The Sun.
London, England, 1865-05-31 00:00:00

TIM DERBY DAY,

The almost universally acknowledged national
holiday--" the Derby"—was to-day celebrated with
the greatest possible effect. Red-letter days in
London are never disregarded ; but Derby Day is
the people's special institution. Large as have been
the numbers attending the race on all occasions
hitherto, they must have fallen very far short in-
deed of the myriads who found themselves at the
critical moment in that beautiful part of Surrey
with which the racing fame of England is insepa-
rably associated.

The ways of getting to Epsom are innumerable,
but practically they all resolve themselves into two
methods—the road and the rail. For those impas-
sive natures who love their ease and dignity, and
who look on at the Derby as they would at any or-
dinary spectacle, the railway offers paramount faci-
lities for going and returning. Those also who are
pressed for time naturally avail themselves of that
mode of transit. But for the great mass of Londoners
—the votaries proper of the Derby, who keep its
anniversary religiously, and seek to make it yield
as much enjoyment as possible—there is only one
way of approaching the race-course, and that is by
the road. So at least thought a large proportion
of those who to-day gave themselves up as willing
victims to the attractions of the scene. London

must have been on foot, or rather on wheels, at an
early hour. Vehicles were streaming out of town
by all the practicable routes as early as six o'clock,
the major part of these, of course, belonging to
early birds, bent on combining duty with pleasure,
and profit with both ; but long before nine o'clock

roomy coaches and prancing horses were at
work in many of the leading thoroughfares col-
lecting passengers and taking in stores. At the
West-end, especially, the bustle was very great.
From the force of habit one is led to speak of the
old coaching days as an Augustan era, departed

never to return, and of horses ds if their breed and
numbers had since been necessarily on the decline.
But it is fairly open to question whether, before
the days of railroads, a more goodly, or, at any rate,
a more numerous, cavalcade ever poured forth from
the metropolis. Certainly, of late years, it has had
no equal in point of magnitude. To say that every
kind of vehicle, in or out of repair, had its represen-
tative in the motley gathering is only to repeat what
has been said of every Derby-day since the origin of
our modern Olympic sports. The lordly four-in-
hand, the humbler brougham, the pert dogcart, the
ponderous omnibus, and the plebeian " barrow" of

the genuine costermonger abounded everywhere ;
Hansom cabs transformed themselves into per-
fect bowers, and flourished all along the line.
Who can adequately describe the adornments
lavished on the horses by their drivers ? Wreaths
of flowers and bouquets dangled from their head-
dress, with, in some cases " favours" superadded,
the cherished relics of quondam wedding parties.
At the " Elephant " and at Kennington-gate the
crowds of vehicles were as numerous and miscel-

laneous as possible, from the most dashing aristo-
cratic equipages to the well sheltered and commodi-
ous pleasure-van. Express and excursion trains
might have been expected to utterly abolish both
postilion and pleasure-van, yet they turn out every
year more numerous than before. Kennington and
Clapham-road are too familiar with the sights of a
Derby Day to prevent any unbecoming excitement,
but a little further on the road, stretching towards
Tooting, all pretended indifference was abandoned.
People openly brought out chairs into .their lawns,
or leant over their garden walls, and stared at the
procession. And well they might, for it was a re-
markable one. As far as the eye could reach, in
advance and to the rear, there was the same ola
podrida of diverse and yet strangely consistent ele-
ments. Sometimes the body of carriages was
folded up into triple coils, sometimes it spread it-
self out into a long thin line, occasionally it got
over the ground smoothly and rapidly, more fre-
quently it advanced, when it did move forward, in
short and jerky stages. As might have been ex-
pected from the rickety state of many of the
vehicles, some were put hors de combat at a
very early stage, until recourse could be had to
the village blacksmith, whose heart would un-
doubtedly rejoice if " each morning saw some
work begun" of an equally remunerative character.
As the road wound on, giving from many points a
full view of that blazing arch through which the
sun was darting its rays on the contents of the
Crystal Palace, and as the heat and dust increased,
one could not help feeling tempted at times to shun
the face of man and the fortunes of the race, and to
seek shade and repose in the tempting verdure which
lay on all sides.