and his remedies are of the "hair of the
dog that bit you" type.

Londoners take Brighton as a matter of course and--as Londoners--are
rarely enthusiastic. It takes a Frenchman to give the splendid line of
buildings which forms the finest front in the world the admiration that
is certainly its due. When one has had time to dissect the great town,
appreciation is keener; there are several Brightons; there is a town
built on a cliff, another with spacious lawns on the sea level, and a
third, the old Brighton, bounded by the limits of the original fishing
village, and, with all its brilliance, having a distinctly briny smell
as of fish markets and tarred rope and sun-baked seaweed when you are
near the shingle. This last is nearly an ever-present scent, for the
sun is seldom absent summer or winter; in fact it is when the days are
shortest that Brighton is at its best; The clear brilliance of the air
when the Capital is full of fog and even the Weald between is covered
with a cold pall of mist, makes the south side of the Downs another
climate. Richard Jeffries, almost as great a town hater as Cobbet, has
a good word for Brighton. "Let nothing cloud the descent of those
glorious beams of sunlight which fall at Brighton" (referring to its
treelessness). "Watch the pebbles on the beach; the foam runs up and
wets them, almost before it can slip back the sunshine has dried them
again. So they are alternately wetted and dried. Bitter sea and glowing
light, dry as dry--that describes the place. Spain is the country of
sunlight, burning sunlight, Brighton is a Spanish town in England, a
Seville."

The history of Brighton is the history of Piccadilly, but although the
Prince Regent is usually credited with the discovery of the town, this
title to fame must be given to a doctor of Lewes named Russel, who
wrote a book on the virtues of sea water as applied to the person. This
was published in 1750, and from that time must be dated the rise of
England's first sea resort, for almost immediately patients eager for
the new cure came thronging from London by post-chaise and family
coach, and the doctor soon removed from his native town to attend them.
The "cure" became the mode, and in 1783, when the Prince made his first
visit, the fortune of the town was assured.

After a hundred years that ended with the Mid-Victorians the
exclusiveness of Brighton gave way to the excursion train, and though
still a fashionable place, it is now mo