CYCLE STORIES.

New Zealand Mail, 3 December 1896, Page 72

CYCLE STORIES.

AN INGENIOUS THIEF.

The bicycle thief, says an English paper, is inventive this year. A young man was practising circles in front of his house, when two young fellows stopped on the pavement to admire him. One of them asked how much the machine weighed, and the young man said it weighed twenty-two pounds.

The smaller of the two said that was too light, and that he believed in bicycles weighing at least thirty pounds. Also he mentioned that he once came out ahead in a ten mile race and rode one weighing thirty-eight pounds. At this the bigger of the strangers laughed derisively, and said—- “ What do you know about bicycles?” “ Why, I’ve ridden more than you ever saw.”

“ I don’t believe you can ride at all.”

“ Can't I ? I’ll bet you half a sovereign I can. Let me show him on your machine, sir.”

He could ride all right. He wobbled slowly on the bicycle up and down the road and then he suddenly whirled roun«l a corner out of sight. “ You’d better go after that fellow,” said the big stranger; “I don’t know him.” The owner of the machine went, but the short stranger must have been a mile away by that time. Then, when the owner came back, be found that the big stranger also had gone, CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. Cycling, if the following story is to be believed, has much to answer for, and an Asylum for Canine Followers of the Wheel may be one of the institutions of the near future.

A well-known lady in the north was, until recently, in the habit of indulging in long country rambles, a magnificent bloodhound being her sole companion. When cycling became the raee, Miss B altered her daily programme. The bloodhound was left at home, and a fine dachshund now takes its place.

The pair were passing through a village near the lady’s residence the other day, when a labourer turned to a companion and remarked—

“ If avv wor Proime Minister for a day, aw’d put a stop to this ’ere bicycling business.”

“ Why?” asked the other

“ ’Cos it owt to be stopped, if only for the sake o’ that ’ere dog as is puffin’ along behind there,” rejoined the labourer. It ain’t sport—it’s just cruelty to animals, that’s what it is.”

His companion scarcely agreed with him, and expressed the opinion that the dog in question “ would be none the worse for a little exercise.”

“ Exercise 1” retorted the other scornfully, "d'ye call that exercise? You niver saw that ’ere d.og afore she started bicydiner, did you?” “ No, I can’t say I did.” “Well,” went on the labourer, “he wor one o the finest bloodhounds you ever clapped eyes on—an’ wot is ’enow? His body’s dwindled away to nowt, while ’is legs is worn clean doon to the stumps. Aw tell yer it’s cruelty to hanimals.” CYCLING AS A PUNISHMENT. Not very long ago the French Government considered that it would be diplomatic conduct on their part to present the Sultan of Morocco with an official gift, and in the gift they included a number of bicycles. Now there is a proverb as well as a belief in Morocco that the Emperor can without doubt do successfully all that he attempts. His Majesty, therefore, in order to maintain his Imperial reputation, never attempted to ride the bicycles, but used them for a purpose never anticipated by the French Government, that of punishing his refractory wives.

Whenever there was a disturbance in the Imperial harem, the delinquents were brought forth, and, according to the magnitude of their offences, sentenced to ride till they had fallen a specified number of times. One can imagine the Sultan addressing them. To one he would sav—

“ You are an old offender. I have told you over and over again that if you fought with the others and scratched and pulled their hair you would be seriously punished. You shall now ride the bicycle until you have fallen twenty-five times.”

To the other he would remark—- “ This is your first offence ; ten falls will suffice for you.”

And away they would go, while the

Sultan sat and looked on with peals of laughter.