The Open Air 



there is a bust of Psyche in the doorway often 

 attracts the eye in passing; gold and silver plate in 

 large masses is striking, and it is a very good place 

 to stand a minute and watch the passers-by. 



It is a Piccadilly crowd by the sea exactly the 

 same style of people you meet in Piccadilly, but freer 

 in dress, and particularly in hats. All fashionable 

 Brighton parades the King's Road twice a day, morn- 

 ing and afternoon, always on the side of the shops. 

 The route is up and down the King's Road as far as 

 Preston Street, back again and up East Street. 

 Riding and driving Brighton extends its Rotten Row 

 sometimes to Third Avenue, Hove. These well- 

 dressed and leading people never look at the sea. 

 Watching by the gold-plate shop you will not observe 

 a single glance in the direction of the sea, beautiful 

 as it is, gleaming under the sunlight. They do not 

 take the slightest interest in sea, or sun, or sky, or 

 the fresh breeze calling white horses from the deep. 

 Their pursuits are purely " social/' and neither ladies 

 nor gentlemen ever go on the beach or lie where the 

 surge comes to the feet. The beach is ignored; it is 

 almost, perhaps quite vulgar; or rather it is entirely 

 outside the pale. No one rows, very few sail; the 

 sea is not " the thing " in Brighton, which is the 

 least nautical of seaside places. There is more talk of 

 horses. 



The wind coming up the cliff seems to bring with 

 it whole armfuls of sunshine, and to throw the warmth 

 and light against you as you linger. The walls and 

 glass reflect the light and push back the wind in 

 puffs and eddies; the awning flutters; light and 

 wind spring upwards from the pavement ; the sky is 

 richly blue against the parapets overhead; there are 

 houses on one side, but on the other open space and 



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