looking for, being at the time pretty well mounted, I thought it better to indulge him in the joke, particularly as any doubt on my part might have soured the whip, and made him sullen for the rest of the journey. At Reigate a trifling accident happened to one of the springs of the coach, which detained us half an hour, and enabled me to pay a visit to the celebrated sand cavern, where, it is reported, the Barons met, during the reign of King John, to hold their councils and draw up that great _palladium_ of English liberty, _Magna Charta_, which was afterwards signed at Runnymede. There was something awful about this stupendous excavation that impressed me with solemn thoughtfulness; it lies about sixty feet from the surface of the earth, and is divided into three apartments with arched roofs, the farthest of which is designated the Barons' Chamber. Time flowed back upon my memory as I sat in the niches hewn out in the sides of the cavern, and meditation deep usurped my mind as I dwelt on the recollections of history; on the "Majestic forms, and men of other times, Retired to fan the patriotic fire, Which, bursting forth at Runnymede, With rays of glory lightened all the land!" Near to the mouth of this cavern stands the remains of Holms Castle, celebrated in the history of the civil wars between Charles the First and his parliament; and on the site of an ancient monastic establishment, ~284~~near to the spot, has been erected a handsome modern mansion called the Priory of Holmsdale, the name of the valley in which the town is situate. Returning to the inn I observed the new tunnel, which we had previously passed under, a recent work of great labour and expense, which saves a considerable distance in the approach to the town; it has been principally effected by a wealthy innkeeper, and certainly adds much to the advantage and beauty of the place. Coachee had now made all right, and his anxious passengers were again replaced in their former situations to proceed on our journey. The next stage, ten miles, to Crawley, a picturesque place, afforded little variety, if I except an immense elm which stands by the side of the road as you enter, and has a door in front to admit the curious into its hollow trunk. Our next post was Cuckfield, nine miles, where I did not discover any thing worthy of narration; from this to Brighton, twelve miles, coachee amused me with some anecdotes of persons whom we passed upon the road. A handsome chariot, with a most divine little creature in the inside, and a good-looking _roue_, with huge mustachios, first attracted my notice: "that is the golden Ball," said coachee, "and his new wife; he often _rolls down_ this road for a day or two--spends his cash like an emperor--and before he was _tied up_ used to tip pretty freely for _handling the ribbons_, but that's all up now, for _Mamsell_ Mercandotti finds him better amusement. A gem-man who often comes down