I wheeled past, but upon looking back they would almost invariably be
seen standing and gazing after my receding figure with unmistakable
interest; but the women of these Rhine villages burst out into merry
peals of laughter.

Rolling over fair roads into the village of Oberkirch, I conclude to
remain for the night, and the first thing undertaken is to disburden the
bicycle of its covering of clay. The awkward-looking hostler comes around
several times and eyes the proceedings with glances of genuine disapproval,
doubtless thinking I am cleaning it myself instead of letting him swab
it with a besom with the single purpose in view of dodging the inevitable
tip. The proprietor can speak a few words of English. He puts his bald
head out of the window above, and asks: "Pe you Herr Shtevens ?" "Yah,
yah," I reply.

" Do you go mit der veld around ?" "Yah; I goes around mit the world."

"I shoust read about you mit der noospaper." " Ah, indeed! what newspaper?"

"Die Frankfurter Zeitung. You go around mit der veld." The landlord looks
delighted to have for a guest the man who goes "mit der veld around,"
and spreads the news. During the evening several people of importance
and position drop in to take a curious peep at me and my wheel.

A dampness about the knees, superinduced by wheeling in rubber leggings,
causes me to seek the privilege of the kitchen fire upon arrival. After
listening to the incessant chatter of the cook for a few moments, I
suddenly dispense with all pantomime, and ask in purest English the
privilege of drying my clothing in peace and tranquillity by the kitchen
fire. The poor woman hurries out, and soon returns with her highly