Edward told him he was in a great hurry to finish the story; but that the thievish Danes had no mind for letting Brighton alone so quietly, whilst it remained open to their attacks, and offered so fair a prospect for their enriching themselves. After the Danes, the French made frequent warlike incursions on this line of coast, plundering and shedding blood wherever they appeared. “But,” asked Lewis, “why did not the people do something to keep away these troublesome Frenchmen? If they let them come quietly and take away their property, I think they were poor tame things, and did not deserve much pity.” “Ah! but you are mistaken there,” said Edward: “though their king, Edward III., was engaged in a war in France, and had left his own country undefended, the people here established a protective guard of their own: they were some of the bravest men among the seamen and inhabitants, and mounted on their fleet horses, they were ready at a moment’s call, when danger was apprehended.” “Many years after this, during the war between Henry VIII. and Louis XII., the French appeared on the coast, with the intention of burning Brighton. Soon, however, the beacons were lighted; and the people seeing them, far and near, came together in such numbers, that the French thought it best to take themselves off without putting their cruel plan into execution. Queen Elizabeth afterwards granted some money to the town of Brighton, with which land was purchased, and a building made to hold their stores and ammunition: beside this, she ordered four strong gates to be built, leading from the cliff to the town beneath it, and a high wall of flints, which extended on both sides of the storehouse.” “Well,” said Lewis, “I think they were pretty well off then, and had no need to fear the French, or any other foes.” Edward said he thought it was much better to live in peaceable days, such as they lived in, and to have no foes to fear. “But see, Lewis!” he exclaimed, “mamma is coming across the Steyne, and she has something in her hand: who will be there first, to see what it can be? Never mind the history now; you can have my book in the evening.” Lewis soon forgot the history and all belonging to it, and was at his mother’s side. CHAPTER III. “Shells, Edward! bright polished shells and sea-weed!” cried Lewis, as he lifted the paper covering to a small basket which his mamma held in her hand; “where did you get them? not on this barren coast, I am sure; for Edward and I have searched every where, and can find nothing but common things, not worth picking up.” [Illustration: _The Pavilion, Brighton._]