The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1896-09-05

~vH HE scandal mongers of the wheel are
confined mostly to those who can
not, or do not, wheel. Not so long
Il auo women were likely to make
mental faces at other women who rode, but
as soon as they themselves were spinning
along with a freedom they never had
fanced, they straightway wondered at all
these allegations. And how, indeed, does
brisk turn under the sky, and between
the fields, drive away cobwebby notions.
In the old days canter might do it, but a
horse is luxury, and, even ii you can
afford it is ever getting out of condition,
and to be fit must have modicum OF con-
slant exercise But now all 90 spinning,
the horseman as we'll as the onetime long
distance walkers, the sinners, and those
who strive to regain this old world from
the curse
Among these latter, no one is better
equipped for the ancient fight than the
rector of Saint the-Park, the
Rev Lemuel Springer. With body and
mind attuned to fine heathfulness, at
thirty, he believes strongly, and breaches
and acts his belief, and in these days when
clergymen sometimes forget that their duty
is but to heal the hearts wounds, and to
preach the reward of simple honesty and
clearly living, it is delight to sit of a
morning in Il pew of Saint Matthe w-in-t the
Park and listen to the direct and human
religion its athletic young rector expounds.
|. myself, remember him when he was No.
3 on the Varsity crew, and very great
man. He still could pull that third oar as
strongly, but the only sport his duties now
permit him is wheeliAg, and if you go to
the park of a morning you may see him
going up and down hill and doubtless
meditating those words for the soul cheer
afforded by his bits of sermonizing, put
always in English tersely strong.
And yet he has all his troubles, his ex-
perence his questionngs, his sin, his
falsity, and if you will follow my story you
will see how it was all due to the wheel
that he once forgot himself
On May day the Rev. Lemuel was
coasting down the long hill into the stray
Cling village of Roundbush, Worcester. 1t
was his day of outing, and now at noon he
was hungry after twenty-mile eXhilarat-
ing spin; and the world had put its care
away, and his blood was tingling and his
heart singing like the birds in the fields
and the treetops through the windy blue
spaces of that sunny spring-day sky. The
old tavern at Roundbush bears on a creak-
ing sign distorted likeness of our first
great President, and after long years of
desuetude again has found usefulness
through the revival Of the road, and tlaunts
noon placard: Lunches for Bicyclers. 3"
Yet this afternoon the Rev. Lemuel thought
that he had it quite to himself, as the fat
landlord pushed his shirt sleeves further
above his brawny elbows and said he
guessed he could give his visitor ''some-
thin that was fit eatin." And Lemuel-
| will drop his title-thought the broiled
chicken delicious and sauntered into the
paIlor, dark after the sunshine, with its
harcloth chairs and its colored prints OF
washington Crossing the Delaware and
"John Browns Capture and certain
photographs of prim rural folk.
Now, usually, Lemuel was most observ-
ing. Yet he had been in that room fully
five minutes before he noticed figure
stretched out on a couch; at the dark side,
to be sure, so that it may not have been sc
strange that he had not seen her at first
Her face sunk in pillow, she seemed to be
sobbing. Lemuel at once made for the
door, when he heard sweet and strangely
plantive voice:
"I'm such fool! Oh beg your par
don!' she added, with such evident con
fusion that Lemuel turned about hastily to
see the prettiest figure of woman in 9
! cwitching bicycle costume; and what sh,
was like Pll leave you to fancy; just fancy
that is, the very incest girl of you,
acquaintance, and you will see her a,
Lemuel saw her much more easily thar
from any description of mine.
"Oh!" she said hastily, rubbing her eyes
81 beg your PARDON" said Lemuel.
at was my fault" she said, looking