_The Owner._ "L-let"s l-leave it a-and _walk_, s-shall we?"
Ill.u.s.tration: SUNDAY MORNING.--
_Cyclist_ (_to rural policeman_). "Nice crowd out this morning!"
_Rural Policeman_ (_who has received a tip_). "Yes, an" yer can"t do with "em! If yer "ollers at "em, they honly turns round and says, "Pip, pip"!"
Ill.u.s.tration: _Rustic_ (_to beginner, who has charged the hedge_).
"It"s no good, sir. They things won"t jump!"
THE UNIVERSAL JUGGERNAUT.--"Anyone," says the _Daily Telegraph_, "who has driven an automobile will know that it is quite impossible to run over a child and remain unconscious of the fact." _Any one who has driven an automobile!_ Heavens! what a sweeping charge! Is there none innocent?
Ill.u.s.tration: ""Tain"t no use tellin" me you"ve broke down! Stands to reason a motor-caw goin" down "ill"s _bound_ to be goin" too fast. So we"ll put it down at about thirty mile an hour! Your name and address, sir, _hif_ you please."
URBS IN RURE
["When every one has a bicycle and flies to the suburban roads, the suburban dwellers will desert their houses and come back to crowded London to find quiet and freedom from dust."--_Daily Paper._]
Time was desire for peace would still My footsteps lure to Richmond Hill, Or to the groves of Burnham I, Much craving solitude, would fly; Thence, through the Summer afternoon, "Mid fragrant meads, knee-deep in June, Lulled by the song of birds and bees, I"d saunter idly at mine ease To that still churchyard where, with Gray, I"d dream a golden hour away, Forgetful all of aught but this-- That peace was mine, and mine was bliss.
But now should my all-eager feet Seek out some whilom calm retreat, "Pip, pip!" resounds in every lane, "Pip, pip!" the hedges ring again, "Pip, pip!" the corn, "Pip, pip!" the rye, "Pip, pip!" the woods and meadows cry, As through the thirsty, fever"d day, The red-hot scorchers scorch their way.
Peace is no longer, Rest is dead, And sweetest Solitude hath fled; And over all, the cycling l.u.s.t Hath spread its trail of noise and dust.
So, would I woo the joys of Quiet, I see no more the country"s riot, But the comparatively still Environment of Ludgate Hill.
There, "mongst the pigeons of St. Paul"s, I muse melodious madrigals, Or loiter where the waters sport "Mid the cool joys of Fountain Court, Where, undisturbed by sharp "Pip, pip!"
My nimble numbers lightly trip, And country peace I find again In Chancery and Fetter Lane.
VEHICULAR PROGRESSION.--_Mr. Ikey Motor_ (_to customer_). Want a machine, sir? Certainly, we"ve all sorts to suit your build.
_Customer._ It isn"t for me, but for my mother-in-law.
_Mr. Ikey Motor._ For your mother-in-law! How would a steam roller suit her?
[Mr. I. M. _is immediately made aware that the lady in question has overheard his ill-timed jest, while the customer vanishes in blue fire._
EXPERTO CREDE.--What is worse than raining cats and dogs?--Hailing motor omnibuses.
Ill.u.s.tration: COMPREHENSIVE.--_Owner_ (_as the car starts backing down the hill_). "Pull everything you can see, and put your foot on everything else!"
Ill.u.s.tration: _Farmer_ (_in cart_). "Hi, stop! Stop, you fool! Don"t you see my horse is running away?"
_Driver of Motor-car_ (_hired by the hour_). "Yes, it"s all very well for you to say "stop," but I"ve forgotten how the blooming thing works!"
Ill.u.s.tration: SIMPLE ENOUGH
_Yokel_ (_in pursuit of escaped bull, to Timmins, who is "teaching himself"_). "Hi, Mister! If yer catch hold of his leading-stick, he can"t hurt yer!"
ANTI-BICYCLIST MOTTO.--Rather a year of Europe than a cycle of to-day.
MOTTO FOR THOSE WHO "BIKE."--"And wheels rush in where horses fear to tread."
Ill.u.s.tration: A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENt.i.tY.--
_Major Mustard_ (_who has been changing several of his servants_). "How dare you call yourself a chauffeur?"
_Alfonsoe._ "Mais non! Non, monsieur! Je ne suis pas "chauffeur." J"ai dit que je suis le chef. Mais monsieur comprehend not!"
CYCLES! CYCLES!! CYCLES!!!
SOMETHING ABSOLUTELY NEW
THE LITTLE HANDLE-BAR SPRING
NO MORE ACCIDENTS! NO MORE STOLEN CYCLES!
All our bicycles are fitted with the Little Handle-Bar Spring, which, when pressed, causes the machine to fall into 114 pieces.
Anyone can press the spring, but it takes an expert three months to rebuild it, thus trebling the life of a bicycle.
We are offering this marvellous invention at the absurd price of