The Express.
London, England, 1868-09-17 00:00:00

ONE PENNY,

THE DYKE.

• -* ,
BEJOHTON, Sere it,.
" An Landon" just now is down at Brighton ;
meaning by that phrase ill' except the three
million and odd people who are unable to get
osit.of, town at all, and the few thoixsande who
have gone to ottirttoes in Great Britain or on
the Continent. t exaggeration, however,
Leaden just now strongly represented at the
most famoue of English watering-Ogees. Rotten-
row has busters& itself to the Diff ; the loungers
of Xessingten-gardens new lounge in the
gardens of the Pavilion, where lowerediows -
sodl seta., hands attram the goat, • the
bottle 'end Melded* ". rivals
" Stmt.?. ;" Jeasts'eetrest glitters • with
eqWpageii, and at the end of Uri' pew 'Pier
joleasif9ht homy xmisiosif taking lathe
aisle fr a fabltsable ilevel. or g.y Weise
in a genteel •oceessiy, wish' as the • Haramiest
Theists* ise4 hypresset. stairith an (Went old, en*
comedy had Omen place to• iiiiiledreiss and bur-
'segos. Desists the mom* alarm, -the New Pier
continues to be the favelasite. A splendid peens-
nade, pretty hide kiosks forrefreshments or dainty
purchases, • MINA steed fora very hdr orchestra,
and a good seleetion of music three times a day,
make this one of the meet sAbective places of
resort in the town ; and the admirer of feminine
beauty, and of the splendours of inninine costume,
may here see both in bewildering variety.
The whole art of flirtation eight be easily
and agreeably learned by a few •
attendance at the end of this marine
But Brighton has attractions as well as
within it. If you wish to be quietly rural, you
have only to sthlte off over the Downs, and you
will come every here and there to the onainteet of
old-fashioned villages, lying at the bottom of
green valleys, on whose summits nothing is to be
heard but the sigh of the wind, the bum of insect
life, the flutter of passing birds, or the tinkle of
the sheep bell. If, on the other hand, you desire
to vend a day in the country, and yet retain the
liveliness, of society, there is the Dyke, surnamed
of his Satanic majesty. The Dyke is in itself
almost as, wild a place as any in cultivated
England; yet it is one of the show-spots in the
environs of Brighton. Situated about five miles
and a half to the north-west of the town, it is
readily approached, and people go there in all
sorts of conveyances, or on foot, if they are good
pedestrians. The way is a little fatigumg for the
latter, since it is all up-hill, and where ladies are
of the party, a carriage of some kind, or a horse,
is indispensable. But the view at the to is worth
the trouble of getting to it, and the road itself has
a beauty of its own. Shortly after leaving the rail-
way terminus you get on to the bare Downs, which,
scrubby at first with patches of market gardens,
soon speed oat into noble, expanses of
agricultural land, -.undivided by . or stone
walls, unbroken by wood, yet On a day truly
Iflcaious for the wide sweep of sunshine, the
sailing shadows of clouds, and the variegated I
tints of the hill-ides--hero tawny with late:
harvests, there green with grass, and in
• third place showing the russet brown of
fallow earth. Every now and then a soliteve
farm-house or dairy dote the long,
. broad tract of
open country with brief suggestions of human
oompanionship; or huge stacks of hay or straw
sear themselves out of the loneliness, and glow in
the warm sunlight with tints of golden brown;
or a windmill whirls and bums above itzat=
shadows ; or hundreds of white sheep,
unequally over a vast upland, and rendered
apparently moveless by distance, cover the whole
field with the semblance of Druidic ruins. To the
south-west the sea runs in, hanging a great blue
cloud below the wide stretches of ascending land ;
and through the Downs on either side the chalky
road pursues its way, winding up the acclivities,
or occasionally sinking into brief hollows, yet
every moment bringing you into purer and more
exhilarating air. In these open spaces there is
something peculiarly beautiful in the strange and
almost indescribable mingling of wind and sun-
light, which you may observe on a bright autumn
day, and in the sense of freedom which the entire
unrestraint of both communicates to the mind.
You see the former coming for miles along the
gram with a vapoury tremor, like smoke ; and
the sunshine has a golden fulness and mysterious
vitality, in the absence of shadow-casting objects,
which you never perceive in more cultivated spots.
Let the visitor to the Dyke also note the varied
outlines of the hills, and the different angles at
which they descend towards one another, making
a network of little valleys in the broad expanse;
and be will not want for matters of interest to
beguile him on the road. At the Dyke itself he
will find a curious union of wildness and pleasure-
making. Only one house is to be found on this
elevated spot—the Dyke Hotel ; and here on a
fine day a miscellaneous gathering of all classes.
from ladies and gentlemen of fashion to ahopmen
and servant girls out for a holiday, will be seen
lounging about on the grass, looking at the view
through glasses, or seeking refreshment at the
solitary tavern, with its background of farm-yard.
Private carriages, hired flys, waggonettes, plea-
sure-vane, and omnibuses, are drawn up on the
sward; cavaliers and damsels gallop up and down
on thorough-bred horses; others sit about in groups,
or wander down the steep slopes of the valleys,
and the inevitable flirtation sets in very strongly.
Here a picnic is spread out on the grass ; there,
the popping of ginger-beer tells of humbler in-
dulgences. A red-cloaked old gipsy woman,
familiar with Dyke winds and ems for years,
roams to and fro, and tells as many fortunes as she
can gather shillings, and bewails the loss of her
dog Topsy, who was run over by a horse, and is
angrily perplexed at being required to declare why
it was she did not forecast the brute's fate. At
the summit of the Dyke, authority is represented
by a single policeman, who, having absolutely
nothing to do, relieves the tedium of exist-
ence by playing at knock-'em-downs with
anyone who will in him ; to facilitate
his operations in which manly pursuit, he takes
off his uniform coat, and deposits it on the grass.
More actively engaged are the ostlers in the stables
at the rear of the Dyke Hotel, who have enough
to do in looking after the horses. The grooms,
fly-men, omnibus-drivers, de., gather thickly in
the tap, which is, placed in cone lent proximity
to these stables ; and thither come the gipeiee
every now and then, to cast cheap horoscopes for
glasses of ale, and to bandy chaff with the soepti-
cal in the intervals of more profitable work. In
short, you may study life in several of its varie-
ties on the summit of the Dyke. The attendance
seems to have increased very much of late years,
and the Dyke Hotel has been enlarged to meet the
growing wants of the visitors.
Apart from a certain element of vulgarity, in-
separable from all show places, the Dyke and the
surrounding country are really grand. The enor-
mous trench, nearly a mile in circumference, of
groat depth, and flanked with very precipitous
sides, which here cuts through the Sussex Downs,
is supposed to have been a Roman encampment.
It is accessible only at a narrow neck, fortified
with a deep, broad ditch, and a high vellum. The
bare sweep of greasy earth, enclosing a narrow
valley, the bottom of which looks shadowy from
the sunlit heights, is extremely impressive, and it
is curious to think of those old Roman legionaries,
with their helmets and cuirasses, their eagles and
standards, moving about so many centuries ago in
this wild scene. Looking away from the Dyke
northwards, the prospect is more various and cul-
tivatod. The pretty little village of Poyninge lies
at the bottom of the almost perpendicular rampart
of green bills, on the brow of which the spectator
is standing; and tram and hedgerows, on this
Kide, A uriegate an enormous plain, over whieli the

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CIREAT BRITAIN MUTUAL LIFE
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ANA-DIAN NEWS—.
Ewn TRIMIDAT. 7112 141211 T NEWS fro Ss
NIW DOMINION. Prise 54. poet hys 54. OMe4:-11.
Om. 14..4Rn«, Lansbar444.,

eke wandel as over a pictorial map spread in
light and shade beneath, under the bright,
dear, south of England climate. It is
said that six counties may be seen from
tins point, the view extending inland to
Nettlebed, in Oxfordshire, and including the
Tower, on Leith-hill, in Surrey, Box-hill, and the
Bound Tower of Windsor Castle. For these, of
course, • telescope is necessary ; but the naked eye
alone reveals a scene of pask ral beauty, rich with
cultivation, thickly wooded, and bright with perfi-
cdou,red
,meadows. The-Dyke people ten you.
flat the fires Of 'sixty churches may be counted
with a • from the summit of the hill , but
few wil,l care to take the trouble of tenting the
accuracy of such a oomputatlOn. The old legend,
ho. says that'thii piety of the people in the••
W. pf. Owlet was in *Arnim times so what that
*the of Defrkneas one night bCgan•digging
an enormous trench, which should let the sou in
upon them ; but, mistaking the candle of an old
woman who was stirring betimes for the •
sun, be led in dismay, leaving his work •
Hence the origin of the Dyke, and of the Satanic
prefix which sometimes accompanies its name.