CHAPTER X. 



notes at Brighton: 



HE meet at Southwick is generally a favourite one. 

 The leisurely ride of four miles along the Shoreham 

 road braces you- up. The Channel is hard by, 

 deliciously open, and surging over upon the unlovely strips 

 of waste that will some day doubtless be covered with 

 " elegant mansions," marking the certain westward advance 

 of London-super-Mare. We are, in truth, so near the salt 

 water that the thorns in the hedge curling inland describe a 

 distinct semicircle, as if each bush had resolved to turn its 

 back upon the sea, and point with its outstretched finger, 

 "This way to the Downs." 



Next to the clean-shaven lawn on the opening day, when 

 the squire keeps open house for red-coats and black- 

 coats, gentles and simples alike, there is no place so 

 appropriate for a meet as the village green. The hunting 

 men like it, the ladies in the carriages blocking up the high- 

 way prefer it; the pawing hunters, I fancy, are aware of the 

 superiority of the frame in whose picture they are the fore- 

 ground figures, and you may be sure the dogs have no con- 



