WILLIAM THE WHEELMAN.
Enthusiastic Cyclist loquitur:—
I have noticed with unfeigned and real pleasure,
The rapid growth of Cycling. (How it jumps!)
To those who have the energy and leisure
It affords—(Confound this saddle! it so bumps!)
What otherwise would be quite unattainable,
A healthy, and a pleasurable form
Of exercise. (Yes, health is hereby gainable;
But I am most uncomfortably warm!)
It gives them the advantages of travel,
(By Jingo! I was nearly over then!
A tumble and the "gravel-rash" would gravel
The nimblest of extremely Grand Old Men)
Which, previous to the Cycle's happy advent,
Were out of almost everybody's reach.
(And to the "spirits" of the cycling-cad vent.
'Arry on Wheels the law must manners teach.)
It's really very much more profitable
Than is the long luxurious rail way journey.
(If in the saddle I feel not more stable,
I'll be "unhorsed," like tilter in a tourney!)
Monotonous the journey from the City,
Along a fixed unalterable route.
(This is an old "bone-shaker." 'Tis a pity!
For over the front wheel one's apt to shoot.)
The traveller's whirled from station unto station,
(I wish there were more stations on this road,)
With hardly half a chance for observation.
(If I know where I am, may I be blowed!),
Without an opportunity to examine
The district. (Wish that I could spot a pub!
For I am overdone with thirst and famine,
And see no chance of tipple or of grub!)
(I must travel many miles o'er clay or cobble,
I fear, before I'll have a real rest,
The big wheel and the little shift and wobble,
I think the low pneumatic Cycle's best.
Eh? "Dangerous to Cyclists!" That's a notice,
I fancy, that suggests a spin down-hill.
How stiff I feel! How very parched my throat is!
Hold up! By Jove, but that was near a spill!)
I emphasise the fact that I consider
That, physically—(Pheugh! that little wheel
Is dangerous as poor old WELLER's "widder,")
Yes, morally, and socially, I feel
The benefits of Cycling are unbounded,
Almost—(Almost I fear a nasty fall!
I wish, with big and little wheel confounded,
That I were on a Safety, after all!)
WHISPER BY AN ILL WIND.—If Alderman KNILL cannot conscientiously attend the Established Church service, whereat it is not essential for a Lord Mayor to be present, the Court of Aldermen ought to be proud of him, and elect him "Willy-Knilly" to be Lord Mayor all the same. Whatever may be the result, of Alderman KNILL nothing but good can be said. "Nil nisi bonum."
BLACK GAME.—"Bother Morocco!" says a Sportsman. "What's the news from the Moors?"