ame 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
with me says his father was a slopseller in Ratcliffe Highway, and
afterwards marrying the widow of Admiral Hughes, a rich old West India
nabob, he left this young gemman the bulk of his property, and a
very worthy fellow he is: but we've another rich fellow that's rather
notorious at Brighton, which we distinguish by the name of the _silver
Ball_, only he's a bit of a _screw_, and has lately ~285~~got himself
into a scrape about a pretty actress, from which circumstance they have
changed his name to the _Foote Ball_. I suppose you guess where I am
now," said coachee, tipping me one of his knowing winks. "Do you see
that machine before us, a sort of cabriolet, with two horses drove in
a curricle bar? that is another _swell_ who is very fond of Brighton,
a Jew gentleman of the name of Solomon, whom the wags have made a
Christian of by the new appellation of the _golden calf_; but his
godfathers were never more out in their lives, for in _splitting a bob_,
it's my opinion, he'd bother all Bevis Marks and the Stock Exchange
into t