I LEARN TO RIDE A BICYCLE.

YOU remember how Pope's used to look: an oblong arena, railed in on all sides, and divided down the centre by a line of iron posts? Well, there's where I learned to ride. As I had never been on a bicycle before, my instructor mounted me very carefully on a machine, and steadying with his hand my wavering movements, we began laboriously to move about the hall. My confidence grew rather faster than my skill, I fear. It seemed so easy. I was sure I needed no assistance. I dismissed my attendant. Proud, happy moment! I rode all alone. But a sense of the awful responsibility of the situation began to creep over me. A queer, unnerving sensation of uncertainty as to where I'd be next stole over me. My trusty steed showed violent symptoms of St. Vitus's Dance. The floor began to heave and billow about. The pillars and railing played at kaleidoscope. My vision grew dim. I clutched the handles till they grew thin under my grasp. I threw my whole soul into that one moment. It was too much for the machine. It veered both ways at the same time, then concluded to retreat, which it did with remarkable celerity. But I had made all my arrangements for going ahead, and found it difficult to change my entire plan of proceeding so in the twinkling of an eye, as it were. Consequently I kept right on, as if nothing had happened; that is, I kept on till a nail protruding from the floor carried away the entire front of my vest, and a goodly portion of my trousers, and thus arrested further progress. I was quite willing to stop there, as I had become thoroughly convinced that there were other modes of transit, less rapid, perhaps, but quite as agreeable as sliding across a rough floor on the bridge of one's nose. The ordinary Sophomore would, at this point, have bid a tearful adieu to so questionable a form of amusement, court-plastered his nose, and forthwith presented at No. 5 a petition to be excused from giving any further attention to college duties, except tennis and the Greek play. But not I.

I rose with the exigency, buttoned my coat over the gaping rents, felt of my abused proboscis, and was pleased to find that useful member, though perceptibly worn, still firm in its place. With the support of the railing I remounted, and slowly and painfully began the circuit of the hall. Round and round I went, oft diving into the railing, every few minutes affectionately embracing a post or two, dismounting at the most unexpected moments, and in the most unprecedented manner, and alighting on every conceivable part of my body, except on my feet; occasionally hurled with prodigious velocity into the ceiling, and again cleaving great furrows in the floor; sometimes riding the bicycle, sometimes the bicycle riding me; and once, after a brief but interesting struggle, I found myself, by a succession of wonderful convolutions, so intricately interwoven with the spokes and hub and rubber tire of the front wheel that I seemed to be a natural and necessary part of its construction; while the hind wheel had thrown itself jauntily into the air, and, with its rapid revolutions, was playing sweet &AEolian melodies against the margin of my ear. All this was more or less discouraging, but I was mastering the art, so I still writhed along. But now comes the saddest chapter in this mournful tale; a very sad chapter, and of course there's a woman in it. It was a melancholy day for this innocent, unsuspecting world of ours when a feminine foot first pattered its little, ill-omened imprint into its soil. Adam was going along very comfortably straight until Eve put in her appearance, egging him on to mischief, and brewing generally a peck of trouble. And in the same manner I was making really commendable progress, when the door opened, and in walked a young lady and young gentleman.

He received but little of my attention, but casting at the young lady such casual glances as my precarious position would allow, I saw she had the requisite elements that constitute the average girl, - a Derby hat, wavy bangs, considerable vivacity, and dimples when she smiled; and all arranged in such a way as to make a pleasing impression. I felt called upon to produce an effect. I straightened my drooping form, fastened my eye on the course before me, and circled with stately dignity before my fair spectator. "How imposing this must be!" thought I. "What sentiments of admiration she must feel!" At that moment I was just opposite them. "Oh, how he cleaves the air!" It was her soft voice. How sweet! But what did I hear? The sound of their united laughter? Did they mock me? My blood curdled. I'd show them whether I could cleave the air. I could have cleft the earth to have plunged them both therein. My indignation breathed new energy into my wearied frame. A reckless, frenzy seized me. In rapid alternation my feet pressed the flying treadles. I leaned far forward, and rode at fearless speed. Great beads of perspiration fell with a dull thud to the floor. The air grew hot from the friction of my frightful velocity. With this terrible, ever-increasing momentum, something must happen. What that something would probably be became plainer every moment. The last of the line of iron posts stood exactly in front of the staring, awestruck couple. Six times I had swept round it like the breath of the wind; now, for the seventh time, I was approaching it. I could no longer control my machine. Straight towards the post it rushed. I could not leap from it; I could not stop its awful impetus. A doomed man, I was hurled onward to my fate. I closed my eyes, and thought of Appleton Chapel. Crash!! and in an instant I struck in the middle of my back, straight across the mighty, quivering shaft, and such was my momentum that my lank form immediately adapted itself to the force of circumstances, and pliantly wound several times around said shaft. But there seemed to be no idea of permanence about that position, for the next instant, by some incalculable force, - the natural law of elasticity, I suppose, - I was unwound from that post like a flash, and shot, meteor-like, off into space. There I came in contact with several spokes, and a piece of the backbone, and in company we continued our perilous precipitation, with great accuracy of aim, to a remote corner of the hall. I wearily opened my eyes, expecting to see the Derby and dimples bending tenderly over me; but no Derby and dimples were there; instead, I heard a sweet, melodious voice floating down the hall: "If he goes at it in this way he's likely to get pretty well posted on bicycles." That was too much. With one feeble wail I passed into oblivion. . . . .I remained in oblivion three days, returning on Sunday; very opportunely, as the reduction of fares on the U. R. R. took effect on that day. I now sit in my window and watch the professors, and occasionally a student, go to recitation. Don't imagine that I'm wasting my time. Far from it: I am writing a Cobden Prize Essay on, "Satan viewed as the originator of two-wheeled locomotion; or, several substantial reasons why I wish I had never been born."