At that time it was a difficulty to get to Epsom any other way than tramping it, as there was no railway, and the lowest fare was ten shillings, coach or van, and, being anxious for the treat, I had saved up sixteen shillings and threepence, and by a little diplomacy I had arranged to be abroad for the day without letting anyone know where I was going. At about four o’clock on the Wednesday morning I started from Cheyne for my trip, with my savings and two or three slices of bread and butter in my pocket, and as I passed old Chelsea Church it was a quarter to five, and a beautiful bright spring morning. Going over Battersea Bridge and turning to the right through the Folley, a colony of small cottages with a private way through them into Church Street with fields and herb gardens on one side, then passing Battersea Church and the draw-dock, into Battersea Square, into the High Street and outside the Castle Tavern. This being open was the first evidence of the road to Epsom, as there was a donkey cart with five or six gipsy men and women and one or two children with them. They had a stack of peas and shooters, back scratchers, paper flowers, plumes of feathers, and small bags of flour, also wooden dolls to sell to the visitors on the road, as at that time the favourite amusement was blowing peas through a tin tube at the people as they drove along, and some of the peas would give one a very painful experience. Throwing bags of flour was another amusement indulged in. Passing along High Street into Falcon Lane—then really a lane with fields and market gardens on each side, and a small stream where Clapham Junction now stands, then known as the boling brook, and past some cottages to Battersea Rise, and then up the hill past the old smithy that dated from 1626, on to the Common and across it to the end of Nightingale Lane, and along a footpath across where the Station and the St. James’s School now stand. It was then all common, and down Wandsworth Lane to the Wheatsheaf on the main road.