The Sun.
London, England, 1862-06-04 00:00:00

EPSOM RACES....THIS DAY.

(FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.)

This being Derby-day, the streets of the metro-
polis, at an early hour, began to assume the usual
bustle and activity attendant on this great event.
The House of Commons, even in the midst of a
Ministerial crisis, adjourned in order to allow the
"collective wisdom" of the United Kingdom to
take part in the metropolitan holiday and the
great International Exhibition, the Crystal Palace,
and in fact all the attractions of London were, com-
paratively speaking, deserted for a trip to the ver-

dant downs of Surrey. Anticipating the real or
imaginary wants of the thousands who betake
themselves to Epsom, the shopkeepers of London
have been unceasing in their exertions to meet the
demand thus created. Not a shop window, for the
last week or two, could be passed without seeing
something very conspicuously labelled " For the
Derby," or " For the Races." Four-horse drags,
open barouches, and covered vans, were advertised
in all directions, and from the number seen on the
road the demand must have been quite equal to the
supply. The great movement of the Epsom pil-
grims commenced at about four o'clock this
morning, at which early hour all the pathways
leading out of tow❑ were marked with dark mov-
ing lines of pedestrians, laden with the most extra-
ordinary variety of burthens, and the roadways
were equally thronged with patient donkeys,
who only required time to get over as much
ground as the most agile of Derby racers. Poor
Neddy was laden with all manner of movables,
such as only could belong to the costermonger
population, who seemed bent on securing those
admirable places for viewing the great event, near
the ropes, which, as the time for starting arrives,
are eyed with envy by those who have paid their
guinea for admittance to the Grand Stand.
Never, since the now almost forgotten days of
coaching, has that well-known and far-famed house,
the Spread Eagle, Gracechurch-street, been so com-
pletely inundated with persons anxious for con-
veyance to the races. The street was for some time
positively impassable from the number of vehicles,
of all descriptions, congregated there for that
purpose.

The facilities (aired by the railway companies
afforded us an opportunity, previous to leaving town,
to take a peep at the great southern centre of bustle
and confusion—the Elephant and Castle. Every-
thing seemed to muster there. Post-chaises, that
had done duty any time these months past as pigeon
roosts in the worst inn's worst yard, came clatter-
ing along, the horses, warranted three parts blood
and the other part corn, indulging in the imperfect
recollection of a canter, a feeble reminiscence that
the postillion fostered to the utmost by rising in
his saddle now and then, as if the animal really
galloped. Next arrived some swell drags, crowded
outside with fast young men, and inside with all
kinds of missiles, with which to pelt the liGges
coming back; there, too, aspiring clerks assembled
and donned blue veils, preparatory to going quietly
down by rail; and there were also some young
fellows who had so anticipated matters as even thus
early in the morning to require a helping hand to
steady them in their passage to the knife-board on
the roofs of the omnibuses.

At this point also was held the annual meeting
of superannuated mail coaches, and this year the
attendance was more numerous than usual. The
appeals on their behalf by the individuals who had
had the moral courage to again produce the relics of
a bygone but very pleasant age, were eloquent in
the extreme; but the most tempting offers of front
seats, or the most liberal suggestions by way of
pecuniary arrangements, offered no inducement to
counterbalance the comfort, speed, and certainty of
the rail. People still remember the first break at
at Kennington Turnpike, the giving way of the
traces at the Swan, the constantly recurring thirst
of the coachman at every roadside public-house, the
imminent risk of upset in the narrow road leading
to the Downs, and the not at all unc =mon contin-
gency of arriving on the course just as the crowd
were most triumphantly cheering the winner of the
blue riband of the turf, whilst the police are most
unceremoniously dragging off to the lock-up those
industrial and active young gentlemen who have
pecaliar notions about right and wrong, and who
imagine they have just as much as right to your
watch, purse, or pocket handkerchief, as you have
yourself.
Thanks, however, to Mr. Slight, of the Brighton,
and Mr. Clarke, of the South-Western, for by their
arrangements the " rail" has been 'brought to suit
" the book" of everybody. The fares charged,
though far from high, ensures respectability, and
the most timid of people may safely venture to the
Derby by the rail, certain to meet nothing worse
than members of Parliament, select members of the
prize ring, intelligent foreigners studying the man-
ners of the English, and those well-trussed, well-
braced, well-dressed unmistakeable personages who
go to the Derby as a matter of business, and who
under a smiling exterior perhaps conceal consider-
able doubts as to whether the evening will see
them millionaires or paupers.
The confusion, crowding, and inconvenience that
existed in former times at the London Bridge, Vic-
toria, and Waterloo stations, on the present occa-
sion totally disappeared, and in its place you had
order and regularity of the best description. Of
course you enter the station in a state not quite as
cool as a cucumber, as on the road you have been
calculating the difficulties through which you will
have to pass ; but your fears prove altogether
groundless, for the orderly official stationed at the
platform directs you civilly to the carriages ; but
every now and then, when the attendance is rather
too numerous, he calls out, " Forward, gentlemen,
for Epsom—plenty of room lower down," and
accordingly the crowd hurry on in the best pos-
sible good humour, which is not disturbed by
your having to put up with a seat in a third,
although yciu have taken your ticket for the first-
class carriage, and having for your companions a
number of unmistakeable " betting men," some
gentlemen pugilists, and three or four novices in
the same eminent profession. However, on the
Derby-day you have made up your mind not to
stick at trifles, so you make the best of the situa-
tion, and while away the comparative tedium of the
journey by meditation on the changes the events of
the day will occasion, your reflections only being
interrupted by the loud snorting of the iron horse
that is conveying you to the scene of action.
As you near Epsom the fact is vividly brought
to your mind by the preparations that require to
be made for quitting the carriage. One gentleman
coolly pulls out a rather fast-looking neck-tie,
which he arranges on his person with the greatest
precision and nicety; whilst another takes from a
very neat little paper parcel a shirt-collar of fault-
less whiteness, with which he performs a similar
operation. At this moment the train begins to
slacken its pace, and in a few minutes after the
rush from the carriages is something tremendous.
You enter the town of Epsom,
he and to
oyour great astonishment you find
inhabi-
tants all pursuing their worldly calling with
the greatest possible coolness, as certainly from
their demeanour you would never imagine
that the greatest horse-race in the worldt was about
e
to take place but a mile or so from h
town, but
this is no doubt to be attributed to the fact that the
thousands of pedestrians who pass through the
place take all their capital with them to the race-
course. Before you can well say you have cleared
the town, your difficulty, slight of course at first,
commences, and as far as real work is concerned
you seem considerably further off the Downs than
when you left Victoria Station. You follow a
streaming procession of pedestrians down a
long and very dusty lane, but the perfume
from tiic hedges, the singing of the birds, the
bright green fields and the gambols of the urchins
by the wayside, make up a scene that is perfectly
delightful. With what zest your thorough Lon-
doner takes the first few stiles, and how manfully
he
o pulls" up the hills ; but presently the rising
ground begins to tell its tale, and the pace which
was brisk and elastic at first begins to slacken.
The little hills all become large ones, and the Grand
Stand, which you fondly imagined was within a
very short distance from you, seems as if it receded
by magic as you advanced. Having applied your hand