The First of July(4)

Systems are there to help us, not, as some of my colleagues believe, impede. For instance, I have two decisions to make:



Bicycles. When the time comes, should it be Rudge-Whitworth, Humber, or, as I am currently considering, the new Royal Enfield Duplex Girder? It is £8 15s., although £9 17s. 6d. with an Armstrong three-speed gear. Some say the motorcyclist can get from A to B quicker than the bicyclist; but what will he hear, what will he see, how will he greet other cyclists as he passes them? On a motor-bicycle there is no mastery of machine. The engine does the work. A bicycle is man and machine in harmony. In time, the decision will be made for me by the amount of information and the balance in favor and, of course, my savings. Saving a regular amount from my wages, I estimate I shall purchase a bicycle in August 1914.

A wife. Having found a way to choose a bicycle, I feel the system for selection will be as useful for this equally important decision. I need a young woman who will help me in my profession. A girl who is not in a position where she might look down on my efforts but who wishes, as I do, to improve herself. I would like a pretty one, of course. I don’t aim for a young lady of fashion, just a decent young woman who seeks a good provider (once I have bought the bicycle). I need her healthy, as I could not take time off and have no money for her to be sickly and, in time, I should like a small family.



Regarding the selection of a wife, at present I have two on my list:



Florence, who works in millinery.

For: She is, I think, a very fastidious young woman. I don’t think she is spoken for, although it is hard to be sure. If I had a bicycle, I could follow her home at a distance and be certain. She has a nice shape, healthy pink cheeks, fair hair, a pleasant way with customers; she is punctual, always looks smart; and Mr. Hardy once said “That young lady will rise.”

Against: I saw her once dancing with three feather boas around her neck. It was five minutes to closing, but it betrayed a frivolous nature or perhaps just youth. She calls herself Flo, but I always think of her as Florence: it’s the name on Mr. Hardy’s lips and a more dignified name should she ever get to hold the book. She may not be much more than seventeen.

The young lady at the Institute at St. Pancras. She may be named Connie or possibly Nancy (it is hard to tell, as she is often with her friend and I do not know which is which). She gives out pamphlets on Friday evenings with a man called Isaac, who looks a bit like the gypsies in picture books, although with spectacles, but knows a great deal about international politics. Connie (or Nancy) seems quiet and is tall and has big eyes. I have heard her ask questions of a speaker and they have always been useful, well-thought-through inquiries. She shows care for her appearance even in straitened circumstances. I think she would be careful with money.



Still, there is no urgency to make a decision. Mr. Hardy would look very poorly on a marriage before I am twenty-three. Also, my lodgings at Lambeth are quite unsuitable for a wife, but while I am saving for the bicycle I cannot afford more commodious, not to say salubrious, lodgings.

What if Connie/Nancy is a Suffragist? (Because of the boas I do not think Florence would be.) Mr. Frederick Richmond has very strong views on political ladies. Very.

I have been very impressed by the knowledge it is possible to acquire in London if you put your mind to it. I have learned about wireless communication, Esperanto, the works of Mr. G. K. Chesterton, the poetry of Mr. Longfellow,* and the history of the railway. On Fridays the Institute offers a range of political talks. Isaac, for all that he is young, and the only employment he can find is sewing garments in a Spitalfields factory, began a most interesting discussion on conditions for workers in other countries. I had never known that in Russia they still had slaves. Afterward we had tea together. He is very earnest in all he does and spends hours in the Institute reading room, but in time I have come to think him a friend. I do not say much about all this in the store, as I do not think Mr. Richmond or Mr. Hardy would like such things.

I am an Internationalist. I bought a map of England and a map of Europe (1s. 8d.). Now, of a summer evening or on Sundays, I walk and walk. North, south, east, west I go. Sometimes I feel as if I am pushing London outward with each stride or swing of my arms. When I have my bicycle, I plan to go to the Surrey hills and to the Chilterns, south to the Sussex chalk downs and the English Channel, and east along the brown Thames. Then I shall gaze at the great continent of Europe. Then, one day, to France and the greatest cycle race known to man.



* Mr. Longfellow, who is an American, has written a poem about bicycles:

This rapid steed which cannot stand