The Silent Wheel.

[From Arthur Selwyn's Note-book.]             Through these broad streets do I fly -             Furlongs and miles I defy,             Till the "magnificent distance"             Vanishes out of existence.             Let me with pencil prolong             Strains of the Bicycler's Song:     [The Silent Wheel.]         Good-morning, good Pedestrian - I'm glad to see you out;         The day is full of healthfulness, the birds are all about;         There is a quiet breeziness in all the pleasant air -         I hope this happy exercise will drive away your care.                                         For I am a pedestrian -                                         A very good pedestrian -         And all the glowing benefit of walking I can share;         Although I tread the atmosphere, and do not touch the ground,         I greet you as a brother, sir, wherever you are bound.         But my impatient lady-love in yonder town doth wait;         I wish you better company, and strike a swifter gait.         Good-morning, good Equestrian - a noble steed you ride;         I do not seem to frighten him, so here is by your side.         It is a feast of happiness to smoothly bound along,         With sturdy muscles under you, and footing swift and strong.                                         For I am an equestrian -                                         A very fair equestrian -         With bugle blast of melody and unassuming song;         And all the thrilling ecstacy of horsemanship I feel,         Although the nag I ride upon was bred of burnished steel.         But his impatience urges me to swifter gait than you,                     And so I wish you pleasure, sir, and bid a kind adieu.         Good-morning, Mr. Racer, you've a trotter that is fine;         I never would disparage him, or say too much of mine;         Your horse is full of mettle, sir, and bravely draws his load;         It must be pure deliciousness to speed him on the road.                                 But I am quite a racing man -                                 A modest, humble racing man -         Though small is my solicitude upon the turf bestowed;         And if you have anxiety to try a little race,         I'll undertake, with courtesy, to give you second place;         But if the first you take from me, and it be fairly earned,         I'll hope that on some future day the tables may be turned.         Good-morning, Mr. Carriageer, you have an easy ride;         Those cushions are luxurious, and pleasantly you glide!         'Tis very good and fortunate, if one be tired or ill,         To calmly call his carriage out, and travel as he will.                                 But I, sir, keep my carriage, too -                                 A very pleasant carriage, too -         Though it is not the easy one that your desire would fill;         It carries me in comfort over many a pleasant mile,         And all my best acquaintances are suited with its style.         'Tis with a blithe economy establishments are run,         With driver, footman, passenger, and horses - all in one!         Good-morning, fellow Wheelmen; here's a warm, fraternal hand,         As with a rush of victory we sweep across the land!         If some may be dissatisfied to view the way we ride,         We only wish their majesties could wander by our side!                                 For we are good philanthropists -                                 Unqualified philanthropists -         And would not have our happiness to any one denied.         We claim a great utility that daily must increase;         We claim for inactivity a bright and grand release;         A constant mental, physical, and moral help we feel,         Which makes us turn enthusiasts, and bless the silent wheel!