CLASS OF 1873

This is taken from a recent issue of the Boston Herald:

"The weather was cold and snowy. The place was State St.; the time, mid-afternoon one day last week. The hero was an old man dressed in a fur coat. He was riding a bicycle.

"His name, we learned, is Nathaniel W. Ladd, 83, a Dartmouth alumnus of the class of 187$. He is a lawyer—and has been for 56 years. For 45 years he has lived at 56 Pemberton Square—within 50 feet of the courthouse. He walks up three flights of stairs to his apartment. He does not feel old.

"And his bicycle is to him what feet, subway, and automobile are to you and me. He passes some part of every day at the B. A. A. or the Boston Art Club. He cycles to his club and he cycles back—often at 8 or 9 o'clock. He does all his errands, downtown or towards the city's outskirts, on his bicycle.

"In 1900 the B. A. A. offered a prize to the member who should pedal the most miles between April 1 and November 1. The offer was withdrawn when it became evident that some of the more zealous sportsmen were endangering their lives—or at least their limbs—in the furious competition.

"But a few kept on riding. When November 1 came around, a special prize was awarded to Dr. Walter G. Kendall. At the end of the year a medal was given to Mr. Ladd.

"He had asked that his record he kept until December 31. Added up, it revealed that during 1900 he rode 9107 miles, an average of approximately 25 miles a day, considerably more than many a motorist drives his car today.

"In 1908—he was 60 then—he rowed, sailed, and paddled a canoe to New York and back, all alone. Until the last 15 years or so he used to row on the Charles. Dick Glendon the elder, former rowing coach at the B. A. A., used to marvel at his hardihood—going out in weather when younger and less venturous oarsmen stayed on shore.

"He took a six months' tour up through Vermont and New Hampshire during the summer of that year when he made the long distance cycling record. His vehicle was rigged to carry enough clothes for the journey—and a shotgun. Riding through the woods, he often raised partridges, but he found that by the time he could get the gun out of its harness, his birds had escaped. So he took to carrying his gun, loaded, in his left hand, steering with his right.

"He wanted especially to get a fox, but never did. He raised one once, but the day before he had had a fall, breaking his gun, but not, as good luck would have it, injuring himself."

Secretary, 9 Mt. Pleasant St., Winchester, Mass.