compared only to Canadian tobogganing. Ahead of you stretches a gradual
downward slope, perhaps two kilometres long. Knowing full well that from
top to bottom there exists not a loose stone or a dangerous spot, you
give the ever-ready steel-horse the rein; faster and faster whirl the
glistening wheels until objects "by the road-side become indistinct
phantoms as they glide instantaneously by, and to strike a hole or
obstruction is to be transformed into a human sky-rocket, and, later on,
into a new arrival in another world. A wild yell of warning at a blue-
bloused peasant in the road ahead, shrill screams of dismay from several
females at a cluster of cottages, greet the ear as you sweep past like
a whirlwind, and the next moment reach the bottom at a rate of speed
that would make the engineer of the Flying Dutchman green with envy.
Sometimes, for the sake of variety, when gliding noiselessly along on
the ordinary level, I wheel unobserved close up behind an unsuspecting
peasant walking on ahead, without calling out, and when he becomes
conscious of my presence and looks around and sees the strange vehicle
in such close proximity it is well worth the price of a new hat to see
the lively manner in which he hops out of the way, and the next moment
becomes fairly rooted to the ground with astonishment; for bicycles and
bicycle riders are less familiar objects to the French peasant, outside
of the neighborhood of a few large cities, than one would naturally
suppose.

Vitry le Frangois is a charming old town in the beautiful valley of the
Marne; in the middle ages it was a strongly fortified city; the moats
and earth-works are still perfect. The only entrance to the town, even
now, is over the old draw-bridges, the massive gates, iron wheels, chains,
etc., still being intact, so that the gates can yet be drawn up and
entrance denied to foes, as of yore; but the moats are now utilized for
the boats of the Marne and Rhine Canal, and it is presumable that the