dimensions. Entering a barber's shop here for a shave, I find the barber of
Molk following the example of so many of his countrymen by snoozing the
mid-day hours happily and unconsciously away. One could easily pocket
and walk off with his stock-in-trade, for small is the danger of his awakening.
Waking him up, he shuffles mechanically over to hia razor and lathering
apparatus, this latter being a soup-plate with a semicircular piece
chipped out to fit, after a fashion, the contour of the customers'
throats. Pressing this jagged edge of queen's-ware against your windpipe,
the artist alternately rubs the water and a cake of soap therein contained
about your face with his hands, the water meanwhile passing freely between
the ill-fitting' soup-plate and your throat, and running down your breast;
but don't complain; be reasonable: no reasonable-minded person could
expect one soup-plate, however carefully chipped out, to fit the throats
of the entire male population of Molk, besides such travellers as happen
along.

Spending the night at Neu Lengbach, I climb hills and wabble along, over
rough, lumpy roads, toward Vienna, reaching the Austrian capital Sunday
morning, and putting up at the Englischer Eof about noon. At Vienna I
determine to make a halt of two days, and on Tuesday pay a visit to the
headquarters of the Vienna Wanderers' Bicycle Club, away out on a suburban
street called Schwimmschulenstrasse; and the club promises that if I
will delay my departure another day they will get up a small party of
wheelmen to escort me seventy kilometres, to Presburg. The bicycle clubs
of Vienna have, at the Wanderers' headquarters, constructed an excellent
race-track, three and one-third laps to the English mile, at an expense
of 2,000 gulden, and this evening several of Austria's fliers are training
upon it for the approaching races. English and American wheelmen little
understand the difficulties these Vienna cyclers have to contend with:
all the city inside the Ringstrasse, and no less than fifty streets