possibly more enjoyment, to Brighton, than would have, a few years back, sufficed for the common-place pilgrimage to Hampton Court; and a constant succession of trains, conveying a host of pleasure seekers and business men to and fro, now traverse with marvellous frequency and precision the line that has sprung, by the magical enterprise of man, from tracts of waving corn-fields and boundless breadths of pasture. The lamp of Aladdin has, of a verity, been superseded by the steam-engine.

Whirled from the London Bridge terminus through a charming country, and deposited within a short hour and a half at the Brighton station, the most fidgety passenger has hardly time to get fatigued, or the most nervous to become frightened. Directly you arrive at your destination, too, there is a view which alone is worth the whole cost of the transit, and pleasantly prepossesses you in favour of what remains to be seen. Hollingbury Hill-no mean eminence of itselfstretches northward about two miles from Brighton towards Lewes, and occupies a conspicuous position in the landscape. Before you is a majestic range of buildings-such as perhaps no other town in the kingdom can boast-sweeping down the sides of the cliff in every direction, and sheltering the three miles of architectural magnificence which forms the sea frontage, whilst beyond spreads the swelling sea, an object of such grandeur as in its ever-changeful expanse to outvie the lavish richness with which art has fringed its cliffs and shingled shores.

But let us get as far back into antiquity as possible, and then trace the growth of this extensive and extending town. Somewhere about the middle of the fifth century Ella, a Saxon chief, with a band of fierce retainers, landed at Wit

tering, near Chichester, and being repulsed, made a second and a more successful attempt at Shoreham. The Saxons, who were armed with formidable battle-axes, speciously invited their antagonists to a banquet on the occasion—a sort of ordinary al fresco-and directly the repast was over, taking advantage of the general indigestion that prevailed, they served out an additional course of " chops to follow," and took possession of the land for their own use. Ella parcelled out the county among his retainers, who kept, in accordance with their name, all they could conveniently lay their hands upon, and one of these, the Bishop Brighthelm-for bishops belonged to the church militant in those days-took possession of the prettiest part, and stood sponsor to it accordingly. Brighthelmstone, thus enjoying the double advantage of the English Channel and the bishop's see, gradually rose into some importance as a fishing village, and, by the fourteenth century, its inhabitants had assumed such a position, that the French frequently paid them the compliment of borrowing their boats and ships, but materially inconvenienced the fishery by forgetting to return them. In 1545 the French again visited the coast, and landed near Hove, with the intention of burning both Brighthelmstone and Shoreham, but the country having been apprised of their friendly design, assembled in vast numbers upon the Downs, and the invaders, having made their fortune by private pickings on the road, very prudently gave up business and retired.

This uncertainty of position induced the townsfolk, in the reign of Elizabeth, to take some energetic measures for their defence, and a long strip of land on the cliff, fronting Black Lion-street and Ship-street, was selected as a store-house for armour and ammunition. Four ponderous stone gates, and a

wall fifteen feet high and four hundred feet long, were also constructed, to resist any encroachment of a foreign power, and beneath the cliff, shelving down towards the sea, were situated the houses of the townsfolk. Should the curious visitor desire to approach the site of this olden town, let him wend his way to the extreme point of the chain pier, and there, leaning over the massive timber frame-work of the pier head, he may look down upon the surging waters and behold where it formerly stood. In 1705 the whole of the buildings were overwhelmed, and not a trace of the ancient Brighthelmstone is now perceptible. But so sudden and startling has been the increase of the buildings in the new town, that not more than sixty years back only ten houses stood upon the western side of the Steyne, which resembled a common field, with a rude wooden railing, and on the eastern side the only structures were a kind of shed, imposingly called "The Library," and a little dove-cote erection for an orchestra, wherein of a summer's evening music was occasionally performed.

In the reign of George II. Dr. Russell, a physician of repute, first drew public attention to Brighton, in a treatise on the advantages of sea-bathing, and the successful result of his recommendations led many invalids to make that their place of residence, and set an example for their friends to follow. In 1760, a fine chalybeate spring was discovered at Wick, half a mile westward of the town, and in 1782 the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Fourth, paid his first visit, and stamped the reputation of the place with the impress of rank and fashon. From this period until the present moment the sound of the tinkling trowel has never ceased within its limits. Every available plot of ground has been marked out for a

building-lease, and the superb additions of modern architecture invest the region of the Esplanade with the appearance of Belgrave-square, or the terraces of the Regent's Park, suddenly removed to the broad margin of the Channel.

As will be at once apparent on descending the street leading from the station, the town is seated on an eminence, that declines gradually towards the south-east, with a sloping undulation towards the Steyne, and then again ascends to the eastward. The twang of saltness that greets the lip, and the freshening, invigorating tone of the breeze, are agreeable proofs, on your first entrance, of the bracing bleak atmosphere that characterizes the climate, though in various portions of the town, more sheltered, the air will be found adapted to the exigencies of the most delicate invalid. The panoramic view that first bursts upon the eye is so striking of itself, that it may be worth while glancing at it in detail, for the benefit of the visitor's future peregrinations.

To the left are seen two noble turfed enclosures, both thickly planted with shrubs, and laid out in the style of our metropolitan squares. The further section, intersected by a road, is the old Steyne, in the northern enclosure of which is Chantrey's bronze statue of his Majesty the fourth George, erected in 1828, at a cost of £3,000, collected among the visitors and inhabitants. This memorial crowns the square, and, as it were, points out the actual founder of the magnificence and prosperity of the place. The building which rises with domes and minarets, and is fretted with greater variety than taste, is -we cannot say how long it will remain-the Marine Pavilion of her Majesty, erected for George the Fourth, after a fanciful oriental model, which, despite its supposed resemblance to the Moscow Kremlin, has had no precedent before or since.

Adjoining are the royal stables, the main architecture of which is a vast glazed dome, lighting a circle of about 250 feet. In these days of haricot beans as a substitute for wheat, it may be useful as a reminder to mention that the cost of these sumptuous stables-stables, oh, niggard donors of pence to houseless humanity, remember this-cost upwards of £70,000. The spacious arches at the cardinal points of the compass are so judiciously contrived for ventilation, that the area and stables are, in the hottest seasons, kept of a remarkably cool temperature. Would that a like benevolence of science had been extended to the homes of our humble feverstricken poor! But to return to the panoramic view before

us.

It will be seen that the chief streets are not only wide and handsome, but well paved and brilliantly lighted, whilst the shops are of absolute metropolitan magnificence, with goods equalling in quality, and, on the average, not much excelling in price, the wares destined for a London sale. The profusion of squares, terraces, crescents, and steynes, with the bold beauty of the esplanade itself, produces a pleasing impression of variety, enhanced by the amphitheatre of hills that enclose the town beneath, and loom out in startling relief against the summer sky. The groups of animated nature identified at the corner of every thoroughfare, and the busy stragglers, of the streets, are all of the marked watering-place description-pleasure seekers, out for the day, and eager to be ubiquitous, hurrying to and fro, through the market, to the spa, the race-course, the windmill, the beach, the shops, and the chain-pier, in as rapid succession as the most ingenious locomotion could devise. Then appear invalids, trundled out in Bath chairs on to the Parade, to catch the earliest sun