ticket, first class, for which he paid the sum of
one pound four shillings. An Excursion train
had started at nine o'clock, the return-ticket,
first class, being only eleven shillings; but Sir
Valentine fearing that it would stop at every
station on the way, and might not be in time
for the great event, had prudently chosen the
Express at Express price; namely, one pound
four per ticket. There was some confusion
in the arrangements of the terminus,
apparently attributable to extensive additions
and alterations in the buildings; but there
was no difficulty in receiving the money.

The train started; its speed, though an
Express, being nothing particular. When it
arrived at Lewes, the passengers all had to
alight, and wait for another train which was
to take them on. At last a train arrived. It
was declared to be full!

"Full! " cried Sir Valentine, " why, I have
paid for the Express!—first-class—one pound
four."

Full, however, this long train was.
Presently a guard shouted out that there was
room for three in a second class-carriage.

"I secure one! " shouted Sir Valentine,
holding up his fore-finger in a threatening
manner to the guard, and jumped in. In
due time, and by no means in a hurry, the
"Express " train arrived.

Out leaped Sir Valentine, and demanded of
the first person he met how far it was to
Seaford? The man said he didn't know! to
the utter astonishment and contempt of the
excited knight. He asked the next person;
who replied that he hadn't the very least
idea, but they could tell him at the "tap."
Sir Valentine looked on all sides to see if
there were any cabs, flies, or vehicles of any
kind, and descrying several in a group at
some little distance, made towards them at
long running strides—a boy who had over-
heard his question as to the distance, following
at his heels, and bawling—"Two miles as a
crow flies!—four miles by the road!—two
miles as a cro-o-o-o!—four by the ro-o-o-o!"

Arrived amidst the vehicles, the knight
found nearly all of them either engaged, or
full, and it was only as a matter of favour
that he was admitted as "one over the
number" to the inside of a small van without
springs; where, beside the heat and crushing,
he had to endure a thorough draught and
three short pipes, all the way.

The road wound round the base of a series of
hills and other rising ground, and a line of
vehicles might be seen all along this serpentine
road, for two or three miles' distance; while a
long unbroken line of pedestrians were
descried winding along the pathway across the
fields. After a very jolting and rumbling
drive, Sir Valentine found himself " shot out
with the rest of the company, in front of a
small "public" knocked up for the occasion,
with a load or two of bricks and some boards,
and crowded to excess. Private carriages,
flies, cabs, carts, waggons, vans, were standing
around, together with booths and wheel-
barrows, set out with apples, nuts, bread and
cheese, and gingerbeer of a peculiarly thin
stream. Sir Valentine having breakfasted
early, hastily, and lightly, was by this time—
a quarter to two—extremely sharp set; he
endeavoured, therefore, to make his way into
the house to get a bottle of stout and some
ham or cold beef for luncheon. But after ten
minutes' continuous efforts, he found he was
still between the door-posts, and the noisy,
choked-up window of the "bar" as far from
his hopes as ever. He abandoned the attempt
in disgust—but not without addressing
himself to a seafaring man who was standing with
his hands in his pockets, looking on:—

"Is this sense? " said the Knight. " Do
you call this common sense? Do you think
you are acting with any more reason than a
dog possesses, to treat the public in this way?
Then, your own interest—look at it! " (pointing
to the crowd struggling in the door-way).
"If you had any foresight, or a head for the
commonest arrangements, would you not have
a barrel of ale on wheels outside here?"

The sea-faring man swung round on his
heel with a smile, and Sir Valentine, having
made his way into the field, obtained six
pennyworth of gingerbread and a dozen of
small apples, with which provender he in some
sort revived his exhausted frame. He now
bustled on towards the foot of a broken
embankment leading up to a lofty rising ground,
the summit being the cliffs, a large portion of
which was shortly to be detached, and thrown
down by the explosion of a mine. The part
to be blown off was marked out by broad
belts of white, where the chalk had been
thrown up, which made an imposing appearance
even on the distant heights.

The sun shone brightly. All over the fields
and fallow ground that lay between the halting-
place just described, and the foot of the
steep mount, the visitors were scattered,
pedestrians, with here and there a horseman:
sight-seers,—the old and the young—men of
science from various parts of the world,—
infantry soldiers, sappers and miners, ladies
and gentlemen, sailors, marines, country
people, railway labourers, policemen, boys
and girls, and—far in the rear of all, with
disapproving looks—two or three old women in
spectacles. Renovated by his gingerbread
and apples, Sir Valentine made his way
manfully up the steep grassy ascent of the hill,—
chalk mountain, it might be more properly
termed,—and, in the course of a quarter of an
hour, he found himself at the spot where the
explosion was to take place.

It was a tolerably level surface, of some
hundred yards in diameter. Transverse belts
of excavated chalk, with several trenches and
pits half filled up, marked out the huge fragment
of the solid mass which was to be separated.
The boundary was further indicated
by small flagstaffs, and also by sentinels, who
prevented any of the visitors from trespassing