The road from London to Southampton is one of the oldest in the Kingdom and passes many places of historic interest. In early days this highway, leading from one of the main seaports through the ancient Saxon capital, was of great importance. Over this road we began the trip suggested by the Touring Secretary of the Motor Union. As usual, we were late in getting started and it was well after noon when we were clear of the city. At Kingston-on-Thames, practically a suburb, filled with villas of wealthy Londoners, we stopped for lunch at the Griffin Hotel, a fine old inn whose antiquity was not considered sufficient to atone for bad service, which was sometimes the case. Kingston has a history as ancient as that of the capital itself. Its name is peculiar in that it was not derived from King's Town, but from King's Stone; and at the town crossing is the identical stone, so says tradition, upon which the Saxon kings were crowned. It would seem to one that this historic bit of rock would form a more fitting pedestal for the English coronation chair than the old Scottish stone from Dunstafnage Castle. After a short run from Kingston, we passed down High Street, Guildford, which, a well qualified authority declares, is "one of the most picturesque streets in England." Guildford might well detain for a day or more anyone whose time will permit him to travel more leisurely than ours did. William Cobbett, the author and philosopher, who was born and lived many years near by, declared it "the happiest looking town he ever knew"--just why, I do not know. The street with the huge town clock projecting half way across on one side, the Seventeenth Century Town Hall with its massive Greek portico on the other, and a queerly assorted row of many-gabled buildings following its winding way, looked odd enough, but as to Guildford's happiness, a closer acquaintance would be necessary. Shortly after leaving the town, the ascent of a two-mile hill brought us to a stretch of upland road which ran for several miles along a tableland lying between pleasantly diversified valleys sloping on either side. From this a long, gradual descent led directly into Farnham, the native town of William Cobbett. The house where he was born and lived as a boy is still standing as "The Jolly Farmers' Inn." One may see the little house which was the birthplace of the Rev. Augustus Toplady, whose hymn, "Rock of Ages," has gained world-wide fame. On the hill overlooking the town is the ancient castle, rebuilt in the Sixteenth Century and from that time one of the palaces of the bishops of Winchester. Here, too, lingers one of the ubiquitous traditions of King Charles I, who stopped at Vernon House in West Street while a prisoner in the hands of the Parliamentarians on their way to London. A silk cap which the king presented to his host is proudly shown by one of the latter's descendants, who is now owner of the house.