Leaving of Liverpool
Four o'clock in the afternoon of May 2nd is the time announced, and Edge Hill Church is the appointed place, where Mr. Lawrence Fletcher, of the Anfield Bicycle Club, and a number ofother Liverpool wheelmen, have volunteered to meet and accompany me somedistance out of the city. Several of the Liverpool daily papers havemade mention of the affair. Accordingly, upon arriving at the appointedplace and time, I find a crowd of several hundred people gathered tosatisfy their curiosity as to what sort of a looking individual it iswho has crossed America awheel, and furthermore proposes to accomplishthe greater feat of the circumlocution of the globe. A small sea of hatsis enthusiastically waved aloft; a ripple of applause escapes from fivehundred English throats as I mount my glistening bicycle; and, with theassistance of a few policemen, the twenty-five Liverpool cyclers whohave assembled to accompany me out, extricate themselves from the crowd, mount and fall into line two abreast; and merrily we wheel away down Edge Lane and out of Liverpool.
English weather at this season is notoriously capricious, and the presentyear it is unusually so, and ere the start is fairly made we are pedalingalong through quite a pelting shower, which, however, fails to make muchimpression on the roads beyond causing the flinging of more or less mud. The majority of my escort are members of the Anfield Club, who have theenviable reputation of being among the hardest road-riders in England, several members having accomplished over two hundred miles within thetwenty-four hours; and I am informed that Mr. Fletcher is soon to undertakethe task of beating the tricycle record over that already well-contestedroute, from John O'Groat's to Land's End. Sixteen miles out I becomethe happy recipient of hearty well-wishes innumerable, with the accompanyinghand-shaking, and my escort turn back toward home and Liverpool - all savefour, who wheel on to Warrington and remain overnight, with the avowedintention of accompanying me twenty-five miles farther to-morrow morning.
strudel.org.uk
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