From Friar's Oak it is but a step to that newest creation among Brighton's suburbs, Clayton Park, its clustering red-brick villas, building estates, and half-formed roads adjoining the station of Hassocks Gate, which, by the way, the railway authorities have long since reduced to "Hassocks." The name recalls certain dusty contrivances of straw and carpeting artfully contrived for the devout to stumble over in church. But, not to incur the suspicion of tripping over the name as here applied, it may be mentioned that "hassock" is the Anglo-Saxon name for a coppice or small wood; and there are really many of these at and around Hassocks Gate to this day. [Sidenote: TURNPIKE GATES] At Stonepound a road leads on the right to Hurstpierpoint, which is too big a mouthful for general use, and so is locally "Hurst." The Pierpoints, whose name is embedded in that of the place, like an ammonite in a geological stratum, were long since as extinct as those other Normans, the Monceaux of Hurstmonceaux, and are what Americans would term a "back number." ............................ . Stone Pound Gate . . Clears Patcham Gate . .St. John's and Ansty Gates. . Y . ............................ ............................ . Patcham Gate . . Clears Stone Pound Gate, . .St. John's and Ansty Gates. . 126 . ............................ Stonepound Gate was one of the nine that at one time barred the Brighton Road, and the last but one on the way. It will be seen, by the specimens of turnpike-tickets reprinted here, that at one time, at least, the burden of the tolls was not quite so heavy as the mere number of the gates would lead a casual observer to suppose, a ticket taken at Ansty "clearing" the remaining distance, through three other gates, to Brighton. But it was necessary for the traveller to know his way about, and, if he were going through, to ask for a ticket to clear to Brighton; else the pikeman would issue a ticket, which cost just as much, to the next gate only, when another payment would be demanded. These were "tricks upon travellers" familiar to every road, and they earned the pikemen, as a class, a very unenviable reputation. It was here, in the great Christmas Eve snowstorm of 1836, that the London mail was snowed up. Its adventures illustrate the uncertainty of travelling the roads.