The Brighton road : the classic highway to the south . erybody in the crowd wranteda front place, and those who got one, being both unableand unwilling to parse away, were nearly scraggedby the police, who on the Embankment set uponindividuals like footballers on the ball ; while snap-shotters wasted plates on them from the securealtitudes of omnibuses or other vehicles. Those whose journalistic duties took them to seethe start had to fight their way down from CharingCross, up from Westminster, or along from theEmbankment ; contesting inch by inch, and wonderingif the starting-point would ever
The Brighton road : the classic highway to the south . erybody in the crowd wranteda front place, and those who got one, being both unableand unwilling to parse away, were nearly scraggedby the police, who on the Embankment set uponindividuals like footballers on the ball ; while snap-shotters wasted plates on them from the securealtitudes of omnibuses or other vehicles. Those whose journalistic duties took them to seethe start had to fight their way down from CharingCross, up from Westminster, or along from theEmbankment ; contesting inch by inch, and wonderingif the starting-point would ever be gained. At length the Metropole hove in sight, but themotor-cars had yet to be found. To accomplish thisfeat it was necessary to hurl oneself into a surgingtide of humanity, and surge with it. The tide carriedthe explorer away and eventually washed him ashoreon the neck of a policeman. Rumour got aroundthat an organised massacre of cab-horses was con-templated, and myriads of mounted police appearedand had their photographs taken from the tops of. MOTOR-CAR DAY 57 cabs and other envied positions occupied by amateurphotographers, who paid dearly to take pictures ofthe fog, which they could have done elsewhere fornothing. Time went on, the crowd grew bigger, the mudwas churned into slush, and everybody was treadingupon everybody else. Aint this bloomin fun, sir ? asked the driverof a growler, his sides shaking with laughter, Evenmy ole oss as bin larfm. Very intelligent horse, we said, thinking ofMr. Pickwick, and determining to ask some searchingquestions as to his antecedents. Interlecks a great pint, sir. Which ud yousooner be in : a runaway mortar-caw or a keb ? Neither. No, I aint jokin, strite. Ive just bin argyingwif a bloke as said hed sooner be in a caw. I said Ipitied is choice, and wouldnt give im much for hischarnce. Cos why ? Cos mortar-caws aint got nointerleck. They cawnt tell the difrence tweennothink an a brick wall. Now a os can. If e dontturn orf e tries te
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, booksubjecthorses, bookyear1922
