We are offering this marvellous invention at the absurd price of

50 guineas cash down,

or 98 weekly instalments of 1 guinea. [Special reductions to company
promoters and men with large families.]

We can't afford to do it for less, because when once you have bought one
you will never want another.

ADVICE TO PURCHASERS

Don't lose your head when the machine runs away with you down the hill;
simply press the spring.

Don't wait for your rich uncle to die; just send him one of our cycles.

Don't lock your cycle up at night; merely press the spring.

Don't be misled by other firms who say that their machines will also
fall to pieces; they are only trying to sell their cycles; we want to
sell YOU.

NOTE.--We can also fit this marvellous Little Spring to perambulators,
bath-chairs, and bathing machines.

We append below some two out of our million testimonials. The other
999,998 are expected every post.

_July, 1906._

Dear Sirs,--I bought one of your cycles in May, 1895, and it is still as
good as when I received it. I attribute this solely to the Little
Handle-Bar Spring, which I pressed as soon as I received the machine.

P.S.--What do you charge for rebuilding a cycle?

_August, 1906._

Gentlemen,--Last month I started to ride to Barnet on one of your
cycles. When ascending Muswell Hill, I lost control of the machine,
but I simply pressed the spring, and now I feel that I cannot say enough
about your bike. I shall never ride any other again.

P.S.--I should very much like to meet the inventor of the "Little
Handle-Bar Spring."

* * * * *

Illustration: _Friend._ "Going about thirty, are we? But don't you run
some risk of being pulled up for exceeding the legal pace?"

_Owner._ "Not in a sober, respectable-looking car like this. Of course,
if you go about in a blatant, brass-bound, scarlet-padded, snorting
foreign affair, like _that_, you are bound to be dropped on, no matter
how slow you go!"

* * * * *

Illustration: AN AMBUSCADE.--Captain de Smythe insidiously beguiles the
fair Laura and her sister to a certain secluded spot where, as he
happens to know, his hated rival, Mr. Tomkyns, is in the habit of
secretly practising on the bicycle. He (Captain de S.) calculates that a
mere glimpse of Mr. T., as he wobbles wildly by on that instrument, will
be sufficient to dispel any illusions that the fair Laura may cherish in
her boso