farmhouse and the Step-meadow (where now stands the Central Wesleyan Chapel), and between the cliffs whose places have since been usurped by Dorset place and St. Michael’s terrace. So narrow was this road that only in one short portion of it was there room for two vehicles to pass. And it had been even narrower before some lime-burners and other labourers in the employ of Boykett Breeds had somewhat widened and trimmed it. In that operation it was my will and pleasure to contribute many a quarter-of-an-hour’s gratuitous assistance — a circumstance, the elucidation of which only requires the reader to recollect what has been said about “Young Tubal Cain,” and to know that he then lived and worked at the sign of “By hammer and hand all arts do stand,” on almost the identical spot now occupied by the Holy Trinity Church. That slight improvement to the Cuckoo lane was made, however, some three or four years before Royalty was compelled to make use of it, and about an equal period of time before I had entered upon a new occupation which brought me into more frequent intercourse with St.Leonards, although still residing at Hastings. The condition of the road at Stratford place on the 4th of November was such as only to be passable by pedestrians over some planks which bridged the yawning gulf, and for which privilege a halfpenny toll was exacted by some speculative workmen. Great was the inconvenience even then, but fancy what such an interruption to that crowded thoroughfare would be in the present day! My readers will perceive then, without further explanation, the cause of the circuitous route taken by the royal and loyal procession; and which diversion must, methinks, have left no very exalted impressions on the mind of that amiable young Princess who, three years later acceded to the
British Throne.
But in my own digression I have left the procession at the top of Cuckoo Hill; and my readers will please imagine that long and brilliant cortège wending its way over a rocky road at the southern extremity of White-rock field and descending the road at the rear of what is now the Hospital, at the top of which was a cottage known as "The Shepherd's House", with Mr. Vincett's slaughter-house opening out from the basement. The annexed sketch represents the old road over the White Rock and a branch therefrom leading to the slaughter-house and cottage here named, as well as to some cavities in the cliff on or near the site of some disused lime-kilns. The spot is now occupied by White Rock Villa, but on less elevated ground.
At the bottom of the road the then newly erected Verulam place, nicknamed "Rascal’s Row." The descent from the hill required even more care than the ascent; and when the procession regained the main road the travelling in many parts of it over loose beach and faggots was a very different proceeding to what it would be if Her Majesty should deign to visit us now. There was but little to note, however, during the remainder of the journey to St. Leonards, except that the people crowded upon the balconies of the houses and upon the slopes of the cliffs and bade the royal party welcome with lusty cheers and the waving of handkerchiefs. This was vehemently done by a party collected on the cliff close to Saxon House which then stood by itself, but which is now 14 Grand parade, and which has been severally tenanted by Walter Inskipp, John Mitchell, W. Duke Soane, Robt. Hempsted, Mrs. Josephs, & F. Rossiter. In 1896 it was nearly rebuilt for the Capital and Counties Bank.
On arriving at 57 Marina, the Mayor handed their Royal Highnesses out of the carriage amidst a salute of cannon and a shout of welcome. The coastguard were also drawn up as a guard of honour. The royal visitors soon appeared on the spacious balcony and acknowledged their reception in an affable manner, the band playing the National Anthem. I should have mentioned that there were several triumphal arches on the route in addition to the one at the borough boundary, and that the mounts, headed by Mr. Shadwell wore white scarfs. Of the numerous body of horsemen who accompanied the procession on that auspicious occasion all or nearly all have long since passed away. The bailiffs and workmen of Mr. Brisco, together with their families, followed the procession from Ore in newly-painted waggons, drawn by teams of magnificent horses, belled and ribboned for the occasion. There were also six of the oldest fishermen, in characteristic garb, who landed from a boat at the royal residence and presented an offering of the produce of their nets. The proceedings closed in the evening with a display of fireworks on the parade, and a grand illumination of the Marina houses and Colonnade shops.
Unfortunately, there were some few contretemps which detracted from the otherwise joyous event. In firing salutes from the cannon on the beach, a pensioner named Martin McDermot had one hand blown off, and by way of compensation for the injury, he was afterwards allowed a pension from Her Majesty of £20 per year. It was reported that he had been previously in the receipt of two pensions, one under one name and one under another, and that he lost one of them as soon as the facts were investigated. He was known, however, as a quiet, frugal man; and what with his pensions and his earnings as a jobbing tailor, he must have lived and died in moderately comfortable circumstances.
On the same day a coachman named Brett or Britt hanged himself in the St. Leonards Mews, and his lifeless body was cut down by Mr. Murdoch and another man. The unfortunate man had been in the service of Lady Lubbock, and having thus a comfortable situation, no cause whatever could be assigned for his committing the rash act. His conduct was all the more mysterious from his having frequently expressed surprise at people committing suicide.
Another unfortunate occurrence was that of a young man named Davis and his sweet-heart falling from a perpendicular height of some fourteen or fifteen feet into a cutting by which the road over the hill from St. Leonards to Hastings was being formed. They had been to see the fireworks, and in returning had taken the track over the hill, without knowing the danger which awaited them. The night was dark, and when they reached a spot just eastward of where Albert Villas have since been erected, they suddenly trod the air and fell over the unguarded bank. The young woman was seriously injured, but Davis being more frightened than hurt, ran first to St. Leonards and then to Hastings for a Surgeon, shouting as he went that a woman had fallen over the cliff. The whereabout of this fall not having been described, I, with a small party of men, immediately went in search of the supposed dead or dying woman. We took with us a lantern and a hand-barrow, and proceeded to the cutting which one of the men, who was a navvy, suspected was the scene of the accident, and there we found the sufferer moaning in a pitiful manner. We took her up gently and carried her to the only house near, namely, the cottage on the cliff at White Rock. Mr. John Savery was soon in attendance, and after ascertaining the nature of the young woman’s injuries, obtained a pair of blankets, and sewed them together himself. In the mean time two poles — clothes props, I think they were — having been found, they were put through the blankets, and an easy stretcher was thus improvised, on which the sufferer was placed and taken to Mr. Cork’s, a draper in High street. The young woman was quite a stranger to me, but she earnestly entreated me not to leave her until I had seen her safely taken to her employer's house. This was done, and after her recovery, which was by no means rapid, I had the gratification of receiving a visit from the patient to thank me for my attentions.
