have just mentioned, we accompany our fair party to the grand fashionable rendezvous on the Steyne. After promenading on this delighful spot, hearing important and interesting remarks on this one's dress, and that one's face, and t'other one's ancles, and listening to the music, first of the librarian's concert, and afterwards of a solo from a blind fidler, we adjourn to the library. There the morning papers, now arrived from London, afford Mr. Spout another opportunity of displaying his elocution; and Dr. Fatgoose his political wisdom: but both now attract not the attention which their morning efforts excited. The indolent indifference of early hours now give place to the anxious cares of the night. Now the librarian is considering the chances of the dice, preparing for the principal business of a Brighton trader; in short, he is collect-