“_Luncheon_ is included, consisting of Soup, Fish, Joint or Poultry, Vegetables, Sweets, and Cheese. “_Book early._ In order that the necessary conveyances can be arranged, passengers are requested to take tickets not later than 6 p.m. the previous day. _The conveyances are provided with coverings in case of wet weather._ Should fewer than four passengers be booked, or should the weather or other circumstances be unfavourable, the right is reserved to alter the date of the excursion.” Count de Grammont gave Charles II. a _calash_ as a present, which cost him two thousand guineas; it put every other vehicle in the shade by its elegance. The Queen and the Duchess of York first drove in it in the Park. Then began a terrible rivalry between Lady Castlemaine and Miss Stewart as to which of them should take precedence in the use of the new toy. The beautiful equipage became a source of squabble and contention at Court, and finally Miss Stewart was given the honour. She may have enjoyed the drive, but did she enjoy the jealousy it awoke? We hear much of “dust” in these motoring days, and many experiments have been tried to lay it. Motorists need never despair, though the problem is at least two and a half centuries old. Lying in the Public Record Office is a warrant issued in 1664 to James Hamilton, the Chief Ranger of Hyde Park, “to water the passage from the gate to where the coaches resort in the Park, to avoid the annoyance of dust, much complained of, the expense to be borne by the charge of 6d. on each coach; and to prevent all horses coming into the Park except such as have gentlemen or livery servants on them, as they cause much dust.” Pepys apparently suffered with the others, and all through the eighteenth century the favourite sneer of the Press at Hyde Park was that people went to “take the dust” there, not the air. For many years a barrel of water used to be placed in a cart, and when it arrived at the right place, the tap was turned, allowing a single stream to descend to the ground. Even our water-carts, that leave the streets covered with puddles, to the detriment of all light and dainty skirts on a lovely summer’s day, are an improvement on this, and Hyde Park has its own carts, stationed in the Store Yard at the back of the Royal Humane Society’s Lodge. In a quaint paper in the Harleian Miscellany (vol. viii. page 561), written by one who signed himself “A Lover of His Country” (1673), there is a long protest against the annoyances of the streets: