Good-morning, Mr. Carriageer, you have an easy ride;
Those cushions are luxurious, and pleasantly you glide!
'Tis very good and fortunate, if one be tired or ill,
To calmly call his carriage out, and travel as he will.
But I, sir, keep my carriage, too—
A very pleasant carriage, too—
Though it is not the easy one that your desire would fill;
It carries me in comfort over many a pleasant mile,
And all my best acquaintances are suited with its style.
'Tis with a blithe economy establishments are run,
With driver, footman, passenger, and horses—all in one!
Good-morning, fellow Wheelmen; here's a warm, fraternal hand,
As with a rush of victory we sweep across the land!
If some may be dissatisfied to view the way we ride,
We only wish their majesties could wander by our side!
For we are good philanthropists—
Unqualified philanthropists—
And would not have our happiness to any one denied.
We claim a great utility that daily must increase;
We claim for inactivity a bright and grand release;
A constant mental, physical, and moral help we feel,
Which makes us turn enthusiasts, and bless the silent wheel!
[From Farmer Harrington's Calendar.]
November 20, 18—.
It's quite a show, and strikes me a good deal—
How many ride around here on a wheel;
The streets are graded very smooth and nice,
And make this town the wheelman's paradise.
A brother-farmer—neighbor, once, to me—
Who's down here, like myself, to hear and see,
Told me, last night, before we "doused the glim,"
How a young wheel-chap got the start of him.
'Twould skip my memory, maybe, if I'd let it;
I'll put it down here so I sha'n't forget it.
[FARMER AND WHEEL; OR, THE NEW LOCHINVAR.]
I.
I was hoein' in my corn-field, on a spring day, just at noon,
An' a hearkin' in my stomach for the dinner-trumpet's tune,
An' reflectin', when my daughter should be married, 'twould be best
She should take Josiah Baker's son, who jines me on the west,
An' consolidate our acres into one immense abode,
When my hired man says, "By ginger, look a-yender down the road!"
"Well," I says, "my goodness gracious! things is rather overgrown,
When a buggy-wheel gets loosened, an' goes runnin' 'round alone."
But my man he says, "By mustard!" (as the critter nearer came)
"Don't you see that there's a feller on a-straddle of the same?"
An' it was as nice a shaver as you'd see 'most any day,
Who was travellin' through the country in that unexpected way.
He was rather young an' han'some, an' as smilin' as you please,
An' his pants they signed a contract with his stockin's at the knees;
An' he had a pair o' treadles some'at underneath his seat,
So's to run the queer contraption, by a-workin' of his feet;
An' the sun descended on it, in a manner warm an' bright;
'Twas as sing'lar as a circus, an' an interestin' sight.