The Brighton of my Boyhood 



coming she invariably cried, with a httle 

 pretence of vexation, " Dear, dear, there's 

 that poor old creature come again ! Are 

 the spoons out of sight, Susan ? " adding 

 sometimes a little apologetically, " Not but 

 what, for all I know, she may be as honest 

 a body as you or I ; and I'm sure a decenter 

 whiter apron I couldn't wish to see." And 

 then, housewife like, she brisked up at the 

 prospect of a little bargain-driving. 



" Good morning, m'lady," the wily old 

 gipsy would say, as she entered the 

 kitchen. " Buy a nice fowl, m'dear ? 

 Here's a breast for you, did you ever see 

 such a fine fat breast ? Just you feel it 

 now ! " And then in a hoarse whisper, as 

 Mother or Sukie bent over the basket, 

 '' What would you say to a little flask of 

 the very best real French brandy ? or a bit 

 of baccy for the good man, m'lady ; eh, my 

 dear ? " and she w^ould raise the wine of an 

 innocent fowl to show the coveted contra- 

 band dainties beneath. 



But if we little folk fostered the 

 smugglers' trade the great folk came no 

 whit behind. It was an open secret that 

 every extra fine consignment from the 

 Continent found its way first to the 

 Pavilion, that the King might skim the 

 cream off it ; while in more than one 



