PATCHING AND SELSEY 33 



wrong 'uns specially planted for you and your 

 ^tarnp as would fill an Atlantic liner. 



Clearing, pro tern., for once from Goodwood's 

 immediate vicinity, I did a bespeak at Selsey 

 one July. A subscriber from the first, a lady 

 subscriber too, and an invalid, sent the Referee 

 notice that she would take it as kind if I might 

 be told off to do a walk for her, as she was unable 

 to take one at first hand, alleging that rambling 

 notes did her good. So, by way of providing a 

 tinge of novelty, I went in for a short course of 

 Selsey, which (the course), the way I took it (by 

 tram), carried some of the most striking features 

 of rough sea voyaging, barring stewards and 

 fixings. During a journey of eight miles all told 

 betv/een Chichester and Selsey on a light steam 

 tram line you had the lurchings and rollings, the 

 gradual sideways, sinkings, and sharp, jerky 

 recoverings, the temporary poisings on nothing, 

 which frail support appears to melt as you dip, 

 and the general sensation that the part of you 

 believed by the Chinese to be the seat of the 

 affection was capable of shifting to anywhere 

 between your brain-pan and knee-caps. Never 

 was anything more realistic than the imitation of 

 mal de mer exhibited to your humble servant, 

 and all for the small sum of a bob return, and 

 cheap at the price. 



Selsey — a flat ledge, a little above high-water 

 mark — is now on my list of places to be done at 

 length as soon as occasion offers. When will that 

 be, I wonder, and will Selsey be on view when I 

 want it next, also the at present lucky folk pitched 

 there in houses and bungalows of sorts, with a 

 cape between two half-mbon bays and a charming 

 view, with lobster pots in the foreground, which- 



c 



