From Paddington to Penzance; the Record of a Summer Tramp From

V FROM PADDINGTON TO PENZANCE — — — — —' J3B tbe autbor of tbe present Volume. Demy 8vo, cloth extra, j6s. THE BRIGHTON ROAD: OLD TIMES AND NEW ON A CLASSIC HIGHWAY. With a Photogravure Frontispiece and Ninety Illustrations. " The revived interest in our long-neglected highways has already produced a considerable crop of books descriptive of English road life and scenery, but few have been more attractive than this substantial volume. The author has gathered together a great deal of amusing matter, chiefly relating to coaching and life on the road in the days of George IV., where- with to supplement his own personal observations and adventures. He wields a clever pen on occasion—witness his graphic sketch of the ' ungodly tramp ' whom he met between Merstham and Crawley. The book, in brief, is inspired by a genuine love of the road and all its associations, past and present, animate and inanimate. Its ninety illustrations, partly sketches made by the author on the way, and partly reproductions of old-time pictures and engravings, will add greatly to its attractions." Daily News. "This is a book worth buying, both for the narrative and the illustrations. The former is crisp and lively, the latter are tastefully chosen] and set forth with much pleasing and artistic effect." Scottish Leader. "The Brighton Road was merry with the rattle of wheels, the clatter of galloping horses, the bumpers of hurrying passengers, the tipping of ostlers, the feats of jockeys and ' whips and princes, the laughter of full-bosomed serving-wenches, and the jokes of rotund landlords, and all this Mr. Harper's handsome and picturesque volume spreads well before its reaiiers. To the author. Lord Lonsdale, with his great feat on the road between Reigate and Crawley, is the last of the heroes, and the Brighton Parcel Mail is the chief remaining glory of what was once the most frequented and fashionable highway of the world, .^s Mr. Harper sadly says, _ 'the Brighton of to-day is no place for the travel-worn;' but, with his book in hand, the pedestrian, the horseman, the coachman, or the cyclist, may find the road that leads to it from town one of the most interesting and entertaining stretches of highway to be found anywhere."— /?a//_j' Chronicle. " Space fails us to mention the many sporting events that have been decided upon, or near, the Brighton Road. They are duly recorded in this lively volume. An old writer, speaking of Brighton shore, talks of the ' number of beautiful women who, every morning, court ; the embraces of the Watery God ' but these Mr. Harper found wanting, so he fled to K<MX\\%AeAX\."—Spectator. "This handsome book on the Brighton Road should be attractive to three classes in par- ticular—those who like coaching, those who enjoy cycling, and the 'general reader.'" Globe. "A pleasant gossiping account of a highway much trodden, ridden, driven, and cycled by the Londoner ; a solid and handsome volume, with attractive pictures." St. James's Gazette. "The Brighton Road is the classic land, the Arcadia, of four-in-hand driving. An ideally smooth, hard, high road, with no more of uphill and down than a coach could travel over at a canter going up, and at a rattling trot, with the skid on, going downhill, it was a road that every sporting Londoner knew by heart, and many a London man and woman who cared nothing for sport. The ancient glories of the road live for the author, and when he walks along the highway from London to Brighton, he seems to tread on holy ground. He ' would never have written so pleasant a book as The Brighton Road ' had he been less of an idealist. He has, however, other qualifications for bookmaking besides a delight in coaching and its ancient palmy days. Something of an archaeologist, he can speak learnedly of churches, both as ecclesiologist and artist, and has an eye for the human humours as well as the picturesque natural beauties of the road. His book is enriched with over ninety good illustrations, mainly from his own hand. Add to this, that Mr. Harper writes English pleasantly and well, with thorough love for and kniwledge of his subject, and the reader of this review will see that 'The Brighton Road' that I am inviting him to buy or borrow is a thoroughly honest, good, ami readable book." Black and If^hite. LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY, Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/frompaddingtontoOOharpiala o «-^ ^ ' y v_-> / From Paddington To Penzance THE 1{_EC0RD OF A SUMMER TRAMP FROM LONDON TO THE LAND'S END y CHARLES G. HARPER AUTHOR OF "THE BRIGHTON ROAD," ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR WITH ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR DRAWINGS Done chiefly with a Pen ILontJati CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 1893 To Qeneral Hawkes^ C,B, My Dear General, Although we did not tour together, you and I, there is none other than yourself to whom I could so ardently desire this hook to he inscribed—this hy reason of a certain happening at Looe, and not at all for the sake of anything you may find in these podges, saving indeed that the moiety of them is concerned with your county of Cornwall. I have wrought upon this work for many months, in storm and shine ; and always, when this crowded hive was most dreary, the sapphire seas, the hland airs, the wild moors of that western land have pre- sented themselves to memory, and at the same tiw,e have hoth cheered and filled with regrets one who works indeed amid the shoutings and the tumults of , vi LONDON TO. THE LAND'S END the streets, hut whose wish is for the country-side. You reside in mitigated rusticity ; I, in expiation of some sin committed, possibly, in by-past cycles and previous incarnations, in midst of these roaring millions ; and truly I love not so much company. Yours vei'y faithfully CHAELES G. HAEPER. s P^EFORE I set about the overhauling of my notes made on this tour—afoot, afloat, awheel—from London to Lands End, L confided to an old fHend my intention of publishing an account of these wan- derings. Noiv, no one has such a mean idea of one* capacities as an old friend, and so L was by no means surprised tvhen he flouted my project. I have known the man for many years ; and as the depth of an old friends scorn deepens with tiTne, you may guess how profound by now is his distrust of my powers. " Better hadn't," said he. " And why not ? " said L. ^' See how often it has been done," he replied. " Why should you do it again, after Elihu Burritt, after Walter White, and EEstrange, and those others who have wearied us so often with their didl records " of uneventful days f " L do it," I said, "for the reason that poets write — ! viii LONDON TO THE LAND'S END poetry, because I must Out upon your Burmtts and the rest of them ; I don't hnoio them, and don't want to—yet. When the hook is finished, then they shall he looked up for the sake of comparison ; at present, I keep an open mind on the subject." And I kept it until to-day. I have just returned from a day laith these authors at the BHtish Museum, and I feel weary. Probably most of them are dead by this time, as dead as their books, and nothing I say now can do them any harm ; so let me speak my mind. First I dipped into the pages of that solemn Yankee prig, Burritt, and p)resently became bogged in stodgy descriptions of agriculture, and long- drawn parallels betiveen English and American hus- bandry. Stumbling out of these sloughs, one comes headlong upon that true republicans aiukward rap- tures over titled aristocracy. The rest is all a welter of cheap facts and interjectional essays in the obvious. Then I essayed upon Walter White's " Londoner's Walk to the Land's End " horribly informative, and with an appalling poverty of epithet. This dreadful tourist was used (he says) to sing and recite to the imstics whom, he m£t. '''Tis a dry day, master," say the thirsty country- men to him; while he, heedless of their artfulformula, calls not for the flowing boivl, but strikes an attitude, and recites to them a ballad of Macaulay's And yet those poor men, robbed of their beer, applauded (says our author), and, like Oliver Tivist, asked for more. PREFACE ix Then an American coach-party had driven over part of our route, following the example of "An American Four-in-Hand in Britain," hy Citizen Carnegie. Indeed, we easily recognise the Citizen again, under the name of Maecenas, among this party, which produced the '* Chronicle of the Coach." The same Amemcanese pervades both books; the same patronage ofJohn Bidl, and the same laudation of those States, is common to them; but for choice, the Citizen's own book is in the viler taste. Both jig through their pages to an abominable ''charivari'' of their oivn composing, an aimalgam of " Yankee Doodle" and the "Marseillaise," one with (renegade Scot!) a bagpipe '' obbligato." They anticipate the time when ive shall be blessed with a Republic after the model of their own adopted country; the Citizen (I think) commonly wears a cap of liberty for headgear, and a Stars and Stmpes for shirt. This last may possibly be an error of mine.

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