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 L161— O-1096 
 
THE SMUGGLER: 
 
 a ®ale. 
 
 BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 " DARNLEY," " DE L'ORME," " RICHELIEU," 
 
 ETC. ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 
 
 1845. 
 
3 
 I 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO 
 
 THE H0N D - L - B CHARLES EWAN LAW, M.P. 
 
 RECORDER OF LONDON, 
 
 ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 It would be almost superfluous to assure 
 you of my esteem and regard; but feelings of 
 personal friendship are rarely assigned as the 
 sole motives of a dedication. The qualities, 
 however, which command public respect, and the 
 
 
 services which have secured it to you in so high 
 
 a degree, must appear a sufficient motive for 
 
 offering you this slight tribute, in the eyes not 
 
 ==f only of those -who know and love you in the 
 
 ^* relations of private life, but of all the many 
 
iv DEDICATION. 
 
 who have marked your career, either us a 
 lawyer, alike eminent in learning and in elo- 
 quence, or as a just, impartial, dear-sighted, 
 
 and yet merciful judge. 
 
 You will willingly accept the book, I know, 
 for the sake of the author ; though, perhaps, 
 you may have neither time nor inclination to 
 read it. Accept the dedication, also, I beg, 
 as a sincere testimony of respect from one, 
 who, having seen a good deal of the world, 
 and studied mankind attentively, is not easily 
 induced to reverence or won to regard. 
 
 When you look upon this page, it will pro- 
 bably call to your mind some very pleasant 
 hours, which would doubtless have been as 
 agreeable if I had not been there. As I write 
 it, it brings up before my eyes many a various 
 scene, of which you and yours were the embel- 
 lishment and the light. At all events, sueli 
 memories must be pleasant to us both: for 
 
DEDICATION. V 
 
 they refer to clays almost without a shadow, 
 when the magistrate and the legislator escajDed 
 from care and thought, and the laborious man 
 of letters cast away his toil. 
 
 In the following pages, you will find more 
 than one place depicted, as familiar to your 
 remembrance as to mine ; and if I have taken 
 some liberties with a few localities, stolen a 
 mile or two off certain distances, or 'deprived 
 various hills and dales of their due proportions, 
 these faults are of a species of petty larceny, on 
 which I do not think you will pass a severe 
 sentence, and I hope the public will imitate 
 your lenity. 
 
 I trust that no very striking errors will 
 meet your eye ; for I believe I have given a 
 correct picture of the state of society in this 
 good county of Kent, as it existed some eighty 
 or ninety years ago ; and, in regard to the events, 
 if you or any of my readers should be inclined 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 to exclaim — " This incident is not probable!" 
 I have an answer ready, quite satisfactory to 
 myself, whatever it may be to others ; namely, 
 that " the improbable incident" is tru All 
 the more wild, stirring, and what may be called 
 romantic parts of the tale, are not Blone/amnded 
 upon fact, but are facts; and the narrative ov. 
 me nothing more than a gown owe> to a semp- 
 stress — namely, the mere sewing of it together 
 with a very common-place needle and thread. 
 In short, a few characters thrown in for relief, 
 a little love, a good deal of landscape, and a few- 
 tiresome reflections, are all that I have added 
 to a simple relation of transactions well known 
 to many in this part of the country, as having 
 actually happened, a generation or two ago. 
 Amongst these recorded incidents, are the 
 attack of Goudhurst Church by the smugglers, 
 its defence by the peasantry, the pursuit, and 
 
DEDICATION. Vll 
 
 defeat of the free-traders of those days by 
 the dragoons, the implication of some persons 
 of great wealth in the most heinous parts of the 
 transaction, the visit of Mowle, the officer, in 
 disguise, to the meeting-place of his adversaries, 
 his accidental detection by one of them, and 
 the bold and daring manoeuvre of the smuggler, 
 Harding, as related near the close of the work. 
 Another incident, but too sadly true — namely, 
 the horrible deed by which some of the persons 
 taking a chief part in the contraband trade, 
 called down upon themselves the fierce enmity 
 of the peasantry — I have but lightly touched 
 upon, for reasons you will understand and ap- 
 preciate. But it is some satisfaction to know 
 that there were just judges in those days, as 
 well as at present, and that the perpetrators of 
 one of the most brutal crimes on record, 
 suffered the punishment they so well merited. 
 
Vlll DEDICATION. 
 
 Happily, my dear sir, a dedication, in these 
 days, is no compliment ; and therefore I can 
 freely offer, and you receive it, as a true and 
 simple expression of high respect and regard, 
 
 From yours faithfully. 
 
 G. P. K. JAMES. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It is wonderful what improvements have taken 
 place in clocks and watches during the last half- 
 century; how accurately the escapements are 
 constructed, how delicately the springs are 
 formed, how easily the wheels move, and what 
 good time they keep. After all, society is but 
 a clock, a very complicated piece of mechanism ; 
 and it, too, has undergone, in many countries, 
 the same improvements that have taken place 
 in the little ticking machines that we put in our 
 jackets, or those greater indicators of our pro- 
 gress towards eternity that we hang upon our 
 walls. From the wooden clock, with its weight 
 and catgut, to the exquisite chronometer which 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 varies only by a second or two in the course 
 of the year, -what a vast advance ! and between 
 even a period which many still living can re- 
 member, and that in which I now write, what a 
 change has taken place in the machinery and 
 organization of the land in which we dwell ! 
 
 In the times which I am about to depict, 
 though feudal ages were gone, though no proud 
 barons ruled the countrv round from castle and 
 stronghold, though the tumultuous times of the 
 great rebellion had also passed away, and men 
 in buff and bandolier no longer preached, or 
 fought, or robbed, or tyrannized, under the 
 name of law and liberty, though the times of the 
 second Charles, and the second James, William 
 and Mary, and good Queen Anne, falling- 
 collars, and hats and plumes, and floating wigs 
 and broad- tailed coats, were all gone — bundled 
 away into the great lumber-room of the Past — 
 still, dear reader, there was a good deal of the 
 wooden clock about the mechanism of societv. 
 
 One of the parts in which rudeness of con- 
 struction and coarseness of material were most 
 apparent, was, in the Customs system of the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 3 
 
 country, and in the impediments which it met 
 with. The escapement was anything but fine. 
 Now a clays we do things delicately. If we wish 
 to cheat the government, we forge Exchequer 
 bills, or bribe landing- waiters and supervisors, 
 or courteously insinuate to a superior officer that 
 a thousand pounds is not too great a mark of 
 gratitude for enabling us to pocket twenty 
 thousand at the expense of the Customs. 'If 
 we wish to cheat the public, there is chalk for 
 our milk, grains of paradise for our beer, sago 
 and old rags for our sugar, lime for our linen, 
 and devils' dust to cover our backs. Chemistry 
 and electricity, steam and galvanism, all lend 
 their excellent aid to the cheat, the swindler, 
 and the thief; and if a man is inclined to keep 
 himself within respectable limits, and deceive 
 himself and others at the same time, with 
 perfect good faith and due decorum, are there 
 not homoeopathy, hydropathy, and mesmerism ? 
 In the days I speak of, it was not so. There 
 was a grander roughness and daringness 
 about both our rogues and our theorists. None 
 but a small villain would consent to be a 
 
 B % 
 
4 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 swindler. We had more robbers than cheats ; 
 and if a man chose to be an impostor, it was 
 with all the dignity and decision of a Psal- 
 manazor, orabottle conjuror. Gunpowder and 
 lead were the only chemical agents employed ; 
 a bludgeon was the animal magnetism most in 
 vogue, and your senses and your person were 
 attacked and knocked down ivpon the open road 
 without having the heels of either delicately 
 tripped up by some one you did not see. 
 
 Still this difference was more apparent in the 
 system of smuggling than in anything else, and 
 the whole plan, particulars, course of action and 
 results were so completely opposed to anything - 
 that is, or can be in the j)resent day — the scenes, 
 the characters, the very localities have so totally 
 changed, that it may be necessary to pause a 
 moment before we go on to tell our tale, in order 
 to give some sort of description of the state of 
 the country bordering on the sea-coast, at the 
 period to which I allude. 
 
 Scarcely any one of the maritime counties was, 
 in those days, without its gang of smuggler- ; 
 for if France was not opposite, Holland was not 
 far off; and if brandy was not the object, nor silk. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 5 
 
 nor vane, yet tea and cinnamon, and hollands, 
 and various East India goods, were tilings duly 
 estimated by the British public, especially when 
 they could be obtained without the payment of 
 Custom-House dues. .But besides the induce- 
 ments to smuggling, which the high price that 
 those dues imposed upon certain articles, held 
 out, it must be remembered that various other 
 commodities were totally prohibited, and as an 
 inevitable consequence, were desired and sought 
 for more than anv others. The nature of both 
 man and woman, from the time of Adam and 
 Eve down to the present day, has always been 
 fond of forbidden fruit; and it mattered not a pin 
 whether the goods were really better or worse, 
 so that they were prohibited, men would risk 
 their necks to get them. The system of pre- 
 vention also was very inefficient, and a few 
 scattered Custom-House officers, aided by a 
 cruiser here or there upon the coast, had an ex- 
 cellent opportunity of getting their throats cut or 
 their heads broken, or of making a decent liveli- 
 hood by conniving at the transactions they were 
 sent down to stop, as the peculiar temperament of 
 
6 THK SMUGGLER 
 
 each individual might render such operations 
 pleasant to him. Thus, to use one of the 
 smugglers' own expressions — a roaring trade in 
 contraband goods was going on along the whole 
 British coast, with very little let or hindrance. 
 
 As there are land- sharks and water- sharks, 
 so were there then (and so are there now) 
 land- smugglers and water - smugglers. The 
 latter brought the objects of their commerce, 
 either from foreign countries or from foreign 
 vessels, and landed them on the coast — and a 
 bold, daring, reckless body of men they were ; 
 the former, in gangs, consisting frequently of 
 many hundreds, generally well mounted and 
 armed, conveyed the commodities so landed into 
 the interior, and distributed them to others, who 
 retailed them as occasion required. Nor were 
 these gentry one whit less fearless, enterprising, 
 and lawless than their brethren of the sea. 
 
 "We have not yet done, however, with all 
 the ramifications of this vast and magnificent 
 league, for it extended itself, in the distill 
 where it existed, to almost every class of society. 
 Each tradesman smuggled or dealt in smuggled 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 7 
 
 goods; each public-house was supported by- 
 smugglers, and gave them in return every 
 facility possible; each country gentleman on 
 the coast dabbled a little in the interesting 
 traffic ; almost every magistrate shared in the 
 proceeds or partook of the commodities. 
 Scarcely a house but had its place of conceal- 
 ment, which would accommodate either kegs or 
 bales, or human beings, as the case might be ; 
 and many streets in sea-port towns had private 
 passages from one house to another, so that the 
 gentleman inquired for by the officers at No. 1, 
 was often walking quietly out of No. 20, while 
 they were searching for him in vain. The back 
 of one street had always excellent means of 
 communication with the front of another ; and 
 the gardens gave exit to the country with as 
 little delay as possible. 
 
 Of all counties, however, the most favoured 
 by nature and by art for the very pleasant and 
 exciting sport of smuggling, was the county of 
 Kent ; its geographical position, its local fea- 
 tures, its variety of coast, all afforded it the 
 greatest advantages ; and the daring character 
 
8 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of the natives on the shores of the Channel was 
 sure to turn those advantages to the purposes in 
 question. Sussex, indeed, was not without its 
 share of facilities, nor did the Sussex men fail to 
 improve them ; but they were so much farther off 
 from the opposite coast, that the commerce — 
 which we may well call the regular trade — was, at 
 Hastings, Eye, and Winchelsea, in no degree to 
 be compared to that which was carried on from 
 the North Foreland to Romney Hoy. 
 
 At one time, the fine level of " The Marsh," a 
 dark night and a fair wind, afforded a delightful 
 opportunity for landing a cargo and carrying it 
 rapidly into the interior ; at another time, Sand- 
 wich Flats and PevenseyBay presented a harbour 
 of refuge, aud a place of repose to kegs innumer- 
 able and bales of great value ; at another period, 
 the cliffs round Folkestone and near the South 
 Foreland, saw spirits travelling up by paths 
 which seemed inaccessible to mortal foot ; and 
 at another, the wild and broken ground at 
 the back of Sandgate was traversed by long 
 trains of horses, escorting or carrying every de- 
 scription of contraband articles. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 9 
 
 The interior of the country was not less 
 favourable to the traffic than the coast : large 
 masses of wood, numerous gentlemen's parks, 
 hills and dales tossed about in wild confusion ; 
 roads such as nothing but horses could travel, 
 or men on foot, often constructed with felled 
 trees or broad stones laid side by side ; wide 
 tracts of ground, partly copse and partly 
 moor, called in that county " minnisses ;" and a 
 long extent of the Weald of Kent, through which 
 no high way existed, and where such thing 
 as coach or carriage was never seen, — offered 
 the land smugglers opportunities of carrying 
 on their transactions with the degree of secrecy 
 and safety which no other county afforded. 
 Their numbers, too, were so great, their bold- 
 ness and violence so notorious, their powers of 
 injuring or annoying so various, that even those 
 who took no part in their operations were glad 
 to connive at their proceedings, and at times to 
 aid in concealing their persons or their goods. 
 Not a park, not a wood, not a barn, did not 
 at some period afford them a refuge when pur- 
 sued, or become a depository for their commo- 
 
10 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 dities, and many a man, on visiting his stable 
 or his cart-shed early in the morning, found it 
 tenanted by anything but horses or wagons. 
 The churchyards were frequently crowded at 
 night by other spirits than those of the dead, 
 and not even the church was exempted from 
 such visitations. 
 
 None of the people of the county took notice 
 of, or opposed, these proceedings ; the peasantry 
 laughed at, or aided, and very often got a 
 good day's work, or at all events a jug of 
 genuine hollands from the friendly smugglers ; 
 the clerk and the sexton willingly aided and 
 abetted, and opened the door of vault, or vestry, 
 or church, for the reception of the passing 
 goods ; the clergyman shut his eyes, if he saw 
 tubs or stone jars in his way ; and it is remark- 
 able what good brandy punch was generally to 
 be found at the house of the village pastor. 
 The magistrates of the county, when called 
 upon to aid in pursuit of the smugglers, looked 
 grave, and swore in constables very slowly ; 
 despatched servants on horseback, to see what 
 was going on, and ordered the steward or the 
 butler to "send the sheep to the wood." an 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 11 
 
 intimation that was not lost upon those for 
 whom it was intended. The magistrates and 
 officers of seaport towns were in general so 
 deeply implicated in the trade themselves, that 
 smuggling had a fairer chance than the law, in 
 any case that came hefore them, and never 
 was a more hopeless enterprise undertaken, in 
 ordinary circumstances, than that of convicting 
 a smuggler, unless captured in flagrant delict. 
 
 Were it only our object to depict the habits 
 and manners of these worthy people, we might 
 take any given part of the seaward side of Kent 
 that we chose for particular description ; for it 
 was all the same. No railroads had penetrated 
 through the country then ; no coast blockade 
 was established ; even martello -towers were un- 
 known; and in the general confederacy or 
 understanding which existed throughout the 
 whole of the county, the officers found it nearly 
 a useless task to attempt to execute their duty. 
 Nevertheless, as it is a tale I have to tell, not 
 a picture to paint, I may as well dwell for a 
 few minutes upon the scene of the principal 
 adventures about to be related. A long range 
 of hills, varying greatly in height and steepness, 
 
12 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 runs nearly down the centre of the eounty-of 
 Kent, throwing out spurs or buttresses in dif- 
 ferent directions, and sometimes leaving broad 
 and beautiful valleys between. The origin or 
 base, if we may so call it, of this range is the 
 great Surrey chain of hills ; not that it is per- 
 fectly connected with that chain, for in many 
 places a separation is found, through which the 
 Medway, the Stour, and several smaller rivers 
 wind onward to the Thames or to the sea ; 
 but still the general connexion is sufficiently 
 marked, and from Dover and Folkestone, by 
 Chart, Lenham, Maidstone, and Westerham, on 
 the one side, and Barham, Harbledown. and 
 Rochester, on the other, the road runs generally 
 over a long line of elevated ground, only dip- 
 ping down here and there to visit some town or 
 city of importance which has nested itself in 
 one of the lateral valleys, or strayed out into 
 the plain. 
 
 On the northern side of the countv, a 
 considerable extent of flat ground extends 
 along the bank and estuary of the Thames 
 from Greenwich to Sandwich and Deal. On 
 the southern side, a still wider extent lies be- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 13 
 
 tween the high-laud and the borders of Sussex. 
 This plaiu or valley, as perhaps it may be 
 called, terminates at the sea by the renowned 
 flat of Eouiney Marsh. Farther up, somewhat 
 narrowing as it goes, it takes the name of the 
 Weald of Kent, comprising some very rich land 
 and a number of small villages, with one or two 
 towns of no very great importance. This Weald 
 of Kent is bordered all along by the southern 
 side of the hilly range we have mentioned ; but 
 strange to say, although a very level piece of 
 ground was to be had through this district, the 
 high road perversely pursued its way up and 
 down the hills, by Lenham and Charing, till it 
 thought fit to descend to Ashforcl, and thence 
 once more make its way to Folkestone. Thus a 
 great part of the Weald of Kent was totally un- 
 travelled ; and at one village of considerable 
 size, which now hears almost hourly the pant- 
 ing and screaming steam-engine whirled by, 
 along its iron course, I have myself seen the 
 whole population of the place turn out to be- 
 hold the wonderful phenomenon of a coach-and- 
 four, the first that was ever beheld in the place. 
 Close to the sea the hills are bare enough ; but 
 
14 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 at no great distance inland, they become rich 
 in wood, and the Weald, whether arable or 
 pasture, or hop-garden or orchard, is so divided 
 into small fields by numerous hedgerows of 
 fine trees, and so diversified by patches of wood- 
 land, that, seen at a little distance up the hill — 
 not high enough to view it like a map — it assumes, 
 in the leafy season, almost the look of a forest 
 partially cleared. 
 
 Along the southern edge, then, of the hills 
 we have mentioned, and in the plainer valley 
 that stretches away from their feet, amongst the 
 woods, and hedgerows, and villages, and parks 
 which embellish that district, keeping generally 
 in Kent, but sometimes trespassing a little 
 upon the fair county of Sussex, lies the scene 
 of the tale which is to follow, at a period when 
 the high calling, or vocation, of smuggling was 
 in its most palmy days. But ere I proceed to 
 conduct the reader into the actual locality wh- 
 ine principal events here recorded really took 
 place, I must pause for an instant in the capital. 
 to introduce him to one or two travelling com- 
 panions. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 15 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 It was in the grey of the morning — and very 
 grey, indeed, the morning was, with much more 
 black than white in the air, much more of night 
 still remaining in the sky than of day appearing 
 in the east — when, from the old Golden Cross, 
 Charing Cross, or rather from the low and 
 narrow archway which, at that time, gave exit 
 frorn its yard into the open street exactly oppo- 
 site the statue of King Charles, issued forth a 
 vehicle which had not long lost the name of 
 diligence, and assumed that of stage-coach. 
 Do not let the reader delude himself into the 
 belief that it was like the stage-coach of his 
 own recollections in any other respect than in 
 
16 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 having four wheels, and two doors, and windoi 
 Let not fancy conjure up before him flat sides 
 of a bright claret colour, and a neat boot as 
 smooth and shining as a looking-glass, four 
 bays, or browns, or greys, three-parts blood, 
 and a coachman the pink of all propriety. 
 Nothing of the kind was there. The vehicle 
 was large and roomy, capable of containing 
 within, at least, six travellers of large size. It 
 was hung in a somewhat straggling manner 
 upon its almost upright springs, and was ele- 
 vated far above any necessary pitch. The top 
 was decorated with round iron rails on either 
 side ; and multitudinous were the packages col- 
 lected upon the space so enclosed ; while a large 
 cage-like instrument behind contained one 
 or two travellers, and a quantity of parcels. 
 The colour of the sides was yellow ; but the 
 numerous inscriptions which they bore in white 
 characters left little of the ground-work to be 
 seen; for the name of every place at which the 
 coach stopped, was there written for the con- 
 venience of travellers who misjht desire to visit 
 any town ivpon the road; so that each si 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 17 
 
 seemed more like a leaf out of a topographical 
 dictionary of the county of Kent than anything 
 else. Underneath the carriage was a large 
 wicker basket, or cradle, also filled with trunk- 
 mails, and various other contrivances for hold- 
 ing the goods and chattels of passengers ; and 
 the appearance of the whole was as lumbering 
 -and heavy as that of a hippopotamus. The 
 coachman mounted on the box was a very 
 different looking animal even from our friend 
 Mr. Weller, though the inimitable portrait of 
 that gentleman is now, alas, but a record of an 
 extinct creature ! However, as we have little 
 to do with the driver of the coach, I shall not 
 pause to give a long account of his dress or 
 appearance ; and, only noticing that the horses 
 before him formed as rough and shambling a 
 team of nags as ever were seen, shall proceed to 
 speak of the travellers who occupied the interior 
 of the vehicle. 
 
 Although, as we have seen, the coach would 
 have conveniently contained six, it was now 
 only tenanted by three persons. The first, who 
 had entered at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, 
 
 vol. i. c 
 
18 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ■was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman, dressed with 
 scrupulous care and neatness. His linen and 
 his neckcloth were as white as snow, his shoes, 
 his silk stockings, his coat, his waistcoat, and 
 his breeches as black as jet ; his hat was in the 
 form of a Banbury cake ; the buckles in his shoes, 
 and at his knees, were large and resplendent ; and 
 a gold-headed cane was in his hand. To keep 
 him from the cold, he had provided himself 
 with a garment which would either serve for a 
 cloak or a coat, as he might find agreeable, being 
 extensive enough for the former, and having 
 sleeves to enable it to answer the purpose of the 
 latter. His hair and eyebrows were as white as 
 driven snow, but his eyes were still keen, quick, 
 and lively. His colour was high, his teeth were 
 remarkably fine, and the expression of his coun- 
 tenance was both intelligent and benevolent, 
 though there was a certain degree of quickness 
 in the turn of the eyes, which, together with a 
 sudden contraction of the brow when anything 
 annoyed him, and a mobility of the lips, seemed 
 to betoken a rather hasty and irascible spirit. 
 He had not been in the coach more than a 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 19 
 
 minute and a half, — but was beginning to look at 
 a huge watch, which he drew from his fob, and to 
 "pish" at the coachman for being a minute be- 
 hind his time, — when he was joined by two other 
 travellers of a very different appearance and age 
 from himself. The one who entered first was a 
 well-made, powerful man, who might be either 
 six- and- twenty or two-and-thirty. He could not 
 well be younger than the first of those two 
 terms, for he had all the breadth and vigorous 
 proportions of fully- developed manhood. He 
 could not be well older than the latter, for not 
 a trace of passing years, no wrinkle, no furrow, 
 no greyness of hair, no loss of any youthful 
 grace was apparent. Although covered by a 
 large rough coat, then commonly called a wrap- 
 rascal, of the coarsest materials and the rudest 
 form, there was something in his demeanour 
 and his look which at once denoted the gentle- 
 man. His hat, too, his gloves, and his boots, 
 which were the only other parts of his dress 
 that the loose coat we have mentioned suffered 
 to be seen, were all not only good, but of the 
 best quality. Though his complexion was dark, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and his skin bronzed almost to a mahogany 
 colour by exposure to sun and wind, the features 
 were all fine and regular, and the expression 
 high toned, but somewhat grave, and even sad. 
 He seated himself quietly in the corner of the 
 coach, with his back to the horses ; and folding 
 his arms upon his broad chest, gazed out of the 
 window with ail abstracted look, though his 
 eyes were turned towards a man with a lantern, 
 who was handing something up to the coach- 
 man. Thus the old gentleman on the opposite 
 side had a full view of his countenance ; and 
 seemed, by the gaze which he fixed upon it, 
 to study it attentively. 
 
 The second of the two gentlemen I have men- 
 tioned entered immediately after the first, and 
 was about the same age, but broader in make, 
 and not quite so tall. He was dressed in the 
 height of the mode of that day ; and though 
 not in uniform, bore about him several traces of 
 military costume, which were, indeed, occasion- 
 ally affected by the dapper shopmen of that 
 period, when they rode up Rotten Row or walked 
 the Mall, but which harmonized so well with his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 21 
 
 whole appearance and demeanour, as to leave 
 no doubt of their being justly assumed. His 
 features were not particularly good, but far from 
 ugly, his complexion fair, his hair strong and 
 curly; and he would have passed rather for a 
 handsome man than otherwise, had not a deep 
 scar, as if from a sabre-wound, traversed his 
 right cheek and part of his upper lip. His 
 aspect was gay, lively, and good-humoured, 
 and yet there were some strong lines of thought 
 about his brow, with a slightly sarcastic turn 
 of the muscles round the corner of his mouth 
 and nostrils. On entering, he seated himself 
 opposite the second traveller, but without 
 speaking to him, so that the old gentleman 
 who first tenanted the coach could not tell 
 whether they came together or not; and the 
 moment after they had entered, the door was 
 closed, the clerk of the inn looked at the way- 
 bill, the coachman bestowed two or three strokes 
 of his heavy whip on the flanks of his dull cattle, 
 and the lumbering machine moved heavily out, 
 and rolled away towards Westminster Bridge. 
 The lights which were under the archway 
 
22 THK SMUGGLER. 
 
 had enabled the travellers to see each other's 
 faces, but when once they had got into the 
 street, the thickness of the air, and the grey- 
 ness of the dawn, rendered everything in- 
 distinct, except the few scattered globe lamps 
 which still remained blinking at the sides of 
 the pavement. The old gentleman sunk back 
 in his corner, wrapped his cloak about him for 
 a nap, and was soon in the land of forgetful- 
 ness. His slumbers did not continue very long, 
 however ; and when he woke up at the Loompit 
 Hill, he found the sky all rosy with the beams 
 of the rising sun, the country air light and 
 cheerful, and his two companions talking to- 
 gether in familiar tones. After rousing himself, 
 and putting down the window, he passed about 
 five minutes either in contemplating the hedges 
 by the road-side, all glittering in the morning 
 dew, or in considering the faces of his two 
 fellow-travellers, and making up his mind as to 
 their characters and qualities. At the end of that 
 time, as they had now ceased speaking, he said — 
 "A beautiful day, gentlemen. I was sure it 
 would be so when we set out." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 23 
 
 The darker and the graver traveller made no 
 reply, but the other smiled good-humouredly, 
 and inquired — 
 
 "May I ask by what you judged, for to me 
 the morning seemed to promise anything but 
 fine weather ?" 
 
 " Two things — two things, my dear sir," 
 answered the gentleman in black. "An old 
 proverb and a bad almanack." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed the other. "I should 
 have thought it a very good almanack if it told me 
 to a certainty what sort of weather it would be." 
 
 "Ay, but how did it tell me?'' rejoined the 
 elderly traveller, leaning his hand upon the 
 gold head of his cane. "It declared we should 
 have torrents of rain. Now, sir, the world is 
 composed of a great mass of fools with a small 
 portion of sensible men, who, like a little quan- 
 tity of yeast in a large quantity of dough, make 
 the dumpling not quite so bad as it might be. 
 Of all the fools that I ever met with, however, 
 the worst are scientific fools, for they apply 
 themselves to tell all the other fools in the world 
 that of which they themselves know nothing, or 
 
24 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 at all events very little, which is worse. I have 
 
 examined carefully, in the course of a long life, 
 how to deal with these gentry, and I find that 
 if you believe the exact reverse of any informa- 
 tion they give you, you will he right nine hun- 
 dred and ninety-seven times out of a thou- 
 sand. I made a regular calculation of it some 
 years ago ; and although at first sight it would 
 seem that the chances are equal, that these men 
 should be right or wrong, I found the result as 
 I have stated, and have acted upon it ever since 
 in perfect security. If they trusted to mere 
 guess work, the chances might, perhaps, be 
 equal, but they make such laborious endeavours 
 to lead themselves wrong, and so studiously 
 avoid everything that could lead them right, that 
 the proportion is vastly against them." 
 
 " If such be their course of proceeding, the 
 result will be naturally as you say,'' answered 
 the gentleman to whom he spoke ; " but I should 
 think that as the variations of the weather must 
 proceed from natural causes constantly recurring, 
 observation and calculation might arrive at some 
 certainty regarding them." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 25 
 
 " Hold the sea in the hollow of your hand,'' 
 cried the old gentleman, impatiently; "make 
 the finite contain the infinite ; put twenty thou- 
 sand gallons into a pint pot, — and when you have 
 done all that, then calculate the causes that pro- 
 duce rain to-day and wind to-morrow, or sun- 
 shine one day and clouds the next. Men say 
 the same cause acting under the same circum- 
 stances will always produce the same effect — 
 good ; I grant that, merely for the sake of argu- 
 ment. But I contend that the same effect may- 
 be produced by a thousand causes or more. A 
 man knocks you down ; you fall : that's the effect 
 produced by one cause ; but a fit of apoplexy may 
 make you fall exactly in the same way. Then 
 apply the cause at the other end if you like, and 
 trip your foot over a stone, or over some bunches 
 of long grass that mischievous boys have tied 
 across the path — down you come, just as if a 
 quarrelsome companion had tapped you on the 
 head. No, no, sir; the only way of ascertaining 
 what the weather will be from one hour to 
 another is by a barometer. That's not very 
 sure, and the best I know of is a cow's tail, or a 
 
20 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 piece of dried sea-weed. But these men of 
 science, they do nothing but go out mare's-nest- 
 ing from morning till night, and a precious 
 number of horses' eggs they have found !" 
 
 Thus commenced a conversation which lasted 
 for some time, and in which the younger tra- 
 veller seemed to find some amusement, plainly 
 perceiving, what the reader has already disco- 
 vered, that his elderly companion was an oddity. 
 The other tenant of the coach made no observa- 
 tion, but remained with his arms folded on his 
 chest, sometimes looking out of the window, 
 sometimes gazing down at his own knee in deep 
 thought. About ten miles from town, the coach 
 passed some led horses, with the gi-ooms that 
 were conducting them ; and, as is natural for 
 young men, both the old gentleman's fellow- 
 travellers put their heads to the window, and 
 examined the animals with a scrutinizing eye. 
 
 " Fine creatures, fine creatures — horses !" said 
 the gentleman in black. 
 
 "Those are very fine ones," answered the 
 graver of the two young men; " I think I never 
 saw better points about any beast than that black 
 charger.'' 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 27 
 
 "Ay, sir; you are a judge of horse-flesh, I 
 suppose," rejoined the old gentleman; "but I 
 was speaking of horses in the abstract. They are 
 noble creatures indeed; and as matters have 
 fallen out in this world, I can't help thinking 
 that there is a very bad arrangement, and that 
 those at the top of the tree should be a good 
 way down. If all creatures had their rights, man 
 would not be the cock of the walk, as he is now — 
 a feeble, vain, self- sufficient, sensual monkey, 
 who has no farther advantages over other apes 
 than being able to speak and cook his dinner." 
 
 " May I ask," inquired the livelier of the two 
 young men, " what is the gentlemanly beast you 
 would put over his head?" 
 
 " A great many — a great many," replied the 
 other. "Dogs, horses — elephants, certainly; 
 I think elephants at the top. I am not sure how 
 I would class lions and tigers, who decidedly have 
 one advantage over man, that of being stronger 
 and nobler beasts of prey. He is only at the 
 head of the tribe Simia, and should be described 
 by naturalists as the largest, cunningest, and 
 most gluttonous of baboons." 
 
 The gay traveller laughed aloud ; and even his 
 
28 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 grave companion smiled, saying, drily, " On my 
 life, I believe there's some truth in it." 
 
 "Truth, sir!" exclaimed the old gentleman. 
 " It's as true as we are living. How dare man 
 compare himself to a dog ? an animal with 
 greater sagacity, stronger affections, infinitely 
 more honour and honesty, a longer memory, and 
 a truer heart. I would not be a man if I could 
 be a dog, I can assure you." 
 
 "Many a man leads the life of a dog," said 
 the gay traveller. " I'm sure I have, for the 
 last five or six years." 
 
 ' ' If you have led as honest a life, sir," re- 
 joined the old man, " you may be very proud 
 of it." 
 
 What the other would have answered cannot 
 be told, for at that moment the coach stopped 
 to change horses, which was an operation, in 
 those days, occupying about a quarter of an hour, 
 and the whole party got out and went into the 
 little inn to obtain some breakfast ; for between 
 London and Folkestone, which was to be the 
 ultimate resting-place of the vehicle, two hours 
 and a half, upon the whole, were consumed with 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 29 
 
 breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper. Thus any- 
 party of travellers proceeding together through- 
 out the entire journey, had a much better oppor- 
 tunity of becoming thoroughly acquainted with 
 each other than many a man has before mar- 
 riage with the wife he takes to his bosom. 
 
 Though the conversation of the old gentle- 
 man was, as the reader has perceived, somewhat 
 morose and misanthropical, he showed himself 
 very polite and courteous at the breakfast table, 
 made the tea, carved the ham, and asked every 
 man if he took cream and sugar. What won- 
 derful things little attentions are — how they 
 smooth down our asperities and soften us to one 
 another ! The two younger gentlemen had looked 
 upon their elderly companion merely as that 
 curious compound which we have before men- 
 tioned — an oddity, and which, like a pinch of 
 strong snuff, stimulates us without being very 
 pleasant; but now they began to think him a 
 very nice old gentleman ; and even the graver of 
 the pair conversed with him almost cheerfully 
 for the short space of time their meal occupied. 
 When they had finished, and paid the score, 
 
30 THE SMUGGLER- 
 
 the whole party walked out together to the front 
 of the house, where they found a poor beggar 
 woman with a child in her arms. Each gave 
 her something, but the elderly man stopped to 
 inquire farther, and the others walked up and 
 down for a few minutes, till the coachman, who 
 was making himself comfortable by the absorp- 
 tion of his breakfast, and the horses, who were 
 undergoing the opposite process in the appli- 
 cation of their harness, at length made their 
 appearance. The two younger gentlemen turned 
 their eyes from time to time, as they walked, 
 to their elderly friend, who seemed to be 
 scolding the poor woman most vehemently. 
 His keen black eyes sparkled, his brow con- 
 tracted, he spoke with great volubility, and de- 
 monstrated somewhat largely with the fore- 
 finger of his right hand. What were their 
 internal comments upon this conduct did not 
 appear ; but both were a good deal surprised to 
 see him, in the end, put his hand into his breeches 
 pocket, draw forth a piece of money — it was not 
 silver for it was yellow, and it was not copper 
 for it was too bright — and slip it quietly into the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 31 
 
 poor woman's palm. He next gave a quiet, 
 almost a timid glance around, to see if any one 
 ■were looking, and then stepped rapidly into the 
 coach, as if he were ashamed of what he had 
 done. During all this proceeding he had taken 
 no notice of his two companions, nor at all 
 listened to what they were talking of; but as they 
 entered the vehicle, while the horses were being 
 put to, the one said to the other, " I think you 
 had better do so, a great deal. It is as well to 
 have the carte du pays before one commences 
 operations." 
 
 " Well/' replied the other, " you take the 
 lead, Edward. The wound is still painful, 
 though it is an old one." 
 
 What they were talking of their companion 
 could not tell ; but it excited, in some degree, 
 his curiosity ; and the manners of his two com- 
 panions had, to say the truth, pleased him, 
 though he was one of those men who, with very 
 benevolent feelings at the bottom, are but little 
 inclined to acknowledge that they are well 
 pleased with any thing or with any body. For a 
 moment or two all parties were silent ; but the 
 
32 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 elderly gentleman was the first to begin, saying, 
 in a more placable and complimentary tone 
 than he was in general accustomed to use, " I 
 hojoe I am to have the pleasure of your society, 
 gentlemen, to the end of my journey '.'" 
 
 "I rather think we shall be your companions 
 as far as you go," replied the gayer of the two 
 young men, " for we are wending down to the 
 far, wild parts of Kent ; and it is probable you 
 will not go beyond Folkestone, unless, indeed, 
 you are about to cross the seas." 
 
 " Not I," exclaimed the old gentleman — " I 
 have crossed the seas enough in my day, and 
 never intend to set my foot out of my own 
 country again, till four stout fellows carry me 
 to the churchyard. No, no; you'll journey be- 
 yond me, a long way, for I am only going to a 
 little place called Harbourne, some distance 
 on the Sussex side of Folkestone — a place quite 
 out of the world, with no bigger a town near 
 it than Cranbrook, and where we see the face 
 of a human creature above the rank of a far- 
 mer, or a smuggler, about once in the year, — 
 always excepting the parson of the parish." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 33 
 
 " Then vou turn off from Maidstone?" said the 
 graver traveller, looking steadfastly in his face. 
 
 " No, I don't/' replied the other. " Never, 
 my dear sir, come to conclusions where you 
 don't know the premises. I go, on the con- 
 trary, to Ashford, where I intend to sleep. I 
 am there to be joined by a worthy brother 
 of mine, and then we return together to Cran- 
 brook. You are quite right, indeed, that my 
 best and straightest road would be, as you say, 
 from Maidstone ; but we can't always take the 
 straightest road in this world, though young 
 men think they can, and old men only learn too 
 late that thev cannot." 
 
 " I have good reason to know the fact," 
 said the gayer of his two fellow travellers; "I 
 myself am going to the very same part of the 
 country you mention, but have to j>roceed still 
 farther out of my way ; for I must visit Hythe 
 and Folkestone first." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed !" exclaimed their elderly 
 friend. "Do you know anv bodv in that 
 part of Kent ? — Have you ever been there 
 before ?" 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Never," replied the other; " nor have I ever 
 seen the persons I am going to see. What sort 
 of a country is it *.'" 
 
 " Bless the young mans life !" exclaimed the 
 gentleman in black, "does he expect me to give 
 him a long picturesque description of St. Au- 
 gustine's Lathe"? If you wish to know my 
 opinion of it, it is as wild and desolate a part of 
 the world as the backwoods of America, and the 
 people little better than American savages. 
 You '11 find plenty of trees, a few villages, some 
 farm-houses, one or two gentlemen's seats — 
 they had better have called them stools — a 
 stream or two, a number of hills and things of 
 that kind: and vour humble servant, who would 
 be very happy to see you, if you are not a 
 smuggler, and are coming to that part of the 
 country." 
 
 " I shall not fail to pay my respects to yon/' 
 replied the gentleman to whom he spoke : " but 
 I must first know who I am to inquire for." 
 
 '•' Pay your respect where it is due, my dear 
 sir," rejoined the other. " You can't tell a whit 
 whether I deserve any respect or not. You 11 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 35 
 
 find out all that by and by. As to what I am 
 called, I could give you half a dozen names. 
 Some people call me the Bear, some people the 
 Nabob, some the Misanthrope ; but my real 
 name — that which I am known by at the post- 
 office — is Mr. Zachary Croyland, brother of the 
 man who has Harbourne House : a younger 
 brother too, by God's blessing — and a great 
 blessing it is." 
 
 " It is lucky when every man is pleased with 
 his situation," answered his young acquaintance. 
 "Most elder brothers thank God for making 
 them such, and I have often had cause to do 
 the same." 
 
 " It's the greatest misfortune that can happen 
 to a man." exclaimed the old gentleman, eagerly. 
 "What are elder brothers, but people who are 
 placed by fate in the most desperate and diffi- 
 cult circumstances. Spoilt and indulged in 
 their infancy, taught to be vain and idle and 
 conceited from the cradle, deprived of every in- 
 ducement to the exertion of mind, corrupted by 
 having always their own way, sheltered from all 
 the friendly buffets of the world, and left, like a 
 
 d2 
 
SG THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 pond in a gravel pit, to stagnate or evaporate 
 without stirring. Nine times out of ten from 
 mere inanition they fall into every sort of vice ; 
 forget that they have duties as well as privileges, 
 think that the slice of the world that has been 
 given to them is entirely at their own pleasure and 
 disposal, spend their fortunes, encumber their 
 estates, bully their wives and their servants, in- 
 dulge their eldest son till he is just such a piece 
 of unkneaded dough as themselves, kick out their 
 younger sons into the world without a farthing, 
 and break their daughters' hearts by forcing them 
 to marry men they hate. That's what elder 
 brothers are made for ; and to be one, I say again, 
 is the greatest curse that can fall upon a man. 
 But come, now I have told vou my name, tell 
 me yours. That's but a fair exchange you know, 
 and no robbery, and I hate going on calling 
 people ' sir' for ever." 
 
 " Quite a just demand," replied the gentleman 
 whom he addressed, " and you shall immediately 
 have the whole particulars. My name is Digby, 
 
 a poor major in his Majesty's regiment of 
 
 Dragoons, to whom the two serious misfortunes 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 37 
 
 Lave happened of being born an eldest son, and 
 having a baronetcy thrust upon him." 
 
 " Couldn't be worse — couldn't be worse ! " re- 
 plied the old gentleman, laughing. " And so you 
 are Sir Edward Digby ! Oh yes, I can tell 
 you, you are expected, and have been so these 
 three weeks. The whole matter's laid out for 
 you in every house in the country. You are to 
 marry every unmarried woman in the hundred. 
 The young men expect you to do nothing but 
 hunt foxes, course hares, and shoot partridges 
 from morning till night ; and the old men have 
 made up their minds that you shall drink port, 
 claret, or madeira, as the case may be, from night 
 till morning. I pity you — upon my life, I pity 
 you. What between love and wine and field 
 sports, you'll have a miserable time of it ! Take 
 care how you speak a single word to any single 
 woman ! Don't even smile upon Aunt Barbara, 
 or she'll make you a low curtsey, and say ' You 
 must ask my brother about the settlement, my 
 dear Edward.' Ha, ha, ha !" and he laughed a 
 long, merry, hearty peal, that made the rumbling 
 vehicle echo* again. Then putting the gold- 
 headed cane to his lips, he turned a sly glance 
 
38 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 upon the other traveller, who was only moved 
 to a very faint smile by all the old gentleman's 
 merriment, asking, " Does this gentleman come 
 with you ? — Are you to he made a martyr of too, 
 sir ? Are you to be set running after foxes all 
 day, like a tiger on horseback, and to have 
 sheep's eyes cast at you all the evening, like a 
 man in the pillory pelted with eggs ? Are you 
 bound to imbibe a butt of claret in three weeks ? 
 Poor young men — poor young men ! My bowels 
 of compassion yearn towards you." 
 
 "I shall fortunately escape all such perils," 
 replied he whom he had last addressed — " I have 
 no invitation to that part of the country.'' 
 
 " Come, then, I'll give you one," said the old 
 gentleman ; " if you like to come and stay a few 
 days with an old bachelor, who will neither make 
 you drunk nor make you foolish, I shall be glad 
 to see vou." 
 
 " I am not very likely to get drunk," answered 
 the other, " as an old wound compels me to be 
 a water drinker. Foolish enough I may be, and 
 may have been ; but, I am sure, that evil would 
 not be increased by frequenting your society, my 
 dear sir." 
 
THE SxMUGGLER. 39 
 
 " I don't know — I don't know, young gentle- 
 man/' said Mr. Croyland : " every man has 
 his follies, and I amongst the rest as goodly a 
 bag-full as one could well desire. But you have 
 not given me an answer ; shall I see you ? Will 
 you come with your friend, and take up your 
 abode at a single man's house, while Sir Edward 
 goes and charms the ladies." 
 
 " I cannot come with him, I am afraid," replied 
 the young gentleman, " for I must remain with 
 the regiment some time ; but I will willingly 
 accept your invitation, and join him in a week 
 or two." 
 
 ■ " Oh you're in the same regiment, are you?" 
 asked Mr. Croyland ; " it's not a whole regiment 
 of elder sons, I hope ?" 
 
 " Oh no," answered the other, i( I have the 
 still greater misfortune of being an only son ; 
 and the greater one still, of being an orphan." 
 
 " And may I know your style and denomina- 
 tion?" said Mr. Croyland. 
 
 " Oh, Osborn, Osborn !" cried Sir Edward 
 Digby, before his friend could speak, " Captain 
 Osborn of the Dragoons." 
 
40 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 " I will put that down in my notebook," re- 
 joined the old gentleman. " The best friend I 
 ever had was named Osborn. He couldn't be 
 your father, though, for he had no children, 
 poor fellow ! and was never married, which was 
 the only blessing Heaven ever granted him, ex- 
 cept a good heart and a well-regulated mind. 
 His sister married my old schoolfellow, Layton 
 — but that's a bad story, and a sad story, though 
 now it s an old storv, too." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Sir Edward Digby; "I'm 
 fond of old stories if they are good ones." 
 
 "But, I told you this was a bad one, Sir 
 Ned," rejoined the old gentleman sharply; "and 
 as my brother behaved very ill to poor Layton, 
 the less we say of it the better. The truth is," 
 lie continued, for ho was one of those who 
 always refuse to tell a story, and tell it after 
 all, " Layton was rector of a living which was 
 in my brother's gift. He was only to hold ir, 
 however, till my youngest nephew was of age 
 to take it; but when the boy died — as they botli 
 did sooner or later — Layton held the living on, 
 and thought it was his own, till one day there 
 came a quarrel between him and my brother, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 41 
 
 and then Robert brought forward his letter pro- 
 mising to resign when called upon, and drove 
 him out. I wasn't here then ; but I have heard 
 all about it since, and a bad affair it was. It 
 should not have happened if I had been here, 
 for Bob has a shrewd eve to the nabob's monev, 
 
 as well he may, seeing that he's but that's 
 
 no business of mine. If he chooses to dribble 
 through his fortune, Heaven knows how T , I've 
 nothing to do with it ! The two poor girls 
 will suffer." 
 
 "What, your brother has two fair daughters 
 then, has he?" demanded Sir Edward Digby. 
 "I suppose it is under the artillery of their 
 glances I am first to pass ; for, doubtless, you 
 know I am going to your brother's." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know — I know all about it !" re- 
 plied Mr. Croyland. " They tell me everything 
 as in duty bound — that's to say, everything they 
 don't wish to conceal. But I'm consulted like 
 an oracle upon all things unimportant ; for he 
 that was kicked out with a sixpence into the 
 wide world, has grown a wonderful great man 
 since the sixpence has multiplied itself. As to 
 your having to pass under the artillery of the 
 
42 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 girls' glances, however, you must take care of 
 yourself; for you might stand a less dangerous 
 fire, I can tell you, even in a field of battle. 
 But I'll give you one •warning for your safe- 
 guard. You may make love to little Zara as 
 long as you like — think of the fools calling her 
 Zara ! Though she'll play a pretty game of 
 picquet with you, you may chance to win it ; 
 but you must not dangle after Edith, or you will 
 burn your fingers. She'll not have you, if you 
 were twenty baronets, and twenty majors of 
 Dragoons into the bargain. She has got some 
 of the fancies of the old uncle about her, and is 
 determined to die an old maid, I can see." 
 
 u Oh, the difficulty of the enterprise would 
 only be a soldier's reason for undertaking it I" 
 said Sir Edward Bigby. 
 
 " It wont do — it wont do ;" answered Mr. 
 Croyland, laughing; "you may think yourself 
 very captivating, very conquering, quite a look- 
 and-die man, as all you people in red jackets 
 fancy yourselves, but it will be all lost labour 
 with Edith, I can tell you." 
 
 "You excite all the martial ardour in my 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 43 
 
 soul !" exclaimed Digby, with a gay smile; " and 
 if she be not forty, hump -backed, or one eyed, 
 by the fates you shall see what you shall see." 
 
 " Forty !" cried Mr. Croyland ; " why she's but 
 two-and-twenty, man ! — a great deal straighter 
 than that crouching wench in white marble 
 they call the * Venus de Medici/ and with a pair 
 of eyes, that, on my life, I think would have 
 made me forswear celibacy, if I had found such 
 looking at me, any time before I reached fifty !" 
 
 "Do you hear that, Osborn?" cried Sir 
 Edward Digby. "Here's a fine field for an 
 adventurous spirit. I shall have the start of 
 you, my friend ; and in the wilds of Kent, what 
 may not be done in ten days or a fortnight ?*" 
 
 His companion only answered by a melan- 
 choly smile ; and the conversation went on be- 
 tween the old gentleman and the young baronet 
 till they reached the small town of Lenham, where 
 they stopped again to dine. There, however, 
 Mr. Croyland drew Sir Edward Digby aside, and 
 inquired in a low tone, " Is your friend in love ? 
 — He looks mighty melancholy." 
 
 " I believe he is," replied Digby. " Love's the 
 
44 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 only tiling that can make a man melancholy ; 
 and when one comes to consider all the attrac- 
 tions of a squaw of the Chi2)peway Indians, it is 
 no w r onder that my friend is in such a hopeless 
 case." 
 
 The old gentleman poked him with his finger, 
 and shook his head with a laugh, saying — " You 
 are a wag, young gentleman — you are a wag ; but 
 it would be a great deal more reasonable, let me 
 tell you, to fall in love with a Chippeway squaw, 
 in her feathers and wampam, than with one of 
 these made-up madams, all paint and satin, and 
 tawdry bits of embroidery. In the one case you 
 might know something of what your love is like ; 
 in the other, I defy you to know anything about 
 her ; and, nine times out of ten, what a man 
 marries is little better than a bale of tow and 
 ■whalebone, covered over with the excrement of a 
 silkworm. Man's a strange animal ; and one of 
 the strangest of all his proceedings is, that of 
 covering up his own natural skin with all man- 
 ner of contrivances derived from even* bird, 
 beast, fish, and vegetable, that happens to come 
 in his way. If he wants warmth, he goes and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 45 
 
 robs a sheep of its great coat ; he beats the un- 
 fortunate grass of the field, till he leaves nothing 
 but shreds, to make himself a shirt ; he skins a 
 beaver, to cover his head ; and, if he wants to be 
 exceedingly fine, he pulls the tail of an ostrich, 
 and sticks the feather in his hat. He's the uni- 
 versal mountebank, depend upon it, playing his 
 antics for the amusement of creation, and leav- 
 ing nothing half so ridiculous as himself." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned round again, and joined 
 Captain shorn, in whom, perhaps, he took a 
 greater interest than even in his livelier com- 
 panion. It might be that the associations called 
 up by the name were pleasant to him, or it might 
 be that there was something in his face that 
 interested him, for certainly that face was one 
 which seemed to become each moment more 
 handsome as one grew familiar with it. 
 
 When, after dinner, they re-entered the vehicle, 
 and rolled away once more along the high road, 
 Captain shorn took a greater share in the con- 
 versation than he had previously done ; and 
 remarking that Mr. Croyland had put, as a con- 
 dition, upon his invitation to Sir Edward, that 
 
46 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 he should not be a smuggler, he went on to 
 observe, "You seem to have a great objection to 
 those gentry, my dear sir; and yet I understand 
 your county is full of them." 
 
 " Full of them !" exclaimed Mr. Crovland — " it 
 is running over with them. They drop down 
 into Sussex, out into Essex, over into Surrey; 
 the vermin are more numerous than rats in an 
 old barn. Not that, when a fellow is poor, and 
 wants money, and can get it by no other means, — 
 not that I think very hard of him when he takes 
 to a life of risk and adventure, where his neck is 
 not worth sixpence, and his gain is bought by 
 the sweat of his brow. But your gentleman 
 smuggler is my abomination — your fellow that 
 risks little but an exchequer process, and gains 
 ten times what the others do, without their labour 
 or their danger. Give me your bold, brave fel- 
 low, who declares war and lights it out. There's 
 some spirit in him." 
 
 "Gentlemen smugglers!" saidOsborn; "that 
 seems to me to be a strange sort of anomaly. 
 I was not aware that there were such things." 
 
 "Pooh! the country is full of them," cried 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 47 
 
 Mr. Croyland. " It is not here that the peasant 
 treads upon the kybe of the peer; but the 
 smuggler treads upon the country gentlemen. 
 Many a merchant who never made a hundred 
 pounds by fair trade, makes thousands and hun- 
 dreds of thousands by cheating the Customs. 
 There is not a man in this part of the country 
 who does not dabble in the traffic more or less. 
 I've no doubt all my brandied cherries are 
 steeped in stuff that never paid duty ; and if you 
 don't smuggle yourself, your servants do it for 
 you. But I'll tell you all about it," and he pro- 
 ceeded to give them a true and faithful exposi- 
 tion of the state of the county, agreeing in all 
 respects with that which has been furnished to 
 the reader in the first chapter of this tale. 
 
 His statement and the various conversation, 
 which arose from different parts of it, occupied the 
 time fully, till the coach, as it was growing dark, 
 rolled into Ashford. There Mr. Croyland quitted 
 his two companions, shaking them each by the 
 hand with right good will ; and they pursued 
 their onward course to Hythe and Folkestone, 
 without any farther incident worthy of notice. 
 
48 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At Hythe, to make use of a very extraordinary 
 though not uncommon expression, the coach 
 stopped to sup — not that the coach itself ate 
 anything, for, on the contrary, it disgorged that 
 which it had already taken in ; but the travellers 
 who descended from it were furnished with sup- 
 per, although the distance to Folkestone might 
 very well have justified them in going on to the 
 end of their journey without any other pabulum 
 than that which they had already received. Bat 
 two or three things are to be taken into con- 
 sideration. The distance from London to Folke- 
 stone is now seventy-one miles. It was longer 
 in those days by several more, besides having 
 the disadvantage of running up and down over 
 innumerable hills, all of which were a great deal 
 
\ 
 
 THE SMUGGLER. 49 
 
 more steep than they are in the present day. 
 The journey, which the travellers accomplished, 
 was generally considered a feat both of dif- 
 ficulty and danger, and the coach which per- 
 formed that feat in one day, was supposed to 
 deserve right well the name which it had assumed, 
 of " The Phenomenon." Before it began to run, 
 seventy-one miles in seventeen hours was con- 
 sidered an impracticable journey for anything 
 but a man on horseback, and when first the 
 coach appeared upon the road, the towns-people 
 and villagers turned out in multitudes, with ad- 
 miration and wonder, not unmixed with dread, 
 to see the rapid rate at which it went — very 
 nearly six miles an hour ! The old diligence, 
 which had preceded it, had slept one night, and 
 sometimes two, upon the road; and, in its first 
 vain struggles with its more rapid successor, it 
 had actually once or twice made the journey in 
 two-and-twenty hours. To beat off this perti- 
 nacious rival, the proprietor of the stage had 
 been obliged to propitiate the inn-keepers of 
 various important towns, by dividing his favours 
 amongst them; and thus the traveller was forced 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
SO THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 to wait nearly one hour at Hythe, during which 
 he might sup if he liked, although he was only 
 ahout five miles from Folkestone. 
 
 The supper room of the inn was vacant when 
 the two officers of Dragoons entered, hut the 
 table, covered with its neat white cloth, and all 
 the preparations for a substantial meal, together 
 with a bright fire sparkling in the grate, ren- 
 dered its aspect cheerful and reviving after a 
 long and tedious journey, such as that which 
 had j ust been accomplished. Sir Edward Digby 
 looked round well pleased, turned his back to 
 the fire, spoke to the landlord and his maid 
 about supper, and seemed disposed to enjoy 
 himself during the period of his stay. He or- 
 dered, too, a pint of claret, which he was well 
 aware was likely to be procured in great per- 
 fection upon the coast of Kent. The landlord 
 in consequence conceived a high respect for 
 him, and very much undervalued all the qualities 
 of his companion, who, seating himself at the 
 table, leaned his head upon his hand, and fell 
 into deep thought, without giving orders for 
 anything. The host, with his attendant star, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 51 
 
 disappeared from the room to procure the re- 
 quisites for the travellers' meal, and Sir Edward 
 Digby immediately took advantage of their ab- 
 sence to say, " Come, come, my dear Colonel, 
 shake this off. I think all that we have lately 
 heard should have tended to revive hope, and 
 to give comfort. During all the six years that 
 we have been more like brothers than friends, I 
 have never seen you so much cast down as now, 
 when you are taking the field under the most 
 favourable circumstances, with name, station, 
 reputation, fortune, and with the best reason to 
 believe those true whom you had been taught to 
 suppose false." 
 
 "I cannot tell, Digby," replied his companion ; 
 "we shall hear more ere long, and doubt is always 
 well nigh as painful as the worst certainty. Be- 
 sides, I am returning to the scenes of my early 
 youth — scenes stored, it is true, with many a 
 sweet and happy memory, but full also of pain- 
 ful recollections. Those memories themselves 
 are but as an inscription on a tomb, where hopes 
 and pleasures, the bright dreams of youth, the 
 ardent aspirations of first true love, the sweet 
 
 E 2 
 
 :^ ILL ua 
 
52 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 endearments of a happy home, the treasured 
 caresses of the best of mothers, the count he 
 kindness, the unvarying tenderness of the no- 
 blest and highest minded of fathers, all lie 
 buried. There may be a pleasure in visiting 
 that tomb, but it is a melancholy one ; and 
 when I think that it was for me — that it was on 
 my account, my father suffered jiersecution and 
 wrong, till a powerful mind, and a vigorous 
 frame gave way, there is a bitterness mingled 
 with all my remembrances of these scenes, from 
 which I would fain clear my heart. I will do so, 
 too, but it will require some solitary thought, 
 some renewed familiarity with all the objects 
 round, to take off the sharpness of the first 
 effect. You, go on to Folkestone and see that 
 all is right there, I will remain here and wait for 
 the rest. As soon as you have ascertained that 
 everything is prepared to act in case we are 
 called u2)on — which I hope may not be the ease, 
 as I do not like the service — you may betake 
 yourself to Harbourne House, making me a re- 
 port as you pass. When 1 have so distributed 
 the men that we can rapidly concentrate a Buf- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 53 
 
 ficient number upon any spot where they may 
 be required, I will come on after you to our 
 good old friend's dwelling. There you can see 
 me, and let me know what is taking place." 
 
 "I think you had better not let him know who 
 you really are," replied Sir Edward Digby, " at 
 least till we have seen how the land lies." 
 
 " I do not know — I will think of it," answered 
 the other gentleman, whom for the present we 
 shall continue to call shorn, though the learned 
 reader has already discovered that such was not 
 his true name. " It is evident," he continued, 
 " that old Mr. Crovland does not remember me, 
 although I saw him frequently when he was in 
 England for a short time, some six or seven 
 years before he finally quitted India. However, 
 though I feel I am much changed, it is probable 
 that many persons will recognise me whenever 
 I appear in the neighbourhood of Cranbrook, 
 and he might take it ill, that he who was so 
 good and true a friend both to my uncle and my 
 father, should be left in ignorance. Perhaps it 
 would be better to confide in him fully, and 
 make him aware of all my views and purposes." 
 
54 the smuggler. 
 
 " Under the seal of confession, then," said his 
 friend ; "for he is evidently a very talkative old 
 gentleman. Did you remark how he once or 
 twice declared he would not tell a story, that it 
 was no "business of his, and then went on to tell 
 it directly." 
 
 " True, such was alwavs his habit," answered 
 Osborn ; " and his oddities have got somewhat 
 exaggerated during the last twelve years ; but 
 he's as true and faithful as ever man was, and 
 nothing would induce him to betray a secret 
 confided to him." 
 
 " You know best," replied the other ; but the 
 entrance of the landlord with the claret, and the 
 maid with the supper, broke off the conversation, 
 and there was no opportunity of renewing it till 
 it was announced that the horses were to, and 
 the coach was ready. The two friends then took 
 leave of each other, both coachman and host 
 being somewhat surprised to find that one of 
 the travellers was about to remain behind. 
 
 When, however, a portmanteau, a sword-case, 
 and a large trunk, or mail as it was then called, 
 had been handed out of the egregious boot, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 05 
 
 Osborn walked into the inn once more, and 
 called the landlord to him. " I shall, most 
 likely," he said, " take up my quarters with you 
 for some days, so you will be good enough to 
 have a bed room prepared for me. You must 
 also let me have a room, however small, where 
 I can read, and write, and receive any persons 
 who may come to see me, for I have a good deal 
 of business to transact." 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir — I understand," replied the host, 
 with a knowing elevation of one eye-brow and a 
 depression of the other, " Quite snug and pri- 
 vate. You shall have a room at the back of the 
 house with two doors, so that they can come in 
 by the one, and go out through the other, and 
 nobody know anything about it." 
 
 u I rather suspect you mistake," answered the 
 guest, with a smile, ' ' and for fear you should say 
 anything, under an error, that you might be sorry 
 for afterwards, let me tell you at once that I am 
 an officer of Dragoons, and that the business I 
 speak of is merely regimental business." 
 
 The host's face grew amazingly blank; for a 
 smuggler in a large way was, in his estimation, 
 
50 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 » 
 
 a much more valuable and important guest than 
 an officer in the army, even had he been Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of the forces ; but Osborn pro- 
 ceeded to relieve his mind from some of its 
 anxieties by saying: " You will understand that 
 I am neither a spy nor an informer, my good 
 friend, but merely come here to execute what- 
 ever orders I may receive from government as a 
 militarv man. I tell vou who I am at once, 
 that you may, as far as possible, keep from my 
 sight anv of those little transactions which I am 
 informed are constantly taking place on this 
 coast. I shall not, of course, step over the line 
 of my duty, which is purely military, to report 
 anything I see ; but still I should not like 
 that any man should say I was cognizant of 
 proceedings contrary to the interests of the 
 government. This hint, however, I doubt not r 
 will be enough." 
 
 " Sir, you are a gentleman," said the host. 
 " and as a nod is as good as a wink to a blind 
 horse, I shall take care vou have no annoyance. 
 You must wait a little for your bed-room though, 
 for we did not know vou were soing to stav ; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 57 
 
 but we will lose no time getting it ready. Can 
 I do anything else to serve you, sir?" 
 
 "I think not, "replied Osborn. " But one thing 
 will be necessary. I expect five horses down to- 
 morrow, and there must be found stabling for 
 them, and accommodation for the servants." 
 
 The landlord, who was greatly consoled by these 
 latter proofs of his guest's opulence and import- 
 ance, was proceeding to assure him that all man- 
 ner of conveniences, both for horse and man were 
 to be found at his inn, when the door of the room 
 opened, and a third person was added to the 
 party within. The moment the eye of the tra- 
 veller by the coach fell upon him, his face 
 lighted up with a well pleased smile, and he ex- 
 claimed, "Ah, my good friend, is that you? — I 
 little expected to find you in this part of Kent. 
 What brought you hither, after our long voyage 2" 
 
 " The same that brought you," answered the 
 other : " old memories and loved associations." 
 
 But before we proceed to notice what was 
 Osborn's reply, we must, though very unwilling 
 to give long descriptions either of personal ap- 
 pearance or of dress, pause to notice briefly 
 those of the stranger who had just entered. 
 
58 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 He had originally been a tall man, and pro- 
 bably a powerful one, but he now stooped con- 
 siderably, and was extremely thin. His face had 
 no colour in it, and even the lips were pale, but 
 yet the hue was not cadaverous, or even what 
 could be called sickly. The features were ge- 
 nerally small and fine, except the eyes, which 
 were large and bright, with a sort of brilliant 
 but unsafe fire in them, and that peculiar search- 
 ing and intense gaze when speaking to any one, 
 which is common to people of strong imagina- 
 tions, who try to convey to others more than 
 they actually say. His forehead, too, was high 
 and grand, but wrinkled over with the furrows 
 of thought and care; and on the right side was 
 a deep indentation, with a gash across it, as if 
 the skull had been driven in by a blow. His hair, 
 which was long and thin, was milk white, and 
 though his teeth were fine, yet the wrinkles of 
 his skin, the peculiar roughness of the ear, and 
 the shrivelled hand, all bore testimony of an 
 advanced age. Yet, perhaps, he might be 
 younger than he looked, for the light in that 
 eager eye plainly spoke one of those quick, 
 anxious, ever labouring spirits which wear the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 59 
 
 frame by the internal emotions, infinitely more 
 rapidly and more destructively than any of the 
 external events and circumstances of life. One 
 thing was very peculiar about him — at least, in 
 this country — for on another continent such a 
 peculiarity might have called for no attention. 
 On either cheek, beginning just behind the ex- 
 ternal corner of the eye, and proceeding in a 
 graceful wave all along the cheek bone, turning 
 round, like an acanthus leaf, at the other extre- 
 mity upon the cheek itself, was a long line of 
 very minute blue spots, with another, and ano- 
 ther, and another beneath it, till the whole as- 
 sumed the appearance of a rather broad ara- 
 besque painted in blue upon his face. His 
 dress in other respects (if this tattooing might 
 be called a part of his dress) though coarse in 
 texture was good. The whole, too, was black, 
 except where the white turned- down collar of 
 his shirt appeared between his coat and his pale 
 brownish skin. His shoes were large and heavy 
 like those used by the countrymen in that part 
 of the county, and in them he wore a pair of 
 silver buckles, not very large, but which in their 
 
60 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 peculiar form and ornaments, gave signs of con- 
 siderable antiquity. Though bent, as we have 
 said, thin, and pale, he seemed active and ener- 
 getic. All his motions were quick and eager, 
 and he grasped the hand which Osborn extended 
 to him, with a warmth and enthusiasm very 
 different from the ordinary expression of com- 
 mon friendship. 
 
 " You mistake," said the young gentleman, in 
 answer to his last observation. "It was not old 
 memories and loved associations which brought 
 me here at all, Mr. Warde. It was an order 
 from the commander-in-chief. Had I not re- 
 ceived it, I should not have visited this place 
 for vears — if ever!" 
 
 " Yes, yes, you would," replied the old man : 
 " you could not help yourself. It was written 
 in the book of vour fate. It was not to be 
 avoided. You were drawn here by an irresistible 
 impulse to undergo what you have to undergo, 
 to perform that which is assigned you. and to 
 do and suffer all those things which are written 
 on high." 
 
 "I wonder to heal you speaking in terms so 
 
t 
 
 THE SMUGGLER. CI 
 
 like those of a fatalist," answered Osborn — " you 
 whom I have always heard so strenuously assert 
 man's responsibility for all his actions, and scoff 
 at the idea of his excusing himself on the plea of 
 his predestination." 
 
 "True, true/' answered the old man whom he 
 called Warde, — " predestination affords him no 
 excuse for aught that is wrong, for though it be 
 an inscrutable mystery how those three great 
 facts are to be reconciled, yet certain it is that 
 Omniscience cannot be ignorant of that which 
 will take place, any more than of that which has 
 taken place ; that everything which God fore- 
 knows, must take place, and has been pre-de- 
 termined by his will, and that yet — as every man 
 must feel within himself — his own actions depend 
 upon his volition, and if they be evil he alone 
 is to blame. The end is to come, Osborn — the 
 end is to come when all will be revealed — and 
 doubt not that it will be for God's glory. I often 
 think," he continued in a less emphatic tone, 
 " that man with his free will is like a child with 
 a plaything. We see the babe about to dash it 
 against the wall in mere wantonness, we know 
 
62 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 that lie will injure it — perhaps break it to pieces 
 — perhaps hurt himself with it in a degree ; we 
 could prevent it, yet we do not, thinking perhaps 
 that it will be a lesson — one of those, the ac- 
 cumulation of which makes experience, if not 
 wisdom. At all events the punishment falls 
 upon him; and, if duly warned, he has no right 
 to blame us for that which his own will did, 
 though we saw what he would do, and could 
 have prevented him from doing so. We are all 
 spoilt children, O shorn, and remain so to the 
 end, though God gives us warning enough, — 
 but here comes my homely meal." 
 
 At the same moment the landlord brought 
 in a dish of vegetables, some milk and some 
 pottage, which he placed upon the table, giving 
 a shrewd look to the young officer, but Baying 
 to his companion, " There, I have brought what 
 you ordered, sir; but I cannot help thinking 
 you had better take a bit of meat. You had 
 nothing but the same stuff this morning, and no 
 dinner that I know of." 
 
 "Man, I never eat anything that has drawn 
 the breath of life," replied Warde. " The first 
 
THE SMUGGLER. G3 
 
 of our race brought death into the world and 
 -was £>ermitted to inflict it upon others, for the 
 satisfaction of his own appetites ; but it was a 
 permission, and not an injunction — except for 
 sacrifice. I will not be one of the tyrants of the 
 whole creation ; I will have no more of the tiger 
 in my nature than is inseparable from it; and as 
 to gorging myself some five or six times a day 
 with unnecessary food — am I a swine, do you 
 think, to eat when I am not hungry, for the sole 
 purpose of devouring ? No, no, the simplest 
 food, and that only for necessity, is best for 
 man's body and his mind. We all grow too rank 
 and superfluous." 
 
 Thus saying, he approached the table, said 
 a short grace over that which was set before 
 him, and then sitting down, ate till he was 
 satisfied, without exchanging a word with any 
 one during the time that he was thus engaged. 
 It occupied less than five minutes, however, to 
 take all that he required, and then starting 
 up suddenly, he thanked God for what he had 
 given him, took up his hat and turned towards 
 the door. 
 
64 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 " I am going out, Osborn," he said, " for my 
 evening walk. Will you come with me ?" 
 
 "Willingly for half an hour," answered the 
 young officer, and, telling the landlord as he 
 passed that he would be back by the time that 
 his room was ready, he accompanied his eccentric 
 acquaintance out into the streets of Hythe, and 
 thence, through some narrow walks and lanes, 
 to the sea-shore. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 05 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The sky was clear and bright ; the moonlight 
 was sleeping in dream- like splendour upon the 
 water, and the small waves, thrown np by the 
 tide more than the wind, came rippling along 
 the beach like a flood of diamonds. All was 
 still and silent in the sky, and upon the earth ; 
 and the soft rustle of the waters upon the shore 
 seemed but to say " Hush !" as if nature feared 
 that any louder sound should interrupt her calm 
 repose. To the west, stretched out the faint low- 
 line of coast towards Dungeness; and to the 
 east, appeared the high cliff's near Folkestone 
 and Dover — grey and solemn ; while the open 
 heaven above looked down with its tiny stars 
 and lustrous moon upon the wide extended sea, 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
06 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 glittering in the silver veil cast over her sleeping 
 bosom from on high. 
 
 Such was the scene presented to the eyes of 
 the two wanderers when they reached the beach, 
 <i little way on the Sandgate side of Hythe, and 
 both paused to gaze upon it for several minutes 
 in profound silence. 
 
 11 This is indeed a night to walk forth upon 
 the sands," said the young officer at length. " It 
 seems to me, that of all the many scenes from 
 which man can derive both instruction and com- 
 fort, in the difficulties and troubles of life, there 
 is none so elevating, so strengthening, as that 
 presented by the sea shore on a moonlight night. 
 To behold that mighty element, so full of destruc- 
 tive and of beneficial power, lying tranquilly 
 within the bound which God affixed to it, and to 
 remember the words, ' Thus far shalt thou come, 
 and no farther, and here shall thy proud wav 
 be stoj)ped,' affords so grand an illustration of 
 his might, so fine a proof of the truth of Ins 
 promises, that the heart must be hard indeed 
 and the mind dull, not to receive confirmation 
 of faith, and encouragement in hope." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 67 
 
 "More, far more, may man receive," replied 
 his companion, " if he be but willing ; but that 
 gross and corrupt insect refuses all instruction, 
 and though the whole universe holds out bless- 
 ings, still chooses the curse. Where is there a 
 scene whence man may not receive benefit? What 
 spot upon the whole earth has not something to 
 speak to his heart, if he would but listen ? In 
 his own busy passions, however, and in his own 
 fierce contentions, in his sordid creeping after 
 gain, in his trickery and his knavery, even in 
 his loves and pleasures, man turns a deaf ear to 
 the great voice speaking to him ; and the only 
 scene of all this earth which cannot benefit the 
 eye that looks upon it, is that in which human 
 beings are the chief actors. There all is foul- 
 ness, or pitifulness, or vice ; and one, to live in 
 happiness, and to take the moral of all nature 
 to his heart, should live alone with nature. I 
 will find me out such a place, where I can absent 
 myself entirely, and contemplate nought but the 
 works of God without the presence of man, for I 
 am sick to death of all that I have seen of him and 
 his, especially in what is called a civilized state." 
 
 F 2 
 
68 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " You have often threatened to do so, YYarde," 
 answered the voung officer, " hut yet methink 
 
 though you rail at him, you love man too much 
 to quit his abodes entirely. I have seen you 
 kind and considerate to savages of the mo 
 horrible class ; to men whose daily practice it 
 is to torture with the most unheard of cruelty 
 the prisoners whom they take in battle ; and will 
 you have less regard for other fellow-creatures, 
 because thev are what vou call civilized ?" 
 
 '-The savage is at least sincere," replied his 
 companion. " The want of sincerity is the gr< 
 and crowning vice of all this jiortion of the globe. 
 ( Vuel the wild hunters mav be. but are thev more 
 cruel than the people here '.' Which is the worst 
 torment, a few hours' agony at the stake, singing 
 the war-song, all ended by a blow of a hatchet, 
 or Ions: vears of mental torture, when everv scorn 
 and contumelv, everv bitter injustice, everv cruel 
 bereavement that man can inflict or Buffer, ia 
 piled upon your head, till the load becomes in- 
 tolerable. Then, too. it is done in a smooth and 
 smiling cruise. The civilized riend looks softly 
 upon you while he wounds you to the heart — 
 
THE SMUGGLER. i',9 
 
 makes a pretext of law, and justice, and equity — 
 would have you fancy him a soft good man, while 
 there is no act of malevolence and iniquity that 
 he does not practise. The savage is true, at all 
 events. The man who fractured my skull with 
 a hlow of his tomahawk, made no pretence of 
 friendship or of right. He did it boldly, as an 
 act customary with his people, and would have 
 led me to the stake and danced with joy to see 
 me suffering, had I not been rescued. He was 
 •sincere at least : but how would the Englishman 
 have served me ? He would have wrung my 
 heart with pangs insupportable, and all the time 
 have talked of his great grief to afflict me, of 
 the necessity of the case, of justice being on his 
 •side, and of a thousand other vain and idle 
 pretexts, but aggravating the act by mocking me 
 with a show of generosity." 
 
 " I fear mv excellent friend that you have at 
 some time suffered sadly from man's base- 
 ness," said Osborn ; "but vet I think vou are 
 wrong to let the memory thereof affect you thus. 
 I, too, have suffered, and perhaps shall have to 
 •suffer more; but yet I would not part with the 
 
70 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 best blessings God has given to man, as you 
 have clone, for any other good." 
 
 " What have I parted with that I could keep ?" 
 asked the other, sharply : " what blessings . I 
 know of none !" 
 
 " Trust — confidence," replied his young com- 
 panion. " I know you will say that they have been 
 taken from you ; that you have not thrown them 
 away, that you have been robbed of them. But 
 have you not parted with them too easily ? Have 
 you not yielded at once, without a struggle to 
 retain what I still call the best blessings of Go* 
 There are many villains in the world — I know 
 it but too well ; there are manv knaves. There 
 are still more cold and selfish egotists, who, 
 without committing actual crimes or injuring 
 others, do good to none ; but there are also many 
 true and upright hearts, many just, noble, and 
 generous men ; and were it a delusion to think 
 so, I would try to retain it still.** 
 
 " And suffer for it in the hour of need, in the 
 moment of the deepest confidence," answered 
 Warde. " If you must have confidence, place it 
 in the humble and the low, in the rudest and least 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 71 
 
 civilized — ay, in the very outcasts of society — 
 rather than in the polished and the courtly, the 
 great and high. I would rather trust my life, 
 or my purse, to the honour of the common robber, 
 and to his generosity, than to the very gentle- 
 manly man of fashion and high station. Now, 
 if, as you say, you have not come down hither 
 for old associations, you must be sent to hunt 
 down honester men than those who sent you — 
 men who break boldly through an unjust and 
 barbarous system, which denies to our land the 
 goods of another, and who, knowing that the 
 very knaves who devised that system, did it but 
 to enrich themselves, stop with a strong hand a 
 part of the plunder on the way — or, rather, insist 
 at the peril of their lives, on man's inherent 
 right to trade with his neighbours, and frustrate 
 the roguish devices of those who would forbid to 
 our land the use of that produced by another." 
 Osborn smiled at his companion's defence of 
 smuggling, but replied, " I can conceive a thou- 
 sand reasons, my good friend, why the trade in 
 certain things should be totally prohibited, and 
 a high duty for the interests of the state be 
 
72 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 placed on others. But I am not going to argue 
 with you on all our institutions ; merely this I 
 will sav, that when we entrust to certain men the 
 power of making laws, we are bound to obey 
 those laws when they are made ; and it were but 
 candid and just to suppose that those who had 
 made them, after long deliberation, did so for 
 the general good of the whole." 
 
 " For their own villanous ends," answered 
 Warde — "for their own selfish interests. The 
 good of the whole ! — what is it in the eyes of any 
 of these law-givers but the good of a party ?" 
 
 "But do you not think," asked the vouncr 
 officer, " that we ourselves, who are not law- 
 givers, judge their actions but too often under 
 the influence of the very motives we attribute to 
 them ? Has party no share in our own bosoms ? 
 Has selfishness — have views of our own interests, 
 in opposition either to the interests of others or 
 the general weal, no part in the judgment that we 
 forui ? Each man carps at that which suits him 
 not, and strives to change it, without the slightest 
 care whether, in so doing, he be not bringing 
 ruin on the heads of thousands. But as to 
 what you said just now of my being sent hither 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 73 
 
 to hunt down the smuggler, such is not the Case. 
 I am sent to lend my aid to the civil power when 
 called upon to do so — but nothing more ; and 
 we all know that the civil power has proved 
 quite ineffective in stopping a system, which 
 began by violation of a fiscal law, and has gone 
 on to outrages the most brutal, and the most 
 daring. I shall not step beyond the line of my 
 duty, mv good friend; and I will admit that 
 many of these very misguided men themselves, 
 who are carrying on an illegal traffic in this 
 daring manner, fancy themselves justified by 
 such arguments as you have just now used — nay, 
 more, I do believe that there are some men 
 amongst them of high and noble feelings, who 
 never dream that they are dishonest in breaking 
 a law that they dislike. But if we break one 
 law thus, why should we keep any ? — why not 
 add robberv and murder if it suits us ? 
 
 " Ay, there are high minded and noble men 
 amongst them," answered Warde, not seeming 
 to heed the latter part of what his companion 
 said, " and there stands one of them. He 
 has evil in him doubtless ; for he is a man and 
 an Englishman ; but I have found none here 
 
74 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 who has less, and many who have more. Yet 
 were that man taken in pursuing his occupation, 
 they would imprison, exile, perhaps hang him, 
 while a multitude of knaves in gilded coats, would 
 be suffered to go on committing every sin, and 
 almost every crime, unpunished — a good man, 
 an excellent man, and yet a smuggler." 
 
 The young officer knew it was in vain to rea- 
 son with him, for in the frequent intercourse 
 they had held together, he had perceived that, 
 with many generous and noble feelings, with a 
 pure heart, and almost ascetic severity of lite, 
 there was a certain perversity in the course of 
 Mr. Warde's thoughts, which rendered it im- 
 possible to turn them from the direction which 
 they naturally took. It seemed as if by long 
 habit they had channelled for themselves so deep 
 a bed, that they could never be diverted thence ; 
 and consequently, without replying at first, he 
 merely turned his eyes in the direction which the 
 other pointed out, trying to catch sight of the 
 person of whom he spoke. They were now on 
 the low sandy shore which runs along between 
 the town of Hvthe and the beautiful little water- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 75 
 
 ing place of Sandgate. Bat it mast be recol- 
 lected, that at the time I speak of, the latter place 
 displayed no ornamental villas, no gardens full of 
 flowers, almost touching on the sea, and consisted 
 merely of a few fishermen's, or rather smuggler's, 
 hats, with one little pablic house, and a low- 
 browed shop, filled with all the necessities that 
 the inhabitants might require. Thus nothing 
 like the mass of buildings which the watering 
 place now can boast, lay between them and the 
 Folkestone cliffs ; and the whole line of the coast, 
 except at one point, where the roof of a house 
 intercejDted the view, was oj:>en before Osborn's 
 eyes ; yet neither upon the shore itself, nor upon 
 the green upland, which was broken by rocks 
 and bushes, and covered by thick dry grass, 
 could he perceive anything resembling a human 
 form. A minute after, however, he thought he 
 saw something move against the rugged back- 
 ground, and the next moment, the head and 
 shoulders of a man rising over the edge of the 
 hill caught his eyes, and as his companion 
 walked forward in silence, he inquired, 
 
 " Have you known him long, or is this 
 
/O THE SMUG6L1 
 
 one of your sudden judgments, my good 
 friend ?" 
 
 " I knew him when he was a boy and a lad,'' 
 answered Wilmot, " I know him now that he is 
 a man — so it is no sudden judgment. Come, let 
 us speak with him, O shorn," and he advanced 
 rapidly, by a narrow path, up the side of the slo] 
 
 Osborn paused a single instant, and then fol- 
 lowed, saying, "Be upon your guard, Warde; 
 and remember how I am circumstanced. Neither 
 commit me nor let him commit himself." 
 
 " No, no, fear not," answered his friend, " I 
 am no smuggler, young man;" and he strode on 
 before, without pausing for further consultation. 
 As they climbed the hill, the figure of the man 
 of whom they had been sj^eaking became more 
 and more distinct, while walking up and down 
 upon a ilat space at the top of the first step 
 or wave of ground ; he seemed to take no 
 notice of their approach. When they came 
 nearer still, he paused, as if waiting for their 
 coming ; and the moon shining full upon 
 him, displayed his powerful form, Btanding in 
 an altitude of easy grace, with the arms folded 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 77 
 
 on the chest, and the head slicrhtlv bent 
 forward. He was not above the middle height ; 
 but broad in the shoulders, and long in the 
 arms ; robust and strong — every muscle was 
 round and swelling, and yet not heavy; for there 
 was the ajrpearance of great lightness and activity 
 in his whole figure, strangely combined with that 
 of vigour and £>ower. His head was small, and 
 well set upon his shoulders ; and the very posi- 
 tion in which he stood, the firm planting of his 
 feet on the ground, the motionless crossing of 
 his arm upon his breast, all seemed to argue to 
 the mind of Osborn — and he was one not unac- 
 customed to judge of character by external 
 signs — a strong and determined spirit, well fitted 
 for the rough and adventurous life which he had 
 undertaken. 
 
 " Good night, Harding," said Mr. Warde, 
 as they came up to the spot where he stood. 
 " What a beautiful evening it is !" 
 
 " Goodnight, sir," answered the man, in a civil 
 tone, and with a voice of considerable melody. 
 "It is indeed a beautiful evening, though some- 
 times I like to see the cloudv sky, too." 
 
 mi a. ' 
 
78 THE SMUGGLER 
 
 " And yet I dare say you enjoy a walk by the 
 bright sea, in the calm moonlight, as much as 
 I do," rejoined Mr. Warde. 
 
 "Ay, that 1 do, sir," replied the smuggler. 
 "That's what brought me out to-night, for 
 there's nothing else doing ; but I should not 
 rest quiet, I suppose, in my bed, if I did not take 
 my stroll along the downs or somewhere, and 
 look over the sea, while she lies panting in the 
 moonbeams. She's a pretty creature, and I 
 love her dearly. I wonder how people can live 
 inland." 
 
 " Oh, there are beautiful scenes enough in- 
 land," said Osborn, joining in the conversation ; 
 "both wild and grand, and calm and peaceful." 
 
 "I know there are, sir, I know there are," an- 
 swered the smuggler, gazing at him attentively, 
 " and if ever I were to live away from the beach, 
 I should say, give me the wild and grand, for I 
 have seen many a beautiful place inland, espe- 
 cially in Wales ; but still it always seems to me 
 as if there was something wanting when the - 
 is not there. I suppose it is natural for an En- 
 glishman." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 79 
 
 " Perhaps it is," rejoined Osborn, " for cer- 
 tainly when Nature rolled the ocean round us, 
 she intended us for a maritime people. But to 
 return to what vou were saving, if I could choose 
 my own abode, it should be amongst the calm 
 and peaceful scenes, of which the eye never tires, 
 and amongst which the mind rests in repose." 
 
 "Ay, if it is repose one is seeking," replied 
 the smuggler, with a laugh, " well and good. 
 Then a pleasant little valley, with trees and a 
 running stream, and a neat little church, and 
 the parsonage, may do well enough. But I dare 
 say you and I, sir, have led very different lives, 
 and so have got different likings. I have always 
 been accustomed to the storm and the gale, to a 
 somewhat adventurous life, and to have that great 
 wide sea before my eyes for ever. You, I dare 
 say, have been going on quietly and peacefully all 
 your days, perhaps in London, or in some great 
 town, knowing nothing of hardships or of dan- 
 gers ; so that is the reason you love quiet places.' 
 
 " Quite the reverse !" answered Osborn, with a 
 smile — " mine has been nothing but a life of peril 
 and danger, and activity, as far as it hitherto has 
 
80 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 gone. From the time I was eighteen till now, 
 the battle and the skirmish, the march and the 
 retreat, with often the hard ground for my bed, 
 as frequently the sky for my covering, ami at 
 best a thin piece of canvas to keep oil' t 
 blast, have been my lot, but it is that very fact 
 that makes me long for some repose, and 1< 
 scenes that give the picture of it to the imagina- 
 tion, if not the reality to the heart. I should 
 suppose that few men who have passed their 
 time thus, and known from vouth to manhood 
 nothing but strife and hourly peril, do not 
 sooner or later desire such tranquillity." 
 
 ". I don't know, sir," said the smuggler; "it 
 may be so, and the time may come with me ; but 
 vet I think habits one is bred to, cret such a hold 
 of the heart that we can't do without them. I 
 often fancy I should like a month's quiet, too ; 
 but then I know before the month was out I 
 should long to be on the sea again." 
 
 " Man is a discontented creature, "saidWarde, 
 — " not even the bounty of God can satisfy him. 
 1 do not believe that he would even rot in 
 heaven, were he not wearied of change by the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 81 
 
 events of this life. Well may they say it is a 
 state of trial." 
 
 " I hope I shall go to heaven, too," rejoined the 
 smuggler ; " but I should like a few trips first ; 
 and I dare say, when I grow an old man, and 
 stiff* and rusty, I shall be well contented to take 
 my walk here in the sunshine, and talk of days 
 that are gone; but at present, when one has 
 life and strength, I could no more sit and get 
 cankered in idleness than I could turn miller. 
 This world's not a place to be still in; and I say, 
 Blow wind, and push oft* the boat." 
 
 " But one may have activity enough without 
 -constant excitement and peril," answered Os- 
 born. 
 
 " I don't know that there would be half the 
 pleasure in it," replied the smuggler, laugh- 
 ing — " that we strive for, that we love. Every- 
 thing must have its price, and cheap got is 
 little valued. But who is this coming?" he 
 continued, turning sharply round before either 
 of his companions heard a sound. 
 
 The next moment, however, steps running up 
 the face of the bank were distinguished, and in 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 another minute a boy of twelve or thirteen, 
 dressed in a sailor's jacket, came hurrying up 
 to the smuggler, and pulled his sleeve, saying, 
 m a low voice, " Come hither — come hither ; I 
 want to speak to you." 
 
 The man took a step apart, and bending 
 down his head listened to something which the 
 boy whispered in his ear. " I will come — I 
 will come directly," he said, at length, when the 
 lad was done. " Eun on and tell him, little Star- 
 light; for I must get home first for a minute. 
 Good night, gentlemen," he continued, turning 
 to Mr. Warde and his companion, " I must go 
 aw ? ay for a longer walk;" and, without farther 
 adieu, he began to descend the bank, leaving 
 the two friends to take their wav back to Hvthe, 
 conversing, as they went, much in the same 
 strain as that in which they had indulged while 
 coming thither, differing in almost even- topic, 
 but yet with some undefinable link of sympathy 
 between them, which nevertheless owed its ori- 
 gin, in the old man's breast, to very different 
 feelings from those which were experienced by 
 his younger companion. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 83 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 There was an old house, built in a style which 
 acquired the mint-mark of fashion of about the 
 reign of George the First, and -was considered 
 by those of the English, or opposite party, to 
 be peculiarly well qualified for the habitation of 
 Hanover rats. It stood at a little distance from 
 the then small hamlet of Harbourne, and was 
 plunged into one of the southern apertures of 
 the wood of that name, having its gardens and 
 pleasure-grounds around it, with a terrace and a 
 lawn stretching out to the verge of a small parish 
 road, which passed at the distance of somewhat 
 less than a quarter of a mile from the windows. 
 It was all of red brick, and looked square and 
 
 g 2 
 
84 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 formal enough, with the two wings projecting 
 like the a-kimbo arms of some untamed virago, 
 straight and resolute as a redoubt. The 
 numerous windows, however, with very tolerable 
 spaces between them ; the numerous chimneys, 
 with every sort of form and angle ; the numerous 
 doors, of every shape and size, and the square 
 precision of the whole, bespoke it a very capa- 
 cious building, and the inside justified fully the 
 idea which the mind of a traveller naturally 
 formed from the outside. It was, in truth, a 
 roomy, and in some cases a very convenient 
 abode ; but it was laid out upon a particular 
 plan, which it may not be amiss to write down, 
 for the practical instruction of the reader un- 
 learned in such edifices. 
 
 In the centre of the ground-floor was a large 
 hall of a cruciform shape, each of the limbs 
 being about fifteen feet wide. The two shorter 
 arms of the cross stretched from side to side of 
 the building in its width ; the two longer from 
 end to end of its length. The southern termi- 
 nation of the shorter arms was the great hall- 
 door ; the northern arm, which formed the pas- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 85 
 
 sage between the various ranges of offices, ex- 
 tended to a door at the back, opening into a 
 court-yard surrounded by coach-houses, stables, 
 cow-sheds, pig-sties, and hen-roosts. But the 
 offices, and the passage between them, were shut 
 off from the main hall and the rest of the man- 
 sion by double doors ; and the square of fifteen 
 feet in the centre of the hall was, to the exent of 
 about two-thirds of the whole, occupied by a large, 
 low-stepped, broad-ballustraded oaken staircase. 
 The eastern and western limbs of the cross af- 
 forded the means of communicating with various 
 rooms, — such as library, dining-room, drawing- 
 room, music-room, magistrate's- room, gentle- 
 man's-room, and billiard-room, with one or two 
 others to which no name had been applied. 
 Many of these rooms had doors which led into 
 the one adjacent; but this was not invariably 
 the case, for from the main corridor branched 
 off several little passages, separating in some 
 instances one chamber from the other, and 
 leading out upon the terrace by the smaller 
 doors which we have noticed above. What was 
 the use of these passages and doors -nobody 
 
86 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 was ever able to divine, and it remains a mystery 
 to the present day, which I shall not attempt to 
 solve by venturing any hypothesis upon so re- 
 condite a subject. The second floor above was 
 laid out much in the same way as the one 
 below, except that one of the limbs of the cross 
 was wanting, the space over the great door 
 being appropriated to a very tolerable bed-room. 
 From this floor to the other, descended two or 
 three staircases, the principal one being the 
 great open flight of steps which I have 
 already mentioned ; and the second, or next in 
 importance, being a stone staircase, which 
 reached the ground between the double doors, 
 that shut out the main hall from the offices. 
 
 Having thus given some idea of the interior 
 of the building, I will only pause to notice, 
 that, at the period I speak of, it had one 
 very great defect. It was very much out of 
 repair, — not, indeed, of that sort of substantial 
 repair which is necessary to comfort, but of that 
 pleasant repair which is agreeable to the eye. 
 It was well and solidly built, and was quite 
 wind and water tight; but although the builders 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 87 
 
 of tlie clay in which it was erected were, as every 
 one knows, peculiarly neat in their brick-work, 
 yet Time would have his way even with their 
 constructions, and he had maliciously chisel- 
 led out the pointing from between the sharp, 
 well-cut bricks, scraped away the mortar from 
 the stone copings, and cracked and blis- 
 tered the painting of the wood-work. This 
 labour of his had not only given a venerable, 
 but also a somewhat dilapidated appearance to 
 the mansion ; and some green mould, with 
 which he had taken the pains to dabble all 
 the white parts of the edifice, did not decrease 
 the look of decay. 
 
 Sweeping roimd from the parish road that 
 we have mentioned was a branch, leading by the 
 side of the lawn, and a gentle ascent up to the 
 terrace and to the great door, and carriages on 
 arriving passed along the whole front of the 
 house by the western angle before they reached 
 the court-yard behind. But from that court- 
 yard there were various other means of exit. 
 One to the kitchen garden, one to two or three 
 other courts, and one into the wood which came 
 
88 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 within fiftv vards of the enclosure ; for, to use 
 the ordinary romance phrase, Harbourne House 
 was literally "bosomed in wood." The windows, 
 
 however, and the front, commanded a fine view 
 of a rich and undulating country, plentifully 
 garnished with trees, but still, for a considerable 
 distance, exposed to the eye, from the elevated 
 ground upon which the mansion was placed. 
 A little hamlet was seen at the distance of about 
 two miles in front — I rather suspect it was 
 Kenchill — and to the eastward the house looked 
 over the valley towards the high ground by 
 Woodchurch and Woodchurch Beacon, catching 
 a blue line which probably was Romney Marsh. 
 Between, Woodchurch, however, and itself, was 
 seen standing out, straight and upright, a very 
 trim-looking white dwelling, flanked by some 
 pleasant groves, and to the west were seen one 
 or two gentlemen's seats scattered about over 
 the face of the country. Behind, nothing of 
 course was to be seen but tree-tops, except 
 from the window of one of the attics, whence the 
 housemaid could descry Biddendcn Windmill 
 and the top of Biddenden Church. Harbourne 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 89 
 
 Wood was indeed, at that time, very extensive, 
 joining on to the large piece of woodland, from 
 which it is now separated, and stretching out as 
 far as that place with an unpleasant name, called 
 Gallows Green. The whole of this space, and 
 a considerable j)ortion of the cultivated ground 
 around, was within the manor of the master of the 
 mansion, Sir Robert Croyland, of Harbourne, 
 the elder brother of that Mr. Zachary Croyland, 
 w r hom we have seen travelling down into Kent 
 with two companions in the newly established 
 stage-coach. 
 
 About four days after that memorable journey, 
 a traveller on horseback, followed bv a servant 
 leading another horse, and with a j^ortmanteau 
 behind him, rode up the little parish road we 
 have mentioned, took the turning which led to 
 the terrace, and drew in his bridle at the great 
 door of Harbourne House. I would describe 
 him again, but I have already given the reader 
 so correct and accurate a picture of Sir Edward 
 Digby, that he cannot make any mistake. The 
 only change which had taken place in his 
 appearance since he set out from London, 
 
90 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ■was produced by his being now dressed in a full 
 military costume ; but nevertheless the eyes of a 
 fair lady, who was in the drawing-room and had 
 a full view of the terrace, conveyed to her mind, 
 as she saw him ride up, the impression that he 
 was a very handsome man indeed. In two 
 minutes more, which were occupied by the 
 opening of the door and sundry directions 
 given by the young baronet to his servant, Sir 
 Edward Digby was ushered into the drawing- 
 room, and advanced with a frank, free, military 
 air, though unacquainted with any of the per- 
 sons it contained. As his arrival about that 
 hour was expected, the whole family of Har- 
 bourne House was assembled to receive him ; 
 and before we proceed farther, we may as well 
 give some account of the different persons of 
 whom the little circle was composed. 
 
 The first whom Sir Edward's eyes fell upon 
 was the master of the mansion, who had risen, 
 and was coming forward to welcome his guest. 
 Sir Robert Croyland, however, was so different 
 a person from his brother, in every point, 
 that the young officer could hardly believe 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 91 
 
 that he had the baronet before him. He was a 
 large, heavy-looking man, with good features 
 and expressive eyes, but sallow in complexion, 
 and though somewhat corpulent, having that 
 look of loose, flabby obesity, which is generally 
 an indication of bad health. His dress, though 
 scrupulously clean and in the best fashion of 
 the time, fitted him ill, being too large even for 
 his large person; and the setting of the diamond 
 ring which he wore upon his hand was scarcely 
 more yellow than the hand itself. On his face 
 he bore a look of habitual thought and care, 
 approaching moroseness, which even the smile 
 he assumed on Sir Edward's appearance could 
 not altogether dissipate. In his tone, however, 
 he was courtly and kind, though perhaps a 
 little pompous, expressed his delight at seeing 
 his old friend's son in Harbourne House, shook 
 him warmly by the hand, and then led him 
 ceremoniously forward to introduce him to his 
 sister, Mrs. Barbara Croyland, and his two 
 daughters. 
 
 The former lady might very well have had 
 applied to her Fielding's inimitable descrip- 
 
02 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 tion of the old maid. Her appearance was 
 very similar, her station and occupation much 
 the same ; but nevertheless, in all essential 
 points, Mrs. Barbara Croyland was a very dif- 
 ferent person from the sister of Squire All- 
 worthy. She was a kind-hearted soul as ever 
 existed ; gentle in her nature, anxious to do 
 the very best for every body, a little given to 
 policy for the purpose of accomplishing that 
 end, and consequently, nine times out of ten, 
 making folks very uncomfortable in order to 
 make them comfortable, and doing all manner 
 of mischief for the purpose of setting things 
 right. No woman ever had a more perfect 
 abnegation of self than Mrs. Barbara Crovland, 
 in all things of great importance. She had 
 twice missed a very good opportunity of mar- 
 riage, by making up a match between one who 
 was quite ready to be her own lover and one of 
 her female friends, for whom he cared very little. 
 She had lent the whole of her own private for- 
 tune, except a small annuity, which by some 
 chance had been settled upon her, to her 
 brother Sir Robert, without taking any security 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 93 
 
 -whatsoever for principal or interest ; and she was 
 always ready, when there was anything in her 
 purse, to give it away to the worthy or un- 
 worthy — rather, indeed, preferring the latter, 
 from a conviction that they were more likely to 
 be destitute of friends than those who had 
 some claim upon society. 
 
 Nevertheless Mrs. Barbara Croyland was not 
 altogether without that small sort of selfishness 
 which is usually termed vanity. She was occa- 
 sionally a little affronted and indignant with her 
 friends, when they disapproved of her spoiling 
 their whole plans with the intention of facilitat- 
 ing them. She knew that her design was good ; 
 and she thought it very ungrateful in the world 
 to be angry when her good designs produced the 
 most opposite results to those which she in- 
 tended. She was fully convinced, too, that cir- 
 cumstances were perversely against her; and 
 yet for her life she could not refrain from trying 
 to make those circumstances bend to her pur- 
 pose, notwithstanding all the raps on the 
 knuckles she received ; and she had still some 
 scheme going on, which, though continually 
 
94 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 disaj^pointed, rose up Hydra-like, with a new 
 bead springing out as soon as the other was cut 
 off. As it was at her suggestion, and in favour 
 of certain plans which she kept deep in the 
 recesses of her own bosom, that Sir Robert 
 Croyland had claimed acquaintance with Sir 
 Edward Digby on the strength of an old friend- 
 ship with his father, and had invited him down 
 to Harbourne House immediately on the return 
 of his regiment to England, it may well be sup- 
 posed that Miss Barbara received him with her 
 most gracious smiles — which, to say the truth, 
 though the face was wrinkled with age, and the 
 complexion not very good, were exceedingly 
 sweet and benignant, springing from a natural 
 kindness of heart, which, if guided by a sounder 
 discretion, would have rendered her one of the 
 most amiable persons on the earth. 
 
 After a few words of simple courtesy on both 
 parts, Sir Edward turned to the other two per- 
 sons who were in the room, where he found 
 metal more attractive — at least, for the eves. 
 The first to whom he was introduced was a 
 young lady, who seemed to be about one-and- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 95 
 
 twenty years of age, though she had in fact just 
 attained another year ; and though Sir Kobert 
 somewhat hurried him on to the next, who was 
 younger, the keen eye of the young officer 
 marked enough to make him aware that, if so cold 
 and so little disposed to look on a lover as her 
 uncle had represented, she might well become a 
 very dangerous neighbour to a man with a heart 
 not well guarded against the power of beauty. 
 Her hair, eyes, and eylashes were almost black, 
 and her complexion of a clear brown, with the 
 rose bluslring faintly in the cheek ; but the eyes 
 were of a deep blue. The whole form of the 
 head, the fall of the hair, the bend of the neck 
 from the shoulders, were all exquisitely sym- 
 metrical and classical, and nothing could be 
 more lovely than the line of the brow and the 
 chiselled cutting of the nose. The upper lip, 
 small and delicately drawn, the under lip full 
 and slightly apart, shewing the pearl-like teeth 
 beneath; the turn of the ear, and the grace- 
 ful line in the throat, might all have served 
 as models for the sculptor or the painter ; for the 
 colouring was as rich and beautiful as the 
 
90 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 form ; and when she rose and stood to receive 
 him, with the small hand leaning gently on the 
 arm of the chair, he thought he had never seen 
 anything more graceful than the figure, or more 
 harmonious than its calm dignity, with the 
 lofty gravity of her countenance. If there was 
 a defect in the face, it w r as perhaps that the chin 
 was a little too prominent, but yet it suited well 
 with the whole countenance and with its ex- 
 pression, giving it decision without harshness, 
 and a look of firmness, which the bright smile 
 that fluttered for a moment round the lips, 
 deprived of everything that was not gentle and 
 kind. There was soul, there was thought, there 
 was feeling, in the whole look; and Digby would 
 fain have paused to see those features animated 
 in conversation. But her father led him on, 
 after a single word of introduction, to present 
 him to his younger daughter, who, with some 
 points of resemblance, offered a strange contract 
 to her sister. She, too, was very handsome, 
 and apparently about two years younger ; but 
 hers was the style of beauty which, though it 
 deserves a better name, is generally termed 
 pretty. All the features were good, and th c > 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 97 
 
 hair exceedingly beautiful ; but the face was 
 not so oval, the nose perhaps a little too 
 short, and the lips too sparkling with smiles to 
 impress the mind, at first sight, so much as the 
 countenance of the other. She seemed all hap- 
 piness ; and in looking to the expression and at 
 her bright blue eyes, as they looked out through 
 the black lashes, like violets from a clump of 
 dark leaves, it was scarcely possible to fancy 
 that she had ever known a touch of care or 
 sorrow, or that one of the anxieties of life had 
 ever even brushed her lightly with its wing. 
 She seemed the flower just opening to the 
 morning sunshine — the fruit, before the bloom 
 had been washed away by one shower. Her 
 figure, too, was full of young grace ; her move- 
 ments were all quicker, more wild and free 
 than her sister's ; and as she rose to receive Sir 
 Edward Digby, it was more with the air of an 
 old friend than a new acquaintance. Indeed, 
 she was the first of the family who had seen 
 him, for hers were the eyes which had watched 
 his approach from the window, so that she felt 
 as if she knew him better than any of them. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
08 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 There was something very winning in the 
 frank and cordial greeting with which she met 
 him, and in an instant it had established 
 
 a sort of communication between them which 
 would have taken hours, perhaps days, to 
 bring about with her sister. As Sir Edward 
 Digby did not come there to fall in love, he 
 would fain have resisted such influences, 
 even at the beginning; and perhaps the words 
 of old Mr. Croyland had somewhat put him 
 upon his guard. But it was of no use being 
 upon his guard ; for, fortify himself as strongly 
 as he would, Zara went through all his defences 
 in an instant; and, seeming to take it for 
 granted that they were to be great friends, and 
 that there was not the slightest obstacle what- 
 ever to their being perfectly familiar in a lady- 
 like and gentleman-like manner, of course they 
 were so in five minutes, though he was a 
 soldier who had seen some service, and she an 
 inexperienced girl just out of her teens. But 
 all women have a sort of experience of their 
 own ; or, if experience be not the right name, an 
 intuition in matters where the other sex is 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 99 
 
 concerned, which supplies to them very rapidly 
 a great part of that which long converse with the 
 world bestows on men. Too true that it does 
 not always act as a safeguard to their own 
 hearts — true that it does not always guide them 
 right in their own actions, — but still it does not 
 fail to teach them the best means of winning 
 where they wish to win ; and if they do not suc- 
 ceed, it is far more frequently that the cards 
 which they hold are not good, than that they 
 play the game unskilfully. 
 
 Whether Sir Robert Croyland had or had not 
 any forethought in his invitation of Sir Edward 
 Digby, and, like a prudent father, judged that 
 it would be quite as well his youngest daughter 
 should marry a wealthy baronet, he was 
 too wise to let anything like design appear; 
 and though he suffered the young officer to 
 pursue his conversation with Zara for two or 
 three minutes longer than he had done with her 
 sister, he soon interposed, by taking the first 
 opportunity of telling his guest the names of 
 those whom he had invited to meet him that 
 day at dinner. 
 
 h2 
 
100 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 M Wc shall have bat a small party," he said, 
 in a somewhat apologetic tone, " for several of 
 our friends are absent just now; but I have 
 asked my good and eccentric brother Zaehary 
 to meet you to-dav, Sir Edward ; and also mv 
 excellent neighbour, Mr. Radford, of Radford 
 Hall — a very superior man indeed under the 
 surface, though the manner may be a little 
 rough. His son, too, I trust will join us ;" and 
 he glanced his eve towards Edith, whose face 
 grew somewhat paler than it had been before. 
 Sir Robert instantly withdrew his gaze ; but the 
 look of both father and daughter had not been 
 lost upon Digby ; and he replied — 
 
 " I have the pleasure of knowing your brother 
 already, Sir Robert. We were fellow-travellers 
 as far as Ashford, four or five days ago. I hope 
 he is well." 
 
 ••Oh. quite well — quite well," answered the 
 baronet; "but as odd as ever — nav odder. I 
 think, for his expedition to London. That which 
 seems to polish and soften other men, but ren- 
 ders him rougher and more extraordinary. But 
 he was always vcrv odd — very odd indeed, even 
 as a bov." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 101 
 
 " Ay, but he was always kind-hearted, brother 
 Robert," observed Miss Barbara; " and though 
 he may be a little odd, he has been in odd places, 
 you know — India and the like ; and besides, 
 it does not do to talk of his oddity, as you are 
 doing always, for if he heard of it, he might 
 leave all his nionev awav." 
 
 " He is only odd, I think," said Edith Croy- 
 land, " by being kinder and better than other 
 men." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby turned towards her with a 
 warm smile, replying — " So it struck me, Miss 
 Croylaird. He is so good and right-minded 
 himself, that he is at times a little out of 
 patience with the faults and follies of others — 
 at least, such was my impression, from all I saw 
 of him." 
 
 "It was a just one," answered the young 
 lady, " and I am sure, Sir Edward, the more you 
 see of him the more you will be inclined to over- 
 look the oddities for the sake of the finer 
 qualities." 
 
 It seemed to Sir Edward Digby that the com- 
 mendations of Sir Robert Crovland's brother did 
 
102 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 not seem the most grateful of all possible sounds 
 to the ears of the Baronet, who immediately 
 alter announced that lie would have the pleasure 
 of conducting his young guest to his apart- 
 ments, adding that they were early people in 
 the country, their usual dinner-hour being four 
 o'clock, though he found that the fashionable 
 people of London were now in the habit of 
 dining at half-past four. Sir Edward accord- 
 ingly followed him up the great oaken staircase 
 to a very handsome and comfortable room, with 
 a dressing-room at the side, in which he found Iris 
 servant already busily employed in disburdening 
 his bags and portmanteau of their contents. 
 
 Sir Robert paused for a moment — to see that 
 his guest had everything which he might re- 
 quire, and then left him. But the young baronet 
 did not proceed immediately to the business of 
 the toilet, seating himself before the window of 
 the bed-room, and gazing out with a thoughtful 
 expression, while his servant continued his 
 operations in the next room. From time to 
 time the man looked in as if he had something 
 to Bay, but his master continued in a reverie, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 103 
 
 of which it rnav be as well to take some notice. 
 His first thought was, " I must lay out the plan 
 of my campaign ; but I must take care not to 
 get my wing of the army defeated while the 
 main body is moving up to give battle. On my 
 life, I'm a great deal too good-natured to put 
 myself in such a dangerous position for a friend. 
 The artillery that the old gentleman spoke of is 
 much more formidable than I expected. My 
 worthy colonel did not use so much of love's 
 glowing colours in his painting as I supposed ; 
 but after all, there's no danger; I am proof 
 against all such shots, and I fancy I must use 
 little Zara for the purpose of getting at her 
 sister's secrets. There can be no harm in 
 making a little love* to her, the least little bit 
 possible. It will do my pretty coquette no 
 harm, and me none either. It may be well to 
 know how the land lies, however ; and I dare 
 say that fellow of mine has made some dis- 
 coveries already; but the surest way to get 
 nothing out of him is to ask him, and so I must 
 let him take his own way." 
 
 His thoughts then turned to another branch 
 
104 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of the same subject ; and he went on pondering 
 rather than thinking for some minutes more. 
 There is a state of mind which can scarcely be 
 called thought ; for thought is rapid and pro- 
 gressive, like the flight of a bird, whether it be 
 in the gyrations of the swallow, or the straight- 
 forward course of the rook ; but in the mode or 
 condition of which I speak, the mind seems 
 rather to hover over a particular object, like the 
 hawk eyeing carefully that which is beneath it ; 
 and this state can no more be called thought 
 than the hovering of the hawk can be called 
 flight. Such was the occupation of Sir Edward 
 Digby, as I have said, for several minutes, and 
 then he went on to his conclusions. " She loves 
 him still," he said to himself; "of that I feel 
 sure. She is true to him still, and steadfast in 
 her truth. Whatever may have been said or 
 done has not been hers, and that is a great 
 point gained ; for now, with station, rank, dis- 
 tinction, and competence at least, he presents 
 himself in a very different position from anv 
 which he could assume before; and unless on 
 account of some unaccountable prejudice, the old 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 105 
 
 gentleman can have no objection. Oh, yes, 
 she loves him still, I feel very sure ! The calm 
 gravity of that beautiful face has only been 
 written there so early by some deep and un- 
 changed feeling. We never see the sparkling 
 brightness of youth so shadowed but by some 
 powerful and ever-present memory, which, like 
 the deep bass notes of a fine instrument, gives 
 a solemn tone even to the liveliest music of 
 life. She can smile, but the brow is still grave : 
 there is something underneath it; and we 
 must find out exactly what that is. Yet I 
 cannot doubt ; I am sure of it. Here, Somers ! 
 are not those things ready yet ? I shall be too 
 late for dinner." 
 
 "Oh, no, sir;" replied the man, coming in, 
 and putting up the back of his hand to his head, 
 in military fashion. " Your honour wont be too 
 late. The great bell rings always half-an-hour 
 before, then Mr. Kadford is always a quarter- of- 
 an-hour behind his time." 
 
 " I wonder who Mr. Kadford is !" said Sir Ed- 
 ward Digby, as if speaking to himself. "He 
 seems a very important person in the county." 
 
106 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " I can tell you, sir," said the man, "be is or 
 was the richest person in the neighbourhood, 
 and has got Sir Kobert quite under his thumb, 
 they say. He was a merchant, or a shopkeeper, 
 the butler told me, in Hythe. But there was 
 more money came in than ever went through his 
 counting-house, and what between trading one 
 way or another, he got together a great deal of 
 riches, bought this place here in the neighbour- 
 hood, and set up for a gentleman. His son is 
 to be married to Miss Croyland, they say ; but 
 the servants think that she hates him, and fancy 
 that he would himself rather have her sister." 
 
 The latter part of this speech was that which 
 interested Sir Edward Digby the most; but he 
 knew that there was a certain sort of perversity 
 about his servant, which made him less willing 
 to answer a distinct question than to volunteer 
 any information ; and therefore he fixed upon 
 another point, inquiring, "What do you mean. 
 Somers, by saying that he is, or was, the richest 
 man in the country ?" 
 
 " Why, sir, that is as it may be," answered 
 the man ; " but one thing is certain — Miss Croy- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 107 
 
 land has three times refused to marry this young 
 Radford, notwithstanding all her father could 
 say ; and as for the young gentleman himself, 
 why he's no gentleman at all, going about with 
 all the bad characters in the county, and carry- 
 ing on his father's old trade, like a highwayman. 
 It has not quite answered so well though, for 
 they say old Radford lost fully fifty thousand 
 pounds by his last venture, which was run 
 ashore somewhere about Romney Hoy. The 
 boats were sunk, part of the goods seized, and 
 the rest sent to the bottom. You may be sure 
 he's a dare-devil, however, for whenever the ser- 
 vants speak of him, they sink their voice to a 
 whisper, as if the fiend were at their elbow." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby was very well inclined to 
 hear more ; but while the man was speaking, the 
 bell he had mentioned, rang, and the young 
 baronet, who had a certain regard for his own 
 personal appearance, hastened to dress and to 
 descend to the drawing-room. 
 
108 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It is sometimes exjiedient in telling a tale of 
 tins kind, to introduce the different personages 
 quietly to the reader one after the other, and to 
 suffer him to become familiar with them sepa- 
 rately, before they are all brought to act to- 
 gether, that he may have a clear and definite 
 notion of their various characters, dispositions, 
 and peculiarities, and be enabled to judge at 
 once of the motives by which they are actuated, 
 when we recite the deeds that they perform. 
 
 Having twice or thrice mentioned one of 
 the prominent persons in this history, without 
 having brought him visibly upon the scene, 
 (as, in the natural course of events. I must 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 109 
 
 very soon do,) I shall now follow the plan 
 ahove mentioned ; and, in order to give the 
 reader a distinct notion of Mr. Radford, his 
 character and proceedings, will heg those who 
 have gone on with me thus far, to step back 
 with me to the same night, on which Mr. Warde 
 and his young friend met the smuggler in his 
 evening walk along the heights. 
 
 Xot very far from the town of Hythe, not 
 very far from the village of Sandgate, are still 
 to be found the ruins of an ancient castle, 
 which, by various deeds that have been per- 
 formed within its walls, has acquired a name 
 in English historv. The foundation of the 
 building is beyond our records; and tradi- 
 tion, always fond of the marvellous, carries 
 back the period when the first stone was laid to 
 the times of the Roman invaders of Great 
 Britain. Others supposed that it was erected 
 by the Saxons, but, as it now stands, it presents 
 no trace of the handiwork of either of those 
 two races of barbarians, and is simply one of 
 those strongholds constructed by the Normans, 
 or their close descendants, either to keep their 
 
110 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 hold of a conquered country, or to resist the 
 power both of tyrannical monarchs and danger- 
 ous neighbours. Various parts of the building 
 are undoubtedly attributable to the reign of 
 Henry II. ; and if any portion be of an earlier 
 date, of which I have some doubts, it is but 
 small ; but a considerable part is, I believe, of 
 a still later epoch, and in some places may be 
 traced the architecture common in the reign of 
 Edward III. and of his grandson. The space 
 enclosed within the outer walls is very extensr. 
 and numerous detached buildings, chapels, halls, 
 and apparently a priory, are still to be found 
 built against those walls themselves, so that it 
 is probable that the castle in remote days gave 
 shelter to some religious body, which is rendered 
 still more likely from the fact of Saltwood Castle 
 and its manor having formerly appertained to 
 the church and see of Canterbury. 
 
 Many a remarkable scene has undoubtedly 
 passed in the courts and halls of that now 
 ruined building, and it is even probable that 
 there the dark and dreadful deed, which, 
 though probably not of his contriving, em- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. Ill 
 
 Littered the latter life of the second Henry, 
 was planned and determined by the murderers 
 of Thoinas-a Becket. With such deeds, how- 
 ever, and those ancient times, we have nothing 
 here to do ; and at the period to which this 
 tale refers, the castle, though in a much more 
 perfect state than at present, was already in 
 ruins. The park, which formerly surrounded it, 
 had been long thrown open and divided into 
 fields ; but still the character which its formation 
 had given to the neighbouring scenery had not 
 passed away ; and the rich extent of old pasture, 
 the scattered woods and clumps of trees, the 
 brawling brook, here and there diverted from its 
 natural course for ornament or convenience, — 
 all bespoke the former destination of the 
 ground, for near a mile around on every side, 
 when magnificent Archbishop Courtenay held 
 the castle of Saltwood as his favourite place of 
 residence. 
 
 Though, as I have said, grey ruin had pos- 
 session of the building, yet the strength of its 
 construction had enabled it in many parts to 
 resist the attacks of time; and the great keep, 
 
112 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 with its two lofty gate towers and wide-spread- 
 ing hall, was then but very little decayed. 
 Nevertheless, at that period no one tenanted the 
 castle of Saltwood but an old man and his Bon, 
 who cultivated a small portion of ground in 
 the neighbourhood; and their dwelling was 
 confined to three rooms in the keep, though 
 they occupied several others by their imple- 
 ments of husbandry, occasionally diversified with 
 sacks of grain, stores of carrots and turnips, and 
 other articles of agricultural produce. Thus, 
 every night, for a short time, lights were to be seen 
 in Saltwood Castle, but all the buildings except 
 the keep, were utterly neglected, and falling 
 rapidly into a state of complete dilapidation. 
 
 It was towards this building, on the night I 
 speak of, that the smuggler took his way, about 
 a quarter of an hour after having suddenly 
 broken off his conversation with Mr. Warde 
 and the young officer. He walked on with a quick, 
 bold, careless step, apparently without much 
 thought or consideration of the interview to 
 which he was summoned. He paused, indeed, 
 more than once, and looked around him; hut 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 113 
 
 it was merely to gaze at the beauty of the 
 scenery, for which he had a great natural taste. 
 It is no slight mistake to suppose that the con- 
 stant intercourse with, and opportunity of en- 
 joying the beauties of nature, diminish in any 
 degree the pleasures that we thence derive. 
 The direct contrary is the case. Every other 
 delight, everything that man has contrived or 
 found for himself, palls upon the taste by 
 frequent fruition ; but not so with those 
 sources of pleasure which are given us by 
 God himself; and the purer and freer they 
 are from man's invention, the more permanent 
 are they in their capability of bestowing hap- 
 piness, the more extensive seems their quality 
 of satisfying the ever-increasing desires of the 
 spirit within us. Were it not so, the ardent 
 attachment which is felt by those who have been 
 born and brought up in the midst of fine and 
 magnificent scenery to the place of their nativity, 
 could not exist ; and it will always be found 
 that, other things being equal, those who live 
 most amongst the beauties of nature, are those 
 who most appreciate them. 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Many a beautiful prospect presented itself to 
 the smuggler, as he walked on by the light of the 
 moon. At one place, the woods swept round him 
 and concealed the rest of the country from his 
 eyes; but then the moonbeams poured through 
 the branches, or streamed along the path, and 
 every now and then, between the old trunks and 
 gnarled roots, he caught a sight of the deeper 
 parts of the woodland, sleeping in the pale 
 rays. At another, issuing forth upon the side of 
 the hill, the leafy wilderness lay beneath his feet 
 with the broad round summit of some piece of 
 high ground, rising dark and flat above ; and 
 at some distance further, he suddenlv turned 
 the angle of the valley, and had the tall grey 
 ruin of Saltwood full before him, with the lines 
 of the trees and meadows sweeping down into 
 the dell, and the bright sky, lustrous with the 
 moonlight, extended broad and unclouded 
 behind. Shortly after, he came to the little 
 stream, rushing in miniature cascades between 
 its hollow banks, and murmuring with a soft 
 and musical voice amongst the roots of the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 115 
 
 shrubs, which here and there hid it from the 
 beams. 
 
 He paused but a moment or two, however, 
 at any of these things, and then walked on 
 again, till at length he climbed the road lead- 
 ing up to the castle, and j:>assed through the 
 arch-way of the gate. Of the history of the 
 place he knew nothing, but from vague tradi- 
 tions heard in his boyhood ; and yet, when he 
 stood amongst those old grey walls, with the 
 high towers rising before him, and the green- 
 sward, covering the decay of centuries, beneath 
 his feet, he could not help feeling a vague im- 
 pression of melancholy, not unmingled with 
 awe, fall upon him. In the presence of ancient 
 things, the link between all mortality seems 
 most strongly felt. We perceive our associa- 
 tion with the dead more strongly. The cha- 
 racter and habits of thought of the person, of 
 course, render it a more distinct or obscure per- 
 ception ; but still we all have it. With some, 
 it is as I have before called it, an impression 
 that we must share the same decav, meet the 
 
 i 2 
 
11G THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 same fate, fall into the same tomb as those who 
 have raised or produced the things that we 
 behold : for every work of man is but a tomb- 
 stone, if it be read aright. But with others, 
 an audible voice speaks from the grey ruin and 
 the ancient church, from the dilapidated houses 
 where our fathers dwelt or worshipped, and 
 says to every one amongst the living, "As they 
 were, who built us, so must you be. They 
 enjoyed, and hoped, and feared, and suffered. 
 So do you. Where are they gone, with all 
 their thoughts ? Where will you go, think 
 you never so highly ? All down, down, to the 
 same dust, whither we too are tending. We 
 have seen these things, for ages past, and we 
 shall see more." 
 
 I mean not to say that such was exactly the 
 aspect under which those ruins presented them- 
 selves to the eve of the man who now visited 
 
 4 
 
 them. The voice that spoke was not so clear : 
 but yet it was clear enough to make him feel 
 thoughtful if not sad ; and he paused to gaze up 
 at the high keep, as the moon shone out upon 
 the old stone- work, showing every loophole and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 117 
 
 casement. He was not -without imagination 
 in a homely way, and, following the train of 
 thought which the sight of the castle at that 
 hour suggested, he said to himself, " I dare 
 say many a pretty girl has looked out of that win- 
 dow to talk to her lover by the moonlight ; and 
 they have grown old, and died like other folks." 
 
 How long he would have gone on in this 
 musing mood I cannot tell, but just at that 
 moment the boy who had come down to the 
 beach to call him, appeared from the old door- 
 way of the chapel, and pointing to one of the 
 towers in the wall, whispered — " He's up there, 
 waiting for you." 
 
 " Well, then, you run home, young Star- 
 light," replied the smuggler. " I'll be after 
 
 you in a minute, for he can't have much to say, 
 
 < 
 
 I should think. Off with you ! and no listen- 
 ing, or I'll break your head, youngster." 
 
 The boy laughed, and ran away through the 
 gate ; and his companion turned towards the 
 angle which he had pointed out. Approaching 
 the wall, he entered what might have been a 
 door, or perhaps a window looking in upon the 
 
118 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 court, and communicating -with one of those 
 passages which led from tower to tower, with 
 stairs every here and there leading to the bat- 
 tlements. He was ohliged to how his head as 
 he passed ; but after climbing a somewhat steep 
 ascent, where the broken steps were half covered 
 with rubbish, he emerged upon the top of the 
 wall, where many a sentinel had kept his weary 
 watch in times long past. At a little distance 
 in advance, standing in the pale moonlight, was 
 a tall, gaunt figure, leaning against a fragment of 
 one of the neighbouring towers ; and Harding 
 did not pause to look at the splendour of the 
 view below, though it might well, with its world 
 of wood and meadow, bounded by the glistening 
 sea, have attracted eyes less fond of such 
 scenes than his ; but on he walked, straight 
 towards the person before him, who, on his 
 part, hurried forward to meet him, whenever the 
 sound of his step broke upon the ear. 
 
 " Good night, Harding," said Mr. Radford, 
 in a low but still harsh tone ; " what a time you 
 have been. It will be one o'clock or more be- 
 fore I get back." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 119 
 
 "Past two," answered the smuggler, bluntly; 
 "but I came as soon as I could. It is not 
 much more than half an hour since I got your 
 message." 
 
 M That stupid boy has been playing the fool, 
 then," replied the other; " I sent him " 
 
 " Oh, he's not stupid," interrupted the smug- 
 gler ; " and he's not given to play the fool 
 either. More like to play the rogue. But 
 what's the business now, sir ? There's no 
 doing anything on such nights as these." 
 
 "I know that — I know that," rejoined Bad- 
 ford. " But this will soon change. The moon 
 will be dwindled down to cheese-paring before 
 many days are over, and the barometer is 
 falling. It is necessary that we should make 
 all our arrangements beforehand, Harding, and 
 have everything ready. We must have no more 
 such jobs as the last two." 
 
 " I had nothing to do with them," rejoined 
 the smuggler. " You chose your own people, 
 and they failed. I do not mean to say it was 
 their fault, for I don't think it was. They lost 
 as much, for them, as you did; and they did their 
 
120 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 best, I dare say ; but still that is nothing to 
 me. I've undertaken to land the cargo, and I 
 will do it, if I live. If I die, there's nothing to 
 be said, you know; but I don't say I'll ever 
 undertake another of the sort. It does not 
 answer, Mr. Radford. It makes a man think 
 too much, to know that other people have got 
 so much money staked on such a venture." 
 
 " Ay, but that is the very cause why every 
 one should exert himself," answered his com- 
 panion. " I lost fifty thousand pounds by the 
 last affair, twentv bv the other ; but I tell you. 
 Harding, Thave more than both upon this, and 
 if this fail " 
 
 He paused, and did not finish the sentence ; 
 but he set his teeth hard, and seemed to draw 
 his breath with difficulty. 
 
 " That's a bad plan," said the smuggler — " a 
 bad plan, in all ways. You wish to make up all 
 at one run ; and so you double the venture ; 
 but you should know by this time, that one out 
 of four pays very well, and we have seldom 
 failed to do one out of two or three; but the 
 more money people get the more greedy they 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 121 
 
 are of it ; so that because you put three times 
 as much as enough on one freight, you must 
 needs put five times on the other, and ten 
 times on the third, risking a greater loss every 
 time for a greater gain. I'll have to do with 
 no more of these things. I'm contented with 
 little, and don't like such great sacculations." 
 
 " Oh, if you are afraid," cried Mr. Radford, 
 " you can give it up ! I dare say vre can find 
 some one else to land the goods." 
 
 "As to being afraid, that I am not," an- 
 swered Harding ; " and having undertaken the 
 run, I'll do it. I'm not half so much afraid as 
 you are ; for I've not near so much to lose — only 
 my life or liberty and three hundred pounds. 
 But still, Mr. Radford, I do not like to think 
 that if anything goes wrong you'll be so much 
 hurt ; and it makes a man feel queer. If I have 
 a few hundreds in a boat, and nothing to lose 
 but myself and a dozen of tubs, I go about it as 
 gay as a lark and as cool and quiet as a dog- 
 fish; but if anything were to go wrong now, 
 why it would be " 
 
 " Ruin — utter ruin !" said Mr. Radford. 
 
122 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 "I dare say it would," rejoined the smug- 
 gler; "but, nevertheless, your coming down 
 here every other day, and sending for me, does 
 no good, and a great deal of harm. It only 
 teazes me, and sets me always thinking about it, 
 w r hen the best way is not to think at all, but 
 just to do the thing and get it over. Besides, 
 you'll have people noticing your being so often 
 down here, and you'll make them suspect some- 
 thing is going on." 
 
 " But it is necessary, my good fellow," an- 
 swered the other, "that we should settle all our 
 plans. I must have people ready, and horses 
 and help, in case of need." 
 
 " Ay, that you must," replied the smuggler, 
 thoughtfully. " I think you said the cargo was 
 light goods." 
 
 "Almost all India, " said Radford, in return. 
 " Shawls and painted silks, and other things of 
 great value but small bulk. There are a few 
 bales of lace, too ; but the whole will require 
 well nigh a hundred horses to carry it. so that 
 we must have a strong muster." 
 
 " Ay, and men who fight, too," rejoined 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 123 
 
 Harding. " You know there are Dragoons clown 
 at Folkestone ?" 
 
 " No ! — when did they come?" exclaimed Bad- 
 ford, eagerly. "That's a bad job — that's a bad 
 job ! Perhaps they suspect already. Perhaps 
 some of those fellows from the other side have 
 given information, and these soldiers are sent 
 down in consequence — I shouldn't wonder, I 
 shouldn't wonder." 
 
 "Pooh — nonsense, Mr. Eadford!" replied 
 Harding ; " you are always so suspicious. 
 Some day or another you'll suspect me." 
 
 " I suspect everybody," cried Eadford, vehe- 
 mently, "and I have good cause. I have 
 known men do such things, for a pitiful gain, as 
 would hang them, if there were any just 
 punishment for treachery." 
 
 Harding laughed, but he did not explain the 
 cause of his merriment, though probably he 
 thought that Mr. Eadford himself would do 
 many a thing for a small gain, which would not 
 lightly touch his soul's salvation. He soon pro- 
 ceeded, however, to reply, in a grave tone — 
 " That's a bad plan, Mr. Eadford. No man is 
 
124 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ever "well served by those whom he suspects. 
 He had better never have anything to do with I 
 person he doubts ; so, if you doubt me, I'm 
 quite willing to give the business up, for I don't 
 half like it." 
 
 ** Oh, no !" said Radford, in a smooth and 
 coaxing tone, "I did not mean you, Harding; 
 I know vou too well for as honest a fellow as 
 ever lived ; but I do doubt those fellows on the 
 other side, and I strongly suspect they peached 
 about the other two affairs. Besides, you said 
 something about Dragoons, and we have not 
 had any of that sort of vermin here for a year 
 or more." 
 
 " You frighten yourself about nothing," an- 
 swered Harding. w There is but a troop of 
 them yet, though they say more are expected. 
 But what good are Dragoons ? I have run 
 many a cargo under their very noses, and hope 
 I shall live to run many another. As to stop- 
 ping this traffic, they are no more good than so 
 many old women!" 
 
 " But you must get it all over before the rest 
 come," replied Mr. Radford, in an arguments- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 125 
 
 tive manner, taking hold of the lappel of his 
 companion's jacket; " there's no use of running 
 more risk than needful. And you must re- 
 member that we have a long way to carry the 
 sfoods after thev are landed. Then is the most 
 dangerous time," 
 
 " I don't know that/' said Harding ; " but, 
 however, you must provide for that, and must 
 also look out for hides* for the things. I wont 
 have any of them down with me ; and when I 
 have landed them safely, though I don't mind 
 giving a help to bring them a little way inland, I 
 wont be answerable for anything more." 
 
 " No, no ; that's all settled,'' answered his 
 companion ; " and the hides are all ready, too. 
 Some can come into my stable, others can be 
 carried up to the willow cave. Then there's Sir 
 Robert's great barn." 
 
 " Will Sir Robert consent?" asked Harding, 
 in a doubtful tone. " He would never have 
 anything to do with these matters himself, and 
 
 * It may be as well to explain to the uninitiated reader, 
 that the secret places where smugglers conceal their goods 
 after landing, are known by the name of " Hides." 
 
12G THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 was always devilish hard upon us. I remember 
 he sent my father to gaol ten years ago, when I 
 was a youngster." 
 
 " He must consent/' replied Radford, sternly. 
 " He dare as soon refuse me as cut off his right 
 hand. I tell you, Harding, I have got him in a 
 vice ; and one turn of the lever will make him 
 cry for mercy when I like. But no more of him. 
 I shall use his barn as if it were my own ; and 
 it is in the middle of the wood, you know, so 
 that it's out of sight. But even if it were not 
 for that, we've got many another place. Thank 
 Heaven, there are no want of hides in this 
 county !" 
 
 " Ay, but the worst of dry goods, and things 
 of that kind," rejoined the smuggler, "is that 
 they spoil with a little wet, so that one can't 
 sink them in a cut or canal till they are wanted, 
 as one can do with tubs. Who do you in- 
 tend to send down for them ? That's one 
 thing I must know." 
 
 " Oh, whoever comes, my son will be 
 with them," answered Mr. Radford. " As to 
 who the others will be, I cannot tell yet. The 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 127 
 
 Kanileys, certainly, amongst the rest. They are 
 always ready, and will either fight or run, as 
 it may be needed.'' 
 
 " I don't much like them," replied Harding; 
 " they are a bad set. I wish they were hanged, 
 or out of the country ; for, as you say, they 
 will either fight, or run, or peach, or any- 
 thing else that suits them : one just as soon as 
 another." 
 
 " Oh, no fear of that — no fear of that !" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Eadford, in a confident tone, which 
 seemed somewhat strange to the ears of his 
 companion, after the suspicions he had heard 
 him so lately express ; but the other instantly 
 added, in explanation, " I shall take care that 
 they have no means of peaching, for I will tell 
 them nothing about it, till they are setting off 
 with fifty or sixty others." 
 
 •f ( That's the best way, and the only way with 
 such fellows as that," answered Harding ; "but 
 if you tell nobody, you'll find it a hard job 
 to get them all together." 
 
 " Only let the day be fixed," said Mr. Rad- 
 ford ; " and I'll have all ready — never fear." 
 
128 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " That must be your affair," replied Hard- 
 ing ; " I'm ready "whenever you like. Give 
 me a dark night and a fair wind, and my part of 
 the job is soon done." 
 
 " About this day week, I should think," said 
 Mr. Radford. " The moon will be nearly out 
 by that time." 
 
 " Not much more than half," replied the 
 smuggler ; " and as we have got to go far, — for 
 the ship, you say, will not stand in, — we had 
 better have the whole night to ourselves. Even 
 a bit of a moon is a bad companion on such 
 a trip ; especially when there is so much money 
 risked. No, I think you had better give me three 
 days more : then there will be wellnigh nothing 
 left of her, and she wont rise till three or four. 
 We can see what the weather's like, too, about 
 that time ; and I can come up, and let you 
 know. But if you'll take my advice, Mr. Ead- 
 ford, you'll not be coming down here any more, 
 till it's all over at least. There's no good of it, 
 and it may do mischief." 
 
 " Well, now it's all settled, I shall not need 
 to do so," rejoined the other; "but I really 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 129 
 
 don't see, Harding, why yon should so much 
 wish me to stay away." 
 
 " I'll tell yon why, Mr. Radford," said Hard- 
 ing, putting his hands into the pockets of his 
 jacket, " and that very easily. Although you 
 have become a great gentleman, and live at a 
 fine place inland, people haven't forgot when 
 you kept a house and a counting-house too, in 
 Hythe, and all that used to go on in those days ; 
 and though you are a magistrate, and go out 
 hunting and shooting, and all that, the good 
 folks about have little doubt that you have a 
 hankering after the old trade yet, only that you 
 do your business on a larger scale than you did 
 then. It's but the other dav, when I was in at 
 South's, the grocer's, to talk to him about some 
 stuff he wanted, I heard two men sav one to the 
 other, as they saw you pass, ' Ay, there goes 
 old Radford. I wonder what he's down here 
 for !' ' As great an old smuggler as ever lived,' 
 said the other ; ' and a pretty penny he's made 
 of it. He's still at it, they say ; and I dare say 
 he's down here now upon some such concern.' 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 So you see, sir, people talk about it, and that's 
 the reason why I say that the less you are here 
 the better." 
 
 " Perhaps it is — perhaps it is,'' answered 
 Mr. Radford, quickly; " and as we've now 
 settled all we can settle, till you come up, I'll 
 take myself home. Good night, Harding — good 
 night !" 
 
 " Good night, sir," answered Harding, with 
 something like a smile upon his lip ; and find- 
 ing their way down again to the court below, 
 they parted. 
 
 " I don't like that fellow at all," said Mr. 
 Radford to himself, as he walked away upon 
 the road to Hythe, where he had left his horse ; 
 "he's more than half inclined to be uncivil. I'll 
 have nothing more to do with him after this is 
 over." 
 
 Harding took his way across the fields to- 
 wards Sandgate, and perhaps his thoughts were 
 not much more complimentary to his com] 
 nion than Mr. Radford's had been to him ; bat 
 in the meantime, while each followed his sepa- 
 rate course homeward, we must remain for a 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 131 
 
 short space in the green, moonlight court of 
 Saltwood Castle. All remained still and silent 
 for about three minutes ; but then the ivy, which 
 at that time had gathered thickly round the old 
 walls, might be seen to move in the neighbour- 
 hood of a small aperture in one of the ruined 
 flanking towers of the outer wall, to which 
 it had at one time probably served as a win- 
 dow, though all traces of its original form 
 were now lost. The tower was close to the 
 spot where Mr. Kadford and his companion 
 had been standing ; and although the aperture 
 we have mentioned looked towards the court, 
 joining on to a projecting wall in great part 
 overthrown, there was a loop-hole on the other 
 side, flanking the very parapet on which they 
 had carried on their conversation. 
 
 After the ivy had moved for a moment, as I 
 have said, something like a human head was thrust 
 out, looking cautiously round the court. The 
 next minute a broad pair of shoulders appeared, 
 and then the whole form of a tall and powerful 
 man, who, after pausing for an instant on the top 
 of the broken wall, used its fragments as a means 
 
 k2 
 
132 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of descent to the ground below. Just as he 
 reached the level of the court, one of the loose 
 stones which he had displaced as he came down, 
 rolled after him and fell at his side; and, with a 
 sudden start at the first sound, he laid his hand 
 on the butt of a large horse-jnstol stuck in a belt 
 round his waist. As soon as he perceived what 
 it was that had alarmed him, he took his hand 
 from the weapon again, and walked out into the 
 moonlight ; and thence, after pacing quietly up 
 and down for two or three minutes, to give time 
 for the two other visitors of the castle to get to 
 a distance, he sauntered slowly out through the 
 gate. He then turned under the walls towards 
 the little wood which at that time occupied a 
 part of the valley ; opposite to which he stood 
 gazing for about five minutes. When he judged 
 all safe, he gave a whistle, upon which the form 
 of a bov instantly started out from the trees, and 
 came running across the meadow towards him. 
 
 " Have you heard all, Mr. Mowl asi 
 
 the boy in a whisper, as soon as he was near. 
 
 " All that they said, Little Starlight," replied 
 the other. " They didn't say enough ; but yet 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 133 
 
 it will do ; and you are a clever little fel- 
 low. But come along," he added, laying his 
 hand on the hoy's shoulder, " you shall have 
 what I promised you, and half-a-crown more ; 
 and if you go on, and tell me all you find out, 
 you shall be well paid." 
 
 Thus saying, he walked on with the hoy to- 
 wards Hythe, and the scenery round Saltwood 
 resumed its silent solitude again. 
 
134 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 To a very hungry man, it matters not much 
 what is put upon the table, so that it be eatable ; 
 but with the intellectual appetite the case is dif- 
 ferent, and every one is anxious to know who is 
 to be his companion, or what is to be in his 
 book. Now, Sir Edward Digby was somewhat 
 of an epicure in human character; and he always 
 felt as great a curiosity to enjoy any new per- 
 sonage brought before him, as the more ordinary 
 epicure desires to taste a new dish. He wi 
 equally refined, too, in regard to the taste of his 
 intellectual food. He liked a good deal of flavour, 
 but not too much : a soupQon of something, he 
 did not well know what, in a man's demeanour 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 135 
 
 gave it great zest, as a soupgon of two or three 
 condiments so blended in a salmi as to defy 
 analysis must have charmed Vatel ; and, to say 
 the truth, the little he had seen or heard of the 
 house in which he now w r as, together with his 
 knowledge of some of its antecedents, had 
 awakened a great desire for a farther taste of 
 its quality. 
 
 When he went down stairs, then, and opened 
 the dining-room door, his eye naturally ran 
 round in search of the new guests. Only two, 
 however, had arrived, in the first of whom he 
 recognised Mr. Zachary Croylancl. The other 
 was a venerable looking old man, in black, 
 whom he could not conceive to be Mr. Kadford, 
 from the previous account which he had heard 
 of that respectable gentleman's character. It 
 turned out, however, that the person before 
 him — who had been omitted by Sir Robert 
 Croyland in the enumeration of his expected 
 visitors — was the clergyman of the neighbouring 
 village; and being merely a plain, good man, of 
 very excellent sense, but neither, rich noble, nor 
 thrifty, was nobody in the opinion of the baronet. 
 
136 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 As soon as Sir Edward Digby appeared, Mr. 
 Zacharv Crovland, with his hack tall, straight, 
 and stiff as a poker, advanced towards him, and 
 shook him cordially hy the hand. " Welcome, 
 welcome, my young friend," he said ; " you've 
 kept your word, I see ; and that's a good sign of 
 any man, especially when he knows that there's 
 neither pleasure, profit, nor popularity to he 
 gained by so doing ; and I'm sure there's none 
 of either to be had in this remote corner of the 
 world. You have some object, of course, in 
 coming among us ; for every man has an object ; 
 but what it is I can't divine." 
 
 "A very great object indeed, my dear sir," 
 replied the young officer, with a smile ; " I 
 wish to cultivate the acquaintance of an old 
 friend of my father's — your brother here, who 
 was kind enough to invite me." 
 
 " A very unprofitable sort of plant to culti- 
 vate," answered Mr. Crovland, in a voice quite 
 loud enough to be heard by the whole room. 
 " It wont pay tillage, I should think ; but you 
 know your own affairs best. Here, Edith, my 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 137 
 
 love, I must make you better acquainted with 
 my young fellow-traveller. Doubtless, lie is 
 perfectly competent to talk as much nonsense 
 to you as any other young man about town, and 
 has imported, for the express benefit of the 
 young ladies in the country, all the sweet 
 things and pretty speeches last in vogue. But 
 he can, in his saner moments, and if you just 
 let him know that you are not quite a fool, 
 bestow upon you some small portion of com- 
 mon sense, which he has picked up, Heaven 
 knows how ! — He couldn't have it by descent ; 
 for he is an eldest son, and that portion of the 
 family property is always reserved for the 
 younger children." 
 
 Mrs. Barbara Croyland, who found that 
 her brother Zachary was riding his horse some- 
 what hard, moved across the room — with the 
 superfluity of whalebone which she had in her 
 stays crackling at every step, as if expressly to 
 attract attention — and, laying her hand on Mr. 
 Croyland's arm, she whispered — " Now do, 
 brother, be a little civil and kind. There's no 
 
138 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 use of hurting people's feelings; and, if Robert 
 hasn't as much sense as you, there's no use 
 you should always be telling him so." 
 
 " Pish ! nonsense ! " cried Mr. Croyland, 
 u Hold your tongue, Bab. You're a good soul 
 as ever lived, but a great fool into the bargain. 
 So don't meddle. I should think vou had 
 burnt your lingers enough with it by this 
 time." 
 
 " And I'm sure you're a good soul, too, if 
 you would but let people know it," replied Mrs. 
 Barbara, anxious to soften and keep down all 
 the little oddities and asperities of her family 
 circle in the eyes of Sir Edward Digby. 
 
 But she only showed them the more by so 
 doing ; for Mr. Croyland was not to be caught 
 by honey ; and, besides, the character which she, 
 in her simplicity, thought fit to attribute to him, 
 was the very last upon the face of the earth 
 which he coveted. Every man has his vanity ; 
 and it is an imp that takes an infinite variety of 
 different forms, frequently the most hideous or 
 the most absurd. Now Mr. ( Irbyland'l vanity lay 
 in his oddity and acerbity. There was nothing 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 139 
 
 on earth which he considered so foolish as 
 good-nature ; and he was heartily ashamed of 
 the large 2>ortion with which Heaven had en- 
 dowed him. 
 
 "la good soul!" he exclaimed. "Let me 
 tell you, Bab, you are very much mistaken in 
 that, as in every other thing you say or do. 
 I am nothing more nor less than a very cross, 
 ill-tempered old man ; and you know it quite 
 well, if you wouldn't be a hypocrite." 
 
 " Well, I do believe you are," said the lady, 
 with her own particular vanity mortified into a 
 state of irritation, " and the only way is to let 
 you alone." 
 
 While this conversation had been passing 
 between brother and sister, Sir Edward Digby, 
 taking advantage of the position in which they 
 stood, and which masked his own operations 
 from the rest of the party, bent down to speak 
 a few words to Edith, who, whatever they were, 
 looked up with a smile, faint and thoughtful 
 indeed, but still expressing as much cheerful- 
 ness as her countenance ever showed. The 
 topic which he spoke upon might be common- 
 
140 THE SMUGGLEB. 
 
 place, but what he said was said with grace, and 
 had a degree of originality in it, mingled with 
 courtliness and propriety of expression, which 
 at once awakened attention and repaid it. It 
 was not strong beer — it was not strong spirit — 
 but it was like some delicate kind of wine, which 
 has more power than the fineness of the flavour 
 suffers to be apparent at the first taste. 
 
 Their conversation was not long, however; for 
 by the time that the young gentleman and lady 
 had exchanged a few sentences, and Mr. Croy- 
 land had finished his discussion with his sister, 
 the name of Mr. Radford was announced ; and 
 Sir Edward Digby turned quickly round to 
 examine the appearance of the new comer. As 
 he did so, however, his eye fell for a moment 
 upon the countenance of Edith Croyland, and 
 he thought he remarked an expression of 
 anxiety not unmingled with pain, till the door 
 closed after admitting a single figure, when a 
 look of relief brightened her face, and she gave 
 a glance across the room to her Bister. The 
 younger girl instantly rose ; and while her father 
 was busy receiving Mr. Radford with somewhat 
 
THE SMUGGLER. Ml 
 
 profuse attention, she gracefully crossed the 
 room, and seating herself by Edith, laid her 
 hand upon her sister's, whispering something 
 to her with a kindly look. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby marked it all, and liked it ; 
 for there is something in the bottom of man's 
 heart which has always a sympathy with affec- 
 tion ; but he, nevertheless, did not fail to take 
 a complete survey of the personage who en- 
 tered, and whom I must now present to the 
 reader, somewhat more distinctlv than I could 
 do by the moonlight. Mr. Kichard Radford was 
 a tall, thin, but large-boned man, with dark 
 eyes and overhanging shaggy brows, a hook 
 nose, considerably depressed towards the point, 
 a mouth somewhat wide, aud teeth verv fine for 
 his age, though somewhat straggling and shark- 
 like. His hair was very thick, and apparently 
 coarse ; his arms long and powerful ; and his 
 legs, notwithstanding the meagreness of his 
 body, furnished with very respectable calves. 
 On the whole, he was a striking but not a 
 prepossessing person ; and there was a look 
 of keenness and cupidity, we might almost say 
 
142 THE BMUGGLBB. 
 
 voracity, in his eye, with a bend in the brow, 
 ■which would have given the observer an idea of 
 great quickness of intellect and decision of 
 character, if it had not been for a certain degree 
 of weakness about the partly opened mouth, 
 which seemed to be in opposition to the latter 
 characteristic. He was dressed in the height 
 of the mode, with large buckles in his shoes 
 and smaller ones at hi* knees, a light dress- 
 sword hanging not ungracefully by his side, and 
 a profusion of lace and embroidery about his 
 appareL 
 
 Mr. Radford replied to the courtesies of Sir 
 Robert Croyland with perfect self-possession — 
 one might almost call it self-sufficiency — but 
 with no grace and some stiffness. He was then 
 introduced, in form, to Sir Edward Digbyj 
 bowing low, if that could be called a bow. which 
 was merely an inclination of the rigid spii. 
 from a perpendicular position to an angle of 
 forty-live with the horizon. The young officer's 
 demeanour formed a very striking contrast with 
 that of his new acquaintance, not much in 
 favour of the latter ; but he showed that, as Mr. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 143 
 
 Croyland had predicated of him, be was quite 
 prepared to say a great many courteous nothings 
 in a very civil and obliging tone. Mr. Radford 
 declared himself delighted at the honour of 
 making his acquaintance, and Sir Edward pro- 
 nounced himself charmed at the opportunity of 
 meeting him. Mr. Radford hoped that he was 
 going to honour their poor place for a con- 
 siderable length of time, and Sir Edward felt 
 sure that the beauty of such scenery, and the 
 delights of such society, would be the cause of 
 much pain to him when he was compelled to 
 tear himself away. 
 
 A low but merry laugh from behind them, 
 caused both the gentlemen to turn their heads ; 
 and they found the sparkling eyes of Zara 
 Croyland fixed upon them. She instantly 
 dropped her eye-lids, however, and coloured a 
 little, at being detected. It was evident enough 
 that she had been weighing the compliments 
 she heard, and estimating them at their right 
 value, which made Mr. Radford look somewhat 
 angry, but elicited nothing from Sir Edward 
 Digby but a gay glance at the beautiful little 
 
144 THi: SMUGGLER. 
 
 culprit, which she caught, even through, the 
 thick lashes of her downcast eyes, and which 
 served to reassure her. 
 
 Sir liohert Croyland himself was displeased ; 
 hut Zara was in a degree a spoiled child, 
 and had established for herself a privilege 
 of doing what she liked, unscolded. To turn 
 the conversation, therefore, Sir Robert, in a 
 tone of great regard, inquired particularly after 
 his young friend, Richard, and said, he hoped 
 that they were to have the pleasure of seeing 
 him. 
 
 " I trust so — I trust so, Sir Robert," replied 
 Mr. Radford ; " but you know I am totally 
 unacquainted with his movements. He had 
 gone away upon some business, the servants 
 told me ; and I waited as long as I could for 
 him ; but I did not choose to keep your 
 dinner, Sir Robert; and if he does not choc- 
 to come in time, the young dog must go 
 without. — Pray do not stop a moment for 
 him." 
 
 " Business !" muttered Mr. Croyland — ''either 
 cheating the king's revenue, or making love to 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 145 
 
 a milkmaid, I'll answer for him ;" but the re- 
 mark passed unnoticed, for Sir Robert Croyland, 
 who was always anxious to drown his brother's 
 somewhat too pertinent observations, without 
 giving the nabob any offence, was loudly press- 
 ing Mr. Radford to let them w r ait for half an 
 hour, in order to give time for the young gentle- 
 man's arrival. 
 
 His father, however, would not hear of such 
 a proceeding ; and the bell was rung, and dinner 
 ordered. It was placed upon the table with 
 great expedition ; and the party moved towards 
 the dining-room. Mr. Radford handed in the 
 baronet's sister, who was, to say the truth, an 
 enigma to him ; for he himself could form no 
 conception of her good-nature, simplicity, and 
 kindness, and consequently thought that all 
 the mischief she occasionally caused, must 
 originate in well-concealed spite, which gave 
 him a great reverence for her character. Sir 
 Edward Digby, notwithstanding a hint from 
 Sir Robert to take in his youngest daughter, 
 advanced to Miss Croyland, and secured her, 
 as he thought, for himself; while the brother of 
 
 VOL. i. l 
 
146 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the master of the house followed with the fair 
 Zara, leaving the clergyman and Sir Robert to 
 come together. By a manoeuvre on the part of 
 Edith, however, favoured hyherfather, but nearly 
 frustrated by the busy spirit of her aunt, Miss 
 Croyland got placed between Sir Robert and 
 the clergyman, while the youngest daughter of 
 the house was seated by Sir Edward Digby, 
 leaving a chair vacant between herself and her 
 worthy parent for young Radford, when he 
 should arrive. 
 
 All this being arranged, to the satisfaction of 
 everybody but Sir Edward Digby, grace was 
 said, after a not very decent hint from Sir Robert 
 Croyland, that it ought not to be too long; and 
 the dinner commenced with the usual attack 
 upon soup and fish. It must not be supposed, 
 however, because we have ventured to say that 
 the arrangement was not to the satisfaction of Sir 
 Edward Digby, that the young baronet was at 
 all disinclined to enjoy his pretty little friends 
 society nearer than the opposite side of the 
 table. Nor must it be imagined that his Bfl 
 reflections, in regard to keeping himself out of 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 147 
 
 danger, had at all made a coward of the gallant 
 soldier. The truth is, he had a strong desire 
 to study Edith Croyland: not on account of any 
 benefit which that study could be of to himself, 
 but with other motives and views, which, upon 
 the whole, were very laudable. He wished to see 
 into her mind, and, by those slight indications 
 which were all he could expect her to display 
 — but which, nevertheless, to a keen observer, 
 often tell a history better than a whole volume 
 of details — to ascertain some facts, in regard to 
 which he took a considerable interest. Being 
 somewhat eager in his way, and not knowing 
 how long he might find it either convenient or 
 safe to remain in his present quarters, he had 
 determined to commence the campaign as soon 
 as j^ossible ; but, frustrated in his first attack, 
 he determined to change his plan of operations, 
 and besiege the fair Zara as one of the enemv's 
 outworks. He accordingly laughed and talked 
 with her upon almost every subject in the 
 world during the first part of dinner, skilfully 
 leading her up to the pursuits of her sister and 
 herself in the countrv, in order to obtain a 
 
 l2 
 
148 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 clear knowledge of their habits and course of 
 j:>roceeding, that he might take advantage of it 
 at an after-period, for purposes of his own. 
 
 The art of conversation, when properly re- 
 garded, forms a regular system of tactics, in 
 which, notwithstanding the various manoeuvres 
 of your adversary, and the desultory fire kept 
 up by indifferent persona around, you still 
 endeavour to carry the line of advance in the 
 direction that you wish, and to frustrate every 
 effort to turn it towards anv point that may not 
 be agreeable to you, rallying it here, giving it a 
 bend there ; presenting a sharp angle at one 
 place, an obtuse one at another; and raising 
 from time to time a barrier or a breastwork 
 for the purpose of preventing the adverse force 
 from turning your flank, and getting into 
 your rear. 
 
 But the mischief w r as, in the present instant 
 that Sir Edward Digby's breastworks were too 
 low for such an active opponent as Zara Croy- 
 land. They might have appeared a formidable 
 obstacle in the way of a scientific opponent ; 
 but with all the rash valour of youth, which is 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 149 
 
 so frequently successful where practice and ex- 
 perience fail, she walked straight up, and 
 jumped over them, taking one line after ano- 
 ther, till Sir Edward Digby found that she had 
 nearly got into the heart of his camp. It was 
 all so easy and natural, however, so gay and 
 cheerful, that he could not feel mortified, even 
 at his own want of success; and though five 
 times she darted away from the subject, and 
 began to talk of other things, he still renewed 
 it, expatiating upon the pleasures of a country 
 life, and upon how much more rational, as well 
 as agreeable it was, when compared to the 
 amusements and whirl of the town. 
 
 Mr. Zachary Croyland, indeed, cut across 
 them often, listening to what they said and 
 sometimes smiling significantly at Sir Edward 
 Digby, or at other times replying himself to 
 what either of the two thought fit to dis- 
 course upon. Thus, then, when the young 
 baronet was descanting sagely of the pleasures 
 of the country, as compared with those of the 
 town, good Mr. Croyland laughed merrily, 
 saying, " You will soon have enough of it, Sir 
 
150 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Edward; or else you are only deceiving that 
 poor foolish girl ; for what have you to do 
 with the country ? — you, who have lived the 
 best part of your life in cities, and amongst 
 their denizens. I dare say, if the truth were 
 told now, you would give a guinea to be walking 
 up the Mall, instead of sitting down here, in 
 this old, crumbling, crazy house, speaking 
 courteous nonsense to a pretty little milk- 
 maid." 
 
 "Indeed, my dear sir, you are very much 
 mistaken," replied Sir Edward, gravely. " You 
 judge all men by yourself; and because you are 
 fond of cities, and the busy haunts of men, you 
 think I must be so too." 
 
 " I fond of cities and the busy haunts of 
 men !" cried Mr. Croyland, in a tone of high 
 indignation ; but a laugh that ran round the 
 table, and in which even the worthy clergyman 
 joined, shewed the old gentleman that he had 
 been taken in by Sir Edward's quietly-spoken 
 jest ; and at the same time his brother ex- 
 claimed, still laughing, "He hit you fairly 
 there, Zachary. He has found out the full 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 151 
 
 extent of your love for your fellow-creatures 
 alreadv." 
 
 "Well, I forgive him, I forgive him!" said 
 Mr. Croyland, with more good humour than 
 might have been expected. " I had forgotten 
 that I had told him, four or five days ago, my 
 hatred for all cities, and especially for that 
 great mound of greedy emmets, which, unfor- 
 tunately, is the capital of this country. I 
 declare I never go into that vast den of 
 iniquity, and mingle with the stream of 
 wretched-looking things that call themselves 
 human, which all its doors are hourly vomiting 
 forth, but they put me in mind of the white 
 ants in India, just the same squalid-looking, 
 active, and voracious vermin as themselves, 
 running over everything that obstructs them, 
 intruding themselves everywhere, destroying 
 everything that comes in their way, and acting 
 as an incessant torment to every one within 
 reach. Certainly, the white ants are the less 
 venemous of the two races, and somewhat 
 prettier to look at ; but still there's a wonderful 
 resemblance." 
 
152 THE SMUGGLEi:. 
 
 " I don't at all approve of your calling me a 
 milkmaid, uncle," said Zara, shaking her small 
 delicate finger at Mr. Crovland, across the 
 table. "It's very wrong and ungrateful of you. 
 See if ever I milk your cow for you again !" 
 
 " Then I'll milk it myself, my dear," replied 
 Mr. Croyland, with a good-humoured smile at 
 his fair niece. 
 
 "You cannot, you cannot!" criedZara. "Fancy, 
 Sir Edward, what a picture it made when one 
 dav I went over to mv uncle's, and found him 
 with a frightful-looking black man, in a turban, 
 whom he brought over from Heaven knows 
 where, trying to milk a cow he had just bought, 
 and neither of them able to manage it. My 
 uncle was kneeling upon his cocked hat, amongst 
 the long grass, looking, as he acknowledges, like 
 a kangaroo; the cow had got one of her feet in 
 the pail, kicking most violently ; and the black 
 man with a white turban round his head, was 
 upon both his knees before her, beseeching hex 
 in some heathen language to be quiet. It \\a>> 
 the finest sight I ever saw, and would have 
 made a beautiful picture of the Worship of the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 153 
 
 Cow,' which is, as I am told, customary in the 
 country where both the gentlemen came from." 
 
 "Zara, my dear — Zara!" cried Mrs. Bar- 
 bara, who was frightened to death lest her niece 
 should deprive herself of all share in Mr. Croy- 
 land's fortune. "You really should not tell 
 such a story of your uncle." 
 
 But the worthy gentleman himself was laugh- 
 ing till the tears ran down his cheeks. "It's 
 quite true — it's quite true !" he exclaimed, " and 
 she did milk the cow, though we couldn't. The 
 ill-tempered devil was as quiet as a lamb with 
 her, though she is so vicious with every male 
 thing, that I have actually been obliged to have 
 a woman in the cottage within a hundred yards 
 of the house, for the express purpose of milking 
 her." 
 
 " That's what you should have done at first," 
 said Mr. Radford, putting down the fork with 
 which he had been diligently devouring a large 
 plateful of fish. "Instead of having nothing 
 but men about you, you should have had none 
 but your coachman and footman, and all the 
 rest women." 
 
154 THE BMUGGLEB. 
 
 "Ay, and married my cook-maid,"' replied 
 Mr. Croyland, sarcastically. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland looked down into his 
 plate with a quivering lip and a heavy brow, as 
 if he did not well know whether to laugh or be 
 angry. The clergyman smiled, Mr. Radford 
 looked furious, but said nothing, and Mrs. Bar- 
 bara exclaimed, " Oh, brother, you should not 
 say such things ! and besides, there are many 
 cook-maids who are very nice, pretty, respectable 
 people." 
 
 "Well, sister, I'll think of it," said Mr. Croy- 
 land, drily, but with a good deal of fun twinkling 
 in the corners of his eves. 
 
 It was too much for the light heart of Zara 
 Croyland ; and holding down her head, she 
 laughed outright, although she knew that Mr. 
 Radford had placed himself in the predicament 
 of which her uncle spoke, though he had been 
 relieved of the immediate consequence for some 
 years. 
 
 What would have been the result is difficult 
 to say ; for Mr. Radford was waxing wroth ; but 
 at that moment the door was Hung hastily open. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 155 
 
 and a young gentleman entered, of some three 
 or four-and-twenty years of age, bearing a strong 
 resemblance to Mr. Kadford, though undoubtedly 
 of a much more joleasant and graceful appear- 
 ance. He was well dressed, and his coat, 
 lined with white silk of the finest texture, was 
 cast negligently back from his chest, with an air 
 of carelessness which was to be traced in all the 
 rest of his apparel. Everything he wore was as 
 good as it could be, and everything became him ; 
 for he was well formed, and his movements were 
 free and even graceful ; but everything seemed to 
 have been thrown on in a hurry, and his hair 
 floated wild and straggling round his brow, as if 
 neither comb nor brush had touched it for many 
 hours. It might have been supposed that this 
 sort of disarray proceeded from haste when he 
 found himself too late and his father gone ; but 
 there was an expression of reckless indifference 
 about his face which led Sir Edward Digby to 
 imagine that this apparent negligence was the 
 habitual characteristic of his mind, rather than, 
 the effect of any accidental circumstance. His 
 air was quite self-possessed, though hurried; 
 
156 THK SMUGGLER. 
 
 and a flashing glance of his eye round the tahle, 
 resting for a moment longer on Sir Edward 
 Digby than on any one else, seemed directed to 
 ascertain whether the party assembled was one 
 that pleased him, before he chose to sit down to 
 the board with them. He made no apology to 
 Sir Robert Croyland for being too late, but 
 shook hands with him in return for the very 
 cordial welcome he met with, and then seated 
 himself in the vacant chair, nodding to Miss 
 Croyland familiarly, and receiving a cold incli- 
 nation of the head in return. One of the ser- 
 vants inquired if he would take soup and fish ; 
 but he replied, abruptly, "No; bring me fish. 
 No soup — I hate such messes." 
 
 In the meantime, bv one of those odd turns 
 which sometimes take place in conversation, 
 Mr. Crovland, the clergyman, and Mr. Radford 
 himself were once more talking together : the 
 latter having apparently overcome his indig- 
 nation at the nabob's tart rejoinder, in the hope 
 and expectation of saying something still more 
 biting to him in return, lake many a great 
 general, however, he had not justly appreciated 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 157 
 
 the power of his adversary as compared -with his 
 own strength. Mr. Crovland, soured at an earlv 
 period of life, had acquired by long practice and 
 experience a habit of repartee when his preju- 
 dices or his opinions (and they are very different 
 things) were assailed, which was overpowering. 
 A large fund of natural kindness and good 
 humour formed a curious substratum for the 
 acerbity which had accumulated above it, and 
 his love of a joke would often shew itself in a 
 hearty peal of laughter, even at his own expense, 
 when the attack upon him was made in a good 
 spirit, by one for whom he had any affection or 
 esteem. But if he despised or disliked his as- 
 sailant, as was the case with Mr. Radford, the 
 bitterest possible retort was sure to be given in 
 the fewest possible words. 
 
 In order to lead away from the obnoxious 
 subject, the clergyman returned to Mr. Croy- 
 land's hatred of London, saying, not very ad- 
 visedly perhaps, just as young Mr. Radford 
 entered, " I cannot imagine, my dear sir, why 
 vou have such an animosity to our magnificent 
 capital, and to all that it contains, especially 
 
158 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ■when we all know you to be as beneficent to 
 individuals as you are severe upon the species 
 collectively." 
 
 " My dear Cruden, you'll only make a mess of 
 it," replied Mr. Croyland. " The reason why I 
 do sometimes befriend a poor scoundrel whom J 
 happen to know, is because it is less pleasant 
 for me to see a rascal suffer than to do what's 
 just by him. I have no will and no power to 
 punish all the villany I see, otherwise my arm 
 would be tired enough of flogging, in this county 
 of Kent. But I do not understand why I should 
 be called upon to like a great agglomeration of 
 blackguards in a city, when I can have the same 
 diluted in the country. Here we have about a 
 hundred scoundrels to the square mile ; in Lou- 
 don we have a hundred to the square yard." 
 
 " Don't you think, sir, that they may be but 
 the worse scoundrels in the country because 
 they arc fewer ?" demanded Mr. Radford. 
 
 " I am beginning to fancy so," answered Mr. 
 Croyland, drily, " but I suppose in London the 
 number makes up for the want of intensity." 
 
 "Well, it's a very fine city." rejoined Mr. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 159 
 
 Radford; "the emporium of tlie world, the 
 nurse of arts and sciences, the birthplace and 
 the theatre of all that is great and majestic in 
 the efforts of human intellect." 
 
 "And equally of all that is base and vile," 
 answered his opponent ; " it is the place to 
 which all smuggled goods naturally tend, Bad- 
 ford. Every uncustomed spirit, every prohibited 
 ware, physical and intellectual, there finds its 
 mart; and the chief art that is practised is 
 to cheat as cleverly as may be — the chief 
 science learned, is how to defraud without being 
 detected. We are improving in the country, 
 daily — daily; but we have not reached the skill 
 of London yet. Men make large fortunes in the 
 country in a few years by merely cheating the 
 Customs ; but in London they make large for- 
 tunes in a few months by cheating everybody." 
 
 " So they do in India," replied Mr. Radford, 
 who thought he had hit the tender place. 
 
 " True, true !" cried Mr. Croyland ; " and 
 then we go and set up for country gentlemen, 
 and cheat still. What rogues we are, Radford ! — 
 eh ? I see you know the world. It is very well 
 
ICO THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 for me to say, I made all my money by curing 
 men, not by robbing them. Never you believe 
 it, my good friend. It is not in human nature, 
 is it? No, no! tell that to the marines. No 
 man ever made a fortune but by plunder, that's 
 a certain fact." 
 
 The course of Sir Robert Croyland's dinner- 
 party seemed to promise very pleasantly at tl 
 juncture ; but Sir Edward Digby, though some- 
 what amused, was not himself fond of sharp 
 words, and had some compassion upon the ladies 
 at the table. He therefore stepped in ; and, 
 without seeming to have noticed that there was 
 anything passing between Mr. Radford and the 
 brother of his host, except the most delicate 
 courtesies, he contrived, by some well-directed 
 questions in regard to India, to give Mr. Croy- 
 land an inducement to deviate from the sarcastic 
 into the expatiative ; and having set him canter- 
 ing upon one of his hobbies, he left him to tinish 
 his excursion, and returned to a conversation 
 which had been going on between him and the fail 
 Zara, in somewhat of a low tone, though not so 
 low as to show any mutual design of keeping it 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 161 
 
 from the ears of those around. Young Radford 
 had in the meantime been making up for the loss 
 of time occasioned by his absence at the com- 
 mencement of dinner, and he seemed undoubtedly 
 to have a prodigious appetite. Not a word 
 had passed from father to son, or son to father ; 
 and a stranger might have supposed them in no 
 degree related to each other. Indeed, the young 
 gentleman had hitherto spoken to nobody but 
 the servant ; and while his mouth was employed 
 in eating, his quick, large eyes were directed to 
 every face round the table in succession, making 
 several more tours than the first investigating 
 glance, which I have already mentioned, and 
 every time stopping longer at the countenance of 
 Sir Edward Digby than anywhere else. He now, 
 however, seemed inclined to take part in that 
 officer's conversation with the youngest Miss 
 Croyland, and did not appear quite pleased to 
 find her attention so completely engrossed by a 
 stranger. To Edith he vouchsafed not a single 
 word; but hearing the fair lady next to him reply 
 to something which Sir Edward Digby had said, 
 " Oh, we go out once or twice almost every day; 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
102 THE SMUG GLEE. 
 
 sometimes on horseback; but more frequently to 
 take a walk," he exclaimed, "Do you, indeed, 
 Miss Zara ? — why, I never meet you, and I am 
 always running about the country. How is that, 
 I wonder ?" 
 
 Zara smiled, and replied, with an arch look, 
 " Because fortune befriends us, I suppose, Mr. 
 Radford ;" but then, well knowing that he was 
 not one likely to take a jest in good part, she 
 added — " we don't go out to meet anybody, and 
 therefore always take those paths where we are 
 least likely to do so." 
 
 Still young Radford did not seem half to like 
 her reply ; but, nevertheless, he went on in the 
 same tone, continually interrupting her conversa- 
 tion with Sir Edward Digby, and endeavouring, 
 after a fashion not at all uncommon, to make 
 himself agreeable by preventing people from fol- 
 lowing the course they are inclined to pursue. 
 The young baronet rather humoured him than 
 otherwise, for he wished to see as deeply as 
 possible into his character. He asked him to 
 drink wine with him ; he spoke to him once 
 or twice without being called upon to do 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 163 
 
 so ; and he was somewhat amused to see that the 
 fair Zara was a good deal annoyed at the en- 
 couragement he gave to her companion on the 
 left to join in their conversation. 
 
 He was soon satisfied, however, in regard to 
 the young man's mind and character. Richard 
 Eadford had evidently received what is called a 
 good education, which is, in fact, no education 
 at all. He had been taught a great many things ; 
 he knew a good deal ,* but that which really and 
 truly constitutes education was totally wanting. 
 He had not learned how to make use of that 
 which he had acquired, either for his own benefit 
 or for that of society. He had been instructed, 
 not educated, and there is the greatest possible 
 difference between the two. He was shrewd 
 enough, but selfish and conceited to a high 
 degree, with a sufficient portion of pride to be 
 offensive, with sufficient vanity to be irritable, 
 with all the wilfulness of a spoiled child, and 
 with that confusion of ideas in regard to plain 
 right and wrong, which is always consequent 
 upon the want of moral training and over-in- 
 dulgence in youth. To judge from his own 
 
 m 2 
 
104 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 conversation, the whole end and aim of his life 
 seemed to be excitement; he spoke of field 
 sports with pleasure ; but the degree of satis- 
 faction which he derived from each, appeared 
 to be always in proportion to the danger, 
 the activity, and the fierceness. Hunting he 
 liked better than shooting, shooting than 
 fishing, which latter he declared was only 
 tolerable because there was nothing else to be 
 done in the spring of the year. But upon the 
 pleasures of the chase he would dilate largely, 
 and he told several anecdotes of staking a mag- 
 nificent horse here, and breaking the back of 
 another there, till poor Zara turned somewhat 
 pale, and begged him to desist from such 
 themes. 
 
 "I cannot think how men can be so bar- 
 barous," she said. " Their whole pleasure 
 seems to consist in torturing poor animals or 
 killing them." 
 
 Young Eadford laughed. " What were they 
 made for?" he asked. 
 
 " To be used bv man, I think, not to be tor- 
 tared by him," the young lady replied. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1G5 
 
 " No torture at all," said her companion on 
 the left. " The horse takes as much pleasure 
 in running after the hounds as I do, and if he 
 breaks his back, or I break my neck, it's oar 
 own fault. We have nobody to thank for it but 
 ourselves. The very chance of killing oneself 
 gives additional pleasure ; and, when one pushes 
 a horse at a leap, the best fun of the w T hole is 
 the thought whether he will be able by any pos- 
 sibility to clear it or not. If it were not for hunt- 
 ing, and one or two other things of the sort, there 
 would be nothing left for an English gentleman, 
 but to go to Italy and put himself at the head of a 
 party of banditti. That must be glorious work !" 
 
 "Don't you think, Mr. Radford," asked Sir 
 Edward Digby, " that active service in the 
 army might offer equal excitement, and a more 
 honourable field ?" 
 
 " Oh, dear no !" cried the young man. "A 
 life of slavery compared with a life of freedom ; 
 to be drilled and commanded, and made a mere 
 machine of, and sent about relieving guards and 
 pickets, and doing everything that one is told 
 like a school-boy ! I would not go into the 
 
166 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 army for the world. I'm sure if I did I should 
 shoot my commanding officer within a month !" 
 
 " Then I would advise you not," answered 
 the young baronet, " for after the shooting 
 there would be another step to be taken which 
 would not be quite so pleasant." 
 
 u Oh, you mean the hanging," cried young 
 Eadford, laughing; "but I would take care 
 they should never hang me ; for I could shoot 
 myself as easily as I could shoot hiin ; and I 
 have a great dislike to strangulation. It's one 
 of the few sorts of death that would not please 
 me." 
 
 " Come, come, Richard !" said Sir Eobert 
 Croyland, in a nervous and displeased tone ; 
 " let us talk of some other subject. You will 
 frighten the ladies from table before the cloth 
 is off." 
 
 " It is very odd," said young Radford, in a 
 low voice, to Sir Edward Digby, without making 
 any reply to the master of the house — - k it is 
 very odd, how frightened old men are at the 
 very name of death, when at the best they can 
 have but two or three years to live.'" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 167 
 
 The young officer did not reply, but turned 
 the conversation to other things ; and the wine 
 having been liberally supplied, operated as it 
 usually does, at the point where its use stops 
 short of excess, in " making glad the heart of 
 man ;" and the conclusion of the dinner was 
 much more cheerful and placable than the com- 
 mencement. 
 
 The ladies retired within a few minutes after 
 the desert was set upon the table ; and it soon 
 became evident to Sir Edward Digby, that the 
 process of deep drinking, so disgracefully com- 
 mon in England at that time, was about to 
 commence. He was by no means incapable of 
 bearing as potent libations as most men; for 
 occasionally, in those days, it was scarcely pos- 
 sible to escape excess without giving mortal 
 offence to your entertainer ; but it was by no 
 means either his habit or his inclination so to 
 indulge, and for this evening especially he was 
 anxious to escape. He looked, therefore, across 
 the table to Mr. Croyland for relief; and that 
 gentleman, clearly understanding what he meant, 
 gave him a slight nod, and finished his first 
 
168 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 glass of wine after dinner. The bottles passed 
 round again, and Mr. Croyland took his second 
 glass ; but after that he rose without calling 
 much attention : a proceeding which was habi- 
 tual with him. When, however, Sir Edward 
 Digby followed his example, there was a general 
 outcry. Every one declared it was too bad, and 
 Sir Robert said, in a somewhat mortified tone, 
 that he feared his wine was not so good as that 
 to which his guest had been accustomed. 
 
 "It is only too good, my dear sir," replied 
 the young baronet, determined to cut the mat- 
 ter short, at once and for ever. " So good, in- 
 deed, that I have been induced to take two 
 more glasses than I usually indulge in, and I 
 consequently feel somewhat heated and uncom- 
 fortable. I shall go and refresh myself by a 
 walk through your woods." 
 
 Several more efforts were made to induce 
 him to stay ; but he was resolute in his course ; 
 and Mr. Croyland also came to his aid, ex- 
 claiming, " Pooh, nonsense, Robert ! let everv 
 man do as he likes. Have not I heard you, a 
 thousand times, call your house Liberty Hall ? 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 169 
 
 A pretty sort of liberty, indeed, if a man must 
 get beastly drunk because you choose to do so !" 
 " I do not intend to do any such thing, 
 brother," replied Sir Kobert, somewhat sharply ; 
 and in the meanwhile, during this discussion, 
 Sir Edward Digby made his escape from the 
 room. 
 
170 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 On entering the drawing-room, towards which 
 Sir Edw 7 ard Digby immediately turned his steps, 
 he found it tenanted alone by Mrs. Barbara 
 Croyland, who sat in the window with her 
 back towards the door, knitting most diligently, 
 with something pinned to her knee. As it was 
 quite beyond the good lady's conception that 
 any body would ever think of quitting the 
 dining-room so early but her younger brother, 
 no sooner did she hear a step than, jumping at 
 conclusions as she usually did, she exclaimed 
 aloud, * f Isn't he a nice young man, brother 
 Zachary? I think it will do quite well, it 
 
 that " 
 
 Sir Edward Digby would have given a groat 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 171 
 
 deal to hear the conclusion of the sentence ; 
 but his honour was as bright as his sword; 
 and he never took advantage of a mistake. 
 " It is not your brother, Mrs. Croyland," he 
 said ; and then Mrs. Barbara starting up with 
 a face like scarlet, tearing her gown at the same 
 time by the tug she gave to the pin which at- 
 tached her work to her knee, he added, with the 
 most benevolent intentions, " I think he might 
 have been made a very nice young man, if he 
 had been properly treated in his youth. But I 
 should imagine he was very wild and headstrong 
 now." 
 
 Mrs. Barbara stared at him with a face full 
 of wonder and confusion ; for her own mind 
 was so completely impressed with the subject 
 on which she had begun to speak, that she by 
 no means comprehended the turn that he in- 
 tended to give it, but thought that he also was 
 talking of himself, and not of young Radford. 
 How it would have ended, no mere mortal can 
 tell ; for when once Mrs. Barbara got into a 
 scrape, she floundered most awfully. Luckily, 
 however, her brother was close enough behind 
 
172 THE SMUGGLE!:. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby to hear all that passed, and 
 he entered the room while the consternation was 
 still fresh upon his worthy sister's countenance. 
 After gazing at her for a moment, with a look 
 of sour merriment, Mr. Croyland exclaimed, 
 " There ! hold your tongue, Bab ; you can't get 
 your fish out of the kettle without burning your 
 fingers ! — Now, my young friend," he continued, 
 taking Sir Edward Digby by the arm, and drawing 
 him aside, " if you choose to be a great fool, and 
 run the risk of falling in love with a pretty girl, 
 whom mv sisterBarbara has determined you shall 
 marry, whether you like it or not, and who her- 
 self, dear little soul, has no intention in the world 
 but of playing you like a fish till you are caught, 
 and then laughing at you, you will find the two 
 girls walking in the wood behind the house, as 
 they do every day. But if you don't like such 
 amusement, you can stay here with me and 
 Bab, and be instructed by her in the art and 
 mystery of setting everything to wrongs with 
 the very best intentions in the world." 
 
 ,k Thank you, my dear sir," replied Sir Ed- 
 ward, smiling, " I think I should prefer the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 173 
 
 fresh air ; and, as to the dangers against which 
 you warn me, I have no fears. The game of 
 coquetry can be played by two." 
 
 " Ay, but woe to him who loses !" said Mr. 
 Croyland, in a more serious tone. " But go 
 along with you — go along ! You are a rash 
 young man ; and if you will court your fate, you 
 must." 
 
 The young baronet accordingly walked away, 
 leaving Mrs. Barbara to recover from her con- 
 fusion as she best might, and Mr. Croyland to 
 scold her at his leisure, which Sir Edward did 
 not in the slightest degree doubt he would do. 
 It was a beautiful summer's afternoon in the end 
 of August, the very last day of the month, the 
 hour about a quarter to six, so that the sun 
 had nearly to run a twelfth part of his course 
 before the time of his setting. It was warm 
 and cheerful, too, but with a freshness in the 
 air, and a certain golden glow over the sky, 
 which told that it was evening. Not wishing 
 exactly to pass before the dining-room windows, 
 Sir Edward endeavoured to find his way out 
 into the wood behind the house bv the stable 
 
174 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and farm yards ; hut he soon found himself in a 
 labyrinth from which it was difficult to extricate 
 himself, and in the end was obliged to have 
 recourse to a stout country lad, who was walk- 
 ing up towards the mansion, with a large pail 
 of milk tugging at his hand, and bending in 
 the opposite direction to balance the load. 
 Right willingly, however, the youth set down 
 the pail; and, leaving it to the tender mercies of 
 some pigs, who were walking about in the yard 
 and did not fail to inquire into the nature of 
 its contents, he proceeded to show the way 
 through the flower and kitchen gardens, by a 
 small door in the wall, to a path which led 
 out at once amongst the trees. 
 
 Now, Sir Edward Digby had not the slightest 
 idea of which way the two young ladies had gone; 
 and it was by no means improbable that, if he 
 were left without pilotage in going and return- 
 ing, he might lose his way in the wood, which, 
 as I have said, was very extensive. But all true 
 lovers are fond of losing their way ; and as he 
 had his sword by his side, he had not the 
 slightest objection to that characteristic of an 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 175 
 
 Aniadis, having in reality a good deal of the 
 knight-errant about him, and rather liking a 
 little adventure, if it did not go too far. His 
 adventures, indeed, were not destined that 
 night to be very remarkable ; for, following 
 the path about a couple of hundred yards, he 
 was led directly into a good, broad, sandy 
 road, in which he thought it would be im- 
 possible to go astray. A few clouds that 
 passed over the sky from time to time cast their 
 fitful and fanciful shadows upon the way ; the 
 trees waved on either hand ; and, with a small 
 border of green turf, the yellow path pursued 
 its course through the wood, forming a fine but 
 pleasant contrast in colour with the verdure of 
 all the other things around. As he went on, 
 too, the sky overhead, and the shades amongst 
 the trees, began to assume a rosy hue as the 
 day declined farther and farther ; and the busy 
 little squirrels, as numerous as mice, were 
 seen running here and there up the trees and 
 along the branches, with their bright black 
 eyes staring at the stranger with a saucy activity 
 very little mingled with fear. The young 
 
17G THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "baronet was fond of such scenes, and fond of 
 the somewhat grave musing which they very 
 naturally inspire ; and he therefore went on, 
 alternately pondering and admiring, and very 
 well contented with his walk, whether he met 
 with his fair friends or not. Sir Edward, in- 
 deed, would not allow himself to fancy that he 
 was by any means very anxious for Zara's com- 
 pany, or for Miss Croyland's either — for he was 
 not in the slightest hurry either to fall in low 
 or to acknowledge it to himself even if he were. 
 With regard to Edith, indeed, he felt himself in 
 no possible danger; for had he continued to 
 think her, as he had done at first, more beau- 
 tiful than her sister — which by this time he did 
 not — he was still guarded in her case by feelings, 
 which, to a man of his character, were as a 
 triple shield of brass, or anything a great deal 
 stronger. 
 
 He walked on, however, and he walked on ; 
 not, indeed, with a very slow pace, but with none 
 of the eager hurry of youth after beauty ; till at 
 length, when he had proceeded for about half an 
 hour, he saw cultivated fields and hedgerows at 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 177 
 
 the end of the road he was pursuing, and soon 
 after came to the open country, without meeting 
 with the slightest trace of Sir Robert Croyland's 
 daughters. 
 
 On the right hand, as he issued out of the 
 wood, there was a small but very neat and pic- 
 turesque cottage, with its little kitchen-garden 
 and its flower-garden, its wild roses, and its vine. 
 
 " I have certainly missed them," said Sir 
 Edward Digby to himself, " and I ought to make 
 the best use of my time, for it wont do to stay 
 here too long. Perhaps they may have gone into 
 the cottage. Girls like these often seek an object 
 in their walk, and visit this poor person or that ;" 
 and thus thinking, he advanced to the little gate, 
 went into the garden, and knocked with his 
 knuckles at the door of the house. A woman's 
 voice bade him come in ; and, doing so, he found 
 a room, small in size, but corresponding in neat- 
 ness and cleanliness with the outside of the 
 place. It was tenanted by three persons — a 
 middle-aged woman, dressed as a widow, with 
 a fine and placid countenance, who was ad- 
 vancing towards the door as he entered; a very 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 lovely girl of eighteen or nineteen, who bore a 
 strong resemblance to the widow ; and a stout, 
 powerful, good-looking man, of about thirty, well 
 dressed, though without any attempt at the appear- 
 ance of a station above the middle class, with a 
 clean, fine, checked shirt, having the collar cast 
 back, and a black silk handkerchief tied lightly 
 in what is usuallv termed a sailor's knot. The 
 two latter persons were sitting very close to- 
 gether, and the girl was smiling gaily at some- 
 thing her companion had just said. 
 
 " Two lovers !" thought the young baronet ; 
 but, as that was no business of his, he went on 
 to inquire of the good woman of the house, if 
 she had seen some young ladies pass that way ; 
 and having named them, he added, to escape 
 scandal, " I am staying at the house, and am 
 afraid, if I do not meet with them, I shall not 
 easily find my way back." 
 
 " They were here a minute ago, sir,'' replied 
 the widow, " and thev went round to the east. 
 They will take the Halden road back, I 
 suppose. If you make haste, you will catch 
 them easilv." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 179 
 
 " But -which is the Halden road, rny good 
 lady ?" asked Sir Edward Digby ; and she, 
 turning to the roan who was sitting hy her 
 daughter, said, " I wish you would shew the 
 gentleman, Mr. Harding.'' 
 
 The man rose cheerfully enough — considering 
 the circumstances — and led the young haronet 
 with a rapid step, by a footpath that wound 
 round the edge of the wood, to another broad 
 road about three hundred yards distant from 
 that by which the young officer had come. 
 Then, pointing with his hand, he said, " There 
 they are, going as slow as a Dutch butter-tub. 
 You can't miss them, or the road either ; for it 
 leads straight on." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby thanked him, and walked 
 forward. A few rapid steps brought him close to 
 the two ladies, who — though they looked upon 
 every part of the wood as more or less their 
 home, and consequently felt no fear — turned 
 at the sound of a footfall so near ; and the 
 younger of the two smiled gaily, when she saw 
 who it was. 
 
 " What ! Sir Edward Digby !" she ex- 
 
 n 2 
 
180 THE BMUGGLEK. 
 
 claimed. " In the name of all that is mar- 
 vellous, how did you escape from the dining- 
 room ? Why, you will be accused of shirking 
 the bottle, cowardice, and milksopism, and 
 crimes and misdemeanours enough to forfeit 
 vour commission." 
 
 She spoke gaily ; but Sir Edward Digby 
 thought that the gaiety was not exactly sterling ; 
 for when first she turned, her face had been 
 nearly as grave as her sister's. He answered, 
 however, in the same tone, " I must })lead 
 guilty to all such misdemeanours ; but if they 
 are to be rewarded by such pleasure as that of 
 a walk with you, I fear I shall often commit 
 them." 
 
 " You must not pay us courtly compliments, 
 Sir Edward," said Miss Croyland, " for we poor 
 country people do not understand them. I 
 hope, however, you left the party peaceable : 
 for it promised to be quite the contrary at one 
 time, and my uncle and Mr. Radford never 
 agree." 
 
 " Oh, quite peaceable, I can assure you,"' 
 replied Digby. " I retreated under cover of 
 
THE SMUGGLER. ]81 
 
 your uncle's movements. Perhaps, otherwise, 
 I might not have got away so easily. He it 
 was who told me where I should find you." 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Miss Crovland, in a 
 
 ■ 
 
 tone of surprise ; and then, casting down her 
 eyes, she fell into thought. Her sister, however, 
 carried on the conversation in her stead, saying, 
 " Well, you are the first soldier, Sir Edward, 
 I ever saw, who left the tahle before night." 
 
 " They must have been soldiers w r ho had 
 seen little service, I should think," replied the 
 young officer; "for a man called upon often 
 for active exertion, soon finds the necessity of 
 keeping any brains he has got as clear as 
 possible, in case they should be needed. In 
 many countries where I have been, too, we 
 could get no wine to drink, even if we wanted 
 it. Such was the case in Canada, and in some 
 parts of Germany." 
 
 " Have you served in Canada ? " demanded 
 Miss Croyland suddenly, raising her eyes to 
 his face with a look of deep interest. 
 
 " Through almost the whole of the war," 
 replied Sir Edward Digby, quietly, without 
 
182 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 noticing, even by a glance, the change of ex- 
 pression which his words had produced. He 
 then paused for a moment, as if waiting for 
 some other question ; hut both Miss Croyland 
 and her sister remained perfectly silent, and the 
 former turned somewhat pale. 
 
 As he saw that neither of his two fair compa- 
 nions were likely to carry the conversation a step 
 further, the young officer proceeded, in a quiet 
 and even light tone — " This part of the country," 
 he continued, " is always connected in my 
 mind with Canada ; and, indeed, I was glad to 
 accept your father's invitation at once, when he 
 was kind enough to ask me to his house ; for, in 
 addition to the pleasure of making his personal 
 acquaintance, I longed to see scenes which I 
 had often heard mentioned with all the deep 
 affection and delight which only can be felt by 
 a fine mind for the spot in which our brighter 
 years are passed.'' 
 
 The younger girl looked to her sister, but 
 Edith Croyland was deadly pale, and said 
 nothing ; and Zara inquired in a tone to which 
 she too evidently laboured to give the gay 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 183 
 
 character of her usual demeanour, " Indeed, 
 Sir Edward ! May I ask who gave you such 
 a flattering account of our poor country ? 
 He must have been a very foolish and pre- 
 judiced person — at least, so I fear you must 
 think, now vou have seen it." 
 
 " No, no ! — oh, no !" cried Digby, earnestly, 
 ''anything but that. I had that account from 
 a person so high-minded, so noble, so full of 
 every generous quality of heart, and every fine 
 quality of mind, that I was quite sure, ere I 
 came here, I should find the people whom he 
 mentioned, and the scenes which he described, 
 all that he had stated; and I have not been 
 disappointed, Miss Croyland." 
 
 " But you have not named him, Sir Edward," 
 said Zara ; " you are very tantalizing. Perhaps 
 we may know him, and be sure we shall love 
 him for his patriotism." 
 
 " He was an officer in the regiment to which I 
 then belonged," answered the young baronet, "and 
 my dearest friend. His name was Layton — amost 
 distinguished man, who had already gained such 
 a reputation, that, had his rank in the army 
 
184 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 admitted it, none could have been more desired 
 to take the command of the forces when Wolfe 
 fell on the heights of Abraham. He was too 
 young, however, and had too little interest to 
 obtain that position. — Miss Croyland, you seem 
 ill. Let me give you my arm." 
 
 Edith bowed her head quietly, and leaned 
 upon her sister, but answered not a word ; and 
 Zara gave a glance to Sir Edward Digby which 
 he read aright. It was a meaning, a sort of 
 relying and imploring look, as if she would have 
 said, "I beseech you, say no more; she can- 
 not bear it." And the young officer abruptly 
 turned the conversation, observing, " The day 
 has been very hot, Miss Cro viand. You have 
 walked far, and over-fatigued yourself." 
 
 " It is nothing — it is nothing," answered 
 Edith, with a deep-drawn breath ; " it will be 
 past in a moment, Sir Edward. I am frequently 
 thus." 
 
 " Too frequently," murmured Zara, gazing at 
 her sister ; and Sir Edward Digby replied, " I 
 am sure, if such be the case, you should consult 
 some physician." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 185 
 
 Zara shook her head with a melancholy smile, 
 while her sister walked on, leaning upon her arm 
 in silence, with her eyes bent towards the ground, 
 as if in deep thought. " I fear that no phy- 
 sician would do her good," said the younger 
 lady, in a low yoice ; " the eyil is now confirmed." 
 
 " Nay," replied Digby, gazing at her, " I 
 think I know one who could cure her entirely." 
 
 His look said more than his words ; and Zara 
 fixed her eyes upon his face for an instant with 
 an inquiring glance. The expression then sud- 
 denly changed to one of bright intelligence, and 
 she answered, "I will make you giye me his 
 name to-morrow, Sir Edward. Not now — not 
 now ! I shall forget it." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby was not slow in taking a 
 hint ; and he consequently made no attempt to 
 bring the conversation back to the subject 
 which had so much affected Miss Croyland : 
 but lest a dead silence should too plainly mark 
 that he saw into the cause of the faintness 
 which had come over her, he went on talking to 
 her sister ; and Zara soon resumed, at least to 
 all appearance, her own light spirits again. 
 
J 86 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 But Digby had seen her under a different aspect, 
 which was known to few besides her sister ; and 
 to say the truth, though lie had thought her 
 sparkling frankness very charming, yet the 
 deeper and tenderer feelings which she had dis- 
 played towards Edith were still more to his taste. 
 
 " She is not the light coquette her uncle re- 
 j^resents her/' he thought, as they walked on : 
 " there is a true and feeling heart beneath — 
 one whose affections, if strongly excited and 
 then disappointed, might make her as sad and 
 cheerless as this other poor girl." 
 
 He had not much time to indulge either in such 
 meditations or in conversation with his fair 
 companion ; for, when they were within about a 
 mile of the house, old Mr. Croyland was seen 
 advancing towards them with his usual brisk 
 air and quick pace. 
 
 "Well, young people, well," he said, coming 
 forward, " I bring the soberness of age to tem- 
 per the lightness of youth." 
 
 " Oh, we are all very sober, uncle," replied 
 Zara. " It is only those who stay in the house 
 drinking wine who are otherwise." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 187 
 
 " I have not been drinking wine, saucy girl," 
 answered Mr. Croyland ; il but come, Edith, I 
 want to speak with you ; and, as the road is too 
 narrow for four, we'll pair off, as the rascals who 
 ruin the country in the House of Commons 
 term it. Troop on, Miss Zara. There's a 
 gallant cavalier who will give you his arm, 
 doubtless, if you will ask it." 
 
 " Indeed I shall do no such thing," replied 
 the fair lady, walking on; and, while Edith 
 and her uncle came slowly after, Sir Ed- 
 ward Digby and the youngest Miss Croyland 
 proceeded on their way, remaining silent for 
 some minutes, though each, to say the truth, 
 was busily thinking how the conversation 
 which had been interrupted might best be re- 
 newed. It was Zara who spoke first, however, 
 looking suddenly up in her companion's face 
 with one of her bright and sparkling smiles, 
 and saying, " It is a strange house, is it not, 
 Sir Edward ? and we are a strange family ?" 
 
 " Nay, I do not see that," replied the young 
 officer. " With every new person whose acquaint- 
 ance we make, we are like a traveller for the first 
 
1S8 THE BMUOGLEB. 
 
 time in a foreign country, and must learn the 
 secrets of the land before we can find our way 
 rightly." 
 
 " Oh, secrets enough here !" cried Zara. 
 " Every one has his secret but mvself. I have 
 none, thank God ! My good father is full of them ; 
 Edith, vou see, has hers : mv uncle is loaded with 
 one even now, and eager to disburden himself; 
 but my aunt's are the most curious of all, for they 
 are everlasting ; and not only that, but though 
 most profound, they are sure to be known in 
 five minutes to the whole world. Trv to conceal 
 them how she may, they are sure to drop out 
 before the day is over; and, whatever good 
 schemes she mav have against anv one, no de- 
 fence is needed, for thev are sure to frustrate 
 themselves. — What are you laughing at, Sir 
 Edward ? Has she begun upon you already ?" 
 
 "Nay, not exactly upon me," answered Sir 
 Edward Digby. "She certainly did let drop 
 some words which showed me, she had some 
 scheme in her head, though whom it referred 
 to, I am at a loss to divine." 
 
 "Nay, nay, now you are not frank," cried 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 189 
 
 the young lady. " Tell me this moment, if you 
 -would have me hold you good knight and true ! 
 Was it me or Edith that it was all about ? Nay, 
 do not shake your head, my good friend, for I 
 will know, depend upon it ; and if you do not 
 tell me, I will ask my aunt myself " 
 
 " Nay, for Heaven's sake, do not !" exclaimed 
 Sir Edward. " You must not make your aunt 
 think that I am a tell-tale." 
 
 " Oh, I know — I know !" exclaimed the fair 
 girl, clapping her hands eagerly — " I can divine 
 it all in a minute. She has been telling you 
 what an excellent good girl Zara Croyland is, 
 and what an admirable wife she would make, 
 especially for any man moving in the highest 
 society, and hinting, moreover, that she is fond 
 of military men, and, in short, that Sir Edward 
 Digby could not do better. I know it all — I 
 know it all, as well as if I had heard it ! But 
 now, my dear sir," she continued, in a graver 
 tone, " put all such nonsense out of your head, 
 if you would have us such good friends as I 
 think we may be. Leave my dear aunt's schemes 
 to unravel and defeat themselves, or only think 
 
190 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of them as a matter of amusement, and do not 
 for a moment believe that Zara Croyland has 
 either any share in them, or any design of cap- 
 tivating you or any other man whatsoever ; for I 
 tell you fairly, and at once, that I never in- 
 tend — that nothing would induce me — no, 
 not if my own dearest happiness depended upon 
 it — to marry, and leave poor Edith to endure 
 all that she may be called upon to undergo. I 
 will talk to you more about her another time ; 
 for I think that you already know something 
 beyond what you have said to-day ; but we are 
 too near the house now, and I will only add, 
 that I have spoken frankly to Sir Edward 
 Digby, because I believe, from all I have seen 
 and all I have heard, that he is incapable of 
 misunderstanding such conduct." 
 
 " You do me justice, Miss Croyland," replied 
 the young officer, much gratified ; "but you 
 have spoken under a wrong impression in 
 regard to your aunt. I did not interrupt you. 
 for what you said was too pleasing, too interest- 
 ing not to induce me to let you go on ; but I 
 can assure you that what I said was perfectly 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 191 
 
 true, and that though some words which your 
 aunt dropped accidentally showed me that she 
 had some scheme on foot, she said nothing to 
 indicate what it was." 
 
 " Well, never mind it," answered the young 
 lady. " We now understand each other, I trust ; 
 and, after this, I do not think you will easily 
 mistake me, though, if what I suppose is true, 
 I may have to do a great many extraordinary 
 things with you, Sir Edward — seek your society 
 when you may not be very willing to grant it, 
 consult you, rely upon you, confide in you in a 
 way that few women would do, except with a 
 brother or an acknowledged lover, which I beg 
 you to understand you are on no account to be ; 
 and I, on my part, will promise that I will not 
 misunderstand you either, nor take anything that 
 you may do, at my request, for one very dear to 
 me," (and she gave a glance over her shoulder 
 towards her sister, who was some way behind,) 
 " as anything but a sign of your having a kind 
 and generous heart. So now that's all settled." 
 
 " There is one thing, Miss Croyland," re- 
 plied Digby, gravely, " that you will rind very 
 
192 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 difficult to do, though you say you will try it, 
 namely, to seek my society when I am unwilling 
 to give it." 
 
 "Nay, nay, I will have no such speeches.'' 
 cried Zara Crovland, " or I have done with vou ! 
 I never could put any trust in a man who said 
 civil things to me." 
 
 "What, not if he sincerely thought them?" 
 demanded her companion. 
 
 " Then I would rather he continued to 
 think them without speaking them," answered 
 the young lady. " If you did but know. 
 Sir Edward, how sickened and disgusted a 
 poor girl in the country soon gets witli 
 flattery that means nothing, from men who in- 
 sult her understanding by thinking that she 
 can be pleased with such trash, you would ex- 
 cuse me for being rude and uncivilized enough 
 to wish never to hear a smooth word from any 
 man whom I am inclined to respect." 
 
 "Very well," answered the young baronet, 
 laughing, " to please you, I will be as brutal as 
 possible, and if you like it, scold you as sharply 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 193 
 
 as your uncle, if you say or do anything that I 
 disapprove of." 
 
 "Do, do!" cried Zara ; "I love him and 
 esteem him, though he does not understand me 
 in the least ; and I would rather a great deal have 
 his conversation, sharp and snappish as it seems 
 to be, than all the honey or milk and water of 
 any of the smart young men in the neighbour- 
 hood. But here we are at the house ; and only 
 one word more as a warning, and one word as 
 a question ; first, do not let any of my good 
 aunt's schemes embarrass you in anything you 
 have to do or say. Walk straight through them 
 as if they did not exist. Take your own course, 
 without, in the least degree, attending to what 
 she says for or against." 
 
 "And what is the question ?" demanded Sir 
 Edward, as they were now mounting the steps 
 to the terrace. 
 
 " Simply this," replied the fair lady, — " are 
 you not acquainted with more of Edith's history 
 than the people here are aware of?" 
 
 "I am," answered Digby; "and to see more 
 vol. i. o 
 
194 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 of her, to speak with her for a few minutes in 
 private, if possible, was the great object of my 
 coming hither." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks !" said Zara, giving him 
 a bright and grateful smile. " Be guided by 
 me, and you shall have the opportunity. But 
 I must speak with you first myself, that you 
 may know all. I suppose you are an early 
 riser r 
 
 " Oh, yes !" replied Sir Edward ; but he 
 added no more ; for at that moment they were 
 overtaken by Edith and Mr. Croyland , and the 
 whole party entered the house together. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 195 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 There is a strange similarity — I had nearly 
 called it an affinity — between the climate of any 
 country and the general character of its popu- 
 lation ; and there is a still stronger and more 
 commonly remarked resemblance between the 
 changes of the weather and the usual course of 
 human life. From the atmosphere around us, 
 and from the alterations which affect it, poets 
 and moralists both, have borrowed a large store 
 of figures ; and the words, clouds, and sunshine, 
 light breezes, and terrible storms, are terms as 
 often used to express the variations in man's 
 condition as to convey the ideas to which they 
 were originally applied. But it is the affinity 
 
 o 2 
 
1% THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 between the climate and the people of which 
 I wish to speak. The sunny lightness of the 
 air of France, the burning heat of Italy and 
 Spain, the cold dullness of the skies of Holland, 
 contrast as strongly with the climate in which 
 ■we live, as the characters of the several nations 
 amongst themselves ; and the fiercer tempests 
 of the south, the more foggy and heavy atmo- 
 sphere of the north, may well be taken as some 
 compensation for the continual mutability of the 
 •weather in our own most changeable air. The 
 differences are not so great here as in other 
 lands. We escape, in general, the tornado and 
 the hurricane, we know little of the burning 
 heat of summer, or the intense cold of winter, as 
 they are experienced in other parts of the 
 world ; but at all events, the changes are much 
 more frequent ; and we seldom have cither a 
 long lapse of sunny days, or a long continued 
 season of frost, without interruption. So it is. 
 too, with the people. Moveable and fluctuating 
 as they always are, seeking novelty, disgusted 
 even with all that is good as soon as they dis- 
 cover that it is old, our laws, our institutions, 
 our very manners are continually undergoing 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 197 
 
 some change, though rarely, very rarely indeed, 
 is it brought about violently and without due 
 preparation. Sometimes it will occur, indeed, 
 both morally and physically, that a great and 
 sudden alteration takes place, and a rash and 
 vehement proceeding will disturb the whole 
 countrv, and seem to shake the verv foundations 
 of society. In the atmosphere, too, clouds and 
 storms will gather in a few hours, and darken 
 the whole heaven. 
 
 The latter was the case during the first night 
 of Sir Edward Digby's stay at Harbourne House. 
 The evening preceding, as well as the day, had 
 been warm and sunshinv ; but about nine o'clock 
 the. wind suddenly chopped round to the south- 
 ward, and when Sir Edward woke on the fol- 
 lowing morning, as he usually did, about six, he 
 found a strong breeze blowing and rattling the 
 casements of the room, and the whole atmosphere 
 loaded with a heavy sea-mist filled with saline 
 particles, borne over Romney Marsh to the 
 higher country, in which the house was placed. 
 
 " A pleasant day for partridge-shooting," he 
 thought, as he rose from his bed ; " what varia- 
 tions there are in this climate." But neverthe- 
 
198 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 less, he opened the window and looked out, 
 when, somewhat to his surprise, he saw fif- 
 teen or sixteen horses moving along the road, 
 heavily laden, with a number of men on horse- 
 back following, and eight or ten on foot driving 
 the weary beasts along. They were going leisurely 
 enough ; there was no affectation of haste or 
 concealment ; but yet all that the young officer 
 had heard of the county and of the habits of its 
 denizens, led him naturally to suppose that he 
 had a gang of smugglers before him, escorting 
 from the coast some contraband goods lately 
 landed. 
 
 He had soon a more unpleasant proof of the 
 lawless state of that part of England ; for as he 
 continued to lean out of the window, saying 
 to himself, " Well, it is no business of mine,' he 
 saw two or three of the men pause ; and a mo- 
 ment after, a voice shouted — "Take that, old 
 Croyland, for sending me to gaol last April. 
 
 The wind bore the sounds to his ear, and 
 made the words distinct ; and scarcely had tl. 
 been spoken, when a Hash broke through the 
 misty air, followed by a loud report, and a ball 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 190 
 
 whizzed through the window, just above his head, 
 breaking one of the panes of glass, and lodging 
 in the cornice at the other side of the room. 
 
 " Very pleasant!" said Sir Edward Digby to 
 himself; but he was a somewhat rash young 
 man, and he did not move an inch, thinking — 
 " the vagabonds shall not have to say they 
 frightened me." 
 
 They shewed no inclination to repeat the shot, 
 however, riding on at a somewhat accelerated 
 pace ; and as soon as they were out of sight, 
 Digby withdrew from the window, and began to 
 dress himself. He had not given his servant, 
 the night before, any orders to call him at a 
 particular hour ; but he knew that the man 
 would not be later than half-past six; and 
 before he appeared, the young officer was nearly 
 dressed. 
 
 "Here, Somers," said his master, "put my 
 gun together, and have everything ready if I 
 should like to go out to shoot. After that I've 
 a commission for you, something quite in your 
 own way, which I know you will execute 
 capitally." 
 
200 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Quito ready, sir," said the man, putting up 
 his hand to his head. " Always ready to obey 
 orders." 
 
 " We want intelligence of the enemy, Somers," 
 continued his master. " Get me every informa- 
 tion you can obtain regarding young Mr. Rad- 
 ford, where he goes, what he does, and all about 
 him." 
 
 "Past, present, or to come, sir?" demanded 
 the man. 
 
 " All three," answered his master. " Every- 
 thing you can learn about him, in short — birth, 
 parentage, and education." 
 
 " I shall soon have to add his last dying 
 speech and confession, I think, sir," said the 
 man ; " but you shall have it all before night — 
 from the loose gossip of the post-office down to 
 the full, true, and particular account of his 
 father's own butler. But bless my soul, there's 
 a hole through the window, sir." 
 
 " Nothing but a musket-ball, Somers," an- 
 swered his master, carelessly. "You've seen 
 such a thing before, I fancy. " 
 
 <4 Yes, sir, but not often in a gentleman's bed- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 201 
 
 room/' replied the man. " Who could send it 
 in here, I wonder ?" 
 
 " Some smugglers, I suppose they were," 
 replied Sir Edward, " who took me for Sir 
 Eobert Croyland, as I was leaning out of the 
 window, and gave me a ball as they passed. I 
 never saw a worse shot in my life ; for I was put 
 up like a target, and it went a foot and a half 
 above my head. Give me those boots, Somers;" 
 and having drawn them on, Sir Edward Digby 
 descended to the drawing-room, while his servant 
 commented uj:»on his coolness, by saying, " Well, 
 he's a devilish fine young fellow, that master of 
 mine, and ought to make a capital general some 
 of these days !" 
 
 In the drawing-room, Sir Edward Digby 
 found nobody but a pretty country girl in a 
 mob-cap sweeping out the dust; and leaving 
 her to perform her functions undisturbed by 
 his presence, he sauntered through a door 
 which he had seen open the night before, ex- 
 posing part of the interior of a library. That 
 room was quite vacant, and as the young officer 
 concluded that between it and the drawing- 
 
202 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 room must lie the scene of his morning's opei 
 tions, he entertained himself with taking down 
 different books, looking into them for a moment 
 or two, reading a page here and a page there, 
 and then putting them up again. He was in no 
 mood, to say the truth, either for serious study 
 or light reading. Gay would not have amused 
 him ; Locke would have driven him mad. 
 
 He knew not well why it was, but his heart 
 beat when he heard a step in the neighbouring 
 room. It was nothing but the housemaid, as 
 lie was soon convinced, by her letting the dust- 
 pan drop and making a terrible clatter. He 
 asked himself what his heart could be about, to 
 go on in such a way, simply because he was 
 waiting, in the not very vague expectation of 
 seeing a vouus ladv, with whom he had to talk 
 of some business, in which neither of them w< 
 personally concerned. 
 
 " It must be the uncertainty of whether she 
 will come or not," he thought; "or else the 
 secrecy of the thing ;" and yet he had, often 
 before, had to wait with still more Becrecy and 
 still more uncertainty, on very dangerous and 
 important occasions, without feeling any BUch 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 203 
 
 agitation of his usually calm nerves. She was a 
 very pretty girl, it was true, with all the fresh 
 graces of youth about her, light and sunshine in 
 her eyes, health and happiness on her cheeks 
 and lips, and 
 
 " La grace encore plus belle que la beaute" 
 
 in every movement. But then, they perfectly 
 understood each other; there was no harm, 
 there was no risk, there was no reason why 
 they should not meet. 
 
 Did they perfectly understand each other ? 
 Did they perfectly understand themselves ? It 
 is a very difficult question to answer; but one 
 thing is very certain — that, of all things upon 
 this earth, the most gullible is the human 
 heart ; and when it thinks it understands itself 
 best, it is almost always sure to prove a greater 
 fool than ever. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby did not altogether like his 
 own thoughts ; and therefore, after waiting for 
 a quarter of an hour, he walked out into one of 
 the little passages, which we have already men- 
 tioned, running from the central corridor to- 
 wards a door or window in the front, between 
 
.204 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 the library and what was called the music-room. 
 He had not been there a minute when a step — 
 very different from that of the housemaid — was 
 heard in the neighbouring room ; and, as the 
 officer was turning thither, he met the younger 
 Miss Croyland coming out, with a bonnet — or 
 hat, as it was then called, — hanging on her arm 
 by the ribbons. 
 
 She held out her hand, franklv, towards 
 him, saying, in a low tone, "You must 
 think this all very strange, Sir Edward, and 
 perhaps very improper. I have been taxing 
 myself about it all night ; but yet I was resolved 
 I would not lose the opportunity, trusting to 
 your generosity to justify me, when you hear 
 all." 
 
 " It requires no generosity, my dear Miss 
 Croyland," replied the young baronet : " I am 
 already aware of so much, and see the kind and 
 deep interest you take in your sister so clearly, 
 that I fully understand and appreciate your 
 motives." 
 
 "Thank you — thank you," replied Zara, 
 warmly; " that sets my mind at rest. But 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 205 
 
 come out upon the terrace. There, seen by all 
 the world, I shall not feel as if I were plotting ;" 
 and she unlocked the glass door at the end of 
 the passage. Sir Edward Digby followed close 
 upon her steps ; and when once fairly on the 
 esplanade before the house, and far enough 
 from open doors and windows not to be over- 
 heard, they commenced their walk backwards 
 and forwards. 
 
 It was quite natural that both should be 
 silent for a few moments ; for where there is 
 much to say, and little time to say it in, people 
 are apt to waste the precious present — or, at least, 
 a part — in considering how it may best be said. 
 At length the lady raised her eyes to her com- 
 panion's face, with a smile more melancholy and 
 embarrassed than usually found place upon her 
 sweet lips, asking, " How shall I begin, Sir 
 Edward? — Have you nothing to tell me?" 
 
 " I have merely to ask questions," replied 
 Digby ; " yet, perhaps that may be the best 
 commencement. I am aware, my dear Miss 
 CroyJand, that your sister has loved, and ha* 
 been as deeply beloved as woman ever was by 
 
200 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 man. I know the whole tale ; but what I seek 
 now to learn is this — does she or does she not 
 retain the affection of her early youth ? Do 
 former days and former feelings dwell in hex 
 heart as still existing things ? or are they but as 
 sad memories of a passion passed away, darken- 
 ing instead of lighting the present, — or perhaps 
 as a tie which she would fain shake off, and 
 which keeps her from a brighter fate hereafter 
 
 He spoke solemnly, earnestly, with his whole 
 manner changed ; and Zara gazed in his face 
 eagerly and inquiringly as he went on, her face 
 glowing, but her look becoming less sad, till it 
 beamed with a warm and relieved smile at the 
 close. " I was right, and she was wrong" — she 
 said, at length, as if speaking to herself. " But 
 to answer your question, Sir Edward Digby. 
 she continued, gravely. " You little know 
 woman's heart, or you would not put it — I 
 mean the heart of a true and unspoiled woman, 
 a woman worthy of the name. When she loves, 
 she loves for ever — and it is only when death or 
 unworthiness takes from her him she loves, that 
 love becomes a memory. You cannot yet judge 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 207 
 
 of Edith, and therefore I forgive you for asking 
 such a thing ; but she is all that is noble, and 
 good, and bright ; and Heaven pardon me, if I 
 almost doubt that she was meant for happiness 
 below — she seems so fitted for a higher state !" 
 
 The tears rose in her eyes as she spoke ; but 
 Sir Edward feared interruption, and went on, 
 asking, somewhat abruptly perhaps, " What 
 made you say, just now, that you were right and 
 she was wrong ?" 
 
 " Because she thought that he was dead, and 
 that you came to announce it to her," Zara re- 
 plied. " You spoke of him in the past, you 
 always said, ' he was ;' you said not a word 
 of the present." 
 
 " Because I knew not what were her present 
 feelings,'' answered Digby. " She has never 
 written — she has never answered one letter. 
 All his have been returned in cold silence to 
 his agents, addressed in her own hand. And 
 then her father wrote to " 
 
 " Stay, stay !" cried Zara, putting her hand to 
 her head — " addressed in her own hand ? It 
 must have been a forgery ! Yet, no — perhaps 
 
208 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 not. She wrote to him twice ; once just after he 
 went, and once in answer to a message. The 
 last letter I gave to the gardener myself, and 
 hade him post it. That, too, was addressed to 
 his agent's house. Can they have stopped the 
 letters and used the covers?" 
 
 " It is probable," answered Digby, thought- 
 full v. " Did she receive none from him?" 
 
 w 
 
 " None — none," replied Zara, decidedly. 
 " All that she has ever heard of him was con- 
 veyed in that one message ; hut she doubted 
 not, Sir Edward. She knew him, it seems, 
 better than he knew her." 
 
 " Neither did he doubt her," rejoined her 
 companion, " till circumstance after circum- 
 stance occurred to shake his confidence. Her 
 own father wrote to him — now three vears asro 
 — to say that she was engaged, by her own con- 
 sent, to this young Radford, and to beg that he 
 would trouble her peace no more by fruitless 
 letters." 
 
 " Oh, Heaven !" cried Zara, " did my father 
 Bay that?" 
 
 " He did," replied Sir Edward. " And more : 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 209 
 
 everything that poor Layton has heard since 
 his return has confirmed the tale. He inquired, 
 too curiously for his own peace — first, whether 
 she *was yet married; next, whether she was 
 really engaged; and every one gave but one 
 account." 
 
 " How busy they have been !" said Zara, 
 thoughtfully. " Whoever said it, it is false, 
 Sir Edward; and he should not have doubted 
 her more than she doubted him." 
 
 " She, you admit, had one message," an- 
 swered Digby; "he had none; and yet he 
 held a lingering hope — trust would not alto- 
 gether be crushed out. Can you tell me the 
 tenour of the letters which she sent?" 
 
 " Nay, I did not read them," replied his fair 
 companion ; " but she told me that it was the 
 same story still : that she could not violate her 
 duty to her parent ; but that she should ever 
 consider herself pledged and plighted to him 
 beyond recall, . by what had passed between 
 them." 
 
 " Then there is light at last," said Digby, 
 with a smile. " But what is this storv of vouns 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Radford ? Is lie, or is lie not, her lover ? He 
 seemed to pay her little attention, — more, in- 
 deed, to yourself." 
 
 The gay girl laughed. " I will tell you all 
 about it," she answered. " Richard Radford is 
 not her lover. He cares as little about her as 
 about the Queen of England, or any body he 
 has never seen; and, as you say, he would 
 perhaps pay me the compliment of selecting 
 me rather than Edith, if there was not a very 
 cogent objection : Edith has forty thousand 
 pounds settled upon herself by my mother's 
 brother, who was her godfather ; I have nothing, 
 or next to nothing — some three or four thou- 
 sand pounds, I believe ; bat I really don't know. 
 However, this fortune of my poor sister's is old 
 Radford's object; and he and my father have 
 settled it between them, that the son of the one 
 should marry the daughter of the other. "What 
 possesses my father, I cannot divine ; for he 
 must condemn old Radford, and despise the 
 young one ; but certain it is that he has pressed 
 Edith, nearly to cruelty, to give her hand to a 
 man she scorns and hates — and presses her 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 211 
 
 still. It would be worse than it is, I fear, were 
 it not for young Radford himself, who is not 
 half so eager as his father, and does not wish to 
 hurry matters on. — I may have some small 
 share in the business," she continued, laughing 
 again, but colouring at the same time ; " for, 
 to tell the truth, Sir Edward, having nothing 
 else to do, and wishing to relieve poor ]Edith as 
 much as possible, I have perhaps foolishly, 
 perhaps even wrongly, drawn this wretched 
 young man away from her whenever I had an 
 opportunity. I do not think it was coquetry, as 
 my uncle calls it — nay, I am sure it was not ; for 
 I abhor him as much as any one ; but I thought 
 that as there was no chance of my ever being 
 driven to marry him, I could bear the infliction 
 of his conversation better than my poor sister." 
 
 " The motive was a kind one, at all events," 
 replied Sir Edward Digby ; (C but then I may 
 firmly believe that there is no chance whatever 
 of Miss Croyland giving her hand to Richard 
 Radford ?" 
 
 " None — none whatever," answered his fair 
 companion. But at that point of their con- 
 
 p2 
 
212 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 versation one of the windows above was thrown 
 up, and the voice of Mrs. Barbara was heard 
 exclaiming — " Zara, my love, put on your hat ; 
 you will catch cold if you walk in that way, with 
 your hat on your arm, in such a cold, misty 
 morning I" 
 
 Miss Croyland looked up, nodding to her 
 aunt; and doing as she was told, like a very 
 good girl as she was. But the next instant she 
 said, in a low tone, " Good Heaven ! there is 
 his face at the window ! My unlucky aunt has 
 roused him by calling to me ; and we shall not 
 be long without him." 
 
 " Who do you mean?" asked the young 
 officer, turning his eyes towards the house, and 
 seeing no one. 
 
 " Young Radford," answered Zara. " Did 
 you not know that they had to carry him to bed 
 last nipfht, unable to stand ? So my maid told 
 me ; and I saw his face just now at the window, 
 next to my aunt's. We shall have little time. 
 Sir Edward, for he is as intrusive as he is dis- 
 agreeable; so tell meat once what 1 am to think 
 regarding poor Harry Layton. Does he still love 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 213 
 
 Edith? Is be in a situation to enable him to 
 seek her, without affording great, and what they 
 would consider reasonable, causes of objec- 
 tion?" 
 
 "He loves her as deeply and devotedly as 
 ever," replied Sir Edward Digby ; " and all I 
 have to tell him will but, if possible, increase 
 that love. Then as to his situation, he is now 
 a superior officer in the army, highly distin- 
 guished, commanding one of our best regiments, 
 and sharing largely in the late great distribution 
 of prize-money. There is no position that can 
 be rilled by a military man to which he has not a 
 right to aspire ; and, moreover, he has already 
 received, from the gratitude of his king and his 
 country, the hisrh honour " 
 
 But he was not allowed to finish his sentence ; 
 for Mrs. Barbara Croyland, who was most un- 
 fortunately matutinal in her habits, now came 
 out with a shawl for her fair niece, and was 
 uncomfortably civil to Sir Edward Digby, in- 
 quiring how he had slept, whether he had been 
 warm enough, whether he liked two pillows or 
 one, and a great many other questions, which 
 
214 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 lasted till young Radford made Lis appearance 
 at the door, and then, with a pale face and sul- 
 len brow, came out and joined the party on the 
 terrace. 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Barbara — now that she had 
 done as much mischief as possible — " I'll just go 
 in and make breakfast, as Edith must set out 
 early, and Mr. Radford wants to get home to 
 shoot.'' 
 
 " Edith set off early ?" exclaimed Zara ; 
 "why, where is she going, my dear aunt?" 
 
 " Oh, I have just been settling it all with 
 your papa, my love," replied Mrs. Barbara. 
 "I thought she was looking ill yesterday, and 
 so I talked to your uncle last night. He said 
 he would be very glad to have her with him for 
 a few days ; but as he expects a Captain Osborn 
 before the end of the week, she must come at once ; 
 and Sir Robert savs she can have the carriage 
 after breakfast, but that it must be back by one." 
 
 Zara cast down her eyes, and the whole party, 
 as if by common consent, took their way back 
 to the house. As they passed in, however, and 
 proceeded towards the dining-room, where the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 215 
 
 table was laid for breakfast, Zara found a 
 moment to say to Sir Edward Digby, in a low 
 tone, "Was ever anything so unfortunate! I 
 will try to stop it if I can." 
 
 " Not so unfortunate as it seems," answered 
 the young baronet, in a whisper ; " let it take its 
 course. I will explain hereafter." 
 
 " Whispering ! whispering !" said young 
 Radford, in a rude tone, and with a sneer curl- 
 ing his lip. 
 
 Zara's cheek grew crimson ; but Digby turned 
 upon him sharply, demanding, " What is that to 
 you, sir ? Pray make no observations upon my 
 conduct, for depend upon it I shall not tolerate 
 any insolence." 
 
 At that moment, however, Sir Robert Croy- 
 land appeared ; and whatever might have been 
 Richard Radford's intended reply, it was sus- 
 pended upon his lips. 
 
210 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Before I proceed farther with the events of that 
 morning, I must return for a time to the evening 
 which preceded it. It was a dark and somewhat 
 
 dreary night, when Mr. Radford, leaving his son 
 stupidly drunk at Sir Robert Croyland's, pro- 
 ceeded to the hall door to mount his horse ; and 
 as he pulled his large riding-boots over his shoes 
 and stockings, and looked out, he regretted that 
 he had not ordered his carriage. " Who would 
 have thought," he said, "that such a fine day 
 would have ended in such a dull evening?' 
 
 "It often happens, my dear Radford," re- 
 plied Sir Robert Croyland, who stood beside him, 
 " that everything looks fair and prosperous 
 for a time; then suddenly the wind shifts, and a 
 gloomy night succeeds." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 217 
 
 Mr. Radford was not well-pleased with the 
 homily. It touched upon that which was a sore 
 subject with him at that moment; for, to say 
 the truth, he was labouring under no light ap- 
 prehensions regarding the result of certain 
 speculations of his. He had lately lost a 
 large sum in one of these wild adventures — 
 far more than was agreeable to a man of his 
 money- getting turn of mind ; and though he 
 was sanguine enough, from long success, to em- 
 bark, like a determined gambler, a still larger 
 amount in the same course, vet the first shadow 
 of reverse which had fallen upon him, brought 
 home and applied to his own situation the 
 very commonplace words of Sir Robert Croy- 
 land; and he began to fancy that the bright day 
 of his prosperity might be indeed over, and a 
 dark and gloomy night about to succeed. 
 
 As we have said, therefore, he did not at all 
 like the baronet's homily ; and, as very often hap- 
 pens with men of his disposition, he felt dis- 
 pleased with the person whose words alarmed 
 him. Murmuring something, therefore, about 
 its being " a devilish ordinary circumstance 
 indeed," he strode to the door, scarcely wishing 
 
218 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the baronet good night, and mounted a powerful 
 horse, which was held ready for him. He then 
 rode forward, followed by two servants on 
 horseback, proceeding slowly at first, but get- 
 ting into a quicker pace when he came upon 
 the parish road, and trotting on hard along the 
 edge of Harbourne Wood. He had drank as 
 much wine as his son ; but his hard and well- 
 seasoned head was quite insensible to the effects 
 of strong beverages, and he went on revolving all 
 probable contingencies, somewhat sullen and out 
 of humour with all that had passed during the 
 afternoon, and taking a very unpromising view 
 of everybody and everything. 
 
 " I've a notion," he thought, " that old 
 scoundrel Croyland is playing fast and loose 
 about his daughter's marriage with my son. 
 He shall repent it if he do ; and if Dick does 
 not make the girl pay for all her airs and cold- 
 ness when he's got her. he's no son of mine. 
 He seems as great a fool as she is, though, and 
 makes love to her sister without a penny, never 
 saying a word to a girl who has forty thou- 
 sand pounds. The thing shall soon be settled 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 219 
 
 one way or another, however. I'll have a con- 
 ference with Sir Robert on Friday, and bring 
 him to book. I'll not be trifled with any 
 longer. Here we have been kept more than four 
 years waiting till the girl chooses to make up 
 her mind, and I'll not stop any longer. It shall 
 be, yes or no, at once." 
 
 He was still busy with such thoughts when 
 he reached the angle of Harbourne Wood, and a 
 loud voice exclaimed, " Hi ! Mr. Radford !" 
 
 " Who the devil are you ?" exclaimed that 
 worthy gentleman, pulling in his horse, and at 
 the same time putting his hand upon one of the 
 holsters, which every one at that time carried at 
 his saddle bow. 
 
 "Harding, sir," answered the voice — "Jack 
 Harding ; and I want to speak a word with you." 
 
 At the same time the man walked forward; 
 and Mr. Radford immediately dismounting, 
 gave his horse to the servants, and told them 
 to lead him quietly on till they came to Tiffen- 
 den. Then pausing till the sound of the 
 hoofs became somewhat faint, he asked, with a 
 certain degree of alarm, " Well, Harding, what's 
 
220 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 the matter ? What has brought you up in such 
 a hurry to-night ?" 
 
 " No great hum% sir," answered the smuggler, 
 " I came up about four o'clock ; and rinding that 
 you were dining at Sir Robert's, I thought I would 
 look out for you as you went home, having 
 something to tell you. I got an inkling last 
 night, that, some how or another, the people 
 down at Hythe have some suspicion that you 
 are going to try something, and I doubt that 
 boy very much." 
 
 "Indeed! indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Radford, 
 evidently under great apprehension. " What 
 have thev found out, Hardin sr ?" 
 
 "Why, not much, I believe," replied the 
 smuggler; "but merely that there's something 
 in the wind, and that you have a hand in it." 
 
 "That's bad enough — that's bad enough," 
 repeated Mr. Radford. " We must put it off. 
 Harding. We must delay it. till this has blown 
 by." 
 
 " No, I think not, sir," answered the smug- 
 gler. " It seems to me, on the contrary, that 
 we ought to hurry it ; and I'll tell you why. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 221 
 
 You see, the wind changed about live, and if 
 I'm not very much mistaken, we shall have a 
 cloudy sky and dirty weather for the next week 
 at least. That's one thing; but then another 
 is this, the Ramleys are going to make a run 
 this very night. Now, I know that the whole 
 affair is blown ; and though they may get the 
 goods ashore they w r ont carry them far. I 
 told them so, just to be friendly; but they 
 wouldn't listen, and you know their rash way. 
 Bill Ramley answered, they would run the 
 goods in broad daylight, if they liked, that 
 there was not an officer in all Kent who would 
 dare to stop them. Now, I know that they will 
 be caught to-morrow morning, somewhere up 
 about your place. I rather think, too, your 
 son has a hand in the venture ; and if I 
 were you, I would do nothing to make people 
 believe that it wasn't my own affair alto- 
 gether. Let them think what they please ; and 
 then they are not so likely to be on the look- 
 out." 
 
 "I see — I see," cried Mr. Radford. "If 
 they catch these fellows, and think that this is 
 
222 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 my venture, they will never suspect another. 
 It's a good scheme. "We had better set about 
 it to-morrow night.'' 
 
 " I don't know," answered Harding. " That 
 cannot well be done, I should think. First, 
 you must get orders over to the vessel to stand 
 out to sea ; then you must get all your people to- 
 gether, and one half of them are busy upon this 
 other scheme, the Ramleys and young Chitten- 
 den, and him they call the major, and all their 
 parties. You must see what comes of that 
 first ; for one half of them may be locked up 
 before to-morrow night. 
 
 "That's unfortunate, indeed !" said Mr. Rad- 
 ford, thoughtfully. 
 
 " One must take a little ill luck with plenty 
 of good luck," observed Harding; "and it's 
 fortunate enough for you that these wild fello 
 will carry through this mad scheme, when th 
 know they are found out before they start. 
 Besides, I'm not sure that it is not best to wait till 
 the night after, or, may be, the night after that. 
 Then the news will have spread, that the good-; 
 have been either run and hid awav, or seized 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 223 
 
 by the officers. In either case, if you manage 
 well, they will think that it is your venture ; and 
 the fellows on the coast will be off their guard — 
 especially Mowle, who's the sharpest of them 
 all." 
 
 " Oh, I'll go 'down to-morrow and talk to 
 Mowle myself/' replied Mr. Eadford. " It will 
 be well worth my while to give him a hundred 
 guineas to wink a bit." 
 
 "Don't try it — don't try it!" exclaimed Hard- 
 ing, quickly. "It will do no good, and a great 
 deal of harm. In the first place, you can do 
 nothing with Mowle. He never took a penny 
 in his life." 
 
 " Oh, every man has his price," rejoined Mr. 
 Radford, whose opinion of human nature, as the 
 reader may have perceived, was not particularly 
 high. " It's only because lie wants to be bid up 
 to. Mr. Mowle thinks himself above five or ten 
 pounds ; but the chink of a hundred guineas is 
 a very pleasant sound." 
 
 " He's as honest a fellow as ever lived," 
 answered Harding, " and I tell you plainly, Mr. 
 Radford, that if you offered him ten times the 
 
224 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 sum, he wouldn't take it. You would only shew 
 him that this venture is not your grand one, 
 without doing yourself the least good. He's a fair, 
 open enemy, and lets every one know that, as 
 long as he's a riding-officer here, he will do all 
 he can against us." 
 
 " Then he must he knocked on the head," 
 said Mr. Radford, in a calm and deliberate tone ; 
 " and it shall be done, too, if he meddles with 
 my affairs." 
 
 " It will not be I who do it," replied Harding ; 
 " unless we come hand to hand together. Then, 
 everv man must take care of himself; but I 
 should be very sorry, notwithstanding ; for he's 
 a straightforward, bold fellow, as brave as a lion, 
 and with a good heart into the bargain. I 
 wonder such an honest man ever went into 
 such a rascally service." 
 
 The last observation of our friend Harding 
 may perhaps sound strangely to the loader's 
 cars; but some allowance must be made 
 for professional prejudices, and it is by no 
 means too much to say that the smugglers of 
 those days, and even of a much later period. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 225 
 
 looked upon their own calling as highly honest, 
 honourable, and respectable, regarding the Cus- 
 toms as a most fraudulent and abominable 
 institution, and all connected with it more or 
 less in the light of a band of swindlers and 
 knaves, leagued together for the purpose of 
 preventing honest men from pursuing their 
 avocations in peace. Such were the feelings 
 which induced Harding to wonder that so good 
 a man as Mowle could have anything to do 
 with the prevention of smuggling ; for he was 
 so thoroughly convinced he was in the right 
 
 CD J O 
 
 himself, that he could not conceive how any one 
 could see the case in any other point of view. 
 
 " Ay," answered Mr. Radford, " that is a 
 wonder, if he is such a good sort of man ; but that 
 I doubt. However, as you say it would not do to 
 put oneself in his power, I'll have him looked 
 after, and in the meanwhile, let us talk of the 
 rest of the business. You say the night after 
 to-morrow, or the night after that ! I must 
 know, however; for the men must be down. 
 How are we to arrange that ?" 
 
 " Why, I'll see what the weather is like," was 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
220 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 Harding's reply. " Then I can easily send up 
 to let you know — or, what will he better still, if 
 you can gather the men together the day after 
 to-morrow, in the different villages not far off 
 the coast, and I should find it the right sort of 
 night, and get out to sea, they shall see a light 
 on the toj:> of Tolsford Hill, as soon as I am 
 near in shore again. That will serve to guide 
 them and puzzle the officers. Then let them 
 gather, and come down towards Dimchurch, 
 where they will find somebody from me to guide 
 them." 
 
 " They shall gather first at Saltwood," said 
 Mr. Radford, " and then march down to Dim- 
 church. But how are we to manage about the 
 ship ?" 
 
 "Why, you must send an order," answered 
 Harding, "for both days, and let your skipper 
 know that if he does not see us the first, he will 
 see us the second." 
 
 " You had better take it down with you at 
 once," replied Mr. Radford, M and get it off 
 early to-morrow. If you'll just come up to my 
 house, I'll write it for you in a minute. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 227 
 
 "Ay, but I'm not going home to-night," said 
 the smuggler ; " I can have a bed at Mrs. Clare's; 
 and I'm going to sleep there, so you can send it 
 over when you like in the morning, and I'll get 
 it off in time." 
 
 " I wish you would not go hanging about 
 after that girl, wheu we've got such serious busi- 
 ness in hand," exclaimed Mr. Radford, in a 
 sharp tone ; but the next moment he added, with 
 a sudden change of voice, " It doesn't signify 
 to-night, however. There will be time enough ; 
 and they say you are going to marry her, Hard- 
 ing. Is that true ?" 
 
 " I should say, that's my business," replied 
 Harding, bluntly, " but that I look upon it as 
 an honour, Mr. Radford, that she's going to 
 marry me ; for a better girl does not live in the 
 land, and I've known her a long while now, so 
 I'm never likely to think otherwise." 
 
 " Ay, I've known her a long time, too," an- 
 swered Mr. Radford — "ever since her poor 
 father was shot, and before ; and a very good 
 girl I believe she is. But now that you are over 
 here, you may as well wait and hear what comes 
 
 Q2 
 
228 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of these goods. Couldn't you just ride over to 
 the Ramleys to-morrow morning — there you'll 
 hear all about it." 
 
 Harding laughed, but rejriied the next 
 moment, in a grave tone, " I don't like the 
 Ranileys, sir, and don't want to have more to do 
 with them than I can help. I shall hear all 
 about it soon enough, without going there." 
 
 " But I shan't," answered Mr. Radford. 
 
 " Then you had better send your son, sir," 
 rejoined Harding. " He's oftener there than I 
 am, a great deal. — Well, the matter is all settled, 
 then. Either the night after to-morrow, or the 
 night after that, if the men keep a good look- 
 out, they'll see a light on Tolsford Hill. Then 
 they must gather as fast as possible at Saltwood, 
 and come on with anybody they may find there. 
 Good night, Mr. Radford." 
 
 " Good night, Harding — good night," said 
 Mr. Radford, walking on ; and the other turning 
 his steps back towards Harbourne, made his 
 way, by the first road on the right, to the cottage 
 where we have seen him in the earlier part of 
 the day. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 220 
 
 It was a pleasant aspect that the cottage pre- 
 sented when he went in, which he did without 
 any of the ceremonies of knocking at the door 
 or ringing the bell ; for he was sure of a wel- 
 come. There was but one candle lighted on the 
 table, for the dwellers in the place were poor ; 
 but the room was small, and that one was quite 
 sufficient to shew the white walls and the neat 
 shelves covered with crockery, and with one or 
 two small prints in black frames. Besides, there 
 was the fire-place, with a bright and cheerful, 
 but not large fire; for though, in the month of 
 September, English nights are frequently cold 
 and sometimes frosty, the weather had been as 
 yet tolerably mild. Nevertheless, the log of fir 
 at the top blazed high, and crackled amidst the 
 white and red embers below, and the flickering 
 flame, as it rose and fell, caused the shadows to 
 fall more vaguely or distinctly upon the walls, 
 with a fanciful uncertainty of outline, that had 
 something cheerful, yet mysterious in it. 
 
 The widow was bending over the fire, with her 
 face turned away, and her figure in the shadow. 
 The daughterwas busily working with her needle, 
 
230 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 but her eyes -were soon raised — and they were 
 very beautiful eyes — as Harding entered. A 
 smile, too, was u]~>on her lips ; and though even 
 tears may be lovely, and a sad look awaken deep 
 and tender emotions, yet the smile of affection on 
 a face we love is the brightest aspect of that 
 bright thing the human countenance. It is what 
 the sunshine is to the landscape, which may be 
 fair in the rain or sublime in the storm, but can 
 never harmonize so fullv with the innate lonsnng 
 for haprMness which is in the breast of every one, 
 as when lighted up with the rays that call all 
 its excellence and all its powers into life and 
 being. 
 
 Harding sat down beside the girl, and took 
 her hand in his, saying, " Well, Kate, this day- 
 three weeks, then, remember ?" 
 
 " My mother says so," answered the girl, with 
 a cheek somewhat glowing, " and then, you 
 know, John, you are to give it up altogether. 
 No more danger — no more secrets ?" 
 
 " Oh, as for danger," answered Harding, 
 laughing, " I did not say that, love. I don't 
 know what life would be worth without danger. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 231 
 
 Everyman is in danger all day long ; and I sup- 
 pose that we are only given life just to feel the 
 pleasure of it by the chance of losing it. But 
 no dangers but the common ones, Kate. I'll 
 give up the trade, as you have made me promise ; 
 and I shall have enough by that time to buy out 
 the whole vessel, in which I've got shares, and 
 what between that and the boats, we shall do 
 very well. You put me in mind, with your fears, 
 of a song that wicked boy, little Starlight, used 
 to sing. I learned it from hearing him : a more 
 mischievous little dog does not live ; but he 
 has got a sweet pipe." 
 
 " Sing it, John — sing it !" cried Kate ; " I 
 love to hear you sing, for it seems as if you 
 sing what you are thinking." 
 
 " No, I wont sing it/' answered Harding, 
 u for it is a sad sort of song, and that wont do 
 when I am so happy." 
 
 " Oh, I like sad songs !" said the girl ; " they 
 please me far more than all the merry ones." 
 
 " Oh, pray sing it, Harding !" urged the widow; 
 " I am very fond of a song that makes me 
 cry." 
 
232 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " This wont do that," replied the smuggler; 
 " but it is sadder than some that do, I always 
 think. However, I'll sing it, if you like ;" and 
 in a fine, mellow, bass voice, to a very simple 
 air, with a flattened third coming in every now 
 and then, like the note of a wintry bird, he 
 went on : — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 M Life's like a boat, 
 
 Rowing — rowing 
 Over a bright sea, 
 On the waves to float, 
 
 Flowing — flowing 
 Away from her lea. 
 
 " Up goes the sheet ! 
 Sailing — sailing, 
 To catch the rising breeze, 
 While the winds fleet, 
 "Wailing — wailing, 
 Sigh o'er the seas. 
 
 " She darts through the waves, 
 
 Gaily — gaily, 
 Scattering the foam. 
 Beneath her, open graves, 
 
 Daily — daily, 
 The blithest to entomb. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 233 
 
 " Who heeds the deep, 
 
 Yawning — yawning 
 For its destined prey, 
 When from night's dark sleep, 
 
 Dawning — dawning, 
 Wakens the bright day ? 
 
 " Away, o'er the tide ! 
 
 Fearless — fearless 
 Of all that lies beneath ; 
 Let the waves still hide, 
 
 Cheerless — cheerless, 
 All their stores of death. 
 
 " Stray where we may, 
 
 Roaming — roaming 
 Either far or near, 
 Death is on the way, 
 
 Coming—coming — 
 Who's the fool to fear?" 
 
 The widow did weep, however, not at the 
 rude song, though the voice that sung it was 
 fine, and perfect in the melody, but at the 
 remembrances which it awakened — remem- 
 brances on which she loved to dwell, although 
 they were so sad. 
 
 " Ay, Harding," she said, " it's very true 
 what your song says. Whatever way one goes, 
 
234 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 death is near enough ; and I don't know that it's 
 a bit nearer on the sea than anywhere else." 
 
 " Not a whit," replied Harding ; " God's hand 
 is upon the sea as well as upon the land, Mrs. 
 Clare ; and if it is his will that we go, why we 
 go ; and if it is his will that we stay, he doesn't 
 want strength to protect us." 
 
 u No, indeed," answered Mrs. Clare ; " and 
 it's that which comforts me, for I think that what 
 is God's will must be good. I'm sure, when my 
 poor husband went out in the morning, six years 
 ago come the tenth of October next, as well 
 and as hearty as a man could be, I never 
 thought to see him brought home a corpse, 
 and I left a lone widow with my poor girl, and 
 not knowing where to look for any help. But 
 God raised me up friends where I least ex- 
 pected them." 
 
 " Why you had every right to expect that 
 Sir Robert would be kind to you, Mrs. Gar 
 rejoined Harding, "when your husband had been 
 in his service for sixteen or seventeen yean 
 
 "No, indeed, I hadn't," said the widow ; "for 
 Sir Robert was always, we thought, a rough. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 235 
 
 hard master, grumbling continually, till my 
 poor man could hardly bear it; for he was a 
 free-spoken man, as I dare say you remember, 
 Mr. Harding, and would say his mind to any 
 one, gentle or simple." 
 
 " He was as good a soul as ever lived," an- 
 swered Harding; " a little rash and passionate, 
 but none the worse for that." 
 
 _" Ay, but it was that which set the head 
 keeper against him," answered the widow, " and 
 he set Sir Eobert, making out that Edward was 
 always careless and insolent; but he did his 
 duty as well as any man, and knowing that, he 
 didn't like to be found fault with. However, 
 I don't blame Sir Kobert ; for since my poor 
 man's death he has found out what he was 
 worth ; and very kind he has been to me, to be 
 sure. The cottage, and the garden, and the 
 good bit of ground at the back, and twelve 
 shillings a-week into the bargain, have we had 
 from him ever since." 
 
 " Ay, and I am sure nothing can be kinder 
 than the two young ladies," said Kate ; " they 
 are always giving me something; and Miss 
 
230 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Edith taught me all I know. I should have 
 been sadly ignorant if it had not been for her 
 — and a deal of trouble I gave her." 
 
 " God bless her !" cried Harding, heartily. 
 " She's a nice young lady, I believe, though I 
 never saw her but twice, and then she looked 
 very sad." 
 
 " Ay, she has cause enough, poor thing !" 
 said Mrs. Clare. " Though I remember her as 
 blithe as the morning lark — a great deal gayer 
 than Miss Zara, gay as she may be." 
 
 "Ay, I know — they crossed her love," an- 
 swered Harding ; " and that's enough to make 
 one sad. Though I never heard the rights of 
 the story." 
 
 " Oh, it was bad enough to break her heart, 
 poor thing !" replied Mrs. Clare. " You re- 
 member young Lay ton, the rector's son — a fine, 
 handsome, bold lad as ever lived, and as good 
 as he was handsome. Well, he was quite 
 brought up with these young ladies, you know 
 — always ivp at the Hall, and Miss Edith always 
 down at the Rectory ; and one would have 
 thought Sir Robert blind or foolish, not to 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 237 
 
 fancy that two such young things would fall in 
 love with each other ; and so they did, to be 
 sure. Many's the time I've seen them down 
 here, in this very cottage, laughing and talking, 
 and as fond as a pair of doves — for Sir Robert 
 used to let them do just whatever they liked, 
 and many a time used to send young Harry 
 Layton to take care of Miss Croyland, when she 
 was going out to walk any distance ; so, very 
 naturally, they promised themselves to each 
 other ; and one day — when he was twenty 
 and she just sixteen — they got a Prayer-Book 
 at the Rectory, and read over the marriage 
 ceremony together, and took all the vows down 
 upon their bended knees. I remember it quite 
 well, for I was down at the Rectory that very 
 day helping the housekeeper ; and just as they 
 had done old Mr. Layton came in, and found 
 them somewhat confused, and the book open 
 between them. He would know what it was all 
 about, and they told him the truth. So then 
 he was in a terrible taking ; and he got Miss 
 Croyland under his arm and went away up to 
 Sir Robert directly, and told him the whole 
 
238 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 story without a minute's delay. Every one 
 thought it would end in being a match ; for 
 though Sir Kobert was very angry, and insisted 
 that Harry Lay ton should be sent to his regi- 
 ment immediately — for he was then just home 
 for a bit, on leave — he did not show how angry 
 he was at first, but very soon after he turned 
 Mr. Lay ton out of the living, and made him 
 pay, I don't know what, for dilapidations ; so 
 that he was arrested and put in prison — which 
 broke his heart, poor man, and he died !" 
 
 Harding gave Sir Robert Croyland a hearty 
 oath ; and Mrs. Clare proceeded to tell her tale, 
 saying — " I did not give much heed to the 
 matter then ; for it was just at that time that my 
 husband was killed, and I could think of no- 
 thing else ; but when I came to hear of what 
 was going on, I found that Sir Robert had pro- 
 mised his daughter to this young Radford " 
 
 " As nasty a vermin as ever lived," said 
 Harding. 
 
 " Well, she wont have him, I'm sure,'' con- 
 tinued the widow, " for it has been hanging off 
 and on for these six years. People at first said 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 239 
 
 it was because they were too young. But I know 
 that she has always refused, and declared that 
 nothing should ever drive her to marry him, or 
 any one else ; for the law might say what it 
 liked, but her own heart and her own con- 
 science, told her that she was Harry Layton's 
 wife, and could not be any other man's, as long as 
 he was living. Susan, her maid, heard her say so 
 to Sir Kobert himself; bat he still keeps teas- 
 ing her about it, and tells everybody she's 
 engaged to young Badford." 
 
 " He'll go the devil," said Harding ; " and 
 I'll go to bed, Mrs. Clare, for I must be up 
 early to-morrow, to get a good many things to 
 rights. God bless you Kate, my love ! I dare 
 say I shall see you before I go — for I must 
 measure the dear little finger !" And giving 
 her a hearty kiss, Harding took a candle, and 
 retired to the snug room that had been pre- 
 pared for him. 
 
240 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 We roust change the scene for a while, not 
 only to another part of the county of Kent, but 
 to very different people from the worthy "Widow 
 Clare and the little party assembled at her cot- 
 tage. We must pass over the events of the 
 night also, and of the following morning up to 
 the hour of nine, proposing shortly to return 
 to Harbourne House, and trace the course of 
 those assembled there. The dwelling into 
 which we must now introduce the reader, was a 
 large, old-fashioned Kentish farm-house, not 
 manv miles on the Sussex side of Ashford. It 
 was built, as many of these fann-houses still 
 are, in the form of a cross, presenting four 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 241 
 
 limbs of strongly constructed masonry, two 
 stories high, with latticed windows divided 
 into three partitions, separated by rather neatly 
 cut divisions of stone. Externally it had a 
 strong Harry -the -Eighth look about it, and 
 probably had been erected in his day, or in that 
 of one of his immediate successors, as the resi- 
 dence of some of the smaller gentry of the time. 
 At the period I speak of, it was tenanted by a 
 family notorious for their daring and licentious 
 life, and still renowned in county tradition for 
 many a fierce and lawless act. Nevertheless, 
 the head of the house, now waxing somewhat in 
 years, carried on, not only ostensibly but really, 
 the peaceable occupation of a Kentish farmer. 
 He had his cows and his cattle, and his sheep 
 and his pigs; he grew wheat and barley, and 
 oats and turnips; had a small portion of hop- 
 ground, and brewed his own beer. But this 
 trade of farming was only a small part of his 
 employment, though, to say the truth, he 
 had given himself up more to it since his 
 bodily powers had declined, and he was no 
 longer able to bear the fatigue and exertion which 
 
 VOL. I. R 
 
242 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the great strength of his early years had looked 
 upon as sport. The hranch of his business 
 ■which he was most fond of was now principally 
 entrusted to his two sons ; and two strong, 
 handsome daughters, which made the number of 
 his family amount to four, occasionally aided their 
 brothers, dressed in men's clothes, and mounted 
 upon powerful horses, which they managed as 
 well as any grooms in the county. 
 
 The reader must not think that, in this de- 
 scription, we are exercising indiscreetly our 
 licence for dealing in fiction. We are painting 
 a true picture of the family of which we speak, 
 as they lived and acted some eighty or eighty - 
 five years ago. 
 
 The wife of the farmer had been dead ten 
 or twelve years ; and her children had done 
 just what they liked ever since ; but it must be 
 admitted, that, even if she had lived to super- 
 intend their education, we have no reason 
 to conclude their conduct would have been 
 very different from what it was. We have 
 merely said that they had done as they pleased 
 ever since her death, because diuing her life 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 243 
 
 she had made them do as she pleased, and beat 
 them, or, as she herself termed it, " 5 basted" them 
 heartily, if they did not. She was quite capable 
 of doing so too, to her own perfect satisfaction, 
 for probably few arms in all Kent were fur- 
 nished with more sinewy muscles or a stouter 
 fist than hers could boast. It was only upon 
 minor points of difference, however, that she 
 and her children ever quarrelled; for of their 
 general course of conduct she approved most 
 highly ; and no one was more ready to receive 
 packets of lace, tea, or other goods under her 
 fostering care, or more apt and skilful in stop- 
 ping a tub of spirits from " talking," or of 
 puzzling a Custom-House officer when force 
 was not at hand to resist him. 
 
 She was naturally of so strong a constitution, 
 and so well built a frame, that it is wonderful 
 she died at all ; but having caught cold one night, 
 poor thing ! — it is supposed, in setting fire to a 
 neighbouring farm-house, the inmates of which 
 were suspected of having informed against her 
 husband — her very strength and vigour gave 
 a tendency to inflammation, which speedily 
 
 R2 
 
244 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 reduced her very low. A surgeon, who visited 
 the house in fear and trembling, bled her 
 largely, and forbade the use of all that class of" 
 liquids which she was accustomed to imbibe in 
 considerable quantities ; and for three or four 
 days the fear of death made her follow his in- 
 
 •r 
 
 junctions. But at the end of that period, when 
 the crisis of the disease was imminent, finding 
 herself no better, and very weak, she declared 
 that the doctor was a fool, and ought to have 
 his head broken, and directed the maid to bring 
 her the big green bottle out of the corner cup- 
 board. To this she applied more than once, 
 and then beginning to get a little riotous, she 
 sent for her family to witness how soon she had 
 cured herself. Sitting up in her bed, with a 
 yellow dressing-gown over her shoulders, and a 
 gay cap overshadowing her burning face, she 
 sung them a song in praise of good liquor — 
 somewhat panting for breath, it must be owned — 
 and then declaring that she was " devilish 
 thirsty," which was probably accurate to the 
 letter, she poured out a large glass from the 
 big green bottle, which happened to be her bed- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 245 
 
 fellow for the time, and raised it to her lips. 
 Half the contents went down her throat ; but, 
 how it happened I do not know, the rest was 
 sp>ilt upon the bed clothes, and good Mrs. 
 Rarnley fell back in a doze, from which nobody 
 could rouse her. Before two hours were over 
 she slept a still sounder sleep, which required 
 the undertaker to provide against its perma- 
 nence. 
 
 The bereaved widower comforted himself after 
 a time. We will not say how many hours it 
 required to effect that process. He was not a 
 drunken man himself; for the passive participle 
 of the verb to " drink" was not often actually 
 applicable to his condition. Nevertheless, there 
 was a great consumption of Hollands in the house 
 during the next week ; and, if it was a wet funeral 
 that followed, it was not with water, salt or fresh. 
 
 There are compensations for all things; and 
 if Rarnley had lost his wife, and his children 
 a mother, they all lost also a great number of 
 very good beatings, for, sad to say, he who 
 could thrash all the country round, submitted 
 very often to be thrashed by his better half, or at 
 
246 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 all events underwent the process of either having 
 his head made closely acquainted with a candle- 
 stick, or rendered the means of breaking a 
 platter. After that period the two boys grew up 
 into as fine, tall, handsome, dissolute blackguards 
 as one could wish to look upon ; and for the 
 two girls, no term perhaps can be found in the 
 classical authors of our language; but the ver- 
 nacular supplies an epithet particularly appli- 
 cable, which we must venture to use. Thev were 
 two strapping wenches, nearly as tall as their 
 brothers, full, rounded, and well formed in per- 
 son, line and straight cut in features, with large 
 black shining eyes, a well-turned foot and 
 ancle, and, as was generally supposed, the in- 
 vincible arm of their mother. 
 
 We are not here going to investigate or dwell 
 upon the individual morality of the two young 
 ladies. It is generally said to have been better 
 in some res23ects than either their ordinary 
 habits, their education, or their language would 
 have led one to expect; and, perhaps being 
 very full of the stronger passions, the softer 
 ones had no great dominion over them. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 247 
 
 There, however, they sat at breakfast on the 
 morning of -which we have spoken, in the 
 kitchen of the farm-house, with their father 
 seated at the head of the table. He was still a 
 great, tall, raw-boned man, with a somewhat 
 ogre-ish expression of countenance, and hair 
 more white than grey. Bat there were four 
 other men at the table besides himself, two 
 being servants of the farm, and two acknow- 
 ledged lovers of the young ladies — very bold 
 fellows as may well be supposed ; for to marry a 
 she-lion or a demoiselle bear would have been a 
 light undertaking compared to wedding one of 
 the Miss Ramleys. They seemed to be upon very 
 intimate terms with those fair personages, how- 
 ever, and perhaps possessed as much of their 
 affection as could possibly be obtained; but 
 still the love-making seemed rather of a feline 
 character, for the caresses, w T hich were pretty 
 prodigal, were mingled with — we must not say 
 interrupted by — a great deal of grumbling and 
 growling, some scratching, and more than one 
 pat upon the side of the head, which did not 
 come with the gentleness of the w r estern wind- 
 
248 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 The fare upon the table consisted neither of tea, 
 coffee, cocoa, nor any other kind of weak beverage, 
 but of beef and strong beer, a diet very harmo- 
 nious with the appearance of the persons who 
 partook thereof. It was seasoned occasionally 
 with roars of laughter, gay and not very delicate 
 jests, various pieces of fun, which on more than 
 one occasion went to the very verge of an angry 
 encounter, together with a good many blas- 
 phemous oaths, and those testimonies of affec- 
 tion which I have before spoken of as liberally 
 bestowed by the young ladies upon their Lovers 
 in the shape of cuffs and scratches. The prin- 
 cipal topic of conversation seemed to be some 
 adventure which was even then going forward, 
 and in which the sons of the house were taking 
 a part. No fear, no anxiety, however, was ex- 
 pressed by any one, though they wondered that 
 Jim and Ned had not yet returned. 
 
 " If they don't come soon they won't get 
 much beef, Tom, if you swallow it at that 
 rate," said the youngest Miss Ramley to her 
 sweetheart; "you've eaten two pounds already, 
 I'm sure." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2-19 
 
 The young gentleman declared that it was 
 all for love of her, but that he hadn't eaten half 
 so much as she had, whereupon the damsel 
 became wroth, and appealed to her father, who, 
 for his part, vowed, that, between them both, 
 they had eaten and swilled enough to fill the 
 big hog-trough. The dispute might have run 
 high, for Miss Ramley was not inclined to 
 submit to such observations, even from her 
 father; but, just as she was beginning in good 
 set terms, which she had learnt from himself, 
 to condemn her parent's eyes, the old man 
 started up, exclaiming, " Hark ! there's a shot 
 out there ! " 
 
 " To be sure," answered one of the lovers. 
 " It's the first of Se£>teinber, and all the people 
 are out shooting. '' 
 
 Even while he was speaking, however, several 
 more shots were heard, apparently too many to 
 proceed from sportsmen in search of game, 
 and the next moment the sound of horses' feet 
 could be heard running quick upon the road, 
 and then turning into the yard which lay before 
 the house. 
 
250 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " There they are ! — there they are !" cried 
 half-a-dozen voices ; and, all rushing out at the 
 front door, they found the two young men with 
 several companions, and four led horses, heavily 
 laden. Jim, the elder brother, with the assist- 
 ance of one of those who accompanied him, 
 was busily engaged in shutting the two great 
 wooden gates which had been raised by old 
 Ramley some time before — nobody could tell 
 why — in place of a five-barred gate, which, 
 with the tall stone wall, formerlv shut out 
 the yard from the road. The other brother, 
 Edward, or Ned Ramley, as he was called, 
 stood by the side of his horse, holding his 
 head clown over a puddle ; and, for a moment, 
 no one could make out what he was about. 
 On his sister Jane approaching him, however, 
 she perceived a drop of blood foiling every second 
 into the dirty water below, and exclaimed, 
 " How hast thou broken thv noddle, Ned '.'*' 
 
 " There, let me alone, Jinny. ' cried the 
 young man, shaking oft' the hand she had 
 laid upon his arm, " or I shall bloody my 
 toggery. One of those fellows has nearly 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 251 
 
 cracked my skull, that's all ; and he'd have 
 done it, too, if he had but been a bit nearer. 
 This brute shied just as I was firing my pistol 
 at him, or hed never have got within arm's 
 length. It's nothing — it's but a scratch. — Get 
 the goods away ; for they'll be after us quick 
 enough. They are chasing the major and his 
 people, and that's the way we got off." 
 
 One of the usual stories of the day was then 
 told by the rest — of how a cargo had been run 
 the night before, and got safe up into the coun- 
 try : how, when they thought all danger over, 
 they had passed before old Bob Croyland's 
 windows, and how Jim had given him a shot 
 as he stood at one of them; and then they 
 went on to say that, whether it was the noise of 
 the gun, or that the old man had sent out 
 to call the officers upon them, they could not 
 tell ; but about three miles further on, they saw 
 a largish party of horse upon their right. Flight 
 had then become the order of the day; but, 
 finding that they could not effect it in one body, 
 they were just upon the point of separating, 
 Ned Ramley declared, when two of the riding 
 
25 'I THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 officers overtook them, supported by a number 
 of dragoons. Some firing took place, without 
 much damage, and, dividing into three bodies, 
 the smugglers scampered off, the Eamleys and 
 their friends taking their way towards their 
 own house, and the others in different direc- 
 tions. The former might have escaped unpur- 
 sued, it would seem, had not the younger 
 brother, Ned, determined to give one of the 
 dragoons a shot before he went : thus bringing 
 on the encounter in which he had received the 
 wound on his head. 
 
 While all this was being told to the father, 
 the two girls, their lovers, the farm-servants, 
 and several of the men, hurried the smuggled 
 goods into the house, and raising a trap in the 
 floor of the kitchen — contrived in such a manner 
 that four whole boards moved up at once on the 
 western side of the room — stowed the different 
 articles away in places of concealment below, so 
 well arranged, that even if the trap was disco- 
 vered, the officers would find nothing but a 
 vacant space, unless they examined the walls 
 very closely. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 253 
 
 The horses were then all led to the stable ; 
 and Edward Raniley, having in some degree 
 stopped the bleeding of his wound, moved 
 into the house, with most of the other men. 
 Old Raniley and the two farm-servants, how- 
 ever, remained without, occupying themselves 
 in loading a cart with manure, till the sound 
 of horses galloping down was heard, and some- 
 body shook the gates violently, calling loudly 
 to those within to open " in the King's 
 name." 
 
 The farmer instantly mounted upon the 
 cart, and looked over the wall ; but the party 
 before the gates consisted only of five or six 
 dragoons, of whom he demanded, in a bold 
 tone, " Who the devil be you, that I should 
 open for you ? Go away, go away, and leave a 
 quiet man at peace !" 
 
 " If you don't open the gates, we'll break them 
 down," said one of the men. 
 
 " Do, if you dare," answered old Ramley, 
 boldly ; " and if you do, I'll shoot the best of 
 you dead. — Bring me my gun, Tom. — Where's 
 your warrant, young man ? You are not an 
 
254 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 officer, and you've got none with you, so I 
 shan't let any boiled lobsters enter my yard, I 
 can tell you." 
 
 By this time he was provided with the 
 weapon he had sent for ; and one of his men, 
 similarly armed, had got into the cart beside 
 him. The appearance of resistance was rather 
 ominous, and the dragoons were well aware that 
 if they did succeed in forcing an entrance, and 
 blood were spilt, the whole responsibility would 
 rest upon themselves, if no smuggled goods 
 should be found, as they had neither warrant 
 nor any officer of the Customs with them. 
 
 After a short consultation, then, he who had 
 spoken before, called to old Ramley, saying, 
 " We'll soon bring a warrant. Then look to 
 yourself;" and, thus speaking, he rode off 
 with his party. Old Ramley only laughed, 
 however, and turned back into the house, 
 where he made the party merry at the expense 
 of the dragoons. All the men who had been 
 out upon the expedition were now seated at 
 the table, dividing the beef and bread amongst 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 255 
 
 them, and taking hearty draughts from the 
 tankard. Not the least zealous in this occupa- 
 tion -was Edward Ramley, who seemed to 
 consider the deep gash upon his brow as a 
 mere scratch, not worth talking about. He 
 laughed and jested with the rest ; and when they 
 had demolished all that the board displayed, he 
 turned to his father, saying, not in the most 
 reverent tone, " Come, old fellow, after bringing 
 our venture home safe, I think you ought to 
 send round the true stuff: we've had beer 
 enough. Let's have some of the Dutchman." 
 
 " That you shall, Neddy, my boy," answered 
 the farmer, "only I wish you had shot that 
 rascal you fired at. However, one can't always 
 have a steady aim, especially with a fidgetty 
 brute like that you ride;" and away he went 
 to bring the hollands, which soon circulated 
 very freely amongst the party, producing, in 
 its course, various degrees of mirth and 
 joviality, which speedily deviated into song. 
 Some of the ditties that were sung were good, 
 and some of them very bad ; but almost all 
 
250 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 were coarse, and the one that was least so was 
 the following: — 
 
 SONG. 
 
 " It's wonderful, it's wonderful, is famous London town, 
 With its alleys 
 And its valleys, 
 And its houses up and down ; 
 But I would give fair London town, its court, and all its 
 
 people, 
 For the little town of Biddenden, with the moon above 
 the steeple. 
 
 " It's wonderful, it's wonderful, to see what pretty faces 
 In London streets 
 A person meets 
 In very funny places ; 
 But I wouldn't give for all the eyes in London town 
 
 one sees, 
 A pair, that by the moonlight, looks out beneath the 
 trees. 
 
 " It's wonderful, in London town, how soon a man may 
 hold, 
 
 By art and sleight, 
 Or main and might, 
 A pretty sum of gold ; 
 Yet give me but a pistol, and one rich squire or two, 
 A moonlight night, a yellow chaise, and the high road 
 will do." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 257 
 
 This was not the last song that was sung ; but 
 that which followed was interrupted by one of 
 the pseudo-labourers coming in from the yard, to 
 say that there was a hard knocking at the gate. 
 
 " I think it is Mr. Radford's voice," added 
 the man, " but I'm not sure ; and I did not like 
 to get up into the cart to look." 
 
 " Run up stairs to the window, Jinny !" cried 
 old Ramley, " and you'll soon see." 
 
 His daughter did, on this occasion, as she was 
 bid, and soon called down from above, " It's old 
 Radford, sure enough ; but he's got two men 
 with him !'' 
 
 " It's all right, if he's there," said Jim 
 Ramley ; and the gates were opened in a mi- 
 nute, to give that excellent gentleman admission. 
 
 Now, Mr. Radford, it must be remembered, 
 was a magistrate for the county of Kent; but 
 his presence created neither alarm nor con- 
 fusion in the house of the Ramley s; and when 
 he entered, leaving his men in the court for a 
 minute, he said, with a laugh, holding the 
 father of that hopeful family by the arm, " I've 
 
 vol. i. s 
 
25S THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 come to search, and to stop the others. Where 
 are the goods '.' " 
 
 " Safe enough," answered the farmer. No 
 fear — no fear !" 
 
 " But can we look under the trap '.'" asked 
 Mr. Radford, who seemed as well acquainted 
 with the secrets of the place as the owner 
 thereof. 
 
 " Ay, ay !" replied the old man. " Don't 
 leave 'em too long — that's all." 
 
 " I'll go down myself," said Radford ; 
 " they've got scent of it, or I wouldn't find it 
 out." 
 
 " All right — all right !" rejoined the other, in 
 a 1ow t voice ; and the magistrate, raising his 
 tone, exclaimed, " Here, Clinch and Adams — 
 you two fools ! why don't you come in '.' They 
 say there is nothing here ; but we must search. 
 We must not take any man's word ; not to 
 say that I doubt yours, Mr. Ramley : but it is 
 necessarv, you know." 
 
 " Oh, do what you like, sir,"' replied the 
 farmer. " I don't care !" 
 
 A very respectable search was then commenced, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 259 
 
 and pursued from room to room — one of the 
 men who accompanied Mr. Radford, and who 
 was an officer of the Customs, giving old 
 Ramley a significant wink with his right eye as 
 he passed, at which the other grinned. Indeed, 
 had the whole matter not heen very well under- 
 stood between the great majority of both parties, 
 it would have been no very pleasant or secure 
 task for any three men in England to enter the 
 kitchen of that farm-house on such an errand. 
 At length, however, Mr. Radford and his com- 
 panions returned to the kitchen, and the magis- 
 trate thought fit to walk somewhat out of his 
 way towards the left-hand side of the room, 
 when suddenly stopping, he exclaimed, in a 
 grave tone, " Hallo ! Ramley, what's here ? 
 These boards seem loose !" 
 
 " To be sure they are," answered the farmer ; 
 " that's the way to the old beer cellar. But 
 there's nothing in it, upon my honour !" 
 
 " But we must look, Ramlev, vou know," said 
 Mr. Radford. " Come, open it, whatever it 
 is! 
 
 " Oh, with all my heart," replied the man ; 
 
 s 2 
 
2 GO THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 M but you'll perhaps break your head. That's 
 your fault, not mine, however," — and, ad- 
 vancing to the side of the room, he took a 
 crooked bit of iron from his pocket — not unlike 
 that used for pulling stones out of a hors - 
 hoofs — and insinuating it between the skirting- 
 board and the floor, soon raised the trap-door 
 of which we have spoken before. 
 
 A vault of about nine feet deep was now ex- 
 posed, with the toj) of a ladder leading into it ; 
 and Mr. Radford ordered the men who were with 
 him to go down first. The one who had given 
 old Ramley the wink in passing, descended with- 
 out ceremony ; but the other, who was also an 
 officer, hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " Go down — go down, Clinch V said Mr. 
 Radford. " You would have a search, and so 
 you shall do it thoroughly." 
 
 The man obeyed, and the magistrate paused 
 a moment to speak with the smuggling farmer, 
 saying, in a low voice, " I don't mind their 
 knowing I'm your friend, Ramley. Let them 
 think about that as they like. Indeed, I'd 
 rather that tliev did see we understand each 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2GI 
 
 other ; so give me a hint if they go too far ; I'll 
 bear it out." 
 
 Thus saying, he descended into the cellar, and 
 old Ramley stood gazing down upon the three 
 from above, with his gaunt figure bending over 
 the trap-door. At the end of a minute or two 
 he called down, "There — that ought to do, I'm 
 sure ! We can't be kept bothering here all day !" 
 
 Something was said in a low tone bv one of 
 the men below; but then the voice of Mr. Rad- 
 ford was heard, exclaiming, " No, no ; that 
 will do ! We've had enough of it ! Go up, I 
 say ! There's no use of irritating people by 
 unreasonable suspicions, Mr. Clinch. Is it not 
 quite enough, Adams ? Are you satisfied !" 
 
 " Oh ! quite, sir," answered the other officer ; 
 there's nothing but bare w r alls and an empty 
 beer barrel." 
 
 The next moment the party began to re- 
 appear from the trap, the officer Clinch coming 
 up first, with a grave look, and Mr. Radford 
 and the other following, with a smile upon their 
 faces. 
 
 " There, all is clear enough," said Mr. Bad 1 
 
202 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ford ; " so you, gentlemen, can go and pursue 
 your search elsewhere. I must remain here to 
 ■wait for my son, whom I sent for to join i 
 with the servants, as you know ; not that I 
 feared any resistance from you, Mr. Ramley ; 
 but smuggling is so sadly prevalent now-a-days, 
 that one must be on one's guard, you know." 
 
 A horse laugh burst from the whole party 
 round the table ; and in the midst of it the V 
 officers retired into the yard, where, mounting 
 their horses, they opened the gates and rode 
 away. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, Mr. Radford 
 shook old Ramley familiarly by the hand, ex- 
 claiming, " This is the luckiest thing in the 
 world, my good fellow ! If I can but get them 
 to accuse me of conniving at this job, it will be 
 a piece of good fortune which does not often 
 happen to a man." 
 
 Ramley, as well he might, looked a little 
 confounded ; but Mr. Radford drew him aside. 
 and spoke to him for a quarter of an hour, in a 
 voice raised hardly above a whisper. Numerous 
 laughs, and nods, and signs of mutual under* 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 263 
 
 standing passed between them; and the con- 
 versation ended by Mr. Radford saying, aloud, 
 " I wonder what can keep Dick so long ; he 
 ought to have been here before now ! I sent 
 over to him at eight ; and it is past eleven." 
 
2G4 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 We will now, by the reader's good leave, return 
 for a short time to Harbourne House, where the 
 party sat down to breakfast, at the inconve- 
 niently early hour of eight. I will not take upon 
 myself to say that it might not be a quarter-of- 
 an-hour later, for almost everything is after its 
 time on this globe, and Harbourne House did 
 not differ in this respect from all the rest of the 
 world. From the face of voting Radford towards 
 the countenance of Sir Edward Digby shot some 
 very furious glances as they took their places at 
 the breakfast- table ; but those looks gradually 
 sunk down into a dull and sullen frown, as they 
 met with no return. Sir Edward Digby, indeed. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 265 
 
 seemed to have forgotten the words which had 
 passed between them as soon as they had been 
 uttered ; and he laughed, and talked, and con- 
 versed with every one as gaily as if nothing had 
 happened. Edith was some ten minutes behind 
 the rest at the meal, and seemed even more de- 
 pressed than the night before ; but Zara had 
 reserved a place for her at her own side ; and 
 taking the first opportunity, while the rest of the 
 party were busily talking together, she whispered 
 a few words in her ear. Sir Edward Digby saw 
 her face brighten in a moment, and her eyes 
 turn quickly towards himself; but he took no 
 notice ; and an interval of silence occurring the 
 next moment, the conversation between the two 
 sisters was interrupted. 
 
 During breakfast, a servant brought in a note 
 and laid it on the side-board, and after the 
 meal was over, Miss Croyland retired to her 
 own room to make ready for her departure. 
 Zara was about to follow ; but good Mrs. 
 Barbara, who had heard some sharp words 
 pass between the two gentlemen, and had 
 remarked the angry looks of young Radford, 
 
26G THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 was determined that they should not quarrel 
 without the presence of* ladies, and consequently 
 called her youngest niece back, saying, in a 
 whisper, " Stay here, my dear. I have a parti- 
 cular reason why I want you not to go." 
 
 " I will be back in a moment, mv dear aunt," 
 replied Zara ; but the worthy old lady would 
 not suffer her to depart ; and the butler entering 
 at that moment, called the attention of Richard 
 Eadford to the note which had been brought 
 in some half-an-hour before, and which was, in 
 fact, a sudden summons from his father. 
 
 The contents seemed to give him no great 
 satisfaction ; and, turning to the servant, he said. 
 " Well, tell them to saddle my horse, and bring 
 him round ;" and as he spoke, he directed a 
 frowning look towards the young baronet, as if 
 he could scarcely refrain from shewing his anger 
 till a fitting opportunity occurred for express- 
 ing it. 
 
 Digby, however, continued talking lightly with 
 Zara Croyland, in the window, till the horse had 
 been brought round, and the young man had 
 taken leave of the rest of the party. Then 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2G7 
 
 sauntering slowly out of the room, be passed 
 through the hall door, to the side of Richard 
 Radford's horse, j list as the latter was mount- 
 mg. 
 
 " Mr. Radford," he said, in a low tone, " you 
 were pleased to make an impertinent observation 
 upon my conduct, which led me to tell you what 
 I think of yours. We were interrupted ; but I 
 dare say you must wish for further conversation 
 with me. You can have it w T hen and where 
 you please." 
 
 " At three o'clock this afternoon, in the road 
 straight from the back of the house," replied 
 young Radford, in a low, determined tone, touch- 
 ing the hilt of his sword. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby nodded, and then turning 
 on his heel, walked coolly into the house. 
 
 " I am sure, Sir Edward," cried Mrs. Bar- 
 bara, as soon as she saw him, while Zara fixed 
 her eyes somewhat anxiously upon his counte- 
 nance — " I am sure you and Mr. Radford have 
 been quarrelling." 
 
 " Oh no, my dear madam," replied Sir Ed- 
 ward Digby ; " nothing of the kind, I can assure 
 
268 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 you. Our words were very ordinary words, aud 
 perfectly civil, upon my word. We Lad no time 
 to quarrel." 
 
 " My dear Sir Edward," said Sir Robert Croy- 
 land, " you must excuse me for saying it, I 
 must have no such things here. I am a magis- 
 trate for this count v, and bound bv my oath to 
 keep the peace. My sister tells me that high 
 words passed between you and my young friend 
 Radford before breakfast?" 
 
 " They were very few, Sir Robert," answered 
 Digby, in a careless tone ; " he thought fit to 
 make an observation upon my saying a few 
 words to your daughter, here, in a low tone, 
 which I conceive every gentleman has a right 
 to do to a fair lady. I told him. I thought 
 his conduct insolent ; and that was all that 
 passed. I believe the youth has got a bad head- 
 ache from too much of your good wine, Sir 
 Robert ; therefore, I forgive him. I dare say. 
 he'll be sorry enough for what he said, before the 
 day is over; and if he is not, I cannot help it." 
 
 "Well, well, if that's all, it is no great 
 matter !" replied the master of the house ; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 260 
 
 " but here comes round the carriage ; run and 
 call Edith, Zara." 
 
 Before the young lady could quit the room, 
 however, her sister appeared ; and the only mo- 
 ment they obtained for private conference was at 
 the door of the carriage, after Edith had got in, 
 and while her father was giving some directions 
 to the coachman. No great information could 
 be given or received, indeed, for Sir Eobert 
 returned to the side of the vehicle immediately, 
 bade his daughter good-bye, and the carriage 
 rolled awav. 
 
 As soon as it was gone, Sir Edward Digby 
 proposed, with the permission of Sir Robert 
 Croyland, to go out to shoot; for he did not 
 w T ish to subject himself to any further cross- 
 examination by the ladies of the family, and 
 he read many inquiries in fair Zara's eyes, 
 which he feared might be difficult to answer. 
 Retiring, then, to put on a more fitting cos- 
 tume, while gamekeepers and clogs were sum- 
 moned to attend him, he took the opportunity 
 of writing a short letter, which he delivered to 
 his servant to post, giving him, at the same 
 
270 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 time, brief directions to meet him near the cot- 
 tage of good Mrs. Clare, about half-past two, 
 with the sword which the young officer usually 
 wore when not on military service. Those orders 
 were spoken in so ordinary and commonplace 
 a tone that none but a very shrewd fellow would 
 have discovered that anything was going for- 
 ward different from the usual occurrences of 
 the day ; but Somen was a very shrewd fellow ; 
 and in a few minutes — -judging from what he had 
 observed while waiting on his master during 
 dinner on the preceding day — he settled the 
 whole matter entirely to his own satisfaction, 
 thinking, according to the phraseology of those 
 times, »' Sir Edward will pink him — and a good 
 thing too ; but it will spoil sport here, I've a 
 notion." 
 
 As he descended to the hall, in order to join 
 the keepers and their four-footed coadjutors, the 
 young baronet encountered Mrs. Barbara and 
 her niece ; and he perceived Zara's eyes instantly 
 glance to his sword-belt, from which he had 
 taken care to remove a weapon that could only 
 be inconvenient to him in the sport he was 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 271 
 
 about to pursue. She was not so easily to bo 
 deceived as her father ; but yet the absence of 
 the weapon usually employed in those days, as 
 the most efficacious for killing a fellow-creature, 
 put her mind at ease, at least for the present ; 
 and, although she determined to watch the £>ro- 
 ceedings of the young baronet during the two 
 or three following days — as far, at least, as pro- 
 priety would permit — she took no further notice 
 at the moment, being very anxious to prevent 
 her good aunt from interfering more than 
 necessary in the affairs of Sir Edward Digby. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara, indeed, was by no means well 
 pleased that Sir Edward was going to deprive 
 her schemes of the full benefit which might 
 have accrued from his passing the whole of that 
 day unoccupied, with Zara, at Harbourne House, 
 and hinted significantly that she trusted if he 
 did not find good sport he would return early, 
 as her niece was very fond of a ride over the 
 hills, only that she had no companion. 
 
 The poor girl coloured warmly, and the more 
 so as Sir Edward could not refrain from a smile. 
 
 " I trust, then, I shall have the pleasure of 
 
272 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 being your companion to-morrow, Miss Croy- 
 land," he said, turning to the young lady. " Why 
 should we not ride over, and see your excelk 
 uncle and your sister ? I must certainly pay my 
 respects to him ; and if I may have the honour 
 of escorting you, it will give double pleasure 
 to my ride." 
 
 Zara Croyland was well aware that many a 
 matter, which if treated seriously may become 
 annoying — if not dangerous, can be earned 
 lightly off by a gay and dashing jest : " Oh. 
 with all my heart," she said ; " only remember, 
 Sir Edward, we must have plenty of sen-ants 
 with us, or else all the people in the country 
 will say that you and I are going to be married ; 
 and as I never intend that such a saying should 
 be verified, it will be as well to nip the pretty 
 little blossom of gossip in the bud." 
 
 " It shall be all exactly as you please,'* replied 
 the young officer, with a low bow and a meaning 
 smile ; but at the very same moment, Mrs. Bar- 
 bara thought fit to reprove her niece, wonderii.g- 
 how she could talk so sillily ; and Sir Edward 
 took his leave, receiving his host's excuses, as 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 273 
 
 he passed through the hall, for not accompany- 
 ing him on his shooting expedition. 
 
 " The truth is, my dear sir," said Sir Robert 
 Croyland, " that I am now too old and too heavy 
 for such sports." 
 
 "You were kind enough to tell me, this is 
 Liberty Hall," replied the young baronet, "and 
 you shall see, my dear sir, that I take you at 
 your word, both in regard to your game and 
 your wine, being resolved, with your good per- 
 mission, and for my own health, to kill your 
 birds and spare your bottles." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," answered the master of 
 the mansion — "vou shall do exactly as you 
 like ;" and with this licence, Sir Edward set 
 out shooting, with tolerable success, till towards 
 two o'clock, when, quite contrary to the advice 
 and opinion of the gamekeepers — who declared 
 that the dogs would have the wind with them in 
 that direction, and that as the dav was now hot, 
 the birds would not lie a minute — he directed his 
 course towards the back of Harbourne Wood, 
 finding, it must be confessed, but very little sport. 
 There, apparently fatigued and disgusted with 
 
 VOL. i. t 
 
274 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 -walking for a mile or two without a shot, he 
 gave his gun to one of the men, and bade him 
 take it back to the house, saying, he would 
 follow speedily. As soon as he had seen 
 them depart, he tracked round the edge of the 
 wood, towards Mrs. Clare's cottage, exactly 
 opposite to which he found his trusty sen-ant, 
 provided as he had directed. 
 
 Sir Edward then took the sword and fixed it 
 in his belt, saying, " Now, Somers, you may go !"' 
 
 " Certainly, sir," replied the man, touching 
 his hat with a look of hesitation ; but he added, 
 a minute after, " you had better let me know- 
 where it's to be, sir, in case " 
 
 " Well," rejoined Sir Edward Digby, with a 
 smile, " you are an old soldier and no meddler, 
 Somers; so that I will tell you, 'in case," — 
 that the place is in a straight line between this 
 and Harbourne House. So now, face about to 
 the right, and go back by the other road.'" 
 
 The man touched his hat again, and walked 
 quickly away, while the young officer turned his 
 steps up the road which he had followed during 
 the preceding evening in pursuit of the two 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 275 
 
 Miss Croylands. It was a good broad open 
 way, in which there was plenty of fencing room, 
 and he thought to himself as he walked on, " I 
 shall not be sorry to punish this young vaga- 
 bond a little. I must see what sort of skill he 
 has, and if possible wound him without hurting 
 him much. If one could keep him to his bed 
 for a fortnight, we should have the field more 
 clear for our own campaign ; but these things 
 must always be a chance." 
 
 Thus meditating, and looking at his watch 
 to see how much time he had to spare, Major 
 Sir Edward Digby walked on till became within 
 sight of the garden wall and some of the out- 
 buildings of Harbourne House. The reader, if 
 he has paid attention, will remember that the 
 road did not go straight to the back of the house 
 itself: a smaller path, which led to the right, 
 conducting thither; but as the gardens extended 
 for nearly a quarter of a mile on that side, it fol- 
 lowed the course of the wall to the left to join 
 the parish road which ran in front of the man- 
 sion, leaving the green court, as it was called, 
 or lawn, and the terrace, on the right hand. 
 
 T 2 
 
270 THE SMUGGLES. 
 
 As there was no other road in that direc- 
 tion, Sir Edward Digby felt sure that lie must 
 be on the ground appointed, but yet, as is 
 the case in all moments of exj)ectation, the 
 time seemed so long, that when he 6aw the 
 brick-work he took out his watch again, and 
 found there were still five minutes to spare. 
 He accordingly turned iqion his steps, walking 
 slowly back for about a quarter of a mile, and 
 then returned, looking sharply out for his 
 opponent, but seeing no one. He was now 
 sure that the time must be past ; but, resolved 
 to afford young Radford every opportunity, he 
 said to himself, " Watches may differ, and some- 
 thing may have detained him. I will give him 
 a full half hour, and then if he does not come I 
 shall understand the matter." 
 
 As soon, then, as he saw the walls once 
 more, he wheeled round and re-trod his steps, 
 then looked at his watch, and found that 
 it was a quarter past three. "Too bad!" he 
 said, — " too bad! The fellow cannot be coward, 
 too, as well as blackguard. One turn more. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 277 
 
 and then I've done with him." But as he ad- 
 vanced on his way towards the house, he sud- 
 denly perceived the nutter of female garments 
 before him, and saying to liimself, " This is awk- 
 ward !" he gazed round for some path, in order to 
 get out of the way for a moment, but could per- 
 ceive none. The next instant, coming round a 
 shrub which started forward a little before the 
 rest of the trees, he saw the younger Miss Croy- 
 land advancing with a quick step, and, he could 
 not help thinking, with a somewhat agitated air. 
 Her colour was heightened, her eyes eagerly 
 looking on ; but, as soon as she saw him, she 
 slackened her pace, and came forward in a 
 more deliberate manner. 
 
 " Oh, Sir Edward !" she said, in a calm, sweet 
 tone, " I am glad to see you. You have finished 
 your shooting early, it seems." 
 
 " Why, the sport was beginning to slacken," 
 answered Sir Edward Digby. " I had not had 
 a shot for the last half hour, and so thought 
 it best to give it up." 
 
 "Well then, you shall take a walk with 
 
278 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 me," cried Zara, gaily. " I am just going 
 down to a poor friend of ours, called Widow 
 Clare, and you shall come too." 
 
 " What ! notwithstanding all your sage and 
 prudent apprehensions in regard to what peo- 
 ple might say if we were seen alone together ! " 
 exclaimed Sir Edward Dighy, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh ! I don't mind that," answered Zara. 
 " Great occasions, you know, Sir Edward, re- 
 quire decisive measures ; and I assuredly want 
 an escort through this terrible forest, to protect 
 me from all the giants and enchanters it may- 
 contain. " 
 
 Sir Edward Digby looked at his watch again, 
 and saw that it wanted but two minutes to the 
 half hour. 
 
 u Oh!" said Zara, affecting a look of pique, 
 " if you have some important appointment, Sir 
 Edward, it is another affair — onlv tell me if it be 
 so ?" 
 
 Sir Edward Digby took her hand in his : w I 
 will tell you, dear lady," he replied. M if you will 
 first tell me one thing, truly and sincerely — 
 What brought you here ?" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 279 
 
 Zara trembled and coloured; for with the 
 question put in so direct a shape, the agitation, 
 which she had previously overcome, mastered 
 her in turn, and she answered, " Don't, don't, 
 or I shall cry." 
 
 " Well, then, tell me at least if I had any- 
 thing to do with it?" asked the young ba- 
 ronet. 
 
 "Yes, you had !" replied Zara; " I can't tell 
 a falsehood. But now, Sir Edward, don't, as 
 most of you men would do, suppose that it's from 
 any very tender interest in you, that I did this 
 foolish thing. It was because I thought — I 
 thought, if you were going to do what I ima- 
 gined, it would be the very worst thing in the 
 world for poor Edith." 
 
 " I shall only suppose that you are all that is 
 kind and good," answered Digby — perhaps a 
 little juqued at the indifference which she so stu- 
 diously assumed ; " and even if I thought, Miss 
 Croylaud, that you did take some interest in 
 my poor self, depend upon it, I should not 
 be inclined to go one step farther in the way of 
 vanity than you yourself could wish. I am not 
 
280 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 altogether a coxcomb. But now tell me, how 
 you were led to suspect anything?" 
 
 "Promise me first," said Zara, "that this 
 affair shall not take place. Indeed, indeed, Sir 
 Edward, it must not, on every account !" 
 
 "There is not the slightest chance of any 
 such thing," replied Sir Edward Digby. " You 
 need not be under the slightest alarm. " 
 
 "What! you do not mean to say," she ex- 
 claimed, with her cheeks glowing and her ev 
 raised to his nice, " that you did not come here 
 to right him ?" 
 
 " Not exactly," answered Sir Edward Digby, 
 laughing; "but what I do mean to say, my 
 dear young lady, is, thxit our friend is half an 
 hour behind his time, and I am not disposed to 
 give him another opportunity of keeping me 
 waiting." 
 
 "And if he had been in time," cried Zara. 
 clasping her hands together and casting down 
 her eyes, " I should have been too late." 
 
 "But tell me," persisted Sir Edward Digby, 
 "how you heard all this. Has my servant, 
 Somers, been indiscreet?" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 281 
 
 "No, no," replied Zara; "no, I can assure 
 you ! I saw you go out in your shooting dress, 
 and without a sword. Then I thought it was 
 all over, especially as you had the gamekeepers 
 with you ; but some time ago I found that your 
 servant had gone out, carrying a sword under 
 his arm, and had come straight up this road. 
 That made me uneasy. When the gamekeepers 
 came back without you, I was more uneasy still ; 
 but I could not get away from my aunt for a few 
 minutes. When I could, however, I got my 
 hat and cloak, and hurried away, knowing that 
 you would not venture to light in the presence 
 of a woman. As I went out, all my worst fears 
 were confirmed by seeing your servant come 
 back without the sword ; and then — not very well 
 knowing, indeed, what I was to say or do — I 
 hurried on as fast as possible. Now you have 
 the whole story, and you must come away from 
 this place." 
 
 " Very willingly," answered the young officer; 
 adding, with a smile, " which way shall we go, 
 Miss Croyland ? To Widow Clare's ?" 
 
 "No, no!" answered Zara, blushing again. 
 
282 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Do not tease me. You do not know how 
 soon, when a woman is agitated, she is made to 
 weep. My father is out, indeed," she added, in 
 a gayer tone, " so that I should have time to 
 bathe my eyes before dinner, which will be half 
 an hour later than usual ; but I should not like 
 my aunt to tell him that I have been taking a 
 crying walk with Sir Edward Digbv. 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should ever give you 
 cause for a tear!" answered the young baronet ; 
 and then, with a vague impression that he was 
 doing something very like making love, he 
 added, " but let us return to the house, or per- 
 haps we may have your aunt seeking us." 
 
 "The most likely thing in the world," re- 
 plied Zara; and taking their way back, they 
 passed through the gardens and entered the 
 house by one of the side doors. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It was a custom of those days, I believe, not 
 altogether done away with in the present times, 
 for magistrates to assemble in petty sessions, or 
 to meet at other times for the dispatch of any 
 extraordinary business, in tavern, public-house, 
 or inn — a custom more honoured in the breach 
 than the observance, except where no other 
 place of assembly can be found. It thus hap- 
 pened that, on the day of which we have been 
 speaking, some half-dozen gentlemen, all jus- 
 tices of the peace for the county of Kent, wero 
 gathered together in a good-sized room of the 
 inn, at the little town of ***** . There 
 was a table drawn across the room, at which 
 
284 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 was placed the magistrates' clerk, with sundry 
 sheets of paper before him, several printed 
 forms, and two books, one big and the other 
 little. The magistrates themselves, however, 
 were not seated in due state and dignity, but, 
 on the contrary, were in general standing about 
 and talking together, some looking out of the 
 window into the street, some leaning with their 
 backs against the table and the tails of their 
 coats turned over their hands, while one occu- 
 pied an arm-chair placed sideways at the board, 
 with one knee thrown over the other — a 
 favourite position which he could not have 
 assumed had he sat with his face to the table. 
 
 The latter was Sir Robert Croyland, who had 
 been sent for in haste by his brother justices, to 
 take part in their proceedings relative to a 
 daring act of smuggling which had just been 
 perpetrated. Sir Kobert would willingly have 
 avoided giving his assistance upon this occasion ; 
 but the summons had been so urgent that he 
 could not refuse going ; and he was now not a 
 little angry to find that there were more than 
 sufficient justices present to make a quorum, and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 285 
 
 to transact all the necessary business. Some 
 one, however, it would seem, had — as usual in 
 all county arrangements — been very busy in 
 pressing for as full an attendance as possible ; 
 and those who knew the characters of the gen- 
 tlemen assembled might have perceived that the 
 great majority of them were not very well qua- 
 lified to sit as judges upon a case of this nature, 
 as almost every one was under suspicion of lean- 
 ing towards the side of the smugglers, most of 
 them having at some time engaged more or less 
 in the traffic which they were called upon to stop. 
 . Sir Robert Croyland was the least objection- 
 able in this point of view ; for he had always 
 borne a very high name for impartiality in such 
 matters, and had never had anything personally 
 to do with the illicit traffic itself. It is pro- 
 bable, therefore, that he was sent for to give 
 a mere show of justice to the proceedings; for 
 Mr. Radford was expected to be there ; and it 
 was a common observation of the county gen- 
 tlemen, that the latter could now lead Sir Robert 
 as he liked. Mr. Radford, indeed, had not yet 
 arrived, though two messengers had been des- 
 
28G THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 patched to summon him ; the answer still being 
 that he had gone over towards Ashford. Sir 
 Robert, therefore, sat in the midst — not harmo- 
 nizing much in feeling with the rest, and looking 
 anxiously for his friend's apj)earance, in order 
 to obtain some hint as to how he was to act. 
 
 At length, a considerable noise was heard 
 in the streets below, and a sort of con- 
 stable door-keeper presented himself, to inform 
 the magistrates that the officers and dragoons 
 had arrived, bringing in several prisoners. 
 An immediate bustle took place, the wor- 
 shipful gentlemen beginning to seat themselves, 
 and one of them — as it is technically termed — 
 moving Sir Robert into the chair. In order to 
 shew that this was really as well as metaphysi- 
 cally done, Sir Robert Croyland rose, sat down 
 again, and wheeled himself round to the table. 
 A signal was then given to the constable ; and a 
 rush of several persons from without was made 
 into the temporary justice room, which was at once 
 nearly filled with custom-house officers, soldiers, 
 smugglers, and the curious of the village. 
 
 Amongst the latter portion of the auditory, — 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 287 
 
 at least, so he supposed at first, — Sir Robert 
 Croyland perceived his young friend, Richard 
 Radford ; and he was in the act of beckoning 
 him to come up to the table, in order to in- 
 quire where his father was, and how soon he 
 would return, when one of the officers of the 
 Customs suddenly thrust the young gentleman 
 out of the way, exclaiming, " Stand farther 
 back ! What are you pushing forward for ? 
 Your turn will come soon enough, I warrant.'' 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland was confounded; and for 
 a moment or two he sat silent in perplexity and 
 surprise. Not that he ever entertained a doubt 
 of old Mr. Radford still nourishing all the pro- 
 pensities of his youth; nor that he was not 
 well aware they had formed part of the in- 
 heritance of the son ; but there were certain 
 considerations of some weight which made Sir 
 Robert feel that it would have been better for 
 him to be in any other spot of the habit- 
 able globe than that where he was at the 
 moment. Recovering himself, however, after a 
 brief pause of anxious indecision, he made a 
 sign to the constable door-keeper, and whis- 
 
288 THE BMUGGLEB. 
 
 pered to him, as soon as the man reached his 
 side, to inquire into the cause of Mr. Richard 
 Radford's being there. The man was sKrewd 
 
 and quick, and while half the magistrates were 
 speaking across the table to half the offict 
 and some of the dragoons, he went and returned 
 to and from the other side of the room, and then 
 whispered to the baronet, " For smuggling, 
 s i r — caught abetting the others — his name 
 marked upon some of the goods !" 
 
 Sir Robert Crovland was not naturally a Vail- 
 liant man. Though hasty in temper in his early 
 days, he had always been somewhat obtuse in 
 intellect ; but this was a case of emergency; and 
 there is no greater sharpener of the wits than 
 necessity. In an instant, he had formed his 
 plan to gain time, which was his great object 
 at that moment ; and, taking out his watch, he 
 laid it on the table, exclaiming aloud, " Gentle- 
 men ! gentlemen ! a little regularity, if you 
 please. My time is precious. I have an im- 
 portant engagement this afternoon, and 1 " 
 
 But his whole scheme had nearly been frus- 
 trated by the impetuosity of young Radford 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 289 
 
 himself, who at once pushed through officers 
 and soldiers, saying, " And so have I, Sir 
 Robert, a very important engagement this after- 
 noon. I claim to be heard as speedily as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 Sir Robert, however, was determined to carry 
 his point, and to avoid having aught to do with 
 the case of his young friend, even at the risk of 
 giving him offence and annoyance. " Stand 
 back, sir !" he said. " In this court, there is 
 no friendship or favour. You will have atten- 
 tion in turn, but not before. Mr. Mowle, bring 
 forward the prisoners one after the other, as near 
 as possible, in the order of — the order of — of 
 their capture," he added, at length, after hesi- 
 tating for a moment to consider whether it was 
 or was not probable that young Radford had 
 been amongst those last taken ; " and let all the 
 others be removed, under guard, into the next 
 room." 
 
 " Wont that make it a long affair, Sir Ro- 
 bert ?" asked Mr. Runnington, a neighbouring 
 squire. 
 
 " Oh dear, no !" replied the chairman; " by 
 
 VOL. I. U 
 
290 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 regularity we shall save time. Do as you are 
 directed, Mowle !" 
 
 Young Radford showed a strong disposition 
 to resist, or, at least, to protest against this ar- 
 rangement ; but the officer to whom the baronet 
 had spoken, treated the prisoner with very little 
 reverence ; and he, with the rest of the gang, 
 was removed from the room, with the excep- 
 tion of three, one of whom, with a smart 
 cockade in his hat, such as was worn at that time 
 by military men in undress, swaggered up to 
 the table with a bold air, as if he were about to 
 address the magistrates. 
 
 " Ah, major, is that you ?" asked a gentle- 
 man on Sir Robert's right, known in the country 
 by the name of Squire Jollyboat, though his 
 family being originally French, his real appella- 
 tion was Jollivet. 
 
 " Oh yes, squire," answered the prisoner, in 
 a gay, indifferent tone, " here I am. It is long 
 since I have had the pleasure of seeing your 
 worship. I think you were not on the bench 
 the last time I was committed, or I should have 
 fared better." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 291 
 
 " I don't know that, major," replied the gen- 
 tleman ; "on the former occasion I gave you a 
 month, I think." 
 
 " Ay, but the blackguards that time gave me 
 two," rejoined the major. 
 
 " Because it was the second offence," said 
 Squire Jollyboat. 
 
 " The second ! Lord bless you, sir !" an- 
 swered the major, with a look of cool contempt; 
 and turning round with a wink to his two com- 
 panions, they all three laughed joyously, as if it 
 were the finest joke in the world. 
 
 It might not be very interesting to the 
 reader were we to give in detail the depositions 
 of the various witnesses upon a common case 
 of smuggling in the last century, or to repeat all 
 the various arguments which were bandied 
 backwards and forwards between the magis- 
 trates, upon the true interpretation of the law, as 
 expressed in the 9th George II., cap. 35. It 
 was very evident, indeed, to the officers of Cus- 
 toms, to the serjeant of dragoons, and even to 
 the prisoners themselves, that the worthy jus- 
 tices were disposed to take as favourable a view 
 
 u2 
 
292 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of smuggling transactions as possible. But the 
 law was very clear ; the case was not less so ; 
 Mowle,tbe principal riding officer, was a straight- 
 forward, determined, and shrewd man ; and 
 although Sir Robert Croyland, simply with a 
 view of protracting the investigation till Mr. 
 Radford should arrive, started many questions 
 which he left to the other magistrates to settle, 
 yet in about half an hour the charge of smug- 
 gling, with riot, and armed resistance to the 
 Custom-House officers, was clearly made out 
 against the major and his two companions; 
 and as the act left no discretion in such a case, 
 the resistance raising the act to felony, all three 
 were committed for trial, and the officers bound 
 over to prosecute. 
 
 The men were then taken away, laughing 
 and jesting; and Sir Robert Croyland looked 
 with anxiety for the appearance of the next party ; 
 but two other men were now introduced without 
 Richard Radford ; and the worthy baronet was 
 released for the time. The case brought forward 
 against these prisoners differed from that against 
 those who preceded them, inasmuch as no resist- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 293 
 
 ance was charged. They had simply been found 
 aiding and abetting in the carriage of the smug- 
 gled goods, and had fled when they found them- 
 selves pursued by the officers, though not fast 
 enough to avoid capture. The facts were speedily 
 proved, and, indeed, much more rapidly than 
 suited the views of Sir Robert Croyland. He 
 therefore raised the question, when the decision 
 of the magistrates was about to be pronounced, 
 whether this was the first or the second offence, 
 affecting some remembrance of the face of one of 
 the men. The officers, also, either really did re- 
 collect, or pretended to do so, that the person 
 of whom he spoke had been convicted before ; 
 but the man himself positively denied it, and 
 defied them to bring forward any proof. A 
 long discussion thus commenced, and before it 
 was terminated the baronet was relieved by the 
 appearance of Mr. Radford himself, who en- 
 tered booted and spurred, and covered with 
 dust, as if just returned from a long ride. 
 
 Shaking hands with his brother magistrates, 
 and especially with Sir Robert Croyland, he 
 was about to seat himself at the end of 
 
294 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 that table, when the baronet rose, saying, 
 " Here, Radford, you had better take my place, 
 as I must positively get home directly, having 
 important business to transact." 
 
 " No, no, Sir Robert," replied that respect- 
 able magistrate, we cannot spare you in this 
 case, nor can I take that place. My son, I 
 hear, is charged with taking part in this affair ; 
 and some sharp words have been passing be- 
 tween myself and that scoundrel of a fellow 
 called Clinch, the officer, who applied to me for 
 aid in searching the Ramleys' house. When I 
 agreed to go with him, and found out a very 
 snug place for hiding, he was half afraid to go 
 down ; and yet, since then, he has thought fit 
 to insinuate that I had something to do with 
 the run, and did not conduct the search 
 fairly.'' 
 
 The magistrates looked round to each other 
 and smiled ; and Radford himself laughed 
 heartily, very much as if he was acting a part in 
 a farce, without any hope or expectation of 
 passing off his zeal in the affair, upon his fellow 
 magistrates, as genuine. Mowle, the officer, at 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 295 
 
 the same time turned round, and spoke a few 
 words to two men who had followed Mr. Brad- 
 ford into the room, one of whom shrugged his 
 shoulders with a laugh, and said nothing, and 
 the other replied eagerly, but in a low tone. 
 
 Sir Eobert Croyland, however, urged the 
 necessity of his going, put his watch in his 
 pocket, and buttoned up his coat. But Mr. 
 Kadford, assuming a graver air and a very pecu- 
 liar tone, replied, " No, no, Sir Robert ; you must 
 stay, indeed. We shall want you. Your known 
 impartiality will give weight to our decisions, 
 whatever they may be." 
 
 The baronet sat down again, but evidently 
 with so much unwillingness, that his brethren 
 marvelled not a little at this fresh instance of 
 the influence which Mr. Eadford exerted over 
 his mind. 
 
 " Who is the next prisoner, Mr. Mowle?" 
 demanded Sir Robert Croyland, as soon as he 
 had resumed his seat. 
 
 " Mr. Richard Radford, I suppose, sir," said 
 Mowle ; " but these two men are not disposed of." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mr. Jollivet, who was very 
 
290 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 well inclined to commence a career of lenity, 
 u as no 'proof has been given that this is the- 
 second offence, I think we must send them both 
 for a month. That seems to me the utmost 
 we can do." 
 
 The other magistrates concurred in this de- 
 cision ; and the prisoners were ordered to be 
 removed ; but ere they went, the one against 
 whom the officers had most seriously pressed 
 their charge, turned round towards the bench, 
 exclaiming, in a gay tone, " Thank you, Squire 
 Jollyboat. Your worship shall have a chest of 
 tea for this, before I'm out a fortnight." 
 
 A roar of laughter ran round the magistrates 
 — for such matters were as indecently carried 
 on in those davs, on almost all occasions, as thev 
 sometimes are now; and in a moment or two 
 after, young Eadford was brought in, with a dark 
 scowl upon his brow. 
 
 "How is this, Dick?" cried his father. 
 " Have you been dabbling in a run, and suf- 
 fered yourself to be caught V 
 
 " Let these vagabonds make their accusa- 
 tion, and bring their witnesses," replied the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 297 
 
 young man, sullenly, " and then I'll speak for 
 myself." 
 
 " Well, your worships," said Mowle, coming - 
 forward, " the facts are simply these : I have 
 long had information that goods were to he 
 run ahout this time, and that Mr. Eadford 
 had some share in the matter. Last night, a 
 large quantity of goods were landed in the 
 Marsh, though I had been told it was to be 
 near about Sandgate, or between that and 
 Hythe, and was consequently on the look-out 
 there. As soon as I got intimation, however, 
 that the run had been effected, I got together 
 as many men as I could, sent for a party of 
 dragoons from Folkestone, and, knowing pretty 
 well which way they would take, came across 
 by Aldington, Broadoak and Kingsnorth, and 
 then away by Singleton Green, towards Four- 
 Elms, where, just under the hill, we came 
 upon those two men who have just been con- 
 victed, and two others, who got off. We cap- 
 tured these two, and three horse-loads they 
 had with them, for their beasts were tired, and 
 they had lagged behind. There were two or three 
 
298 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 chests of tea, and a good many other things, 
 and all of them were marked, just like honest 
 bales of goods, " Richard Radford, Esquire, 
 Junior." As we found, however, that the 
 great party was on before, we pursued 
 them as far as Rouse- end, where we overtook 
 them all ; but there they scattered, some gal- 
 loping off towards Gouldwell, as if they were 
 going to the Ramleys ; some towards Usher- 
 house, and some by the wood towards Etchden. 
 Four or five of the dragoons pushed after those 
 running for Gouldwell, but I and the rest 
 stuck to the main body, which went away 
 towards the wood, and who showed fight. 
 There was a good deal of firing amongst the 
 trees, but not much damage done, except to my 
 horse, who was shot in the shoulder. But 
 just as we were chasing them out of the wood, 
 up came Mr. Richard Radford, who was seen 
 for a minute speaking to one of the men who 
 were running, and riding along beside him for 
 some way. He then turned, and came up to us, 
 and tried to stop us as we were galloping after 
 them, asking what the devil we were about, and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 299 
 
 giving us a great deal of bad language. I 
 didn't mind him, but rode on, knowing we 
 could take hint at any time ; but Mr. Birch ett, 
 the other chief officer, who had captured the 
 major a minute or two before, got angry, 
 and caught him by the collar, charging him to 
 surrender, when he instantly drew his sword, 
 and threatened to run him through. One of 
 the dragoons, however, knocked it out of his 
 hand, and then he was taken. This affray in 
 the middle of the road enabled the greater part 
 of the rest to get off; and we only captured 
 two more horses and one man." 
 
 Several of the other officers, and the dragoons, 
 corroborated Mowle's testimony; and the magis- 
 trates, but especially Sir Robert Croyland, 
 began to look exceedingly grave. Mr. Radford, 
 however, only laughed, turning to his son, and 
 asking, " Well, Dick ! what have you to say to 
 all this ? " 
 
 Richard Radford, however, merely tossed up 
 his head, and threw back his shoulders, without 
 reply, till Sir Robert Croyland addressed him, 
 saying, I hope, Mr. Radford, you can clear 
 
300 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 yourself of this charge, for you ought to know 
 that armed resistance to ihe King's officers 
 is a transportable offence." 
 
 " I will speak to the magistrates," replied 
 young Radford, " when I can speak freely, 
 without all these people about me. As to the 
 goods they mention, marked with my .name, 
 I know nothing about them." 
 
 " Do you wish to speak with the magistrates 
 alone ?" demanded old Mr. Radford. 
 
 "I must strongly object to any such proceed- 
 ing," exclaimed Mowle. 
 
 " Pray, sir, meddle with what concerns you," 
 said old Radford, turning upon him fiercely, 
 "and do not pretend to dictate here. You gen- 
 tlemen are greatly inclined to forget your place. 
 I think that the room had better be cleared 
 of all but the prisoner, Sir Robert." 
 
 The baronet bowed his head ; Squire 
 Jollivet concurred in the same opinion ; and, 
 though one or two of the others hesitated, they 
 were ultimately overruled, and the room was 
 cleared of all persons but the magistrates and the 
 culprit. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. ' 301 
 
 Scarcely was this done, when, with a bold free 
 air, and contemptuous smile, young Radford 
 advanced to the side of the table, and laid his 
 left hand firmly upon it ; then, looking round 
 from one to another, he said, "I will ask you a 
 question, worshipful gentlemen. — Is there any 
 one of you, here present, who has never, at any 
 time, had anything to do with a smuggling 
 affair ? — Can you- swear it upon your oaths ? 
 — Can you, sir ? — Can you ? Can you ?" 
 
 The magistrates to whom he addressed him- 
 self, looked marvellously rueful, and replied 
 not ; and at last, turning to his father, he said, 
 " Can you, sir? though I, methinks, need hardly 
 ask the question." 
 
 " No, by Jove, Dick, I can't !" replied his 
 father, laughing. " I wish to Heaven you wouldn't 
 put such awful interrogatories ; for I believe, 
 for that matter, we are all in the same boat." 
 
 " Then I refuse," said young Radford, " to be 
 judged by you. Settle the matter as you like. — 
 Get out of the scrape as you can ; but don't 
 venture to convict a man when you are more 
 guilty than he is himself. If you do, I may 
 
302 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 tell a few tales that may not be satisfactory to 
 any of you." 
 
 It had been remarked, that, in putting his 
 questions, the young gentleman had entirely 
 passed Sir Kobert Croyland ; and Mr. Jollivet 
 whispered to the gentleman next him, " I think 
 we had better leave him and Sir Robert to settle 
 it, for I believe the baronet is quite clear of the 
 scrape." 
 
 But Mr. Eadford had overheard, and he 
 exclaimed, " No, no ; I think the matter is quite 
 clear how we must proceed. There's not the slight- 
 est proof given that he knew anything about 
 these goods being marked with his name, or that 
 it was done by his authority. He was not with 
 the men either, who were carrying the goods ; 
 and they were going quite away from his own 
 dwelling. He happened to come there acci- 
 dentally, just when the fray was going on. 
 That I can prove, for I sent him a note this 
 morning, telling him to join me at Ashford as 
 fast as possible." 
 
 " I saw it delivered myself," said Sir Robert 
 Croyland. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 303 
 
 "To be sure/' rejoined Mr. Radford; "and 
 then, as to his talking to the smugglers when 
 he did come up, I dare say he was telling them 
 to surrender, or not to resist the law. Wasn't 
 it so, Dick ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it," answered Eichard Radford, 
 boldly. " I told them to be off as fast as they 
 could. But I did tell them not to fire any more. 
 That's true enough !" 
 
 " Ay, to be sure," cried Mr. Radford. " He 
 was trying to persuade them not to resist legi- 
 timate authority." 
 
 Almost all the magistrates burst into a fit of 
 laughter ; but, no way disconcerted, worthy Mr. 
 Radford went on saying — " While he was doing 
 this, up comes this fellow, Birchett, and seizes 
 him by the collar; and, I dare say, he abused 
 him into the bargain." 
 
 " He said I was a d — d smuggling blackguard 
 myself," said young Radford. 
 
 " Well, then, gentlemen, is it at all wonderful 
 that he drew his sword ?" demanded his respect- 
 able father. "Is every gentleman in the county to 
 be ridden over, rough- shod, by these officers and 
 
304 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 their dragoons, and called ' d — d smuggling 
 blackguards,' when they are actually engaged in 
 persuading the smugglers not to fire ? I promise 
 you, my son shall bring an action against that 
 fellow, Birchett, for an assault. It seems to me 
 that the case is quite clear." 
 
 " It is, at all events, rendered doubtful," 
 said Sir Robert Croyland, " by what has been 
 suggested. I think the officers had better now 
 be recalled ; and, by your permission, I will put 
 a few questions to them." 
 
 In a very few minutes the room was, once more, 
 nearly filled, and the baronet addressed Mowle, in 
 a grave tone, saying — "A very different view of 
 this case has been afforded us, Mr. Mowle, from 
 that which you gave just now. It is distinctly 
 proved, and I myself can in some degree testily 
 to the fact, that Mr. Radford was on the spot 
 accidentally, having been sent for by his father 
 to join him at Ashford " 
 
 " At the Ramleys', I suppose you mean, sir," 
 observed Mowle, drily. 
 
 " No, sir; at Ashford," rejoined Mr. Radford ; 
 and Sir Robert Croyland proceeded to say : 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 305 
 
 " The young gentleman also asserts that he 
 was persuading the smugglers to submit to 
 lawful authority, or, at all events, not to fire 
 upon you. Was there any more firing after he 
 came up ?" 
 
 " No; there was not/' answered Mowle. 
 " They all galloped off as hard as they could." 
 
 " Corroborative proof of his statement," ob- 
 served Sir Eobert, solemnly. " The only ques- 
 tion, therefore, remaining, seems to be, as to 
 whether Mr. Kadforcl, junior, had really any- 
 thing to do with the placing of his name upon 
 the goods. Now, one strong reason for sup- 
 posing such not to be the case is, that they were 
 not found near his house, or going towards it, 
 but the contrary." 
 
 " Why, he's as much at home in the Eamleys' 
 house as at his own," said a voice from behind; 
 but Sir Robert took no notice, and proceeded to 
 inquire — "Have you proof, Mr. Mowle, that 
 he authorized any one to mark these goods with 
 his name ?" 
 
 Mr. Radford smiled ; and Mowle, the officer, 
 looked a little puzzled. At length, however, he 
 
 vol. i. x 
 
300 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 answered — " No, I can't say we have, Sir Robert ; 
 but one thing is very certain, it is not quite 
 customary to ask for such proof in this stage 
 of the business, and in the cases of inferior 
 men." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," replied Sir Robert 
 Croyland, in a dignified and sententious tone, 
 "for it is quite necessary that in all cases the 
 evidence should be clear and satisfactory to 
 justify the magistrates in committing any man 
 to prison, even for trial. In this instance 
 nothing is proved, and not even a fair cause for 
 suspicion made out. Mr. Radford was there 
 accidentally; the goods were going in a different 
 direction from his house; he was seized, we 
 think upon insufficient grounds, while endea- 
 vouring to dissuade the smugglers from resist- 
 ing the king's officers and troops ; and though 
 we may judge his opposition imprudent, it was 
 not wholly unjustifiable. The prisoner is there- 
 fore discharged." 
 
 " The goods were going to the Ramleys," 
 said the man, Clinch, who now, emboldened by 
 the presence of several other officers, spoke loud 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 307 
 
 and decidedly. " Here are two or three of the 
 dragoons, who can swear that they followed a 
 party of the smugglers nearly to the house, and 
 had the gates shut in their face when they came 
 up ; and I can't help saying, that the search of 
 the house by Mr. Radford was not conducted as- 
 it ought to have been. The two officers were left 
 without, while he went in to speak with old 
 Eamley, and there were a dozen of men, or 
 more, in the kitchen." 
 
 " Pooh ! nonsense, fellow !" cried Mr. Radford, 
 interrupting him with a laugh ; " I did it for 
 your own security." 
 
 " And then," continued Clinch, " when we 
 had gone down into the concealed cellar below, 
 which was as clear a hide for smuggled goods 
 as ever was seen, he w r ould not let me carry out 
 the search, though I found that two j^laces at 
 the sides were hollow, and only covered with 
 boards." 
 
 " Why, you vagabond, you were afraid of 
 going down at all !" said Mr. Radford. " Where 
 is Adams ? He can bear witness of it." 
 
 i( Clinch didn't seem to like it much, it must be 
 
308 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 confessed," said Adams, without coming for- 
 ward ; " but, then, the place was so full of men, 
 it was enough to frighten one." 
 
 " I wasn't frightened," rejoined Mr. Radford. 
 
 "Because it was clear enough that you and 
 the Ramleys understood each other," answered 
 Clinch, boldly. 
 
 " Pooh — pooh, nonsense!" said Squire Jol- 
 livct. "You must not talk such stuff here, Mr. 
 Clinch. But, however that may be, the prisoner 
 is discharged ; and now, as I think we have no 
 more business before us, we may all go home ; 
 for it's nearly five o'clock, and I, for one, want 
 my dinner." 
 
 " Ay, it is nearly five o'clock," said young 
 Radford, who had been standing with his eyes 
 cast down and his brow knit ; " and you do not 
 know what you have all done, keeping me here 
 in this way." 
 
 He added an oath, and then flung out of the 
 room, passing through the crowd of officers and 
 others, in his way towards the door, without 
 waiting for his father, who had risen with the rest 
 of the magistrates, and was preparing to depart. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 309 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland and Mr. Radford de- 
 scended the stairs of the inn together ; and at 
 the bottom, Mr. Radford shook the baronet 
 heartily by the hand, saying, loud enough to be 
 heard by everybody, " That was admirably well 
 done, Sir Robert ! Many thanks — many thanks." 
 
 " None to me, my dear sir," answered Sir 
 Robert Croyland. " It was but simple justice ;" 
 and he turned away to mount his horse. 
 
 " Very pretty justice, indeed !" said Mowle, in 
 a low voice, to the sergeant of dragoons ; " but 
 I can't help fancying there's something more 
 under this than meets the eye. Mr. Radford 
 isn't a gentleman who usually laughs at these 
 matters so lightly. But if he thinks to cheat me, 
 perhaps he may find himself mistaken." 
 
 In the meantime the baronet hastened home- 
 wards, putting his horse into a quick pace, and 
 taking the nearest roads through the woods, 
 which were then somewhat thickly scattered 
 over that part of Kent. He had no servant 
 with him ; and when at about two miles from 
 his own house, he passed through a wild and 
 desolate part of the country, near what is now 
 
310 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 called Chequer Tree, he looked on before and 
 around him on every side, somewhat anxiously, 
 as if he did not much admire the aspect of the 
 place. 
 
 He pushed on, however, entered the wood, and 
 rode rapidly down into a deep dell, which may still 
 be seen in that neighbourhood, though its wild 
 and gloomy character is now almost altogether 
 lost. At that time, tall trees grew up round it 
 on either hand, leaving, in the hollow, a little 
 patch of about half an acre, filled with long 
 grass and some stunted willows, while the head 
 of a stream bubbling up in their shade, poured 
 on its clear waters through a fringe of sedges 
 and rushes towards some larger river. 
 
 The sun had yet an hour or two to run before 
 his setting ; but it was only at noon of a sum- 
 mer's day that his rays ever penetrated into that 
 gloomy and secluded spot ; and towards the 
 evening it had a chilly and desolate aspect, which 
 made one feel as if it were a place debarred for 
 ever of the bright light of day. The green 
 tints of spring, or the warmer brown of autumn, 
 seemed to make no difference, for the shades 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 311 
 
 were always blue, dull and heavy, mingling with 
 the thin filmy mist that rose up from the plashy 
 ground on either side of the road. 
 
 A faint sort of shudder came over Sir Robert 
 Croyland, probably from the damp air ; and lie 
 urged his horse rapidly down the hill without any 
 consideration for the beast's knees. He was 
 spurring on towards the other side, as if eager 
 to get out of it, when a voice was heard from 
 amongst the trees, exclaiming, in a sad and 
 melancholy tone, "Robert Croyland ! Robert 
 Croyland ! what look you for here ?" 
 
 The baronet turned on his saddle with a look 
 of terror and anguish ; but, instead of stopping, 
 he dug his spurs into the horse's sides, and 
 galloped up the opposite slope. As if irre- 
 sistibly impelled to look at that which he 
 dreaded, he gazed round twice as he ascended, 
 and each time beheld, standing in the middle of 
 the road, the same figure, wrapped in a large 
 dark cloak, which he had seen when first the voice 
 caught his ear. Each time he averted his eyes 
 in an instant, and spurred on more furiously 
 than ever. His accelerated pace soon carried 
 
312 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 him to the top of the hill, where he could see 
 over the trees ; and in about a quarter of an hour, 
 he reached Halden, when he began to check 
 his horse, and reasoned with himself on his 
 own sensations. There was a great struggle in 
 his mind ; but ere he arrived at Harbourne 
 House he had gained sufficient mastery over 
 himself to say, " What a strange thing imagina- 
 tion is !" 
 
 END OF VOL. T. 
 
 T. C. Savill, Printer, 4, Chandos-street, Covent-garden. 
 
THE 
 
 SMUGGLER 
 
 9 Cale. 
 
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 BY 
 
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