to Brighthelmstone is delightfully pleasant in the summer
season. On one side you have an extensive view of the sea, and on the
other the Downs, covered with innumerable flocks of sheep, so justly
held in estimation for their delicious flavour."

[Illustration: ROTTINGDEAN.]

About two and a half miles from Rottingdean in a lonely dene surrounded
by the Downs is the little hamlet of Balsdean; there is nothing to see
here but a building locally called "The Chapel" (the architecture is
Decorated, with an ancient thatched roof) but the walk will give the
stranger to the district a good idea of the solitude and unique
characteristics of the chalk hills. The curious T-shaped cuttings still
to be seen in the sides of the Downs may be remarked; these are where
the traps set to catch wheatears were set. A great trade was once done
by the Downland peasantry in these "Sussex Ortolans," as they were
called, but of late years the demand has dwindled to vanishing point.

The lover of the picturesque will feel grateful to the powers who
refuse to destroy the deserted windmills which stud the Downs and of
which there is one good example near here. One cannot suppose however
that the object of letting them stand is other than utilitarian; after
a long life of service in their original capacity these daylight
beacons perform the duty of landmarks for seamen in the Channel.

A footpath from Rottingdean just a mile long crosses the Downs to
Ovingdean, another lonely hamlet without inn or shop. An ancient
church, possibly Saxon in part, and a few houses hidden by trees make a
goal of a favourite walk from Brighton. Harrison Ainsworth has made the
little place famous in "Ovingdean Grange," in which romance the
novelist makes it one of the scenes in the flight of Charles II; this
however is incorrect, as it is certain that Brighton was the limit of
the royal fugitive's journey eastwards. The large building on the hill
above Ovingdean is Roedean College for girls; its fine situation and
imposing size make it a landmark, and the seascape from its windows
must be unrivalled.

[Illustration: BRIGHTON.]

CHAPTER IV

BRIGHTON

"Kind, cheerful, merry Dr. Brighton." Thackeray's testimonial is as apt
to-day as when it was written, but the doctor is not one of the
traditional type. Here is no bedside manner and no misplaced sympathy,
in fact he is rather a hardhearted old gentleman to those patients who
are really ill in mind or body