To-day start very early, without breakfast, as resources of the country inn exhausted. Do thirty miles without accident. Rather nervous work, because one of "leaders" (unlike "leader" in newspaper) shies at everything it meets. BOB half flicked the eye out of a man in passing through Guildford--awful row! Row only ended by a five-pound note as compensation. BOB says we shall all have to subscribe. Expenses mounting up. _Wednesday._--Frightfully cold East wind. _Is_ this enjoyment? Wish I were in a snug railway carriage. Ladies of party retire into inside of coach. Very selfish! _Thursday._--Bad cold from yesterday. And to-day it's snowing! Thank Heaven--only a week of it! BOB wants _me_ to drive! Says he feels he's in for influenza. Real fact is that we've got into nasty hilly country, and BOB'S rather afraid of horses bolting. Find now that he's never driven anything but a donkey in a low pony-carriage before! Isn't he driving donkeys _now_? Time will show. _Friday._--Much too cold and wet to go on. Hurrah! Nice country hotel, but charges awful. Proprietor doesn't often have a coaching party billeted on him, and is determined to make most of it. Evidently believes we're millionaires. Stupid of BOB to do this sort of thing. _Saturday._--Off--I mean, on--again! Cost so far, has already risen to two guineas a day per head, and as four of party have deserted us and gone back (by train) to Town, expenses for return journey likely to be still heavier. BOB at breakfast, gives us the "straight tip"--says he's going to "tool us back to Town in one day--only forty miles." Delighted at prospect. To carry out his programme, BOB has to get extra speed out of horses. Result--he gives us all the "straight tip"--down near Horsham--into a neighbouring field! A wheel off! Horse disabled! Telegraph to owner to come and fetch his coach; we go back (dejectedly) by rail. Bruised all over. Expenses enormous. Give me a jolly week in Paris next Easter! * * * * * An "Indignant One" writes:--"Sir--our house is infested with mice. Seeing a gentleman's name in the _Times_ with the words 'Mus. Doc.' after it, I sent to him. If I had wanted to have a horse cured, and had seen '_equus doc_.' after somebody's name, I should have acted in the same manner. I have sent three times and obtained no answer. If I do not hear from him by to-night's post, informing me why he does not come and give me a prescription for curing this plague of mice, I shall publish his name and address as an impostor, and the sooner he drops the 'Mus. Doc.' the better." [We publish the grievance. Our Correspondent is too learned. Let him call at the Royal Academy of Music.--ED.] * * * * * THE TRIVIAL ROUND. _Being the Utterances of Mrs. Jabberly Jones on Show Sunday._ [Not Intended for Publication.] [Illustration]