The Rev. William Gilpin, {222} in his “Observations on the Coasts of Hampshire, Sussex, and Kent,” made in the summer of 1774, observes:—“Soon after, we reached Brighthelmstone, a disagreeable place. There is scarcely an object either in it or near it of nature or of art, that strikes the eye with any degree of beauty,” and then in a somewhat contradictory manner, adds:—“One of the most picturesque sights we met with at Brighthelmstone, was the sailing of a fleet of mackarel-boats to take their evening station for fishing, which they commonly continue through the night. The sun was just setting when all appeared to be alive. Every boat began to weigh anchor and unmoor. It was amusing to see them under so many different forms. Some in a still calm with flagging sails, were obliged to assist their motion with oars; others were just getting into the breeze, which rippled the water around them, and began gently to swell their sails; while the fleet, the water, and the whole horizon, glowed with one rich harmonious tint from the setting sun.” Mrs. P. Hill, in her “Apology,” {223}—now a very rare work,—in 1787, five years after the Prince of Wales first honoured the town with his presence, complains of the “doors opening direct into the sittings rooms,” and of the “inconvenience of not being able to be ‘out’ to any visitor.” Bew writes, Sunday, August 30th, 1778:—“This town is built on spots, in patches, and for want of regularity does not appear to advantage: every man, as to building, seems to have done what appeared right in his own eyes. Here is no magistracy: if there is an affray, the parties must go as far as Lewes, which is much the prettier town, to have it settled. Upon recollection, this town may be quieter for having no trading justices resident on the spot. Am since informed, a gentleman in the commission of the peace attends here occasionally from Lewes.—There can be no antiquities; for Brighthelmston was only a small obscure village, occupied by fishermen, till silken Folly and bloated Disease, under the auspices of a Dr. Russell, deemed it necessary to crowd the shore, and fill the inhabitants with contempt for their visitors.” In his “Diary,” also, Tuesday, September 7th, 1779, he writes:—“Am viewing my worthy friend, Mr. Bull’s house, or rather box, upon the Clift, between Ship Street and Black-lion Street.—He beckons me in, and shews it throughout. It is one pretty room to the height of three stories, with a semicircular window comprising most of the front, and on each floor overlooking the sea all ways, which makes the situation most delightful. The ground whereon it stands is copyhold—indeed the ground in and about Brighton is mostly so—measuring nearly eighteen feet square. The fine is both certain and small. About fifty years ago, this piece of land was sold for four pounds; thirty years since, a purchaser gave eleven; and about this time two years, the Alderman bought it for one hundred pounds to