right to give diplomies, why, Sonny would 'a' thess took out one from her; but she ain't got no license to gradj'ate nobody. But she knowed what Sonny knowed, an' she knowed thet ef he had a fair show, he 'd come thoo creditable to all hands. She loves Sonny thess about ez much ez we do, I believe, take it all round. Th' ain't never been but one time in these two years thet she has, to say, got me out o' temper, an' that was the day she says to me thet her sure belief was thet Sonny was goin' to make somethin' some day-like ez ef he had n't already made mo' than could be expected of a boy of his age. Tell the truth, I never in my life come so near sayin' somethin' I'd 'a' been shore to regret ez I did on that · occasion. But of co'se I know she did n't mean it. All she meant was thet he would turn out even mo' than he was now, which would be on'y nachel, with his growth.

Everybody knows thet it was her that got him started with his collections an' his libr'y. Oh, yes; he 's got the best lib'ry in the county, 'cep'n', of co'se, the doctor's an' the preacher's-everybody round about here knows about that. He's got about a hund'ed books an' over. Well, sir, when he made that remark, thet any question thet he missed was to be give' to the class, why, the whole atmosp'ere took on a change o' temp'ature. Even the teacher was for backin' out o' the whole business square; but he did n't thess seem to dare to say so. You see, after him a-favorin' it, it would 'a' been a dead give away.

Eve'ybody there had saw him step over an' whisper to Brother Binney when it was decided to give Sonny a chance, an' they knowed thet he had asked him to examine him. But now, instid o' him callin' on Brother Binney, why, he thess said, says he: «I suppose I ought not to shirk this duty. Ef it's to be did,» says he, «I suppose I ought to do it-an' do it I will.» You see, he dares n't allow Brother Binney to put questions, for fear he 'd call out some thet his smarty gradj'ates could n't

answer.

So he thess claired his th'oat, an' set down a minute to consider. An' then he riz from his seat, an' remarked thet of co'se everybody knowed thet Sonny Jones had had unusualadvantages in some respec's, but thet it was one thing for a boy to spend his time a-picnickin' in the woods, getherin' all sorts of natural curiosities, but it was quite another to be a scholar accordin' to books, so 's to be able to pass sech a' examination ez would be a credit to a State institution of learnin', sech ez the one over which he was proud to pre

side. That word struck me partic❜lar, «proud to preside,» which, in all this, of co'se, I see he was castin' a slur on Sonny's collections of birds' eggs, an' his wild flowers, an' wood specimens an' min'rals. He even went so far ez to say thet ol' Proph', the half-crazy nigger thet tells fortunes, an' gethers herbs out o' the woods, an' talks to hisself, likely knew more about a good many things than anybody present, but thet, bein' ez he did n't know b from a bull's foot, why, it would n't hardly do to gradj'ate him-not castin' no slurs on Master Sonny Jones, nor makin' no invijus comparisons, of co'se.

Well, sir, there was some folks there thet seemed to think this sort o' talk was mighty funny an' smart. Some o' the mothers acchilly giggled over it out loud, they was so might'ly tickled. But Sonny he thess stood his ground an' waited. Most any boy o' his age would 'a' got flustered, but he did n't. He thess glanced around unconcerned at all the people a-settin' around him, thess ez ef they might 'a' been askin' him to a picnic instid o' him provokin' a whole school committee to wrath.

Well, sir, it took that school-teacher about a half-hour to pick out the first question, an' he did n't pick it out then. He'd stop, an' he 'd look at the book, an' then he 'd look at Sonny, an' then he 'd look at the class,

an' then he 'd turn a page, like ez ef he could n't make up his mind, an' was afeerd to resk it, less'n it might be missed, an' be referred to the class. I never did see a man so overwrought over a little thing in my life

never. They do say, though, thet schoolteachers feels mighty bad when their scholars misses any p'int in public.

Well, sir, he took so long thet d'reckly everybody begin to git wo'e out, an' at last Sonny, why, he got tired, too, an' he up an' says, says he, «Ef you can't make up your mind what to ask me, teacher, why 'n't you let me ask myself questions? An' ef my questions seem too easy, why, I'll put 'em to the class.»

An', sir, with that he thess turns round, an' he says, says he, «Sonny Jones,» says he, addressin' hisself, «what's the cause of total eclipses of the sun?» Thess that a-way he said it; an' then he turned around, an' he says, says he:

a'

Is that a hard enough question? » «Very good,» says teacher.

An', with that, Sonny he up an' picked up orange an' a' apple off the teacher's desk, an' says he, «This orange is the earth, an' the apple is the sun.» An', with that, he explained

all they is to total eclipses. I can't begin to tell you thess how he expressed it, because I ain't highly edjercated myself, an' I don't know the specifactions. But when he had got thoo he turned to the teacher, an' says he, "Is they anything else thet you'd like to know about total eclipses?» An' teacher says, says he, «Oh, no; not at all.»>

They do say thet them gradj'ates had n't never went so far ez total eclipses, an' teacher would n't 'a' had the subject mentioned to 'em for nothin'; but I don't say that 's so.

Well, then, Sonny he turned around, an' looked at the company, an' he says, «Is everybody satisfied?» An' all the mothers an' fathers nodded their heads yes.

An' then he waited thess a minute, an' he says, says he, «Well, now I'll put the next question:

«Sonny Jones,» says he, «what is the difference between dew an' rain an' fog an' hail an' sleet an' snow? Is that a hard enough question?»

Well, from that he started in, an' he did n't stop tell he had expounded every kind of dampness thet ever descended from heaven or rose from the earth. An' after that, why, he went on a-givin' out one question after another, an' answerin' 'em, tell everybody had declared theirselves entirely satisfied thet he was fully equipped to gradj'atean', tell the truth, I don't doubt thet a heap of 'em felt their minds considerably relieved to have it safe over with without puttin' their gradj'ates to shame, when what does he do but say, "Well, ef you 're satisfied, why, I am-an' yet,» says he, «I think I would like to ask myself one or two hard questions more, thess to make shore.» An' befo' anybody could stop him he had said:

«Sonny Jones, what is the reason thet a bird has feathers an' a dog has hair?» An' then he turned around deliberate, an' answered: "I don't know. Teacher, please put that question to the class.>>

Teacher had kep' his temper purty well up to this time, but I see he was mad now, an' he riz from his chair, an' says he: "This examination has been declared finished, an' I think we have spent ez much time on it ez we can spare.» An' all the mothers they nodded their heads, an' started a-whisperin'-most impolite.

An' at that, Sonny, why, he thess set down ez modest an' peaceable ez anything; but ez he was settin' he remarked thet he was in hopes thet some o' the reg'lars would 'a' took time to answer a few questions thet had bothered his mind f'om time to time-an' of

co'se they must know; which, to my mind, was the modes'est remark a boy ever did make.

Well, sir, that's the way this diplomy was earned-by a good, hard struggle, in òpen daylight, by unanymous vote of all concerned -or unconcerned, for that matter. An' my opinion is thet ef they are those who have any private opinions about it, an' they did n't express 'em that day, why they ain't got no right to do it underhanded, ez I'm sorry to say has been done.

But it's his diplomy, an' it 's handsomer fixed up than any in town, an' I doubt ef they ever was one anywhere thet was took more paternal pride in.

Wife she ain't got so yet thet she can look at it without sort o' cryin'-thess the look of it seems to bring back the figure o' the little feller, ez he helt his ground, singlehanded, at that gradj'atin' that day.

Well, sir, we was so pleased to have him turned out a full gradj'ate thet, after it was all over, why, I riz up then and there, though I could n't hardly speak for the lump in my th'oat, an' I said thet I wanted to announce thet Sonny was goin' to have a gradjatin' party out at our farm that day week, an' thet the present company was all invited.

An' he did have it, too; an' they all come, every mother's son of 'em-from a to izzard -even to them thet has expressed secret dissatisfactions; which they was all welcome, though it does seem to me thet, ef I'd been in their places, I'd 'a' hardly had the face to come an' talk, too.

I'm this kind of a disposition myself: ef I was ever to go to any kind of a collation thet I felt secret disapproval of, why, the supper could n't be good enough not to choke me. An' Sonny, why, he's constructed on the same plan. We ain't never told him of any o' the remarks thet has been passed. They might git his little feelin's hurted, an' 't would n't do no good, though some few has been made to his face by one or two smarty, ill-raised boys.

Well, sir, we give 'em a fine party, ef I do say it myself, an' they all had a good time. Wife she whipped up eggs an' sugar for a week befo'hand, an' we set the table out under the mulberries. It took eleven little niggers to wait on 'em, not countin' them thet worked the fly-fans. An' Sonny ast the blessin'.

Then, after they'd all e't, Sonny he had a' exhibition of his little specimens. He showed 'em his bird eggs, an' his wood samples, an his stamp album, an' his scroll-sawed things,

an' his clay-moldin's, an' all his little menagerie of animals an' things. I ruther think teacher was struck when he found thet Sonny knowed the botanical names of every one o' the animals he's ever tamed, an' every bird. Miss Clark did n't come to the front much. She stayed along with wife, an' helped 'tend to the company, but I could see she looked on with pride; an' I don't want nothin' said about it, but the boa'd of school directors was so took with the things she had taught Sonny thet, when the evenin' was over, they ast her to accept a situation in the academy next year, an' she 's goin' to take it.

An' she says thet ef Sonny will take a private co'se of instruction in nachel sciences,

an' go to a few lectures, why, th' ain't nobody on earth that she'd ruther see come into that academy ez teacher, -that is, of co'se, in time, but I doubt ef he 'd ever keer for it.

I've always thought thet school-teachin', to be a success, has to run in families, same ez anything else yet, th' ain't no tellin'.

I don't keer what he settles on when he's grown; I expect to take pride in the way he 'll do it-an' that 's the principal thing, after all.

It's the «Well done » we 're all a-hopin' to hear at the last day; an' the po' laborer thet digs a' good ditch 'll have thess ez good a chance to hear it ez the man thet owns the farm. Ruth McEnery Stuart.

thentic of American pioneer cyclists, wrote a little book of about two hundred pages, called "The American Bicycler,» in which he recommended that bicycle clubs should adopt a form of constitution in which it is declared to be an object of the club to promote, by force of example, «the use of the bicycle as a practicable and enjoyable aid to locomotion by the general public.» Most of our street pavements were then a wilderness of cobblestones, and the only form of bicycle in use was the old-fashioned «ordinary,» in which the rider sat astride the big wheel, varying in diameter from forty-six to sixty-four inches, according to the anatomical gear of the rider. Under such conditions the «general public » needed most generous encouragement. Bicycling was looked upon by most people as the peculiar accomplishment of an athlete, and its difficulties and dangers were com

VOL. LII.-99.

beset the pouts then al mi as monly imagined to be about the same as

rope walker. Of course this was all due to a misunderstanding; but people were not anxious to understand, and though the bicycle gained little by little in the affections of the multitude, it never reached the point of assured popularity until the «safety » was invented and came into common use. In this year of 1896 all the world goes awheel

or would like to. New conditions have been rapidly created, and, from the increase of cycling, questions are every day presenting themselves which demand a popular solution. The wheels of the bicycle have changed the ways of society, in the wording and application of the law, in the doctrines of some of the learned professions, in the conduct of business, in methods of travel, and in not a few of the conditions of manufacture and commerce. Many of these changes were inevitable, and, happily, most of them are beneficial.

BICYCLING FOR WOMEN.

AFTER a close study of the question for five years, I am ready to express my belief that the use of the bicycle will do more to improve the physical condition of American women, and therefore of the American people, than any other agency yet devised. Argument on this point has given way to demonstration. Women are riding the wheel in all parts of the country, and their increasing numbers testify to its benefits and its popularity. The average woman loves to be out of doors; she enjoys the change of scene, the gentle exercise, the delightful companionship of congenial friends, and the exhilarating benefits of contact with the pure air and bright sunlight, which the knowledge of cycling brings within her reach. To the woman, as to the man, these features, possessed by no other form of sport, comprise the foundation on which the popularity of the bicycle will rest. The only possible danger in cycling for woman lies in the fascination which sometimes tempts her to undue effort. In common with every other form of exercise, bicycle-riding may of course be overdone, and as well by women as by men; but under proper advice from the family physician, supplemented by such practical suggestions as may be had from an intelligent instructor or from an experienced rider, any woman in a fair condition of health may undertake bicycle-riding with a feeling of certainty that the result will be delightful and helpful in a measure that was never anticipated.

A mistake commonly made by women riders, and indeed by new riders of both sexes, is that of undertaking too much at first. Overexertion induces discouragement, and the recollection of a tiresome ride has been known to deter new riders from repeating the attempt. The real pleasure of bicycle-riding can be had only by keeping in mind this little truth. No new rider should continue the first trip to such a point as to feel weariness. A half-hour is in most cases ample for the first road ride, and it should not be continued beyond that time, except by the strongest and most capable rider. The tyro exerts more power than the expert, and in consequence becomes more rapidly tired. He pushes the pedals with undue force, fails to sit erect, fails to sit still, and tends to follow what seems to him to be an erratic motion of the wheel by a swinging and wobbling of the body which not only tends to increase and make real what was only an imaginary difficulty, but insures also the quick coming of

fatigue, that might otherwise have been avoided. The new rider should learn to sit erect and to sit still, and in the early stages of his road practice avoid long rides, remembering that the exertion which he puts forth in his first efforts will be more than sufficient, as soon as a little skill has been acquired, to propel his wheel many miles farther than was covered by his first trip. If the first ride is wearisome, it should not be repeated on the next following day, but rather upon alternate days, until such skill is acquired as will enable the new rider to enjoy his outing without suffering too much fatigue.

Bicycling for women has received the indorsement of our leading women and our best physicians. The bicycle-dealers of most of our large towns state that the number of bicycles sold to women is daily increasing, and that the established popularity of bicycling among the gentle sex is assured. The tendency of the bicycle market to lower prices, even of wheels of the reliable grade, will doubtless increase the use of the wheel among women, and enhance its aggregate benefit to the sex. When the time comes that the delightful country roads and shaded lanes can be so kept as to make more general the practice of touring during the vacation season of the year, the wheel will have gained its true measure of value as a health restorer, and will attract thousands of riders from among the women of the land who do not yet know the joys of a hearty appetite and of refreshment induced by sound sleep.

BICYCLE-PATHS.

A CYCLE-PATH is a protest against bad roads. We are not a nation of road-makers, and every year, for weeks at a time, our country traffic and travel are paralyzed by the presence of a simple mixture of dirt and water. Our country roads have cost us thousands of millions of dollars in labor and money, very little of which has been spent in a sensible way. Skilful road work is planned in the brain, wrought by skill, and finished by rule and reason. Every cyclist knows how unfit for human travel are the miserable streaks of rooted soil that run for hundreds of miles through our most populous counties, and all the horses and all the mules know it.

The undoubted duty of every road officer to keep the public highway in a condition fit for the use of every vehicle having the lawful right to travel is not well understood. Cycling has come upon us apace, and the

country road-maker, whose official tenure is often short-lived and capricious, and whose ambition is likely to be restrained by a shortsighted and parsimonious constituency, may scarcely be condemned if he fails at times to provide for the old conditions or to anticipate the new. The cyclist and the road commissioner are fast getting more closely in touch with each other, and the wheelman's influence at the State capital is certain, in the end, to secure the aid and supervision of the State in the making and maintaining of good country roads. Pending the time when this shall be accomplished, I believe that the making of cycling-paths along lines of popular road travel should be encouraged. In the State of New York the legislature has made special provision for the construction of cyclepaths in several of the interior counties; and the local subdivisions of the League of American Wheelmen will doubtless combine to push the work of cycle-path building, so as to lighten and brighten the journey of the cycling tourist between points where the common roads are in bad condition. We may look for a time in the near future when a cycling route from the Atlantic to the Pacific will be made and mapped, and when good roads and good cycle-paths will be so connected in a continuous chain between the two great oceans that a cross-continent journey awheel will be the popular ten weeks' tour of every cyclist whose time and purse will permit.

As commonly made, cycle-paths are not expensive, and, the cost being generally contributed by the wheelmen themselves, no tax for this purpose is placed upon the public at large. Whether this should be so is a question that will stand some discussion; but thus far the cyclists have sought only to impose a small assessment upon actual users of the wheel when money has been needed to construct cycle-paths. Two years ago Mr.Charles T. Raymond of Lockport, New York, one of the pioneers in cycle-path construction, declared that what is used by all, and needed by all, should be paid for by all,» and this rule has commanded approval among wheelmen who have taken up the work of cyclepath making. Under favoring conditions, cycle-paths cost from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty dollars per mile. The surface width of the path should not be less than four feet, and need not be more than seven feet, except in rare cases. The paths are generally laid out on the grass-grown roadside, parallel with the wagonway. The grass is first cut close to the ground, after

which the material (soft coal, cinders, or screened gravel) is put on in a thin layer, and so shaped and packed as to slope downward from the center to each side. The grade in most cases follows closely the original surface of the ground. Material may generally be had at lower cost, and hauled at less expense, during the winter months; and this is an important point to bear in mind, since the item of haulage alone is likely to constitute more than half the expense of construction.

THE MECHANICAL LIMITATIONS OF THE

WHEEL.

HERE we reach the domain of speculation. The bicycle has changed many times in its form, and always for the better; each form has taken on its multitude of improvements, and no part of the modern wheel has escaped the ingenuity of the mechanic in his aim to secure better material, stronger connections, lighter weight, greater speed, grace of design, and comfort to the rider. Every day is a day of new records and of the revealment of new possibilities. Four hundred and odd miles for a single day; thirty miles in an hour; a hundred miles in three hours and forty-seven minutes; a single mile in one minute, and— but a statement of the seconds here would be true only for the week in which it was written. Six years ago one of the best-informed and most progressive of our cycling authorities, Mr. F. P. Prial, editor of «The Wheel,» writing of the safety bicycle of that day, mentioned the drawbacks of the pneumatic tire as being its large size, and the necessity of replenishing the air to keep it properly distended.» He advised that the ideal safety should not be geared too high, but only to fifty-four or fifty-seven inches, «except in the case of strong riders.» The gearing of the man's wheel of 1896 is from sixty-three inches upward, a gearing of seventy inches being about the average, and eighty not at all uncommon; while the woman's wheel of to-day, when geared at sixty, is easily propelled by new and inexperienced riders. Saddles, tires, frames, bearings, handle-bars, cranks, spokes, and rims have been lightened, simplified, improved, and from year to year made to displace the cruder product of the year before. Where is the limit? No man can tell; but so far as it relates to the common pedomotive bicycle of to-day, the practical limit would seem to be not far distant. A year or two hence will probably witness the introduction of a prac