The only relic in Brighton, in any way connected with the “Merrie Monarch,” is Nell Gwynne’s looking-glass.  This glass is amongst the curiosities in the Brighton Museum, at the Royal Pavilion, and is the property of Sir Charles Dick, of Port Hall, Dyke Road, Brighton.  It bears the likeness of Nell Gwynne and King Charles, which are modelled in wax; and also the supporters or crest which Nell assumed, namely, the lion and leopard.  The whole is curiously worked in various coloured glass beads, and the figures with the dresses are made to project in very high relief; indeed, they are merely attached to the ground-work.  In the upper compartment is Charles in his state dress, and in the bottom one that of Nell Gwynne in her court dress—the pattern of which is very tasteful.  On the right is Charles in his hunting dress, and on the left is Nell in her negligée dress.  The beads have retained their colours, which are very appropriate to the subject, and must have been a work of considerable time and patience; but whether done by Nell or not, there is no record.  Mrs. Jameson says:—“Charles, in spite of every attempt to detach him from her, loved her to the last, and his last thought was for her—‘Let not poor Nelly starve!’  Burnet, who records this dying speech, is piously scandalized that the King should have thought of such a ‘creature’ in such a moment; but some will consider it with more mercy, as one among the few traits which redeem the sensual and worthless Charles from utter contempt.”

Thus the persecutions of the Quakers continued in all parts of the kingdom, till General Monk having had complaint made to him of the rude disturbances of Meetings by his soldiers, while at Westminster, he, with complete success, issued the following order:

St. James’s, March 9, 1659–60.

I do require all officers and soldiers, to forbear to disturb the peaceable meetings of the Quakers, they doing nothing prejudicial to the Parliament of England.

George Monk.

In consequence of Monk having declared for the Commonwealth, Charles II., who for some years had resided on the continent, after his escape from Brighton, by his advice repaired to Breda.  But it being resolved in England to recall him to the throne, he made, on the 14th day of April, 1660, his celebrated Declaration of Breda, whereby he granted a free and general pardon to all offenders against himself and his royal father, and “liberty of conscience, that no man shall be disquieted or called in question for differences of opinion, in matter of religion.”  His Restoration was the result on the 18th of May following, and on the 29th of the same month, his birthday, he made his public entry into London.

The Act of Uniformity, which was passed in 1662, and was called the St. Bartholomew Act, because it was to take effect on the 24th of August, the feast of that apostle, produced a kind of ecclesiastical revolution, and shewed the invincible determination of the enthusiasts.  The date of the Bi-centenary of this Act, is the 24th of August of the present year, 1862.  The Act was short, but very stringent, as the annexed extract XIV. Caroli II., 1662.—

In one day, and by a concerted resolution, 2,000 presbyterian ministers resigned their livings, because they would not conform to the articles of the Act.  They were even, some time after, prohibited from coming within five miles of those places where they had exercised their ministry, except on journeys, under pain of six months’ imprisonment, and paying a penalty of five pounds.  These rigorous proceedings were by no means agreeable to the king, who was solicited by his brother James, to grant a general toleration.  Charles, in consequence, proclaimed an indulgence to those whose consciences would not permit them to conform to the established worship; and as Parliament was then prorogued, he gave his royal word, that at the approaching session, he would endeavour to procure a confirmation of that indulgence.  On the 18th of February, 1663, therefore, on the assembling of Parliament, Charles endeavoured to fulfil his promise; but the Parliament strongly suspected that he had another and much deeper design in view, his avowed intention being to gratify the Dissenters, but his secret resolution being to support the Catholics, so they determined to defeat him.  He in consequence, from a remonstrance which they drew up, issued a proclamation against all Popish Priests and Jesuits.

The Sussex coast is a favourite locality for the greater portion of our British Birds, more particularly the migratory species.  The high headlands to the eastward seem to be a great attraction to them by day, and, as a great many take nocturnal flight, the glare of light at night sent high into the vault of the heavens from the gas lamps in the town of Brighton, attracts a great number to this neighbourhood, and many rare specimens have been obtained.  The migration of birds is a subject of considerable interest in their natural history to the Ornithologist.  It was formerly supposed that many birds, which now are known for a certainty to migrate, retired to some secure retreat, and remained dormant through the winter.  So general was this impression that in some districts of England seven of the migratory birds obtained the names of the seven sleepers.  The Cuckoo was one of these; and the Swallows were supposed to lie up in a torpid state during the winter.  Most birds migrate, and those which cross the seas are called “Birds of Passage.”  A great number of our birds remove as the cold weather sets in, from the inland districts towards the sea shores, which afford them a better supply of food.

In the Spring of the year—March and April—we have the greatest arrival of our summer visitors, and it is astonishing with what order and punctuality they arrive and depart.  They are the unerring messengers of Spring; and, true to Nature’s laws, arrive generally within a few days of the time pointed out by the scientific observations of the Ornithologist.

The poets, from Chaucer downwards, have largely introduced birds into their works.  Chaucer, in his “Assembly of Fowles,” says—

On every bough the birdis herd I syng.
With voice of Angell in their harmonie.

Milton, in praising the nightingale, says—

            As the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note.

               The poor wren,
The most diminutive of buds, will fight;—
Her young ones in her nest—against the owl.

Byron, in his “Bride of Abydos,” says—

There sings a bird unseen, but not remote,
      Invisible his airy wings,—
      But soft as harp, that Houri strings
His long entrancing note.

Lord Erskine, in beautiful words, says—All our poets, from the greatest to the least, from the first to the last, acknowledge by their writings how much they owe to the productions of Nature, both animate and inanimate.

The Golden Eagle—Falco chrysaetos—is mentioned by Yarrell, in his “History of British Birds,” as having been shot near Bexhill, but none of our late writers on Ornithology have been able to authenticate the fact.  We have not been honoured with a visit from his imperial majesty the king of birds.  Several specimens of the White-tailed Eagle—Falco albicilla,—have been shot in the immediate neighbourhood, and the parties have always fancied they have been lucky enough to obtain the true Golden Eagle.  A gentleman from Brighton, being at Shoreham some years ago, just after the landlord of the Dolphin Inn had shot what he considered was the Golden Eagle, somewhat surprised the imagined lucky shot by assuring him that it showed too much of its legs, and that it was only an immature specimen of the Sea Eagle; and so it turned out.  Several others are likewise recorded as having been shot in this neighbourhood.

Eastward of Brighton, about fourteen miles, is Beachy Head, the home, from time immemorial, of a pair of Peregrine Falcons—Falco peregrinus; another pair is generally to be found in the high cliffs near Seaford.  This noble bird was the pride of our ancestors in their sporting diversions, and was considered very valuable when possessed of the particular qualities most in request.  Yarrell, in his “History of British Birds,” mentions that in the reign of James I. Sir Thomas Monson is said to have given one thousand pounds for a cast (a couple) of these hawks.  The high perpendicular cliffs at Beachy Head have always been a favourite breeding place for the Peregrines, and where their young are generally every year taken by a man whose companions let him over the cliff by means of a derrick.  The derrick is simply a pole with a sheave-wheel at one end of it, for the rope to pass over, and is run about two feet over the edge of the cliff, and at the other end it has a hole, through which an iron bar is passed and driven firmly into the ground to keep it steady.  By this contrivance the man is lowered to the required spot, and hauled up again in safety, and though the process has been going on for many years, no instance is recorded of any accident having occurred.  By this means also a great many of the eggs of the Willock—Uria troili—and Razor bill—Alca torda,—are taken; these birds breed here in great numbers every year.  The derrick is a familiar machine to the smuggler, as it enables him to get his tubs very expeditiously from the bottom to the top of the cliff, which is done by several men on the beach taking hold of the end of the rope, and running straight out with it, and then fastening on the tubs in clusters.  Sometimes they are brought up in this way four or five hundred feet.  These cliffs are likewise the resort and breeding places of a great many Jackdaws—Corvus monedula.

A little to the westward of the highest part of the cliffs, upon a projecting portion, called Beltout, stands Beachy Head lighthouse, a very handsome and solid structure, built entirely of granite.  It is supposed that it will last till the solid chalk cliff washes away from under it.  It stands about thirty yards from the edge of the perpendicular cliff, which is here about one hundred and forty yards high, with the sea at highwater washing its base.  It has a revolving light of three sides, with ten argand lamps in each with highly polished reflectors, kept in motion by machinery wound up like a clock, two or three times in a night.  It is managed by two light-keepers, whose duty is to keep the lamps burning and revolving from sunset to sunrise, all the year round.  It has no doubt been the means of saving numerous vessels from being lost upon that once very dangerous part of the Sussex coast.

The lighthouse has a very pleasing effect when viewed by night from the sea, and on a fine summer’s evening, parties frequently make excursions from Eastbourne and other places to visit it.  Being situate on the South Downs the walk to it is most delightful, the turf being so very fine, that it may be compared to a Turkey carpet, and in July and August the air is highly fragrant with wild aromatic herbs, thyme, &c.  At the same time of the year great quantities of those delicious birds, Wheatears—Sylvia œnanthe,—arrive, and are scattered over the extensive Downs in vast numbers, but not in flocks, as they are almost invariably seen singly.  It is a great perquisite to the shepherds to catch them, which they do by cutting out lines of traps in the turf in the form of a T, and inverting the turf over a couple of horse-hair nooses.  Pennant states, that in his time the numbers snared about Eastbourne amounted annually to about one thousand eight hundred and forty dozen.  They are called the English Ortolan, from their being so fat and plump and of such a delicious flavour.  They are a great delicacy potted.  They are, however, gradually lessening in numbers, year after year, so that it hardly pays the shepherds now, for their time and trouble to get their traps ready.

Along the whole range of the South Downs the Wheatear has its haunts, especially about the vicinity of the Devil’s Dyke, which is a place of general rendezvous for sportsmen and pleasure-seekers.  It was formerly known as the Poor Man’s Wall, and even now, in its deep trenches, exhibits the form and extent of a Roman encampment.

The person who first superintended the Dyke establishment was Mr. Russell, who was succeeded by Mr. Thomas Sturt.  His successor was Mr. Thomas King, familiarly then and now known as “Tommy King,” whose refreshing beverages and exhilirating fiddling gave him a far and near notoriety.  The premises were only occupied and opened during the Summer season, from May to October; and although stabling and other accommodation were constructed, in a few years the public requirements induced the erection of the present building, the Dyke House, by Mr. Hardwick, and it has successively passed from King to Mr. Edwards, of Horsham, the tenant who obtained the spirit license; Mr. Ade, of Huntingdon; Mr. William Cooper, of Brighton; Mr. Peter Barkshire, now of Patcham; to its present occupier, Mr. William Thacker, who has been landlord of the house, and tenant of the farm attached twenty-seven years, during which period he has received the royal patronage of William IV. and Her present Majesty and the late Prince Consort.  The house has also been the resort of many illustrious foreign visitors, amongst whom may be named Prince Metternich and Count Nesselrode.

The steep sides of the Dyke have been the scenes of numerous accidents, from persons having the temerity to run down them.  Some daring feats of riding and driving have also been exhibited here.  The most memorable and daring act was that of Tom Poole, who, for the wager of a champagne dinner for twelve, drove a tandem down the most abrupt part.  It was most cleverly accomplished, without the least accident; but that he might not be disappointed in participating in the wagered repast,—in the event of the loss of life or limb in the performance of the exploit,—he insisted upon having the dinner before he undertook his task.  Many other dare-devil tricks have been attempted here; and perhaps the most remarkable is that related in what is familiarly known as the

The largest attendance of visitors to the Dyke, is during the months of August and September, when, frequently, as many as a hundred carriages a-day arrive with parties, either to view the magnificent expanse of scenery which the spot commands, or on pic-nic excursions, as the establishment has accommodation for many sets of visitors at the same time.  The predilection which the English have for displaying their wit in snatches of their poetic genius, has, on the walls of the rooms, the looking-glasses, and the panes of glass in the windows, extensive scope, and signatures innumerable crowd every available spot.

O! foul attempt to give a deathless lot
To names ignoble, born to be forgot,
In vain recorded.

But to return to the more immediate subject of this Chapter, the feathered tribe, from which there has been a slight digression, for the record of facts that form an important link in the chain of local history:

The Buzzard—Falco buteo,—is another of our indigenous birds, which has nearly disappeared from this district, and what was many years ago called the Common Buzzard is now very rare.  They were formerly frequently met with among the furze near the edge of the cliffs, where they were constantly at war with the Jackdaws.

The Black Redstart—Sylvia tithys,—is considered rare in this country; but Brighton has been fortunate in affording several examples of this handsome and graceful bird, which is a winter visitor.

The Common Redstart—Sylvia phœnicurus,—unlike his confrere, is a summer visitor, generally arriving about the second week in April.  Their migration seems to be gregarious, as they are to be met with in flocks of ten or a dozen, close by the sea shore, a little to the westward of Brighton, where they have apparently just arrived.  In a day or two, they distribute themselves over the country, and are hardly ever seen again, but singly, or at most in pairs.  This bird has several dark red feathers on the rump, and the country people call it the Fire Tail.

The Grasshopper Warbler—Sylvia locustella,—is a very shy bird, and consequently is very rarely seen.  It is a great ventriloquist, and its note is exactly like the grasshopper, (hence its name), only very much louder, and so very peculiar, that a person may be within a yard or two of the bird, and yet be unable to define the exact spot.  It is not a scarce bird, and several nests of it have been found at the Holm-bush, and almost any fine evening in June it may be heard there.  Its haunts are at the edges of large woods, in low scrubby bushes.

The Reed Wren or Reed Warbler—Sylvia arundinacea,—is found in precisely the same locality as the last, and where, during the Summer months, several of their extraordinary nests have been found.  They generally prefer the ditches where the reeds grow the thickest.  In making their nest, which is very deep, they bring three or four stout reeds together with their materials, near the water, and it is so beautifully and scientifically constructed, that in case of floods, the nest will rise up the stems.  Any lover of Natural History, if he is not aware of the fact, or seen their nests, would be delighted with the beautiful provision which Nature here carries out.

The Nightingale—Sylvia luscinia,—is the most musical, most melancholy of birds, the poet’s bird,—par excellence.  On Poynings Common, through May, they may be heard in the greatest perfection, where they tune their melodious nocturnal love song through the livelong night.  They generally arrive about the second week in April.

The Dartford Warbler—Sylvia provincialis,—is said by most writers on British birds, to be extremely rare, but on the Downs, two or three miles to the north-east of Newhaven, they have been seen among the furze.  They have a propensity for keeping near the ground in the high furze, and a great dislike to exhibit themselves.  They are local, and tolerably abundant in their habitat.

There are five species of Wagtail that are visitors in the neighbourhood of Brighton.  The White Wagtail—Motacilla alba,—so nearly resembles the common Pied Wagtail—Motacilla yarrellii,—that to a common observer there appears scarcely any difference.  The Gray Wagtail—Motacilla boarula,—and the Grayheaded Wagtail—Motacilla flava,—are rare birds to this country; but both have been shot in this locality.  The Yellow or Rays Wagtail—Motacilla campestris,—is common in the Spring of the year, and may be found by the edges of running streams.  To the eastward of Brighton the whole family of the Wagtails are called Dishwashers.

The Ortolan Bunting—Emberiza hortulana,—has twice been obtained in and near Brighton; but it is a very rare bird in this country.

The Hoopoe—Upupa epops,—the most beautiful of all our British birds, is a frequent visitor in the Spring of the year to this part of the country.  In May, 1845, Mr Swaysland, Naturalist, Queen’s Road, had to preserve and mount six Hoopoes, which were killed within a few miles of Brighton.

The Great Norfolk Plover, or Stone Curlew—Œdicnemus crepitans,—is becoming very scarce now, though formerly these birds were tolerably abundant.  Their haunts were generally to be found among the large open stony fallows of our downs.  They are like all the family of Charadriidæ, very shy birds.

The Gray Phalarope—Phalaropus platyrhynchus,—has occasionally been met with, generally in flocks of from ten to fifteen, and upwards.  They are nearly or quite the smallest web-footed birds that are known; their homes are in the cold northern climes, and they are so unacquainted with man and his terrible engines of destruction, that they are apparently tame.  Two gentlemen once fell in with a flock, in Shoreham Harbour, and killed seventeen, being nearly or quite all there were.  They described them as miniature ducks swimming swiftly about on the still water, and did not attempt to escape; consequently they were all shot down.

In very severe winters, immense flocks of Wild Fowl fly near the shore, from east to west, and a great many specimens of the Goose and Duck tribe are obtained, some of them very rare to this county.  The Egyptian Goose—Anser ægyptiacus,—was shot a few miles from Brighton, two years ago.  So rare is this beautiful bird considered, that there is still a doubt amongst Ornithologists that the examples which have been met with, have only strayed from gentlemen’s parks, &c.  They have generally been seen and shot in the severest winters, and are apparently a sort of “frozen-out gardeners.”

During the winter of 1860, owing to its severity, several specimens of the Hooper—Cygnus musicus,—and Bewick’s Swan—Cygnus minor,—were shot in this neighbourhood.  A great many Swans were likewise observed flying a little distance out at sea.

There are several species of Terns to be met with in this locality.  The Gullbilled Tern—Sterna angelica,—and the Lesser Tern—Sterna minuta,—are both rare, particularly the former, and have been shot near Shoreham.  A few examples of the rare Little Gull—Larus minutus,—have been shot near Brighton; likewise the Ivory Gull—Larus eburneus,—both very rare.  Most of the common Gulls are abundant, being near their breeding places.

Several specimens of The Forktailed Petrel—Thalassidroma Leachii,—and of the Storm Petrel or Mother Carey’s Chicken—Thalassidroma pelagica,—have been obtained generally in the severest gales, about the time of the Vernal and Autumnal equinoxes, when they have frequently been found blown ashore, by stress of weather; and instances have occurred here, when they have been picked up in areas of houses near the sea, generally in a most exhausted state.

The House Sparrow,—Fringilla domestica,—is a well-known young gentleman, that may be seen almost any day, at every man’s door, whether poor or rich, in town or in country.  He is the most familiar and domesticated wild bird in England.  In town he puts on his black, dirty, scavenger’s dress, which completely disguises him,—his appearance being so different from his confreres in the country.  His destructiveness among the newly sown seeds in the garden, and in the ripe standing wheat, is proverbial;—but then, in the consumption of grubs and caterpillars, he is eminently serviceable, which greatly compensates for the harm he may do in the garden or in the field.

All Naturalists attached to the scientific expeditions for the exploration of the Arctic regions, speak of the myriads of water fowl met with, in those immense reservoirs of snow and ice, the accumulation of ages, where, in the midst of plenty, they rear their young, unmolested by man.  There, amongst lagoons, and bays, and swamps, and lakes, and where an impenetrable barrier is firmly fixed to the prying eye of man, they find an asylum to propagate their different orders, and genus, and species, surrounded by a profusion of food; and, at the end of the long Summer day of weeks of unsetting sun, with instinctive knowledge they gather together their separate families, in innumerable flocks, and proceed southward, to replenish the warmer regions of the globe, and to furnish man with some of the luxuries of life.

Brighton and its surrounding locality, including Lewes, have obtained considerable repute amongst entomologists for producing a great many rare insects, owing, no doubt, to there being several persevering and good collectors in the district.

There are only sixty-four indigenous Butterflies in England,—certainly very few when compared with the number of species found in Europe.  Of those sixty-four, Brighton and its neighbourhood contribute forty-eight, and of Moths,—of which there are upwards of two thousand found in England,—nearly the same proportion.  It is a curious fact in Natural History, that some families, which years ago were rare in England, have now become common; and, others which were frequently met with, are very rare; some species have disappeared altogether, while new ones,—owing to the great addition and perseverance of collectors,—are every year discovered and added to the lists.

The Holmbush,—about eight miles from Brighton, and the commencement of the Weald of Sussex,—has hitherto been the great emporium for moths, and a good many butterflies, particularly the fritillaries, whose resort is in and near the large woods there.

The Green-veined White,—Pieris napi,—the pretty little Orange Tip,—Anthocharis cardamines,—and the Brimstone Butterfly,—Gonepteryx rhamni,—are common in that locality; but for the Clouded Yellows,—genus, Colias,—Brighton must be closer approached in the clover fields, about August.  They are of a rich golden colour, banded with black; and there is a variety called Helice, which are considered a prize to any entomologist.  The great prize, the Queen of Spain,—Argynnis lathonia,—has been taken in a garden at Kemp Town; but like “Angels’ visits,” they are very “few and far between.”  The gorgeous Large Copper,—Polyommatus hippothoe,—whose wings, edged with black, shine like burnished gold, and cast into shade any colour which the device of man can create,—was once plentiful in two counties of England, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire; but it is now considered by our best entomologists extinct in this country.

The Purple Emperor,—Apatura iris,—may be seen in all his glory on a hot Summer’s day, the first week in August, in the above locality, soaring round the high oaks, in all imaginable grandeur.  He is rightly termed Emperor, as no other butterfly dares to invade his imperial aerial realms.  His magnificent purple wings defy the highest skill of the artist to imitate.  These simple, beautiful butterflies whisper in reason’s ear, truths, which, alas! humble the pride of man.  There is the Painted Lady,—Vanessa Cardui,—but she will not do for the present fashionable generation, as she does not wear crinoline, and her food is of the most vulgar description,—the common thistle, from which she derives her specific name.

This ends the list of the British Butterflies in the vicinity of Brighton, with the exception of that which was taken by one of the most honest and persevering collectors, in August, 1860, near Kemp Town.  No one doubts of its being taken there, as several entomologists of the highest respectability, saw it on the spot alive, immediately after it was taken; but a very small clique of savans will not allow it to be put on the list as a new British Butterfly, because they have a theoretic fancy that it might be blown over from the coast of France, a distance of nearly a hundred miles, across the English Channel.  The idea, however, is absurd.  A little delicate butterfly, with all the appearance of having just emerged from the chrysalis, to be blown that distance without apparently ruffling a feather, is out of all character.  If it had been a new bird that had been obtained on our shores, the ornithologists would have been only too happy to have had the opportunity of adding it to their list, as a new British species.

Mr. Edward Newman, of Bishopsgate Street, the great naturalist, and prince of writers, and publisher of works on Natural History, has stood sponsor to this new British Butterfly, and named it—The Brighton Argos—Lycaena Bœtica.

How necessary is it, then, that we should direct our attention to the sowing of the seeds of knowledge in the minds of youth.  The great work of forming the man cannot be begun too early; and agreeably with this sentiment, how many writers are there who spend their lives in contributing in various ways to turn the streams of instruction through their proper channel into this most improvable soil,—taking children by the hand, and directing their steps like guardian angels, in the outset of life, to prevent their floundering on in ignorance to the end.  In these undertakings the instructors of youth are often assisted by the fertile genius of the artists, who supply their works with such embellishments as serve to relieve the lengthened sameness of the way.  Among the many approved branches of instruction, the study of Natural History holds a distinguished rank.  To enlarge upon the advantages which are desirable from a knowledge of the Creation, is surely not necessary.  To become initiated into this knowledge is to become enamoured of its charms; to attain the object in view requires but little previous study or labour; the road which leads to it soon becomes strewed with flowers, and ceases to fatigue; a flow is given to the imagination which banishes early prejudices and expands the ideas, and an endless fund of the most rational entertainment is spread out, that captivates the attention and exalts the mind.  For the attainment of this science in any of its various departments, the foundation may be laid, insensibly, in youth, whereon a goodly superstructure of useful knowledge can easily be raised at a more advanced period.  In whatever way, indeed, the varied objects of this beautiful world are viewed, they are readily understood by the contemplative mind, for they are found alike to be the visible works of God.  The great book of Nature is amply spread out before mankind, and could they but see how clearly the hand of Providence is in every page, they would consider the faculty of reason as the distinguishing gift to the human race, and use it as the guide of their lives.  They would find their reward in a cheerful resignation of mind, in peace and happiness, under the conscious persuasion that “a good naturalist cannot be a bad man.”

To an unobservant eye the vicinity of Brighton possesses no wild vegetable productions worthy of notice, and, apart from the cultivated fields, all else appears a barren waste, save and except the short sweet verdure whereon our favourite South-Down flocks luxuriate.  Upon peering, however, into the hedgerows, and the waysides and the furrows, a volume is opened to the student of Botany, and there is that whereon he may sumptuously feast.  Fifty years since, the observation that “Brighton was a place without trees,” was a truism; but since then, irrespective of the success in planting the Squares, Enclosures, Steines, and the ornamental gardens of private residences in the town, where formerly, only hardy tamarisk grew, belts and copses of thriving trees have reared their towering heads, and the elm, fir, sycamore, horse-chesnut, larch, beech, hazel, birch, hawthorn, and the holly and other evergreens, having, by culture, become acclimatised, thrive so well as to induce the belief that they are indigenous to the South East Coast.

In the fields in general, about Brighton, is the Scentless Mayweed—Matricaria inodorata,—with a large radiating flower like a daisy, having a yellow centre and white outside.  The simple, yet pretty Daisy abounds about the general field herbage:

Daisies, the flowers of lowly birth,
Embroiderers of the carpet earth,
That stud the velvet sod.

The most prolific source of the wild flowers near Brighton is the plantation on the Dyke Road, upon the estate of Lady Ogle.  There

The Violet in her greenwood bower,
   Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle,
May boast herself the fairest flower,
   In glen, or copse, or forest dingle.

Both the Sweet Violet—Viola odorata,—and the Dog Violet—Viola canina,—grow there, the latter in profusion.  The Wild Heartsease—Viola tricolor,—is not to be found there; but it abounds in the hedge-rows about Preston, where also the Sweet Violet may be found.  In this plantation are the several kinds of Nightshade; the Bitter-sweet, as before described; the Black Nightshade—Solanum nigrum,—a rare species in this district; and the Deadly Nightshade—Atropa belladonna,—which may be known by its large dark tobacco-leaf shaped leaves, cup-shaped purple flowers, and cherry-like fruit, the produce of a root,

That takes the reason prisoner.

The Black Bryony—Tamus communis,—thrives here to perfection.  Its flowers are of a greenish yellow, but its berries, like the Nightshade, are poisonous.  The Geranium—Geraniaceæ,—signifying Crane’s Bill,—from the seed vessel and pistil resembling a crane’s head and bill,—may be found here of three distinct species.  Each, being in its wild state, is very diminutive; but they all are as perfect in their form and colours as the most highly cultivated of the genus.  In the hedges by the London Road, just beyond Preston, the Lewes Road, beyond the Cavalry Barracks, and Preston Drove, the Dove’s-foot Geranium,—Geranium molle,—vegetates.  Its flowers are pink or purple, and its leaves, which grow in clusters, are flat, and velvety to the touch.

An English species of the Arum Lily is very common in this and other plantations, and in the damp and shady hedge-rows to the north of Brighton.  Its leaves are of a dark green, spotted with purple, and it has, instead of a flower, a sort of leaf, containing a green spadix, which is also purple.  The stem of this leaf has a ring of glands, beneath which are anthers and ovaries, which, as the plant matures, are succeeded by scarlet berries, that are commonly known as Lords and Ladies.  The plant yields an acrid juice, which is very poisonous; and about eighteen years since, a servant girl at the Synagogue, in Devonshire place, unwittingly poisoned herself, in consequence of eating some Lords and Ladies.  The juice, mixed with vinegar, was formerly taken as an antidote against the plague, and even against other poisons.

The three several species of Nettle are met with in various localities.  The largest is the Roman Nettle—Urtica pilulifera,—from the pill-like shape of the flowers,—formidable in its appearance, and pungent to the touch.  The next is the Common Nettle, with which most persons are conversant; and the other species is the Burning Nettle—Urtica ureus,—which grows about a foot high, and whose leaves are a very dark green.  All these species have a venomous sting of a hair-like character, which possesses at its root a poisonous bulb that discharges itself when the sting is pressed gently.  When, however, the stings are grasped firmly, the fine points become bent or broken, and are thus rendered harmless.  They point upwards, so that if the hand be passed up the plant briskly the sting is ineffectual.  The Dead Nettle—Lamium album,—has no sting.  Its flowers are white, whereas the blossoms of the stinging Nettles are green.

The hedge-rows of the Hove and Preston Droves are composed principally of Brambles, Dog-wood, the Wild Rose, a species of willow, called Palm; Black Horehound, Traveller’s Joy, Alder, Ash, and Ivy.  By the pathway on the upper road to Shoreham, and on the London, Ditchling, Lewes, and Dyke roads, just upon the outskirts of Brighton, the Burdock—Arctium lappa,—commonly called the Dock, thrives amidst burdens of dust.  The flower is purple, and is thrown out from a ball, after the manner of the bloom of the Corn Flower.  A thistle-like cone succeeds, and forms a means for amusement to schoolboys, who gather them and stick them on persons’ clothes.

The Wall Pellitory—Parietaria officinalis,—which has reddish stalks and flowers, and hairy leaves, yields a cooling extract.  It is found in different localities, but does not require much nutriment for its dwarf growth.  The Shepherd’s Purse, so called from its heart-shaped seed pods, resembling old-fashioned money purses, is found growing about most hedged-in fields.  On many of the hillocks upon the meadow land Knot Grass is very prevalent.  It may be found also amongst the vegetation between the carriage road and pathway just beyond Preston.

In speaking of the Mosses in the vicinity of Brighton, the area will be restricted to the range of the Downs in which the Town is placed, and the coast line of the same distance.  Therefore, assuming the limit to be bounded on the east by the Cliffs as far as Newhaven, and the Downs that slope to the west side of the river Ouse, and gradually heighten until passing Lewes, Offham and its chalk-pits are reached.  Following, then, the base of the hills by the Devil’s Dyke, and the Fulking Downs to Beeding, and thence continuing the marginal line to Shoreham, a tract of country will be embraced, that will be bounded on the south by the sea-shore.  Thus, the sandstone plants, and those found in arenaceous soil will be represented by the species from the banks on the beach, near Aldrington Basin, and a few from the tertiary sandstone at Newhaven Cliffs—chalk, clay, and argillaceous soils determining the remaining species.

The list is as follows:—