earing Joe's report, the club determines to push on at once to
Curtin Harbor in the early evening, without accepting the hospitable
invitation to supper at the farmhouse.

The two miles to the main road are quickly traversed, and before long
the club wheels around a long curve in the road, and the blue expanse of
Curtin Harbor lies beneath them. The clouds are gone by this time; the
rising moon shoots slantwise through a few thin, dissolving folds, and
brings out ripples of gold and silver on the long seas. There seems to
be a breeze that stirs the water to darker ruffles beyond the head-land,
but where the young folk sit on their tricycles, enjoying the beauty of
the scene and the salty damp of the evening air, not a blade of the
coarse, silvery beach-grass stirs; every spire and blade stands in
sheeny silver in the mellow light.

Below the beach-road branches off a long winding descent to the quiet
cottages which lie in the evening glow, seemingly fast asleep.

"Now, girls, for a good coast!" cries Starrett. "Here goes!"

And away indeed he goes, over the brow of the hill, rolling swiftly, and
removing his feet from the pedals as his machine gathers way. Away also
they all fly after him, merry as larks, waking all the echoes of the
shore with their light-hearted shouts and laughter. The tricycle lamps
flash out upon the seaward road, and soon it comes to pass, that as
Charley's wheels whiz flashing into the wide, grassy dooryard of a
certain pleasant little summer abode, a hand lifts the window curtain,
and a voice, with a ring of irrepressible gladness but a great pretense
of gruffness, calls out:

"Is this my noisy daughter, who has been running wild for a week over
all the roads on Cape Cod?"

"Oh, Papa!" cries Charley, gleefully, "we've had a perfectly charming
trip!"

And so says the entire club. And they pass a vote of thanks to Joe for
taking faithful care of them, and to Starrett for his excellent escort
duty. And now when the story of their eighty-mile ride is told,
everybody votes tricycling a wonderfully health-giving and delightful
exercise, and the first long trip of the Girls' Tricycling Club a grand
success.

MORNING-GLORIES.

BY LAURA LEDYARD POPE.

My neighbor's morning-glories rise
And flutter at her casement;
_My_ morning-glories' lovely eyes
Peep just above the basement.

And both our morning-glories strew
With loveliness the railing,
And t