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Updated: September 10, 2025
We got a small bait at Leatherhead, and so to Godlyman, where we lay all night, and were very merry, having this day no other extraordinary rencontre, but my hat falling off my head at Newington into the water, by which it was spoiled, and I ashamed of it. I am sorry that I am not at London, to be at Hide-parke to-morrow, among the great gallants and ladies, which will be very fine. May 1st.
"Maybe there is, Hosy," she said, slowly. "Maybe there is. I I Well, there! I must go and buy the tickets. You sit down and wait. I'm skipper of this craft to-day, you know. I'm in command on this voyage." Leatherhead looked exactly as it had on our previous visit. "Ash Clump," the villa which the Crippses had been so anxious for us to hire, was still untenanted, or looked to be.
That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need." At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Why did you come?" I stammered a word or two, some incoherences to the effect that I had not expected to find her there, that I had been told she was at church. She shook her head, impatiently. "I mean why did you come here to Leatherhead?" she asked. "Why did you come? Did you know " I interrupted her.
Beginning with praise of London as the richest ground of romance discoverable in the world, he proceeded to tell the story of a cats'-meat woman who, after purveying for the cats at a West End mansion for many years, discovered one day that the master of the house was her own son. "He behaved to her very handsomely. At this moment she is living in a pleasant little villa out Leatherhead way.
"I've no wish to stop about here," said I. "I think I shall go to Leatherhead, for my wife was there." He shot out a pointing finger. "It is you," said he; "the man from Woking. And you weren't killed at Weybridge?" I recognised him at the same moment. "You are the artilleryman who came into my garden." "Good luck!" he said. "We are lucky ones! Fancy you!" He put out a hand, and I took it.
On his death, apparently in 1627, he was found to have left bequests to almost every place in Surrey, according to the manners of the inhabitants to Mitcham a horsewhip, to Walton-on- Thames a bridle, to Betchworth, Leatherhead, and many more, endowments which produce from 50 to 75 pounds a year, and to Cobham a sum to be spent annually in woollen cloth of a uniform colour, bearing Smith's badge, to be given away in church to the poor and impotent, as the following tablet still records:
That is an odd name. And you met this Mr. er Cripps?" "Yes, we met him. He had a house he wanted to let us, and I guess we'd have taken it, too, only you seemed to hate the name of Leatherhead so. Don't you remember you did? I don't blame you. Of the things to call a pretty town that's about the worst." "Yes, it is rather frightful. But this, Mr. er Cripps; was he as bad as his name?
That was once a town called Epsom. There are no houses there, and the bricks have been used for a sheep pen. Go on, and another heap on the edge of the root-land is Leatherhead; and then the hill turns away along the border of a valley, and there are woods of beech. Keep along the crest. You will come to quite wild places.
Within the last few years, the downs about Leatherhead have been similarly diversified. Much of the loveliness of rural England is due, one must frankly confess, to the big landlords.
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