damp fallen leaves under your feet, and you would prefer no trees.

Let nothing check the descent of those glorious beams of sunlight which
fall at Brighton. Watch the pebbles on the beach; the foam runs up and
wets them, almost before it can slip back the sunshine has dried them
again. So they are alternately wetted and dried. Bitter sea and glowing
light, bright clear air, dry as dry,--that describes the place. Spain is
the country of sunlight, burning sunlight; Brighton is a Spanish town in
England, a Seville. Very bright colours can be worn in summer because of
this powerful light; the brightest are scarcely noticed, for they seem to
be in concert with the sunshine. Is it difficult to paint in so strong a
light? Pictures in summer look dull and out of tune when this Seville sun
is shining. Artificial colours of the palette cannot live in it. As a
race we do not seem to care much for colour or art--I mean in the common
things of daily life--else a great deal of colour might be effectively
used in Brighton in decorating houses and woodwork. Much more colour
might be put in the windows, brighter flowers and curtains; more, too,
inside the rooms; the sober hues of London furniture and carpets are not
in accord with Brighton light. Gold and ruby and blue, the blue of
transparent glass, or purple, might be introduced, and the romance of
colour freely indulged. At high tide of summer Spanish mantillas, Spanish
fans, would not be out of place in the open air. No tint is too
bright--scarlet, cardinal, anything the imagination fancies; the
brightest parasol is a matter of course. Stand, for instance, by the West
Pier, on the Esplanade, looking east on a full-lit August day. The sea is
blue, streaked with green, and is stilled with heat; the low undulations
can scarcely rise and fall for somnolence. The distant cliffs are white;
the houses yellowish-white; the sky blue, more blue than fabled Italy.
Light pours down, and the bitter salt sea wets the pebbles; to look at
them makes the mouth dry, in the unconscious recollection of the saltness