The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1896-01-22
BICYCLE ROMANCE.

"Gramercy!'' quoth the Baron d'Agin-
court as he rolled off his bicycle into
potato bed 't'Tis a full mettled steedI
NIe5hinks those varlets have fed him with
oYermueh oil of late, so restive is ne be-
come. And, lack dayl My doublet is
besmirched with mirel Thou sInilest, see
Agatha. There is but scant reason for
Nlerriment, shameless grill"
"Nay" replied the beautiful Lady
Agatha, as, with exquisite skill, she rode
her dainty steed Ga thoroughbred Coventry
up and down the terrace, " twas not at
thy mishap, dear father! Ola truth, thou
must be sorely bruised. Was not that thy
seventh fall this afternoon? If 1 smile,
tits but that am happy"
"Humph'' said the baron as he hoped
painfully behind his machine, vainly en-
deavoriDg to mount anew. Happy, eh?
And wherefore? Whom hast thou seen to
change thy mood so since this morning?
Twas but few hours ago that thou vast
weeping over some trife of split oil can.
All, 1 am up at lastP'
81 have seen none," said the lovely
maiden, with blushing checks. ''At least
save only She hesitated doubtfully.
''Whom, gir!f'' insisted her father.
''Sir Algernon Fitzclarence. -
With a desperate swerve the barCn rode
toward her. his face purple with passion.
t'What! Hast thou chosen to disobey me
again? Talking with him whom 1 had
forbidden to come within 90 leagues of my
castlel Now, by St Humber, both thou
and he shall rue this day! 1 say that
The baron's skill failed him once more,
aud he shot off into the gooseberry bushes.
''Nay, hear lAe, dear father
'Cease - roared the angry baron.
'tWhat no, there! Lead the Lady Agatha -
he commanded as go men rushed forward
in answer to his summons, "into the up
per dungeon. And, varlets, bring me the
sticking plaster.
Twas midnight.
Alone in the dismal cell to which her
fathers cruelty had consigned her tn
Lady Agatha wept INCREASINGLY. Sleep
came not to her weary eyes. She paced
restlessly up and down, or gazed through
the narrow bars of the window over the
moonlit landscape.
Suddenly she startedI Was it fancy?
Nay, twas human voice, manly, reso-
nant and strong, that sang beneath her
window. She could catch some of the
words:
go sweetest blossom of the leai
o daintiest flower Of the feldi
For love- for hopeless love of thee
My reason must her kingdom yield!''
Good heavensl 1t was Algernon Fitz-
clarence!
''AcrOS5 the land, across the main,
A single steed shall bear twain
He was ascending by ladder. His face
appeared at the windowi
"Ah, darling Agatha" he said, "news
was brought me of thy parlous state!
But dry thy tears, my sweet See''- he
snapped tho massive bars with the little
finger of his left hand-''the cage is bro
ken. Two of the swiftest Singers are sad
died for US at the castle gate. Let US fly
together!'
Noiselessly the gallant steeds fitted
along tho road.
''Were't not best to light our lamps?'
whispered Agatha. "Methinks that the
sage councillors of the parish"-
NAY, 1 fear them not" said the in
trepid Fitzclarence. Enough for me is
the light of thine eyes"
Suddenly their steeds slackened pace
simultaneously, and a faint kissing sound
was heard. They looked at one another
and groaned.
1--WE are punctured!'' cried Agatha. 1t
was too true. At the foot of a steep hill
they dismounted, their tires f1abby, shape
less, useless. Fitzclarence passed his hand
over the ground.
"As thoughtr' he said bitterly "'Tis
thy father that hath contrived thisl He
has scattered tin tacks broadcast over the
road to foil our attempt to escaped But
we will battle him!''
For some minutes he worked his air
pumps in silence. Suddenly q sound was
heard, at which a gatha grew deathIy pale.
1t was the clear, resonant note of bicycle
belll
''We are pursued'' she cried. "Let US
fly, AIgernonl'
1--WE cannot, said her practical lover.
"The tires are almost empty. We can but
meet our doom bravely.''
Louder and louder came the noise of
whirring wheels. Then-a whir, and the
baron, breathless, pale with terror, went
by them like flash of lightningl Fitz-
clarence understood in a moment what
had happened. The baron was but an un-
skilled rider and had allowed his machine
to run away with him down the hill
To stop him was impossible. He went
along the highway for 3273 miles, and
then, with last despairing yell, he van
ished over the cliffs. still seated on his
steed, and was buried beneath the waves
of the English channel. So Fitzclarence
and Agatha returned to the castle and
lived happily ever after.-London Punch.
Smooth as silk is :he way our collars