PRESTON 255 



make good their own escape, saving only Daniel Scales, 

 who, met by a " riding officer," was called upon to 

 surrender himself and his bootv, which he refused to 

 do. The officer, who himself had been in early days 

 engaged in many smuggling transactions, but was now 

 a brand plucked from the burning, and zealous for 

 King and Customs, knew that Daniel was " too good a 

 man for him, for they had tried it out before," so he 

 shot him through the head ; and as the bullet, like 

 those in the nursery rhyme, was made of " lead, lead, 

 lead," Daniel was killed. Alas ! poor Daniel. 



An ancient manorial pigeon-house or dovecot still 

 remains at Patcham, sturdily built of Sussex flints, 

 banded with brick, and wonderfully buttressed. 



Preston is now almost wholly urban, but its Early 

 English church, although patched and altered, still 

 keeps its fresco representing the murder of Thomas a 

 Becket, and that of an angel disputing with the Devil 

 for the possession of a departed soul. The angel, 

 like some celestial grocer, is weighing the shivering 

 soul in the balance, while the Devil, sitting in one 

 scale, makes the unfortunate soul in the other " kick 

 the beam." 



XXXIV 



It has very justly been remarked that Brighton is 

 treeless, but that complaint by no means holds good 

 respecting the approach to it through Withdean and 

 Preston Park, which is exceptionally well wooded, the 

 tall elms forming an archway infinitely more lovable 

 than the gigantic brick arch of the railway viaduct 

 that poses as a triumphal entry into the town. 



It is Brighton's ever-open front door. No occasion 

 to knock or ring ; enter and welcome to that cheery 

 town : a brighter, cleaner London. 



Brighton has renewed its youth. It has had ill 

 fortune as well as good, and went through a middle 



