If the trip is to be extended through a day, Lancaster is a good place to stop for dinner, although it is hardly half-way, and if the idea is to ride most of the distance in the morning and make a long noon stop, it may be wise to push on to Columbia, or at least to Mountville. At Columbia, however, there are good accommodations. Leaving Columbia, the rider should cross the bridge, which is a mile and a quarter long, paying five cents toll, and proceed thence through Wrightsville, Hellam, and Frystown to York, a distance of 44 miles from Compassville. Here is a good place to stop for the night. The road all the way is moderately level, and where there are any hills they are all rideable. But it would be difficult to find on the Atlantic coast a 40-mile stretch of road in such good condition and with so few hills as lies between Compassville and York and the next stage of the trip to Washington, which we shall give next week. In fact, this road, as was said last week, is somewhat roundabout, if one is anxious to make a quick journey from Philadelphia to Washington, but it is nevertheless one of the best road-beds in that part of the United States, and the rider is again earnestly urged to follow it rather than the more direct route through Wilmington. One of the great advantages of this circular route is that it brings you near enough to the field of Gettysburg to warrant a little detour over the historical battle-grounds, and this will be given next week, together with a map of the third stage of the journey.
A word should be said here about winter bicycle-riding—for there is summer riding and winter riding. It is often the case that a bicyclist, or any human being for that matter, has better muscles than he has heart and lungs. Perhaps he never finds this out until he takes some exercise like bicycling, which stimulates his heart beyond its power. Then he discovers that he can ride a certain distance, and of a sudden, though perfectly free from any weariness, he is obliged to stop because he cannot breathe, or because he has a pain in his chest. He is surprised, and cannot understand it until his physician tells him he must not ride so fast or so far at any one time. These little irregularities come out more prominently in the cold air of winter-time than in the summer months. Furthermore, a young man who is blessed with a weak throat will catch cold by riding fast against a head wind in winter, where in summer he would never notice that his breathing had anything to do with bicycling. One should always remember, therefore, that in cold winter air, especially against the wind, speed is to be given up. In fact, it is wise to put on a thick woollen or silk handkerchief, spread across the whole chest under waistcoat or jacket like a fencer's shield. If this is done, many an unexplained cold may be avoided. Never stop in winter to rest. If you want rest, go into a house and take off some clothing, or keep walking after you dismount. A little thought in time saves much trouble and anxiety.
This Department is conducted in the interest of Girls and Young Women, and the Editor will be pleased to answer any question on the subject so far as possible. Correspondents should address Editor.
Somebody asks me to talk about economy—a bright little somebody who has spent all her savings on the holidays, and now regretfully looks at the empty satin-lined box in her bureau drawer, where usually she keeps her funds. Never mind, girlie, your allowance is paid you every month, and if you are a little bit self-denying, a wee bit careful, the box will presently be comfortably full once more.
We are apt to think of economy as scrimping and hoarding, and to speak of the economical person as if she were not generous and open-handed, but, instead, were close, and what the Scotch call "near." This is all wrong, a misunderstanding of the word, which is really a beautiful old picture-word, which came to us from the Greeks, and which means management. The economical girl is a good manager, and the good manager makes the most of whatever she has in her hands. A poor economist is cramped and worried even when she has a large income; a good economist has a margin, though her allowance happen to be small.
Speaking of margins, the late Prince Albert is always quoted as a man of singular good sense and sweetness of character. In writing to his daughter, then a young girl, now the Dowager Empress of Germany, mother of the reigning Kaiser, the wise father gave this advice: "Never spend all you have. Keep a margin for expenses which may be unforeseen."