Monday, July 8th.

Monday, July 8th.
    Everybody up early, for here dawned the great day to begin our Coaching Trip. After we had run out several ways on final errands, - Mr B having confusing difficulties with the shipment of our baggage to Paris , which he was well able to manage,- we met at the Hotel Entrance at 9:45 sharp. Father + Wentworth (36) came up to see us off, Swithin being detained. The sun shone finely at 9:40, but at ten when our coach - a "park drag", - rolled along, clouds of course shadowed everything, so that we were unable to get good pictures. Mr. S enjoyed trying out the four unknown horses through the tangle of Trafalgar Square. From the center of London life we passed through sections less active, took a hasty view of the Prince Albert memorial, and in 40 minutes had passed well below the Thames and run out upon open country. Our road wound among high walled roads, overshadowed by great green hedges and luxuriantly foliaged trees, - all like private park ways as Mr. S expressed it. Then we knew what coaching in England meant! From our elevated seats, we could look quite over the average wall and hedge to the fine near landscape all about us. Fine country mansions - old or new- were set quite closely along our morning stage, - making all the country side (37) seem most prosperous and happy. This must be "Merrie England". A cut through the estates of the Duke of Cambridge gave us a close view of a private park. But the public roads to Ewell and Epson, - all asphalt or well laid macadam, - were quite as lovely and picturesque. Wimbledon Common, nearer London, was the only thicket- like section. Slight down grades led into Ewell, and a fraction of a mile brought us to the end of our first stage at the Kings Arms, Epsom.
    Coaching has been revived from London to Brighton, - one set of coaches by an Englishman Lord Leconfield, another by A.G. Vanderbuilt. They make the run in a day- with several changes of horses along the route. One change was made at the King's Arms as we left. Still, our coach attracted the admiring looks, or friendly wave, of many passers by. The body was black, with door panels of Holland red, and wheels mainly red.
    Before lunch, three of the party played at catch, etc., while C.F.B., Mr. S. and I (38) walked to Epsom Downs, to see the great upland stretch where the world's famous race, The English Derby, is run yearly. Here we changed horses for the afternoon stage, the 1st 4 being sent ahead by train.
    From Epson to Reigate the country continued beautiful, - but more hilly, with more distant views. The clouds of the morning broke into fitful showers. Most beautiful of all was the descent down the more than mile-long hill heading in Reigate. Our glimpse over the hill country here surely justifies the epithet “Beautiful Surry”.
    A short walk, dinner, early to bed, and a long sleep.