“Good news! great news! Lewis,” cried Edward, the moment his brother
entered the breakfast-room the next morning. “If you had been up a
little sooner you might have heard it too. Now guess who is coming
to-day.”
Lewis raised a shout of joy, and exclaimed, that it must be his dear
papa.
“Yes, you are partly right; but there is some one else coming too,”
said Edward, his eyes sparkling with pleasure: “cannot you guess?”
“Not I,” said Lewis; “I am afraid, if papa has any of his friends with
him, he will not give up so much of his time to us.”
“Oh! but it is a friend of ours too, Lewis, I must tell you. Papa is
going to bring cousin Helen with him; and she is to stay till we return
to school.”
“Oh, joy! joy!” cried Lewis, “how many things we shall have to show her
and tell her about! How soon will they be here?”
Mrs. Ashton said, she did not expect the travellers till evening; and
advised the children to form some plan of employment for the day, that
the time might not pass heavily.
“Will you help us, mamma?” said Edward; “I always like your plans.”
“Well, then,” said his mother, “suppose we walk this morning, and spend
the afternoon in looking at, and arranging the shells and sea-weed:
perhaps,” she added, seeing Lewis’s look of disappointment, “I may find
something entertaining to tell you respecting them; and you, Lewis, may
choose our walk for this morning.”
“Thank you, mamma; then, if you please, we will go along the western
cliff, as far as Brunswick Square. I like that side of the town, it is
so gay; besides, I see by the little map papa gave us, that there are
several squares in that direction; and I want to visit them all, that
I may make a good showman for cousin Helen.”
“I am sure Helen will be much obliged to you,” said his mother; “but
I am afraid you have undertaken more than can be accomplished in one
morning, by such pedestrians as we. What say you to a ride?”
“Oh, thank you! thank you! that _will_ be pleasant!” exclaimed the
children; and in a few minutes they were seated by their mother, in one
of the convenient little open carriages which are always to be met with
in Brighton; Mrs. Ashton having told the driver that they wished to
visit the Chalybeate.
“Well,” said Edward, as he sprung from the carriage, “I do not think
I have seen any thing so pretty as this little rustic cottage,
surrounded with trees, since we have been at Brighton; it looks so cool
and shady. But why, mamma, did you call it the Chalybeate?”
“Because, my dear, there is here a chalybeate, or mineral spring, which
has been found to possess valuable medicinal properties: you shall
taste the water if you please.”
Edward and Lewis did so: it was very cold, but they thought it
extremely unpleasant, and had no wish to repeat the experiment.
Their mother told them, that the spring had been found to contain
muriate of soda, muriate of magnesia, sulphate of lime, oxide of iron,
and silicia, or flint.
When the children had seen as much as they wished of the chalybeate
spring, the reading-room, cottage, &c., Lewis took from his pocket the
little map of Brighton, and showed his mother that Brunswick Square
might be visited on their road home. “But see, mamma,” he added, “here
is Adelaide Crescent; will it tire you too much to go there? it is not
much out of the way. But what is this circular mark in the map intended
for, with the word ‘Dome’ by it?”
Mrs. Ashton told them, that in that spot was situated the Antheum, or
Oriental Garden; but that the stupendous dome, she regretted to say,
was no longer there: it fell in with a tremendous crash only a few days
after its completion. Happily, the disastrous event took place in the
night, so that no lives were lost.
This building, which was the largest of the kind ever erected, was
intended as a conservatory, for the reception and preservation of the
rare and beautiful plants of tropical climates; the interior was very
tastefully arranged, and contained a basin for aquatic plants. The dome
represented the inverted calyx of an open flower, and was one hundred
and two feet larger than that of the Cathedral of St. Peter’s at Rome.
Edward and Lewis, mourned over the fate of the poor conservatory, and
pitied the gentleman who had projected it; at the same time hoping,
that he, or some one else, would have spirit enough to recommence the
undertaking; till fresh objects of interest arrested their attention.
They both agreed in thinking Adelaide Crescent would be very beautiful
when completed, and in admiring the splendid houses, comprising
Brunswick Square and Terrace: Regency Square, and Bedford Square, with
the noble Hotel, bearing the same name, the children had before seen.
“Edward,” said Mrs. Ashton, as they passed the end of West Street, “you
are fond of history; and it will, perhaps, interest you to hear that
near this spot is still standing the inn which afforded a temporary
shelter to the unfortunate king Charles II., after the battle of
Worcester, when he fled from his rebel-subjects to the continent. His
faithful friends, colonel Gunton and lord Wilmot, had laid a plan for
his escape, in which they were aided by a man, named Tattersal, the
master of a coal-brig, who promised to conduct king Charles in safety
across the Channel. Accordingly, he was brought in disguise over the
hills to Brighton, to await the sailing of the vessel; but greatly to
the alarm of all parties concerned, the owner of the inn immediately
recognized his royal guest. Smith, for that was his name, would not,
however, betray his sovereign: notwithstanding the enormous sum offered
for his capture, he kept his secret inviolable; and, at five in the
morning, Charles embarked with a favourable wind, and landed the next
day at Fescamp in Normandy.”
“That was nobly done,” said Edward, “I hope, when king Charles was
restored to his country and kingdom, he did not forget those who had
befriended him in his misfortunes.”
“I do not know,” said Mrs. Ashton, “how it fared with the innkeeper;
but Nicholas Tattersal’s fidelity was rewarded by an annuity of one
hundred pounds being settled on himself and heirs. Some of Tattersal’s
descendants are yet living in the town; but the pension has been, from
what cause I know not, discontinued.”
“Mamma,” said Lewis, as they again drew near home, “can you tell me how
far it is from Kemp-Town to Brunswick Terrace? for I suppose that takes
in the whole of Brighton, from east to west.”
“Yes,” said his mother, “the distance is not less than two miles and
a half; and from our present place of residence, the Steyne, to the
extremity of the parish, on the London road, is about one mile and a
quarter. Formerly, East Street, West Street, and North Street were
boundaries of the town, so you may judge how greatly it is increased.
But, Lewis, the clock has struck two, and we must lose no time in
preparing for dinner.”
“Two o’clock!” said Edward; “only four more hours to wait, and then
papa and Helen will be here.”