s be true if, as in
our case, fully two hours be spent in getting out of the city and
reaching the highway south of the Thames, which follows the river to
Canterbury.

Leaving Russell Square about ten o'clock, I followed the jam down
Holborn past the Bank and across London Bridge, crawling along at a
snail's pace until we were well beyond the river. A worse route and a
more trying one it would have been hard to select. With more experience,
I should have run down the broad and little-congested Kingsway to
Waterloo Bridge and directly on to Old Kent road in at least one-fourth
the time which I consumed in my ignorance. Nevertheless, if a novice
drives a car in London, he can hardly avoid such experiences. Detailed
directions given in advance cannot be remembered and there is little
opportunity to consult street signs and maps or even to question the
policeman in the never-ending crush of the streets. However, one
gradually gains familiarity with the streets and landmarks, and by the
time I was ready to leave London for America, I had just learned to get
about the city with comparative ease.

Old Kent road, which leads out of London towards Canterbury, is an
ancient highway, and follows nearly, if not quite, the route pursued by
the Canterbury pilgrims of the poet Chaucer. In the main it is unusually
broad and well kept, but progress will be slow at first, as the suburbs
extend a long way in this direction, and for the first twenty-five miles
one can hardly be said to be out of the city at any time. Ten miles out
the road passes Greenwich, where the British observatory is located, and
Woolwich, the seat of the great government arsenals and gun works, is
also near this point, lying directly by the river.

Nearly midway between London and Rochester is the old town of Dartford,
where we enjoyed the hospitality of the Bull Hotel for luncheon. A
dingy, time-worn, rambling old hostelry it is, every odd corner filled
with stuffed birds and beasts to an extent that suggested a museum, and
as if to still further carry out the museum feature, mine host had built
in a small court near the entrance a large cage or bird-house which was
literally alive with specimens of feathered songsters of all degrees.
The space on the first floor not occupied by these curios was largely
devoted to liquor selling, for there appeared to be at least three bars
in the most accessible parts of the hotel. However, somewhat to the rear
there was a comf