British Highways And Byways From A Motor Car | Page 6

city. He will find the streets deserted everywhere. The
heavy traffic has all ceased and the number of cabs and motor busses is
only a fraction of what it would be on business days. He will meet
comparatively few motors in the city on Sunday, even though the day
be fine, such as would throng the streets of Chicago or New York with
cars. The Englishman who goes for a drive is attracted from the city by
the many fine roads which lead in every direction to pleasure resorts.
One of the most popular runs with Londoners is the fifty miles to
Brighton, directly southward, and the number of motors passing over
this highway on fine Sundays is astonishing. I noted a report in the
papers that on a certain Sunday afternoon no less than two hundred cars
passed a police trap, and of these, thirty-five were summoned before
the magistrates for breaking the speed limit. To the average American,
this run to Brighton would not be at all attractive compared with many
other roads leading out of London, on which one would scarcely meet a
motor car during the day and would be in no danger from the
machinations of the police. Of course the places frequented by tourists
are often closed on Sunday--or at least partially so, as in the case of
Windsor Castle, where one is admitted to the grounds and court, but the

state apartments, etc., are not shown. Even the churches are closed to
Sunday visitors except during the regular services.
Within a radius of thirty miles of London, and outside its immediate
boundaries, there are numerous places well worth a visit, most of them
open either daily or at stated times. A few of such places are Harrow on
the Hill, with its famous school; Keston, with Holwood House, the
home of William Pitt; Chigwell, the scene of Dickens' "Barnaby
Rudge;" Waltham Abbey Church, founded in 1060; the home of
Charles Darwin at Downe; Epping Forest; Hampton Court; Rye House
at Broxborne; Hatfield House, the estate of the Marquis of Salisbury;
Runnymede, where the Magna Charta was signed; St. Albans, with its
ancient cathedral church; Stoke Poges Church of Gray's "Elegy" fame;
Windsor Castle; Knole House, with its magnificent galleries and
furniture; Penshurst Place, the home of the Sidneys; John Milton's
cottage at Chalfont St. Giles; the ancient town of Guildford in Surrey;
Gad's Hill, Dickens' home, near Rochester; the vicarage where
Thackeray's grandfather lived and the old church where he preached at
Monken Hadley; and Whitchurch, with Handel's original organ, is also
near the last-named village. These are only a few of the places that no
one should miss. The motor car affords an unequalled means of
reaching these and other points in this vicinity; since many are at some
distance from railway stations, to go by train would consume more time
than the average tourist has at his disposal. While we visited all the
places which I have just mentioned and many others close to London,
we made only three or four short trips out of the city returning the same
or the following day. We managed to reach the majority of such points
by going and returning over different highways on our longer tours. In
this way we avoided the difficulty we should have experienced in
making many daily trips from London, since a large part of each day
would have been consumed merely in getting in and out of the city.
[Illustration: HARVESTING IN HERTFORDSHIRE.
From Painting by Alfred Elias. Exhibited in 1906 Royal Academy.]
Our first trip into the country was made on the Sunday after our arrival.
Although we started out at random, our route proved a fortunate one,

and gave us every reason to believe that our tour of the Kingdom would
be all we had anticipated. During the summer we had occasion to travel
three times over this same route, and we are still of the opinion that
there are few more delightful bits of road in England. We left London
by the main highway, running for several miles through Epping Forest,
which is really a great suburban park. It was a good day for cyclists, for
the main road to the town of Epping was crowded with thousands of
them. So great was the number and so completely did they occupy the
highway, that it was necessary to drive slowly and with the greatest
care. Even then, we narrowly avoided a serious accident. One of the
cyclists, evidently to show his dexterity, undertook to cut around us by
running across the tramway tracks. These were wet and slippery, and
the wheel shot from under the rider, pitching him headlong to the
ground not two feet in front of our car, which was then going at a pretty