It only remains to say a word about riding with men and boys. Boys, as a usual thing, are in better physical condition for such exercise as bicycle-riding than girls. They can consequently ride farther and faster than girls; and as any girl of spirit will try to keep up with whomever she is riding, she is likely to strain herself. It is wise, therefore, for the girl to always insist on leading, or, as it is called, on "setting the pace," and it is also wise for her to make up her mind just where she is going to ride before she stops. The distance is then settled before the journey begins, and there is no question of riding farther than she thought she would at the start. If a girl sets out for a bicycle ride without any definite point in view, she is likely to ride away from home until she becomes tired, and then there is the whole distance of the return to be covered in a more or less wearied condition; and it is this kind of bicycle-riding which does the injury to women and girls. WHAT MARJORIE COULD DO. BY H. G. PAINE. I. "Fire! Fire!" Marjorie Mason woke up with a start. "Clang! clang!" went the fire-engine from around the corner. "Whoa!" shouted the driver. "Dear me!" thought Marjorie; "it must be very near here," and she jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The engine was already connected with the hydrant across the street, and the firemen were attaching the hose and bringing it--what? yes; right up the front steps of the Masons' house! One fireman was ringing violently at the front-door bell; and Marjorie wondered why her father did not go down to open the door. Perhaps the house next door was on fire, and they wanted to take the hose up on the roof. Still the bell rang, and now Marjorie could hear the firemen from the hook-and-ladder truck that had just come up breaking in the parlor windows with their axes. "Why doesn't somebody go to the door?" she said to herself. "It will never do to have that dirty hose dragged through the parlor and over the new carpet!" and she jumped to the door of her room to run down and let the firemen in; but, as she opened it, a rush of hot air and stifling smoke blew into her face, choking and gagging her, and filling her eyes with tears. Then she realized for the first time that the fire was in her own house. She shut the door with a bang, and ran to the window, opened it, and looked out. As she did so a tongue of flame shot up in front of her from the window of the library, just underneath her own room. Her father's and mother's room was in the back part of the house on the same floor as the library. "Was it on fire, too?" Marjorie shuddered as she thought of it. "And Jack!" Her brother Jack slept in the back room on the same floor as Marjorie, but the rooms did not connect. "Perhaps the fire is only in the front part of the house," she thought, "and the others don't know anything about it." She determined to arouse them.