Deseret evening news. [volume] (Great Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1867-1920, 1893-08-19

wrestling and putting thc.stone. Ever
glorious Punch and Judy are onllnipies-
ent and scrcamingly witty and hilarious.
Donkcys by the thousands and screws
by the hundreds are here for upfoauous
riding and racing The thrce-card-
monte game Is everywhere Knock EN-
down by the hundreds. with their crash
ing and bawling and shouts ol deleat
and victory, are all the way rom Wan
stead to Epping. American shooting.
aalOons are quite as frequent aud well
patronized. The artificial pigeon whiIls
aud flies from scores Of booths aud the
detonatious II the shooting are incess.
ant. There are more than q thousand
Of my old Gypsy friends, in all manner
OF picturesque apparel, plying ihei!
'dukkcring' among the good natured
'Arrys and 'Afrieis. Mingled with all
this aud these arc the shouts and cries
Of every manner Of aEir from every
land beneath the sun, the brayings Of
hundreds Of open air speakers, who as NJ
Hyde Park inycigh against the very
liberty that gives them opportunity for
denunciaton, and, louder and more dis.
cordant than an else, the wailings aud
eNhouations Of the S1'vauonsis, the
barbaric clamor OF their lambourInes,
flies and drums, a persistent reminder OF
pencepullng and repentance.
II Is saying little Tor lem and Becky
and myself TO assert that we participated
fully Ia the exhilIming diversions Of
Epping Forest Then, the cnyied Of
many eyes, we parlook OF our glorious
repast beneath the very shade OF Queen
Elizabeth's hunting lodge, a quaint, old
and lofty halftimbcrcd structure, which
has been beautifully restored, where
faithful Sprat landed Our hampers vic.
toriously after many a bnycly resisted
Siege, and then, the enyicd Of thousands
sun, as the sole occupants Of q White
chapel bus we were driven IN noble
style about the Forest, away to Epping,
once famous Tor rs sausage, pork and
cheese; TO Monk Wood and the great
pollard oaks; to the old British camp at
Ambresbury Banks. 10 Hawk Wood
HUI and is famous obelIsk, and TO High
Beach, nearly 500 feet above London.
where almost the entire fringe Of Epping
Forest with is wondrous historic inter.
est lies clear and iaif below.
The old.world valley Of the river Lea,
scene Of Waltons earliest angling days
and of the incidents OF the Angler, Is
beneath you to the west Miles to the
north and south are ils snug villages, It's
lvied churches, It's hali.hid, stately halls.
Just here beside you is Beech Hill house,
where Tennyson wrote the Talking
OAK" and "Lockslcy Hail. Far TO the
west are the uplands OF the Cambridge.
shire hills. Between. a slumbfous valley
with an ideal English landscape. In is
center stands ancient Naltham Abbey,
mouniul and pathetic reminder OF a
departed day and time, Of Harold and
his lavished treasures. and oil his march
10 Hastings to meet fierce William OF
Normandy Nearer still lies COPIED
Hall, where In the early reign Of Edward
vi, Princess Mary was held prisoner.
and at Fair Mead house beyond, the
gentle poet Glare was brought a mental
wreck.
Back at Chingford, as the sun was set.
ting behind the Hampstead Hills, all the
converging ways to London seemed
dense with routed army In It's flight
Bolivar was impatient to oyertake the
disappearing host, Right iherrily we
had come to Epping, but merrier still
we returned TO grlmy London, racing
and singing IN humble coster fashion al
the too short way. When we ratified
into welcoming Bell Lane. aud Bolivar
came to sudden hat before our own
habItation, Iem aud myself, In pleasant
converse, were alone upon the box
| Spnt aud Becky were confused heap
Of overgrown attire, soiled velvet and
/ struggling coster feathers in the bottom
OF the cart. But when We pulled Becky
( out and stood her upon her ample legs
within the doorway, all the pleasures OF
the day seemed 10 steal softly again into
her sunny coster nature; and as reward
for our gallant outing ways she clappcd
MS both, lem and !, soundly on our
backs with her broad, honest hands and
softly mumured:
Lads. ri never 'ad sech q enjoy
ble-sech a hiniormin ~ enjoy'ble time
| --neyer.
EDGAR l.. WAHEMAN.