The Brighton Road

st of alarms." He should have chosen the Brighton Road; for ever since it has been a road

rtunate or unfortunate enough to dwell upon the Brighton Road have the whole panorama of sport unfolded before their eyes, whether they wi

, although it affords as good going as, or better than, ever, it is not so suitable as it was for these displays of speed. Traffic has grown with the growth of vil

the days when it began to be a road: those full-blooded sportsmen, ready for any freakish wager, who were the boon com

so conveniently and alluringly near an even fifty miles. So much may be done

ING E

ne. On that day he mounted his horse there and rode to London and back. He went by way of Cuckfield, and was ten hours on the road: four and a half hours going, five and a half hours returning. On August 21st of the same year,

es were in due course surpassed, they were not altogether b

ager of 300 to 200 guineas with Sir B. Graham about the performance in three and a half hours of the journey from Brighton to Westminster Bridge, mounted upon one of the blood horses that usually ran in his phaeton. He accomplished th

horses to be changed en route as often as he might think proper. The Artilleryman accordingly despatched a servant to provide relays, and at twelve o'clock on an unfavourable night the parties set out to decide the bet, which was won by the clergyman with difficulty. He arrived in town at 5 a.m., on

es, had by this time arrived, and after two or three had managed, at some kind of a slow pace, to get to and from Brighton, the "Autopsy" achieved a record of sorts in October, 1833. "Autopsy" was an unfortunate name, suggestive of post-mortem examinations and "crowner's quests," but

forty minutes-a coach record that not only quite eclipsed that of the "Red Rover," but has never yet been equalled, not even by Selby, on hi

Oxford University." On March 20th, for a heavy wager, he started to walk the hundred miles from Kennington Church to Brighton and back in twenty-five hours. Setting out on the Friday, at 6 p.m., he was back at Kennington Church at 5 p.m. Saturday, having thus won his wager with two hours to spare. It will be observed, or guessed, from th

have been impossible in the mid-eighteenth century,

h, out of their former condition of ruts and mud, the quaint beginnings of the bicycle are noticed. Th

OBBY-

think of the hills on the way, it is quite impossible that any one should so ride. It was perhaps within the limits of human endurance to ride a Hobby Horse along the levels, to walk it up the rises, and then to madly descend the hills, and so reach Brighton, very sore; but records do not tell us of such a stern pioneer. The Hobby Horse, it should be said, was an affair of

in strictly limited doses, and it was not until it had experienced a new birth and was born again as the "velocipede

BONE

red "safety" what the roads of 1865 are to those of 1906. It also, like the Hobby Horse, had iron-shod wooden wheels, but had cranks and pedals, and could be ridden uphill. On such a machine the f

number of an athletic magazine, Ixion, published in that year, "J. M., jun.," who, of course, was none other than Mayall himself, began to tell the wondrous tale. He set out to narrate it at such length

he saw a packing-case being followed by a Mr. Turner, whom he had seen at the Paris Exhibition of 1868, and witnessed the unpacking of it. From it came a something new

uction, the word "bicycle" is claimed to have been first used in the Times in the early part of 1868; and certainly we find in the Daily News of September

e" which had found its way to E

ense surprise, vaulted on to it. Putting his feet on what were then called the "treadles," Turner, to the astonishment of the beholders, made the circuit of the room, sitting on this bar above a pair of whee

AYALL

at the Gymnasium, "intending to have a day of it," and I think, from hi

ts of a hundred men of the adjacent factory, engaged in the congenial occupation of lounging against the blank walls in their dinner-hour, the velocipede was hoisted on to a cab and driven to Portland Place, where it was put on the pavement, and Mayall prepared to mount.

to the velocipede, but it slipped on the wet road, and he mea

here he fell with a crash as though a barrow had been upset. But again vaulting into the saddle, he lumbered on into Regent's Park, and so to the drinking-fountain near the Zoological Gardens, where, in attempting to turn round, he fell over again.

t Spencer's home, staggered on to a sofa, and lay there, exhausted, soaked in rain and perspiration, and covered with mud.

nd grovelling in the mud was a part of the pastime. The following day, very sore, but still undaunted, he re-visited the "Angel," went through the Cit

nged into the saddle, and so thundered and clattered down hill into Merstham. At Redhill, seventeen and a half miles, utterly exhausted, he relinquished the attempt, and retired to the railway station, where he lay for some time on one of

"about" twelve hours. Being a photographer, Mayall of course caused himself to be photographed standing beside the instrument of torture on which he made that weary ride, and thus we have preserved to us the weird spectacle he presented; more like that of a Russian convict than an ath

CO

the March of that year two once well-known amateur pedestrian members of the Stock Exchange, W. M. and H. J. Chinnery, walked down to

the machine itself, although in general appearance very much the same, had been improved in detail. The 36-inch front wheel had been increased to 44 inches, the wooden spokes had

ALL, JUN

temporary

6th of that year six members of the Surrey and six of the Middlesex Bicycle Clubs rode from Kennington Oval to Brighton and back, Causton captain of the Surrey,

ould walk the 22? miles from Reigate to London. Revel was to leave Brighton at the junction of the London and Montpellier roads at the same time as Gregory started from a

nt the steadily growing machines, but once seated on them the going was easier. April 27th, 1874, found Alfr

d the knight, accepting the bet, made his appearance airily clothed in the "shorts" of the recognised running costume and wheeling a barrow made of bamboo, and provided with handles six feet long. He won easily, but whether the loser paid the thousand guineas, or lodged a protest with referees, does not appear. He should have specified the make of barrow, for the kinds range through quit

tor. 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

d 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 k

tic ward. He essayed to walk to Brighton with 50 lb. weight of sand round his shoulder

REC

e Clock Tower on the north side of Westminster Bridge. 52? 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 (pede

ry 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.

etic Club, walked to Brighton in 9 hrs. 25 mins. 8 sec

ird," trotted from Kennington Cross to Brighton in 4 hrs. 30 mins. On July 13th Selby drove the "Old Times" coach from the White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, to Brighton and