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〃Besides； it has been an exceptionally hot day to…day。〃
〃Well； don't forget St。 Blasien is twenty…five miles off； that's
all。〃
〃Any more hills？〃
〃Yes； two； up and down。〃
〃I thought you said it was downhill into St。 Blasien？〃
〃So it is for the last ten miles。 We are twenty…five miles from
St。 Blasien here。〃
〃Isn't there anywhere between here and St。 Blasien？ What's that
little place there on the lake？〃
〃It isn't St。 Blasien； or anywhere near it。 There's a danger in
beginning that sort of thing。〃
〃There's a danger in overworking oneself。 One should study
moderation in all things。 Pretty little place； that Titisee；
according to the map； looks as if there would be good air there。〃
〃All right； I'm agreeable。 It was you fellows who suggested our
making for St。 Blasien。〃
〃Oh； I'm not so keen on St。 Blasien！ poky little place； down in a
valley。 This Titisee； I should say； was ever so much nicer。〃
〃Quite near； isn't it？〃
〃Five miles。〃
General chorus： 〃We'll stop at Titisee。〃
George made discovery of this difference between theory and
practice on the very first day of our ride。
〃I thought；〃 said Georgehe was riding the single； Harris and I
being a little ahead on the tandem〃that the idea was to train up
the hills and ride down them。〃
〃So it is；〃 answered Harris； 〃as a general rule。 But the trains
don't go up EVERY hill in the Black Forest。〃
〃Somehow； I felt a suspicion that they wouldn't；〃 growled George；
and for awhile silence reigned。
〃Besides；〃 remarked Harris； who had evidently been ruminating the
subject； 〃you would not wish to have nothing but downhill； surely。
It would not be playing the game。 One must take a little rough
with one's smooth。〃
Again there returned silence； broken after awhile by George； this
time。
〃Don't you two fellows over…exert yourselves merely on my account；〃
said George。
〃How do you mean？〃 asked Harris。
〃I mean；〃 answered George； 〃that where a train does happen to be
going up these hills； don't you put aside the idea of taking it for
fear of outraging my finer feelings。 Personally； I am prepared to
go up all these hills in a railway train； even if it's not playing
the game。 I'll square the thing with my conscience； I've been up
at seven every day for a week now； and I calculate it owes me a
bit。 Don't you consider me in the matter at all。〃
We promised to bear this in mind； and again the ride continued in
dogged dumbness； until it was again broken by George。
〃What bicycle did you say this was of yours？〃 asked George。
Harris told him。 I forget of what particular manufacture it
happened to be； it is immaterial。
〃Are you sure？〃 persisted George。
〃Of course I am sure；〃 answered Harris。 〃Why； what's the matter
with it？〃
〃Well； it doesn't come up to the poster；〃 said George； 〃that's
all。〃
〃What poster？〃 asked Harris。
〃The poster advertising this particular brand of cycle；〃 explained
George。 〃I was looking at one on a hoarding in Sloane Street only
a day or two before we started。 A man was riding this make of
machine； a man with a banner in his hand： he wasn't doing any
work； that was clear as daylight； he was just sitting on the thing
and drinking in the air。 The cycle was going of its own accord；
and going well。 This thing of yours leaves all the work to me。 It
is a lazy brute of a machine； if you don't shove； it simply does
nothing： I should complain about it； if I were you。〃
When one comes to think of it； few bicycles do realise the poster。
On only one poster that I can recollect have I seen the rider
represented as doing any work。 But then this man was being pursued
by a bull。 In ordinary cases the object of the artist is to
convince the hesitating neophyte that the sport of bicycling
consists in sitting on a luxurious saddle； and being moved rapidly
in the direction you wish to go by unseen heavenly powers。
Generally speaking； the rider is a lady； and then one feels that；
for perfect bodily rest combined with entire freedom from mental
anxiety； slumber upon a water…bed cannot compare with bicycle…
riding upon a hilly road。 No fairy travelling on a summer cloud
could take things more easily than does the bicycle girl； according
to the poster。 Her costume for cycling in hot weather is ideal。
Old…fashioned landladies might refuse her lunch； it is true； and a
narrowminded police force might desire to secure her； and wrap her
in a rug preliminary to summonsing her。 But such she heeds not。
Uphill and downhill； through traffic that might tax the ingenuity
of a cat； over road surfaces calculated to break the average steam
roller she passes； a vision of idle loveliness； her fair hair
streaming to the wind； her sylph…like form poised airily； one foot
upon the saddle； the other resting lightly upon the lamp。
Sometimes she condescends to sit down on the saddle； then she puts
her feet on the rests； lights a cigarette； and waves above her head
a Chinese lantern。
Less often； it is a mere male thing that rides the machine。 He is
not so accomplished an acrobat as is the lady； but simple tricks；
such as standing on the saddle and waving flags； drinking beer or
beef…tea while riding； he can and does perform。 Something； one
supposes； he must do to occupy his mind： sitting still hour after
hour on this machine； having no work to do； nothing to think about；
must pall upon any man of active temperament。 Thus it is that we
see him rising on his pedals as he nears the top of some high hill
to apostrophise the sun； or address poetry to the surrounding
scenery。
Occasionally the poster pictures a pair of cyclists； and then one
grasps the fact how much superior for purposes of flirtation is the
modern bicycle to the old…fashioned parlour or the played…out
garden gate。 He and she mount their bicycles； being careful； of
course； that such are of the right make。 After that they have
nothing to think about but the old sweet tale。 Down shady lanes；
through busy towns on market days； merrily roll the wheels of the
〃Bermondsey Company's Bottom Bracket Britain's Best；〃 or of the
〃Camberwell Company's Jointless Eureka。〃 They need no pedalling；
they require no guiding。 Give them their heads； and tell them what
time you want to get home； and that is all they ask。 While Edwin
leans from his saddle to whisper the dear old nothings in
Angelina's ear； while Angelina's face； to hide its blushes； is
turned towards the horizon at the back； the magic bicycles pursue
their even course。
And the sun is always shining and the roads are always dry。 No
stern parent rides behind； no interfering aunt beside； no demon
small boy brother is peeping round the corner； there never comes a
skid。 Ah me！ Why were there no 〃Britain's Best〃 nor 〃Camberwell
Eurekas〃 to be hired when WE were young？
Or maybe the 〃Britain's Best〃 or the 〃Camberwell Eureka〃 stands
leaning against a gate； maybe it is tired。 It has worked hard all
the afternoon； carrying these young people。 Mercifully minded；
they have dismounted； to give the machine a rest。 They sit upon
the grass beneath the shade of graceful boughs； it is long and dry
grass。 A stream flows by their feet。 All is rest and peace。
That is ever the idea the cycle poster artist sets himself to
conveyrest and peace。
But I am wrong in saying that no cyclist； according to the poster；
ever works。 Now I come to reflect； I have seen posters
representing gentlemen on cycles working very hardover…working
themselves； one might almost say。 They are thin and haggard with
the toil； the perspiration stands upon their brow in beads； you
feel that if there is another hill beyond the poster they must
either get off or die。 But this is the result of their own folly。
This happens because they will persist in riding a machine of an
inferior make。 Were they riding a 〃Putney Popular〃 or 〃Battersea
Bounder；〃 such as the sensible young man in the centre of the
poster rides； then all this unnecessary labour would be saved to
them。 Then all required of them would be； as in gratitude bound；
to look happy； perhaps； occasionally to back…pedal a little when
the machine in its youthful buoyancy loses its head