SUNNY BRIGHTON 



SOME of the old streets opening out of the King's 

 Road look very pleasant on a sunny day. They run 

 to the north, so that the sun over the sea shines 

 nearly straight up them, and at the farther end, 

 where the houses close in on higher ground, the deep 

 blue sky descends to the roof trees. The old red tiles, 

 the red chimneys, the green jalousies, give some 

 colour; and beneath there are shadowy corners and 

 archways. They are not too wide to whisper across, 

 for it is curious that to be interesting a street must 

 be narrow, and the pavements are but two or three 

 bricks broad. These pavements are not for the 

 advantage of foot passengers; they are merely to 

 prevent cart-wheels from grating against the houses. 

 There is nothing ancient or carved in these streets, 

 they are but moderately old, yet turning from the 

 illuminated sea it is pleasant to glance up them as 

 you pass, in their stillness and shadow, lying outside 

 the inconsiderate throng walking to and fro, and 

 contrasting in their irregularity with the set facades 

 of the front. Opposite, across the King's Road, the 

 mastheads of the fishing boats on the beach just rise 

 above the rails of the cliff, tipped with fluttering 

 pennants, or fish-shaped vanes changing to the wind. 

 They have a pulley at the end of a curved piece of 

 iron for hauling up the lantern to the top of the 

 mast when trawling; this thin curve, with a dot at 

 the extremity surmounting the straight and rigid 

 mast, suits the artist's pencil. The gold-plate shop 



