SHOOTING. See 'Grouse,' 'Hadj Ano,' 'A Day's Sport in Morocco,' 'Little Brown Bird,' 'Pheasants,' 'The American Quail,' 'A Visit to a Modern Shooting School,' Sport in the Channel Islands,' 'In the Grey Morning.'

SPORT WITH THE BRIGANDS OF MACEDONIA........................Dayrell Davies, late R.N. 60

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND H. M. BROCK

THE

BADMINTON MAGAZINE

July 1896

ON A BICYCLE IN THE STREETS OF LONDON

BY SUSAN, COUNTESS OF MALMESBURY

A NEW Sport has lately been devised by the drivers of hansom cabs. It consists of chasing the lady who rides her bicycle in the streets. of the metropolis. If not so athletic a pastime as polo, the pursuit on wheels of alien wheels surmounted by a petticoat which 'half conceals, yet half reveals' the motive power within, appears to afford these ingenuous persons exactly that exhilarating and entrancing sensation without which no Englishman finds life worth living, and which apparently is to the heart of the cabby what salmon-fishing, golf, shooting the rocketting pheasant, hunting the fox, or, in fine, what war, that highest expression of sport, can be to those who are usually called the leisured classes.'

I am given to understand that so far the scoring is altogether on the side of the pursuer. He has bagged, we are told, many ladies whose mutilated or decapitated forms have been hurried into silent and secret graves at the instance of the great Bicycle Boom. Their relatives, we hear, have laid them to rest quietly in back gardens until such time as they can realise what shares they possess in cycling companies. But whether this be true. or not-and, after all, the evening papers must live!-if the barmless necessary Hansom cabman has gained a new pleasure, he has had to pay for it like a prince; for his former attached

NO. XII. VOL. III.

B

and confiding fares, instead of reposing in the comfortable recesses of his vehicle, are now-stout and thin, short and tall, old and young-all alike vigorously ankle-pedalling just on ahead of his empty and sorrowing cab and right under the fore-feet of his horse. Small wonder, indeed, if he be jealous and sore; and, moreover, it must be admitted that this is one of the irritating habits which the cyclist, male and female, shares with certain of the other lower animals-to wit, with the dog, as everyone knows who has had the anxious blessing of the latter's society in the streets. The way in which he will cross a crowded thoroughfare, mildly beaming round, enjoying the morning air, deaf to remonstrance, within a hair's breadth of a sudden and awful end, is enough to turn the best Auricomous Fluid, even, to snow. But I wander from my tale, which is not that of a dog, but of a bicycle.

Having now been the quarry of the Hansom cabman for nearly a year, and having given him several exciting runs, I cannot help feeling that cycling in the streets would be nicer, to use a mild expression, if he did not try to kill me; although the pleasure which danger always affords to a certain class of minds would be considerably lessened. I should like to say here, as seriously as I am able, that surely it is not right to insult a woman who conforms to the law, to the rule of the road, molests no one, and dresses in accordance with the custom which decrees that she shall at once be distinguishable from those who fondly, yet not without an uneasy lurking suspicion of their true position, claim to be her masters. The English public requires a great deal of educating, and as in the days of one's youth certain dates had repeatedly to be dinned into our reluctant ears, so this many-headed grown-up child needs to have certain facts placed before him over and over again until at last his eyes are opened, and behold! he

sees.

Prejudice against this kind of locomotion for women has raged acutely, but is now fairly on the wane, and it is only in very outof-the-way streets that one now meets with any expressions of disapproval stronger than Trilby!' even from those frivolous and irresponsible persons who have been keeping the feast of St. Lubbock, not wisely, but too well, or doing that which in France is called fêter le Lundi.

Riding on a track began to bore me as soon as I had learnt to balance, but I remained steadily practising in the modified seclusion of the Queen's Club, where I was taught, until I could turn easily, cut figures of eight, get on and off quickly on either

side, and stop without charging into unwelcome obstacles. This done, burning to try my fate in traffic, and yet as nervous as a hare that feels the greyhound's breath, I launched my little cockleshell early one Sunday morning in July into the stormy oceans of Sloane Street, Knightsbridge, and Park Lane, on my way to visit a sick friend who lived about four miles off, beyond Regent's Park. The streets were really very clear, but I shall never forget my terror. I arrived in about two hours, streaming and exhausted, much more in need of assistance than the invalid

I went to console. Coming home it was just as bad; I reached my house about three o'clock and went straight to bed, where I had my luncheon, in a state of demoralisation bordering on collapse. I only recount this adventure in order to encourage others who may have had the same experience as myself, but who, unlike me, may not have tried to conquer their ner

vousness.

What cured my fear was the purchase of a little shilling book, called, I believe, 'Guide to Cycling,' wherein it is written that cycles are vehicles within the meaning of the Act.' I then

realised that I had an actual legal existence in the roadway, that my death by lawless violence would be avenged, and that I was not, what I had hitherto felt myself to be, like the lady, hated both of gods and men, who

Cast the golden fruit upon the board '

I mean, my cycle on the streets—

'And bred this change.'

Yes, I had as good a right to my life as even my arch-enemy the hansom, or my treacherous companion the butcher's cart. I and my machine were no longer like a masterless dog, and, if we were scouted from the pavement, at least we would take modestly but firmly, if need be, our proper breathing room in the road. From this moment my attitude towards hansoms was, in the classic words of 'Punch,' 'Also schnapp ich meine finger in deinem face.' Cautious and alert, I merrily proceeded on my way, using my bicycle as a means of doing my morning shopping or other business. I found that my experience in driving an exceedingly naughty pony in a cart in town stood me here in very good stead, my eye being fairly educated to pace and distance; and soon I learnt to judge of the breadth of my handle-bars almost to an inch, and of the habits and probable proceedings of the various vehicles by which I was surrounded, with nothing, apparently, but my wits and nerve between me and destruction. ·

Drivers of hansoms have various ways of inflicting torture on a fellow-creature, one of which is suddenly and loudly to shout out Hi!' when they have ample room to pass, or when you are only occupying your lawful position in a string of vehicles. Also, they love to shave your handle-bars and wheels, passing so close that if you swerve in the slightest--which, if you are possessed of nerves, you are too likely to do-it must bring you to serious grief. They are also very fond of cutting in just in front of you, or deliberately checking you at a crossing, well knowing that by so doing they risk your life, or, at any rate, force you to get off.

I myself always ride peaceably about seven or eight miles an hour, and keep a good look-out some way ahead, as by that means you can often slip through a tight place or avoid being made into a sandwich composed of, let us say, a pedestrian who will not, and an omnibus which cannot, stop.

As regards the comparative demerits of omnibuses and hansoms, I am reminded of the old riddle, Why have white sheep more wool than black ones?' The answer is, ' Because there