DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.61635#0165
[ i6i ]
the excess of thirty kilometres in a day. At La
Charite, between Cosne and Moulins, he had met
two Englishmen who were riding safety bicycles
with an interpreter. We asked him if he had
ever ridden in England. He said No; French
roads were so good, and French country so
beautiful.--
“Ah, Madame”—with his hand on his heart of
course—“ I adore the France ! ”
—Then we shook hands, to the visible delight
of the lookers-on, and, with another bow, he told
us we had nothing but great beauty from Neuvy
to Cosne, a distance of fifteen kilometres.—The
whole town watched our start, and, I think, in
our shabbiness we must have served the agent’s
purpose even better than his circular.
As we wheeled on we saw his tracks, making a
zig-zag course along the road, with little credit to
his steering. And in front of a lonely farm-house
a small boy at our coming drew a long sigh.---
“ But here is another ! ” he called to some one
indoors.
—The country really was beautiful. But I was
so tired ! Every turn of the pedals I felt must be
the last. And the thought that we should reach
Cosne but to begin the same battle on the morrow,
did not help to keep up my spirits. In vain I
L tried
the excess of thirty kilometres in a day. At La
Charite, between Cosne and Moulins, he had met
two Englishmen who were riding safety bicycles
with an interpreter. We asked him if he had
ever ridden in England. He said No; French
roads were so good, and French country so
beautiful.--
“Ah, Madame”—with his hand on his heart of
course—“ I adore the France ! ”
—Then we shook hands, to the visible delight
of the lookers-on, and, with another bow, he told
us we had nothing but great beauty from Neuvy
to Cosne, a distance of fifteen kilometres.—The
whole town watched our start, and, I think, in
our shabbiness we must have served the agent’s
purpose even better than his circular.
As we wheeled on we saw his tracks, making a
zig-zag course along the road, with little credit to
his steering. And in front of a lonely farm-house
a small boy at our coming drew a long sigh.---
“ But here is another ! ” he called to some one
indoors.
—The country really was beautiful. But I was
so tired ! Every turn of the pedals I felt must be
the last. And the thought that we should reach
Cosne but to begin the same battle on the morrow,
did not help to keep up my spirits. In vain I
L tried