THE BOLD BAD BICYCLE.

HERE was once a Bicycle, who lived in a

‘| city, in a big shop with hundreds of other
bicycles. He was a happy-hearted little

fellow, although, if the truth must be told, somewhat
vain of his fine appearance. He had gorgeous
silver mountings, the best of rubber tires, and a
sweet-toned bell, to warn people that he was com-
ing. He was just finished at the time I write, and
had been sent to the shop from the manufactory
only the night before. The workmen knew when
they made him, that he was a very fine machine,
light, strong, and perfectly made in every re-
spect, and as he stood there finished before them,
bright and shining, they were proud of him. But
just how bright he really was, they never sus-

pected, for he had not only a strong will of his
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