A QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE Dear Mr. Punch,--Knowing you to be a past master in the art of courtesy, I venture to submit the following hard case to your judgment. The other morning, being a none too experienced cyclist, I ventured into the Park on my "wheel" at an early hour, thinking to have a little practice unobserved. Judge of my horror when, as I was wobbling along, I was suddenly confronted by the Duchess of Xminster and her daughters, all expert riders! Her Grace and the Ladies Wiseacre bowed to me in the most affable way, but, afraid to leave go of the handles of my machine, I could only NOD in return. And I have always been renowned for the elegance with which I remove my _chapeau_! These noble ladies have since cut me dead. I cannot blame them, but I venture to suggest, for your approval, that the raising of the right elbow, such as is practised by coachmen, gentle and simple, should be adopted by all cyclists. I think that I could manage the movement. Yours in social despair, AMELIUS AMBERGRIS _Bayswater._ * * * * * Illustration: _Cow-boy_ (_to young lady who has taken refuge_). "Would you mind openin' the gate, miss? They're a-comin' in there." * * * * * An admirable improvement in motor-cars is about to be introduced by one of our leading firms. Cars are frequently overturned, and the occupants buried underneath. In future, on the bottom of every car made by the firm in question there will be engraved the words, "Here lies----," followed by a blank space, which can be filled up by the purchaser. * * * * * _He._ "Do you belong to the Psychical Society?" _She._ "No; but I sometimes go out on my brother's machine!" * * * * * Illustration: WHEEL AND WOE.--A Brooklyn inventor has patented a cycle-hearse. * * * * * Illustration: UNLICENSED PEDALLERS.--Cyclists. * * * * * TO MARIE, RIDING MY BICYCLE Brake, brake, brake On my brand-new tyre, Marie! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fishmonger's boy That his tricycle's mean and squalid; O well for the butcher lad That the tyres of his wheel are solid! And the reckless scorchers scorch With hanging purple heads, But O for the tube that is busted up And the tyre that is cut to shreds. Brake, brake, brake-- Thou hast broken indeed, Marie, And the rounded form of my new Dunlop Will never come back to me. * * * * * A SUGGESTION IN NOMENCLATURE.--The old name of "Turnpike Roads" has, long ago, with the almost universal disappearance of the ancient turnpikes, become obsolete. Nowadays, bicycles being "always with us," why not for "Turnpike Roads" substitute "Turn-bike roads"? This ought to suit the "B. B. P.," or "Bicycling British Public."