widow to town; 



I stayed there to chat until ten, 

 And I felt like a man of renown. 



Now I've traded my bronk for a bike, 

 With seats for my wife, self and boy; 



And I gladly remember that fortunate 

 night, 

 For it filled my life chuck full of joy. 



" Our cook is crazy about bicycling." 

 " Does she ride much?" 

 " Ride? She gets on her wheel to hang 

 out the washing." — Detroit Free Press. 



