the offer of a cheap ride, to pay a fleeting visit to this famous coast, and to enjoy though but for a few hours the refreshing odours of the glorious sea. These however are but the transient visitors, and though some of the older denizens would complain that they should come "Betwixt the air and their nobility," they would not permanently affect the social character of the place. But the railway affords equal facilities to other visitors. And it is evident that Hastings will become more and more the resort of the middle class, -of such as have hitherto chiefly resorted to Margate and Ramsgate. Hastings will probably become the Margate of the Southern coast, while St. Leonards will no doubt continue to be a sort of more select Ramsgate. something far better than "stunted coppices" in the immediate vicinity of Hastings, and Elia was not wont to be quite unlocomotive. Still we can understand that he might be dull here. We are afraid we should ourselves find a lengthened stay in it a dreary penance." There is indeed small "sense of home at Hastings." The houses and their furniture and their few feet of dried up garden ground, seem all laid out rather for show than domestic comfort. We almost agree with him, too,' in his scale of dulness. But he should have tried Bognor. After it, Worthing would have seemed gay, and Hastings almost Elysium. Hastings' physicians have written a good deal about the climate of the town. They find that it is suitable for almost every complaint, and agrees with almost every constitution. This singular adaptability, howCharles Lamb has given, in his 'Margate Hoy,' a ever, requires explanation. Hastings, in fact, has semi-serious account of his impressions of Hastings. many climates. Under the cliff, and in some sheltered His jottings are too precious to be omitted from our spots, it is, even in winter, mild as Madeira: while sketch-book. "We have been," he says, "dull at from that there is a regular gradation till we arrive at Worthing one summer, duller at Brighton another, places where, even in the height of summer, the sight dullest at Eastbourn a third, and are at this moment of Wenham ice would induce a fit of shivering. From doing dreary penance at Hastings. I love town or our own experience we can vouch that, in some localicountry, but this detestable Cinque Port is neither. I ties, the temperature often reaches the melting point, hate these scrubbed shoots thrusting out their starved and have little doubt as to the remainder of the propofoliage from between horrid fissures of dusty innutri-sition. We therefore counsel our readers who may tious rocks, which the amateur calls 'verdure to the edge of the sea.' . . . . I require woods, and they show me stunted coppices; I cry out for water-brooks, and pant for fresh streams and inland murmurs. I cannot stand all the day on the naked beach, watching the capricious hues of the sea, shifting like the colours of a dying mullet. I am tired of looking out of the windows of this island prison; while I gaze on the sea, I want to be on it, over it, across it. It binds me in with chains as of iron. There is no home for me here. There is no sense of home at Hastings. If it were what it was in its primitive shape, and what it ought to have remained, a fair honest fishing town, and no more, with a few straggling fishermen's huts about, artless as its cliffs, and with their materials filched from them, it were something. I am sure no townbred or inland-born subject can find their true and natural nourishment at these sea places. Nature, when she does not mean us for mariners and vagabonds, bids us stay at home. The salt foam seems to nourish a spleen. I am not half so good-natured, as by the milder waters of my natural river. I would exchange these sea-gulls for swans, and scud a swallow for ever about the banks of Thamesis." The writer of a Hastings Guide, in quoting this pleasant abuse, very naturally suggests that "Charles Lamb must have been in rather a querulous mood when he wrote thus of poor Hastings." But he did not mean it to be read literally. This good-humoured style of exaggeration is one of the peculiarities of his manner, and to his inimitable mastery of it is owing a good part of the charm of his Essays.' If he had been writing seriously it would be easy to convict him There would be no difficulty in showing of error. contemplate a brief sojourn at Hastings, not to make a hasty selection of their dwelling-place, but to consider the matter carefully, and take suitable advice. If they fail to do so, they may perchance find themselves roasting in Cavendish-place, or starving in the Montpelier, when an opposite choice would have been "just the thing" or they may grow nervous in Wellingtonsquare, or dull in Verulam-buildings, when they might have become bold or cheerful had they located ' under the opposite temperature. We have no doubt in our own mind that Elia was settled in the wrong degree. We have spoken of St. Leonards as a suburb of Hastings. It is so in fact; but it chooses rather to consider itself as a distinct 'town.' It is quite a creature of our own day. Mr. Burton, the architect of a large part of the buildings about the Regent's-park, commenced the formation of a new town here in 1828. His plan was conceived on a bold scale, and was very fairly carried into execution. A noble esplanade extends for more than half a mile along the beach. A handsome range of buildings, called the Marina, some 500 feet in extent, stretches along the sea-front of the town, with a covered colonnade of the same length. Other terraces and scattered villas, bearing in character a considerable resemblance to those in the Regent'spark, were also erected, together with a church, assembly-rooms, bath-houses, and hotels of large size and the most complete arrangements. There are also pleasure-grounds and other contrivances for the amusement or comfort of visitors. St. Leonards has been able to boast of a large array of noble and distinguished visitors from its earliest infancy. Her present majesty heads the list, she having, when Princess Victoria, resided with her mother in 1834 at the western end of the Marina. The Queen Dowager is also among the names it delights to remember. The house in which she lived is now called Adelaide House. Among its literary visitants Campbell has perhaps the first place, he having left a permanent record of his residence at it in the Lines on the View from St. Leonards.' His memorial of his abode here is very different from that of Charles Lamb: "Hail to thy face and odours, glorious Sea! 'Twere thanklessness in me to bless thee not, For these wild headlands and the sea-mew's clang. "With thee beneath my windows, pleasant Sea! And the same strain of lofty eulogy is maintained throughout the poem. One is almost tempted, by the way, to fancy, from the choice of illustrations, that he had Lamb's dislogy in his eye when he penned these stanzas. What can be a more curious contrast, for example, than between Elia's comical comparison of the shifting colours of the sea with the hues of a dying mullet, and the following sonorous lines of the Bard of Hope? "How vividly this moment brightens forth, Mighty Sea! Cameleon-like thou changest, but there's love St. Leonards was originally a mile and a half distant from Hastings; but the old town has stretched out its arms to its youthful progeny. The Grand Parade was the first step towards uniting them; and now other places have sprung up, and they are fairly joined together. The esplanade now reaches, with hardly an interruption, from the Marine Parade at Hastings to the Marina at St. Leonards, and forms probably the finest walk of the kind in the kingdom. In the population returns the population of St. Leonards is included with that of Hastings: the total number of inhabitants in 1841 was 11,607. The borough of Hastings sends, as it has done from the reign of Edward II., two members to Parliament. We have probably said enough of the picturesque details of Hastings; but let us, as we are returning to it from St. Leonards, pause for a moment to look at it as a whole. The good town is generally, and perhaps correctly, said to be seen to most advantage from this spot. The lofty and handsome range of Pelhamcrescent, with the church of St. Mary-at-Cliff, and other modern buildings, occupy a prominent place in the picture, and wear an imposing air as they stand contrasted with the meaner houses at their base, and are backed by the noble cliff that rises far above, and which has been carved away to afford room for them. The houses of the older part of the town running irregularly up the higher grounds, and opposing to each other every variety of size, and shape, and colour, prevent anything like formality, which the preponderance of the newer buildings would otherwise produce; while the gray fragments of the ancient castle, which crown the summit of the lofty cliff, impart an air of dignity to the humbler dwellings beneath. And then, to complete the picture, a large fleet of fishing-smacks and boats, with numerous fishermen moving about them, are seen on the beach; and the ever-varying sea sweeps round the foreground, to give animation to the whole. The view of Hastings from the sea is justly admired; but it is too formal to look well in a picture. Our view of Hastings (Cut, No. 1.) is taken from the East Beach. The visitor should stroll thither, when the tide is out, for the sake of the fine view he will obtain of the town from the black rocks just beyond the furthest break water. This view is little known, but is a remarkably good one. Seen by the light of the western sun, it is very striking. Much of the peculiar beauty and brilliancy arises from the rich effects of colour that are observed, and which are of course lost in a wood-cut. The prospect itself should be seen. For our other engravings, we are fortunate in obtaining some groups of Hastings fishermen, which our excellent friend Mr. Harvey has selected from a large number of strikingly characteristic sketches and studies of these hardy seamen, made during a rather prolonged stay at Hastings. The Hastings fishermen are a class that the visitor should endeavour to become acquainted with. The pilots and fishermen all round our coast are a fine race of men; possessing in common the attributes of bravery, skill, and hardihood, but having in almost every locality their peculiar characteristics. Our Hastings fishermen are behind none in any of the chief excellences of their craft; and they are not wanting in their peculiarities. Hastings people, who belong to the generation that is passing away, fancy that the fishermen are deteriorating. They attribute the change to the less exciting nature of their pursuits, and date its commencement from the period when the measures adopted by the government put a stop to the practice of running,' to which they were universally addicted. Certainly the old fishermen grumble strongly at the difference in the times, and sigh after the day when "a poor man could gain a honest penny" by bringing over a little French brandy and other useful commodities. They don't see why trade should not be free. There can be little doubt that the general practice of smuggling must have had a considerable influence on the character of the men. Their constant engagement in the dangerous calling must have induced an habitual wariness, and with it a degree of recklessness, that would go far towards the forming a clever and daring seaman. Whether, however, it must not have also had a deadening influence on the moral nature, we will not stay to inquire. That it did strongly operate in the formation of the general character there can be little doubt. That it was not wholly for good we are certain. The Hastings fishermen no longer make the distant excursions they were wont. Only boats of the largest size now venture to the coasts of Norfolk and Devonshire, and there is little communication kept up with the continent. During the season the herring and mackerel fishery is most generally practised, and is found to be the most profitable; but almost every other kind of fish that frequents the British seas is sought after. There are about a hundred and fifty registered boats belonging to the port; and the fishermen and their families are said to number some three thousand individuals. The fishermen are quite a distinct class, mingling little with the townsmen of a similar station in life, and marrying pretty much among themselves. In form and make, as well as in habits, they appear quite distinct from the surrounding peasantry. They are stoutly built,though appearing far stouter than they really are from the manifold jackets and other garments they heap one over another, and they are strong and capable of enduring great fatigue and privation. Towards each other they are generous and forbearing. In their intercourse with other classes these qualities are not so apparent. We have said that they bear no very close resemblance to the townsmen, or the peasantry of the surrounding district. Their very physiognomy is different. Their habit of constant intermarriage would perhaps sufficiently account for this; but we have heard some who have had good opportunities of seeing much of them, suggest that it may have been assisted by their mingling with the families of the French fishermen, with whom they used formerly to have frequent intercourse. We rather "doubt the fact." At any rate they do not choose French wives now; though we cannot say what they may have done in the good old days, when "smuggling no harm meant," and the bringing off a French damsel may have seemed a pleasant variation to the dull tenour of daily life. By our engravings, it will be seen what picturesque groups our fishermen make. They are rather shy of being observed, however, and don't like to be sketched. You must look at them carelessly, and keep your pencils out of sight, if you want to see them at their ease. In that case you will escape with a few harmless sea-jokes, even if they fancy you are paying them a little too much attention. Their reserve renders them difficult to make any thing like familiar acquaintance with; they may be seen about the lower beach and fishmarket all day, mending or tanning their nets, or engaged in some other equally characteristic occupation. One of the liveliest scenes in which they engage is a Dutch auction, as it is called. You see one or more of a boat's crew, bring a basket or two of fish ashore, and cast its contents heedlessly upon the shingles. Instantly from all quarters come running up the fishdealers, of both sexes, and generally a few fishermen move forward to witness the sport. These form themselves into a circle, which widens as fresh buyers come. One of the crew to whom the fish belongs stands out as auctioneer. While he is looking round, one of the women perhaps calls out, "Well, old chap, what do 'e ax for 'em?" At once his answer is ready, and the business immediately commences. In a grave monotonous tone, he cries" thirty shillings-twenty-nine and sixpencetwenty-nine;" and so he goes on rapidly falling, sixpence at a time, till some one exclaims, "hap!"—or, "I'll ha' 'em;" when the auction is over, and the transfer is made. A few rough jests generally vary the entertainment, but the sale is conducted with as much decorum as one at 'Garraway's.' The boats employed in the Hastings fishery are of a lighter description than the Brighton craft. The stranger who can stand a little rough sailing should endeavour to go out in one on its fishing trip. He may easily manage it, and will be well pleased with the excursion; that is, of course, supposing him not to be so fastidious as to be above bearing for a while, and even enjoying the unsophisticated habits of the fishermen-and perhaps some trifling inconveniences on the score of cleanliness. Of regular sailing or row-boats, that are kept for pleasure trips, there are of course plenty at Hastings, and the boatmen are no novices. We suppose few will visit Hastings, without indulging in a sail. It will be long before the stranger will tire of the beach at Hastings-unless, indeed, he belong to the class an old poet describes, "Whose blindness is not of the eyes alone, The novel habits and pursuits of the fishermen-the ever-changing ocean -the varying accidents of calm and storm-will yield to an observant mind an ample fund of amusing and not unprofitable employment. The sea itself is an endless delight. From the situation and conformation of the shore, you may here watch the mighty ocean under almost every aspect of beauty and grandeur, from the moment when the morning sun lifts its head above the eastern horizon, and the dispersing mists permit it to send its first feeble ray over the heaving billows, to that when, amidst all the glory of an autumn sunset, the sinking luminary drops behind the low headland on the opposite extremity of the bay. And then, again, you may observe another and hardly less beautiful or impressive series of phenomena between the time when "the risin' moon begins to glow'r," and a narrow stream of silver comes to your feet over the vast gloom; and that when the whole surface is lit up with the splendour of the full 2. SCENE FROM THE EAST BEACH. Yes, the town you may tire of,-we should speedily: but of the beach, never. But we have spoken as if it were to the ocean and the fishermen alone that the beach owed its attractions; this is by no means the case. All along it the land. helps to form with one and another section of the bay a succession of charming pictures, such as Stanfield, and Harding, and other of our excellent band of landscape painters have been happy in transferring to the canvas. We have mentioned above, in pointing attention to the fine stretch of sea across which the eye roams unimpeded as we stroll along the several Parades which have been constructed between Hastings and St. Leonards, the picturesque views that occur when the shore forms part of the prospect: but the continuation of the walk along the beach east of Hastings is even finer. Then the noble bay of Pevensey is seen in all its extent. In the far distance the long projection of Beachey Head rests on the ocean like a purple cloud. Close at hand the steep dilapidated crag towers up aloft, and huge fragments that have toppled down from the old rock lie scattered about its base. Beyond, something is seen of the town, with the crowd of boats hauled up on the beach below it. On the sea, hoys and light craft move rapidly in-shore, while towards the horizon vessels of larger burden are seen with crowded canvas, bearing, perhaps, the brave and the beautiful to a distant land from which they shall never return. And creeping quietly among the rocks at your feet is a solitary old man, depositing in the shallow water, and among the crevices of the rocks, his little prawn baskets, by means of which he earns a scanty and precarious subsistence. These, as you wander about the East Beach, combine to form scenes that the eye can hardly gaze upon without delight, or the heart contemplate without emotion. The cliffs, which, from their worn and shattered forms have so picturesque an appearance, are of the formation which geologists have named the Hastings sand, the rocks in this locality being the type of the whole formation. They are composed of a soft sand, hardly consolidated enough to be called a stone. In various places the cliffs have been tunneled to some distance, and where no longer worked the Hastings people have converted them into show-places. These caverns, as they are called, are occasionally lighted up, and strangers are generally accustomed to visit them; but those who have seen the caverns of Yorkshire and Derbyshire, had better stay away from these. An excavation, however, in the East Cliff is perhaps worth inspecting. It is a good height up the cliff, and would have nothing in itself to attract notice; but it has been made the abode of a family whose domestic economy is rather singular. The head of the family is an Irishman named Butler, who, about a dozen years ago, chose to fix on this windy elevation for his cabin, and enlarged the existing excavations so as to form a good-sized sitting-room with a sleeping-room beyond. He has a wife, children, and grandchildren, who live here with him; and the family is further in |