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ther; nor can he at all times indulge himself with a dip, the shore running so shallow, and the waves so high, that, should a north-west wind blow briskly in, which is often the case, he is obliged to relinquish all idea of bathing, or, should he even be standing upon the beach or cliff, he will find it necessary sometimes to retreat.
The Stein was once a pleasant -lounge enough, before it was encircled with houses, and had a view of the hills and corn-fields contiguous to it; but now it is confined, the air impeded, and the rural effect it once possessed is lost.
There is a nuisance which ought long ago to have been removed, from a proper respect due to the elegant
society that visit here, especially as that society has ever been considered the support of the whole neighbourhood; this nuisance is the fishing nets, which are daily spread from one end of the Stein to the other, so that the company, while walking, are frequently tripped up by entangling their feet; and, if any of the barbarians, to whom the nets belong, should be standing by, you are sure to be reprobated and insulted for what you cannot avoid.
But this, they pretend to say, is a privilege which they possess; if it be so, it is a shame that they do not relinquish it, in order to make the only promenade they have more agreeable to their best friends; who, if they were to desert the place, from being too frequently annoyed, might leave
to the inhabitants the advantage of enjoying their privileges, and going without bread at the same time.
The fellows who persist in this privilege, as they call it, seem to possess it more from the principle of audacity than justice or necessity; for, were they to take their nets to a piece of ground which lies about two hundred yards from the Stein, the evil would be removed; but there seems to be a brutal obstinacy in their tempers, and an idleness in their habits, which prevent them from shewing one particle of gratitude even to those to whom they owe their whole exist
Should you ride out, you have little shade; the only places in this neigh
bourhood that are adorned with a tree more than ten feet high are Preston and Whiting, two villages which lie in a dale; the first is one, and the other two miles, lying behind the town, on the road to Shoreham. The rest of the rides are chiefly over the Downs to the Devil's Dyke, to Lewes, to Ratten, or Rotten-dean.
The latter of these places is on the sea-side, four miles east of Brighton. They have two or three machines there, and lodging-houses, and many make it their bathing place, but it is a poor, ragged, unpleasant village, divested of almost every conveniency, void of society, and only fit for the valetudinarian.
Brighton has two libraries, neither of them splendid, but well situated, where there is ever more talking than reading, unless it be the newspaper, and that is frequently seized with as much avidity as if you were playing at the game of snapdragon.
The market here is not very well supplied, and there is generally a great paucity of provisions, which, in point of price, run extravagantly high. Fruit is very scarce and very dear, like the lodgings; and, if any body should have an advantage, in respect to marketing, it is the native inhabitants, who make a tolerable market of the London gulls, which go down to visit their coast.
They have a theatre here in a good situation, and not badly built. The