healthfulness to those who need change. There is no such glowing light
elsewhere along the south coast; these things are very local.

A demand has been made for trees, to plant the streets and turn them into
boulevards for shade, than which nothing could be more foolish. It is the
dryness of the place that gives it its character. After a storm, after
heavy rain for days, in an hour the pavements are not only dry but clean;
no dirt, sticky and greasy, remains. The only dirt in Brighton, for
three-fourths of the year, is that made by the water-carts. Too much
water is used, and a good clean road covered with mud an inch thick in
August; but this is not the fault of Brighton--it is the lack of
observation on the part of the Cadi who ought to have noticed the
wretched condition of ladies' boots when compelled to cross these miry
promenades. Trees are not wanted in Brighton; it is the peculiar glory of
Brighton to be treeless. Trees are the cause of damp, they suck down
moisture, and fill a circle round them with humidity. Places full of
trees are very trying in spring and autumn even to robust people, much
more so to convalescents and delicate persons. Have nothing to do with
trees, if Brighton is to retain its value. Glowing light, dry, clear, and
clean air, general dryness--these are the qualities that rendered
Brighton a sanatorium; light and glow without oppressive moist heat; in
winter a clear cold. Most terrible of all to bear is cold when the
atmosphere is saturated with water. If any reply that trees have no
leaves in winter and so do not condense moisture, I at once deny the
conclusion; they have no leaves, but they condense moisture nevertheless.
This is effected by the minute twigs, thousands of twigs and little
branches, on which the mists condense, and distil in drops. Under a large
tree, in winter, there is often a perfect shower, enough to require an
umbrella, and it lasts for hours. Eastbourne is a pleasant place, but
visit Eastbourne, which is proud of its trees, in October, and feel the