along the smiling valleys of Bavaria, the women, though usually with
figures disproportionately broad, nevertheless carry themselves with a
certain gracefulness; and, while far from the American or English idea
of beautiful, are several degrees more so than their relatives of the
part of Wilrtemberg I have traversed. I stop but a few minutes at Ulm,
to test a mug of its lager and inquire the details of the road to Augsburg,
yet during that short time I find myself an object of no little curiosity
to the citizens, for the fame of my undertaking has pervaded Ulm.

The roads of Bavaria possess the one solitary merit of hardness, otherwise
they would be simply abominable, the Bavarian idea of road-making evidently
being to spread unlimited quantities of loose stones over the surface.
For miles a wheelman is compelled to follow along narrow, wheel-worn
tracks, incessantly dodging loose stones, or otherwise to pedal his way
cautiously along the edges of the roadway. I am now wheeling through the
greatest beer-drinking, sausage-consuming country in the world; hop-
gardens are a prominent feature of the landscape, and long links of
sausages are dangling in nearly every window. The quantities of these
viands I see consumed to-day are something astonishing, though the
celebration of the Whitsuntide holidays is probably augmentative of the
amount.

The strains of instrumental music come floating over the level bottom
of the Lech valley as, toward eventide, I approach the beautiful environs
of Augsburg, and ride past several beer-gardens, where merry crowds of
Augsburgers are congregated, quaffing foaming lager, eating sausages,
and drinking inspiration from the music of military bands. "Where is the
headquarters of the Augsburg Velocipede Club?" I inquire of a promising-looking
youth as, after covering one hundred and twenty kilometres since ten
o'clock, I wheel into the city. The club's headquarters are at a prominent