"Mr. STURMEY, in the preface to the new edition of his _Handbook of Bicycling_, sketches the progress of this enormously popular amusement since the appearance of his last edition, rather more than five years ago."--_Daily Paper._ [Illustration] YE Bicyclists of England Who stride your wheels with ease, How little do you think upon What Mr. STURMEY sees. The wheelmen's standard rises high With every year that goes. Wheels sweep, fast and cheap, Whereof STURMEY'S trumpet blows-- Our cycles range more swift and strong, And STURMEY'S trumpet blows. The Cycles of our fathers Were "bone-shakers," and few, But the cinder-path's broad field of fame Shows what their sons can do. When WYNDHAM rose, and STANTON fell, The pace was cramped and slow; Their creep to our sweep Rouses STURMEY'S scorn, you know-- Our Cycles now run fleet and strong, And STURMEY'S trumpets blow. Britannia needs no bulwark-- Tariffs her trade to keep, Her "wheels" are found on every path; Coventry's not asleep. Our WOODS and HOWELLS wheel like fun, JACK KEEN can make 'em go. Foes we floor from each shore, Whereof STURMEY'S trumpets blow-- Our Cyclists lick the world by long, And STURMEY'S trumpets blow. The "Meteor" wheels of England Shall yet terrific turn; 'Tis true that France gave us a start-- Now she has much to learn. To you, our brave wheel-warriors, Our song and glass shall flow; To the fame of your name Mr. STURMEY'S trumpets blow-- Cycles or Cyclists, _ours_ are best, So why should we _not_ blow? * * * * * HEAVY LIGHTNING.--Lord GRIMTHORPE, _à propos_ of Lightning Conductors, with his customary courtesy, writes to the _Times_ of his opponent's (also a Correspondent to the leading journal) desire "to display his own smartness," and speaks of that opponent's opinions as "mere nonsense, due to his ignorance." He concludes, "If he wants the last word, he is welcome to it." Lord GRIMTHORPE'S last word (if really the last) is preferable. * * * * * [Illustration: AMERICAN CHINA. THE WILLOW PATTERN PLATE OF THE FUTURE]