The Brighton of my Boyhood 



and the simple kindly life that was lived In 

 It, there Is little now left, and what there Is 

 Is being daily elbowed out of existence by 

 a veritable plague of Improvements. 



Possibly you will be wondering how long 

 ago I was a little boy ? 



One day when I was just the same 

 height as the key-hole of the office-door, I 

 sat out In our cobble-stoned yard where 

 the clothes were drying, with my cat beside 

 me. I was holding him down gently but 

 firmly upon three nest-eggs borrowed from 

 my mother's hen-coops. Very earnestly I 

 awaited the hatching-out, whether of kits 

 or chicks I was puzzled to know, any little 

 live fluffy creatures would have been 

 equally welcome and dear to me. Then 

 the wash-house door opened, and Sukie 

 came out with her arms full of clothes. 



" Harry," she said, putting down her 

 basket, ''Have 'ee heard the news?" 

 And she flicked at my puss as he escaped 

 my hold and trotted softly into the house. 

 "The old King's dead at last, Harry," she 

 went on, with a clothes-peg In her mouth, 

 her hands busily fixing the linen on the line 

 over her head. Whereupon, to her great 

 surprise, I cried bitterly, for though I had 

 heard little, and thought less, about the 

 King, It seemed to me very sad that he 



