The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-08-05
A Few Well-KnoWn Persons
Who May Be Seen Out on
a Sunday.
THE POLE AND THE BUSH.
Accidents Which Happen to Some.
Mysterious Woman In Creamy
Flannels.

A scraggy bramble-Dusn grows IN SIDE
path in Golden Gate Park not far from the
lodge where the Commissioners meet. Be-
ing in side path it has escaped the eagle
eye of the boss weed-cutter. 1t can, how
ever, command through an opening in the
trees a good view of the road where the
handsome equipages dash by and the gaud
ilv attired bicycle-riders, both in boomers
and knickerbockers, whirl by on their
noiseless steeds.
The scraggy BRAN ble-bush has not been
long above the surface of the, ground, so
the sights which did not phase the staid
old pine and cedar trees around it set it all
in futter of excitement. In fact, it had
twisted its scraggy branches into all sorts
of shapes in peering this way and that
after some particularly handsome rig or
iaunty "biker." 1t was engaged in this
occupation yesterday when gust of wind
blew it against one of the fence-poles with
considerable force. Much to the surprise
of the bramble the pole got offended be-
cause one of the thorns had pricked it.
"Here. say" cried the pole, cant you
be little more careful? I've got some
feeling left"
Rather abashed, the bramble apologized,
for it had respect for the pole, as being
older than the big trees even. The pole
had said so once.
II was only looking at that fat man on
that pretty red bicycle" the bush re-
marked quite humbly.
ooh, pshaw," growled the pole, 81 can
tell you all about those fellows. They re
chestnuts out here, although there are
some new ones. There's not as many here
as on some Sundays, because there's lot
of runs out in the country to-day. The
best time to see men is in the morning.
That is when the big fellows, who are just
beginning to ride, come out and air them
selves. If they make any mistakes you
see there's not so many onto them.
There's Tom Bannerman, the Irish patriot,
who has Just begun to learn. He came
out the other morning and cured his
bicycle of wiggling. Another one who
came along about the same time vas eX-
Sheriff McDade. He looks pretty on a
bike, but he should sit up straighter. One
of these chaps has encouraged A. b.
Mcguire, the Folsom-street improver. to
try his skill, but l have only seen him
once"
''My, what's that noise, the foghorn?"
interrupted the bush.
.No, you idiot that's Judge Campbell
coming. See, there he is in gray, and
every one gives him two feet on each side
because the wind parts his whiskers One
day rider came too close to him, and was
upset by the force of the melody which
waited through those blond hairs. He's
not the only Judge that rides, either.
along like marble going down hill, and
Judge Murphy started to learn, but he got
too busy with the Durrant case"
There goes fellow in check suit aud
funny cap?'
THAT'S iournalist-Tom Flynn. He's
always out, and sometimes has an accident.
Only the other day his wheel went from
under him, and heard some one say that
he run into cast-iron joke that was lying
in the road. He hadn't recognized it you
know. Hullo, there goes Bill Naughton-
he's another journalist. He was clumsy
rider at first, but, now that he has bike
which enables him to keep his feet off the
road, he's more graceful. Whew here's a
whole string of them. That first is Hiram
Cook. Then there's Fred Webster, one of
the crack shots of the Burlingame Club
that's the swell club, you know-ano all
those other fellows in white and blue are
the Reliance Club. They're out every
Sunday"
"But what's that other; a ghost?" asked
the bush.
mo, l don't know who she is. I
don't trife with the bloomer girl anyhow.
They are-well, there comes the mist in,
and we can't see any more. I'm tired,
anyhow"
but look there" cried the bush after a
few minutes. there's a great big hole
being made through the mist. What can
that be?h
ooh, that's big Henry Martin, heavy
weight treasurer of the Native Sons, on his
jumbo bicycle. The chances are if you could
see through the fog you would see John
Sobl, the North Beach Adonis gliding along
through the tunnel which Henry Martin
makes. He's got bike, | hear. But say
you've learned enough in one day." and
the pole spoke no more while the scraggy
bush relapsed into a meditative mood
brought on by the wonders it had seen and
the marvellous things it had been told.