The best school for ladies is established in Boston, and is conducted in a properly private and exclusive manner. It is supplied with a number of lady teachers and assistants, all under the direction of the best “velocipedagogue” in the city. It is in a large hall in a good locality, and is provided with the best French machines, dressing-rooms, and other conveniences. Many good old Boston names are to be found upon the list of pupils. The lessons are twenty-five dollars for a course of instruction, with a guarantee of proficiency.
There is also a school especially designed for ladies, at the corner of Fifth Avenue and Fourteenth Street, New York, at what is known as the Somerville Art Gallery. This has two halls of an area of 3,000 square feet. One of the halls is set apart for beginners, and the other for those more advanced.
Ladies, in riding the bicycle, commonly use the modest and appropriate costume worn by them in calisthenic exercises and in the gymnasium. Another very suitable dress for the velocipedestrienne has been thus described:—
“Let the outer dress skirt be made so as to button its entire length in front; the back part should be made to button from the bottom, to a point about three-eighths of a yard up the skirt. This arrangement does not detract at all from the appearance of an ordinary walking costume. When the wearer wishes to prepare for a drive, she simply loosens two or three of the lower buttons at the front and back and bringing together the two ends of each side, separately, buttons them in this way around each ankle. This gives a full skirt around each ankle, and, when mounted, the dress falls gracefully at each side of the front wheel.”
Miss Carrie Augusta Moore, well-known in amusement circles as “The Skatorial Queen,” has been riding the bicycle in public in Washington, Boston, and the Western cities, with much success. Her riding is described as finished and graceful, and her costume as neat and modest.
VELOCIPEDE SCHOOLS AND RINKS.
Those who have thought the rage for velocipedes would be fleeting and evanescent, have found themselves much mistaken. Velocipede “Schools,” “Halls,” “Rinks,” “Institutes,” and “Academies,” have sprung into existence with mushroom rapidity. There are scores in our large cities, and one or more in almost every country town. They secure a patronage which is not only surprising, as indicating the extent to which the enthusiasm prevails; but also as showing that the desire to ride is not confined to any particular age, or to any class of persons. We have seen astride the bicycle in the same rink, the old and the young, the fat man and the lean, the doctor, who does not believe that the fashionable exercise develops one set of muscles to the detriment of others; the clergyman, a regular muscular Christian; and the newsboy who has sold his papers in the cold and rain to accumulate the funds to make him as much the privileged character as any nabob. We have witnessed the lawyer, the tradesman, and the mechanic, spinning with ease and grace. We have watched the lounger who fringes the edge of society with his delicate moustache, making his languid attempt; we have seen the artist mount his Pegasus, and the professor of literature, striving with noble persistency to emulate his much envied tutor. There is a marked fascination in the exercise which affects alike the spectators and the participants. Those who come to look, remain to ride; and those, who once bestride “the wheeled Rosinante,” refuse to quit until they have tamed the unaccustomed steed.
It is very amusing to watch the eager pupils, going through their novitiate. The beginners mount, struggle, perspire, and tumble in all directions and shapes; and blunders, awkward movements, collisions, and shipwrecks follow each other in constant succession. The more advanced ride with “This one thing I do,” manifest upon every feature; and one would suppose, from looking at their compressed lips, knit brows, and fixed eyes, that they felt they were guiding, like Phaëton, the horses of the Sun. The graduates and proficients ride with charming ease, carelessness, and control.
“The early bird catches the worm,” is a proverb particularly applicable to those who first started velocipede schools. All the rinks, schools, academies, and “velocipedagogues,” do a large business; and their machines pay for themselves in a short time.
The fever is not confined to the Eastern and Middle States, but rages throughout the South and West. In some of the velocipede riding halls, a charge is made for a series of ten lessons; at others, there is an admittance fee, and a certain price per hour for using the machine. In our cities, we have them to suit all classes and conditions of people. They range from the rinks in common localities, with their sawdust floors, cheap machines, and nominal admission fees, where the “timid toddlers” go it alone, to the schools in the marble blocks, with their French machines and experienced teachers.