ey surveyed.

When the sun was fairly up, and the morning mists rolled away from those
glorious Downs, I felt my mission accomplished. I had seen the sun rise
on Epsom course. As it was many hours before a train would return, and
I still felt fresh, I resolved to give the coup de grace to my night's
adventure by walking home--at least, walking to the radius of workmen's
trains. The vanguard of the Derby procession now began to show strongly
in the shape of the great unwashed climbing the ridge of the hill by the
paddock; and I felt I should see some characteristic sights along the
road. Bidding good-bye, therefore, to my guide at Epsom, I set out on
foot along the now-populous road, mine being the only face turned
London-wards. Carts laden with trestles and boards for stands now began
to be in force. By-and-by the well-known paper bouquets and outrageous
head-gear showed themselves as forming the cargo of costermongers'
carts. The travellers were all chatty, many of them chaffy. Frequent
were the inquiries I had to answer as to the hour and the distance to
the course. Occasionally a facetious gentleman anxiously inquired
whether it was all over, as I was returning? I believe the majority
looked upon me as a harmless lunatic, since I was travelling away from
Epsom on the Derby morning, and pitied me accordingly. An Irishman aptly
illustrated the genial character of Hibernian chaff as compared with
English. "Good day to your honner!" he said. "It does me good to see
your honner's happy face again;" though, of course, he had never seen it
before. As I passed on with a brief salutation, he took the trouble to
run after me, and slapping me on the shoulder, added, in a beautiful
brogue: "Wait a minnit; I don't want to ax you for anything, but only to
tell you how glad I am to see yer honner's happy face agin. Good
mornin'!"

So through Ewell, Cheam, and Morden, up to Tooting; the throng
increasing at every mile. At Balham, finding no train for an hour, I
footed it again. I found preparations for endless Aunt Sally already
being made on Clapham Common. Soon after six, I jumped into a train on
the London, Chatham, and Dover, and came home "with the milk;" having
not only had a healthy night's exercise--for the weather had all along
been splendid--but having added to my experiences of London life one new
"wrinkle" at least: I had seen the life of St. Giles's kitchen and
Bethnal Green lodging-house a la campagne. What I had alre