According to the Sussex newspapers of 1876, over fifteen thousand people assembled in the King's Road at Brighton to witness the finish of the sporting event between Major Penton and an unnamed competitor. Major Penton agreed to give his opponent a start of twenty-seven miles in a pedestrian match to Brighton, on the condition that he was allowed a "go-as-you-please" method, while the other man was to walk in the fair "heel-and-toe" style. The major won by a yard and a half in the King's Road, through the excitement of his competitor, who was disqualified at the last minute by breaking into a trot. Freakish sport was at this time decidedly in the ascendant, for the sole event of 1877 was the extraordinary escapade of two persons who on September 11th undertook to ride, dressed as clowns, on donkeys, from London to Croydon, seated backwards with their faces towards the animals' tails. From Croydon to Redhill they were to walk the three-legged walk--_i.e._, tied together by right and left legs--and thence to Crawley (surely a most appropriate place) on hands and knees. From that place to the end their pilgrimage was to be made walking in boots each weighted with 15 lb. of lead. This last ordeal speedily finished them, for they had failed to accomplish more than half a mile when they broke down. John Granby was another of these fantastic persons, whose proper place would be a lunatic ward. He essayed to walk to Brighton with 50 lb. weight of sand round his shoulders, in a bag, but he sank under the weight by the time of his arrival at Thornton Heath. [Sidenote: MORE RECORDS] In 1878 P. J. Burt bettered the performance of the Chinnerys, ten years earlier, by thirty-three minutes, walking to the Aquarium in 10 hrs. 52 mins. Most authorities agree in making his starting-point the Clock Tower on the north side of Westminster Bridge. 52-1/4 miles, and thus we can figure out his speed at about five miles an hour. All the athletic world wondered, and when, in 1884, C. L. O'Malley (pedestrian, swimmer, steeplechaser, and boxer), walking against B. Nickels, junr., lowered that record by so much as 1 hr. 4 mins., every one thought finality in long-distance padding the hoof had been reached. Meanwhile, however, 1882 had witnessed another odd adventure on the way to Brighton. A London clubman declared, while at dinner with a friend, that the bare-footed tramps sometimes to be seen in the country were not to be pitied. Boots, he said, were after all conventions, and declared it an easy matter to walk, say, fifty miles without them. He challenged his friend, and a walk to Brighton was arranged. The friend retired on his blisters in twelve miles; the challenger, however, with the soles of his stockings long since worn away, plodded on until he fainted with pain when only four miles from Brighton.