I was beginning to move more rapidly along the little path, well worn by many rubber tires, which edged the broad roadway, when I perceived the doctor's daughter standing at the gate of her father's front yard. As I knew her very well, and she happened to be standing there and looking in my direction, I felt that it would be the proper thing for me to stop and speak to her, and so I dismounted and proceeded to roll my bicycle up to the gate. "Your wheel does seem to be a sort of a companion," she said; "not so good as a horse, but better than nothing. I should think, traveling all by yourself in this way, you would have quite a friendly feeling for it. Did you ever think of giving it a name?" -- "Oh yes," said I. "I have named it. I call it a 'Bicycle of Cathay.'"