“I do not wish he should, my boy,” said Mr. Ashton; “yet you must do your best to overcome your natural timidity, or you will find it a source of trouble and inconvenience to you in passing through life. But to return to the pier. I do not wonder you should doubt its strength, judging from its light and elegant appearance; and yet, I assure you, it is better calculated to withstand the force of the waves than buildings of solid masonry, which present a greater resistance to them. However, I must honestly tell you, that the chain-pier received considerable injury only a few months back, in a very heavy gale, which blew from the south-west. Many of the caps and chains were displaced, and the planks torn up by the violence of the wind, which seemed to set directly against it.” “Were you at Brighton then, papa?” “No; but I was once here during a much severer storm, when few persons expected that a vestige of this elegant structure would remain.” “Oh, do tell us about it, papa!” exclaimed both the children; and Mr. Ashton, in compliance with their entreaties, began:— “It was on the 22nd of November, 1824, that Brighton was visited with the awful tempest of which I have been speaking. The night was dark and gloomy, and the clouds which swept across the sky, from time to time, told of the coming storm. Many hands were busily employed in dragging the bathing-machines, boats, &c. from their usual places on the beach to more sheltered situations; while the inhabitants of the cottages, on the southern coast, looked fearfully out, from time to time, into the gloom which they tried in vain to penetrate. “The dreaded storm came at last; and it seemed as though nothing could escape its fury. Louder and louder peals of thunder burst upon the ear, while the livid glare of the lightning only made the darkness look more terrible. “At length the day began to dawn, and revealed a spectacle more grand, yet awful, than you can well imagine. The deafening roar of winds and waters continued. In looking seaward, nothing but sheets of dazzling foam met the eye; whilst the huge breakers, now bursting on the shore, now dashing themselves against the cliffs, seemed ready to swallow up all that opposed them.” “Oh! the beautiful pier,” cried Lewis, “what became of it then?” “It was safe,” replied his papa; “amid the contending elements, there it stood, stretching out into the sea, now almost hidden beneath the swelling waters, now showing its graceful form uninjured above the retiring waves. Some of the outworks alone were carried away; the pier itself remained entire. But, my children, I thought less at that moment of this beautiful structure, than of such of my fellow-creatures as were wanderers on ocean’s troubled breast: the thought of the hardships they must have endured in that night of storms made me sad, whilst my heart was raised in thankfulness to Him who had cast my lot in scenes less fraught with peril.”