performers, like all others forming these kind of companies, are possessed of very moderate talents. Now and then a star of superior lustre and magnitude to the common twinklers in the theatrical hemisphere will stroll from the capital, and draw a few peo ple together for a night or two; it is rarely that they do more. But Brighton is not a place for encouraging amusements of this kind; the tragic or the comic Muse, or their midwives, the players, who bring their bantlings to light, have little attraction here. The chequered dies of Mercury, and the midnight revels of the deluding Venus, engage the kind of company that frequent this place.. Many do it from propensity, others from fashion and imitation, and they are seldom at a loss for an example. The Assembly-room is capacious, elegant, and well situated; the lustres are uncommonly brilliant, and the ornamental fancies judiciously conceived. On viewing the external part of this room, the mind becomes prejudiced, until you explore its interior beauties; for, from an outside view, it presents to the eye an unfavorable aspect, like that of a well-looking barn, ornamented with a set of handsome windows. The equinoctial winds, when they blow high from a north-west point, produce a tremendous and formida ble ble sea; so that many of the houses on the cliff have been often considered in danger from the waves, which will sometimes overtop them, and distribute the spray of the ocean all over the Stein. Brighton is in the county of Sussex. There are two roads to it, and the post-towns from London are Epsom, Darking, Horsham, Steyning, and so on to Brighton. This road is sixty miles. The other road is through Sutton, Riegate, Crawley, and Cuckfield.— This to Brighton is only fifty-two miles and a half. While a visitor at Brighton, I was intreated by a friend at Bath, who had heard heard much of its beauties, to give him a true idea of it in rhyme; accordingly I sent him the following verses. You say you fain would wish to hear What great inducements we have here, That coaxes all our courtiers down, And half depopulates the town; Like Bath, you think our streets are fine, Tho' you're a critic, yet I'll try This town, or village of renown, Here Here Lords and Ladies oft carouse Like Joan and Darby in their cot, The air is pure as pure can be, A bark majestic often laves, main, Far distant on the buoyant waves; LITTLE |