ith his
short, shrill "t'chit, t'chit," and a crack of his two-fathom whip
right over the ears of the leaders, as loud as the report of a pistol.
They sprang forward with a maddening energy, almost terrifying; but
the coach was hung and balanced with such precision, and the Windsor
road kept in the finest order for royalty, there was no jumping or
jolting, it glided along as smoothly as if it had been running on
rails. A proud man was Master Moody; not so much of himself, perhaps,
or of his glossy, broad-brimmed beaver, and broadcloth "upper
Benjamin," or the dashing silk tie around his neck, but of his
beautiful nags--and he had reason, for there was not an equipage on
the road, from the ducal chariot to the dandy tandem, to which he did
not give the go-by like lightning.

The rapidity of the movement, and the beauty of the animals, produced
an excitement sufficient to enable one to appreciate the rapture of
the Arab, as he flies over the desert on his beloved barb, enjoying,
feeling, exulting in liberty, sweet, intoxicating, unbounded liberty,
with the whole wilderness for a home.

Some such feelings took possession of me, as the well-poised machine
shot along. Quick as thought we threaded Kensington High street,
skirted the wall of Lord Holland's park, just catching, like the
twinkle of a sunbeam, a glimpse of the antique turrets of that classic
fane peeping through the trees, as we passed the centre avenue.

We speedily reached Hammersmith and Turnham Green, and then passed
Sion House and park, the princely residence of the Duke of
Northumberland, then dashed through the straggling old town of
Brentford. The intervening fields and openings into the landscape
affording enchanting prospects before entering on Hounslow Heath, when
the horses having got warm, the driver gave them full head, and the
vehicle attained a speed truly exhilarating.

The increased momentum, and the extensive prairie-like expanse of
Hounslow Heath, would have realized in any enthusiastic mind, the
feelings of the children of the desert.

This first excursion to Stoke was made during the month of May, when
all nature is fresh and fair; the guelder-roses and lilacs being in
full flower, and the hawthorn hedges were one sheet of milky
fragrance, the air was almost intoxicating, owing to the concentrated
perfumes arising from fruit orchards in full blossom, and the
interminable succession of flower gardens opposite every house
skirting that