K99 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 
BERKELEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 V CALlPORNlAy 
 
WILD SPOUTS 
 
 OF THE WEST. 
 
 INTERSPERSED 
 
 WITH LEGENDARY TALES, AND LOCAL SKETCHES. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF STORIES OF WATERLOO." 
 
 And sure it is yet a most beautifull and sweete countrey as any is 
 under heaven, being stored throughout with many goodly rivers, replenished 
 with all sorts of fish most abundantly, sprinkled with many very sweet 
 islands and goodly lakes, like little inland seas, that will even carry shippes 
 upon their waters." Spenser's State of Ireland, 1596. 
 
 Station. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 DAVID BRYCE, 48, PATERNOSTER ROW. 
 EDINBURGH: W. P. NIMMO. 
 
A/5 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 SOME explanation may be necessary for obtruding upon 
 the public the private details of a sportsman's life, and 
 particularly when the scene of his exploits is laid within 
 " the four seas of Britain/' In the customary course of 
 field adventure, few besides the individual concerned are 
 much interested in the successes and disappointments he 
 experiences; and rural sports are, in all their general 
 incidents, so essentially alike, as to render their minute 
 description almost invariably a dull and unprofitable 
 record. 
 
 Circumstances, however, may occasionally create an 
 interest which in ordinary cases would be wanting. From 
 local connexions, a field almost untrodden by any but 
 himself, was opened to the writer of these Sketches. He 
 was thrown into an unfrequented district, with a primitive 
 people to consort with. With some advantages to profit 
 from the accident, a remote and semi- civilized region was 
 offered to his observation ; and although within a limited 
 distance of his Majesty's mail-coach, a country was thus 
 disclosed, as little known to the multitude as the interior 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 of Australasia ; and where, excepting some adventurous 
 grouse-shooter, none had viewed its highlands or mingled 
 with its inhabitants, 
 
 That the scenic and personal sketches are faithful, the 
 reader is assured ; some were written on the spot, and 
 others traced from vivid recollection. Those with whom 
 the author shot these wild moors, or fished these waters, 
 will best estimate the fidelity of the descriptions; and 
 one valued friend, though now beneath another sun, will 
 probably recall the days he spent by " fell and flood," and 
 bring to memory those light and joyous hours when he 
 caroused in a mountain bivouac, and rested in a moorland 
 hut. 
 
 Of the actors in the following scenes, some are still 
 living, while others are no more. The Colonel, that best 
 and honestest of boon companions, sleeps with his fathers ; 
 and old John and the Otter- killer have gone the way of 
 all flesh. The priest, " mine honoured friend," I rejoice 
 to say, is still healthy and vigorous; in his wild but 
 happy retirement he holds " the noiseless teiiour of his 
 way," exercises hospitality most liberally to the stranger, 
 and throws forty feet of silk and hair better than any 
 artist in the empire. Last of the " dramatis personse," 
 Hennessey is in full force, and " mutato nomine" may 
 still be found in Ballycroy. 
 
 With regard to the tales and legends narrated in the | 
 succeeding pages, the former were told just as they are | 
 introduced. " The Blind Seal" is known to be substan- 
 tially true I have heard it from many, and never knew 
 its veracity impugned. My lamented friend was himself 
 the principal actor in " the Night Attack ;" and he, poor 
 fellow, was exactly the man who, in an affray or a carouse, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 might be depended on. The heroes of the " Gold Snuff- 
 'box" are alive and merry, and long may they continue so ! 
 for truer friends and " better company" never listened 
 to the " chimes at midnight." " Mr. Dawkins" is, I 
 believe, engaged in seeking, through Doctors' Commons, 
 to be relieved " e vinculo matrimonii," and " Mr. Burke" 
 duly announced among the last arrivals in the Sydney 
 Gazette. 
 
 Respecting the legendary stories, I have no pledge to 
 offer for their authenticity, old Antony believed them to 
 the letter I have given them nearly in his own words, 
 and I may say with Sir Walter Scott, 
 
 " I cannot tell how the truth may be, 
 I say the tale as 'twas said to me." 
 
 " The Legend of Knock-a-thample" remains as the 
 Otter-killer related it ; but with "Rose Roche" I confess 
 to have taken liberties, in suppressing a portion of her 
 flirtation with the " black-eyed page," which, although, 
 upon the lady's part, I feel convinced, was perfectly pla- 
 tonic, yet by uncharitable constructions might be tortured 
 into something like indiscretion. 
 
 If I have undervalued those rural recreations in which 
 many a worthy citizen sometimes dissipates, I hope my 
 contempt for his avocations will be ascribed to the true 
 cause, namely, that local advantages have spoiled my taste 
 and rendered me fastidious. He who can shoot grouse 
 upon the moor, will spend little time in killing pigeons 
 from the trap ; the angler who in a morning hooks some 
 half-score salmon, would reckon it but sorry amusement 
 to dabble in a pond. To a Galway rider, the Epping 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 hunt would be a bore, and he would probably treat it 
 with the same contumely that one of this redoubted body 
 did hare-hunting, by riding to the hounds in morocco 
 slippers, and carrying an open umbrella to protect him 
 from the sun. 
 
 As I have casually named " an honoured name/* I 
 lament that it was not his fortune to have visited those 
 interesting scenes, where I have been so long a useless 
 wanderer. The wild features and wilder associations of 
 that romantic and untouched country, would have offered 
 him a fresh field whereon to exercise his magic pencil 
 and many a tale and legend still orally handed down, but 
 which in a few years must of necessity be forgotten, would 
 have gained immortality from the touch of " the mighty 
 master." But alas ! the creations of his splendid imagi- 
 nation will no more delight an enchanted world. The 
 wand is broken, the spell is over, the lamp of life is nearly 
 exhausted and even now, Scotland may be mourning for 
 the mightiest of her gifted sons. 
 
 As a votive offering, these Volumes are inscribed to that 
 matchless genius, by an humble, but enthusiastic admirer 
 of SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 SYDENHAM, 
 SEPTEMBER 12, 1832. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Autobiography . . . . .1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Letters An Escape Connaught Topographical and Moral Description 
 Ballinasloe A Virtuous and Flourishing Town A Bible Meeting 
 and Radical Reform . . . . .9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Journey continued Inn of Glantane Tuara A bad Night Out of the 
 Frying-pan into the Fire A Country-ball and the Finish . 13 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Loss of a Waiter Precocious Talents The Mad Major and the Mendi- 
 cants of Mullingar Cursing an Adjutant Death of Denis O'Farrell 16 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Castlebar Newport Departure from Christendom Progress into Terra 
 Incognita Roads and Scenery Mulranny Passage down the Inlet 
 Incidents Lodge in the Wilds of Erris Description of the Establish- 
 ment . . . . , .20 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Periodicals Cockney Sports and Sportsmen Mountain Angler and his 
 Attendant Fishing-tackle Antony the Otter-killer Visit the River 
 Flies Hooking my first Salmon Return to the Lodge Sporting 
 Authors Sir Humphry Davy Colonel Hawker Salmonia Criti- 
 cism . 2!> 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Symptoms of a Coming Storm A Sportsman's Dinner Old John 
 Pattigo Gale comes on Shawn a tra buoy Seals The Blind 
 Seal . . . . .32 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A wet Day Fly-tying Piscatory Disquisitions The Tinker Lessons 
 in the " Gentle Art" An unexpected Alty . . .38 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sporting Topography of Mayo Hunting Country Fox Covers Lakes 
 Rivers, and Fish A domiciliary Visit Revenue Foray Capture of 
 drunken Distillers Alarm Midnight Meditations Angling Excursion 
 Goolamore Salmon-fishing English and Irish Hooks Limerick 
 preferable to all others . . . . .43 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Salmon Fishing described Draughting Fishing precarious Change of 
 Season and Condition Poaching Private Distillation Size and 
 Weight of Salmon Sir H. Davy Migration of Salmon Natural 
 History Anecdotes and Experiments Lernsea Salmons . 47 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Mullet Preparations for Mullet-fishing Seals Anecdotes The Red 
 j) war f His mode of killing Seals Catching a Tartar Pitching 
 Compar Nets Excursion on the Island A wild Guide Coursing 
 Comparison between English and Irish Greyhounds Take of Mullet 
 . Return Anecdotes of Mullet-fishing The Homicide . 53 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Angling Fish found in Mayo Peasantry Their Mode of Fishing The 
 Pooka Description and use Pike and Trout, their Size Perch Their 
 Fecundity Trout destroyed Greater Lakes described Subterraneous 
 Communication between them Lesser Lakes Their Fish Lake of 
 Derreens Its Trout extinct Lake of Castlebar . 60 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Nineteenth of August Preparations for the Mountains Order of March 
 A Cook Broiled to Death Interruption of a Funeral Drowned Shep- 
 herd Grouse shooting Evening Compotation Morning Locale of a 
 Shooter's Cabin Life in the Mountains The Red Deer Return to 
 the Hut Luxury of a Cold Bath . . . .65 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Ball Opens Moonlight Mountain Scenery Old Antony Adventure 
 with the Fairies Ball continues The Otter-hunter's History Ball 
 concludes The Pater-o-pee . . . .72 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Moon looks suspicious Heavy Fall of Rain River Flooded Sporting 
 Writers Criticism on Hawker Originality of the Colonel His Outfit 
 of a Wild-fowl Shooter Samuel Singer and his Gun . .78 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Flood subsides My Cousin's Henchmen Their description Post-bag 
 arrives Messenger belated in the Mountains The Fairy Glen Herd 
 of Red Deer Their Destruction by Poachers Gradual Decrease 
 Difficulties in continuing them Anecdotes Rearing the Fawns 
 Sterility when domesticated Red Deer in Parks The tame Hind 
 The Tyrawly Stag Skill requisite in Shooting Deer Curious Anec- 
 dote . . . . .82 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 An Alarm Deceptive Appearance of the Weather A blank Fishing Day 
 Recovery of the Setter Hydrophobia Melancholy Anecdote Loss 
 of a Kennel Strange Apathy of Irish Servants Extraordinary Pre- 
 servation . . . . . .89 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Preparations for visiting Achil Embarkation and Passage to Dugurth 
 Fishing Sea-fowl Shooting Meeting the Lugger Picturesque Ap- 
 pearance of the Vessel Our Landing Coast-guard Watch-houss 
 Slieve More Grouse scarce Rabbit Shooting Interior of the Watch- 
 house Culinary Proceedings The Dutchman Morning and a Head- 
 ache A Sea-bath The Eagle's Aerie Curious Anecdote of these 
 Birds Grouse Shooting Demolition of a Pack Rock Fishing 
 Dangerous Employment Fatal Accident John Dory A Temperate 
 Evening . . . . . .96 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Prepare to leave Achil Visit to the Eagle's Cliff Attempts to destroy 
 these Birds Their Depredations Partiality for Black Fowls Destroy 
 Fish Anecdote of an Eagle and Salmon Exterminate Hares Their 
 mode, of Coursing and Catching Salmon Foxes, numerous and de- 
 structive Smaller Birds of Prey Run to Inniskea Devilawn 
 Tannon Difficult Coast to land on Woman and Curragh Rabbit 
 Shooting Local Sketches Twilight Scenery Dangerous Idiot 
 Whisky Its excellence Copper Stills Island seldom visited by the 
 Revenue Character of the Islanders Particular in Burying their 
 Dead Prone to Litigation The Lawsuit , . . 103 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Signs of Fish Mackerel Spillet Fishing Seal and Mermaids Anec- 
 dote The Bull's Mouth Preservation of a Ship The Fox and 
 Cruiser The Lodge in a Consternation Arrival The Colonel's Port- 
 manteau Robbing, and its Consequences . . .113 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 The Colonel's Story The Night Attack . . .121 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Conversation A brave Resistance The Contrast The Burglary . 131 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Midnight Reflections A good Story-teller The Affair of Ninety-eight 136 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Spring Tides Hennessey and the Portmanteau Spillet Fishing Coal 
 . Fishing Mackerel Sea-fowl A Failure Preserving Gunpowder An 
 Explosion Another Acccident A House Burned The Dinner 
 Signal . . . . . .140 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A calm Night Sand-eel Fishing Dangerous to the Fair Sex Cockles 
 Lobsters Crabs Scallops Oysters Punt adrift My Brother's Shoes 
 Seal surprised Incident Gun burst Birmingham Guns Percus- 
 sion Locks London Makers Barrel-making Gun-making Inferior 
 Guns Shooting Accident . 147 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Bad Roads Native Horses Cairns Bridge of Ballyveeney Our Beat 
 Mid-day on the Moors Hints to Grouse Shooters Finding Game 
 Wild Scenery The Ruined ChapelThe Well Act of Penance 
 Storm in the Mountains The Deserted Burying-place Our Return 
 The Colonel's Method of Rabbit Shooting A Disappointment . 155 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 The Legend of Knock- a-thample . . . .161 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Visit to the Mountain Hut The Colonel An Argument and a Wager 
 No Honesty among Anglers State of the River Mogh-a-dioul 
 Father Andrew's Flies Splendid Scenery Its effect upon me and my 
 companion Beautiful Pool The Otter A curious Scene The Colo- 
 nel 1 Troubles Wager decided A ne\v Bet A Salmon killed Con- 
 versation The Colonel out-manoeuvred . . . 171 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The Gold Snuff-box . . . . .179 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The Otter-killer's Return Craniology Superstitions Sea-horse Mas- 
 ter-otter Anecdotes of it Ghosts and Fairies Their Influence upon 
 Men and Animals Cure of Witchcraft Holy Lakes Lough Keirawn 
 Its Butter Fishery The Faragurta Its causes, imaginary and real 
 Cures and Cases Swearing Comparative value upon the Book, the 
 Vestment, and the Skull The Clearing of Miss Currigan An Un- 
 catholic Cook . . . . .187 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Fresh Arrivals The Priest's Reception The Lodge alarmed Prepara- 
 tions for Deer-StalkingState of the Garrison The Mountain Lake 
 The Peasant's Adventure Carrig-a-binniogh The Ascent Prospect 
 from the Summit The Ravine and Red Deer A Highland Ambuscade 
 The Catastrophe . . . .194 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Deer brought Home Dinner Gastronomic Reflections Grouse Soup 
 Roasted Salmon Cooking, pour et contre Carouse commences 
 Symptoms of Inebriety Night in the Hills Coffee al fresco Tem- 
 perance Society A Bacchanalian Group Auld lang syne Borrowing 
 a Congregation The Company dispersed . . . 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Dancing kept up Effects of Poteen on the Company Ball ends Rainy 
 Night Morning Pattigo A long Swim Breakfast An Incident 
 Fox-catcher bitten by a Wild Cat Ferocity of that Animal Anecdotes 
 of them House Cats frequently run wild Destructive to Rabbit- 
 warrens Cat-killing extraordinary The Deer-skin Snow fatal to the 
 Red Deer Anecdote of a Hind and Fawn Blistered Foot Simple 
 Remedy My Descent by " The Mother's Side" . .214 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 The Legend of Rose Roche . . . .220 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV, 
 
 Mountain Loughs Trout, their varieties Otter Haunt The Upper Lake 
 Goose Fishing Weather breaks Prospect of leaving the Cabin 
 Traits of Character Crimes Abduction Causes Murder Why pre- 
 valent Distillation, its Extent and Cause Anecdote of a Peasant's 
 Ruin ..... 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Day fixed for our Departure Party separate Last Day's Shooting 
 The Secret Valley The Fishers Curious Incident Dinner An 
 Alarm Night Search for the Otter-killer The Old Man found His 
 Recovery Narrative of the Accident . . .240 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 The Otter-killer carried to the Lodge Fishing Homewards Angling 
 closes for the Season Remarks Feelings on the Occasion Smuggler 
 appears Landing a Cargo Captain Matthews The Jane Cutter 
 stands out to Sea Hooker on a Rock Traveller alarmed Anecdote 
 of an Englishman . . . . .245 
 
 Memoir of a Gentleman who would not do for Galway . . 253 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Morning Alarm Death of the Otter-killer General Grief Night Ex- 
 cursion Herring Fishery Our Reception Beal-fires The Wake 
 The Funeral Anecdote of a Dog A Deserted House . . 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Weather changes Symptoms of Winter Animal Appearances Night 
 Passage of Barnacles Grey Plover Hints for Shooting Plover Wild 
 Geese Swans Ducks Burke transported Evening at the Lodge 
 Feminine Employments ..... 280 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Colonel leaves us Last Visit to Achil Snipes and Woodcocks Their 
 Migration Solitary Snipe Cock Shooting in Achil Mountain Covers 
 Cock Shooting; its Accidents Anecdotes An unlucky Com- 
 panion ...... 287 
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 Dull Evening Memoir of Hennessey . . 294 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 My Departure fixed Coast suited to an Ornithologist Godsend An 
 Ocean Waif My Last Day Coursing Size of Hares Fen Shooting 
 Kill a Bittern Castle of Doona Fall of the Tower Netting 
 Rabbits Reflections Morning Passage through the Sound Hen- 
 nessey Departure from the Kingdom of Connaught . . 300 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 Moral and Physical Condition of the West Past and Present . 30G 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 Hunting Men Horses and Hounds Game Conclusion 316 
 
WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 
 
 London, July 1st, 1829. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING its dust and desertion, I am still lurk- 
 ing in the metropolis. The heat has become intolerable 
 yesterday, I imagined myself in Calcutta for never but in 
 the land of curries and red pepper did I experience anything 
 so oppressive. 
 
 I breakfasted this morning at the Club-house. My air and 
 attitude, as I caught a glimpse of them in a concave mirror, 
 looked exquisitely disconsolate. Never was mortal more 
 ennuyi than I. Town has become a desert the world has 
 abandoned it by general consent the streets feel as if they 
 had been recently fanned by a sirocco ; and of divers unhappy 
 beings whom I encountered in my walk from Grafton- street 
 to St. James's, none seemed at ease but a bilious gentleman 
 from Bombay, and the French fellow who exhibits in the oven. 
 The thermometer, in a shaded corner of the room, is sta- 
 tionary at 82. To remain longer here would be suicidal ; 
 but, where to go whither to fly alas ! I know not. 
 
 Would that you were near me, then should I be certain of 
 sympathy and counsel for at this moment, there is not a 
 more persecuted gentleman in the King's dominions. But I 
 will make a clean breast and to render my confessions expla- 
 natory, I must favour you with some particulars of my private 
 history. 
 
 As autobiographers enjoy a prescriptive privilege of exhibit- 
 ing their ancestors, I shall take the liberty of incrotiuc. : iig my 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 papa. In his twenty-second year, Mr. Hector O'Brien was 
 a bold Lieutenant of Grenadiers in his Majesty's 50th Foot, 
 then distinguished by the nattering title of " The Dirty Half 
 Hundred."* My father was a strapping fellow as ever wore a 
 wing, kept a showy horse, and was decidedly the best dancer 
 in the regiment. Being quartered in the vicinity of Bath, he 
 attended the assemblies, and " in double quick" managed to 
 effect a conquest. The lady had a fortune, and my father 
 required one. Unluckily, she had a brother's consent to gain ; 
 and on being consulted, he was unmoved by importunity, and 
 deaf to " every plea of love." The case was hopeless. Mr. 
 Wamsley disliked Ireland, detested military men, and above all 
 things, abominated " The Dirty Half Hundred." 
 
 To account for the gentleman's antipathy to this celebrated 
 corps, it will be necessary to remark, that the regiment was 
 then afflicted with a mad Major. His, the Major's delight, 
 ley in drinking port wine and slaying pheasants. Mr. Wams- 
 ley, on the contrary, preferred water and preserved game. 
 The Major beat up preserves without remorse, and deforced 
 keepers who, though good men and true, prudently declined 
 joining issue with mad Majors and double-barrelled guns. 
 Now Mr. Wamsley resisting an invasion of his rights, applied 
 to the Justice for redress, whereas Major O'Farrell considered 
 that a reference to the pistol would be much more gentlemanly 
 a deadly feud was the consequence, and Mr. Wamsley was 
 closely blockaded within his park walls by the military delin- 
 quent. Fortunately for all concerned, the regiment got the route ; 
 Mr. Wamsley recovered his liberty, and his detestation of the 
 gallant 50th only ended with his life. 
 
 But his sister held a very different opinion respecting the 
 merits of the brave " Half Hundred." She was devoted to 
 the Lieutenant of Grenadiers, and the route hurried matters to 
 a crisis. The result may be anticipated. Despising park 
 walls and surly keepers, Mr. O'Brien overcame every diffi- 
 culty, and with the assistance of a garden-ladder, the mad 
 Major, and his double-barrelled gun, he carried off the lady, 
 and at Gretna they became " one flesh." 
 
 Mr. Wamsley was irritated beyond the possibility of being 
 appeased. Ten thousand pounds, which his wife possessed 
 without the control of her brother, enabled my father to leave 
 
 - rrom their black facings, the 50th received this sobriquet. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the army, and settle on his hereditary estate in Roscommon ; 
 and there he hunted, shot, fished, and farmed, and lived just 
 as Irish gentlemen lived some thirty years ago. 
 
 I was the only issue of the marriage. All communication 
 had ceased between my parents and Mr. Wamsley, and 
 eighteen years passed away, and no appearance of abated 
 displeasure had ever been evinced by this implacable relative. 
 I left a public school for the Dublin University, was destined 
 for the church, and had nearly completed my college course, 
 when an unforeseen event changed my prospects and profes- 
 sion. It was the death of both my parents within the brief 
 space of a month. 
 
 My father's affairs were in great disorder his estate was 
 heavily embarrassed, and if his debts were paid, it was ascer- 
 tained that I should be left nearly destitute. The intelligence 
 reached Mr. Wamsley, and to the astonishment of all 
 acquainted with his unrelenting animosity to my deceased 
 parents, a letter was received from him, inviting me to visit 
 him at his magnificent place, Lalworth Castle. 
 
 The invitation was of course accepted. I arrived, and 
 found him a stern, disagreeable old man. My first appearance 
 was against me for the resemblance I bore to my father was 
 most striking, and it seemed to recall my uncle's long- che- 
 rished prejudices. He abruptly asked me on the succeeding 
 morning, " What course of life 1 had selected ?" I replied, 
 " That the army appeared best adapted to my taste and 
 broken fortunes. " His only observation was, " Be it so ;" and 
 here this laconic conversation ended. 
 
 That evening, Mr. Wamsley wrote to his neighbour, Lord 
 Ulverston. The peer was his debtor to a large amount, and 
 
 generally trafficked with him for his borough of bury. 
 
 My uncle's request was promptly attended to. Lord Ulverston 
 stood well at the Horse Guards ; and in a few weeks, to my 
 unfeigned satisfaction and surprise, I was gazetted to a Cor- 
 netcy in the Blues. 
 
 But my joy at this event was but of short duration. The 
 miserly disposition of my uncle took alarm at the large outlay 
 attendant on entering an expensive corps. Each hundred was 
 doled out with painful reluctance, and the knowledge that a 
 certain annual allowance would be requisite for my support, 
 made him still more wretched. I joined the regiment ; my 
 subsidies generally drafts for a paltry fifty were "few and 
 
 B 2 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 far between." To hold a certain place in society, with an 
 income incompetent to its expenses, is a state of inexpressible 
 misery. Gradually I became embarrassed, and in two years 
 found it necessary to exchange from the Blues to a Light 
 Cavalry regiment, then stationed in the East Indies. My 
 uncle made no objection ; he was tired of what he termed sup- 
 plying my boundless extravagance, bade me a cold farewell, 
 and his parting words, as I stepped into the carriage, were a 
 request that I would " write but seldom, as postage from the 
 East, his lawyer told him, was enormous." 
 
 I obeyed him to the letter, I only wrote once, and that was 
 conveying an entreaty that he would purchase a majority 
 likely to become vacant; I got a coarse refusal, and thus 
 our correspondence terminated. For four years I never heard 
 from him, and had nearly forgotten that I had left a relation 
 behind me. 
 
 I was surprised, however, at this distant period with a 
 letter, worded in his stiff and peculiar style. It briefly 
 stated that his health was indifferent, and that he would 
 recommend me to return to Europe with as little delay as 
 possible. 
 
 This recommendation was anything but gratifying. I liked 
 India well enough the climate agreed with me my health 
 was unimpaired the mess was good the regiment gentle- 
 manly and better still, I could live most comfortably upon 
 my pay. I felt, however, that my uncle's invitation should 
 not be neglected ; applied for leave ; succeeded, and made 
 immediate preparations for a return to Europe. My brother 
 officers congratulated me on my good fortune in so speedily 
 revisiting my native country ; but to me it was a subject of 
 regret. I was leaving pleasant quarters, cheerful society, and 
 comparative independence, to become a slave to the caprice 
 and ill-humour of a morose and splenetic invalid. 
 
 It w r as late in December when I landed at Portsmouth. 
 The voyage had been remarkably quick, and without delay I 
 started for my uncle's residence, and in the gloom of a wet 
 wintry evening re-entered the gates of Lai worth Park. I 
 looked down the long vista of splendid elms, but in the twi- 
 light the house was not visible ; not a candle glanced from a 
 window, and no indication of its being inhabited appeared 
 about this melancholy mansion. The postboy stopped I 
 alighted, ran up the steps and rang gently no one answered 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I rang again louder yet and a step came hastily over 
 the oaken floor. The old porter at last approached, cau- 
 tiously affixed the chain, opened a few inches of the door, and 
 raised his candle suspiciously to examine the late visiter. 
 Instantly recollecting me, he uttered a suppressive exclama- 
 tion of astonishment, removed the fastenings, and muttered, 
 "Thank God, it is himself!" and, as he admitted me, 
 whispered that my uncle was not expected to survive till mid- 
 night. 
 
 In silence I was conducted to a back drawing-room, where, 
 on a large, old-fashioned sofa the dying man was laid. The 
 porter advanced before, and in a low voice notified my arrival. 
 The news appeared to gratify the invalid ; he turned his dim 
 eyes to the spot where I stood waiting for permission to 
 advance. "Are you there, Frank!" he said in a feeble voice 
 "Ha, ha, ha! it was touch and go with you!" and he 
 uttered a weak and sarcastic laugh. " Call Doctor Dodwell 
 and the lawyer desire them to bring the other will and tell 
 Moore and Hubert to attend to witness it." While he gave 
 these orders, I gazed on the wasted features of the dying 
 miser, and there was a strange expression of stern satisfaction 
 visible on his countenance, as his cold glance rested fixedly on 
 me. Immediately the doctor, solicitor, and witnesses entered 
 the room. " Raise me up," he said to the ancient domestic, 
 his personal attendant. It was done, and he motioned to the 
 solicitor to unfold the parchment. Carefully he passed his 
 eye over the surface to assure himself that the document was 
 the one he required, and having ascertained the fact, he 
 pointed to a pen. With difficulty he placed it in his trem- 
 bling fingers, and with a painful exertion, affixed his signature 
 to the deed then looking at the witnesses as they annexed 
 their names " This is my last will and testament," he said 
 v.ith a feeble emphasis, " and thus do I revoke all others !" 
 then turning to me, while a ghastly smile overspread his face, 
 " Half an hour later would have served hospitals and alms- 
 houses, Francis:" he leaned himself back and expired without 
 a struggle. 
 
 For a few moments we were not aware that he was dead ; 
 the strength with which his last remark was uttered led us 
 at first to believe that he had reclined in consequence of the 
 exertion. In a few minutes the physician took his hand and 
 sought for a pulse, but in vain; he raised the eyelid and 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 applied a candle to the fixed and deadly stare, and then 
 announced that the patient had departed. 
 
 A scene, a disgusting scene ensued ; the attorney, when 
 certified of his client's death, seized my hand and coarsely 
 congratulated me on my good fortune. The doctor abandoned 
 the corpse to join the solicitor in his compliments and be- 
 tween them the truth transpired. I had, indeed, been luckily 
 expeditious in my journey, and the old man's phrase of touch 
 and go, was fully explained. The preceding day he had signed 
 a testament conveying his entire property to a variety of 
 charitable institutions ; and the will which had been originally 
 made in my favour, and been kept over by this singular rela- 
 tive, would have remained imperfect, had I not so providen- 
 tially arrived the evening of his death. 
 
 We left the room while the body was being laid out pre- 
 paratory to interment. What a turn one hour had given to 
 my fortunes ! I entered Lalworth Park at four o'clock, a poor 
 miserable dependant ; at five, I was master of all around me, 
 possessed of twelve thousand pounds a year, owner of a 
 borough, with fifty thousand in the funds and twenty at my 
 banker's. Such a mingled yarn is the web of human life. 
 
 The obsequies of my uncle were duly performed, and for 
 many days I was engaged in examining papers, and taking 
 possession of the plate and valuables of Lalworth Park. The 
 house was sadly out of repair, and the grounds and gardens 
 utterly neglected. The old man had limited the fuel for the 
 mansion to such fallen wood as could be collected throughout 
 the domain ; and the few domestics he employed were scarcely 
 sufficient to ventilate, without attempting to keep in order the 
 numerous and once splendid apartments. For some time I 
 was busily occupied ; I hired additional servants, engaged an 
 architect, fiated my agent's accounts, and started then for 
 London so soon as a decent respect towards the deceased 
 would permit my appearing in the metropolis. Of the rest, 
 my dear Baronet, you know sufficient particulars ; a present- 
 able man, olim in the Blues, and recently succeeding to a large 
 and unencumbered property, would soon " find room in any 
 place." I was speedily admitted to those chosen circles 
 which are impassable to those who want birth, impudence, or 
 
 money. I ran the full round of dissi but, on this head, 
 
 you, my constant companion, require but little information. 
 In human life, George, every thing has its limits. I am 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 probably too rich to be permanently happy. I tired of 
 Brookes' s and Willis's and Crockford's : I had little taste 
 for the play, and betted moderately, and with even success : 
 if I lost I was not depressed : if I won I was not exhilarated. 
 The season was drawing to its close, and I began to discover 
 that I was not fated to escape from sublunary annoyances. 
 I was bored by the dull dinners of stupid placemen who 
 calculated on my borough ; I was persecuted by ancient 
 gentlewomen who wished to rid themselves of daughters that 
 years ago were passees ; a young and titled widow almost 
 
 wooed me to desperation ; and the Dowager of shocked 
 
 me by an assurance that Lord Leatherby expected, from my 
 marked attention at the Horticultural fete, that I would forth- 
 with propose for that sandy-haired fright his daughter. God 
 help me ! little did I suppose that an act of common hu- 
 manity, in sheltering her red ringlets with a broken umbrella, 
 would have been thus tortured by that leaden-headed Lord 
 her sire ! 
 
 I forgot in its proper place to notify an important occur- 
 rence ; it was the death of Mr. James Jones. This personage 
 was owner of a property in Surinam, and one of the repre- 
 sentatives for the borough of bury. A year before his 
 
 death my late uncle had pocketed three thousand pounds, and 
 returned as inoffensive a gentleman as ever snored upon the 
 benches of St. Stephen's. I took his place, next the oaths, 
 and had sufficient grace to sit quiet and listen to other de- 
 claimers, who possessed more talent or more impudence than 
 myself. For some time I was rather undecided in my politics ; 
 but the Ministerial were the quieter benche-s, there I estab- 
 lished myself, and for half a session none slept through a 
 debate with a quieter conscience but curse upon blighted 
 beauty, I was not permitted to remain in happy and unam- 
 bitious celibacy. 
 
 From my first appearance I had been exposed to distant 
 attacks, but as the weather warmed and the town thinned, my 
 persecutors became more daring in their approaches. Did I 
 venture to a Refugee concert, there I was waylaid by the 
 widow. Did I endeavour to steal a ride in Rotten- row, I was 
 directly hunted off by the dame rouge and that infernal Peer 
 her father ; and all that was penniless or passe* marked me as 
 an object of unrelenting importunity. Eventually, I was 
 driven from every place approachable by woman, and having 
 
8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 no other refuge, turned to the turf, and engaged myself deeply 
 in the Derby. 
 
 That event is over, and I shall write the man et mine enemy" 
 who ever recalls it to my recollection but as this is a con- 
 fession to thee, George, I must make a clean breast. I was 
 as well acquainted with the mysteries of a betting-book, as I 
 was with the financial department of Timbuctoo ; when luckily 
 
 " a d d good-natured friend*' came to my aid, and with his 
 
 experience, why should I not get on cleverly ? A horse was 
 going for nothing, my friend was on the alert, made the dis- 
 covery, and I bought him for five hundred. He was a dead 
 bargain, quite a dark one, and in proof of the same, the odds 
 against him were thirty-five to one ; but, as I was informed, 
 there lay the beauty of the thing. 
 
 As the races drew near, I discovered that my book was what 
 the leys call a queer concern. I had picked up the halt and 
 blind as first favourites and betted accordingly. My dark one 
 proved a roarer, and my faithful friend recommended me to 
 hedge immediately, and I did so, as the result will tell. 
 
 Off went the horses ; Phenomenon, my courser, in the 
 chance medley got a splendid start, but from his pace the 
 spectators alleged that he was hamstrung. In three hundred 
 yards he was passed by the slowest of the bad ones, and before 
 the leading horses reached the distance, every thing I was 
 interested in was beaten fairly off. All I had left for con- 
 solation under this accumulation of disappointment was the 
 smart hedge that I had so prudently effected before starting. 
 
 The settling-day came ; I was at Tattersall's and so were 
 my winners to a man ; I disbursed five thousand to divers 
 legs with and without titles, and furthermore disposed of the 
 celebrated horse Phenomenon for fifty pounds. But where was 
 the worthy gentleman with whom I had hedged half my losses ? 
 Till four o'clock I waited in painful expectation, and at that 
 hour, he being still invisible, I ventured to hazard an inquiry, 
 and was favoured with the comfortable tidings, that my absent 
 friend was a broken wine-merchant, and that he had levanted 
 the evening of the race. 
 
 This wind up of the season, united to sultry weather and a 
 tender persecution, determined me to fly " east, west, or north, 
 I care not whither/' This, however, was more easily decided 
 on than effected, for to retreat is the difficulty, as I find myself 
 hemmed in by my enemies on every side. The widow cuts 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 9 
 
 me off from Cheltenham ; the Honourable Juliana Thistleton 
 
 would haunt me in Hastings ; the Dowager of and her 
 
 protegee abide in the pleasant town of Brighton ; and my Lord 
 Leatherby has taken out a sort of roving commission, to infest 
 every retirement of fashionable repute ; and from his cunning 
 inquiries as to the particular point, seaside or suburban, to 
 which I purpose to remove, I perceive I am as deliberately 
 doomed to matrimony by this relentless nobleman, as ever a 
 country bonnet -maker was devoted to destruction by an immoral 
 captain of horse. 
 
 And shall I fall without a struggle to avert my fate ? forbid 
 it honour ! Yes, my determination is fixed I will counteract 
 this conspiracy against my freedom, and call my Connaught 
 cousin " to the rescue." He is a determined duellist, and has 
 been regularly jilted consequently he abominates the sex (I 
 hope) and will protect me from the widow ; while his truculent 
 propensities for the pistol will keep the Peer at a distance. 
 Adieu ! I'll write anon thine always. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Letters An Escape Connaught Topographical and Moral Description 
 Ballinasioe A Virtuous and Flourishing Town A Bible Meeting 
 and Radical Reform. 
 
 1 APPRIZED you in my last letter, that in this my hour of need, 
 I would seek succour from my Irish kinsman. I wrote to him 
 accordingly, implored him to abandon his mountain den and 
 join me at Lai worth Park. To my invitation I received a 
 decisive, and I would almost say, insulting refusal ; " He hated 
 puppies, avoided flirts, was neither a fool or a fortune, and 
 therefore had no business with such society as I should expose 
 him to." The man appears to be a misanthrope ; I gave him in 
 return a tart rejoinder, and he seems disinclined to remain my 
 d btor. Hear what he says : 
 
 " Francis, I pity thee ! Like the Moor, your 'occupation's 
 gone/ and your letter seals your condemnation. 
 
 " You talk of exercise : pshaw ! what is it ? You knock 
 some party-coloured balls over the smooth surface of a green 
 
10 LETTER FROM MY IRISH MANKINS. 
 
 table ; you hazard suffocation for an hour in Rotten-row, anc 
 should you survive the dust, endure eternal dread of empale- 
 ment by a carriage-pole ; you shoot a score of rascally pigeons 
 within the enclosures of Battersea, or make a grand excursior 
 to slaughter pheasants in a preserve ; last and proudest feal 
 comes the batlu, when, with noble and honourable con- 
 federates, you exterminate a multitude of semi- civilized fowls, 
 manfully overcoming the fatigue of traversing an ornamented 
 park, and crossing a few acres of turnips. And is this ignoble 
 course befitting one of ' lith and limb' like thine ? You, the 
 best of your day in Trinity ; you, whose prowess is stil 
 recorded in the annals of the watchhouse, and whose hurling 
 is yet chronicled in the Park; you, whom no six-feet wal 
 could turn, whom no mountain-herd could tire in the dog- 
 days; you, who could swim with Byron, and walk with 
 Barclay, what are you become ? an elegant and fashionable 
 idler lolling life away, the morning in a club-house window, 
 the evening in the Park, and the night gallopading some scior 
 of nobility, who has discovered that you possess twelve thou- 
 sand pounds a year, and that her own funds are insufficient tc 
 satisfy the corset- maker in Regent-street. 
 
 " Would that I could reform your taste and habits ! Could 
 I but induce you to pass one autumn here, your conversior 
 would be a certainty. Come to me, Frank ; ay, come to the 
 wilds of Connaught : avoid an atmosphere surcharged with 
 villanous impurities, and brace your relaxed nerves in the 
 waves of the Atlantic ; seek life and energy in the mountain - 
 breeze ; abandon the gymnasium to scriveners and shopmen ; 
 and leave Crockford's to ruined dupes and titled swindlers. 
 
 " You have hitherto been a silent Member of the Honour- 
 able Commons, and St. Stephen's has never heard from you 
 ' the popular harangue, the tart reply/ Hast thou any 
 aspirations after fame ? any ' longing after immortality ? 
 Listen ; the means are simple. Indict the Red-house as % 
 nuisance, and propose a bill, making the being aiding 01 
 accessory to a battu, death without benefit of clergy. Thy 
 name will live when Joe Hume, that ready-reckoner, shall be 
 forgotten ; and Dick Martin's senatorial renown will fade 
 before the perennial glory of the present member for 
 bury !" 
 
 Need I say how opportunely came this invitation ? "I 
 embraced his offer ;" and here I am fairly over the border, and 
 
MY ESCAPE. 11 
 
 safely deposited in the kingdom of Connaught, without injury 
 or interruption worth recording. 
 
 On the subject of my travels I intend to be laconic, inas- 
 much as, with a temporary intervention of steam, I have resided 
 in the royal mail since I left the lamps of London. I believe 
 I am not exactly cut out for a traveller : I am incurious as 
 to names of guards and coachmen never inquire after their 
 wives, or take the population of their families ; I generally 
 sleep from the start to the close of the stage. I did observe 
 that the colour of corn was nearly alike in both countries ; and 
 remarked further, that English drivers seemed partial to ale 
 and overalls, and Irish ones preferred frieze coats and naked 
 whiskey. 
 
 And now, George, you shall have the particulars of my 
 escape ; and, since the times of the Anabasis, or the more 
 recent exploits of Lavalette and Ikey Solomons, never was 
 retreat effected in more masterly style. Candour obliges 
 me to admit, that mine was unaccompanied by sound of 
 trumpet, or other "pomp and circumstance of war;" and 
 rather resembled the hasty retirement of a detected thief 
 from a tabernacle, than a bold operation in noonday, and in 
 the face of the enemy. But let that pass. I embarked a 
 miscellaneous cargo of guns, dogs, and fishing-tackle, under 
 the surveillance of a trusty servant, on board a Dublin 
 steamer, and the following evening started quietly for ' ' the 
 Head;" leaving directions with mine host in Grafton-street 
 to acquaint Lord Leatherby, and all suspicious-looking in- 
 quirers, that I had departed for Constantinople, and that any 
 commands for me must be forwarded, under cover, to the 
 Sublime Porte. 
 
 I have no talent for statistics, but if my memory serve, 
 the interesting portion of the British empire from which I 
 write, is thus laid down by a modern tourist: "It lieth," 
 says this intelligent traveller, " under a dark gray cloud, which 
 is evermore discharging itself on the earth, but, like the 
 widow's curse, is never exhausted. It is bounded on the south 
 and east by Christendom and part of Tipperary, on the north 
 by Donegal, and on the west by the salt say. It abounds in 
 bogs, lakes, and other natural curiosities ; its soil consists of 
 equal quantities of earth and stone; and its surface is so 
 admirably disencumbered of trees, shrubs, hedges, and ditches, 
 that an intelligent backwoodsman from Louisiana was heard to 
 
12 PREMONITORY SKETCH. 
 
 declare with rapture, that it was the most perfectly- cultivated 
 territory in Europe. 
 
 '* Further," saith the tourist, " its gentry are a polished 
 and religious race, remarkable for their punctuality in pecu- 
 niary transactions, and their freedom from a litigious or quar- 
 relsome disposition. The prevailing mode of belief among the 
 upper classes is any t king arianism that of the people, pure 
 Popery." 
 
 This premonitory sketch will save you and me, George, an 
 infinity of trouble. You have here the country graphically 
 placed before you, as well as the distinguishing traits of cha- 
 racter, for which the pleasant and virtuous community who 
 abide in this interesting department of the Emerald Isle are so 
 eminently distinguished. 
 
 The town of Ballinasloe is seated on a river, the name of 
 which I neglected to inquire. It is much frequented by saints 
 and cattle dealers, carries on a smart trade in sheep and pro- 
 selytes, and Bibles and bullocks are " thick as leaves in Val- 
 lombrosa." The cabins, moreover, are whitewashed ; pigs 
 and popery are prohibited ; and travellers wayfaring on the 
 seventh day denounced, and, under perilous amercements, en- 
 joined to take their ease in their respective inns. 
 
 While the horses were being brought out, I strolled into the 
 street, and, in a show-room of the Farming Society, discovered 
 a collection of biblicals in full activity. From a short gentle- 
 man with soiled linen and an impeded delivery, I learned the 
 gratifying fact, that the spread of the Gospel was progressive 
 in California ; and, further, that a second-cousin of the King 
 of Siam had been baptized by a Moravian Missionary. This 
 latter annunciation elicited a thunder of applause ; and a young 
 lady with a lisp pinched my elbow playfully, and requested me 
 to propose that a piece of plate be transmitted to the convertee. 
 Now, pinching one's elbow on a five minutes' acquaintance is 
 alarming; I accordingly levanted, leaving Lispy to propose 
 the plate in person. I observed in my retreat a mob assem- 
 bled round the chapel, and, pushing through a crowd of ragged 
 urchins, established myself in the doorway. Within there was 
 a meeting of Radical Reformers, and a tall man was pouring 
 forth a philippic from the altar, in which he made an awful 
 example of the king's English, and, in his syllabic arrange- 
 ments, differed totally from modern orthoepists. The gist of 
 his oration went to prove, that Catholic Emancipation was a 
 
THE INN OF GLANTANE. 13 
 
 humbug concession a farce and luck or grace would never 
 visit this unhappy island, until Mr. Cornelius Cassidy, of 
 Killcooney House, was sent to represent us in the Imperial 
 Parliament. 
 
 The horses are being put to, and I must say farewell. I 
 shall, however, note my adventures, and in due time favour 
 you with another epistle. 
 
 Adieu, always yours. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Journey continued Inn of Glantane Tuam A Bad Night Out of the 
 Frying-pan into the Fire A Country Ball, and the Finish. 
 
 As my journey hither has been singularly propitious, I shall 
 only trouble you with the leading incidents. 
 
 My carriage broke down close to the inn of Glantane, a so- 
 litary house, as the song goes, " delightfully placed in a bog." 
 As some delay must necessarily occur before the repairs of the 
 vehicle could be effected, after the example of that accom- 
 plished cavalier, Major Dalgetty, I determined to seize on this 
 opportunity to provision the garrison. To this prudent pro- 
 ceeding on my part I found there was an insurmountable ob- 
 stacle : the landlady assured me that the " materiel" was in 
 the house there was bacon in the chimney, and chickens in 
 the yard, but there was no turf within, till the boys the devil 
 bother them for staying ! came home from, the blacksmith's 
 funeral. Now, that the hotel of Glantane should be deficient 
 in this point was marvellous. The surface of the circumjacent 
 country, in its proportion of tillage- ground to turbary, bears 
 an acreable ratio of one to five hundred ; and yet, though in 
 the bosom of a bog, there could not be a sufficiency of fire 
 obtained to boil a potato-pot ! But human ingenuity is sur- 
 prising : after a delay of three mortal hours I reascended my 
 chaise, and, without further accident, was deposited in the 
 town of Tuam. 
 
 On the merits of the Mitre Inn I shall be silent ; it produced 
 in good time a respectable quarter of cold lamb, and a dish of 
 exquisite potatoes. By the way, we cannot cook this latter 
 esculent in England. Had my fare been worse, I would have 
 
14 A BAD NIGHT. 
 
 submitted without a murmur ; for the waiter assured my ser- 
 vant that I had got the best bedroom in the house. Now, in 
 the course of my narrative, I omitted to mention, that on the 
 preceding night I had scarcely closed an eye. On retiring to 
 my dormitory, I remarked that the grate was heaped with 
 black turfs, apparently in the same state in which they had 
 been removed from their parent moor ; but, anxious to court 
 the drowsy god, I extinguished the candle, sprang into bed, 
 and too late discovered that I was overloaded with a mass of 
 ponderous blanketing, while a faint spark twinkled in the bot- 
 tom of the grate, and, like the cry of wisdom in the streets, 
 was disregarded. I fell into a temporary doze, and awoke an 
 hour afterwards in a burning fever ; for the grate, in place of 
 cold turfs, exhibited a roaring fire. In vain I opened door and 
 window ; in vain I tumbled blanket after blanket on the floor : 
 hours elapsed before the fever- warmth of the apartment could 
 be abated. At last, exhausted by heat and exertion, I threw 
 myself upon the outside of the bed- coverings, and made myself 
 up for repose. Just then a brace of obstinate curs determined 
 to " bay the moon :" one established himself beneath my win- 
 dow, and the other took up a position at the opposite side of 
 the street, and for three long hours they barked incessantly, 
 relieving themselves occasionally by indulging in a mournful 
 and nerve-torturing howl. Human forbearance could not sup- 
 port the martyrdom I suffered : I was driven to desperation, 
 and, collecting every missile article in the chamber, with re- 
 peated discharges routed my persecutors, and once more en- 
 deavoured to procure some rest. 
 
 I sank into a delicious slumber ; but suddenly the door was 
 flung open, and in rushed the waiter with portentous speed. 
 " The house must be on fire !" I ejaculated as I somerseted 
 into the centre of the floor. My fears were fortunately ground- 
 less : Dennis merely awoke me to inquire if I would drive three 
 miles out of town to see two scoundrels fight, who had quar- 
 relled the preceding night about a game of cribbage. Judge 
 then, dear George, after all these visitations, whether the 
 annunciation of a quiet bed at Tuam was not to me " a sound 
 ecstatic !" 
 
 I swallowed a pint of rascally sherry without a murmur, for- 
 tified it with a dose of diluted alcohol, yawned my way to my 
 room, found clean linen no fire, and, in five minutes, was 
 buried in sleep " fast as a watchman." 
 
A COUNTRY BALL. 15 
 
 Presently arose a hum of many voices ; dreams and phanta- 
 sies disturbed my uneasy slumbers ; a noise like distant music 
 at times was faintly audible ; at last a crash of instruments 
 awoke me, and the first quadrille was in full execution within 
 four feet of my distracted head ! 
 
 Heaven granted me patience, although I was on the very 
 brink of a country ball-room, and separated from " the gay 
 throng" only by the intervention of a slip of deal-board, while 
 through the chinks you might have passed the poker, or inter- 
 changed a parasol. 
 
 I raised myself up on my elbow, and what a group was 
 there ! A short man, in a claret- coloured coat, was paired 
 with a stout gentlewoman in bright scarlet : she must have 
 been descended from " the giant; 5 ' I would as soon grapple 
 with her in a waltz, as commit myself to the embraces of a 
 boa- constrictor. Vis-a-vis was a police-officer, in state uni- 
 form, with a pale beauty in cerulean blue ; and a personage of 
 immense calf, in black tights, confronted a skeleton in nankeen 
 unmentionables. The ladies were gloriously adorned with silver 
 ribbon, gilt wreaths, and every flower that blows, from a pink 
 to a peony ; the lords of the creation sported stiffened cravats 
 and a plurality of waistcoats ; and the ball-room emitted " an 
 ancient and fish-like smell" a miasm of musk, assisted by 
 every abomination in perfumery. 
 
 I was in an intermediate state between frenzy and fever, and 
 turned over in my mind the expediency of setting fire to the 
 bed-curtains, and sending myself, the quadrille, and the whole 
 company to the skies, by igniting ten pounds of Harvey's 
 treble strong, which was stowed away somewhere in my lug- 
 gage. Did tired Nature quiesce for a moment, I was fearfully 
 roused with a tornado of torturous sounds. " Places, gentle- 
 men !" " Ladies-chain !" " Now, don't dance, Patsey ; you 
 know you're drunk !"-r-" Arrah ! Charley, are you stupid ?" 
 " Dos-a-dos, Miss Rourke !" " Up with the Lancers !" 
 " Aisy, Mr. Bodkin ! remember there are ladies here !" 
 r ' Waiter ! there's porter wanted at the card-table !" Somnus ! 
 deity of my adoration ! never expose me to such misery as I 
 endured in the archiepiscopal town of Tuam ! 
 
 Morning came, and the company retired to supper below 
 stairs. ^ Anticipating the consequences, I fortified my chamber- 
 door with all the moveables I could collect. It was a prudent 
 precaution ; for, blessed be God ! a row ensued, that finished 
 
16 PRECOCIOUS TALENT. 
 
 both delph and dancing. I suffered nothing in person, but my 
 less-fortunate valet got a black eye from a Connemara gentle- 
 man, who, unluckily for poor Travers, mistook him for the 
 master of the ceremonies, with whom he of Connemara was at 
 feud. 
 
 For the present, farewell. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Loss of a Waiter Precocious Talent The Mad Major and the Mendi- 
 cants of Mullingar Cursing an Adjutant Death of Denis O'Farrell. 
 
 IT was noon when I arose, and the inmates of the Mitre 
 were still in exquisite confusion. Breakfast, after much delay, 
 w r as provided by the agency of the housemaid. She apologized 
 for the non-attendance of the waiter, at present a patient in 
 the Infirmary ; he having, in the course of the entertainment, 
 been ejected from the window by a pleasant gentleman of 
 Loughrea. 
 
 Anxious to be off as soon as possible, I ordered the horses 
 to ; but an unforeseen difficulty occurred in removing my 
 luggage to the carriage, as the door was blocked up four deep 
 by a gang of beggars. With relation to the sizes of the respec- 
 tive places, the lazaroni of Naples are far out-numbered by the 
 mendicants of Tuam. A trace broke at starting, and thus 
 enabled me to form a pretty correct idea of this multitude. I 
 reckoned to fifty-seven, arid then became confused. Although 
 beset on every side, I was proof against importunity, and 
 refused parting with a sixpence. Cursing was next tried ; and 
 to the curious in that accomplishment, I would suggest a week's 
 residence at the Mitre. One boy, a cripple in a dish, excelled 
 the united talent of the remainder. English and Irish epithets 
 were with him " common as household words ;" he used both 
 languages with surpassing fluency, and there was an originality 
 of conception in his style of execration, which was what the 
 Cockneys call most refreshing. This precocious prodigy could 
 not be much above fifteen ; and, if he lives, will in this pecu- 
 liar department of national eloquence be without a parallel. I 
 have " erst while" passed through Billingsgate, when the fair ; 
 
THE MAD MAJOR AND THE BEGGAHS. 17 
 
 inhabitants betrayed symptoms of irritation ; I have heard 
 hackney- coachmen cursing at a crowded opera over a fractured 
 panel or broken pole ; I have listened to a score of watermen 
 squabbling for a fare at Westminster Bridge ; I have been on 
 board a transport in a gale of wind, with an irreligious com- 
 mander ; but Tuam for ever! there cursing is perfection. 
 
 Mine, George, is but a rambling narrative, and my details, 
 however interesting, lay no claim to the lucidus ordo ; there- 
 fore I reserve full liberty from the very start to bolt into digres- 
 sions when and as I please. 
 
 Of the many anecdotes that I have heard my father narrate 
 of his friend, the Mad Major, one was particularly characte- 
 ristic. 
 
 When the gallant 50th were removed to Mullingar, it was 
 supposed that this town produced a greater number of beggars 
 than any in the king's dominions : a swarm of paupers rendered 
 the streets almost impassable, and ingress or egress to or from 
 a shop was occasionally impracticable. Now, beggars were 
 to the Mad Major an abomination ; and for two days he en- 
 sconced himself in his lodgings, rather than encounter the men- 
 dicants of Mullingar. Confinement will increase bile, and bile 
 may induce gout ; and at last, wearied of captivity, he sallied 
 forth, and to every application for relief, he specified an early 
 day, requesting the numerous supplicants to be punctual to the 
 appointed time. His wish was faithfully attended to ; and on 
 the expected morning, the street where he resided was lite- 
 rally blocked up. The Major, under a volley of blessings, 
 appeared at the hall-door. " Are you all here?" he inquired, 
 in accents of the tenderest compassion. " All, your honour 
 all, young and owld!" responded a big beggarman. " We're 
 all here, colonel, avorneenf exclaimed a red virago, " but my 
 own poor man, Brieney Bokkogh-,* and he, the crater ! fell into 
 the fire a Sunday night, and him hearty, and sorrow stir he 
 can make good nor bad." " Ah, then," said the humane 
 commander, " why should poor Brien be left out? Arrah! 
 run yourself, and bring the cripple to us," In a twinkling 
 off went the red virago, and, after a short absence, issued 
 from a neighbouring lane, with Brieney on her shoulders. 
 " Are you all here now?" inquired the tender-hearted chief- 
 tain. " Every single sowl of us," said an old woman in reply. 
 
 * Bryan the Cripple. 
 
18 A SCOTCH ADJUTANT. 
 
 " Ogh ! that the light of heaven may shine on his honour's 
 dying hour; but it's he that's tender to the poor !" " Amen, 
 sweet Jasus!" responded a hundred voices. " Silence !" said 
 the Mad Major, as he produced a small book neatly bound in 
 red morocco. " Whisht, your sowls !" cried the big beggar- 
 man. "Are ye listening?" " Sha, sha! yes, yes!" was 
 responded in English and Irish. " Then, by the contents of 
 this blessed book and it's the Bible a rap I won't give one 
 of ye, you infernal vagabonds, if I remained a twelvemonth in 
 Muliingar !" A yell of execrations followed ; but the Major 
 bore the cursing like a philosopher, and kept his promise like 
 a monk. To the surprise of all, the beggars left the way 
 when he walked out, and absconded from, the shop he entered. 
 They crossed themselves devoutly if they encountered him un- 
 expectedly at a corner, adjuring the Lord to 4f stand between 
 them, the Mad Major, and the devil !" 
 
 Apropos to cursing ; the late Sir Charles Asgill told a story 
 of this eccentric personage. During the time the 50th 
 remained in Ireland, the Colonel was mostly absent from ill 
 health, and the command of course devolved upon the Major. 
 By one of the military abuses at that time too common, a 
 little Scotch Doctor, who had somehow been appointed Adju- 
 tant to a Fencible regiment, was transferred from it to the 
 50th. Incompetent from professional inability, he was further 
 afflicted by a constitutional nervousness, that made him badly 
 calculated to come in contact with such a personage as the 
 Mad Major. 
 
 Shortly after the little Scotchman joined, the half yearly 
 inspection took place. Major O'Farrell, in the course of 
 his evolutions, found it requisite to deploy into line, and 
 called to his field-assistant " to take an object." " Have 
 you got one ?" cried the commander, in a voice of thunder. 
 " Yes, Sir," replied the alarmed Adjutant, in a feeble squeak. 
 The word was given, and the right wing kept moving, until 
 the face of the regiment assumed the form of a semicircle. 
 "Hallo ! where or what is your object?" roared the Major. 
 "A c:ow, Sir," replied the unhappy Scotsman. "And 
 where is the crow ?" roared the Commander. " Flown off," 
 was the melancholy response. " May the devil fly away 
 with you, body and bones ! Halt dress ! Stop, Sir 
 Charles do stop. Just allow me two minutes to curse that 
 rascallv Adiutant." To so reasonable a request, Sir Charles, 
 
DEATH OF THE MAD MAJOR. 19 
 
 who was a most obliging officer, readily assented. The 
 General mentioned often, that the damning of a stupid Adju- 
 tant was no novelty ; but that he never saw a man cursed to 
 his perfect satisfaction, until he heard the Scotch Doctor 
 anathematized in the Phoenix Park. 
 
 The death of poor Denis was in such perfect keeping with 
 his life, that I am tempted to give it to you. 
 
 The regiment was in garrison, and at a race-ball a trifling 
 misunderstanding occurred between a young Ensign and a 
 country-gentleman. It was, however, instantly adjusted. 
 A few days afterwards, some intemperate expressions which 
 had fallen from the gentleman at the ball, were reported to 
 the Mad Major. These he considered as reflecting upon 
 the character of his corps, and he despatched the senior 
 Captain for an explanation. The answer to this demand 
 was unsatisfactory, and the Captain was directed to deliver 
 a hostile message. The officers of the " Half Hundred" 
 were a brave body they vainly endeavoured to make it a 
 regimental affair, and insisted that the person to resent 
 the insult should be indifferently selected (by lot) from the 
 corps. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I thank you ;" said the Mad Major, as he 
 struck his broad hand upon the mess-table. " Your motives 
 are personally kind but as I am at the head of this regiment, 
 I hold myself to be the conservator of its honour." 
 
 That evening the Major had a violent attack of gout, to 
 which for years he had been a martyr but he concealed it 
 carefully, and when his friend called him on the morning, 
 he was found dressed and powdered, but unable to move 
 
 without assistance. Captain M pressed upon him the 
 
 necessity of postponing the meeting, or permitting another 
 officer to be his substitute ; but Denis was immovable in his 
 resolve. He proceeded to the ground, and supported by a 
 crutch, after a discharge of pistols, received a satisfactory 
 apology. Poor fellow ! this was his last feat. Exposure to 
 the cold of a damp spring morning brought on a renewed 
 attack of gout that night the disorder settled in his stomach 
 and the morning after he was a corpse. 
 
 The body was carried to its last resting-place, accompanied 
 by all the pomp of a military funeral. His own beloved com- 
 pany, the grenadiers, who had often followed their lion- 
 hearted leader into action, now formed his guard of honour 
 
20 CASTLEBAR. 
 
 to the grave ; and when his remains were committed to the 
 earth there was not a dry eye among the " Dirty Half 
 Hundred/' 
 
 Two months afterwards, when an Irish soldier was ques- 
 tioned on the merits of his successor " The man is well 
 enough," said Pat, with a heavy sigh, " but where will we 
 find the equal of the Mad Major ? By Jasus, it was a com- 
 fort to be cursed by him V 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Castlebar Newport Departure from Christendom Progress into Terra 
 Incognita Roads and scenery Mulranny Passage down the Inlet 
 Incidents Lodge in the Wilds of Erris Description of the establish- 
 ment. 
 
 WITHOUT any adventure worthy of a place in this itinerary, 
 I reached in safety the capital of Mayo, From other pro- 
 vincial cities, this town is distinguished in having a new drop 
 and an old gaol ; a swamp in the centre of the town sur- 
 rounded by an iron chain, judiciously placed there, I imagine, 
 to prevent cattle and children being lost in the morass which 
 it environs ; a court-house, with a piazza and facade, of an 
 original order of architecture, only known to Irish professors 
 of the art of building ; trade and manufactures are limited to 
 felt-hats and poteen whisky ; and the only machinery I could 
 discover was the drop, aforesaid. I was informed that the 
 chapel and petty-sessions are generally crowded, as is the 
 market, upon a hanging-day. 
 
 I was called next morning at five o'clock by the waiter, to 
 proceed by the Sligo mail, although on the preceding night I 
 had taken considerable pains to persuade him that my course 
 hy westward. One hour afterwards, the chamber-maid roused 
 me to inquire if I had any intention of proceeding to Holly- 
 mount by a hackney car. To save these worthy people" further 
 trouble, I arose and dressed, and, wishing to avoid a vestry to 
 be that day holden in the town, and where, in the course of ar- 
 gument, it was believed that divers lives would be lost, I took 
 an early breakfast, and departed. 
 
A GUIDE. 21 
 
 I stopped at Newport ; it was the last cluster of houses 
 arrogating to itself the title of a town, that I should now meet 
 with, for I had reached the ultima Thule of civilized Europe 
 and when I had given directions to the post- master touching 
 the transmission of my letters in my cousin's bag, I looked 
 around me, and took a silent but mournful farewell of 
 Christendom. 
 
 I found at the public-house that my kinsman had provided 
 for my farther progress into terra incognita. A couple of 
 rudely- constructed vehicles were waiting to receive myself and 
 personal property, and a wild bare-legged mountaineer, with a 
 leathern bag strapped across his shoulders, announced himself 
 as guide. "Had he no horse?'' "Devil a harsef but he 
 would warrant he would keep up with me," and away we 
 went under a salute of our dogs, and the furtive glances of 
 sundry ladies with their hair in papers. 
 
 Some distance from the town we crossed an ancient bridge 
 of many arches, through which an extensive lake communi- 
 cates with the sea, and farther on passed the old tower of 
 Carrigahowla. Our route w r as contiguous to the sea on the 
 left were the numerous islands of Clew Bay; on the right 
 an extensive chain of savage hills and barren moorland. The 
 road now became hardly passable ; constructed without the 
 least regard to levelness, here it dipped into a ravine, and 
 there breasted some sudden hill, inaccessible to any carriage 
 but the light machines we travelled with. Its surface w r as 
 rough, and interrupted by a multitude of loose stones ; while 
 some of the bridges were partially dilapidated, and others had 
 never been completed. In these, the ragged line of granite 
 which formed the key-stones of the arches stood nakedly up, 
 and presented a barrier that no common carriage could overtop 
 without endangering its springs and harness. Yet this forlorn 
 road is the only communication with a highly improvable 
 country, covering at least fifty square miles, with numerous 
 and profitable islands attached, and an immense line of sea- 
 coast, possessing rich fisheries, and abounding in kelp-weed 
 and manure ! And why was this neglect ? Were the pro- 
 prietors of this deserted district so cold to that true spring 
 of human action, self-aggrandizement, as to omit providing 
 an outlet for the sources of their opulence ? Were there no 
 public monies allocated to these abandoned corners of the 
 earth, and so much lavishly expended on many a useless 
 
22 MULRANNY. 
 
 undertaking elsewhere ? Yes : large sums have been pre- 
 sented and re-presented by the Grand Juries for the last 
 twenty years, but they have been regularly pocketed by those 
 to whose good faith they were entrusted. Would it be be- 
 lieved in England, George, that this atrocious system of pecu- 
 lation has been carried to such an extent, that roads have been 
 passed, as completed, when their lines have been but roughly 
 marked out and bridges been actually paid for, the necessary 
 accounting affidavits having been sworn to in open court, 
 when not a stone was ever laid, and to this day the stream runs 
 without a solitary arch to span its flood from the source to the 
 debouchement ? Ay these delinquencies have been often and 
 notoriously perpetrated, and none have had the courage to 
 drag the criminals to justice. 
 
 At the clachan of Mulranny we struck into a pass in the 
 mountains, and turned our backs upon Clew Bay. A branch 
 from the waters of Black Sod runs some ten miles inland, 
 and meets this opening in the hills, affording a communica- 
 tion by boats with Erris. There my kinsman's galley was 
 waiting for me, and in it I embarked my person and esta- 
 blishment. Taking advantage of a south-westerly wind, the 
 boatmen hoisted their close-reefed lug, and away we shot 
 rapidly towards the entrance of the inlet. From the high 
 lands which rose on every side, the squalls fell more heavily 
 and frequent than I found agreeable ; but in an hour we 
 cleared this confined and dangerous channel, and, running 
 between Currane Point and the island of Innis Biggie, entered 
 Black Sod Bay. 
 
 The passage down the inlet, was marked with several inci- 
 dents which were in perfect keeping with the wild and savage 
 scenery around. A seal would suddenly raise his round head 
 above the surface, gaze for a moment at the boat, and, when 
 he had apparently satisfied his curiosity, sink quietly from our 
 view. In rounding the numerous headlands through which 
 this inlet irregularly winds, w r e often started flocks of curlews,* 
 
 * The bill is long, equally incurvated, and terminated in a blunt point ; 
 nostrils linear, and longitudinal near the base ; tongue short and sharp- 
 pointed ; and the toes are connected as far as the first joint of the mem- 
 brane. 
 
 With the curlew, Linnaeus begins a numerous tribe of birds under the 
 genuine name of Scalopax, which, in his arrangement, includes all the 
 snipes and godwits, amounting, according to Latham, to fortv-two species 
 
INNIS BIGGLE. 
 
 which, rising in an alarm at our unexpected appearance, made 
 the rocks ring with their loud and piercing whistle. Skirting 
 the shore of Innis Biggie, we disturbed an osprey or sea-eagle,* 
 in the act of feeding on a bird. He rose leisurely, and, light- 
 ing on a rock, waited till we passed, and then returned to his 
 
 prey. We ran sufficiently close to the shore to observe the 
 
 and eight varieties, spread over various parts of the world, but nowhere 
 very numerous. 
 
 Buffon describes fifteen species and varieties of the curlew, and Latham 
 ten, only two or three of which are British birds. They feed upon 
 worms, which they pick up on the surface, or with their bills dig from the 
 soft earth : on these they depend for their principal support ; but they 
 also devour the various kinds of insects which swarm in the mud and 
 in the wet boggy grounds, where these birds chiefly take up their 
 abode. 
 
 " Eagles are well knowne to breed here, but neither so bigge, nor 
 so many, as books tell. Cambrensis reporteth of his own knowledge, 
 and I heare it averred by credible persons, that barnacles, thousands 
 at once, are noted along the shoares to hang by the beakes about the 
 
24 SPORTING LODGE. 
 
 size and colour of the bird, and concluded that a grouse had 
 been the eagle's victim. 
 
 When we had cleared the islands, the breeze blew fresh 
 and steadily ; the boatmen shook out the reefs, which had 
 hitherto confined their canvass ; the galley, with increased 
 velocity, rushed through the rippling water, till, doubling a 
 neck of land surmounted by a ruined castle, and running up 
 a sheltered creek, I found myself at the termination of my 
 voyage, and warmly welcomed by my Irish kinsman, from 
 whom for fifteen years I had been separated. 
 
 I have oeen here three days, and am as much domesticated 
 in the mansion as my cousin's Newfoundland clog. I know 
 the names and " sobriquet" of the establishment ; can discri- 
 minate between " Hamisk-a-neilan" (James of the island) and 
 Andy-bawn (Fair Andy); I hold converse with the cook, 
 and am hand-and-glove with the housemaid. Really I am 
 delighted with the place, for every thing is wild, new, and 
 out-of-the-way ; but I must describe the locale of my kinsman's 
 domicile. 
 
 At the bottom of a narrow creek, you must imagine " a 
 low snug dwelling, and in good repair." The foam of the 
 Atlantic breaks sometimes against the windows, while a huge 
 cliff, -seaward, defends it from the storm, and, on the land 
 side, a sudden hill shelters it from the north wind. Here, 
 when the tempest roars abroad, your friend Laura might 
 venture forth and not endanger a papillotte. The bent* roof 
 is impervious to the rain ; the rooms are neat, well arranged, 
 and comfortable. In the parlour, if the evening be chilly, a 
 turf fire sparkles on the hearth ; and when dried bog- deal is 
 added to the embers, it emits a fragrant and delightful glow, 
 superseding the necessity of candles. The long and measured 
 swell of the Atlantic would almost lull a troubled conscience 
 to repose ; and that rural hum, which attends upon the farm- 
 yard, rouses the refreshed sleeper in the morning. In the 
 cairn of evening I hear the shrill cry of the sand-lark ; and in 
 
 edges of puttified timber, shippes, oars, anchor-holders, and such like, 
 which in processe, taking lively heate of the sunne, become water-fowles, 
 and, at their time of ripenesse, either fall jnto the sea, or fly abroad into 
 the ayre." Campion's Historic. * " i\p, 
 * The customary thatch in parts of Erris. 
 
COCKNEY ANGLERS. 25 
 
 the early dawn, the crowing of the cock-grouse. I see the 
 salmon fling themselves over the smooth tide, as they hurry 
 from the sea to reascend their native river. And while I 
 drink claret that never paid the revenue a farthing, or indulge 
 over that proscribed beverage the produce and the scourge 
 of this wild district I trace from the window the outline of 
 a range of hills, where the original red-deer of Ireland are 
 still existing none of your park-fed venison, that tame, 
 spiritless diminutive, which a boy may assassinate with his 
 " birding-piece," but the remnant of that noble stock, which 
 hunters of other days, O'Connor the Cus Dhu* and Cormac 
 Bawn Mac Tavish once delighted in pursuing. 
 
 The offices of this wild dwelling are well adapted to the 
 edifice. In winter, the ponies have their stable ; and kine 
 and sheep a comfortable shed. Nor are the dogs forgotten ; 
 for them a warm and sheltered kennel is fitted up with 
 benches, and weil provided with straw. Many a sporting- 
 lodge in England, on which thousands have been expended, 
 lacks the Comforts of my kinsman's unpretending cottage. 
 Where are the coach-houses ? Those, indeed, would be 
 useless appendages ; for the nearest road on which a wheel 
 could turn, is ten miles distant from the lodge. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Periodicals Cockney sports and sportsmen Mountain angler and his 
 attendant Fishing-tackle Antony the otter-killer Visit the river 
 Flies Hooking my first salmon Return to the lodge Sporting 
 authors Sir Humphry Davy Colonel Hawker Salmonia Criti- 
 cisms. 
 
 THE last post-bag brought a large supply of newspapers 
 and monthly literature. " Gad-o'-mercy !" what notions the 
 fishermen of Cockaign must have of the " gentle art !" It is 
 amusing to read the piscatory articles so seriously put forth 
 in the sporting periodicals. No persons on earth suffer more 
 personal inconvenience than the Cockney artist, or submit so 
 patiently to pecuniary imposition and like virtue, their 
 
 * Blackfoot. 
 
26 FISHING TACKLE. 
 
 trouble is its own reward. Pant-fishing and perch-fishing, 
 baiting-holes, and baiting-hooks, appear to the mountain 
 fisherman so utterly worthless, that I do not wonder at the 
 sovereign contempt with which he regards the unprofitable 
 pursuits of the city angler. * 
 
 What a contrast to the Cockney bustle of a Londoner does 
 my cousin's simple preparation for a morning's sport exhibit ! 
 If the wind and clouds are favourable, the rod, ready jointed 
 and spliced, is lifted from beneath the cottage eave, where it 
 "lay like a warrior taking his rest," on a continuation of 
 level pegs. The gaff and pannier are produced by a loose- 
 looking mountaineer, whose light-formed but sinewy limbs 
 are untrammelled by shoe or stocking. Fond of the sport 
 himself, he evinces an ardent interest in your success ; on 
 the moor and by the river he is a good-humoured and 
 obliging assistant ; traverses the mountains for a day, and 
 lies out on the hill-side through the long autumnal night, 
 to watch the passage of the red deer as they steal down 
 from the mountain-top to browse on the lower grounds by 
 moonlight. 
 
 How different from this wild and cheerful follower are the 
 sporting attendants of the unhappy Cockney ! he must consort 
 with " bacon-fed knaves/' be the companion of your brawny 
 jolter-headed porter-swollen waterman, who in sulky silence 
 paddles his employer into some phlegmatic pool, where the 
 disciple of Walton is secure of the lumbago, but by no means 
 certain of a sprat. 
 
 In truth, dear George, I am half ashamed of myself: I 
 came here loaded with rods, flies, and baskets, with the 
 " thousand and one" nameless et cetera furnished from a city 
 tackle-shop, in their uses and appearance various as the cargo 
 of the ark. When I displayed yesterday this accumulation 
 of " engines and cunning devices/' my cousin burst into a 
 roar of laughter, and inquired if I intended to annihilate the 
 fishery?" Then, turning, leaf by leaf, three immense -fly- 
 books over, he praised the pretty feathers, commended the 
 brightness of the tinsel, and good-naturedly assured me 
 
 * " To induce fish to come to any particular spot, boiled wheat, grains 
 of malt graves (from the tallow-chandler's) cut small, should be thrown 
 in plentifully two or three times. A composition of ground malt, blood, 
 and clay is the best for salmojt. ami tro^t : to which some add ivy- 
 
THE OTTER KILLER. 27 
 
 that this rich assemblage did not possess a fly of the value 
 of one farthing. I fear his verdict was a true one ; I have 
 tried two days consecutively and never hooked a fish. But 
 no, the water was too low, the wind too high, or something 
 was amiss, for I have the best flies procurable in the best shop 
 in London. 
 
 The storm terminated as summer gales do, in a heavy fall 
 of rain. Although the wears are raised to intercept the 
 passage of the fish from the sea, the late freshes, joined to a 
 spring tide, have enabled both trout and salmon to overleap 
 the barrier and fill the pools above it. Want of success had 
 damped my ardour for piscation ; and besides, I had involved 
 myself in a most amusing article in Blackwood, and felt an 
 unwillingness to lay aside the book. At this moment of 
 indecision, old Antony the otter-killer, one of that numerous 
 and nondescript personages who locate themselves in the 
 houses of the Irish gentry, passed the window with a fine 
 salmon and a brace of trout sixteen inches long. How fresh 
 and sparkling is the phosphoric shading of the scales, as the 
 old man turns them round for my inspection ! What a beau- 
 tiful fish ! it barely measures thirty inches, and is fully 
 ten pounds weight ! That short and deep- shouldered 
 Mddawn* is worth all the lubberly roach, dace, perch, and 
 gudgeons, that the Thames contains from its source to its 
 debouchement. 
 
 I looked after the ancient otter-hunter with envy. How 
 lowly would he be estimated in the eyes of a Cheapside 
 fisherman ; one, who wears a modest-coloured jacket,f lest 
 a showy garment might annoy the plethoric animals he is 
 dabbling for, whose white basket is constructed of the 
 finest wicker work with rods and reels, floats and flies, 
 pastes and patties, lines and liqueurs sufficient to load a 
 donkey, how contemptuously would he look down upon 
 honest Antony ! Figure to yourself a little feeble man, dressed 
 
 * A salmon. 
 
 t " Our forefathers were wont to pursue even their amusements with 
 great formality : an angler, a century and a half back, must have his 
 fishing-coat, which, if not black, must at least be of a very dark colour, a 
 black velvet cap, like those which jockeys now wear, and a rod with a 
 stock like a halberd ; thus equipped, he stalked forth, followed by the 
 eyes of a whole neighbourhood." Daniel 
 
28 FISHING EXCURSION. 
 
 in a jerkin of coarse blue cloth, with an otter (a fancy of my 
 cousin's) blazoned on his arm : in one hand he holds a fish- 
 spear, which assists him when he meets with rugged ground, 
 in the other, a very unpretending angle, jointed rudely with a 
 penknife, and secured by waxen threads ; a cast of flies 
 are wound about his hat, and his remaining stock, not 
 exceeding half-a-dozen, are contained between the leaves 
 of a tattered song-book : in the same depository he has 
 some silk, dyed mohair, a hare's ear, and a few feathers 
 from the cock, brown turkey, and mallard ; and these simple 
 materials furnish him w r ith most efficient flies, but he 
 requires a bright day to fabricate them, as his sight is in- 
 different. 
 
 It required much persuasion and a positive assurance of 
 success, before I ventured with my kinsman to the river. 
 Ten minutes' easy walking brought us to a noble pool above 
 the Wear, where my friend never fails to kill a salmon, if 
 the wind be westerly and the water not too low. The water 
 was in beautiful order, and my cousin insisted that, under 
 his direction, I should once more try my fortune with the 
 fishing-rod. Discarding my gaudy flies with a malediction 
 upon the knave who tied them, he affixed two of his upon the 
 casting-line ; and nothing could be of a simpler character than 
 those selected from his book. The tail-fly was a plain black 
 and orange mohair body, with a long and pointed turkey- 
 feather wing ; the dropper was formed of blue and scarlet 
 wool, ribbed with silver, a pheasant sprit for legs, and mixed 
 wings of the turkey and mallard. 
 
 I made several unsuccessful casts : " A bad look-out, 
 friend Julius. Heaven forfend that the cook has placed any 
 dependence on the angle 1" Again I tried the pool, and, like 
 all disappointed fishermen, began to prognosticate a change of 
 weather. " I had remarked mares' tails in the sky yesterday 
 evening, and there was rain over head, for a hundred !" My 
 cousin smiled ; when, suddenly, my nebulous speculations 
 were interrupted by a deep, sluggish roll at the dropper. 
 " Monamondiaoul f"* exclaimed Mortien Beg,\ as he caught a 
 momentary glance of the broad and fan-like tail. " He is 
 fifteen pound weight !" Obedient to the directions of my 
 Mentor, I left the spot the salmon leaped in, and commenced 
 
 * An Irish imprecation. t Little Martin. 
 
KILLING A SALMON. 29 
 
 casting a dozen yards below it. Gradually I came over 
 him again. " A light cast, Frank, and you have him !" I 
 tried, and succeeded gallantly. I sent the fly across the 
 water with the lightness of the thistle's down, as at the same 
 moment the breeze eddied up the stream, and curled the 
 surface deliciously. A long dull ruffle succeeded whish ! 
 span the wheel ; whish-h-h-h-h, whish-h-h-, whish ! I have 
 him ! 
 
 Nothing, my dear George, can be more beautiful than 
 the play of a vigorous salmon. The lubberly struggles of a 
 pond -fish are execrable to him who has felt the exquisite 
 pleasure that attends the conquest of " the monarch of the 
 stream." His bold rushes his sudden and rapid attempts 
 to liberate himself from the fisher's thrall the energy with 
 which he throws his silver body three or four feet above the 
 surface of the water and the unwearied and incessant oppo- 
 sition he makes, until his strength is exhausted by the 
 angler's science ; all this must be experienced to be ade- 
 quately conceived. In ten minutes I mastered my beautiful 
 victim; and Mortien Beg gaffed and landed a splendid 
 summer fish, which, if the cook's scales be correct, weighed 
 thirteen pounds and seven ounces. 
 
 Overjoyed with my success, I proceeded up the river. My 
 cousin brought me to several delightful pools ; and, with his 
 assistance, I raised and hooked several capital fish, but only 
 landed one of them, a nice and active salmon of about eight 
 pounds weight. From half a dozen white trout fresh from 
 the sea, I received excellent amusement; and at six o'clock 
 returned to dinner, gratified with my sport, pleased with my- 
 self, and at peace with all mankind, excepting that confounded 
 
 cozener, the tackle -merchant in Street. 
 
 Over our wine, the conversation naturally turned upon the 
 " gentle art." My kinsman is both a practical and a scientific 
 angler. " Holding, with few exceptions, all published sporting 
 productions in disrepute, one that I remarked on your book- 
 
 ! stand, Julius, strikes me as being at the same time clever and 
 
 I useful : I mean Sir Humphry Davy's." 
 
 " It is both, Frank : his account of the habits and natural 
 
 j history of the salmon species is just, ingenious, and amusing; 
 and there is a calm and philosophic spirit that pervades the 
 whole, rendering it a work of more than common interest. 
 But, practically, it is as useless as all Guides and Manuals, 
 
30 SIR HUMPHRY DAVY. 
 
 since the days of Walton. Of the uninitiated it will make 
 fishermen, where Colonel Hawker s directions enable a man to 
 shoot, who has never been five miles from Holborn-bars. I 
 doubt not but Sir Humphry was an ardent and scientific 
 fisherman, but in many practical points I differ with him. 
 He angled well, but he fished like a philosopher. If he 
 haunted this river for a season, unless he altered his system 
 materially, he would not kill a dozen- salmon. Flies, such as 
 he describes, would never, in any seasons or weathers, be 
 successful here. He fairly says, that ' different rivers require 
 different flies / but nothing like those he recommends would 
 answer this one ; and, although many of the theories and 
 speculative opinions are very ingenious, I question much their 
 validity. 
 
 " Admiring Sir Humphry as I do, I w r ould pardon his 
 philosophy and fine flies, his ' golden pheasant, silken-bodied, 
 orange, red, and pale-blue, silver-twisted, and king's-fisher 
 mixtures/ even to his 'small bright humming-bird' itself; 
 but, with all my Christian charity and personal affection, there 
 is one fatal passage, for which, like Lady Macbeth's soiled 
 hand, there is no remedy. Would that I could ' pluck from 
 the memory* that luckless page ! But, alas ! whenever I see 
 Salmonia, it rushes to my recollection. Think, Frank, of a 
 man who limited a party of sporting tourists to half a pint of 
 claret! and threatened an honest gentleman, who called for 
 another bottle, with ' an overflow of blood/ ' a suffusion of the 
 haemorrhoidal veins/ and, worse than all, ' a determined 
 palsy/* if he persevered ! I could have forgiven the philo- 
 sopher any thing every thing even to the comparison of 
 that rascally fish, the perch, with the rich and luxurious 
 mullet ; but to fob off four stout gentlemen with a solitary 
 
 * Doctors will disagree vide Daniel's Account of Joe Man, game- 
 keeper to Lord Torrington. " He was in constant strong morning exercise ; 
 he went to bed always betimes, but never till his skin was filled with ale. 
 This," he said, " would do no harm to an early riser, and to a man who 
 pursued field-sports. At seventy-eight years of age he began to decline, 
 and then lingered for three years ; his gun was ever upon his arm, 
 and he still crept about, not destitute of the hope of fresh diversion." 
 Vol. ii. p. 172. 
 
 " Inhabitants (especially new comers) aie subject to distillations, 
 xhumes, and fluxes ; for remedy whereof they use an ordinary drink 
 of aqua-vitae, so qualified in the making, that it dryeth more, and in- 
 fiameth lesse, than other hote confections." Campion's Historic, 1571. 
 
SALMONIA. 31 
 
 bottle of the vin ordinaire ycleped claret, that one meets with 
 in a country inn ! For God's sake, ring the bell ! Here, 
 John, some wine ! Nothing but a fresh bottle can allay my 
 indignation, and restore my tranquillity." 
 
 " Well, we must admit that Sir Humphry would not be 
 exactly the man to fill the chair at an Irish ' symposium ;' but, 
 his Bacchanalian antipathies apart, he really is an agreeable 
 and instructive writer." 
 
 " Why, ye-es ; still there is a dash of milk-and-water 
 throughout Salmonia, that nothing but its ingenious account 
 of the affinities and natural history of fishes could compensate. 
 Take, for example, the introduction of the Fishing- Party, and 
 remark the colloquy between Halieus and Poietes : 
 
 " Hal. ' I am delighted to see you, my worthy friends, on 
 the banks of the Colne ; and am happy to be able to say, that 
 my excellent host has not only made you free of the river for 
 this day's angling, but insists upon your dining with him 
 wishes you to try the evening fishing, and the fishing to-morrow 
 morning and proposes to you, in short, to give up twenty- 
 four hours to the delights of an angler's May-day/ 
 
 " Poiet. ' We are deeply indebted to him ; and I hardly 
 know how we can accept his offer, without laying ourselves 
 under too great an obligation/ 
 
 " Hal. ' Fear not : he is as noble-minded a man as ever 
 delighted in good offices : and so benevolent, that I am sure 
 he will be almost as happy in knowing you are amused, as you 
 can be in your sport : and hopes for an additional satisfaction 
 in the pleasure of your conversation/ 
 
 " Poiet.' So let it be/ 
 
 " Hal. ' I will take you to the house ; you shall make your 
 bow, and then you will be all free to follow your own fancies. 
 Remember, the dinner-hour is five ; the dressing-bell rings at 
 half-past four; be punctual to this engagement, from which 
 you will be free at seven/ 
 
 " Now, because a country gentleman takes heart, and 
 invites four philosophers to dinner, Hal can scarcely find 
 words to communicate the hospitable message, and Poietes 
 opines that the obligation shall be eternal. After the worthy 
 host is lauded for this generous act to the very skies, it 
 appears that he bundles off the company at seven o'clock, and, 
 before they had time to look around the table, quoits them 
 out, 'like a shove- "roat shillin"*!' But hark; the niner is in 
 
SYMPTOMS OF A STORM. 
 
 the hail. Shin suis, Cormac /* Pass the wine, and a fig for 
 philosophy !" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Symptoms of a coming storm A Sportsman's Dinner Old John Pattigo 
 Gale comes on Shawn atra buoy Seals The blind Seal. 
 
 THE morning had a sullen look ; Slieve More retained his 
 nightcap ; the edge of the horizon where the ocean met the 
 sky was tinged with a threatening glare of lurid sunshine ; the 
 \vind was capricious as a woman's love now swelling into 
 gusts, now sinking to a calm, as the unsteady breeze 
 shifted round to every point "i' the shipman's card." As 
 evening approached, the clouds collected in denser masses, 
 and the giant outline of Slieve More was lost in a sheet of 
 vapour. The . swell from the Atlantic broke louder on the 
 bar ; the piercing whistle of the curlew was heard more 
 frequently; and the small hard-weather tern, which seldom 
 leaves the Black Rock but to harbinger a coming tempest, w r as 
 ominously busy; whirling aloft in rapid circles, or plunging 
 its long and pointed wing into the broken surface of the billow. 
 All portended a storm ; the wind freshened momentarily, and 
 at last blew steadily from the south-east. 
 
 I was at the door, engaged in speculating upon the signs of 
 the approaching gale, when old John, my kinsman's grey- 
 headed butler, summoned me to dinner. Some say that a 
 bachelor's repast has always a lonely and comfortless appear- 
 ance ; and it may be so. I grant that a sprinkling of the 
 sexes adds to the social character of the table ; but this apart, 
 with the abatement of that best society lovely woman, who 
 shall dine more luxuriously than I ? Two hours' rabbit-shoot- 
 ing in the sand-hills has given me a keen and wholesome 
 appetite. That salmon at noon was disporting in the sea, 
 and this kid was fatted among the heath-flowers of the 
 mountain-glen. Kitchener and Kelly could take no exception 
 to the cookery ; and had these worthies still been inhabitants 
 of "this fair round globe," the Doctor would have found 
 
 * Play up, Cormac ! 
 
SHAWN A TRA BUOY. 33 
 
 ample amusement for " every man's master, the stomach," and 
 honest Myke might have safely ventured to dinner without his 
 " sauce piquante." 
 
 In due time the cloth disappeared ; a bundle of split bog- 
 deal was laid upon the hearth, and speedily lighted into a 
 cheerful blaze. Old John, with the privilege of an ancient 
 retainer, conversed with us as he extracted a fresh cork for the 
 evening's potation. " Awful weather in July, sir. Well, that 
 Shawn a tra buoy* is a wonderful beast ; I knew a change of 
 weather was at hand when he rose beside the shore last night, 
 and showed his grey head and shoulders over the water." 
 
 "Is the seal, John, a sure foreteller of an approaching 
 storm ?" 
 
 " A certain one, sir : I remember him from I was a boy in 
 the old master's kitchen the Lord be merciful to his soul ! 
 Shawn a tra buoy's features are as familiar to me as my own ; 
 I would swear to him among a thousand." 
 
 " You see him frequently ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir. When the salmon come in, he is every day 
 upon the yellow strand opposite the lodge : there you will see 
 him chase the fish into the shoal-water, catch them beside the 
 boats, ay, or if that fails, take them from the nets, and rob 
 the fishermen. Year after year he has returned with the 
 salmon, spending his summer on the ' tra-buoy/ and his 
 winter near Carrig-a-boddagh." 
 
 " How has he escaped so long, John ? Has he riot been 
 often fired at ?" 
 
 " A thousand times ; the best marksmen in the country have 
 tried him without success. People say that, like the master 
 otter, he has a charmed life ; and latterly nobody meddles 
 with him." 
 
 Old John's narrative was interrupted by the entrance of 
 another personage ; he was a stout burly-looking man, with 
 indifferent good features, a figure of uncommon strength, and 
 a complexion of the deepest bronze. He is the schipper of 
 my cousin's hooker. After a career of perilous adventure in 
 piloting the Flushing smugglers to the coast, he has abandoned 
 his dangerous trade, to pass an honester and safer life in 
 future. 
 
 " Well, Pattigoj what news ?" 
 
 * Jack of the yellow strand. f A by-nam*. 
 
34 THE STORM. 
 
 " The night looks dirty enough, sir ; shall we run the 
 hooker round to Tallaghon, and get the rowing-boats drawn 
 up ?" His master assented, and ordered him the customary- 
 glass of poteen, Pattigo received it graciously in the fingers 
 of his right hand for he has lost his thumb by the bursting 
 of a blunderbuss in one of his skirmishes with the Revenue 
 made his ship-shape bow, clapped his sow-wester on, and 
 vanished. 
 
 The storm came on apace ; large and heavy drops struck 
 heavily against the windows ; the blast moaned round the 
 house ; I heard the boats' keels grate upon the gravel, as 
 the fishermen hauled them up the beach ; I saw Pattigo slip 
 his moorings, and, under the skirt of his main-sail, run for a 
 safer anchorage. The rain now fell in torrents ; the sea rose, 
 and broke upon the rocks in thunder ; mine host directed the 
 storm- shutters to be put up, ordered in candles, with a fresh 
 supply of billets for the fire, and we made final preparations 
 to be comfortable for the night. 
 
 Were I required to name the most recherche of my kins- 
 man's luxuries. I should specify his unrivalled " canastre." An 
 ample quantity of this precious tabac, (brought from Holland 
 by a smuggler), with excellent Dutch pipes, was produced by 
 honest John, who rises hourly in my estimation. There was 
 also an addendum in the shape of a foreign-looking bottle, which 
 the ancient servitor averred to have been deposited in the 
 cellar since the time of "the master's father/* If it were so, 
 the thing is a marvel ; for such liquor is rarely vouchsafed to 
 mortals. Alas ! George, while my aching head testifies a too 
 devoted attachment to that misshapen flask, the unequalled 
 flavour of the exquisite schiedam it contained will ever haunt 
 my memory. 
 
 " I remarked/' said my kinsman, as he struck the ashes 
 from his meerschaum, " that you appeared amused with old 
 John's history of Shawn a tra buoy. Although, in its wild state, 
 the seal is always shy, and sometimes dangerous, yet when 
 taken young it is easily domesticated, and susceptible of strong 
 attachment to its keepers.* There is a curious story told of 
 
 * In January, 1819, in the neighbourhood of Burnt Island, a gentle- 
 man completely succeeded in taming a seal : its singularities attracted the 
 curiosity of strangers daily. It appeared to possess all the sagacity of 
 the dog, and lived in its master's house, and ate from his hand. la his 
 fishing excursions, this gentleman generally took it with him; upon 
 
THE SEAL. 35 
 
 one of these animals I believe the leading incidents of the 
 narrative to be perfectly authentic ; and it is a memorable record 
 of enduring attachment in the animal, and exquisite barbarity 
 in the man. The tale runs thus : 
 
 " About forty years ago a young seal was taken in Clew 
 Bay, and domesticated in the kitchen of a gentleman, whose 
 house was situated on the sea- shore. It grew apace, became 
 familiar with the servants, and attached to the house and 
 family ; its habits were innocent and gentle ; it played with 
 the children, came at its master's call, and, as the old man 
 described him to me, was ' fond as a dog, and playful as a 
 kitten/ 
 
 " Daily the seal went out to fish, and, after providing for 
 his own w r ants, frequently brought in a salmon or turbot to 
 his master. His delight in summer was to bask in the sun, 
 and in winter to lie before the fire, or, if permitted, creep into 
 the large oven, which at that time formed the regular appen- 
 dage of an Irish kitchen. 
 
 " For four years the seal had been thus domesticated, when, 
 unfortunately, a disease, called in this country the crippawn 
 a kind of paralytic affection of the limbs, which generally 
 ends fatally attacked some black cattle belonging to the 
 master of the house ; some died, others became infected, and 
 the customary cure produced by changing them to drier 
 pasture failed. A wise woman was consulted, and the hag 
 assured the credulous owner, that the mortality among his 
 cows was occasioned by his retaining an unclean beast about 
 his habitation the harmless and amusing seal. It must be 
 made away with directly, or the crippawn would continue, 
 and her charms be unequal to avert the malady. The super- 
 stitious wretch consented to the hag's proposal ; and the seal 
 was put on board a boat, carried out beyond Clare Island, and 
 there committed to the deep, to manage for himself as he best 
 could. The boat returned, the family retired to rest, and 
 next morning a servant awakened her master to tell him that 
 the seal was quietly sleeping in the oven. The poor animal 
 
 which occasion it afforded no small entertainment. When thrown into 
 
 the water, it would follow for miles the track of the boat, and although 
 
 ' thrust back by the oars, it never relinquished its purpose; indeed, it 
 
 . struggled so hard to regain its seat, that one would imagine its fond- 
 
 ' J ness for its master had entirely overcome the natural predilection for its 
 
 native element. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE SEAL. 
 
 overnight came back to his beloved home, crept through an 
 open window, and took possession of his favourite resting- 
 place. 
 
 " Next morning another cow was reported to be unwell ; 
 and the seal must now be finally removed. A Galway fishing- 
 boat was leaving Westport on her return home, and the 
 master undertook to carry off the seal, and not put him over- 
 board until he had gone leagues beyond Innis Boffin. It was 
 done : a day and night passed ; the second evening closed ; the 
 servant was raking the fire for the night ; something scratched 
 gently at the door it was, of course, the house-dog she 
 opened it, and in came the seal ! Wearied with his long and 
 unusual voyage, he testified, by a peculiar cry expressive of 
 pleasure, his delight to find himself at home ; then stretching 
 himself before the glowing embers of the hearth, he fell into a 
 deep sleep. 
 
 " The master of the house was immediately apprised of this 
 unexpected and unwelcome visit. In the exigency, the bel- 
 dame was awakened and consulted : she averred that it was 
 always unlucky to kill a seal, but suggested that the animal 
 should be deprived of sight, and a third time carried out to 
 sea. To this hellish proposition the besotted wretch who 
 owned the house consented j and the affectionate and con- 
 fiding creature was cruelly robbed of sight on that hearth, for 
 which he had resigned his native element ! Next morning, 
 writhing in agony, the mutilated seal was embarked, taken 
 outside Clare Island, and for the last time committed to the 
 waves. 
 
 " A week passed over, and things became worse instead of 
 better ; the cattle of the truculent wretch died fast, and the 
 infernal hag gave him the pleasurable tidings that her arts 
 were useless, and that the destructive visitation upon his cattle 
 exceeded her skill and cure. 
 
 " On the eighth night after the seal had been devoted to 
 the Atlantic, it blew tremendously. In the pauses of the 
 storm a wailing noise at times was faintly heard at the door. 
 The servants, who slept in the kitchen, concluded that the 
 Banshee* came to forewarn them of an approaching death, and 
 
 * The Banshee is a nondescript being, supposed to be attached to 
 particular families, and to take a lively interest in their weal or mis- 
 fortunes ; and there are few ancient houses in Ireland unprovided with 
 this, domestic spirit. It gives notice of impending calamity and a death 
 
THE SEAL. 
 
 37 
 
 buried their heads in the bed- coverings. When morning 
 broke, the door was opened and the seal was there lying 
 dead upon the threshold !" 
 
 *' Stop, Julius !" I exclaimed, " give me a moment's time 
 to curse all concerned in this barbarism." 
 
 " Be patient, Frank," said my cousin, " the finale will 
 
 in the family is always harbingered by the lamentations of the ill-omened 
 attache. The sex of the banshee is usually feminine ; but I knew one 
 instance where a male familiar attended on an old house, and was known 
 by the title of the " Far-a-crick." The banshee was contented with 
 frightening the family she patronised with her laments ; but the Far-a-crick 
 was a more troublesome neighbour. On one occasion he beat severely 
 a drunken servant who was belated returning from a fair and a quarter 
 of mutton, which the unhappy man was bringing home, confirmed the 
 story, for after the " Hill man's" assault, it was found to be as black as 
 the ribs of the unfortunate sufferer. 
 
 The appearance of the banshee is variously described as she some- 
 times assumes the form of " a little wizened old woman," and at others 
 takes the semblance of " a black bitch/' 
 
38 A WET DAY. 
 
 probably save you that trouble. The skeleton of the once 
 plump animal for, poor beast, it perished from hunger, 
 being incapacitated from blindness to procure its customary 
 food was buried in a sand-hill, and from that moment mis- 
 fortunes followed the abettors and perpetrators of this in- 
 human deed. The detestable hag who had denounced the 
 inoffensive seal, was, within a twelvemonth, hanged for mur- 
 dering the illegitimate offspring of her own daughter. Every 
 thing about this devoted house melted away: sheep rotted, 
 cattle died, ' and blighted was the corn/ Of several children, 
 none reached maturity, and the savage proprietor survived 
 every thing he loved or cared for. He died blind and 
 miserable. 
 
 " There is not a stone of that accursed building standing 
 upon another. The property has been passed to a family 
 of a different name, and. the series of incessant calamity 
 which pursued all concerned in this cruel deed is as romantic 
 as true." 
 
 It was midnight : I laid down my pipe, took a candle 
 from the sideboard, wished my cousin " a good night, 
 and went to bed, full of pity for the gentle and affectionate 
 seal. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A wet day Fly-tying Piscatory disquisitions The tinker Lessons in 
 the " gentle art" An unexpected ally. 
 
 THE night throughout continued wild and blustrous ; the 
 squalls which shook the casements became less frequent and 
 violent towards morning ; the wind settled in the south, and 
 dying gradually away, was succeeded by a heavy and constant 
 fall of rain. To stir out of doors was impossible ; the Lodge 
 is unprovided with a billiard- table, and it requires ingenuity 
 to contrive some occupation for the long duration of a sum- 
 mer's day. 
 
 The breakfast was prolonged as much as possible ; it 
 ended, however, and my kinsman left me to give some 
 necessary directions to his household. I seated myself in 
 the window ; the view seaward was interrupted by the thick- 
 
PLIES. 39 
 
 ness of the weather, the rain dropped from the thatch in- 
 cessantly, the monotonous splash of the falling water, with 
 the sombre influence of a dull and torpid atmosphere, gra- 
 dually produced a drowsiness, and I fell fast asleep over a 
 dull collection of sporting anecdotes. My cousin's return 
 roused me; he placed a spider- table beside the window, 
 and, having unlocked a box filled with angling materials, 
 "in great and marvellous disorder," proceeded to extract, 
 from a mass of unmentionable things, the requisites for 
 dressing a cast or two of flies. As my own voluminous book 
 had been sadly discomposed in the numerous interchanges I 
 made, when vainly trying to seduce a salmon to try my 
 " tinsel and fine feathers," I proceeded to arrange my splendid 
 collection, while my kinsman was busied with his own simple 
 stock. The disappointment I had endured in finding my flies so 
 unprofitable, had made me hold the entire outfit of the London 
 artist in disrepute ; and I would have given my most elaborate 
 and expensive fishing-rod for the hazel angle of the ancient 
 otter-killer. 
 
 " Frank/' said my cousin, " you must not undervalue 
 what really is unexceptionable ; I mean the mechanical part 
 of your collection. Those rods are beautiful ; and your 
 reels, lines, gut, and hooks, cannot be surpassed ; your flies 
 may be excellent in an English river, so put them carefully 
 aside, as I will supply you with some better adapted to our 
 mountain streams. But what a size that book is ! In fishing, 
 as in literature, the schoolmen's adage holds, Mega biblion, 
 mega Jcakon. Why, nothing but a soldier's pack would 
 carry it ! we will soon, however, render you independent of 
 this mighty magazine, by teaching you to fabricate your own 
 flies." 
 
 "I fear I am too old to learn; the art of tying must, I 
 presume, be acquired early in life, and brought to perfection 
 by after experience." 
 
 " This does not always follow ; I did, when a boy, tie flies 
 passably ; but, having left off fishing when I removed from 
 my native river, I forgot the art, and depended on others for 
 my supply. The person who furnished my casting-lines fell 
 sick, and it unluckily happened that his illness occurred in 
 the best period of the season; and as the river was filled 
 with fish, constant service soon wore out my scanty store. 
 Necessity is the mother, you know the proverb, I was 
 
40 SPORTING FRIENDS. 
 
 sadly reduced ; ground blunted hooks and patched ravelling 
 bodies, till at last my stock was reduced to half-a-dozen, 
 and that half-dozen to perfect skeletons. What was to be 
 done ? Man is an imitative animal I endeavoured to 
 fabricate produced something between a bird and a bee 
 tried again, succeeded better ; and before my artist had re- 
 covered, by the shade of Walton ! I could turn out a reputable 
 fly." 
 
 " I believe I must make an attempt." 
 
 " You shall succeed, and, as a preliminary, I will put you 
 under the tutelage of my worthy neighbour, the priest. Ob- 
 serve his style of casting, and mark the facility with which 
 he sends five-and-thirty feet of hair and gut across the 
 broadest pool. I fish tolerably, but have repeatedly laid aside 
 my rod to admire the beautiful casting of this perfect master 
 of the angle." 
 
 " He ties a very handsome fly, no doubt." 
 
 " I won't say that, he ties a very killing one. I expect 
 him presently ; and as the day is wet, I'll leave the materials 
 ready, and to-morrow, if the rain ceases soon, we shall prove 
 the value of his flies. 
 
 "As we are on the subject of tying, I must observe, that 
 the advantage one derives from being able to construct his 
 own flies is wonderful ; in fact, without attaining this accom- 
 plishment in the ' gentle art' no one can fish comfortably or 
 successfully. No stock, however extensive, will afford a 
 supply adapted for every change of weather and water ; and 
 a man may lose a day overlooking an interminable variety of 
 kinds and colours, in a vain search after one killing fly. Not 
 so the artist : the favourite insect being once ascertained, he 
 speedily produces an imitation, and fills his basket ; while his 
 less fortunate neighbour is idly turning the pages of his over- 
 stocked fishing-book. 
 
 "I had two sporting friends, who were excellent instances 
 
 of this. Colonel S was an ardent, and, I may add, a 
 
 very tolerable angler ; and no one went to more trouble and 
 expense in procuring the most approved flies. He never tied, 
 or attempted to tie one, and he assured me he had many 
 hundred dozens in his possession. To find a new fly was 
 with him sometimes the labour of a day ; and when about 
 to try another water, he would spend hours toiling through 
 his immense collection, before he could succeed in discovering 
 
THE TINKER. 41 
 
 the necessary colour and description. I have seen him, with 
 Job-like patience, labouring through endless papers and 
 parcels, in search of a paltry insect that I could fabricate in 
 five minutes. 
 
 "His companion, Captain B , ran into an opposite 
 
 extreme. He rarely had a second casting-line, and seldom 
 a second set of flies. Did the day change, or the river fill 
 or lower, he sat down on the bank, ripped wings and dub- 
 bings from his hooks, and prepared a new outfit in a twinkling. 
 I never met an angler who was so certain of filling a basket 
 
 as my friend B . His system, however, I would totally 
 
 disapprove of. Without burthening oneself with enough to 
 furnish out a tackle-shop, a small and effective collection is 
 desirable ; and it is absurd to lose a fortunate half-hour tying 
 on the river bank, what could be more conveniently fabricated 
 during the tedium of a wet day within doors. An accident 
 may rob the most discreet angler of his flies, and surely it is 
 necessary to have a fresh relay to put up. But though I take 
 a sufficiency along with me, I never leave home without being 
 provided with the materials for constructing new ones. An 
 hour may bring ephemerae on the waters, which you must 
 imitate, or you will cast in vain ; before evening they have 
 vanished and given place to some new variety of the insect 
 world. Thus far, at least, the tyer possesses an advantage 
 over him who cannot produce a fly, that no collection which 
 human ingenuity can form will compensate. 
 
 " The best practical lesson I ever got originated in the 
 following accidental occurrence. Some years ago I received 
 private information, that a travelling tinker, who occasionally 
 visited these mountains to make and repair the tin stills used 
 by the peasantry in illicit distillation, was in the constant 
 habit of destroying fish, and he was represented as being a 
 most successful poacher. I was returning down the river after 
 an unfavourable day, a wearied and a disappointed fisherman, 
 and observed, at a short distance, a man chased across the 
 bogs by several others, and eventually overtaken and secured. 
 It was the unfortunate tinker, surprised by the keepers in the 
 very act of landing a splendid salmon ; two, recently killed, 
 were discovered in his wallet, and yet that blessed day I could 
 not hook a fish ! He was forthwith brought in durance before 
 my honour, to undergo the pains and penalties of his crime. 
 He was a strange, raw-boned,- wild-looking animal, and I 
 
42 THE TINKER. 
 
 half suspect Sir Walter Scott had seen him before he sketched 
 Watt Tinlin in the ' Lay/ He was a convicted felon he had 
 no plea to offer, for he was taken in the very fact. But he 
 made two propositions wherewithal to obtain his liberty ' He 
 would never sin again or he would fight any two of the 
 captors/ My heart yearned towards him he was after all a 
 brother and admitting that rod and coat were not worth 
 threepence, still he was an adept in the ' gentle art/ although 
 the most ragged disciple that ever Walton boasted. I forgave 
 him, dismissed the captors, and ordered him to the Lodge for 
 refreshment. ' My honour had no sport/ and he looked care- 
 lessly at my flies. ' Would I condescend to try one of his ?' 
 and he put a strange-looking combination of wool and feathers 
 on the casting- line. There was a fine pool near us I tried it, 
 and at the second cast I was fast in a twelve-pound salmon ! 
 My ragged friend remained with me some days ; and in his 
 sober intervals, ' few and far between/ gave me lessons in 
 the art, that have been more serviceable than any I had 
 hitherto acquired. 
 
 " Two years after, I was obliged to attend the winter fair 
 of Ball to purchase cattle. It was twilight when I left it, 
 and I had proceeded only a few miles towards a gentleman's 
 house, where I was to dine and sleep, when my horse cast a 
 shoe, and forced me to leave him at a smith's shop, which was 
 fortunately at hand. The evening was chilly, and I deter- 
 mined to proceed on foot, directing my servant to follow. I 
 passed a lonely poteen-house several ruffian-looking fellows 
 were on the road beside it. They were half- drunk and inso- 
 lent I was rash words borrowed blows, and I soon disco- 
 vered that I should have the worst of the battle, and was 
 tolerably certain of a sound drubbing. Suddenly, an unex- 
 pected ally came to my assistance; he dropped the most 
 formidable of the assailants as if he had been struck down by 
 a sledge-hammer. A few blows settled the contest ; and I 
 turned round to recognise and thank my deliverer. ' Ton my 
 sowl, you're mighty handy, Master Julius ; it's a murder that 
 ye don't practise oftener !' The speaker was my gifted friend 
 the tinker/' 
 
HUNTING COUNTRY. 43 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sporting topography of Mayo Hunting country Fox covers Cakes, 
 rivers, and fish A domiciliary visit Revenue foray Capture of 
 drunken distillers Alarm Midnight meditations Angling excursion 
 Goolamore Salmon fishing English and Irish hooks Limerick 
 preferable to all others. 
 
 To look, my dear George, at the map of Mayo, one would 
 imagine that Nature had designed that county for a sports- 
 man. The westerly part is wild and mountainous ; alpine 
 ridges of highlands interpose between the ocean and the in- 
 terior, and from the bases of these hills a boundless tract of 
 heath and moorland extends in every direction. To the east, 
 the face of the country undergoes a striking change large 
 and extensive plains cover the surface, and as the lands are 
 generally occupied in pasturage, and consequently not sub- 
 divided into the numerous enclosures which are requisite in 
 tillage farming, this part of Mayo is justly in high estimation 
 as a hunting country, and for centuries has been a favourite 
 fixture of the neighbouring fox-hunters. The Plains, as this 
 sporting district is usually denominated, afford constant oppor- 
 tunities for the horse to show his powers, and the rider his 
 nerve. The parks are of immense size ; the fences stiff and 
 safe ; the surface agreeably undulated, and from the firmness 
 of the sward, affording superior galloping ground. One may 
 occasionally ride over miles without being necessitated to 
 take a leap; but when one does meet fences, they are generally 
 raspers ; and if the scent lies, and the dogs can go, nothing 
 but a tip-top horse, and a man " who takes everything as God 
 sends it," will hold a forward place upon the plains. 
 
 The covers in the vicinity of the plains are numerous and 
 well supplied with foxes. Of these animals there is no 
 scarcity anywhere in Mayo ; but in the mountain districts 
 there is, unfortunately, a superabundance. The herdsman 
 and grouse-shooter complain sadly of their devastations ; 
 and notwithstanding numbers are annually dug out for ' hunt- 
 ing, or destroyed by the peasantry, there seems to be an 
 anti-Malthusian property in the animal, which enables its mis- 
 chievous stock, maugre traps and persecution, to increase and 
 multiply. 
 
44 REVENUE FORAY. 
 
 While the country is peculiarly adapted for field-sports, 
 the extensive lakes and numerous rivers offer every induce- 
 ment to the angler : the streams are plentifully stocked with 
 trout, and the rivers which communicate with the sea have a 
 good supply of salmon. Curious varieties* of the finny tribe 
 are to be found in the mountain loughs ; and in those noble 
 and expansive sheets of water, Lough Con, Lough Mask, and 
 Lough Corrib, the largest and finest specimens of fish are 
 easily obtained. 
 
 We have just had a domiciliary visit from the revenue 
 police. Under cover of the night, they made a descent 
 upon our valleys from their station, some fifteen miles off. 
 Excepting causing dire alarm a general abduction of stills, 
 worms, and all the apparatus of the craft, and the conceal- 
 ment of malt, and the burying of kegs the consequences 
 of the foray have not been important. One fatal casualty 
 occurred : a distillery had finished its brewing, (i.e. distilled 
 the quantity brewed,) and principals and accessories were 
 indulging a little after their exertions. Unluckily, the 
 revenue stumbled upon the convivial meeting ; and although 
 the stuff was gone, the still, apparatus, and unextinguished 
 fire, were proofs positive that the king God bless him ! 
 had been wofully defrauded. Such of the party as could 
 strike a walk escaped without difficulty ; but two unhappy 
 gentlemen who were blind drunk, and fast asleep in all 
 security before the smouldering embers of the still-fire, were 
 captured and conveyed to my loving cousin, to undergo 
 the pains and penalties of their crime. He, as a matter of 
 course, committed them to gaol ; and the next going judge, 
 as another matter of course, will discharge them. Mean- 
 while they are taken from their families, and supported at 
 the expense of the county ; their utility is lost when it is 
 most requisite, and they are, during the term of incarcera- 
 tion, a useless burden upon the community. I cannot see 
 the moral and legal expediency of all this ; but the men who 
 framed the revenue laws were probably more clear-sighted 
 than I am. 
 
 When I first observed a score of banditti in blue jackets 
 
 * For example, the Gillaroo and Par. 
 
REVENUE LAWS. 45 
 
 and white cross-belts arranged before the Lodge, I felt par- 
 ticularly nervous ; and old John, my refuge in perplexity, was 
 immediately consulted. "John/* said I, in a masonic whisper, 
 " are we safe ?" " Safe ! from what, Sir ?" " The gauger." 
 "Lord, Sir! he dines with us/' "But but is there any 
 stuff about the house?" '*Any! God alone can tell how 
 much there is above and under."* "If any body told the 
 ganger, John " " They would only tell him what he knows 
 already. The gauger ! Lord bless you, Sir ! he never comes 
 or goes without leaving a keg or two behind him. If the 
 master and he did not pull together, what the devil business 
 would he have here ? Don't mind, Sir ; we know what we 
 are about : Tig gum Tigue Thigienf'^ 
 
 Midnight. I hope the weather has settled : the moon 
 looks well, and, as John avers, the sun set favourably. There 
 is, however, one solitary scintillating star ; one ! there are two. 
 Confound the poteen ! it is the queerest, pleasantest, out-o'-the- 
 way drink imaginable ! and the gauger told such odd stories, 
 and sang such extraordinary songs ! The sooner I am in bed 
 the better ! What a field the Temperance Society would have 
 here for their exertions ! Well, if I rise without a headache, 
 I'll immortalize the man who first invented distillation. 
 
 We start under favourable auspices ; a sweet, steady 
 westerly wind is blowing, clouds and sunshine alternately 
 prevail, the river should be in good order, and we anticipate 
 that this will be a killing day. 
 
 We have determined to fish the sister stream ; the waters 
 of Goolamore unite in the same estuary with those of our own 
 river, and yet the fish vary with regard to season as much as 
 if they inhabited waters a thousand miles apart. In Goola- 
 
 * Poteen is commonly buried in the earth in small-sized vessels. This 
 is done for the double purpose of improving the whisky and concealing it 
 from the revenue. If detected in a dwelling-house, the owner incurs a 
 penalty of one hundred pounds ; notwithstanding which, there are few 
 gentlemen in this part of Connaught who are not plentifully supplied witli 
 this proscribed spirit. 
 
 f An Irish proverb, literally meaning " Tim understands Teady." 
 
46 ANGLING EXCURSION. 
 
 more, throughout the whole year, white* salmon are found in 
 high condition ; in Aughniss, from October till April, the fish 
 are red, spent, and worthless. In size, in character, the streams 
 are much alike : they unite in their debouchement in the sea, 
 and flow, but a few miles asunder, through a flat and moory 
 country. That the fish of these sister streams should differ so 
 much is surprising, and can only be attributed to one circum- 
 stance : Aughniss is a union of mountain- streams, Goolamore 
 flows from an extensive lake, and affords an outlet to the 
 waters of Carramore. Judging, therefore, from the constant 
 supply of white fish which Goolamore yields all through the 
 year, one would conclude that the lake offers better food and 
 winterage to the salmon, than the shallower and colder waters 
 of Aughniss. 
 
 Our expectations were fully realized, and we found the pools 
 in excellent order. Independently of a west wind being a 
 favourite point for the angler in these rivers it blows against 
 the current of the stream, and consequently increases the ruffle 
 on the surface of the water, which in salmon fishing is so 
 favourable. My cousin, who is perfectly acquainted with the 
 local haunts of the salmon, placed me where I seldom failed 
 to rise or hook a fish. What splendid angling this wild 
 country offers ! It spoils one in after-life, however. The 
 man who has held a salmon on his line disrelishes the inferior 
 amusements of the craft; the fox-hunter will seldom con- 
 descend to ride to beagles ; the deer- stalker will not waste 
 time and powder in a rabbit-warren ; and the disciple of Izaac, 
 who has once indulged in the exquisite delight of salmon 
 fishing, will feel little satisfaction in the commoner pursuits 
 and lesser pleasures of the gentle art. 
 
 We landed five salmon, besides taking a pannier full of 
 sea-trouts. Had I been an adept, or better appointed than 
 I was, we might have killed double the number of salmon. 
 My flies were unluckily tied on London hooks, and from 
 their defective quality and formation several fish escaped 
 me. Repeated failures caused me to examine the hooks, 
 
 * By the simple appellation of white and red fish, the peasantry dis- 
 tinguish salmon when in and out of season. Indeed, the colour is such 
 a perfect indicative of health and disease, that any person who has fre- 
 quented a salmon river will, on seeing a fish rise, be enabled to tell with 
 tecuracy the state of his condition. 
 
HOOK MAKING. 47 
 
 and I ascertained that they were both ill-shapen and badly 
 tempered. My cousin had warned me against the conse- 
 quences of using them, but I believed that he was prejudiced, 
 and concluded that this department of my London outfit 
 must be unobjectionable. The event, however, proved that 
 I was deceived. My kinsman rarely lost a salmon, and 
 mine broke from me continually. I find by sad experience, 
 that in hook- making the Irish are far before us ; our work- 
 men either do not understand the method of forming and 
 tempering hooks, or they do not take sufficient pains in their 
 manufactory. It is strange when so much of the angler's 
 pleasure and success depends upon the quality of his hooks, 
 that more attention is not bestowed upon their fabrication. 
 The art of forming, and the process of tempering them, 
 appears simple enough ; and that little difficulty is required 
 to attain it, is evident from the fact, that many fishermen 
 make their own hooks.* For my own part, however, I con- 
 sider hook-making to be an unnecessary accomplishment for 
 the angler, as the best hooks in the world can be procured 
 without trouble, and at a trifling expense, from O'Shaughnessy 
 of Limerick. f 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Salmon Fishing described Draughting Fishing precarious Change of 
 season and condition Poaching Private distillation Size and weight 
 of Salmon Sir H. Davy Migration of Salmon Natural history 
 Anecdotes and experiments Lernsere Salmoneae. 
 
 To those unacquainted with the method of taking salmon, 
 a brief detail may not be uninteresting : premising that in 
 other fisheries different means are employed, yet the simplest 
 and general method is that used at Aughniss. 
 
 18 " I have even made a hook, which, though a little inferior in form, 
 in other respects, I think, I could boast as equal to the Limerick ones." 
 Salmonia. 
 
 f " I never use any hooks for salmon fishing except those which I am 
 sure have been made by O'Shaughnessy of Limerick; for even those 
 made in Dublin, though they seldom break, yet they now and then bend ; 
 and the English hooks, made of cast-steel, in imitation of Irish ones, are 
 the worst of all." Salmonia. 
 
48 FISHING SEASONS. 
 
 About March fly-fishing commences, and a strong and 
 active spring fish will then frequently be killed, if the river 
 is sufficiently supplied with water, and the wind brisk and 
 westerly. As the season advances, the fishing materially 
 improves ; and from the month of April, salmon in the highest 
 condition, with red and white trout, will rise here freely at 
 the fly. 
 
 In June, however, the regular fishing with nets commences, 
 and then the wear is raised to stop the passage of the fish, 
 and the river water vented through a small aperture provided 
 with a trap, or as it is technically called, a box. By these 
 traps and artificial canals, in other fisheries the salmon are 
 principally taken ; but here, except some straggling fish, the 
 box produces little. 
 
 The fishing is confined to the estuary, where the river meets 
 the sea. Here, according to naturalists, the salmon undergo 
 a probationary course, before they exchange the salt for the 
 fresh water, as a sudden change from either would be fatal to 
 the fish, and a temporary sojourn in water of an intermediate 
 quality (brackish) is supposed to be requisite, before they can 
 leave either the ocean or the river. 
 
 The draughting is carried on at the last quarter of the 
 ebb, and during the first of flood five or six boats, with 
 as many men in each, are necessary. When the salmon are 
 seen, the nearest boat starts off, leaving a man on shore, 
 with a rope attached to one extremity of the net, which is 
 rapidly thrown over, as the boat makes an extensive circle 
 round the place where the fish is supposed to lie. Returning 
 to the shore, the curve of the net is gradually decreased. 
 Stones are flung in at each extremity, to prevent the salmon 
 from escaping; the net reaches the bank, the semi-circle is 
 complete, and all within effectually secured. The fish are 
 then carefully landed, and at a single draught five hundred 
 salmon have been taken. This is, however, an event of rare 
 occurrence, and unless the net were powerfully strong, and the 
 fishers skilful, a fracture, and consequently a general escape, 
 would be inevitable. 
 
 The fishing here is exceedingly precarious. If the season 
 be favourable from the 1 st of July to the 1 2th of August, the 
 daily average would be probably five hundred salmon, exclusive 
 of an immense quantity of white trouts. But success depends 
 entirely upon the weather. Should the season prove rainy or 
 
FISHING SEASONS. 49 
 
 tempestuous, the salmon directly leave the estuary, ariu 
 remain at sea until the water clears and the storm abates ; 
 and the time allowed by law often expires before a moiety ot 
 the fish can be secured. 
 
 It is extraordinary how much the flavour and quality of 
 the salmon depend on circumstances apparently of trifling 
 moment. A single day in the river will injure, and a flood 
 spoil their condition; and the difference between a fish 
 taken in the nets, and one killed with a rod, will be easily 
 perceptible. 
 
 Although in this water angling may be considered as 
 ending in September, yet, through the succeeding months 
 till spring, the fish rise freely at a fly. But the sport is 
 very indifferent compared with summer angling ; the salmon 
 now has lost his energy; he struggles laboriously to get 
 away, but his play is different from the gallant resistance he 
 would have offered had you hooked him in July. I have 
 landed and turned out again as many as nine salmon in one 
 day, and their united exertions did not afford me half the 
 amusement I have received from the conquest of one 
 sprightly summer fish. Salmon appear to lose beauty and 
 energy together. They are now reddish, dull, dark-spotted, 
 perch- coloured fish, and seem a different species from the 
 sparkling silvery creature we saw them when they first left 
 the sea. As an esculent, they are utterly worthless soft, 
 flabby, and flavourless, if brought to table ; and instead of 
 the delicate pink hue they exhibited when in condition, 
 they present a sickly, unhealthy, white appearance, that 
 betrays how complete the change is that they have recently 
 undergone. 
 
 And yet at this period they suffer mostly from night- fishers. 
 This species of poaching* is as difficult to detect as it is 
 ruinous in its consequences. It is believed that the destruc- 
 tion of a few breeding fish may cost the proprietor one 
 thousand ; such being the astonishing fecundity of the 
 pregnant salmon ! 
 
 Night fishing is carried on when the river is low, and the 
 
 * " When I made the tour of that hospitable kingdom in 1754, it (the 
 Coleraine fishery) was rented by a neighbouring gentleman for .620 a year, 
 who assured me that the tenant, his predecessor, gave for it 1600 per 
 annum andthat he was a greater gainer hy the bargain, on account of the 
 number of poachers, who destroy the fish during the fence month." Pennant. 
 
5C POACHING. 
 
 night moonless. The poacher, with a gaff and torch, selects 
 some gravelly ford for there, by a law of nature, the salmon 
 resort to form beds in the stream, wherein to deposite their 
 ova ; and they continue working on the sand, until they are 
 
 discovered by the torch-light,* and gaffed by the plunderer. 
 Hundreds of the breeding fish are annually thus destroyed ; 
 and although the greater fisheries may be tolerably protected, 
 it is impossible to secure the mountain streams from depreda- 
 tion. If detected, the legal penalty upon poaching is trifling; 
 and, as appeals on very frivolous grounds are allowed from 
 the summary convictions of magistrates, it too frequently 
 happens that delinquents evade the punitory consequences 
 attendant on discovery. 
 
 Here, too, the evils of private distillation may be traced ; 
 for most of the depredations committed upon the salmon are 
 effected by persons concerned in this demoralizing trade. 
 They are up all night attending to the still. The watch 
 kept against the revenue police, enables them to ascertain 
 when the bargers are away, and the river consequently un- 
 guarded. A light is snatched from the still-fire, the hidden 
 
 * " There are a good many pike in the river near to Trolhatten. In 
 the course of two successive days, I once took with my rod sixty-three of 
 those fish ; they were, however, small, their aggregate weight being little 
 more than one hundred pounds. The largest fish weighed eight pounds. 
 Great quantities of pike and other fish, salmon amongst the rest, are 
 speared in the vicinity of Trolhatten by torch-light, many of the people 
 thereabouts being adepts at that amusement." Lloyd. 
 
WEIGHT OF SALMON. 51 
 
 fish-spear speedily produced, and in a very short space of time 
 an infinite deal of mischief is perpetrated. 
 
 I should be inclined to question the accuracy of weight 
 which Sir Humphry gives his salmon. Fish, of the sizes he 
 describes, are rarely met with here, and out of one thousand 
 taken in the nets, there will not be ten fish of twenty- five 
 pounds weight. 
 
 The average size is from seven to fifteen pounds. Within 
 thirty years, but one monster has been taken ; he weighed 
 fifty- six pounds. Four years ago one of forty -eight pounds 
 was caught : but of the thousands which I have seen taken, I 
 would say, I never saw a fish weighing more than thirty- 
 five pounds, and not many reaching even to twenty-five 
 pounds. 
 
 The Priest, my neighbour, who lives on the banks of 
 Goolamore, told me he once killed a salmon of twenty- seven 
 pounds weight, and that the feat gave him an. infinity of 
 trouble, and occupied three mortal hours. The Priest fishes 
 with tackle of amazing strength, and is one of the best practical 
 anglers I have ever met with. Sir Humphry Davy men- 
 tions salmon of twenty-five and thirty pounds as being com- 
 monly taken with a fly. The largest I ever killed was eighteen 
 pounds four ounces, and it gave me abundant exercise for an 
 hour. Either Sir Humphry overrates the weight of Scottish 
 salmon, or in the rivers he frequented they must be immensely 
 superior to those found in the Irish waters. In the Shannon, 
 I believe, the largest fish are found, and I am inclined to think, 
 that even there the capture of salmon of this unusual magni- 
 tude, is an event of very rare occurrence. 
 
 Pennant states, " that the largest salmon ever known 
 weighed seventy-four pounds. In September 1795, one 
 measuring upwards of four feet from nose to tail, and three 
 in circumference, weighing within a few ounces of seventy 
 pounds, was sold at Billingsgate, and was the largest ever 
 brought there. The Severn salmon are much inferior as to their 
 bulk, for one taken near Shrewsbury, in 1757, weighing only 
 thirty-seven pounds, is recorded in the British Chronologist, as 
 exceeding in length any ever known to be taken in that river, 
 and being the heaviest except one ever remembered in that 
 town, They have in many parts been caught by angling, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 MIGRATION OF SALMON. 
 
 with an artificial fly and other baits, upwards of forty pounds 
 in weight." 
 
 Passing Grove's shop in Bond-street about a month ago, I 
 remarked an immense fish extended in the window ; I stopped 
 to inquire what its weight might be, and w r as informed that it 
 weighed forty-five pounds. It had been a little too long on 
 its passage from Scotland, and I should be inclined to say, that 
 at best it was a coarse flavoured fish, but in its present state a 
 most indifferent one. 
 
 The migratory habits of the salmon, and the instinct with 
 which it periodically revisits its native river, are curious cir~ 
 cumstances in the natural history of this fish. As the swallow ' 
 returns annually to its nest, as certainly the salmon repairs 
 to the same spot in which to deposit its ova. Many interest- 
 ing experiments have established this fact. M. de Lalande 
 fastened a copper ring round a salmon's tail, and found that 
 for three successive seasons it returned to the same place. 
 Dr. Bloch states, that gold and silver rings have been attached, 
 by Eastern princes to salmon, to prove that a communication 
 existed between the Persian Gulf and the Caspian and Nor- 
 thern seas, and that the experiment succeeded. Shaw, in his 
 Zoology, mentions that a salmon of seven pounds and three- 
 quarters was marked with scissors on the back, fin, and tail, 
 and turned out on the 7th of February, and that it was retaken 
 in March of the succeeding year, and found to have increased 
 to the amazing size of seventeen pounds and a half. This 
 statement, by the by, is at variance with the theory of Dr. 
 Bloch, who estimates the weight of a five or six year old sal- 
 mon at but ten or twelve pounds. 
 
 That the salmon should lose condition rapidly on quitting 
 the sea for the fresh water, may be inferred from a fact agreed 
 upon by naturalists, that during the period of spawning, the 
 fish neglects feeding. In this peculiar habit the salmon, how- 
 ever, is not singular, for animals of the Phocse tribe, in breed- 
 ing-time exercise a similar abstinence. On opening a salmon, 
 at any season, no food will be discovered, and the contents 
 of the stomach will be confined to a small quantity of yel- 
 lowish fluid and tape- worms, which are generated there. Sir 
 Humphry Davy believes that occasionally food may be found. 
 I have seen thousands opened preparatory to being salted, and 
 I never observed any thing but this fluid and tape -worms. 
 Another circumstance may be stated as a curious proof of 
 
MULLET. 53 
 
 health, as well as of the period of time the salmon has been 
 resident in a river. When the fish leaves the sea, and of 
 course is in its best condition, insects (the Lernsese Salmoneae 
 of Linnaeus) will be perceived firmly adhering to the skin. 
 Immediately on entering the fresh water, these insects begin to 
 detach themselves from the salmon, and after a short time they 
 gradually drop off and disappear. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Mullet Preparations for mullet-fishing Seals Anecdotes The Red 
 Dwarf His mode of killing seals Catching a tartar Pitching mullet 
 nets Excursion on the island A wild guide Coursing Comparison 
 between English and Irish greyhounds Take of mullet Return 
 Anecdotes of mullet fishing The homicide. 
 
 EARLY this morning we received intelligence that a school* 
 of mulletf had been seen on the preceding evening, working 
 in a sandy bay some six miles distant from the Lodge and as 
 we determined to devote the day to fishing, the household 
 were soon upon the alert, and a galley and row-boat were 
 laden with nets, poles, and spars; half-a-dozen rifles and 
 muskets put on board, and a stout and numerous crew, we 
 started for the scene of action. 
 
 It was a bright and cheerful day ; the sun sparkled on the 
 blue water, which, unruffled by a breeze, rose and fell in the 
 long and gentle undulations which roll in from the westward 
 when the Atlantic is at rest. While pulling to the cove, we 
 amused ourselves in shooting puffins as they passed us, or 
 trying our rifles at a distant seal, while my kinsman's anec- 
 dotes whiled away the tedium of the voyage. 
 
 * Shoal. 
 
 f Although the grey mullet is common in the Mediterranean, it is in 
 such indifferent repute that none but the lower classes use it. The red 
 mullet is, however, held in the highest estimation, and from its scarcity 
 and peculiar flavour is much sought after as a delicacy. It seldom exceeds 
 a pound or two in weight, and it is dressed with the inside entire, as the 
 woodcock is sent to table with his trail. 
 
 On our coasts it is rarely seen. At particular seasons the grey mullet 
 visits us abundantly, and nothing can be more delicate, when uninjured by 
 keeping or carriage. 
 
54 SEAL-SHOOTING, 
 
 " Seals are very numerous on the coast, and at this season 
 a number may be seen any warm day you make an excursion 
 up the sound of Achil. We shoot them occasionally the 
 skin makes a waterproof covering, and the fat affords an 
 excellent oil for many domestic purposes. It is difficult how- 
 ever, to secure the animal, for numbers are shot and few gotten. 
 The head is the only place to strike them, for even when 
 mortally wounded in the body, they generally manage to 
 escape. This fact we have ascertained, from finding them 
 dead on shore many days after they were wounded, and at a 
 considerable distance from the place where they had received 
 the bullet. I shot one last autumn at the mouth of the river, 
 and a fortnight afterwards he was taken up in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Dhuhill. There could be no doubt as to the 
 identity of the creature, for on opening him to extract the 
 oil, a rifle -ball, such as I use, of the unusually small size of 
 fifty -four to the pound, was found lodged in his lungs. 
 Unless when killed outright, they sink instantly ; and I have 
 seen the sea dyed with blood, to an extent that proved how 
 severely the seal had been wounded, but have never been 
 able to trace him further. 
 
 " Formerly, when seal oil and skins were valuable, some 
 persons on the coast made the pursuit of the animal a pro- 
 fession. There is one of these persons living near the 
 Sound, a miserable dwarfish red-bearded wretch, whom you 
 would consider hardly equal to grapple with a salmon, and 
 yet he secures more seals than any hunter in the district. 
 His method of effecting it is singular : he uses neither gun 
 nor spear, but kills the animal with a short bludgeon loaded 
 at the end with lead. 
 
 " Adjacent to the seal-killer's residence, there is a large 
 rock uncovered at half-tide, and this appears the most 
 favourite haunt for the animal to bask upon. The rock 
 is easily approached from the main-land, and on a sunny 
 day, when the wind favours the attempt, the hunter, un- 
 dressed, and armed with his bludgeon, silently winds among 
 the stones, and steals upon his sleeping prey. Wary as the 
 creature is, the Red Dwarf seldoms fails in surprising him, and 
 with astonishing expertness generally dispatches him with a 
 single blow. 
 
 " The number he kills annually proves his extraordinary 
 success. If the first blow fails, an event that seldom happens* 
 
CATCHING A TARTAR. 
 
 55 
 
 the dwarf is in considerable danger. When attacked, and 
 especially at such a distance from the water as renders his 
 escape doubtful, the seal will turn with amazing ferocity 
 on the assailant. If it be an old one, in case his first essay 
 is unsuccessful, the dwarf declines the combat and flies from 
 his irritated enemy ; but the cubs are taken without much 
 difficulty. 
 
 "Last summer I was witness to a curious scene. Run- 
 ning through the Sound of Achil in my hooker, at a short 
 distance to leeward I observed several men, who appeared 
 to be practising a quadrille over the thafts and gunnels of 
 a row-boat, as they never rested for a moment, but continued 
 jumping from stern to stern, and springing from bench to 
 bench. Struck by the oddity of their proceedings, I eased 
 away the sheets and ran down upon them and I was a 
 
 welcome ally, as the result proved. It turned out, that 
 having espied a seal arid her cub sleeping on the sand, they 
 had procured an old musket and rowed over to attack them. 
 They were partially successful, and seized the cub before it 
 
56 MULLET FISHING. 
 
 could regain its native element, although the dam rendered 
 all assistance possible to relieve the young one. Having 
 placed their prize in the boat, they were returning, followed 
 by the old seal, who kept rising beside them, attracted by 
 the cries of the cub till after many bootless attempts, their 
 gun at last exploded, the ball entered the seal's head, and for 
 a moment she appeared dying. The captors, seizing her 
 by the tail and fins, with an united exertion dragged her 
 into the boat but this exploit had nearly ended in a tragedy. 
 Stunned only by the wound, the animal instantly recovered, 
 and, irritated by pain and maddened by the cries of her cub, 
 attacked her captors fiercely. Every exertion they could 
 make was necessary to save them from her tusks, and their 
 oars were too long and clumsy to enable them to strike her 
 with effect. I came most opportunely to the rescue, and by 
 driving a carbine- bullet through the seal's brain brought the 
 battle to a close. Never was the old saw of ' catching a 
 Tartar' more thoroughly exemplified ; and though we laughed 
 at their terror-stricken countenances, the deep incisions made 
 in the oars and gunnels by the tusks of the enraged animal, 
 showed that galopading with an. angry seal is anything but 
 pleasure." 
 
 Although the mullet are generally first seen here in the 
 month of June, from the wetness of this summer the shoals 
 are later in their appearance than usual. Mullet are taken 
 in draught-nets like salmon, but on this coast a different 
 mode of fishing is pursued. The shoals in hot weather run 
 in with the tide, and after remaining on the shores and 
 estuaries during flood, they return with the ebbing water. 
 The foHowing method we employed in our fishing to-day. 
 Being provided with a sufficient quantity of herring- nets 
 and a number of spars and poles, we selected at low- water 
 a sandy creek for our operations, and commenced erecting 
 a line of poles across the entrance of the cove. The nets 
 were then extended along these uprights, and also secured 
 firmly to the bottom of the spars ; the lower part of the 
 net is kept upon the bottom by a row of stones, and the 
 remainder laid flat upon the sands. With the flowing tide the 
 fish pass over the prostrate net, and run along the estuary : at 
 high water the buoy-ropes are raised and secured to the 
 upright poles and with the assistance of a boat the whole is 
 effected in a few minutes, and a net- work barrier effectually 
 
MY GUIDE. 57 
 
 cuts off the retreat of all within. When the ebb of tide com- 
 mences the mullet begin to retire, and when they discover 
 that their egress is obstructed, their attempts to effect a pas- 
 sage are both constant and curious now running down the 
 nets, trying for a broken mesh by which to force an aperture 
 now with a bold spring endeavouring to clear the buoy- 
 ropes, and even after repeated failures, leaping at it again and 
 again. The last effort is directed to the bottom ; but there 
 the heavy stones resist every attempt to dislodge them, and 
 deserted by the treacherous water, the mullet are left upon the 
 bare sands. 
 
 As hours must elapse from the time the nets are laid down 
 until the fish can be secured, I left my kinsman, who officiated 
 as chief engineer. Having brought two brace of greyhounds 
 with us, I set out to course, under the guidance of a man who 
 joined my cousin on the island. 
 
 There was a striking air about the stranger, joined to his 
 wild and haggard look, that at once riveted my attention. 
 His clothes were much better than those of any of the 
 peasantry I had yet seen, and in address and manner he was 
 far superior to the rest of my cousin's retainers. He was not 
 above five-and-twenty, his figure tall, gaunt, sinewy, and 
 almost fleshless, but his square shoulders and well-knit joints 
 proved him to be a powerful and active man. I shall never 
 forget the singular expression of his countenance. It was. 
 settled sorrow bordering on despair ; the hollow cheek, the 
 sunken rayless eye, the wandering and suspicious glance 
 around him, all showed a mind fevered with apprehension 
 and harrowed by remorse. He shunned observation, and if 
 my eye met his by accident, he instantly looked another way. 
 He was armed with a new carbine ; and his whole bearing 
 and appearance were so singular and alarming, that more 
 tlaan once I wished my kinsman had allotted me some other 
 guide. 
 
 My companion was, however, shrewd and intelligent and 
 he appeared fond of field sports, and perfectly conversant with 
 the arcana of shooting and coursing. He enumerated with 
 the science of a connoisseur the points, and praised the 
 beauty of a pair of English dogs I had brought with me; 
 but told me " the master's (my kinsman's usual title) would 
 outrun them here. 1 ' I differed with him in opinion. Mine 
 
58 COURSING. 
 
 were of distinguished breeding, the produce of a Swaffham 
 sire, and compared with my cousin's, appeared descended 
 from a giant-stock. His, certainly, were beautiful dimi- 
 nutives ; but as I conceived, very unequal to compete with 
 animals of such superior strength and size as mine yet 
 the result proved how correctly my wild companion judged. 
 
 Our first start was on hard, firm ground and here my 
 dogs outstripped my kinsman's, although they displayed 
 uncommon fleetness. Being hard pressed, puss crossed a 
 morass and ran into an unsound bog. Then were my guide's 
 predictions verified. From their own weight, my dogs sank 
 and floundered in the swamp ; while my cousin's topping 
 the surface with apparent ease, turned and killed the hare, 
 while their larger companions were struggling through the 
 mire. 
 
 On the second start puss left the moor, and took to the sea- 
 shore, always a favourite run of island hares. Rushing head- 
 long through rocks, arid running over pointed pebbles, the 
 English dogs were speedily disabled. But my cousin's, 
 accustomed to the beach, ran with caution till they cleared 
 the rocks, then taking advantage of the open strand, killed 
 without a scratch, while my unpractised dogs were rendered 
 unserviceable for a fortnight. 
 
 Generally speaking, the large and high-bred English 
 greyhound is not adapted for Irish coursing. There he 
 will encounter a soft and difficult surface, instead of the fine 
 firm downs he has been accustomed to in his native country. 
 And any plains on which he could exert his powers and 
 prove his superiority, are, with few exceptions, in the posses- 
 sion of some pack, and of course preserved as hunting- 
 grounds, and grey-hounds rigidly prohibited. 
 
 On returning to the estuary where I had left the fishing- 
 party, I found the tide had fallen, and in a little time we 
 were enabled to secure the spoil. We had enclosed upwards 
 of a hundred mullets, weighing from four to ten pounds 
 each. While embarking our nets and poles I observed 
 several boats filled with men row towards us from a distance ; 
 and, after a short reconnaissance, return to the place from 
 whence they came. The evening breeze blew fresh, and in 
 our favour ; the boatmen hoisted a large square sail ; my 
 kinsman took the tiller, and with wind and tide along with 
 
PITCHING MULLET NETS. 59 
 
 as, in an hour we crossed the bay and reached our destina- 
 tion, accompanied by the tall melancholy looking man, who 
 had been my companion in the island. 
 
 We dined sumptuously. The flavour of a mullet, fresh 
 from the water, neither injured by land- carriage* nor spoiled 
 by exposure to the sun, is exquisite. I mentioned casually, 
 the noble addition which this delicious fish must give to my 
 cousin's cuisine. " And they are so abundant, that I presume 
 you seldom want them ?" " The contrary is the case/' he 
 replied; "a remnant of barbarous usage prevents this wild 
 population from benefiting by the ample supply which Pro- 
 vidence sends to the shores. Did you remark several boats 
 approach and reconnoitre us ?" 
 
 " Yes, and what of it ?" 
 
 " Nothing more than that they came with the laudable 
 design of relieving us of the produce of our fishery. The 
 natives believe that there is a prescriptive right to rob mullet- 
 nets ; and in consequence, none will be at the trouble of laying 
 them down, if they have not a sufficient party to protect the 
 fish when taken. You remarked the formidable preparations 
 made this morning ; they were requisite I assure you, or we 
 should have returned home as lightly laden as we left it. 
 Those people are not upon my territory, and I am on bad 
 terms with their landlord. They would spoil me of fish 
 without ceremony, and think themselves too indulgent in 
 permitting me and my dependants to return with undamaged 
 heads. Last year they robbed and beat my boatmen cruelly 
 and on the next occasion of a mullet chasse, I went in person. 
 They soon discovered us, and with three boats full of men 
 came to despoil us. I warned them off but they were reso- 
 lutely bent on mischief. Finding them determined, I let the 
 leading boat approach within forty yards, and having them 
 well under my fire, threw in two barrels loaded with B.B. 
 shot. The effect was decisive, for out of a dozen marauders 
 
 * The general length of the common mullet (mugil) is from twelve to 
 eighteen inches. When used immediately after being taken, the fish is 
 excellent; carriage, even for a short distance, injures it, Dr. Bloch 
 recommends oil and lemon-juice to be used with it at table. Vinegar, with 
 parsley and melted butter, is better "probatum est." This fish is 
 sometimes preserved by salting ; and from its spawn an inferior kind of 
 caviar, called Botargo, is prepared by using the common process of curing 
 and drying. 
 
60 THE HOMICIDE. 
 
 who formed the crew, not one escaped without receiving a fair 
 proportion of the charge. They put about instantly, and for 
 a fortnigh\afterwards, a country quack had full employment 
 in extrac^dtfg my double B. I sent a message to their master, 
 for which" he Benched me ; and it cost me a cool hundred before 
 I got clear of the Honourable Justices. * A plague upon all 
 cowards !' as honest Jack says." 
 
 " But, Julius, who was that wild and melancholy man to 
 whose guidance you entrusted me in the island ?" 
 
 " Oh, Hennessy, my foster-brother ! Poor fellow, he has 
 been rather unlucky !" 
 
 " Unlucky ?" 
 
 "Why, yes he hit a fellow a little too hard, and finished 
 him. He is keeping close until the assizes are over, and then 
 he will have time to settle with the friends. It would 
 not signify a farthing, had he not been in two or three scrapes 
 before." 
 
 " Has he been always riotous ?" 
 
 <c Oh, no, quite the contrary. When sober, he is the 
 civilest creature on earth. No, poor fellow ! they were only 
 two homicides, and an abduction." 
 
 " And do you countenance and shelter such a character ?" 
 
 " What ! abandon my own foster-brother for an accident or 
 two ? Pshaw, Frank, you jest. I'll tell you the particulars 
 another time." 
 
 It was late, and we separated. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Angling Fish found in Mayo Peasantry Their mode of fishing The, 
 Pooka Description and use Pike and trout Their size Perch- 
 Their fecundity Trout destroyed Greater lakes described Sub-i 
 terraneous communication between them Lesser lakes Their fish- 
 Lake of Derreens Its trout extinct Lake of Castlebar. 
 
 IN a country whose surface is covered with numerous 
 and extensive sheets of water like Mayo, it may be con- 
 sidered that the angler will find ample occupation. Inde- 
 pendently of salmon and trout fishing, to those who wiU 
 employ themselves in killing pike and perch, the lakes and 
 
THE SAMLET. 61 
 
 rivers here offer superior amusement. In the greater waters, 
 
 Lough Mask, Lough Carra, and Lough Conn, the coarser 
 
 f species of fishes are taken in immense numbers, and in the 
 
 I lesser lakes many interesting varieties of the trout tribe will 
 
 be found, from the little speckled samlet to the large and 
 
 curious gilaroo.* 
 
 It is true, that the scientific angler generally confines 
 himself to the use of the fly, and for salmon and trout, he 
 will forego the commoner department of bait and float fishing. 
 Hence, angling for pike and perch is usually an amusement 
 of the peasantry ; and to those contiguous to the banks of the 
 large lakes, it yields occupation for idle hours, which might 
 be less innocently dissipated, and occasionally supplies their 
 families with a welcome addition to their unvarying food, the 
 potato. 
 
 Besides the established system of bait-fishing, other and 
 more successful methods are resorted to by the lake-fishers 
 
 * The natural history of the samlet, or par, is very doubtful. Some 
 assert it to be a mule produced by the salmon and trout ; and as a corro- 
 boration of this theory, it is stated that the rivers where the par is found, 
 are always resorted to by salmon. Others conjecture it to be a hybrid of 
 the sea and river trout ; and Sir Humphry Davy mentions, that fishing 
 in October, in a small stream communicating with the Moy, near Ballina, 
 he caught a number of sea trout, who all proved males, and accordingly 
 infers that " these fish, in which the spermatic system was fully developed, 
 could only have impregnated the ova of the common river trout." 
 
 The par differs from the small mountain trout in colour, and in having 
 additional spines in the pectoral fin. It has also certain olive bluish 
 marks upon the side, similar to the impressions made by the pressure of 
 i man's fingers. 
 
 Great numbers of salmon are found in the upper streams of the Bal- 
 lycroy river. They will rise voraciously at a fly, provided it be gay and 
 small enough. I remember my friend Sir Charles Cuyler and I amused 
 ourselves on a blank shooting-day, when there was neither a sufficiency of 
 ivind nor water to warrant salmon -fishing, in angling for this hybridous 
 liminutive. We nearly filled our basket ; we reckoned them, and they 
 imounted to above two hundred. 
 
 * Pennant says : " In all these lakes the gillaroo is found. It varies in 
 
 .- weight from twelve to eighteen pounds, but sometimes reaches thirty ;" 
 
 md Daniel states these fish to be " esteemed for their fine flavour, which 
 
 s supposed to exceed that of any other trout. Their make is similar to 
 
 ; he common, except being thicker in proportion to their length, and of a 
 
 > -edder hue, both before and after being dressed. The gillaroo is re- 
 
 ., narkable for having a gizzard resembling that of a large fowl or turkey." 
 
 'J ic also says : " It is usual to dress the gizzards only, which are con- 
 
 ' idered as very favourite morsels." 
 
62 THE POOKA. 
 
 By mesli-nets immense numbers of pike are annually taken ; 
 and with night-lines, and a very simple contrivance called the 
 pooka, these fish, with the largest trout and perch, are con- 
 stantly killed. 
 
 This latter implement is formed of a piece of flat board, 
 having a little mast and sail erected on it. Its use is to carry 
 out the extremity of a long line of considerable stoutness, to 
 which, at regulated distances, an infinity of droppers or links 
 are suspended, each armed with a hook and bait. Corks are 
 affixed to the principal line or lack, to keep it buoyant on the 
 surface ; and from a weather- shore, if there be a tolerable 
 breeze, any quantity of hooks and baits can be floated easily 
 across the water. The corks indicate to the fishermen when a 
 fish is on the dropper, and in a small punt or curragh, he attends 
 to remove the spoil and renew the baits when necessary. 
 Two hundred hooks may be used on the same line, and the 
 pooka at times affords much amusement, and often a well- 
 filled pannier. 
 
 There are no waters in Great Britain, with the exception of 
 the river Shannon, where larger pike* are caught than those 
 taken in Loughs Mask and Corrib. It would appear, that in 
 these lakes the fish are commensurate to the waters they 
 inhabit. It is no unusual event for pikes of thirty pounds 
 weight to be sent to their landlords by the tenants ; and fish 
 of even fifty pounds have not unfrequently been caught with 
 nets and night-lines. The trout in those loughs are also 
 immensely large. From five to fifteen pounds is no unusual 
 size, and some have been found that have reached the enormous 
 
 * " About seventeen years since, when visiting the late Marquis of Clan- 
 ricarde, at Portumna Castle, two gentlemen brought to the marquis an 
 immense pike, which they had just caught in the river Shannon, on the 
 banks of which they had been taking their evening walk. Attracted by 
 a noise and splashing of the water, they discovered in a little creek a 
 number of perch driven on shore, and a fish, which, in pursuit of them, 
 had so entangled himself with the ground, as to have a great part of his 
 body exposed, and out of the water. They attacked him with an oar, 
 that by accident lay on the bank, and killed him. Never having seen 
 any fish of this species so large, they judged it worth the observation of 
 the marquis, who, equally surprised at its magnitude, had it weighed, and 
 to our astonishment it exceeded the balance at ninety-two pounds ; its 
 length was such, that when carried across the oar by the two gen- 
 tlemen, who were neither of them short, the head and tail touched the 
 ground. 
 
WESTERN LAKES. 63 
 
 weight of thirty. The perch tribe appear the smallest in 
 the scale of relative proportion. These seldom exceed a herring 
 size; but they, too, have exceptions, and perch of three or 
 four pounds weight have been sometimes seen. Within fifty 
 years, this latter fish has increased prodigiously, and, in the 
 lakes and rivers where they abound, trout have been found to 
 diminish in an equal ratio. If any doubt remained touching 
 the fecundity of the perch, some of the Mayo waters would 
 
 ! prove it satisfactorily. Half a century since, I have been 
 assured that pike and perch were almost unknown in the rivers 
 of Belcarra and Minola, and the chain of lakes with which 
 they communicate, and that these waters were then second to 
 
 i none for trout fishing. Within ten years, my cousin tells me 
 that he often angled in them, and that he frequently killed 
 from three to six dozen of beautiful middle-sized red trout. 
 Now, fly-fishing is seldom practised there. The trout is nearly 
 extinct, and quantities of pike and perch infest every pool and 
 stream. The simplest methods of taking fish will be here 
 found successful, and the lakes of Westmeath will soon be 
 
 ; rivalled by the loughs of Mayo.* 
 
 Of the great Western lakes, Conn and Carra belong to 
 Mayo ; Corrib to Galway ; and Mask lies between both 
 counties. The most northerly, Lough Conn, is about nine 
 
 i miles long, by two or three in breadth. Part of its shores are 
 beautifully wooded; and where the lower and upper lakes 
 unite, the channel is crossed by a bridge of one arch, called the 
 Pontoon ; and there the scenery is indeed magnificent. 
 
 Lough Carra is smaller than Conn ; but, as a sheet of water, 
 nothing can be more beautiful ; and every thing that the painter 
 delights to fancy may here be realized. Islands and penin- 
 sulas, with rich overhanging woods, a boundless range of 
 mountain masses in the distance, and ruins in excellent keeping 
 all these form a splendid study for the artist's pencil. 
 
 Mask communicates with Carra, and their united waters 
 discharge themselves into Lough Corrib by a very curious 
 
 * Mr. Young mentions that, at Packenham, Lord Longford informed 
 him, respecting the quantities of fish in the lakes in his neighbourhood, 
 ; that the perch were so numerous, that a child with a packthread and a 
 crooked pin would catch enough in an hour for the daily use of a whole 
 family, and that his Lordship had seen five hundred children fishing at 
 the same time ; that, besides perch, the lake produced pike five feet long, 
 and trout of ten pounds each. 
 
64 WESTERN LAKES. 
 
 subterraneous channel at Cong.* Lough Corrib is largest of 
 all; it stretches twenty miles to its southern extremity at 
 Galway, where, through a bold, rocky river, it discharges its 
 waters into the Atlantic. Its breadth is very variable, ranging 
 from two to twelve miles. Besides its singular connexion with 
 the Mayo lakes by the underground channel at Cong, Lough 
 Corrib produces a rare species of muscle, in which pearls are 
 frequently discovered. Many of them are said to afford 
 beautiful specimens of this valuable gem. 
 
 The smaller lakes, which are so profusely scattered over the 
 surface of this country, vary in the species of fish which they 
 respectively produce, as much as they do in their own natural 
 size and character. Some of them afford trout, others pike 
 only, and many are stocked with both. That this union cannot 
 long subsist, I should be inclined to infer from one remarkable 
 circumstance, and it is a convincing proof of the rapid destruc- 
 tion which the introduction of pike into a trout lake will 
 occasion. Within a short distance of Castlebar, there is a 
 small bog-lake, called Derreens; and ten years ago it was 
 celebrated for its numerous and well- sized trout. Accidentally 
 pike effected a passage into the Lough from the Minola river, 
 and now the trout are extinct, or, at least, none of them are 
 caught or seen. Previous to the intrusion of the pike, half-a- 
 dozen trout would be killed in an evening in Derreens, whose 
 collective weight often amounted to twenty pounds. 
 
 Indeed, few of the Mayo waters are secure from the en- 
 croachments of the pike. The lakes of Castlebar, I believe, 
 still retain their ancient character;! but I understand that 
 pike have been latterly taken in the Turlogh river, and of 
 course they will soon appear in a lake which directly commu- 
 nicates with this stream. J 
 
 * " At Cong, about five miles from Ballinrobe, is a subterranean cave, 
 to which there is a descent of sixty-three steps, called the Pigeon Hole ; 
 at the bottom runs a clear stream, in which the trout are seen sporting 
 in the water ; these fish are never known to take a bait, but are caught 
 with landing-nets." Daniel. 
 
 f " In the lake of Castlehar, near that town, is the charr and the gil- 
 laroo trout, and it is remarked that there are no pike in this and some 
 of the adjacent lakes." Daniel. 
 
 $ The voracity of the pike is strongly exemplified in the following 
 extract from a Provincial Newspaper. Of the truth of the occurrence we 
 presume there can be no reasonable doubt, even in the minds of the most 
 sceptical; but we believe there is no instance of animal ferocity on 
 
PREPARATION FOR THE MOUNTAINS. 65 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Nineteenth of August Preparations for the mountains Order of march 
 A cook broiled to death Interruption of a funeral Drowned shepherd 
 Grouse shooting Evening compotation Morning Locale of a 
 shooter's cabin Life in the mountains The red deer Return to the 
 hut Luxury of a cold bath. 
 
 THE nineteenth of August, that busy day of preparation 
 with Irish sportsmen, came at last. An unusual commotion 
 was evident among my kinsman's household, and there was a 
 wondrous packing up of camp-beds, culinary utensils, baskets 
 and bottles, arms and ammunition in short, of every necessary 
 article for the support and destruction of life. At dawn of day 
 four horses set off heavily laden ; shortly after, a second 
 division of dogs and guns moved under a careful escort ; the 
 " otter-hunter" hobbled off while I was dressing ; and the 
 piper, the lightest-laden of all concerned, closed the rear. 
 After breakfast, two ponies were brought to the door, and, 
 with a mounted attendant to carry our cloaks, my cousin and I 
 pursued the same route that the baggage had already taken. 
 
 Talk not of India ! Its boasted gang of servants is far 
 surpassed by the eternal troop of followers appertaining to 
 an Irish establishment. Old John tells me that sixteen 
 regulars sit down to dinner in the servants' -hall, and that at 
 least an equal number of supernumeraries are daily provided for 
 besides. When I hinted to my cousin the expense that must at- 
 
 record which could parallel it, except in the celebrated case of the Kil- 
 kenny cats, whose respective demolition of each other is as wonderful as 
 authentic. 
 
 " A party angling at Sunbury, one of them sat across the head of the 
 boat, as a punishment inflicted on him for wearing his spurs. Another, 
 having caught a gudgeon, stuck it on one of the spurs, which he (the 
 delinquent in the bow) not perceiving, in a few minutes a large jack bit 
 at the gudgeon, and the spur being crane-necked, entangled in the gills 
 of the jack, which, in attempting to extricate himself, actually pulled the 
 unfortunate person out of the boat. He was with difficulty dragged on 
 shore, and the fish taken, which was si prodigious size" 
 
 Now, after this cautionary notice of ours, we do assert that any gentle- 
 man who goes to fish in crane-necJcs, and disposes of his legs overboard, 
 with a gudgeon on the rowel, is not exactly the person on whose life, were 
 we agent to a company, we should feel justified in effecting a policy of 
 insurance. 
 
66 THE DROWNED SHEPHERD. 
 
 tend the supporting of this idle and useless multitude, his reply 
 was so Irish. " Pshaw ! hang it ! sure they have no wages, and 
 what the devil signifies all they eat ? My father, before the landing 
 of the Paul Jones, fed two hundred men for a fortnight, and 
 used to declare, that never were there such plentiful times. It 
 killed the cook, however, poor woman ! she was literally 
 broiled into a pleurisy but such a wake as she had ! I 
 remember it as if it occurred but yesterday. She was carried 
 to the old grave-yard of Bunmore the very evening the Paul 
 Jones landed her cargo, and although five hundred men left 
 the house with the corpse, the cook remained over-ground 
 till the following morning, for want of sufficient persons to fill 
 the grave. The fact was, that just as the funeral reached 
 the church-yard, the lugger was suddenly discovered rounding 
 the Black Rock. Instantly the mourners absconded, the 
 bearers threw down the body the priest, who was deeply 
 concerned in the cargo, was the first to fly ; and the defunct 
 cook was left accordingly in peaceable possession of Bun- 
 more." 
 
 To arrive at our mountain-quarters we were obliged to 
 cross the river repeatedly. When swollen with rain, the 
 stream is impassable, and the communication between the hill 
 country and the lowlands interrupted, until the flood abates. 
 At one of the fords, my kinsman pointed out a little cairn, or 
 heap of stones, erected on the summit of a hillock which 
 overhung the passage we were crossing. It is placed there to 
 commemorate the drowning of a, stfepherd, and, as an incident 
 in humble life, it struck me as being particularly affecting. 
 
 "In 1822, when the western part of Ireland was afflicted 
 with grievous famine, and when England stepped forward 
 nobly, and poured forth her thousands to save those who were 
 perishing for want, a depot of provisions was established on 
 the sea- coast, for the relief of the suffering inhabitants of this 
 remote district. 
 
 " A solitary family, who had been driven from their lowland 
 home by the severity of a relentless middle-man, had settled 
 themselves in this wild valley, and erected the clay walls of 
 that ruined hut before you. The man was shepherd to a 
 farmer who kept cattle on these mountains. Here, in this 
 savage retreat, he lived removed from the world, for the nearest 
 cabin to this spot is more than four miles distant. 
 
 " It may be supposed that the general distress afflicted this 
 
THE DROWNED SHEPHERD. 
 
 67 
 
 isolated family. The welcome news of the arrival of succours 
 at Bally croy at length reached them, and the herdsman set out 
 to procure some of the committee-meal to relieve the hunger of 
 his half-starved family. 
 
 " On arriving at the depot, the stock of meal was nearly 
 expended: however, he obtained a temporary supply, and 
 was comforted with the assurance that a large quantity was 
 hourly expected. 
 
 "Anxious to bring the means of sustinence to his suffering 
 little ones, the herdsman crossed the mountain with his 
 precious burden, and reached that hillock where the stones are 
 loosely piled. 
 
 "But during his absence at Ballycroy, the rain had fallen 
 
 heavily in the hills ; the river was no longer fordable , a 
 furious torrent of discoloured water rushed from the heights, 
 and choaked the narrow channel. There stood the returning 
 parent, within twenty paces of his wretched but dearly loved 
 
 F 2 
 
68 EVENING COMPOTATION. 
 
 hovel. The children with a cry of delight rushed from the 
 hut to the opposite bank to welcome him ; but, terrified by 
 the fearful appearance of the flood, his wife entreated him not 
 to attempt its passage for the present. 
 
 " But would he, a powerful and experienced swimmer, be 
 deterred ? The eager and hungry looks of his expecting 
 family maddened the unhappy father. He threw aside his 
 clothes, bound them with the meal upon his back, crossed 
 himself devoutly, and, ' in the name of God/ committed 
 himself to the swollen river. 
 
 "For a moment he breasted the torrent gallantly two 
 strokes more would bring him to the bank when the trea- 
 cherous load turned, caught him round the neck, swept him 
 down the stream, sank, and drowned him. He struggled hard 
 for life. His wife and children followed the unhappy man as 
 he was borne away and their agonizing shrieks, told him, 
 poor wretch ! that assistance from them was hopeless. At 
 last the body disappeared, and was taken up the following 
 morning four miles from, this fatal place. One curious cir- 
 cumstance attended this calamity : to philosophers I leave its 
 elucidation, while I pledge myself for its accuracy in point of 
 fact. A herd of cattle galloped madly down the river- side at 
 the time their unfortunate keeper was perishing; their bel- 
 lowings were heard for miles, and they were discovered next 
 morning, grouped around the body of the dead shepherd, in 
 the corner of a sandy cove, where there the abated flood had 
 left it." 
 
 Every one shoots grouse ; the operation is so common- 
 place, that none but a cockney would find novelty in its detail. 
 Our morning's sport was excellent. The dogs were in good 
 working condition, and under perfect command ; but at noon 
 the breeze died away, the day became oppressively hot, and 
 the biting of gnats and horse-flies intolerable. Not being 
 exterminators, we ceased shooting at three o'clock, and re- 
 turned to our cabin with two-and-twenty brace of birds. 
 
 The particulars of the evening compotation I shall be 
 excused in passing over. I must allow that the portion oi 
 wine allotted to sportsmen by the Author of Salmonia was 
 awfully exceeded. We anointed our faces with cold cream, 
 which speedily removed the pain and inflammation consequent 
 on the stinging we had endured from the insects, and, after 
 
INTERIOR OF A SHOOTING CABIN. 69 
 
 " blowing a comfortable cloud/' went to bed and slept ; but a 
 man must exercise and carouse with a grouse-shooter, to 
 conceive the deep and delicious repose which attends the 
 sportsman's pillow. 
 
 This morning we were early astir. There was a mutual 
 admission of slight headache, but coffee and fresh air will 
 soon remove it. Having finished breakfast, and, in spite of 
 Sir Humphry's denunciations, fortified ourselves against damp 
 feet with a glass of Mareschino, we left the cabin for the 
 moors. 
 
 Never was there a wilder spot than the dell in which we 
 have taken up our shooting quarters. It is a herdsman's 
 hovel, to which my kinsman has added an apartment for his 
 accommodation in the grouse season. This is our banquet- 
 room and dormitory ; a press in the corner contains our 
 various drinkables, and upon a host of pegs, stuck into the 
 interstices of the masonry, hang guns and belts, and all the 
 unmentionable apparatus of a sportsman. The cabin itself 
 is appropriated to culinary purposes, and to the accommoda- 
 tion of our dogs and personal attendants. The quadrupeds 
 are quartered in the farther extremity of the house, and, 
 after their fatigue, luxuriate gloriously upon a fresh bed of 
 sun-dried fern. 
 
 In a calliogli* beside the fire, the keeper and old John, 
 who officiates as cook, are deposited at night, while the 
 otter-hunter and piper canton themselves in the opposite den. 
 A detachment of boys, or irregulars, who have followed the 
 master to the mountains, bivouac somewhere in the vicinity of 
 the cabin. In a sod- walled sheeling erected against a huge 
 rock, the herdsman and his family have taken up their 
 temporary residence, while we occupy the hut ; but its limited 
 dimensions would be quite unequal to shelter a moiety of our 
 extensive train. But while a mountain sheep hangs from 
 
 " Callioghs" are recesses built in the side walls of an Irish cabin, 
 convenient to the hearth, arid sufficiently large to contain a bed. Some 
 of them are quite open to the fire ; while others are partially screened 
 from view by a rude matting of bent or straw. 
 
 If you enter a peasant's hovel on a wet day, and inquire for the owner 
 of the house, a strapping boy will generally roll out of one of these 
 dark cribs, yawn, stretch his arms, scratch his head, and bid "your 
 honour" welcome, and then inform you that he " was just strichin' on 
 the bed." 
 
70 A SPORTING INCIDENT. 
 
 "the couples"* of the cabin, and the whisky-keg continues 
 unexhausted, those worthies matter little in what cranny they 
 ensconce themselves at night. To a late hour the piper is in 
 requisition, and these careless devils dance, and laugh, and 
 sing, until my cousin's mandate scatters them like ghosts at 
 cock-crow ; off they scamper, and where they bestow them- 
 selves till morning none but themselves can tell. Although 
 the quantity of whisky consumed here, in the short space of 
 three days, appears almost incredible ; yet upon these seasoned 
 vessels its effects are so very transitory as almost to authenticate 
 the boasted virtues of the mountain-dew " that there is not 
 an aching head in a hogshead full !" 
 
 While traversing a low range of moors, an incident oc- 
 curred which at this season was unaccountable. A red and 
 white setter pointed at the top of a little glen. The heathy 
 banks on both sides of a mountain rivulet undulated gently 
 from the stream, and caused a dipping of the surface ; and 
 the ground seemed a favourable haunt for grouse, and our 
 dogs were beating it with care. Observing the setter drop, 
 his companions backed and remained steady, when suddenly 
 Hero rose from his couchant attitude, and next moment a 
 wild deer, of enormous size and splendid beauty, crossed 
 before the dog and sprang the birds he had been pointing. 
 The apparition of the animal, so little expected, and so 
 singularly and closely introduced to our view, occasioned 
 a sensation I had never hitherto experienced. I rushed up 
 the bank, while, unembarrassed by our presence, the noble 
 deer swept past us in a light and graceful canter, at the 
 short distance of some seventy or eighty yards. I might 
 have fired at and annoyed him but on a creature so 
 powerful, small shot could have produced little effect, and 
 none but a Cockney, under similar circumstances, would 
 waste a charge ; and to tease, without a chance of bringing 
 down the gallant beast, would have been a species of use- 
 less mischief, meriting a full month upon the tread-mill. 
 I gazed after him as he gradually increased his distance ; his 
 
 * The couples are the principal timbers that support the roof; they 
 are placed at stated distances, and an Irishman describes the size of a 
 house by telling you that it has so many " couples." 
 
RETURN TO THE CABIN. 
 
 71 
 
 antlers were expanded as fully as my arms would extend; 
 his height was magnificent ; and, compared with fallow-deer, 
 he seemed a giant to a dwarf. The sun beamed upon his 
 deep bay side, as he continued describing a circular course 
 over the flat surface of the moor, till reaching a rocky opening 
 leading to the upper hills, he plunged into the ravine, and 
 we lost sight of him. 
 
 What could have driven the red deer so low upon the 
 heath was marvellous. Excepting when disturbed by a 
 solitary hunter, or a herdsman in pursuit of errant cattle, or 
 driven from the summit of the hills by snow and storm, those 
 deer are rarely seen below the Alpine heights they inhabit. 
 But the leisure pace of the beautiful animal we saw to-day, 
 proved that he had not been alarmed in his lair, and led one 
 almost to fancy, that in freakish mood he had abandoned his 
 mountain home, to take a passing glance at the men and 
 things beneath him. 
 
 At five o'clock, we left the moors, and returned to our 
 cabin. The day throughout had been propitious ; the breeze 
 tempered the heat which yesterday oppressed us, and our 
 
72 THE BALL. 
 
 walk this morning had been only pleasant exercise. We 
 were neither exhausted by an ardent sky, nor annoyed by 
 the dazzling glare of constant sunshine. The gnats, which 
 lately had been intolerable, had vanished, and we were thus 
 enabled to perform our ablutions in the clear and sparkling 
 river ; a feat last night impracticable, from the number and 
 virulence of the insects. He who has bathed his limbs in the 
 cool and crystal waters of a mountain- stream after a busy day 
 upon the heath, can only estimate its luxury. Twenty brace 
 of grouse, three hares, and a half score of gray plovers, was 
 the produce of our ckasse. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Ball opens Moonlight Mountain scenery Old Antony Adventure 
 with the Fairies Ball continues The otter-hunter's history Bal. 
 concludes The pater-o-pee. 
 
 THE moon rose in great splendour over the bold chain of 
 mountains which belts the valley where we are cantoned. 
 The piper is merrily at work, for some of the peasant girls 
 have come to visit us, attracted by the joyful news that a pie- 
 beragh* was included in our suite. The fondness of these 
 mountain maidens for dancing is incredible; at times of 
 festival, on the occasion of a wedding, or dr agg ing -home, \ 
 or whenever a travelling musician passes through these wilds, 
 they assemble from prodigious distances, and dance for days 
 and nights together. 
 
 My kinsman and I having duly executed a jig with a 
 brace of Nora Crinas, left the hut and strolled a short way 
 up the river. The quiet of " lonely night " contrasted 
 strikingly with the scene of turbulent and vivacious mirth 
 
 * Anglice, piper. 
 
 f " Dragging home," is the bringing the bride for the first time to her 
 husband's house. An immense mob of relatives and clevines of " both the 
 houses," are collected on the occasion, and as an awful quantity of whisky 
 must of necessity be distributed to the company, this " high solemnity" 
 seldom concludes without subjecting the host's person and property to 
 demolition. 
 
THE OTTER HUNTER. 73 
 
 we had but just quitted. A jutting bank suddenly shut the 
 cabin from our view, and its lights and music ceased to be 
 seen or heard. A deep unbroken silence reigned around. 
 The moon's disc appeared of unusual size, as she rose in 
 cloudless majesty over the mountain masses which earlier in 
 the evening had concealed her. Not a cloud was in the 
 sky, and the unequal outline of the hills displayed a fine 
 picture of light and shadow and the stream rippled at our 
 feet, as, " tipped with silver," we traced its wanderings for 
 miles, while its sparkling current was lost or seen among the 
 moor- land. 
 
 Just then a human figure turned the rock abruptly, and the 
 old Otter- killer stood beside us. The rushing of the stream 
 prevented us from noticing his approach. He had been 
 examining his traps, and as the way was rugged, he was 
 delayed till now. The old man's appearance in this place, 
 and at that hour, was picturesque. His dark dress, his long 
 white hair falling down his shoulders, the seal- skin wallet, 
 the fish-spear, and the rough terrier his companion, all were 
 in perfect keeping. 
 
 " Well, Antony, what sport?" 
 
 " Little to speak of, Master Julius. I suspect the trap 
 wants oiling, for there was an otter's sprain ts* every place 
 about it. I went to* the lake yonder, and while the breeze 
 kept up the fish took well. I killed a dozen red trout." 
 
 "Did you meet any of the ' gentlefolk ,'f friend Antony ? 
 This is just the night that one would expect to find them 
 quadrilling upon some green and mossy hillock." 
 
 The old man smiled and turned to me, 
 
 !t Well, well, the master w r on't believe in them ; but if he 
 had seen them as I did " 
 
 " And did you really see them ?" 
 
 " God knows, I tell you truth, Sir." Then, resting himself 
 on a rock, he thus continued : 
 
 " It will be eleven years next month, when I was hunting 
 otters at Lough na Mucka ; the master knows the place, 
 for many a good grouse he shot beside it. I then had the 
 two best farriers beneath the canopy; this poor crater is 
 their daughter," and he patted the dog's head affectionately. 
 
 RWell, I had killed two well-sized cubs, when Badger, 
 Marks or traces left by the animal. f Fairies. 
 
74 THE OTTER HUNTER. 
 
 who had been working in the weeds, put out the largest 
 bitch I ever saw : I fired at her, but she was too far from 
 me, and away she went across the Lough, and Badger and 
 Venom after her. She rose at last ; Badger griped her, and 
 down went dog and otter. They remained so long under 
 water, that I was greatly afraid the dog was drowned ; but, 
 after a while, up came Badger. Though I was right glad 
 to see my dog, I did not like to lose the beast ; and I knew, 
 from the way that Badger's jaws were torn, that there 
 had been a wicked struggle at the bottom. Well, I encou- 
 raged the dog, and when he had got his breath again, he 
 dived down nothing daunted, for he was the best tarrier 
 ever poor man was master of. Long as he had been before 
 at the bottom, he was twice longer now. The surface 
 bubbled, the mud rose, and the water became black as ink : 
 ' Ogh ! murder/ says I, ' Badger, have I lost ye ?' and I 
 set-to clapping my hands for trouble, and Venom set up the 
 howl as if her heart was broke. When, blessed be the 
 Maker of all ! up comes Badger with the otter griped by 
 the neck. The bitch swam over to help him, and I waded 
 to the middle, and speared and landed the beast. Well, then 
 I examined her, she had her mouth full of ould roots and 
 moss, for she had fastened on a stump at the bottom, and 
 the poor dog was sorely put-to to make her break her hold. 
 I mind it well : 1 sold the skin in Galway, and got a gold 
 guinea for it." 
 
 " Was that the night you met the fairies ?" 
 
 " Stay, Master Julius ; I'm coming to that. Well, three 
 otters were a heavy load, and I had four long miles to travel 
 before I could reach Morteein Crassagh's.* The master 
 knows the house well. The night was getting dark, and 
 it's the worst ground in Connaught. Well, I was within 
 a mile of Morteein's, when it became as black as pitch ; and 
 I had the shaking bog to cross, that you can hardly pass 
 in daytime, where, if a man missed his way, he would 
 be swallowed up in a moment. The rain began, and the 
 poor dogs were famished with cold and hunger. God ! 
 I was sure I must stay there, starving till the morning ; 
 when on a sudden, little lights danced before me, and 
 showed me the hard tammocks as plain as if the sun was 
 
 * Martin with the rough face. 
 
THE OTTER HUNTER. 75 
 
 up. I was in a cruel fright, and the dogs whimpered, 
 and would not stir from my foot. I was afraid to 
 stay where I was, as I knew the gentle-people were about 
 me ; and I was unwilling to attempt the quagh,* for fear 
 the light would leave me, and then I would get neither back 
 nor forward. Well, the wind began to rise ; the rain grew 
 worse ; I got desperate, and resolved to speak to the fairies 
 civilly. ' Gentlemen and ladies/ says I, making a bow to 
 the place where the lights were dancing, ' may be ye would 
 be so obliging as to light me across the bog.' In a minute 
 there was a blaze from one end of the quagh to the other, 
 and a hundred lights were flashing over the bogs. I took 
 heart and ventured ; and wherever I put my foot, the place 
 was as bright as day, and I crossed the swamp as safely as 
 if I had been walking on a gravelled road. Every inch the 
 light came with me, till I reached the boreein^ leading to 
 Morteein Crassagh's ; then, turning about, I made the fairies 
 a low bow : ' Gentlemen and ladies/ says I, ' I'm humbly 
 thankful for your civility, and I wish ye now a merry night 
 of it/ God preserve us ! The words were hardly out, when 
 there was a roar of laughter above, below, and around me. 
 The lights vanished, and it became at once so dark, that 
 I could scarcely make out my way. When I got fairly inside 
 Morteein's kitchen, I fainted dead; and when I came to, 
 I told them what had happened. Many a time, fairy candles 
 are seen at Lough na Mucka ; but sorrow mortal was ever 
 lighted across the quagh by the gentle-people but myself, 
 and that the country knows. Well the master is laugh- 
 ing at me ; but I'll hobble to the cabin, or they'll think that 
 the good people have carried me off at last, as they did Shamus 
 Bollogh,t from Ballycroy." 
 
 * A morass. f A horsepath leading into bogs. 
 
 $ James the Stutterer. 
 
 This gentleman's temporary sojourn with the fairies is generally 
 credited in Bally croy. Why the gentlefolk, who are accounted scrupulous 
 in selecting youth and beauty when they abduct mortals, should have 
 pitched upon Shamus, is unaccountable. His charms are of the plainest 
 order, and he had long passed his teens before the period of his being 
 carried away. His own account of the transaction is but a confused 
 one and all I recollect of the particulars is, that he crossed to Tallaghan, 
 over an arm of the sea, on a grey horse, behind a little man dressed in 
 green. Neither good nor evil resulted from this nocturnal gallop of " the 
 Stutterer," if we except a sound horse-whipping which he received from 
 
76 
 
 Presently we returned to the hut : the whisky had began 
 to operate on the corps de ballet in the kitchen, for the pipes 
 played louder, and the girls danced with additional esprit. 
 To think of bed, with such a company beside us, would be 
 idle : my cousin accordingly recharged his meerschaum, and, 
 between many a puff, gave me the following memoir of the 
 otter-hunter. 
 
 " The old man is a character. In his early days he was 
 a travelling pedlar, a dealer in furs and Connemara stock- 
 ings. He had always an unconquerable fancy for angling and 
 otter-killing ; and, with a pack upon his shoulders and a fish- 
 spear in his hand, he traversed the kingdom in the double 
 pursuit of pleasure and profit. 
 
 " When he disposed of his merchandize, he returned home 
 laden with the skins he had collected in his wanderings. He 
 has frequently brought thirty furs together to Limerick for 
 sale ; and as they were then a valuable commodity, he 
 acquired in a few years a considerable property. 
 
 " In one of his excursions, however, Antony managed to 
 pick up a wife. She was young and handsome ; and, tiring 
 of his unsettled life, persuaded the unhappy otter-killer to 
 forego his favourite calling, and turn his fish-spear into a 
 spigot. In short, he took a house in town, became a pub- 
 lican, got extensive business, gave credit, and soon was 
 drunken and embarrassed ; his wife flirted, his property 
 melted away, and his frail rib at last levanted with an English 
 showman. Antony was astounded, but he bore misfortune 
 like a philosopher. Renouncing whisky, except in limited 
 quantities, he resumed the otter-trap, which had been rusting 
 in a garret ; and one fine moonlight night, turned the key in 
 the door, abandoned goods and chattels to the landlord, and 
 disappeared, ' leaving his curse with Limerick/ 
 
 " No Bedouin returned from captivity to his parent's tent 
 no Swiss revisited his native valley, with more delight, than 
 the cornuted otter-killer, when he hurried back to his beloved 
 mountains. From that moment he forswore the town ; and, 
 excepting on his annual visit to the furrier. Antony has 
 avoided the busier haunts of mankind. Having added bleed- 
 
 the priest, for attempting to abuse the credulity of the peasantry, 
 by detailing the fairy revels in which he alleged that he parti- 
 cipated. 
 
THE BALL CONCLUDES. 77 
 
 ing to the number of his acquirements, he practises phar- 
 macy in this wilderness, and for forty years has led a 
 careless, migratory life, tolerated in the hall, and welcomed 
 in the cabin, until increasing years and bodily infirmity 
 confined him to his wild birth-place, where the otter can be 
 trapped without fatigue, and the salmon will yet reward the 
 old man's skill. The Lodge is now Antony's head- quarters, 
 and the remnant of his wandering life will probably be spent 
 with me. 
 
 " But it is not as a hunter and leech that the ancient otter- 
 killer is alone valuable. In his wanderings, he picked up 
 tales and traditions among the wild people he consorted with : 
 his memory is most tenacious, and he narrates strange legends 
 which, in wildness and imagination, rival the romances of the 
 East. In winter, when the snow falls and the fury of the 
 storm is unloosed, Antony is settled in his rude but comfort- 
 able chair, formed of twisted bent. The women of my 
 household listen to his love-stories with affected indifference, 
 but there is always some apology for remaining near the otter- 
 killer. At times, when the old man is summoned after dinner 
 to receive his customary glass, I, if I be ' i' the humour,' listen 
 to his wild legends ; and here, in this mountain-hut, seated in 
 this room, ' mine own great chamber/ while I luxuriate over 
 a bright bog- deal fire, an exquisite cigar, and an admixture of 
 pure hollands with the crystal water that falls from the rock 
 behind us, I listen in voluptuous tranquillity to Antony's 
 romances, as he recites to his attentive auditory in the kitchen 
 his narratives of former times. 
 
 " If the otter-hunter's tales be true, the primitive gentle- 
 women of the Emerald Isle were no vestals ; and the judge 
 of the Consistorial Court, had such then existed, would have 
 had scarcely time to bless himself." 
 
 It was twelve o'clock, and no abatement of revelry was yet 
 manifest among the dancers in the kitchen. The piper's music 
 appeared inexhaustible, and, maugre fatigue and whisky, the 
 company were as fresh and effective as when the ball com- 
 menced. " I must rout them," said my cousin ; " the devils 
 would dance till doomsday." He opened the door, but 
 stopped and beckoned me to approach. I looked out ; the 
 boys and girls had left the floor, the men settling themselves 
 on the colliaghs, empty casks, and turf cleaves,* while the 
 
 * Annlice. baskets. 
 
78 FALL OF RAIN. 
 
 ladies were comfortably accommodated upon their partners' 
 knees. One gentleman alone was standing. Presently two 
 sticks were laid crosswise on the ground ; the pipes struck up 
 an unusual sort of jig, and the feat commenced. " This," 
 said my kinsman, " is called the ' pater-o-pee,' and none but 
 an accomplished dancer would attempt it." 
 
 To describe this dance would be impossible : it consisted 
 of an eternal hopping into the small compartments formed 
 by the crossing of the cudgels on the floor, without touching 
 the sticks. 
 
 Now, holding reasonable doubts whether, upon Mr. Cooney 
 presenting himself to Monsieur Laporte, this gentleman would 
 favour him with an engagement, I'll bet the manager, not- 
 withstanding, a cool hundred, that, on the strength of the 
 King's Theatre, he has no artiste who will touch Tim Cooney 
 at the pater-o-pee ! 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Moon looks suspicious Heavy fall of rain River flooded Sporting 
 writers Criticism on Hawker Originality of the Colonel His outfit 
 of a wild fowl shooter Samuel Singer and his gun. 
 
 WHEN we took a last look from the window of our hut, 
 before we retired to our respective mattresses, there was a 
 broad belt observable around the moon's disc, which is the 
 well-known token of an approaching change of weather; 
 and early this morning, the constant plashing from the roof 
 told us that the rain was falling heavily. The river rose 
 apace, and the flood thundered past the cabin, momentarily 
 increasing by the frequent torrents from the high grounds. 
 The gentle and sparkling stream, on whose moonlight banks 
 I had been musing at midnight, disappeared, and a fierce and 
 turbulent body of discoloured water rushed through its swollen 
 channel, bearing along huge portions of the banks, which had 
 yielded to its fury. 
 
 " We are fairly caught, Frank," said my kinsman. 
 " Hemmed in by the stream, if life depended on it, we could 
 not now communicate with the Lodge. Fortunately the cabin 
 roof is impervious to the water ; and, thanks to the foresight 
 
COLONEL HAWKER'S BOOK. 79 
 
 of old John, I see the backgammon box has not been for- 
 gotten. Come, shall we have a hit ; tie a fly ; cut card- 
 waddings ; play ecarte ; or listen to one of Antony's amatory 
 narratives, showing how a baron's lady left her liege lord 
 for a black- eyed page, and how a holy monk proved in the end 
 to be no better than he ought to be ? And we have books too ; 
 shall we speculate and star- gaze with Sir Humphry, or 
 paddle in a punt with Hawker, after ' blue-billed curres" 
 ' dun-birds and divers/ ' Tommy Loos and Isle of Wight 
 parsons ?' "* 
 
 " Anything for me but Colonel Thornton ; for I am heart- 
 sick of Mrs. T and ' red-legged partridges/ " 
 
 " I confess I would rather wade through the mud with 
 honest Philip, after all, than accompany the Colonel in his 
 researches for French estates, which he never had an in- 
 tention to purchase. I own that Hawker is in many things 
 exquisitely absurd, but he is amusing also, although in his 
 adaptation of matter his work does not precisely exhibit 
 the happiest specimen of good arrangement. See, for ex- 
 ample, page 136 ; here he recommends you to ' dine at one 
 o'clock/ * not to snore away the evening in concert with 
 your dog/ and admits that, ' if a man likes grog, he may 
 finish the evening with a bucket-full ;' assures you that soap 
 and water is ' the sovereignest thing on earth' for soiled 
 hands ; and that kid gloves are sold by Mr. Painter, No. 27, 
 Fleet-street ; concluding with the following valuable recipe : 
 
 " ' If a person is extremely nervous from hearing the report 
 of his gun, or from the noise of the rising game, let him prime 
 his ears with cotton, and his inside with tincture of bark and 
 sal volatile.' 
 
 " This fortification of the ears is, no doubt, an excellent 
 precaution for a cockney, and certainly less hazardous than 
 the aerial mode propounded by the Colonel for killing rabbits. 
 To perch in a tree, I think, would be a sufficient punishment ; 
 and what assistance a dog would render in the branches is 
 inconceivable. 
 
 " What say you also to the association in one sentence, 
 of ' game, flies, rats, red- herrings, and corrosive sublimate ?'f 
 The information, further, that mercury will kill bugs, and a 
 nota^bene, warning the King's subjects against poison ; con- 
 
 * Hawker, p. 177. f Ibid, p. 240. 
 
80 OUTFIT FOR A WILD FOWL SHOOTER. 
 
 eluding with a valuable recipe for a sauce piquante, that would 
 'tickle the gustatory nerves where fifty failed/* 
 
 " The Colonel, indeed, may fairly claim the palm for being 
 as diffusive as successful. He opens up the mysteries of gun- 
 making in one page, and in another gives you instructions for 
 correcting sour beer proves that publicans dilute spirits 
 damp sheets produce rheumatisms and draughts of air bring 
 on the tooth- ache ; gives you a recipe for making cold punch, 
 * which was given him some years ago in Glasgow/ where the 
 said cold punch was universally drunk; and furnishes such 
 information upon ' game laws/ ' tartar emetic/ fleecy hosiery/ 
 and ' tincture of bark/ as must astound the reader, and cause 
 him to marvel at the astonishing capacity of the commander's 
 cranium/' 
 
 "All these are excellent in their way. The Colonel, how- 
 ever, owns that he has borrowed much from others ; but for 
 originality take him upon dress, and listen to his equipment of 
 a wild-fowl shooter. 
 
 "Imprimis the nether extremities are to be thus gar- 
 nished ' one extra pair of coarse yarn stockings ; one ditto 
 of the thickets wads; one ditto of under-stockings of the 
 warmest quality; a pair of water-proof boots, and a ditto 
 'Flushing trowsers' The worthy Colonel proceeds : 
 
 " ' It is needless to say, that (except the feet, which we 
 have already defended) every part of the body should be clothed 
 with flannel. 
 
 " ' With regard to further covering for the body, could 
 we ensure not getting wet leather would, perhaps, be 
 warmest; but, at all events, the waistcoat, both before ana 
 behind, should be made of shag, or Bath-coating, which 
 certainly, taking all weather, answers best, and is the most 
 comfortable. Under the waistcoat should be worn a Flushing- 
 frock, and over it a sort of jacket, of either drab cloth o> 
 swan-skin. The cap may be made of the same (or an^f 
 thing that has the same appearance), and, if cold, won 
 over a Welsh wig. Mr. Lloyd, 13, Old Bond-street, hai 
 
 * Recipe for sauce to wild-fowl : Port wine or claret, one glass ; sauc 
 a la Russe (the older the better) one table-spoonful ; ketchup, one ditto 
 lemon-juice, one ditto ; lemon-peel, one slice ; shalot (large) one sliced 
 Cayenne pepper (the darkest, not that like brick-dust) four grains ma< 
 one or two blades. To be scalded, strained, and added to the mer 
 gravy which comes from the bird in roasting. 
 
A SOU* WESTER. 81 
 
 invented an excellent, though simple defender for the chest 
 (which he calls an " Anglesey/') and a large shawl handker- 
 chief may be worn over the collar. A pair of worsted wrist- 
 bands (sold by the name of " muffatees") should be worn with 
 cloth gloves, and, over all, a large and long pair of double 
 swan-skin cuffs' 
 
 " But what signify all these flannels and Flushings shag 
 and swan-skin wads, water-boots, and Welsh wigs, to that 
 immortal garment invented by one Larry Rogers, who calls it 
 his ' sou' wester,' ' and gets it all for nine shillings/ of which 
 loquitur the Colonel 
 
 " Now to the point ! ' Make, with an article called Russia- 
 duck, (which, as well as swan-skin, should be previously wetted 
 and dried, to prevent shrinking,) a loose over-all frock-coat, 
 and a hood or cap, with a flap behind, similar to a coal-heaver's 
 hat, and dress them as follows : 
 
 " ' Take three quarts of linseed oil, and boil them till 
 reduced to two quarts and a half, the doing which will require 
 about three hours ; and when the oil is sufficiently boiled, it 
 will burn a feather. (The addition of some India rubber was 
 suggested to me, but of this I did not make a trial.) When 
 the oil is quite cold, take a clean paint brush, and work it well 
 into the outside of the whole apparel, and it will soon find its 
 way to the inside. 9 
 
 " There is here a judicious and cautionary nota bene, 
 requesting the operator neither to burn himself nor the house 
 with an admission that the savour of the garment is abominable. 
 The Colonel concludes, that with ' a very large old umbrella, 
 fitted up with brown holland a bag full of straw, or something 
 of the kind, a pair of goggles, and a sufficient supply of Messrs. 
 Fribourg's mixture, the sportsman has all the necessary covering 
 that can be required for real wild-fowl shooting. 
 
 " Nothing, indeed, can exceed the author's ingenuity, from 
 the construction of a hare pocket to making an old gun shoot 
 straight, and firing two pounds of shot to the best advantage. 
 Not that I would ambition being the operator in the latter 
 exploit, and would rather leave the affair to ' one Samuel 
 Singer, of Pool, who shoots with a gun, weight 141 Ibs. I* 
 Still the Colonel is a merry soul ; and provided with his 
 'pocket-nightingale/ I wish we had him here. He should 
 compound cold punch ad libitum t and receive the ceade fealteagh 
 of our highland hut. 
 
g2 QUEEN ANN'S MUSKETS. 
 
 " Yes ; Frank, I'll bet my new Purday to a Queen Anne,* 
 that he would never have used his friends, as Sir Humphry 
 treated the unhappy philosophers whom he seduced into 
 Scotland, and shabbed off with half-a-pint of claret in a 
 rascally sheebein-house. No ; Hawker is a worthy fellow ; 
 
 one, who, as our lamented countryman, Lord L , told 
 
 Abernethy, ' puts his trust in Providence, and takes a big 
 drink/ By the way, I have often wondered that any honest 
 gentleman, having a Christian propensity for the bottle, would 
 venture within arms-length of that unjoyous and dispiriting 
 doctor, and here comes dinner !" 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Flood subsides My cousin's henchmen Their description Post-bag 
 arrives Messenger belated in the mountains The Fairy Glen Herd of 
 red deer Their destruction by poachers Gradual decrease Difficulties 
 in continuing them Anecdotes Rearing the fawns Sterility when 
 domesticated Red deer in parks The tame hind The Tyrawly stag 
 Skill requisite in shooting deer Curious anecdote. 
 
 How rapidly the waters of a mountain river swell and 
 subside ! Last night the steep bank before the cabin-door 
 
 * " Queen Anne's muskets" are in great repute among the Irish 
 peasantry, who assert that the barrels of these antiquated implements 
 are excellent. The following curious notice of these guns is extracted 
 from " An Appeal to the Public," by the unfortunate George Robert 
 Fitzgerald. 
 
 " Informant was with his said master, and in the carriage with him, 
 when the said Geerge Robert Fitzgerald came up alone and unarmed, and 
 peaceably and politely addressed his father, the said George Fitzgerald, 
 who went home with his said son to Rockfield-lodge ; and had he wished 
 not to go with his said son, he might have refused going, he having in 
 his carriage, in which informant was, three bell-muzzled blunderbusses, 
 loaded with swan-drops, and a small ditto, and also three Queen Anne 's 
 muskets, with bayonets, loaded as aforesaid, and three fuzees, one of \ 
 which was loaded, together with a small sword. Four powder-horns, ail 
 -filled with gunpowder, one of which contained three pounds of gunpowder, 
 besides several large bags of musket balls, swan-drops, and slugs ; and had 
 the said George Fitzgerald, this informant's master, been disposed to 
 make any opposition in going home with his said son to Rockfield-lodge, 
 informant would have made use of said arms and ammunition in bis said 
 master's defence." Now we opine, that Colonel Hawker, and his " new 
 double-swivel gun," with Sam Singer at his back, would scarcely hazard 
 an engagement with this formidable vehicle. 
 
MY COUSIN'S HENCHMEN. 83 
 
 was scarcely visible above the swollen and discoloured stream. 
 The flood is gone ; the river has recovered its silvery hue, and 
 no traces of yesterday's violence appear, save the huge 
 masses of turf left by the receding waters on the shore, which, 
 from their size, prove how fierce the torrent was when at its 
 height. 
 
 We have been expecting anxiously a messenger with the 
 post-bag, for three days have elapsed since its last arrival. 
 There will be an accumulation of newspapers. What a 
 treasure they would have been yesterday ! Ha ! there is 
 a bustle in the outer cabin ; no doubt an arrival. It is the 
 messenger, 
 
 I never saw finer samples of the mountain peasantry than 
 this man and his brother exhibit. They are scarcely to be 
 known asunder ; young, particularly handsome, five feet 
 eleven inches, light, active, clean-limbed, perfect specimens 
 of strength and symmetry combined ; good-hurnoured, in- 
 defatigable, and obliging, submissive to the Master's nod, 
 and yet the boldest and handiest boys in Ballycroy. I some- 
 times look after my kinsman as he strides over the moors 
 with his handsome henchmen at his back. He walks as 
 if the province was his own ; bold, and careless, and con- 
 fident no wonder those wild fellows are his fosterers, and 
 they would shed the last drop of their blood for " the Master/ 
 if he required it. 
 
 This fidelity and devotion on the one side, is requited by 
 kindness and protection on the other. These men have lived 
 about the Lodge from boyhood and they come and depart as 
 they please. At spring and harvest- times they repair to the 
 village where their parents reside, to assist the old couple and 
 the girh in getting the potatoes in and out of ground ; they 
 tend the cattle in the mountains when requisite, and pass the 
 remainder of the year following the Master to the moors or to 
 the river, catching fish, netting rabbits, or killing wild-fowl 
 in the winter; and dancing, drinking, and fighting on holiday, 
 and festivals, as becomes good men and loyal subjects. 
 
 When they marry for Malthus and restrictions upon 
 population are no more recognised in Erris, than the Pope is 
 by a modern Methodist they will obtain a patch of mountain 
 from their patron, erect a cabin, construct a still, and setting 
 political dogmas at defiance, then and there produce most 
 excellent whisky, and add to the " seven millions" considerably. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 ARRIVAL OF THE POST-BAG. 
 
 The messenger presented himself with the post-bag, being 
 anxious to render a personal account of the causes of his delay. 
 His night's adventure is quite characteristic of the wild life, 
 and bold and reckless spirit of these mountain peasants. 
 
 The route to the next post-town lies through the ridge of 
 hills which 1 have already described, as bounding the valley 
 where we are quartered. The usual way to reach it is by an 
 old and rugged horse-path, which, although seldom frequented 
 now, was fifty years since the only means of communication 
 which Erris had with the southern baronies. This easier, but 
 more circuitous route was abandoned by the young peasant, 
 who hoped, by directly crossing the heights, to arrive at the 
 cabin before the night shut in. He took this perilous direction 
 accordingly ; but the rain was still falling fast, and when he 
 topped the ridge of the hills, the valley beneath was covered by 
 a dense mist. Presently the mountain streams rose, the light 
 failed to advance or retreat was impossible ; and the isolated 
 peasant had no choice left but to seek a shelter in the rocks, and 
 remain there until morning dawned. He easily discovered a 
 fissure in the steep bank above the river, crept in " blessed 
 himself" and lay down to sleep upon his cold and rugged 
 bed. 
 
 What situation could be more desolate and heart- sinking 
 than this ? Imprisoned among savage mountains, perched in 
 a wild rock far above the rest of mankind, separated, from 
 human help by an impassable torrent, cold, hungry, and ex- 
 hausted ; yet all these dejecting circumstances were unheeded 
 by the hardy mountaineer. He had but one source of terror ; 
 the otter-hunter had often described this glen as a favourite 
 haunt of fairies ; and " what would become of him if the 
 gentle-people caught him there 1" 
 
 The midnight hour passed, however, without any super- 
 natural visitation. No fairy revelry disturbed the peasant's 
 slumbers ; the rain ceased ; the flood was falling ; the chough* 
 and raven were preparing to take wing ; and while the first 
 
 * Cornish chough, or red-legged crow. (Corvus GraciUs, Linn. Le 
 Coracias, Buff.) This bird is about the size of the jackdaw. The bill is 
 long, curved, sharp at the tip, and of a bright red colour ; the iris of the 
 eye is composed of two circles, the outer one red, the inner one blue ; 
 the eyelids are red; the plumage is altogether of a purplish-violet 
 black; the legs are as red as the bill; the claws are large, hooked and 
 
DECREASE OF THE RED DEER. 85 
 
 faint light was breaking through the mountain mists, Cormac, 
 anxious to quit his cheerless bivouac, crawled out from his cold 
 retreat. 
 
 Suddenly, from ahove, an indistinct noise alarmed him. 
 Feet clattered down the rocky path ; a rush, a snorting, 
 announced their near approach, and a herd of deer appeared 
 within half a stone's cast. They traversed the narrow track 
 in single files, and were moving rapidly down the mountain 
 side to browse in the glen beneath. 
 
 When the leading stag discovered the startled peasant, he 
 halted, tossed his antlers wildly, and gave a loud and peculiar 
 neigh. The pause, though momentary, permitted the rear to 
 come up, and the herd were clustered in a group. The panic 
 lasted but an instant : they turned round, and with amazing 
 speed rushed up the hill, regained the heights, and were lost 
 in the thick mist. Cormac could not reckon them accurately, 
 but imagined their number to be about sixteen. 
 
 It is seldom, now, that the red deer are seen in herds. 
 Within late years they have diminished sadly, and unless 
 vigorous means are promptly adopted to prevent their destruc- 
 tion by poachers, like their ancient enemy, the rough Irish 
 greyhound, they too will become extinct. My cousin, when a 
 boy, has often met forty deer herded together ; but, from their 
 decreased numbers, one rarely sees now more than a few brace. 
 Since the French descent upon this coast in Ninety- eight, 
 their destruction has been rapid. Unfortunately, many of the 
 fire-arms then distributed among the peasantry, remain in 
 their possession still, and in the winter months, when the sever- 
 ity of the season forces the deer to leave the hills and seek food 
 and shelter in the valleys, idle ruffians, too well acquainted with 
 the passes of the mountains, take that opportunity to surprise 
 and slaughter them. 
 
 There are many circumstances connected with this scarce 
 and beautiful species, that should render their preservation a 
 matter of national interest. They are the last relic of other 
 times ; and all besides of the once famed stock which tenanted 
 the Irish forests have disappeared. The wolf, the morse-deer, 
 the greyhound,* exist no longer ; and this noble creature is 
 
 * Captain Brown places this animal in the class of tl domesticated dogs 
 which hunt in packs or singly, principally by the eye, although sometimes 
 by the scent." 
 
 " The Irish Greyhound. Canis Grains Hibernicus. Ray. [" This 
 
86 DECREASE OF THE RED DEER. 
 
 the sole remnant of her aboriginal animals, when Ireland wag 
 in her wild and independent condition. 
 
 " This is one of the largest of the canine race, with an air at once 
 beautiful, striking, and majestic. He has been known to grow to the 
 extraordinary height of four feet, although the general standard is about 
 three feet. 
 
 " In shape the Irish greyhound somewhat resembles the common grey- 
 hound, only that he is much larger and more muscular in his formation, 
 clumsy in all his different parts, and is quite unserviceable in hunting 
 either the stag, fox, or hare. His chief use in former times was in clearing 
 the country of wolves and wild boars, for which his great size and strength 
 peculiarly adapted him. 
 
 " The colour of the Irish greyhound is a pale cinnamon or fawn. His 
 aspect is mild, and his disposition gentle and peaceable. It is said he 
 is greatly an overmatch for either the mastiff or bull-dog; and when 
 he fights he generally seizes his antagonist by the back, and shakes 
 him to death, which his great strength enables him to do with ease. 
 
 " M. Buffon supposes the great Danish dog to be only a variety of the 
 Irish greyhound : and Mr. Pennant was of opinion that the French matin 
 and the Albanian dog were also varieties of the same. 
 
 " The Irish greyhound is now rarely to be met with, even in his native 
 country. 
 
 " The Marquis of Sligo is among the few individuals who possess 
 that fine animal in a state of tolerable purity ; he keeps a number at 
 "Westport, in the county of Mayo, Ireland, where there is a person em- 
 ployed to look after them. It is said that great care is necessary to 
 preserve the breed, and keep them in good health. 
 
 " Aylmer Bourke Lambert, Esq. one of the vice-presidents of the 
 Linnaean Society, took the measure of one of the Marquis of Sligo's dogs, 
 which was as follows : * From the point of the nose to the tip of the 
 tail, sixty-one inches ; tail, seventeen and a half inches long ; from the 
 tip of the nose to the back part of the skull, ten inches ; from the back 
 part of the skull to the beginning of the tail, thirty-three inches ; from 
 the toe to the top of the fore shoulder, twenty-eight inches and a half; 
 the length of the leg, sixteen inches ; from the point of the hind toes to 
 the top of the hind shoulders, thirteen inches ; from the point of the 
 nose to the eye, four inches and a half; the ears, six inches long; round 
 the widest part of the belly, (about three inches from the fore legs), 
 thirty-five inches ; twenty- six inches round the hind part, close to the 
 hind legs ; the hair short and smooth ; the colour of some brown and 
 white, of others black and white/ 
 
 " They seem good-tempered animals, but from the accounts Mr. Lam- 
 bert received, it is obvious that they must have degenerated, particularly 
 in point of size. 
 
 " Dr. Goldsmith says he has seen a dozen of these dogs, and assures 
 us the largest was about four feet high, and as tall as a calf of a 
 year old." 
 
 We are sorry to remark, that Captain Brown's statement, " that the 
 Irish greyhound is still preserved by the Marquis of Sligo," &c. is totally 
 
REARING FAWNS. 87 
 
 Individual exertions to continue the red deer are found to be 
 of little use. They seldom breed when deprived of liberty, 
 and restricted to the enclosures of a park. If they do, the 
 offspring degenerates, and the produce is very inferior in size 
 to what it would have been, had the animal remained in its 
 state of natural freedom. Even when taken young in the 
 mountains, to rear the fawns is a difficult and uncertain task. 
 My cousin has for many seasons made the attempt, and generally 
 failed three times for once that he succeeded. Last year one 
 young deer that he procured throve well and grew apace until 
 he was sufficiently stout to go out and graze with the cows. 
 Unfortunately, a visitor brought a savage- tempered greyhound 
 to the Lodge, the dog attacked the fawn, and it died of the 
 worrying it received, before the greyhound could be taken off. 
 
 It is almost impossible to procure the fawns from the 
 mountains in an uninjured state. They generally receive a 
 blow of a stick or stone from the captor, or undergo such 
 rough usage in conveying them to the low-lands, that death 
 commonly ensues. A fine well-grown male was brought to 
 the Lodge last week. For a day or two nothing could be more 
 promising than its appearance. It began, however, on the 
 fourth morning to pine away, and soon after died. We 
 opened it to ascertain, if possible, the cause of its death, and 
 discovered a gangrened wound in the side, evidently produced 
 by a blow. The peasant who brought him declared that he 
 was sound and uninjured ; and to account for his caption swore 
 lustily that he caught the fawn asleep, but it appeared that the 
 rogue had knocked the poor animal over with a stone, and thus 
 produced the inward bruise which terminated fatally. 
 
 It is strange that a creature of such strength and endurance 
 when arrived at maturity, should be so very difficult to bring up. 
 Means were resorted to by my kinsman to have the cow's 
 assimilated to the wild deer's milk, by changing the fawn's 
 nurse to a heathier and poorer pasturage ; a lichen, indigenous 
 to the mountains on which the deer principally feeds, was also 
 
 unfounded. No dog of this description has been for many years in the 
 possession of the noble lord. In his father's time, there were, I believe, 
 some descendants of this splendid stock at Westport House but for 
 years they have been extinct. The present Marquis introduced some 
 double-nosed boar-hounds into the country, which possibly were mistaken 
 for the Irish greyhound, although no animals could be more dissimilar in 
 shape, courage, and docility. 
 
88 ANECDOTE OF A STAG. 
 
 procured, and intermixed with the cow's hay; and yet this atten- 
 tion and trouble were attended with but indifferent success. 
 
 When once, however, the period of infancy is passed, the 
 wild deer is hardy, vigorous, and easily provided for. At 
 different times, many have been located in the neighbouring 
 parks, and lived there to a great age. In the domain of a 
 nobleman in Roscommon, there are several brace and in the 
 park of Clogher, a stag and hind are confined at present ; 
 they are all vigorous and healthy, but have never continued 
 their species. 
 
 Many curious anecdotes are recorded of the red deer. Some 
 years since, a hind was domesticated by a neighbouring 
 baronet; it was a fine and playful animal, and gave many 
 proofs of extraordinary sagacity. Like many fairer favourites, 
 she was a very troublesome one, and from her cunning and 
 activity, a sad torment to the gardener. No fences would 
 exclude her from the shrubberies, and if the garden gates were 
 for a moment insecure, the hind was sure to discover the 
 neglect, and avail herself of the opportunity to taste the 
 choicest vegetables. This beautiful but mischievous pet met 
 with some accidental injury, and died, to the great regret of 
 her proprietor. 
 
 Many years ago, a stag was in the possession of a gentleman 
 of Tyrawley. He grew to be a powerful and splendid beast, 
 but his propensities and dispositions were very different to those 
 of the playful and innocent hind. 
 
 The stag was bold and violent, detested strangers and 
 women, and from his enormous size and strength, was 
 frequently a very dangerous playfellow. He had a particular 
 fancy for horses, resided mostly in the stable, and when the 
 carriage was ordered to the door, if permitted, he would 
 accompany it. A curious anecdote is told of him. He had 
 no objection whatever to allow a gentleman to enter the 
 coach ; but to the fair sex he had an unconquerable aversion, 
 and with his consent no lady should be an inside passenger. 
 The servants were obliged to drive him away, before their 
 mistress could venture to appear ; and at last, he became so 
 troublesome and unsafe, as to render his banishment to an 
 adjoining deer-park the necessary punishment of his indocility. 
 He did not survive this disgrace long ; he pined away rapidly, 
 avoided the fallow deer, and died, as my informant declared, of 
 a broken heart. 
 
ANECDOTE OF A STAG. 89 
 
 In killing deer, it is necessary to select the head, or aim 
 directly behind the shoulder. A body-wound may eventually 
 destroy the animal, but the chances are, that he will carry off 
 the ball. Many, when severely struck, escape the shooter ; 
 and there have been stags killed in these mountains, who bore 
 the marks of severe wounds, from the effects of w r hich they 
 had entirely recovered. The following singular and authentic 
 instance of a bullet lodging in what is usually considered a 
 mortal place, and failing to occasion death, is extracted from a 
 scientific periodical.* 
 
 " A buck, that was remarkably fat and healthy in condition, 
 in August, 1816, was killed in Bradbury Park, and on opening 
 him, it was discovered, that at some distant time he had been 
 shot in the heart, a ball being found in a cyst in the substance 
 of that viscus, about two inches from the apex. The surface 
 of the cyst had a whitish appearance ; the ball weighs two 
 hundred and ninety- two grains, and was quite flat. Mr. 
 Richardson, the park-keeper, who opened the animal, is of 
 opinion the ball had struck some hard substance before 
 entering the body of the deer. That the animal should subsist 
 long after receiving this ball, is endeavoured to be accounted 
 for from the instance of a soldier, who survived forty-nine 
 hours after receiving a bayonet wound in the heart : however, 
 the recovery from a gun-shot wound in an animal inferior to 
 man can, in no respect, materially alter the importance of the 
 fact, and of the great extent to which this vital organ may 
 sustain injury from external violence." 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 An alarm Deceptive appearance of the weather A blank fishing day 
 Recovery of the setter Hydrophobia Melancholy anecdote Loss 
 of a kennel Strange apathy of Irish servants Extraordinary pre- 
 servation. 
 
 A CIRCUMSTANCE to-day has given us considerable uneasi- 
 ness ; one of our best setters, who had been observed to look 
 rather dull yesterday, has refused his food, and continues 
 listless of what is passing around him. He was a sprightly, 
 
 * The Edinburgh Medical Journal. 
 
90 A BLANK FISHING DAY. 
 
 active-minded dog, and his torpidness is alarming. We promptly 
 separated him from his companions, and have chained him in na 
 adjoining cabin, under the especial observation of old Antony. 
 The otter-killer is preparing to use his leechcraft, and I trust 
 with good effect. Canine madness is a frightful visitation, and 
 no caution can be too strict to guard against its melancholy 
 consequences. 
 
 Who shall say that success in angling can be calculated upon 
 with any thing like certainty ? If a man were gifted with the 
 properties of a walking barometer, the weather of this most 
 capricious corner of the earth would set his prognostics at 
 defiance. Never did a morning look more favourable ; it was 
 just such a one as an angler would swear by ; a grey, dark, 
 sober, settled sky, without any vexatious glare of threatening 
 sunshine to interrupt his sport. The otter-killer was not so 
 sanguine of this happy promise of good weather as we were. 
 He observed certain little clouds, to which he gave some Irish 
 name. " The wind, too, had shifted a point southerly since 
 daybreak, and the pinkeens* were jumping, as they always 
 jump, when they expect more water." We laughed at him , 
 but Antony was right. 
 
 We tried some beautiful pools ; the fish were rising fast ; 
 they sprang over the surface of the water frequently, and no 
 worse omen can threaten the fishermen with disappointment. 
 If they did condescend to notice our flies, they rose as if they 
 wished merely to reconnoitre them, or struck at them scornfully 
 with their tails. 
 
 Still hoping that a change in the temper of the fish for 
 a lady is not more fanciful might yet crown our efforts with 
 success, we proceeded down the river and pushed on for Pull- 
 garrow. To angle here with the water clean and full, and the 
 wind brisk from the westward, would almost repay a pilgrim- 
 age. For its extent, there is not a better salmon haunt in 
 Christendom. The fish were rising in dozens, and where the 
 river rushes into the neck of the pool, the constant breaking 
 of the surface by the rolling or springing of the salmon, was 
 incredible. The number of fish collected in this pool must 
 have been immense, for in every part of it they were rising 
 simultaneously. But not one of them would touch the fly. 
 I hooked a salmon accidentally in the side, and after a short 
 
 * The usual name among the peasantry for samlets and trout fry. 
 
DOG RECOVERS. 91 
 
 and violent struggle the hold broke and I lost him, The 
 mode of fishing attributed by Sir Humphry Davy to the 
 Galvvay fishermen* must be as unprofitable as unartistlike. If 
 ever it could avail, we should have succeeded to-day in 
 Pullgarrow. 
 
 Meanwhile the breeze gradually died away, or came in gusts 
 from the south ; the sky in the same quarter grew thick and 
 misty ; large drops fell, and in a short time the rain came 
 down in torrents. The reason why the salmon had declined 
 our flies was now disclosed ; although we had not foreseen the 
 coming change, the fish had evidently expected it. Wearied 
 and drenched, we returned to our shooting quarters. But we 
 speedily forgot our fatigue and disappointment. Antony's 
 report of the health of his canine patient was satisfactory. 
 The animal's stomach had been disordered, and the otter- 
 hunter's remedies were promptly administered, and successful. 
 My cousin had a dread of madness breaking out in his kennel ; 
 and from his melancholy experience of the fearful consequences 
 of neglect, I do not marvel that on the first symptom of loss 
 of appetite or abated spirits, he forthwith causes the suspected 
 dog to be removed, and places him under a strict surveillance. 
 
 Our conversation after dinner naturally turned upon the 
 indisposition of the setter. " You may think, my dear 
 Frank," said my cousin, " that I carry my apprehensions of 
 the slightest illness in my dogs to a ridiculous and unneces- 
 sary length ; but when I tell you that I have witnessed the 
 fatal course of hydrophobia, in the human as well as the brute 
 victim, you may then conceive the horror I feel when any 
 thing recalls to my memory this hopeless malady. 
 
 " During my first season at the Dublin University, I was 
 invited to pass a short vacation with a relative of my mother. 
 He lived in the south of Ireland, in an ancient family mansion- 
 
 * " In the river at Galway, in Ireland, I have seen above the bridge 
 some hundreds of salmon lying in rapid streams, and from five to ten 
 fishermen tempting them with every variety of fly, but in vain. After a 
 fish has been thrown over a few times, and risen once or twice and 
 refused the fly, he rarely ever took any notice of it at that place." 
 
 " When the water is low and clear in this river, the Galway fishermen 
 resort to the practice of fishing with a naked hook, endeavouring to 
 entangle it in the body of the fish; a most unartistlike practice." 
 Salmonia. 
 
92 AN IRISH MANSION. 
 
 house, situated in the mountains, and at a considerable distance 
 from the mail-coach road. 
 
 "This gentleman was many years older than I. He had 
 an only sister, a girl of sixteen, beautiful and accomplished ; 
 at the period of my visit she was still at school, but was to 
 finally leave it, as my host informed me, at Midsummer. 
 
 "Never was there a more perfect specimen of primitive 
 Milesian life, than that which the domicile of rny worthy 
 relative exhibited. The house was enormously large half 
 ruinous and all, within and without, wild, rackety, and 
 irregular. There was a troop of idle and slatternly servants 
 of both sexes, distracting every part of the establishment : 
 and a pack of useless dogs infesting the premises, and cross- 
 ing you at every turn. Between the biped and quadruped 
 nuisances an eternal war was carried on, and not an hour of 
 the day elapsed, but a canine outcry announced that some 
 of those unhappy curs were being ejected by the butler, or 
 pelted by the cook. 
 
 " So common-place was this everlasting uproar, that after a 
 few days I almost ceased to notice it. I was dressing for 
 dinner, when the noise of dogs quarrelling in the yard, 
 brought me to the window ; a terrier was being worried by 
 a rough, savage-looking fox-hound, whom I had before this 
 noticed and avoided. At the moment, my host was crossing 
 from the stable ; he struck the hound with his whip, but, 
 regardless of the blow, he continued his attack upon the 
 smaller dog. The old butler in coming from the garden, 
 observed the dogs fighting, and stopped to assist in separating 
 them. Just then, the brute quitted the terrier, seized the 
 master by the leg, and cut the servant in the hand. A groom 
 rushed out on hearing the uproar, struck the prongs of a 
 pitchfork through the dog's bodj^, and killed him on the spot. 
 This scene occurred in less time than I have taken in relating 
 it. 
 
 " I hastened from my dressing-room ; my host had bared 
 his leg, and was washing the wound, which was a jagged tear 
 from the hound's tooth. Part of the skin was loose, and a 
 sudden thought appeared to strike him. He desired an iron 
 to be heated ; took a sharp penknife from his pocket, coolly 
 and effectually removed the ragged flesh, and, regardless of 
 the agony it occasioned, with amazing determination, cauterized 
 the wound severely. 
 
HYDROPHOBIA. 93 
 
 " The old butler, however, contented himself with binding 
 up his bleeding hand. He endeavoured to dissuade his master 
 from, undergoing what he considered to be unnecessary pain. 
 ' The dog was dead, sure, and that ivas quite sufficient to prevent 
 any danger arising from the bite;' and, satisfied with this 
 precaution, he remained indifferent to future consequences, 
 and in perfect confidence that no ulterior injury could occur 
 from the wound. 
 
 " Three months passed away my friend's sister was re- 
 turning from school and, as the mountain road was in bad 
 repair, and a bridge had been swept away by the floods, saddle- 
 horses were sent to meet the carriage. The old butler, who 
 had some private affairs to transact in the neighbouring town, 
 volunteered to be the escort of his young mistress, and 
 obtained permission. 
 
 " That there was something unusual in the look and 
 manner of her attendant, was quickly remarked by the lady. 
 His address was wild and hurried, and some extraordinary 
 feelings appeared to agitate him. To an inquiry if he was 
 unwell, he returned a vague and unmeaning answer ; he 
 trembled violently when assisting her on horseback, and it was 
 evident that some strange and fearful sensations disturbed 
 him. 
 
 " They rode some miles rapidly, until they reached the 
 rivulet where the bridge had been carried off by the flood. To 
 cross the stream was no way difficult, as the water barely 
 covered the horse's fetlock. The lady had ridden through 
 the water, when a thrilling cry of indescribable agony from her 
 attendant arrested her. Her servant was on the opposite side, 
 endeavouring to reign in his unwilling horse, and in his face 
 there was a horrible and convulsed look that terrified his 
 alarmed mistress. To her anxious questions, he only replied 
 by groans, which too truly betrayed his sufferings ; at last he 
 pointed to the stream before him, and exclaimed, ' / cannot, 
 dare not cross it! Oh God! I am lost ! the dog the dog!' 
 
 " What situation could be more frightful than that in 
 which the lady found herself ? In the centre of a desolate 
 and unpeopled moor, far from assistance, and left alone with 
 a person afflicted with decided madness. She might, it is 
 true, have abandoned him ; for the terrors of the poor wretch 
 would have prevented him from crossing the rivulet ; but, 
 with extraordinary courage, she returned, seized the bridle 
 
94 LOSS OF A KENNEL BY HYDROPHOBIA. 
 
 fearlessly, and, notwithstanding the outcries of the unhappy 
 man, forced his horse through the water, and never left his 
 side, until she fortunately overtook some tenants of her 
 brother returning from a neighbouring fair. 
 
 ' ' I arrived on a visit the third evening after this occurrence, 
 and the recollection of that poor old man's sufferings has ever 
 since haunted my memory. All that medical skill and affec- 
 tionate attention on his master's part could do to assuage his 
 pain, and mitigate the agonies he occasionally underwent, 
 was done. At length, the moment that was devoutly prayed 
 for came. He died on the sixth morning. 
 
 " From this horrible fate nothing but his own determination 
 preserved my relative : and, by the timely use of a painful 
 remedy, excision and cautery of the wound* he escaped this 
 dreadful disease. 
 
 " I have related the calamity of another ; but I, too, have 
 been a sufferer, although, thank God ! not in person. 
 
 " A setter of uncommon beauty was presented to me by a 
 gentleman under peculiar circumstances. He had been the 
 favourite companion of his deceased wife ; and, during her 
 long and hopeless illness, had seldom left her chamber. He 
 begged me to allow him a place in the Lodge, and not subject 
 him to the restraint of the kennel. His wishes \vere obeyed, 
 and Carlo was duly installed into all the rights and privileges of 
 a carpet-dog. 
 
 "I left home on a shooting- visit, and luckily brought a 
 brace of my best setters with me. A week after my departure, 
 an express reached me to say that Carlo ' was very odd, would 
 not eat,* and bit and worried every dog he met with.' I 
 took alram instantly, and returned home without delay. I 
 found the household in desperate alarm, and Carlo was con- 
 fined in a separate out-house, but not until he had worried and 
 torn every dog in my possession ! 
 
 " I went to reconnoitre him through an iron-stanchioned 
 
 * Dr. Clarke, of Nottingham, relates a case in that neighbourhood, of 
 a dog that was not suspected to labour under rabies until ten days after 
 he had bitten an unfortunate man, who, in six weeks after the bite, died 
 of hydrophobia. This dog ate and drank heartily, showed no signs of 
 indisposition, hunted as usual, and occasionally went into a neighbour's 
 house among children, without injuring any of them; but, on the 
 morning of the tenth day (that is, ten days after communicating the 
 disease by the bite, and when he had no hydrophobia) he was seen 
 snapping at every dog in the street, arid was in consequence destroyed. 
 
MIRACULOUS ESCAPE. 95 
 
 window : he was in the last and frightfullest stage of confirmed 
 hydrophobia. I sent for a rifle and terminated the animal's 
 life. 
 
 " I was at first afraid to inquire into the extent of my calamity. 
 I mustered courage to enter the kennel, and personally investi- 
 gated the state of my dogs. Every one of them, ten in number, 
 had been bitten, and several of them were fearfully mutilated 
 by the rabid animal I had despatched. Even the terriers had 
 not escaped ; and they, poor animals ! were necessarily in- 
 cluded in the general order for execution that I issued to 
 the keeper. That noble house-dog, who has been the 
 subject of your admiration, was fortunately preserved, by 
 having been sent for by a gentleman who resided in the 
 next county. 
 
 " A most extraordinary insensibility to danger was evinced 
 by the female members of my household. Unluckily, Antony 
 was absent in the mountains, setting a broken bone; the 
 keeper had accompanied me ; every one acquainted with the 
 habits and management of dogs was from home ; and the 
 kennel was entrusted to the kitchen-boy. On this occasion, 
 the disease appears to have come on gradually, and for days 
 the setter betrayed the customary signs of incipient madness. 
 Had he been tied up even when the malady was fully estab- 
 lished, no mischief might have resulted. But until his violence 
 became frightful, he was actually permitted to run about the 
 house, and got access to the kennel, while the boy was carrying 
 food to his charge. 
 
 " The escape of the servants was miraculous. The day 
 only before my arrival, the dog, in a paroxysm of suffering, 
 had thrown himself across the fire-place. ' Come away from 
 that, Biddy/ said the old cook, with perfect nonchalance, to 
 her attendant: * Don't ye see the dog is mad?' and continued 
 some culinary operation, in which, at a distant corner of the 
 kitchen, she was engaged. The boy's preservation was unac- 
 countable. The poor lad made many unavailing efforts to 
 part the dogs when fighting in the kennel, and prevent the 
 setters from being bitten. In this perilous attempt his 
 clothes were literally torn to ribbons ; but, fortunately for 
 himself, there was riot a scratch visible on his skin." 
 
96 PREPARATIONS FOR EMBARKATION. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Preparations for visiting Achil Embarkation and passage to Dugurth 
 Fishing Sea-fowl shooting Meeting the lugger Picturesque ap- 
 pearance of the vessel Our landing Coast-guard watch-house 
 Slieve More Grouse scarce Rabit-shooting Interior of the watch- 
 house Culinary proceedings The Dutchman Morning, and a 
 headache A sea-bath The eagle's aerie Curious anecdote of these 
 birds Grouse-shooting Demolition of a pack Rock-fishing 
 Dangerous employment Fatal accident John Dory A temperate 
 evening. 
 
 FOR three days it has continued raining and blowing 
 violently. We fortunately abandoned the mountain-hut, on 
 noticing the unpromising state of the weather, before the 
 flood rose to a height aspect would have insulated us in the 
 hills. We have determined on an excursion into Achil, 
 and wait impatiently until the wind and clouds give some 
 indications of amendment. The moon enters her second 
 quarter to-night, and we trust her ladyship's influence may 
 mitigate the unusual severity of the weather. 
 
 This morning my servant's report was favourable ; the sky 
 looked settled, the wind blew from the north-west, and old 
 Antony was satisfied with the prognostics. My cousin was 
 already a-foot, and his voice at my window loudly summoned 
 me to " turn-out." I opened the curtains the sun was 
 shining, as if he intended to keep a fair face throughout the 
 day, and there was a cheerful bustle in front of the Lodge 
 which gave " note of preparation." The main-sail of the 
 hooker was already chalk up and shivering in the morning 
 breeze; and the boatmen, sitting on the grass before the 
 window, were preparing lines and baiting spillets. The piper 
 looked on, stretching one arm lazily out, while with the 
 other he hitched up the waistband of his unmentionables; 
 and frequent visits of the dog-boy to the kennel, showed 
 that both bipeds and quadrupeds would be shortly in requi- 
 sition. Hammocks, hampers, and gun -cases, were subsequently 
 embarked, and about eight o'clock we had finished our 
 dejeuner and committed our persons and fortunes to the 
 waves. 
 
 Never was there a lovelier day or wilder scenery ; after 
 we had cleared the river and opened the bay, a view of 
 
PASSAGE TO DTJGURTH. 9? 
 
 surpassing grandeur was presented. We were surrounded 
 on every side by an amphitheatre of bold and endless hills, 
 except where the opening to the Atlantic showed us the 
 dark waters of a boundless ocean the surface was clear 
 and undisturbed and the light breeze rippled the long and 
 measured undulations from the sea, and bore us gently towards 
 the island. The bay was filled with mackerel, and consequently 
 it was crowded with sea-fowl. In clamorous groups the 
 gulls were darting on the fish below, and an endless variety 
 of puffins and cormorants were incessant in pursuit of the 
 smaller fry, which had attracted the shoals of mackerel 
 from the deep. But the wind was too scanty, and the 
 hooker's sailing not sufficiently fast, to allow us to kill fish 
 in any quantity. We occasionally, however, caught a 
 mackerel, and shot among a number of water-fowls a beau- 
 tiful specimen of the sea-hawk, which I shall endeavour to 
 preserve.* 
 
 We had gradually neared Dugurth, which is the only spot 
 on which for many miles a boat, even in moderate weather, 
 can safely effect a landing, when a galley stood out of Elly bay 
 and bore down upon us. Our courses nearly crossed : they 
 were running off the wind, we close-hauled as possible. No- 
 thing could be more picturesque than the light and elegant 
 appearance of this " fairy frigate." At a little distance she 
 seemed a cloud of canvass flitting across the sea, for the 
 long low hull was not visible until her close approach re- 
 vealed it. Her large lugs and topsails where of the whitest 
 duck, and as all her sails drew, light as the breeze was, she 
 
 * Large birds should be carefully skinned, the head, tail, and feet, 
 left entire ; the skin may then be either put into a vessel of spirits, or 
 rubbed well on the inside with the following mixture : One pound of 
 salt, four ounces of alum, and two ounces of pepper, pounded together. 
 Small birds may he thus treated. Take out the entrails, open a passage 
 to the brain, which should be scooped out through the mouth, introduce 
 into the cavities of the skull, and the whole body, some of the above 
 mixture, putting it also through the gullet and entire length of the neck. 
 Hang the bird in a cool airy place, first by the feet, that the body may 
 be impregnated by the salt, and afterwards by a thread through the under 
 mandible of the bill, till it appears to be sweet, then expose it in the sun, 
 or near a fire ; after it is well dried, clean out what remains loose of the 
 xx>ixtiire, and fill the cavity of the body with wool, oakum, or any soft 
 ubstance. 
 
98 SLIEVE MORE. 
 
 passed us with the velocity of a race-horse. The airy motion 
 of this " light shalloop" as she glided through the water, 
 might to the fancy of a poet, present a similitude of that 
 imaginary bark, in which the spirits of departed mariners 
 are seen flitting over the dark billows beneath which their 
 bodies rest. 
 
 Having weathered the Ridge Point, we made a signal for a 
 rowing-boat, and one immediately came off. Our boatmen, 
 having ascertained by their landmarks that they were upon 
 clean ground, prepared to shoot their spillets. We left them, 
 taking with us our dogs and attendants, and landed on a small 
 sandy beach. 
 
 Having established our head-quarters in the watch-house of 
 the coast-guard, and procured an adjoining cabin for the suite, 
 we set out to look for grouse, taking a westerly direction along 
 the base of Slieve More. Deceived by the false report of the vil- 
 lagers, we found the beat we had chosen neither a pleasant nor 
 productive one. The heath was short and withered, the side of the 
 mountain unsheltered, and exposed to the severe and almost 
 eternal west wind : and, with the exception of a very few banks 
 beside the water- courses, and one or two natural ravines, 
 there was not a spot in which a grouse could shelter. In these 
 hollows we generally found a stager* and in one rugged dell 
 shot three old cocks. Contrary to their general caution they 
 stood the dogs well, or, from the short cover and stunted heath, 
 had the weather been wet and the birds wary, it would have 
 been almost impossible to have approached them.f The 
 peasants, while looking after cattle and cutting peats upon the 
 
 * An old cock grouse which has not paired. 
 
 f Against running after grouse I uplift my voice. If they are wild, 
 and will not stand or sit, a commonplace occurrence in wet cold weather, 
 I would recommend gentlemen to remain at home. If circumstances 
 bring them to the moors, or they are particularly solicited (as. I have 
 often been) to procure birds, let them depend on close-marking-, tie up 
 every dog but the steadiest one, and quietly, patiently, and silently 
 endeavour to come within range of their object. If the bird moves, then 
 to out-flank him is the best chance. Take a considerable circuit, and the 
 more apparent carelessness you show in striving to close with a wild 
 grouse, the more likely you will be to succeed. If the bird observes 
 any hurry in the approach of the shooter, he will take alarm instantly, 
 and an immediate flight will slusw that he has been perfectly on the 
 
COAST-GUARD WATCH-HOUSE. 99 
 
 hill, had frequently disturbed those solitary birds, and concluded 
 from meeting them so often, that there must be some packs 
 convenient. 
 
 Too late we found out our error ; it was four o'clock, and 
 we determined to abandon the heath for the day ; and, having 
 from a high ground examined the interior of the island, we 
 arranged to-morrow's beat accordingly. 
 
 Quitting the hill, we walked for a mile along the beach to 
 some bent banks, where we were told that rabbits were abundant. 
 In an hour we shot eight pair, and two couple of whimbrels ; 
 and perceiving that the hooker had anchored off the landing- 
 place, we gave up shooting and returned to the watch- 
 house. 
 
 In our absence the servants had been active ; they slung 
 our hammocks, and made the necessary preparations for 
 cooking dinner. The chief officer of the coast-guard 
 kindly gave us his own apartment. His little cabin was 
 crowded with every necessary requisite for one so far 
 removed from the civilized portion of mankind, and it was 
 amusing to remark the ingenuity with which the occupier 
 had arranged his numerous goods and chattels ; nothing 
 could exceed the cleanliness of his cottage, and it formed a 
 striking contrast to the filth and misery of the surrounding 
 hovels. 
 
 The boatmen were just landing in their punt, and we 
 descended to the beach to ascertain what addition to our 
 cuisine the spillets had afforded. They produced a pair of 
 fine soles, and a score of large plaice. These, with the 
 mackerel taken in the morning, supplied the fish department 
 admirably. Our purveyor had purchased a Keim sheep ,-* 
 and at six o'clock we went to dinner. Nothing could be more 
 delicious than our fare; fish transferred from the sea to 
 the kettle, and diminutive mutton, whose only fault was 
 excessive fatness. We had a grouse, too, one of our stagers, 
 but it was coarse and flavourless ; and if toughness be a 
 test of years, I should set him down as coeval with Saint 
 Patrick. 
 
 The host joined us after dinner, and presented us with a 
 bottle of genuine Inniskea. If such be the customary produce 
 
 * Keim is a mountain district of Achil, celebrated for the flavour and 
 fatness of its sheep. 
 
 H S 
 
100 A SEA BATH. 
 
 of their stills, those gifted islanders are worthy of being 
 canonized. Although our host's flask was a true Hollander, 
 having an amplitude of bottom that would have put two 
 degenerate wine-bottles to the blush, I regret to say such 
 unyielding thirst beset us, that before any of the company 
 sought a hammock, the honest Dutchman was left without 
 a drop ! 
 
 We were astir betimes next morning. It was an excel- 
 lent shooting- day ; a brisk breeze had sprung up with the 
 first of flood, and the fog rising gradually up the mountain- 
 side, cleared the summit of Slieve More, leaving its rugged 
 pinnacle a disordered mass of shivered granite sparkling in 
 the sunshine. Our dogs were in beautiful condition ; and we 
 were gratified to hear from a water-guard patrol, that, but an 
 hour before, he had sprung a strong pack of birds on our pur- 
 posed beat. 
 
 But, alas ! the departed Dutchman had left us certain 
 twinges in the head to make us recollect him, and we felt 
 a nervous sensibility that was anything but favourable to 
 good shooting. An immersion in the sea was recommended 
 as a certain remedy, and our host conducted us to a rock, from 
 which we could plunge into water four fathoms deep, and yet 
 clear enough to enable us to observe the shells and pebbles at 
 the bottom. We enjoyed a delightful ablution, returned new 
 men to the watch-house, and, like giants refreshed, prepared 
 for a good day's fag. 
 
 So salutary proved our bath, that we breakfasted as if we 
 had never drained a Dutchman in our lives. The dogs were 
 duly coupled, and sundry disengaged gentlemen of the village, 
 whom we found lounging at the door, were being invested 
 with shot and game bags, when, roused by an exclamation of 
 the keeper, we witnessed a curious scene. 
 
 In a huge and inaccessible crag, on the east side of Slieve 
 More, and immediately above the coast-guard station, the eagles 
 had formed an aerie ; a fissure in the cliffs beyond the possi- 
 bility of being disturbed by the approach of man, afforded these 
 birds for many years a secure retreat. Here, annually, they 
 produced their offspring, to the sad annoyance of the islanders, 
 and more particularly the villagers of Dugurth. This morning 
 they had descended from their rocky habitation, accompanied 
 
A PACK DISPOSED OF. 101 
 
 by two eaglets, evidently to teach their young to stoop and 
 lift their prey.* The old birds tore up turfs from the mountain 
 side, rose high in the air, and dropped them. The eaglets, in 
 turn, stooped, and took them up again. This was frequently 
 repeated, and the course of instruction having lasted half-an- 
 hour, the eagles mounted to their aerie, and, leaving their 
 progeny safely in the nest, sailed off upon the rising breeze 
 to provide for the evening meal. We viewed the proceedings of 
 this predatory family through the telescope of the coast-guard, 
 who gave us many curious anecdotes of those daring and 
 destructive birds. 
 
 We took an opposite course to the barren beat we had 
 yesterday pursued. The bogs were intersected by several 
 mountain-streams, whose dry and heathy banks offered excel- 
 lent feeding and shelter for grouse. Our success, however, 
 was very indifferent to what we had anticipated, from the 
 promising appearance of the ground, and we had spent an hour, 
 hunting with two brace of prime dogs, before we saw a bird. 
 We met numerous indications of a strong pack having recently 
 visited the river, and left no place untried which birds might 
 be expected to frequent. At last, we began to imagine that 
 the eagles had been here before us, when at some distance a 
 young setter dropped on a heathy brow that overhung the 
 rivulet. We were advancing, but the. pack, alarmed by the 
 sudden appearance of the dog above them, took wing, and we 
 had to content ourselves with reckoning them, as they got up 
 bird by bird. We counted nineteen, and concluded that two 
 broods had packed accidentally.! They all pitched in a scat- 
 tered manner on the side of a neighbouring eminence, and 
 having marked them carefully down, we took up one brace of 
 dogs, and with the other proceeded quietly to work. I never 
 in my sporting experience saw a pack disposed of in better 
 style. The dogs picked up the broken birds immediately, and 
 with one miss (mine was the deed !) we brought nine brace 
 
 * " The story of the eagle brought to the ground, after a severe conflict 
 with a cat, which it had seized and taken up into the air with its talons, 
 is very remarkable. Mr. Barber, who was an eye-witness of the fact, 
 made a drawing of it, which he afterwards engraved." Bewick. 
 
 f I have never known red grouse flock in Ireland. Excepting an 
 accidental junction of two broods, I have not met with grouse in any 
 considerable number. Broods will occasionally pack together, but it is 
 not a commom occurrence. 
 
102 ROCK-FISHING. 
 
 to bag. The sole survivor probably roaded off during the 
 slaughter, or threw himself into a hole in the heath, for we 
 could not make him out. 
 
 From our opening essay, we reckoned that this would prove 
 an exterminating day ; but with the destruction of this pack 
 our sport might be said to cease. For hours we traversed hills 
 and crossed moors, meeting but one weak brood and a few 
 stagers. We did find another brood, but the poults were 
 scarcely able to leave the ground, and consequently were too 
 weak for shooting. From their appearance, we concluded 
 them to be a second progeny of birds, who had lost their first 
 eggs by robbery or vermin. We met, however, a number of 
 hares, and shot seven. These, with thirteen brace of grouse, 
 filled the game bags. 
 
 Our course homewards lay along the base of Slieve More. 
 The evening was calm and sultry, and a number of men and 
 women of all ages were seated on the rocks fishing for gun- 
 ners,* or gaffing the horse-mackerel, which were seen in 
 numbers on the surface of the water. 
 
 This rock-fishing is more dangerous than productive, and 
 many lives have been lost in pursuing it. Descending the 
 precipices to reach the water's edge is attended with imminent 
 risk : and as sudden and terrible swells come in frequently and 
 unexpectedly from the Atlantic, many fishers have been swept 
 off the rocks, and perished. Another perilous occupation of 
 the female peasants is what they term " picking cranagh." 
 This sea-weed, which forms a favourite esculent of the 
 islanders, grows on the rocks that are but occasionally 
 covered by the sea. Exposure to sudden swells from the 
 ocean attends those who search for it, and loss of life has too 
 often occurred. 
 
 * The gunner is the common name given to the sea-bream by the 
 fishermen of the western coast. They are found near the shore, in from 
 five to fifteen fathom water, where the bottom is foul and rocky. The 
 gunners are pretty, but insipid fish, and in variety of colour differ from 
 each other more than any species of the finny tribe I have met with. In 
 size, they seldom exceed three or four pounds : but from the avidity with 
 hich they bite, they afford excellent amusement when the breeze is not 
 sufficiently stiff to allow a take of mackerel and coal-fish. The bait 
 generally used for gunners, is a small crab, broken, and bound about the 
 hook with a thread ; and two hooks affixed to a trap- stick, with a light 
 leaden plummet, comprise the simple apparatus requisite for this kind of 
 sea fishing. 
 
MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT. 103 
 
 One accident, which happened not long since, was truly 
 melancholy. A woman, the mother of several helpless chil- 
 dren, and who but a month before had given birth to twins, 
 perished in the sight of her family. No relief in such cases 
 can be given : the reflux of these mountainous waves bears 
 the victims away, and, with rare exceptions, the bodies are 
 never found, as .they are either borne out to sea, or entombed 
 in one of the many deep caverns with which the bases of these 
 fearful precipices are perforated. 
 
 We reached home at seven, made a hasty toilet, and dined 
 sumptuously from mountain mutton and a fine John Dory, 
 which the priest had sent us in our absence. Determined to 
 eschew temptation, we avoided engaging a fresh Dutchman, 
 which our host pressed upon us, and put in a quiet even- 
 ing. After smoking a cigar, and discussing its necessary 
 association of schnaps and water, we turned into our ham- 
 mocks in such grave and philosophic moderation, as might 
 have claimed the approbation of Sir Humphry, and entitled 
 us to a place of honour in any Temperance Society in Great 
 Britain. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Prepare to leave Achil Visit to the Eagle's Cliff Attempts to destroy 
 these birds Their depredations Partiality for black fowls Destroy 
 fish Anecdote of an eagle and salmon Exterminate hares Their 
 mode of coursing and catching salmon Foxes, numerous and destruc- 
 tive Smaller birds of prey Run to Inniskea Devilawn Tarraon 
 Difficult coast to land on Woman and Curragh Rabbit shooting 
 Local sketches Twilight scenery Dangerous idiot Whisky Its 
 excellence Copper stills Island seldom visited by the revenue 
 Character of the islanders Particular in burying their dead Prone to 
 litigation The lawsuit. 
 
 FROM the scarcity of grouse in Achil, we altered our original 
 plans, and decided upon sending our dogs back to the Lodge 
 by a rowing-boat, and going in the hooker to visit the island 
 of Inniskea. 
 
 After breakfast we proceeded to embark our personals ; and 
 having despatched our heavy luggage by the attendants, whom 
 we ordered home, we ascended the hill, (while the crew were 
 
104 VISIT TO THE EAGLE'S CLIFF. 
 
 clearing and baiting their spillets,) in the vague hope of 
 getting a shot at those predatory birds, of whose spoliations 
 we had heard so much on the preceding evening. 
 
 On reaching the bottom of the rock in whose face the 
 aerie stands, we discovered that the old birds were absent ; 
 and as the nest was formed in a deep fissure, we could not 
 ascertain its situation exactly. But that the eagles' dwelling 
 was above us was evident enough : the base of the cliff 
 was strewn with bones and feathers, and the accumulation of 
 both was extraordinary. The bones of rabbits, hares, and 
 domestic fowls, were most numerous ; but those of smaller 
 game, and various sorts of fish, were visible among the 
 heap. 
 
 Many attempts are annually made to destroy this predatory 
 family ; but it is impossible to rob the nest. Situated two 
 hundred feet above the base of the rock, it is, of course, 
 unapproachable from below; and as the cliffs beetle over it 
 frightfully, to assail it from above would be a hazardous essay. 
 An enterprising peasant some years since was let down by a 
 rope and basket ; but he was fiercely attacked by the old 
 birds, and the basket nearly overturned. Fortunately, the 
 cord was strong, and had sufficient length to allow his being 
 lowered rapidly, or he would have undoubtedly sustained some 
 bodily injury from the wings and talons of those enraged and 
 savage birds.* 
 
 * The following interesting anecdote is well authenticated: "Two 
 eagles, in the wildest part of a neighbouring county, had for some time 
 depredated on the neighbourhood, and bore away lambs, kids, &c., for the 
 sustenance of their young. Some peasants determined, if possible, to 
 obtain the young birds ; and ascended the mountains, but found that the 
 nest was in a part of the perpendicular rock, near one hundred feet 
 below the summit, and about three hundred above the sea, which, with 
 terrific appearances, dashed against its base. They had provided them- 
 selves with ropes, and a lad, armed with a cimetar, was by this means 
 lowered by the rest. He arrived in safety at the nest, where, as he 
 expected, he was attacked with infinite fury by one of the old eagles, at 
 which he made a stroke with his sword, that nearly cut asunder the rope 
 by which he was suspended. Fortunately, one strand of it remained. 
 He described his state to his comrades, waiting in horrible expectation 
 that the division of the cord would precipitate him to the bottom ; but 
 though he might have been to die by a rope, it was not in this manner. 
 He was cautiously and safely hauled up ; when it was found that his 
 hair, which a quarter of an hour before had been of a dark auburn, had 
 in that short period become perfectly white." 
 
THE EAGLE DESTRUCTIVE TO SALMON. 105 
 
 The village of Dugurth suffers heavily from its unfortunate 
 proximity to the aerie. When the wind blows from a favourable 
 point, the eagle in the grey of morning sweeps through the 
 cabins, and never fails in carrying off some prey. 
 
 To black fowls, eagles appear particularly attached ; and 
 the villagers avoid as much as possible rearing birds of that 
 colour. 
 
 A few days before our arrival, one of the coast-guard, 
 alarmed by the cries of a boy, rushed from the watch-house : 
 the eagle had taken up a black hen, and as he passed within 
 a few yards, the man flung his cap at him. The eagle dropped 
 the bird; it was quite dead, however, the talons having 
 shattered the back-bone. The villagers say (with what truth 
 I know not) that turkeys are never taken. 
 
 That the eagle is extremely destructive to fish, and parti- 
 cularly so to salmon, many circumstances would prove. They 
 are constantly discovered watching the fords in the spawning 
 season, and are seen to seize and carry off the fish. One 
 curious anecdote I heard from my friend the priest. Some 
 years since, a herdsman, on a very sultry day in July, while 
 looking for a missing sheep, observed an eagle posted on a 
 bank that overhung a pool. Presently the bird stooped and 
 
 seized a salmon, and a violent struggle ensued. When the 
 herd reached the spot, he found the eagle pulled under water 
 
106 SCARCITY OF GAME, 
 
 by the strength of the fish, and the calmness of the day, 
 joined to drenched plumage, rendered him unable to extricate 
 himself. With a stone, the peasant broke the eagle's pinion, 
 and actually secured the spoiler and his victim, for he found 
 the salmon dying in his grasp. 
 
 When shooting on Lord Sligo's mountains, near the 
 Killeries, I heard many particulars of the eagle's habits and 
 histoia^from a grey-haired peasant, who had passed a long 
 life il^l^fcwilds. ^ ne scarcity of hares, which here were 
 once abuml^T he attributed to the rapacity of those birds ; 
 and he affirmed that, when in pursuit of these animals, the 
 eagle evinced a degree of intelligence that appeared extra- 
 ordinary. They coursed the hares, he said, with great 
 judgment and certain success ; one bird was the active 
 follower, while another remained in reserve, at the distance of 
 forty or fifty yards. If the hare, by a sudden turn, freed 
 herself from her most pressing enemy, the second bird 
 Instantly took up the chase, and thus prevented the victim 
 from having a moment's respite. 
 
 He had remarked the eagles, also, while they were engaged 
 in fishing. They chose a small ford upon the rivulet which 
 connects Glencullen with Glandullah, and, posted on either 
 side, waited patiently for the salmon to pass over. Their 
 watch was never fruitless ; and many a salmon, in its transit 
 from the sea to the lake, was transferred from his native 
 element to the wild aerie in the Alpine cliff, that beetles over 
 the romantic waters of Glencullen. 
 
 Nor is it to birds of prey alone that the extreme scarcity of 
 game upon this island may be attributed. Foxes are found 
 here in numbers that appear incredible. The sides of Slieve 
 More, in places formed of masses of disrupted rock, afford 
 numerous and inaccessible burrows to those mischievous 
 animals ; and the sand-banks, stocked with rabbits, offer them 
 an easy and certain means of subsistence. Hence, their 
 annual increase is wonderful ; and the numbers on the island 
 may be estimated from this simple fact, that one of the coast- 
 guard, who happened to have a 'coigple of good terriers, 
 destroyed, in the space of a season eighteen full-grown foxes.* 
 
 * Dr. Johnson, in his Tour to the Hebrides, remarks, " To check 
 the ravages of the foxes in the Isle of Sky, the inhabitants set a price 
 upon their heads, which, as the number diminished, has been gradually 
 
WOMAN AND CTJKRAGH. 107 
 
 The multitude of lambs lost by these depredators, has nearly 
 deterred the islanders from keeping ewes ; and there is 
 not a spot in Great Britain so persecuted by winged and 
 footed vermin as this wild district. Of smaller birds of prey, 
 there is a plentiful variety ; but the devastations of the greater 
 tribe cause their minor larcenies to be unnoticed. 
 
 With a light leading breeze, we stood across the bay, 
 
 passed the Island of Devilawn, and, running through^gfc 
 which separates Tarmon from Inniskea, came t6Teu|pV dis- 
 tance of a quarter of a mile from the landing-place. It was 
 low water, and the boats were all hauled up upon the beach. 
 Even in the calmest weather, the greatest caution is requisite 
 to protect them from the heavy and sudden swells that 
 eternally break on this wild coast; and, if left within the 
 reach of the surf, they are frequently stove before the careless 
 crew are aware of danger. Anxious to land, we fired a gun, 
 and, being upon an excellent bank for spillet-fishing, the 
 boatmen adjusted their buoys, and commenced throwing their 
 lines overboard. 
 
 I was watching the progress made by a dozen of the 
 islanders to launch a row-boat to the water, when suddenly, 
 from beneath the opposite cliff, a floating substance appeared 
 to issue from the side of the precipice. We had neared the 
 shore considerably, and the object, of which I had previously 
 but an indistinct view, was now more clearly seen. It was 
 a woman sitting in a curragh, fishing for codling and gunners. 
 Startled by the discharge of the musket, she pulled a short 
 distance from the cliffs, and then lay-to upon her paddles, 
 watching the hooker as she shot the spillets. 
 
 " These lazy lubbers will be half an hour getting that heavy 
 row-boat across the sand-ridge," said my kinsman. "Hail 
 the curragh, Pattigo, and let us get ashore." 
 
 To the shout of the skipper, a " cead fealtagh/' was 
 returned ; the paddles dipped in the water, the light curragh 
 skimmed over the surface like a sea-bird, and in a few minutes 
 the female and her frail bark were rocking beneath the counter 
 of the sailing-boat. 
 
 raised, from three shillings and sixpence to a guinea ; a sum so great in 
 this part of the world," adds the Doctor, " that in a short time Sky may 
 be as free from foxes as England from wolves." The fund for tiiesa 
 rewards is a tax of sixpence in the pound, imposed by the farmers oil 
 themselves, and said to be paid with great willingness. 
 
108 LANDING. 
 
 I shuddered as I looked over the hooker's side at this crazy 
 vehicle ; it was but a few slight hoops, secured together by 
 cords, and overlaid by a covering of canvass, rendered water- 
 proof by a coating of tar arid tallow. The machine was so 
 unsubstantial, that a schoolboy could carry it easily upon his 
 shoulders. Nor was its fragility alone that which rendered 
 this bark so perilous ; from its peculiar construction, it scarcely 
 rested on the surface of the sea ; and, consequently, the least 
 change of position in the occupant, would inevitably capsize 
 it ; and yet in this frail vessel the young islander sat in perfect 
 security, a couple of hand-lines coiled at her feet, and the 
 bottom of the curragh overspread with the produce of her 
 fishery. Without the romance of Scott's beautiful boatwoman, 
 there was something more than interesting in the air and look 
 of this wild female. Free from that timidity which might be 
 expected in the inhabitant of a remote coast, on her first 
 introduction to strangers of a different grade in society, she 
 laughed and jested with the boatmen ; and the play of her 
 merry hazel eye, and the smile which disclosed a row of pure 
 and even teeth, had really more in them to captivate, than 
 the cold and regular charms of many a high-born beauty. 
 
 " We must land singly," said my cousin ; "for your curragh 
 is but a crank concern. Mind how you step in, Frank." But 
 I had already determined against an embarkation, and accord- 
 ingly declined the honour of being first adventurer. My 
 timidity only excited the mirth of the sea-nymph ; and, 
 unwilling to be laughed at by a woman, I took courage, and 
 cautiously committed my person to the skiff; a change of 
 position was of course necessary on the lady's part, and this 
 she managed with such adroitness, that the equilibrium of the 
 coracle was undisturbed. In a moment, her sculls were 
 flashing in the waters, and we speedily reached the strand. 
 
 The rowing-boat was now afloat, and pulling to the hooker 
 to bring off my kinsman. My sea-nymph tossed her fish and 
 paddles to a little boy, who was expecting her, received with 
 a low curtsey the silver I presented as my passage-money, 
 and, having returned her small purse to her bosom, she threw 
 the curragh across her back, and left me, invoking tf God to 
 bless my honour." 
 
 The boat returned my cousin and our guns ; and while the 
 dinner requisites were being brought ashore, we strolled towards 
 the side of a hill, where we observed a number of rabbits at 
 
TWILIGHT SCENERY. 109 
 
 play. They were very numerous, and exhibited a greater 
 variety than those of the other warrens that I had as yet 
 visited. We selected some of the gayest colour for our practice, 
 and whiled an hour away, until a summons from the cook 
 recalled us to the village. 
 
 The spillets had provided us sumptuously with flat-fish, 
 and a present of shrimps and lobsters completed oar cuisine. 
 The best house in the island had offered us its accommo- 
 dation, and there was an appearance of comfort and rustic 
 opulence in the furniture, that we had not anticipated when 
 we landed. 
 
 There are numerous chances and godsends incident to these 
 islands, which the other lines of sea-coast seldom obtain. 
 Frequent and valuable wrecks furnish the inhabitants with 
 many articles of domestic utility. The drift timber from the 
 Atlantic gives them an abundant supply for the building and 
 repairs of boats and houses ; and immense quantities of sea- 
 fowl feathers are annually collected upon the Black Rock, 
 which is contiguous to Inniskea. The island affords excellent 
 pasturage for sheep ; and thus timber, feathers, and wool, 
 enable the inhabitants to have domestic comforts in abundance. 
 In winter, the take of cod, hake, and ling, is inexhaustible ; 
 peats are excellent and plenty, and food and fuel are conse- 
 quently never scarce in Inniskea. 
 
 These are, doubtless, great advantages over the interior 
 districts, but they are barely necessary to compensate the 
 other local inconveniences. Throughout the greater portion 
 of the winter, all communication with the main is interrupted. 
 The sick must die without relief, and the sinner pass to his 
 account without the consolations of religion. Should anything 
 beyond the produce of the island be requisite in the stormy 
 months, it must be procured with imminent danger; and 
 constant loss of life and property, forms the unhappy theme of 
 the tales and traditions of this insulated people. 
 
 A calm and misty twilight had fallen on Slieve More, and 
 abridged the almost boundless range of ocean, over which 
 the eye passed when we first landed. At a little distance the 
 village girls were milking, carolling those melancholy ditties 
 to which the Irish are so partial. I strolled among the rocks, 
 and chose the narrow path, which the full tide left between 
 its margin and the cliffs. The moon was rising now in 
 exquisite beauty the water was rippling to the rocks one 
 
110 A NATURAL. 
 
 long and wavy line of molten silver undulated across the 
 surface of the sea and there were wild cliffs and bolder 
 headlands in glorious relief. No scene on earth could be more 
 peaceful or romantic. 
 
 I was indulging in delicious reverie, when something like a 
 bird flitted hastily by again, and there was a heavy plump in 
 the water. I looked up, a wild unearthly looking creature 
 stood on the cliff above, in the very act of launching a huge 
 stone at me ! Just then a female figure rose beside him, and 
 with threats and blows drove him from the rock. It was my 
 fair friend of the curragh, who seeing me take the lonely path 
 I did, hastened after to warn me of the danger. She told me 
 that the assailant was a dangerous lunatic ; he was treacherous 
 beyond description, and his antipathy to women and strangers 
 was remarkable. Many accidents had occurred from his 
 savage disposition. He feared men and rarely attacked them ; 
 but if he saw a female at a distance from the village, he would 
 lurk with malignant perseverance for hours behind a bank or 
 cliff to attack her unawares. Some of the island women had 
 narrowly escaped death from this truculent monster, and few 
 of the males but had at some time or other suffered injury 
 from his hands ; a stone w r as his favourite missile, which he 
 threw with wonderful force and precision. To my inquiry 
 " Why this dangerous being was not removed to some 
 asylum ?" my protectress replied with a smile, " He was but 
 a poor natural, after all ; he was born in the island, and God 
 forbid that they should send him among strangers." On 
 conversing with my cousin afterwards, he told me that, in the 
 west of Ireland, the peasantry had a superstitious veneration 
 for idiots and madmen, and, like the Turks, believed that 
 insanity and inspiration were only synonymes. 
 
 The illicit whisky made in this island holds a first rank 
 in the estimation of the poteein fancier. The cause of its 
 superior excellency may arise from the insular situation of the 
 place, enabling the distiller to carry on his business leisurely, 
 and thus avoid the bad consequences attendant on hurrying 
 the process, for to rapid and defective distillation may be 
 ascribed the burnt flavour, so common in whisky produced 
 within the range of the Revenue. The barley, also, grown in 
 this and the other adjacent islands, is excellent and as the 
 spirit is drawn from a copper still, it has many advantages to 
 'ecommend it. The illicit apparatus in common use is, with 
 
STILLS. Ill 
 
 few exceptions, made of tin the capture of a copper still, 
 from the superior value of the metal, would be a serious loss, 
 and consequently a cheaper substitute is resorted to. 
 
 Here, the still is considered a valuable heirloom in a family, 
 and descends in due succession from father to son. When 
 not in use, it is lowered by a rope into one of the deep 
 caverns, with which the western face of the island abounds, 
 and nothing but a treacherous disclosure by some secret enemy 
 could enable the Revenue to discover the place where it is 
 concealed, in any of the unfrequent visits they make to this 
 remote spot. 
 
 That the attention of the Preventive officers is not more 
 particularly turned to a place notorious for its inroads on the 
 Revenue, may appear strange. In fact, this island enjoys a 
 sort of prescriptive privilege to sin against the ordinances of 
 the Excise. This indulgence arises, however, not from the 
 apathy of the Revenue, but from natural causes which are 
 easily explained. A boat may approach Inniskea in the full 
 confidence of a settled calm, and before an hour a gale may 
 come on, that will render any chance of leaving it imprac- 
 ticable, and weeks will elapse occasionally before an abatement 
 of the storm would allow the imprisoned stranger to quit 
 those dangerous shores. Hence, in his professional avoca- 
 tions, the priest is obliged to watch the weather carefully 
 before he ventures to visit Inniskea and it has not unfre- 
 quently occurred, that the rites of religion have been inter- 
 rupted, and the celebrant obliged to embark at a moment's 
 notice, to avoid the consequences of being caught by a coming 
 gale. The islanders, from constant observation of the pheno- 
 mena of sea and sky, generally foresee the storm before it 
 blows ; but even the oldest and most skilful inhabitant will 
 frequently be surprised by an unexpected tempest. 
 
 There are no people on earth more punctilious in the 
 interment of the dead, than the peasantry of this remote 
 district. A strange and unaccountable custom exists of 
 burying different families, resident on the main, in island 
 cemeteries, and great difficulty, and oftentimes imminent 
 peril, attends the conveyance of a corpse to its insulated 
 resting-place. No inducement will make those wild people 
 inter a body apart from the tomb of its fathers, arid if a boat 
 will live, the corpse will be transported to the family tomb. 
 At times the weather renders this impracticable, but the 
 
11.2 LEGEND OF A LAW-SUIT. 
 
 deceased is kept for many days unbuired in the hope that the 
 storm may subside ; and only when frail mortality evinces 
 unequivocal tokens of decay, will the relatives consent to unite 
 its dust with the ashes of a stranger. 
 
 It is asserted, but with what truth I cannot pretend to state, 
 that the inhabitants of Inniskea are prone to litigation, and a 
 curious legend of a lawsuit is told upon the main, illustrative 
 of this their quarrelsome disposition. A century ago, two 
 persons were remarkable here for superior opulence, and had 
 become the envy and wonder of their poorer neighbours. 
 Their wealth consisted of a flock of sheep, when, unfortunately, 
 some trifling dispute occurring between them, a dissolution of 
 partnership was resolved upon. To divide the flock, one 
 would suppose, would not be difficult, and they proceeded to 
 partition the property accordingly. They possessed one 
 hundred and one sheep ; fifty fell to each proprietor, but the 
 odd one how was it to be disposed of ? Neither would part 
 with his moiety to the other, and after a long and angry 
 negotiation, the animal was left in common property between 
 them. Although the season had not come round when sheep 
 are usually shorn, one of the proprietors, requiring wool for a 
 pair of stockings, proposed that the fleece should be taken off. 
 This was resisted by his co-partner, and the point was finally 
 settled by shearing one side of the animal. Only a few days 
 after, the sheep was found dead in a deep ditch ; one party 
 ascribed the accident to the cold feelings of the animal having 
 urged him to seek a shelter in the fatal trench ; while the 
 other contended, that the wool remaining upon one side had 
 caused the wether to lose its equilibrium, and thus the melan- 
 choly catastrophe was occasioned. The parties went to law 
 directly, and the expenses of the suit actually devoured the 
 produce of the entire flock, and reduced both to a state 
 of utter beggary. Their descendants are pointed out to 
 this day as being the poo/rest of the community, and litigants 
 are frequently warned to avoid the fate of " Malley and 
 M alone" 
 
 Notwithstanding the uncertainty of weather in Inniskea is 
 proverbial, we had no reason to complain. The sun rose 
 gloriously from the ocean every cloud vanished from the 
 rocky pinnacle of Slieve More a stiff breeze from the 
 north-west blew steadily, and by nine o'clock we had em- 
 barked our goods and persons ; and with as much wind as the 
 
MACKEREL FISHING. 113 
 
 hooker could carry her three sails to, we ran through the Sound 
 of Devilawn, and bade adieu to this interesting and hospitable 
 island. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Signs of Fish Mackerel Spillet-fishing Seal and Mermaids Anecdote 
 The Bull's Mouth Preservation of a Ship The Fox and Cruiser 
 The Lodge in a consternation Arrival The Colonel's Portmanteau 
 Robbing, and its consequences. 
 
 IT was evident that the bay was full of mackerel. In every 
 direction, and as far as the eye could range, gulls and puffins 
 were collected, and, to judge by their activity and clamour, 
 there appeared ample employment for them among the fry 
 beneath. We immediately bore away for the place where 
 these birds were most numerously congregated, and the lines 
 were scarcely overboard when we found ourselves in the centre 
 of a shoal of mackerel. 
 
 The hooker, however, had too much way. We lowered 
 the foresail, double-reefed the mainsail, and then went steadily 
 to work. Directed by the movements of the birds, we fol- 
 lowed the mackerel, tacking or wearing the boat occasionally, 
 when ^e found that we had overrun the shoal. For two 
 hours we killed those beautiful fish, as fast as the baits 
 could be renewed and the lines hauled in ; and when we 
 left off fishing, actually wearied with sport, we found that 
 we had taken above five hundred, including a number of the 
 coarser species, known on this coast by the name of Horse 
 Mackerel. 
 
 There is not on sea or river, always excepting angling for 
 salmon, any sport comparable to this delightful amusement. 
 Spillet and long-line fishing are generally tedious and un- 
 interesting ; and, unless the fish take freely, it is even with 
 moderate success a tame and spiritless employment. How 
 different is mackerel fishing! full of life and bustle, every 
 thing about it is animated and exhilarating ; a brisk breeze, 
 a fair sky, the boat in quick and constant motion, all 
 is calculated to interest and excite. But hanging for hours 
 above a spillet, or enduring the drudgery of lowering aud 
 
114 SEAL AND MERMAIDS. 
 
 hauling in an almost interminable length of line over the 
 side of a motionless boat, is an abomination. Like mud- 
 shooting, this is only work for a peasant, and should ac- 
 cordingly be excluded from the list of gentlemanly pursuits, 
 and consigned entirely to those with whom fishing is a 
 trade ; and profit, not pleasure, the object of their pisca- 
 tory occupations. He who has experienced the glorious 
 sensations of sailing on the western ocean, a bright autumnal 
 sky above, a deep green lucid swell around, a steady breeze, 
 and as much of it as the hooker can stand up to, will 
 estimate the exquisite enjoyment our morning's mackerel- 
 fishing afforded. 
 
 In following the shoal, we had crossed the bay, and got 
 under the Achil shore. Having made sail again, we stretched 
 over towards the Bull's Mouth, attracted by an immense 
 play of sea- fowls. It was nearly low water, and while running 
 past Innisbiggle, we observed several seals basking on the 
 rocks. One was so curiously couched among the seaweed, as 
 to render its species a subject of doubt and discussion, until 
 the close approach of the boat obliged it to quit the rock, 
 and thus afford a distinct view, while, to use the skipper's 
 phrase, it wabbled to the water. From the strange and 
 undefined ideas the seal's first appearance occasioned, accus- 
 tomed as we were to see the animal in its varied attitudes of 
 action or repose, it is not surprising that numerous and ridi- 
 culous extravagances have had their origin in the Phocse tribe 
 being seen under accidental circumstances by the wild and 
 credulous peasantry of this remote district. To these animals, 
 the submarine beings, who have for ages delighted the lovers 
 of the marvellous, may, without much difficulty, be traced ; 
 and many a wonder-stricken fisherman imagined himself 
 watching the movements of a mermaid, while all the time he 
 was only staring at a sea-calf. 
 
 A whimsical instance of the credulity of the peasantry was 
 mentioned by my kinsman. Some years ago, a party engaged 
 in a fishing excursion on the coast, came- to in Achil Sound, 
 and, leaving the boat, took up their quarters for the night in 
 the priest's house, which was situated in a neighbouring 
 village. One of the company was hunch-backed, with a face 
 cf singular and grotesque expression. Having indulged 
 gloriously over-night in the native beverage, which the honest 
 priest most liberally supplied, the little gentleman found 
 
ANECDOTE. 115 
 
 himself rather amiss in the morning, and determined to try 
 what salutary effect the cool sea-breeze might have upon 
 the fever warmth his nocturnal revelry had raised. He 
 left the cabin accordingly, and the early hour, with the 
 islanders' celebrity for a simplicity of costume, induced him 
 to postpone the business of the toilet to a more conve- 
 nient season, and to sally forth in perfect dishabille. For 
 a time he straggled along the shore, until reaching the 
 point of land which forms the entrance of Achil Sound, he 
 selected a smooth stone, and deposited his person among the 
 rocks, to meditate the hour away, before whose expiry he 
 could not expect that breakfast would be paraded in the 
 cabin. 
 
 It was dead low- water. Half-a-dozen row-boats, bound for 
 the fair of Newport, and filled with men and women, were 
 rowing merrily to the Bull's Mouth, intending to enter it upon 
 the first of flood. Having approached close to the spot where 
 the little gentleman was ensconsed among the seaweed, up 
 popped an outrt countenance, surmounted by a scarlet night- 
 cap ! The effect was sudden, for till now a rock had con- 
 cealed him from the boats. Instantly the women screamed, 
 and the men betrayed unequivocal symptoms of dismay. But 
 when the dwarf, remarking their alarm, skipped upon the 
 stone, and uttered a wild unearthly yell which reverberated 
 from rock to rock, the boats put about directly, and abandoned 
 the fair of Newport, men and women, with one consent, made 
 off for their respective homes as fast as four oars could carry 
 them. The awful intelligence was promulgated with incredible 
 rapidity through Erris and Bally croy. The same Leprehawn 
 who was seen the year before the French* had reappeared, to 
 harbinger, no doubt, some local or national calamity. To 
 this day, the credulity of the islanders has never been dis- 
 abused, and Tom's uncouth face and scarlet nightcap is often 
 fearfully expected to rise over the rocks by the belated fisher- 
 man, as he runs through its dangerous opening to shelter for 
 the night in Achil Sound. 
 
 The Bull's Mouth is rarely entered but with flood-water, or 
 
 * The landing of the French is a common epoch among the inhabitant! 
 of Ballycroy. Ask a peasant his age, and he will probably tell you, " he 
 was born two or three years before or after the French." 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE BULI/S MOUTH. 
 
 a powerful leading wind ; and the southern outlet of the sound 
 at Achil Beg is similarly circumstanced. These straits are 
 deep and dangerous, for through them the waters which flow 
 from Blacksod and Clew Bay, and fill this extensive channel 
 and its surrounding estuaries, rush with amazing violence ; 
 and the rapidity with which the tides enter and recede is 
 frightful. The opposing currents flow nearly north and south, 
 and meet and separate at the ruins of an ancient salt-house. 
 Here, the old mountain-road terminated, and at the Farsett as 
 the ford across the estuary is termed the passenger can earliest 
 cross to the island from the mainland. Indeed, the intercourse 
 with Achil was in former days limited enough. Few persons, 
 except those engaged in smuggling, visited this insulated dis- 
 trict ; and many an islander lived and died without having ever 
 seen a town. 
 
 The fishing-boats and hookers, whose easy draught of water 
 will permit it, naturally prefer a passage through the sound, 
 when voyaging from Erris to Clew Bay, rather than the longer 
 and more exposed course of rounding Achil Head. To effect 
 it, however, requires some skill, and a strict attention to the 
 tides. On the Farsett, the depth at high- water seldom exceeds 
 eight or nine feet : and as the flow and recession of the 
 opposing waters is astonishingly rapid, the boat must enter 
 upon one and retire upon the other. The passage, if effected, 
 is consequently but very short, and the sound may be cleared 
 in an hour, with the same wind that would occupy an entire 
 day, if Achil Head were doubled. 
 
 In bad weather, both entrances, however, are dangerous in 
 the extreme, and care and seamanship are necessary to pass 
 either with safety. The peasantry are habituated to this 
 voyage, and comparatively little risk ensues. Still many 
 accidents have occurred small boats have foundered in the 
 attempt and large hookers, when deeply laden, have perished 
 in the conflicting eddies which opposite winds and tides occa- 
 sion. The most cautious boatmen are sometimes overtaken 
 by squalls from the surrounding hills and night and drunken- 
 ness have, alas ! been more fatal than all besides. 
 
 Yet the Bull's Mouth, like the ordeal of mortal inquietude, 
 leads to its haven of rest. In a gale from the westward, when 
 the Atlantic tumbles with mountainous fury into Blacksod 
 Bay, the fishing-boat, once within the sound, finds smooth 
 
THE FOX AND CRUISER. 117 
 
 and unbroken water. Hence, when the weather breaks, 
 the hookers seek its shelter, there to wait until the storm 
 moderates. 
 
 Nor is it to the fisherman alone that the Bull's Mouth has 
 afforded shelter and protection. Not many years ago, a large 
 American vessel was driven upon the coast by a continuance 
 of westerly winds, and unable to work off, was fairly embayed 
 within Blacksod. Shipwreck appeared inevitable anchor 
 after anchor was let go, but the tremendous swell from the 
 ocean parted the cables, and the vessel drifted rapidly towards 
 the shore. The wild and rock-bound coast to leeward terrified 
 the crew, and, in despair, they committed themselves to their 
 boat, abandoning the ship to her fate. A hooker's crew, 
 which had been caught by the gale, witnessed the desertion 
 of the vessel, and although boarding her was a service of 
 danger, they determined to attempt her rescue. They suc- 
 ceeded, and the derelict bark was carried safely within the 
 sound. 
 
 To the Bull's Mouth, also, one of his Majesty's cruisers 
 was indebted for her deliverance. During the last American 
 war, an enemy's schooner of formidable force dragooned the 
 coast from Arran to the Stags of Broad Haven. JShe landed 
 where she pleased, and amused herself by burning every 
 coaster that was silly enough to leave her harbour. In Achil 
 the Fox was quite at home, the crew trafficked, danced, and 
 drank among the islanders, with as much sang-froid as if Paul 
 Jones had been commander. But this could not last for ever. 
 Some heavy sloops and brigs were ordered from the southward, 
 and the Fox was reluctantly obliged to disappear. A revenue 
 cruiser, that had been long blockaded in Westport Bay, took 
 heart and ventured out. The enemy was out of sight, and, 
 with a clear sea, old Morris rounded Achil Head. When the 
 scarecrow vanishes, it is marvellous how rapidly one's courage 
 is rekindled ; and too late the Nepean discovered that the odds 
 between herself and the privateer were not so desperate. In 
 point of men and metal the Fox was indeed overwhelming, but 
 etill, steady discipline and close fighting might do wonders. 
 Morning dawned and its first light showed the infernal Fox 
 but two short miles to windward ! Away went the cutter, and 
 away went the privateer. With singular audacity the Fox 
 followed into the bay, came up hand-over-hand, and gained 
 upon the cruiser, until the long two-and-thirty , which the 
 
118 THE 
 
 Yankee mounted amidships, began to throw its shot to a most 
 alarming proximity. The Bull's Mouth was before, and a 
 rakish schooner that, to use a fancy phrase, " would not be 
 denied," was astern ; there was no alternative, and for the 
 first, the most probably the last time, the King's bunting 
 sought safety within the sound of Achil. Finding her water 
 lessen for she had actually crossed the Ridge Point before 
 she hauled her wind the Fox abandoned the pursuit, and left 
 the Irish coast for America, where she duly arrived, after a 
 daring and destructive, but a very unprofitable cruise. 
 
 Safely landed at the Lodge, but all is in an uproar ! 
 Colonel Dwyer, an honoured and expected visitor, has arrived 
 in safety, but he comes minus his portmanteau, which some 
 delinquent, neither having the fear of hanging or my kinsman's 
 wrath before his eyes, abstracted from Andy Bawn, to whom 
 its safe delivery was entrusted. Nothing can surpass the 
 surprise and consternation this event occasions the women 
 are clamorous the men curse fluently in Irish and, from the 
 vows of eternal vengeance which are uttered against the 
 spoliator of the Colonel's wardrobe, I should imagine, in case 
 of apprehension, that the ceremony of waiting till the next 
 assizes will be dispensed with. Antony " remembers the 
 country these seventy years : many a robbery happened in his 
 time, but God stand between him and evil ! to take a 
 gentleman's property, and he coming to the master ! If it 
 was a stranger, why there would be no great harm," &c. &c. 
 
 Fear and poteein disturb the concatenation of ideas, and 
 Andy Bawn's is anything but a lucid narrative. There is 
 a confused account of the Bridge of Ballyveeney, and a dark 
 man, and the clicking of a gun-cock. Now it appears that 
 Andy is at feud with a Mr. Burke, who finished a relative of 
 his with a turf-slane* and in consequence has deemed it 
 advisable to take to the mountain until terms can be arranged 
 with the widow. Meantime, being a gentleman of active 
 disposition, he occupies his leisure hours upon the highway, 
 and all parties are unanimous in saddling him with the spolia- 
 tion of the portmanteau. I am inclined to suspect, that my 
 kinsman hitherto sported deaf -adder to any rumour of Burke 
 
 * An implement used for cutting turf, and heads occasionally. 
 
CONSEQUENCES OF THE ROBBERY. 119 
 
 being concealed within his territory but 1 think now, the 
 sooner Mr. Burke levants the better. There is a settled 
 gloom upon my cousin's brow, and yonder consultation with 
 his foster-brother, my island friend, bodes the present pro- 
 prietor of the portmanteau little good. To intercept a visi- 
 tor's effects, was indeed to 
 
 " Beard the lion in his den, 
 The Douglas in his hall." 
 
 But dinner is announced. 
 
 I wish the value of the Colonel's assets could be ascertained, 
 and that I dared liquidate the amount. An earthquake, I 
 think, would not have created half the sensation. My kinsman 
 is dreadfully irate his feudal power is shaken to the centre, 
 and either he or Mr. Burke must leave Ballycroy. It is quite 
 evident that he tacitly permitted the outlaw to conceal himself 
 in this neighbourhood, and considered that he existed but by 
 his sufferance. There is a strange dash of barbarism among 
 the old proprietors still. To hunt a felon down, who acknow- 
 ledges the supremacy of the master, would be Infra dignita tern. 
 The good old system would then be at an end and, in time* 
 even a bailiff might pass what has been the Ultima Thule * 
 the law, and live. My cousin is aware of this. He feels that 
 the rights and immunities of his modern Alsatia must not be 
 lightly compromised. His rent-roll may be small, but he can 
 boast, as Dick Martin did of Connemara, that " here, thank 
 God ! the King's writ is not worth a halfpenny." Hence the 
 impudence* of Mr. Burke is intolerable. An embassy will 
 be dispatched, and if the Colonel's wardrobe be not forthwith 
 restored, with full satisfaction for the insult, I hold the value 
 of the outlaw's life to be not worth a pin's fee. 
 
 * I remember hearing this word used in a court of justice in a most 
 curious sense. A man was on trial, capitally indicted for murder. The 
 chief witness on his examination detailed the leading incidents his 
 being awakened by cries of help, rising, striking a light, opening his 
 door, and finding a man dead upon the threshold. " And what did you 
 do next, my friend ?" interrogated the crown lawyer. " Why," replied 
 the witness, with amazing sangfroid, " 1 called out, * Are any of ye there 
 
 that kilt the boy ? By J s, I'll give a thirteen to him who'll tell me 
 
 who it was that had the impudence to murder a man at my door !' " 
 
120 CONSEQUENCES OF THE ROBBERY. 
 
 Indeed the whole esprit de corps is up the multitudinous 
 idlers of the Lodge are concocting schemes of vengeance. The 
 honour of the "ancient house" is at stake; and the very 
 women are roused to action. Old Antony himself is not supine 
 he does not, like Diogenes at Sinope, contemplate the 
 general activity with indifference : while all besides are turning 
 the secular arm against the delinquent, the Otter-killer will 
 call in the assistance of the Church, and, by the blessing of 
 God, he will have Mr. Burke cursed in two chapels next 
 Sunday, and in a style too, that he expects shall give universal 
 satisfaction to all concerned. 
 
 Nor am I, though unassailed in dignity or effects, upon 
 a bed of roses . Who shall say where this business will termi- 
 nate ? We shall exchange deer-shooting for robber-hunting ; 
 and night and the mount* Vis being unfavourable to identity of 
 the person, I may be shot by mistake for an outlaw, or find 
 myself in some ravine, t&e-a-tdte with Mr. Burke ! I plead 
 guilty to constitutional nervousness, and for the last hour my 
 kinsman and his visiter have been seeking a parallel case in a 
 number of outrages, that are quite sufficient to ruin a man's 
 rest for the winter. What memories they have ! There has 
 not been a house robbed for the last century with whose 
 localities the}?- are not as well acquainted as the builder ; and in 
 murder-cases, they display an anatomical experience that is 
 surprising ! Hennessey, who seldom shows, has been eternally 
 with us since the cloth was lifted, and having received his 
 final instructions, (I hope,) has disappeared. Lord ! the tall, 
 gaunt, care-worn, homicidal look of the man, as with a double 
 gun across his arm, and a case of pistols projecting from his 
 coat-pockets, he took the wine his patron gave him ! but, 
 " chacun a son gotit," my kinsman would not lose him for 
 a thousand, while his very look gives me the horrors ! Even 
 the Piper appears to have caught the general infection : he has 
 been lilting a full hour not a jig or strathspey, but love-lorn 
 ditties, and the most lamentable compositions that ever issued 
 from the bag or chanter. 
 
 Would I were in England again ! for what is matrimony 
 to manslaughter ? I have been for a moment out to breathe 
 the cool sea-breeze, and passing the window peeped into 
 that refugium peccatorum the kitchen. The keeper is Hinting 
 a blunderbuss ! There is security in Terracina contrasted 
 with this cabin, and the \bruzzi is a land of Goshen compared 
 
THE COLONEL'S STORY. 121 
 
 with the mountains of Ballycroy ! I wish I were in bed ; and 
 why there to dream of everything felonious ! I may as well 
 submit with Turkish endurance it is the will of Allah. The 
 Colonel replenishes the fire, apportioning turf and bog deal 
 in such scientific proportion, that it is evident he is making 
 himself up for a wet evening ; and the cork our host is now 
 extracting, will be merely avant- courier to three flasks which I 
 see lurking in the cooper. Oh, that a deputation from the 
 Temperance Society would drop in ! But why complain ? 
 'tis useless. The Colonel has discharged a bumper to the 
 speedy demolition of Mr. Burke ! Nor has he forgotten to 
 replenish again. The man is honest a person that one might 
 safely drink with in the dark. He clears his throat, and that 
 cough preliminary is the prologue of a story. I must, in 
 common courtesy, be attentive. This long and steady pinch 
 is alarming, and we are on the brink of some desperate 
 detail ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The Colonel's Story The Night Attack. 
 
 " IT is thirty-five years this very month, since I was quar- 
 tered with my regiment in ford ; I recollect the time 
 
 particularly, for I got my Company in the thirty-seventh on 
 the same day that I received an invitation from a Mr. Morden, 
 with whom I had formed a mail-coach acquaintance, to spend 
 a week with him, and join his nephew in partridge -shooting. 
 This gentleman's house, was fourteen miles distant from the 
 town, and situated in a very retired part of the country. It 
 was a wild but beautiful residence, placed upon the extremity 
 of a peninsula which jutted into an extensive lake. To a 
 sportsman it offered all the inducements that shooting and 
 fishing could afford. But it had others besides these ; no 
 man lived better than Mr. Morden and his daughter Emily, 
 and an orphan cousin, who resided with her, were decidedly the 
 finest women who had attended the last race-ball. No wonder 
 then that I accepted the old gentleman's invitation willingly, 
 and on the appointed day put myself into a post-chaise, and 
 reached the place in time for dinner. 
 
12.2 THE COLONEI/S STORY. 
 
 "The house was one of those old-fashioned, comfortable 
 Irish lodges, which are now extinct, or only to be seen in 
 rains. It was a long low building, covered with an infinity 
 of thatch, which bade defiance to rain, cold, and storm. The 
 tall and narrow casements reached the ground, a handsome 
 flower-knot extended in their front bounded by a holly hedge, 
 and woodbine and other creepers festooned the windows with 
 their leaves and berries. At some distance a well- stocked 
 haggard peeped over a spacious range of offices ; the lawn was 
 studded with sheep, which appeared overburdened with good 
 condition ; and as I drove up the avenue, 1 passed a well- 
 featured, well-clad simpleton, urging before him from a neigh- 
 bouring stubble-field, a flock of turkeys as formidable for 
 numbers as for size. In short, everything about the place 
 bespoke the opulence and comfort of the proprietor. 
 
 " Mr. Morden was a clever and respectable man ; he was 
 land-agent to several large estates noted for plain and unpre- 
 tending hospitality, punctuality in business, and a character of 
 unusual determination. 
 
 " The old gentleman received me with friendly sincerity, 
 and his handsome daughter added a warm welcome. They 
 apologized for not having company to meet me, but ' two 
 families which they had expected, had been detained by some 
 unforeseen occurrences at home/ Dinner was shortly after 
 served. Like the host, it was excellent without display the 
 wines were superior and when the ladies left us, the claret 
 went round the table merrily. 
 
 " ' We are in trouble here/ said Mr. Morden, addressing 
 me, ' and you have come to a house of mourning. We have 
 just suffered a serious, I may say irreparable loss, in the 
 sudden death of two favourite dogs. They were of the 
 genuine breed of Newfoundland, and for size, courage, and 
 sagacity, unequalled. Poor Emily has cried incessantly since 
 the accident/ 
 
 " ' Were they stolen ?' 
 
 " ' Oh, no ! I wish they were, for that would afford a hope 
 that chance or money might recover them. No, Sir, they 
 would not follow a stranger ; alas ! they died yesterday by 
 poison. We unfortunately laid arsenic in a meal-loft to 
 destroy rats and yet how the poor animals could have got 
 to it is a mystery ; the steward declares the key never left 
 his possession. I would give a hundred guineas the meal 
 
THE COLONEI/S STORY. 123 
 
 had been in the bottom of the lake. By Jove ! no loss, 
 short of the death of a friend, could have given us all so much 
 uneasiness. They were my daughter's companions by day, 
 and my protectors at night. Heigh ho! Come, Sir, pass the 
 wine/ Tears stood in the old gentleman's eyes as he spoke 
 of his unhappy favourites, and from the valuable properties of 
 the lost dogs, it was not surprising that their death occasioned 
 so much regret to the family. 
 
 " We joined the ladies in the drawing-room. After tea Mr. 
 Morden took a bedroom-candle, and apologised for retiring. 
 Old habits best suit old people, Captain ; but I leave you 
 with the ladies, who will sit up till cock-crow, if you please :' 
 and bidding us a good night, he departed. 
 
 " ' Emily/ said young Morden, ' you are still thinking of 
 your favourites ; well, I will ride the country over, till I 
 find you a handsome dog. Julia, hand me that violin from 
 the piano, and Captain Dwyer will dance a reel with you and 
 Emily/ 
 
 " ' Heavens ! who is at the window ?' exclaimed Miss 
 Morden, suddenly ; * it looked like that nasty beggarman 
 who has been haunting the house and grounds these three 
 days. Ah, Wolf and Sailor! had you been living, that 
 vagabond would not have ventured here at this late hour/ 
 Henry Morden had left the room on hearing his cousin's 
 exclamation, but soon returned, assuring the lady that the 
 beggar was a creature of her imagination ; he had searched 
 the shrubbery and flower-garden, and no mendicant was to be 
 found in either. 
 
 " The alarm was cpeedily forgotten, and we danced reels 
 till supper was announced. The doors were locked, the win- 
 dows fastened, the ladies wished us good night, and retired to 
 their respective chambers. 
 
 " Henry and I remained for some time in the eating-room ; 
 the clock struck twelve, and young Morden conducted me to 
 my apartment, and took his leave. 
 
 " I felt a strange disinclination to go to bed, and would 
 have given anything for a book. For temporary employment, 
 I unlocked my gun-case, put my fowling-piece together, and 
 examined whether my servant had sent all necessary apparatus 
 along with me. I opened the window- cur tains. The moon 
 a full bright harvest moon was shining gloriously on the lawn 
 and lake : I gazed on the sparkling surface of the waters till 
 
124 THE 
 
 I felt the chill of the night-breeze ; then closing the shutters, 
 reluctantly prepared to undress. 
 
 " I had thrown my coat and vest aside, when a distant 
 crash was heard, and a fearful noise with oaths and screams 
 succeeded. I rushed into the corridor, and encountered a 
 terror-stricken maid- servant running from the extremity of 
 the passage. Miss Morden next appeared ; she was in 
 complete dishabille, and had hastily thrown on a dressing- 
 gown. ' Good God! Captain Dwyer, what has occurred?' 
 A volley from without prevented my reply, and the crashing 
 of the windows, as the glass was splintered by the bullets, 
 made it unnecessary. ' The house is attacked/ she said ; 
 and then with amazing self-possession added, 'There are 
 always loaded guns above the kitchen fire-place/ We both 
 ran down the corridor, she to alarm her father, and I to 
 procure a weapon ; young Morden, armed with a sword, met 
 us. ' The attack is upon the kitchen/ he said, hastily ; ' it is 
 our weakest point ; this way, Captain/ and we both entered 
 it together. 
 
 "There was a bright fire burning on the hearth. The 
 large window was shattered to pieces, and the idiot I had 
 noticed on the lawn, was standing beside the ruined case- 
 ment armed with a spit, making momentary passes at the 
 breach, and swearing and bellowing frightfully. I leaped 
 upon a table to seize two muskets which were suspended in 
 the place Miss Morden had described. I handed one to 
 Henry, when the fire blazed out suddenly, and discovered 
 me to the banditti without. Instantly, three or four shots 
 were discharged. I heard a bullet whistle past my head, 
 and felt something strike my shoulders like a sharp cut from 
 a whip, as a slug grazed me slightly but having secured the 
 gun I jumped from the table uninjured. We heard Mr. 
 Morden in the passage his manner was calm and collected, 
 as he ordered the servant-men to the front of the house, and 
 dispatched his daughter for ammunition. 
 
 " Meanwhile, a dropping fire continued from without 
 for from within no shot had been returned, as the robbers 
 sheltered themselves effectually behind the angles of the 
 offices and the piers of the gates. From some hurried words 
 we overheard they were arranging a determined attack. 
 
 " ' They will make a rush immediately/ said the elder 
 Morden coolly, ' and here comes Emily in good time ; don't 
 
THE COLONEI/S STORY. 125 
 
 come in, love !' and he took some forty or fifty cartridges 
 which she had brought in the skirt of her dressing-gownd. 
 Notwithstanding the peril of our situation, I could but not 
 gaze a moment on the white and statue-looking limbs of 
 this brave and beautiful girl. ' Go, love, tell John to bring 
 the Captain's gun-case from his chamber ; and do you, 
 Emily, watch from the end window, and if you perceive any 
 movement that side, apprize us of it here. Now, my boys, 
 be cool I'll give my best horse to him who shoots the first 
 man. You have a good supply of ammunition, could we 
 but coax the scoundrels from their shelter and I'll try a 
 ruse. 9 The old gentleman took the idiot's spit, placed a 
 coat upon it, while Henry and I chose a position at either 
 side of the broken window. Mr. Morden raised the garment 
 to the breach ; it was indistinctly seen from without ; three 
 
 bullets perforated it, and it fell. ' He's down, by !' 
 
 roared a robber, exultingly. ' Now, Murphy, now's your 
 time ; ' smash in the door with the sledge !' Instantly a 
 huge ruffian sprang from behind a gable, and his rush was 
 so sudden that he struck twice with shattering force. We 
 heard the hinges give we saw the door yielding and at 
 that critical moment young Morden' s gun missed fire ! 
 ' Curses light upon the hand that loaded it !' he cried as he 
 caught up an axe and placed himself determinately before 
 the door, which we expected to be momentarily driven in. 
 Murphy, perceiving the tremendous effects of his blows, 
 called to his comrades to ' be ready.' He stood about five 
 yards from me the sledge was raised above his head and 
 that blow would have shivered the door to atoms. I drew the 
 trigger the charge, a heavy one of duck- shot, passed like a 
 six-pound bullet through the ruffian's body, and he dropped a 
 dead man upon the threshold. ' Captain Dwyer/ said Mr. 
 Morden, calmly, ' the horse is yours f 
 
 " I had now received my own double gun, and gave the 
 musket I had used so successfully to Henry Morden. The 
 death of the ruffian with the sledge brought on a heavy fire, 
 from his comrades. Between the volleys they summoned 
 us to surrender, with fearful denunciations of vengeance if 
 we resisted longer. We were within a few yards of each 
 other, and during the intervals of the firing, they poured 
 out threats, and we sent back defiance. ' Morden, you old 
 scoundrel !' exclaimed the captain of the gang, ' in five 
 
126 
 
 minutes we'll have your heart's blood.' ' No/ was the calm 
 reply, ' I'll live to see you arrayed in cap and halter.' 
 ' Surrender, or we'll give no quarter.' ' Cowardly scoundrel ! 
 come and try your hand at the sledge !' said the old gentle- 
 man, with a cold and sarcastic smile, as he turned his eye 
 on me, where I was watching the door, with the confidence 
 a man feels who has his own trustworthy weapon to depend 
 upon. 
 
 " ' Morden ! we'll burn the house about ye.' c Will you 
 put the coal in the thatch, Bulger T ' Morden, you have a 
 daughter !' and the ruffian pronounced a horrid threat. 
 The old man shuddered, then in a low voice, tremulous 
 with rage he muttered, ' Bulger, I'll spare five hundred 
 pounds to hang you, and travel five hundred miles to see 
 the sight.' 
 
 " ' The coal ! the coal !' shouted several voices, and 
 unfortunately the scoundrels had procured one in the laundry. 
 ' By heaven ! they will burn us out/ said Henry, in alarm. 
 * Never fear !' replied his cooler uncle ; ' the firing must have 
 been heard across the lake, and we'll soon have aid sufficient.' 
 But a circumstance occurred, almost miraculously, that averted 
 the threatened danger. The moon became suddenly overcast 
 heavy rain- drops fell arid in an instant an overwhelming 
 torrent burst from the clouds, rendering every attempt the rob- 
 bers made to ignite the thatch abortive. ' Who dare doubt an 
 overruling Providence ?' said the old gentleman, with enthu- 
 siasm : ' surely God is with us !' 
 
 " The storm which came to our relief appeared to dispirit 
 our assailants, and their parley recommended. ' Morden/ 
 
 said the captain of the banditti, ' you have Lord 's rent 
 
 in the house ; give us a thousand pounds, and we'll go off and 
 leave you/ 
 
 <e ( AJ1 I promise I'll perform" said the old gentleman, 
 coldly. 'Bulger, for this night's work you have earned a 
 halter, and I'll attend and see you hanged/ ' Dash in the 
 door/ exclaimed the robber in a fury ; ' we'll have the old rogue's 
 heart out 1* A volley of stones rattled against the door, but 
 produced no effect, and again the robber parleyed. ' Will you 
 give us a hundred, Morden ?' ' Not a sixpence/ was the 
 laconic answer. Once more stones were thrown, shots dis- 
 charged, and threats of vengeance fulminated by the exas- 
 perated villains. At last, the demand was reduced to ' Twelve 
 
guineas a guinea for each man/ ' They'll be off immediately/ 
 said the old gentleman ; ' they know assistance is at hand : 
 would that we could amuse them fora little longer !' But the 
 ruffians were already moving, and Miss Morden presently 
 announced that they were embarking, twelve in number, in a 
 boat. * Now for a parting shot or two/ said Henry Morden. 
 We picked up a dozen cartridges, and sallied from the house 
 as the banditti were pulling hard across the lake. We opened 
 a quick and well-directed fire, which they feebly and without 
 effect replied to. While a musket-ball would reach them, we 
 plied them liberally with shot ; and, as we learned afterwards, 
 mortally wounded one man, and slightly injured two others. 
 As we returned to the house, we met some fifty countrymen, 
 armed with all sorts of rustic weapons coming to our relief. 
 Without a moment's delay, we launched boats, and set off to 
 scour the country, and at noon, so prompt and vigorous had 
 been the pursuit, that six of the gang, including the wounded 
 robbers, were secured. 
 
 " We reached ' the Wilderness' completely exhausted by the 
 exertions of the morning, and the fatigue of the preceding 
 night. We refreshed ourselves, and went to bed but previous 
 to returning to my room, I visited the scene of action. 
 Another blow, even a very slight one, must have driven in the 
 door; and in the rush of twelve desperate ruffians, the chances 
 would have been fearfully against us. Murphy lay upon his 
 back he was a disgusting object. The ground was saturated 
 with blood, for the charge of heavy shot made as large a 
 wound as a cannon-bullet would occasion. He was the 
 strongest brute I ever saw ; not more than five feet eight 
 inches in height, but his limbs, body, and arms were a giant's ; 
 he was a blacksmith, a man of infamous character, and most 
 sanguinary disposition. 
 
 "Our escape from robbery was fortunate indeed; Mr. 
 Morden had seven thousand pounds that night in the lodge, 
 for he had just received the rents of two estates. It was 
 almost entirely paid in specie and this was of course known, 
 and induced two desperate bands, who had kept the adjoining 
 counties in alarm since the rebellion was suppressed, to unite 
 for the purpose of robbing * the Wilderness/ and securing this 
 immense booty. 
 
 " The body of the smith was sent away, and buried in the 
 jail-yard of the neighbouring town ; and having brought the 
 
128 
 
 battle to a close, I shall explain some matters connected with 
 this daring outrage. 
 
 " A man named Mitchell originated the intended robbery, 
 and arranged the method of attack. He was a slight, low- 
 sized person, but his activity was amazing, and no attempt 
 was too hazardous for his desperate courage to undertake. 
 On the morning of his execution (he, with the three others, 
 was hanged the subsequent assizes) he gave us a cool detail 
 of his plans. 
 
 " The dogs were to be destroyed, and the premises recon- 
 noitred. In the disguise of a beggar he effected both ; laid 
 meat prepared with arsenic for the poor animals ; then made 
 his way into the kitchen, and ascertained that the fastenings 
 of the back-door were defective. He purposed surprising the 
 family at supper, or forcing an entrance when they were 
 asleep. The first attempt he made at the drawing-room, but 
 quickly perceiving that he had been observed by Miss Morden, 
 he retired hastily. A council was held by the robbers, and it 
 was fortunately determined to postpone the attack until the 
 family had gone to rest. 
 
 " Nothing could be bolder, or more likely to succeed, than 
 Mitchell's desperate resolution. It was to leap feet foremost 
 through the window, and, armed with a dagger, to fight his 
 way, if opposed, and open the back door for his associates. 
 He made the attempt, and providential circumstances alone 
 prevented its being successful. That very morning a small 
 iron bar had been placed across the window ; it caught the 
 robber in his leap, threw him back with violence, and the 
 noise, united to the outcries of the idiot, alarmed the family 
 instantly. 
 
 " Circumstances, they say, will often make men courageous. 
 In this case it had the same effect on two beings of a very 
 different description a lovely girl and an idiot boy. Miss 
 Morden, throughout the trying scene, displayed the coolest 
 courage ; and the poor simpleton, who commonly would avoid 
 the appearance of a gun, armed with his spit, defended the 
 breach like a hero. 
 
 " We met at dinner. Julia, Miss Morden's cousin, would 
 hardly venture to join us, for her brother rated her timidity 
 severely. When the alarm was heard, the fearful girl buried 
 her face beneath the bed- coverings, and remained in pitiable 
 agitation until the contest ended. Mr. Morden took her from 
 
SUBSEQUENT INCIDENTS. 129 
 
 his daughter's arm, kissed her, and congratulated her on 
 their delivery from the last night's danger. 
 
 " 'You little coward!' said the old man jocularly ; 'you 
 must give your deliverer one kiss at least for your preserva- 
 tion/ The blushing girl received my salute. Miss Morden 
 took my hand. ' You, too, Emily, will you not reward your 
 protector ?' Without coquetry, she laid her lips to mine, and 
 that kiss was a sufficient recompense for twice the peril I had 
 encountered. 
 
 " But for me no praises seemed sufficient : the successful 
 defence was attributed to my exertions ; and the fortunate shot 
 that killed the villain smith was never to be sufficiently com- 
 mended. 
 
 " My visit ended. I was in love with Emily ; but then I 
 had little chance of succeeding to the property which after- 
 wards, by a chapter of accidents, fell to me ; and a company of 
 foot was all my earthly riches. She was an heiress ; and 
 would it be generous to take advantage of a casual service 
 to press a suit that would be as painful to refuse as unlikely 
 to be granted ? I mean (so says vanity) by Mr. Morden. 
 No ! I overcame the temptation of risking a trial, and re- 
 turned to ford, possessing the esteem and good wishes of 
 
 every inhabitant of ' the Wilderness.' 
 
 " I was on parade some mornings after I rejoined the regi- 
 ment, when a horse, splendidly accoutred with a superb tiger- 
 skin, holsters, saddle, and every housing lit for a field-officer, 
 was led into the barrack-yard by a groom. The animal was a 
 perfect picture of symmetry and strength ; a dark chestnut, 
 sixteen hands high, and worth at least two hundred guineas. 
 The groom presented me a letter ; it was from Mr. Morden 
 the horse was a present. 
 
 " Emily and her cousin married most happily, and we have 
 often met since. They treat me as sisters would a brother ; 
 and we frequently talk of the night attack upon ' the Wil- 
 derness.' 
 
 ' ' Three years passed awav : the gans; had been incessantly 
 followed by Mr. Moraen, ana were extirpated with the solitary 
 exception of Captain Bulger. Dreading the sleepless vengeance 
 of that determined old man, this ruffian fled the country, and 
 established himself in a disaffected district of the south. 
 
 " In the interim I got a majority in the Seventieth, then 
 
 K 
 
130 THE COLONEL'S STORY. 
 
 quartered in Cork. Soon after I joined, I happened to be 
 field-officer of the day on which a notorious criminal was 
 doomed to suffer. The regiment had given a guard, and 
 curiosity induced me to attend the execution. 
 
 " I entered the press-room. In a few minutes the malefactor 
 appeared in white grave-clothes, attended by two priests. It was 
 * mine ancient enemy/ Bulger ! Suddenly the sheriff was 
 called out, and after a short absence returned, accompanied by 
 a plain, vigorous country gentleman, enveloped in a huge 
 driving- coat, and apparently like one who had travelled a 
 considerable distance. 
 
 " I looked at the criminal ; he was the ruin of a powerful 
 man, and the worst- visaged scoundrel imaginable. He was 
 perfectly unmoved, and preserved a callous sort of hardiesse \ 
 and as the priests hurried over their Latin prayers, made a 
 careless response whenever they directed him. The door 
 leading to the drop was open, and the felon looked out upon 
 the crowd most earnestly. ' He is not there,' he murmured : 
 'he caused my apprehension, but he will not see me die-,' and 
 added, with a grim smile, * Morden, you neither kept your 
 word, nor proved your prophecy f The muffled stranger stood 
 suddenly forward : ' / am here, Bulger ! I paid for your appre- 
 hension, and have come some hundred miles to witness your 
 execution /' 
 
 " ' Morden/ said the dying felon, solemnly, ' if a ghost can 
 come back again, I'll visit you /' 
 
 " The person addressed smilded coldly : ' I found you unable 
 to execute your threats while living; and, believe me, I 
 apprehend nothing from you when dead/ 
 
 "The clock struck the sheriff gave the signal Bulger 
 advanced to the scaffold the drop fell, and in two minutes he 
 was a corpse/' 
 
HOUSE ATTACK. 131 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Conversation A Brave Resistance The Contrast The Burglary. 
 
 *' WELL, I like a man to keep his word/' said my relative ; 
 " and I admire your friend Morden prodigiously for his punc- 
 tual attendance on Mr. Bulger, when he made his parting bow 
 to an admiring multitude, and, as the song goes, ' died with 
 his face to the city.' " 
 
 " There is little danger, after all," said the Colonel, "to 
 be apprehended from ruffian force, if a man's nerve and cool- 
 ness desert him not at the pinch. In house attacks, the odds 
 are infinitely against the assailants, The attempt is generally 
 made in the dead of night ; a robber- party are never suffi- 
 ciently organized to combine their efforts judiciously, and 
 two men within, if properly armed and plentifully supplied 
 with ammunition, are in my opinion an overmatch for a dozen 
 outside the doors." 
 
 " Calm and steady courage does wonders, certainly ; and, 
 even when surprised and unprepared, a cool man will rarely be 
 left without some means of defence. The Scotch proverb is a 
 true saw ' A gleg (ready) hand never wanted weapon/ " 
 
 "There never was a better illustration of that truth than 
 the heroic resistance offered by an aged gentleman in the south 
 to a band of ruffians, under most discouraging circumstances. 
 I knew him intimately," continued the Colonel ; " and I'll 
 briefly give you the story. 
 
 " Several years ago, when the south of Ireland was, as it 
 has ever been within my memory, in a disturbed state, a 
 gentleman advanced in years lived in a retired country-house. 
 He was a bachelor ; and whether trusting to his supposed popu- 
 larity, or imagining that the general alarm among the gentry was 
 groundless, he continued in his lonely mansion long after his 
 neighbours had deserted theirs for a safer residence in town. 
 He had been indisposed for several days ; and on the night he 
 was attacked had taken supper in his bedroom, which was 
 on the ground-floor, and inside a parlour with which it com- 
 municated. The servants went to bed ; the house was shut 
 up for the night ; and the supper- tray, with its appurtenances, 
 
 K 2 
 
132 HOUSE ATTACK. 
 
 by a providential oversight, forgotten in the old man's 
 chamber. 
 
 " Some hours after he had retired to bed, he was alarmed 
 at hearing a window lifted in the outer apartment; his 
 chamber-door was ajar, and the moon shone brilliantly through 
 the open casement, rendering objects in the parlour distinct 
 and perceptible to any person in the inner room. Presently a 
 man leaped through the window, and three others followed 
 him in quick succession. The old gentleman sprang from 
 his bed, but unfortunately there were no arms in the apart- 
 ment. Recollecting, however, the forgotten supper- tray, he 
 provided himself with a case-knife, and resolutely took his 
 stand behind the open door. He had one advantage over the 
 murderers they were in full moonlight, and he shrouded in 
 impenetrable darkness. 
 
 " A momentary hesitation took place among the party, who 
 seemed undecided as to which of them should first enter the 
 dark room ; for, acquainted with the localities of the house, 
 they knew well that there the devoted victim slept. At last 
 one of the villains cautiously approached, stood for a moment 
 in the doorway, hesitated, advanced a step not a whisper was 
 heard, a breathless silence reigned around, and the apartment 
 before him was dark as the grave itself. 'Go on, blast ye ! 
 What the devil are ye afeerd of!' said the rough voice of an 
 associate behind. The robber took a second step, and the 
 old man's knife was buried in his heart ! No second thrust 
 was requisite, for, with a deep groan, the villain sank upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " The obscurity of the chamber, the sudden destruction 
 caused by that deadly thrust, prevented the ruffians in the 
 outer room from knowing the fate of their companion. A 
 second presented himself, crossed the threshold, stumbled 
 against his dead associate, and received the old man's knife in 
 his bosom. The wound, though mortal, was not so fatal as 
 the other : and the ruffian had strength to ejaculate that he 
 was ' a dead man !' 
 
 " Instantly several shots were fired, but the old gentleman's 
 position sheltered him from the bullets. A third assassin 
 advanced, levelled a long fowling-piece through the doorway, 
 and actually rested the barrel against the old man's body. 
 The direction, however, was a slanting one; and, with ad- 
 
HOUSE ATTACK. 133 
 
 mirable self-possession, he remained steady until the murderer 
 drew the trigger, and the ball passed him without injury. 
 But the flash from the gun unfortunately disclosed the place 
 of his ambush, and then commenced a desperate struggle. 
 The robber, a powerful and athleti ruffian, closed and seized 
 his victim round the body : there was no equality between the 
 combatants with regard to strength ; and although the old 
 man struck often and furiously with his knife, the blows were 
 ineffectual, and he was at last thrown heavily on the floor, 
 with the murderer above him. Even then, at that awful 
 moment, his presence of mind saved this heroic gentleman. 
 He found that the blade of the knife had turned, and he 
 contrived to straighten it upon the floor. The ruffian's hands 
 were already on his throat the pressure became suffocating 
 a few moments more, and the contest must have ended ; 
 but an accidental movement of his body exposed the mur- 
 derer's side : the old man struck with his remaining strength 
 one desperate blow the robber's grasp relaxed and, with 
 a yell of mortal agony, he fell dead across his exhausted 
 opponent ! 
 
 " Horror-struck by the death-shriek of their comrade, the 
 banditti wanted courage to enter that gloomy chamber which 
 had been already fatal to so many. They poured an irregular 
 volley in, and leaping through the open window, ran off, 
 leaving their lifeless companions behind. 
 
 " Lights and assistance came presently the chamber was 
 a pool of gore and the old man, nearly in a state of insen- 
 sibility, w r as covered with the blood, and encompassed by the 
 breathless bodies, of his intended murderers. He recovered, 
 however, to enjoy for years his well-won reputation, and to 
 receive from the Irish Viceroy the honour of knighthood, which 
 never was conferred before upon a braver man/' 
 
 " I know a melancholy contrast to this gallant story," said 
 my cousin; "it occurred not many years ago in an adjoining 
 county. I heard it detailed in a court of justice as well as 
 privately from the lips of the unfortunate gentleman, and I 
 never shall forget his nervous agony, as he gave me a partial 
 narrative of the outrage." 
 
 " Oh ! let us have the particulars, Julius ; next to a good 
 ghost- story, a cruel burglary is delightful." 
 
 "In 181 ," said my kinsman, " a gentleman with his 
 family left Dublin, and removed to an extensive farm he 
 
134 THE BURGLARY. 
 
 had taken in the wild and troublesome barony of . 
 
 There was no dwelling-house procurable for some time, and 
 the strangers took up their residence in a large cabin upon 
 the road- side, about a mile distant from the little town of 
 ford. 
 
 " It was naturally supposed, that coming to settle in a 
 strange country, this gentleman had brought money and 
 valuables along with him ; and a gang of robbers who in- 
 fested that lawless neighbourhood under the command of 
 the notorious Captain Gallagher, marked the stranger for a 
 prey. 
 
 " This new settler had been married but a few months, and 
 his wife was a young and very lovely woman. On the third 
 night after their arrival they retired at their customary hour to 
 rest he slept upon the ground- floor, and the lady and her 
 female attendants occupied some upper chambers. 
 
 ' It was past midnight ; the unsuspecting family were buried 
 
 in deep repose, when Mr. was fearfully awakened by a 
 
 stone shattering the window and breaking the looking-glass 
 upon the table. He was unhappily a nervous timid man ; he 
 was aware the house was being attacked ; a loaded carbine 
 lay within his reach, but he appears to have abandoned all 
 hope or thought of defending himself; he heard the crashing 
 of the cabin windows he heard the appalling sound of 
 women's shrieks- but, trembling and agitated, he had not 
 power to leave his bed. 
 
 " Never did a more dastardly gang attack a house than 
 Gallagher's. After every window was driven in, more than 
 half an hour elapsed before one of them would enter, although 
 no show of resistance had been offered by the inmates of the 
 house. The cowardly villains would occasionally peep through 
 a shattered casement and instantly withdraw. 
 
 " A single blow struck with good effect, one shot from the 
 loaded carbine, would have scattered the scoundrels, and saved 
 the family from plunder and a dreadful insult. But the un- 
 happy man, paralyzed with terror, lay in helpless imbecility 
 upon his bed, and the banditti, satisfied that no resistance 
 would be offered, at last made good an entrance. 
 
 " They lighted candles, bound the unfortunate gentleman, 
 left him half dead with terror, and proceeded to ransack the 
 premises. Soon after, shrieks from the lady's chamber an- 
 
THE BURGLARY THE EXECUTION. 135 
 
 nounced their being there. They drank wine, and broke every 
 place and thing in the expectation of plunder. 
 
 " But unfortunately they were disappointed ; I say unfor- 
 tunately, for had they found money, it is possible the lady 
 would have been preserved from insult. Maddened by 
 liquor, and disappointed in their expected booty, the helpless 
 women were subjected to savage insult. 
 
 " What must have been that wretched man's sufferings, 
 as he listened to the supplications of his beautiful wife for 
 pity ? Some of the villains were * of milder mood* than 
 their fellows, and a partial protection was afforded to the 
 miserable lady. 
 
 " After a dreadful visit of three hours, the ruffians left the 
 house. Their apprehension was almost immediate. I was 
 present at the trial, and the testimony of that beautiful 
 woman, who sat on the bench beside the Judge, with the 
 evidence of the wretched husband, was melancholy. 
 
 " Conviction followed, and I attended at the place of 
 execution. Gallagher, the most horrible-looking scoundrel 
 imaginable, came out. The buzz among the crowd subsided 
 into muttered prayers and compassionate ejaculations. He, 
 the felon, was unmoved ; his deportment was desperately 
 hardened ; he looked without emotion on the multitude, and 
 from amid the mass recognised some acquaintances, and 
 acknowledged them with a demoniac grin. He was turned 
 off in savage callousness but his life was miserably 
 prolonged. 
 
 " From his immense weight for the ruffian was of 
 Herculean proportions the rope gave way, and he fell with 
 violence to the ground. His thighs were badly fractured, 
 and he was carried to the scaffold again, a maimed and 
 trembling wretch. All his hardihood had forsaken him, and 
 if it were possible for a man to undergo the agonies of death 
 a second time, assuredly they were twice endured by that 
 loathsome criminal Captain Gallagher/' 
 
136 MIDNIGHT REFLECTIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Midnight Reflections A good Story-teller The affair of Ninety-eight. 
 
 WE separated for the night, and I retired to my well- 
 appointed dormitory; every thing bespoke cleanliness and 
 comfort, from the snowy coverlet to the sparkling fire of 
 brilliant bog- deal. The room was papered with caricatures, 
 and crowded with prints on sporting subjects. This was 
 cheerful and bachelor- like. I looked at the mantelpiece ; a 
 brass blunderbuss and a case of pistols were there suspended 
 in most effective order. This brought on a train of thought, 
 and all the pleasant narratives of my kinsman and his visiter 
 rushed back to my recollection. 
 
 I have, God help me ! no fancy for what the Irish call 
 active amusements. I would have no ambition to hold a 
 nocturnal colloquy with Mr. Bulger nor would it afford me 
 satisfaction to listen to solemn assurances of his determination 
 to cut my throat. I would not give one farthing, to spend 
 half- an- hour in a dark closet with three robbers and a case- 
 knife* I love uninterrupted repose, and it would annoy me 
 to have my window dismantled at midnight, and my entire 
 toilet annihilated by a well-directed volley of paving- stones. 
 On earth there is not a more enchanting object than the 
 exquisite symmetry of a w r oman's well-formed leg ; but 
 Miss Morden's would have no charms for me, if preluded 
 by a discharge of musketry. There is moreover a murderer 
 quietly cantoned within a room or two of mine ; and though 
 the man may be " honest," as my loving cousin believes and 
 verifies, yet one feels nervous in being within a dozen yards 
 of a man who has thinned the population for the third time. 
 
 Your stupid Englishman retires to bed after his daily 
 labour is ended your livelier Milesian then only lays him- 
 self out for pleasure, and betakes himself to shoot at a 
 Justice of the Peace, or still better, amuse himself with a 
 too-roo among the Peelers. Do you go out to dinner ? 
 Calculate at being fired at when returning. Do you require 
 a physician ? The odds are, that the honest doctor is 
 qualified for a patient himself, before he leaves your lawn. 
 Do you delight in hunting ? You will find the monotonous 
 
MIDNIGHT REFLECTIONS. 137 
 
 period of waiting at the cover- side, agreeably diversified by 
 the occasional whistle of a musket-bullet from some am- 
 bushed Rockite ; and if you venture to send a horse out 
 to exercise, your groom returns solus, to acquaint you that 
 the quadruped is no more, and that the gentleman who 
 despatched him, sent you his regrets that he was so 
 unlucky as to miss yourself, but, by the assistance of the 
 Blessed Lady for they are a pious and religious race he 
 hoped to be more successful on a future opportunity. 
 Are you fond of a quadrille ? Ascertain before you attempt 
 your first chassez, that the ball-room windows are bricked- 
 "up, and a guard of honour stationed at the door. Are you, 
 unfortunately, a parson ? Insure your life to the uttermost 
 farthing you can raise arrange your affairs perfect your 
 w ill and, if you be curious in posthumous renown, pre- 
 pare your epitaph ; then demand one thirtieth of your 
 tithes you are a dead man to a moral and your heirs, 
 executors, and assigns, secure of opulence within a fort- 
 night. 
 
 All this is pleasant and exciting, but I, as I premised, 
 " have no ambition/' In spite of female persecution, I will 
 return to England (if my life be spared) before the " morrow 
 of All Souls," a day for ever ingrafted on my memory, it 
 being the appointed period that a rascally tailor (when I was 
 in the Blues) allotted for producing my body before his 
 Majesty's Barons of the Exchequer. 
 
 Thus resolved I went to sleep. Next morning my cousin 
 rallied me at breakfast. " I think, Colonel Dwyer, we 
 gave my friend Frank enough of robber narratives last night. 
 Confess, was your couch visited by any of the departed 
 heroes, whom illiberal enactments consign to the gallows, 
 while lesser men are sent in state to Westminster ? Dreamed 
 you 
 
 Of cutting foreign throats ; 
 Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades ?" 
 
 " Ah no," said the Colonel, " our dull tales require the 
 seasoning of good story-telling to render them impressive. 
 
 I wish my quondam acquaintance, Mr. , had been here, 
 
 and, by the shade of Munchausen, he would have embellished 
 a simple burglary to such superlative perfection, that I am 
 
138 A GOOD STORY-TELLER. 
 
 persuaded your kinsman could not have counted on a second 
 night's sleep for a fortnight." 
 
 " Is the gentleman happy in description ?" I inquired. 
 
 " Inimitable. ' He lies like truth/ I shall never forget 
 the first evening I met him." The Colonel took a prepa- 
 ratory pinch of brown mixture, and thus proceeded : 
 
 " Before I retired from the army, I was ordered to Cas- 
 tlebar to attend a court-martial. It was then a most hospi- 
 table town, and during our stay I and the other members 
 of the Court had more invitations than we could possibly 
 accept of. 
 
 "At a large dinner-party, the conversation turned on 
 circumstances connected with the disgraceful defeat of the 
 King's troops here, in Ninety-eight, by Humbert. An 
 elderly gentleman, opposite to me at table, favoured us with 
 a striking and spirited account of the affair, and none could 
 give it with more effect, for he had been a prominent actor 
 in the scene. 
 
 " It was really the most soul-stirring narrative I had ever 
 listened to, and when in course of the detail the fortune 
 of the day threatened to become disastrous, the individual 
 exertions of this gallant gentleman appear to have been incre- 
 dible. He flew through every arm of the Royal Forces 
 objurgated the militia, lauded the artillery, encouraged the 
 irregulars, and d d the carbineers ; held momentary con- 
 sultation with three field officers, and the Lord only knows 
 how many subordinates besides and traversed the line from 
 one extremity to the other with such rapidity, as proved that 
 he must have been mounted on a race-horse, or possessed of 
 the gift of ubiquity itself. 
 
 " When the panic became general and a rout inevitable, 
 it was melancholy to hear this veteran mourn over blighted 
 glory and blasted renown. He was forced away at last, it 
 appeared, by the remnant of the combatants ; but still, ' in 
 the ranks of death you'd find him/ retiring reluctantly 
 through the town, a sort of intermediate speck between his 
 own rear-guard and the French advance. How the deuce 
 he escaped the cross-fire of both, I never could compre- 
 hend. 
 
 " I looked at him with wonder and respect no truculent 
 traces of war lined a harsh and merciless countenance no 
 
THE AFFAIR OF NINETY-EIGHT. 139 
 
 ' token true of foughten field* disfigured him with scar or 
 blemish ; but there was a quiet tradesman sort of simper 
 eternally mantling over his features, which would have been 
 worth a hundred a- year to any city dealer in ladies' mercery. 
 Surely, thought I, he has at all events the true military 
 enlargement on the occiput, and I'll warrant it a splendid 
 development. In short, I was astonished, and marvelled 
 how well such apparent benignity concealed a heart, that 
 only throbbed with rapture amid the roar and blaze of 
 battle. 
 
 " How long this train of thought might have continued is 
 uncertain ; it was broken by a twitch upon the elbow from my 
 neighbour. ' Curse him/ he said in a whisper that paralyzed 
 me, ' his story is nothing to-night, he forgot to kick down 
 Humbert's aide-de-camp.' 
 
 "'Kick down an aide-de-camp f that would indeed be an 
 unusual feat/ 
 
 " ' Well, Sir, that very feat is worth the remainder of the 
 battle. It happened that our fat friend opposite had a horse 
 that never could endure a crupper ; the rider was disabled in a 
 charge, broke his sabre, and was, or rather any other man 
 would be, completely hors de combat. What did he do in 
 this dilemma ?' 
 
 " ' Call out lustily for quarter, I presume/ 
 
 " ' The farthest thing from his intentions. No, he slipped 
 his hand slily over the croup, and with the first fling 
 knocked out the brains of Humbert's principal aide-de- 
 camp. There was a simple and ingenious method of 
 making a vacancy in an enemy's staff! Oh, the story is 
 nothing, wanting it ! Had I not better make him tell it over 
 in the new ?' 
 
 "Just then we were summoned to the drawing-room, and 
 whether the narrative was again given to the company, with 
 the interesting addendum of the kick, I cannot take on me to 
 say." 
 
 "Was the man even present at the battle ?" I inquired. 
 
 "As much, my friend, as you were at Camperdown ; and I 
 have reason to believe, that that affair was transacted before 
 you were born. He absconded the moment it was known the 
 French had landed at Killala, and never appeared in the 
 county afterwards until the rebellion was suppressed, and the 
 country as quiet as it is at present." 
 
140 THE RECOVERED PORTMANTEAU. 
 
 " Heaven protect us !" I exclaimed. " It is a lying world 
 that we live in." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Spring tides Hennessey and the portmanteau Spillet-fishing Coal 
 fishing Mackerel Sea-fowl A failure Preserving gunpowder 
 An explosion Another accident A house burned The dinner 
 signal. 
 
 THE springs have commenced, and the gray and lowering 
 atmosphere which the influence of these tides occasion has 
 set in. Ailhough the darkness would intimate a change, the 
 fresh breeze and sky appearances portend, as they tell me, 
 good weather. 
 
 We are bound for the bay to lay down spillets ; and during 
 the tedious interval which of necessity occurs before they 
 can be lifted, we shall kill coal-fish, shoot sea-gulls, smoke 
 cigars, and no doubt, have a further detail of atrocities 
 from the Colonel, which would put the Newgate Calendar to 
 the blush. 
 
 The mainsail is chalk-up, the hooker has slipped her 
 cables, and hangs by a single end 4o the pier, and we are 
 waiting for a row-boat, which four sturdy peasants propel with 
 might and main from the opposite shore. There is a man in 
 the stern- sheets who engrosses the undivided attention of my 
 cousin and his followers. The boat approaches/ -and " Blessed 
 Mary ! can it be ?" there sit Hennessey and the Colonel's 
 portmanteau ! The embassy has succeeded, the bustle of the 
 boatmen is commensurate to the importance of the freight, 
 and they give way in the full consciousness, that they carry 
 " Caesar arid his saddle-bags." 
 
 Mr. Burke has made the amende honorable ; my cousin looks 
 two inches taller, and hints slily that feudal power in Bally- 
 croy is riot yet extinct ; and well he may, for the Colonel's 
 chattels are uninjured no rude hand has undone a buckle 
 not a shirt is wanting, or even the fold of a neckcloth disar- 
 ranged. There is a mysterious whispering between the 
 ambassador and Pattigo ; the commander rejoices over his 
 wardrobe; my kinsman looks "every inch a king;" and I 
 
SPILLET FISHING. 141 
 
 am probably the happiest of all, for I trust that the pleasant 
 narratives which for two nights robbed me of my rest, like 
 *' the thousand and one" of Scheherazade, have at last drawn 
 to a close. 
 
 Did a man wish to moralize upon the unrealities of human 
 expectations, let him hang over a spillet, and be interested in 
 its success. Conceive an eternity of line with a thousand 
 hooks at given distances as every snoud is placed a fathom 
 apart, a person less conversant with figures than Joe Hume, 
 may guess the total. This endless continuity of hemp must 
 be carefully taken up. Do it slowly, and the thing is worse 
 than a penance to Lough Dergh ; and if you attempt rapidity, 
 the odds are that the back-line breaks, and a full hour will 
 scarcely remedy the mischief. 
 
 It would puzzle a philosopher to determine the state of 
 affairs in ten-fathom water ; and if you shoot in foul ground, 
 you will probably lose the spillet, or with a world of labour 
 disentangle a moiety from rocks and sea- weed. Should it, 
 however, have escaped those casualties, after a two hours' 
 probation, while you listen to a Drimindhu* from the skipper, 
 and the exact state of the herring- market from the crew, you 
 proceed to raise it. Up it comes that vibratory motion 
 announces that a fish is fast upon the snoud ; conjecture is 
 busily at work, and there is a difference of opinion, whether 
 " the deceived one" be a ''codling or red-gurnet. It appears 
 a worthless, rascally, dog-fish ! A succession of line comes 
 in star-fish, and "few and far between," some solitary 
 plaices and flounders at last a victim heavy and unresisting. 
 An indistinct" glance of a dark object broad as a tea-tray, 
 brings the assistant spilleteer, gaff in hand, to the quarter. 
 Alas ! the turbot in expectation, turns out to be a ray ! Often 
 have I shot a spillet under favourable circumstances and in 
 approved ground, and lost time, hooks, and snouds, and my 
 whole reward was a boat-load of skates and dog-fish. 
 
 We ran quickly with a leading wind, to the fishing-bank, 
 and having shot the spillets a tedious thing enough stood 
 for a rocky part of the coast, where the coal-fish are always 
 abundant. This water- sport (viz., coal-fishing) is unknown 
 ** to the many/' and yet to him whose hands are not unac- 
 
 * A melancholy Irish ditty. 
 
142 COAL FISH. 
 
 quainted with rope and oar, it affords at times an admirable 
 amusement. 
 
 The coal- fishing requires a stiff breeze, and if there be 
 a dark sky it is all the better. In its detail, it is perfectly 
 similar to mackerel-fishing, only that the superior size of the 
 coal-fish makes stronger tackle and a heavier lead indispen- 
 sable. 
 
 An eel of seven or eight inches long is the bait. The head 
 being removed, the hook is introduced as in a minnow, and 
 the skin brought three or four inches up the snoud. This 
 latter is a fine line of two or three fathoms length, affixed to 
 the trap-stick and lead, the weight of which latter is regulated 
 by the rate of sailing. 
 
 The coal-fish, in weight, varies from two to fourteen 
 pounds; it is finely shaped, immensely rapid, uniting the 
 action of the salmon with the voracity of the pike. If he miss 
 his first dash, he will follow the bait to the stern of the boat, 
 and I have often hooked them within a fathom of the rudder. 
 
 Four or five knots an hour is the best rate of sailing for 
 killing coal-fish, and upon a coast where they are abundant, 
 the sport at times is excellent. 
 
 Like the pike, the coal-fish is very indifferent to the tackle 
 used, which is generally very coarse. Not so the mackerel ; 
 he requires much delicacy of line and bait to induce him to 
 take. 
 
 In light winds, or when the fish are out of humour, I have 
 killed mackerel by substituting a salmon casting-line of single 
 gut, for the hempen snoud commonly employed by fishermen, 
 which with a newly-cut bait of phosphoric brilliancy com- 
 monly overcame his resolve against temptation. But there 
 are times when a change of weather, or some inexplicable 
 phenomena of sea or sky, render these fish dull and cautious : 
 for usually it requires but trifling art to kill them. 
 
 A little experience is necessary. The bait must be cut 
 from the freshest mackerel, and assimilated in size and shape 
 to the herring-fry, which they generally follow ; and the way 
 of the boat must be so regulated, as to preserve the deception 
 by a sufficient velocity, without breaking by its rapidity the 
 mackerel's hold. The mouth of this fish is particularly 
 tender ; and if care be not taken, many will drop from the 
 hook, before they can be secured on board. 
 
UNFORTUNATE SHOT. 148 
 
 Unaccustomed to the painful effects which friction and salt 
 water occasion hands unused to hemp, I transferred my line 
 to an idle boy, who proved a much more fortunate coal-fisher 
 than I, notwithstanding the instructions of my friend Pattigo. 
 
 We were bearing down to a glorious play of sea-birds, and 
 I got a gun uncased to practise at the gulls. It was a curious 
 and bustling scene. Above, thousands of these birds were 
 congregated in a small circle, screaming, and rising, and 
 dipping over a dense mass of fry, which appeared at times 
 breaking the surface of the water, while grebes and puffins of 
 many varieties were persecuting those unhappy sprats under- 
 neath. As we bore down, I fired at a few straggling puffins. 
 Some were missed, some disabled, but not a clean-killed bird ! 
 The great body of sea-fowl appeared so much engrossed with 
 their predatory pursuits, as to neither attend to the reports of 
 the gun, or notice the approach of the hooker until the boat's 
 bolt-sprit seemed almost parting this countless host of floating 
 and flying plunderers. 
 
 Bent on destruction, I waited until we cleared the ball, and 
 reached that happy distance when the charge should open 
 properly. Pattigo estimated the shot would, moderately, 
 produce a stone of feathers. I fired ; a solitary gull dropped 
 in the water, and half-a-dozen wounded birds separated from 
 the crowd, and went screaming off to sea. The failure was a 
 melancholy one. I sank immeasurably in the estimation of 
 the crew as an artiste. Pattigo's bag of feathers was but an 
 unrealized dream while my kinsman muttered something 
 about the best single he ever possessed and I, to cover my 
 disgrace, occupied myself with reloading. 
 
 "I can't congratulate you on your gunnery," said my 
 cousin, " although I must admit, that it required some inge- 
 nuity to avoid accidents among the crowd. But give me the 
 gun, and here comes a victim," he continued, as a huge grey 
 gull, reckless of danger, wheeled as they will do round and 
 round a wounded companion. 
 
 "I would not be in his coat for half the hooker," said 
 Pattigo, in a stage whisper. 
 
 "The Lord look to him!" exclaimed another boatman, "if 
 it be not a sin to pray for a bird." 
 
 " He shall not carry his life to the water/' rejoined the 
 Master, as he laid the barrel to his eye. 
 
 But, notwithstanding prayer and prophecy, the gull merely 
 
144 PRESERVING GUNPOWDER. 
 
 parted a few feathers, and flew off to all appearance with little 
 injury. 
 
 " By every thing blind !" exclaimed my kinsman, " the 
 gun must have been charged with sawdust. Ha ! let's see the 
 flask ! Frank, Frank, thou art a careless gunner ; the powder 
 is not worth one farthing/' 
 
 It was true. I had forgotten my flask in the pocket of a 
 wet cot a more,* and consequently the powder was spoiled. 
 
 Nothing puzzles me more, with the exception of keeping 
 the Sheriff at a distance, than preserving gunpowder, and 
 preventing my arms from rusting ; and it is incredible how 
 soon the humidity of this climate spoils the one, and causes 
 the other.f 
 
 * Anglice, great-coat. 
 
 f Gunpowder is composed of very light charcoal, sulphur, and well- 
 refined saltpetre. The powder used by sportsmen in shooting game, is 
 generally composed of six parts of saltpetre, one of charcoal, and one of 
 sulphur; but these proportions, as well as the introduction of other 
 ingredients, and the sizes of the grains, are undoubtedly varied by the 
 different manufacturers in the composition of the powders of the same 
 denomination, and are always kept profoundly secret. 
 
 The materials are put into a wooden trough, where they are ground 
 together, to render the contact of the nitrous arid combustible particles 
 intimate and equal throughout the whole mass. The mixture is occa- 
 sionally sprinkled with water, to form an amalgam, which is afterwards 
 granulated, and to prevent the finer particles of the sulphur and the 
 charcoal from flying off, which would necessarily alter the proportion of 
 the composition. The powder-makers employ more or less time in the 
 operation of grinding, in proportion to the quantity and quality of the 
 saltpetre. When they conceive that the ingredients are properly mixed 
 together, they from the paste form those little grains, which, being dried, 
 obtain the name of gunpowder. 
 
 There are two general methods of examining gunpowder; one with 
 regard to its purity, the other with regard to its strength. 
 
 Its purity is known by laying two or three little heaps near each 
 other, upon white paper, and firing one of them. For if this takes fire 
 readily, and the smoke rises upright, without leaving any dross or feculant 
 matter behind, and without burning the paper, or firing the other heaps, 
 it is esteemed a sign that the sulphur and nitre were well purified, that 
 the coal was good, and that the ingredients were thoroughly incorporated 
 together ; but if the other heaps also take fire at the same time, it is 
 presumed, that either common salt was mixed with the nitre, or that the 
 coal was not well ground, or the whole mass not well beat or mixed 
 together ; and if either the nitre or sulphur be not well purified, the paper 
 will be black or spotted. 
 
 To determine the strength of powder, dry it perfectly, and ascertain 
 how many sheets of paper it will drive the shot through at the distance 
 
PRESERVING GUNPOWDER. 
 
 ' My grand magazine is a sort of basket, secured with a 
 lid and padlock, and covered with a sheep-skin, which, like 
 the coffin of Mahomet, hangs suspended between sky and 
 earth, from the couples of the kitchen. This disposition 
 secures it alike against damp and accident. My arms give me 
 an infinity of trouble, but by a weekly inspection, I manage to 
 keep all in order. 
 
 " It is marvellous how quickly, even with moderate care, 
 powder spoils. With my attention I experience little incon- 
 venience, as I always warm my flask by plunging it in 
 boiling water before I take the field. This renders the 
 powder sufficiently dry, without deteriorating from its 
 strength, which exposure to a stronger heat will inevitably 
 occasion. 
 
 " By the way, I have had more actual experience in this 
 necessary article than was exactly agreeable. Come, we will 
 bear away for the Lodge, and as the Colonel is immersed in 
 * The Packet/ and deep in the debate, I will give you the 
 particulars. In powder I am not ' ignarus mail,' for I blew 
 myself up, or made an excellent attempt, and burned a cabin 
 to the very ground. 
 
 " Both tales are briefly told. We were on a Christmas visit, 
 when, a slight fall of snow having taken place overnight, the 
 host proposed that I, and Captain H - of the 7th dragoons, 
 should go out and shoot snipes among the numerous drains by 
 which his lawn was irrigated. Guns were procured but 
 only one powder-flask was attainable, and it was to be a part- 
 
 of ten or twelve yards. In this trial we should be careful to employ the 
 same sized shot in each experiment the quantity both of the shot and 
 the powder being regulated by exact weight ; otherwise we cannot, even 
 in this experiment, arrive to any certainty in comparing the strength of 
 different powders, or of the samt powder at different times. 
 
 To protect guns from rust in the humid climate I have been latterly 
 accustomed to, I found nothing answer well but strong mercurial oint- 
 ment. On the western coast, oil, no matter how good in quality, i> 
 useless, but for cleaning. Those who are acquainted with the localities of 
 that, country know that turf is of trifling value. No limit is consequently 
 placed upon its consumption ; it is calculated only by the stack or the 
 boatful, and hence more fuel was wasted iu my lodge than would supply 
 three moderate houses. Yet so penetrating is the damp from the ocean 
 breeze, that the house-arms rusted above the fire-places, and the pistols 
 I kept upon my table would spot if not frequently examined, and dry- 
 rubbed with a flannel cloth. 
 
 I* 
 
146 AN EXPLOSION. 
 
 nership concern. For this purpose it was large enough in all 
 conscience, being an old-fashioned horn, bound with brass, 
 and capable of holding a pound of powder. We filled it to the 
 top. At a short distance from the house, a snipe sprang un- 
 expectedly I killed it and in attempting to reload, the charge 
 ignited in the barrel, and the horn blew up in rny hand. My 
 clothes were reduced to tinder, my hat scorched, my hair and 
 eyebrows burned off, but excepting a slight cut in my hand, 
 otherwise I was perfectly uninjured. Not a fragment of the 
 flask, but one shattered piece of horn, could be found upon the 
 
 unbroken surface of the snow. H , who was about one 
 
 hundred yards distant from me, described the explosion as 
 louder than the report of a nine-pound er ; yet, to me, the 
 noise seemed trifling. Was not this escape miraculous? 
 
 " The second explosion, in which I perpetrated arson, 
 occurred some ten miles up the river. By some uuhappy 
 mischance, I took out a flask of condemned powder, and 
 the accident was not discovered until it was too late to be 
 remedied. To dry the powder was the alternative ; and we 
 repaired for this purpose to the only house within four miles 
 of the place, a shieling occupied by an old herdsman and his 
 wife. 
 
 " The powder was spread upon a wooden platter, and laid at 
 a sufficient distance from the fire ; and while I stirred it with 
 a ramrod at a distance, one of my attendants conceived it a fit- 
 ting opportunity to roast a cast of potatoes in the embers. Both 
 operations went forward successfully. The powder was almost dry 
 the potatoes nearly roasted, when my follower ingeniously 
 contrived to introduce a coal into the loose powder. This in- 
 cident, though trifling in itself, made an immediate alteration 
 in affairs. The roof of the cabin was dry as tinder, while tow, 
 flax, and* other combustible matters, were stored immediately 
 above the hearth. In a moment all was in flames the potato- 
 roaster blown into the corner, and I, either by fear or gunpow- 
 der, capsized in another direction. 
 
 "The agony of the poor old woman, who fortunately was 
 outside the hovel when the explosion took place, was pitiable. 
 In five minutes her cabin was a ruin and to her that 
 wretched shieling was worth a marble palace. For a time 
 she could not be pacified. In vain she was assured ' that the 
 master would build her a new house, wider, and bigger, and 
 
A CALM NIGHT. 147 
 
 warmer, ay, and that should have a wooden door!' but, like 
 another Rachel, she mourned, and refused to be comforted. 
 
 " Two or three days removed her sorrow. I sent assistance, 
 and, progressing, like another Aladdin, the cabin rose, Phcenix- 
 like, from its ashes. It is now the envy of the passing travel- 
 ler ; and as the old couple close their wooden door at night, 
 they pray for the Masters long life, and bless God that ' a 
 pound of powder blew up at their fire-side/ 
 
 " But see ! old John's signal flies at the flag- staff. In with 
 that endless spillet, Pattigo ! Pshaw ! red gurnets, codlings, 
 flat-fish, with skates and rays eternally. Now, out reefs on 
 with the big jib nay, my dear Colonel, I am commander. 
 Ease away the sheets. Ha I she stoops to it ! Hish ! she travels 
 Carry on, Pattigo the Colonel is aboard, ' Casarem vehis !' 
 She does scrape the sand a little ; but we are fairly over the 
 l ar John's dinner signal would make any man a hero." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A calm night Sand-eel fishing Dangerous to the fair sex Cockles 
 Crabs Scallops Oysters Punt adrift My brother's shoes Seal sur- 
 prised Incident Gun burst Birmingham guns Percussion locks 
 London makers Barrel-making Gun-making Inferior guns Shoot- 
 ing accident. 
 
 IT was nearly dark, but the night was calm and warm. I 
 stole from the heated room to indulge in a luxurious smoke 
 al fresco ; and seated upon the wall of the little pier, puffed 
 away in Turkish indolence. The swell upon the bar was par- 
 ticularly distinct, as, in successive falls, the wave burst upon 
 the sands, and ran hissing up the beach, till its volume of 
 water broke and subsided. The tide was almost out, and the 
 river which forms the channel of the estuary, would hardly 
 reach beyond the knee ; and I thought of the singular con- 
 trast that existed between the quiet stream, now scarcely a 
 stone's throw ovei, and the fierce and lowering water which 
 a westerly gale forces in, rushing every moment with in- 
 creased violence from the ocean, and threatening to burst 
 over bank and rock that opposed a barrier to its rage. My 
 
 L 2 
 
148 SAND-EEL FISHING. 
 
 musings were, however, speedily interrupted ; voices came to- 
 wards me from opposite directions, and loud t and frequent 
 laugh replied to rustic badinage and youthful romping. My 
 cousin joined me, and from him I ascertained that the jolly 
 parties who seemed every were scattered over the sands 
 beyond the river, where the village girls assembled to collect 
 sand-eels, an employment they would pursue till the return- 
 ing tide filled the estuary again. A little flat punt, which 
 the servants use for bringing spring water from the bent 
 banks, \vas speedily placed upon the river, and we pushed 
 over to the opposite strand, and found ourselves surrounded 
 by several hundreds of the young villagers of both sexes, 
 who were busily engaged in this curious species of night - 
 fishing. 
 
 The sand-eels are generally from four to nine inches in 
 length, and lie beneath the surface seldom deeper than a 
 foot. The method of taking them is very simple ; it is 
 effected by passing a case-knife or sickle with a blunted edge, 
 quickly through the sands ; and by this means the fish is 
 brought to the surface, and its phosphoric brilliancy betrays it 
 instantly. At the particular times during the summer .months 
 when these eels run in upon the estuary, quantities sufficient 
 to fill several barrels have been collected during a night. When 
 dressed the fish is reckoned by the peasantry a great delicacy, 
 but to my taste it is much too strong. But they are sought after 
 for other purposes : from the particular brilliancy of the skin they 
 make an admirable bait for flat-fish ; and hence a spillet-sttee 
 prefers them to every other kind, as they are much more durable 
 than the lug,* and infinitely preferable to eels of a coarser 
 size. 
 
 In speaking of this nocturnal fishery, if a search in the 
 sands may be so termed, my cousin said that it was a source 
 of considerable trouble to himself and the priest in their res- 
 pective vocations : for accidents of a delicate description were 
 occasionally to be lamented, and many an unhappy calamity 
 was traced to " the returning from the sand-eels/' Whether 
 the danger of this curious pursuit enhanced its enjoyment is 
 questionable ; but, regardless of the frequent mishaps, which 
 prudent mothers would of course duly enumerate, the fair por- 
 
 * The sand-worm used by fishermen. 
 
LOBSTERS CRABS. 149 
 
 tion of the peasantry waited anxiously for twilight, and then, 
 fortified by maternal advice and female resolution, set off in 
 troops to the strand to share the pleasures and the perils of 
 this interesting but dangerous amusement. 
 
 A crowd of a more youthful description of the peasantry, 
 are collected every spring-tide to gather cockles on the same 
 sands by daylight when the tide answers. The quantities of 
 these shell-fish thus procured would almost exceed belief; and 
 I have frequently seen more than would load a donkey, col- 
 lected during one tide by the children of a single cabin. They 
 form a valuable and wholesome addition to the limited variety 
 that the Irish peasant boasts at his humble board ; and afford 
 children, too young for otHer tasks, a safe and useful 
 employment. 
 
 Indeed, its plentiful supply of shell-fish may be enumerated 
 among the principal advantages which this wild coast offers to 
 its inhabitants. Along the cliffs, whether in the islands or on 
 the main, lobsters are found in abundance ; and, if the peasan- 
 try possessed the necessary means for prosecuting the fishery, 
 it might at times afford them a lucrative employment. But, 
 simple as the apparatus is, they do not possess it ; and the 
 lobsters obtained by sinking pots and baskets in the deep sea, 
 are taken by strangers, who come for this purpose from a con- 
 siderable distance. Those killed by the islanders are only 
 procurable at low springs, when the ebbing of the water 
 beyond its customary limits, permits caves and crannies in the 
 rocks being investigated, which in ordinary tides could not be 
 entered. 
 
 Crabs are found on this coast of considerable size and 
 sufficiently numerous. Like the lobsters, they are only acci- 
 dentally procured ; but there is no doubt but a large supply 
 could be obtained if proper means were employed to take 
 them. 
 
 The most esteemed of all the shell-fish tribe by the western 
 fishermen is the scallop, which here is indeed of very superior 
 size and flavour. They are commonly found by the oyster- 
 dredgers in deep water ; and are estimated so highly as a 
 luxury, as to cause their being transferred to the next gentle- 
 man who may have been serviceable to the peasant who finds 
 them, or whose future favour it may be advisable to propitiate. 
 Indeed, in former days, and those too not very distant from 
 our own times, to approach a justice of the peace without 
 
150 OYSTERS PUNT ADRIFT. 
 
 " a trifle for his honour," would be an offence of passing 
 magnitude ; a basket of chickens, a cleave of scallops, or an 
 ass-load of oysters, harbingered the aggriever and the aggrieved. 
 If these formulse were not duly attended to, the fountain of 
 taw was hermetically sealed ; and a house functionary for all 
 the servants on the establishment were " four pound con- 
 stables" announced that ft his honour would do no justice," 
 and bundled off the applicant to some one more approachable 
 of his Majesty's numerous and poor esquires. 
 
 The oysters found in the bays and estuaries along this coast 
 are of a very superior quality ; and their quantity may be 
 inferred from the fact, that on the shores where they are 
 bedded, a turf-basket large enough to contain six or seven 
 hundred, can be filled for a sixpence. A couple of men will 
 easily, and in a few hours, lift a horse- load ! arid, notwith- 
 standing the numbers carried off by sailing-boats from Clare 
 and Munster, the stock appears to be little reduced by the 
 constant dredging. There are besides these, other shell- 
 fishes greatly prized by the peasantry, but which I had never 
 had the curiosity to eat, such as razor-fish, clams, and various 
 kinds of muscles. These occasionally make a welcome change 
 in the otherwise unvarying potato diet ; and, better still, 
 employ the idler members of the family, whose youth or age 
 unfits them for more laborious exertions. 
 
 We dallied so long among the fairer portion of the sand-eel 
 fishers, that the tide insensibly rose; and when we reached the 
 place where our punt had been secured, we discovered that the 
 water had crept up the sands, and floated the frail skiff away. 
 To hail and get a boat from the Lodge, from the calmness of 
 the night, was readily effected ; and while it was being 
 launched down the beach, my kinsman told me that it was 
 not the first time that the treacherous punt had played truant 
 to its crew. 
 
 ' ' On a stormy evening, one of the boatmen was ordered to 
 cross the estuary for spring- water, and set out accordingly for 
 a supply, accompanied by a wild-looking and nondescript 
 animal who infests the premises, who is known to the 
 establishment by the name of ' Achil.' The river was flooded, 
 the evening stormy, and Peeterein, after leaving his coadjutor 
 in strict charge of the skiff, set off to fill his water-vessels, 
 and to return, if possible, before the dusk had fallen into 
 darkness. Achil, as the evening was chilly, lay down in the 
 
SEAL SUKPRISED. 151 
 
 bottom of the skiff to shelter himself from the piercing east 
 wind ; and, in place of keeping watch and ward like an able 
 mariner, composed himself to sleep. Meanwhile the river 
 rose fearfully ; the breeze freshened into a gale ; and when 
 Peeterein hurried back with his water- vessels, he had the 
 satisfaction of seeing the punt half a mile down channel, 
 hurrying as fast as a flooded river and a freshening storm could 
 urge it to the bar, which now broke in thunder. I had been 
 shooting on this side, and reached the strand while Peeterein 
 was hallooing for assistance. A boat was rapidly despatched 
 the skiff, when its destruction appeared inevitable, was 
 overtaken, and Achil found as comfortably asleep as if he 
 were in his accustomed crib in the barn. The ebullitions 
 of Peeterein's sorrow, while the fate of skiff and boy was 
 still uncertain, astonished me ; and when I saw the punt in 
 tow, I observed that, as the boy was recovered, he might 
 now cease his lamentations. ' The Lord be blessed ! there 
 she is : another minute would have made noggin- staves of 
 her! Arrah! and did ye think it was Achil I was frettin 
 after the devil pursue him for an unlucky member ! No, 
 faith I was in sore distress, for my brother s shoes were 
 aboard!' " 
 
 We were assembled round the breakfast-table this morning, 
 and it was a questionable affair whether we should pass the 
 forenoon in the warren, or shoot a spillet on the banks, 
 when the conclave was dissolved by one of those incidental 
 alarms that diversify the rustic monotony of our common- 
 place existence. The spring- tide had left the channel nearly 
 dry, and, except in some deep pools, the water was but 
 ankle-deep. Into one of these an unlucky seal had been 
 seduced in pursuit of a salmon, and his retreat was cut off 
 before he was aware that his ill-timed chasse would cause his 
 ruin. On his being discovered, a host of cockle-gatherers 
 formed across the neck of the hole, whih a breathless courier 
 brought -the tidings to the Lodge. Instantly all was bustle; 
 a salmon- net was procured, and the whole of the " Dramatis 
 Personse," even to the Colonel and the Priest, were speedily 
 armed with divers and deadly implements. Old Antony had 
 hobbled off at the first alarm, and, by the prudent plan of 
 taking time by the forelock, managed to be the first man at 
 
152 GUN BURST. 
 
 the scene of action. It was a deep and rather an extensive 
 pool, and the unfortunate seal absconded to the place most 
 likely to afford concealment till the flood-tide should liberate 
 him from the hand of his enemies. But, alas ! they were 
 many and malignant ; and, driven from his deepest and last 
 retreat, to avoid being meshed in the net, he was forced upon 
 the shoal, when an otter- spear, struck to the socket of the 
 grains by the vigorous arm of Hennessey, killed him without 
 a straggle. When the net was brought ashore, the moiety of 
 a large salmon remained in the meshes, and told the errand 
 which induced the defunct seal to commit himself to the faith- 
 less shoals which proved so fatal to him. 
 
 This is, indeed, a day of incidents. Dinner was just 
 removed, when, on the top of flood, a coast-guard galley ran 
 in with a leading breeze from the westward. The very 
 elegant proportions of the boat, the happy attitude, the snowy 
 whiteness of her large lugs, as with the favourable light 
 which a sunless but clear blue sky gave, she rounded the 
 headland, and came up like a race-horse to the pier, had 
 called our undivided attention to her arrival. While conjecture 
 was busy as to what her business might be, we observed a 
 man with his arm slung in a handkerchief, and apparently in 
 considerable pain, leave her. The cause was soon ascer- 
 tained, for a serious accident had occurred, and we all 
 adjourned to the kitchen, where Antony was already occupied 
 with the wound. 
 
 It appeared that a gun, with which the poor fellow had 
 been shooting rabbits, had burst and shattered his hand ; and 
 when I saw the whole of the palm sadly lacerated, and the 
 thumb attached by a small portion of the muscles, I really 
 feared to save it was a hopeless task. But Antony and my 
 kinsman thought differently. The old man bound the wound 
 up with a professional neatness that I could not have expected 
 from him ; the patient was accommodated in the Lodge, and 
 A n a fortnight the galley again returned, to bring him, tho- 
 roughly convalescent, to his station. 
 
 I had some curiosity to examine the unlucky gun that 
 caused the mischief. There was a longitudinal rent along the 
 barrel, of seven or eight inches, terminating where the left 
 hand usually grasps the stock. There had, no doubt, been a 
 
PERCUSSION LOCKS. 153 
 
 deep flaw in the inside of the metal ; for the wounded man 
 declared that he had not loaded the gun beyond the customary 
 charge. 
 
 It proved to be one of those wretched affairs which are 
 constantly smuggled into Ireland, and sold under the denomi- 
 nation of London guns, but which, it is well known, are fabri- 
 cated in Birmingham ; and the extent to which this dangerous 
 imposition upon public safety is carried, would scarcely be 
 credited. There is a constant demand in this unhappy country 
 for fire-arms ; the well affected and disaffected seek them for 
 very different purposes; one wants them for defence, the 
 other requires them for aggression ; and every steamer that 
 arrives from Liverpool has generally some stands of contraband 
 arms on board. 
 
 That our times should be as far distinguished for increased 
 effect and superior elegance in the formation of fire-arms, as 
 for any other mechanical improvement, will be admitted by all 
 but the most prejudiced of the old school. Antique gunners 
 may still be found, who are obstinate in preferring the flint to 
 the percussion plan ; but any person who has suffered the 
 disappointments that the best guns on the former principle 
 will entail upon those that carry them, and particularly in 
 wet and stormy weather, will freely admit the wonderful ad- 
 vantages that simple and effective invention, the copper cap, 
 confers upon the modern sportsman. The misery entailed 
 upon the man who in rain and storm attempts to load and 
 discharge a flint gun, may be reckoned among the worst upon 
 the human catalogue ; and if he who has suffered repeated 
 disappointments of eternal misses and dilatory explosions, from 
 a thick flint and a damp pan, tried the simple and elegant 
 improvement now in general use, he would abandon the stone 
 gun for ever. 
 
 It has been said that gun-making is only brought to perfec- 
 tion in London, and that the Irish are not able to compete 
 with their English rivals. I am of this opinion, I confess, 
 and decidedly partial to a London gun; and while I admit 
 that I have occasionally met with excellent fire-arms produced 
 by Dublin makers, yet they are, in finish and elegance, far 
 behind those which one gets from any of the leading artists 
 in the great metropolis. To point to any particular name, 
 
154 CHOICE OF A GUN. 
 
 among the host of London makers, would be absurd. From 
 any of a dozen a person will be certain of obtaining a first-rate 
 implement ; and from the Mantons, Purday, Egg, and many 
 others, guns of the most efficient qualities and beautiful finish 
 will be procured. 
 
 Some sportsmen are partial to such makers as forge their 
 own barrels, and who thus afford them an opportunity of 
 seeing their gun in progress from its commencement to its 
 finish ; and I acknowledge that I like to see my barrels 
 fabricated ; not but that I believe the greatest pains are 
 bestowed upon proving his barrels by every gunmaker of 
 character, and that none will be permitted to leave the shop 
 of any reputable artist that have not been faithfully tested as 
 to strength and safety. 
 
 So much depends on individual fancy, as well as the 
 personal formation of the shooter, that no two persons will 
 exactly select the same gun. He who has long or short arms, 
 or any peculiarity in the formation of neck or shoulders, will 
 require, according to circumstances, a differently shapen stock. 
 Every man knows the gun best suited to his taste and figure, 
 and few can shoot with one that differs materially from that 
 which he has been accustomed to. To tell an experienced 
 sportsman the qualities a finished gun should possess, would 
 be giving him unnecessary information ; and should the neo- 
 phyte on this head wish for ample instructions, let him consult 
 Colonel Hawker, and he, honest man, will open up all the 
 arcana of the craft ; and though he may not teach him " the 
 cunning trick of shooting ;" he will, if his advice be attended 
 to, enable him to thoroughly comprehend the requisite qualities 
 of an efficient and well-finished fowling-piece. 
 
 Indeed, it is' a miserable species of economy for a sportsman 
 to purchase an inferior gun. To expect that the low-priced 
 ones which are manufactured in country towns will be either 
 safe or durable, is an absurdity. No doubt the charges of 
 some fashionable makers are exorbitant; and from more 
 moderate tradesmen, of excellent repute, an equally good gun 
 may be procured at a considerably less price. But if a London 
 maker be expensive, he certainly gives you the best article 
 that improved machinery and the first workmen in the world 
 can produce. With common care it will nearly last a life- 
 time ; and the small consideration between a warranted, and a 
 flimsy. and hastily-formed fowling-piece, will be too contemp- 
 
SHOOTING ACCIDENT. . 155 
 
 tible for a person to place in competition with personal se- 
 curity and sporting comfort. 
 
 When a gun begins to exhibit symptoms of having done 
 its work, the sooner a man discards it the better. An injured 
 barrel, or enfeebled lock, may prove fatal to the owner 
 or his associates. Accidents every day occur, and very 
 lamentable consequences arise from a culpable neglect, in 
 retaining arms that should be declared unserviceable, and of 
 course disused. 
 
 I had once a favourite gun, which, from constant wear and 
 tear, exhibited unequivocal weakness in the lock, and which I 
 had been earnestly recommended by a veteran sportsman to 
 discard. On a cold and rainy day I was with my friend, 
 
 O'M , shooting woodcocks in the heath, and having sprung 
 
 several, which, from the severity of the weather, were as wild as 
 hawks, we marked them into a ravine, and determined to tie up 
 the dogs, and endeavour to steal upon them. To keep my gun 
 dry, I placed it under the skirt of my jacket, with the muzzle 
 pointing downwards. My companion and our attendant were 
 busy coupling the dogs, when the gun exploded, and the 
 
 charge passed between O'M 's bosom and the back of a 
 
 dog he was in the act of securing, buried itself at the foot of 
 the keeper, covering him with mud and gravel. From the 
 close manner in which we were all grouped, how the shot 
 could have entered the ground, without killing men or dogs, 
 or both, was miraculous. I was desperately frightened, and 
 from that moment forswore, for ever, the use of weakened locks 
 and attenuated barrels. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Bad roads Native horses Carins Bridge of Ballyveeney Our beat 
 Midday on the Moors Hints to grouse-shooters Finding game Wild 
 scenery The ruined chapel The well Act of penance Storm in the 
 mountains The deserted burying-place Our return The Colonel's 
 method of rabbit-shooting A disappointment. 
 
 I VERILY believe that no people upon earth are more easily 
 satisfied in roads, than the natives in Ballyveeney. A narrow 
 Btrip of rough gravel along the sea-beach a mountain water- 
 course, tolerably disencumbered of its rocks, or practicable 
 
156 BAD ROADS. 
 
 passage across a bog, provided it be but fetlock deep, are 
 considered by the inhabitants of this wild peninsula to be ex- 
 cellent horse ways. 
 
 That accidents do not more frequently occur is marvellous. 
 But the horse is born in the wilderness, and if there be a 
 practicable path, he appears to know it by intuition. Hence, 
 the rider traverses with impunity a morass in which Colonel 
 Thornton would have been 'ingulfed, and skirts a dizzy preci- 
 pice, with no more apprehension than a cockney wayfaring 
 upon a turnpike trust. " Use lessens marvel/' quoth Sir 
 Walter Scott, and I, who formerly witnessed the accoutre- 
 ment of these Calmuck-looking coursers, with a lively antici- 
 pation of broken bones, now stumble through a defile, or cross 
 a bog, with all the indifference of a native. 
 
 Having despatched the dogs and keeper, we arranged our 
 beat, and started after breakfast. The road by which we 
 reached our shooting-ground, is the sole means by which this, 
 our terra incognita, is connected with the rest of Christendom. 
 It is rough and dangerous in the extreme, and impracticable to 
 every quadruped but the ponies of the country. In place of 
 mile-stones, which mark ^better frequented roads, heaps of 
 irregularly-sized pebbles meet the eye, and a stranger will be 
 at a loss to assign their uses. They are melancholy memorials 
 of uncivilized society, and either mark the scene of murder, or 
 the place where a corpse has been rested in the progress of a 
 funeral. These tumuli are numerous and many a wild and 
 fearful record of former violence is associated with them. The 
 greater portion of these cairns record loss of life, consequent 
 upon drunkenness ; and the stone, at present, appears as fatal 
 as the middoge* in former days. 
 
 * This weapon, I believe, was almost confined to the west of Ireland, 
 and at this time is rarely met with. Yet some centuries back, it was as 
 constantly borne by the Milesians, as the dirk in the Highlands, and the 
 stiletto in Italy. All the legendary tales of blood usually employ it as the 
 means of violence ; and old Antony says, that in his youth the old people 
 shuddered when they named it. I never saw but one ; it was a broad- 
 bladed dagger, about fifteen inches long, of clumsy workmanship, and 
 hafted with a piece of deer's horn. From the formidable figure the 
 middoge cuts in ancient chronicles, the temper of the blade was supposed 
 to be superior to any weapon forged in these degenerate days ; and I 
 heard an old man assert that he had seen one, which, when held up and 
 let fall perpendicularly but a few feet, would pierce through three half- 
 crown pieces Credat Judceus ! This interesting and valuable implement, 
 
GROUSE SHOOTING. 157 
 
 We left our horses at the old bridge of Ballyveeney, and 
 proceeded to make an extensive circle of the moors, skirting, 
 as we went along, the bases of the ridge of hills, which shuts 
 out Erris from the interior. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock when the dogs were uncoupled. The 
 breeze was brisk and warm, and the ground was either undu- 
 lated into hillocks, or intersected by rivulets, whose broken 
 banks were thickly covered with luxurious heath. It was a 
 beat, on which a grouse-shooter would risk a kingdom, it 
 realized our expectations, and we found game abundantly. 
 
 Hunting for grouse during the basking hour of the day, 
 is rigidly prohibited by all gentlemen who compile sporting 
 directories ; and yet every shooter knows, that at these pro- 
 scribed hours, himself is commonly on the moors. Morning 
 and evening, when the birds are on foot in search of food, is 
 undoubtedly preferable to the duller portion of the day, when 
 they are accustomed to indulge in a siesta. But generally 
 some considerable distance must be travelled before the sports- 
 man can reach his beat from his quarters. The morning is con- 
 sumed on horseback or in the shooting- cart ; the same road must 
 be again accomplished before night ; and hence, the middle of the 
 day is, of necessity, the portion devoted to the pursuit of game. 
 
 To find the birds, when, satisfied with food, they leave the 
 moor to bask in some favourite haunt, requires both patience 
 and experience ; and here the mountain-bred sportsman proves 
 his superiority over the less practised shooter. The packs 
 then lie closely, and occupy a small surface on some sunny 
 brow or sheltered hollow. The best-nosed dogs will pass 
 within a few yards, and not acknowledge them ; and patient 
 hunting, with every advantage of the wind, must be employed 
 to find grouse at this dull hour. 
 
 But if close and judicious hunting be necessary, the places 
 to be beaten are comparatively few, and the sportsman's eye 
 readily detects the spot, where the pack is sure to be disco- 
 vered. He leaves the open feeding-grounds for heathery 
 knowes and sheltered valleys and, while the uninitiated wearies 
 his dogs in vain over the hill- side, where the birds, hours 
 before, might have been expected, the older sportsman profits 
 by his experience, and seldom fails in discovering the dell 
 
 according to his account, was lost " during the French," that is, at the 
 period of the French invasion in '98. 
 
158 WILD SCENERY. 
 
 or hillock, where, in fancied security, the indolent pack is 
 reposing. 
 
 We had been upon the moors some hours our walk was 
 enlivened by success, and the time had arrived when the 
 commissariat was required, and old John's supplies were ordered 
 from the rear. A rivulet was reported to be just round the hill, 
 and thither our course was directed. 
 
 We turned a rugged brow suddenly, and never did a 
 sweeter spot present itself to an exhausted sportsman ; and 
 resting on the bank of a ravine, where a small stream trickled 
 over a precipice, forming beneath its brow a basin of crystal 
 water, we selected this for our " bivouac." Wild myrtle and 
 shrub-like heather closed the opposite sides, and one spot, 
 where the rivulet elbowed back, w 7 as covered with short green 
 moss, that seemed rather an effort of human art, than a piece 
 of natural arrangement. 
 
 Here we rested and while baskets were unpacked, and the 
 cloth extended upon the velvet surface we reposed upon, I 
 looked with feelings which I cannot describe, upon the wild 
 and melancholy scene below. 
 
 It was a ruined chapel and deserted burying-place one 
 gable of the building alone was standing, and, from beneath 
 the ivied wall, a spring gushed out and united itself with the 
 rivulet I have described. A stone cross, whose rude work- 
 manship showed its antiquity, was erected beside the fountain ; 
 and although the cemetery had long since been deserted, .a 
 circle round the well* was freshly worn in the turf, and a 
 
 * The following passage is quoted from " The Minstrelsy of the 
 Border:" " Many run superstitiously to other wells, and there obtain, as 
 they imagine, health and advantage ; and then they offer bread and cheese, 
 or money, by throwing them into the well." And again : " In the 
 bounds of the lands of Eccles, belonging to a lineage, of the name of 
 Maitland, there is a loch, called the Dowloc/i, of old resorted to, with 
 much superstition, as medicinal both for men and beasts, and that with 
 such ceremonies as are shrewdly suspected to have begun with witch- 
 craft, and increased afterwards by magical directions. For bringing of a 
 cloth or somewhat that did relate to the bodies of men arid women, and 
 a shoe or tether belonging to a cow or horse, and these being cast into 
 the loch, if they did float it was taken for a good omen of recovery, and a 
 part of the water carried to the patient, though to remote places, without 
 saluting or speaking to any they met by the way ; but if they did sink, 
 the recovery of the party was hopeless. This custom was of late much 
 curbed and restrained ; but since the discovery of many medicinal fountains 
 near the place, the vulgar, holding that it may be as medicinal as these 
 
A MOUNTAIN STORM. 159 
 
 woman at the moment was performing an act of devotion, on 
 her bare knees, making an occasional pause, to offer up a 
 prayer and drop a bead from her rosary. 
 
 The valley had a solemn and imposing character ; every- 
 thing about it was lonely and desolate. No traces of human 
 visits were discernible; no pathway led to the ruin, all was 
 deep unbroken solitude ; a hallowed and melancholy spot, 
 where the living seldom presumed to approach the mansions 
 of the dead. 
 
 The breeze fell, the air became unusually oppressive, the 
 hill behind robbed us of the little wind that still partially 
 cooled the sultry atmosphere ; a distant muttering among the 
 mountains was faintly heard, and a sound like a rising stream, 
 was audible. Suddenly, a black cloud rose like magic upon 
 the summit of the mountain, and a flash of light succeeded. 
 " The storrn is on/' said my kinsman, and leaving the atten- 
 dants to discuss the fragments of the feast, where they might 
 best obtain shelter, we hurried down the hill, and couched 
 beneath the ruins of the chapel. 
 
 There is more grandeur in an Alpine storm, than can be 
 imagined by those wiio have not witnessed its effect. As 
 the thunder crashes over the hills, and miles away is rever- 
 berated from the opposite mountains, the loneliness of the 
 wilderness is in fine keeping with the anger of the elements. 
 'The rain-drops now fell faster quick and vivid flashes burst 
 from the southern heavens, and roll after roll succeeded, like 
 sustained discharges of artillery. The dogs, in evident alarm, 
 cowered at our feet, soliciting mortal protection from what, 
 instinct told them, were the visitations of an awful power. 
 Suddenly, one prolonged and terrific crash burst overhead 
 a deluge of rain descended and rapidly as it came on the 
 storm passed away the peals became fewer and more distant, 
 and in five minutes died in sullen murmurs among the distant 
 hills. I 
 
 " Is not this, indeed, sublimity?" said my kinsman, as 
 he broke a silence of some minutes. " To convey ideas of 
 the grand and terrible, give me a storm in the mountains, 
 and let it be viewed thus : sheltered bv the ivied walls of 
 
 are, at this time begin to reassume their former practice." Macfar- 
 *>ne > MSS. 
 
160 DESERTED BURYING-GROUND. 
 
 a * toppling* ruin, and surrounded by the dwellings of the 
 dead." 
 
 " How comes it," I inquired, "that, contrary to the known 
 attachment of the lower Irish for ancient places of interment, 
 this seems to be neglected and disused ?" 
 
 " You are right," he replied ; " although it was once the 
 only burying-ground to which the inhabitants of this district 
 conveyed the dead for interment, more than two centuries have 
 elapsed since it has been abandoned. There is a curious tra- 
 dition connected with its desecration, which Antony will be too 
 happy in narrating, and as the clouds appear collecting on the 
 hills, I propose that we retreat in good time, for it is rare to 
 find such shelter on the moors, as that afforded us by the ruins 
 of Knock-a-thample."* 
 
 Even the sublime and beautiful may be enjoyed to satiety, 
 and we agreed that one thunder- storm is sufficient for the day. 
 The game-bags, upon examination, produced twenty brace of 
 grouse, and a leash of mountain hares. For moderate men 
 we had done enough, and we could dispense with the evening 
 shooting. Accordingly, we left our attendants to follow at 
 their leisure, and mounting our Cossack cavalry, set off at a 
 killing pace, " over bank, bush, and scaur," nor drew bridle 
 until we reached the sand-banks, where the boat, with Pattigo 
 and his companions, was awaiting our arrival. 
 
 Nor have we been the only denizens of the lodge whose 
 exertions have this day been successful. The Colonel has 
 spent the forenoon in the sand-banks, much to his own satis- 
 faction, in slaying rabbits, and studying the Morning Pont. 
 To unite the sportsman and politician, may at first sight seem 
 difficult but, ensconcing himself in a good position, the 
 commander waits patiently for a shot, arid, confiding loading 
 and look-out to Andy Bawn, whose attentions since the unfor- 
 tunate affair of the portmanteau have been redoubled, he 
 coolly proceeds with the debate, until a rabbit is reported 
 within range of the favourite Spanish barrel t -\ by his assistant 
 
 * Anglice, The church of the hill. 
 
 f Spamxlt barrel* have always been held in great esteem, as well on 
 account- of the quality of the iron, which is generally considered the he- -I, 
 in Europe, as because they possess the reputation of being forced and 
 bored more perfectly than any others. It should he observed, however, 
 that of the Spanish barrels, those only that are made in the capital are 
 accounted truly valuable ; in consequence of which, a great many have 
 
LEGEND OF KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. . 101 
 
 gunner. This mode of shooting the Colonel recommends, 
 provided the day and the debate be warm. In winter, he may 
 no induced occasionally to take the side of a sunny cover, bnt 
 gout and rheumatism are ever present to his imagination, 
 and he would not "wet a foot for all the birds upon Brae 
 Mur." 
 
 After dinner, I reminded my kinsman of the promised 
 legend of Knoek-a-thample, and the otter-killer was ordered 
 to the presence. But on inquiry, Antony had been profes- 
 sionally called off to a distant village upon the coast, to 
 minister to a broken head, and had taken his departure in a 
 four-oared boat, with as much ceremony as though he had 
 been surgeon-goMrul. I felt, and expressed my disappointment. 
 "And are you really curious about this wild tradition?" 
 asked our host. " I believe this is one of many legends , 
 which, during a terrible winter, 1 amused myself by transcrib- 
 ing." Opening a drawer he took out a common-place book, 
 and marked the page. Finding no inclination to sleep when 
 I retired for the night, I heaped more bog- wood on the lire, 
 and, before I slept, road the following specimen of the " wild 
 and wonderful." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. 
 
 IN the valley of Knock-a-thample, beside a ruined 
 and holy well, the shattered walls of what had been once K 
 an habitation, are still visible. They stand at a bow- 
 distance from the fountain, which, instead of a place of 
 I -mance for ancient crones and solitary devotees, was visited 
 i wo centuries since for a very different purpose. 
 
 The well, although patronised by St. Catharine, a lady of 
 as determined celibacy as ever underwent canoni/ation, had 
 one peculiar virtue, which, under her especial superintendanee, 
 
 been made at other plaees in Catalonia and Hiseay, with the names 
 anil marks of the Madrid gunsmiths; they are also eoi'.nteriViie.l at 
 Liege, Prague, Mnnieh, \e., and a person must be a good judge not to 
 be deceived by these spurious barrels. 
 
LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 
 
 it might not have been expected to possess. Indeed, in every- 
 day complaints, its waters were tolerably efficacious ; but, in 
 cases of connubial disappointments, when the nuptial bed had 
 been unfruitful, they proved an absolute specific ; and in pro- 
 viding an heir for an estate, when "hope deferred had made 
 the heart sick/' there was not in the kingdom of Connaught, 
 a blessed well that could hold a candle to that of Knock-a- 
 thample. 
 
 Numerous as the persons were, whom the reputation of the 
 fountain collected from a distance, few returned without expe- 
 riencing relief. Occasionally, a patient appeared, whose virgin 
 career had been a little too protracted, and to whom the 
 rosary, rather than the cradle, was adapted. And so thought 
 St. Catharine though her water was unequalled, yet she 
 had neither time nor inclination to work miracles eternally; 
 consequently, those ancient candidates for the honours of 
 maternity returned precisely as they came : to expend holy 
 water on such antique customers was almost a sinful waste 
 their presumption was unpardonable it was enough to vex a 
 saint, and even put the blessed Patroness of Knock-a-thample 
 in a passion. 
 
 Holy water, like prophecy, appears to be of little value at 
 home, and hence the devotees usually came from some distant 
 province. The soil, indeed, might then have possessed the 
 same anti-Malthusian qualities for which it is so remarkable at 
 the present day. Certainly, the home consumption of Knock- 
 a-thample was on a limited scale and the herdsman and his 
 wife, who then occupied the ruined cottage near the church, 
 cwed their winter comforts to the munificence of the strange 
 pilgrims, who during the summer season resorted in numbers 
 to the well. 
 
 It was late in October, and the pilgrimages were over for 
 the year winter was at hand the heath was withered, and 
 the last flower had fallen from the bog-myrtle the boollies* 
 
 * The Booties, in the mountain districts, are an interesting remnant of 
 antiquity ; and refer evidently to that period when Ireland was in its 
 wild and unsettled state. They a're simply one or more temporary 
 sheilings, or huts, constructed with rude materials, in spots the most 
 convenient for attending to the cattle in the summer and autumn, when 
 they are allowed to depasture on the mountains. 
 
 According to the usual leases granted by the landlord to the tenant in 
 this wild country, villages in the lowlands, or on the coast, have a reserved 
 
LEGEND OF KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. 1 63 
 
 were abandoned, and the cattle driven from the hills. It was 
 a dark evening ; and the rain which had been collecting on the 
 mountains began to fall heavily, when a loud knock disturbed 
 the inhabitants of the cabin. The door was promptly unbarred, 
 and a young and well-dressed stranger entered, received the 
 customary welcome, with an invitation to join the herdsman's 
 family, who were then preparing their evening meal. The 
 extreme youth and beauty of the traveller did not escape the 
 peasant's observation, although he kept his cap upon his head 
 and declined to put aside his mantle. 
 
 An hour before the young stranger had arrived, another, 
 and a very different visiter, had demanded lodging for the 
 night. He belonged also to another country, and for some years 
 had trafficked with the mountain peasantry, and was known 
 among them by the appellation of the Red Pedler. He was 
 a strong, under- sized, and ill-visaged man ; mean in his dress, 
 and repulsive in his appearance. The Pedler directed a keen 
 and inquisitive look at the belated traveller, who, to escape 
 the sinister scrutiny of his small but piercing eyes, turned to 
 where the herdsman's wife was occupied in preparing the 
 simple supper. The peasant gazed with wonder at her guest; 
 for never had so fair a face been seen within the herdsman's 
 dwelling. While her eyes were still bent upon the stranger, 
 a fortuitous opening of the mantle displayed a sparkling cross 
 of exquisite beauty, which hung upon the youth's bosom ; and 
 more than once, as it glittered in the uncertain light of the 
 wood fire, she remarked the rich and sparkling gem. 
 
 When morning came, the Pilgrim took leave of the hos- 
 pitable peasants, and as he inquired the road to the holy 
 well, slipped a rose-noble into the hand of the herdsman's 
 
 right of pasturage on particular portions of the adjacent hills ; and in some 
 cases the distance from the tenant's habitation to this mountain pasturage 
 will exceed a dozen miles. Hence it is impossible to pay the requisite 
 attention to the cattle, without residing on the spot ; and a part of the 
 family, generally the young girls, are detached to bivouac in the hills, 
 and attend to the herding and milking of the cows. 
 
 These huts are always erected in lone and beautiful valleys, generally 
 on the bank of a rivulet, and placed beneath the shelter of a cliff. 
 When tue season closes, they are deserted until the following year ; and 
 a few hours' work suffices to render them habitable when the returning 
 summer obliges the fair villagers to resume their wild and pastoral 
 employment. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 
 
 wife. This was not unnoticed by the Red Pedler, who 
 proffered his services as guide, which the youth modestly, 
 but firmly, declined. The Pilgrim hastened to the fountain, 
 performed the customary ceremonies before noon, and then 
 took the mountain path, leading through an opening in the 
 hills, to a station,* which, though particularly lonely, was 
 usually selected by good Catholics for a last act of devotion, 
 when returning from visiting at the blessed well. The Pedler, 
 who, on various pretences, had loitered near the place, soon 
 afterwards departed in the same direction. 
 
 That night the herdsman's family sought repose in vain : 
 wild unearthly noises were heard around the hovel ; and shriek 
 and laughter, awfully mingled together, were borne upon the 
 breeze which came moaning from the mountains. The peasant 
 
 barred his door, and grasped his wood-axe ; his wife with 
 trembling fingers, told her rosary over again and again. 
 
 * A place of penance frequented by Catholic devotees. 
 
LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 165 
 
 Morning broke, and, harassed by alarms, they sunk to sleep 
 at last. But their slumbers were rudely broken a gray-haired 
 monk roused them hastily horror was in his looks, and with 
 difficulty he staggered to a seat. Gradually he collected 
 strength to tell his fearful errand the young and lovely 
 devotee lay in the mountain glen, before St. Catharine's 
 cross, a murdered corpse. 
 
 The tidings of this desperate deed flew through the country 
 rapidly. The body was carried to the herdsman's cabin. For 
 many hours life had been extinct, and the distorted counte- 
 nance of the hapless youth bespoke the mortal agony which 
 had accompanied the spirit's flight. One deep wound was in 
 his side, inflicted evidently by a triangular weapon ; and the 
 brilliant cross and purse of gold were gone. 
 
 The women from the adjacent villages assembled to pay the 
 last rites to the remains of the murdered Pilgrim. Prepara- 
 tory to being laid out, the clothes were gently removed from 
 the body, when a cry of horror burst from all the Pilgrim 
 was a woman ! Bound by a violet ribbon, a bridal ring rested 
 beside her heart ; and, from unequivocal appearances, it was 
 too evident that the fell assassin had committed a double 
 murder. 
 
 The obsequies of the unhappy lady were piously performed ; 
 the mountain girls decked her grave with flowers ; and old 
 and young, for many a mile around, offered prayers for the 
 soul of the departed. The murder was involved in mystery 
 the peasants had their own suspicions, but fear caused them 
 to be silent. 
 
 A year passed the garland upon the stranger's grave was 
 carefully renewed the village maidens shed many a tear as 
 they told her melancholy story ; and none passed the turf 
 which covered the murdered beauty, without repeating a 
 prayer for her soul's repose. 
 
 Another passed and the third anniversary of the Pilgrim's 
 death arrived. Late on that eventful evening, a tall and 
 noble-looking stranger entered the herdsman's cottage. His 
 air was lofty and commanding ; and though he wore a palmer's 
 cloak, the jewelled pommel of his rapier glanced from be- 
 neath the garment, and betrayed his knightly dignity. The 
 beauty of his manly countenance forcibly recalled to the pea- 
 sants the memory of the ill-starred stranger. But their 
 
166 LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 
 
 admiration was checked by the fierce, though melancholy, 
 expression of the handsome features of the stranger ; and if 
 they would have been inclined to scrutinize him more, one 
 stern glance from his dark and flashing eye imperiously 
 forbade it. Supper was prepared in silence, until, at the 
 Knight's request, the herdsman detailed minutely every cir- 
 cumstance connected with the lady's murder. 
 
 While the peasant's narrative proceeded, the stranger un- 
 derwent a terrible emotion, which his stern resolution could 
 not entirely conceal. His eyes flared, his brows contracted 
 till they united; and before the tale was ended, he leaped 
 from his seat, and left the cabin hastily. 
 
 He had been but a few minutes absent, when the door 
 opened, and another visiter entered with scanty ceremony, 
 and, though unbidden, seated himself upon the stool of 
 honour. His dress was far better than his mien, and he 
 assumed an appearance of superiority, which, even to the 
 peasants, appeared forced and unnatural. He called autho- 
 ritatively for supper, and the tones of his voice were quite 
 familiar to the herdsman. With excited curiosity, the peasant 
 flung some dried flax upon the fire, and, by the blaze, re- 
 cognised at once the well-remembered features of the Red 
 Pedler ! 
 
 Before the peasant could recover his surprise, the tall 
 stranger entered the cottage again, and approached the hearth. 
 With an air which could not be disputed, he commanded the 
 intruder to give place. The waving of his hand was obeyed, 
 and, with muttered threats, the Pedler retired to the settle. 
 The Knight leaned against the rude walls of the chimney, and 
 remained absorbed in bitter thought, until the humble host 
 told him that the meal was ready. 
 
 If a contrast were necessary, it would have been found in 
 the conduct of the strangers at the board. The Knight ate 
 like an anchorite, while the Pedler indulged his appetite 
 largely. The tall stranger tempered the aqua vita presented 
 by the host copiously with water, while the short one drank 
 fast and deep, and appeared anxious to steep some pressing 
 sorrow in the goblet. Gradually, however, his brain felt the 
 influence of the liquor, and, unguarded from deep and repeated 
 draughts, he thus addressed the host : 
 
 " Markest thou a change in me fellow ?" 
 
LEGEND OP KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. 167 
 
 " Fellow !" quoth the peasant, half affronted ; " three years 
 ago we were indeed fellows ; for the Red Pedler often sought 
 shelter here, and never was refused." 
 
 ""The Red Pedler /" exclaimed the tall stranger, starting 
 from his reverie, as if an adder had stung him ; and fixing his 
 fiery glance upon the late visiter, he examined him from head 
 to foot. 
 
 " You will know me again, I trow," said the Pedler, with 
 extraordinary assurance. 
 
 " I shall," was the cold reply. 
 
 " Well/' said the new-comer, " though three years since I 
 bore a pack, I'll wager a rose-noble that I have more money 
 in my pouch than half the beggarly knights from Gal way to 
 Athlone. There !" he exclaimed, as he flung his cloak open, 
 '* there is a weighty purse, and here a trusty middoge, and a fig 
 for knighthood and nobility !" 
 
 "Slave !" said the stranger, in a voice that made the pea- 
 sants tremble, "breathe not another word until thou hast 
 satisfied my every question, or, by the Mother of Heaven ! I'll 
 cram my rapier down thy false throat ;" and, starting on his 
 feet, he flung his mantle on the floor. 
 
 Though surprised, the Pedler was not discomfited by the 
 dignity and determination of his antagonist. 
 
 "Yes!" he sullenly replied, "I wear no rapier but this 
 middoge has never failed me at my need," and drawing 
 from his bosom a long triangular weapon, he placed it on 
 the table. "Sir Knight," he continued, "the handle of 
 my tool is simple deer-horn ; but, by the mass ! I have a 
 jewel in my breast, that would buy thy tinselled pommel 
 ten times." 
 
 " Thou liest, slave !" exclaimed the Knight. 
 
 " To the proof, then," said the Pedler; and opening a secret 
 pocket, he produced a splendid cross. 
 
 " Villain !" said the tall stranger, under deep emotion, 
 "surely thou hast robbed some hapless traveller!" 
 
 "No!" replied the Pedler, with a cool smile; "I was- 
 beside the owner of this cross when his last sigh was 
 breathed !" 
 
 Like lightning the stranger's sword flashed from its 
 scabbard. 
 
 " Murderer !" he shouted in a voice of thunder, " for three 
 years have I wandered about the habitable earth, and my sole 
 
168 LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 
 
 object in living was to find thy caitiff self ; a world would not 
 purchase thee one moment's respite !" and before the wretch 
 could more than clutch his weapon, the Knight's sword passed 
 through his heart the hilt struck upon the breast bone, and 
 the Red Pedler did not carry his life to the floor. 
 
 The stranger for a moment gazed upon the breathless body, 
 and having with the dead man's cloak removed the blood from 
 his blade, replaced it coolly in the sheath. The Pedler's purse 
 he flung scornfully to the peasant, but the cross he took up, 
 looked at it with fixed attention, and the herdsman's wife 
 remarked, that more than one tear fell upon the relic. 
 
 Just then the gray- haired Monk stood before him ; he had 
 left his convent to offer up the mass, which he did on every 
 anniversary of the pilgrim's murder. He started back with 
 horror as he viewed the bleeding corpse ; while the Knight, 
 having secured the cross within his bosom, resumed his former 
 cold and haughty bearing. 
 
 " Fellow!" he cried to the trembling peasant, "hence with 
 that carrion. Come hither, Monk why gapest thou thus ? 
 hast thou never seen a corpse ere now ? Approach, I would 
 speak with thee apart" and he strode to the further end of 
 the cottage, followed by the churchman. " I am going to 
 confide to thee what " 
 
 "The penitent should kneel," said the old man, timidly. 
 
 " Kneel!" exclaimed the Knight, "and to thee, my fellow 
 mortal ! Monk, thou mistakest / am not of thy faith, and I 
 laugh thy priestcraft to derision. Hearken, but interrupt me 
 not. The beauteous being whose blood was spilled in these 
 accursed wilds, was the chosen lady of my love. I stole her 
 from a convent, and wedded her in secret ; for pride of birth 
 induced me to conceal from the world my marriage with a 
 fugitive nun. She became pregnant, and that circumstance 
 endeared her to me doubly, and I swore a solemn oath, that if 
 she brought a boy, I would at once announce him as my 
 heir, and proclaim my marriage to the world. The wars called 
 me for a time away. Deluded by the artifice of her confessor, 
 my loved one was induced to come hither on a pilgrimage, to 
 intercede with thy saint, that the burden she bore might prove 
 a son. Curses light upon the shaveling that counselled that 
 fatal journey ! Nay, cross not thyself, old man, for I would 
 execrate thy master of Rome, had he been the false adviser. 
 Thou knowest the rest, Monk. Take this purse. She was of 
 
LEGEND OF KNOCK- A-THAMPLE. 169 
 
 thy faith, and thou must say masses for her soul's health. 
 Yearly shall the same sum be sent to thy convent ; see that all 
 that prayers can do, be done, or by my hopes of grace, thy hive 
 of drones shall smoke for it. Doubt me not. De Burgo will 
 keep his word to the very letter. And now, farewell ! I hurry 
 from this fatal spot for ever ; my train are not distant, and 
 have long since expected me." 
 
 As he spoke, he took his mantle from the floor, and wrapped 
 it round him carelessly ; then, as he passed the spot where the 
 body of the murderer lay, he spurned it with his foot, and 
 pausing for a moment, looked at the Monk 
 
 " Remember /" he said in a low voice, which made the old 
 man shudder, and passing from the cabin, he crossed the 
 heath, and disappeared. 
 
 But the terror of the herdsman's family did not abate 
 with his departure ; a dead man lay before them, and the 
 floor was deluged with his blood. No human help was nigh ; 
 before daylight assistance could not be expected; and no 
 alternative remained, but to wait patiently for the morrow. 
 Candles were lighted up, the hearth was heaped with fuel, 
 and a cloth thrown over the corpse, which they lacked the 
 courage to remove. To sleep was impossible, and in 
 devotional acts they endeavoured to while the night away, 
 Midnight came ; the Monk was slumbering over his breviary, 
 and the matron occupied with her beads, when a violent 
 trampling was heard outside, and the peasant, fearing the 
 cattle he had in charge were disturbed, rose to ascertain the 
 cause. In a moment he returned. A herd of wild deer 
 surrounded the cabin, and actually stood in threatening atti- 
 tude within a few paces of the door ! While he told this 
 strange occurrence to the Monk a clap of thunder shook the 
 hovel to its centre yells, and shrieks, and groans succeeded 
 noises so demoniac, as to almost drive the listeners to 
 madness, hurtled through the air and infernal lights flashed 
 through the crevices of the door and window. Till morning 
 broke, these unearthly terrors continued, without a moment's 
 intermission. 
 
 Next day the villagers collected. They listened to the 
 fearful story with dismay, while the melancholy fate of the 
 gentle pilgrim was bitterly lamented, To inter the Pedler's 
 corpse was the first care ; for the Monk swore by his patron 
 saint, that he would not pass another night with it overground 
 
170 LEGEND OF KNOCK-A-THAMPLE. 
 
 to be made a " mitred abbot." A coffin was forthwith pre- 
 pared, and, with " maimed rites/' the murderer was committed 
 to the earth. 
 
 That masses were requisite to purify the scene of slaughtei 
 was indisputable and with the peasants who had nocked 
 from the neighbouring villages, the Monk determined to pass 
 that night in prayer. The blood-stains were removed from the 
 fl oor the corpse had been laid in consecrated earth and the 
 office had commenced at midnight, when suddenly, a rushing 
 noise was heard, as if a mountain-torrent was swollen by the 
 bursting of a thunder-cloud. It passed the herdsman's cabin, 
 while blue lights gleamed through the casement, and thunder 
 pealed above. In a state of desperation, the priest ordered 
 the door to be unclosed, and by the lightning's glare, a herd of 
 red deer was seen tearing up the Pedler's grave ! To look 
 longer in that blue infernal glare was impossible the door 
 was shut, and the remainder of the night passed in penitential 
 prayer. 
 
 With the first light of morning, the Monk and villagers 
 repaired to the Pedler's grave, and the scene it presented 
 showed that the horrors of the preceding night were no 
 illusion. The earth around was blasted with lightning, and 
 the coffin torn from the tomb, and shattered in a thousand 
 splinters. The corpse was blackening on the heath, and the 
 expression of the distorted features was more like that of a 
 demon than a man. Not very distant was the grave of his 
 beautiful victim. The garland which the village girls had 
 placed there was fresh and unfaded ; and late as the season 
 was, the blossom was still upon the bog-myrtle, and the 
 heath-flower was as bright and fragrant as though it were 
 the merry month of June. " These are indeed the works 
 of hell and heaven," ejaculated the gray friar. " Let no hand 
 from this time forth pollute itself by touching yon accursed 
 corpse." 
 
 Nightly the same horrible noises continued. Shriek and 
 groan came from the spot where the unburied murderer was 
 rotting, while by day the hill-fox and the eagle contended who 
 should possess the body. Ere a week passed, the villain's 
 bones were blanching in the winds of heaven, for no human 
 hand attempted to cover them again. 
 
 From that time the place was deserted. The desperate 
 noises, and the frequent appearance of the Pedler's tortured 
 
THE COLONEL. 171 
 
 spirit, obliged the herdsman to abandon his dwelling, and reside 
 in ar. adjacent village. The night of the day upon which he 
 had removed his family and effects, a flash of lightning fell 
 upon the cabin, and consumed the roof; and next morning 
 nothing remained but black and rifted walls. Since that 
 time the well is only used for penance. The peasant 
 approaches not the desecrated burying-place if he can avoid it. 
 The cattle are never known to shelter underneath the ruined 
 walls and the curse of God and man have fallen on Knock-a- 
 thampie. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Visit to the mountain hut The Colonel An argument and a wager No 
 honesty among anglers State of the river Mogh-a-dioul Father 
 Andrew's flies Splendid scenery Its effect upon me and my com- 
 panion Beautiful pool The otter A curious scene The Colonel's 
 troubles Wager decided A new bet A salmon killed Conversa- 
 tion The Colonel outmanoeuvred. 
 
 THE Colonel has girded up his loins for the mountains, and 
 with the assistance of Mogh-a-dioul, a pony of unhappy 
 name, but good and enduring qualities, he purposes to favour 
 us with his company during our sojourn at the cabin in the 
 hills. While we traverse the moors, the commander will 
 infest the river ; or, if the day be questionable, like honest 
 Sancho, he will patiently remain beside the flesh-pots. To 
 him the " meminisse juvabit" will apply. Thirty years ago, 
 with his lamented contemporary, our host's father, the soldier, 
 who was then a keen and accomplished sportsman, spent many 
 a happy hour upon the heath. To his memory every dell and 
 hillock is still green ; and hence our evening details will recall 
 to him those happier recollections of youthful pastime, which, 
 when " life was new," he had once delighted to indulge in. 
 
 The Colonel fishes well ! and I, at least my vanity believes 
 it, have improved marvellously I really can throw a line, and 
 this the priest avers upon the word of a churchman. I begin 
 also to have what the Scotch call a gloamin' of what forms the 
 composition of a killing fly. But my pride has sadly abated. 
 Last night, during a stormy controversy, touching the com- 
 parative merits of Pull-garrow and Pull-bouy, upon which the 
 host and commander held opinions opposite as the an- 
 
172 AN ARGUMENT AND A WAG'jfill. 
 
 tipodes, to prove that I belonged to a " thinking people, 11 
 I raised my voice in favour of the yellow pool. Our host in 
 dudgeon having premised that one of us was blind, and the 
 other a botch, declared by the shade of Walton, that on any 
 given day he would kill more than we both could produce 
 together. This, as every Irish argument ends in a duel or 
 bet, has terminated, fortunately, in the latter : and though the 
 wager be not so deep as Hamlet's " Barbary horses" to 
 " French rapiers, poniards, and their assigns," yet the 
 respective parties appear deeply interested in the result. To^ 
 morrow will decide the question, and settle the doubtful point 
 of scientific superiority between the rival artists. 
 
 It strikes me forcibly, that among Irish anglers the doctrine 
 of meum et tuum is but indifferently understood. My kinsman 
 and the commander are constantly lamenting a loss of property, 
 and certainly they do not indulge in these jeremiads without 
 good reason. I never observe the Colonel's huge book 
 forgotten for a few minutes, but it is unmercifully plundered 
 by the host and if the key of the latter's fly- drawer can be 
 procured, the commander unlocks it without ceremony, and 
 having explored its arcana, adopts liberally such articles as find 
 favour in his sight. The housemaid has been suborned to 
 abstract the Colonel's casting-lines from his dormitory ; and, as 
 the host generally hides a favourite fly or two in the lining of 
 his hat, I never pass the hall without finding the commander 
 fumbling about the hat-stand. It was clearly stipulated and 
 understood that the flies with which to-morrow's match should 
 be decided, were to be bona fide the handy-work of the respec- 
 tive parties ; yet the colonel privately informs me that he has 
 despatched a trusty envoy to the priest, to implore that gifted 
 churchman to furnish him, sub sigillo, with a cast or two for 
 the occasion ; and the said envoy has covenanted to be at the 
 commander's window with an answer, "before a mother s soul 
 is stirring." 
 
 The thunder-storm produced a considerable fresh in the 
 river, as the rain fell abundantly in the hills. The stream, 
 however, had sufficient time to clear after the flood, and we 
 found it in beautiful order. The wind is steady at north- 
 west ; and as the drafting has long since been discontinued, 
 and the wears lowered to permit the fish to enter from the sea 
 without obstruction, old Antony declares that, as a fishing-day, 
 nothing could be more favourable. We tossed for choice, and 
 
MOGH-A-DIOTTL. 173 
 
 lost it. My kinsman commences his work three miles up, at 
 his favourite Pull-garrow, while we fish from the mouth of 
 the river. At five we meet at the cabin, and the party then 
 producing the greater weight of fish is conqueror. These 
 preliminaries being adjusted, our opponent went off like an 
 Arab, to join his aide-de-camp, Mr. Hennessey, who has all 
 in readiness for his commencement, and, I suspect, a salmon 
 or two already in the pannier. 
 
 The opening of our campaign is every thing but satisfactory 
 Mogh-a-dioul seems possessed with the demon of obstinacy ; 
 any advance towards the river is his aversion, and, as Pattigo 
 expresses it, "the beast will neither wear or stay." The 
 commander's seat has been more than once perilled by his 
 gambadoes ; and, as we are informed that he is caparisoned 
 with a bit, which is his abomination, there is but little chance 
 of amendment in Mogh-a-dioul. This appears very like a plot 
 against the Colonel's person ; and I fear that the midnight 
 embassy to the priest will be more than countervailed, by the 
 manoeuvres of our abler antagonist. 
 
 Both adepts made excellent professions of good faith at 
 starting ; but, as my kinsman left us, there was a " lurking 
 devil in his eye," that augurs us no good fortune. The com- 
 mander, too, talked in good set terms of " honourable con- 
 duct ;" but precept and practice, I lament to say, are some- 
 what irreconcilable. 
 
 "Andy" he said, in his most insinuating manner, to our 
 attendant ; " Andy Bawn, you were always an obliging boy, 
 and very handy with the gaff. Just keep your eye about the 
 banks as we go along ; and if you can snaffle a salmon or two, 
 why, the pannier will tell no tales, and weigh all the better. 35 
 
 To me there never was a more delightful expedition ; but 
 my companion was cold to all the romance of nature, and en- 
 grossed with one consideration to win his wager. While I 
 was enraptured with the splendid scenery that each new point 
 presented, the colonel was cursing his flies, and pouring 
 anathemas on the priest. "How beautiful!'' I exclaimed, as 
 the sunshine fell upon a mountain valley, through which a 
 little rivulet was winding, and whose waters, in the glare of 
 jlight, danced downwards like a streak of molten silver. " How 
 damned provoking," responded my brother fisherman, " that 
 the only decent fly in that cursed priest's collection, should be 
 tied upon a hook with no more point upon it than a hobnail ! 
 
174 SCENERY. 
 
 Ah, Father Andrew ! was this treatment for an old acquaint- 
 ance a man who would have trusted his life to you, and drink 
 with you in the dark ? Here, Andy Bawn, give me my book, 
 and fling this most villanous assemblage of faded wool and 
 ragged feathers into the next bog-hole. And now, my friend 
 and fellow-labourer, leave the mountains alone, and think more 
 of filling the fishing-baskets, or we are beaten men !" 
 
 We followed the course of the river for a distance of ten 
 miles, stopping at the pools as we went along, but leaving the 
 streams and shallows without a trial. As we proceeded uj 
 the hills, the scenery became wilder and more interesting ; 
 here and there, the moors were sprinkled with green hillocks, 
 and the range of mountains behind was splendidly picturesque. 
 The pools alone had beauty in my companion's eyes, and some 
 of them were indeed magnificent. One was particularly ro- 
 mantic it was a deep natural basin, formed by a sudden 
 turning of the river, where the banks on either side were 
 nearly perpendicular, and rose to a considerable height, and, to 
 the water's edge, were thickly covered with hollies and hardy 
 shrubs. At the upper end of the pool, a rock of immense 
 magnitude reared its naked front, and shut out every other 
 object. Round its base, the river forced its waters through a 
 narrow channel, and at the other extremity, falling over a 
 ledge of rocks, turned sharply round a hillock, and was lost 
 sight. of. There were but two points from which the angler 
 could command the pool, for elsewhere the banks and under- 
 wood prevented his approach : one was a sand-bank about the 
 centre, to which, by a narrow goat-path, the fisher could de- 
 scend ; the other, a small space immediately beneath the rock, 
 of green and velvet-looking herbage. At this point the shep- 
 herds had erected a hut for occasional shelter, and never was 
 a sweeter spot selected, wherein to dream away a summer 
 night. No human dwelling was in sight deep and undis- 
 turbed solitude breathed around the blue and lucid pool 
 before the cabin danced in the moonlight, or glittered in the 
 first rays of morning while the rushing waters of the river 
 produced such melancholy and tranquillizing sounds, as would 
 lull to rest any bosom un tortured by mortal passions. 
 
 " Julius has been here before us, and has left some mementos 
 of his visit," said the Colonel, pointing to foot-marks in the 
 sand, and blood and fish-scales upon the pebbles ; " I fear our 
 be is in jeopardy ; verily, our worthy relative will never shame 
 
THE OTTER. J.75 
 
 the proverb, that * De'il's bairns have de'il's luck!' But what 
 can the matter he among the salmon ? in faith, the pool 
 appears bewitched." 
 
 As he spoke, I remarked the occurrence which the com- 
 mander noticed. The fish, which upon our first arrival had 
 risen merrily at the natural fiies, ceased on a sudden altogether 
 now they rushed confusedly through the water, or threw 
 themselves for yards along the surface. It was not the sullen 
 plunge at an insect, or the vertical spring, when sport, not 
 food, brings the salmon over water ; but it was evident there 
 was some hidden cause of alarm, and we were not long left in 
 doubt. Near the neck of the pool, an otter of the largest size 
 showed himself for a moment, then darting under water, the 
 same commotion ensued again. Before a minute elapsed, 
 Andy Bawn pointed silently to a shoal beneath an overhanging 
 bush, and there was the spoiler, apparently resting himself 
 after his successful exertions, and holding a four-pound white 
 trout in his mouth. Either he noticed us, or had some more fa- 
 vourite haunt to feed in, for he glided into the deep water, 
 and we saw no more of him. 
 
 Although we found out that the otter and ourselves could 
 not manage to fish in company, we ascertained that the pool 
 was abundantly stocked with salmon ; during the period of the 
 greatest alarm, at least a dozen fish were breaking the surface 
 at the same time. 
 
 We reached the cabin after a day of excellent sport ; but 
 every thing on earth has its alloy, and two circumstances 
 appear to cloud the sunshine of the commander's bosom. One 
 is the inexplicable conduct of the priest; the other the re- 
 peated misconduct of Mogh-a-dioul. We have, to be sure, 
 four fine salmon, and a score of good-sized sea-trouts ; but the 
 Colonel swears, that he lost his best fishing until he discarded 
 the priest's flies ; and it is probable, if their defects had been 
 apparent at an earlier period, our baskets would have been con- 
 siderably benefited by the discovery. 
 
 As we ascended the bank before the cabin door, our rival 
 met us. He had left off fishing for some time, and had 
 changed his dress entirely " Come, brush up, or dinner will 
 be spoiled. Colonel, I trust that you and Mogh-a-dioul are on 
 pleasing terms with each other. You stole my bridle, but, no 
 apologies I can ride Crughadore with a hayband. Come, 
 to scale at once, or dinner is not worth a gray groat. 
 
170 
 
 THE WAGER DECIDED. 
 
 Hennessey, the steel-yard produce despatch one, two, 
 three, four. You killed one apiece, I presume, and Andy 
 gaffed the other two ; nay, commander of the faithful, look not 
 so ferocious. What, no more ! and is this paltry creel of fish 
 the produce of the day ? Colonel, I blush for you. Barely 
 forty pounds. Turn that clave* over, and put these gentlemen 
 of the angle out of pain/' As he spoke, the attendant emptied 
 the contents of the pannier, and nine well-sized salmon, with a 
 multitude of sea-trouts, rolled out upon the sward. 
 
 "By my faith!" exclaimed the commander, "these fish 
 were never fairly killed ; you drafted a hole or two, as surely 
 as I am a sinner." 
 
 "The latter part of your remark I admit," said my kins- 
 man, " the former I deny. By this virgin hand ! every fish 
 before you was killed by hook and line. Come, are you for 
 
 * A horsebasket 
 
A NEW BET. 177 
 
 another bet ? For five pounds, and within five minutes, 1'li 
 kill another salmon, and make the number ten /" 
 
 f< Done !" we exclaimed together. 
 
 " Hennessey, the rod ; wet the flies below the pool, and in 
 in twenty seconds, yon cloud will be over the sun." 
 
 Before the cabin there is a tolerable hole, deep, but narrow. 
 Where the stream runs in, the ripple is considerable, and 
 between it and the bank, the deepest water lies. If there be 
 a salmon in the pool, there is the spot to find him. My cousin 
 sent the casting line in such masterly style into the opposite 
 eddy, as proclaimed him at once an adept, and the second cast 
 a salmon rose and took him. 
 
 He was but a light fish, and in less than three minutes 
 was bounding upon the grass, beside his dead companions. 
 My kinsman handed the rod to the attendant. " Gentlemen," 
 he said in mock heroics, "in your memories be all my bets 
 remembered! And now to dinner, with what appetite you 
 may." 
 
 " Well," said the commander, " this beats Bannagher* 
 I would have given my corporal oath the knave had swept 
 the river. His flies are absolute perfection ! There's villany 
 somewhere; but come along. The dinner must not cool, 
 and the wine shall pay for it !" 
 
 " Julius," said the commander, as he extracted the third 
 cork, " thy star predominated ; a villanous combination of 
 circumstances, with infernal flies, and an intractable pony, 
 destroyed me. Andy Bawn (we are beaten, and the truth 
 may be told) for the first time in his life was taken with a 
 fit of conscience, and actually refused to gaff a salmon. The 
 very otters were combined against us, and disturbed the best 
 pool upon the river but Pull-buoy. I had no time to tie fresh 
 flies." 
 
 " Or even send to Goolamere, to borrow," said my kinsman, 
 drily. 
 
 "Ah, hem," and the colonel appeared a little bothered 
 " I want no man's flies ; my own, I find, will generally 
 answer." 
 
 * An Irish phrase synonymous with "this exceeds everything/' 
 
 N 
 
178 A CONVERSATION. 
 
 " And yet/' said the host, " the priest, when he pleases, 
 can tie a killing one." 
 
 " Why ye es, he does a leeile coarse but let me see 
 your casting-lines; I fear, my friend, that we had not the 
 right colours up." 
 
 " / fear so too," said our host, with much expression. 
 
 " By my conscience !" exclaimed the colonel, as he 
 scrutinized the casting-lines that were wound about my 
 kinsman's hat, " I would have taken my oath on a bag-full 
 of books, that this mallard's wing was tied by Father 
 Andrew." 
 
 " And by my conscience," returned the host, "you would 
 not have been very far astray." 
 
 " And was this fair, Julius to fish with any but your 
 own?" 
 
 " Why, really, they looked so beautiful, that for the life 
 of me, I could not but put them up. But, my friend, the 
 next time you despatch a midnight messenger, select a 
 trustier one than Currakeen* and take a better opportunity 
 to praise young Alice's ' black eyes,' than when issuing your 
 secret instructions. Nay, I will respect those blushes. The 
 fact is, Currakeen was at your window before 'a mother' $ 
 soul was stirring' but, my dear Colonel, he did me the 
 favour to first call at mine. I merely took the liberty of 
 exchanging a few flies you fished with some old acquaint- 
 ances, while I tried experiments with Father Andrew's. 
 Come, the bets are off we both violated treaties, and thus, 
 I renounce my victory, though my opinion of Pull-garrow 
 is unalterable." 
 
 " Julius," said the commander solemnly, " you'll be on 
 the highway next. Breaking a letter open, I think is an 
 excellent preparative for stopping his majesty's mail." 
 
 " And in that case, I trust that you will be an accomplice. 
 If one must swing, good society is every thing. Your 
 demeanour at ' the fatal tree/ I am persuaded, would be 
 exemplary. And yet, my dear Frank, although I treated 
 Father Andrew's despatch with scanty ceremony, I never 
 came within the clutches of the law but once, and that Was, 
 as old Jack says, through villanous company." 
 
 * A jye-name given to one of the endless tribe of Malley. 
 
THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 179 
 
 '* Was that the time you stole the snuff-box ?" asked the 
 commander. 
 
 ' ' 1 steal a snuff-box \ No I deny the theft I was only 
 an accessary after all. But, to clear my character, I must t& 
 the story to my cousin." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX 
 
 IT was the spring before my father's death. A vacation 
 was at hand, and for some college irregularities, I had been 
 deprived of my chambers as a punishment, and turned upon 
 the town to shift as I best could. I fixed myself at the 
 Wexford Hotel for the short time I intended remaining in 
 the capital, and there formed my first acquaintance with 
 
 Colonel B and Lieutenant K , both of the 
 
 Militia. 
 
 They arrived at " The Wexford" late one evening from 
 Naas, where the regiment was then quartered, and were on 
 their route to visit, on private business, "the realms beyond 
 the Shannon." 
 
 I was alone in the parlour when the strangers arrived. 
 They cast a wistful eye at a choice haddock, then in the 
 very act of being served up as exordium to the dinner. 
 The waiter in a whisper assured the belated travellers that 
 he was convinced the young gentleman, meaning me, would 
 share his fish and table-cloth. The request was very politely 
 made, very politely granted, and down we sat, as if we had 
 been bosom friends for a twelvemonth. 
 
 The colonel was an overgrown bombard a vessel full- 
 charged with good-humour and old port. He said odd things, 
 and did them too. The subaltern was a squab-built snub- 
 nosed strange sort of merry fellow, having a rich brogue and 
 racy wit ; and while the corpulent commander believed that 
 ne was humbugging the short lieutenant, the short lieutenant, 
 all the while, was playing the devil with the corpulent 
 commander. No two persons were ever better constructed 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 
 
 to elicit reciprocal amusement ; and they were, though 
 opposites in every thing, as necessary to each other, as 
 " sheath to sword." 
 
 But there was a circumstance that united the strangers 
 
 and myself directly. My friend, Lord L , had just 
 
 got a majority in the colonel's regiment; and the said 
 colonel and his companion were going that very night to a 
 ball at the dowager's, who then lived in Rutland- square. 
 
 We finished a formidable portion of Page's best* retired 
 to dress, and afterwards set off in a hackney-coach to the 
 scene of our evening's amusement. I was three deep in 
 dancing engagements, and my first partner was already in the 
 room of course I separated from my companions directly, 
 of whom, however, I caught a distant glance as they were 
 formally presented to his aunt, by Lord L . 
 
 It was a crowded ball. I was dancing busily, and how 
 my companions employed themselves, never occasioned me 
 a thought. At last supper was whispered to be on the tapis. 
 Miss Garden and I she was then a very pretty girl had 
 quietly slipped away from the set, to be in readiness for the 
 crush, when we stumbled upon a snug whist-table in an 
 unfrequented corner, and there I discovered my gallant 
 friends actively engaged. 
 
 The unhappy men were partners. They had, moreover, 
 
 been delivered into the hands of the dowager and Mrs. P , 
 
 an antiquated commoner. Both ladies were notorious for 
 extraordinary luck, and a fortunate arrangement of always 
 cutting together. It was further believed, that both were 
 given to the good old rule of winning, honestly if they could 
 but winning. 
 
 It was evident at first sight that the soldiers were no 
 matches for the gentlewomen. The rubber game was on 
 the point of being decided just as we reached the table 
 the soldiers had it by honours, but, by a barefaced revoke, 
 that would have been detected by any but the buzzards 
 they were playing with, the ladies gained the point required, 
 and had their claim allowed. " Supper is served," said 
 
 Mrs. P. , with a satisfactory grin ; " had we not better 
 
 stop, Lady L ?" The gentlemen simultaneously popped 
 
 * A celebrated wine-merchant, some thirty years ago. 
 
THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 181 
 
 their hands into the pockets of their nether garments. " In 
 how much have I the honour to be your ladyship's debtor ?" 
 
 inquired the colonel, with a gracious smile. Mrs. P 
 
 instantly mumbled, with the rapidity of a barmaid, " Ten 
 points three rubbers only nine guineas." The colonel 
 started and stared. "Nine devils I I mean, guineas I" 
 exclaimed the Sub, in awful consternation. But the decree 
 had gone forth. " They never played higher deep play 
 was detestable." The money was accordingly doled out, 
 and I observed that the contents of the lieutenant's purse, 
 after rendering this sweeping subsidy, were reduced to a 
 solitary guinea. 
 
 At this moment the supper-rooms were thrown open, and 
 away went the crowd. The Dowagers were left to scramble 
 up their winnings, and the soldiers, I presume, to execrate 
 their own bad luck. Miss Garden and I, who witnessed the 
 
 impudent revoke perpetrated by Mrs. P , and passed 
 
 over by my Lady L , mutually decided, that in common 
 
 justice, both ladies should have been consigned for a month to 
 the house of correction. 
 
 Supper, as all suppers have done, ended. I placed my 
 handsome partner in her mother's carriage, and was then 
 depositing myself in a hackney-coach, when I espied my 
 military friends upon the steps, hailed them immediately, and, 
 embarking in the same vehicle, we were duly landed at "the 
 Wexford." 
 
 " Waiter!" cried the colonel, in a voice of thunder, " some 
 brandy and red hot water. I wore my thin tights, for the first 
 time these six months," addressing me, " and, by St. Patrick ! 
 my limbs are icicles. I drank two glasses of execrable 
 Teneriffe ! and, God knows one would be a sufficient dose of 
 poison for a gouty man like me. Arrah ! waiter, have you it 
 in the house ? If you have not, say so, and I'll run out and 
 save my life at the next tavern." But the waiter was prompt, 
 and the house honest. Up came the brandy and materials ; 
 and the colonel, relieved from the anticipated attack in his 
 stomach, " breathed again." 
 
 I looked at my unfortunate friends, and never did 
 men bear their misfortunes so differently. While the 
 subaltern was in a phrensy, the commander was calm as a 
 philosopher. 
 
182 THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 
 
 '* Well, if the devil had his own," exclaimed the irritated 
 lieutenant, " my lady L would fry." 
 
 " Rowland," said the colonel, solemnly, " what the deuce 
 tempted you to play ? You don't understand the game, and I 
 often told you so." 
 
 " But," said I, interrupting him, " the rubber was yours. 
 
 Mrs. P made a scandalous revoke. How could it escape 
 
 your observation ? The young lady, who was leaning on my 
 arm, was horrified at such barefaced cheating." 
 
 " I remarked it," said the lieutenant ; " but I was 
 ashamed to speak. I thought we were playing half-crown 
 points !" 
 
 " I wish I had seen it," said the colonel. " Ah, Rowly, 
 you're no wizard !" 
 
 " Well, no matter; I have suffered enough," said the 
 subaltern, testily. " If I have a rap left, after these swind- 
 ling jades, but one solitary guinea to carry me to Conne- 
 mara !" 
 
 " Pshaw ! beg, man, beg ! You have a face for any thing. 
 I wonder how / stand upon the night's play." 
 
 " Nine guineas minus," said the subaltern, " unless 
 you managed to fob off a light piece, or pass a counter- 
 feit." 
 
 " That would be impossible," remarked the colonel ; "for 
 though the crush was desperate, and I thought, and I wished, 
 that the table would be overturned, the dowager thumbed 
 every guinea over as if she had played with a pick-pocket. It 
 was just then that I managed to secure a keep-sake ;" and he 
 produced a huge snuff-box of fine gold and antique workman- 
 ship from his side-pocket. I stared with wonder, while the 
 subaltern ejaculated, " What a chance ! Ah, colonel, you are 
 the jewel ! The box will pay our losses beautifully." 
 
 " I beg to be excused from co-partnership," said the 
 colonel, drily. " Rowly, you might have stolen for yourself. 
 I saw a pair of gold-mounted spectacles upon the table, and a 
 vinaigrette of silver device lay beside you. No, no, Rowly ! 
 rob for yourself." 
 
 " And/' said I, " my dear colonel, might I ask what may 
 be the ultimate design which you harbour against the dowager's 
 snuff-box !" 
 
 " Why, faith, my young friend, my plans are simple 
 
THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 183 
 
 enough. I'll give you and that ommadawn,"* pointing to his 
 lieutenant, " an early dinner, and bring you to the play 
 afterwards. Well, it will be tolerably dark by that time. 
 We'll pass St. Andrew's church, call next door, and get a 
 worthy man who lives convenient, and who is very liberal in 
 lending money to any body who leaves sufficient security 
 behind him,- " we'll get him, in short, to take the box at his 
 own valuation/' 
 
 " And if it should be discovered ?" 
 
 " Oh, little fear of that. No, my friend, before you and I 
 are in the boxes, this box will be in the melting-pot. The 
 man is a considerate and conscientious dealer. No, no, all's 
 safe with him." 
 
 We parted for the night. At noon, next day, we met at 
 breakfast. I, although pretty conversant in odd adventures 
 and mad freaks, was dying to see the conclusion of the snuff- 
 box affair. We, of Trinity, often touched upon street-robbery 
 in poles and rattles ; and, as far as public property went, were 
 nowise scrupulous. I had once achieved a petty larceny, 
 by running off with a pine-apple from a fruiterer's, foi 
 which, however, I had the grace to send payment in the 
 morning. Still the colonel's coup was so superior to all 
 this, that I was so much interested in the denouement, as if 
 I had been a principal concerned. At the appointed hour 
 we regularly met in Dawson-street. Our host gave us the 
 best dinner in Morrison's carte, and we had champagne , 
 liqueurs, and a superabundant supply of the primest claret in 
 the cellar. 
 
 Pending dinner, the parties made an amicable arrangement 
 touching the disposition of the booty. 
 
 The field-officer was to share the surplus produce over the 
 payment of the tavern bill ; and the subaltern was to be the 
 vender of the spoil. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock when we left Morrison's, arid 
 directed our course to the civil gentleman who lent money on 
 good security. We entered an outer hall, and thence ad- 
 vanced into one encompassed by a tier of compartments, like 
 confession-boxes. Rowly stepped into a vacant stall, and we 
 stood close behind, to " aid, comfort, and counsel." 
 
 The money-dealer left an unfinished bargain with a trades- 
 
 f Anglice, an idiot. 
 
184 THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 
 
 man's wife, to attend upon his better-dressed customer. " Ah! 
 hem hem !" said the subaltern, rather bothered to open 
 the negotiation but the Lombard gave an encouraging sim- 
 per, " A small advance wanted, I presume ?" " Why, no 
 ah. hem! wish to dispose of a trifle a present, no 
 use for it, but would not for the world it was known." 
 The pawnbroker instantly presented his finger -and thumb, 
 to receive watch, ring, or jewel, according as the case 
 might be. 
 
 The snuff-box was promptly displayed, and the happy eye 
 of the money-dealer turned rapidly from the box to the pre- 
 senter : " Well, sir, pray what be the value ?" 
 
 " Really, can't say a present and " 
 
 " Oh! ye-e-e-s old gold mere drug now-a-days about 
 three pound ten an ounce once valuable bullion then scarce 
 a year ago it would have been a very pretty swag." 
 
 " Swag I What do you mean ?" cried the alarmed seller. 
 " Zounds ! do you think I stole it?" 
 
 " Oh, dear, no-o I beg pardon meant present. Here, the 
 scales, John. Ah ! ah ! let me see ay standing beam 
 ah ! say fifteen pounds full value, I assure you the price 
 to a pennyweight/' 
 
 " Very well ; I'm content : but if my friend discovered that 
 I would part with his present " 
 
 The broker raised his forefinger to his nose, and dropped 
 his left eyelid with a striking expression tHe look would have 
 done honour to an Old Bailey practitioner. The money was 
 told down upon the counter: "The hammer, John!" A 
 lean, ill-grown, ill-visaged dwarf, produced a weighty one. 
 There was a small anvil affixed to the bench ; my Lady 
 
 L 's box received one mortal blow, and the attending imp 
 
 swept the shattered fragments into a crucible. 
 
 What was the exact disposition of the assets, I cannot pre- 
 tend to say ; but I believe they were fairly partitioned between 
 the parties concerned. 
 
 About six months afterwards, when passing through the 
 
 city, after my father's death, I met Lord L -, and he 
 
 received me with his customary kindness. " You must dine 
 with me to-day," he said. I pointed to my mourning coat. 
 " Oh, you must come the very place for one wishing to avoid 
 the world. Since you left Dublin, my poor aunt has under- 
 gone such a change ! an infernal gang has got round her 
 
THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 185 
 
 entirely ; and she, \vho once only lived for whist, cannot be 
 persuaded to touch a card. By Jove, the good lady is be- 
 witched. But I have arranged with her, that the first crop- 
 eared scoundrel, or female ranter, I meet in Rutland-square, 
 shall be the signal for my final abdication to Kildare-street 
 and she knows that I am positive. Do come : not a soul 
 dines with me, but that good, fat fellow, my Colonel/' I 
 smiled as I recollected our last visit to the square, and pro- 
 mised to be punctual. 
 
 I arrived some time before Lord L , and found the 
 
 dowager and my fat friend, the Colonel, t&e-a-t&e. Beyond 
 the customary interchange of civilities, I did not interrupt 
 them, receiving, however, from the commander a warm 
 squeeze, and an inexpressibly comic look, that recalled a 
 volume of adventure. The old lady resumed the conversation 
 which my entree had suspended : 
 
 "And you are six months absent, Colonel! Protect me! 
 how time passes ! it should be a lesson a tacit monitor, as 
 Mr. Hitchcock happily expresses it. Well, there was a 
 carnal-minded, noisy crowd here ; and I remember you lost 
 three rubbers. How such vain imaginations will push aside 
 the better seeds ! Your partner was a well-meaning gentle- 
 man, but never returned a lead. Oh, me ! that these vanities 
 should be remembered. That very night, Colonel, I met 
 with a serious, I may say distressing loss. My cousin, 
 General Pillau's Indian snuff-box was stolen ! I sus- 
 pected but judge not, as Mr. Heavyside said at the 
 chapel yesterday. It was in my partner's hand the last 
 time I ever saw it ; the rush to supper came she but we 
 must be charitable. But here's my nephew O that he 
 was awake to Gospel truth ! Well, my dear George, what 
 news since ?" 
 
 "None, madam: only that our old friend's over dead 
 
 as Julius Caesar. Mother P will never cut out another 
 
 honour," 
 
 " Oh, George! do stop for once be serious. Mrs. P 
 
 dead ! and, I fear, not prepared. Ah, me ! poor Mrs. P ! 
 
 Many a rubber she and I have played she knew my system 
 so well finessed a leetle too much but where am I running ? 
 Well, / hope she was prepared, but she stole the General's 
 fa*!" 
 
186 THE GOLD SNUFF-BOX. 
 
 " Phew ! if she stole snuff-boxes, she'll fry for it now," said 
 the Colonel, taking share in the lament ; " I hope, madam, it 
 was merely a pretty toy, something not valuable ?" 
 
 "A toy I my dear sir ; fine pale gold invaluable for weight, 
 age, and workmanship. Had you ever held it in your hand, 
 you would never have forgotten it." 
 
 " Faith ! arid likely enough, my lady." 
 " George, love, if you would just speak to the executor, 
 Put it on the score of a mistake." 
 
 " I speak ! Madam, do you want to have me shot ?" 
 " No, no, it's useless. Her nephew is an attorney. ' Do 
 men gather grapes ?' as Mr. Heavy side says." 
 
 " Damn Heavy side !" exclaimed the peer, " I must go see 
 about some wine ;" and he left the room. 
 
 The old lady recommenced with a groan " What a memory 
 Mrs. P had ! she would remember cards through a rub- 
 ber, and never omitted marking in her life. She took the 
 General's box ; she had always a fancy for knickknackeries, 
 and wore ornaments very unsuitable to her years forgetting 
 the lilies of the valley. I wish Miss Clarke was here, a 
 worthy comely young woman, Colonel, recommended to me as 
 a spiritual assistant by Mr. WagstafF, of the Bethesda. My 
 nephew can't bear her, because she was bred a dress-maker, 
 and a vile dragoon officer told him some nasty story to her 
 disadvantage. Oh, Colonel, I wish George was awakened 
 you go to church regularly ?" 
 
 " I cannot assert that I do regularly ; not that I see any 
 harm in it." 
 
 " Very prettily remarked, Colonel ; and you often, no 
 doubt, reflect upon the place you're going to ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, madam ; one must join one's regiment sooner 
 or later." 
 
 "Ah, Colonel, I wish George had your serious turn; and, 
 between ourselves, he is by no means a safe whist player. 
 His game is very dangerous. Ah, if I could have had Mr. 
 WagstafF to meet you ! but my nephew's prejudice is so 
 violent. He is a sweet, spiritual-minded young man comes 
 often to sit an evening with me ; and he is so obliging ! takes 
 Miss Clarke home at midnight to save me the expense of 
 coach-hire, although she lives beyond the lamps. Poor Mrs. 
 P ! I wonder who will get her card counters. They 
 
CRANIOLOGY. 187 
 
 were superb. Well, she stole the box, however; but as the 
 inspired psalmist I mean penman, says Ah, me ! I have no 
 memory ; I wish Miss Clarke was here. Well, George, any 
 appearance of dinner ?" 
 
 *' So says the butler, madam, and here he comes/* 
 " Colonel, take down my aunt ;" and thus ended Lady 
 L 's lamentation over sin, snuff-boxes, and Mrs. P . 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The Otter-killers return Craniology Superstitions Sea-horse- -Master, 
 otter Anecdotes of it Ghosts and fairies Their influence upon man 
 and animals Cure of witchcraft Holy lakes Lough Keirawn 
 Its butter fishery The Faragurta Its causes, imaginary and real 
 Cures and cases Swearing Comparative value upon the book, the 
 vestment, and the skull The clearing of Miss Currigan An uncatholic 
 cook. 
 
 THE otter-killer arrived here last evening, after havi/ig, 
 according to his own account, worked wonders upon a 
 damaged head. From the specimens I have seen during my 
 short sojourn at Ballycroy, I have come to a conclusion, that 
 the skulls of the natives are fabricated of different materials te 
 those of all the world besides. Their endurance is miraciK 
 lous a fellow who was reported as " beaten to a jelly, and 
 anointed by the priest," last week, actually cleared a fair with 
 an unpronounceable name, yesterday, after qualifying for 
 admission to the next infirmary some half-score of his Ma- 
 jesty's liege subjects. This is an every-day exploit ; and of 
 all the corners of the earth that I have visited, I would name 
 this as the place wherein to establish a resident craniologist. 
 
 Like all wild people, these aborigines are absurdly credu- 
 lous, and open to the grossest superstitions. Charms, as 
 they believe, are employed with decided success, in every 
 disease you name. The existence of ghosts and fairies is 
 universally acknowledged ; and animals of extraordinary for- 
 mation, and strange virtues, are supposed to inhabit lakes and 
 rivers. Among these the sea-horse and master-otter* are pre- 
 
 * There is a strange coincidence between the master-otter of the Irish 
 ind the Jungunus crocodile of the Japanese. 
 
188 THE MASTER-OTTER, 
 
 eminent. By a singular anomaly, the first is said to be found 
 in certain inland loughs, and his appearance is imagined to be 
 fatal to the unfortunate person who encounters him. The 
 latter, however, should be an object of anxious research, for 
 he is endued with amazing virtues. Where a portion of his 
 skin is, the house cannot be burned, or the ship cast away, 
 and steel or bullet will not harm the man who possesses an 
 inch of this precious material. Antony, indeed, confesses, 
 that in the course of his otter-hunting, he has never been 
 fortunate enough to meet this invaluable brute ; but he tells a 
 contused story of one having been killed "far down in the 
 north/* by three brothers called Montgomery, who, from 
 poverty, became immensely rich, and whose descendants are 
 opulenf to this very day. He says, the master-otter was seen 
 twice in this neighbourhood. At Dhu-hill, he appeared about 
 sixty years ago, attended by about one hundred common-sized 
 animals, who waited upon " the master/' like loyal and duti- 
 ful beasts. He was also observed by one of the O'Donnel 
 family, whilst passing through Clew Bay in a sailing-boat. 
 Requiring a supply of fresh water, O'Donnel landed on an 
 island for the purpose of filling his keg, but found the spring 
 already occupied by a strange and nondescript animal. After 
 his first surprise had subsided, he returned to the boat, and 
 procured a gun. This he loaded carefully with five fingers 
 and a half* for Antony is minute in all his narratives and 
 then, and within a dozen yards, levelled at the master. Thrice 
 he drew the trigger, and thrice the gun missed fire. The 
 otter wisely determined not to give him a fourth chance, and 
 left the well for the ocean. Mortified at his failure, O'Donnel 
 tried his gun at a passing gull ; it exploded without trouble, 
 and finished the unfortunate bird thus proving, beyond a 
 doubt, that the gun was faultless, and the preservative quali- 
 ties of the animal were alone to blame " And, indeed," 
 quoth Antony, "he might have snapped at the master to 
 eternity ; for if an inch of skin can save house, ship, and man, 
 what a deal of virtue there must be in a whole hide !" 
 
 The legendary tales touching the appearance of ghosts, and 
 the exploits of fairies, are endless. The agency of the former 
 appears directed principally to men, while the latter exercise 
 
 * The lower class of Irish describe the charge of a gun, not by 
 quantity of powder and shot, but by long measure. 
 
GHOSTS AND FAIRIES. 189 
 
 their powers upon children and cattle. Indeed, the sinister 
 influence of the " faery race" appears to fall almost exclusively 
 upon the brute creation in Ballycroy ; and through it many an 
 unhappy cow comes to an untimely end, and if she escape loss 
 of life, she suffers what is nearly as bad, loss of butter.* For 
 the first calamity, Antony ackntf pledges there is no cure ; but 
 
 * While staying at a gentleman's house, I heard, when passing the 
 poiter's lodge, that the gate-keeper's cow was ill. As she was a fine 
 animal, the loss would have heen a serious one to the family, and hence I 
 became interested in her recovery. For several days, however, the report 
 to my inquiry was more unfavourable, and at last the case was considered 
 hopeless. 
 
 The following morning, as I rode past, I found the family in deep 
 distress. The cow, they said, could not live many hours ; and the gate- 
 keeper had gone off to fetch " the charmer," who lived some ten miles 
 distance. I really sympathised with the good woman. The loss of eight 
 or nine guineas to one in humble life is a serious calamity ; and from the 
 appearance of the cow I concluded, though not particularly skilful, that 
 the animal would not survive. 
 
 That evening I strolled out after dinner. It was sweet moonlight, and 
 I bent my steps to the gate-house to inquire if the cow still lived. 
 
 The family was in great tribulation. " The charmer had arrived had 
 seen the cow had prepared herbs and nostrums, and was performing 
 some solitary ceremony at an adjacent spring- well, from which he had 
 excluded every member of the family in assisting." I was most curious 
 to observe the incantation, but was dissuaded by the gate-keeper, who 
 implored me " to give the conjuror fair play." 
 
 In five minntes the charmer joined us he said the case was a bad one, 
 but that he thought he could bring round the cow. He then administered 
 the "unhallowed potion," and I left the lodge, expecting to hear next 
 morning that the animal was defunct. 
 
 Next day, " the bulletin was favourable ;" and " the charmer" was in 
 the act of receiving his reward I looked at him : he was as squalid and 
 heart-broken a wretch in appearance as ever trod the earth. The cow 
 still seemed weak, but " the charmer" spoke confidently of her recovery. 
 When he left the lodge and turned his steps homewards, I pulled up my 
 horse and waited for bim. He would rather have avoided an interview, 
 but could not. " Well, fellow, you have humbugged that poor family, and 
 persuaded them that the cow will recover?" * I have told them truth," 
 said the charmer, coldly. " And will your prophecy prove true ?" I 
 asked, in a tone of scornful incredulity. " It will," said he ; " but, God 
 help me ! this night I'll pay dearly for it !" I looked at him his face 
 was agonized and terror-stricken ; he crossed the fence, and disappeared. 
 
 W f hen I passed the gate-house on my return, the cow was evidently- 
 convalescent ; and in a few days she was perfectly well. 
 
 I leave the solution of the mystery to the learned ; for in such matters, 
 as they say in Connaught Neil an skeil a gau maun. 
 
190 THE FARAGURTA. 
 
 for the second, there is " balm in Gilead," and certain holy 
 loughs afford an antidote to this elfin visitation. 
 
 The cow, I believe, should be present at the operation, 
 which is performed by committing her tether and some butter 
 to the waves, with (of course) a due proportion of prayers for 
 her recovery. Whether the animal be benefited or not, there 
 be others who reap sure and solid advantages. At the proper 
 period, some saint's day, no doubt, when Lough Keiravvn is 
 frequented by the proprietors of bewitched cattle, many of the 
 poor of the neighbourhood congregate on the lee-side of the 
 lake, and a lively and profitable fishing of fresh butter con- 
 tinues, until the oblations to the saint or saintess of the lake, 
 on the part of the afflicted cows, have ended. 
 
 Among the human diseases ascribed to supernatural causes, 
 the faragurta is the principal. Conjectures touching its 
 origin are numerous and contradictory, and it is attributed to 
 everything but the true cause. The faragurta comes on sud- 
 denly a general weakness precedes the attack the sufferer's 
 strength is prostrated in an instant he sinks down, and, if 
 assistance be not at hand, perishes. Many persons are lost 
 through this disease, while crossing the extensive wilds around 
 us, where human relief is generally unattainable. 
 
 The causes, to which in popular belief it is ascribed, are 
 many. Some assert that it is brought on by treading upon 
 a poisonous plant; others, that it is occasioned by fairy 
 influence ; while more affirm, that it is produced by passing 
 over the place where a corpse has been laid down. But this 
 mystified cLaorder is, after all, nothing but exhaustion conse- 
 quent upon hunger and fatigue. The lower classes are parti- 
 cularly obnoxious to its attack. They eat but seldom, and at 
 irregular seasons ; and commonly labour for many hours before 
 they break their fast. Want of food produces faintness and 
 exhaustion ; and a supernatural cause is sought for a simple 
 malady, which is only the natural consequence of dyspepsia 
 and an empty stomach. 
 
 One would imagine that the specific for faragurta would 
 at once point out its origin. Bread, or even a few grains 
 of corn, are believed to cure it instantly ; but any kind of 
 food is equally efficacious. " I have seen," said my kins- 
 man, " many persons attacked with faragurta, and have 
 myself een patient and physician. Some years ago, a fine 
 
CURE OF THE FARAGURTA, 191 
 
 active boy, called Emineein* commonly attended me to the 
 moors, and one day he was suddenly taken ill, in the very 
 wildest part of the hills. He lost all power of limb, and 
 lay down upon the heath unable to proceed a step. We had 
 no grain of any kind to administer, and in this emergency 
 tried that universal panacea a glass of whisky. After he 
 had swallowed the cordial, the boy rather got worse than 
 better, and we were obliged to carry him to a still- house, at 
 nearly two miles, distance. On our arrival, fortunately for 
 Emineein, we found the operators collected round a skibb\ 
 of potatoes. After eating one or two, the patient was 
 able to join the party, and next morning proceeded stoutly 
 home. 
 
 " In my own case, the predisposing cause was no enigma. 
 I had been one of a knot of foxhunters who, on the pre- 
 ceding night, had indulged in a desperate jollification. 
 Finding a disinclination for breakfas.t, I repaired, contrary 
 to my general habit, without it to the mountains. I had 
 exercised severely for several hours, when at once I became 
 helpless as an infant, and sank upon a bank incapable of 
 motion. My pony and some food were speedily obtained, 
 and the faragurta banished. But assuredly, if unassisted, 
 I must have lain upon the heath, for I could not make the 
 slightest exertion to get forward." 
 
 It is a lamentable fact, that the obligation of legal oath 
 is here of trifling importance. Cases of determined perjury 
 occur every day ; and an adjuration upon the evangelists, is 
 considered as being far inferior in solemnity to one upon the 
 priest's vestment. Whether there be any regular formula to 
 be observed in this comparative swearing, I know not ; I say 
 comparative, for in Ballycroy, oaths, like adjectives, have three 
 degrees of value. First, that upon the evangelists ; the second, 
 upon the vestment ; and the last upon the skull. Nothing is 
 more common than to hear a fellow, who had just laid down 
 the book, offer to fortify his doubtful evidence, by taking 
 number two. But even the vestment is not always conclusive; 
 and the following anecdote will best describe the value of com- 
 parative swearing : 
 
 * Synonymous to Neddy. t A basket. 
 
192 AN ANECDOTE. 
 
 Andy Bawn has felt the arrow of " the villain," and believed 
 " fond wretch !" that he was beloved again. The night o 
 the portmanteau affair will ever be chronicled upon his me- 
 mory ; for while he was under fear and terror at the bridge 
 of Ballyveeney, she, the lady of his love, was at a prinkum* at 
 Latrah, performing "apples for gentlemen/'f with another 
 suitor. Nay, more, the quondam lover, as was reported, had 
 actually cecisbeo'd Miss Biddy Currigan across the bogs ; and 
 dark and dangerous inuendoes arose from this imprudent escort. 
 Andy Bawn was unhappily a man " who doubts, but dotes ; 
 suspects, yet fondly loves." Alas ! what was to be done ? 
 Could Miss Currigan become Mrs. Donahoo, after suffering 
 a regular blast, as they call it, in the kingdom of Con- 
 naught ? Impossible ! her character must be cleared, and 
 Andy satisfied. 
 
 The magistrate was proposed well, that was good 
 enough, if it were the identity of a strayed sheep, or the 
 murder of a man ; but in a nice case, like Miss Currigan's, 
 it was totaly inefficient. " The vestment would be taken," 
 still better ; but the world was censorious : and, after all, 
 Biddy Currigan w r as a giddy girl to cross a couple of miles 
 of moorland, after midnight, with a declared lover, and him 
 hearty;^. and so thought Andy Bawn. At last the sus- 
 pected virgin volunteered to " take the skull/' dispel the 
 fears of her liege lord, and put calumny to the blush for 
 ever. Andy Bawn " breathed again ;" and the otter- killer 
 was directed to provide the necessary articles for the cere- 
 mony. 
 
 A skull was accordingly procured from a neighbouring 
 bury ing- ground ; and Andy's mother, anxious for the honour 
 of the family, threw into the relic a bunch of keys for 
 iron, they say, adds desperately to the solemnity of the 
 obligation. The apparatus being paraded, Antony explained, 
 in the mother tongue, that the sins of the lady or gentleman 
 to whom the skull had once appertained, would be added to 
 Miss Currigan's, if she, Biddy, swore falsely ; and Mrs. Do- 
 nahoo jingkd the old iron, and showed that she was " awake 
 
 * A Ballycmv ball, on the " free and easy" plan, where much whisky 
 and no ceremony, is used. 
 
 f A favourite contre danse a the above assemblies. 
 Ancilice t half drunk. 
 
AN UNCATHOLIC COOK. 193 
 
 to time," and had left nothing on her part undone, that 
 could give effect to the ceremonial. Miss Currigan, with a 
 step and bearing that might silence slander, advanced under 
 the direction of the otter-killer: like a maid "in the 
 pride of her purity," she devoutly placed her hand upon 
 the skull and Andy Bawn was made a happy man for 
 ever ! 
 
 That the saints are often and scandalously overreached 
 by sinners, is a fact which must be admitted and lamented. 
 One case of base dishonesty has but recently occurred in 
 the establishment of my cousin. A cook, whom he had 
 procured through the agency of a friend, has proved a 
 heavy defaulter, and, as Antony says, " scandalized the 
 family." For a considerable time her conduct was unques- 
 tionable : she went regularly to mass, gave half- a- crown at 
 Easter, never missed confessions, and, better still, conducted 
 the culinary department with excellent propriety, so much 
 so, that Father Andrew declared from the altar, that she was 
 an exemplary artiste, and a capital Christian. " Frailty, 
 thy name is woman !" This paragon of cooks levanted one 
 frosty night with a travelling pedler ? Then, and not till then, 
 was the dark side of her character exhibited. " She did not 
 value Lent a traneein had shared a rasher with Sir Charles's 
 man upon a blessed Friday and, if a skillet went astray, she 
 would promise a pilgrimage to the Reek for its recovery, with- 
 out the least intention of ever laying a leg upon that blessed 
 hill." 
 
 The morning after her disappearance, her sins were freely 
 canvassed in the kitchen. "The Lord forgive her !" said the 
 keeper, "for I can't ; she treated the young dogs abominably. 
 Spot will lose a claw ; and I am sure it was Sibby, the devil 
 speed her ! that scalded him." 
 
 " She could hide a quart of spirits, and it would never show 
 upon her," cried Pattigo. 
 
 " She was mighty dangerous in a house," exclaimed the 
 black-eyed chamber-maid ; "I never settled the master's 
 room, but she was sure to pass the window." 
 
 " She's gone," said the otter-killer ; " there's wxDrse in the 
 north than Sibby. Many a good bowl of broth she gave 
 me. Tho she mur tho she ; agus neil she gun lought.* She was 
 
 * Anylice, " She is as she is ; but she's not without her fault." 
 
194 FRESH ARRIVALS. 
 
 no great Catholic it is true ! for she owned to me last Saint 
 John's and she hearty at the time that she was in debt 
 four stations at Ball, and three and twenty at Croagh Patrick ! 
 She was, the crature, a fine warrant for a promise, but the 
 worst performer under the canopy of heaven She'll never/ 5 
 said the old man, with his own peculiar chuckle, " clear scores 
 with the Reek and Father Nolan. In troth, I think it would 
 almost puzzle Bobby !"* 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Fresh arrivals The priest's reception The lodge alarmed Preparations 
 for deer-stalking State of the garrison The mountain lake The 
 peasant's adventure The ravine and red-deer A Highland amhuscade 
 The catastrophe. 
 
 IF a man were obliged to chronicle with brevity the leading 
 events of our terra incognita, I would advise him to reduce 
 them to " arrivals and departures." As the door is never 
 locked, the stream of visiters is incessant. Every man coming 
 from " the corners of the earth " drops in with a " God save 
 ail here !" This is the Shibboleth of Ballacroy ; the accre- 
 dited letter of introduction, and, better for the traveller still, a 
 full acquittance for meat, drink, and lodging. 
 
 This morning we have had an illiterative arrival a piper, 
 a pedler, and a priest. Although I place them according to 
 their order of approach, I need scarcely say that the last, 
 
 * This extraordinary being lived at the foot of Croagh Patrick, and 
 was the first performer (religious) of his day, in Connaught. He generally 
 resided at the house of a neighbouring gentleman ; and when a pilgrim 
 visitor was discouraged by the acclivity of the hill, or the quantity of 
 prayers to be got over, Bobby, for a consideration, undertook and executed 
 the task. He was not only a harmless, but, as may be well imagined, a 
 very useful personage ; and his death has left a blank which has never 
 yet' been filled. 
 
 The remains of poor Bobby, at his own request, were transported to 
 the summit of the mountain, and deposited on the apex of Croagh 
 Patrick, where he had so often and so usefully performed. As he was 
 laid where no other body rested, the line intended for Sir John Mooie f 
 would be probably more applicable to the hermit : 
 
 " They left him alone with his glory! " 
 
PREPARATIONS FOR DEER-STALKING. 195 
 
 our respected friend, has given unexpected pleasure. For me, 
 the visit is delightful, for I hope to obtain another lesson in 
 the " gentle art." The Colonel has embraced this "Walton 
 of the wilderness ;" a man on whom four bottles would not 
 show, and to whom, in woodcraft and theology, in the com- 
 mander's opinion, the clerk of Copmanhurst himself was little 
 better than a bungler; and, notwithstanding my kinsman's 
 delinquency in intercepting the despatches, and abstracting the 
 enclosure, he has escaped with a tap or two upon the cheek ; 
 for, as Antony declares, " Father Andrew dotes upon the 
 Master." 
 
 But a shepherd in breathless haste has rushed into the cabin. 
 By expressive signs, and a few words, he has conveyed the 
 intelligence to Mr. Hennessey, that three outlying deer are at 
 this minute in a neighbouring glen. He saw them in a valley, 
 as he crossed the brow above. Nothing short of the landing 
 of a French army, or a smuggler, could occasion such confu- 
 sion. The chamber of state is invaded, rifles are uncased, shot 
 exchanged for bullets, a basket with refreshments packed : all 
 is hurry and preparation, and in an incalculably short time we 
 are ready for the fray, and in full march for the mountains. 
 Shakspeare, or he is belied, was in his youth a deer fancier, 
 and he would probably describe this busy scene by "loud alarum, 
 exeunt omnes." 
 
 The day is particularly favourable, the sun shines brilliantly, 
 the sky is without a cloud, and if we even miss the deer, I 
 trust that the prospect from the mountain-top will more than 
 repay our labour in ascending it. The party comprises three 
 guns, and some ten or twelve drivers, with our guide. My 
 kinsman and Hennessey have rifles ; I am no marksman with 
 a bullet, and I declined to take one, and therefore must put 
 my trust in honest John Manton. We bend our course di- 
 rectly to the mountain cleugh, where the deer were seen by the 
 peasant ; but when we reach the base of the hills, we must 
 diverge to the left, and make a considerable detour, and judg- 
 ing from the appearance of the heights to be surmounted, we 
 have work cut out, which, before our return to the hut, will 
 tell what metal we are made of. 
 
 Nor is the garrison during our absence left without protec- 
 tors. The colonel, the priest, the otter-killer, and old John, 
 there keep watch and ward. The former twain appear tQ 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE PEASANT'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 have sworn eternal friendship over a three-legged table, and 
 are settled t&e-a-t&e at either side of the cabin window, with 
 all the requisites for fabricating flies displayed before them. 
 Antony is greasing his otter-trap beside the fire. He still 
 indulges the vain hope, that his rheumatism may be cured, 
 and that he will once more revisit the remoter loughs, where 
 otters are abundant, and where many of his happier days were 
 "lang syne" spent. Poor fellow! his hunting is ended, and 
 his trap, like a warrior's sword, must be laid aside, for age has 
 come heavily upon its master. Old John, " the last and trus- 
 tiest of the four," has assumed his culinary apron, and from 
 the strength and array of his " matfriel" it is clear, that he 
 calculates little upon the red- deer venison we shall bring 
 home. 
 
 A smart walk of some three miles over an undulating 
 surface, of gentle but regular ascent, brought us to the 
 deep and circular lake which lies at the base of Carrig-a- 
 binniogh ; it seems the boundary between the hill-country 
 and the moorlands. Here we halted, and held with the 
 peasants a council of war, on the course of operations to be 
 pursued. 
 
 The situation of this mountain lough is extremely pictu- 
 resque ; on three sides it is embosomed in the hills, which rise 
 boldly from the water's edge, and for many hundred feet appear 
 to be almost perpendicular. Its depth is considerable, and 
 hence, bright as the day is, the waters have a dark and som- 
 bre look. It abounds with trout of moderate size and excel- 
 lent flavour. They were rising fast at the natural fly, and 
 appeared generally to be herring- sized. 
 
 While resting here, preparatory to attempting to ascend 
 the heights, Cooney, the guide, related a very apposite adven- 
 ture. 
 
 Late in the autumn of the preceding year, the peasant 
 aad visited the lake with his fishing-rod. The trouts took 
 well, and Cooney had nearly filled his basket, when he was 
 startled by the report of a gun, at no great distance up the 
 }iill. While he looked in the direction from whence the shot 
 appeared to have been discharged, a fine full-grown stag 
 crossed the brow above him, tottered downwards for some 
 twenty steps, and then falling into a steep and stony ravine, 
 rolled lifelessly over, until he reached the very spot where the 
 
CARRIG-A-BINNIOGH. 19> 
 
 astonished fisherman was standing. Before his surprise had 
 time to abate, a man, armed with a French gun,* leaped upon 
 the bank over which the deer had fallen, and was joined imme- 
 diately by a companion, armed also with a fowling-piece*, 
 Then, for the first time, they observed the startled angler. 
 The discovery was anything but agreeable ; for, after a 
 momentary pause, they rushed down the hill together, and 
 presenting their long guns at Cooney's breast, ordered him to 
 decamp, in terms that admitted of no demur. The angler 
 absconded forthwith ; for, as he reasoned fairly enough, " a 
 man who could drive an ounce of lead through a stag's skull, 
 would find little trouble in drilling a Christian/' On looking 
 round, he saw the deer-stealers place the carcass on their 
 shoulders, and ascend the heights, over which they quickly 
 disappeared. The feat is almost incredible, and it required an 
 amazing effort of strength and determination to transport a 
 full-grown red- deer over a precipitous mountain, which we, 
 in light marching order, and with no burden but our guns, 
 found a difficult task enough to climb. 
 
 From its very base, Carrig-a-binniogh presents a different 
 surface to the moorlands which environ it ; heath is no more 
 seen, and in its place the mountain's rugged sides are clothed 
 with lichen and wild grasses. The face of the hill is broken 
 and irregular, and the ascent rendered extremely disagreeable 
 by multitudes of loose stones which, being lightly bedded in 
 the soil, yield to the pressure of the traveller's foot, and of 
 course increase his difficulties. 
 
 After the first hundred yards had been gallantly sur- 
 mounted, we halted by general consent to recover breath. 
 Again we resumed our labour, and, with occasional pauses, 
 plodded on " our weary way." As we ascended, the hill 
 became more precipitous, the grass shorter, and the hands 
 were as much employed as the feet. The halts were now 
 
 * When the French, under Humbert, landed at Killala in the autumn 
 of 1798, they brought with them a large qua tity of arms and military 
 clothing, to equip the numerous partisans they expected to have found in 
 the country. After the French general was defeated, and the insurrection 
 had been put down, many of the guns which had been distributed among 
 the peasantry were buried, or effectually concealed ; and they have been 
 used in poaching and wild-fowl shooting to the present time. The French 
 barrels are said to throw shot much better than those of English muskets. 
 I have never seen their relative merits proven, but imagine that the 
 superiority of the former is owing to their greater length. 
 
198 PROSPECT FROM CARIUG-A-BINNIOGH. 
 
 more frequent ; and each progression towards the summit 
 shorter after every pause. "To climb the trackless moun- 
 tain all unseen/' is very poetical, no doubt, but it is also, 
 I regret to add, amazingly fatiguing, and a task for men of 
 thews and sinews of no ordinary strength. But we were 
 determined and persevered -" en avant," was the orde,r of 
 the day ; on we progressed, slowly but continuously; the 
 steepest face of the hill was gradually overcome, and a wide 
 waste of moss and shingle lay before us, rising towards a 
 cairn of stones which marks the apex of the mountain. We 
 pressed on with additional energy ; the termination of our 
 toil was in view : in a few minutes we gained the top, and a 
 scene, glorious beyond imagination, burst upon us at once, 
 and repaid tenfold the labour we had encountered to ob- 
 tain it. 
 
 We stood upon the very pinnacle of the ridge, two thou- 
 sand feet above the level of the sea ; Clew Bay, that mag- 
 nificent sheet of water, was extended at our feet, studded with 
 its countless islands : inland, the eye ranged over a space of 
 fifty miles ; and towns and villages, beyond number, were, 
 sprinkled over a surface covered with grass, and corn, and 
 heath, in beautiful alternation. The sun was shining glo- 
 riously, and the variety of colouring presented by this 
 expansive landscape, was splendidly tinted by the vertical rays 
 of light. The yellow corn, the green pasturage, the russet 
 heaths, were traceable to an infinite distance, while smaller 
 objects were marked upon this natural panorama, and 
 churches, towns, and mansions occasionally relieved the 
 prospect. "We turned from the interior to the west ; there 
 the dark ^waters of the Atlantic extended, till the eye lost them 
 in the horizon. Northward, lay the Sligo islands ; and south- 
 ward, the Connemara mountains, with the noble islands of 
 Turk and BofHn nearer objects seemed almost beneath us ; 
 Achil was below Clare Island stretched at our feet while 
 our own cabin looked like a speck upon the canvas, dis- 
 tinguished only by its spiral wreath of smoke from the 
 hillocks that encircled it. There was an indescribable lone- 
 liness around, that gave powerful effect to all we saw. The 
 dreariness of the waste we occupied was grand and imposing : 
 we were far removed from every thing human ; we stood 
 above the world, and could exclaim with Byron, " this, this is 
 solitude !" 
 
HIGHLAND SCENE. 199 
 
 How long we might have gazed on this brilliant spectacle 
 is questionable. Hennessey, less romantic than we, reminded 
 us that it was time to. occupy the defile, by which the deer, if 
 found, and driven from the lowlands, would pass within our 
 range. Thus recalled, we looked at the immediate vicinage 
 of the cairn. It was a wilderness of moss and bog, and 
 granite, barren beyond description, and connected with the 
 upper levels of the Alpine ridge, which extended for miles at 
 either side, by a narrow chain of rock, which seemed more 
 like the topping of a parapet than the apex of a line of hills. 
 Indeed, a more desolate region could not be well imagined ; 
 no sign of vegetation appeared, if scathed lichens, and parched 
 and withered flag- grass be excepted. The mountain cattle 
 were rarely seen upon these heights, and the footmarks upon 
 the softer surface were those of the deer and goats. . Hen- 
 nessey discovered the tracks of a herd of the larger species, 
 which, from his acute observations, had evidently crossed the 
 ridge since sunrise, and must, from their numerous traces, 
 have amounted to at least a dozen. 
 
 While we still cast a " longing lingering look" at a scene, 
 which, I lament to say, I shall most probably never be per- 
 mitted to view again a boy rose from the valley towards the 
 south, and hastened at full speed to join us. His communi- 
 cation was soon made, and, like the shepherd's at the cabin, 
 pantomime rather than speech conveyed its import. His 
 tidings were momentous ; the deer had moved from the place 
 in which they had been first discovered, and were now 
 within one thousand yards of the place where we were 
 resting. Hennessey and the gossoon* advanced in double 
 quick, and where the ridge is steepest between the highlands 
 and the valley, we observed them make a sudden halt, and 
 creep gingerly forward, to what seemed the brow of a pre- 
 cipice. We followed more leisurely, and adopting a similar 
 method of approach, stole silently on, and looked over the 
 chasm. 
 
 The precipice we were on forms the extremity of a long 
 but narrow ravine, which gradually rising from the lowlands, 
 divides the basis of Carrig-a-binnoigh and Meelroe. It 
 was a perpendicular rock of fearful height. At either side 
 the valley was flanked by the sides of the opposite hills ; and 
 
 * Anglice, boy. 
 
200 KED-DEER. 
 
 they sprung up so rugged and precipitous as to be quite 
 impracticable to all but " the wild flock which never needs 
 a fold ;" and yet the cleugh below was like a green spot 
 upon a wilderness. To the very bases of the ridges it was 
 covered with verdant grass and blooming heather while, at the 
 upper end, streams from several well-heads united together 
 and formed a sparkling rivulet, which wandered between 
 banks so green and shrubby, as formed a striking contrast to 
 the barren heaths below and the blasted wilderness above. 
 
 We put our bats aside, and peeped over. The wave of 
 Hennessey's hand proved the boy's report to be correct, 
 and we were gratified with a sight of those rare and beau- 
 tiful animals which formed the objects of our expedition. 
 They were the same leash which the peasant had noticed 
 in the lower valley an old stag, a younger one, and a doe. 
 
 The great elevation of the precipice, and the caution with 
 which we approached the verge, permitted us, without alarm- 
 ing them, to view the red- deer leisurely. They appeared to 
 have been as yet undisturbed, for, after cropping the herbage 
 for a little, the younger stag and the hind lay down, while the 
 old hart remained erect, as if he intended to be their sentinel. 
 
 The distance of the deer from the ridge was too great to 
 allow the rifle to be used with anything like certainty ; and 
 from the exposed nature of the hills at either side, it was 
 impossible to get within point-blank range undiscovered. 
 Hennessey had already formed his plans, and drawing cau- 
 tiously back from the ridge, he pulled us by the skirts, and 
 beckoned us to retire. 
 
 We fell back about a pistol-shot from the cliff, and under a 
 rock, which bore the portentous name of Craignamoina,* held 
 our council of war. 
 
 There were two passes, through one of which the deer, 
 when roused and driven from the glen, would most likely 
 retreat. The better of these, as post of honour, was, more 
 politely than prudently, entrusted to me my kinsman occu- 
 pied the other ; and Hennessey having ensconced us behind 
 rocks which prevented our ambush from being discovered, 
 crossed to the other side of the ridge, and I lost sight of him. 
 Meanwhile the boy had been despatched to apprize the drivers 
 that the deer were in the ravine, and to notify the spot where 
 
 * AMjlice, the rock of slaughter. 
 
A HIGHLAND AMBUSCADE. 
 
 201 
 
 we were posted, to enable them to arrange their movements 
 according to our plans. 
 
 I will not pretend to describe the anxious, nay agonizing 
 hour that I passed in this highland ambuscade. The deep 
 stillness of the waste was not broken by even the twittering of 
 a bird. From the place where I lay concealed, I commanded 
 a view of the defile for the distance of some eighty yards, and 
 my eye turned to the path by which I expected the deer to 
 approach, until to gaze longer pained me. My ear was 
 equally engaged ; the smallest noise was instantly detected, 
 and the ticking of my watch appeared sharper and louder than 
 usual. As time wore on, my nervousness increased. Sud- 
 denly a few pebbles fell my heart beat faster but it was a 
 false alarm. Again, I heard a faint sound, as if a light foot 
 pressed upon loose shingle it was repeated. By Saint 
 Hubert, it is the deer ! They have entered the gorge of the 
 pass, and approach the rock that covers me, in a gentle 
 canter ! 
 
 To sink upon one knee and cock both barrels was a 
 
 moment's work. Reckless of danger, the noble animals, 
 in single file, galloped down the narrow pathway. The hart 
 
202 THE DEAD STAG. 
 
 led the way, followed by the doe, and the old stag brought up 
 the rear. As they passed me at the short distance of twenty 
 paces, I fired at the leader, and, as I thought, with deadly aim; 
 but the ball passed over his back, and splintered the rock 
 beyond him. The report rang over the waste, and the deer's 
 surprise was evinced by the tremendous rush they made to 
 clear the defile before them. I selected the stag for my 
 second essay ; eye and finger kept excellent time, as I 
 imagined I drew the trigger a miss, by everything unfor- 
 tunate ! The bullet merely struck a tyne from his antler, and, 
 excepting this trifling graze, he went off at a thundering pace, 
 uninjured. 
 
 Cursing myself, John Manton, and all the world, I threw 
 my luckless gun upon the ground, and rushed to the summit 
 of a neighbouring rock, from which the heights and valleys 
 beyond the gorge of the pass were seen distinctly. The deer 
 had separated the hart and doe turned suddenly to the right, 
 and were fired at by my cousin, without effect. The stag 
 went right ahead ; and while I still gazed after him, a flash 
 issued from a hollow in the hill, the sharp report of Hen- 
 nessey's piece succeeded, and the stag sprang full six feet from 
 the ground, and tumbling over and over repeatedly, dropped 
 upon the bent-grass with a rifle- bullet in his heart. 
 
 I rushed at headlong speed to the spot where the noble 
 animal lay. The eye was open the nostril expanded, just as 
 life had left him. Throwing his rifle down, Hennessey pulled 
 out a clasp-knife, passed the blade across the deer's throat, and 
 requesting my assistance, raised the carcass by the haunches, 
 in order to assist its bleeding freely. 
 
 Having performed this necessary operation, and obtained 
 the assistance of two of our companions from the valley, 
 whence they had been driving the deer, we proceeded to 
 transport the dead stag to the lowlands. It was no easy 
 task, but we accomplished it quickly; and perceiving some 
 horses grazing at no great distance, we determined to press 
 one for the occasion. A stout pony was most unceremo- 
 niously put in requisition, the deer laid across his back, and 
 after emptying flask and basket joyously beside a stream of 
 rock-water, we turned our faces to the cabin, where the news 
 of our success had already arrived. 
 
DEER BROUGHT HOME. 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Deer brought home Dinner Gastronomic reflections Grouse soup- 
 Roasted salmon Cooking pour et contre Carouse commences 
 Symptoms of inebriety Night in the hills Coffee al fresco Tem- 
 perance society A Bacchanalian group Auld lang syne Borrowing 
 a congregation The company dispersed. 
 
 WONDERFUL are the inventions of man ! The slaughter of 
 an unhappy stag has been made good and sufficient cause 
 for all the idlers of the community assembling at our cabin. 
 They are squatted round the fire like Indians in a wigwam - 
 and old John, no bad authority in such matters, declares 
 in a stage whisper to his master, " that a four-gallon cag 
 will scarcely last the night, there is such a clanjamfry of 
 coosherers* in the kitchen the devil speed them, one and all !" 
 
 It was twilight when we got home. The deer had arrived 
 before us, and was already hanging up, suspended from the 
 couples. A cheerful fire blazed in the room of state, while 
 exhilarating effluvia from the outer chamber told that John's 
 preparations were far advanced. We had scarcely time to 
 make our hurried toilet before the table was covered, and 
 
 * This phrase is used in Ireland to designate that useless and eternal 
 tribe, who are there the regular attaches of families of ancient lineage. 
 Nurses, fosterers, discharged servants, decayed sportsmen, and idlers of 
 every sex, age, and calling, come under this description. 
 
 There was a higher class of nuisance under the title of poor relations 
 who formerly wandered over Connaught, and from the interminable 
 ramifications of the old families, there were few houses into which these 
 worthies had not a right of entree. The last one I recollect when a boy, 
 traversed the country upon a white pony, dressed in dingy black, and 
 Arrayed in a cocked-hat ; a certain number of houses were under annual 
 requisition, and such was the influence of annual custom, that none would 
 venture to refuse this forced hospitality, although the man was latterly a 
 sad bore. Some gentlemen, when their " loving cousin was expected, 
 had his approach observed, and stopped him in the avenue with an excuse 
 that the house was full, and a subsidy of a few guineas. The money was 
 always acceptable and whoever unluckily happened to be next number 
 on the visiting list, was favoured with one week additional from my 
 " Cousin Mac." 
 
 " Mac," with his brigadier wig and white pony, has gone the way of all 
 flesh, and by travestying a line of Sir Walter Scott, one could add, 
 
 " The last of all the bores was he." 
 
204 COOKING POUR ET CONTRE. 
 
 Father Andrew, at the Colonel's especial solicitation, favourec 
 us with a Latin grace. 
 
 No one merits and relishes a good dinner better than 
 grouse-shooter. It delights me to see my companion eat 
 like a traveller ; and to please me, he should possess sufficient 
 acumen to enable him to appreciate the fare. I despise the 
 man who is cursed with a Spartan palate, and who hardly 
 knows the difference between beef and mutton; and yet, 
 in equal ratio, the gourmand is my abomination. There 
 is a limit in culinary lore beyond which, as I opine, the 
 sportsman should never travel. Like a soldier, he will 
 sometimes find it serviceable to be able to direct the broiling 
 of a steak and the combination of a stew. To fabricate 
 a curry, or even regulate a hash, may be tolerated ; and in 
 a wild country like Bally croy, or the Scottish highlands, 
 this knowledge will frequently be "worth a Jew's eye;" 
 but everything beyond this in kitchen accomplishments is 
 detestable. With one who composed omelets, and talked 
 scholarly of the materiel of a plum-pudding and I once 
 had the misfortune to fall into a shooting party afflicted with 
 such a personage I would consort no more upon the heath, 
 than I would shoot with a cook, or draw a cover with a con- 
 fectioner. And yet, with these antipathies, I recommend the 
 neophyte to make himself in everything as independent as he 
 can. A few practical lessons are worth a world of precept : 
 one week's cooking on the moors will render him for life an 
 adept ; and if gun and angle fail him not, he will be able to 
 command a dinner, without owing to the devil the compliment 
 of a bad cook. 
 
 Did I wish to elucidate my opinions, I would stake them 
 upon two items in our bills of fare. The soldier compounded 
 the soup and such soup ! and yet it was the simple extract 
 of a mountain hare, and five broken birds, which had been too 
 much injured to permit their being sent away. Shade of 
 Kitchener ! one spoonful of that exquisite potage would have 
 made thee abandon half thy theories, and throw thy " cun- 
 ningest devices" to the winds ! 
 
 The Priest superintended the fish an eight-pound-salmon, 
 crimped, split, subdivided, and roasted upon bog- deal skewers 
 before a clear turf-fire. All the sauces that Lazenby ever 
 fabricated, could not produce that soup, or emulate this broil. 
 
SYMPTOMS OF INEBRIETY. 205 
 
 Let him, whose jaded palate a club-house cook connot accom- 
 modate, try the cuisinerie of our cabin. He shall walk to the 
 mountain lake, and on his return, the Colonel will compose a 
 soup, and the Priest supply a salmon : if eating like a plough- 
 man be to him a pleasure 
 
 " If these won't make him, 
 The devil take him !" 
 
 But lest my theories be mistaken, I must say, that I hold 
 cooking and " creature comforts" as very secondary indeed 
 to sport. If all can be had, so much the better ; and when 
 I recommend the tyro to learn the art and mysteries of the 
 broiling iron, it is precisely on the principle that the know- 
 ledge how to cook a dinner may, at times, be as necessary 
 for him, as to know how to wash a gun. No man, I pre- 
 sume, will do either, who can manage to have them done 
 by a deputy. But a sportsman, a keen straightforward 
 sportsman, will of necessity be often left dependant upon 
 his own resources, and hence he should be prepared for the 
 contingency. It is the abuse I cry out against. A man 
 who on the mountains counts the minutes until dinner- 
 hour shall come, who is seeking an appetite rather than 
 amusement, and instead of game is dreaming of gourman- 
 derie him I totally reject, and implore to lay aside his gun 
 for ever, and exchange the powder-flask for the pepper- 
 box. The latter he will find more useful, and not half so 
 dangerous. 
 
 It was clear, from the very start, that this was to be among 
 the wettest nights of the season. The Colonel settled himself 
 for a comfortable carouse ; the Priest was not the man to 
 desert his buon camarado ; and Antony declared that there was 
 good cause for a general jollification, as he properly observed, 
 that " it was not every day that Manus kills a bullock," by 
 which old saw, I presume the defunct deer and ourselves are 
 typified. No wonder, then, that the revel commenced with all 
 the members of the body politic ; and whilst the contents of 
 the "four-gallon keg" were invaded in the kitchen, the wine 
 circulated rapidly in the chamber of state. In truth, during 
 my short but chequered life, civil and military, I never saw a 
 party evince an honester disposition to drink fair. No 
 coquetry about filling ; no remonstrances touching " heeltaps 
 and skyliehts ;" round went the bottle, until the juice of 
 
206 COFFEE AL FRESCO. 
 
 the grape appeared too cold a fluid for such mercurial souls 
 and a general call for a more potent liquid was given am 
 obeyed. 
 
 Now came "the sweet hour i' the night/' and old Can 
 might, if he pleased, have "hanged himself in his owi 
 garters." The Priest, whose voice must once have beer 
 remarkably fine, and who certainly never impaired it mucl 
 by " hallooing psalms/' sang national melodies, or joined the 
 Colonel and my cousin in glees and catches, which, as 
 Wamba says, were not " ill-sung/' " Fast and furious" the 
 mirth proceeded, while, " every pause between/' clouds o: 
 tobacco rose like a mist-wreath, and overspread the company 
 with a canopy of vapour. 
 
 For my own part, every prudential resolution vanished wit! 
 the first catch ; and it was not till a certain unsteadiness o; 
 vision discovered that I had reached that felicitous state wher 
 no twelve honest men, upon oath, would certify my sobriety, 
 that I mustered courage to retreat. I felt that, had I remainec 
 much longer, I was likely to become hors de combat ; and : 
 lighting a cigar, left the cabin to breathe the fresh air, whicl 
 long since had been superseded in the banqueting-room by ar 
 atmosphere of genuine cannastre. 
 
 It was a mild, calm, dark night, and such a one feels 
 delicious in the hills. Two or three solitary stars were feeblj 
 twinkling in the sky, though, were the truth told, probably 
 there was but one. I took the pathway leading to the 
 river, and sat down upon the banks, to " blow my cloud' 
 in solitude. I was not, however, permitted to muse alone ; 
 my kinsman immediately joined me, and settling himsel: 
 upon one of the masses of turf, which the floods tear froir 
 the banks of the stream, and leave, when their violence 
 subsides, upon the verge of the river, replenished his 
 meerschaum. 
 
 "How refreshing/' he said, "to exchange that mephitic 
 air within, for this mild but bracing night-breeze ! I savi 
 you pass the glass, and I desired John to bring us out some 
 coffee. It is a queer place, too, for a Mocha fancier to indulge 
 in ; but this is the charm that binds me to the mountains. IE 
 life, locality is everything ; it is not the what one does, it is the 
 where. Venison at a city feast is an every-day concern ; and 
 the best haunch in England would not ha^ e the gusto of the 
 red deer's that hangs from the roof within. Common comfort, 
 
TEMPERANCE SOCIETY. 207 
 
 in a wildeaness like this, from the barrenness of all around, 
 receives a zest, which nothing in civilized society can realize, 
 and ' voila Vexemple* " 
 
 Lighted by a peasant with a bog-deal torch, that emitted 
 more light than forty candles together, the old man approached 
 us with his tray. Coffee taken in the open air, " in darkness 
 palpable," into which the powerful blaze of the torch which 
 our bare-legged attendant held could but feebly penetrate, 
 associated with the place and company, made an impression on 
 my fancy that will not be readily obliterated. 
 
 " Next to modern fanaticism, nothing stirs my choler more/' 
 said my kinsman, " than that silly bubble, yclept the Temperance 
 Society, To prevent men from occasionally indulging, no 
 matter what their grade in life may be, is perfectly Utopian. 
 The more you inhibit what the world calls pleasure, the more 
 you urge mankind to the pursuit. Hence, in water-drinking, 
 more as in religion, there is the grossest hypocrisy prac- 
 tised; and I would as soon trust a denouncer of wine 
 with the key of my cellar, as allow my cat to have the entree 
 of the dairy. Then, upon the score that health and longevity 
 are interrupted by even a moderate attachment to the bottle, I 
 deny the position altogether ; and for my proof I would point 
 out the group within. The otter-killer says that he is eighty 
 we at the Lodge, from certain data, know him to be at 
 least five years more ; his life has been one of much severity, 
 with constant exposure to heat and cold : and he has, as he 
 admits, been always a free drinker. The Colonel, for thirty 
 years, has been attached to the most dissipated regiments in 
 the service, and excepting that he suffered from gout, which is 
 hereditary in his family, and rheumatism occasioned by a neg- 
 lected wound, where is there a more vigorous sexagenarian ? 
 But the Priest is probably the best example of them all. Ex- 
 posed to all the annoyances of his profession, brought constantly 
 within the sphere of contagion, called out of bed at midnight, 
 and obliged to brave weather, when, as it has been happily ex- 
 pressed, a man would not reject an enemy's dog, he exercises 
 hospitality freely ; and is there a panado-rnaker among the 
 whole water- drinking gang who could rough it with him for a 
 fortnight ? But hark ! he pitches that manly and melodious 
 voice he strikes up poor Burns* inimitable lyric, ' Then are 
 we met.' That matchless song was surely written for such a 
 voice and such a company !" 
 
208 BACCHANALIAN GROUP. 
 
 Under cover of the Priest's melody we approached the 
 window. There sat a party, who might well put the Tempe- 
 rance Society to the hlush. For their years, I suspect there 
 was not a healthier, and I will swear not a happier, trio in 
 the King's dominion. It was just the scene a Flemish artist 
 would select to employ his pencil on. For effect, the light 
 was excellent : the candles haying heen removed to the ex- 
 tremity of the apartment, the bacchanalian group were revealed 
 by the red and mellow blaze of a brilliant wood-fire. Sepa- 
 rated by a table provided with every requisite for a deep 
 carouse, sat the soldier and the churchman. The back of 
 the latter was turned to the window, but his amplitude of 
 shoulder and bull-neck at once bespoke the strength for which 
 he was remarkable, while the partial baldness of his head 
 told that he had passed life's meridian. The tall and martial 
 figure opposite contrasted well with the churchman's. Older 
 by some half-score years, he might, like Jack Falstaif, be 
 " some fifty, ay, or, by the mass, threescore !" but his age 
 was green; and notwithstanding the wear and tear that a 
 military life and its occasional excesses had caused, his cheerful 
 countenance and merry eye showed that he loved yet to hear 
 " the chimes at midnight." The otter-killer completed the 
 group : sitting on a low stool, from time to time he regulated 
 and supplied the wood-fire ; his silver hair collected in a 
 long cue, seal-skin pouch, singular dress, and venerable air, 
 made him the most striking figure of the party. A little 
 terrier bitch, who never left her master, lay at the old man's 
 feet, while an indulged black setter luxuriated before the 
 blaze, with his intelligent head and pendulous silky ears 
 rested on the Colonel's knee. 
 
 "Is not that indeed a picture?" whispered my cousin. 
 " What heads they have ? John placed yonder bottle before 
 them as I went out, and two parts of it are gone already. 
 But hush ! let us hear the conversation. I think if there be 
 strength in poteen, the Colonel has reached the moralizing 
 point." 
 
 "Andrew," said the commander. ("The Colonel," said 
 my kinsman, aside, " is generally hard screwed when he calls 
 the priest Andrew.") 
 
 " Andrew, fill the glass : the boys are ruminating beside the 
 river ; heir young blood is hotter than ours, so we'll stick to 
 the ing^C'Side and the tumbler. There was a day when v* 
 
AULD LANG SYNE. 209 
 
 could bring a stag to the ground, and scramble up Carrig- 
 a-binniogh as stoutly as the best of them, but that day's 
 gone : we have changed for the worse, and so has everything. 
 Andrew, in our youth it was a merry world. But who suc- 
 ceeded old Markham ? He was as honest a divine as ever 
 finished a magnum. They talked for virtue has always its 
 enemies of his smuggling a little, and having a private still 
 in the stable ; but it was all hospitality. Andrew, the poteen 
 is sweet, but weak help it man, for these glasses scarcely 
 hold a thimbleful! at our age water- drinking won't do. 
 Not a drop of brandy, you say, inside the Mullet ?"* 
 
 " Not an anker in the barony!" returned his companion 
 with a heavy sigh. " There was a time when my poor cabin 
 could not be taken short for Nantz and Hollands ; but if I 
 can keep a bottle of the native now, it is the most. Would you 
 believe it, Colonel ? the revenue people searched my house a 
 month ago." 
 
 The Colonel looked indignant. " Search your house ? 
 profane a priest's own dwelling? why, after a while, they'll 
 look into the Lodge. Did you curse the scoundrels from 
 the altar?" 
 
 " Not I," said the churchman. "They are all northmenf 
 and foreigners, who would not care a brass button whether I 
 banned or blessed them for a twelvemonth. There is a 
 ruffian of the flockj that acts as a spy and guide, and I 
 suspect he sent them." 
 
 " Excommunicate him !" exclaimed the commander, with 
 drunken solemnity. 
 
 * The grand boundary of the wild peninsula of Erris, separating it 
 from the interior counties. It is used in a general sense to describe the 
 district as " within or without the Mullet." 
 
 t Northmen is a phrase not only applied to recent settlers from the 
 north of Ireland, but even to families who have been located here for 
 centuries. In point of fact, few of the tribes here are purely aboriginal ; 
 for Ennis and Connemara being the Ultima Thule of the land, every 
 wanderer for private and political offences fled to these havens of refuge, 
 and in course of time amalgamated with the native proprietors of the soil. 
 Hence to this day, their descendants are not unfrequently taunted with 
 being novi homines; and when a delinquency is committed by one of 
 these unhappy hybrids, an aboriginal will probably observe, " Sure, after 
 all, what could be expected from him, considering that his great great- 
 grandfather vf&sfrom the North!" 
 
 t The flock a Roman Catholic congregation is so termed in 
 
 r 
 
210 REAL CHRISTIAN FEELING. 
 
 "I did that last Candlemas. He brought a girl out of 
 Achil, on book oath, and he with his three decent wives in 
 the parish already. I quenched the candles on him, and 
 then he took to the revenue Nemo repente fuit turpissimus" 
 
 " And how do you and the new minister get on ?" 
 
 " Poorly enough," answered the Priest. "This reforma- 
 tion work has put the country clean asunder." 
 
 " No good will come of it," said the Colonel. " I mind 
 the time in Connaught when no man clearly knew to what 
 religion he belonged ; and in one family, the boys would go 
 to church and the girls to mass, or may be, both would join 
 and go to whichever happened to be nearest. When I en- 
 tered the militia, I recollect, the first time I was ever 
 detached from head- quarters, I went with the company to 
 Portumna. Old Sir Mark Blake, who commanded the regi- 
 ment, happened to be passing through, and the night before 
 he had had a desperate drink with General Loftus at the 
 Castle. When I left Loughrea, I forgot to ascertain where I 
 should bring the men on Sunday, and I thought this a good 
 opportunity to ask the question. I opened his bedroom-door 
 softly. ' Sir Mark,' says I, f where shall I march the men ?' 
 ' What kind of a day is it ?" says he. ' Rather wet/ was my 
 answer. 'It's liker the night that preceded it/ said he. 
 
 * Upon my conscience, my lad/ he continued, ( my head's 
 not clear enough at present to recollect the exact position of 
 church and chapel ; but take them to the nearest.' That is 
 what I call," and the Colonel shook his head gravely, "real 
 Christian feeling." 
 
 "Real Christian feeling," said the Priest, with a groan, 
 " is nearly banished from the world. When I went first to 
 Castlebar, to learn Latin from Dan Donovan, my uncle 
 Martin, God be merciful to him! was parish priest, and 
 Jack Benton was the minister. They agreed like sworn 
 brothers, and no one dared say a word against either in the 
 presence of his friend. Where the priest dined, the curate 
 was sure to be also. They lived in true brotherhood ; and 
 when one happened to be the worse of liquor, why the other 
 would not leave him for a bishopric. The town was the 
 most peaceable place in Connaught ; and how could it be 
 otherwise with such an example ? Many a night I went 
 before them with a lantern, when they carried Carney, the 
 
 we fiddler, round the streets, to serenade the ladies. There 
 
BORROWING A CONGREGATION. 211 
 
 they would walk, like humble Christians, with the cripple in 
 the middle, and neither caring a traneein, whether popery or 
 protestantism was at the head of the barrow. These were 
 blessed days, Colonel. I'll thank you for the canister, that 
 tobacco is excellent, and I'll try another pipeful." 
 
 " Och hone !" exclaimed the otter-killer, " isn't it a murder 
 to see the clargy making such fools of themselves now 1 
 When I was young, priest and minister were hand-and- 
 glove. It seems to me but yesterday, when Father Patt 
 Joyce, the Lord be good to him ! lent Mr. Carson a con- 
 gregation." 
 
 " Eh ! what Antony ?" said the Colonel. " A congregation 
 appears rather an extraordinary article to borrow." 
 
 " Faith," said the otter-killer, "it's true. I was there 
 myself, and I'll tell you the story. It was in the time of 
 Bishop Beresford, that beautiful old man, many a half- 
 crown he gave me, for I used often to bring game and fish 
 to the palace from the master's father. He was the hand- 
 somest gentleman I ever laid my eyes on ; and, och hone ! 
 it was he that knew how to live like a bishop. He never 
 went a step without four long- tailed black horses to his car- 
 riage, and two mounted grooms behind him. His own body- 
 man told me, one time I went with a haunch of red -deer and 
 a bittern to the palace, that never less than twenty sat down 
 in the parlour, and, in troth, there was double that number in 
 the hall, for nobody came or went without being well taken 
 care of. 
 
 "Well, it came into old Lord Peter's* head, that he would 
 build a church, and s ttle a colony of northmen away in the 
 west. Faith, he managed the one easy enough ; but it failed 
 him to do the other, for devil an inch the northmen would 
 come ; for, says they, " Hell and Connaught's bad enough, 
 but what is either to Connemara ?' 
 
 " Well, the minister came down, and a nice little man he 
 was, one Mr. Carson. Father Patt Flyn had the parish then, 
 and faith, in course of time they two became as thick as inkle- 
 weavers. 
 
 " Everything went on beautiful, for the two clargy lived 
 together. Father Patt Flyn minded his chapel and the flock, 
 
 * Grandfather to the present Marquis of Sligo. 
 
212 BORROWING A CONGREGATION. 
 
 and Mr. Carson said prayers of a Sunday too, though sorrow 
 a soul he had to listen to him but the clerk but sure that 
 was no fault of his. 
 
 " Well, I mind it as well as yesterday, for I killed that 
 very morning two otters at Loughnamuckey, and the small- 
 est of them was better to me than a pound note. It was 
 late when I got down from the hills, and I went to Father 
 Patt's as usual, and who should I meet at the door but the 
 priest himself. 'Antony/ says he, ' ceadefealteagh, have ye 
 anything with you, for the wallets seem full?' 'I have/ 
 says I, ' your reverence / and I pulls out two pair of gra- 
 ziers,* and a brace of three-pound trouts, fresh from the 
 sea, that I caught that morning in Dhulough. In these days 
 I carried a ferret, besides the trap and fishing-rod, and it 
 went hard, if I missed the otters but I would net rabbits, 
 or kill a dish of trout. '' Upon my conscience/ says the 
 priest, ' ye never were more welcome, Antony. The minister 
 and myself will dine off the trouts and rabbits, for they 
 forgot to kill a sheep for us till an hour ago ; and you know, 
 Antony, except the shoulder, there's no part of the mutton 
 could be touched, so I was rather bothered about the 
 dinner.' 
 
 " Well, in the evening, I was brought into the parlour, and 
 there were their reverences as cur coddiogh\ as you please. 
 Father Patt gave me a tumbler of rael stiff punch, and the 
 divil a better warrant to make the same was within the pro- 
 vince of Connaught. We were just as comfortable as we 
 could be, when a currier^ stops at the door with a letter, 
 which he said was for Mr. Carson. Well, when the minister 
 opens it, he got as pale as a sheet, and I thought he would 
 have fainted. Father Patt crossed himself. ' Arrah, Dick/ 
 says he, ' the Lord stand between you and evil ! is there any- 
 thing wrong ?' 'I'm ruined/ says he ; ' for some lad member 
 has wrote to the bishop, and told him that I have no con- 
 gregation, because you and I are so intimate, and he's coming 
 down to-morrow, with the dane, to see the state of things. 
 Och, hone !' says he, ' I'm fairly ruined.' c And is that all 
 that's frettin' ye?' says the priest, 'Arrah, dear Dick' for 
 they called each other be their cristen names, ' is this all ? 
 
 * Young rabbits. t Anglice, comfortable. 
 
 Alias, courier. 
 
THE COMPANY DISPERSED. 213 
 
 If it's a congregation ye want, ye shall have a decent one 
 to-morrow, and lave that to me ; and now we'll take our 
 drink, and not matter the bishop a fig.' 
 
 " Well, next day, sure enough, down comes the bishop, 
 and a great retinue along with him ; and there was Mr. Carson 
 ready to receive him. f l hear/ says the bishop, mighty 
 stately, ' that you have no congregation/ ' In faith, your 
 holiness,' says he, 'you'll be soon able to tell that,' and in 
 he walks him to the church, and there were sitting threescore 
 well-dressed men and women, and all of them as devout as if 
 they were going to be anointed ; for that blessed morning, 
 Father Patt whipped mass over before ye had time to bless 
 yourself, and the clanest of the flock was before the bishop in 
 the church, and ready for his holiness. To see that all 
 behaved properly, Father Patt had hardly put off the vest- 
 ment, till he slipped on a cota more,* and there he sat in a 
 back sate like any other of the congregation. I was near the 
 bishop's reverence ; he was seated in an arm-chair belonging 
 to the priest, 'Come here, Mr. Carson,' says he; 'some 
 enemy of yours,' said the sweet old gentleman, 'wanted to 
 injure you with me. But I am now fully satisfied.' And 
 turning to the dane, 'By this book !' says he, ' I didn't see a 
 claner congregation this month of Sundays !' " 
 
 "He said no such thing" exclaimed my kinsman, who, tired 
 with the prolixity of the otter-killer, had interrupted the 
 finale of the tale. " How dare you, Antony, put such unca- 
 nonical and ungentlemanly language in the mouth of the 
 sweet old man ? Here, John, clear the kitchen. Out with 
 the piper, and chuck the keg after him. We'll disperse this 
 congregation ; and they may dance outside if they please, 
 while pipes and poteen stand them. And now ventilate the 
 cabin, open door and window, and sling our hammocks as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 Agreeably to this mandate, the kitchen company were 
 ejected with scanty ceremony ; the Colonel and the Priest 
 retired to their respective beds with wonderful steadiness : 
 while we took possession of our marquee, which, under 
 existing circumstances, was Paradise itself compared with the 
 cabin, which smoking, drinking, and cooking, had rendered 
 everything but agreeable. 
 
 * Anglice, a great-coat. 
 
214 EFFECTS OF POTEEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Pancing kept up Effects of poteen on the company Ball ends Rainy 
 night Morning Pattigo A long swim Breakfast An incident 
 Fox-catcher bitten by a wild cat Ferocity of that animal Anecdotes 
 of them House-cats frequently run wild Destructive to rabbit- 
 warrens Cat-killing" extraordinary The deer-skin Snow fatal to the 
 red deer Anecdote of a hind and fawn Blistered foot Simple 
 remedy My descent by " the mother's side." 
 
 FOR a considerable time after we had retired to our cots, 
 the ball was kept up with unabated spirit, upon a piece of 
 level sward beside the river. The whisky appeared to affect 
 the company differently, and individual propensities were 
 strikingly developed. Some of the boys were particularly 
 amative, and the rude love-making we overheard at times 
 amused us much ; others betrayed a pugnacity of spirit which 
 nothing but the master's propinquity repressed. By degrees 
 the company began to separate : the piper, whose notes for 
 the last half-hour had been exceedingly irregular, now evinced 
 unquestionable symptoms of his being " done up" Instead 
 of the lightsome and well-sustained jig, strange and dolorous 
 noises issued from the chanter,* and, as one of the fair sex 
 observed, who, by the way, in passing, tumbled over the tent 
 cords, "Martin was totally smothered with spirits, and a body 
 could no more dance to his music, than do the Patre o'pee to a 
 coronach at a wake." 
 
 It was well that this failure in the orchestral department 
 brought the ball to a close, for at midnight the rain began 
 to fall, and towards morning it came down in torrents. We 
 were obliged to rise and slack the tent-cords ; but the marquee 
 was a double one, and perfectly water-tight, and, as the cots 
 were slung from upright posts at least a foot from the ground, 
 we suffered no inconvenience from the rain, except the noise it 
 made in rattling on the tense canvas. This, however, we 
 soon became accustomed to, and slept till eight o'clock, as 
 sound as watchmen. 
 
 Long before we turned out, the Colonel and Priest were 
 afoot, and we heard a prayer and supplication from the com- 
 mander to old John, for a cup of strong coffee, while an idler 
 
 * The principal or finger-pipe of the set. 
 
PATTIGO. 215 
 
 was despatched to the next well by the churchman, for a jug 
 of cold spring water. Pattigo, who had rambled up the hills 
 with a basket of fish and scallops, remarked, " that the 
 gentlemen's coppers, he guessed, were rather hot this morning, 
 and," as he eyed the empty bottles which were being removed, 
 " to judge from the number of the marines, it was little 
 wonder." 
 
 From Pattigo' s parlance, I suspected that he had seen more 
 of the world than usually falls to the lot of an ordinary skip- 
 per of a fishing-boat nor was I wrong. I learned from his 
 master, that for some good conduct, no doubt, he had been 
 accommodated with board and lodging in a king's ship for 
 upwards of two years, and that his sojourn there would have 
 heen much longer, had he not managed to abridge the visit, 
 by slipping one dark night over the vessel's side, and swim- 
 ming to the shore, a distance of two miles. On this Byronian 
 feat, however, the honest navigator seldom plumes himself, 
 and it is only when he is "a bit by the head," that this 
 exploit is mentioned. 
 
 We found the household fully occupied in the cabin ; John 
 in regulating the chamber of state, which, notwithstanding 
 open doors and windows, still retained the miasma of tobacco- 
 smoke, and Hennessey in skinning and breaking up the deen 
 If I had been yesterday delighted with his superior execution 
 with the rifle, I was now surprised at the masterly manner in 
 which he dressed and dismembered the venison. He is 
 certainly a clever fellow, and, could I but forget that he has 
 finished a few of " the finest peasantry upon earth," the man 
 would stand as high in my estimation, as he does in his 
 foster brother's, " our loving cousin/' 
 
 When breakfast was ended, at which, to do them justice, 
 the Colonel and the Priest did their devoir most gallantly, and 
 were occupied in debating what should be the order of the 
 morning's amusement, and to fish, or not to fish, appeared 
 the question, an incident such as in this wild and sylvan state 
 of things every day produces, occurred. It was the arrival of 
 a young lad, who brought an otter- skin of unusual size as a 
 present to " the master," and a wounded hand, whereon 
 Antony was required to exercise his leechcraft. He had been 
 bitten by a wild cat, and I had the curiosity to examine the 
 wound. The hand was already in a state of high inflammation ; 
 and the ferocity of the creature must indeed have been extra- 
 
216 WILD CATS. 
 
 ordinary, to judge from the extent of the injuries it had 
 inflicted. The flesh was sadly lacerated, and in two places 
 the bone was completely exposed. 
 
 The sufferer, it appeared, was not unknown to Antony, 
 and, from the free-masonry which passed between them, I 
 discovered that he is of the same craft, and the person upon 
 whom the otter-killer's mantle is likely to descend, when he, 
 Antony, shall have gone the way of all flesh. The chief 
 occupation of the wounded man is digging out foxes in the 
 mountains, which he brings afterwards for sale to the interior, 
 and disposes of at a good price to the masters of hounds. 
 This morning he had gone to a cover in the hills, in his usual 
 Avocation, when, from some traces he observed beneath a 
 rock, he concluded that an animal was earthed there. 
 Having put a terrier in, his suspicions were confirmed, as 
 the dog came out severely torn, and, assisted by a shepherd- 
 boy, he laid rabbit-nets round the den, commenced digging' 
 and, before he had proceeded far, a cat of immense size 
 bolted. She was breaking through the rabbit-net, when the 
 chasseur, with more gallantry than prudence, seized her by 
 the neck. The fierce animal instantly attacked him in turn, 
 and, fastening upon his hands with teeth and talons, held her 
 desperate grasp until the boy, with the edge of the spade, 
 broke her back. They brought the dead beast along with 
 them ; it was of a dirty gray colour, double the size of the 
 common house-cat, and its teeth and claws more than propor- 
 tionately larger. 
 
 These animals fortunately are scarce, and generally frequent 
 the neighbourhood of rabbit-warrens, where they prove 
 amazingly destructive. Hennessey, two winters since, disco- 
 covered a den in a cleft of a rock upon the shore, and adjoin- 
 ing the sand-banks, which are numerously stocked with rab- 
 bits. It cost him immense trouble to penetrate to the/bnw, 
 where he killed a male and female wild- cat, the latter being 
 large with young. Hennessey's patience and ingenuity were 
 sorely taxed to effect their destruction, having been obliged to 
 resort to gunpowder, and blow up a large portion of the rock, 
 before he could dislodge his dangerous game. In size and 
 colour, they were precisely similar to the animal killed in the 
 mountain by the fox-catcher ; and had they been permitted 
 to continue their species, in a very short time the abjacent 
 burrow would have been devastated. 
 
THE DEER-SKIN. 217 
 
 Besides this large and ferocious species, the warrens upon 
 the coast suffer much from the common cat becoming wild, 
 and borrowing in the rabbit-holes. They are sometimes 
 surprised and shot in the sand-banks, or taken in traps ; but 
 they are generally too wary to be approached and hunting 
 only by night, during the day they sleep in their dens, and 
 are rarely met abroad. 
 
 Some estimate of their numbers may be formed, from the 
 circumstance of five males having been killed in a herdsman's 
 out-house which joined the warren. They had been attracted 
 there by one of their own species, and the noise having 
 alarmed the peasant, he guessed the cause, and cautiously 
 managed to stop the hole, by which they gained entrance, 
 with a turf -cleave. Knowing the value of the capture, he kept 
 guard upon the prisoners till morning, and then despatched 
 information to the Lodge. My cousin, with his followers, 
 promptly repaired to the place, and, surrounding the barn 
 with guns and greyhounds, bolted the wild cats successively, 
 until the whole number were dispatched. This chasse was 
 not only novel, but profitable. After the death of their 
 persecutors, the rabbits increased prodigiously ; but fears are 
 entertained that these destructive animals are become once 
 more abundant in the sand-banks. 
 
 When the dressings were removed, we found that the poor 
 lad had been so much injured, that apprehension of lock-jaw 
 induced us to send him directly to the infirmary. There is a 
 belief, and one more reasonable than many popular opinions 
 in Bally croy, that a wild cat's bite is particularly venomous. 
 My cousin remembers a case which terminated fatally with a 
 servant of his father's ; and the Priest mentioned another of 
 a country girl, who, finding one of these animals in a barn, 
 rashly attempted to secure it : the cat wounded her slightly 
 in the leg, and for six months she was unable to use the 
 limb. 
 
 When the unfortunate fox-catcher was leaving us, in return 
 for a trifling donation, he pressed upon me the acceptance of 
 a fine deer-skin which he produced from his wallet. " He 
 had another for the master," he said, " and he would bring 
 it to him, when he returned from the hospital." 
 
 " And pray, my friend, how did you get these skins ?" 
 
 The question puzzled the wounded man. " I found them 
 dead, after the great snow last year." 
 
218 HIND AND FAWN. 
 
 " After a lump of lead," quoth the otter-killer, " had made 
 a fracture in the hide ;" and he pointed to the orifice in the 
 skin, where evidently a ball had perforated. 
 
 " Alas !" said the Priest, " the snow is always fatal to the red 
 deer. They are obliged to leave the upper range and come 
 down the villages : * and there are, unluckily, too many of the 
 old French guns in the country still, and then they are unfor- 
 tunately busy. 3 ' 
 
 By the by, speaking of the snow, a very curious circum- 
 stance occurred, during its long continuance in 1822. 
 
 A fine hind, accompanied by a stout fawn, travelled across 
 the lowlands in search of pasturage, which the deep snow had 
 rendered unattainable in the mountains. Pressed by the 
 severity of the weather, she at last established herself in a 
 green field which was within sight of the windows of the 
 Lodge. For four weeks, during which the storm continued, 
 she remained there in safety ; for the wild visiters were pro- 
 tected by the commands of " the Master" : and from being 
 undisturbed, continued in the place they had first selected. 
 
 Thinking that they would be a valuable addition to Lord 
 Sligo's park, my kinsman determined to have them captured, 
 and the following Sunday was appointed for the attempt. 
 This day was selected, because the number of persons col- 
 lected at the chapel would materially assist the execution of 
 the plan. 
 
 The day came, and the whole population of the parish was 
 employed. The place was surrounded by a multitude of 
 people, who gradually reduced their circle, until the deer 
 and fawn were completely enclosed, and a cordon of living 
 beings was formed, two deep, around them. The hind had 
 remarked the preparations, and more than once attempted 
 an escape ; but, embarrassed by the fawn, her efforts were 
 abortive. She appeared determined to share its fate, and 
 affection was paramount to timidity. At last, when totally 
 surrounded, her courage and address were almost incredible. 
 She eyed the circle attentively, made a sharp peculiar noise, 
 as if to warn her offspring of its danger, then charging the 
 ranks where they appeared weakest, bounded over the heads 
 
 * By a village a very few houses are denominated, and a stranger would 
 be sadly disappointed if he formed his ideas of their extent on the English 
 scale. 
 
BLISTERED FEET. 
 
 219 
 
 of her opposers, arid escaped. The confusion occasioned 
 by this extraordinary proceeding, favoured the deliverance 
 of the fawn, who, profiting by the accident, galloped off 
 unhurt, and, with the dam, succeeded in regaining their native 
 wilds. 
 
 The whole of the dramatis persona, with the exception of 
 the otter-killer and myself, have gone off to fish some three or 
 four lakes, situate in a hollow in the mountains, and which 
 are said to be remarkable for the number and flavour of their 
 trouts. I have been prevented by an accident from accom- 
 panying the party ; and though my wound be " not so deep 
 as a well, nor so wide as a church-door," it still renders me Jwrs 
 de combat. I blistered, or rather neglected a blistered heel : 
 and the fag of yesterday has so excoriated the surface, as to 
 make it imperative upon me to lie by for a little. Antony 
 engages to effect a perfect cure by to-morrow ; and here I 
 remain t&e-a-tdte with the otter-killer. 
 
 The old man proceeded skilfully enough ; he lanced the 
 
THE LEGEND OF HOSE ROCHE. 
 
 blisters, and then applied the cuticle which covers a sheep's 
 kidney, and which is very similar in appearance and effect to 
 what we call " gold-beaters' leaf." This application pre- 
 vented the heel from being frayed by the stocking. To the 
 remainder of the foot he rubbed a hot mixture of tallow and 
 whisky ; and his remedy was " the sovereignest thing on 
 earth," for in twelve hours the cure was effected. 
 
 While he operated on my infirm foot, he amused me with 
 one of his interminable stories. He says, by the "mother's 
 side," that I and my cousin are descended from a lady called 
 Rose Roche. When his leech-craft was ended he retired 
 vc to stretch upon the bed." John was too deeply engaged 
 in culinary affairs to favour me with his company, and having 
 no resource besides, I have been obliged to amuse myself 
 by transcribing the legend of Rose Roche, and become thus a 
 chronicler of the otter-killer. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 
 
 AT sixteen Rose Roche was the loveliest maid in Ulster. 
 In infancy she was found exposed at the gate of the Ursu- 
 lines, and her beauty and destitution recommended her to 
 the charity of the sisterhood. Educated, accordingly, for a 
 conventual life, she had never passed the boundary of the 
 garden-walls, and accident discovered the existence of beauty, 
 which else had faded unseen and unadmired within those 
 cloisters, to which from childhood it had been devoted. 
 
 Cormac More, lord of Iveagh, was the patron and pro- 
 tector of the community at Balleek. At primes and vespers 
 a mass was celebrated for his soul's weal. His Easter-offering 
 was ten beeves and five casks of Bordeaux wine ; and on the 
 last Christmas vigil he presented six silver candlesticks to the 
 altar of Our Lady. No wonder that this powerful chief was 
 held in high honour by the sisterhood of Saint Ursula. 
 
 One tempestuous night in October, wearied with hunting, 
 and separated from his followers by darkness and the storm, 
 Cormac More found himself beneath the walls of the convent 
 of Balleek. Approaching the gate, he wound his horn 
 
THE LEGEND OF HOSE ROCHE. 221 
 
 loudly, and begged for shelter and refreshment. Proud of 
 this opportunity of affording hospitality to so noble and 
 munificent a protector, the wicket was unbarred, the Lord 
 3f Iveagh admitted, and received in honourable state by the 
 Lady Superior, and inducted with due form into the parlour 
 Df the Ursulines. 
 
 There a plentiful repast was speedily prepared, and the 
 ;ired hunter w r as ceremoniously seated at the table. His 
 morning's meal had been despatched before the sun had 
 topped Slieve Gallion, and a long day's exercise had given 
 bim a keen relish for the evening banquet. The Lady 
 Abbess feasted the patron of her house right nobly he was 
 attended on assiduously by the novices dish after dish suc- 
 ceeded in luxurious variety, until the chief requested the 
 tables to be drawn, and with knightly courtesy entreated 
 permission to pledge the holy mother of the Ursulines in a 
 deep draught of Rhenish wine. 
 
 Then, for the first time, the novice who presented the 
 cup, attracted the good Knight's attention. The folds of 
 her thick veil could not conceal the matchless symmetry of 
 her form ; and, as she filled the chalice from the flago^ the 
 exquisite proportions of her hand and arm struck Cormac 
 More with wonder. At this moment her drapery became 
 entangled with the jewelled pommel of the Knight's rapier ; 
 ?a hasty attempt to disengage it was unsuccessful the veil 
 fell, and . disclosed to the enraptured view of the Lord of 
 Iveagh the loveliest features he had ever seen. Covered 
 with blushes, which heightened her surpassing beauty, the 
 novice caught her veil hastily up and retired from the 
 parlour, while the Knight, despite the evident displeasure 
 that the accident had caused the Lady Abbess, gazed after 
 | the retiring girl until she disappeared among the cloisters. 
 | In vain the proud Superior introduced costlier wines of rare 
 and ancient vintages : in vain she enlarged upon the piety 
 'of her order, and enumerated the number of the Ursulines 
 who had been canonized: the Knight's whole thoughts 
 were engrossed with one lovely object his courtesy and 
 converse were feeble and constrained, until, piqued by his 
 neglect, the Abbess wished him a fair repose, and retired in 
 full state from the apartment, preceded by a crucifix and 
 taper, and followed by her attendant nuns. 
 
 Although the Knight lay upon the Bishop's bed, and 
 
222 THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 
 
 occupied that honoured chamber where none of a less degree 
 than a mitred abbot had hitherto been permitted to repose 
 no slumber sealed his lids, nor was the beautiful novice foi 
 a moment absent from his thoughts. Cormac More hac 
 declined many a splendid alliance ; the Lord of Offaly prof- 
 fered him an only sister, with a princely dower ; and O'Nia 
 himself courted him for a son-in-law, and promised hirr 
 the barony of Orier, and Blanche, his fairest daughter. But 
 till now, Cormac had never loved : the beauteous cup-bearei 
 seemed to him a being of another world ; the more he dwell 
 upon her image, the more his passion was excited ; alliances 
 with lords and princes were overlooked, disparity of rank anc 
 fortune was forgotten, and, ere the morning sun had lightec 
 the storied window of the Bishop's chamber, the Knight's 
 determination was formed, and matins were scarcely over wher 
 he demanded an audience of the Lady Abbess. 
 
 Never was there greater surprise than that, with whicl 
 the holy mother heard Cormac More express his passion foi 
 the novice of the Ursulines. Joy sparkled in her eyes as 
 the noble Lord of Iveagh confided the secret of his love 
 entreated her powerful intercession, and begged for hei 
 sanction to his nuptials. As Rose was still unprofessed, there 
 existed no spiritual barrier to her marriage. Flattered by the 
 high honour conferred upon her house by the proudest Baror 
 of the Pale selecting a bride from the holy sisterhood, the 
 Superior willingly acceded to his request ; his offers wen 
 accepted, and, ere the vesper-bell had tolled, the preliminaries 
 were completed, and the fair novice had consented to become 
 the bride of Cormac More. 
 
 But, alas ! the wild ardour of the good Knight, and the 
 carnal motives of the Abbess, caused both to neglect con- 
 sulting another personage, namely, the blessed Ursula herself 
 in thus disposing of one devoted to her service from the 
 cradle ; and the saint felt the oversight. That night the 
 Abbess was tormented with fearful and portentous dreams : 
 the Lord of Iveagh tossed restlessly upon the Bishop's bed ; 
 and, if the novice closed an eye, her slumbers were broker 
 with strange and incoherent visions. In vain, next day, 
 the Knight hunted from sunrise to curfew his hounds 
 were eternally at fault, and his followers appeared besotted 
 or bewitched ; the deer, when pressed to the utmost, va- 
 nished on the bare moor ; and knight, squire, and yeoman 
 
THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 223 
 
 unanimously agreed, that the several parties interested in 
 the chase, were under the immediate influence of the prince 
 of darkness. 
 
 Nor did the holy Superior of the Ursulines fare hetter 
 than the persecuted Knight and his afflicted companions. 
 Everything ahout the convent went astray, and the culinary 
 preparations for entertaining the Lord of Iveagh were awfully 
 interrupted hy accident and forgetfulness. The sister who 
 presided over the pastry, and whose conserves, throughout a 
 long and blameless life, had been pronounced unique and irre- 
 proachable, now actually omitted the necessary ingredients ; 
 the soup, when uncovered for a second, was invaded with 
 Buch a discharge of soot, as reduced it, in colour, at least, to 
 an equality with the broth of Sparta. The nun at the organ, 
 instead of a "jubilate," struck up a "nunc dimittis ;" the very 
 bells were "jangled out of tune ;" and the Lady Abbess was 
 horrified by a succession of prodigies that, from her novitiate 
 to her promotion, had never before visited the quiet residence 
 of the sisterhood of Saint Ursula. 
 
 What were the nocturnal visitations inflicted upon the 
 lovely novice, have not been exactly handed down. One thing 
 alone is certain, she visited the Lady Abbess with the first 
 dawn, and in her maternal bosom the bride elect deposited 
 the causes of her sorrow. 
 
 In this perplexity, the Knight and the Superior held secret 
 counsel in the parlour of the convent, and long and difficult 
 was the conference. The result was, that Cormac More 
 vowed a golden chalice to the offended virgin ; and the Ab- 
 bess, not to be outdone in liberality, agreed to double aves and 
 credos for a fortnight. But with Rose Roche herself the 
 chief difficulty was found to lie. All measures proposed by 
 the holy mother were inefficacious ; and, in this desperate 
 dilemma, it was deemed advisable to add to the number of 
 counsellors, and the Prior of the Dominicans was summoned 
 to the assistance of the conclave. 
 
 To that holy man the exigencies of the respective parties 
 were intrusted. The Prior was sorely disturbed with doubts, 
 but after a night's deliberation, during which he discussed a 
 capon single-handed, and fortified his stomach with a second 
 scoup of Rhenish wine, he decided, that the Lord of Iveagh 
 should add a flagon to the chalice ; the Abbess should double 
 
224 THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 
 
 her penitentiaries for a month ; and Rose Roche undergo a 
 private penance, which he, the Prior, should communicate 
 to the lady alone. 
 
 Never had such an alarming predicament a happier termi- 
 nation! The Knight had scarcely laid himself upon the 
 Bishop's bed, until a sweet and refreshing slumber, blessed 
 with the happiest visions, sealed his eyes ; the Lady Abbess 
 slept like a watchman ; and, since she had first gathered 
 wild-flowers in the convent- garden, never did the fair novice 
 enjoy more delightful dreams ! 
 
 At last the bridal day arrived. The Lord of Iveagh was 
 attended by a splendid following. The bells rang out a 
 joyous peal, and the 6leve of the Ursulines left the home of 
 her youth, escorted by three hundred horsemen, the consort 
 of the proudest baron of the Pale. No lover could be more 
 gallant than the noble husband of Rose Roche. Fete suc- 
 ceeded fete, and feasting continued in the castle of Cormac 
 More from Michaelmas till Advent. 
 
 Months passed away, and honeymoons cannot be expected 
 to last for ever. Cormac More by degrees resumed his hunt- 
 ing, and again involved himself in the endless feuda and war- 
 fare of these restless times ; and Rose Roche was often de- 
 serted for the chase or the field. She still was passionately 
 loved ; but in the bosom of a martial baron, other and sterner 
 feelings held a predominance. It is true, that the young bride 
 bore these frequent absences with wonderful resignation ; and 
 page and tirewoman confessed in secret, that Dhu Castle was 
 gayer and merrier when Cormac and his stern companions 
 were away. 
 
 A year wore on. The Lord of Iveagh was pensive and 
 thoughtful ; a cloud would often gather on his brow, and his 
 bearing to his beautiful wife became chilling aud repulsive. 
 It transpired that two circumstances occasioned his an- 
 xiety. His lady wore a curious-fashioned coif, which con- 
 cealed her tresses as effectually as if she never laid aside 
 her night-cap ; and the cherished hope of an heir to his 
 ancient line now faded in the heart of Cormac More. Dhu 
 Castle became duller arid more gloomy the fair Baroness 
 was more and more deserted the chase and banquet were 
 preferred by the moody Knight to soft dalliance in his 
 " lady's bower," and any pretext was gladly resorted to, 
 
THE LEGEND OP HOSE ROCHE. 225 
 
 which offered an excuse for being absent from his joyless 
 home. 
 
 Gentlewomen, in these perilous days, acquired and pos- 
 sessed an astonishing portion of philosophy. No baron's 
 lady " in the Pale,"* submitted to a frequent separation from 
 her lord with more laudable submission than Rose Roche. 
 The customary resource of " wives bereaved," appeared any 
 thing but consolatory to the dame. She determined to avoid 
 crying, as being an unchristian waste of beauty and, instead 
 of useless lamentations, she wisely substituted mirth and 
 minstrelsy. 
 
 There was not a more accomplished bard in Ulster than 
 Connor O'Cahan, and for seventy years he had resided with 
 the lords of Iveagh. No tale or tradition connected with this 
 puissant race was unknown to this gifted minstrel : yet, by 
 some strange infirmity of taste, young Rose preferred the 
 light romances of her lord's English page, to all the legendary 
 lore of the grey-haired harper ; and listened with more de- 
 light to a merry roundelay from Edwin's lute than to the 
 deeds of Cormac's grandfather, as set out in song by Connor 
 O'Cahan. The bard, it is true, was blind, and the page had 
 the blackest eyes imaginable. 
 
 This unhappy predilection was not concealed from her 
 lord. His jealousy instantly took fire, and the handsome 
 page was suddenly removed, and none knew whither. The 
 absence of an heir had now become matter for serious 
 complaint: it was whispered among the Baron's followers 
 that there was no cause for hope, and maliciously insi- 
 nuated, moreover, that the close coif adopted by the dame 
 was worn to conceal some natural deformity. Cormac, a 
 slave to suspicion, and instigated by his rude companions, 
 insisted that the hood should be discarded, or that Rose 
 Roche should retire in disgrace to the convent from whence 
 she came. 
 
 On the alternative being proposed, the lady proved posi- 
 
 * The Pale was the line of demarcation drawn by the English settlers 
 cetween their acquired possessions and the remoter districts, which were 
 still- permitted to remain with the ancient proprietors. As this boundary 
 was the " debatable land" of Ireland, it was the scene of constant raid 
 and skirmish : and the locale of many a wild tradition is placed beside 
 this dangerous border. 
 
 Q 
 
2.26 THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 
 
 tive, and the coif was peremptorily retained. Cormac, irri- 
 tated by opposition to his commands, was obstinate in his 
 determination, and Rose Roche left the castle of her lord 
 a repudiated wife, and once more returned to the convent of 
 the Ursulines. 
 
 From the hour of their separation, the Baron seldom 
 smiled. To part from his wife was a trifle ; but unluckily, 
 he had embroiled himself with the church. The Abbess 
 espoused the lady's quarrel fiercely, and ave and credo were 
 no longer offered up for Cormac More! Notwithstanding 
 past largess, beeves and wine-butts were forgotten; the candle- 
 sticks upon the altar no longer elicited a prayer; and his souPs 
 health was no more attended to by the community than the 
 lowest horse-boy's of his train. 
 
 Thus matters stood, when one dark evening, returning from 
 the chase, Cormac and his followers were surprised by a band 
 of Catterans, and a fierce and desperate skirmish ensued. 
 The outlaws were defeated, but the Lord of Iveagh was shot 
 clean through the body with a three-foot arrow : and how could 
 he have better luck ? 
 
 Then it was that the sinful Knight was tortured with 
 remorse and unavailing sorrow. He cursed the evil coun- 
 sellors who tempted him to insult Saint Ursula and her 
 adopted daughter, and, determining to be reconciled to his 
 wife and the church together, directed his followers to carry 
 him to the abbey of Balleek. His orders were obeyed, and 
 the Lady Abbess consented to admit the dying noble. He 
 was laid before the altar, and his injured wife, forgetting past 
 resentment, was the first to rush from her cell, and minister 
 to his relief. In the fatal emergency, coif and veil were left 
 dehind ; her raven tresses fell below her shoulders, and 
 reached to her very waist, and Cormac was convinced too late, 
 that his ill-used consort had the finest hair in Christendom. 
 Alas ! those ebon locks had been the admiration of the whole 
 sisterhood ; and, for penitential purposes, the Dominican had 
 enjoined their concealment for three years, when he gave 
 spiritual counsel, in their hour of tribulation, to the abbess, 
 the baron, and Rose Roche. 
 
 To make atonement for his former unkindness, he willed 
 his rich domains to his beautiful widow. The Prior of the 
 Dominicans indicted the deed, which disposed of his posses- 
 sions ; and the church, of course, was not forgotten. Sur- 
 
THE LEGEND OF ROSE HOC HE. 
 
 rounded by all the emblems of religion, and with a splinter of 
 the true cross in his right hand, the penitent Baron breathed 
 his last. He lay for three days and nights in the chancel, in 
 great state ; and was interred on the fourth morning, with 
 all the ceremonies that both Ursulines and Dominicans could 
 bestow. 
 
 The days of mourning passed over : Rose Roche exercised 
 her resignation ; and Dhu Castle became a different place 
 to what it had been during the latter days of the defunct 
 Baron, and mirth and music were exchanged for the rude 
 revelry of Cormac More. Her hall was filled with guests; 
 at the board she did the honours nobly; and when she 
 visited the green wood, with her gold-belled hawks and gal- 
 lant retinue, she looked as if she had been ennobled from the 
 Conquest, and in bearing and attire seemed " every inch a 
 queen." 
 
 But amid all this splendour and magnificence, poor Rose 
 had her own secret causes of inquietude. Beauty, accom- 
 panied by broad lands, could not but induce suitors without 
 number to come forward, and never was woman, not except- 
 ing Penelope herself, more vigorously besieged. From past 
 experience, Rose was not ambitious to exchange wealth and 
 liberty for becoming the wife of some doughty baron, who 
 would probably undervalue her charms, just as much as he 
 would over-estimate his own great condescension in giving her 
 his name. A tender recollection of one, long since lost, would 
 cross her mind occasionally; and in her solitary hours the 
 black-eyed page haunted her imagination. Accordingly she 
 eschewed all offers for her hand with excellent discretion. 
 Few were offended, she managed her rejections so pru- 
 dently : and through the first year of widowhood neither lands 
 nor liberty were lost. 
 
 The consort of the wise Ulysses herself could not have held 
 out for ever. Rose was severely pressed ; for, finding them- 
 selves foiled by her ready wit and good discretion, when they 
 attacked her singly, her lovers, from necessity, agreed to 
 coalesce, and determined that one should be accepted, and 
 the remainder be pledged to support the acquired rights of 
 the fortunate candidate, as report said King Henry had re- 
 solved to gift a favourite noble with the person and estates of 
 the beautiful widow. 
 
 This agreement of her suitors was politely but decisively 
 
 a 2 
 
228 THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 
 
 intimated to Rose Roche, and the Prior declared, " by the 
 vestment," that to evade matrimony longer was impossible. 
 " She had," the holy man said, " an ample list to choose 
 from : there were eleven suitors in the neighbourhood, besides 
 the Big Man of the West" for so the Thane of Connaught 
 was entitled. 
 
 In this extremity, the lady resolved to exercise, at least, 
 the privilege of free choice. The Prior was directed to ingross 
 a bond, by which the respective candidates for her hand bound 
 themselves to grant an uncontrolled right of selection to the 
 widow, and covenanted, moreover, neither to molest, nor 
 permit her to be molested, when her choice was made. The 
 deed was duly executed the day for her decision was named 
 and a reasonable time allowed for " the Big Man of the 
 West" to attend and try his fortune. 
 
 O' Connor was surprised when the determination of the fair 
 widow was communicated. He had only time for a hurried 
 preparation, as his rivals, from their vicinity to the lady, had 
 never taken the remoter situation of " the Big Man" into 
 their consideration, when they named the day. O'Connor, 
 however, was no sluggard ; he collected his " following" 
 with all haste, and every department was complete, when, 
 alas ! the chief harper fell sick without a cause, and no other 
 was procurable for a distance of sixty miles. In this dilemma 
 A Saxon youth, who two years since had been shipwrecked 
 beneath the castle walls, was recollected. He could not, it 
 is true, " strike the bold harp," but he had a sweet and 
 mellow voice, and his skill upon the lute was admirable. In 
 wordcraft he was a thorough proficient, and with lance and 
 brand had more than once proved himself a man. O'Connor 
 had no alternative, and the stranger was selected to fill a 
 place that " Cathwold O'Connor of the harp" should have 
 more worthily occupied. 
 
 Although the Thane of Connaught and his gallant company 
 pushed forward with all the speed that man and horse could 
 make, from bad roads and flooded rivers, they were unable to 
 reach the heights above Dhu Castle until the sun of the 
 eventful day had set. In vain knight and squire pressed on 
 their jaded steeds evening fell; all the candidates besides 
 had been in the hall for hours, and, as " the Big Man" had 
 not appeared, according to modern parlance he was v r oted. 
 present by the company, and the banquet was served. 
 
THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 229 
 
 Never with such heavy heart did Rose Roche assume the 
 place of honour. Though her hall was lighted splendidly, 
 and her table crowded with the proudest nobles within " the 
 p a l e " though rich wine flowed, and the most skilful harpers 
 in the province poured forth their lays of love and war yet 
 one heart was heedless of gaiety and grandeur ; and that one 
 was hers on whom every eye was bent, in deep expectancy 
 awaiting her decision. 
 
 The curfew rang and in another hour the happy Lord 
 of Dhu Castle would be proclaimed. As the moments flew, 
 the beautiful widow became paler and more dejected; and 
 breasts which had never quailed amid the roar of battle, 
 now throbbed as nervously as a maiden's, when she listens 
 to the first tale of love. The harps were mute, the revel 
 became less loud, for all were deeply interested in that event 
 which a brief space must determine. At this embarrassing 
 moment, a loud blast was heard at the grand gate, and the 
 seneschal rushed in, to announce the arrival of the Thane of 
 Connaught, attended by a noble following of, at least, one 
 hundred horse. 
 
 The sudden and opportune appearance of him of the West, 
 seemed to affect the company variously. His rivals heard 
 the news with mingled feelings of jealousy and alarm, which 
 was in no way abated when the number of his attendants was 
 announced, which exceeded that of their united folio wings. 
 Rose Roche felt a secret pleasure at his coming ; not that her 
 sentiments towards O'Connor were more favourable than to 
 her suitors generally, but his late arrival must necessarily 
 occasion some delay, and postpone, though but for brief space, 
 that dreaded moment when she should surrender a hand, 
 without a heart, to her future lord. 
 
 "While O'Connor, as the greatest stranger, was placed 
 beside the lady of Dhu Castle, his bard stood behind his 
 master, and his train bestowed themselves where they could 
 best find room. As Rose Roche looked carelessly around 
 to see that the band were fitly accommodated, her eyes 
 met those of the young minstrel : the blood rushed to 
 her brow ; for, excepting those of her own loved page, she 
 never looked upon a pair so black and sparkling as the 
 stranger's. 
 
 When the Thane of Connaught had feasted to his heart's 
 content, the Prior of the Dominicans produced the parchment, 
 
230 THE LEGEND OF HOSE ROCHE. 
 
 to which his rivals had affixed their signatures already. 
 The " Big Man" listened attentively as the monk read it. 
 "'Tis all fair/' he said, as he placed his sign manual to the 
 deed, " that lady should choose her lord ; and thus I bind 
 myself, faithfully to abide the intents of this parchment." 
 Then turning to Rose Roche, he thus proceeded : " It 
 grieves me, that through accident I have unwittingly 
 occasioned some delay ; therefore, in pity to my gallant 
 competitors, I beg you, lady, to terminate their suspense, and 
 declare to this noble company the happy object of your 
 choice. Nay, blanch not so, fair dame," for the lady 
 became pallid as the white marble of a warrior's tomb : 
 " exercise your own pleasure leisurely ; and while I pledge 
 thy matchless beauty in a cup of muscadine, Aylmer, my 
 wd, shall sing a Saxon roundelay." As he spoke, O'Con- 
 nor signed to the minstrel, who, rising at his lord's bidding, 
 struck with a rapid hand the prelude of a light romance, 
 which, with a tremulous, but powerful voice, he thus gave 
 words to : 
 
 " Lady, farewell ! the fatal hour 
 Has sped, for thus thy tyrant wills, 
 When he, who loves thee, leaves this tower, 
 Deserts gay hall and wood and bower 
 Of her, for whom his heart's pulse thrills ; 
 And thou art she Ladye sweet Ladye." 
 
 When the minstrel touched the prelude, Rose Roche 
 became visibly affected ; but when the words fell from his 
 lips, a burning blush dyed her cheeks and brow, and her 
 heart throbbed almost to bursting. Alas, it was the very 
 roundelay the poor page had sung beneath her casement on 
 that melancholy night when her defunct lord had expelled 
 him from the castle ! She turned hastily round to see who 
 the strange youth might be who thus recalled her absent 
 love in look and voice so forcibly. Blessed Ursula ! it was 
 he, the long lost page! The minstrel, as he caught her 
 eyes, suddenly ceased his melody the lute fell from his 
 nerveless grasp, and, overcome by feelings that could not 
 be controlled, lie sank upon the bench behind him. It was, 
 indeed, young Aylmer. The well-remembered features 
 could never be forgotten although the boy had ripened into 
 manhood the thick down upon the lip had changed to a 
 
THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 231 
 
 dark moustache and the belt which once held a hunting- 
 blade, supported now a goodly brand. 
 
 The strange effect of the melody upon the lady, and the 
 minstrel's sudden indisposition, could not escape remark; a 
 startling suspicion flashed across the minds of the company, 
 and, after a painful silence of some minutes, Hubert de 
 Moore rose from his seat, and bowing to the very table, thus 
 addressed the lady of the castle : 
 
 " Wilt thou forgive the humblest but most devoted of thy 
 suitors, if he presume to remind you that the hour has long 
 since passed when your election should have been made? 
 Far be it from me, noble dame, to seem importunate ; but 
 suspense is irksome to those that love, and I and my brother 
 nobles pray to you to signify your pleasure, and end uncer- 
 tainty at once." 
 
 While De Moore was speaking, Rose Roche appeared to 
 recover her self-possession wonderfully ; her eye brightened, 
 her colour came again, and the compression of her lips 
 proved that she was nerving herself for some determined 
 effort. She rose slowly and gracefully, while a dead silence 
 pervaded the hall ; faint and tremulous as the first words 
 were, they were distinctly heard by those remotest from the 
 dais.* 
 
 " Noble lords," she said, " I own and thank your cour- 
 tesy : I ask this holy churchman if I am to exercise free 
 choice in this affair, unshackled with bar, or condition, save 
 my own leasure : and if he whom I shall place here," and 
 she pointed to the vacant seat beside her own, which had 
 been reserved for the successful wooer, " shall be supported 
 in all the rights and properties which he shall obtain 
 through me ?" 
 
 "All this," said the Prior, "is fairly stipulated in the 
 intents of this scroll." 
 
 "Then will I not trespass on your patience, noble lords 
 there stands the object of my choice ; and thus do I install 
 him in this seat, as lord and master of Dim Castle !" 
 
 She turned to the astonished minstrel as she spoke, and 
 ere her words were ended, the youth was seated at her side. 
 
 A scene of wonder and wild confusion followed most of 
 the barons protested loudly aganst her choice ; angry looks 
 
 * The place of honour in a Baronial Hall. 
 
232 THE LEGEND OF HOSE ROCHE. 
 
 and threatening gestures were directed at the minstrel, and 
 more than one sword was half unsheated. O'Connor seemed 
 thunderstruck and the lady herself was the most collected 
 of the company. 
 
 " How is this, Sir Knights!" she cried. ' " Is lordly word 
 and written pledge so lightly held among you, that thus ye 
 violate their sanctity ? Thane of Connaught," she continued, 
 as she addresssed herself to the "Big Man/' "thy faith 
 was never questioned, and thy word is held to be sacred 
 as a martyr's vow. When the English King, under pain 
 of confiscation, ordered thee to deliver the stranger up, 
 whom thou hadst resetted although five hundred marks 
 were upon his head, what was thy answer '{ ( The lands 
 may go, but plighted faith must stand !' The ink with 
 which you bound yourself to the conditions of yonder bond, 
 is not yet dry upon the parchment, and wilt thou break thy 
 word?" 
 
 " It is a trick," cried De Moore. 
 
 "The selection rests with ourselves alone," exclaimed 
 Mandeville. 
 
 " We will never brook that page or minstrel should hold 
 the lands and castles of Cormac More," said both together : 
 and they laid their hands upon their swords ; the attendants 
 followed the example of their lords, and a scene of violence 
 and discord was about immediately to ensue. 
 
 O'Connor slowly rose he waved his hand to command 
 silence, and his wishes were promptly obeyed. 
 
 " This is, indeed, an unexpected choice," he said : 
 " Sir Prior, read thy parchment aloud, that all may hear, 
 and read it carefully, line after line, and syllable by syllable : 
 see that a letter be not omitted." The monk obeyed. 
 "The document is a plain one," said "The Big Man," 
 <c and by it the lady has good right to choose whom she 
 listeth for her consort. Lady of Iveagh" he continued, 
 as he turned to the blushing widow, " is this youth the 
 husband of thy choice ?" <( He and none besides, so help 
 me saints and angels !" was the solemn answer. " Then, 
 by my father's ashes, and a knight's word that never yet 
 was questioned, thou, Aylmer Mowbray, shalt this night 
 possess thy bride ! And why, my lords, chafe you so at 
 this ?" for the storm was again about to burst forth : " Is it 
 because the monk was but a sorry lawyer, and the lady 
 
THE LEGEND OF ROSE ROCHE. 283 
 
 took advantage of a loose parchment, which should have 
 bound her better? Is it that the Lord of Dhu Castle was 
 once a page ? What was thy ancestor, De Moore, (I mean 
 not to offend thee,) but usher to the Lord Justice ? and 
 thine, Mandeville, but chamber-groom to Strongbow ? Ayl- 
 mer, I love thee too well to envy thee thy good fortune : 
 thy lute has won the lady thy lance must keep her lands. 
 Kneel down, minstrel no longer rise up, my own knight 
 banneret ! And now, Lords of the Pale, Henry himself 
 could not confer a nobler dignity ; for O'Connor's knight is 
 standard-bearer to the King of Connaught ! Does any here 
 gainsay his rank and dignity? The sword that conferred 
 the honour is ready and able to maintain it !" And O'Con- 
 nor, as he ended, flung belt and rapier on the table. 
 
 But none seemed disposed to quarrel with him : and 
 gradually they followed his example, and admitted the lady's 
 right of choice. The mirth and feasting were resumed ; 
 and each, after reasoning with himself, finding that the 
 chances of individual success were greatly against him, 
 became reconciled to lose the lady and her lands. Before 
 midnight struck, the Prior performed the marriage ceremony ; 
 and while O'Connor bestowed the beauteous bride, De Moore 
 himself attended upon the fortunate minstrel. 
 
 Nor did Sir Aylmer Mowbray disappoint his patron's 
 expectation. As his lute was sweetest in the bower, his 
 plume was foremost in the field. He held the possessions he 
 gained by his lady against every claimant ; sons and daughters 
 blessed his bed, and transmitted his titles and estates to 
 posterity : and thus, more than one powerful house traces its 
 lineage back to an " eleve" of the Ursulines and the black-eyed 
 Page. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Mountain loughs Trout Their varieties Otter haunt The upper lake 
 Goose-fishing Weather breaks Prospects of leaving the cabin 
 Traits of character Crimes Abduction Causes Murder Why pre- 
 valent Distillation ; its extent and cause. A peasant's ruin. 
 
 THE fishing party had been successful, and returned late 
 in the evening with two baskets of trout, which, although of 
 
234 TROUTS. 
 
 small size, were remarkable for beautiful shape and excellent 
 flavour. 
 
 It is a curious fact, that the loughs where the party 
 angled, though situate in the same valley, and divided only 
 by a strip of moorland not above fifty yards across, united 
 by the same rivulet, and in depth and soil at bottom,* to 
 all appearance, precisely similar, should produce fish as 
 different from each other as it is possible for those of the 
 same species to be. In the centre lake, the trout are dull, 
 ill-shapen, and dark-coloured ; the head large, the body lank, 
 and, though of double size, compared to their neighbours, 
 are killed with much less opposition. In the adjacent 
 loughs, their hue is golden and pellucid, tinted with spots 
 of a brilliant vermilion. The scales are bright, the head 
 small, the shoulder thickj and from their compact shape, 
 they prove themselves, when hooked, both active and vigorous. 
 At table they are red and firm, and their flavour is particu- 
 larly fine while the dark trout are white and flaccid, and 
 have the same insipidity of flavour which distinguishes a spent 
 from a healthy salmon. The red trout seldom exceed a 
 herring-size, and in looking through the contents of the 
 baskets, which amounted to at least twelve dozen, I could 
 only find two fish which weighed above a pound. 
 
 The dark trout, however, from their superior size, are 
 more sought after by the mountain fishermen. They rarely 
 are taken of a smaller weight than a pound, and sometimes 
 have been killed, and particularly with a worm, or on a 
 night-line, of a size little inferior to that of a moderate 
 salmon. 
 
 The fishing party determined that Antony's account of the 
 otters being very numerous about those lakes, was perfectly 
 correct. Their paths between the waters were much beaten, 
 and the spraints* of the animal fresh and frequent. 
 
 * I never observed the effect of bottom soil upon the quality of fish 
 so strongly marked as in the trout taken in a small lake in the county of 
 Monaghan. The water is a long irregular sheet, of no great depth one 
 shore bounded by a bog, the other by a dry and gravelly surface. On the 
 bog side, the trout are of the dark and shapeless species peculiar to mooiy 
 loughs while the other affords the beautiful and sprightly variety, 
 generally inhabiting rapid and sandy streams. Narrow as the lake is, 
 the fish appear to confine themselves to their respective limits ; the red 
 trout being never found upon the bog moiety of the lake, nor the Hack 
 where the under surface is hard gravel. f Traces. 
 
OTTER, HAUNTS. 235 
 
 There is a lake still farther up the mountains, and some 
 hundred feet ahove the level of these loughs, which produces 
 trout not more remarkable for size than for their peculiarity 
 in never rising at a fly, or taking a hait ; and yet they are 
 frequently observed by the herdsmen who frequent the valley 
 where the lake is situated, rising over the water, or, to use 
 their own phrase, "tumbling about like dogs." From the 
 known attachment of the lower classes of this country to 
 indulge in "the wild and wonderful," their size or existence 
 might be doubtful, were it not that they run like eels in the latter 
 part of a harvest, and at that season are taken, after a flood, 
 in the pools of the little river, which communicates directly 
 with the lake. These trout have been found to weigh 
 upwards of twelve pounds, and are said to be in shape and 
 colour like large gillaroos, and of superior flavour when 
 brought to table. 
 
 The otter-killer declares that he fished this lake repeatedly, 
 and while he exhausted all his piscatory skill, he never could 
 induce a trout to rise. He recollects, however, hearing "when 
 a boy," that there was formerly an old man, who resided con- 
 tiguous to the lake, who caught trout most plentifully near the 
 centre of the water, by floating lines across it, their ends being 
 attached to the 1'egs of geese ; but he admits his belief that 
 this was but a popular conceit, and wisely comes to a con- 
 clusion, " that there is a sea-horse, or some such devil in the 
 lough, which prevents the fish from taking fly or worm."* 
 
 Three days have passed, and the weather has been wet and 
 boisterous. The moors have become soft, and are now very 
 distressing to traverse. The grouse have deserted their cus- 
 tomary haunts, are found with difficulty, and, from their wild- 
 ness, will hardly stand the dogs. Winter is fast approaching, 
 and the time is close at hand when the cabin must be aban- 
 doned for the more substantial comforts of the Lodge. 
 
 And I shall leave this hut and these hills with sincere re- 
 gret. Palled with the pleasures of the world, I found here 
 that rude, but real happiness, which for years before I had 
 sought in vain. Here I associated with a new order of beings. 
 
 * In the neighbourhood of Minola, there is a lake called Carramore, 
 where the trout are said to be equally large, and in refusing baits arid 
 flies equally refractory. I have never fished the water, or seen the trout ; 
 but they are taken during harvest floods, in a mill-race, which runs 
 directly from the lough ; their size is from four to ten pounds. 
 
236 ABDUCTION 
 
 I compared them with the artificial society I had consorted 
 with, and found among them some traces of natural virtues* 
 which ultra civilization has banished from the rest of mankind. 
 There may be here, no doubt, much ignorance and supersti- 
 tion to be regretted, and false opinions and falser modes of 
 action to be corrected but even for their vices I can find an 
 apology, and their worst crimes will appear, upon examination, 
 to be either consequent upon moral neglect, or arising from 
 rude and barbarous notions of what appears to them nothing 
 but retributive justice. 
 
 The grave offences with which these wild people are prin- 
 cipally charged, appear to be abduction and murder; and 
 both are of frequent recurrence. The first, indeed, is so pre- 
 valent, that any lady bent upon celibacy had better avoid 
 Ballycroy, and particularly so if she has obtained the reputa- 
 tion of being opulent. This crime, however, is seldom of a 
 dark character, and is generally traceable to local causes, and 
 the very unceremonious mode in which parents conclude 
 matches between their children without consulting the in- 
 clinations of the parties most concerned in the affair. Proba- 
 bly the whole matter is arranged between the fathers during 
 an accidental meeting at a fair, or likelier yet, over an egg- 
 shell* drinking-bout in a poteen-house. The due proportions 
 of cattle and dry-money^ which are to be given and received 
 are regularly specified ; and the youthful couple who are to 
 be united by the silken bond of Hymen are first acquainted 
 with their purposed happiness after the priest has been sent 
 for to solemnize the nuptials. No wonder, therefore, if the 
 lady have another liaison, that she intimates her feelings to the 
 fortunate man. He finds no difficulty in enlisting a sufficient 
 number of his faction to " hoist away" the intended bride, and 
 carry her to some distant hill or island. Then a wonderful 
 series of bargain-making commences : upon the lady's side it 
 being insisted that the abductor shall forthwith make her " an 
 honest woman :" while the gallant usually demurs to the 
 "amende honorable" until the " consideration" for doing the 
 same is propounded and guaranteed. Now it is that the priest 
 engages deeply in the negociation. He assumes the first 
 
 * It may be easily imagined that glass is a scarce article in Ballycroy. 
 Accordingly, in the still and drinking houses, an egg-shell is used as a 
 substitute. 
 
 f " Dry money" is synonymous with " hard cash." 
 
MURDER. 237 
 
 place in the corps diplomatique, and becomes prime minister. 
 In the conduct of the affair, no doubt himself is interested ; 
 he is anxious to effect hymeneals, for hence arises his principal 
 revenue, and matrimony is the best feather in his wing and, 
 independent of the nuptial fee, contingent christenings and 
 increased house-money* are in prospective. But the lover has 
 it all his own way. A week's residence in the mountains has 
 perilled the lady's reputation beyond recovery ; as she has 
 gotten a Hast, her matrimonial market is spoiled, and nothing 
 remains but an amicable arrangement. Terms are accordingly 
 made the parties become one flesh the priest is considered 
 for his great and valuable services by " both the houses," and 
 " one raal rookawn of a runaway match," is better to /MS rever- 
 ence than thrice the number of weddings perpetrated by general 
 consent. 
 
 This milder class of abduction is unfortunately not the only 
 one ; girls having property, or who are likely to possess it, are 
 oftentimes forcibly carried off. Secreted in the mountains, 
 they are not easily recoverable by their friends, and left at 
 the mercy of the ruffian and his confederates, they are at last 
 obliged to become the legal property of the despoiler. As the 
 abductor is generally some idle dissipated blackguard, the fate 
 of the ill-starred being who is united to him under such cir- 
 cumstances for life, is truly lamentable. 
 
 The second and worst description of crime, of which this 
 .emote district unhappily affords too many instances, is 
 murder. Many circumstances tend to encourage it. The 
 system of clanship, and the imperfect administration of the 
 laws, are chief causes. A strange infatuation prevents these 
 people from surrendering a culprit ; and to conceal or abet the 
 escape of a criminal from punishment, is felt to be a sort of 
 moral obligation not to be got over. Hence, the feudal 
 system prevails in Bally croy of repaying injury by injury ! 
 rather than submit the offender to the ordinary course of 
 justice ; violences committed by one faction are fearfully re- 
 turned by the other ; and in a country where ardent spirits 
 *re easily procured, and where ancient customs, and the end- 
 
 * The revenues of the Roman Catholic clergy are derived from certain 
 fees payable for marriages and christenings, with an annual tax of two 
 shillings upon every honse in the parish. These, with Christmas and 
 Easter offerings, presents, and legacies, amount, in populous parishes, to 
 
 a. ven" consid : ;M-: ^um. 
 
238 PRIVATE DISTILLATION. 
 
 less number of holy days enjoined by the Church of Rome 
 bring the parties into frequent collision, it is not wonderful 
 that disastrous consequences ensue. Maddened by whisky, 
 the national pugnacity bursts forth, old injuries are remem- 
 bered, the worst passions are called into action, and loss of 
 life is too commonly the result. 
 
 That any competent moral remedy can be employed to 
 check these barbarisms, is hopeless, while the present destruc- 
 tive system of private distillation is encouraged by the landlord 
 and abetted by the revenue. The landlord is the chief delin- 
 quent for owing to abominable jobbing, the monies taken 
 from the public purse, and intended to open a communication 
 between this wild country and the more inhabited districts, 
 have been scandalously malversated, and lavished upon useless 
 works, merely to reward favouritism, or benefit agents and 
 dependents. No serviceable attempts have been made to 
 facilitate the transport of grain from the mountains to those 
 towns from whence it could be sent abroad ; and hence, the 
 only markets which could be legitimately and beneficially re- 
 sorted to by the peasantry, are, from want of means of egress 
 from the highlands, embargoed to these hapless people. Left 
 to their own resources, what can this wretched population do ? 
 At the mercy of hireling drivers and cold-hearted agents, they 
 are required* on a given day to produce the rent honestly 
 if they can but to produce it. To convey their miserable 
 grain crop to a distant market, would greatly abate the 
 amount of the sale, by the expence and difficulty attendant 
 upon the carriage. An easier mode of disposing of it is pre- 
 sented. The still is substituted for the market ; and hence, 
 three parts of the corn grown in these bogs and hills are 
 converted into whisky. 
 
 At first sight, the advantages of private distillation appear 
 immense. The grain will realize nearly three times the price 
 that it would have produced if sold for exportation ; but when 
 the demoralization, and waste, and ulterior risk are consi- 
 dered, the imaginary profits are far overbalanced by the 
 certain or contingent losses which attend it. 
 
 From the moment that the grain is first wetted to the 
 time the spirit has been doubled, the ordinary habits of the 
 peasant are interrupted. Night and day, he must be on the 
 alert and if there were no greater penalty beyond the un- 
 bidden visits of every idle blackguard who drops in to taste 
 
ANECDOTE. 239 
 
 the " barley bree," it would be a sufficient punishment for 
 the offence. But this is the smallest tax upon the produce 
 of the still ; when the process is complete, much of the pro- 
 duce is expended in drunken hospitality. If, after all these 
 drawbacks, the residue be disposed of in the town, or sold to 
 some itinerant whisky-dealer, the adventure is prosperous ; 
 but the chances of detection, seizure, fine, and imprisonment, 
 are so multitudinous, as to render the vending of this pernicious 
 article a ruinous trade. To succeed encourages him to con- 
 tinue in this hazardous manufacture ; and then upon him who 
 night and day parches in a still-house, certain drunkenness is 
 entailed, with' sooner or later a loss of property, from the 
 casualties incident to the adventure ; and hence, more people 
 have been beggared by this demoralizing traffic, than all the 
 misfortunes which bad seasons, bad crops, and worse still, bad 
 landlords could accomplish. 
 
 Difficult as the task is found of conveying grain from the 
 highlands, the denizens of the coast possess little advantage 
 from their own locality. Want of harbours renders the 
 voyage hazardous, and the arrival of the grain at market an 
 uncertainty ; and many a peasant, from rough seas and con- 
 trary winds, has been ruined. One instance of this was men- 
 tioned, and it so forcibly exemplifies the misfortune, that I 
 shall transcribe it. 
 
 A person of comfortable means, having suffered severe loss 
 from private distillation, determined that he would never 
 " wet a grain during his natural life." He shipped his corn 
 accordingly in a hooker for Westport, it being the nearest 
 place where a purchaser could be found. Bad weather and 
 contrary winds came on, and during eight days, for so much 
 time was occupied in the passage, the grain was exposed to 
 rain and spray eternally, and when it reached its destination, 
 was found to be so much damaged, as to be rendered unfit 
 for sale. The unlucky owner was eventually obliged to bring 
 it back, and in self-defence to malt and distil it. The process 
 was completed, and the spirits safely brought to the town of 
 Castlebar. There it was seized by the Revenue, the proprietor 
 imprisoned for four months, and his cattle and furniture at 
 home canted to pay that rent, which the corn, had it been 
 marketable, would have more than realized. By this accumu- 
 lation of misfortune, the unhappy man was reduced to the 
 greatest misery, and from having been once an opulent land- 
 
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242 DINNER. 
 
 good wind-up to our highland-shooting : and as we sprang 
 several scattered birds during our return, we decided that this 
 was our best day throughout the season, and worthy of the 
 brightest page of the game-book, in which all our failures and 
 successes were duly and faithfully chronicled since we took to 
 the hills. 
 
 A curious incident, supplied us with an excellent white 
 fish. The servant who brought the post-bag, when in. 
 the act of crossing the river, which, in his route from 
 the Lodge, he was obliged to do repeatedly, most un- 
 expectedly encountered a large otter carrying off a salmon 
 he had just seized. The postman attacked the poacher 
 vigorously, who, dropping his prey, glided off into the 
 deep water at the tail of the ford. The spoil proved to be a 
 fresh salmon not twenty hours from the sea, and consequently 
 in prime condition. The otter showed himself the best 
 artist of the day; for while the Colonel and his com- 
 panion returned with empty baskets, the little animal 
 managed to secure the finest and freshest salmon in the 
 river. 
 
 To give clat to our parting feast, a red-deer haunch had 
 been reserved, and in its roasting, John, as poor Napoleon 
 would say, "covered himself with glory." Dinner passed 
 as such a dinner should pass. The Colonel and the Priest 
 appeared bent upon conviviality. We too prepared for a 
 jovial carouse ; and it was generally determined that our 
 parting banquet should be the "merriest, as the last." 
 
 Evening passed quickly there was no moon visible till 
 after midnight, and the wind, which had hitherto been 
 unheard, began to make that mournful noise around the 
 cabin, which generally indicates an approaching change of 
 weather. The otter-killer's absence was now, for the first 
 time, remarked, and I observed that my kinsman rose fre- 
 quently from the table, to look long and anxiously from the 
 window. Another hour passed, and our alarm was fear- 
 fully increased, for, aware of the feebleness of the old man, we 
 apprehended that he would be unable to make good his 
 journey ; and, if benighted in the moors, the probability was 
 great that he would perish of cold before the morning. 
 
 While we remained in painful suspense, each feeling an 
 unwillingness to interrupt the comfort of the evening by 
 expressing fears that haply might only be imaginary, a squall 
 rushed v,p the river, and showed us that the wind had 
 
SEARCH FOR THE OTTER-KILLER. 
 
 chopped round to the westward several points since twilight^ 
 At that moment a commotion was heard outside the pipes 
 ceased loud and earnest whisperings succeeded the door 
 opened, and John, with a pale face and hurried voice, told 
 us that the otter-killer was missing, and the boy who had 
 accompanied him in the morning to the lakes, had now 
 returned without being able to give any tidings of old 
 Antony, from whom it appeared that he had separated 
 several hours before. 
 
 " Get lights instantly," exclaimed my cousin. " Away all 
 of you! disperse right and left across the bogs. Come, Frank, 
 on with the brogues. I fear our poor otter- killer is but e a 
 lost priest.' No, Colonel, your services would be useless " 
 for the commander, forgetting gout and rheumatism, and 
 alive only to the danger of his ancient associate, had pre- 
 pared to accompany the party. 
 
 In a few minutes every effective member of our body-politic 
 was in motion. The scene was uncommon and picturesque. 
 It being pitch-dark as the respective parties dispersed across 
 the moor upon their different routes to the mountain lakes, 
 the stream of torch-light falling upon the figures, as they 
 were revealed and hidden by the inequalities of the ground 
 they traversed, was really imposing. Their wild shouts died 
 gradually as the distance increased ; and presently nothing 
 was heard by our party but the rushing of the stream and the 
 moaning of the blast. 
 
 Obedient to Hennessey's advice, we followed the river- 
 path, as the likeliest one which the otter-killer would select 
 in his unfortunate attempt to return to the cabin. On either 
 side of the moorland the peasants were extended, and occa- 
 sionally we caught a glimpse of their fading lights, as they 
 glanced and disappeared among the hillocks. Our own path 
 was so rough and difficult, that the torch could not secure us 
 from many and severe falls ; and from the extreme darkness 
 of the night, it was too evident that Antony could never 
 make good his way. We almost despaired of being enabled 
 to render assistance to the unfortunate object of our search. 
 
 Suddenly, Hennessey, who led the party, halted. "By 
 heaven !" he exclaimed, " I heard either a fox's whimper, or 
 the cry of a dog." 
 
 He put bis finger to his lips and whistled shrilly, and 
 instantly a long-sustained howl answered to the signal. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE OLD MAN FOUND. 
 
 " It is Venneys cry," said our leader. " God grant that 
 her master be still alive !" 
 
 "We pushed forward rapidly for several hundred yards in 
 the direction the noise was heard from ; and the whining of a 
 dog, broken now and then by a long and piercing howl, con- 
 tinued to guide us. We reached the place, and on turning a 
 rock which elbowed into the river abruptly, found the old 
 man extended on the ground, cold and motionless. The trap 
 was bound across his back, and a large otter lay at some 
 yards distance from the place where he had fallen. 
 
 We raised him up, while the faithful terrier frisked about 
 us, and testified sincere delight at the promised recovery of 
 her master. The old man's eyes feebly opened when the 
 torch-light flashed upon his face. This symptom of exist- 
 ing life encouraged us, and, as his extremities were cold and 
 powerless, his master and I rubbed them briskly between 
 our hands, while Hennessey poured some brandy down his 
 throat. 
 
 "We want instant help," said my cousin ; "jump upon the 
 bank, and see if anybody is near us." 
 
 His foster-brother rushed up the brow, and whistled loudly, 
 but the signal was unheard or unheeded. Again he exerted 
 himself, but ineffectually, to make the flanking parties hear 
 him : .there was no reply. 
 
 " This may be heard," he muttered, and, drawing a pistol 
 from his breast, the loud report was answered by a distant 
 halloo. Next moment lights appeared, and our shouts and 
 whistles directed the torch-bearers to the place. 
 
 We disencumbered the dying man of the iron trap, and our 
 attempts to restore suspended animation appeared to be par- 
 tially successful. But the Priest, who led the party coming 
 to our relief, gave us still better hopes, by ascertaining that 
 the old man's pulse was beating. 
 
 From the assistance we received, the unfortunate otter- 
 killer was transported quickly to the cabin. A bed was 
 already heated, and John had abundance of warm water to 
 bathe his chilled limbs. Our unabated efforts were crowned 
 with ultimate success ; for before midnight, he had recovered 
 his speech, and was enabled, though with some difficulty, to 
 give us the particulars of his unlucky excursion. 
 
 He reached, it appeared, the loughs soon after daylight, 
 and discovered the numerous footmarks which the fishing- 
 party had already observed. One trace he particularly fol- 
 
HIS RECOVERY. 245 
 
 lowed, and, from the spraint, concluded the animal would 
 cross the path again hefore evening ; and after setting his 
 trap, Antony retired to a distance, whence, himself unseen, 
 he could watch the event. 
 
 At twilight, as the old man had conjectured, the otter, on 
 his return, crossed the path, and was secured, and the hunter 
 and his terrier made good the capture. Proud of his success, 
 which to the old man seemed a proof that his energies were 
 not yet gone, he foolishly endeavoured to carry this trophy of 
 his skill along with him, instead of leaving it with his trap, 
 for some gossoon to bring in the morning to the cabin. He 
 turned his steps homeward ; but the trap and the otter, with 
 the soft and harassing ground he had to traverse, speedily 
 exhausted his feeble strength ; the light faded away, the wind 
 rose, and before he crossed the swamp, and gained the firm 
 but rugged path beside the river, the darkness rendered it 
 almost impossible for even a young person to have proceeded 
 safely. After feeble and slow efforts to get forward, he 
 stumbled over a stone, his energies were totally exhausted 
 by fatigue, and he was unable to rise again. 
 
 His faithful dog couched herself beside her fallen master, 
 and the last sounds that the despairing otter-killer heard, 
 were the long and mournful howls with which Venom 
 mourned over his calamity. 
 
 Guided by the torch-light, we carried the rescued sufferer 
 to a place of refuge. Everything that kindness could sug- 
 gest was done to effect his restoration ; and the old man 
 owned it as a consolation, that he was saved from perishing 
 in the desert ; and that, in death, he should have those 
 around his bed, who, in life, had possessed his love, fidelity, 
 and veneration. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 The otter-killer carried to the lodge Fishing homewards Angling 
 closes for the season Remarks Feelings on the occasion Smuggler 
 appears Landing a cargo Captain Matthews The Jane Cutter 
 stands out to sea Hooker on a rock Traveller alarmed Anecdote of 
 an Englishman. 
 
 THE illness of the old otter-killer has clouded our moor- 
 land excursions at their close, and we leave with melancholy 
 forebodings our mountain bivouac. Antony, at his own 
 
246 FISHING HOMEWARDS. 
 
 request, was carried to the Lodge to-day ; and when the 
 difficulty of the ground, and the frequent crossing of the 
 river is considered, it was an arduous undertaking. The 
 camp-followers arranged a rude litter ; and as works of mercy 
 are highly estimated by pious Catholics, there were more 
 volunteers to assist in transporting the dying man than could 
 well find employment. 
 
 During our progress down, we had some hours' superior 
 sport with the eagle. Pullgarrow, that inimitahle hole, has 
 more than realized what the Colonel and our kinsman have 
 said and sung in its commendation. In Christendom it could 
 not he surpassed, and of this best of pools may be said, that 
 " none but itself can be its parallel." 
 
 In the minor streams we killed more red trout this morning 
 than we do generally. Indeed, from the character of this 
 river, I have been puzzled to account for the evident scarcity 
 of this species in a water that appears so especially adapted 
 for them. The clearness of the stream, the gravelly soil it 
 Hows over, its pools and rapids, all seem calculated to produce 
 red trout plentifully. But they are not numerous ; , and as 
 the flies we invariably use are formed for the other species, 
 it is not surprising that we find but few red trout in the 
 baskets. 
 
 With this day's fishing our river sports terminate. Rods 
 and lines, and all the materiel of the craft, will now be laid in 
 ordinary, and till spring comes round again, other sports must 
 occupy the idle hours. I have learned more although I 
 acknowledge, with all humility, my unworthiness as an angler 
 by a few days' practical experience, than I could have 
 almost considered possible ; and I have ascertained how inade- 
 quate theory is to instruct a neophyte in the art. In angling, 
 however, like other manly exercises, men are constituted by 
 nature to succeed or fail. We know that there are persons 
 who, though born in a preserve, could never shoot even 
 tolerably, while others, with less advantages, speedily become 
 adepts. One man can never learn to ride ; and another, in a 
 short time, can v^js the country like <e a winged Mercury." 
 The same rule holds good in angling ; A. in a short period 
 becomes perfect master of the arcana of the gentle science ; 
 while B. will thresh a river to eternity, dismissing flies, break- 
 ing tops, losing foot-links, and perpetrating every enormity 
 with which a tyro is chargeable. 
 
SMUGGLER APPEARS. 247 
 
 Yet to a man naturally handy and observant, little is 
 required to acquire the art, but a good stream and tolerable 
 attention. He will soon gain more practical information and 
 mechanical science than any book can inculcate. And it will 
 be only when, by practice, he has acquired a knowledge of 
 the science, that he will be able to comprehend what written 
 theories profess to teach. 
 
 We had fished the deep hole above the river, and our rods 
 are, for the last time, handed to the attendants. And shall I 
 never while my idle hours away beside that beautiful stream 
 in the intervals of unfriendly sunshine, stretched beneath a 
 bank, turning the light pages of a book, or watching in 
 dreamy indolence the rushing of a river ? Shall I no more 
 watch the eddying of the pool, with its sparkling surface 
 broken by the bold and glorious spring which marks the 
 salmon rejoicing, like a returned prodigal, in his native river ? 
 No, my foot will never press that bank again ; nor shall I 
 beside that glassy water enjoy those tranquillizing feelings, 
 which the slave of passion, the creature of society, can neither 
 know nor estimate ! 
 
 We had scarcely left the river, when a man, who stood 
 upon an eminence that commanded an extensive view sea- 
 ward, gesticulated with great energy, and made, what ap- 
 peared to me, some momentous communication in the mother 
 tongue. 
 
 " It is the Janel" exclaimed my kinsman, as he bounded 
 up the bank to gain the summit of the hillock. I did not 
 comprehend exactly what the affair was which created such 
 powerful emotions among my companions ; but when I 
 reached the height, a scene of extreme interest was pre- 
 sented. 
 
 Between the Black Rock and the island of Devilawn, a 
 cutter was opening the bay, and standing from the westward 
 under a press of canvass. She carried a spanking breeze in, 
 and, as her course was too points off the wind, her sails 
 drew, and she came up " hand over hand." The approach 
 was evidently expected, for from every nook and inlet row- 
 boats were being launched the whole population poured forth 
 from the mountain villages and the coast, as far as the eye 
 could reach, was in marvellous commotion. Nothing could 
 be more beautiful and picturesque than the appearance of the 
 smuggler. The sunshine fell upon her snowy canvass, a pri- 
 
248 SMUGGLER APPEARS. 
 
 vate signal fluttered from the mast-head, and a union-jack 
 was flying at the peak, while, occasionally, a sheet of broken 
 foam sparkled round her hows, as she held her onward course 
 gallantly, 
 
 " And walked the water like a thing of life." 
 
 In a few minutes after her having been first discovered, 
 boats were pulling from the shore in all directions, while the 
 cutter closed the land fast. When abreast the Ridge Point, 
 she suddenly rounded-to, handed her gaff top-sail, hauled up 
 the main-tack, and waited for the boats. 
 
 " I cannot go on board," said my kinsman, with a heavy 
 sigh, " being, alas! like Master Robert Shallow, ' a poor es- 
 quire of this county, and one of the king's justices of the 
 peace ;' but though I shall not pay my personal respects, yet 
 will not my old friend Jack Matthews forget me ; but you shall 
 board the Jane, and witness a bustling business. I'll promise 
 you a hearty welcome from the Skipper and see, you are 
 just in time, for the gig is on the water." 
 
 As he spoke, he hailed the boat, which, returning to the 
 beach, took me on board, and then pulled off for the vessel, 
 which, in a quarter of an hour, we reached. 
 
 It was, indeed, a bustling scene ; a hundred boats were col- 
 lected round the smuggler, who, to use nautical parlance, had 
 already " broken bulk," and was discharging the cargo with 
 a rapidity, and yet orderly and business-like system, that was 
 surprising. 
 
 I was immediately recognized by Captain Matthews, and 
 politely invited to his cabin. Aware of the hurry consequent 
 upon this dangerous traffic, on the plea of his presence being 
 requisite upon deck, I would have declined the honour ; but 
 the gallant Captain remarked, with great indifference, " that 
 he left the delivery of his cargo to the agents and purchasers, 
 and could not spend an hour or two more to his satisfaction, 
 than in entertaining, in his own way, the kinsman of his re- 
 spected friend." And, calling for the steward, he stepped 
 forward to order some refreshments. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, I had ample time to satisfy 
 my curiosity, and observe the conduct of this illicit traffic. 
 There appeared no confusion attendant on the delivery of the 
 tobacco to its respective proprietors, who had already engaged 
 certain proportions of the cargo, which they received upon the 
 
CAPTAIN MATTHEWS. 249 
 
 production of small tickets, specifying the quantity and de- 
 scription of the goods ; the business having been previously 
 arranged on shore, before the arrival of the smuggler, facili- 
 tated the dangerous trade. 
 
 When I found myself in the cabin with the bold outlaw 
 for Matthews had been legally denounced for many daring 
 and successful contests with the Revenue I could not but 
 admire the thorough indifference to possible consequences 
 which this singular personage exhibited. He knew that 
 several men-of-war were at that moment cruising on the 
 station, and that they had been apprised he had sailed from 
 Flushing, and that this coast was the spot selected by the 
 owners to effect the landing yet he laughed and drank as 
 gaily as I should in a club-house, and despatched the messages 
 which were occasionally brought down with perfect noncha- 
 lance. He spoke principally of his own exploits ; and the 
 scene was admirably in keeping. Around the cabin, muskets, 
 pistols, and blunderbusses, were secured in arm-racks, and 
 cutlasses and tomahawks were suspended from the bulk-heads. 
 His had been a wild career ; and though not past the middle- 
 age, his life teemed with " perilous adventure." I was so 
 much amused with his varied narratives of brave attempts 
 and desperate successes, that the second hour slipped away 
 before I rose and took my departure. On regaining the deck, 
 the hurry of the business was over. The contraband cargo 
 had been replaced by stone ballast ; for by previous arrange- 
 ment, each boat brought a quantity of shingle from the beach, 
 and hence the smuggler was already in trim, and ready to 
 stand out to sea. 
 
 This notorious vessel was considered in size and sailing 
 superior to any of a similar class, and her voyages had been 
 numerous and successful. Her armament was formidable ; 
 sixteen heavy carronades were extended along the deck, with 
 two long brass guns of smaller calibre, and every other ap- 
 purtenance of war was in perfect efficiency. But the most 
 striking object was her ferocious-looking, but magnificent 
 crew ; they seemed only formed for " the battle and the 
 breeze ;" and well justified their commander's boast, " that 
 he could thrash any cruiser of his own size, and land his cargo 
 in six hours afterwards." 
 
 "We left the vessel and, to judge by the kegs and cases 
 stowed away in the gig, my cousin had not been forgotten 
 
250 THE JANE. 
 
 in the general distribution. The outlaw stood upon a carron- 
 ade, and waved his hand as we pulled from the ship's side ; 
 and in a short time set his head-sails, and stood off to sea 
 with the ebb tide and a spanking breeze, which carried him 
 out of sight directly. 
 
 This was fated to be the last landing of the Jane, and 
 the last exploit of her commander ; she foundered on her 
 next voyage, and every person on board perished with the 
 vessel.* 
 
 We had nearly reached the bar, when we observed a large 
 sailing-boat strike on the tail of Carrig-a-boddagh, and as the 
 tide was falling fast, she was in momentary danger of falling 
 over. Every exertion of the crew to get her off was ineffec- 
 tual ; and on our nearer approach they evinced such unequi- 
 vocal symptoms of inebriety, as accounted for the disaster. A 
 solitary passenger was on board, who appeared in desperate 
 alarm ; and, at his own earnest solicitation, we received him 
 and his personal effects, which were extremely limited, into 
 our boat. The crew remained with the hooker, which they 
 calculated upon floating off the following tide. 
 
 I was much struck with the appearance of the stranger. 
 His voice and bearing told that he was not indigenous to 
 the soil : low in stature, delicate in form, with a timid and 
 suspicious bearing, I was greatly puzzled to account for his 
 being a passenger in a Connemara fishing-boat. Although 
 nervous as a woman before we reached the pier, I had tran- 
 quillized him so far as to find out generally that he had left 
 the Galway coast, in the expectation of being landed on the 
 shores of Sligo ; but that the crew, having boarded the 
 smuggler, managed to get gloriously drunk, and, diverging 
 totally from their course, ran the hooker on a reef, from which 
 they should have been several leagues distant. 
 
 The stranger was an Englishman. He met from my kins- 
 man a hospitable reception and the Colonel and I united 
 our attentions, and in a great degree restored his confidence. 
 Nothing, however, could persuade him that the hooker had 
 not been run designedly upon the rock, and that he and his 
 travelling-bag would have been victimized by what he termed 
 
 * The Jane went down in a tremendous gale off the north-west coast 
 of Ireland. Her consort, The Blue-eyed Maid, witnessed the melancholy 
 event, without being able to render any assistance. 
 
ANECDOTE OF AN ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 " desperate pirates," but for our seasonable rescue. My 
 cousin smiled. " The conduct of tbe drunken scoundrels," 
 he said, " was unpardonable ; but he doubted whether they 
 harboured those nefarious designs. Strangers were frequently 
 led away by appearances, and it was no uncommon thing foi 
 travellers to suffer unnecessary alarm from groundless causes." 
 And he related an anecdote of a gentleman being put in fear 
 and terror, in a neighbouring county, by mistaking a fish for 
 a weapon. 
 
 " Soon after the rebellion of Ninety-eight, an English 
 merchant was necessitated, by urgent business, to visit the 
 kingdom of Connaught. Having provided himself with a 
 servant, who professed an acquaintance with the language 
 of the country, he made his will, and took a place in the 
 
 Westport mail. He reached the post-town of in safety, 
 
 and from it proceeded to cross that wild and picturesque 
 mountain- chain which bounds the beautiful shores of Lough 
 Corrib. 
 
 "It was late in autumn: the weather had been wet, and 
 owing to the difficulty of the bridle-roads, the traveller was 
 benighted some miles' distance from the house that he had 
 calculated upon reaching. Unable to proceed farther, he 
 reluctantly took up his quarters at a shebeine-house. It was 
 but a sorry caravansera but nothing could surpass the ap- 
 parent kindness of the family. Supper was prepared; the 
 best bed was sheeted, and when the belated stranger had 
 sufficiently refreshed himself, he was conducted to an inner 
 room, where, at his own request, the servant was also accom- 
 modated with a pallet. 
 
 " Yet, notwithstanding the marked civility of the family, 
 the stranger could not overcome a secret apprehension of 
 impending danger. It was a wild place a wilder family ; he 
 feared that treachery lurked underneath this studied kindness ; 
 and, as he tossed upon his restless bed, he listened with 
 painful anxiety to every sound. Midnight came ; the outer 
 door was opened cautiously several men entered the kitchen 
 with stealthy pace they conversed in their native language, 
 his name was mentioned, and himself was beyond doubt the 
 subject of this nocturnal conversazione. Crawling in an agony 
 of apprehension to the pallet where his attendant lay, he 
 awoke the sleeper, intimated his suspicions in a whisper, and 
 
252 ANECDOTE OF AN ENGLISHMAN. 
 
 desired him to report faithfully the midnight colloquy in the 
 outer chamber. 5 
 
 " 'What's that they say ?' quoth the traveller. 
 " ( They want another pint, for they have not had such a 
 prize for the last twelvemonth.' 
 
 " ' That's me !' groaned the querist. 
 
 " ' They have five pikes already, and expect more before 
 morning/ continued the valet. 
 e ' Truculent scoundrels !' 
 ' ' The largest is intended for yourself ! 
 e ' Lord defend me !' ejaculated the stranger. 
 ( ' They wonder if you are sleeping.' 
 
 ( ' Cold-blooded monsters; they want to despatch us 
 quietly.' 
 
 " f The owner swears that nobody shall enter this room 
 till morning.' 
 
 " f Ay, then they will have daylight, and no difficulty.' 
 " ' And now he urges them to go to bed.' 
 " ' Heaven grant they may ! for then, escape from this 
 den of murder might be possible.' 
 
 " Listening with a beating heart until unequivocal symptoms 
 of deep sleep were heard from the kitchen, the unhappy En- 
 glishman, leaving his effects to fortune, crawled through the 
 window half-dressed, and, with a world of trouble and perilous 
 adventure, managed early next morning to reach his original 
 place of destination. 
 
 "Never, however, was man more mortified than he, 
 when he related his fearful story. His tale was frequently 
 interrupted by a laugh, which politesse vainly endeavoured to 
 control. 
 
 ( ' ' Zounds !' cried the irritated Englishman, no longer able 
 to conceal his rage, ' is my throat so valueless, that its cutting 
 should merely raise a horse-laugh T 
 
 " ' My dear friend/ replied the host, e you must excuse 
 me it is so funny, I cannot, for the life of me, be serious. 
 The cause of all your fears lies quietly in the outer hall. 
 Come, you shall judge upon what good grounds you ab- 
 sconded through a window, and skirmished half the night 
 over hill and dale, with but the nether portion of your habili- 
 ments/ 
 
 " As he spoke he uncovered a large basket, and pointed to 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 253 
 
 a huge pike of some thirty pounds weight, which was coiled 
 around the bottom. 
 
 " ' The stormy weather/ continued the host, ' having in- 
 terrupted our supply of sea-fish, the peasants who alarmed 
 you had heen setting night-lines for your especial benefit. 
 The pctka more* which you heard devoted to your services in 
 the shebeine-house, was not an instrument of destruction, but, 
 as you shall admit at six o'clock, as good a white fish as ever 
 true catholics, like you and I, were doomed wherewithal to 
 mortify the flesh upon a blessed Friday.' ' 
 
 The stranger smiled. 
 
 " I may have wronged my late companions," he said, " but 
 I have of late been under such constant and painful excite- 
 ment, that I often wonder that reason held her seat. I have 
 this evening not only been delivered from considerable danger, 
 but I have fallen most unexpectedly upon persons and a 
 place which, on this remote coast, and among these wild 
 hills, appear miraculous. Your accents are different from 
 those I have lately listened to : and could I but find courage 
 to tell my story, you would own that I have lately undergone 
 sufficient trials to unnerve a stouter frame than this feeble one 
 of mine." 
 
 After some time, the stranger felt the cheering effect of my 
 kinsman's claret, and in a strain which might be termed serio- 
 comic, he thus narrated his story. 
 
 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN WHO WOULD NOT DO FOR 
 GALWAY. 
 
 " I AM descended from a line of traders, and by birth as 
 genuine a cockney as ever listened to Bow-bells. My mother's 
 nonage was passed in St. Mary Axe, and my father was a 
 dry-salter in Tooley-street. He was third of the same name 
 that there had dwelt and prospered. They were a thrifty and 
 punctilious race ; and it was a family boast, that, for seventy 
 years, a bill bearing the acceptance of Daniel Dawkins had 
 never been in the hands of the notary. There is virtue in 
 a good name, 'tis said, and theirs was current for ten thou- 
 sand. 
 
 * The large pike. 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 " I was an only child, and from the cradle evinced an 
 indolent and dreamy temperature, which was ill adapted to 
 withstand the worry of trade, and all the annoyances entailed 
 on traffic. I hated trouble ; hardly knew the difference 
 between pearl-ashes and pearl-barley ; could never com- 
 prehend tare-and-trett, and had, moreover, literary pro- 
 pensities. How one in whose veins the blood of the Daw- 
 kinses circulated, could be so deplorably uncommercial, is 
 a puzzle ; but I was, I suppose, ' foredoomed my father's 
 soul to cross/ and an unhappy tutor ruined me beyond 
 recovery. 
 
 "My Gamaliel was a Scotch gentleman of unblemished 
 lineage, remarkable for soiled linen and classical research, 
 who had emigrated from a highland valley with an unpro- 
 nounceable name, to hold a secondary situation in a city 
 academy, where the progeny of Love-lane and Little Britain 
 received the rudiments of polite letters. The extra hours of 
 the gifted Celt were, for the consideration of ten pounds' 
 annual fee, ' to be paid quarterly, and in advance/ devoted 
 to my accomplishments. Never had man more profound 
 contempt for trade and traders than he at whose feet I was 
 indoctrinated. He turned his nose up at the wealthiest grocer 
 in the ward ; and was barely civil to a tobacconist who had 
 a villa at Pentonville, and was, moreover, first favourite for 
 an aldermanic gown. Such delinquency could not be over- 
 looked, and for his heretical opinions touching commerce., 
 he was eventually ejected from Tooley-street. But, alas ! 
 the mischief was done the seed was already sown and, as 
 after-experience proved, none of it had fallen upon the way- 
 side. 
 
 " ' In brevity I shall emulate the noble Roman/ quoth 
 Jack Falstaif ; and so shall I, so far as the autobiography of 
 my youth is concerned. I abominated business was an 
 admirer of the Corsair and Lallah Rookh was generally given 
 to inflammatory poetry wrote fugitive pieces, and vainly en- 
 deavoured to get them a corner in the periodicals quarrelled 
 with my parents was supported in my rebellion by a ro- 
 mantic aunt and when my disinheritance was actually in 
 legal train, was saved by my parents quitting this world of 
 care, which they did within one short month, by the agency 
 of a typhus fever and two physicians. 
 
 " Thus was I thrown upon the world at two-and-twenty, 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 255 
 
 with thirty thousand pounds. Need I say, that I abjured 
 business instanter, and that the honoured name of Dawkins 
 disappeared from the list of dry-salters ? For some years, 
 none led a more peaceful and literary life ; and though this 
 may appear a solecism, nevertheless it is positively true. The 
 rejection of my early fugitives had chilled the metrical out- 
 breakings of my imagination. I had almost Cowper's sensi- 
 bility the lethalis arundo, as my Scotch tutor would term it, 
 was deep within my bosom I swore I would never lucubrate 
 again ; never again perpetrate a stanza ; and, like Mr. Daniel 
 O' Council's, I presume that my vow was duly registered in 
 heaven. 
 
 " This sunny portion of my life was, alas ! but transitory. 
 Mine, sir, is a tragic tale. I date the origin of my misfor- 
 tunes on board a Margate steamer, and this melancholy epoch 
 I shudder to recall. Was there no tutelary sprite, no sus- 
 picious spinster, to whisper a cautionary advice ? No ; with- 
 out a single fear I embarked in the Nereid steamer ; and, 
 as the papers stated, ' left the Tower-stairs with a select 
 party, and a band of music, on Friday, the of June, 
 182.' 
 
 " I must here observe, that my blue-stocking aunt, who 
 had actually come out in Leadenhall-street with one small 
 and admired volume, called f Pedrilla, a Tale of Passion,' had 
 been latterly urgent with me to enter into matrimony. 
 * Something told her/ she would say, c that the name of Daw- 
 kins was not doomed to be forgotten, like that of Wood, and 
 Birch, and Bagster. Men of tarts and turpentine might 
 perish, while- could I but procure a talented companion ; 
 could I but unite myself to a congenial soul, God knows what 
 the result would prove ! a gifted progeny might honour me 
 with their paternity ; little Popes and diminutives Landons 
 would thus be given to the world, fated to be glorious in \ 
 their maturity, and lisping in numbers from their very.' 
 cots.' 
 
 " The company on board the Nereid were generally known 
 to me. They were exclusively Eastern ; and there were 
 beauties from the Minories, and nice men from Bishopsgate 
 Within and Without. I was no swain, and as Antigallican in 
 my dancing as Bob Acres. The old women admitted, that, 
 though a good catch, I had no spirit ; the young ones f ad- 
 mired the money, but disliked the man ;' and as I did not 
 
256 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 form one of the coryphees, who were quadrilling upon the 
 quarter-deck, I was likely enough to be left to meditative 
 solitude. 
 
 " But there was another person who appeared to hold 
 no communion with the company. One lady seemed a 
 stranger to the rest. Accident placed me beside her, and 
 thus she became more intimately my compagnon de voyage. 
 
 " She was certainly a fine-looking woman ; her face was 
 comely, but somewhat coarse ; her hair and brows black as 
 the raven's plumage, her nose rather too marked for a woman's 
 but then her waist and legs were unexceptionable. She 
 evidently possessed a sufficiency of self-command ; no mauvaise 
 honte, no feminine timidity oppressed her. She looked bravely 
 around, as if she would assert a superiority ; and accepted my 
 civilities graciously, it is true, but with the air and dignity of 
 a duchess. She was, from the start, no favourite with the 
 company, and there was no inclination evinced by any of her 
 own sex to make approaches to familiarity. The cockney 
 beaus looked upon her as a fine but formidable animal ; and to 
 me, unworthy as I was, the honour of being cavalier serviente> 
 was conceded without a contest. Indeed, at dinner, my 
 fair friend proved herself too edged a tool for civic wit to touch 
 upon. When, with ultra-elegance, an auctioneer, whose 
 assurance was undeniable, pressed ' the Hirish lady to teest a 
 roast fole,' she obliterated the accomplished appraiser, by 
 brusquely replying, ' that no earthly consideration could 
 induce her to eat horse-flesh /' 
 
 "And yet to this woman I was irresitibly attracted. I sate 
 beside her on the deck, and I ministered to her coffee-cup ; 
 and when the Nereid disembarked her crowd, and a stout, 
 red -whiskered, do-no-good looking gentleman presented him- 
 self upon the chain-pier, and claimed his c gentle cousin,' a 
 pang of agony shot across my breast, and for the first time I 
 felt the curse of jealousy. And yet, God knows, she was not 
 the person from whom ( little Popes' might be expected ; her 
 tender pledges would be better qualified for rangers and 
 riflemen than denizens of the world of letters. But marriage 
 is decreed elsewhere, and mine had been already booked. 
 
 " ' What's in a name ?' observed somebody. I assert 
 every thing. Will any body deny that ' Drusilla O'Shaugh- 
 nessey' was not sufficient to alarm any but a Shannonite ? 
 Such was the appellative of the lady, while her honoured 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 257 
 
 kinsman favoured me with an embossed card, on which was 
 fairly engraven, * Mr. Marc Antony Burke Bodkin, Baliy- 
 broney House.' 
 
 " On minor matters I will not dilate. It appeared that 
 Miss Brasilia O'Shaughnessey had come to London, in hope- 
 less search after a legacy she expected in right of her great- 
 uncle, Field-Marshal OToole ; that the Field-Marshal's 
 effects were undiscoverable ; and no available assets could be 
 traced beyond certain old swords and battered snuff- boxes ; 
 and consequently Brasilia, who had been an heiress in expect- 
 ancy, w r as sadly chagrined. Furthermore, it appeared that 
 Mr. Marc Antony Bodkin formed her escort from Connemara, 
 and, being a ' loose gentleman,'* and a loving cousin, he 
 ' bore her company.' 
 
 " If ever the course of love ran smooth, which I sincerely 
 disbelieve, mine was not the one. I shall not attempt a 
 description of the progress of my affaire du cceur ; for I sus- 
 pect that I was the wooed one, and that Brasilia had marked 
 me for her own, and Marc Antony aided and abetted. He, 
 good easy gentleman, was formed for Cupid* s embassies. He 
 ' could interpret between you and your love,' as Hamlet says ; 
 and to one with my sensibilities, his services were worth a 
 Jew's eye. If woman ever possessed the cardinal virtues 
 united, that person was Brasilia . She was what Marc called 
 ' the soul of honour ;' yet she had her weak points, and he 
 hinted darkly that myself had found favour in her sight. As 
 a thing of course, I muttered a handsome acknowledgement ; 
 a rejoinder was promptly returned, per same conveyance, as 
 my father would have said and before six days I was made 
 the happiest of men, and levanted to Gretna with the lady 
 of my love, and formally attended by that fidus Achates, 
 Marc Antony Bodkin. 
 
 " What a whirligig world this is ! I recollect well the 
 evening before the indissoluble knot was tied, when I strolled 
 into the little garden at Newark. My thoughts were ' big 
 with future bliss,' and my path of life, as I opined, strewed 
 knee-deep with roses of perennial blossom. I heard voices in 
 
 * No attempt is made here to insinuate aught against the morality of 
 Miss O'Shaughnessey's protector. " A loose gentleman," in the common 
 parlance of the kingdom of Connaught, meaneth simply a gentleman who 
 has nothing to do, and nineteen out of twenty of the aristocracy of tha? 
 truly independent country may be thus honourably classed. ED. 
 
 I 
 
358 MEMOIR OP A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 the summer-house, these were my loved one's and her rela- 
 tive's. To use his own parlance, the latter, in the joy of hi& 
 heart, had taken a sufficiency of wine ' to smother a priest ;' 
 and as the conversation was interesting to the parties, and 
 mine was not the stride of a warrior, my approach was not 
 discovered by either. The conclave, however, had termi- 
 nated, and though hut the parting observation reached me, 
 it is too faithfully chronicled on my memory to be forgotten 
 ( The devil is an ommadawn, no doubt ; but he has money 
 galore, and we'll make him do in Gal way !' As he spoke 
 they rose, and passed into the house without observing me. 
 
 t( What the observation of Marc Antony meant, I could 
 not for the life of me comprehend. Part of it was spoken, 
 too, in an unknown tongue. Was / the devil ? and what was 
 an ommadawn ? Dark doubts crossed my mind ; but vanished, 
 for Brasilia was more gracious than ever, and Marc Antony 
 squeezed my hand at parting, and assured me, as well as he 
 could articulate after six tumblers of hot Farintosh, ' that I 
 was a lucky man, and Brasilia a woman in ten thousand.' 
 
 tc Well, the knot was tied, and but for the eclat of the 
 thing, the ceremony might have been as safely solemnized at 
 Margate. On the lady's side, the property was strictly per- 
 sonal. Her claim upon the estates of the defunct Field- 
 Marshal was never since established, for the properties of that 
 distinguished commander could never be localized. Marc 
 Antony had been a borrower from the first hour of our inti- 
 macy ; and on the morning of her marriage, Brasilia, I have 
 reason to believe, was not mistress of ten pounds but then 
 she was a treasure in herself, and so swore Marc Antony. 
 
 " The private history of a honeymoon I leave to be narrated 
 by those who have found that haven of bliss which I had 
 pictured but never realized. If racketing night and day over 
 every quarter of the metropolis, with the thermometer steady 
 at 90 ; if skirmishing from Kensington to the Haymarket, 
 and thence to Astley' s and Vauxhall, with frequent excursions 
 to those suburban hotels infested by high- spirited apprentices, 
 6 and maids who love the moon :' if this be pleasure, I had 
 no reason to repine. In these aifairs c our loving cousin' was 
 an absolute dictator, and against his decrees there was no 
 appeal. To me, a quiet and nervous gentleman, Marc's ar- 
 rangements were detestable. What he called life, was death 
 to me his ideas of pleasure were formed on the keep-moving 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 259 
 
 plan and to sleep a second night in the same place, would 
 be, according to his theories, an atrocity. I found myself 
 sinking under this excessive happiness ; and when I ventured 
 a gentle protest against being whirled off in a thunder-storm 
 from the ' Star and Garter' to the ( Greyhound,' I received 
 a cross fire that silenced me effectually. From that period 
 I submitted without a murmur ; my days were numbered ; 
 another month like that entitled the honey-one, would consign 
 me to my fathers ; the last of the Dawkinses would vanish 
 from among men, and a mural monument in St. Saviour's 
 record my years and virtues. But accident saved my life, 
 though it annihilated my property. 
 
 " Years before I led Brasilia to the altar, a Connemara 
 estate, which had belonged to her progenitors, and had been 
 ruined in succession by the respective lords, was utterly 
 demolished by a gentleman whom she termed her * lamented 
 father.' The property had been in chancery for half a 
 century, and advertised for sale beyond the memory of man ; 
 but as it was overloaded with every species of encumbrance, 
 no one in his senses would have accepted the fee-simple as a 
 gift. But my wife had determined that Castle Toole should 
 be redeemed, and rise once more, Phoenix-like, from its em- 
 barrassments. It owed, she admitted, more than it was worth, 
 twice told but then, sure, it was the family property. There, 
 for four centuries, O'Tooles had died, and O'Shaughnesseys 
 been born ; and if she could only persuade me to repurchase 
 it with my wealth, she would be the first lady in the barony. 
 To Marc Antony this project was enchanting. Ballybroney 
 had been roofless for the last twenty years, that being about 
 the period when the last of the " dirty acres," which had once 
 appertained to the mansion, had slipped from the fingers of 
 of the Bodkins ; therefore, to establish himself at Castle 
 Toole, would suit my kinsman to a hair. In short, the 
 battery was unmasked; and whether over-persuaded by 
 the eloquence of my wife, the arguments of her cousin, or 
 driven to desperation by a life of pleasure, I consented in due 
 time ; and having accompanied my honoured counsellors to 
 Dublin, found no competitor for Castle Toole proposed for 
 the same paid a large sum of money, and was declared, by 
 the legal functionaries, a gentleman of estate, and that too in 
 Connemara. 
 
 8 2 
 
260 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 " In my eyes, the value of the purchase was not enhanced 
 by a personal investigation. It had its capabilities, it is 
 true ; the house being a ruin, might be repaired ; and as 
 the lands were in their primeval state, it was possible to 
 reclaim them. Still, when one looked at a huge dismantled 
 building of that mixed class in architecture between a 
 fortalice and a dwelling-house, with grey-flagged roof, lofty 
 chimneys, embattled parapets, and glassless windows, it was 
 ill-calculated to encourage an English speculator in Irish 
 estates. On every side a boundless expanse of barren 
 moorland was visible, with an insulated portion of green 
 surface on which the castle stood, and a few straggling trees 
 remained from what had once been a noble oak wood. That 
 some savage beauty did exist in the wild highlands, a fine 
 river, and an extensive lake, is certain ; but to me, the 
 scenery and the place were dreary and disheartening. In 
 vain, therefore, did my friend Mark Antony dilate upon its 
 advantages. The river boasted the best salmon fishing in 
 the country What was it to me, who had never angled for 
 a gudgeon ? The mountains abounded with grouse Who 
 but a native could escalade them ? The bogs were cele- 
 brated for game And would I devote myself like another 
 Decius, to be engulfed, for all the wild ducks that ever wore 
 a wing? But then The Blazers were only a few miles 
 distant, and their favourite fixture was on the estate. 
 Really the proximity of that redoubted body produced a 
 cold perspiration when I heard it. The Blazers \ the most 
 sanguinary fox-club in Connaught a gang who would literally 
 devastate the country, if it did not please Heaven to thin their 
 numbers annually by broken necks and accidents from pistol 
 bullets. Yet, with me, the Rubicon was crossed Castle 
 Toole was mine with all its imperfections, and I determined 
 to exert my philosophy to endure what it was impossible to 
 undo. 
 
 "To restore the decayed glories of the mansion, you 
 may well imagine was a work of trouble and expense. It 
 was done, and Brasilia slept again under the roof-tree of 
 her progenitors. Hitherto I had indulged her fancies 
 without murmuring, and some of them were superlatively 
 absurd. I hoped and believed that when the hurry of re- 
 establishing the ruin I had been fool enough to purchase 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 261 
 
 was over, the worry and confusion of my unhappy life 
 would terminate. While the repairs proceeded, we resided 
 in a small house in a neighbouring village, and were not 
 much annoyed by unwelcome visitors. But no sooner was 
 the castle completed and the apartments reported habitable, 
 than the country for fifty miles round complotted, as I 
 verily believe, to inundate us with their company. A sort 
 of saturnalia, called the house-warming, I thought destined 
 to continue for ever ; and after having endured a purgatorial 
 state for several weeks, and the tumult and vulgar dissipa- 
 tion had abated, swarms of relations to the third and fourth 
 generation of those that loved us, kept dropping in, in what 
 they termed the quiet friendly way, until c the good house 
 Money-glass 5 * was outstripped in hospitality by my devoted 
 mansion. Although ten long miles from a post-town, we 
 were never secure from an inroad. Men who bore the 
 most remote affinity to the families of O'Shaughnessey or 
 O'Toole, deserted the corners of the earth to spoliate the 
 larder ; and persons who, during the course of their natural 
 lives, had never before touched fishing-rod or fowling-piece, 
 now borrowed them ' for the nonce/ and deemed it a good 
 and sufficient apology for living on me for a fortnight. 
 Pedlars abandoned their accustomed routes ; friars diverged 
 a score of miles to take us on ' the mission ;' pipers in- 
 fested the premises ; and even deserters honoured me with 
 a passing call, ' for the house had such a name." All and 
 every calculated on that cursed ceade fealleagh. An eternal 
 stream of the idle and dissipated filled the house - the 
 kitchen fire, like the flame of Vesta, was never permitted 
 to subside and a host of locusts devoured my property. 
 I lived and submitted, and yet had the consolation to know 
 that I was the most unpopular being in the province. I was 
 usually described as a ' dry devil, or a ' dark,-\ dirty little 
 
 * This once celebrated mansion is immortalized in the old ballad, called 
 " Bumper Squire Jones," which chronicles the princely hospitalities of 
 that puissant and hard-headed family. Like " the Kilruddery Foxchase," 
 it was a mighty favourite with the stout old sportsmen in those merry 
 days. More popular airs have caused these popular and soul-stirring 
 lyrics to be disused, and, like those whose feats they recounted, they are 
 now almost forgotten. 
 
 f " Dark," in the kingdom of Connaught, is frequently used synony- 
 mously with " unsocial." 
 
262 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 man ;' while upon Drusilla blessings rained, and she was 
 admitted to be ' the best sowl that ever laid leg below 
 mahogany !' 
 
 " I was weary of this state. Mare Antony was in regular 
 possession of an apartment, which was duly termed by the 
 servant's 'Mr. Bodkin's room.' Summer passed, and so did 
 autumn and its host of grouse shooters. I foolishly hoped 
 that, considering the locality of Castle Toole, my locusts 
 would banish with the butterflies ; but the only difference 
 a rainy day made was, that the visitor who arrived, never 
 dreamed of departing till the morrow, and the numbers by 
 no means abated. Some heavy bills came in, and I seized 
 that opportunity of remonstrating with Drusilla. I told 
 her my health was breaking, my fortune unequal to my 
 expenses ; that common prudence required a certain limi- 
 tation to our irregular hospitality ; hinted that, though an 
 occasional visit from Mr. Marc Antony Bodkin would be 
 agreeable, yet that an everlasting abode would rather be a 
 bore. I would have continued, but my lady had listened, 
 she thought, too long already. She fired at the very idea 
 of retrenchment ; and as to Mr. Marc Antony Bodkin, we 
 were, it appeared, too much honoured by his society. He, 
 a third cousin of Clanricarde, condescended to take my 
 place, and entertain my company. He rode my horses and 
 drank my wine, neither of which feats, as she opined, nature 
 had designed me for doing in proper person ; in short, by 
 Herculean efforts on his part, he enabled me to hold my 
 place among gentlemen. As to the paltry consideration of 
 his residence, what was it ? ' God be with the time, when,' 
 as her ( lamented father' said, 'a stranger remained for 
 eighteen months in Castle Toole, and would probably have 
 lived and died there, but that his wife discovered him, 
 and forced the truant to abdicate ; and yet,' she added, 
 proudly, 'none could tell whether he was from Wales or 
 Enniskillen ; and some believed his name was Hamerton, 
 while others asserted it was Macintosh. But,' as she 
 concluded, ' when her kinsman Mr. Bodkin was turned out, 
 it was time for her to provide a residence,' and she flung 
 from the room like a Bacchante, making door and window 
 shiver. 
 
 " Well, Sir, you may pity or despise me as you will ; from 
 that day my wife assumed the absolute mastery, and I calmly 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 263 
 
 submitted. The house was now a scene of wild and unre- 
 stricted extravagance. Tenants ran away, cattle were depre- 
 ciated, and worse still, claims made upon the property that 
 had never been foreseen, and in nine months I was engaged 
 in as many lawsuits. I must have sunk beneath these cala- 
 mities, but a domestic event gave a new turn to my hopes. 
 No heir had yet been promised, when happily it was whis- 
 pered that this blessing was not an impossibility. Day after 
 day confirmed the happy news, till at last it was regularly 
 announced in the ' Connaught Journal/ that Mrs. Dawkins, 
 of Castle Toole, was 'as ladies wish to be who love their 
 lords.' 
 
 " Of course, from that moment any contradiction would 
 have been death to my dear Drusilla, She never reigned 
 lady-paramount till now, and her will was absolute. Rela- 
 lives trooped down in scores, and Mark Antony was doubly 
 cherished. Notwithstanding my nerves thrilled at their 
 arrival, the Blazers were honourably feasted ; and, at the 
 especial request of Mrs. Dawkins, on that occasion I deter- 
 mined to make a character. I really was half a hero ; 
 presided at the head of my own table like its master, gave 
 divers bumper toasts, and sat out the evening, until I was 
 fairly hors de combat, and tumbled from the chair. Drunk 
 as I was, I recollected clearly all that passed. As but a 
 couple of bottles a man had been then discussed, my early 
 fall appeared to create a sensation. ( Is it a fit he has ?' 
 inquired an under-sized gentleman with an efflorescent nose, 
 who had been pointed out to me as a six-bottle cus- 
 tomer. ' Phoo !' replied my loving cousin, * the man has 
 no more bottom than a chicken. Lift him ; he has a good 
 heart, but a weak head, He II never do for Galway \ But, 
 come, lads,' and Marc hopped over my body, as I was 
 being taken up by the servants, * I'll give you that top- 
 sawyer, his wife, and long may she wear the breeches !' 
 It was gratifying to find that the toast was generally ad- 
 mired, for the very attendants that ' bore the corpse along,' 
 stopped at the door, and shouted 'hip, hip, hurra!' from 
 the staircase. 
 
 "Every day from this period I became more unhappy 
 and contemptible. My blue-stocking aunt, who, for reasons 
 unnecessary to explain, had been since my marriage totally 
 estranged, was now officially informed, that the name of 
 
264 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 Dawkins would be continued. She had the true leaven of 
 family affection in her, and my past neglect was pardoned, 
 and the kindest letter returned to my communication. One 
 passage of her epistle ran thus 'Though I felt acutely at 
 your selecting a wife without even consulting one, of whose 
 attachment you must be well convinced, I forgive all, from 
 the personal description you give of your consort. May the 
 heir of our line be like his mother, is my prayer ! For, oh, 
 Daniel, my predilection for dark beauty is the same, and my 
 conviction unalterable, that even 
 
 ' Genius a dead loss is, 
 
 With dark brows and long proboscis/ 
 
 " Poor woman ! no wonder she thus considered : a sergeant 
 in the Guards, with a countenance of the true Kemble cha- 
 racter, had, in early life, almost turned her brain ; and Tooley- 
 street was kept in an uproar, until he was fortunately drafted 
 off to join the Duke of York upon the Continent, and there, in 
 due time, rested in the bed of glory. 
 
 (e It is a lamentable thing for a man of sensibility to wed 
 a woman whose conduct he considers irreconcilable to his 
 ideas of what female delicacy demands and such was my 
 case. Drusilla not only assumed the mastery within doors, 
 but she extended her sway to the farm and the horses. One 
 day, at the head of a hundred paupers, she was planting trees ; 
 the next, with Marc Antony Bodkin, making a radical reform 
 in the stables. On these occasions, arrayed in a man's hat, 
 with her limbs cased in Hessian boots, she looked, as Tom 
 the Devil said, 'blasted knowing.' I occasionally was per- 
 mitted to attend, as a sort of travelling conveniency to hang 
 her cloak upon ; and I never returned without some indignity 
 from strangers, or personal disrespect from herself. It was 
 death to me to hear her addressed in the coarse language of 
 the stable, and allusions made to her altered figure, which 
 appeared too vulgar even for the servants' hall ; and when a 
 fellow of forbidding countenance, with a scarlet coat and white 
 unmentionables, whom the rest of the gang distinguished as 
 J Long Lanty,' crooked up the bottom of her dress with his 
 hunting-whip, exclaiming, ' Bone and sinew, by the holy ! 
 what a leg for a boot !' I could have knocked the ruffian 
 down, had I been able, although for the exploit I should be 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 265 
 
 taxed with my false delicacy, and the usual wind-up, c It will 
 never do for Galway !' 
 
 " Shy from my cradle, and accustomed to city formality, 
 I was not likely to become at once inhabited to Irish manners. 
 But in Connaught there was a laxity of form a free-and-easy 
 system of society, that exceeded all belief, and to a distant 
 person like me was intolerable. People on a half-hour's 
 acquaintance called you by your Christian name ; and men 
 whom you had never even heard of, rode to your door, and told 
 you coolly they f would stay a fortnight.' Introductions in 
 Connemara, I believe, are reckoned among the works of su- 
 pererogation. If I took a quiet ride, expecting upon my 
 return to meet none at dinner but my wife and the eternal 
 Marc Antony, I probably found half a score already seated at 
 the table, and might learn the appellatives of perhaps a couple 
 of the gang, by the announcement of ( Mr. Dawkins, Tom the 
 De-vil,' ( Mr. Dawkins, Smashall Sweeney.' 
 
 "I remember upon the day on which I was so fortunate 
 as to make the acquaintance of the above gentlemen, in the 
 course of the evening they differed about the colour of a race- 
 horse, and, after bandying mutual civilities, concluded by 
 interchanging the lie direct and a full decanter. The latter 
 having grazed my head, induced me to abscond immediately ; 
 and when I recorded to my loving helpmate the narrow escape 
 from demolition I had just experienced, instead of tender 
 alarm and connubial sympathy, her countenance betrayed 
 irrepressible disappointment and surprise. c And have you, 
 Mr. Dawkins, really deserted your company, and that too at a 
 period when two gentlemen had disagreed ? Do return imme- 
 diately. Such inhospitality, I assure you, will never do for 
 Galway. 9 I did return ; but I had my revenge, and dearly it 
 cost me, though neither of the rascals were shot upon my 
 lawn. Smashall rode off my lady's favourite mare in mistake, 
 and sent her back next morning with a pair of broken knees 
 and Tom the Devil set fire to his bed-curtains the same 
 night, and nothing but a miracle saved the house. Every 
 thing in the apartment, however, was consumed or rendered 
 unserviceable. 
 
 (e As I became more intimate with my wife's relatives, I 
 found that nothing but the lamp of Aladdin would meet their 
 multifarious demands. Castle Toole, like the cave of Adul- 
 lam, was the certain refuge of all gentlemen who happened to 
 
266 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 be in debt and difficulty. All that came here were, what is 
 called in Connemara, ( upon the borrowing hand ;' and when 
 the sum appeared to be too large to be forthcoming in cash, 
 nothing could be more accommodating in their overtures, 
 They would make my acceptance answer ; they would wish it 
 at sixty-one days ; but if it obliged me particularly, they could 
 contrive to extend it to three months. It was, of course, a 
 matter of mere form ; it would be regularly provided for ; it 
 would, f upon honour !' If, after all this, I hesitated, I did it 
 on personal responsibility ; and sooner than be perforated 
 upon my own lawn, actually suffered myself to be made liable 
 for some hundreds. When I complained bitterly of these 
 spoliations to my wife, I received the usual comfort, ' Dear 
 me, how narrow your ideas are ! If my uncle Ulic had asked 
 you for the money, it would have been a different affair. 
 And so, all he wants is the accommodation of your name ! 
 Ah ! if my c lamented father' was alive, how would he be 
 astonished ! Many a time he and poor Ulic assisted each 
 other. Indeed, the dear old man used to mention an amusing 
 anecdote. They once purchased a pipe of port, paid for it 
 with a two months' bill, and when the time expired, the wine 
 was drunk, and the note protested. They had consumed so 
 much from the wood, that it was not worth while to bottle the 
 remainder. Do, Mr. Dawkins, at once oblige my uncle Ulic. 
 Get rid of these narrow ideas. Believe me, they will never do 
 for Galway/ 
 
 " There was another thing that added to my miseries, and 
 yet to my honoured helpmate it was a subject of unmeasured 
 pride. It so happened, that the geographical position of my 
 ill-omened estate was nearly on the boundaries of Galway and 
 Mayo counties no less remarkable for their extent than the 
 truculent disposition of the inhabitants. From time imme- 
 morial, my lawn was the chosen fixture for determining affairs : 
 of honour ; and hence, more blood had been shed there than 
 on any similar spot in Christendom. If the civil authorities ! 
 were so ungentlemanly as to interrupt the combatants, the 
 latter merely crossed the adjacent bridge, and finished the r 
 affair to their satisfaction. It is right, however, to say, that j 
 the magistracy seldom interfered ; and if a functionary was jj 
 forced out by some mean-spirited relative, though the fears of 
 the Lord Chancellor might deter him from refusing his inter- tj 
 vention, he still contrived to miss the road, cast a shoe, be| 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 267 
 
 run away with, or meet some unhappy casualty, that one of 
 the parties might be defunct, and the survivor in a place of 
 safety, before he, the justice, appeared upon the battle-ground. 
 Hence, not a week elapsed but my nerves were tortured by the 
 arrival of a shooting -party, and probably further agonized by 
 hearing Mr. Bodkin hallooing to the butler, ' Michael, (sotto 
 voce.) devil speed ye, Michael ! the mistress desires ye to keep 
 back dinner till the gentlemen have done, and to present 
 her compliments, and say, that she expects the company of 
 the survivor.' 
 
 " All this was horrible to me ; in the evening to be sud- 
 denly disturbed with pop ! pop ! and an outcry ; or awakened 
 before daylight by my lady's maid opening the curtains with 
 a curtsey, to know e where the dead men would be stritchedJ 
 It was, moreover, a desperate tax upon my finances ; vaga- 
 bonds, known and unknown, lay for weeks together in my 
 house, while their broken bones were being reunited not a 
 month passed but there was some dying man in the state-room 
 doctors came and went as regularly as the post-boy and 
 once in each quarter the coroner,* if he had any luck, em- 
 panelled a jury in our hall. 
 
 " Nor were we less tormented with the Blazers. We always 
 had a lame horse or two in the stables ; and from the time 
 cub-hunting commenced, till the season ended, of that re- 
 doubted community who hazard 
 
 ' Neck and spine, 
 
 Which rural gentlemen call sport divina/ 
 
 we never boasted fewer than a couple on the sick-list. Once, 
 when an inquest was holding in the house, a Blazer in the 
 best bed -room, a dying earth-stopper in the gate-house, and 
 four disabled horses, ' at rack and manger,' I insinuated what 
 a nuisance it was to have one's house made a 'morgue? and 
 the offices an hospital. ' Do, Mr. Dawkins, have done,' ex- 
 claimed my lady ' If you have no humanity, pray conceal it. 
 Believe me, your feelings will never do for Galway' 
 
 " But Drusilla had her reward. What though we kept 
 a lazaretto for lame horses, and a general wakehouse for 
 gentlemen of honour who left the world without sufficient 
 
 * In Connaught this useful officer is paid by the job, and the number 
 ^ith which he occasionally debits the county is surprising. 
 
268 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 assets to procure a grave ; our lights were not hidden, nor 
 our charities unrecorded. There was not a man shot, or 
 an arm broken, but my lady wife was dragged neck and 
 crop into the columns of the Connaught Journal as for 
 example : 
 
 " ' THE LATE CAPTAIN MACNAB. Further particulars. 
 When the lamented gentleman fell, his second, Mr. Peter 
 Brannick, raised the body in his arms. Life, however, was 
 totally extinct, as the ball had fractured the fifth rib, and 
 passed directly through the pericardium. In its transit, the 
 fatal bullet shattered a portable tobacco-pipe, which the de- 
 ceased invariably carried in his right waistcoat pocket. The 
 body was immediately removed upon a door to Castle Toole, 
 where every attention to the remains of a gallant soldier was 
 given by the accomplished mistress. Indeed it is but right 
 to say, that this estimable lady superintended in person the 
 laying out of the corpse. At midnight three friars from 
 Ballyhownis, and a number of the resident clergy attended, 
 and a solemn high mass was celebrated in the great hall. 
 The reverend gentlemen employed upon this melancholy 
 occasion, have expressed their deep sense of the urbanity of 
 the lady of the mansion. 
 
 " f We understand that, at the especial request of Mrs. 
 Dawkins, the body will remain in state at Castle Toole, until 
 it is removed to its last resting-place, the family burying- 
 ground at Carrick Nab.' Connaught Journal. 
 
 ft ' The friends and relatives of Mr. Cornelius Coolaghan 
 will be delighted to hear that he has been pronounced 
 convalescent by Dr. M'Greal. A mistake has crept into 
 the papers, stating that the accident was occasioned by his 
 grey mare, Miss Magaraghan, falling at a six feet wall. 
 The fact was that the injury occurred in attempting to ride 
 in and out of the pound of Ballymacraken, for a bet of ten 
 pounds. As the village inn was not deemed sufficiently quiet, 
 Mr. C. C. was carried to the hospitable mansion of Castle 
 Toole. It is needless to add, that every care was bestowed 
 upon the sufferer by the elegant proprietress. Indeed, few 
 of the gentler sex so elegantly combine the charms and 
 amiabilities of the beautiful Mrs. Dawkins.' Ibid. 
 
 " Well, sir, I submitted to my fate with more than mortal 
 fortitude. I saw that in rashly marrying one in taste, feeling 
 and sentiment so totally my opposite, I had wrecked my 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 269 
 
 happiness for ever, and that 1 must submit. My pride 
 would sometimes fire at the slights I suffered from my very 
 underlings, and the cool contempt of those locusts who lived 
 only upon my bounty. I was reduced to utter dependency, 
 and yet I never murmured a remonstrance. Presently, my 
 wife took possession of my banker's book yet I did not 
 rebel for my nerves were weak, my spirit humble ; fate 
 made my own conduct punish me, and I had philosophy to 
 bear it patiently. But one thing reconciled me to much 
 misery it was a darling hope a cherished fancy this was 
 left when all besides had fled, and I clung to it with the 
 tenacity of a wretch who seizes the reed to support him 
 while he drowns. That hope, that sole dependence, was in 
 my unborn child ; on that being, haply, I might lavish my 
 love ; and when nothing else remained on earth whereon to 
 rest my affections, I turned to a visionary thing, a creature 
 not in existence, as an object on which to fix my heart. You 
 smile ; but ah, sirs, remember I had not nerves and feelings 
 like the multitude. I am a poor helpless wretch, unfitted to 
 withstand the villany of mankind, and struggle through a 
 world where the boldest will often blench, and the wisest 
 hold their course with difficulty." 
 
 He became deeply agitated, and though, poor fellow, I had 
 laughed heartily at the faithful picture he gave, in the course 
 of his narrative, of all concerned, I could not but respect his 
 griefs. He soon continued 
 
 "At times I felt a misgiving in my bosom, and pangs 
 of jealousy tormented me. I saw much culpable familiarity 
 between my wife and her relative : and for some trifling 
 cause, she and I, for some time past, had not occupied the 
 same apartment. Could she forget herself and me so far? 
 Oh, no, no, she could not ! She would not do a being like 
 me, who submitted to her command, and sacrificed every 
 thing to her fancy, so base, so cruel an injury ! I never 
 harmed a worm willingly ; and surely she would not wrong 
 one so totally her thrall her worshipper as I ? 
 
 "I considered that between the parties there existed a 
 near relationship, and national habits and early intimacy 
 might warrant what was certainly indelicate, but still might 
 not be criminal. God help me ! At times my brain burned 
 my senses were almost wandering ; and had this state of 
 
2/0 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 torture long continued, I must, ere now, have been the inmate 
 of a madhouse. 
 
 " The time of her trial came, and at that awful hour, I 
 am told women like to have their husbands near them, for 
 those they love can sometimes whisper hope, and rouse the 
 drooping courage of the sufferer. But I was specially excluded 
 from the chamber of the patient, although constant messages 
 passed between the lady and her kinsman. The trial ended 
 happily a boy was born the servants flocked round me, to 
 offer their rude congratulations ; but the nurse cast on me 
 such a look of mingled pity and contempt as almost struck 
 me lifeless. I asked affectionately for my wife I inquired 
 tenderly for my child. s It is a fine boy/ said a young, wild, 
 light-hearted creature, the housemaid ; ' it has the longest 
 legs I ever saw ; and, Holy Mary ! its hair is as red as Lanty 
 Driscoll's jacket !' God of Heaven ! red hair. It was killing 
 murderous. Then I was the wretch my worst fears had 
 whispered, and a child was born but not to me." 
 
 He paused, completely overcome. I felt my eye moisten at 
 the deep though simple pathos of the story-teller. There was 
 a sorrow, an agony, in his melancholy detail, that touched the 
 heart more sensibly than calamities of deeper character and 
 greater men. 
 
 After a short pause, he thus continued : 
 
 " The day the most eventful of my life, if my wedding one 
 be excepted, at last arrived, and had it been nominated for my 
 undergoing the extreme penalty of the law, it could not have 
 brought more horror with it. I felt the fulness of my degra- 
 dation. I was a miserable puppet, obliged to pretend a 
 blindness to disgrace, of which my conviction was entire ; 
 and automaton as I was considered, and little as my looks or 
 feelings were consulted, the deep melancholy of my face did 
 not escape my conscience- stricken partner. She became pale 
 and agitated, while with affected indifference of manner, she 
 taxed me with rudeness to my company, and more especially 
 to herself. What would the world say, if on this high festival, 
 when the heir of Castle Toole was to be presented to his 
 relatives, I should appear like a monk at a death-wake than a 
 happy parent? ' Lord! Mr. Dawkins, this moping* is so unmanly. 
 Here will be the O'Tooles and the O'Shaughnesseys, Blakes 
 and Burkes, Bellews and Bodkins : they will feel it a personal 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 271 
 
 insult. If you, encourage these humours, I assure you, Mr. Daw- 
 kins, you will never do for Galway.' Before this jobation ended, 
 carriage-wheels grated on the gravel, and men, women, and 
 children commenced and continued pouring in, as if another 
 deluge had begun, and Castle Toole was an ark of safety. 
 
 " While the house was crowded within, the space before 
 it appeared to be in the possession of numerous banditti. 
 The tenants, of course, had flocked hither to do honour to 
 the christening. For their refreshment a beeve was roasted 
 whole, and beer and whisky lavishly distributed. I never 
 saw a scene of waste and drunkenness before, although I had 
 hitherto believed that my residence was the veriest rack-rent 
 in the world. In every corner pipers played, women danced, 
 men drank, and swearing and love-making was awful. There, 
 while dinner was being served, I had stolen forth to vent my 
 agony unnoticed. I am not, sirs, gifted with that command 
 of nerve which can exhibit hollow smiles while the bosom is 
 inly bleeding. To affect gaiety so foreign to my heart, I feltwould 
 break it ; but the desperate misery that I endured would spur 
 the dullest soul to madness. I viewed the rude revelry with 
 disgust. I was the master of the feast, but the savages barely 
 recognised me. Generally they spoke in their native lan- 
 guage ; and though I did not exactly comprehend all that they 
 said, I heard enough to assure me of my utter insignificance 
 in their rude estimate of character. Under a gate- pier two 
 old women were sitting ; thy did not notice me, and continued 
 their discourse. 
 
 " ' Ally, astore, did ye see the child ? They say it's the 
 picture of Marc Bodkin.' 
 
 " f Whisht, ye divil !' was the rejoinder, as the crone pro- 
 ceeded, with a chuckle ; ' it has red hair, any how : but Neil 
 an skit a gau maun* and ye know best.' 
 
 " But the further humiliation of assisting at the ceremony 
 was saved me. In the hurry consequent upon the general i 
 confusion, the post-bag was handed to me instead of my 
 lady-wife, who lately had managed all correspondence. 
 Mechanically I opened the bag, and a letter, bearing the 
 well-known direction of my aunt, met my eye. That, 
 under circumstances, it should have reached me, appeared 
 miraculous, and, seizing an opportunity, I examined its 
 
 * Anglice t ( I have no skill in it.' 
 
272 MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 contents in private. My kind relation had received my 
 detail of misery, and, in reply, she implored me to abandon 
 the scene of my degradation, and share her fortune, which 
 was more, she said, than sufficient for us both. My heart 
 beat with conflicting emotions all unworthy as she was, I 
 could not bring myself to abandon Drusilla thus. I actually 
 hesitated, when curiosity prompted me to peruse a letter 
 which was addressed to her, and marked immediate. Its 
 contents were these : 
 
 " < Dear Madam, 
 
 " e I have by this post received the two writs, as 
 expected. I settled the Ex. against Mr. M. A. B., and he 
 may come to town any time till further notice. With respect 
 to those against Mr. Dawkins, it is ?s well to let things take 
 their course. He is a gentleman of retired habits, and a little 
 confinement, particularly as he don't hunt, will be quite imma- 
 terial. I received the bullocks, but, as cattle are down, there 
 is still a balance due. 
 
 " 'A Dublin wine-merchant has just handed me an Ex. 
 for 6 13, and insists upon accompanying me to Castle Toole. 
 I have therefore named Wednesday, on which day you will 
 please to have the doors closed. As the plaintiff may again be 
 officious, I would recommend his being ducked, when return- 
 ing, and a city bailiff, whom you will know by his having a 
 scorbutic face and yellow waistcoat, should for many reasons 
 be corrected. Pray, however, take care the boys do not go too 
 far, as manslaughter, under the late act, is now a transport- 
 able felony. 
 
 " ' The sooner Mr. D. renders to prison the better. Tell 
 your Uncle Ulic I have returned non est to his three last ; 
 but he must not show. You can drop me a line by bearer 
 when you wish Mr. D. to be arrested ; and after we return 
 nulla bona on Wednesday, I will come out and arrange matters 
 generally. 
 
 " ' Believe me, dear Madam, truly yours, 
 
 " ' JOHN GRADY, Sub-sheriff, Galway. 
 
 " ' Mrs. Dawkins, Castle Toole.' 
 
 " f P.S. What a blessing it is for poor Mr. Dawkins that 
 he has such a woman of business to manage his affairs ! He 
 is a well -meaning man, but he'll never do for Galway. 
 
 < J. G. 5 
 
MEMOIR OF A GENTLEMAN. 273 
 
 "Had I been ten times over the tame wretch I was, 
 I could not he insensible to the deep treachery of this worth- 
 less woman, who had ruined my property, and would now 
 incarcerate my person. In spite of remonstrances upon its 
 apparent inhospitality, I abandoned the 'impious feast,' 
 and while my absence was neither missed nor regarded, 
 I stole from the accursed spot, and by bribing a wandering 
 stocking-man, was enabled to make my way to the coast, and 
 procure a fishing-boat to place myself beyond the power of 
 arrest. The same bad luck appeared to follow me : the 
 drunkenness of the scoundrels threatened to interrupt my 
 escape, and even place my life in peril. From these mishaps 
 you have delivered me, and by your prompt assistance I shall 
 effect my retreat from a country I must ever recollect with 
 horror. When I reach England, I will seek reparation for 
 my injuries ; and though all besides is gone, I shall at least 
 endeavour to liberate myself from the worthless woman who 
 abused a weak and too confiding husband. 
 
 " Alas ! gentlemen, what a stream of misfortunes will 
 sometimes originate in a trifle. A Margate steamer entailed 
 a life of suffering upon me. My fortune vanished, my wife 
 deceived me laughed at by my friends, and ridiculed by my 
 enemies from all these complicated misfortunes, I have 
 learned but one simple fact Alas ! ' That I should never do 
 for Galway !' " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Morning alarm Death of the otter-killer General grief Night ex- 
 cursion Herring-fishery Our reception Beal fires The wake The 
 funeral Anecdote of a dog A deserted house. 
 
 I SLEPT soundly : my servant found me still a-bed, when 
 he came at his customary hour ; as he unclosed the curtains 
 I heard a hum of voices, and appearances of domestic 
 hurry were visible ; next . moment the well-known Currakeen, 
 whose celebrity as a courier is truly remarkable, passed the 
 window at a " killing pace." I found upon inquiry, that 
 the otter-killer was dying, and that ' the runner" I had 
 just observed, had been dispatched for Father Andrew. 
 
 T 
 
274 DEATH OF THE OTTER-KILLER. 
 
 The ancient retainer of an Irish family generally estab- 
 lishes a bond upon the affections of the wild household, that 
 causes his loss to make a greater sensation, than so humble 
 an event might be supposed to occasion. Antony for half a 
 century had been attached to this family. Three generations 
 have passed since he first settled beneath the roof-tree ; 
 and he has been associated with every earlier recollection 
 of the present master. No wonder I found my kinsman in 
 considerable distress. The old man was dying and youthful 
 scenes, and youthful days, when the stormier passions had 
 not broken " the sunshine of the breast," were now vividly 
 recalled by the approaching dissolution of his ancient and 
 devoted follower. 
 
 The summons to the priest was instantly attended, 
 Father Andrew returned with the messenger, and was im- 
 mediately closeted with the penitent. Poor Antony's simple 
 life had few dark recollections to harrow his parting hour. 
 His shrift was short and satisfactory ; and at his own request, 
 when the rites of the Roman Catholic church had been duly 
 celebrated, my cousin and myself were summoned to his bed- 
 side. 
 
 The old man was supported by Hennessey, as a difficulty 
 in breathing obliged him to be raised up ; and the scene was 
 at once simple and imposing. The early monitor of his 
 youthful fishing-days the being who had in mountain pastimes 
 been so frequently his companion, possibly recalled softer 
 recollections, and a deep shade of sorrow overspread the 
 countenance of the "stem homicide." The black-eyed girl, 
 who held a teaspoon to his lips, vainly endeavouring to intro- 
 duce some nourishment, wept over him like a lamenting child. 
 His faithful terrier sat at the bed-foot, and the fixed and 
 melancholy look that the poor animal turned on her dying 
 master, would have half persuaded me that Venom knew 
 she was about to lose him. Dim as his eye was, it 
 lighted as my kinsman's tall figure darkened the entrance 
 of the chamber; and feebly putting forth his hand, he 
 clasped that of his beloved master with affection, arid while 
 weakness and imperfect breathing sadly interrupted his "last 
 farewell," we could with some difficulty thus collect his 
 words. 
 
 "I'm going, Master Julius, and may the blessing of the 
 Almighty attend ye ! Sure I should be thankful, with all 
 
DEATH OF THE OTTER-KILLER. 275 
 
 about me to make me easy to the last. I saw your grand 
 father stretched I sat beside your father when he departed, 
 may the Lord be merciful to both ! and I die with yourself 
 and the clargy to comfort my last hour, praises be to Mary, 
 Master Julius, will you listen to a dying man ; he that 
 carried ye in his arms, and loved ye better than all the 
 world besides ? ye'll take my advice. Marry, Julius 
 avourneen the ould name that since the days of Shamul 
 a Croaghah held land and honour surely you won't let it 
 pass? Mind the old man's last words and now Heaven 
 bless ye !" And in feeble tones he continued muttering 
 benedictions upon all around him. My cousin was really 
 affected, and the Priest perceiving the increasing feebleness 
 of the otter-killer, requested us to retire. We were obey- 
 ing, when Antony rallied suddenly and unexpectedly : 
 " You will mind the dog, for my sake, Master Julius and 
 ye'll let trap and fishing-rod hang up in the hall, to put ye 
 in mind of old Antony ?" These were his last connected 
 words his strength failed fast ; his memory wandered to 
 other times ; " he babbled of green fields," he murmured 
 the names of lakes and rivers and while the affectionate 
 Priest prayed fervently beside his old and innocent companion, 
 the otter-killer rendered his last sigh in the arms of Hennessey 
 and the weeping Alice ! 
 
 Talk of parade around the couch of fortune, and what a 
 heartless display is it ! / saw a rich man die ; I saw the 
 hollow mockery of hireling attendants and interested friends ; 
 but here, that simple unsophisticated being had a sincerity of 
 grief bestowed upon his death-bed, that to wealth and grandeur 
 would be unattainable ! 
 
 There was a loud and agonizing burst of sorrow when the 
 otter-killer's death was communicated to those in the hall 
 and kitchen, who, during the closing scene, had been with 
 difficulty prevented from crowding the apartment of the 
 sufferer. But this noisy demonstration of regard was speedily 
 checked by old John, who knew that his master would be 
 doubly displeased should any tumultuary wailings render rne 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 In a short time, order was tolerably established ; and with 
 one exception, a quiet and respectful silence supervened A 
 stout, though aged crone, occasionally burst into wild lament, 
 
 T 2 
 
276 NIGHT EXCURSION. 
 
 accompanied by a beating on her breast, which, like the signal 
 to a chorus, elicited a fresh ebullition from the subordinate 
 mourners. John, however, interposed his authority effectu- 
 ally. " Badahust,' hanamondioul, badahust, I say ! ye may 
 keinagh at the funeral, but ye mustn't disturb the master and 
 the company." This jobation restored tranquillity, and in 
 cc decent grief" the otter-killer's corpse was duly laid out in its 
 funeral habiliments. 
 
 The evening wore on heavily my kinsman was sensibly 
 affected ; his old monitor in the gentle art was gone ; and 
 though full in years, and ripe for the tomb, his master felt, 
 that " he could have better spared a better man." There was 
 heart-sinking about our party which I had never marked 
 before. The wine had lost its charm ; and while the Colonel 
 and the Priest commenced a game of piquet, my cousin ordered 
 the gig, and proposed that we should pull over to the herring- 
 boats, which in the next estuary, and on the preceding night, 
 had been unusually successful. Accordingly, having lighted 
 our pipes and procured our boat-cloaks, we left the pier-head 
 in the four-oared galley. 
 
 The night was unusually dark and warm ; not a breath of 
 wind was on the water ; the noise of the oars, springing in the 
 coppered rullocks, was heard for a mile off, and the whistle of 
 sandpipers and jack curlews, as they took wing from the beach 
 we skirted, appeared unusually shrill. Other noises gradually 
 broke the stillness of the night the varied hum of numerous 
 voices chanting the melancholy songs which are the especial 
 favourites of the Irish, began to be heard distinctly and 
 we soon bore down upon the midnight fishers, directed by 
 sound, not sight. 
 
 To approach the fleet was a task of some difficulty. The 
 nets, extended in interminable lines, were so frequent, that 
 much skill was necessary to penetrate this hempen labyrinth, 
 without fouling the back ropes. Warning cries directed our 
 course, and with some delay we threaded the crowded surface, 
 and, guided by buoys and puckawns, found ourselves in the 
 very centre of the flottilla. 
 
 It was an interesting scene. Momently the boats glided 
 along the back ropes, which were supported at short intervals 
 by corks, and at a greater by inflated dog-skins, arid, raising 
 the curtain of network which these suspended, the herrings 
 
HERRING FISHING. 277 
 
 were removed from the meshes, and deposited in the boats 
 Some of the nets were particularly fortunate, obliging their 
 proprietors to frequently relieve them of the fish ; while 
 others, though apparently stretched within a few yards, and 
 consequently in the immediate run of the herrings, were 
 favoured but with a few stragglers ; and the indolent fisherman 
 had to occupy himself with a sorrowful ditty, or in moody 
 silence watched the dark sea " like some dull ghost waiting on 
 Styx for waftage." 
 
 Our visit appeared highly satisfactory, for the ceade feal- 
 teagh, with a lament for " ould Antony," was universal, 
 while every boat tossed herrings on board, until we were 
 obliged to refuse further largess, and these many " trifles of 
 fish" accumulated so rapidly, that we eventually declined 
 receiving further compliments, or we might have loaded the 
 gig gunnel deep. 
 
 The darkness of the night increased the scaly brilliancy 
 which the phosphoric properties of these beautiful fish pro- 
 duce. The bottom of the boat, now covered with some 
 thousand herrings, glowed with a living light, which the 
 imagination could not create, and the pencil never imitate. 
 The shades of gold and silvery gems were rich beyond 
 description ; and much as I had heard of phosphoric splen- 
 dour before, every idea I had formed fell infinitely short of 
 its reality. 
 
 The same care with which we entered disembarrassed us 
 of the midnight fishing : every boat we passed pressed hard 
 to throw in a " cast of skuddawns* for the strange gentleman," 
 meaning me ; and such was the kindness of these hospitable 
 creatures, that had I been a very Behemoth I should have 
 this night feasted to satiety on their bounty. 
 
 The wind, which had been asleep, began now to sigh over 
 the surface, and before we had cleared the outer back-ropes, 
 the sea-breeze came curling " the midnight wave." The 
 tide was flowing fast, and having stepped the mast, we spread 
 our large lug, and the light galley slipped speedily ashore. 
 A fire which I had noticed above the Lodge kindling gradually, 
 fanned by the rising night-breeze, sprang; at once into a 
 glorious flame ; and through the darkness its intense light 
 
 * Anglice, Herrings. 
 
278 THE BEAL-FIRE. 
 
 must have been for many leagues discernible. I broke my 
 cousin's musing, to ask what it was. 
 
 "That, my friend, is one of our ancient customs; that is- 
 our leal-fire. It is lighted to notify that a death has oc- 
 curred, and ere long you will see it answered by some of our 
 friends and kindred. Poor old man ! none deserved it better, 
 for he would have attended religiously to such observances, 
 had any of my family preceded him to the grave. He lighted 
 my father's beal-fire, and possibly kindled that of my grand- 
 sire; old John has probably performed the ceremony for him: 
 thus the kindlier offices are continued, and ( thus runs the 
 word away/ Who," and he stopped, evidently embarrassed 
 at some passing thought " Who shall say that the ceremo- 
 nial bestowed upon the wandering otter-killer may not be 
 refused to the last descendant of a line of centuries !" 
 
 I would have interrupted these melancholy forebodings, but 
 just then, from the lofty brow of an inland hill which I had 
 frequently observed before, a light appeared, first faintly 
 struggling, but presently reddening to the sight; and two 
 fires in Achil, in a time of incredible briefness, flung their 
 deep glow across the waters, and, as I afterwards remarked, 
 were repeated for miles along the coast and high grounds. 
 
 The rapidity with which the beal-fire was replied to, 
 evidently pleased my kinsman's family vanity ; and with 
 higher spirits, we watched the lights tremble in the windows 
 of the Lodge, until these stellce minores directed our voyage 
 to its termination. 
 
 The Colonel and his companion were waiting for us on the 
 the pier ; they insisted on adding to our supper some of the 
 fish which we had brought home and while this was being 
 done, my cousin and myself entered the wake, to pay our last 
 duties to the departed otter-killer. 
 
 To give additional eclat to his funeral rites, the corpse had 
 been removed to the barn, which, from its unusual size, was 
 well-fitted to admit the numerous mourners who would attend 
 the ceremony. Upon a rude bier the old man rested, and the 
 trap and fishing-rod were, by a fancy of Hennessey, placed 
 above his head. The barn was filled, but immediate room 
 was made for the master and his company. I have seen the 
 corpse when carefully arranged ; when the collapsing features 
 were artificially moulded, to imitate a tranquillity that bad 
 
THE WAKE. 279 
 
 been foreign to the last event. But here was a study for a 
 painter. The old man's face was puckered into the same 
 conscious smile with which I have heard him terminate his 
 Happiest otter-hunt, or some mountain exploit of my kins- 
 man, which appeared to him equally dear ; his long hair, 
 released from the band with which he usually confined it, 
 wantoned in silvery ringlets across his neck and shoulders : 
 all else was in wonted form ; only that the number of candles 
 round the bier might have been called extravagant, and the 
 plate of snuff upon the bosom of the corpse was heaped with 
 a munificence that would stamp the obsequies as splendid. 
 
 Everybody has heard an Irish wake described, and there 
 is no dissimilarity among a hundred, only that, according to 
 the opulence of the family, and the quantity of funeral re- 
 freshments, the mirth and jollity of the mourners is invariably 
 proportionate. That the master's ancient retainers should be 
 nobly waked was fully expected by the country, and certainly 
 they were not disappointed. Whisky in quantities passing all 
 understanding, tobacco in all its preparations, were fearfully 
 consumed on this important ceremony ; and during the two 
 days and nights which the otter-killer was above ground, 
 the barn, spacious as it was, proved unequal to accommodate 
 the hundreds who flocked from a distance of even twenty 
 miles to have " a last look at ould Antony." 
 
 When the evening fell on which the corpse was to be 
 carried to its resting-place, a scene of great novelty and great 
 interest ensued. From the insulated situation of the Lodge, 
 *i connexion with the burying-ground, it was necessary that 
 ,-*ie body should be carried across the estuary by water. At 
 the appointed hour, from every creek and harbour, the 
 peasantry were seen afloat : and when the funeral left the 
 house, more than a hundred boats accompanied that in 
 which the corpse was deposited. My kinsman followed next 
 to the body with all his visitors and servants ; and when the 
 opposite strand was reached, he and his foster-brother placed 
 their shoulders under the coffin, and supported it for a short 
 distance along the beach. 
 
 This was, I was afterwards informed, the highest honour 
 that could be conferred upon the departed by his master ; 
 and even the magnificence of the otter-killer's wake was held 
 inferior to this proud and public testimony of his patron's 
 affections. 
 
280 ANECDOTE. 
 
 One circumstance was remarked which was powerfully 
 indicative of animal affection. The dead man's terrier had 
 remained night and day beside his bier, since the morning 
 of his death. Unnoticed, she crept on board the boat that 
 conveyed the coffin to the churchyard ; and when the grave 
 was filled, she was with difficulty carried home by an 
 attendant, but escaping during the night, crossed the estuary 
 by swimming, and again lay down upon the turf, beneath 
 which her beloved master was sleeping. Every care and 
 kindness was bestowed upon her in the Lodge. No one ad- 
 dressed her but as "poor Venney." Notwithstanding, she 
 drooped visibly, and in three weeks after her interment, in 
 death the otter-killer's favourite " bore him company." 
 
 When we reached the Lodge, we made a discovery which, 
 possibly with some people, might lead to an opposite con- 
 clusion, and either prove the security or insecurity of the 
 country. 
 
 Not a living being had remained within the walls, and 
 consequently, for several hours, the house and household 
 goods were abandoned to the mercy of chance and chance 
 travellers. The guardian saint, however, acquitted herself 
 like a gentlewoman. We found every thing in pious order ; 
 and had the Lodge been under the especial care of the 
 glorious Santa Barbara herself, watch and ward could not 
 have been more faithfully maintained. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Weather changes Symptoms of winter Animal appearances Night 
 passage of Barnacles Grey plover Hints for shooting plover Wild 
 geese Swans Ducks Burke transported Evening at the lodge 
 Feminine employments. 
 
 A MONTH had passed : winter comes on with giant strides, 
 and the last lingering recollections of autumn are over. The 
 weather becomes more rainy and tempestuous ; and bogs, 
 which we once crossed easily, owing to the continued wet, 
 are now quite impassable. The swell, which during the 
 summer months came in in long and measured undulations, 
 breaks in masses across the bar, and sends a broken and 
 
SYMPTOMS OF WINTER. 281 
 
 tumbling sea inside the estuary, so as to render it unsafe to 
 expose any boat of heavy tonnage to its influence. Pattigo 
 seldom ventures from his anchorage, and when last he 
 ventured to pass a night at the pier, he ground away a 
 hawser against the stones, notwithstading every pains were 
 bestowed in renewing its service. The springs are usually 
 high ; and two nights since, the Lodge and paddocks were 
 completely insulated, and our communications with the 
 mainland carried on by ferriage. The river rises fearfully, 
 and the huge masses of turf left along the strand, prove 
 how violent the mountain torrents must be at this advanced 
 season. The sweet arid crystal stream is nowhere seen ; and 
 Scott's beautiful lines happily describe the turbid river that 
 has replaced it : 
 
 " Late, gazing down the steepy linn 
 That hems our little garden in, 
 Low in its dark and narrow glen, 
 You scarce the rivulet might ken, 
 So thick the tangled greenwood grew, 
 So feebly trill'd the streamlet through : 
 Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen, 
 Through bush and briar no longer green, 
 An angry brook it sweeps the glade, 
 Brawls over rock and wild cascade." 
 
 But other, and no less certain, tokens harbinger the wild 
 season that has arrived. Yesterday a six-months' puppy, 
 who crept after me across the adjoining paddocks, stopped 
 in a rushy field. Suspecting that he had a hare before him, 
 I passed on to push her from the form : I was mistaken 
 a wisp * of snipes, possibly thirty in number, sprang, and 
 scattering in all directions, pitched loosely over the ad- 
 joining bogs. To-day I saw a flock of barnacles ;f and the 
 
 * Wisp, in sporting parlance, means a flock of snipes. 
 
 f* The barnacle weighs about five pounds, and measures more than two 
 feet in length, and nearly four and a half in breadth. The bill, from the 
 tip to the corners of the mouth, is scarcely an inch and a half long, black, 
 and crossed with a pale reddish streak on each side ; a narrow black line 
 passes from the bill to the eyes, the irides of which are brown ; the head 
 is small, and as far as the crown, together with the cheeks and throat, 
 white ; the rest of the head and neck, to the breast and shoulders, is 
 black. The upper part of the plumage is prettily marbled or barred with 
 blue, gray, black, and white ; the feathers of the back are black, edged 
 with white, and those of the wing coverts and scapulars blue grey 
 
282 FLIGHT OF BARNACLES. 
 
 herdsman on the sand-banks apprises us of the first appear- 
 ance of a Crowour Keough.* This is the earliest woodcock 
 announced, but my kinsman has no doubt but the flight f 
 has fallen in Achil : and we shall cross in a few days, if the 
 weather answers, and try Slieve More, he says, with excellent 
 success. 
 
 I had been some hours in bed, when I was awakened by a 
 quarrelling among the dogs, which I overheard the keeper 
 settling with the whip. I remained, and it is rather an un- 
 usual thing with me, a long time awake. An hour passed, 
 all was again in deep repose, and I too was sinking into 
 sleep, when a strange and unaccountable noise roused me. 
 It seemed to be at first faint and distant, but momently in- 
 creasing, grew louder and more distinct, until it passed to all 
 appearance directly above my head. The sounds were wild 
 and musical varied in tone beyond any thing I could de- 
 scribe, and continuing, until they gradually became remote 
 and indistinct, and at length totally died away. I was 
 amazingly puzzled, but was obliged to reserve my curiosity to 
 be satisfied in the morning. 
 
 My cousin smiled at my inquiry : " And you heard these 
 strange noises as well as I ? This, if you remained here, 
 would be little marvel, as nightly the Barnacle cross the Lodge 
 in passing from one estuary to the other. There they sit 
 on yonder point ;" and, taking me to the window, I saw a 
 considerable extent of sand literally black with this migratory 
 tribe : they come here in immense multitudes, but from their 
 
 bordered with black near the margins, and edged with white ; the quills 
 black, edged a little way from the tips with blue grey ; the under parts 
 and tail coverts, white ; the thighs are marked with dusky lines or spots, 
 and are black near the knees ; the tail is black, and five inches and a half 
 long ; the legs and feet are dusky, very thick and short, and have a stumpy 
 appearance. 
 
 * Why this title, literally meaning " the blind cock," should be con- 
 ferred by the peasantry of Ballycroy on a bird so remarkable for the 
 extraordinary quickness of his vision, is a parodox. Such is the known 
 acuteness of the woodcock's vision, that the cover-shooter chooses a 
 masked position, or the Crowour Keough would seldom come within range 
 of the gun. 
 
 f Flight is the term used to describe a flock of woodcocks, as they 
 arrive in this country, in their annual migration from the north of 
 Europe. 
 
GRAY PLOVER. 283 
 
 coarse and fishy flavour, afford little occupation to the water- 
 shooter. 
 
 The land barnacles are less numerous, although they are 
 found in tolerable abundance. During the day I saw two 
 flocks, of one or two hundred pairs, upon the bogs. They 
 are, when sufficiently rested from their journey, sought for 
 with great avidity by the few gunners in this district, and are 
 very delicious when kept a sufficient time after being shot, 
 before the cook transfers them to the spit. 
 
 Gray plover must also migrate in thousands hither. 
 Nothing else could account for the immense flocks, that have 
 been seen, and will continue, as I am informed, to arrive. 
 The shores and moors are everywhere crowded with them ; 
 and within a hundred yards of the lodge, Hennessey, with two 
 barrels, killed seven couple and a half last evening. The 
 bent-banks are their favourite fixture : and I have never 
 crossed them of late without finding at least one stand. These 
 vary in numbers ; but I am certain I have seen three hundred 
 of these birds thus congregated. 
 
 There is, in shoting plover, a common remark made by 
 sportsmen, that the second is always the more productive 
 barrel. The rapidity with which they vary their position 
 when on the ground, seldom admits of a grand combination 
 for a sitting, or rather a running shot. But when on the 
 wing, their mode of flight is most favourable for permitting 
 the shot to tell; and it is by no means unusual to bring 
 down a number. "When disturbed, they frequently wheel 
 back directly above the fowler, and offer a tempting mark 
 if he should have a barrel in reserve ; and even when too 
 high for the shot to take effect, I have often thrown away 
 a random fire ; for the plover, on hearing the report, directly 
 make a sweep downwards on the wing, and I have by this 
 means brought them within range of the second barrel. 
 
 "When the season advances, the number of geese* that 
 
 * The time that wild geese feed in this country is by night, and par- 
 ticularly during moonlight. I have never known them either netted or 
 decoyed ; and all the shooter has to rely upon is patience and a long 
 barrel. Of all the prizes that a wildfowl- shooter could wish to meet with, 
 a flock of teal is the very first. Independently of their being by far the 
 best birds of the whole Anas tribe, they are so much easier of access, and 
 /equire such a slight blow, that no matter whether you are prepared for 
 wildfowl, partridges, or snipes, you may, at most times, with very little 
 
284 
 
 WILD-GEESE. 
 
 visit this wild peninsula is astonishing. For miles I have 
 traced their night feedings along a river bank, where the 
 marshy surface afforded them their favourite sustenance. 
 They are far more wary than the barnacle, and are extremely 
 difficult of access in moderate weather ; but chance and 
 storm occasionally favour the sportsman, and in spite of the 
 
 caution of these birds, the flock will be surprised, and the 
 patient gunner reap in a lucky moment the reward of many 
 a weary vigil and bootless attempt. 
 
 The last and greatest of the wild visiters, are the swan 
 tribe. Their being scarce or plentiful depends much upon 
 the season and in winters of extreme severity thousands of 
 these birds will be found upon the estuaries and inland lakes. 
 The noise they make is wild and musical, and with a little 
 
 trouble, contrive to get near them ; and this being once done, you have 
 only to shoot straight to be pretty sure of killing. 
 
 I have seen teal " duck the flash," though never but once, and then I 
 nad rather a slow-shooting-gun. 
 
DISSOLUTION OF THE PARTY. 285 
 
 fancy, my kinsman says, the ear will trace modulations 
 almost extending to infinity. These birds, during severe 
 frosts and snow-storms, are easily surprised and shot; and 
 the skins, when carefully stripped off, will well repay the 
 shooter for his trouble. 
 
 To enumerate the varieties of the duck tribe that an incle- 
 ment winter brings to these shores, would be difficult. I 
 have already noticed the Pintail, and the Golden-eye upon the 
 estuary. Widgeons come here in immense flocks ; and that 
 beautiful bird the teal, the smallest and most delicate of the 
 whole species, is found for the remainder of the season on 
 loughs and rivers in abundance. The Grebe and Tringa 
 tribes furnish numerous and interesting varieties; and an 
 ornithologist, as well as a sportsman, would have here an 
 ample field, could he but set the season at defiance, and pass 
 his winter on this exposed and stormy coast. 
 
 But the note of dissolution of our happy party has sounded. 
 The Colonel, having divers premonitory twinges, has named 
 an early day for his departure. To be caught by the gout 
 here, would be a hazardous experiment; and the portmanteau, 
 whose captivity was likely to occasion such desperate results, 
 is again packed and confided to Andy Bawn. But the com- 
 mander's baggage is not to be exposed to a second interrup- 
 tion. The attempt was fatal to Mr. Burke ; for, emboldened 
 by the feud which his unadvised aggression created between 
 my kinsman and this modern Cacus, the Sweenies* seized the 
 opportunity, and the outlaw was arrested in a whisky-house, 
 tried, and escaped by a miracle from being hanged, but was, 
 alas ! consigned to Australasia for the course of his natural 
 life 
 
 To do Mr. Burke justice, he left his native soil with regret. 
 Finding all chance of commuted punishment over, he endea- 
 voured to obtain his liberty by an ingenious plan to strangle 
 the turnkeys, and emancipate all and every victim of judicial 
 tyranny who pleased to accept his freedom. He did, poor 
 man, make an excellent offer to choke a jailer but fortune 
 frowned upon the attempt ; the half-throttled janitor was 
 
 * This numerous clan derive their origin from a northman. They 
 are, I know not with what justice, reckoned a treacherous and vindictive 
 trihe, and a feud with them is consequently held to be a dangerous 
 affair. 
 
286 FEMININE EMPLOYMENTS. 
 
 saved and the hero of the bridge of Ballyveeny will cross 
 the equator at the public expense. 
 
 To-morrow, wind and weather permitting, the commander 
 takes his departure, and to-night will consequently be a high 
 and solemn festival. Would it were over ! I cannot, dare not, 
 offer an excuse for cavilling at bumpers, even were they 
 " fathoms deep ;" and all the consolation that an aching head 
 will claim to-morrow, will be a saw from old John about "the 
 dog that bit me," and the merciless badinage of that black- 
 eyed coquette who embodies all that Moore idealized in 
 sketching his Nora Crina. 
 
 How soft the evening twilight falls on the waters of the 
 estuary ! the tide kisses the very verge of the greensward, and 
 looks so treacherously calm, as if its storms were for ever 
 ended. Boat after boat hurries down the inlet to shoot their 
 herring-nets for the night ; and many an ancient ditty, or 
 ruder tale, will while away the time till morning. Occa- 
 sionally a struggle between two rival barks ensues and I 
 remark, the contest invariably takes place before the windows 
 of the Lodge. One very singular one amused me much. A 
 boat rowed by four women challenged, and actually out- 
 pulled another, though propelled by a similar number of the 
 coarser sex. 
 
 Indeed, the occupations of the ladies of Ballycroy are not 
 essentially feminine : the roughest and most dangerous em- 
 ployments they share in common with the men. A Mahratta 
 woman, they told me in India, regularly shampoos her hus- 
 band's horse. Were I of the fair sex, I would rather operate 
 on a quadruped than row a fishing-boat by the day, and cut 
 sea-weed up to the waist in water, with the expectation of 
 being swept from my precarious footing by the first moun- 
 tainous surge. 
 
- 
 
 THE COLONEL LEAVES US. 287 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Colonel leaves us Last visit to Achil Snipes and woodcocks Their 
 migration Solitary snipe Cock-shooting in Achil Mountain covers 
 Cock-shooting : its accidents Anecdotes An unlucky companion. 
 
 THE Colonel has left us, and we lose in him the best and 
 safest of friends a true buon camarado. With spirits of 
 youthful buoyancy, a temper unsoured by time, and indiffe- 
 rent to worldly annoyances, years have only mellowed his com- 
 panionable qualities, while they added deeply to his anecdote 
 and information. Few men of a certain age succeed in retain- 
 ing their places as first favourites with others some quarter of 
 a century their juniors ; but the Colonel is an exception : we 
 shall feel a blank in our society ; and in this gay and careless 
 spirit lose a dear companion, who seemed to put time at de- 
 fiance, and forbade gout itself to interrupt his comfort, or 
 " mar his tranquillity." 
 
 The last two days have been dry, the wind is favourable, a 
 white frost has been visible this morning, and we are about to 
 pay our parting visit to Achil. We have again sent to our 
 ancient entertainers, the Water Guards, to beg a shelter for 
 the night ; for the days have so sensibly shortened, that we 
 shall have enough to do to reach Dugurth at nightfall. 
 
 " Merrily, merrily bounds the bark," and an hour landed 
 us at the Ridge Point. Our establishment is on a minor scale 
 to what we sported on our first descent ; we have only some 
 two or three hangers-on, and have brought but two brace of 
 orderly and antiquated setters. 
 
 I have seen much of snipe-shooting* in many parts of 
 
 * The common residence of the snipe is in small bogs, or wet grounds, 
 where it is almost constantly digging and nibbling in the soft mud, in 
 search of his food, which consists chiefly of a very small kind of red 
 transparent worm, about an half inch long ; it is said also to eat slugs, 
 arid the insects and grubs, of various kinds, which breed in great abund- 
 ance in those slimy stagnant places. In these retreats, when undisturbed, 
 the snipe walks leisurely with its head erect, and at short intervals keeps 
 moving the tail. But in this state of tranquillity it is very rarely to be 
 seen, as it is extremely watchful, and perceives the sportsman or his dog 
 at a great distance, and instantly conceals itself among ths variegated 
 withered herbage so similar in appearance to its own plumage, that it is 
 almost impossible to discover it while squatted motionless in its seat: it 
 seldom, however, waits the near approach of any person, particularly in 
 
288 SNIPES. 
 
 Ireland, but I could not have imagined that the number of 
 these exquisite birds could be found within the same space, 
 
 that one particular marsh which bounds the rabbit-banks pro- 
 duced. Independently of a quantity of detached birds, several 
 
 open weather, but commonly springs and takes flight at a distance beyond 
 the reach of the gun. When first disturbed, it utters a kind of feeble 
 whistle, and gently flies against the wind, turning nimbly in a zigzag 
 direction for two or three hundred paces, and sometimes soaring almost 
 out of sight ; its note is then something like the bleating of a goat, but 
 is changed to a singular humming or drumming noise, uttered in its 
 descent. 
 
 From its vigilance and manner of flying, it is one of the most difficult 
 
 birds to shoot. Some sportsmen can imitate their cries, and by that 
 
 . means draw them within reach of their shot ; others of a less honourable 
 
 description, prefer the more certain and less laborious method of catching 
 
 them in the night by a springe, like that which is used for the woodcock. 
 
 The snipe is migratory, and is met with in all countries ; like the wood- 
 cock, it shuns the extremes of heat and cold by keeping upon the bleak 
 moors in summer, and seeking the shelter of the valleys in winter. In 
 severe frosts and storms of snow, driven by extremity of the weather, 
 snipes seek the unfrozen boggy places, runners from springs, or any open 
 streamlet of water, and they are sure to be found, often in considerable 
 numbers in these places, where they sometimes sit till nearly trodden 
 upon before they will take their flight. 
 
 Although it is well known that numbers of snipes leave Great Britain 
 in the spring, and return in the autumn, yet it is equally well ascertained 
 
WOODCOCKS. 289 
 
 wisps sprang wildly, as they always do ; and I have no doubt 
 that this fen had been their temporary resting-place after their 
 autumnal migration from the north. We were the more in- 
 clined to this opinion, from finding many of the birds we 
 killed extremely lean ; while others, that sprang singly, were 
 in admirable condition. Achil is a natural resting-place for 
 migratory birds : and hence I can well believe the accounts 
 given by the islanders, of the immense numbers of woodcocks 
 and snipes which are here found, in their transit from a high 
 latitude to our more genial climate. The same remark is 
 made touching the vernal visit of these strangers to this island. 
 After woodcocks have for days vanished from the inland 
 covers, they have been found in flocks on the Achil and Erris 
 highlands, evidently congregating for their passage, and pre- 
 paring for the attempt. 
 
 It may be easily conceived, that whether the winter stock 
 of snipes and woodcocks be limited or abundant, will mainly 
 depend upon the state of the winds and weather at the period 
 of migration. Hence, when the latter end of October and the 
 succeeding month have continued stormy, with south or south- 
 easterly gales, a lamentable deficiency of game has been in- 
 variably observed. That multitudes perish on their passage, 
 or are obliged to change their course, is certain and the ex- 
 hausted state in which the small portion of the survivors 
 reach these shores, attests how difficult the task must be to 
 effect a landing, when opposed by contrary winds and stormy 
 weather. 
 
 We crossed the bent-banks, occasionally knocking a rabbit 
 over as we went along, and wheeled to the westward to skirt 
 the base of Slieve More. We had not proceeded far, before 
 
 that many constantly remain, and breeds in various parts of the country, 
 for their nests and young ones have been so often found as to leave no 
 doubt of this fact. The female makes her nest in the most retired and 
 inaccessible part of the morass, generally upon the stump of an alder or 
 willow ; it is composed of withered grass and a few feathers ; her eggs, 
 four or five in number, are of an oblong shape, and of a greenish colour, 
 with rusty spots ; the young ones run off soon after they are freed from 
 the shell, but they are attended by the parent birds until their bills have 
 acquired a sufficient firmness to enable them to provide for themselves. 
 
 The snipe is a very fat bird, but its fat does not cloy, and veryrars'y 
 disagrees even with the weakest stomach. It is much esteemed as a 
 delicious and well-flavoured dish, and is cooked in the same manner as the 
 woodcock. 
 
290 COCK-SHOOTING. 
 
 an islander, who was herding cows, told us that there was a 
 crowour keough beg* in the next ravine. We accordingly put 
 a setter in, and were gratified with a steady point in the place 
 the herdsman had intimated. The bird sprang, and was 
 knocked over by my companion, when the little woodcock 
 proved to be a double snipe. These birds are extremely scarce 
 here, and a few couple only are seen during a whole season 
 by persons most conversant in traversing the bogs. There 
 cannot be a doubt but this bird is a distinct species ; but for 
 its extreme rarity and solitary habits naturalists are puzzled to 
 account. 
 
 We shot, before we began to ascend the hill, a couple of 
 woodcocks lying out upon the moors. They were very shy, 
 never allowing the dogs to come to a set. This is usually the 
 case when these birds are outlying ; and I have followed a 
 cock for miles before I got him within fire, teased by his 
 getting up before I could approach, and removing some hun- 
 dred yards from the gun. Some favourable inequality of sur- 
 face has at last enabled me to close with my wild quarry, and, 
 notwithstanding the keenness of his eye, got the wary stranger 
 eventually within range of shot. 
 
 There grows in the valleys and water- courses which are so 
 frequent in the Achil and Ballycroy hills, that large and 
 shrub-like heather that reaches nearly to the height of brush- 
 wood. Here, in the earlier season, the woodcocks repose 
 after their passage, and at times the numbers found in these 
 ravines are stated to be extraordinary. With the first frost or 
 snow they move off to the interior, dropping as they go along 
 in the different covers, until a part of the flight reaches the 
 very centre of the kingdom. We met, during our day's fag, 
 about fifteen couple, out of which eight and a half were 
 brought to bag. To these we added three brace and a half 
 of grouse, and a brace of hares. When with these were 
 united snipes, plovers, and rabbits, it is not too much to say 
 that our bags were most imposing, and produced above fifty 
 head of game. From our kind friends, the Water Guards, 
 we received a hospitable reception ; and next morning were 
 run across the bay in their galley, and landed safely upon our 
 own shores. 
 
 The cock-shooting, to use my cousin's words, in the west 
 
 * A little woodcock. 
 
COCK-SHOOTING. 
 
 291 
 
 of Ireland is acknowledged to be very superior ; and when 
 the flight has been large, and the season is sufficiently severe 
 to drive the birds well to cover, there is not, to a quick eye, 
 more beautiful shooting in the world. Some of the covers are 
 copses of natural wood, situated in the very centre of the 
 mountains. Consequently, when the snow falls, every wood- 
 cock for miles around deserts the heath and seeks the nearest 
 shelter. Then will the sportsman be amply repaid for all his 
 labour. From a copse of not more than thirty acres extent, 
 I have seen fifty couple of woodcocks flushed ; and as several 
 excellent covers lay in the immediate vicinity, it was no un- 
 usual thing for two or three guns to bring home twenty, nay, 
 thirty couple. I have known a party fire a number of shots 
 that appeared incredible ; and I have more than once ex- 
 pended my last charge of powder, and left, for want of am- 
 munition, one or more copses untried. 
 
 The best cock-shooting cannot be had without a good deal 
 of fag. Like fox-hunting, it is work for hardy spirits ; and 
 non sine pulvere palma, will apply to both. To reach a 
 mountain-cover, the sportsman must be on the alert two or 
 three hours before daylight, for he has likely some ten Irish 
 miles to ride or drive over, by a rough and dangerous road, 
 
 now rendered scarcely discernible from the adjacent bogs, and 
 hardly passable from the snow-drifts. The short day is hard- 
 
 u 2 
 
292 ACCIDENTS IN COCK-SHOOTING 
 
 ly sufficient for shooting the different woods ; and then the 
 same distance must be again traversed, for which the shooter 
 will be a borrower from the night. Then he must reckon on 
 divers delays and sundry accidents ; horses will come down, 
 dog-carts capsize, a trace break, or a spring fail ; and what 
 has annoyed me more than all together, probably a fog rise 
 so suddenly and densely, as to render the road undistinguish- 
 able from the surrounding heaths. But when all this is 
 achieved, when a cover-party have fairly encircled the table, 
 after the luxury of a complete toilet, when the fire sparkles, 
 the curtains are drawn, and the wine circulates, why then, 
 without let the storm blow till it bursts its cheeks and within, 
 Father Care may hang himself in his own garters. 
 
 There are others perils, also, to which the cover-shooter is 
 obnoxious. The eye is sometimes endangered by pressing 
 unguardedly through the copse wood ; and I knew one case 
 where the sight was totally lost from a twig springing from a 
 person who was struggling through the underwood and strik- 
 ing the next who followed. The legs also are frequently and 
 severely wounded by the sharp stumps which remain after a 
 thicket has been thinned. But frbm random shots the chief 
 danger arises ; and to prevent accidents occurring, a party, 
 and particularly if it be numerous, should be guarded in select- 
 ing their stands and altering their positions. I have been 
 struck a dozen times, but never with any worse effect than 
 receiving a shot or two in my cheek and ear ; but many a time 
 I have felt a shower rattle against my fustian jacket, which, 
 however, endured it bravely, as a garment of proof should 
 do. 
 
 Some men, from carelessness or stupidity, are really a 
 nuisance to a cover-party ; and to others, one would almost 
 ascribe a fatality, and avoid them like an evil genius. In the 
 former case, I have found, after remonstrance failed, and 
 they continued throwing their shot liberally around, without 
 apparently caring one farthing upon whose person it alighted, 
 the best cure was instantly to turn a barrel as nearly in the 
 direction of the report as possible. A well-distributed charge 
 rattling through the brush wood, and falling upon the delin- 
 quent, gave, practically, a hint that made him more cautious 
 for the future, and proved more effective than the most power- 
 ful jobation. Of the latter class I mean unlucky companions 
 I shall particularize one. Captain M shot with me an 
 
AN UNLUCKY COMPANION. 293 
 
 entire season. He was a pretty shot, and an excellent fellow ; 
 but I never entered a cover with him that I was not certain to 
 be struck before we returned home. Every precaution to 
 evade his shot was useless. If in a copse of a mile long there 
 was a solitary opening to admit its passage, he was opposite it 
 to a certainty ; and my first intimation that such an alley did 
 exist, would be a fall of withered leaves from the bushes 
 above, and most likely a few grains lodging in my hat or 
 jacket. If I moved to avoid a chance of accident, something 
 induced him to make a corresponding change ; and at last I 
 became so nervous, that I obliged him momently to call out, 
 that I might ascertain our relative positions, and guard, if 
 possible, against injury. 
 
 We once, during a severe frost, shot the beautiful islands 
 in the lake of Castle bar, which belong to the Marquis of 
 Sligo. There were an immense number of cocks in cover, and 
 we had been particularly successful ; but the wonder was, I 
 had that day escaped unwounded, and my prayer to " keep 
 lead out of me" had been heard. On our return, my friend 
 was pluming himself on this result. " It was foolish," he 
 said, " to reckon him unlucky. To be sure, some shots of 
 his had been unfortunate, but such would ever be the case." 
 We had now left off shooting, and were within a few fields of 
 the barracks, when a jack snipe sprang from a drain on the 
 road- side, and flying to the top of the field, pitched in the 
 upper ditch. I followed it merely to discharge my barrels 
 it sprang, and the report of my gun disturbed a hare in the 
 bottom of the field ; she moved, and my companion instantly 
 discharged both barrels. From the hardness of the surface, 
 the shot rose ; a shower fell upon the protected parts of my 
 person, while two struck me in the lip, and cut me deeply. 
 I was more than one hundred yards from him, yet from the 
 hard frost, the ricochet of the shot came as sharply upon me, 
 as if I had been within point-blank distance. After that inci- 
 dent, need I add ? much as I loved him, I never pulled a 
 trigger in his company again. 
 
294 MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Dull evening Memoir of Hennessey. 
 
 WE sat down to dinner tte-a-tete, and although both my- 
 self and my kinsman made an exertion to banish unpleasant 
 reminiscences, the evening was the most sombre that I had 
 yet passed. The happy party who once tenanted our " merrie 
 home," are never to meet again. The otter-killer " sleeps 
 the sleep that knows no breaking" the Colonel has retired 
 to his winter quarters the Priest's confessions call him from 
 us for a season and some secret intelligence which reached 
 the Lodge over night, has caused Hennessey to disappear. 
 
 To gratify a strong expression of curiosity on my part 
 respecting the latter, my cousin told me the following parti- 
 culars of this singular personage : 
 
 " If ever man came into the world with the organ of 
 destructiveness surcharged, it was my unhappy foster-brother. 
 He was a lively and daring boy, and being a favourite with 
 my late father, had opportunities of improvement afforded to 
 him, which persons in his sphere seldom can obtain. But 
 Hennessey showed little inclination for literary pursuits, the 
 gun was more adapted to him than the pen and at fifteen, 
 when but a very indifferent scribe, he was admitted by the 
 whole population to be the best shot of his years that ' ever 
 laid stock to shoulder/ Encouraged by my father's par- 
 tiality, from this period he led an idle careless life, and ram- 
 bled over the country, breaking dogs, or amusing himself 
 with the gun and fishing-rod. 
 
 " I was at the college when the first of his misfortunes 
 occurred. He had imprudently ventured into a dancing- 
 house, where a number of the Sweenies were assembled, with 
 whom he had previously been at feud, and, as might have 
 been anticipated, a quarrel quickly arose. Hennessey, too 
 late, perceived his danger ; but with that daring determina- 
 tion for which he has ever been remarkable, when the assault 
 began, he made a sudden dash for the door, and overturning 
 all that opposed him, succeeded in escaping. He was, how- 
 ever, closely pursued. From his uncommon activity, he far 
 outstripped all but one of his enemies. He had nearly reached 
 
MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. . 295 
 
 the river but his enemy was close behind. Intending to 
 disable his pursuer, Hennessey picked up a stone, and unfor- 
 tunately threw it with such fatal precision, that the skull of 
 his opponent was beaten in, and he expired on the spot. 
 
 " Well, this was an unfortunate affair, but it was homicide 
 in self-defence. My father accommodated matters with the 
 Sweenies, and my foster-brother was discharged without * 
 prosecution . 
 
 "A year passed, but the Sweenies had not forgotten o? 
 forgiven the death of their kinsman. Hennessey's rambling 
 habits exposed him to frequent encounters with this clan : and 
 one night, when returning late from the fair of Newport, 
 with two or three companions, he came into unexpected colli- 
 sion with a party of his ancient enemies. A scuffle ensued 
 in the struggle he wrested a loaded whip from his antagonist, 
 and struck the unhappy wretch so heavily with his own 
 weapon, that after lingering nearly a month, he died from 
 the contusion. 
 
 " This second mishap occasioned us a deal of trouble ; but 
 Hennessey surrendered, was tried, and acquitted, and we all 
 trusted that his misfortunes were at an end. He abjured the 
 use of spirits, avoided late hours, and such meetings as might- 
 expose him to any collision with that clan who had been so 
 unfortunate, and religiously determined to avoid every cause 
 of quarrelling ; but fate determined that it should be other- 
 wise. 
 
 " Having been invited to a dragging home, as the bride- 
 groom was his near relative, Hennessey could not without 
 giving offence decline attending on the happy occasion. He 
 was then a remarkably handsome fellow and you would 
 vainly now seek in those gaunt and careworn features, the 
 manly beauty which then caused many a rustic heart to beat. 
 The bride's cousin accompanied her ; she was remarkably 
 pretty, and was, besides, reported to be the largest heiress in 
 the barony. With such advantages, no wonder ' of lovers 
 she'd plenty,' as the ballad says : my foster-brother met her, 
 danced with her, drank with her loved her, and was beloved 
 in turn. Every rival was double-distanced ; but she was un- 
 fortunately betrothed by her father to a wealthy Kcarne-* 
 and although I, in person, interposed, and used my power- 
 
 * Anglice, a rich vulgar clown. 
 
296 MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. 
 
 ful influence, the old fellow her father was obstinate in refusing 
 to break off the match. 
 
 " Hennessey was no man to see his handsome mistress con- 
 signed without her own consent to the arms of a rival. He 
 made the usual arrangements, and I encouraged him to carry 
 her oif. The evening came he left the Lodge in a boat, with 
 six fine young peasants; and crossing the bay, landed by 
 moonlight at a little distance from the village where his ina- 
 morata dwelt. 
 
 " That very night a multitude of the Malleys had accom- 
 panied the accepted suitor to conclude all necessary prelimina- 
 ries. The cabin of the heiress was crowded, and all within 
 was noisy revelry. Hennessey, with one companion, stole to 
 the back of the house. 
 
 " He knew the chamber of the bride elect, for he had more 
 than once c when all the world were dreaming,' visited his 
 pretty mistress. He looked through the little casement, and, 
 sight of horror ! there she was, seated on the side of the bed, 
 and the Kearne's arm around her waist, with all the familiarity 
 of a privileged lover ! There, too, was the priest of Inniskea, 
 and divers elders of c both the houses' while the remainder 
 of the company, for whose accommodation this grand chamber 
 was insufficient, were indulging in the kitchen or dancing in 
 the barn. 
 
 " Since the days of Lochinvar, there never was a more 
 daring suitor than my foster-brother ; yet he did not consider 
 it a prudent measure to enter the state apartment ' 'mong 
 bridesmen, and kinsmen, and clansmen, and all,' but waited 
 patiently at the window, to see what some lucky chance might 
 do. Nor did he wait in vain. Kathleein turned her pretty 
 eyes on the moonlit casement, and thought, poor girl ! how 
 often' her young lover had stolen there in secret, and told his 
 tale of passion. A tap, too light for any but the ear of love 
 to detect, arrested her attention, and she saw the indistinct 
 form of a human face outside ; and whose could it be but her 
 favoured youth ? Seizing an early opportunity, she stole from 
 the apartment ; she soon was in her lover's arms; a few words, 
 and a few kisses, and all was settled : and while the Kearne, 
 the priest, and the father, were regulating the exact quanti- 
 ties of cattle and plenishing,* that were to dower the hand- 
 
 * Plenishing, means household furniture, beds, blankets, &c. 
 
MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. 297 
 
 some bride, Kathleein was hurrying to the shore with her 
 young and daring suitor. 
 
 " An attempt so boldly and so fortunately begun, was, 
 however, doomed to end unhappily. One of the Malleys had 
 discovered the interview, and witnessed the elopement. Having 
 silently observed the route of the fugitives, he apprized the 
 parties within, that their negotiations were likely to become 
 nugatory, and a fierce and vindictive pursuit was instantly 
 commenced. The distance, however, to the beach was short : 
 the companion of the bold abductor had run forward ; the 
 bride was won the boat was launched the oars were dipping 
 in the water when, alas ! the rush of rapid footsteps were 
 heard, and oaths and threats announced that the fugitives 
 were closely followed. Two or three of the Malleys had far 
 outstripped the rest ; but a minute more, and pursuit would 
 have been hopeless. One man had passed the others far, and 
 on the brink of the tide he caught the fair runaway in his 
 arms, while the companions of the gallant were actually pull- 
 ing her on board. The chase was hard at hand twenty feet 
 were heard rushing over the loose shingle not a moment was 
 to be lost, or the bride was gone for ever. Like lightning 
 Hennessey caught up a stretcher from the bottom of the boat, 
 discharged one murderous blow upon the man who held back 
 his beloved mistress, a deep-drawn moan was heard, and the 
 unhappy Kearne, for it was himself, sank upon the beach 
 without life or motion ! Off went the boat off went the lady 
 and the athletic crew pulled through the sparkling water, 
 little dreaming that their exulting leader was for the third time 
 a homicide ! Great God ! I cannot tell you what I suffered 
 next morning, when the tragical result of an attempt I had 
 myself encouraged was told me. My first care was to look to 
 the safety of my foster-brother and his bride ; and until pur- 
 suit was over, I had them conveyed by Pattigo in the hooker 
 to Innisboffin. There they remained in safe concealment, and 
 for six months it was not deemed prudent to permit them to 
 return, as the clan of the deceased were numerous and vin- 
 dictive. 
 
 " Time flew. They came back, and for some time remained 
 here unmolested. Kathleein was near her confinement, when 
 one day we received information that the Malleys had pro- 
 cured a warrant with a civil force to execute it, and were de- 
 termined at every hazard to arrest my foster-brother. I, a 
 
298 MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. 
 
 magistrate myself, could not openly protect him ; and that 
 evening he left the lodge at night-fall, to shelter himself in the 
 island of Innisbiggle until the threatened danger passed. Kath- 
 leein unfortunately accompanied him ; although we told her 
 that there was but one poor family on the place, and its diffi- 
 culty of approach, while favourable to the concealment of her 
 husband, was unsuited to any female situated like her. 
 
 " On landing on the island, the solitary family, who gene- 
 rally resided in the single cabin it contained, were absent at 
 the fair of Westport. Hennessey and his wife took possession 
 of the hut, lighted a fire, and made themselves as comfort- 
 able as the wretched hovel would admit. Even then he urged 
 her to return to the Lodge but to leave him in perfect soli- 
 tude on this desolate place was more than she could determine. 
 Night came, and the weather, which had been squally all 
 day, became worse momently, and at midnight blew a gale. 
 The outlaw and his wife were now shut out from all the world, 
 for a raging sea was roaring round the island, and all commu- 
 nication with the main was interrupted. Whether fear preci- 
 pitated the dreaded event I know not ; but in the middle of 
 the night, while the elemental war was in its fury, symptoms 
 of approaching travail were perceived by poor Kathleein, and 
 the unhappy girl became more and more sensible of the terrible 
 danger that was coming on. God of mercy ! what was to be 
 done ? It wanted some hours of morning, and even were it 
 light, until the tide fell no mortal could cross that stormy 
 water. 
 
 " Poor wretch ! with a withered heart, all that he could do 
 to cheer his sinking companion was done ; but every hour she 
 became worse, and every moment her pain and danger were 
 increasing. Driven to madness, at the first dawn of morning 
 he rushed madly to the beach, and though the retiring tide 
 rushed between the island and the main with furious violence, 
 he plunged into the boiling eddies, and with great strength 
 and desperate courage made good his passage to the opposite 
 shore. 
 
 fe To obtain help was of course attended with delay ; at last, 
 however, it was accomplished, and the tide fell sufficiently to 
 permit some females to cross ihefarset.* He, the unhappy 
 
 main. 
 
 * The stand communicating at low water betweeu an island and the 
 
MEMOIR OF HENNESSEY. .299 
 
 husband, far outstripped them : like a deer he hounded over 
 the beach that interposed between the cabin and the sands 
 he reached it a groan of exquisite agony was heard from 
 within next moment he was stooping over his exhausted wife 
 a dead infant was pressed wildly to her bosom : she turned a 
 dying look of love upon his face, and was a corpse within the 
 arms of the ill-starred homicide ! 
 
 " When the tidings of the melancholy fate of poor Kath- 
 leein were carried to the Lodge, I got the hooker under weigh 
 and stood over to the island. My unhappy foster-brother 
 appeared paralysed with sorrow, and incapable of any exer- 
 tion. We brought him, with the bodies of the young mother 
 and the dead babe, to the house ; and the latter were in due 
 season interred with every mark of sympathy and respect. 
 
 ' c For a time I dreaded that the unfortunate homicide would 
 have sunk into hopeless idiocy ; but he suddenly appeared to 
 rouse his torpid faculties ; he became gloomy and morose 
 and, deaf to all my remonstrances, to the least of which for- 
 merly he would have paid the most marked regard, he wan- 
 dered over the country and seemed to court an arrest, or 
 rather an attempt at it ; for from his desperation, I am inclined 
 to think he would have done some new deed of blood had his 
 enemies ventured to assail him. All I could do to prevent 
 mischief I did. I had the bullets drawn from his fire-arms 
 when he slept ; I kept him under constant espionage, and 
 retained him as much about my person as I could possibly 
 contrive. Whether none would grapple with a desperate and 
 well-armed man, or that some feeling for his sufferings softened 
 the rancour of his enemies for a time, I know not, but he 
 passed unmolested through the country ; and the most daring 
 of the Sweenies and Malleys left the road when they acci- 
 dentally met my unhappy foster-brother. Time has gradually 
 softened his distress, and the asperity of his temper has sub- 
 sided ; he has lost the fierce and savage look that lately no 
 stranger could meet without being terror-stricken ; and I shall 
 endeavour to get the death of his miserable rival, which 
 decidedly was unpremeditated and accidental, accommodated. 
 Some intelligence has made it advisable for Hennessey to leave 
 the Lodge, although I hardly think any of his enemies would 
 dare to seek him here ; but still we cannot be too cautious, 
 and to be placed in the power of his former foeman at this 
 moment, would be to involve his life in imminent peril. 
 
300 DEPARTURE FIXED. 
 
 " His misfortunes have given me more distress than any 
 thing that has ever hefallen myself personally. His attach- 
 ment to me is so devoted, that I cannot but have brotherly 
 feelings for this ill-starred fosterer. Although he would fol- 
 low me to the corners of the earth, if I required, he would 
 rather risk a trial than leave the country, which I have often 
 and earnestly entreated him to do." 
 
 I offered here to take Hennessey under my protection to 
 England, but my kinsman shook his head. 
 
 " It is a kind intention, Frank, but he would not leave 
 me. I am the last link that binds him to the world, and 
 while life lasts, we must run our wild career in the same 
 couples. Poor Hennessey ! there are worse men than he, 
 although misfortune has made him thrice a homicide.'* 
 
 It was late : John brought oysters at the customary hour, 
 and soon after we separated for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 My departure fixed Coast suited to an ornithologist Godsend An 
 ocean waif My last day Coursing Size of hares Fen-shooting 
 Kill a bittern Castle of Doona Fall of the tower Netting rabbits 
 Reflections Morning Passage through the Sound Hennessey De- 
 parture from the kingdom of Connaught. 
 
 THE day of my departure from this wild retreat, where so 
 many months have happily passed over, is determined : 
 indeed, the season hardly admits a longer sojourn, and cir- 
 cumstances beyond my control require an immediate return to 
 England. My kinsman has made arrangements for passing 
 the genial season of Christmas, and the remainder of the 
 winter, with his relations in the interior ; and in the morning 
 fox-hunt and evening dance, the dullest months of gloomy 
 winter will merrily disappear. 
 
 For me, were I not encumbered with a fortune, and " all 
 the ills that flesh is heir to" when one is afflicted with inde- 
 pendence, this place would suit me admirably. Though these 
 shores be wild, and weather savage, yet every day brings its 
 novelty along with it. The winter fisheries on the coast are 
 magnificent ; and birds, known only to a naturalist elsewhere, 
 
AN OCEAN WAIF. 301 
 
 are daily presented during the stormy season to the active and 
 intelligent shooter. That wild being, Hennessey, has pre- 
 served an infinity of curious specimens ; and many a rare pro- 
 duction that the ornithologist would prize, is here shot, and 
 disregarded by the peasant who is so fortunate as to possess a 
 gun. 
 
 Among the natural advantages which this remote coast 
 possesses, the ocean contributes largely to the stock, and 
 even the tempest does not rage in vain. The prevailing 
 westerly winds drive many a serviceable waif to the shore ; 
 and seldom a winter passes, but some valuable wreck or dere- 
 lict property adds to my kinsman's limited resources. True, 
 these <( angel visits" are irregular, and come in questionable 
 shape ; but still, be they in form of butter or rum, train-oil 
 or mahogany, they answer (( for the nonce," and even a dead 
 body has not been profitless to the finder. 
 
 I possibly have thus digressed from having witnessed the 
 triumphant arrival of a huge beam of Dantzic oak and a ship's 
 topmast, which certain retainers of my gentle cousin have 
 towed in. It appears that these " spolia opima" were dis- 
 covered early in the morning about the centre of the bay, and 
 a boat from both shores approached them nearly at the same 
 time. Both, like true vassals, claimed on behalf of their 
 respective master ; and it being impossible, on what an Irish- 
 man would very naturally term " debatable land," to settle 
 the question of property, the respective crews fought the 
 thing fairly out, and my kinsman's representatives being men 
 of thews and sinews, after breaking two heads, and chucking 
 one gentleman of " the Capulets" overboard, brought the 
 godsends safely hither. Law there will be, of course. The 
 rival claimant was formerly an attorney, who managed to 
 spoliate an unhappy fool who was litigiously inclined, and of 
 course became owner of the property. He who thus gets 
 them will be most tenacious of ill- acquired rights ; and this 
 log and spar will most likely terminate in being made a droit 
 of the Admiralty. 
 
 "We started on our last chasse and the ultima dies of our 
 Sporting wanderings has come. The shortened days and 
 wet moors have made us desert grouse-shooting, and we 
 crossed the estuary to shoot a fen some three miles off, 
 which at this season is thickly tenanted with snipes and 
 waterfowl. 
 
302 COURSING. 
 
 The day was particularly favourable ; dark and quiet,* with 
 a gentle breeze. As we had to traverse a hill which bounds 
 the tillage-grounds of several of the opposite villages, we 
 brought the greyhounds with us, to get a run or two while 
 passing this otherwise unprofitable beat. For my own part I 
 had early given up coursing in disgust. The hares were not 
 plenty difficult to find and when we did get them a- foot, 
 they either made for the sea-shore, or ran into some morass, 
 where dogs had no chance whatever, and one became weary 
 of seeing them cut themselves on rocks, or flounder in a bog ; 
 and latterly I gave up the business as a bad concern. But on 
 this occasion I was agreeably disappointed. The hill afforded 
 a sound and level surface ; from its contiguity to the corn- 
 fields, the hares were tolerably numerous, and before we 
 reached the shooting-ground, we had had six excellent courses, 
 and killed four hares. 
 
 I never observed a more striking contrast in point of size 
 than these hares exhibited. Two of them were of the smallest 
 mountain class ; dark-coloured meagre animals, who certainly 
 made matchless running while they lasted. The others were 
 of the fullest size, and in point of good condition, though 
 neither so large nor so white as Byron's, would have done 
 honour to any hare-park in Great Britain. 
 
 The fen we sought was situate in a valley between two 
 gentle slopes, and formed by a deep and sluggish stream 
 which passed through its centre, extended for about four 
 miles, varying its breadth from a few yards to more than a 
 quarter of a mile. The morass was interspersed with shrubs 
 and underwood, and alders of inconsiderable size were occa- 
 sionally clumped along the borders. Part of the surface was 
 
 * Snipes, when plenty, afford very excellent sport, it being allowed to 
 be the pleasantest, on account of the quick succession of shots ; this is 
 also the best shooting for practice, seldom failing to make indifferent shots 
 most excellent ones. There is no shooting that presents such a variety 
 of shots, scarcely any two being alike. These birds usually fly against 
 the wind, therefore every snipe-shooter should walk down it, as by that 
 means the bird, if he rises before him, will fly back, and coming round 
 him, describe a kind of circle, or at least his flight, for a certain distance, 
 will not lengthen the shot, allowing him a certain time to cover the bird, 
 and take good aim ; for if he gets up before him, and should by chance 
 go down the wind or from him, it is then the most difficult shot. It will 
 be proper in this case to let the bird get a little distance from him, as then 
 he will fly steadier, and the slightest grain will fetch him to the ground. 
 
KILL A BITTERN. 3Q3 
 
 too unsound to admit its being traversed by the lightest foot, 
 but generally it was broken into tammocks, which a bold and 
 practised shooter might pass with little difficulty. We took 
 opposite sides, and consequently few birds sprang without 
 affording one or the other of the guns a fair shot. The 
 number of snipes that flushed in this fen went far beyond my 
 expectation, though considerably excited ; and besides, we 
 met at least fifteen couple of that sweet little duck the Teal. 
 We followed the morass to its extremity, and then returned 
 and our beat homewards was pleasanter, and, so far as the 
 game-bags went, more profitable than the first range. 
 
 Out of seventy head, we reckoned one woodcock and a 
 brace of old stagers that we found among the heathy banks 
 bordering the fen. We shot six couple of teal ; and, with one 
 exception, the remainder of the count were snipes, of which 
 at least a fourth were jacks. In the most impassable section 
 of the morass, old York pointed with more than customary 
 steadiness ; and, " it might be fancy/' actually looked round 
 with peculiar expression, as if he would intimate that no com- 
 mon customer was before him ! I got within twenty yards 
 and encouraged the old setter to go in ; but he turned his 
 grizzled and intelligent eyes to mine, and wagged his tail as 
 if he would have said, " Lord ! you don't know what I have 
 here." A tuft of earth flung by one of the aides-de-camp, 
 obliged the skulker to get up, and to our general surprise a 
 fine bittern arose. I knocked him over, but though he came 
 down with a broken wing and wounded leg, he kept the old 
 dog at bay until my companion floundered through the swamp 
 and secured him. On this exploit I plumed myself, for bit- 
 terns are here extremely scarce, and in Ballycroy they are 
 seldom heard or found. 
 
 On our return home we passed the old castle of Doona, 
 once supposed to have been honoured by the residence of 
 Mrs. Grace O'Malley, who, if fame tells truth, was neither 
 a rigid moralist nor over-particular in her ideas of " meum 
 and tuum." Some wild traditions are handed down of her 
 exploits ; and her celebrated visit to that English vixen Eliza- 
 beth, is fairly on record. The castle of Doona was, till a few 
 years since, in excellent preservation, and its masonry was 
 likely to have puzzled Father Time himself; but Irish inge- 
 nuity achieved in a few hours what as many centuries had 
 hitherto failed in effecting. 
 
304 NETTING KABBITS. 
 
 A rich and hospitable farmer,* whose name will be long 
 remembered in this remote spot, had erected a comfortable 
 dwelling immediately adjoining the courtyard wall of the 
 ancient fortress ; and against the tower itself was piled in 
 wealthy profusion a huge supply of winter fuel. It was a 
 night of high solemnity, for his first-born son was christened. 
 No wonder then that all within the house were drunk as lords. 
 Turf was wanted, and one of the boys was despatched for a 
 cleaveful but though Patt could clear a fair, and " bear as 
 much beating as a bull," he was no man to venture into the 
 old tower in the dark, " and it haunted." Accordingly to 
 have fair play " if the ghost gripped him/' he provided him- 
 self with a brand of burning bog-deal. No goblin assailed 
 him, and he filled his basket and returned unharmed to the 
 company, but unfortunately forgot the light behind him. 
 The result may be anticipated. The turf caught fire, and 
 from the intense heat of such a mass of fuel, the castle-walls 
 were rent from top to bottom, and one side fell before morn- 
 ing with a crash like thunder. Nor was the calamity confined 
 to fallen tower and lost fuel. Alas ! several kegs and ankers 
 of contraband spirits were buried beneath the walls, and the 
 huge masses of masonry that came down, burst the concealed 
 casks of Cognac and Schiedam. 
 
 We found the warrener netting rabbits in the sand-banks. 
 They were intended for sale in the interior, and many dozens 
 were already taken. Formerly the skins were valuable, and 
 a well-stocked burrow was a valuable appendage to a country 
 gentleman ; but of late these furs have fallen so considerably 
 in value, that the warren does not produce a tithe of what it 
 did t( when Boney, the Lord speed him! was uppermost." 
 Indeed, many a hearty lament is made in Ballycroy for poor 
 Napoleon, and his name is ever associated with times of past 
 prosperity. 
 
 I cannot describe the melancholy reflections which crowded 
 over my mind, as I squibbed off my barrels on the beach, 
 while the boat was crossing the channel to carry us over the 
 estuary. It was for the last time, and with that thought, all 
 the happy events I spent by " flood and fell" passed over my 
 
 * John Conway. 
 
THE LAST MORNING. 305 
 
 memory in ' shadowy review." The jovial commander, the 
 burly priest, my merry cousin, the stern homicide, the ancient 
 butler, and the defunct otter-killer, all were before me. I 
 trod in fancy the banks of Pullgarrow, or couched among the 
 rocks of our highland ambuscade ; I saw the startled pack 
 spring from the purple heather, while the red deer, 
 
 Like crested leader proud and high, 
 Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky ; 
 A moment gaz'd adown the dale, 
 A moment snuff d the tainted gale 
 
 and vanished in the rocky pass of Meeltramoe. My imaginary 
 wanderings continued till we landed at the pier, and with a 
 deep sigh I hastened to my chamber, to make, for the last 
 time, my toilet after a day of sylvan exercise. 
 
 Morning the last morning has arrived, and all is bustle 
 and packing up. Travers, though a cold-blooded Englishman 
 who scarcely can tell a grouse from a game-cock, seems to 
 feel regret at leaving this hospitable cabin old John is sensi- 
 bly affected and Alice's black eyes are dim with weeping. 
 For once she kissed me without coquetry, and as she received 
 my farewell present, invoked the Lord to bless me with such 
 unaffected ardour as proved that her fervent benison came 
 warmly from the heart. 
 
 Over the parting with this rude but affectionate family I 
 shall hurry. My cousin accompanied me to Westport, and 
 we left the lodge after an early dinner, in full expectation of 
 reaching that town for supper, though the distance is some 
 ten or twelve leagues, and by an intricate passage with very 
 difficult and perplexing tides. As if fortune wished to offer 
 me a parting compliment, the wind blew from the north-west, 
 and there was as much of it as we could well carry our full 
 sails to. We entered the Bull's Mouth at three-quarter tide, 
 and brought plenty of water over the sands, and in an hour 
 cleared the Sound, and rushing through the boiling currents 
 of Bearnaglee, found ourselves in Clew Bay. The wind blew 
 fresh and steadily, and at nine o'clock we were moored along 
 the quay of Westport. 
 
 One incident occurred : at a rocky point which ran from the 
 
 x 
 
306 MORAL CONDITION OF THE WEST. 
 
 Achil side into the Sound, and there narrowed the channel 
 considerably, we observed a human being couched on a stone 
 among the sea-weed. The deep water passed within an oar's 
 length of the spot, and as the boat flew like a falcon past the 
 point, the man rose and hailed us. We hove the hooker to. 
 It was Hennessey and nothing could dissuade him, notwith- 
 standing the risk was considerable, from coming on board to 
 give me a parting escort. 
 
 Early next morning I found, myself in his majesty's mail,, 
 and with many a sincere adieu, bade farewell to my kind 
 cousin and his wild but warm-hearted followers. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Moral and physical condition of the west, past and present. 
 
 HERE I am, safely over the Shannon : a laudable improve- 
 ment in the mode and rate of travelling of the Westport 
 mail facilitates one's intercourse with the kingdom of Con- 
 naught ; and in course of time I have little doubt but Erris 
 will be as approachable as Upper Canada, or any of the 
 remoter provinces. 
 
 After my rambling observations upon men and manners, 
 you must permit me, like the last lawyer in a cause, to 
 condense the evidence, and make a general wind-up. 
 
 With regard to the moral condition of the West, I cannot 
 conscientiously assert that any great improvement will be 
 traced for the last half-century. The two great classes, the 
 gentry and peasantry, have undergone a mighty revolution 
 in conduct, manners, and modes of thinking ; and yet one 
 will look in vain for commensurate advantages. It is 
 admitted that the former body have changed their generic 
 character altogether. We have the old school stigmatized 
 now for its aristocratic tyranny and petty assumption ; and 
 many a modern squire blesses God that he is not as others 
 were who preceded him. And yet our fathers were, I verily 
 believe, wiser in their generation, and better fitted for their 
 own times, than we. True, these days were little better 
 than barbarous. Denis Browne, and Dick Martin, and 
 
PAST AND PRESENT. 307 
 
 Bowes Daly, and many a far-famed name of minor note, 
 were then in all their glory, and they lived, it must be 
 acknowledged in very curious times. In those days, the 
 qualifications of a representative were determined by wager 
 of battle, and a rival for senatorial fame was probably 
 requested by the old member to provide his coffin, before 
 he addressed the county. Doctors rode on horseback over 
 the country in cauliflower wigs and cocked hats ; and if 
 they differed about a dose or decoction, referred the dispute 
 to mortal arbitrement. In these happy times, a client 
 would shoot his counsellor if he lost a cause the suitor 
 sought his mistress at pistol-point and there was but one 
 universal panacea for every known evil, one grand remedy 
 for all injuries and insults. 
 
 It was then, indeed, a bustling world. Men fought often, 
 drank deep, and played high ; ran in debt, as a matter of 
 course ; scattered fairs and markets at their good pleasure ; 
 put tenants in the stocks ad libitum ; and cared no more for 
 the liberty of the subject than they did for the king's writ. 
 Yet where they merry times. Under all these desperate 
 oppressions, the tenants throve and the peasantry were 
 comfortable. Every village could point out its rich man 
 every cabin had food sufficient for its occupants. When 
 the rent was required it was ready ; and though a man was 
 sometimes in the guard-house, his cow was rarely in the 
 pound. Tempera mutantur ! Who dare now infringe upon 
 the liberty of the subject ? " Who put my man i' the 
 stocks ?" would be hallooed from Dingle to Cape Clear. 
 Doubtless, civil rights are now most scrupulously pro- 
 tected ; but I suspect that food is abridged in about the 
 same proportion that freedom is extended. 
 
 There was one class of persons who, in these old-world 
 times, were conspicuously troublesome, who have since then 
 fortunately disappeared. These were a nominal description 
 of gentry, the proprietors of little properties called fodeeins, 
 who continued the names and barbarisms of their progeni- 
 tors. Without industry, without education, they arrogated 
 a certain place in society, and idly imitated the wealthier in 
 their vices. Poverty and distress were natural results, and 
 desperate means were used to keep up appearances. The 
 wretched serfs, whom they called their tenants, were ground 
 
308 MORAL CONDITION OF THE WEST, 
 
 to powder, till, happily for society, the f adeems passed into 
 other hands, and the name and place ceased to be remem- 
 bered. The ivied walls, and numerous and slender chim- 
 neys one sees in passing through this country, will, in nine 
 out of ten cases, point a moral of this sort. 
 
 In times like those of forty years ago, this extinct tribe 
 were from the peculiar temper and formation of society, 
 occasionally a sad nuisance. The lord of a fodecin, like 
 Captain Mac Turk, was ' ' precisely that sort of person who 
 is ready to fight with any one ; whom no one can find an 
 apology for declining to fight with ; in fighting with whom 
 considerable danger is incurred; and, lastly, through fight- 
 ing with whom no eclat or credit could redound to the an- 
 tagonist. 3 ' Hence, generally, the larger proprietors saw this 
 class sink by degrees, without an attempt to uphold them, 
 and ihefodeein, to the great joy of the unhappy devils who 
 farmed it, was appended by general consent to the next 
 estate. 
 
 Many examples of dangerous and illegal authority, as 
 usurped and exercised by the aristocracy within the last 
 half-century, are on record, that would appear mere ro- 
 mance to a stranger. One of the Fitzgerald family was 
 probably more remarkable than any person of his times. 
 He was the terror of the upper classes and to such as 
 arrogated the privileges of the aristocracy, without, as he 
 opined, a prescriptive right, he was the very devil. If a 
 man aspired to become a duellist, or even joined the 
 hounds, without being the proper caste, George Robert 
 would flog him from the field without ceremony. He 
 actually for years maintained an armed banditti, imprisoned 
 his own father, took off persons who were obnoxious and 
 when he was hanged and fortunately for society this 
 eventually occurred it required a grand cavalry and artil- 
 lery movement from Athlone to effect it. 
 
 Denis Browne was an autocrat of another description^ 
 a useful blundering bear, who did all as religiously in the 
 king's name as ever Mussulman in that of the prophet. 
 He did much good and some mischief imprisoned and 
 transported as he pleased ; and the peasantry to this day 
 will tell you, that he could hang any one whom he disliked. 
 Yet both these men were favourites with their tenantry, 
 
PAST AND PRESENT. 309 
 
 and under them their dependents prospered and waxed 
 wealthy. 
 
 Sometimes the memoir of an individual will give a more 
 graphic picture of the age wherein he flourished than a 
 more elaborate detail ; and in the strange eventful histories 
 of these two singular men, the leading characters of their 
 times will be best portrayed. 
 
 No persons were more dissimilar none were bitterer 
 enemies none in every point, personal and physical, were 
 more essentially opposite. In one point alone there was a 
 parallel both were tyrants in disposition, and both would 
 possess power, and no matter at what price. 
 
 George Robert Fitzgerald was middle-sized, and slightly 
 but actively formed; his features were regular, his address 
 elegant, and his manners formed in the best style of the 
 French school. In vain the physiognomist would seek in 
 his handsome countenance for some trace of that fierce and 
 turbulent disposition which marked his short and miserable 
 career. No one when he pleased it, could delight society 
 more ; and with the fair sex he was proverbially successful. 
 It is said that gallantry, however, was not his forte, and that 
 he seldom used his persuasive powers with women, but for 
 objects ultimately pecuniary or ambitious. 
 
 Added to his external advantages, he was an educated 
 man ; and that he possessed no mean literary talent, may 
 be inferred from his celebrated " Apology," which is neatly 
 and spiritedly written. 
 
 His courage was undoubted. In Paris and London he was 
 noted as a duellist ; and in Mayo, his personal encounters 
 are still remembered. His duel with Doctor Martin, his 
 encounter with Csesar French, the most notorious fire-eaters 
 of the day, placed him foremost in that class. He 
 was, moreover, a dead shot, and reported to be one of the 
 ablest swordsmen in the kingdom. As a sportsman he was 
 justly celebrated. He was an elegant horseman, and his 
 desperate riding was the theme of fox-hunters for many a 
 year. No park-wall or flooded river stopped him and to 
 this day, leaps that he surmounted, and points where he 
 crossed the Turlough river, are pointed out by the peasantry. 
 
 The dark act which clouded his memory, and his unhappy 
 fate, are generally known ; and considering the other traits 
 of his strange and mingling character, the apology offered 
 
310 MORAL CONDITION OF THE WEST. 
 
 "by his friends on the score of occasional insanity, is not 
 improbable. One circumstance would strengthen this 
 conclusion. He was interred by night, and with so much 
 privacy, in the old churchyard of Turlough, that the place 
 where his remains lay was for a time uncertain. Accident 
 in some degree revealed it. In the confusion attendant 
 upon his hurried sepulture, it is said that a ring was forgotten 
 and left upon the finger. Afterwards, in opening the ground, 
 this relic was discovered ; and what more satisfactorily 
 proved it was that the skull was distinctly fractured ; and it 
 was a matter well known, that Fitzgerald had been dangerously 
 wounded by a pistol-bullet in the head, in one of his numerous 
 and sanguinary duels on the continent. 
 
 Denis Browne, when a young man, is said to have been 
 extremely handsome : but early in life he became corpulent 
 and engrossed in other pursuits, gradually careless and 
 slovenly in his person, and neglected any means to restrain 
 his constitutional obesity. To strong natural abilities, he 
 united decision of character and mental energy. He started 
 in dangerous times ; several influential families disputed 
 political power with him he had a fierce and dangerous 
 aristocracy to overcome men cold to every argument 
 " but the last and worst one," the pistol. Hence in the 
 very outset of his voyage, his vessel all but foundered. It 
 was his first contest for the county, and he was opposed by 
 the late Lord Clanm orris. The Bingham party was bold 
 and powerful, and after a protracted contest, matters 
 looked gloomily enough, and the Brownes were likely to be 
 defeated. 
 
 " In this dilemma," to use his own words, " I have 
 
 applied to Counsellor , my legal adviser. I told 
 
 him how badly things were, and inquired what was to 
 be done? 
 
 " ' My dear Dennis,' said he, with a grave and serious 
 movement of his full-bottomed wig, 'the thing admits 
 but one remedy, and that lies in a nut-shell. You are 
 one-and-twenty years old, and you have never yet been 
 on the sod why that one fact would lose you your election 
 you must fight my dear boy,' 
 
 " ( Fight ! to be sure I will, when I'm insulted.' 
 
 ' Of course you would, and so would any body : but 
 you must fight, and that too this very evening.' 
 
PAST AND PRESENT. 311 
 
 " ' Impossible ! how could it be managed ?' 
 
 " ' How ! arrah whihst, Denis ! maybe ye tbink I bave 
 nothing but law in my bead ; you must knock down 
 Bingham !' 
 
 " ( Knock down a man who never offended me with 
 whom I have no dispute ?' 
 
 " ( And what does this matter ? The blow will settle 
 that difficulty. But as you are particular, can't ye say some 
 friend of his affronted one of yours some devil you never 
 heard of will answer and as John Bingham is a reasonable 
 man, he'd not lose time in asking idle questions.' 
 
 <f Accordingly, I followed this excellent advice, struck 
 Bingham on the steps of the court-house, was called out in 
 half an hour, fought in the barrack-yard, was there wounded, 
 and won my election." 
 
 From that period Denis Browne rose rapidly into power. 
 His able brother, the late Marquis of Sligo, supported him 
 with all his influence and talent. Denis overcame every 
 obstacle, distanced every competitor, and at last was absolute 
 in authority, dictator for twenty years, and ruled the county 
 during that period with a rod of iron. 
 
 No one was warmer in his friendship or more virulent 
 in his antipathies. These feelings blinded his better judgment, 
 and many of his greatest mistakes arose from an anxiety 
 to aggrandize a favourite or annoy an enemy. He 
 unfortunately outlived his power, and that circumstance 
 embittered his latter years. He had not resolution to quit 
 public life while he might have retired with eclat ; he saw 
 his influence expire, and his power partitioned insensibly 
 among men with whom, but a few years before, his will 
 was law. 
 
 In private life Denis Browne was cheerful and hospitable. 
 Full of anecdote, an excellent story-teller, one who had 
 mixed largely with the world and knew mankind intimately, 
 he was an amusing and instructive companion. Young and 
 lively society he delighted in ; and though, from increased 
 corpulency, and all " the ills that flesh is heir to," life was 
 latterly a burden, the mind was vigorous to the last and 
 the death-bed of Denis Browne was marked with a firmness 
 and philosophy that was in perfect keeping with the energy 
 and determination of his life. 
 
 Another order of things has succeeded. Men talk now 
 
312 MORAL CONDITION OF THE WEST. 
 
 with horror of acts of oppression and arbitrary power, 
 which then every country justice committed ; but after all, 
 the times have changed for the worse and the outcry 
 about invaded rights and an enslaved population, was, after 
 all, mere verbiage, "signifying nothing." 
 
 The last fading gleam of western prosperity was during 
 the power of Napoleon, and with his dynasty it vanished. 
 The terrible change from war to peace ; the bursting of the 
 banking bubbles, which supplied for that time an imaginary 
 capital ; over-population and high rents, have ruined this 
 wild district, and reduced its peasantry, with few exceptions, 
 to abject wretchedness and want. 
 
 Is there for this any remedy ? Cannot modern landlords, 
 acting on what they call enlightened principles, remove the 
 causes of distress, and restore the peasantry to that scale of 
 comfort they enjoyed under the rude and tyrannical regime 
 of their fathers ? They cannot. They will talk " scholarly" 
 of tithes and local taxation, and vainly attribute the insolvency 
 of their tenants to these and such like causes ; this is 
 vox et praterea nihil an unreal and fanciful conceit. The 
 true cause of the misery of the western population is 
 over-population and excessive rents ; and before the peasantry 
 could be tolerably comfortable, the lands must, on the 
 average, be lowered at least one third. Even then, at present 
 prices, the occupant will be hardly able to manage to pay the 
 rent and live. 
 
 But can the landlords do this ? Can they afford to 
 equalize their rental to the times, and throw a third portion 
 from their nominal income overboard? They cannot. The 
 majority of the owners of western estates, from family burdens 
 and national unthriftiness, are heavily and hopelessly 
 encumbered ; and a reduction on such scale as would be 
 necessary to ensure their tenants' comforts, would completely 
 pauperize themselves. Hence, to keep off the evil day, every 
 pretext but the true one will be assigned for local wretchedness 
 and every reason but the right one offered to the starving 
 tenant, to persuade him that ruinous rents will never occasion 
 want and poverty. 
 
 In personal appearance, the western peasantry are very 
 inferior to those of the other divisions of the kingdom. 
 
PAST AND PRESENT. 313 
 
 Generally, they are undersized and by no means so good- 
 looking as their southern neighbours and I would say, in 
 other points they are equally deficient. To overcome their 
 early lounging gait and slovenly habits, is found by military 
 men a troublesome task ; and while the Tipperary man 
 speedily passes through the hands of the drill-sergeant, the 
 Mayo peasant requires a long and patient ordeal, before a 
 martial carriage can be acquired, and he be perfectly set-up 
 as a soldier. These defects once conquered, none are better 
 calculated for the profession. Hardy, active, patient in 
 wet and cold, and accustomed to indifferent and irregular 
 food, he is admirably adapted to endure the privations and 
 fatigue incident to a soldier's life on active service and 
 in dash and daring, no regiments in the service hold a 
 prouder place than those which appertain to the kingdom 
 of Connaught. 
 
 It is said that the physical appearance of the Irish 
 peasantry deteriorates as the northern and western sea-coasts 
 are approached ; and, certainly, on the latter the population 
 are very inferior to that of the adjacent counties. Even the 
 inhabitants of different baronies in the same county, as their 
 locality advances inland, will be found to differ materially ; 
 and in an extensive cattle-fair, the islander will be as easily 
 distinguished from the borderer, whether he be on the Gal way 
 or Roscommon frontier, as from the stock-master of Leinster, 
 or the jobber from the North. 
 
 Indeed, fifty years back, the communication between the 
 islands and the interior was so difficult and unfrequent, that 
 the respective occupants looked on each other as very 
 strangers. Naturally, slowly as civilization crept westward, 
 the islands and remoter coasts, from local causes, were last 
 visited, and many curious circumstances to this day would 
 prove it. In this age of machinery, when the minutest 
 matters are produced by its agencies, and the lowest occu- 
 pations of human labour are transacted by powers unknown 
 to our fathers, there are extensive tracts upon the western 
 portions of the island, where even a mill has never been 
 erected, and where the corn is prepared for distillation or 
 food by the same rude methods used by barbarous nations 
 one thousand years ago. Trituration between two stones, 
 by the hand labour of an individual, is the means employed 
 to reduce the corn into meal ; and the use of that ancient 
 
314 MORAL CONDITION OF THE WEST. 
 
 hand-mill the guerne, is still general throughout Ballicroy and 
 the islands on the coast. 
 
 The inhabitants of this district are extremely hospitable 
 to passing travellers, but by no means fond of encouraging 
 strangers to sojourn permanently among them. This latter 
 inherent prejudice may arise from clannish feelings, or 
 ancient recollections of how much their ancestors were 
 spoliated by former settlers, who by artifice and the strong 
 hand managed to possess the better portions of the country. 
 They are also absurdly curious, and will press their ques- 
 tions with American pertinacity, until, if possible, the 
 name, rank, and occasion of his visit, is fully and faithfully 
 detailed by the persecuted traveller. 
 
 The credulity of these wild people is amazing, and their 
 avidity for news, if possible, exceeded by the profound 
 reliance they place in the truth of the intelligence. Hence, 
 the most absurd versions of passing events circulate over 
 the district and reports prevail, by turns, of a ridiculous 
 or mischievous tendency, generally according to the mental 
 temperament of the story-teller. 
 
 It formerly was not uncommon for people in the islands 
 to live and die without ever having seen a town. Of course, 
 they were a simple and unsophisticated race and their 
 natural mistakes, if they did by accident come in collision 
 with other beings, were the source of many an inland jest. 
 One very old story is told, in wiiich an Achil man is the 
 hero ; and as to its truth, old Antony would as soon have 
 doubted the existence of the holy trout in Kilgeever,* as 
 have questioned its authenticity. 
 
 An islander was once obliged to go into the town of 
 Castlebar upon business ; and among other marvellous 
 things which there met his sight, he was particularly struck 
 with the appearance of an earthen jar in a shop-window. 
 He inquired what this unknown article might be, and was 
 informed that it was a mare's egg, which, if placed beside 
 the fire during the winter, would infallibly produce a foal 
 the ensuing spring. The price was moderate, and the 
 Achil man determined to possess the treasure, and thus 
 become master of a horse. Having effected the purchase, 
 
 * A sacred well in the west, tenanted by a trout of surpassing 
 sanctity. 
 
PAST AND PRESENT. 315 
 
 he set out on his way rejoicing and hefore evening fell, 
 came within view of his own home, and sat down upon a 
 heathy hank to rest himself. He placed his recent acqui- 
 sition beside him hut alas ! from its spherical form, it 
 rolled down the hill, and, striking against a rock at the 
 bottom, was shivered by the blow. A hare which had 
 couched beneath the stone, startled at the crash, sprang 
 from her form, and went off at speed. The unhappy Achil 
 man gazed, in an agony of despair, after what he believed 
 the emancipated quadruped and then exclaimed with a 
 bitter groan, "Mono, mon diaoull What a horse he would 
 have been ! Lord ! if he was but two years old ! the Devil 
 himself would not catch him." 
 
 Now, the most curious part of this story is, that although 
 a standing joke upon Achil simplicity for a century, it is to 
 be found verbatim in a German jest-book, with this only 
 difference, that a gourd is there substituted for ajar. 
 
 In alluding to the strange employments of the female 
 peasantry, I noticed those coarse and laborious exercises 
 which elsewhere are confined to the lords of the creation. 
 That the appearance of the fair inhabitants of the western 
 highlands should harmonize with their rude avocations, 
 might be expected; and hence the female peasantry, in 
 personal advantages, are very inferior indeed to those of 
 the interior. The constant exposure to sun and storm 
 injures the complexion, and gives them an old and faded 
 look ; and the habit of dispensing with shoes renders the 
 feet large and misshapen. Among the Coryphees who 
 frequented our mountain balls, there was but one girl who 
 might be termed decidedly handsome. Her face was uncom- 
 monly intelligent I never saw so dark an eye, and her 
 teeth were white as ivory. But there was a natural ease in 
 all she did whether she brought a pitcher from the spring, 
 or danced a merry strathspey, every movement was graceful. 
 Even her simple toilet evinced instinctive taste, though no 
 corset was required to regulate a form moulded by the hand 
 of Nature, and her magnificent hair boasted no arrangement 
 beyond the simple cincture of a ribbon 
 
 But seldom was a snood amid 
 Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 
 Whose glossy black to shame might bring 
 The plumage of a raven's wing. 
 
316 HUNTING. 
 
 And yet I have seen that young beauty bending beneath a 
 basket of potatoes which would have overloaded me and, on 
 one occasion, carry a strapping fellow across the river, who was 
 coming on some state affair to the cabin, which, as he con- 
 ceived, required him to appear in the presence with dry legs. 
 On the score of propriety of conduct, I would assign 
 the female peasantry of this district a high place. When 
 the habits of the country are considered, one would be 
 inclined to suspect that excessive drinking, and the frequent 
 scenes of noctural festivities which wakes and dances present, 
 would naturally lead to much immorality. This, however, 
 is not the case : broken vows will no doubt occasionally 
 require the interference of the magistrate or the priest ; 
 but generally the lover makes the only reparation in his power, 
 and the deceived females and deserted children are seldom seen 
 in Erris. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Hunting Men Horses and hounds Game Conclusion. 
 
 IF ever a district were designed by Nature for field sports, 
 a person, from even a cursory glance upon the map, would 
 point to Mayo. Its great extent of mountain surface, 
 interspersed with bogs and morasses its numerous and 
 expansive waters and its large tracts of downs and feed- 
 ing-grounds, render it available for every purpose of the 
 sportsman ; and few species of game indigenous to Britain, 
 in their peculiar seasons, will here be sought in vain. 
 
 As a hunting country, the plains have been justly chro- 
 nicled and the adjacent counties of Gal way and Roscom- 
 mon yield to none in the empire. The extensive sheep- 
 farms aiford superior galloping-ground and the fences, 
 though few and far between, from their size and character, 
 require a powerful horse and dashing rider. Hence, in the 
 annals of fox-hunting, the bipeds and quadrupeds of Con- 
 naught are held in due estimation ; and it has been stated, 
 without contradiction, that in their own country no men or 
 horses can compete with them. 
 
 During the last century, the West of Ireland was cele- 
 
HORSES. 317 
 
 brated for its breed of horses. They were of that class 
 denominated " the old Irish hunter/' a strong, well- 
 boned, and enduring animal, that without any pretension to 
 extraordinary speed, was sufficiently fast for fox-hounds, an 
 excellent weight-carrier, and, better still, able to live with 
 any dogs and in any country. As fencers, this breed was 
 unequalled ; and for a crack hunter to carry ten or eleven 
 stone over six feet six of solid masonry, was no extraordi- 
 nary event ; seven feet has been achieved repeatedly 
 and there are still, I have no doubt, many horses in the 
 province capable of performing the latter feat. But, alas ! 
 this noted class of hunters is now comparatively rare 
 a higher-blooded, and, as all admit, an inferior caste has 
 been substituted the rasing hunter fills the stables that 
 formerly were occupied by the old Boscommon weight-carrier 
 and in a few years this celebrated and valuable animal will 
 be seldom seen. The number of English thorough-bred 
 horses introduced within the last thirty years into the Con- 
 naught racing studs, gradually introduced a slight and un- 
 serviceable hybrid and, too late, gentlemen discovered the 
 error of endeavouring to procure a cross, which should combine 
 increased speed with those durable qualities that alone can 
 enable a horse, under reasonable weight, to live with fast 
 hounds in a country where they can go for miles without 
 a check, and where the leaps are always severe, and occasion- 
 ally tremendous. 
 
 Of the riders, it may be observed that, much as Connaught 
 has been celebrated for desperate horsemanship, no charge of 
 degeneracy will lie against the present race. To the curious 
 in break-neck fencing, I would recommend a sojourn with a 
 Connaught club or if that should be inconvenient, a visit to 
 the steeple-chases on the plains or at Knockcroghery would 
 be sufficient he will there see six feet walls especially built 
 <c for the nonce," under the inspection of conscious stewards, 
 who would give nothing but honest measure, taken at racing 
 speed, and that too in the middle of a bunch of gentlemen, 
 who would ride over an adopted child ; or let him join a 
 drag after a champaign lunch at Lord C.'s ; let him do this, 
 and then form his estimate of Connaught horsemanship. 
 
 A mistake prevails in England, as to the supposed inferiority 
 in value of the horses commonly employed by the Western 
 
318 HOUNDS. 
 
 sportsmen. I have seen a field out, when, of twelve horses, 
 ten would probably average at one hundred guineas each ; and 
 the remaining two (brothers, Jerry and Lancet) were reported 
 to have cost the noble owner five hundred guineas apiece. 
 When the dangers of a stone-wall country and the desperate 
 riding of the men are considered, these are indeed sporting 
 prices. And yet accidents of a serious character are not 
 frequent ; every horse that has been ridden to hounds is 
 generally blemished more or less ; but it is astonishing in such 
 a country and with such riders, how long some noble hunters 
 have lasted. 
 
 The hounds, with few exceptions, are inferior. They are 
 seldom properly kennelled, or regularly hunted. Masters 
 of hounds in the West seem careless to all considerations 
 beyond having a pack that can go high and keep tolerably 
 well together. In sizing aud draughting dogs* they are by 
 no means particular, and hence the ensemble of many a kennel 
 is materially injured. In home management and field turn- 
 out, they are infinitely behind their English brethren : the 
 packs are carelessly hunted the kennel servants badly ap- 
 pointedand I have met men upon the plains able to take a 
 horse over any thing that hand and heart could carry him, 
 who to a stranger would appear, from " the wildness of their 
 attire," to be desperate apprentices levanting with their 
 master's property. 
 
 And yet, after this eulogy upon the splendid horsemanship 
 of the Western gentlemen, it may appear singular that I add, 
 few of them ride well to hounds. An impatience in the field, 
 and the anxiety to be foremost where all are forward, interferes 
 constantly with the dogs, and causes a pressure upon the 
 
 * The same remark may be made respecting the setters and pointers in 
 general use among the Connaught sportsmen. Many admirable dogs 
 will be met occasionally ; but there appears to be little pains taken in 
 matching the females ; and in the same kennel you will nnd an inter- 
 mixture of different and discordant stocks. Not unfrequeutly I have seen 
 a man shooting to setters, pointers, and droppers, on the same heath, 
 and hunting all indiscriminately. 
 
 As to greyhounds, they are in little request excepting in the mountain 
 districts and those principally kept are of the rough and wiry species, 
 or the small smooth breed, which from their lightness are best adapted 
 for the soft bogs which form the coursing-grounds. 
 
GAME. 319 
 
 pack, very unfavourable to good hunting. Riding rather a 
 the field than to the hounds, is the prevailing error. Fences 
 are crossed which would be better evaded horses unneces- 
 sarily distressed ; and I have seen a man actually go out of 
 his way to take a regular rasper, when he had a gap within 
 thirty yards. 
 
 Game in Mayo would be much more abundant than it is 
 were it not sadly thinned by irregular shooters, and an infinity 
 of vermin. To prevent the spoliations of the former would 
 be a difficult task as, from the quantity of wild fowl that 
 every winter brings to the Western shores, a number of 
 guerilla sportsmen are employed or countenanced by the 
 resident gentry ; to whom it is too strong a temptation, when 
 lying for ducks, or stealing upon plovers, to discover a pack 
 or covey grouped upon the snow, and yet have sufficient 
 philosophy to keep the finger from the trigger. The vermin, 
 however, are the main cause of the scarcity of game, and no 
 means are taken to destroy these marauders. From the eagle 
 to the sparrow-hawk, every variety abounds in the woods and 
 mountains, and every species of kite and crow that an orni- 
 thologist would admire, and a sportsman abominate, infests 
 the Western counties. 
 
 Of fallow deer, there is a large stock in the parks through- 
 out the province and buck-hunting has of late seasons been 
 getting into fashion on the plains. I have already, in speaking 
 of the red-deer, lamented the prospect of their extinction. 
 That event I look upon as fast approaching and I am con- 
 vinced that nothing can avert this national calamity but a 
 vigorous determination of the mountain proprietors to extend 
 protection to those limited herds which are still found, though 
 in lessened numbers, upon the Alpine heights bordering on 
 Burrishoole and Tyrawley. 
 
 Foxes are tolerably abundant in the hunting districts, and 
 mischievously so in the mountains and islands. From the 
 latter any quantity could be procured, and there is no place 
 in Britain where covers could be so easily formed, and stocked 
 with less trouble and expense. I have seen healthy foxes for 
 days hawked over the country before a purchaser could be 
 found, and at last disposed of for a few shillings. I once 
 
320 GAME. 
 
 bought a fine dog-fox for half-a-crown, and, had I not become 
 his owner, I verily believe the captor must have turned him 
 out upon the street. 
 
 Hares are in most places tolerably plentiful ; in point of 
 numbers differing according to local situation and the relative 
 protection afforded to them. In the moors, the mountain 
 hares are scarce ; but, from the quantity of winged and four- 
 footed vermin, it is surprising that so many are occasionally 
 seen. 
 
 Rabbits abound in the West of Ireland. On the coast, the 
 immense sand-banks are for miles perforated with their bur- 
 rows and, notwithstanding that they are unmercifully aban- 
 doned to cur-dogs, cats, and vermin, their numbers continue 
 unabated. In the woods and coppices bush rabbits are 
 numerous, and cover-shooters, when beating for woodcocks, 
 will have their amusement diversified by many a running shot. 
 
 Other wild animals, in every variety, may be met with in 
 parts of Connaught. Badgers and wild cats, martins and 
 weasels will be found in their customary haunts ; while on 
 the coast and estuaries, the lakes and inland waters, seals and 
 otters are plentiful in the extreme. 
 
 Of winged game, pheasants and partridges excepted, I 
 have already spoken. With regard to the first, they are 
 scarce, and, it would appear, difficult to rear in this moist 
 and stormy climate. I speak only of the places contiguous 
 to the coast, where the experiment has been tried ; for inland, 
 where they have been duly attended to, and the English sys- 
 tem adopted, they have thriven amazingly. As to partridges, 
 they are generally scarce, and in Erris and Ballycroy almost 
 unknown. In the wheat counties, and especially in certain 
 parts of Galway, I believe they are tolerably abundant but 
 by comparison with the quantity a sportsman meets in an 
 English beat, the best partridge-shooting procurable in Con- 
 naught will be very indifferent indeed. 
 
 My task is ended I have chronicled " the short but 
 simple annals" of a sporting summer, passed in a remote and 
 unfrequented corner of the earth, and protracted until "winter 
 and rough weather" forbade a longer stay. Into these soli- 
 tudes I carried prejudices as unfair as they were unfavourable 
 
CONCLUSION. 321 
 
 I came prepared to dislike a people who, unhappily for 
 themselves, are little known and less regarded. I found my 
 estimate of their character false, for kindnesses were returned 
 tenfold, and the native outbreakings of Milesian hospitality 
 met me at every step. What though the mountaineer had 
 nothing but his potato-basket to offer it was freely open to 
 my hand. Did I wander from the road ? his loy* was left in 
 the furrow, and he ran miles to put me in the right path. If 
 it rained and I sheltered in a cabin, the hearth was swept, 
 the driest log placed upon the fire, and the bed- covering 
 taken off to keep my saddle from the shower. If possible, 
 my wishes were anticipated and labour was unheeded when 
 my pleasure or comfort could be attained. 
 
 One incident I must mention, for it marks the character 
 of this simple and devoted peasantry. It was the hottest of 
 the dog-days, and we had toiled over a barren moor, and 
 missed some packs that we were aware were in that neigh- 
 bourhood. A hill of most discouraging altitude was before 
 us and as its face was difficult beyond description, I hesi- 
 tated to attempt it. But beyond it was a land of promise a 
 valley where wonders might be expected and malgre fatigue, 
 I did muster courage for the ascent. I gave my gun to a 
 young peasant who acted as my henchman, and, as he was 
 already loaded heavily, I observed him stagger more than 
 once before we gained the summit. Throughout the day he 
 never left my side when the river was forded, he led the 
 way and yet I observed that he was unusually flushed, and 
 at times sighed heavily. When we reached the cabin, he 
 tottered to a seat, and the next moment became insensible. 
 Then, and not till then, the truth was disclosed : he had 
 been attacked with measles on the preceding night ; but rather 
 than surrender his post to another, he actually, arid under 
 the fever of the disease, worked for twelve hours beneath a 
 burning sun. Old Antony, by some simple means, brought 
 the eruption plentifully to the skin, and in another week my 
 gallant henchman was at my side, without any apparent trace 
 of lassitude. 
 
 1 have left these mountains, and never shall I enjoy the 
 * Loy, a narrow sp.ii.lc. 
 
322 CONCLUSION. 
 
 unalloyed excitement the calm luxurious solitude, which I 
 found among their wastes. What has refinement to offer me 
 in exchange? Will the over-stocked preserve replace the 
 moorland chase, with its glorious ridge of purple highlands 
 its silver lake, and sparkling river my wild followers my 
 tried friends and the dear cabin arid its snowy tent, peeping 
 from the dark expanse of heather, like a white sea-bird from 
 the lap of ocean ? Alas ! nothing will compensate for these 
 or give me an equivalent for the joyous intercourse with 
 kindred spirits, which I realized and left in the wilds of Bally- 
 croy. 
 
 THE EKD. 
 
 Woodfall and Kinder, Printers, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London. 
 
THE SMUGGLE!!. 
 
 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 pockets, or those 
 greater indicators of our progress towards eternity that we 
 hang upon our walls. From the wooden clock, with its weight 
 and catgut, to the exquisite chronometer which 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 country 
 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 tyrannised, under the name of law and liberty; 
 though the times of the second Charles, and the second James, 
 William arid 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 society. 
 
 One of the parts in which rudeness of construction and 
 coarseness of material were most apparent, was, in the customs 
 system of the country, and in the impediments which it met 
 
6 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 with- The escapement was anything but fine. Now a days 
 we do things delicately. If we wish to cheat the government, 
 we forge Exchequer bills, or bribe landing- waiters and super- 
 visors, 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 respect- 
 able limits, and deceive himself and others at the same time, 
 with perfect good faith and due decorum, are there not homoeo- 
 pathy, 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 
 swindler. We had more robbers than cheats ; and if a man 
 chose to be an impostor, it was with all the dignity and deci- 
 sion of a Psalmanazor, or a bottle conj uror. 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 upon 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, parti- 
 culars, course of action and results were so completely opposed 
 to anything that is, or can be in the present 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 smugglers; for if France was not 
 opposite, Holland was not far off; and if brandy was not the 
 object, nor silk, nor wine, yet tea and cinnamon, and hollands, 
 and various East India goods, were things duly estimated by 
 the British public, especially when they could be obtained 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 7 
 
 without the payment of Custom-house dues. But besides the 
 inducements 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 pro- 
 hibited, and as an inevitable consequence, were desired and 
 sought for more than any 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 prevention also was very 
 inefficient, and a few scattered Custom-house officers, aided 
 by a cruiser here or there upon the coast, had an excellent 
 opportunity of getting their throats cut or their heads broken, 
 or of making a decent livelihood by conniving at the transac- 
 tions they were sent down to stop, as the peculiar temperament 
 of 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-smug- 
 glers. 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 hun- 
 dreds, generally well mounted and armed, conveyed the com- 
 modities 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 districts where it existed, to almost every class of society. 
 Each tradesman smuggled or dealt in smuggled 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 commodi- 
 ties. Scarcely a house but had its place of concealment, which 
 would accommodate either kegs or bales, or human beings, ns 
 
8 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the case might be; and many streets in sea-port towns had 
 private passages from one house to another, so that the gentle- 
 man 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 
 features, its variety of coast, all afforded it the greatest ad- 
 vantages, and the daring character of the natives on the shores 
 of the Channel was sure to turn those advantages to the pur- 
 poses 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 
 p ! Hastings, Rye, and Winchelsea, in no degree to be com- 
 pared 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, Sandwich Flats and Pevensey Bay presented a harbour 
 of refuge, and a place of repose to kegs innumerable 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 tra- 
 versed by long trains of horses, escorting or carrying every 
 description of contraband articles. 
 
 The interior of the country was not less favourable to the 
 traffic than the coast : large masses of wood, numerous gentle- 
 men'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 highway existed, and where 
 such a thing as coach or carriage was never seen, offered the 
 land smugglers opportunities of carrying on their transactions 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 9 
 
 with the degree of secrecy and safety which no other county 
 afforded. Their numbers, too, were so great, their boldness 
 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 pursued, or become a depository for their commodities, 
 and many a man, on visiting his stable or his cart-shed early 
 in the morning, found it tenanted by anything but horses or 
 waggons. 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 remarkable 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 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 before 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 sea- 
 ward 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 unknown ; and in the general confederacy or un- 
 derstanding which existed throughout the whole of the county, 
 
10 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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, 
 runs nearly down the centre of the county of Kent, throwing 
 out spurs or buttresses in different 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 perfectly 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 Westerhan, on the one side, 
 and Barham, Harbledown, and Eochester, on the other, the 
 road runs generally over a long line of elevated ground, only 
 dipping down here and there to visit some town or city of im- 
 portance, which has nested itself in one of the lateral valleys, 
 or strayed out into the plain. 
 
 On the northern side of the county, 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 between the high land and the borders 
 of Sussex. This plain or valley, as perhaps it may be called, 
 terminates at the sea by the renowned flat of Romney 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 Ashford, and thence once more make 
 its way to Folkestone. Thus a great parfc of the Weald of 
 Kent was totally untravelled; and at one village of consider- 
 able size, which now hears almost hourly the panting and 
 screaming steam-engine whirled by, along its iron course, I 
 have myself seen the whole population of the place turn out 
 to behold the wonderful phenomenon of a coach- and- four, the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 1 
 
 first that was ever beheld in the place. Close to the sea the 
 hills are bare enough ; but at no great distance inland, they 
 become rich in wood, and the Weald, whether arable or pas- 
 ture, 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 men- 
 tioned, 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 where the principal events here 
 recorded really took place, I must pause for an instant in the 
 capital, to introduce him to one or two travelling companions. 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 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 from its yard into the open street, 
 exactly opposite 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 having four 
 wheels, and two doors, and windows. 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 vehi- 
 cle was large and roomy, capable of containing within, at 
 least, six travellers of large size. It was hung in a somewhat 
 
1 2 THE SMUGGLE!!* 
 
 straggling manner upon its almost upright springs, and was 
 elevated far above any necessary pitch. The top was deco- 
 rated with round iron rails on either side; and multitudinous 
 were the packages collected 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 convenience of travellers who might 
 desire to visit any town upon the road ; so that each side 
 seemed more like a leaf out of a topographical dictionary of 
 the county of Kent than anything else. Underneath the car- 
 riage was a large wicker basket, or cradle, also filled with 
 trunk-mails, and various other contrivances for holding 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 tra- 
 vellers who occupied the interior of the vehicle. 
 
 Although, as we have seen, the coach would have conve- 
 niently contained six, it was now only tenanted by three 
 persons. The first, who had entered at the Golden Cross, 
 Charing Cross, was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman, dressed 
 with scrupulous care and neatness. His linen and his neck- 
 cloth 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 exten- 
 sive 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, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 13 
 
 quick, and lively. His colour was high, his teeth were 
 remarkably fine, and the expression of his countenance 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 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 behind 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 appa- 
 rent. 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 gentleman. 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, 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 win- 
 dow with an abstracted look, though his eyes were turned 
 towards a man with a lantern, who was handing something 
 up to the coachman. 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 mentioned 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, 
 
1 i THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 bore about him several traces of military costume, which were, 
 indeed, occasionally 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 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 for a rather 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 be- 
 stowed 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 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 indistinct, 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 forgetfulness. ^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 together 
 in familiar tones. After rousing himself, and putting down 
 the window, he passed about five minutes either in contem- 
 plating the hedges by the road-side, all glittering in the morn- 
 ing 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. 15 
 
 Tlio 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 gen- 
 tleman 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 de- 
 clared 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 quantity of yeast in a large 
 quantity of dough, makes 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 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 information they give you, you will be right 
 nine hundred and ninety-seven times out of a thousand. 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 endea- 
 vours to lead themselves wrong, and so studiously avoid every- 
 thing 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 re- 
 garding them." 
 
 " Hold the sea in the hollow of your hand," cried the old 
 gentleman, impatiently; " make the finite contain the infinite; 
 put twenty thousand gallons into a pint pot, and when you 
 
1 6 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 have done all that, then calculate the causes that produce rain 
 to-day and wind to-morrow, or sunshine one day and clouds 
 the next. Men say the same cause acting under the same 
 circumstances will always produce the same effect, good; I 
 grant that, merely for the sake of argument. 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 piece of dried sea- weed. 
 But these men of science, they do nothing but go out mare's- 
 nesting 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 traveller seemed to find some amuse- 
 ment, plainly perceiving, what the reader has already disco- 
 vered, that his elderly companion was an oddity. The other 
 tenant of the coach made no observation, 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 passe.d some 
 led horses, with the grooms who 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." 
 
 " Ay, sir; you are a judge of horse- flesh, I suppose?" re- 
 joined 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 17 
 
 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 grave com- 
 panion 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 travel- 
 ler. " I'm sure I have, for the last five or six years." 
 
 " If you have led as honest a life, sir," rejoined 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 break- 
 fast, dinner, tea, and supper. Thus any party of travellers 
 proceeding together throughout the entire journey, had a much 
 better opportunity of becoming thoroughly acquainted with 
 each other than many a man has before marriage with the 
 wife he takes to his bosom. 
 
 Though the conversation of the old gentleman was, as the 
 reader has perceived, somewhat morose and misanthropical, he 
 showed himself very polite and courteous at the breakfast table ; 
 
18 THE SMUGGLE!?. 
 
 made the tea, carved the ham, and asked every man if he took 
 cream and sugar. What wonderful things little attentions are ; 
 how they smooth down our asperities and soften us to one another 1 
 The two younger gentlemen had looked upon their elderly com- 
 panion merely as that curious compound which we have 
 before mentioned, 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, the whole party walked out to- 
 gether 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 ab- 
 sorption of his breakfast, and the horses who were undergoing 
 the opposite process in the application 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 vehe- 
 mently. His keen black eyes sparkled, his brow contracted, 
 he spoke with great volubility, and demonstrated somewhat 
 largely with the forefinger 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 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. Dur- 
 ing all this proceeding he had taken no notice of his two com- 
 panions, 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 ; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 19 
 
 but it excited, in some degree, his curiosity; and the manners 
 of his two companions 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 elderly 
 gentleman was the first to begin, saying in a more placable 
 and complimentary tone than he was in general accustomed to 
 use, " I hope I am to have the pleasure of your society, gen- 
 tlemen 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 pro- 
 bable 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 beyond 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 Cran- 
 brook, and where we see the face of a human creature above 
 the rank of a farmer, or a smuggler, about once in the year, 
 always excepting the parson of the parish." 
 
 "Then you turn off from Maidstone?'' said the graver 
 traveller, looking stedfastly 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 contrary, 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 Cranbrook. 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 they 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 proceed still 
 farther out of my way ; for I must visit Hythe and Folkestone 
 first." 
 
20 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Indeed, indeed!" exclaimed their elderly friend. "Do 
 you know any body in that part of Kent? Have you ever 
 been there before?" 
 
 "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 man's life!" exclaimed the gentleman in 
 black, "does he expect me to give him a long picturesque 
 description of St. Augustine'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'll 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 your 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 you," 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'll find all that out by-and-bye. 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 des- 
 perate and difficult circumstances. Spoilt and indulged in 
 their infancy, taught to be vain and idle and conceited from 
 the cradle, deprived of every inducement to the exertion of 
 the mind, corrupted by having always their own way, sheltered 
 from all the friendly buffets of the world, and left, like a pond 
 in a gravel pit, to stagnate or evaporate without stirring. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 21 
 
 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 for- 
 tunes, encumber their estates, bully their wives and their ser- 
 vants, indulge 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 you 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 par- 
 ticulars. My name is Digby, a poor major in his majesty's 
 regiment of dragoons, to whom the two serious misfortunes 
 have happened of being born an eldest son, and having a 
 baronetcy thrust upon him." 
 
 "Couldn't be worse; couldn't be worse I" replied 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 unmar- 
 ried woman in the hundred. The young men expect you to 
 do nothing but hunt foxes, course hares, and shoot partridges 
 from morning to 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 1 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, hal" 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 sty 
 glance upon the other traveller, who was only moved to a 
 very faint smile by all the old gentleman's merriment, asking, 
 "Docs this gentleman come with you? Are you to bo- made 
 
22 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 you." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "I don't know; I don't know, young gentleman," 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 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 denomination ?" said 
 Mr. Croyland. 
 
 "Oh! Osborn, Osborn!" cried Sir Edward Digby, before 
 his friend could speak. " Captain Osborn of the - dra- 
 goons." 
 
 "I will put that down in my note-book," rejoined the old 
 gentleman. " The best friend I ever had was named Osborn. 
 He couldn't be your father, though, for he had no children, 
 
THE SMUGGLE!*. 23 
 
 poor fellow! and was never married, which was the only 
 blessing Heaven ever granted him, except a good heart and a 
 well regulated mind. His sister married my old schoolfellow, 
 Lay ton; but that's a bad story, and a sad story, though now 
 it's an old story, 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," he continued, for he 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 
 it, however, till my youngest nephew was of age to take it; 
 but when the boy died as they both 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, 
 and then Robert brought forward his letter promising 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 eye to the nabob's money, 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, I've nothing 
 to do with it I 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!" replied 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 mul- 
 tiplied itself. As to your having to pass under the artillery 
 of the 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 
 safeguard. You may make love to little Zara as long as you 
 like; think of the fools calling her Zara! Though she'll play 
 
24 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 deter- 
 mined to die an old maid, I can see." 
 
 "Oh, the difficulty of the enterprise would only be a soldier's 
 reason for undertaking it!" said Sir Edward Digby. 
 
 "It won't do; it won't 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 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- 
 tvventy, man! A great deal straighter than that crouching 
 wench in white marble they call the 4 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 melancholy smile; and 
 the conversation went on between 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 melan- 
 choly." 
 
 "I believe he is," replied Digby. " Love's the only thing 
 that can make a man melancholy; and when one comes to 
 consider all the attractions of a squaw of the Chippeway 
 Indians, it is no wonder that my friend is in such a hopeless 
 case." 
 
 The old gentleman poked him with his finger, and shook 
 his head, with a langh, saying "You are a wag, young gen- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 9,5 
 
 tleman, 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 wampum, 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 any- 
 thing 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 proceed- 
 ings is, that of covering up his own natural skin with all 
 manner of contrivances derived from every bird, beast, fish, 
 and vegetable, that happens to come in his way. If he wants 
 warmth, he goes and robs a sheep of its great coat; he beats 
 the unfortunate 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 universal mountebank, depend upon it, playing his antics 
 for the amusement of creation, and leaving nothing half so 
 ridiculous as himself." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned round again, and joined Captain 
 Osborn, in whom, perhaps, he took a greater interest than 
 even in his livelier companion. It might be that the associ- 
 ations 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 Osborn took a 
 greater share in the conversation than he had previously done ; 
 and remarking that Mr. Croyland had put, as a condition, 
 upon his invitation to Sir Edward, that 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. Croyland; "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 
 
26 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 very hard of him when he takes to a life of risk ami 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 fellow, who 
 declares war and fights it out. There's some spirit in him." 
 
 "Gentlemen smugglers!" said Osboru; "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 Mr. Croylaml. 
 "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 hundreds 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 proceeded to 
 give them a true and faithful exposition 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 varied 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. Croy- 
 land 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. 
 
 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 supper, 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2? 
 
 which they had already received. But two or three things 
 are to be taken into consideration. The distance from London 
 to Folkestone 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 more steep than they are in the present 
 day. The journey which the travellers accomplished, was 
 generally considered a feat both of difficulty and danger, and 
 the coach which performed 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 considered an impracticable 
 journey for anything but a man on horseback, and when 
 iirst the coach appeared upon the road, the towns-people and 
 villagers turned out in multitudes, with admiration and wonder, 
 not unmixed with dread, to see the rapid rate at which it 
 went: very nearly six. miles an hour I 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 pertinaci- 
 ous rival, the proprietor of the stage had been obliged to pro- 
 pitiate the inn-keepers of various important towns, by dividing 
 his favours amongst them; and thus the traveller was forced 
 to wait nearly one hour at Hythe, during which he might sup 
 if he liked, although he was only about five miles from Folke- 
 stone. 
 
 The supper room of the inn was vacant when the two officers 
 of dragoons entered, but 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, rendered its aspect 
 cheerful and reviving after a long and tedious journey, such 
 as that which had just 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 dis- 
 posed to enjoy himself during the period of his stay. lie 
 ordered, too, a pint of claret, which he was well aware was likely 
 to be procured in great perfection 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 
 
28 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 hand, and fell into deep thought, without giving orders for 
 anything. The host, with his attendant star, disappeared 
 from the room to procure the requisites for the travellers' 
 meal, and Sir Edward Digby immediately took advantage of 
 their absence 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. Besides, 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 painful 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 endearments 
 of a happy home, the treasured caresses of the best of mothers, 
 the counsels, the kindness, the unvarying tenderness of the 
 noblest 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 persecution 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 fami- 
 liarity 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 upon which I hope may not be the case, 
 as I do not like the service you may betake yourself to 
 Harbourne House, making me a report as you pass. When I 
 have so distributed the men that we can rapidly concentrate a 
 sufficient number upon any spot where they may be required, 
 I will come on after you to our good old friend's dwelling. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 29 
 
 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 
 Osborn, though the learned reader has already discovered that 
 such was not his true name. " It is evident," he continued, 
 " that old Mr. Croyland 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. How- 
 ever, 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." 
 
 " Under the seal of confession, then," said his friend; "for 
 he is evidently a very talkative old gentleman. Did you re- 
 mark 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 always his habit," answered Osborne; 
 " 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, 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 
 
80 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 private. 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." 
 
 " 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, a much more valuable and 
 important guest than an officer in the army, even had he been 
 commander- in-chief of the forces; but Osborn proceeded 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 whatever orders 
 I may receive from government as a military man. I tell you 
 who I am at once, that you may, as far as possible, keep from 
 my sight any 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, 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 you 
 have no annoyance. You must wait a little for your bed-room 
 though, for we did not know you were going to stay; but we 
 will loose no time getting it ready. Can I do anything else to 
 serve you, sir?" 
 
 "I think not," replied Osborn. ' ' But one thing will be neces- 
 sary. 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 3 1 
 
 proofs of his guest's opulence and importance, was proceeding 
 to assure him that all manner 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 traveller 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?" 
 
 "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 appearance or of dress, pause to notice briefly 
 those of the stranger who had just entered. 
 
 He had originally been a tall man, and probably a powerful 
 one, but he now stooped considerably, and was extremely thin. 
 His face had no colour in it, arid even the lips were pale, but 
 yet the hue was not cadaverous, or even what could be called 
 sickly. The features were generally small and fine, except 
 the eyes, which were large and bright, with a sort of brilliant 
 but unsafe fire in them, and that peculiar searching and in- 
 tense gaze when speaking to any one, which is common to 
 people of strong imaginations, 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 testi- 
 mony 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 frame by the internal emotions, infinitely more rapidly and 
 more destructively than any of the external events and cir- 
 cumstances of life. One thing was very peculiar about him, 
 at least in this country, for on another continent such a pecu- 
 liarity might have called for no attention. On either cheek, 
 beginning just behind the external corner of the eye, and pro- 
 ceeding in a graceful wave all along the cheek bone, turning 
 
32 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 round like an acanthus leaf, at the other extremity upon the 
 cheek itself, was a long line of very minute blue spots, with 
 another, and another, and another beneath it, till the whole 
 assumed the appearance of a rather broad arabesque 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 peculiar form and ornaments, gave 
 signs of considerable antiquity. Though bent, as we have 
 said, thin and pale, he seemed active and energetic. 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 common 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 years, if 
 ever!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, you would," replied the old man; "you could 
 not help yourself; it was written in the book of your fate ; it 
 was not to be avoided. You were drawn here by an irre- 
 sistible impulse to undergo what you have to undergo, to per- 
 form that which is assigned you, and to do and suffer all those 
 things which are written on high." 
 
 " I wonder to hear you speaking in terms so 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 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 every thing which God fore- 
 knows, must take place, and has been pre-determined by his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 33 
 
 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 play- 
 thing. We see the babe about to dash it against the wall iu 
 mere wantonness, we know that he 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 accumulation of which makes experi- 
 ence, 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, Osborii, 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 say- 
 ing 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 of our race brought death 
 into the world and was permitted 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, 
 
34 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and then starting up suddenly, he thanked God for what ho 
 had given him, took up his hat and turned towards the door. 
 
 " I am going out, Osborn," he said, " for 1117 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. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE sky was clear and bright; the moonlight was sleeping in 
 dream -like splendour upon the water, and the small waves, 
 thrown up 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 Dunge- 
 ness, and to the east appeared the high cliffs 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, glittering in the silver veil cast over her 
 sleeping bosom from on high. 
 
 Such was the scene presented to the eyes of the two wan- 
 derers when they reached the beach, a little way on the Sand- 
 gate side of Hythe, and both paused to gaze upon it for several 
 minutes in profound silence. 
 
 " 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 
 comfort, 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 fall 
 of destructive and of beneficial power, lying tranquilly within 
 the bound which God affixed to it, and to remember the words, 
 4 Thus far shalt thou come, and no farther, and here shall thy 
 proud waves be stopped,' affords so grand an illustration of 
 his might, so fine a proof of the truth of his promises, that 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 35 
 
 the heart must be hard indeed, and the mind dull, not to re- 
 ceive confirmation of faith, and encouragement in hope." 
 
 "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 foulness, 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." 
 
 "You have often threatened to do so, Warde," answered 
 the young officer, " but yet methinks, 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 most 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, be- 
 cause they are what you call civilized?" 
 
 "The savage is at least sincere," replied his companion. 
 "The want of sincerity is the great and crowning vice of all 
 this portion of the globe. Cruel the wild hunters may be, but 
 are they 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 long years of 
 mental torture, when every scorn and contumely, every bitter 
 injustice, every cruel bereavement that man can inflict or 
 suffer, is piled upon your head, till the load becomes intolera- 
 ble. Then, too, it is done in a smooth and smiling guiso. 
 The civilized fiend looks softly upon you while he wounds you 
 to the heart; makes a pretext of law, and justice, and equity; 
 
36 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 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 blow 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 my excellent friend that you have at some time 
 suffered sadly from man's baseness," said Osborn; "but yet 
 I think you 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 best blessings God 
 has given to man, as you have done, 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 companion. " 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 God? There are many 
 villains in the world ; I know it but too well ; there are many 
 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 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 gentlemanly man of fashion and high station. Now, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 37 
 
 if, as you say, you have not come down hither for old asso- 
 ciations, 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 thousand 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 placed on 
 others. But I am not going to argue with you on all our in- 
 stitutions; merely this I will say, 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 deli- 
 beration, 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 lawgivers but the good of a 
 party?" 
 
 " But do you not think," asked the young officer, " that we 
 ourselves, who are not lawgivers, 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 selfish- 
 ness, have views of our own interests, in opposition either to 
 the interests of others or of the general weal, no part in the 
 judgment that we form? 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 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 SMUGGLER. 
 
 the line of my duty, my good friend ; and I will admit that 
 many of these very misguided men themselves, who are carry- 
 ing 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 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 robbery 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 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 multi- 
 tude of knaves in gilded co.ats would be suffered to go on com- 
 mitting 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 reason 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 life, there was a 
 certain perversity in the course of Mr. Warde's thoughts which 
 rendered it impossible 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, arid, 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 Hythe and the beautiful little 
 watering-place of Sandgate. But it must be recollected 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 smugglers' 
 huts, with one little public 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, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 39 
 
 where the roof of a house intercepted the view, was open 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 resem- 
 bling 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 one of your sudden 
 judgments, my good friend?" 
 
 "I knew him when he was a boy and a lad," answered 
 Warde; " I know him now that he is a man, so it is no sudden 
 judgment. Come, let us speak with him, Osborn;" and he 
 advanced rapidly by a narrow path up the side of tho slope. 
 
 Osborn paused a single instant, and then followed, saying, 
 44 Be upon your guard, Warde, and remember how I am circum- 
 stanced. Neither commit me, nor let him commit himself." 
 
 "Xo, no, fear not," answered his friend, " I am no smug- 
 gler, 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 speaking became more and 
 more distinct, while walking up and down upon a flat 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 coining; and the moon shining 
 full upon him, displayed his powerful form, standing in an at- 
 titude of easy grace, with the arms folded on the chest, and 
 the head slightly bent forward. He was not above the middle 
 height, but broad in the shoulders and long in the arm ; robust 
 and strong; every muscle was round and swelling, and yet not 
 heavy; for there was the appearance of great lightness and 
 activity in his whole figure, strangely combined with that of 
 vigour and power. His head was small, and well set upon his 
 shoulders ; and the very position 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 unaccustomed to judge of charac- 
 ter by external signs, a strong and determined spirit, well 
 fitted for the rough and adventurous life which he had under- 
 taken. 
 
40 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Good night, Harding!" said Mr. Warde, as they came up 
 to the spot where he stood. "What a beautiful evening it is!" 
 
 " Good night, sir I" answered the man, in a civil tone, and 
 with a voice of considerable melody. " It is indeed a beautiful 
 evening, though sometimes I like to see the cloudy sky, too." 
 
 "And yet I dare say you enjoy a walk by the bright sea, 
 la t&e calm moonlight as much as I do," rejoined Mr. Warde. 
 
 " Ay, that I 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 inland," said 
 Osborn, joining in the conversation; "both wild and grand, 
 and calm and peaceful." 
 
 " I know there are, sir, I know there are," answered 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, especially 
 in Wales; but still it always seems to me as if there was 
 something wanting when the sea is not there. I suppose it is 
 natural for an Englishman." 
 
 "Perhaps it is," rejoined Osborn, "for certainly when 
 Nature rolled the ocean around us, she intended us for a mari- 
 time people. But to return to what you, were saying: 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 Lon- 
 don, or in some great town, knowing nothing of hardships or 
 of clangers, so that is the reason you love quiet places." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 4 1 
 
 "Quite the reverse!" answered Osboru, with a smile; 
 "mine has been nothing but a life of peril and danger, and 
 activity, as far as it hitherto has 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 fre- 
 quently the sky for my covering, and at best a thin piece of 
 canvass to keep off the blast, have been my lot, but it is that 
 very fact that makes me long for some repose, and love scenes 
 that give the picture of it to the imagination, if not the reality 
 to the heart. I should suppose that few men who have 
 passed their time thus, and known from youth 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 yet, I think, habits one 
 is bred to get such a hold of the heart that we can't do with- 
 out 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," said Warde; "not even 
 the bounty of God can satisfy him. I do not believe that he 
 would even rest in heaven, were he not wearied of change by 
 the 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 off the boat." 
 
 "But one may have activity enough without constant ex- 
 citement and peril," answered Osborn. 
 
 "I don't know that there would be half the pleasure in it,'' 
 replied the smuggler, laughing, "that we strive for, that we 
 love. Everything 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 another minute a boy of 
 twelve or thirteen, dressed in a sailor's jacket, came hurrying 
 
42 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 up to the smuggler, and pulled his sleeve, saying, in a low 
 voice, "Come hither, come hither; I want to speak to yon." 
 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. "Run on and tell him, little Starlight; 
 for I must get home first for a minute. Good night, gentle- 
 men,' 5 he continued, turning to Mr. Warde and his companion, 
 "I must go away for a longer walk;" and without further 
 adieu, he began to descend the bank, leaving the two friends 
 to take their way back to Hythe, conversing, as they went, 
 much in the same strain as that in which they had indulged 
 while coming thither, differing on almost every topic, but yet 
 with some undefmable link of sympathy between them, which 
 nevertheless owed its origin, in the old man's breast, to very 
 different feelings from those which were experienced by his 
 younger companion. 
 
 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 aper- 
 tures of the wood of that name, having its gardens and 
 pleasure-grounds around it, with a terrace and a lawn stretch- 
 ing 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 
 formal enough, with the two wings projecting like the a-kimbo 
 arms of some untamed virago, straight and resolute as a re- 
 doubt. 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 
 capacious 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 43 
 
 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 unlearned in such edifices. 
 
 In the centre of the ground-floor was a large hall of a cru- 
 ciform 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 termination of the shorter arms 
 was the great hall-door; the northern arm, which formed the 
 passage between the various ranges of offices, extended 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 mansion by double 
 doors; and the square of fifteen feet in the centre of the hall 
 was, to the extent 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 afforded 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 nse of these 
 passages and doors nobody was ever able to divine, and it re- 
 mains a mystery to the present day, which I shall not attempt 
 to solve by venturing any hypothesis upon so recondite a sub- 
 ject. 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 appro- 
 priated 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 men- 
 tioned; 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 
 
44 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 had one very great defect: it was very much out of repair; 
 not, indeed, of that sort of substantial repair which is neces- 
 sary 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 of the day 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 chiselled out the 
 pointing from between the sharp, well-cut bricks, scraped away 
 the mortar from the stone copings, and cracked and blistered 
 the painting of the wood- work. This labour of his had not 
 only given a venerable, but also a somewhat dilapidated ap- 
 pearance 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 round from the parish road that we have men- 
 tioned 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 within 
 fifty yards of the enclosure ; for, to use the ordinary romance 
 phrase, Harbourne House was literally " bosomed in a 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 
 AVoodchurch and Woodchurch Beacon, catching a blue line 
 which probably was Romney Marsh. Between, Woodchurch, 
 however, and itself, was seen standing out, straight and up- 
 right, a very trim-looking white dwelling, flanked by some 
 pleasant groves, and to the west were seen one or two gentle- 
 men'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 Biddenden Windmill and the top of Biddendeu 
 
THE SMUGGLED 45 
 
 Church. Harbourne 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 portion of the culti- 
 vated ground around, was within the manor of the master of 
 the mansion, Sir Kobert Croyland, of Harbourne, the elder 
 brother of that Mr. Zachary Croyland, whom 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 by a servant leading another horse, and 
 with a portmanteau 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 Lon- 
 don, 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 ad- 
 vanced with a frank, free, military air, though unacquainted 
 with any of the persons it contained. As his arrival about 
 that hour was expected, the whole family of Harbourne 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 \va.s coming forward to 
 welcome his guest. Sir Kobert Croyland, however, was so 
 different a person from his brother, in every point, that the 
 young officer could hardly believe 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 
 
46 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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, how- 
 ever, he was courtly and kind, though perhaps a little pompous. 
 He expressed his delight at seeing his old friend's sou in Har- 
 bourne 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 description of the old maid. Her appear- 
 ance was very similar, her station and occupation much the 
 same; but nevertheless, in all essential points, Mrs. Barbara 
 Croyland was a very different person from the sister of Squire 
 Allworthy. 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 Croyland, in all things of great importance. 
 She had twice missed a very good opportunity of marriage, 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 
 fortune, except a small annuity, which by some chance had 
 been settled upon her, to her brother Sir Robert, without 
 taking any security 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 unworthy; 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 occasionally a little affronted and indignant 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 4? 
 
 with her friends, when the) 7 disapproved of her spoiling their 
 whole plans with the intention of facilitating 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 intended. She was 
 fully convinced, too, that circumstances were perversely against 
 her; and yet for her life she could not refrain from trying to 
 make those circumstances bend to her purpose, notwithstand- 
 ing all the raps on the knuckles she received ; and she had 
 still some scheme going on, which, though continually disap- 
 pointed, rose up Hydra- like, with a new head 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 re- 
 cesses of her own bosom, that Sir Robert Croyland had claimed 
 acquaintance with Sir Edward Digby on the strength of an 
 old friendship with his father, and had invited him down to 
 Harbourne House immediately on the return of his regiment 
 to England, it may well be supposed that Miss Barbara re- 
 ceived him with her most gracious smiles, which, to say the 
 truth, though the face was wrinkled with age, and the com- 
 plexion 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 persons who were in the 
 room, where he found metal more attractive at least, for the 
 eyes. The first to whom he was introduced was a young 
 lady, who seemed to be about one- and- 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, arid 
 eye-lashes were almost black, and her complexion of a clear 
 brown, with the rose blushing 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 symmetrical and classical, and nothing could be 
 
48 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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, showing the pearl-like teeth 
 beneath; the turn of the ear, and the graceful 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 
 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 was 
 perhaps that the chin was a little too prominent, but yet it 
 suited well with the whole countenance and with its expres- 
 sion, giving it decision without harshness, and a look of firm- 
 ness, 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 contrast 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 the 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 movements were all quicker, more wild and 
 ifree 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER, 49 
 
 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. 
 
 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 whatever 
 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 inex- 
 perienced 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 
 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 succeed, it is far more frequently that the cards which 
 they hold are not good, than that they play the game unskil- 
 fully. 
 
 Whether Sir Robert Croyland had or had not any fore- 
 thought 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. 
 
 "We shall have but a small party," he said, in a somewhat 
 
 D 
 
50 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 apologetic tone, " for several of our friends are absent just 
 now; but I have asked my good and eccentric brother Za- 
 chary to meet you to-day, Sir Edward; and also my 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 eye 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; nay odder, I think, for his expedition to Lon- 
 don. That which seems to polish and soften other men, but 
 renders him rougher and more extraordinary. But he was 
 always very odd ; very odd, indeed, even as a boy." 
 
 "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 money 
 away." 
 
 "He is only odd, I think," said Edith Croyland, "by being 
 kinder and better than other men." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby turned towards her with a warm smile, 
 replying: "So it struck me, Miss Croyland. 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 overlook the oddities for the sake of the finer 
 qualities." 
 
 It seemed to Sir Edward Digby that the commendations of 
 Sir Robert Croyland's brother did not seem the most grateful 
 of all possible sounds to the ears of the baronet, who imme- 
 diately after announced that he would have the pleasure of 
 conducting his young guest to his apartments, adding that 
 they were early people in the country, their usual dinner-hour 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 51 
 
 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 accordingly followed him up the great oaken stair- 
 case to a very handsome and comfortable room, with a dress- 
 ing-room at the side, in which he found his 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 require, and than left him. The 
 young baronet did not proceed immediately to the business of 
 the toilet, but seated himself before the window of the bed- 
 room, and gazed 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 say, 
 but his master continued in a reverie, of which it may 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 sup- 
 posed; but after all, there's no danger; I am proof against 
 all such shots, and I fancy I must use little Zara for the pur- 
 pose 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 discoveries 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 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 progressive, 
 like the flight of a bird, whether it be in the gyrations of the 
 swallow, or the straight -for ward 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 care- 
 fully that which is beneath it : and this state can no more be 
 
5 2 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 con- 
 clusions. " 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 any which he could assume before ; and 
 unless on account of some unaccountable prejudice, the old 
 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 un- 
 derneath it ; and we must find out exactly what that is. Yet 
 I cannot doubt ; I am sure of it. Here, Somersl 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 won't be too late. The great bell rings always half-an- 
 hour before, then Mr. Radford is always a quarter of an hour 
 behind his time." 
 
 "I wonder who Mr. Radford is!" said Sir Edward Digby, 
 as if speaking to himself. "He seems a very important person 
 in the county." 
 
 "I can tell you, sir," said the man; "he is or was the 
 richest person in the neighbourhood, and has got Sir Robert 
 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 neighbourhood, 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 53 
 
 Edward Digby the most; but he knew that there was a cer- 
 tain 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, in- 
 quiring, " What do you mean, Somers, by saying that he is, 
 or was, the richest man in the country?" 
 
 "Why, sir, that is as it maybe," answered the man; "but 
 one thing is certain, Miss Croyland 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 carrying on his father's old trade, like a high- 
 wayman. 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, how- 
 ever, for whenever the servants 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. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT is sometimes expedient, in telling a tale of this kind, to in- 
 troduce the different personages quietly to the reader one after 
 the other, and to suffer him to become familiar with them se- 
 parately, before they are all brought to act together, that he 
 may have a clear and definite notion of their various charac- 
 ters, dispositions, and peculiarities, and be enabled to judge at 
 once of the motives by which they are actuated, when we re- 
 cite 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 
 very soon do), I shall now follow the plan above-mentioned ; 
 and, in order to give the reader a distinct notion of Mr. Rad- 
 
54 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ford, his character, and proceedings, will beg 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. 
 
 Not very far from the town of Hythe, nor very far from the 
 village of Sandgate, are still to be found the ruins of an an- 
 cient castle, which, by various deeds that have been performed 
 within its walls, has acquired a name in English history. The 
 foundation of the building is beyond our records ; and tradition, 
 always fond of the marvellous, carries back the period when 
 the first stone was laid to the times of the Eoman invaders of 
 Great Britain. Others supposed that it was erected by the 
 Saxons, but, as it now stands, it presents no trace of the han- 
 diwork 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 hold of a conquered 
 country, or to resist the power both of tyrannical monarchs 
 and dangerous 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 extensive, and 
 numerous detached buildings, chapels, halls, and apparently a 
 priory, are still to be found built against those walls them- 
 selves, 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 Can- 
 terbury. 
 
 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, embittered the latter life of the 
 second Henry, was planned and determined by the murderers 
 of Thomas a-Becket. With such deeds, however, 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 55 
 
 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 possession 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, 
 with its two lofty gate-towers and wide-spreading hall, was 
 then but very little decayed. Nevertheless, at that period no 
 one tenanted the castle of Saltwood but an old man and his 
 son, who cultivated a small portion of ground in the neigh- 
 bourhood; 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 agri- 
 cultural produce. Thus, every night, for a short time, lights 
 were to be seen in Saltwood Castle, but all the buildings ex- 
 cept 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. Wardo 
 and the young officer. He walked on with a quick, bold, care- 
 less 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 ; but 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 
 constant intercourse with, and opportunity of enjoying 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 him- 
 self; and the purer arid freer they are from man's invention, 
 the more permanent are they in their capability of bestowing 
 happiness, the more extensive seems their quality of satisfying 
 
56 THE SMUGGLE!*. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 suddenly 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, ex- 
 tended 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 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 leading up to the castle, and passed through the archway 
 of the gate. Of the history of the place he knew nothing, but 
 from vague traditions heard in his boyhood ; and yet, when he 
 stood amongst those old grey walls, with the high towers 
 rising before him, and the greensward covering the decay of 
 centuries beneath his feet, he could not help feeling a vague 
 impression 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 character and habits 
 of thought of the person, of course, render it a more distinct 
 or obscure perception, but still we all have it. With some, it 
 is as I have before called it, an impression that we must share 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 5? 
 
 the same decay, meet the 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 tombstone, 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 ever 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 themselves to the eye of the man 
 who now visited 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 casement. Pie 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 window 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 doorway 
 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 Starlight," 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 listening, 
 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 court, and 
 communicating with one of those passages which led from 
 tower to tower, with stairs every here and there leading to 
 the battlements. He was obliged to bow his head as he 
 passed; but after climbing a somewhat steep ascent, where 
 
58 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 lie 
 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 1" said Mr. Radford, in a low but 
 still harsh tone; "what a time you have been. It will be 
 one o'clock or more before I get back." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " That stupid boy has been playing the fool, then," replied 
 the other; "I sent him " 
 
 "Oh, he's not stupid!" interrupted the smuggler; "and 
 he's not given to play the fool either. More likely 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 Radford. " But 
 this will soon change. The moon will be dwindled down to a 
 cheese-paring before many days are over, and the barometer 
 is falling. It is necessary that we should make all our arrange- 
 ments 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 
 best, I dare say; but still that is nothing to me. I've under- 
 taken 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 59 
 
 exert himself," answered his companion. " I lost fifty thou- 
 sand pounds by the last affair, twenty by the other; but I 
 tell you, Harding, I have 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 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. Tin contented with little, and 
 don't like such great speculations." 
 
 " Oh! if you are afraid," cried Mr. Eadford, " you can give 
 it up. I dare say we can find some one else to land the goods." 
 
 " As to being afraid, that I am not," answered 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. Bad- 
 ford, 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 I" said Mr. Radford. 
 
 " I dare say it would," rejoined the smuggler; " but, never- 
 theless, your coming down here every other day, and sending 
 for me, does no good, arid a great deal of harm. It only 
 teazes me, and sets me always thinking about it, when 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 something 
 is going on." 
 
 " But it is necessary, my good fellow," answered the other, 
 " that we should settle all our plans. I must have people 
 ready, and horses and help, in case of need." 
 
60 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " 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 Harding. " You 
 know there are dragoons down at Folkestone?" 
 
 "No! when did they come?" exclaimed Radford, 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. Radford!" replied Harding; "you 
 are always so suspicious. Some day or another you'll sus- 
 pect me." 
 
 " I suspect everybody," cried Radford, vehemently, " 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 punish- 
 ment for treachery." 
 
 Harding laughed, but he did not explain the cause of his 
 merriment, though probably he thought that Mr. Radford 
 himself would do many a thing for a small gain, which would 
 not lightly touch his soul's salvation. He soon proceeded, 
 however, to reply, in a grave tone. " That's a bad plan, Mr. 
 Radford. No man is ever well served by those whom he 
 suspects. He had better never have anything to do with a 
 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 you 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," answered Harding. 
 " 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 61 
 
 many another. As to stopping 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 argumentative manner, taking hold of the 
 lappel of his companion's jacket; "there's no use of running 
 more risk than needful. And you must remember that we 
 have a long way to carry the goods after they 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 won't 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 won't 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. "Pie would never have anything to do with these 
 matters himself, and 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 a canal till they are 
 wanted, as one can do with tubs. "Who do you intend to 
 send down for them? That's one thing I must know." 
 
 "Oh! whoever comes, my son will be with them," an- 
 swered Mr. Radford, "As to who the others will be, I can- 
 
 * 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." 
 
62 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 not tell yet. The Ramleys, 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!'' exclaimed Mr. 
 Radford, 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 ex- 
 planation, " 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." 
 
 " That's the best way, and the only way with such fellows 
 as those," 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. Radford; " and I'll 
 have all ready, never fear.'' 
 
 " That must be your affair," replied Harding; " 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 
 where 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 won't rise till three or four. Wo 
 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. Radford, you'll not be coining down here any more till it'* 
 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," re- 
 joined the other; " but I really don't see, Harding, why you 
 should so much wish me to stay away." 
 
 " I'll tell you why, Mr. Radford," said Harding, putting his 
 hands into the pockets of his jacket, "and that very easily. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 63 
 
 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 $ays; 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 day, when I was in at 
 South's, the grocer's, to talk to him about some stuff* he 
 wanted, I heard two men say 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.' 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 finding their way down again to the 
 court below, they parted. 
 
 " I don't like that fellow at all," said Mr. Radford to him- 
 self, 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 towards Sandgate, 
 and perhaps his thoughts were not much more complimentary 
 to his companion than Mr. Radford's had been to him; but in 
 the mean time, while each followed his separate course home- 
 ward, we must remain for a short space in the green, moon- 
 light 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 neighbourhood 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 window, though all traces of its 
 original form were now lost. The tower was close to the spot 
 where Mr. Radford and his companion had been standing; 
 
64 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and although the aperture we have mentioned looked towards 
 the court, joining on to a projecting wall in great part over- 
 thrown, there was a loop-hole on the other side, flanking the 
 very panipet 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 cauti- 
 ously 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 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-pistol 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 
 boy instantly started out from the trees, and came running 
 across the meadow towards him. 
 
 "Have you heard all, Mr. Mowle?" asked 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 it will do, and you are a 
 clever little fellow. But come along," he added, laying his 
 hand on the boy'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 boy towards Hythe, 
 and the scenery round Saltwood resumed its silent solitude 
 again. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 65 
 
 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 appe- 
 tite the case is different, 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 personage brought before him, as the more ordinary epi- 
 cure desires to taste a new dish. He was equally refined, 
 too, in regard to the taste of his intellectual food. He liked a 
 good deal of flavour, but not too much ; a soupcon of some- 
 thing, he did not well know what, in a man's demeanour gave 
 it great zest, as a soupcon 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 was, together with his know- 
 ledge 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 Croyland. The other was a vene- 
 rable looking old man in black, whom he could not conceive 
 to be Mr. Radford, 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. 
 
 As soon as Sir Edward Digby appeared, Mr. Zachary 
 Croyland, with his back tall, straight, and stiff as a poker, 
 advanced towards him and shook him cordially by 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 be gained by so doing; and I'm sure there's 
 
G6 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 acquain- 
 tance 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 cultivate," answered 
 Mr. Croyland, in a voice quite loud enough to be heard by the 
 whole room. " It won't pay tillage, I should think; but you 
 know your own affairs best. Here, Edith, my love, I must 
 make you better acquainted with my young fellow-traveller. 
 Doubtless, he 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 common 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 somewhat 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 use 
 of hurting people's feelings ; and if Eobert has'nt as much sense 
 as you, there's no use you should be always telling him so." 
 
 "Pish! nonsense!" cried Mr. Croyland, "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 you had burnt 
 your fingers 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 67 
 
 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 and the most absurd. Now Mr. Croyland's vanity 
 lay in his oddity and acerbity. There was nothing on earth 
 which he considered so foolish as good-nature, and he was 
 heartily ashamed of the large portion with which Heaven had 
 endowed 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, arid 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 
 cheerfulness as her countenance ever showed. The topic 
 which he spoke upon might be common-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. Croyland had finished his discussion with 
 his sister, the name of Mr. Radford was announced; and Sir 
 Edward Digby turned quickly round to examine the appear- 
 ance 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 sister. The younger girl instantly rose, 
 
68 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and while her father was busy receiving Mr. Radford with 
 somewhat 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 affection; but he, nevertheless did not fail to 
 take a complete survey of the personage who entered, and 
 whom I must now present to the reader, somewhat more dis- 
 tinctly than I could do by the moonlight. Mr. Richard Bad- 
 ford was a tall, thin, but large-boned man, with dark eyes 
 and overhanging shaggy brows, a hook nose, considerably de- 
 pressed towards the point, a mouth somewhat wide, and teeth 
 very 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 
 nieagerness 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 voracity, in his eye, with a bend in the brow, 
 which would have given the observer an idea of great quick- 
 ness 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 charac- 
 teristic. He was dressed in the height of the mode, with 
 large buckles in his shoes and smaller ones at his 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 Croy- 
 land 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 Digby, bowing low, 
 if that could be called a bow, which was merely an inclination 
 of the rigid spine, from a perpendicular position to an angle of 
 forty-five with the horizon. The young officer's demeanour 
 formed a very striking contrast with that of his new acquain- 
 tance, not much in favour of the latter; but he showed that, 
 as Mr. Croyland had predicated of him, he was quite prepared 
 to say a great many courteous nothings in a very civ 7 il and 
 obliging tone. Mr. Radford declared himself delighted at the 
 honour of making his acquaintance, and Sir Edward pronounced 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 69 
 
 himself charmed at the opportunity of meeting him. Mr. 
 Radford hoped that he was going to honour their poor place 
 for a considerable 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 com- 
 pelled 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 compli- 
 ments 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 beau- 
 tiful little culprit, which she caught, even through the thick 
 lashes of her downcast eyes, and which served to reassure her. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland himself was displeased ; but 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 choose 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 a milkmaid, I'll answer for 
 him ;" but the remark passed unnoticed, for Sir Robert Croy- 
 land, who was always anxious to drown his brother's some- 
 what too pertinent observations, without giving the nabob any 
 offence, was loudly pressing Mr. Radford to let them wait for 
 half-an-hour, in order to give time for the young gentleman'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 
 
70 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 sister, who was, to say the truth, an enigma to him ; for lie 
 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 
 the master of the house followed with the fair Zara, leaving 
 the clergyman and Sir Robert to come together. By a ma- 
 noeuvre on the part of Edith, however, favoured by her father, 
 but nearly frustrated by the busy spirit of her aunt, Miss Croy- 
 land 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 cf Sir Edward Digby, that the young baronet was 
 at all disinclined to enjoy his pretty little friend's society 
 nearer than the opposite side of the table. Nor must it be 
 imagined that his sage reflections, in regard to keeping himself 
 out of 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 possible ; but, frustrated 
 in his first attack, he determined to change his plan of opera- 
 tions, and besiege the fair Zara as one of the enemy's out- 
 
THE SMUGGLE!?. 7 1 
 
 works. 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 country, in order to obtain a clear knowledge of 
 their habits and course of proceeding, that he might take ad- 
 vantage of it at an after-period, for purposes of his own. 
 
 The art of conversation, when properly regarded, forms a 
 regular system of tactics in which, notwithstanding the various 
 manoeuvres of your adversary, and the desultory fire kept up 
 by indifferent persons around, you still endeavour to carry tho 
 line of advance in the direction that you wish, and to frustrate 
 every effort to turn it towards any point that may not bo 
 agreeable to you, rallying it here, giving it a bend there; pre- 
 senting 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 was, in the present instance, that Sir 
 Edward Digby's breastworks were too low for such an active 
 opponent as Zara Croyland. They might have appeared a 
 formidable obstacle in the way of a scientific opponent; but 
 with all the rash valour of youth, which is so frequently suc- 
 cessful where practice and experience fail, she walked straight 
 up, and jumped over them, taking one line after another, 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 Croylaud, 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 discourse 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 Edward ; or else you are only deceiving 
 
72 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 that poor foolish girl; for what have you to do with the coun- 
 try ? 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," re- 
 plied 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, showed the old gentleman that he had been taken in 
 by Sir Edward's quietly-spoken jest; and at the same time his 
 brother exclaimed, still laughing, "He hit you fairly there, 
 Zachary. He has found out the full extent of your love for 
 your fellow-creatures already." 
 
 "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, unfortunately, 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, in- 
 truding 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 venomous of the two races, and somewhat prettier to look 
 at; but still there's a wonderful resemblance.'' 
 
 " I don't at all approve of your calling me a milkmaid, 
 uncle," said Zara, shaking her small delicate finger at Mr. 
 Croyland, 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. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 73 
 
 "You cannot, you cannot!" cried Zara. "Fancy, Sir 
 Edward, what a picture it made when one day I went over 
 to my 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 acknow- 
 ledges, 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 her, in some heathen language, to be quiet. 
 It was the finest sight I ever saw, and would have made a 
 beautiful picture of the ' Worship of the Cow,' which is, as I 
 am told, customary in the country where both the gentlemen 
 came from." 
 
 "Zara, my dear; Zara I" cried Mrs. Barbara, who was 
 frightened to death lest her niece should deprive herself of all 
 share in Mr. Croydon's fortune. "You really should not tell 
 such a story of your uncle." 
 
 But the worthy gentleman himself was laughing till the tears 
 ran down his cheeks. "Its quite true; its quite true!" he ex- 
 claimed, "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 dili- 
 gently 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." 
 
 "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. Barbara 
 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. Croyland, drily, 
 
74 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 but with a good deal of fun twinkling in the corners of his 
 eyes. 
 
 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 flung hastily open, and a young gentleman entered, of 
 some three or four-and-twenty years of age, bearing a strong 
 resemblance to Mr. Radford, though undoubtedly of a much 
 more pleasant and graceful appearance. 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 careless- 
 ness which was to be traced in all the rest of his apparel. 
 Everything he wore was as good as it could be, and every- 
 thing 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 him- 
 self 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 ha- 
 bitual characteristic of his mind, rather than the effect of any 
 accidental circumstance. His air was quite self-possessed, 
 though hurried; and a flashing glance of his eye round the 
 table, 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 inclination of the head in re- 
 turn. One of the servants inquired if he would take soup and 
 fish; but he replied abruptly, u No; bring me fish. No soup; 
 I hate such messes." 
 
 In the mean time, by one of those odd turns which some- 
 
THE SMUGGLED. 75 
 
 times take place in conversation, Mr. Croyland, the clergyman, 
 ami Mr. Radford himself were once more talking together;, the 
 latter having apparently overcome his indignation at the 
 nabob's tart rejoinder, in the hope and expectation of saying 
 something still more biting to him in return. Like many a 
 brave general, however, he had not justly appreciated the 
 power of his adversary as compared with his own strength. 
 Mr. Croyland, soured at an early period of life, had acquired 
 by long practice and experience a habit of repartee when his 
 prejudices 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 show itself in a hearty peal of laughter, 
 even at his own expense, when the attack upon him was made 
 iii a good spirit, by one for whom he had any affection or 
 esteem. But if he despised or disliked his assailant, 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 cler- 
 gyman returned to Mr. Croyland's hatred of London, saying, 
 not very advisedly perhaps, just as young Mr. Radford entered, 
 " I cannot imagine, my dear sir, why you have such an ani- 
 mosity to our magnificent capital, and to all that it contains, 
 especially when we all know you to be as beneficent to indivi- 
 duals as you are severe upon the species collectively." 
 
 44 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 I 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 London 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 are fewer?" demanded 
 Mr. Radford. 
 
 "I am beginning to fancy so," answered Mr. Croyland, 
 
76 THE SMUGGLE!?. 
 
 drily, "bat I suppose in London the number makes np for the 
 want of intensity." 
 
 " Well, it's a very fine city," rejoined Mr. Radford; " the 
 emporium of the world, the nurse of arts and sciences, the 
 birth-place 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 natu- 
 rally tend, Radford. Every uncustomed spirit, every prohi- 
 bited 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 fortunes 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 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 unpleasantly at this juncture; but Sir Edward 
 Digby, though somewhat 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. Croyland an inducement to deviate from the 
 sarcastic into the expatiative; and having set him cantering 
 upon one of his hobbies, he left him to finish his excursion, 
 and returned to a conversation which had been going on be- 
 tween him and the fair Zara, in somewhat of a low tone, 
 though not so low as to show any mutual design of keeping it 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 77 
 
 from the ears of those around. Young Radford had in the 
 mean time been making up for the loss of time occasioned by 
 his absence at the commencement of dinner, and he seemed 
 undoubtedly to have a prodigious appetite. Not a word had 
 passed from father to son, t>r 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 in- 
 clined 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; 
 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 for- 
 tune 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 inter- 
 rupting her conversation with Sir Edward Digby, and endea- 
 vouring, after a fashion not at all uncommon, to make himself 
 agreeable by preventing people from following 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 
 so; and he was somewhat amused to see that the fair Zara 
 was a good deal annoyed at the encouragement ho gave to her 
 companion on the left to join in their conversation. 
 
 He was soon satisfied, however, in regard to the young 
 
78 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 man's mind and character. Richard Radford 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 consti- 
 tutes 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 con- 
 sequent upon the want of moral training and over-indulgence 
 in youth. To judge from his own conversation, the whole end 
 and aim of his life seemed to be excitement ; he spoke of field 
 sports with pleasure; but the degree of satisfaction 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 magnificent 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 barbarous," she said. 
 " Their whole pleasure seems to consist in torturing poor 
 animals or killing them." 
 
 Young Radford laughed. " What were they made for?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " To be used by man, I think; not to be tortured by him," 
 the young lady replied. 
 
 " 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 our 
 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 
 whole is the thought whether he will be able by any possibility 
 to clear it or not. If it were not for hunting, and one or two 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 79 
 
 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 workl" 
 
 " 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 arid 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 army for the world. 
 I'm sure if I did I should shoot my commanding officer within 
 a month!" 
 
 44 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." 
 
 " Oh! you mean the hanging," cried young Radford, laugh- 
 ing; " but I would take care they should never hang me; for 
 I could shoot myself as easily as I could shoot him; 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 Robert Croyland, in a ner- 
 vous 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; " 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 young officer did not reply, but turned the conversa- 
 tion to other things; and the wine having been liberally sup- 
 plied, operated as it usually does, at the point where its use 
 stops short of excess, in "making glad the heart of man, 5 ' and 
 the conclusion of the dinner was much more cheerful and 
 placable than the commencement. 
 
 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 
 common 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 
 
80 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 possible 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 un- 
 derstanding what he meant, gave him a slight nod, and 
 finished his first 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 habitual 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 matter short, at once and for 
 ever. " So good, indeed, that I have been induced to take 
 t\vo more glasses than I usually indulge in, and I consequently 
 feel somewhat heated and uncomfortable. I shall go and re- 
 fresh 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, exclaiming, "Pooh, nonsense, Robert! let every man 
 do as he likes. Have not I heard you, a thousand times, call 
 your house Liberty Hall? 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 Robert, somewhat sharply; and in the meanwhile, during 
 this discussion, Sir Edward Digby made his escape from the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON entering the drawing-room, towards which Sir Edward 
 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 some- 
 thing pinned to her knee. As it was quite beyond the good 
 lady's conception that anybody would ever think of quitting 
 the dining-room so early but her younger brother, no sooner 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 8 1 
 
 did she hear a step than, jumping at conclusions as she usually 
 did, she exclaimed aloud, " Isn't he a nice young man, brother 
 Zachary? I think it will do quite well, if that " 
 
 Sir Edward Digby would have given a great 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 
 attached her work to her knee, he added, with the most bene- 
 volent 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 intended 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 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 mer- 
 riment, Mr. Croyland exclaimed, " There! hold your tongue, 
 Bab ; you can't get your fish out of the kettle without burn- 
 ing 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 my sister Barbara has deter- 
 mined you shall marry, whether you like it or not, and who 
 herself, 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 in- 
 structed by her in the art and mystery of setting everything 
 to wrongs with the very best intentions in the world.'' 
 
 "Thank you, my dear sir," replied Sir Edward, smiling, 
 "I think I should prefer the fresh air; and, as to the dangers 
 
82 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 confusion 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 by the stable 
 and farm yards; but 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 walking 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 returning, 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 charac- 
 teristic of an Amadis, 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 83 
 
 path about a couple of hundred yards, he was led directly 
 into a good, broad, sandy road, in which he thought it would 
 be impossible 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 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, indeed, would not allow 
 himself to fancy that he was by any means very anxious for 
 Zara's company, or Miss Croyland's either; for he was not in 
 the slightest hurry either to fall in love 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 beautiful 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 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 picturesque 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 
 
84 THE SMUGGLE!*. 
 
 won't 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 neatness and cleanli- 
 ness 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 advancing towards the 
 door as he entered; a very 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 appearance 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 usually, termed a sailor's knot. The two 
 latter persons were sitting very close together, and the girl 
 was smiling gaily at something 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 wo- 
 man 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 they went round to the east. They will take the Hal- 
 den road back, I suppose. If you make haste, you will catch 
 them easily." 
 
 " But which is the Halden road, my good lady?" asked Sir 
 Edward Digby; and she, turning to the man who was sitting 
 by her daughter, said, " I wish you would show the gentle- 
 man, Mr. Harding." 
 
 The man rose cheerfully enough, considering the circum- 
 stances, and led the young baronet 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," 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 85 
 
 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 exclaimed. "In the 
 name of all that is marvellous, how did you escape from the 
 dining-room? Why, you will be accused of shirking the 
 bottle, cowardice, milksopism, and crimes and misdemeanours 
 enough to forfeit your commission 1" 
 
 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 plead 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 un- 
 derstand 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, 1 can assure you," replied Digby. 
 " I retreated under cover of your uncle's movements. Per- 
 haps, otherwise, I might not have got away so easily. He it 
 was who told me where I should find you." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Croyland, 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 table before night." 
 
 " They must have been soldiers who 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. 
 
86 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Through almost the whole of the war," replied Sir Edward 
 Digby, quietly, without noticing, even by a glance, the change 
 of expression which his words had produced. He then paused 
 for a moment, as if waiting for some other question; but both 
 Miss Croyland and her sister remained perfectly silent, and the 
 former turned somewhat pale. 
 
 As he saw that neither of his two fair companions 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 cha- 
 racter 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 prejudiced person: at 
 least, so I fear you must think, now you 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 be- 
 longed, 5 ' answered the young baronet, "and my dearest 
 friend. His name was Layton; a most distinguished man, 
 who had already gained such a reputation, that, had his rank 
 in the army 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 87 
 
 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 cannot bear it." And the 
 young officer abruptly turned the conversation, observing, 
 " The day has been very hot, Miss Croyland. 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." 
 
 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 physician would do her good," said the younger lady, 
 in a low voice, "the evil 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 suddenly changed to one of bright intel- 
 ligence, and she answered, "I will make you give 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. But 
 Digby had seen her under a different aspect, which was 
 known to few besides her sister; and to say the truth, though 
 he had thought her sparkling frankness very charming, yet the 
 deeper and tenderer feelings which she had displayed towards 
 Edith were still more to his taste. 
 
88 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " She is not the light coquette her uncle represents her, 5 ' 
 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 temper 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." 
 
 "I have not been drinking wine, saucy girl," answered 
 Mr. Croyland; " 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 Edward 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 sud- 
 denly 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 acquaintance we make, we 
 are like a traveller for the first 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 
 a secret but myself. I have none, thank God! My good 
 father is fall of them. Edith, you see, has hers. My 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 ever- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 89 
 
 lasting ; and not only that, but although most profound, they 
 are sure to be known in five minutes to the whole world. 
 Try to conceal them how she may, they are sure to drop out 
 before the day is over; and, whatever good schemes she may 
 have against any one, no defence is needed, for they are sure 
 to frustrate themselves. What are you laughing at, Sir Ed- 
 ward? 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 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 con- 
 tinued, 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 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 captivating you 
 or any other man whatsoever; for I tell you fairly, and at 
 once, that I never intend, 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 
 
90 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 interesting not to in- 
 duce me to let you go on; but I can assure you that what I 
 said was perfectly 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 under- 
 stand, you are on no account to be ; and I, on my part, will 
 promise that I will not misunderstand you either, nor take 
 anything you 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 hav- 
 ing a kind and generous heart. So now that's all settled." 
 
 " There is one thing, Miss Croyland," replied Digby, 
 gravely, " that you will find very difficult to do, though you 
 say you will try it : namely to seek my society when I am un- 
 willing to give it." 
 
 "Nay, nay I will have no such speeches, 5 ' cried Zara Croy- 
 land, " or I have done with you! 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 with flattery that means nothing, from 
 men who insult her understanding by thinking that she can 
 be pleased with such trash, you would excuse me for being 
 rude and uncivilized enough to wish never to hear a smooth 
 word from any man whom I am inclined to respect. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 91 
 
 "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 as your uncle, if you say or do anything 
 that I disapprove of." 
 
 " Do, do I" 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 neighbourhood. 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 of her, to 
 speak with her for a few minutes in private, if possible, was 
 the great object of my coming hither." 
 
 "Thanks, thanks 1" 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?" 
 
 " Oh, yes!" replied Sir Edward; but he added no more; for 
 at that moment they were overtaken by Edith and Mr. Croy- 
 land, and the whole party entered the house together. 
 
 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 population ; and there is a still stronger and more com- 
 monly remarked resemblance between the changes of the 
 weather and the usual course of human life. From the atmos- 
 phere around us, and from the alterations which affect it, 
 poets and moralists both, have borrowed a large store of 
 
92 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 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 atmosphere 
 of the north, may well be taken as some compensation for the 
 continual mutability of the weather in our own most change- 
 able 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 either 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 discover that it is old, our laws, our institutions, 
 our very manners are continually undergoing 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 country, and seem to shake the very 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 sunshiny; but about 
 nine o'clock the wind suddenly chopped round to the south- 
 ward, and when Sir Edward woke on the following morning, 
 as he usually did, about six, he found a strong breeze blowing 
 and rattling the casements of the room, and the whole atmos- 
 phere 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 93 
 
 rose from his bed ; " what variations there are in this climate 1" 
 But, nevertheless, he opened the window and looked out, when, 
 somewhat to his surprise, he saw fifteen or sixteen horses 
 moving along the road, heavily laden, with a number of men 
 on horseback 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 moment after, a 
 voice shouted, " Take that, old Ooyland, for sending me to 
 jail last April." 
 
 The wind bore the sounds to his ear, and made the words 
 distinct; and scarcely had they been spoken, when a flash 
 broke through the misty air, followed by a loud report, and a 
 ball whizzed through the window, just above his head, break- 
 ing one of the panes of glass, and lodging in the cornice at the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 "Very pleasant!' 7 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 showed no inclination to repeat the shot, however, but 
 rode 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." 
 
 " Quite 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 
 
94 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 his master. " Get me every information you can obtain re- 
 garding young Mr. Radford, where he goes, what he does, 
 and all about him." 
 
 " Past, present, or to come, sir?" demanded the man. 
 
 " All three," answered his master. " Everything you can 
 learn about him, in short; birth, parentage, and education.' 1 
 
 "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,'' answered his master, 
 carelessly. "You've seen such a thing before, I fancy?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, but not often in a gentleman's bed- room," re- 
 plied the man. " Who could send it in here, I wonder?" 
 
 " Some smugglers, I suppose they were," replied Sir 
 Edward, " who took me for Sir Robert 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 ser- 
 vant commented upon 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 pre- 
 sence, he sauntered through a door which he had seen open 
 the night before, exposing part of the interior of a library. 
 That room was quite vacant, and as the young officer con- 
 cluded that between it and the drawing-room must lie the 
 scene of his morning's operations, 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 put- 
 ting 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 how it was, but his heart beat when he 
 heard a step in the neighbouring room. It was nothing but 
 the housemaid, as he was soon convinced, by her letting the 
 
THE SMUGGLER* 95 
 
 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 young lady, with whom he had to talk of some busi- 
 ness, in which neither of them were 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 secrecy 
 and still more uncertainty, on very dangerous and important 
 occasions, without feeling any such 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 quo 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 per- 
 fectly understand themselves? It is a very difficult question 
 to answer: but one thing is very certain, that, of all things 
 upon this earth, the must 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 mentioned, running from the central corridor towards 
 a door or window in the front, between 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 turn- 
 ing 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 frankly 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 op- 
 portunity, trusting to your generosity to justify me, when you 
 hear all." 
 
96 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " It requires no generosity, my dear Miss Croyland," re- 
 plied 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 come out upon the terrace. 
 There, seen by all the world, I shall not feel as if I were plot- 
 ting;" 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 Imd windows not to be overheard, 
 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 companion'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 Croyland, that your sister has loved, and has 
 been as deeply beloved as woman ever was by 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 her heart as still 
 existing things; or are they but as sad memories of a passion 
 passed away, darkening 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER* 97 
 
 Or linworthiness takes from her him she loves, that love be- 
 comes a memory. You cannot yet judge of Edith, arid there- 
 fore 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 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 replied. "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,' 5 an- 
 swered Digby. " She has never written; she has never an- 
 swered 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, stayl" cried Zara, putting her hand to her head; 
 " addressed in her own hand? It must have been a forgery! 
 Yet, no; perhaps 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 bade 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, thoughtfully. "Did 
 she receive none from him?" 
 
 "None, none," replied Zara, decidedly. "All that she 
 has ever heard of him was conveyed in that one message ; but 
 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 circumstance occurred to shake his confi- 
 dence. Her own father wrote to him now three years ago 
 to say that she was engaged, by her own consent, 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 say that?" 
 " He did," replied Sir Edward, " and more; everything that 
 poor Layton has heard since his return has confirmed the tale. 
 
98 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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," answered Digby ; "he 
 had none ; and yet he had a lingering hope ; trust would not 
 altogether be crushed out. Can you tell me the tenor 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 story of young Eadford? Is he, or is he 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 anybody 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 set- 
 tled upon herself by my mother's brother, who was her god- 
 father; I have nothing, or next to nothing some three or 
 four thousand pounds, I believe; but I really don't know. 
 However, this fortune of my poor sister's is old Radford's ob- 
 ject; 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 con- 
 demn 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 still. It 
 would be worse than it is, I fear, were it not for young Rad- 
 ford 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 99 
 
 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 inflic- 
 tion of his conversation better than my poor sister." 
 
 " The motive was a kind one, at all events," replied Sir 
 Edward Digby; " 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 conversation 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 1" 
 
 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 I 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 night, unable to stand ? 
 So my maid told me; and I saw his face just now at the win- 
 dow, next to my aunt's. We shall have little time, Sir 
 Edward, for he is as intrusive as he is disagreeable ; so tell me 
 at once what I am to think regarding poor Harry Layton. 
 Does he still love Edith? Is he in a situation to enable him 
 to seek her, without affording great, and what they would 
 consider reasonable causes of objection?" 
 
 " 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 distinguished, com- 
 manding one of our best regiments, and sharing largely in the 
 late great distribution of prize-money. There is no position 
 that can be filled by a military man to which he has not a 
 right to aspire; and, moreover, he has already received, 
 
1 00 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 from the gratitude of his king and his country, the high 
 honour " 
 
 But he was not allowed to finish his sentence; for Mrs. 
 Barbara Croyland, who was most unfortunately matutinal in 
 her habits, now came out with a shawl for her fair niece, and 
 was uncomfortably civil to Sir Edward Digby; inquiring how 
 he had slept, whether he had been warm enough, whether he 
 liked two pillows or one, and a great many other questions, 
 which lasted till young Eadford made his appearance at the 
 door, and then, with a pale face and sullen 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 says she can have the 
 carriage after breakfast, but 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 table was laid for breakfast, Zara found a moment 
 to say to Sir Edward Digby, in a low tone, " Was ever any- 
 thing so unfortunate! I will try to stop it if I can." 
 
 " Not so unfortunate as it seems," whispered the young 
 baronet, " let it take its course. I will explain hereafter." 
 
 " Whispering! whispering!" said young Radford, in a rude 
 tone, and with a sneer curling 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 Croyland appeared ; 
 and whatever might have been Richard Radford's intended 
 reply, it was suspended upon his lips. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 101 
 
 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," replied 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." 
 
 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 apprehensions 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 embark, like a determined gam- 
 bler, a still larger amount in the same course, yet 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 Croyland ; and he began to fancy that the bright 
 day of his prosperty 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 baro- 
 net's homily; and as often happens with men of his disposi- 
 tion, he felt displeased 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 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, pro- 
 ceeding slowly at first, but getting into a quicker pace when 
 
102 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 he came upon the parish road, and trotting on hard along the 
 edge of Harbourne Wood. He had drunk as much wine as his 
 son; but his hard and well-seasoned head was quite insensi- 
 ble to the effects of strong beverages, and he went on revolv- 
 ing 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. 
 
 " IVe 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 coldness 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 thousand pounds. The 
 thing shall soon be settled one way or another, however. I'll 
 have a conference 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 gentle- 
 man, 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. Rad- 
 ford immediately dismounting, gave his horse to the servants, 
 and told them to lead him quietly on till they came to Tiifen- 
 den. Then pausing till the sound of the hoofs become some- 
 what faint, he asked, with a certain degree of alarm, "Well, 
 Harding, what's the matter? What has brought you up in 
 such a hurry to-night?" 
 
 "No great hurry, sir," answered the smuggler; "I came 
 up about four o'clock; and finding 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 103 
 
 have some suspicion that you are going to try something, and 
 I doubt that boy very much." 
 
 " Indeed! indeed I'' exclaimed Mr. Radford, evidently under 
 great apprehension. "What have they found out, Harding?" 
 
 "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. 5 ' 
 
 "No, I think not, sir," answered the smuggler. "It seems 
 to me, on the contrary, that we ought to hurry it; and I'll 
 tell you why. You see, the wind changed about five, 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 aifair is blown ; 
 and though they may get the goods ashore they won't 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-mor- 
 row 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 altogether. 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 my venture, they will never sus- 
 pect 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 together, and one half of them are busy upon this 
 other scheme: the Ramleys and young Chittenden, 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 be- 
 fore to-morrow night." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 * ' That's unfortunate, indeed 1" said Mr. Radford, 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 fellows will carry through this mad scheme, when 
 tfa<ey 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 goods have been either run and hid away, or 
 seized 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. Radford. "It will be well worth my while to give 
 him ti hundred guineas to wink a bit." 
 
 "Don't tiy it, don't try it!" exclaimed Harding, 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 iife." 
 
 "Oh! every man has his price," rejoined Mr. Radford, 
 wfeose opinion of human nature, as the reader may have per- 
 ceived, was not particularly high. "It's only because he 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 sum, he wouldn't take it. You would only show 
 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 be knocked on the head," said Mr. Rad- 
 ford, 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, every 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 SMUGGLER. 1 05 
 
 The last observation of our friend Harding may perhaps 
 sound strangely to the reader's ears ; 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, looked upon their own calling as highly 
 honest, honourable, and respectable; regarding the customs 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 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 one's self 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 Harding's 
 reply. "Then I can easily send up to let you know; or, 
 what will be 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 top 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 Dimchurch. 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, "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." 
 
106 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Ay, but I'm not going home to-night," said tho smuggler; 
 " I can have a bed at Mrs. Glare'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, 
 when we've got such serious business 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, how- 
 ever. There will be time enough ; and they say you are going 
 to marry her, Harding. 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 Fra never likely 
 to think otherwise." 
 
 " Ay, I've known her a long time too," answered 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 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 replied the next moment, in a grave 
 tone, " I don't like the Ramley's, 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 Hard- 
 ing. " 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 any- 
 body they may find there. Good night, Mr. Radford 1" 
 
 "Good night, Harding; good night 1" 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. 
 
 It was a pleasant aspect that the cottage presented 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 107 
 
 welcome. 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 show 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 fre- 
 quently 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 daughter was 
 busily working with her needle, but her eyes were soon raised, 
 and they were very beautiful eyes, as Harding entered. A 
 smile, too, was upon 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 fully with 
 the innate longing for happiness which is in the breast of every 
 one, as when lighted up with the rays that call all its excel- 
 lence 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. Every man is in danger all day long ; and 
 I suppose 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 
 
108 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 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 itl" cried Kate; "I love to hear you 
 sing, for it seems as if you sing what you are thinking." 
 
 " No, I won't sing it," answered Harding, " for it is a sad 
 sort of song, and that won't do when I am so happy." 
 
 " Oh, I like sad songs 1" said the girl; "they please me 
 far more than all the merry ones." 
 
 "Oh, pray sing it, Harding 1" urged the widow; "I am 
 very fond of a song that makes me cry." 
 
 "This won't 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, base 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. 
 
 " Life's like a boat, " Who heeds the deep, 
 
 Rowing rowing Yawning yawning 
 
 Over a bright sea, For its destined prey, 
 
 On the waves to float, When from night's dark sleep, 
 
 Flowing flowing Dawning dawning, 
 
 Away from her lea. Wakens the bright day? 
 
 " Up goes the sheet! "Away, o'er the tide! 
 
 Sailing sailing, Fearless fearless 
 
 To catch the rising breeze, Of all that lies beneath ; 
 
 While the winds fleet, Let the waves still hide, 
 
 Wailing wailing, Cheerless cheerless, 
 
 Sigh o'er the seas. All their stores of death. 
 
 " She darts through the waves, u Stray where we may, 
 
 Gaily gaily, Roaming roaming 
 
 Scattering the foam. Either far or near, 
 
 Beneath her, open graves, Death is on the way, 
 
 Daily daily, Coming coming : 
 
 The blithest to entomb. 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 
 
Tilfc SMUGGLER. 109 
 
 says. Whatever way one goes, 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.' 1 * 
 
 " No, indeed," answered Mrs. Glare ; " 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 expected them." 
 
 " Why you had every right to expect that Sir Robert 
 would be kind to you, Mrs. Clare," rejoined Harding, " when 
 your husband had been in his service for sixteen or seventeen 
 years." 
 
 "No, indeed, I hadn't," said the widow; " for Sir Robert 
 was always, we thought, a rough, 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," answered 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 Robert, 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 
 Robert ; 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 shilllings 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 some- 
 thing; and Miss 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." 
 
1 10 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " God bless herl" 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," answered Harding; 
 u 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 remember young Layton, the rec- 
 tor'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 up at the hall, 
 and Miss Edith always down at the rectory; and one would 
 have thought Sir Robert blind or foolish, not to 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 pro- 
 mised 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 ter- 
 rible taking; and he got Miss Croyland under his arm and 
 went away up to Sir Robert directly, and told him the whole 
 story without a minute's delay. Every one thought it would 
 end in being a match ; for though Sir Robert was very angry, 
 and insisted that Harry Layton should be sent to his regiment 
 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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 1 1 
 
 and put in prison, which broke his heart, poor man, and he 
 died!" 
 
 Harding gave Sir Robert Cropland 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 nothing else; but 
 when I came to hear of what was going on, I found that Sir 
 Robert had promised his daughter to this young Radford " 
 
 " As nasty a vermin as ever lived, 5 ' said Harding. 
 
 " Well, she won't have him, I'm sure," continued the wi- 
 dow, "for it has been hanging off and on for these six years. 
 People at first said 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 
 conscience told her that she was Harry Layton's wife, and 
 could not be any other man's, as long as he was living. Su- 
 san, her maid, heard her say so to Sir Robert himself; but he 
 still keeps teasing her about it, and tells everybody she's en- 
 gaged to young Radford." 
 
 " He'll go to 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 
 I dare say I shall see you before I go ; for I must measure the 
 dear little finger 1" And giving her a hearty kiss, Harding 
 took a candle, and retired to the snug room that had been pre- 
 pared for him. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WE must 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 
 cottage. 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 many miles on the Sussex side of Ashford. 
 It was built, as many of these farm-houses still are, in the 
 
112 THE SMUGGLE!}. 
 
 form of a cross, presenting four limbs of strongly constructed 
 masonry, two stones 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 residence of some of 
 the smaller gentry of the time. 
 
 At the period I speak of, it was tenanted by a family noto- 
 rious for their daring and licentious life, and still renowned in 
 county tradition for many a fierce and lawless act. Neverthe- 
 less, 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 him- 
 self up more to it since his bodily powers had declined, and 
 he was no longer able to bear the fatigue and exertion which 
 the great strength of his early years had looked upon as sport. 
 The branch 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 description, 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 superintend 
 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 during her life she had made them do as she 
 pleased, and beat them, or, as she herself termed it, " 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 furnished with more sinewy muscles or 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 113 
 
 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 stopping 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 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 injunctions. 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 cupboard. 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 glassfull from the big green bottle, which happened 
 to be her bed-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 spilt upon the bed-clothes, and 
 good Mrs. Ramley fell back in a dose, 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 permanence. 
 
 The bereaved widower comforted himself after a time. We 
 will not say how many hours it required to effect that process. 
 
114 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 He was not a drunken man himself, for the passive participle 
 of the verb to "drink 1 ' 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 Ramley 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 all events underwent the 
 process of either having his head made closely acquainted with 
 a candlestick, or rendered the means of breaking a platter. 
 After that period the two boys grew up into as fine, tall, hand- 
 some, dissolute blackguards as one could wish to look upon ; 
 and for the two girls, no term can perhaps be found in the 
 classical authors of our language ; but the vernacular supplies 
 an epithet particularly applicable, which we must venture to 
 use. They were two strapping ivenches, nearly as tall as their 
 brothers, full, rounded, and well-formed in person, fine and 
 straight cut in features, with large black shining eyes, a well- 
 turned foot and ancle, and, as was generally supposed, the 
 invincible arm of their mother. 
 
 We are not here going to investigate or dwell upon the in- 
 dividual morality of the two young ladies. It is generally said 
 to have been better in some respects than either their ordinary 
 habits, their education, or their language would have led one 
 to expect; and perhaps being very full of the stronger pas- 
 sions, the softer ones had no great dominion over them. 
 
 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 ogreish expres- 
 sion of countenance, and hair more white than grey. But 
 there were four other men at the table besides himself, two 
 being servants of the farm, and two acknowledged 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, however, and perhaps possessed as much 
 of their affection as could possibly be obtained; but still the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 115 
 
 love-making seemed rather of a feline character, for the 
 caresses, which 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 western wind. 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 harmonious with the ap- 
 pearance of the persons who partook thereof. It was sea- 
 soned 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, toge- 
 ther with a good many blasphemous oaths, and those testimo- 
 nies of affection which I have before spoken of as liberally 
 bestowed by the young ladies upon their lovers in the shape 
 of cuffs and scratches. The principal topic of conversation 
 seemed to be some adventure which was even then going for- 
 ward, and in which the sons of the house were taking a part. 
 No fear, no anxiety, however, was expressed 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 Kam- 
 ley to her sweetheart; "you've eaten two pounds already, 
 I'm sure." 
 
 The young gentleman declared that it was all for love of 
 her, but that he hadn't eaten half so much as she had ; where- 
 upon 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 dis- 
 pute might have run high, for Miss llamley 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 I there's a shot out there!" 
 
 " To be sure," answered one of the lovers. " It's the first 
 of September, 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 7 
 feet could be heard running quick upon the road, and then 
 turning into the yard which lay before the house. 
 
] 16 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 assistance 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, 
 formerly 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 down 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 falling every second into the dirty water below, 
 and exclaimed, " How hast thou broken thy noddle, Ned?" 
 
 "There, let me alone, Jinny" cried the young man, shaking 
 off the hand she had laid upon his arm, "or I shall bloody my 
 toggery. One of those fellows has nearly 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 he'd never have got within arm's length. It's no- 
 thing: 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 country; 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 sepa- 
 rating, Ned Ramley declared, when two of the riding 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 Ramleys and 
 their friends taking their way towards their own house, and 
 the others in different directions. The former might have 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 1 7 
 
 escaped unpursued, 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 conceal- 
 ment below, so well arranged that even if the trap was dis- 
 covered, the officers would find nothing but a vacant space, 
 unless they examined the walls very closely. 
 
 The horses were then all led to the stable; and Edward 
 Ramley, having in some degree stopped the bleeding of his 
 wound, moved into the house, with most of the other men. 
 Old Ramley and the two farm-servants, however, 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 1" 
 
 "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 guri, 
 Tom. Where's your warrant, young man? You are not an 
 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. 
 
1.18 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 them, and taking hearty draughts 
 from the tankard. Not the least zealous in this occupation 
 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 de- 
 molished 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. How- 
 ever, 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 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 to^n, 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. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 1 9 
 
 "It's wonderful, in London town, how soon a man may hold, 
 By art and sleight, 
 Or main or 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." 
 
 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 
 riot 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 ail right, if he's there," said Jim Ramley; and the 
 gates were opened in a minute, to give that excellent gentle- 
 man admission. 
 
 Now, Mr. Radford, it must be remembered, was a magis- 
 trate for the county of Kent ; but his presence created neither 
 alarm nor confusion in the house of the Ramleys ; 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 come to search, and to stop the others. Where 
 are the goods?" 
 
 " Safe enough," answered the farmer. " No fear, no fear 1" 
 
 "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, ayl" 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 low 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 necessary, you know." 
 
120 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Obi do what you like, sir," replied the farmer. "I don't 
 care." 
 
 A very respectable search was then commenced, and pur- 
 sued from room to room ; one of the men who accompanied 
 Mr. Eadford, and who was an officer of the Customs, giving 
 old Eamley a significant wink with his right eye as he passed, 
 at which the other grinned. Indeed, had the whole matter 
 not been very well understood 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 companions returned to the kitchen, and the 
 magistrate thought fit to walk somewhat out of his way to- 
 wards the left-hand side of the room, when suddenly stopping, 
 he exclaimed, in a grave tone, "Hollo! Ramley, what's here? 
 These boards seem loose!" 
 
 " To be sure they are," answered the farmer; "that's the 
 way to the beer cellar. There's nothing in it, upon my honour 1" 
 
 " But we must look, Ramley, you know," said Mr. Radford. 
 " Come, open it, whatever it is!" 
 
 "Oh! with all my heart," replied the man; "but you'll 
 perhaps break your head. That's your fault, not mine, how- 
 ever," and advancing 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 horse's 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 exposed, with the 
 top 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 without 
 ceremony; but the other, who was also an officer, hesitated 
 for a moment. 
 
 " Go down, go down, Clinch!" 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 they 
 did see we understand each other; so give me a hint if they 
 go too far; I'll bear it out," 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 2 1 
 
 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 by one of the men below ; 
 but then the voice of Mr. Radford 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 sus- 
 picions, Mr. Clinch. Is it not quite enough, Adams? Are 
 you satisfied?" 
 
 " Oh! quite, sir," answered the other officer; "there's no- 
 thing but bare walls 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. Eadford and the other following, with a smile upon 
 their faces. 
 
 " There, all is clear enough,'' said Mr. Radford; "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 me 
 with the servants, as you know ; not that I feared any resis- 
 tance from you, Mr. Ramley but smuggling is so sadly pre- 
 valent 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 two 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, exclaiming, " 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. Nu- 
 merous laughs, and nods, and signs of mutual understanding 
 passed between them; and the conversation 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 now past eleven." 
 
122 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 break- 
 fast, at the inconveniently early hour of eight. I will not 
 take it 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 young 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, in- 
 deed, seemed to have forgotten the words which had passed 
 between them as soon as they had been uttered; and he 
 laughed, and talked, and conversed 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 depressed 
 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 him- 
 self; 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, was deter- 
 mined 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 particular 
 reason why I want you not to go." 
 
 " I will be back in a moment, my dear aunt," replied Zara; 
 but the worthy old lady would not suffer her to depart ; and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 123 
 
 the butler entering at that moment, called the attention of 
 Richard Radford 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 showing his anger till a fitting opportu- 
 nity occurred for expressing it. 
 
 Digby, however, continued talking lightly with Zara Croy- 
 land, in the window, till the horse had been brought round, 
 and the young man had taken leave of the rest of the party. 
 Then sauntering slowly out of the room, he passed through 
 the hall door, to the side of Richard Radford 's horse, just as 
 the latter was mounting. 
 
 " 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 inter- 
 rupted; but I dare say you must wish for further conversation 
 with me. You can have it when 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, deter- 
 mined tone, touching 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. Barbara, as soon as 
 she saw him, while Zara fixed her eyes somewhat anxiously 
 upon his countenance, " I am sure you and Mr. Radford have 
 been quarrelling." 
 
 "Oh, no! my dear madam," replied Sir Edward Digby; 
 " nothing of the kind, I can assure you. Our words were 
 very ordinary words, and perfectly civil upon my word. We 
 had no time to quarrel." 
 
 "My dear Sir Edward," said Sir Robert Croyland, "you 
 must excuse me for saying it, I must have no such things 
 here; I am a magistrate for this county, and bound by 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 
 
124 THE SMUGGLE!*. 
 
 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 Eobert ; 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; "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 moment 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 im- 
 mediately, bade his daughter good-bye, and the carriage rolled 
 away. 
 
 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 wish to subject himself to any further cross-ex- 
 amination by the ladies of the family, and he read many in- 
 quiries in fair Zara's eyes, which he feared might be difficult 
 to answer. Retiring, then, to put on a more fitting costume, 
 while gamekeepers and dogs were summoned 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 time, 
 brief directions to meet him near the cottage 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 
 Somers ivas a very shrewd fellow, and in a few minutes, judg- 
 ing 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." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 125 
 
 As lie- Descended to the hall, in order to join the keepers 
 and their four-footed coadjutors, the young baronet encoun- 
 tered Mrs. Barbara and her neice; 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 about to pursue. She was not so 
 easily to be deceived as her father; but yet the absence of the 
 woaffon 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 pro- 
 ceedings of the young baronet during the two or three follow- 
 ing days, as far, at least, as propriety would permit, she took 
 no further notice at the moment, being very anxious to pre- 
 vent 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 Ed- 
 ward could not refrain from a smile. 
 
 "I trust, then, I shall have the pleasure of being your com- 
 panion to-morrow, Miss Croyland," he said, turning to the 
 young lady. " Why should we not ride over, and see your-, 
 excellent 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 carried lightly off by a gay and dashing jest: "Ohl 
 with all my heart,'' she said; "only remember, Sir Edward, 
 we must have plenty of servants 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 
 
120 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 same moment Mrs. Barbara thought fit to reprove her niece, 
 wondering how she could talk so sillily ; and Sir Edward took 
 his leave, receiving his host's excuses, as he passed through 
 the hall, for not accompanying him on his shooting expedition. 
 
 " The truth is, rny 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 permission, 
 and for my own health, to kill your birds and spare your 
 bottles." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," answered the master of the man- 
 sion, "you shall do exactly as you like;" and with this 
 license, 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 
 day 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 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 servant provided as he had di- 
 rected. 
 
 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 the preceding evening in pursuit of the two Miss 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 127 
 
 Ci'oy hinds. 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 al- 
 ways 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 
 he came 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 
 left, conducting thither; but as the gardens extended for 
 nearly a quarter of a mile on that side, it followed the course 
 of the wall to the left to join the garish road which ran in 
 front of the mansion, leaving the green court, as it was called, 
 or lawn, and the terrace on the right hand. 
 
 As there was no other road in that direction, Sir Edward 
 Digby felt sure that he must be on the ground appointed, but 
 yet, as is the case in all moments of expectation, the time 
 seemed so long, that when he saw the brick-work he took out 
 his watch again, and found there were still five minutes to 
 spare. He accordingly turned upon 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 
 liadford every opportunity, he said to himself: " Watches 
 may differ, and something 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 badl" he said, 
 " too bad I The fellow can't be coward, too, as well as black- 
 guard. One turn more, and then I've done with him." But 
 as he advanced on his way towards the house, he suddenly 
 perceived the flutter of female garments before him, and say- 
 ing to himself, "This is awkward 1" he gazed round for some 
 path, in order to get out of the way for a moment, but could 
 
1 28 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 perceive none. The next instant, coming round a shrub which 
 started forward a little before the rest of the trees, he saw the 
 younger Miss Croyland 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 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 appre- 
 hensions in regard to what people might say if we were seen 
 alone together!" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby, with a smile. 
 
 " Oh! I don't mind that," answered Zara, " Great occa- 
 sions, you know, Sir Edward, require decisive measures; and 
 I assuredly want an escort through this terrible forest, to pro- 
 tect 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. 
 
 " Oh!" said Zara, affecting a look of pique, " if you have 
 some important appointment, Sir Edward, it is another affair: 
 only tell me if it be so?" 
 
 Sir Edward Digby took her hand in his: "I will tell you, 
 dear lady," he replied, " if you will first tell me one thing, 
 truly and sincerely: What brought you here?" 
 
 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 anything to do with 
 it?" asked the young baronet. 
 
 "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, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 29 
 
 if you were going to do what I imagined, 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 piqued at the indiffe- 
 rence which she so studiously assumed; " and even if I 
 thought, Miss Croyland, 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 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," re- 
 plied Sir Edward Digby. " You need not be under the 
 slightest alarm." 
 
 " What! you do not mean to say," she exclaimed, with her 
 cheeks glowing and her eyes raised to his face, " that you did 
 not come here to fight him?" 
 
 "Not exactly," answered Sir Edward Digby, laughing; 
 " but what I do mean to say, my dear young lady, is, that 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?" 
 
 "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 fight 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, 
 
 i 
 
130 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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 Groyland? To 
 Widow Clare's?" 
 
 "No, nol" answered Zara, blushing again. "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 Digby." 
 
 "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 perhaps we 
 may have your aunt seeking us." 
 
 "The most likely thing in the world," replied Zara; and 
 taking their way back, they passed through the gardens, and 
 entered the house by one of the side doors. 
 
 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 happened that, on the day of which we have been speak- 
 ing, some half-dozen gentlemen, all justices of the peace for 
 the county of Kent, were 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 was placed the magis- 
 trates' 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 stand- 
 ing about and talking together; some looking out of the win- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 131 
 
 dow into the street, some leaning with their backs against the 
 table and the tails of their coats turned over their hands, while 
 one occupied 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 proceed- 
 ings relative to a daring act of smuggling which had just been 
 perpetrated. Sir Robert 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 to transact all the ne- 
 cessary 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 gentlemen assembled might have perceived 
 that the great majority of them were not very well qualified 
 to sit as judges upon a case of this nature, as almost every 
 one was under suspicion of leaning 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 objectionable in this point 
 of view; for lie had always borne a very high name for im- 
 partiality in such matters, and had never had anything per- 
 sonally to do with the illicit traffic itself. It is probable, there- 
 fore, 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 gentlemen, that the 
 latter could now lead Sir Robert as he liked. Mr. Radford, 
 indeed, had not yet arrived, though two messengers had been 
 despatched to summon him; the answer still being that he had 
 gone over towards Ashford. Sir Robert, therefore, sat in the 
 midst, not harmonizing much in feeling with the rest, and 
 looking anxiously for his friend's appearance, in order to ob- 
 tain some hint as to how he was to act. 
 
 At length, a considerable noise was heard in the streets 
 below, and a sort of constable 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 worshipful gentlemen beginning to seat them- 
 
132 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 selves, and one of them as it is technically termed moving 
 Sir Robert into the chair. In order to show that this was 
 really as well as metaphysically 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 at least so he 
 supposed at first Sir Robert Croyland perceived his young 
 friend, Richard Radford; and he was in the act of beckoniug 
 him to come up to the table, in order to inquire 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 propensities of his youth; nor that he was not well aware 
 they had formed part of the inheritance of his 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 habitable 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 whispered 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 shrewd and quick, and while half 
 the magistrates were speaking across the table to half the 
 officers 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, sir; caught abetting the others; 
 his name marked upon some of the goods." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland was not naturally a brilliant 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. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 133 
 
 he laid it on the table, exclaiming aloud, "Gentlemen! gentle- 
 men ! a little regularity, if you please. My time is precious. 
 I have an important engagement this afternoon, and I " 
 
 But his whole scheme had nearly been frustrated by the 
 impetuosity of young Radford himself, who at once pushed 
 through officers and soldiers, saying, " And so have I, Sir 
 Robert, a very important engagement this afternoon. I claim 
 to be heard as speedily as possible." 
 
 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 I" he said. "In this court, there is no 
 friendship or favour. You will have attention 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 hesitating for a mo- 
 ment 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." 
 "Won't that make it a long affair, Sir Robert?" asked Mr. 
 Runnington, a neighbouring squire. 
 
 "Oh dear, no I" replied the chairman; "by 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 arrangement; 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 re- 
 moved from the room, with the exception 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 gentlemen on Sir Ro- 
 bert's right, known in the country by the name of Squire 
 Jollyboat, though his family being originally French, his real 
 appellation was Jollivet. 
 
 "Oh yes, squire!" answered the prisoner, in a gay, indif- 
 ferent 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." 
 
134 THE SMUGGLE!?. 
 
 "I don't know that, major," replied the gentleman; "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!" answered the major, 
 with a look of cool contempt; and turning round with a wink 
 to his two companions, 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 for- 
 wards between the magistrates, 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 customs, to the serjeant 
 of dragoons, and even to the prisoners themselves, that the 
 worthy justices were disposed to take as favourable a view of 
 smuggling transactions as possible. But the law was very 
 clear; the case was not less so; Mowle, the principal riding 
 officer, was a straightforward, determined, and shrewd man; 
 and although Sir Robert Croyland, simply with a view of pro- 
 tracting 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 smuggling, 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 re- 
 leased for the time. The case brought forward against these 
 prisoners differed from that against those who preceded them, 
 inasmuch as no resistance was charged. They had simply 
 been found aiding and abetting in the carriage of the smuggled 
 goods, and had fled when they found themselves pursued by 
 the officers, though not fast enough to avoid capture. The 
 facts were speedily proved, and, indeed, much more rapidly 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 35 
 
 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 recollect, 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 dis- 
 cussion thus commenced, and before it was terminated the 
 baronet was relieved by the appearance of Mr. Radford him- 
 self, who entered 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 that table, when the baronet rose, saying: "Here, Rad- 
 ford, you had better take my place, as I must positively get 
 home directly, having important business to transact." 
 
 " No, no, Sir Robert," replied that respectable 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 between 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 same time turned round, 
 and spoke a few words to two men who had followed Mr. 
 Radford 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 Robert Croyland, however, urged the necessity of his 
 going, put his watch in his pocket, and buttoned up his coat. 
 But Mr. Radford, assuming a graver air and a very peculiar 
 tone, replied: "No, no, Sir Robert; you must stay, indeed, 
 
136 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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. Radford exerted over 
 his mind. 
 
 44 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 well inclined 
 to commence a career of lenity, " 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 decision, 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 days, on almost 
 all occasions, as they sometimes are now; and in a moment or 
 two after, young Radford 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 suffered yourself to be caught?" 
 
 "Let these vagabonds make their accusation, and bring 
 their witnesses," replied the 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 be run about this time, and that Mr. Radford 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, 1 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 Kings- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 37 
 
 north, and then away by Singleton Green, towards Four-Elms, 
 where, just under the hill, we came upon those two men who 
 have just been convicted, and two others, who got off. We 
 captured 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 chests of tea, and a good many other things, 
 and all of them were marked, just like honest bales of goods, 
 44 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 scat- 
 tered, some galloping 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, and 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 run- 
 ning, 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 giving 
 us a great deal of bad language. I didn't mind him, but rode 
 on, knowing we could take him at any time ; but Mr. Birchett, 
 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 magistrates, but especially Sir 
 Robert Croyland, began to look exceedingly grave. Mr. Rad- 
 ford, 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 Croy- 
 land addressed him, saying, " I hope, Mr. Radford, you can 
 
138 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 clear yourself of this charge, for you ought to know that armed 
 resistance to the 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?" de- 
 manded old Mr. Radford. 
 
 " I must strongly object to any such proceeding," exclaimed 
 Mowle. 
 
 " Pray, sir, meddle with what concerns you,'' said old Ead- 
 ford, turning upon him fiercely, " and do not pretend to dictate 
 here. You gentlemen are greatly inclined to forget your place. 
 I think that the room had better be cleared of all but the pri- 
 soner, Sir Robert." 
 
 The baronet bowed his head ; Squire Jollivet concurred in 
 the same opinion; and, though one or two of the others hesi- 
 tated, they were ultimately overruled, and the room was cleared 
 of all persons but the magistrates and the culprit. 
 
 Scarcely was this done, when, with a bold free air, and con- 
 temptuous 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 smug- 
 gling affair? Can you swear it upon your oaths ? Can you, 
 sir? Can you? Can you?" 
 
 The magistrates to whom he addressed himself, looked mar- 
 vellously 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 interrogato- 
 ries; for I believe, for that manner, 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 tell a few 
 tales that may not be satisfactory to any of you." 
 
 It had been remarked, that, in putting his questions, the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 39 
 
 young gentleman had entirely passed Sir Robert Croylancl; 
 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. Radford had overheard, and he exclaimed, " No, 
 no ; I think the matter is quite clear how we must proceed. 
 There's not the slightest 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. 
 
 "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 Richard 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 legitimate 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 respectable father. "Is every 
 gentleman in the county to be ridden over, rough-shod, by 
 these officers and 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 
 
1 40 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 had better now be recalled; and, by your permission, I will 
 put a few question to them." 
 
 In a 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 testify to the fact, 
 that Mr. Radford was on the spot accidentally, having been 
 sent for by his father to join him at Ash ford '' 
 
 "At the Ramleys 1 , I suppose you mean, sir," observed 
 Mowle, drily. 
 
 "No, sir; at Ashford," rejoined Mr. Kadford; and Sir Ro- 
 bert Croyland proceeded to say : 
 
 " The young gentleman also asserts that he was persuad- 
 ing 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 gal- 
 loped off as hard as they could." 
 
 " Corroborative proof of his statement," observed Sir Ro- 
 bert, solemnly. "The only question, therefore, remaining, 
 seems to be, as to whether Mr. Radford, junior, had really 
 anything to do with the placing of his name upon the goods. 
 Now, one strong reason for supposing 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 Ramleys' 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 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 acci- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 141 
 
 dentally, the goods were going in a different direction from his 
 house, he was seized, we think, upon insufficient grounds, while 
 endeavouring to dissuade the smugglers from resisting the 
 king's officers and troops; and though we may judge his op- 
 position imprudent, it was not wholly unjustifiable. The pri- 
 soner is therefore discharged." 
 
 " The goods were going to the Bamleys,'' said the man, 
 Clinch, who now, emboldened by the presence of several other 
 officers, spoke loud 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 cant't help saying, that 
 the search of the house by Mr. Badford was not conducted as 
 it ought to have been. The two officers were left without, 
 while he went in to speak with old Bamley, and there were a 
 dozen of men, or more in the kitchen." 
 
 "Pooh! nonsense, fellow!" cried Mr. Badford, 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 would not let me carry 
 out the search, though I found that two places at the sides 
 were hollow, and only covered with boards." 
 
 "Why, you vagabond, you were afraid of going down at 
 alll" said Mr. Badford. "Where is Adams? He can bear 
 witness of it." 
 
 "Clinch didn't seem to like it much, it must be confessed," 
 said Adams, without coming forward; "but then the place 
 was so full of men, it was enough to frighten one." 
 
 "I wasn't frightened," rejoined Mr. Badford. 
 
 "Because it was clear enough that you and the Bamleys 
 understood each other," answered Clinch, boldly. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, nonsense!" said Squire Jollivet. "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 Badford, 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." 
 
142 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 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. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland and Mr. Radford descended 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 lie 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 mean time the baronet hastened homewards, putting 
 his horse into a quick pace, and taking the nearest roads 
 through the woods, which were then somewhat thickly scat- 
 tered 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 called Chequer Tree, he looked on before and around him 
 on every side, somewhat anxiously, as if he did not much ad- 
 mire the aspect of the place. He pushed on, however, en- 
 tered 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 summer'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 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 143 
 
 of autumn, seemed to make no difference, for the shades 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 he 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, ex- 
 claiming, 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 car- 
 ried 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 imagination is 1" 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 WHAT a varying thing is the stream of life! How it sparkles 
 and glitters! Now it bounds along its pebbly bed, sometimes 
 in sunshine, and sometimes in shade; sometimes sporting 
 round all things, as if its essence were merriment and bright- 
 ness ; sometimes flowing solemnly on, as if it were derived from 
 Lethe itself. Now it runs like a liquid diamond along the 
 meadow; now it plunges in fume and fury over the rock; now 
 it is clear and limpid, as youth and innocence can make it ; 
 now it is heavy and turbid, with the varying streams of 
 
144 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 thought and memory that are ever flowing into it, each bring- 
 ing its store of dullness and pollution as it tends towards the 
 end. Its voice, too, varies as it goes ; now it sings lightly as 
 it dances on ; now it roars amidst the obstacles that oppose its 
 way; and now it has no tone but the dull low murmur of ex- 
 hausted energy. 
 
 Such is the stream of life! yet, perhaps, few of us would 
 wish to change our portion of it for the calm regularity of a 
 canal, even if one could be constructed without locks and flood- 
 gates upon it, to hold in the pent-up waters of the heart till 
 they are ready to burst through the banks. 
 
 Life was in its sparkling aspect with Zara Croyland and 
 Sir Edward Digby, when they set out on horseback for the 
 house of old Mr. Croyland, cantering easily along the roads of 
 that part of the country, which, in the days I speak of, were 
 soft and somewhat sandy. Two servants followed behind at a 
 discreet distance; and lightly passing over hill and dale, with 
 all the loveliness of a very bright portion of our fair land 
 stretched out around them, the young lady and her companion 
 drew in, through the eyes, fresh sensations of happiness from 
 all the lovely things of nature. The yellow woods warmed 
 their hearts; the blue heaven raised their thoughts; the soft 
 air refreshed and cheered all their feelings; and when a pass- 
 ing cloud swept over the sky, it only gave that slight shadowy 
 tone to the mind, which wakens within us the deep, innate, 
 and elevating movements of the spirit, that seem to connect 
 the aspect of God's visible creation with a higher and a purer 
 state of being. Each had some spring of happiness in the 
 heart fresh opened; for, to the fair girl who went bounding 
 along through that gay world, the thought that she was con- 
 veying to a dear sister tidings of hope, was in itself a joy; 
 and to her companion a new subject of contemplation was pre- 
 senting itself, in the very being who accompanied him on the 
 way: a subject quite untouched and novel, and, to a man of 
 his character and disposition, a most interesting one. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby had mingled much with the world; he 
 had seen many scenes of different kinds ; he had visited various 
 countries, the most opposite to each other; he had frequented 
 courts, and camps, and cities; and he had known and seen a 
 good deal of woman, and of woman's heart; but he had never 
 yet met any one like Zara Croyland. The woman of fashion 
 
THE SMUGGLER. ] 45 
 
 and of rank, in all the few modifications of character that her 
 circumstances admit, for rank and fashion are sadly like the 
 famous bed of the robber of Attica, on which all men are cut 
 down or stretched out to a certain size, was well known to 
 him, and looked upon much in the light of an exotic plant, 
 kept in an artificial state of existence, with many beauties and 
 excellences, perhaps, mingling with many deformities and 
 faults, but still weakened and deprived of individuality by long 
 drilling in a round of conventionalities. He had seen, too, the 
 wild Indian, in the midst of her native woods, and might have 
 sometimes admired the free grace and wild energy of unculti- 
 vated and unperverted nature; but he was not very fond of 
 barbarism, and though he might admit the existence of fine 
 qualities, even in a savage, yet he had not been filled with any 
 great enthusiasm in favour of Indian life from what he had 
 seen in Canada. The truth is, he had never been a very dis- 
 solute, or, as it is termed, a very gay man: he was not sated 
 and surfeited with the vices of civilization, and consequently 
 was not inclined to seek for new excitement in the very oppo- 
 site extreme of primeval rudeness. 
 
 Most of the gradations between the two, he had seen at 
 different periods and in different lands; but yet in her who 
 now rode along beside him, there was something different from 
 any. It was not a want, but a combination of the qualities 
 he had remarked in others. There was the polish and the 
 cultivation of high class and finished training, with a slight 
 touch of the wildness and the originality of the fresh unsophis- 
 ticated heart. There was the grace of education and the grace 
 of nature; and there seemed to be high natural powers of in- 
 tellect, uncurbed by artificial rules, but supplied with materials 
 by instruction. 
 
 All this was apparent ; but the question with him was, as 
 to the heart beneath, and its emotions. He gazed upon her 
 as they went on, when she was not looking that way, he 
 watched her countenance, the habitual expression of features, 
 and the varying expression which every emotion produced. 
 Her face seemed like a bright looking-glass, which a breath 
 will dim and a touch will brighten; but there is so much de- 
 ceit in the world, and every man who has mingled with that 
 world must have seen so much of it, and every man, also, 
 has within himself such internal and convincing proofs of our 
 
 K 
 
1 46 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 human nature's fondness for seeming, that we are all in- 
 clined, except in very early youth, to doubt the first impres- 
 sion, to inquire beyond the external appearance, and to inquire 
 if the heart of the fruit corresponds with the beauty of the 
 outside. 
 
 He asked himself what was she really? What was true, and 
 what was false, in that bright and sparkling creature? Whe- 
 ther was the gaiety or the sadness the real character of the 
 mind within? or whether the frequent variation from the one 
 to the other, ay, and from energy to lightness, from softness 
 to firmness, from gentleness to vigour, were not all the indi- 
 cations of a character as various as the moods which it assumed ? 
 
 Sir Edward Digby was resolved not to fall in love, which 
 is the most dangerous resolution that a man can take ; for it 
 is seldom, if ever, taken, except in a case of great necessity : 
 one of those hasty outworks thrown up against a powerful 
 enemy, which are generally taken in a moment and the cannon 
 therein turned against ourselves. 
 
 Nevertheless, he had resolved, as I have said, not to fall in 
 love ; and he fancied that, strengthened by that resolution, he 
 was quite secure. It must not be understood, indeed, that 
 Sir Edward Digby never contemplated marriage. On the 
 contrary, he thought of it as a remote evil that was likely to 
 fall upon him some day, by an inevitable necessity. It seemed 
 a sort of duty, indeed, to transmit his name, and honours, and 
 wealth, to another generation; and as duties are not always 
 very pleasant things, he, from time to time, looked forward to 
 the execution of his, in this respect, in a calm, philosophical, 
 determined manner. Thirty-five, he thought, would be a good 
 time to marry ; and when he did so, he had quite made up his 
 mind to do it with the utmost deliberation and coolness. It 
 should be quite a mariage de raison. He would take it as a 
 dose of physic, a disagreeable thing, to be done when neces- 
 sary, but not a minute before ; and in the mean time, to fall in 
 love was quite out of the question. 
 
 No, he was examining, and investigating, and contemplat- 
 ing Zara Croyland's character, merely as a matter of interest- 
 ing speculation ; and a very dangerous speculation it was, Sir 
 Edward Digby! I don't know which was most perilous: that, 
 or your resolution. 
 
 It is very strange he never recollected, that in no other case 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 147 
 
 in his whole career had he found it either necessary to take 
 such a resolution, or pleasant to enter into such a speculation. 
 If he had, perhaps he might have begun to tremble for him- 
 self. Nor did he take into the calculation the very important 
 fact that Zara Croyland was both beautiful and pretty; two 
 very different things, reader, as you will find, if you examine. 
 A person may be very pretty without being the least beautiful, 
 or very beautiful without being in the least pretty ; but when 
 those two qualities are both combined, and when, in one girl, 
 the beauty of features and of form that excites admiration, is 
 joined with that prettiness of expression, and colouring, and 
 arrangement, that awakens tenderness and wins affection, Lord 
 have mercy upon the man who rides along with her through 
 fair scenes, under a bright sky! 
 
 Digby did not at all find out that he was in the most dan- 
 gerous situation in the world; or, if some fancy ever came 
 upon him, that he was not quite safe, it was but as one of 
 those vague impressions of peril that float for a single instant 
 over the mind when we are engaged in any very bold and ex- 
 citing undertaking, and pass away again as fast. 
 
 Far from guarding himself at all, Sir Edward Digby went 
 on in his unconsciousness, laying himself more and more open 
 to the enemy. In pursuit of his scheme of investigation, he 
 proceeded as they rode along, to try the mind of his fair com- 
 panion in a thousand different ways ; and every instant he 
 brought forth some new and dangerous quality. He found 
 that, in the comparative solitude in which she lived, she had 
 had time for study as well as thought, and had acquired far 
 more, and far more varied stores of information, than was 
 common with the young women of her day. It was not alone 
 that she could read and spell, which a great many could not 
 in those times, but she had read a number of different works 
 upon a number of different subjects; knew as much of other 
 lands, and of the habits of other people, as books could give, 
 and was tastefully proficient in the arts that brighten life, even 
 where their cultivation is not its object. 
 
 Thus her conversation had always something new about it. 
 The very images that suggested themselves to her mind were 
 derived from such numerous sources, that it kept the fancy on 
 the stretch to follow her in her flights, and made their whole 
 talk a sort of playful chase, like that of one bird after another 
 
148 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 in tho air. Now she borrowed a comparison for something 
 sensible to the eye from the sweet music that charms the ear; 
 now she found out links of association between the singing of 
 the birds and some of the fine paintings that she had seen or 
 heard of; now combined a bright scene, or a peculiar moment 
 of happiness, with the sweet odours of the flowers or the 
 murmur of the stream. With everything in nature and art 
 she sported, apparently unconscious ; and often, too, in speak- 
 ing of the emotions of the heart or the thoughts of the mind, 
 she would, with a bright flash of imagination, cast lights upon 
 those dark and hidden things from objects in the external 
 world, or from the common events of life. 
 
 Eagerly Digby led her on, pleased, excited, entertained him- 
 self; but in so doing he produced an effect which he had not cal- 
 culated upon. He made a change in her feelings towards 
 himself. She had thought him a very agreeable man from 
 the first ; she had seen that he was a gentleman by habit, and 
 divined that he was so by nature; but now she began to 
 think that he was a very high-toned and noble-minded man, 
 that he was one worthy of high station and of all happiness, 
 she did not say of affection, nor let the image of love pass 
 distinctly before her eyes. There might be a rosy cloud in the 
 far sky wherein the god was veiled ; but she did not see him, 
 or was it that she would not ? Perhaps it was so ; for wo- 
 man's heart is often as perverse and blind, in these matters, 
 as man's. But one thing is clear, no two people can thus 
 pour forth the streams of congenial thought and feeling, to 
 flow on mingling together in sweet communion, for any great 
 length of time, without a change of their sensations towards 
 each other; and, unless the breast be well guarded by passion 
 for another, it is not alone that mind with mind is blended, 
 but heart with heart. 
 
 Though the distance was considerable, that is to say, some 
 three or four miles, and they made it more than twice as long 
 by turning up towards the hills, to catch a fine view of the 
 wooded world below, on whose beauty Zara expatiated elo- 
 quently; and though they talked of a thousand different sub- 
 jects, which I have not paused to mention here, lest the de- 
 tail should seem all too tedious, yet their ride passed away 
 briefly, like a dream. At length, coining through some green 
 lanes, overhung by young saplings and a crowd of brambles 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 149 
 
 and other hedge-row shrubs, no longer, alas, in flower, they 
 caught sight of the chimneys of a house a little way fur- 
 ther on, and Zara said, with a sigh, " There is my uncle's 
 house." 
 
 Sir Edward asked himself, "Why does she sigh?" and as 
 he did so, felt inclined to sigh, too ; for the ride had seemed 
 too short, and had now become as a pleasant thing passed 
 away. But then lie thought, " We shall enjoy it once again 
 as we return ;" and he took advantage of their slackened pace 
 to say, " As I know you are anxious to speak with your sis- 
 ter, Miss Croyland, I will contrive to occupy your uncle for a 
 time, if we find him at home. I fear I shall not be able to 
 obtain an opportunity of talking with her myself on the sub- 
 jects that so deeply interest her, as at one time I hoped to do; 
 but I am quite sure, from what I see of you, that I may de- 
 pend upon what you tell me, and act accordingly." 
 
 As if by mutual consent, they had avoided, during their 
 expedition of that morning, the subject which was, perhaps, 
 most in the thoughts of each ; but now Zara checked her horse 
 to a slow walk, and replied, after a moment's thought, " I 
 should think, if you desire it, you could easily obtain a few 
 minutes' conversation with her at my uncle's. I only don't 
 know whether it may agitate her too much or not. Perhaps 
 you had better let me speak with her first, and then, if she 
 wishes it, she will easily find the means. You may trust to 
 me, indeed, Sir Edward, in Edith's case, though I do not al- 
 ways say exactly what I mean about myself. Not that I 
 have done otherwise with you ; for, indeed, I have neither had 
 time nor occasion; but with the people that occasionally 
 come to the house, sometimes it is necessary, and sometimes 
 I am tempted, out of pure perversity, to make them think me 
 very different from what I am. It is not always with those 
 that I hate or despise either, but sometimes with people that I 
 like and esteem very much. Now, I dare say poor Harry Lay- 
 ton has given you a very sad account of me?" 
 
 "No, indeed," answered Sir Edward Digby, "you do him 
 wrong; I have not the least objection to tell you exactly 
 what he said.'' 
 
 "Oh! do, dol" cried Zara; "I should like to hear very 
 much, for I am afraid I used to tease him terribly." 
 
 " lie said," replied Digby, " that when last he saw you, 
 
150 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 you were a gay, kind-hearted girl of fourteen, and that he was 
 sure, if I spoke to you about him, you would tell me all that I 
 wanted to know with truth and candour." 
 
 ** That was kind of him," said Zara, with some emotion, 
 " that was very kind. I am glad he knows me; and yet that 
 very candour, Sir Edward, some people call affectation, and 
 some impudence. I am afraid that those who know much of the 
 world never judge rightly of those who know little of it. 
 Sincerity is a commodity so very rare, I am told, in the best 
 society, that those who meet with it never believe that they 
 have got the genuine article." 
 
 " I know a good deal of the world," replied the young 
 baronet, "but yet, my dear Miss Croyland, I do not think 
 that I have judged you wrongly;" and he fell into thought. 
 
 The next moment they turned up to the house of old Mr, 
 Croyland; and while the servants were holding the horses, 
 and Zara, with the aid of Sir Edward Digby, dismounting at 
 the door, they saw, to her horror and consternation, a large 
 yellow coach coming down the hill towards the house, and 
 which she instantly recognised as her father's family vehicle. 
 
 "My aunt, my aunt, upon my life!" exclaimed Zara, with 
 a rueful shake of the head. "I must speak one word with 
 Edith before she comes; so forgive me, Sir Edward," and she 
 darted into the house, asking a black servant, in a shawl tur- 
 ban and a long white gown, where Miss Croyland was to be 
 found. 
 
 " She out in de garden, pretty missy," replied the man ; 
 and Zara ran on through the vestibule before her. Unfortu- 
 nately, vestibules will have doors communicating with them, 
 which, I have often remarked, have an unhappy propensity to 
 open when any one is anxious to pass by them quietly. It 
 was so in the present instance. Roused from a reverie by the 
 ringing of the bell, and the sound of voices without, Mr. 
 Croyland issued forth just at the moment when Zara's light 
 foot was carrying her across to the garden, and catching her 
 by the arm, he detained her, asking, "What brought you here, 
 saucy girl, and whither are you running so fast?" 
 
 Now Zara, though she was not good Mr. Zachary's favou- 
 rite, had a very just appreciation of her uncle's character, and 
 knew that the simple truth was less dangerous with him than 
 with nine hundred and ninety-nine persons out of a thousand 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 151 
 
 in civilized society. She, therefore, replied at once, "Don't stop 
 me, uncle ; there's a good man ! I came to speak a few words to 
 Edith, and wish to speak them before my aunt arrives." 
 
 "What! plot and counterplot, I will warrant I" exclaimed 
 Mr. Croyland, freeing her arm. "Well, get you gone, yon 
 graceless monkey I Ha! who have we here? Why, my 
 young friend, the half-bottle man! Are you one of the plot- 
 ters too, Sir Edward?" 
 
 "Oh! I am a complete master in the art of domestic 
 strategy, I assure you," answered the young officer, "and I 
 propose, having heard what Miss Croyland has just said, that 
 we take up a position across these glass doors, in order to 
 favour her operations. We can then impede the advance of 
 Miss Barbara's corps, by throwing forward the light-infantry 
 of small-talk, assure her that it is a most beautiful day, tell 
 her that the view from the hill is lovely, and that the slight 
 yellowness of September gives a fine warmth to the green 
 foliage, with various other pieces of information which she 
 does not desire, till the manoeuvres in our rear are complete." 
 
 "Ah! you are a sad knave," replied Mr. Zachary Croyland, 
 laughing, "and, I see, are quite ready to aid the young in 
 bamboozling the old." 
 
 But, alas, the best schemed campaign is subject to acci- 
 dental impediments in execution, which will often deprive it of 
 success! Almost as Mr. Croyland spoke, the carriage rolled 
 up ; and not small was the horror of the master of the house, 
 to see riding behind it, on a tall grey horse, no other than 
 young Richard Radford. Sir Edward Digby, though less hor- 
 rified, was not well pleased; but it was Mr. Croyland who 
 spoke, and that in rather a sharp and angry tone, stepping 
 forward, at the same time, over the threshold of his door: 
 "Mr. Radford," he said; "Mr. Radford, I am surprised to 
 see you I You must very well know, that although I tolerate, 
 and am obliged to tolerate, a great many people whom I don't 
 approve, at my brother's house, your society is not that which 
 I particularly desire." 
 
 Young Radford's eyes flashed, but, for once in his life, he 
 exercised some command over himself. "I came here at your 
 sister's suggestion, sir," he said. 
 
 "Oh! Barbara, Barbara! barbarous Barbara!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Zachary Croyland, shaking his head at his sister, who was 
 
152 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 stepping out of the carriage. " The devil himself never in- 
 vented an instrument better fitted to torment the whole human 
 race, than a woman with the best intentions in the world." 
 
 " Why, my dear brother," said Mrs. Barbara, with the look 
 of a martyr, " you know quite well that Robert wishes Mr. 
 Radford to have the opportunity of paying his addresses to 
 Edith, and so I proposed 
 
 " He shan't have the opportunity here, by Vishnoo!" cried 
 the old gentleman. 
 
 "To say the truth/' said Mr. Radford, interposing, "such, 
 was not my object in coming hither to-day. I wished to have 
 the honour of saying a few words to a gentleman I see stand- 
 ing behind you, sir, which was also the motive of my going over 
 to Harbourne House. Otherwise, well knowing your preju- 
 dices, I should not have troubled yon ; for, I can assure you, 
 that your company is not particularly agreeable to me." 
 
 " If mine is what you want, sir," replied Sir Edward Digby, 
 stepping forward and passing Mr. Croyland, "it is very easily 
 obtained ; but as it seems you are not a welcome guest here, 
 perhaps we had better walk along the lane together." 
 
 "A less distance than that will do," answered Richard 
 Radford, throwing the bridle of his horse to one of the ser- 
 vants, and taking two or three steps away from the house. 
 
 "Oh! Zachary, my dear brother, do interfere!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Barbara. " I forgot they had quarrelled yesterday 
 morning, and unfortunately let out that Sir Edward was here. 
 There will be a duel if you don't stop them." 
 
 "Not I," cried Mr. Croyland, rubbing his hands; "it's a 
 pleasure to see two fools cut each other's throats. I'd lay 
 any wager, if I ever did such a thing as lay wagers at all, that 
 Digby pricks him through the midriff. There's a nice little 
 spot at the end of the garden quite fit for such exercises." 
 
 Mr. Zachary Croyland was merely playing upon his sister's 
 apprehensions, as the best sort of punishment he could inflict 
 for the mischief she had brought about; but he never had the 
 slightest idea that Sir Edward Digby and young Radford 
 would come to anything like extreme measures in his sister's 
 presence, knowing the one to be a gentleman, and mistakenly 
 believing the other to be a coward. The conversation of the 
 two who had walked away was not of long duration: nor, for 
 a time, did it appear very vehement. Mr. Radford said some- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 153 
 
 thing, and the young baronet replied ; Mr. Radford rejoined, 
 and Digby answered the rejoinder. Then some new obser- 
 vation was made by the other, which seemed to cause Sir 
 Edward to look round to the house, and, seeing Mr. Croyland 
 and his sister still on the step, to make a sign for young 
 Radford to follow to a greater distance. The latter, however, 
 planted the heel of his boot tight in the gravel, as if to give 
 emphasis to what he said, and uttered a sentence in a louder 
 tone, and with a look so fierce, meaning, and contemptuous, 
 that Mr. Croyland saw the matter was getting serious, and 
 stepped forward to interfere. 
 
 In an instant, however, Sir Edward Digby, apparently 
 provoked beyond bearing, raised the heavy horsewhip which 
 he had in his hand, and laid it three or four times, with great 
 rapidity, over Mr. Radford's shoulders. The young man 
 instantly dropped his own whip, drew his sword, and made a 
 fierce lunge at the young officer's breast. The motion was 
 so rapid, and the thrust so well aimed, that Digby had barely 
 time to put it aside with his riding- whip, receiving a wound 
 in his left shoulder as he did so. But the next moment his 
 sword was also out of the sheath, and, after three sharp 
 passes, young Radford's blade was flying over the neighbour- 
 ing hedge, and a blow in the face from the hilt of Sir Edward 
 Digby 's weapon brought him with his knee to the ground. 
 
 The whole of this scene passed as quick as lightning; and 
 I have not thought fit to interrupt the narration for the pur- 
 pose of recording, in order, the four, several, piercing shrieks 
 with which Mrs. Barbara Croyland accompanied each act of 
 the drama. The first, however, was loud enough to call Zara 
 from the garden, even before she had found her sister; and 
 she came up to her aunt's side just at the moment that young 
 Radford was disarmed, and then struck in the face by his 
 opponent. 
 
 Slightly heated, Sir Edward gazed at him with his weapon 
 in his hand; and the young lady clasping her hands, exclaimed 
 aloud: " Hold, Sir Edward! Sir Edward, for Heaven's sakel" 
 
 Sir Edward Digby turned round with a faint smile, thrust 
 his sword back into the sheath, and without bestowing another 
 word on his adversary, walked slowly back to the door of the 
 house, and apologized to Mrs. Barbara for what had occurred, 
 saying, " I beg you ten thousand pardons, my dear madam, 
 
154 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 for treating you to such a sight as this; but I can assure you 
 it is not of my seeking. That person, who failed to keep an 
 appointment with me yesterday, thought fit just now to call 
 me coward twice ; and as he would not walk to a little distance, 
 I had no resource but to horsewhip him where I stood." 
 
 "Pity you didn't run him through the liver 1" observed 
 Mr. Croyland. 
 
 While these few words were passing, young Eadford rose 
 slowly, paused for an instant to gaze upon the ground, and 
 then gnawing his lip, approached his horse's side. There is 
 perhaps, no passion of the human heart more dire, more ter- 
 rible than impotent revenge, or more uncontrollable in its 
 effect upon the human countenance. The face of Richard 
 Radford, handsome as it was in many respects, was at the 
 moment when he put his foot into the stirrup and swung 
 himself up to the saddle, perfectly frightful, from the fiend-like 
 expression of rage and disappointment that it bore. He felt 
 that he was powerless, for a time at least; that he had met 
 an adversary greatly superior to himself, both in skill and 
 strength; and that he had suffered not only defeat but dis- 
 grace, before the eyes of a number of persons whom his own 
 headstrong fury had made spectators of a scene so painful to 
 himself. Reining his horse angrily back to clear him of the 
 carriage, he shook his fist at Sir Edward Digby, exclaiming, 
 "Sooner or later, I will have revenge!" Then, striking the 
 beast's flank with his spurs, he turned and galloped away. 
 
 Digby had, as we have seen, addressed his apologies to Mrs. 
 Barbara Croyland ; but after hearing, with a calm smile, his van- 
 quished opponent's empty threat, he looked round to the fair 
 companion of his morning's ride, and saw her standing beside 
 her uncle, with her cheek very pale and her eyes cast down to 
 the ground. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, Miss Croyland," he said, bending 
 down his head, and speaking in a low and gentle tone. " This 
 affair can have no other results. It is all over now." 
 
 Zara raised her eyes to his face, but, as she did so, turned 
 more pale than before; and pointing to his arm, where the 
 cloth of his coat was cut through, and the blood flowing down 
 over his sleeve and dropping from the ruffle round his wrist, 
 she exclaimed, "You are hurt. Sir Edward. Good Heaven! 
 he has wounded youl" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 155 
 
 "A scratch; a scratch," said Digby; "a mere nothing. 
 A pocket-handkerchief tied round it will soon remedy all the 
 mischief he has done, though not all he intended.'' 
 
 "Oh I come in; come in, and have it examined I' 7 cried 
 Zara, eagerly. 
 
 The rest of the party gathered round, joined, just at that 
 moment, by Edith from the garden ; and Mr. Croyland, tear- 
 ing the coat wider open, looked at the wound with more ex- 
 perienced eyes, saying, "Ah! a flesh wound! but in rather 
 an awkward place. 'Not as wide as a church-door, nor as deep 
 as a draw-well,' as our friend has it ; but if it had been an 
 inch and a half to the right, it would have divided the sub- 
 clavian artery, and then, my dear sir, l it would have done.' 
 This will get well soon. But come, Sir Neddy, let us into the 
 house; and I will do for you what I haven't done for ten or 
 twelve years: id est, dress your wound myself; and mind, 
 you must not drink any wine to-night." 
 
 The whole party began to move into the house, Sir Edward 
 Digby keeping as near the two Miss Croylands as possible, 
 and laying out a little plan in his head for begging the assist- 
 ance of Mrs. Barbara while his wound was dressed, and sending 
 the two young ladies out of the room to hold their conference 
 together. He was, however, destined to be frustrated here 
 also. To Zara Croyland it had been a day of unusual excite- 
 ment; she had enjoyed, she had been moved, she had been 
 agitated and terrified, and she was still under much greater 
 alarm than perhaps was needful, both regarding Sir Edward 
 Digby's wound and the threat which young Radford had 
 uttered. She felt her head giddy and her heart flutter as if 
 oppressed ; but she walked on steadily enough for four or five 
 steps, while her aunt, Mrs. Barbara, was explaining to Edith, 
 in her own particular way, all that had occurred. But just 
 when the old lady was saying: " Then, whipping out his 
 sword in an instant, he thurst at Sir Edward's breast, and I 
 thought to a certainty he was run through;" Zara sunk slowly 
 down, caught by her sister as she fell, and the hue of death 
 spread over her face. 
 
 "Fainted!" cried Mr. Croyland. "I wish to Heaven, Bab, 
 you would hold your tongue ! I will tell Edith about it after- 
 wards. What's the use of bringing it all up again before the 
 girl's mind, when the thing's done and over? There, let her 
 
156 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 lie where she is; the recumbent position is the right thing. 
 Bring a cushion out of the drawing-room, Edith, my love, and 
 ask Babafor the hartshorn drops. We'll soon get her better; 
 and then the best thing you can do, Bab, is to put her into the 
 carriage, take her home again, and hold your tongue to my 
 brother about this foolish affair: if anything can hold a woman's 
 tongue. I'll plaster tip the man's arm, and then, like many 
 another piece of damaged goods, he'll be all right, on the out- 
 side at least." 
 
 Mrs. Barbara Croyland followed devoutly one part of her 
 brother's injunctions. As soon as Zara was sufficiently 
 recovered, she hurried her to the carriage, without leaving her 
 alone with Edith for one moment; and Sir Edward Digby, 
 having had his wound skilfully dressed by Mr. Zachary Croy- 
 land's own hands, thanked the old gentleman heartily for his 
 care and kindness, mounted his horse, and rode back to liar- 
 bourne House. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WE must now return to the town of Hythe, and to the little 
 room in the little inn, which that famous borough boasted as 
 its principal hostelry, at the period of our tale. It was about 
 eleven o'clock at night, perhaps a few minutes earlier; and in 
 that room was seated a gentleman, whom we have left for a 
 long time, though not without interest in himself and his con- 
 cerns. But, as in this wayfaring world we are often destined 
 for weeks, months, ay, and long years, to quit those whom we 
 love best, and to work for their good in distant scenes, with 
 many a thought given to them, but few means of communica- 
 tion ; so, in every picture of human life which comprises more 
 than one character, must we frequently leave those in whom 
 we are most interested, while we are tracing out the various 
 remote cords and pulleys of fate, by which the fabric of their 
 destiny is ultimately reared. 
 
 The gentleman, then, who had, been introduced to Mr. 
 Croyland as Captain Osborn, was seated at a table, writing. 
 A number of papers, consisting of letters, accounts, and several 
 printed forms, unfilled up, were strewed upon the table around, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 157 
 
 which was moreover encumbered by a heavy sword aud belt, 
 a large pair of thick buckskin gloves, and a brace of heavy 
 silver-mounted pistols. He looked pale and somewhat anxious ; 
 but nevertheless he went on, with his fine head bent, and the 
 light falling from above upon his beautifully cut classical 
 features: sometimes putting down a name, and adding a sum 
 in figures opposite; sometimes, when he came to the bottom 
 of the page, running up the column with rapidity and ease, 
 and then inscribing the sum total at the bottom. 
 
 It was, perhaps, rather an unromantic occupation that the 
 young officer was employed in ; for it was evident that he was 
 making up, with steady perseverance, some rather lengthy 
 accounts ; and all his thoughts seemed occupied with pounds, 
 shillings, and pence. It was not so, indeed, though he wished 
 it to be so; but, if the truth must be spoken, his mind often 
 wandered afar; and his brain seemed to have got into that 
 state of excitement, which caused sounds and circumstances 
 that would at any other time have passed without notice, to 
 trouble him and disturb his ideas on the present occasion. 
 
 There had been a card and punch club in one of the neigh- 
 bouring rooms. The gentlemen had assembled at half-past 
 six or seven, had hung up their wigs upon pegs provided for 
 the purpose, and had made a great deal of noise in coming in 
 and arranging themselves. There was then the brewing of 
 the punch, the lighting of the pipes, and the laughing and 
 jesting to which those important events generally give rise, at 
 the meetings of persons of some importance in a country town ; 
 and then the cards were produced, and a great deal of laugh- 
 ing and talking, as usual, succeeded, in regard to the prelimi- 
 naries, and also respecting the course of the game. 
 
 There had been no slight noise, also, in the lower regions 
 of the inn, much speaking, and apparently some merriment; 
 and, from all these things put together, to say nothing of 
 every now and then, the pleasures of a comic song, given by 
 one of the parties above or below, the young officer had been 
 considerably disturbed, and had been angry with himself for 
 being so. His thoughts, too, would wander, whether he liked 
 it or not. 
 
 "Digby must have seen her,'' he said to himself, "unless 
 she be absent; but surely he must have found some oppor- 
 tunity of speaking with herself or her sister by this time. I 
 
158 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 wonder I have not heard from him. He promised to write as 
 soon as he had any information, and he is not a man to for- 
 get. Well, it is of no use to think of it;" and he went on: 
 " five and six are eleven, and four are fifteen, and six are 
 twenty- one." 
 
 At this interesting point of his calculation, a dragoon, who 
 was stationed at the door, put his head into the room, and 
 said, " Mr. Mowle, sir, wants to speak to you." 
 
 " Let him come in," answered the officer; and, laying down 
 his pen, he looked up with a smile. "Well, Mr. Mowle!" he 
 continued, "what news do you bring? Have you been suc- 
 cessful ?" 
 
 "No very good news, and but very little success, sir," 
 answered the officer of customs, taking a seat to which the 
 other pointed. " We have captured some of their goods, and 
 taken six of the men, but the greater part of the cargo, and 
 the greatest villain of them all, have been got off." 
 
 "Ay, how happened that?" asked the gentleman to whom 
 he spoke. "I gave you all the men you required; and I 
 should certainly have thought you were strong enough." 
 
 "Oh! yes, sir; that was not what we lacked," answered 
 Mowle, in a somewhat bitter tone; " but I'll tell you what we 
 did want: honest magistrates, and good information. Know- 
 ing the way they were likely to take, I cut straight across the 
 country by Aldington, Kings-north, and Singleton Green, to- 
 wards Four Elms " 
 
 " It would have been better, I think, to have gone on by 
 Westhawk," said the young officer; "for though the road is 
 rather hilly, you would by that means have cut them off both 
 from Singleton, Chart Magna, and Gouldwell, towards which 
 places, I think you said, they were tending." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the officer of customs, "but we found, 
 on the road, that we were rather late in the day, and that oui' 
 only chance was by hard riding. We came up with four of 
 them, however, who had lagged behind, about Four Elms. 
 Two of these we got, and all their goods; and, from the infor- 
 mation they gave, we galloped on as hard as we could to 
 Rousend." 
 
 "Did you take the road, or across the country?" demanded 
 the young officer. 
 
 "Birchett would take the road," answered Mowle. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 159 
 
 11 He was wrong; he was quite wrong," replied the other. 
 <; If you had passed by New Street, then straight over the 
 fields and meadows, up to the mill, you would have had them 
 in a trap. They could not have reached Chart, or New Pur- 
 chase, or Gouldwell, or Etchden, without your catching them ; 
 and if they had fallen back, they must have come upon the 
 men I stationed at Bethersden, with whom was Adams, the 
 officer." 
 
 " Why, you seem to know tlie country, sir," said his com- 
 panion, with some surprise, " as if you had lived in it all 
 your days." 
 
 " I do know it very well," answered the officer of dragoons ; 
 " and you must be well aware that what I say is right. It 
 was the shortest way, too, and presents no impediments but a 
 couple of fences and a ditch." 
 
 " All very true, sir," answered Mowle, " and so I told Bir- 
 chett ; but Adams had gone oif for another officer, and he is of 
 very little use to us himself. There's no trusting him, sir. 
 However, we came up with them at Rousend; but there, after a 
 little bit of a tussle, they separated ;" and he went on to give 
 his account of the affray with the smugglers, nearly in the 
 same words which he had employed when speaking to the 
 magistrates, some six or seven hours before. His hearer lis- 
 tened with grave attention ; but when Mowle came to mention 
 the appearance of Kichard Radford and his capture, the young 
 officer's eyes flashed, and his brow knit ; and as the man went 
 on to describe the self-evident juggle which had been played, 
 to enable the youth to evade the reach of justice, he rose from 
 the table, and walked once or twice hastily up and down the 
 room. Then, seating himself again, to all appearance as calm 
 as before, he said, " This is too bad, Mr. Mowle, and shall bo 
 reported.'' 
 
 " Ay, sir; but you have not heard the worst," answered 
 Mowle. "These worthy justices thought fit to send the five 
 men whom they had committed off to gaol in a waggon, with 
 three or four constables to guard them, and of course you 
 know what took place." 
 
 " Oh! they were all rescued, of course;" replied the officer. 
 
 " Before they got to Headcorn," said Mowle. " But the 
 whole affair was arranged by Mr. Radford; for these fellows 
 say themselves, that it is better to work for him at half price 
 
160 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 than for any one else, because he always stands by his own, 
 and will see no harm come to them. If this is to go on, sir, 
 you and I may as well leave the county." 
 
 " It shall not go on," answered the officer; "but we must 
 have a little patience, my good friend. Long impunity makes 
 a man rash. This worthy Mr. Radford seems to have become 
 so already; otherwise, he would never have risked carrying 
 so large a venture across the country in open day." 
 
 " I don't think that, in this, he was rash at all, sir," 
 answered Mowle, lowering his tone, and speaking in a whisper; 
 " and if you will listen for a moment, I'll tell you why, My 
 belief is, that the whole of this matter is but a lure to take us 
 off the right scent ; and I have several reasons for thinking so. 
 In the first place, the run was but a trifling affair, as far as I 
 can learn, not worth five hundred pounds. I know that what 
 we have got is not worth a hundred, and it has cost me as 
 good a horse as I ever rode in my life. Now from all I hear, 
 the cargo that Mr. Radford expects is the most valuable that 
 ever was run from Duugeuess Point to the North Foreland. 
 So, if my information is correct, and I am sure it is " 
 
 "Who did you get it from?" demanded the officer, "if the 
 question is a fair one." 
 
 "Some such questions might not be," answered Mowle; 
 "but I don't mind answering this, colonel. I got it from Mr. 
 Radford himself. Ay, sir, you may well look surprised ; but 
 I heard him with my own ears say that it was worth at least 
 seventy thousand pounds. So you see my information is pretty 
 good. Now, knowing this, as soon as I found out what value 
 was in this lot, I said to myself, this is some little spec of 
 young Rad ford's own. But when I came to consider the 
 matter, I found that must be a mistake too; for the old man 
 helped the Ramleys out of their scrape so impudently, and 
 took such pains to let it be well understood that he had an 
 interest in the affair, that I felt sure there was some motive 
 at the bottom, sir. In all these things, he has shown himself, 
 from a boy, as cautious as he is daring, and that's the way he 
 has made such a power of money. He's not a man to appear 
 too much in a thing, even for his son's sake, if he has not 
 some purpose to answer; and, depend upon it, I'm right when 
 I say that this run was nothing but a trap, or a blind, as they 
 call it, to make us think, in case we've got any information of 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1G1 
 
 the great venture, that the thing is all over. Why did they 
 choose the day, when they might have done it all at night? 
 Why did Mr. Kadford go on laughing with the magistrates, 
 as if it was a good joke? No, no, sir; the case is clear 
 enough : they are going to strike the great stroke sooner than 
 we supposed; and this is but a trifle. 1 ' 
 
 "But may you not have made some mistake in regard to 
 Mr. Radford's words?" demanded the young officer. "I should 
 think it little likely that so prudent a man as you represent 
 him to be, would run so great a risk for such a purpose." 
 
 "I made no mistake," answered Movvle; "I heard the words 
 clear enough; and besides, I've another proof. The man who 
 is to run the goods for him had nothing to do with this affair. 
 I've got sharp eyes upon him ; and though he was away from 
 home the other night he was not at sea. That I've discovered. 
 He was up in the county, not far from Mr. Radford's own 
 place, and most likely saw him, though that I can't find out. 
 However, sir, I shall hear more very soon. Whenever it is to 
 be done we shall have sharp work of it, and must have plenty 
 of men." 
 
 " My orders are to assist you to the best of my power," 
 said the young officer, " and to give you what men you may 
 require; but as I have been obliged to quarter them in diffe- 
 rent places, you had better give me as speedy information of 
 v/hat force you are likely to demand, and on what point you 
 wish them to assemble, as you can." 
 
 " Those are puzzling questions, colonel," replied Mowle. " I 
 do not think the attempt will be made to-night; for their own 
 people must be all knocked up, and they cannot bring down 
 enough to carry as well as run : at least, I think not. But it will 
 probably be made to-morrow, if they fancy they have lulled 
 us; and that fancy I shall take care to indulge, by keeping a 
 sharp look-out, without seeming to look out at all. As to the 
 point, that is what I cannot tell. Harding will start from the 
 beach here, but where he will land is another affair; and the 
 troops are as likely to be wanted twenty miles down the coast, 
 or twenty miles up, as anywhere else. I wish you would give 
 me a general order for the dragoons to assist me wherever I 
 may want them." 
 
 " That is given already, Mr. Mowle," answered the officer; 
 " such are the commands we have received ; and even the non- 
 
162 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 commissioned officers are instructed, on the very first requisi- 
 tion made by a chief officer of customs, to turn out and aid in 
 the execution of the law. Wherever any of the regiment are 
 quartered, you will find them ready to assist." 
 
 " Ay, but they are so scattered, sir," rejoined Mowle, "that 
 it may be difficult to get them together in a hurry." 
 
 " Not in the least," replied Osborn ; " they are so disposed 
 that I can, at a very short notice, collect a sufficient force at 
 any point, to deal with the largest body of smugglers that ever 
 assembled." 
 
 "You may, perhaps, sir, but I cannot," answered the 
 custom-house officer; "and what I wish is, that you would 
 give them a general order to march to any place where I 
 require them, and to act as I shall direct." 
 
 "Nay, Mr. Mowle," said the other, shaking his head, 
 " that, I am afraid, cannot be. I have no instructions to such 
 effect ; and though the military power is sent here to assist 
 the civil, it is not put under the command of the civil. I do 
 not conceal from you that I do not like the service; but that 
 shall only be a motive with me for executing my duty the more 
 vigorously ; and you have but to give me intimation of where 
 you wish a force collected, and it shall be done in the shortest 
 possible time." 
 
 Mowle did not seem quite satisfied with this answer; and 
 after musing for a few minutes, he replied, " But suppose I 
 do not know myself; suppose it should be fifteen or twenty 
 miles from Hythe, and I myself, on the spot, how am I to get 
 the requisition sent to you, and how are you to move your 
 men to the place where I may want them: perhaps, farther 
 still?" 
 
 "As to my moving my men, you must leave that to me," 
 answered the young officer; "and as to your obtaining the 
 information, and communicating it, I might reply, that you 
 must look to that; but as I sincerely believe you to be a most 
 vigilant and active person, who will leave no means unem- 
 ployed to obtain intelligence, I will only point out, in the first 
 place, that our best efforts sometimes fail, but that we may 
 always rest at ease when we have used our best; and, in the 
 second, I will suggest to you one or two means of ensuring 
 success. Wherever you may happen to find that the landing 
 of these goods is intended, or wherever you may be when it is 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 163 
 
 effected, you will find within a circle of three miles, several 
 parties of dragoons, who, on the first call, will render you every 
 aid. With them, upon the system I have laid down for them, 
 you will be able to keep your adversaries in check, delay their 
 operations, and follow them up. Your first step, however, 
 should be, to send off a trooper to me with all speed, charging 
 him, if verbally, with as short and plain a message as possible : 
 first, stating the point where the ' run, ' as you call it, has been 
 effected; and secondly, in what direction, to the best of your 
 judgment, the enemy, that is to say, the smugglers, are 
 marching. If you do that, and are right in your conjecture, 
 they shall not go far without being attacked. If you are 
 wrong, as any man may be, in regard to their line of retreat, 
 they shall not be long unpursued. But as to putting the mili- 
 tary under the command of the customs, as I said before, I 
 have no orders to that effect, and do not think that any such 
 will ever be issued. In the next place, in order to obtain the 
 most speedy information yourself, and to ensure that I shall be 
 prepared, I would suggest that you direct each officer on the 
 coast, if a landing should be effected in his district, first, to 
 call for the aid of the nearest military party, and then to light 
 a beacon on the next high ground. As soon as the first bea- 
 con is lighted, let the next officer on the side of Hythe, light 
 one also, and, at the same time, with any force he can collect, 
 proceed towards the first. Easy means may be found to 
 transmit intelligence of the route of the smugglers to the bodies 
 coming up ; and, in a case like the present, I shall not scruple to 
 take the command myself, at any point where I may be as- 
 sured formidable resistance is likely to be offered." 
 
 " Well, sir, I think the plan of the beacons is a good one," 
 answered Mowle, "and it would be still better if there were 
 any of the coast officers on whom we could depend, but a more 
 rascally set of mercenary knaves does not exist. Not one of 
 them who would not sell the whole of the king's revenue for a 
 twenty pound or so; and, however clear are the orders they 
 receive, they find means to mistake them. But I will go and 
 write the whole down, and have it copied out for each station, 
 so that if they do not choose to understand, it must be their 
 own fault. I am afraid, however, that all this preparation 
 will put our friends upon their guard, and that they will delay 
 their run till they can draw us off somewhere else." 
 
164 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 " There is some reason for that apprehension," replied the 
 young officer, thoughtfully. "You imagine, then, that it is 
 likely to take place to-morrow night, if we keep quiet?'' 
 
 " I have little doubt of it," replied Mowle; " or if not, the 
 night after. But I think it will be to-morrow. Yes; they 
 won't lose the opportunity, if they fancy we are slack; and 
 then the superintendent chose to fall sick to-day, so that the 
 whole rests with me, which will give me enough to do, as they 
 are well aware." 
 
 "Well, then," replied the gentleman to whom he spoke, 
 "leave the business of the beacons to me. I will give orders 
 that they be lighted at every post as soon as application is 
 made for assistance. You will know what ifc means when you 
 see one ; and, in the mean time, keep quite quiet, affect a cer- 
 tain degree of indifference, but not too much, and speak of 
 having partly spoiled Mr. Radford's venture. Do you think 
 he will be present himself?" 
 
 "Oh, not he! not he!" answered Mowle. "He is too 
 cunning for that, by a hundred miles. In any little affair like 
 this of to-day, he might not, perhaps, be afraid of showing 
 himself, to answer a purpose; but in a more serious piece of 
 business, where his brother justices could not contrive to 
 shelter him, and where government would certainly interfere, 
 he will keep as quiet and still as if he had nought to do with 
 it. But I will have him, nevertheless, before long, and then 
 all his ill-gotten wealth shall go, even if we do not contrive 
 to transport him." 
 
 "How will you manage that?" asked the young officer; 
 "if he abstains from taking any active part, you will have no 
 proof, unless, indeed, one of those he employs should give evi- 
 dence against him, or inform beforehand for the sake of the 
 reward." 
 
 "They won't do that," said Mowle, thoughtfully, "they 
 won't do that. I do not know how it is, sir," he continued, 
 after a moment's pause, "but the difference between the es- 
 tablishment of the customs and the smugglers is a very strange 
 one; and I'll tell you what it is: there is not one of these 
 fellows who run goods upon the coast, or carry them inland, 
 who will, for any sum that can be offered, inform against their 
 employers or their comrades ; and there's scarce a custom-house 
 officer in all Kent, that, for five shillings, would not betray his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 165 
 
 brother or sell his country. The riding officers are somewhat 
 better than the rest ; but these fellows at the ports think no 
 more of taking a bribe to shut their eyes than of drinking a 
 glass of rum. Now you may attempt to bribe a smuggler for 
 ever, not that I ever tried, for I don't like to ask men to sell 
 their own souls, but Birchett has often. I cannot well make 
 out the cause of this difference, but certainly there is such a 
 spirit amongst the smugglers that they won't do a dishonest 
 thing, except in their own way, for any sum. There are the 
 Eamleys, even, the greatest blackguards in Europe, smugglers, 
 thieves, and cut-throats, but they won't betray each other. 
 There is no crime they won't commit but that, and that they 
 would sooner die than do; while we have a great many men 
 amongst us, come of respectable parents, well brought up, 
 well educated, who take money every day to cheat their em- 
 ployers." 
 
 " I rather suspect that it is the difference of consequences 
 in the two cases,'' answered Osborne, "which makes men 
 view the same act in a different way. A custom-house 
 officer who betrays his trust, thinks that he only brings a little 
 loss upon a government which can well spare it ; he is not a 
 bit the less a rogue for that, for honesty makes no such dis- 
 tinctions ; but the smuggler who betrays his comrade or em- 
 ployer, must be well aware that he is not only ruining him in 
 purse, but bringing on him corporeal punishment." 
 
 "Ay, sir, but there's a spirit in the thing," said Mowle, 
 shaking his head; " the very country people in general love 
 the smugglers, and help them whenever they can. There's 
 not a cottage that will not hide them or their goods; scarce a 
 gentleman in the county who, if he finds all the horses out of 
 his stable in the morning, does not take it quietly, without 
 asking any more questions; scarce a magistrate who does not 
 give the fellows notice as soon as he knows the officers are 
 after them. The country folks, indeed, do not like them so 
 well as they did, but they'll soon make it up.'' 
 
 "A strange state, certainly," said the officer of dragoons; 
 " but what has become of the horses you mention, when they 
 are thus found absent?" 
 
 " Gone to carry goods, to be sure," answered Mowle. 
 "But one thing is very clear, all the country is in the smuggler's 
 favour, and I cannot help thinking that the people do not like 
 
166 TUB SMUGGLER. 
 
 the custom's clues ; that they don't see the good of them, and 
 are resolved to put them down." 
 
 " Ignorant people, and indeed, all people, do not like taxa- 
 tion of any kind," replied Osborn; "and every class objects 
 to that tax which presses on itself, without the slightest regard 
 either for the necessity of distributing the burdens of the 
 country equally, or any of the apparently minute but really 
 important considerations upon which the apportionment has 
 been formed. However, Mr. Mowle, we have only to do our 
 duty according to our position; you to gain all the informa- 
 tion that you can, I to aid you to the best of my ability, in 
 carrying the law into effect." 
 
 " From the smugglers themselves, little is the information I 
 can get, sir," answered Mowle, returning to the subject from 
 which their conversation had deviated; "and often I am 
 obliged to have recourse to means I am ashamed of. The 
 principal intelligence I receive is from a boy who offered him- 
 self one day the little devil's imp and certainly, by his 
 cunning, and by not much caring myself what risks I run, I 
 have got some very valuable tidings. But the little vagabond 
 would betray me, or any one else, to-morrow. He is the 
 grandson of an old hag who lives at a little hut just by Salt- 
 wood, who puts him up to it all ; and if ever there was an old 
 demon in the world she is one. She is always brewing mis- 
 chief, and chuckling over it all the time, as if it were her 
 sport to see men tear each other to pieces, and to make inno- 
 cent girls as bad as she was herself, and as her own daughter 
 was too : the mother of this boy. The girl was killed by a 
 chance shot one day, in a riot between the smugglers and the 
 custom's people; and the old woman always says it was a 
 smuggler's shot. Ohl I could tell you such stories of that 
 old witch." 
 
 The stories of Mr. Mowle, however, were cut short by the 
 entrance of a servant carrying a letter, which the young officer 
 took and opened with a look of eager anxiety. The contents 
 were brief; but they seemed important, for various were the 
 changes which came over his fine countenance while he read 
 them. The predominant expression, however, was joy, though 
 there was a look of thoughtful consideration, perhaps, in a 
 degree, of embarrassment, too, on his face; and as he laid the 
 letter down on the table, and beat the paper with his fingers, 
 
THE SMUGGLE!*. 167 
 
 gazing up into vacancy, Mowle, judging that his presence was 
 not desired, rose to retire. 
 
 " Stay a moment, Mr. Mowle; stay a moment," said Os- 
 born. " This letter requires some consideration. It contains 
 a call to a part of Kent some fifteen or sixteen miles distant ; 
 but as it is upon private business, I must not let that interfere 
 with my public duty. You say that this enterprise of Mr. 
 Badford's is likely to be put in execution to-morrow night.' 7 
 
 "I cannot be sure, colonel," answered the officer; " but I 
 think there is every chance of it." 
 
 " Then I must return before nightfall to-morrow," replied 
 the gentleman, with a sigh. 
 
 " Your presence will be very necessary, sir," said the cus- 
 tom-house officer. " There is not one of your officers who 
 seem up to the business, except Major Digby 'and yourself. 
 All the rest are such fine gentlemen that one can't get on with 
 them." 
 
 " Let me consider for a moment," rejoined the other; but 
 Mowle went on in the same strain, saying, " Then, sir, if you 
 were to be absent all to-morrow, I might get very important 
 information, and not be able to give it to you, nor arrange 
 anything with you either." 
 
 Osborn still meditated with a grave brow for some time. 
 "I will write," he said, at length. "It will be better: it 
 will be only just and honourable. I will write instead of going 
 to-morrow, Mr. Mowle ; and if this affair should not take place 
 to-morrow night, as you suppose, I will make such arrange- 
 ments for the following day, on which I must go over to 
 AYoodchurch, as will enable you to communicate with me 
 without delay, should you have any message to send. At all 
 events, I will return to Hythe before night. Now, good 
 evening;" and while Mowle made his bow and retired, the 
 young officer turned to the letter again, and read it over with 
 glistening eyes. 
 
168 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 I WONDER if the reader ever wandered from Saltwood Castle 
 back to the good old town of Hythe, on a fine summer's day, 
 with a fair companion, as full of thought and mind as grace 
 and beauty, and with a dear child just at the age when all the 
 world is fresh and lovely, and then missed his way, and 
 strayed, far from the track, towards Sandgate, till dinner was 
 kept waiting at the inn, and the party who would not plod on 
 foot, were all tired and wondering at their friend's delay 1 I 
 wonder if the reader ever did all this. I have ; and a very 
 pleasant thing it is to do. Yes, all of it, reader. For, surely, 
 to go from waving wood to green field, and from green field 
 to hill-side and wood again, and to trace along the brook which 
 we know must lead to the sea-shore, with one companion of 
 high soul, who can answer thought for thought, and another 
 in life's early morning, who can bring back before your eyes 
 the picture of young enjoyment: ay, and to know that those 
 you love most dearly and esteem most highly, are looking for 
 your coming, with a little anxiety, not even approaching the 
 bounds of apprehension, is all very pleasant indeed. 
 
 You, dear and excellent lady, who were one of my com- 
 panions on the way, may perhaps recollect a little cottage, 
 near the spot where we sprung a solitary partridge, whither I 
 went to inquire the shortest road to Hythe. That cottage was 
 standing there at the period of which I now write ; and at the 
 bottom of that hill, amongst the wood, and close by the little 
 stream, nearly where the foot-bridge now carries the traveller 
 over dry shod, was another hut, half concealed by the trees, 
 and covered over with well nigh as much moss and houseleek 
 as actual thatch. 
 
 It has been long swept away, as well as its tenants; and 
 certainly a wretched and ill-constructed place it was. Would 
 to Heaven that all such were gone from our rich and produc- 
 tive land, and that every labourer, in a country which owes so 
 much to the industry of her children, had a dwelling better 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 169 
 
 fitted to a human being! But, alas! many such still exist; 
 and it is not always, as it was in this case, that vice is the 
 companion of misery. This is no book of idle twaddle, to re- 
 present all the wealthy as cold, hard, and vicious, and the 
 poor all good, forbearing, and laborious; for evil is pretty 
 equally distributed through all classes; though, God knows! 
 the rich, with all their opportunities, ought to show a smaller 
 proportion of wickedness, and the poor might perhaps be ex- 
 pected, from their temptations, to be worse than they are! 
 Still it is hard to think that many as honest a man as ever 
 lived, ay, and as industrious a man, too, returns, after his hard 
 day's toil, to find his wife and children well nigh in starvation, 
 in such a place as I am about to describe, and none to help 
 them. 
 
 The hut, for it did not deserve the name of cottage, was but 
 of one floor, which was formed of beaten clay, but a little 
 elevated above the surrounding soil. It contained two rooms. 
 The one opened into what had been a garden before it, running 
 down nearly to the brook-side; and the other communicated 
 with the first, but had a door which gave exit into the wood 
 behind. Windows the hut had two, one on either side; but 
 neither contained more than two cpmplete pains of glass. The 
 spaces, where glass had once been, were now filled up in a 
 strange variety of ways. Here was a piece of board nailed in ; 
 there a coarse piece of cloth kept out the wind; another broken 
 pane was filled up with paper; and another, were some frag- 
 ments of the original substance remained, was stopped with an 
 old stocking stuffed with straw. In the garden, as it was still 
 called, appeared a few cabbages and onions, with more cab- 
 bage-stalks than either, and a small patch of miserable 
 potatoes. But weeds were the most plentiful of all, and 
 duckweed and groundsel enough appeared there to have sup- 
 plied a whole forest of singing birds. It had been once fenced 
 in, that miserable garden ; but the wood had been pulled down 
 and burned for firing by its present tenants, or others as 
 wretched in circumstances as themselves ; and nought remained 
 but a strong post here and there, with sometimes a many- 
 coloured rag of coarse cotton fluttering upon some long, rusty 
 nail, which had snatched a shred from passing poverty. Three 
 or four stunted gooseberry bushes, however, marked out the 
 limit on one side ; a path ran in front between the garden and 
 
170 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 the brook; and on the other side there was a constant petty 
 warfare between the farmer and the inhabitant of the hovel as 
 to the possession of the border-land; and like a great and 
 small state contending, the more powerful always gained some 
 advantage in despite of right, but lost perhaps as much by the 
 spiteful incursions of the foe, as if he had yielded the contested 
 territory. 
 
 On the night of which I speak, the same on which Mowle 
 visited the commanding officer of the dragoons at Hythe, the 
 cottage itself, the garden, and all the squalid-looking things 
 about the place, were hidden in the deep darkness which had 
 again fallen over the earth as soon as night had fallen. The 
 morning, it may be remembered, was the same on which Sir 
 Edward Digby had been fired at by the smugglers, had been 
 somewhat cold and foggy; but about eleven, the day had 
 brightened, and the evening had been sultry. No sooner, how- 
 ever, did the sun reach the horizon than mists begun to rise, 
 and before seven o'clock the whole sky was under cloud and 
 the air filled with fog. He must have been well acquainted 
 with every step of the country who could find his way from 
 town to town. Nevertheless, any one who approached Galley 
 Kay's cottage, as it was cajied, would, at the distance of at 
 least a hundred yards, have perceived something to lead him 
 on ; for a light, red as that of a baleful meteor, was streaming 
 through the two glazed squares of the window into the misty 
 air, making them look like the eyes of some wild animal in a 
 dark forest. 
 
 We must pause here, however, for a moment, to explain to 
 the reader who Galley Ray was, and how she acquired the first 
 of her two appellations, which certainly was not that which she 
 had received at her baptism. Galley Ray, then, was the old 
 woman of whom Mr. Mowle had given that favourable account, 
 which may be seen in the last chapter; and, to say the truth, 
 he had but done her justice. Her name was originally Gillian 
 Ray ; but, amongst a number of corrupt associates, with whom 
 her early life was spent, the first of the two appellations was 
 speedily transformed to Gilly or Gill. Some time afterwards, 
 when youth began to wane, and whatever youthful graces she 
 possessed were deviating into the virago qualities of the middle 
 age, while watching one night the approach of a party of 
 smugglers, with whom she had some intimacy, she perceived 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 171 
 
 three or four custom-house officers coming down to launch a 
 galley which they had upon the beach for the purpose of cut- 
 ting off the free-traders. But Giily Ray instantly sprang in, 
 and with the boat-hook set them all at defiance, till they 
 threatened to launch her into the sea, boat and all. 
 
 It is true, she was reported to have been drunk at the time; 
 but her daring saved the smugglers, and conveyed her for two 
 months to jail, whence, as may be supposed, she returned not 
 much improved in her morals/ One of those whom she had 
 befriended in the time of need, bestowed on her the name of 
 Galley, by an easy transition from her original pramomen, and 
 it remained by her to the last day of her life. 
 
 The reader has doubtless remarked, that amongst the law- 
 less arid the rash, there is a certain fondness for figures of 
 speech, and that tropes and metaphors, simile and synecdoche, 
 are far more prevalent amongst them than amongst the more 
 orderly classes of society. Whether it is or not, that they 
 wish to get rid of a precise apprehension of their own acts, I 
 cannot say, but certain it is, that they do indulge in such 
 ilowers of rhetoric, and sometimes, in the midst of humour, 
 quaintness, and even absurdity, reach the point of wit, and at 
 times soar into the sublime. Galley Ray had, as we have 
 seen, one daughter, whose fate has been related; and that 
 daughter left one son, who, after his reputed father, one Mark 
 Nightingale, was baptized Nightingale Ray. His mother, and 
 after her death, his grandmother, used to call him Little Nighty 
 and Little Night; but following their fanciful habits, tho 
 smugglers, who used to frequent the house, found out an asso- 
 ciation between "Night Ray" and the beams of the bright and 
 mystical orbs that shine upon us from afar; and some one 
 gave him the name of Little Starlight, which remained with 
 him, as that of Galley had adhered to his grandmother. 
 
 The cottage or hut of the latter, then beamed with an un- 
 wonted blaze upon the night I have spoken of, till long after 
 the hour when Mowle had left the inn where his conference 
 with the young officer had taken place. But let not tho 
 reader suppose that this illumination proceeded from any great 
 expense of wax or oil. Only one small tallow candle, stuck 
 into a long-necked, square-sided Dutch bottle, spread its rays 
 through the interior of the hovel, and that was a luxury; but 
 in the fire-place blazed an immense pile of mingled wood and 
 
172 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 drift-coal, and over it hung a large hissing pot, as huge and 
 capacious as that of the witches in Macbeth, or of the no less 
 famous Meg Merrilies. Galley Ray, however, was a very dif- 
 ferent person in appearance from the heroine of "Guy Man- 
 nering," and we must endeavour to call up her image as she 
 stood by the fire-side, watching the cauldron and a kettle 
 which stood close to it. 
 
 The red and fitful light flashed upon no tall, gaunt form, 
 and lighted up no wild and commanding features. There was 
 nothing at all poetical in her aspect: it was such as may be 
 seen every day in the haunts of misery and vice. Originally 
 of the middle height, though once strong and upright, she had 
 somewhat sunk down under the hand of Time, and was now 
 rather short than otherwise. About fifty she had grown fat 
 and heavy; but fifteen years more had robbed her flesh of 
 firmness and her skin of its plumped out smoothness; and 
 though she had not yet reached the period when emaciation 
 accompanies decrepitude, her muscles were loose and hanging, 
 her face withered and sallow. Her hair, once as black as jet, 
 was now quite grey, not silver; but with the white greatly 
 predominating over the black. Yet, strange to say, her eyes 
 were still clear and bright, though small, and somewhat red 
 round the lids; and, stranger still, her front teeth were white 
 as ivory, offering a strange contrast to the wrinkled and yellow 
 skin. Her look was keen ; but there was that sort of habitual 
 jocularity about it, which in people of her caste is often partly 
 assumed, as an ever ready excuse for evading a close question, 
 or covering a dangerous suggestion by a jest, and partly 
 natural, or at least springing from a fearful kind of philosophy, 
 gained by the exhaustion of all sorts of criminal pleasures, 
 which leaves behind, too surely, the impression that everything 
 is but a mockery on earth. Those who have adopted that 
 philosophy never give a thought beyond this world. Her 
 figure was somewhat bowed, and over her shoulders she had 
 the fragments of a coarse woollen shawl, from beneath which 
 appeared, as she stirred the pot, her sharp yellow elbows and 
 long arms. On her head she wore a cap, which had remained 
 there, night and day, for months ; and, thurst back from her fore- 
 head, which was low and heavy, appeared the dishevelled grey 
 hair, while beneath the thick and beetling brows came the keen 
 eyes, and a nose somewhat aquiline and depressed at the point. 
 
THE SMUGGLER, 1?3 
 
 Near her, on the opposite side of the hearth, was the boy 
 whom the reader has already seen, and who has been called 
 Little Starlight ; and, even at that late hour, for it was near 
 midnight, he seemed as brisk and active as ever. Night and 
 day, indeed, appeared to him the same; for he had none of 
 the habits of childhood. The setting sun brought no drowsi- 
 ness to his eyelids : mid-day often found him sleeping after a 
 night of watchfulness and activity. The whole course of his 
 existence and his thoughts had been tainted : there was 
 nothing of youth either in his mind or his ways. The old 
 beldam called him, and thought him, the shrewdest boy that 
 ever lived ; but, in truth, she had left him no longer a boy, in 
 aught but size and looks. Often, indeed generally, he would 
 assume the tone of his years, for he found it served his pur- 
 pose best ; but he only laughed at those who thought him a 
 child, and prided himself on the cunning of the artifice. 
 
 There might be, it is true, some lingering of the faults of 
 youth, but that was all. He was greedy and voracious, loved 
 sweet things as well as strong drink, and could not always 
 curb the truant and erratic spirit of childhood ; but still, even 
 in his wanderings there was a purpose, and often a malevo- 
 lence. He would go to see what one person was about; he 
 would stay away because another wanted him. It may be 
 asked, was this natural wickedness: was his heart so formed 
 originally? Oh! no, reader; never believe such things. There 
 are certainly infinite varieties of human character; and I admit 
 that the mind of man is not the blank sheet of paper on which 
 we can write what we please, as has been vainly represented. 
 Or, if it be, the experience of every man must have shown 
 him, that that paper is of every different kind and quality; 
 some that will retain the finest line: some that will scarce 
 receive the broadest trace. But still education has immense 
 power for good or evil. By education I do not mean teach- 
 ing. I mean that great and wonderful process by which, 
 commencing at the earliest period of infancy, ay, at the 
 mother's breast, the raw material of the mind is manufac- 
 tured into all the varieties that we see. I mean the sum of 
 every line with which the paper is written as it passes from 
 hand to hand. That is education; and most careful should 
 we be that, at an early period, nought should be written but 
 good, for every word once impressed is well nigh indelible. 
 
174 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Now what education had that poor boy received? The 
 people of the neighbouring village would have said a very good 
 one; for there was what is called a charity school in the 
 neighbourhood, where he had been taught to read and write, 
 and cast accounts. But this was teaching ', not education. 
 Oh, fatal mistake ! When will Englishmen learn to discriminate 
 between the two? His education had been at home, in that 
 miserable hut, by that wretched woman, by her companions in 
 vice and crime! What had all the teaching he had received 
 at the school done for him, but placed weapons in the hand of 
 wickedness? Had education formed any part of the system 
 of the school where he was instructed; had he been taught 
 how best to use the gifts that were imparted; had he been 
 inured to regulate the mind that was stored; had he been 
 habituated to draw just conclusions from all he read, instead 
 of merely being taught to read, that would have been in some 
 degree education, and it might have corrected, to a certain 
 point, the darker schooling he received at home. Well might 
 the great philosopher, who in some things most grossly mis- 
 used the knowledge he himself possessed, pronounce that 
 " Knowledge is power;" but, alas! he forgot to add, that it is 
 power for good or evil! That poor child had been taught 
 that which to him might have been either a blessing or a bane ; 
 but all his real education had been for evil ; and there he stood, 
 corrupted to the heart's core. 
 
 " I say, Mother Ray," he exclaimed, "that smells cursed 
 nice; can't you give us a drop before the coves come?" 
 
 " No, no, you young devil," replied the old woman with a 
 grin; "one can't tell when they'll show their mugs at the 
 door, and it wouldn't do for them to find you gobbling up 
 their stuff. But bring me that big porringer, and we'll put 
 by enough for you and me. I've nimmed one-half of the 
 yellow-boy they sent, so we'll have a quart of moonshine to- 
 morrow to help it down.'' 
 
 "I could get it very well down without," answered Little 
 Starlight, bringing her a large earthen pot with a cracked cover, 
 into which she ladled out about half a gallon of the soup. 
 
 "There, take and put that far under the bed in t'other 
 room," said the old woman, adding several expletives of so 
 peculiar and unpleasant a character, that I must omit them ; 
 and, indeed, trusting to the reader's imagination, I shall be<>; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 175 
 
 leave to soften, as far as possible, the terms of both the boy 
 and his grandmother for the future, merely premising, that 
 when conversing alone together, hardly a sentence escaped 
 their lips without an oath or a blasphemy." 
 
 Little Starlight soon received the pot from the hands of his 
 worthy ancestress, and conveyed it into the other room, where 
 he stayed so long that she called him to come forth, in what, 
 to ordinary ears, would have seemed the most abusive language, 
 but which, on her lips, was merely the tone of endearment. 
 Pie had waited, indeed, to cool the soup, in order to steal a 
 portion of the stolen food; but finding that he should be 
 detected if he remained longer, he ventured to put his finger 
 in to taste it. The result was that he scalded his hand, but 
 he was sufficiently Spartan to utter no cry or indication of 
 pain ; and he escaped all inquiry, for the moment after he had 
 returned, the door burst violently open, and some ten or twelve 
 men came pouring in, nearly filling the little room. 
 
 Various were their garbs, and strangely different from each 
 other were they in demeanour as well as dress. Some were 
 clad in smock-frocks, and some in sailors' jackets; some looked 
 like respectable tradesmen, some were clothed in a sort of 
 fanciful costume of their own, smacking a little of the brigand; 
 and one appeared in the ordinary riding-dress of a gentleman 
 of that period ; but all were well armed, without much con- 
 cealment of the pistols, which they carried about them in 
 addition to the sword that was not uncommonly borne by more 
 than one class in England at that time. They were all young 
 men except one or two, and three of the number bore evident 
 marks of some recent affray. One had a broad strip of plaster 
 all the way down his forehead, another had his upper lip ter- 
 ribly cut, and a third, the gentleman, as I am bound to call 
 him, as he assumed the title of major, had a patch over his 
 eye, from beneath which appeared several rings of various 
 colours, which showed that the aforesaid patch was not merely 
 a means of disguise. 
 
 They were all quite familiar with Galley Ray and her grand- 
 son; some slapped her on the shoulder; some pulled her ear; 
 some abused her horribly in jocular tones; and all called upon 
 her eagerly to set their supper before them, vowing that they 
 had <5ome twenty miles since seven o'clock that night, and 
 were as hungry as fox-hunters. 
 
176 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 To each and all Galley Ray had something to say in their 
 own particular way. To some she was civil and coaxing, ad- 
 dressed them as "gentlemen," and to others slang and abusive, 
 though quite in good humour, calling them, "you blackguards," 
 and " you varmint," with sundry other delectable epithets, 
 which I shall forbear to transcribe. 
 
 To give value to her entertainment, she of course started 
 every objection and difficulty in the world against receiving 
 them, asking how, in the name of the fiend, they could expect 
 her to take in so many? where she was to get porringers or 
 plates for them all? and hoping heartily that such a troop 
 weren't going to stay above half-an-hour. 
 
 " Till to-morrow night, Galley, my chicken," replied the 
 major. " Come, don't make a fuss. It must be so, and you 
 shall be well paid. We shall stay in here to-night ; and to- 
 morrow we shall take to cover in the wood; but young Rad- 
 ford will come down some time in the day, and then you must 
 send up Little Starlight to us to let me know." 
 
 The matter of the supper was soon arranged to their con- 
 tentment. Some had tea-cups, and some saucers; some had 
 ear them pans, some wooden platters. Two were honoured 
 with china plates; and the large pot being taken off the fire, 
 and set on the ground in the midst of them, each helped him- 
 self, and went on with his meal. A grand brewing of smug- 
 gled spirits and water then commenced ; and a number of horn 
 cups were handed round, not enough, indeed, for all the guests ; 
 but each vessel was made to serve two or three; and the first 
 silence of hunger being over, a wild, rambling, and desultory 
 conversation ensued, to which both Galley Ray and her grand- 
 son lent an attentive ear. 
 
 The major said something to the man with the cut upon his 
 brow, to which the other replied, by condemning his own soul, 
 in energetic terms, if he did not blow Harding's brains out, 
 if it were true. "But I don't believe it," he continued. 
 "He's no friend of mine; but he's not such a blackguard as 
 to peach." 
 
 "So I think; but Dick Radford says he is sure he did," 
 answered the major; "Dick fancies that he's jealous of not 
 having had yesterday's job, too, and that's why he spoiled it. 
 We know he was up about that part of the country, on the 
 pretence of his seeing his Dolly ; but Radford says he went to 
 
THE SMUGGLER* 177 
 
 inform, and that he'll wring his liver out, as soon as this job 
 of his father's is over. 
 
 A torrent of blasphemies poured forth by almost every per- 
 son present followed, and they alt called down the most horrid 
 condemnation on their own heads, if they did not each lend a 
 hand to punish the informer. In the midst of this storm of 
 big words, Galley Eay put her mouth to the major's ear, say- 
 ing, "I could tell young Radford how he could ring his heart 
 out, and that's better than his liver. There's no use of trying 
 to kill him, for he doesn't care two straws about that. Sharp 
 steel and round lead are what he looks for every day. But I 
 could show you how to plague him worse." 
 
 "Why, you old brute," replied the major, "you're a friend 
 of his ! But you may tell him if you like. We have all 
 sworn it, and we'll do it; only hold your tongue till after to- 
 morrow night, or I'll cure your bacon for you." 
 
 "I'm no friend of his," cried Galley Ray. "The infernal 
 devil, wasn't it he that shot my girl, Meg? Ay, ay, I know 
 he says he didn't, and that he didn't fire a pistol that day, but 
 kept all to the cutlash; but he did, I'm sure, and a-purpose, 
 too; for didn't he turn-to that morning, and abuse her like 
 the very dirt under his feet, because she came, a little in 
 liquor, down to his boat-side? Ay, I'll have my revenge. 
 I've been looking for it long, but now it's a- coming, it's 
 a-coming very fast; and afore I've done with him, I'll wring 
 him out like a wet cloth, till he's not got one pleasure left in 
 his whole carcass, nor one thing to look to, for as long as he 
 may live! Ay, ay, he thinks an old woman nothing; but he 
 shall see, he shall see ;' ? and the beldame wagged her fright- 
 ful head backwards and forwards with a look of well-contented 
 malice, that made it more horrible than ever. 
 
 "What an old devil!" cried the major, glancing round the 
 table with a look of mock surprise; and then they all burst 
 into a roar of laughter which shook the miserable hovel in 
 which they sat. 
 
 " Come, granny, give us some more lush, and leave off 
 preaching," cried Ned Ramley, the man with the cut upon his 
 brow. "You can tell it all to Dick Radford, to-morrow; for 
 he's fond of cutting up people's hearts." 
 
 " But how is it; how is it?' ? asked the major. " I should 
 like to hear. 
 
178 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Ay, but you shan't hear all," answered Galley Ray. 
 " Let Dick do his part, and I'll do mine, so we'll both have 
 our revenge; but I know one thing, if I were a gentleman, 
 and wanted a twist at Jack Harding, I'd get his Kate away 
 from him. She's a light-hearted lass, and would listen to a 
 gentleman, I dare say; but, however, I'll have her away some 
 way, and then kick her out into Folkestone streets, to get her 
 bread like many a better woman than herself." 
 
 "Pooh! nonsense 1" said Ned Ramley, "that's all stuff. 
 Harding is going to marry her, and she knows better than tc 
 play the fool." 
 
 "Ay," answered the old woman, with a look of spite, "I 
 shouldn't wonder if Harding spoiled this job for old Radford, too.'' 
 
 "Not hel" cried Ramley, "he would pinch himself there, 
 old tiger; for his own pay depends upon it." 
 
 "Ay, upon landing the stuff safely,'' answered the old wo- 
 man, with a grin, " but not upon getting it clear up into the 
 Weald. He may have both, Neddy, my dear; he may have 
 both pays; first for landing and then for peaching. Play 
 booty for ever! that's the way to make money; and who 
 knows but you may get another crack of your own pretty skull, 
 or have your brains sent flying out, like the inside of an egg 
 against the pillory." 
 
 "P>y the fiend, he had better not!" said Ned Ramley, "for 
 there will be some of us left, at all events, to pay him." 
 
 " Come, speak out, old woman," cried another of the men ; 
 " have you or your imp there got any inkling that the custom- 
 house blackguards have nosed the job? If we find they have, 
 and you don't tell, I'll send you into as much thick loam as 
 will cover you well, I can tell you ;" and he added a horrible 
 oath to give force to his words. 
 
 " Not they, as yet," answered the beldam, " of that I am 
 quite sure; for as soon as the guinea and the message came, I 
 went down to buy the beef, and mutton, and the onions ; and 
 there I saw Mowle talking to Gurney the grocer, and heard 
 him say that he had spoiled Mr. Radford 's venture this morn- 
 ing, for one turn at least; and after that, I sent down Little 
 Nighty there, to watch him and his cronies ; and they all seemed 
 very jolly, he said, when he came back half an hour ago, and 
 crowing like so many young cocks, as if they had done a mighty 
 deal. Didn't they, my dear?" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 179 
 
 " Ay, that they did, granny," replied the boy, with a look 
 of simplicity; " and when I went to the tap of the Dragon to 
 get twopenn'orth, I heard the landlord say that Mowle was up 
 with the dragoon colonel, telling him all about the fine morn- 
 ing's work they had made." 
 
 "Devilish fine, indeed!'' cried Ned Ramley. "Why they 
 did not get one quarter of the things; and if we can save a 
 third, that's enough to pay very well, I can tell them." 
 
 "No, no! they know nothing as yet," continued the old 
 woman, with a sapient shake of the head ; " I can't say what 
 they may hear before to-morrow night; but, if they do hear 
 any thing, I know where it will come from, that's all. People 
 may be blind if they like; but Fin not, that's one thing." 
 
 "No, no! you see sharp enough, Galley Ray," answered 
 the major. " But hark, is not that the sound of a horse com- 
 ing down?" 
 
 All the men started up; and some one exclaimed, "I 
 shouldn't wonder if it were Mowle himself. He's always 
 spying about.'' 
 
 " If it is, I'll blow his brains out," said Ned Ramley, 
 motioning to the rest to make their way into the room 
 behind. 
 
 " Ay, you had best, I think, Neddy," said Galley Ray, in 
 a quiet, considerate tone, answering his rash threat as coolly 
 as if she had been speaking of the catching of a trout. 
 " You'll have him here all snug, and may never get such 
 another chance. 'Dead men tell no tales,' Neddy. But, get 
 back; 'tis a horse, sure enough! You can take your own 
 time, if you go in there." 
 
 The young man retreated ; and bending down her lips to 
 the boy's ear, the old witch inquired in a whisper, " Is t'other 
 door locked, and the window fast?" 
 
 "Yes," said the boy, in the same tone; " and the key hid 
 in the sacking." 
 
 "Then if there are enough to take 'em," murmured Gaily 
 Ray to herself; "take 'em they shall! If there's no one but 
 Mowle, he must go: that's clear. Stretch out that bit o'sail, 
 boy, to catch the blood." 
 
 But before the boy could obey her whisper, the doo/ of the 
 hut was thrown open ; and instead of Mowle there appeared 
 the figure of Richard Radford. 
 
180 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Here, Little Starlight 1" he cried, " hold my horse. Why, 
 where are all the men? Have they not come?" 
 
 The old woman arranged her face in an instant into the 
 sweetest smile it was capable of assuming, and replied in- 
 stantly, "Oh! dear, yes: bless your beautiful face, Mr. Radford, 
 but we didn't expect you to-night, and thought it was some 
 of the custom-house blackguards when we heard the horse. 
 Here, Neddy! Major! It's only Mr. Radford." 
 
 Ere she had uttered the call, the men, hearing a well-known 
 voice, were entering the room again; and young Radford 
 shook hands with several of them familiarly, congratulating 
 the late prisoners on their escape. 
 
 " I found I couldn't come to-morrow morning," he said, 
 " and so I rode down to-night. It's all settled for to-mor- 
 row, and by this time Harding's at sea. He'll keep over on 
 the other side till the sun is low; and we must be ready 
 for work by ten, though I don't think he'll get close in before 
 midnight." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of Harding, Mr. Radford?" asked the 
 major. " I thought you had doubts of him about this other 
 venture." 
 
 " Ay, and so I have still," answered Richard Radford, a 
 dark scowl coming over his face, "but we must get this job 
 over first. My father says he will have no words about it till 
 this is all clear, and after that I may do as I like. Then, 
 major, then " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence, but those who heard him 
 knew very well what he meant; and the major inquired, 
 "But is he quite safe in this business? The old woman 
 thinks not." 
 
 Young Radford mused with a heavy brow for a minute or 
 two, and then replied, after a sudden start, " But it's no use 
 now ; he's at sea by this time, and we can't mend it. Have 
 you heard anything certain of him, Galley Ray ?" 
 
 "No, nothing quite for certain, my beauty," said the old 
 woman; "but one thing I know, he was seen there upon the 
 cliffs with two strange men, a-talking away at a great rate, 
 and that was the very night he saw your father, too; but that 
 dear little cunning devil, my boy, Nighty, he's the shrewdest 
 lad that ever lived, found it all out." 
 
 "What did he find out?" demanded young Radford, sharply. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 8 1 
 
 "Why, who the one was, he could never be sure," answered 
 the beldam, " a nasty-looking, ugly brute, all tattooed in the 
 face, like a wild Indian ; but the other was the colonel of dra- 
 goons, that's certain, so Nighty says, he is the shrewdest boy 
 that " 
 
 Richard Radford and his companions gazed at each other 
 with very meaning and very ill-satisfied looks; but the former 
 at length said, "Well, we shall see, we shall see; and if he 
 does, he shall rue it. In the mean time, major, what we must 
 do is, to have force enough to set them, dragoons and all, at 
 defiance. My father has got already a hundred men, and I'll 
 beat up for more to-morrow. I can get fifty or sixty out of 
 Sussex. We'll all be down with you, early. The soldiers 
 are scattered about in little parties, so they can never have 
 very many together; and the devil's in it if we can't beat a 
 handful of them." 
 
 " Give us a hundred men," said Ned Ramley, "and we'll 
 beat the whole regiment of them." 
 
 " Why, there are not to be found twenty of them together 
 in any one place," answered young Badford, "except at Folke- 
 stone, and we shan't have the run within fifteen or sixteen 
 miles of that, so we shall easily do for them; and I should 
 like to give those rascals a licking." 
 
 "Then, what's to be done with Harding?" asked Ned 
 Ramley. 
 
 " Leave him to me, leave him to me, Ned," replied the young 
 gentleman; "I'll find a way of settling accounts with him." 
 
 "Why the old woman was talking something about it," 
 said the major. "Come, speak up, old brute 1 What is it 
 you've got to say?" 
 
 "Oh! Til tell him quietly when he's a going," answered 
 Galley Ray. " It's no business of yours, major." 
 
 " She hates him like poison," said the major, in a whisper 
 to young Radford, " so that you must not believe all she says 
 about him." 
 
 The young man gave a gloomy smile, and then, after a few 
 words more, unceremoniously turned the old woman out of her 
 own hovel, telling her he would come and speak to her in a 
 moment. As soon as the hut was clear of her presence, he 
 proceeded to make all his final arrangements with the lawless 
 set who were gathered together within. 
 
182 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "I thought that Harding was not to set off till to-morrow 
 morning," said one of the more staid-looking of the party at 
 length; "I wonder your father lets him make such changes, 
 Mr. lladford; it looks suspicious, to my thinking." 
 
 "No, no; it was by my father's own orders," said young 
 Eadford; "there's nothing wrong in that. I saw the note 
 sent this evening; so that's all right. By some contrivance 
 of his own, Harding is to give notice to one of the people on 
 Tolsford Hill when he is well in land and all is safe ; and then 
 we shall see a fire lighted on the top, which is to be our signal 
 to gather down on the beach. It's all right in that respect, at 
 least." 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," answered the other; "and now, as 
 all is settled, had you not better take a glass of grog before 
 you go?" 
 
 "No, no,'' replied the young man, " I'll keep my head cool 
 for to-morrow; for I've got a job to do in the morning that 
 may want a clear eye and a steady hand." 
 
 "Well, then, good luck to you!" said Ned Ramley, laugh- 
 ing; and with this benediction, the young gentleman opened 
 the cottage door. 
 
 He found Galley Eay holding his horse alone ; and as soon 
 as she saw him, she said, "I have sent the boy away, Mr. 
 Kadford, because I wanted to have a chat with you for a 
 minute, all alone, about that blackguard, Harding;" and sink- 
 ing her voice to a whisper, she proceeded for several minutes, 
 detailing her own diabolical notions, of how young liadford 
 might best revenge himself on Harding, with a coaxing man- 
 ner, and sweet tone, which contrasted strangely and horribly, 
 both with the words which she occasionally used, and the 
 general course of her suggestions. Young Radford sometimes 
 laughed, with a harsh sort of bitter unpleasant merriment, 
 and sometimes asked questions, but more frequently remained 
 listening attentively to what she said. 
 
 Thus passed some ten minutes, at the end of which time, 
 he exclaimed, with an oath, "I'll do it!" and then mounting 
 his horse, he rode away slowly and cautiously, on account of 
 the thick fog and narrow and stony road. 
 
 No sooner was he gone, than Little Starlight crept out from 
 between the cottage and a pile of dried furze- bushes, which 
 had been cast down on the left of the hut, at once affording 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 183 
 
 fuel to the inhabitants, and keeping out the wind from a large 
 crack in the wall, which penetrated through and through, into 
 the room where young Eadford had been conversing with the 
 smugglers. 
 
 "Did you hear them, my kiddy?" asked the old woman, 
 as soon as the boy approached her. 
 
 " Every word, Mother Ray," answered Little Starlight. 
 "But, get in, get in, or they will be thinking something; and 
 I'll tell you all to-morrow." 
 
 The old woman saw the propriety of his suggestion; and, 
 both entering the hovel, the door was shut. With it, I may 
 close a scene upon which I have been obliged to pause longer 
 than I could have wished. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE man who follows a wolf goes straight on after him till he 
 rides him down ; but, in chasing a fox, it is always expedient 
 and fair to take across the easiest country for your horse or 
 for yourself, to angle a field, to make for a slope when the 
 neighbouring bank is too high, to avoid a clay fallow, or to 
 skirt a shaking moss. Y T ery frequently, however, one beholds 
 an inexperienced sportsman (who does not well know the 
 country he is riding, and sees the field broken up into several 
 parties, each taking its own course after the hounds) pause for 
 several minutes, not knowing which to follow. Such is often 
 the case with the romance writer also, when the broken nature 
 of the country over which his course lies, separates his charac- 
 ters, and he cannot proceed with all of them at once. 
 
 Now, at the present moment, I would fain follow the smug- 
 glers to the end of their adventure; but, in so doing, dear 
 reader, I should (to borrow a shred of the figure I have just 
 used) get before my hounds; or, in other words, I should too 
 greatly violate that strict chronological order which is necessary 
 in an important history like the present. I must, therefore, re- 
 turn, by the reader's good leave, to the house of Mr. Zachary 
 Croyland, almost immediately after Sir Edward Digby had 
 ridden away, on the day following young Radford's recently 
 related interview with the smugglers, at which day, with a 
 
184 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 sad violation of the chronological order I have mentioned 
 above, I had already arrived, as the reader must remember, 
 in chapter fourteen. 
 
 Mr. Croylarid then stood in the little drawing-room, fitted 
 up according to his own peculiar notions, where Sir Edward's 
 wound had been dressed, and Edith, his niece, sat at no great 
 distance on one of the low ottomans, for which he had an 
 oriental predilection. She was a little excited, both by all 
 that she had witnessed and #11 that she had not; and her 
 bright and beautiful eyes were raised to her uncle's face, as 
 she inquired, "How did all this happen? You said you would 
 tell me when they were gone." 
 
 Mr. Croyland gazed at her with that sort of parental 
 tenderness which he had long nourished in his heart towards 
 her; and certainly, as she sat there, leaning lightly upon her 
 arm, and with the sunshine falling upon her beautiful form, 
 her left hand resting upon her knee, and one small beautiful 
 foot extended beyond her gown, he could not help thinking 
 her the loveliest creature he had ever beheld in his life, and 
 asking himself: " Is such a being as that, so full of grace in 
 person, and excellence in mind, to be consigned to a rude, 
 brutal bully, like the man who has just met with deserved 
 chastisement at my door?'' 
 
 He had just begun to answer her question, thinking how he 
 might best do so without inflicting more pain upon her than 
 necessary, when the black servant I have mentioned entered the 
 drawing-room, saying, " A man want to speak to you, master." 
 
 " A man ! '' cried Mr. Croyland, impatiently. " What man ? 
 I don't want any man! I've had enough of men for one 
 morning, surely, with those two fools fighting just opposite 
 my house! What sort of a man is it?' 7 
 
 "Very odd man, indeed, master," answered the Hindoo. 
 " Got great blue pattern on him's face. Strange looking man. 
 Think him half mad," and he made a deferential bow, as if 
 submitting his judgment to that of his master. 
 
 " Well, I like odd men, 5 ' exclaimed Mr. Croyland. " I like 
 strange men better than any others. I'm not sure I do not 
 like them a leetle mad; not too much, not too much, you know, 
 Edith, my dear! Not dangerous; just mad enough to be 
 pleasant, but not furious or obstreperous. Where have you 
 put him?" 
 
THE SMUGGLE!*. 185 
 
 "In de library, master," replied the man; " and he begin 
 taking down the books directly." 
 
 " High time I should go and see who is so studiously in- 
 clined," said Mr. Croyland; " or he may not only take down 
 the books, but take them away. That would'nt do, you know, 
 Edith, my dear, that wouldn't do. Without my niece and 
 my books, what would become of me ? I don't intend to lose 
 either the one or the other. So that you are never to marry, 
 my love; mind that, you are never to marry!" 
 
 Edith smiled faintly, very faintly indeed ; but for the world 
 she would not have made her uncle feel that he had touched upon 
 a tender point. " I do not think I ever shall, my dear uncle," 
 she answered; and saying, "That's a good girll" the old 
 gentleman hurried out of the room to see his unknown visitor. 
 
 Edith remained for some time where she was, in deep and 
 even painful thoughts. AH that she had learnt from her sister, 
 since Zara's explanation with Sir Edward Digby, amounted 
 but to this : that he whom she had so deeply loved, whom she 
 still loved so deeply, was yet living. Nothing more had 
 reached her; and, though hope, the fast clinger to the last 
 wreck of probability, yet whispered that he might love her 
 still, that she might not be forgotten, that she might not be 
 abandoned, yet fear and despondency far predominated, and 
 their hoarse tones nearly drowned the feeble whisper of a voice 
 which once had been loud and gay in her heart. 
 
 After meditating, then, for some minutes, she rose and left 
 the drawing-room, passing, on her way to the stairs, the door 
 of the library to which her uncle had previously gone. She 
 heard him talking loud as she went along; but the sounds were 
 gay, cheerful, and anything but angry; and another voice was 
 answering, in mellower tones, somewhat melancholy, indeed, 
 but still not sad. Going rapidly by, this was all she distin- 
 guished; but after she reached her own room, which was 
 nearly above the library, the murmur of the voices still rose 
 up for more than an hour, and at length Mr. Croyland and his 
 guest came out, and walked through the vestibule to the 
 door. 
 
 " God bless you, Harry; God bless you! " said Mr. Croyland, 
 with an appearance of warmth and affection which Edith had 
 seldom known him to display towards any one; "if you won't 
 stay, I can't help it. But mind your promise; mind your pro- 
 
186 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 mise! In three or four days, you know;" and with another 
 cordial farewell, they parted. 
 
 When the stranger was gone, however, Mr. Croyland. 
 remained standing in the vestibule for several minutes, gazing 
 down upon the floor-cloth, and murmuring to himself various 
 broken sentences, from time to time. " Who'd have thought 
 it," he said; "thirty years come Lady-day next, since we 
 saw each other! But this isn't quite right of the boy: I will 
 scold him; I will frighten him, too. He shouldn't deceive; 
 nobody should deceive: it's not right. But after all, in love 
 and war, every stratagem is fair, they say; and I'll work for 
 him, that I will. Here, Edith, my love," he continued, 
 calling up the stairs, for he had heard his niece's light foot 
 above, "come, and take a walk with me, my dear: it will do 
 us both good." 
 
 Edith came down in a moment, with a hat (or bonnet) in 
 her hand; and although Mr. Croyland affected, on most occa- 
 sions, to be by no means communicative, yet there was in his 
 whole manner, and in the expression of his face, quite sufficient 
 to indicate to his niece, that he was labouring under the pres- 
 sure of a secret, which was not a very sad or dark one. 
 
 "There, my dear!" he exclaimed, "I said just now that 
 I would not have you marry; but I shall take off the restric- 
 tion. I will not prohibit the banns, only in case you should 
 wish to marry some one I don't approve. But I've got a 
 husband for you; I've got a husband for you, better than all 
 the Radfords that ever were christened; though, by the way, 
 I doubt whether these fellows ever were christened at all: a 
 set of unbelieving, half-barbarous sceptics. I do not think, 
 upon my conscience, that old Radford believes in anything 
 but the existence of his own individuality." 
 
 " But who is the husband you have got for me?" demanded 
 Edith, forcing herself to assume a look of gaiety which was 
 not natural to her. "I hope he's young, handsome, rich, and 
 agreeable." 
 
 "All, all!" cried Mr. Croyland. "Those are absolute 
 requisites in a lady's estimation, I know. Never was such a 
 set of grasping monkeys as you women. Youth, beauty, 
 riches, and a courtly air; you must have them all, or you are 
 dissatisfied; and the ugliest, plainest, poorest woman in all 
 Europe, thinks that she has every right to a phoenix for her 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 87 
 
 companion; an angel: a demi-god. But you shall see; you 
 shall see; and in the true spirit of a fond parent, if you do 
 riot see with my eyes, hear with my ears, and understand 
 with my understanding; why, I'll disinherit you. But who 
 the mischief is this, now?" he continued, looking out at the 
 door; "another man on horseback, upon my life, as if we had 
 not had enough of them already. Never, since I have been 
 in this county of Kent, has my poor, quiet, peaceable door 
 been besieged in this manner before." 
 
 "It's only a servant with a note, my dear uncle," said 
 Edith. 
 
 "Ah! something more on your account," cried Mr. Croy- 
 land. "It's all because you are here. Baba, Baba! see 
 what that fellow wants! It's not your promised husband, my 
 dear, so you need not eye him so curiously. 5 ' 
 
 " Oh! no," answered Edith, smiling. "I took it for granted 
 that my promised husband, as you call him, was to be this 
 same odd, strange-looking gentleman, who has been with you 
 for the last hour." 
 
 "Pooh, no I" cried Mr. Croyland; "and yet, my lady, I 
 can tell you, you could not do better in some respects, for he's 
 a very good man, a very excellent man indeed, and has the 
 advantage of being a lectle mad, as I said before: that is, he's 
 wise enough not to care what fools think of him. That's what 
 is called being mad now-a-days. Who is it from, Baba?" 
 
 "Didn't say, master," answered the Indian, who had just 
 handed him a note. " He wait an answer." 
 
 " Oh! very well," answered Mr. Croyland. " He may get 
 a shorter one than he expects. I've no time to be answering 
 notes. People in England spend one-half of their lives in 
 writing notes that mean nothing, and the other half in sealing 
 them. Why can't the fools send a message?" 
 
 While he had been thus speaking, the worthy old gentle- 
 man had been adjusting the spectacles to his nose, and walking 
 with his usual brisk step to the window in the passage, against 
 which he planted his back, so that the light might fall over his 
 shoulder upon the paper ; but as he read, a great change came 
 over his countenance. 
 
 "Ah! that's right! that's well! that's honest!" he said: 
 " I see what he means, but I'll let him speak out himself. 
 Walk into the garden, Edith, my love, till I answer this man's 
 
188 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 note. Baba, bid the fellow wait for a moment;" and stepping 
 into the library, Mr. Croyland sought for a pen that would 
 write, and then scrawled, in a very rude and crooked hand, 
 which soon made the paper look like an ancient Greek manu- 
 script, a few lines, to the beauty of which he added the effect 
 of bad blotting-paper. Then folding his note up, he sealed 
 and addressed it, first reading carefully over again the epistle 
 which he had just received, and with which it may be as well 
 to make the reader acquainted, though I shall abstain from 
 looking into Mr. Croyland's answer till it reaches its destina- 
 tion. The letter which the servant had brought was to the 
 following effect: 
 
 " The gentleman who had the pleasure of travelling with 
 Mr. Croyland from London, and who was introduced to him 
 by the name of Captain Osborn, was about to avail himself of 
 Mr. Croyland's invitation, when some circumstances came to 
 his knowledge, which seem to render it expedient that he 
 should have a few minutes' conversation with Mr. Croyland 
 before he visits his house. He is at present at Woodchurch, 
 and will remain there till two o'clock, if it is convenient for 
 Mr. Croyland to see him at that place to-day. If not, he will 
 return to Woodchurch to-morrow, towards one, and will wait 
 for Mr. Croyland till any hour he shall appoint." 
 
 "There! give that to the gentleman's servant," said Mr. 
 Croyland ; and then depositing his spectacles safely in their 
 case, he walked out into the garden to seek Edith. 
 
 The servant, in the mean while, went at a rapid pace, over 
 pleasant hill and dale, till he reached the village of Wood- 
 church, and stopped at a little public-house, before the door of 
 which stood three dragoons, with their horses' bridles over 
 their arms. As speedily as possible, the man entered the 
 house, and walked up stairs, where he found his master talking 
 to a man, covered with dust from the road. 
 
 "Mr. Mowle should have given me farther information," 
 the young officer said, looking at a paper in his hand. " I 
 could have made my combinations here as well as at Hythe." 
 
 "He sent me off in a great hurry, sir," answered the man; 
 "but I'll tell him what you say." 
 
 "Stay, stay!" said the officer, holding out his hand to his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 89 
 
 servant for the note which he had brought. "I will tell you 
 more in a minute," and breaking open the seal, he read Mr. 
 Croyland's epistle, which was to the following effect: 
 
 "Mr. Croyland presents his compliments to Captain Os- 
 born, and has had the honour of receiving his letter, although 
 he cannot conceive why Captain Osborn should wish to speak 
 with him at Woodchurch, when he could so easily speak with 
 him in his own house; yet Mr. Croyland is Captain Osborn's 
 very humble servant, and will do as he bids him. As it is 
 now past one o'clock, as it would take half-an-hour to get Mr. 
 Croyland's carriage ready, and an hour to reach Woodchurch; 
 and as it is some years since Mr. Croyland has got upon the 
 back of anything but an ass or a hobby-horse, having more- 
 over no asses at hand with the proper proportion of legs, 
 though many deficient in number, it is impossible for him to 
 reach Woodchurch by the time stated to-day. He will be over 
 at that place, however, by two o'clock to-morrow, and hopes 
 that Captain Osborn will be able to return with him, and 
 spend a few days in an old bachelor's house." 
 
 The young officer's face was grave as he read the first part 
 of the letter, but it relaxed into a smile towards the end. He 
 then gave, perhaps, ten seconds to thought; after which, rous- 
 ing himself abruptly, he turned to the dusty messenger from 
 Hythe, and fixing a somewhat searching glance upon the 
 man's face, he said, "Tell Mr. Mowle that I will be over with 
 him directly, and as the troops, it seems, will be required on 
 the side of Folkestone, he must have everything prepared on 
 his part, for we shall have no time to spare." 
 
 The man bowed with a stolid look, and withdrew; and after 
 he had left the room, the officer remained silent for a moment 
 or two, looking out of the window till he saw him mount his 
 horse and depart. Then, descending in haste to the inn door, 
 he gave various orders to the dragoons who were there wait- 
 ing. To one they were, "Ride off to Folkestone as fast as 
 you can go, and tell Captain Irby to march immediately with 
 his troop to Bilsington, which place he must reach before two 
 o'clock in the morning." To another: "You gallop off to 
 Appledore, and bid the sergeant there bring his party down 
 to Brenzet Corner in the Marsh, and put himself under the 
 
1 90 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 orders of Cornet Joyce." To the third: "Yon, Wood, be off 
 to Ashford, and tell Lieutenant Green to bring down all bis 
 men as far as Bromley Green, taking up the party at Kings- 
 north. Let him be there by three; and remember, these are 
 private orders. Not a word to any one." 
 
 The men sprang into the saddles as soon as the -last words 
 were spoken, and rode away in different directions; and, after 
 bidding his servant bring round his horse, the young officer 
 remained standing at the door of the inn, with his tall form 
 erect, his arms crossed upon his chest, and his eyes gazing 
 towards Harbourne House. He was in the midst of the scenes 
 where his early days had been spent. Every object around 
 him was familiar to his eye: not a hill, not a wood, not a 
 church steeple or a farm-house, but had its association with 
 some of those bright things which leave a lustre in the 
 evening sky of life, even when the day-star of existence has 
 set. There were the pleasant hours of childhood, the sports 
 of boyhood, the dreams of youth, the love of early manhood. 
 The light that memory cast upon the whole might not be 
 so strong and powerful, might not present them in so real and 
 definite a form, as in the full clay of enjoyment; but there is 
 a great difference between that light of memory, when it 
 brightens a period of life that may yet renew the joys which 
 have passed away for a time, and when it shines upon plea- 
 sures gone for ever. In the latter case it is but as the moon- 
 light: a reflected beam, without the warmth of fruition or the 
 brilliancy of hope; but in the former it is as the glow of the 
 descending sun, which sheds a purple lustre through the vista 
 of the past, and gives a promise of returning joy even as it 
 sinks away. He stood, then, amongst the scene of his early 
 years, with hope refreshed, though still with the remembrance 
 of sorrows tempering the warmth of expectation, perhaps 
 shading the present. It wanted, indeed, but some small circum- 
 stance, by bearing afar, like some light wind, the cloud of 
 thought, to give to all around the bright hues of other days, 
 and that was soon afforded. He had not remained there above 
 two or three minutes when the landlord of the public-house 
 came out, and stood directly before him. 
 
 "Ohl I forgot your bill, my good fellow," said the young 
 officer. "What is my score?" 7 
 
 "No, sir, it is not that," answered the man, "but T think 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 191 
 
 you have forgotten me. I could not let you go, however, 
 without just asking you to shake hands with me, though you 
 are a great gentleman now, and I am much what I was." 
 
 The young officer gazed at him for a moment, and let his 
 eye run over the stout limbs and portly person of the landlord, 
 till at length he said, in a doubtful tone, " Surely, you cannot 
 be young Miles, the son of my father's clerk?" 
 
 "Ay, sir, just the same," replied the host; " but young 
 and old, we change, just as women do their mimes when they 
 marry. Not that six or seven years have made nio old either; 
 but I was six and twenty when you went away, and as thin 
 as a whipping post; now I'm two and thirty and as fat as a 
 porker. That makes a wonderful difference, sir. Bat I'm 
 glad you don't forget old times." 
 
 "Forget them, Miles!" said the young officer, holding out 
 his hand to him; "Oh! no; they are too deeply written in my 
 heart ever to be blotted outl I thought I was too much 
 changed myself for any one to remember me, but those who 
 were most dear to me. What between the effects of time and 
 labour, sorrow and war, I hardly fancied that any one in Kent 
 would know me. But you are changed for the better, I for 
 the worse. Yet I am very glad to see you, Miles ; and I shall 
 see you again to-morrow, for I am coming back here towards 
 two o'clock. In the mean time, you need not say you have 
 seen me, for I do not wish it to be known that I am here, 
 till I have learned a little of what reception I am likely to 
 have." 
 
 "Oh! I understand, sir; I understand," replied the land- 
 lord; "and if you should want to know how the land lies, I 
 can always tell you; for you see, I have the parish-clerks' 
 club, which meets here once a week ; and then all the news of 
 the country comes out; and besides, many a one of them 
 comes in here at other times, to have a gossip with old Rafe 
 Miles's son, so that I hear everything that goes on in the 
 county almost as soon as it is done; and right glad shall I be 
 to tell you anything you want to know, just for old times' 
 sake, when you used to go shooting snipes by the brooks, and 
 I used to come after for the sport; that is to say, anything 
 about your own people, not about the smugglers, you know, 
 for they say you are sent here to put them down ; and I should 
 not like to peach, even to you. I heard that some great 
 
192 THE SMUGGLER* 
 
 gentleman had come down a Sir Harry Somebody. But I 
 little thought it was you, till I saw you just now standing 
 looking so melancholy towards Harbourne, and thinking, I dare 
 say, of the old house at Tiffenden. 
 
 " Indeed I was," answered the young officer, with a sigh. 
 " But as to the smugglers, my good friend, I want no infor- 
 mation. I am sent down with my regiment merely to aid the 
 civil power, which seems totally incompetent to stop the daring 
 outrages that are every day committed. If this were suffered 
 to go on, all law, not only regarding the revenue, but even 
 that affecting the protection of life and property, would soon 
 be at an end." 
 
 "That it would, sir," answered the landlord; "and it's 
 well nigh at an end already, for that matter." 
 
 "Well," continued the officer, "though the service is not 
 an agreeable one, and I think, considering all things, might 
 have been entrusted to another person, yet I have but to obey ; 
 and consequently, being here, am ready whenever called upon 
 to support the officers, either of justice or the revenue, both by 
 arms and by advice. But I have no other duty to perform, 
 and indeed would rather not have any information^regarding 
 the proceedings of these misguided men, except through the 
 proper channels. If I had the absolute command of the 
 district, with orders to put down smuggling therein, it might 
 be a different matter; but I have not." 
 
 " Ay, I thought there was a mistake about it," replied 
 Miles; " but here is your horse, sir; I shall see you to-morrow, 
 then?" 
 
 "Certainly," answered the officer; and having paid his 
 score, he mounted and rode away. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE colonel of the dragoon regiment rode into Hytlie coolly 
 and calmly, followed by his servant; for though, to say the 
 truth, he had pushed his horse very fast for some part of the 
 way, he judged it expedient not to cause any bustle in the 
 town by an appearance of haste and excitement. It was cus- 
 tomary in those days for officers in the army in active service, 
 even when not on actual duty, to appear in their regimental 
 uniform; but this practice the gentleman in question had dis- 
 pensed with since he left London, on many motives, both 
 public and personal; and though he wore the cockade, at that 
 time the sign and symbol of a military man, or of one who 
 affected that position, yet he generally appeared in plain 
 clothes, except when any large body of the troops were 
 gathered together. 
 
 At the door of the inn where he had fixed his head- quar- 
 ters, and in the passage leading from it into the house, were 
 a number of private soldiers and a sergeant ; and amongst them 
 appeared Mr. Mowle, the custom-house officer, waiting the 
 arrival of the commander of the dragoons. As the latter dis- 
 mounted, Mowle advanced to his side, saying something in a 
 low voice. The young officer looked at the sky, which was 
 still glowing bright with the sun, which had about an hour and 
 a-half to run ere it reached the horizon. 
 
 "In an hour, Mr. Mowle," replied the officer; "there will 
 be time enough. Make all your own arrangements in the 
 mean while." 
 
 " But, sir, if you have to send to Folkestone?" said Mowle. 
 " You misunderstood me, I think." 
 
 "No, no," anwered the colonel, "I did not. You misun- 
 derstood me. Come back in an hour. If you show haste or 
 anxiety .you will put the enemy on his guard." 
 
 After having said these few words in a low tone, he entered 
 the house, gave some orders to the soldiers, several of whom 
 sauntered away slowly to their quarters, as if the business of 
 
194 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the day were over; and then, proceeding to his own room, he 
 rang the bell and ordered dinner. 
 
 " I thought there was a bit of a bustle, sir?" said the land- 
 lord, inquiringly, as he put the first dish upon the table. 
 
 "Oh dear, nol" replied the colonel. "Did you mean about 
 these men who have escaped?" 
 
 "I didn't know about what, colonel," answered the landlord, 
 " but seeing Mr. Mowle waiting for you " 
 
 "You thought it must be about them," added the officer* 
 " but you are mistaken, my good friend. There is no bustle 
 at all. The men will, doubtless, soon be taken, one after the 
 other, by the constables, At all events, that is an affair with 
 which I can have nothing to do." 
 
 The landlord immediately retreated, loaded with intelligence, 
 and informed two men who were sipping rum-and-water in 
 the tap- room, that Mowle had come to ask the colonel to help 
 in apprehending "the major," and others who had been rescued, 
 and that the colonel would have nothing to do with it. 
 
 The men finished their grog much more rapidly than they 
 had begun it, and then walked out of the house, probably to 
 convey the tidings elsewhere. Now, the town of Hythe is 
 composed, as every one knows, of one large and principal street, 
 nearly at the bottom of the hill, with several back streets, or 
 perhaps lanes we might call them, running parallel to the first, 
 and a great number of shorter ones running up and down the 
 hill, and connecting the principal thoroughfare with those be- 
 hind it. Many, nay, I might say most, of the houses in the 
 main street had, at the time I speak of, a back as well as a 
 front entrance. They might sometimes have even more than 
 one, for there were trades carried on in Hythe, as the reader 
 has been made aware, which occasionally required rapid and 
 secret modes of exit. Nor was the house in which the young 
 commander of dragoons resided without its conveniences in 
 this respect; but it so happened that Mowle, the officer, was 
 well acquainted with all its different passages and contrivances, 
 and, consequently, he took advantage, on his return at the 
 end of an hour, of one of the small lanes which led him by a 
 back way into the inn. Then ascending a narrow staircase 
 without disturbing anybody, he made his way to the room he 
 sought, where he found the colonel of the regiment quietly 
 writing some letters after his brief meal was over. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 1 95 
 
 " Well, Mr. Mowle," said the young officer, folding up and 
 sealing the note he had just concluded, " now let me hear what 
 you have discovered, and where you wish the troops to be." 
 
 "I am afraid, sir, we have lost time," answered Mowle; 
 "for I can't tell at what time the landing will take place." 
 
 "Not before midnight," replied his companion; "there is 
 no vessel in sight, and with the wind at this quarter they 
 can't be very quick in their movements." 
 
 "Why, probably not before midnight, sir," answered 
 Mowle; "but there are not above fifty of your men within 
 ten miles round, and if you've to send for them to Folkestone 
 and Ashford, and out almost to Staplehurst, they will have no 
 time to make ready and march, and the fellows will be off into 
 the Weald before we can catch them." 
 
 The young officer smiled. " Then you think fifty men will 
 not be enough?" he asked. 
 
 " Not half enough," answered Mowle, beginning to set down 
 his companion as a person of very little intellect or energy. 
 " Why, from what I hear, there will be some two or three 
 hundred of these fellows down, to carry the goods after they 
 are run, and every one of them equal to a dragoon, at any 
 time." 
 
 " Well, we shall seel" said the young officer, coolly. "You 
 are sure that Dymchurch is the place?" 
 
 "Why, somewhere thereabouts, sir; and that's a long way 
 off," answered Mowle; " so if you have any arrangements to 
 make, you had better make them." 
 
 "They are all made," replied the colonel; "but tell me, 
 Mr. Mowle, does it not frequently take place that, when smug- 
 glers are pursued in the marsh, they throw their goods into 
 the cuts and canals and creeks by which it is intersected?" 
 
 "To be sure they do, sir," exclaimed the officer; "and 
 they'll do that to a certainty, if we can't prevent them land- 
 ing; and if we attack them in the Marsh " 
 
 " To prevent them landing," said the gentleman, " seems to 
 me impossible in the present state of affairs ; and I do not 
 know whether it would be expedient, even if we could. Your 
 object is to seize the goods, both for your own benefit and that 
 of the state, and to take as many prisoners as possible. Now, 
 from what you told me yesterday, I find that you have no force 
 at sea, except a few miserable boats " 
 
196 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " I sent off for the revenue cruiser this morning, sir," an- 
 swered Mowle. 
 
 " But she is not come," rejoined the officer; " and, conse- 
 quently, must be thrown out of our combinations. If we 
 assemble a large force at any point of the coast, the smug- 
 glers on shore will have warning. They may easily find 
 means of giving notice of the fact to their comrades at sea: 
 the landing may be effected at a different point from that now 
 proposed, and the goods carried clean off before we can reach 
 them. It seems to me, therefore, better for you to let the 
 landing take place quietly. As soon as it has taken place, the 
 beacons will be lighted by my orders ; the very fact of a signal 
 they don't understand will throw the smugglers into seme 
 confusion; and they will hurry out of the Marsh as fast as 
 possible " 
 
 " But suppose they separate, and all take different roads?" 
 said Mowle. 
 
 " Then all, or almost all, the different parties will be met 
 with and stopped," replied the officer. 
 
 " But your men cannot act without a requisition from the 
 customs, sir," answered Mowle; "and they are so devilish 
 cautious of committing themselves " 
 
 "But I am not," rejoined the colonel; "and every party 
 along the whole line has notice that the firing of the beacons 
 is to be taken as a signal that due requisition has been made, 
 and has orders also to stop any body of men carrying goods 
 that they may meet with. But I do not think that these 
 smugglers will separate at all, Mr. Mowle. Their only chance 
 of safety must seem to them, not knowing how perfectly pre- 
 pared we are, to lie in their numbers and their union. Whilo 
 acting together, their numbers, it appears from your account, 
 would be sufficient to force any one post opposed to them, ac- 
 cording to the arrangements which they have every reason to 
 believe still exist; and they will not throw away that chance. 
 It is, therefore, my belief that they will make their way out of 
 the Marsh in one body. After that, leave them to me. I 
 will take the responsibility upon myself." 
 
 "Very well, colonel; very well I" said Mowle; " if you 
 are ready without my knowing anything about it, all the bet- 
 ter. Only the fellow I sent you brought back word something 
 about Folkestone." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 197 
 
 " That was merely because I did not like the man's look," 
 replied the young officer, " and thought you would understand 
 that a message sent you in so public a manner, upon a business 
 which required secrecy, must not be read in its direct sense." 
 
 "Ohl I see, colonel, I see," cried the officer of customs; 
 " it was stupid enough not to understand. All my people are 
 ready, however, and if we could but discover the hour the run 
 is to be made, we should have a pretty sure game of it." 
 
 " Cannot the same person who gave you so much intelli- 
 gence, give you that also?" asked his companion. 
 
 "Why, no; either the imp can't or he won't," said Mowle. 
 " I had to pay him ten pounds for what tidings I got, for the 
 little wretch is as cunning as Satan." 
 
 " Are you sure the intelligence was correct?" demanded the 
 officer of dragoons. 
 
 44 Oh I yes, sir," replied Mowle, "His tidings have always 
 been quite right; and, besides, Fve the means of testing this 
 myself, for he told me where they are to meet, at least a large 
 party of them, before going down to the shore. I've a very 
 great mind to disguise myself, and creep in among them." 
 
 " A very hazardous experiment, I should think," said the 
 colonel, "and I do not see any object worth the risk." 
 
 " Why, the object would be to get information of the hour," 
 answered Mowle. " If we could learn that some time before, 
 we could have everything ready, and have them watched all 
 through the Marsh." 
 
 " Well, you must use your own judgment in that particular," 
 answered the young officer ; " but I tell you I am quite pre- 
 pared myself, and such a large body, as you have mentioned, 
 cannot cross a considerable extent of country without attract- 
 ing attention." 
 
 "Well, I'll see, sir, I'll see," answered Mowle; "but had I 
 not better send off two or three officers towards Dymchurch, 
 to give your men notice as soon as the goods are landed?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly," answered the colonel. " There's a party 
 at New Romney, and a party at Burmarsh. They both have 
 their orders, and, as soon as they have intimation, will act 
 upon them. I would have enough men present, if I were you, 
 to watch the coast well, but with strict orders to do nothing 
 to create alarm." 
 
 Some minor arrangements were then entered into, of no 
 
198 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 great importance to the tale, and Mowle took his leave, after 
 having promised to give the colonel the very first intimation 
 he received of the further proceedings of the smugglers. 
 
 The completion of his own arrangements took the custom- 
 house officer half an hour more, and at the end of that time 
 he returned to his own dwelling, and sat down for a while, to 
 think over the next step. He felt a strong inclination to 
 visit the meeting-place of the smugglers in person. He was, 
 as we have shown, a man 'of a daring and adventurous dispo- 
 sition, strong in nerve, firm in heart, and with, perhaps, too 
 anxious a sense of duty. Indeed, he was rather inclined to 
 be rash than otherwise, from the apprehension of having any- 
 thing like fear attributed to him in the execution of the service 
 he had undertaken; but still he could not shut his eyes to the 
 fact that the scheme he meditated was full of peril to himself. 
 The men amongst whom he proposed to venture were lawless, 
 sanguinary, and unscrupulous; and, if discovered, he had 
 every reason to believe that his life would be sacrificed by 
 them without the slightest hesitation or remorse. He was 
 their most persevering enemy; he had spared them on no 
 occasion; and although he had dealt fairly by them, yet many 
 of those who were likely to be present, had suffered severe pun- 
 ishment at his instigation and by his means. He hesitated a 
 little, and called to mind what the colonel had said regarding 
 the hazard of the act, and the want of sufficient object ; but 
 then, suddenly starting up, he looked forward with a frowning 
 brow, exclaiming, "Why, hang it, I'm not afraid! I'll go, 
 whatever befalls me. It's my duty not to leave any chance 
 for information untried. That young fellow is mighty cool 
 about the business; and if these men get off, it shall not be 
 any fault of mine." 
 
 Thus saying, he lighted a candle, and went into an adjoin- 
 ing room, where, from a large commode, filled with a strange 
 medley of different dresses and implements, he chose out a 
 waggoner's frock, a large pair of leathern leggings, or gaiters, 
 and a straw hat, such as was very commonly used at that 
 time amongst the peasantry of England. After gazing at 
 them for a moment or two, and turning them over once or 
 twice, he put them on, and then, with a pair of sharp scissors, 
 cut away, in a rough and unceremonious fashion, a considerable 
 quantity of his black hair, which was generally left rough and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 199 
 
 floating. High up over his neck, and round his chin, he tied 
 a large blue handkerchief, and when thus completely accoutred, 
 gave himself a glance in the glass, saying, " I don't think I 
 should know myself." 
 
 He seemed considerably re-assured at finding himself so 
 completely disguised; and then looking at his watch, and per- 
 ceiving that the hour named for the meeting was approaching, 
 he put a brace of pistols in his breast, where they could be 
 easily reached through the opening in front of the smock- 
 frock. 
 
 He had already reached the door, when something seemed 
 to strike him; and saying to himself, "Well, there's no know- 
 ing'what may happen ! Its better to prepare against anything," 
 he turned back to his sitting-room, and wrote down on a sheet 
 of paper : 
 
 "Sir I am gone up to see what they are about. If I 
 should not be back by eleven, you may be sure they have 
 caught me, arid then you must do your best with Birchett 
 and the others. If I get off, I'll call in as. I come back, and 
 let you know. 
 
 " Sir, your very obedient servant, 
 
 " WILLIAM MOWLE." 
 
 As soon as this was done, he folded the note up, addressed 
 and sealed it; and then, blowing the light out, he called an 
 old female servant who had lived in his house for many years, 
 and whom he now directed to carry the epistle to the colonel 
 of dragoons who was up at the inn, adding that she was to 
 deliver it with her own hand. 
 
 The old woman took it at once; and knowing well how 
 usual it was for the custom-house officers to disguise their per- 
 sons in various ways, she took no notice of the strange change 
 in Mr. Mowle's appearance, though it was so complete that it 
 could not well escape her eyes, even in the darkness which 
 reigned throughout the house. 
 
 This having been all arranged, and the maid on her way to 
 convey the letter, Mowle himself walked slowly forward through 
 the long narrow lanes at the back of the town, and along the 
 path up towards Saltwood. It was dusk when he set out, but 
 not yet quite dark; and as he went he met two people of the 
 
200 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 town whom he knew well, but who only replied to the awk- 
 ward nod of the head which he gave them by saying, "Good 
 night, my man," and walked on, evidently unconscious that 
 they were passing an acquaintance. 
 
 As he advanced, however, the night grew darker and more 
 dark ; and a fog began to rise, though not so thick as that of 
 the night before. Mowle muttered to himself, as he observed 
 it creeping up the hill from the side of the valley, "Ay, this 
 is what the blackguards calculated upon, and they are always 
 sure to be right about the weather; but it will serve my turn 
 as well as theirs;" and on he went in the direction of the 
 castle, keeping the regular road by the side of the hill, and 
 eschewing especially the dwelling of Galley Ray and her 
 grandson. 
 
 Born in that part of the country, and perfectly well pre- 
 pared, both to find his way about every part of the ruins, and 
 to speak the dialect of the county in its broadest accent, if he 
 should be questioned, the darkness was all that he could de- 
 sire ; and it was with pleasure that he found the obscurity so 
 deep that even he could not see the large stones which at 
 that time lay in the road, causing him to stumble more than 
 once as he approached the castle. He was in some hope, in- 
 deed, of reaching the ruins before the smugglers began to as- 
 semble, and of finding a place of concealment whence he could 
 overhear their sayings and doings; but in this expectation he 
 discovered, as he approached the walls, that he should be dis- 
 appointed ; for in the open road between the castle and the 
 village, he found a number of horses tied, and two men watch- 
 ing. He trudged on past them, however, with a slow step 
 and a slouching gait; and when one of the men called out, "Is 
 that you, Jack?" he answered, "Ay, ayl" without stopping. 
 
 At the gate of the court he heard a good many voices talk- 
 ing within ; and, it must be acknowledged, that although as 
 brave a man as ever lived, he was not without a strong sense 
 of the dangers of his situation. But he suffered it not to 
 master him in the least; and advancing resolutely, he soon got 
 the faint outline of several groups of men, amounting in the 
 whole to about thirty, assembled on the green between the 
 walls and the keep. Walking resolutely up to one of these 
 little knots, he looked boldly amongst the persons it comprised, 
 as if seeking for somebody. Their faces could scarcely be dis- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 201 
 
 tinguished; but the voices of one or two who were talking 
 together, showed him that the group was a hazardous one, as 
 it contained several of the most notorious smugglers of the 
 neighbourhood, who had but too good cause to be well ac- 
 quainted with his person and his tongue. He went on, con- 
 sequently, to the next little party, which he soon judged, from 
 the conversation he overheard, to be principally composed of 
 strangers. One man spoke of how they did those things in 
 Sussex, and told of how he had aided to haul up, Heaven 
 knows how many bales of goods, over the bare face of the cliff 
 between Hastings and Winchelsea. Judging, therefore, that 
 he was here in security, the officer attached himself to this 
 group, and, after a while, ventured to ask, " Do you know 
 what's to be the hour, about?" 
 
 The man he spoke to answered "No!" adding that they 
 could not tell anything "till the gentleman came." This, 
 however, commenced a conversation, and Mowle was speedily 
 identified with that group, which, consisting entirely of strangers, 
 as he had supposed, did not mingle much with the rest. Every 
 one present was armed; and he found that though some had 
 come on foot like himself, the greater part had journeyed on 
 horseback. He had a good opportunity also of learning that, 
 notwithstanding every effort made by the government,* the 
 system of smuggling was carried on along the coast to a much 
 greater extent than even he himself had been aware of. Many 
 of his brother officers were spoken of in high terms of commen- 
 dation, which did not sound very satisfactory to his ears; and 
 many a hint for his future operations he gained from the 
 gossip of those who surrounded him. 
 
 Still time wore on, and he began to be a little uneasy lest 
 he should be detained longer than the hour which he had 
 specified in his note to the colonel of dragoons. But at length, 
 towards ten o'clock, the quick tramping of a number of horses 
 were heard, and several voices speaking, and a minute after, 
 five or six and twenty men entered the grass court, and came 
 up hastily to the rest. 
 
 "Now, are you all ready?" cried a voice which Mowle 
 instantly recognised as that of young Radford. 
 
 " Yes, we've been waiting these two hours," answered one 
 of those in the group which the officer had first approached ; 
 " but you'll never have enough here, sir." 
 
202 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " Never you mind that," rejoined Richard Radford, " there 
 are eighty more at Lympne, and a good number down at 
 Dymchurch already, with plenty of horses. Come, muster, 
 muster, and let us be off, for the landing will begin at one, 
 and we have a good long way to go. Remember, every one," 
 he continued, raising his voice, " that the way is by Butter's 
 Bridge, and then down and along the shore. If any one takes 
 the road by Burmarsh he will fall in with the dragoons. Troop 
 off, my men, troop off. You Ned, and you major, see that 
 the court is quite cleared ; we must have none lagging behind." 
 
 This precaution did not at all disconcert our good friend 
 Mowle, for he judged that he should very easily find the means 
 of detaching himself from the rest at the nearest point to 
 Hythe; and accordingly he walked on with the party he had 
 joined, till they arrived at the spot where he had seen the 
 horses tied. There, however, the greater part mounted, and 
 the others joined a different body, which Mowle was well 
 aware was not quite so safe ; for acting as the chief thereof, 
 and looking very sharply after his party too, was no other than our 
 friend the major. Mowle now took good care to keep silence: 
 a prudent step which was enjoined upon them all by Mr. 
 Radford and some others, who seemed to have the direction 
 of ttie affair. But notwithstanding every care, the tread of 
 so many men and so many horses made a considerable noise, 
 and just as they were passing a small cottage, not a quarter 
 of a mile from Saltwood, the good dame within opened the 
 door to see what such a bustle could be about. As she did 
 so, the light from the interior fell full upon Mowle's face, and 
 the eyes of the major, turned towards the door at the same 
 moment, rested upon him for an instant, and were then with- 
 drawn. It were vain to say that the worthy officer felt quite 
 as comfortable at that moment as if he had been in his own 
 house; but when no notice was taken, he comforted himself 
 with the thought that his disguise had served him well, and 
 trudged on with the rest, without showing any hesitation or 
 surprise. About half a mile farther lay the turning which he 
 proposed to take to reach Hythe ; and he contrived to get over 
 to the left side of the party, in order to drop off in that direc- 
 tion unperceived. When he was within ten steps of it, how- 
 ever, and was congratulating himself that the party, having 
 scattered a little, gave him greater facilities for executing his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 203 
 
 scheme, an arm was familiarly thrust through his own, and a 
 pair of lips close to his ear, said in a low but very distinct 
 tone, " I know you, and if you attempt to get off you are a 
 dead man! Continue with the party, and you are safe. 
 When the goods are landed and gone, you shall go ; but the 
 least suspicious movement before, shall bring twenty bullets 
 into your head. You did me a good turn yesterday morning 
 before the justices, in not raking up old offences, and I am 
 willing to do you a good turn now; but this is all I can do 
 for you." 
 
 Mowle turned round, well knowing the voice, nodded his 
 head, and walked on with the rest in the direction of Lympne. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TOWARDS half-past ten o'clock at night, the inn at Hytho was 
 somewhat quieter than it had been on the evening before. 
 This was not a punch club night ; there was no public dinner 
 going forward; a great many accustomed guests were absent, 
 and the house was left nearly vacant of all visitors, except the 
 young commandant of the dragoons, his two or three servants, 
 and three stout-looking old soldiers, who had come in about 
 ten, and taken possession of the tap-room, in their full uni- 
 form, scaring away, as it would seem, a sharp-looking man, 
 who had been previously drinking there in solitude, only 
 cheered by the occasional visits and brief conversation of the 
 landlord. The officer himself was up stairs in his room, with 
 a soldier at his door, as usual, and was supposed by all the 
 household to be busy writing; but, in the meanwhile, there 
 was a great deal of bustle in the stables; and about a quarter 
 before eleven, the ostler came in and informed the landlord 
 that they were saddling three of the colonel's horses, and his 
 two grooms' horses. 
 
 "Saddling three 1" cried the host; "why, he cannot ride 
 three horses at once, anyhow; and where can he be going to 
 ride to-night? I must run and see if I can pump it out of 
 the fellows;" and away he walked to the stables, where he 
 found the men, two grooms and two helpers busily engaged in 
 the occupation which the hostler had stated. 
 
204 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Ah," said the landlord, "so there's something going on 
 to-night?" 
 
 "Not that I know of," answered the head groom. "Tie 
 down that holster, Bill. The thongs are loose, don't you 
 see?" 
 
 "Oh! but there must be something in the wind," re- 
 joined the landlord; "the colonel wouldn't ride out so late 
 else." 
 
 "Lord bless youl" replied the man, "little you know of 
 his ways. Why, sometimes he'll have us all up at two or 
 three in the morning, just to visit a post of perhaps twenty 
 men. He's a smart officer, I can tell you; and no one must 
 be caught napping in his regiment, that's certain.'' 
 
 "But you have saddled three horses for him!" said the 
 landlord, returning to his. axiom; "and he can't ride three at 
 once, anyhow." 
 
 "Ay, but who can tell which he may like to ride?" re- 
 joined the groom; "we shan't know anything about that till 
 he comes into the stable, most likely." 
 
 "And where is he going to, to-night?" asked the land- 
 lord. 
 
 "We can't tell that he's going anywhere,'' answered the 
 man ; " but if he does, I should suppose it would be to Folke- 
 stone. The major is away on leave, you know; and it is 
 just as likely as not, that he'll go over to see that all's right 
 there." 
 
 The worthy host was not altogether satisfied with the in- 
 formation he received; but as he clearly saw that he should 
 get no more, he retired, and went into the tap, to try the 
 dragoons, without being more successful in that quarter than 
 he had been in the stables. 
 
 In the mean time, his guest up stairs had finished his let- 
 ters; had dressed himself in uniform; armed himself, and laid 
 three brace of pistols, charged, upon the table, for the holsters 
 of his saddles; and then taking a large map of the county, 
 he leaned over it, tracing the different roads, which at that 
 time intersected the Weald of Kent. Two or three times he 
 took out his watch; and as the hour of eleven drew near, 
 he began to feel considerable alarm for the fate of poor 
 Mowle. 
 
 "If they discover him, they will murder him, to a certainty," 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 205 
 
 lie thought; "and I believe a more honest fellow does not 
 live. It was a rash and foolish undertaking. The measures 
 I have adopted could not fail. Hark ! there is the clock strik- 
 ing. We must lose no more time. We may save him yet, 
 or at all events avenge him." He then called the soldier from 
 the door, and sent off a messenger to the house of the second 
 officer of customs, named Birchett, who came up in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 " Mr. Birchett," said the colonel, " I fear our friend Mowle 
 has got himself into a scrape;" and he proceeded to detail as 
 many of the circumstances as were necessary to enable the 
 other to comprehend the situation of affairs; and ended by 
 asking, "Are you prepared to act in Mr. Mowle's absence?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, sir," answered Birchett. "Mowle did not tell 
 me the business; but he said, I must have my horse saddled. 
 He was always a close fellow, and kept all the intelligence to 
 himself." 
 
 " In this case it was absolutely necessary," replied the 
 colonel; "but without any long explanations, I think you had 
 better ride down towards Dymchurch at once, with all the 
 men you can trust, keeping as sharp a look-out as you can on 
 the coast, and sending me information the moment you receive 
 intelligence that the run has been effected. Do not attempt 
 to attack the smugglers without sufficient force; but despatch 
 two men by different roads, to intimate the fact to me at Al- 
 dington Knowle, where I shall be found throughout the night." 
 
 "Ay, sir," answered the officer, "but suppose the fellows 
 take along by Burrnarsh, and so up to Hardy Pool. They 
 will pass you, and be off into the country before anything can 
 be done." 
 
 "They will be stopped at Burmarsh," replied the colonel; 
 " orders have been given to barricade the road at nightfall, 
 and to defend the hamlet against any one coming from the sea. 
 I shall establish another post at Lympne as I go. Leave all 
 that to me." 
 
 " But you must have a requisition, sir, or I suppose you are 
 not authorised to act," said the officer. "I will get one for 
 you in a minute." 
 
 " I have one," answered the colonel, laying his hand on the 
 papers before him; "but even were it not so, I should act on 
 my own responsibility. This is no ordinary case, Mr. Birchett. 
 
206 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 All you have to do is to ride off towards Dymchurch as fast 
 as you can, to give me notice that the smugglers have landed 
 their goods as soon as you find that such is the case, and to 
 add any information that you can gain respecting the course 
 they have taken. Remember, not to attack them unless you 
 find that you have sufficient force, but follow and keep them 
 in sight as far as you can." 
 
 " It's such a devilish foggy night, sir," said Birchctt. 
 
 " It will be clearer inland," replied the young officer; "and 
 we shall catch them at day-break. We can only fail from 
 want of good information ; so see that I have the most speedy 
 intelligence. But stay, lest anything should go wrong, or be 
 misunderstood with regard to the beacons, you may as well, if 
 you have men to spare, send off as you pass, after the run 
 has been effected, to the different posts at Brenzet, at Suave, 
 at Ham Street, with merely these words: 'The goods are 
 landed. The smugglers are at such a place.' The parties 
 will act upon the orders they have already received. Now 
 away, and lose no time!" 
 
 The riding-officer hurried off, and the colonel of the regiment 
 descended to the court-yard. In three minutes more the sound 
 of a trumpet was heard in the streets of Hythe, and in less 
 than ten, a party of about thirty dragoons were marching out 
 of the town towards Lympne. A halt for about five minutes 
 was made at the latter place, and the small party of soldiers 
 was diminished to about half its number. Information, too, 
 was there received, from one of the cottagers, of a large body 
 of men (magnified in his account into three or four hundred) 
 having gone down into the marshes about half an hour before ; 
 but the commanding officer made no observation in reply, and 
 having given the orders he thought necessary, rode on towards 
 Aldington. The fog was thick on all the low ground, but 
 cleared away a good deal upon the more elevated spots; and 
 as they were rising one of the hills, the serjeant who was with 
 the party exclaimed, " There is something very red up there, 
 sir ! It looks as if there were a beacon lighted up, if we could 
 see it for the fog." 
 
 The young officer halted for a moment, looked round, and 
 then rode on till he reached the summit of the hill, whence a 
 great light, clearly proceeding from a beacon, was discovered 
 to the north-east. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 207 
 
 " That must be near Postling," he said. " We have no 
 party there. It must be some signal of their own." And as 
 he rode on, he thought, "It is not impossible that poor Mowle's 
 rashness may have put these men on their guard, and thus 
 thwarted the whole scheme. That is clearly some warning 
 to their boats." 
 
 But ere a quarter of an hour more had passed, he saw the 
 probability of still more disastrous effects, resulting from the 
 lighting of the beacon on Tolsford Hill ; for another flame shot 
 up, casting a red glare through the haze from the side of Bur- 
 marsh, and then another and another, till the dim air seemed 
 all tinged with flame. 
 
 "An unlucky error,'' he said to himself. " Serjeant Jack- 
 son should have known that we have no party in that quarter ; 
 and the beacons were only to be lighted, from the first, towards 
 Hythe. It is very strange how the clearest orders are some- 
 times misunderstood." 
 
 He rode on, however, at a quick pace, till he reached Al- 
 dington Knowle, and had found the highest ground in the 
 neighbourhood, whence, after pausing for a minute or two to 
 examine the country, as marked out by the various fires, he 
 despatched three of the dragoons in different directions, with 
 orders to the parties in the villages round to disregard the 
 lights they saw, and not to act upon the orders previously 
 given, till they received intimation that the smugglers were on 
 the march. 
 
 It was now about midnight, and during nearly two hours 
 the young officer remained stationed upon the hill without any 
 one approaching, or any sound breaking the stillness of the 
 night but the stamping of the horses of his little force and 
 the occasional clang of the soldiers' arms. At the end of that 
 period, the tramp of horse coming along the road at a quick 
 pace from the side of Hythe, was heard by the party on the 
 more elevated ground at a little distance from the highway. 
 There was a tightening of the bridle and a movement of the 
 heel amongst the men, to bring their chargers into a more 
 regular line; but not a word was said, and the colonel re- 
 mained in front, with his arms crossed upon his chest and his 
 rein thrown down, while what appeared from the sound to be 
 a considerable body of cavalry, passed before him. He could 
 not see them, it is true, from the darkness of the night; but 
 
208 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 his ear recognised in a moment the jingling of the dragoons' 
 arms, and he concluded rightly, that the party consisted of the 
 company which he had ordered from Folkestone down to Bil- 
 sington. As soon as they had gone on, he detached a man to 
 the next cross-road on the same side, with orders, if he per- 
 ceived any body of men coming across from the side of the 
 Marsh, to ride forward at once to the officer in command at 
 Bilsington, and direct him to move to the north, keeping the 
 Priory Wood on the right, till he reached the cross-roads at 
 the corner, and wait there for further orders. The beacons 
 had by this time burnt out; and all remained dark and still 
 for about half an hour more, when the quick galloping of a 
 horse was heard coming from the side of the Marsh. A pause 
 took place as soon as the animal reached the high road, as if 
 the rider had halted to look for some one he had expected ; 
 and, dashing down instantly through the gate of the field, 
 which had been opened by the dragoons to gain the highest 
 point of ground, the young officer exclaimed, "Who goes 
 there?" 
 
 "Ah, colonel, is that you?" cried the voice of Birchett. 
 " They are coming up as fast as they can come, and will pass 
 either by Bilsington or Bonnington. There's a precious lot of 
 them: I never saw such a number gathered before. Mowle's 
 gone, poor fellow, to a certainty; for we've seen nothing of 
 him down there." 
 
 " Nor I either," answered the young officer, with a sigh. 
 " I hope you have left men to watch them, Mr. Birchett." 
 
 " Oh! yes, sir," replied the officer. " I thought it better to 
 come up myself than trust to any other. But I left Clinch 
 and the rest there, and sent off, as you told me, to all your 
 posts." 
 
 " You are sure they will come by Bilsington or Bonnington, 
 and not strike off by Kitsbridge, towards Ham Street or Ware- 
 horn?'' demanded the young officer. 
 
 " If they do, they'll have to turn all the way back," an- 
 swered Birchett; " for I saw them to the crossing of the roads, 
 and then came across by Sherlock's Bridges and the horse- 
 road to Hurst." 
 
 "And are you quite sure," continued the colonel, "that 
 your messengers will reach the parties at Brenzet or Snave?" 
 
 "Quite, sir," answered the custom-house officer; "for I 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 209 
 
 did not send them off till the blackguards had passed, and the 
 country behind was clear." 
 
 "That was judicious; and we have them," rejoined the 
 young officer. " I trust they may take by Bonnington; but it 
 will be necessary to ascertain the fact. You shall go down, 
 Mr. Birchett, yourself, with some of the troopers, and recon- 
 noitre. Go as cautiously as possible; and if you see or hear 
 them passing, fall back quietly. If they do not appear in 
 reasonable time, send me intelligence. You can calculate the 
 distances better than I can." 
 
 " I believe they will go by Bonnington," said the customs 
 officer; "for it's much shorter, and I think they must know 
 of your party at Bilsington; though, to be sure, they could 
 easily force that, for it is but a Serjeant's guard.'' 
 
 " You are mistaken," answered the colonel. " Captain 
 Irby is there with his troop ; and, together with the parties 
 moving up, on a line with the smugglers from the Marsh, he 
 will have a hundred and fifty men, either in Bilsington, or 
 three miles in his rear. Nevertheless, we must give him help, 
 in case they take that road; so you had better ride down at 
 once, Mr. Bijfhett." 
 
 And ordering three of the privates to accompany the cus- 
 tom-house officer, with renewed injunctions to caution and 
 silence, he resumed his position on the hill, and waited in ex- 
 pectation of the result. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE cottages round Dymchurch, and the neighbourhood of the 
 Gut, as it is called, showed many a cheerful light about eleven 
 o'clock, on the night of which we have just been speaking; 
 and, as the evening had been cold and damp, it seemed natural 
 enough that the two officers of customs, stationed in the place, 
 or at least they chose to think so, that the poor people should 
 have a fire to keep them warm. If they had judged it expe- 
 dient to go forth, instead of remaining in the house appropriated 
 to them, they might indeed have discovered a fragrant odour 
 of good Hollands, and every now and then a strong smell of 
 
210 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 brandy, issuing from any hovel door that happened to open as 
 they passed. But the two officers did not judge it expedient 
 to go forth ; for it was late, they were warm and comfortable 
 where they were, a good bowl of punch stood before them, and 
 one of them, as he ladled out the exhilarating liquor to the 
 other, remarked, with philosophical sagacity, ''It's such a 
 foggy night; who the deuce could see anything on the water 
 even if they went to look for it?" 
 
 The other laughed with a meaning wink of his eye, and 
 perfectly agreed in the justice of his companion's observation. 
 "Well, we must go out, Jim, about twelve," he said, "just 
 to let old Mowle see that we are looking about ; but you can 
 go down to High Nook, and I can pretend I heard something 
 suspicious in the Marsh, farther up. Otherwise, we shall be 
 broke, to a certainty." 
 
 " I don't care if I am broke," answered the other. "I've 
 got all that I want now, and can set up a shop." 
 
 " Well, I should like to hold on a little longer,'' replied his > 
 more prudent companion; "and besides, if they found us out, 
 they might do worse than discharge us." 
 
 "But how the deuce should they find us otft?" asked the 
 other. "Nobody saw me speak to the old gentleman; and 
 nobody saw you. I didn't; nor did you see me. So we can 
 say nothing, and nobody else can say anything; I shan't 
 budge." 
 
 "Well, I shall 1" said the other. "'Tis but a walk; and 
 you know quite well, Jim, that if we keep to the westward, 
 it's all safe." 
 
 It was evident to the last speaker that his comrade had 
 drunk quite enough punch; but still they went on till tho 
 bowl was finished ; and then, the one going out, the other did 
 not choose to remain, but issued forth also, cursing and growl- 
 ing as he went. The murmur of a good many voices to the 
 eastward of Dymchurch saluted their ears the moment they 
 quitted the house; but that sound only induced them to hasten 
 their steps in the opposite direction. 
 
 The noise which produced this effect upon the officers had 
 also been heard by another person, who was keeping his soli- 
 tary watch on the low shore, three or four hundred yards from 
 the village, and to him it was a pleasant sound. He had been 
 cm the look-out there for nearly two hours; and no sight had 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 211 
 
 he seen, nor sound had he heard, but the water coming up as 
 the tide made, and every now and then driving him further 
 back to avoid the ripple of the wave. Two or three minutes 
 after a step could be distinguished; and some one gave a 
 whistle. 
 
 The watcher whistled in return; and the next instant he 
 was joined by another person, somewhat taller than himself, 
 who inquired, "Have you heard anything of them yet?" 
 
 "No, sir," answered the man, in a respectful tone. 
 " Everything has been as still and as sleepy as an old woman's 
 cat." 
 
 " Then what the devil's the meaning of these fires all over 
 the country?" asked young Radford; for he it was who had 
 come down. 
 
 "Fires, sir?" said the man. "Why they were to light 
 one upon Tolsford Hill, when Harding sent up the rockets; 
 but I have heard of none but that, and have seen none at all." 
 
 " Why, they are blazing all over the country," cried young 
 Radford, " from Tolsford to Dungeness. If it's any of our 
 people that have done it they must be mad." 
 
 *' Well, if they have lighted the one at Tolsford," answered 
 the man, " we shall soon have Tom Ilazlewood down to tell 
 us more ; for he was to set off and gallop as fast as possible, 
 whenever he saw anything." 
 
 Young Radford made no reply, but stood musing in silence 
 for two or three minutes; and then starting, he exclaimed, 
 " Harkl wasn't that a cheer from the sea?" 
 
 "I did'nt hear it," answered the man; " but I thought I 
 heard some one riding." 
 
 Young Radford listened ; but all seemed still for a momenf, 
 till, coming upon harder ground, a horse's feet sounded dL- 
 tinctly. 
 
 " Tom Hazlewood, I think," cried Radford. " Run up, ai.d 
 see, Billl" 
 
 "He'll come straight down here, sir," replied the man; 
 " he knows where to find me." And almost as he spoke, a 
 man on horseback galloped up, saying, "They must be well in 
 shore now." 
 
 "Who the devil lighted all those fires?" exclaimed young 
 Radford. " Why they will alarm the whole country!" 
 
 " I don't know, sir,'' answered the man on horseback. " I 
 
212 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 lighted the one at Tolsford, but I've nothing to do with the 
 others, and don't know who lighted them." 
 
 "Then you saw the rockets?" demanded the young gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Quite clear, sir," replied Hazelwood; "I got upon the 
 highest point that I could find, and kept looking out over the 
 sea, thinking I should see nothing; for though it was quite 
 clear up so high, and the stars shining as bright as possible, 
 yet all underneath was like a great white cloud rolled about ; 
 but suddenly, as I was looking over this way, I saw something 
 like a -star shoot up from the cloud and burst into a thousand 
 bright sparks, making quite a blaze all round it; and then 
 came another, and then another. So, being quite sure that it 
 was Jack Harding at sea, I ran clown as hard as I could to 
 where I had left Peter by the pile of wood and the two old 
 barrels, and taking the candle out of his lantern, thurst it in. 
 As soon as it was in a blaze, I got on my horse and gal- 
 loped down ; for he could not be more than two or three miles 
 out when I saw the rockets." 
 
 " Then he must be close in now," answered Richard Rad- 
 ford; "and we had better get all the men down, and spread 
 out." 
 
 " There will be time enough, sir, I should think," observed 
 the man on foot, " for he'll get the big boats in, as near as he 
 can, before he loads the little ones." 
 
 " I will fire a pistol, to let him know where we are," an- 
 swered young Radford ; and drawing one from his belt, he had 
 cocked it, when the man on foot stopped him, saying, " There 
 are two officers in Dymchurch, you know, sir, and they may 
 send off for troops." 
 
 "Pooh, nonsense!" replied Richard Radford, firing the pistol 
 in the air; " do you think we would have left them there, if 
 we were not sure of them?" 
 
 In somewhat less than a minute, a distinct cheer was heard 
 from the sea; and at the sound of the pistol, a crowd of men 
 and horses, which in the mist and darkness seemed innumer- 
 able, began to gather down upon the shore, as near to the 
 water's edge as they could come. A great many lanterns were 
 produced, and a strange and curious sight it was to see the 
 number of wild-looking faces which appeared by that dim, un- 
 certain light. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 213 
 
 "Ned Ramleyl'' cried young Radford. 
 
 " Here I am, sir," answered a voice close at hand. 
 
 " Whereas the major?'' ^ 
 
 "Majorl major!" shouted Ramley. 
 
 " Coming,' 7 answered a voice at some distance. " Stand 
 by him, and do as I told you!'' 
 
 "What's the matter?" demanded Richard Radford, as the 
 major came up. 
 
 "Oh, nothing, sir!" replied the other; "only a man I 
 found lurking about. He says he's willing to help; but I 
 thought it best to set a watch upon him, as I don't know him." 
 
 " That was right,'' said the young gentleman. " But, hark 1 
 there are the oars!'' And the sound of the regular sweep, 
 and the shifting beat of the oar against the rowlocks, wag dis- 
 tinctly heard by all present. Some of the men waded down 
 into the water, there being very little sea running, and soon, 
 through the mist, six boats of a tolerable size could be seen 
 pulling hard towards the land. In another moment, amidst 
 various cries and directions, they touched the shore. Several 
 men jumped out of each into the water, and a number of the 
 party which had come down to meet them, running in, caught 
 hold of the ropes that were thrown out of the boats, and with 
 marvellous rapidity they were drawn up till they were high 
 and dry. 
 
 "Ah, Harding, is that you?" said young Radford, ad- 
 dressing the smuggler, who had been steering the largest 
 boat. " This is capitally managed. You are even earlier 
 than I expected, and we shall get far into the country before 
 daylight." 
 
 "We were obliged to use the sweeps, sir," said Harding, 
 bluntly; "but don't let's talk. Get the things out, and load 
 the horses; for we shall have to make two more trips back to 
 the luggers before they are all cleared." 
 
 Everything was now bustle and activity; a number of bales 
 and packages were taken out of the boats arid placed upon 
 the horses in one way or another, not always the most con- 
 venient to the poor animals; and as soon as Harding had 
 made Mr. Radford count the number of the articles landed, 
 the boats were launched off again to some larger vessels, 
 which it seems were lying out at a little distance, though 
 indiscernible in the fog. 
 
2 1 4 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Harding himself remained ashore; and turning to one or 
 two of those about him, he asked, " What was all that red 
 blaze I saw half over the country?" 
 
 "None of us can tell," answered young Radford. "The 
 moment the fire at Tolsford was lighted, a dozen more were 
 flaming up, all along to Dungeness." 
 
 "That's devilish strange!" said Harding. "It does not 
 look well. How many men have you got with you, Mr. 
 Eadford?" 
 
 " Why, well nigh upon two hundred," answered Ned 
 Ramley, for his comrade. 
 
 "Ah, then you'll do!" answered Harding, with a laugh; 
 " but still you won't be the worse for some more. So I and 
 some' of the lads will see you safe across the Marsh. The 
 customs have got nothing at sea about here; so the boats 
 will be safe enough." 
 
 "Thank you, Harding; thank you, Jack;" said several of 
 the voices. " Once out of the Marsh, with all these ditches 
 and things, and we shall do very well. How far are the 
 luggers off?" 
 
 " Not a hundred fathom," answered Harding. " I would 
 have run them ashore if there had been any capstan here to 
 have drawn them np. But they won't be a minute, so have 
 everything ready. Move off those horses that are loaded, a 
 bit, my lads, and bring up the others." 
 
 Harding's minute, however, extended to nearly ten, and 
 then the boats were again perceived approaching, and the 
 same process was followed as before. The third trip was 
 then made with equal success and ease. Not the slightest 
 difficulty occurred, not the slightest obstruction was offered; 
 the number of packages was declared to be complete, the 
 horses were all loaded, and the party began to move off in a 
 long line, across the Marsh, like a caravan threading the 
 mazes of the desert. 
 
 Leaving a few men with the boats that were ashore, 
 Harding and the rest of the seamen, with Mr. Radford, and 
 several of his party, brought up the rear of the smugglers, 
 talking over the events which had taken place, and the course 
 of their farther proceedings. All seemed friendly and good- 
 humoured ; but there is such a thing as seeming, even amongst 
 smugglers, and if Harding could have seen the real feelings of 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 215 
 
 some of liis companions towards him, it is very probable that 
 he would not have given himself the trouble to accompany 
 them on the way. 
 
 " I will pay you the money when I get to Bounington," 
 said young Radford, addressing his companion. " I can't 
 very well get at it till I dismount." 
 
 " Oh! there's no matter for that, sir," replied the smuggler. 
 " Your father can pay me some other time. But what are 
 you going to Bonnington for? I should have thought your 
 best way would have been by Bilsington, and so straight into 
 the Weald. Then you would have had the woods round 
 about you the greater part of the way; or I don't know 
 that I might not have gone farther down still, and so by 
 Orleston." 
 
 "There's a party of dragoons at Bilsington," said young 
 Radford, "and another at Ham Street." 
 
 "Ay, that alters the case," answered the smuggler; "but 
 they are all so scattered about and so few, I should think they 
 could do you no great harm. However, it will be best for 
 you to go by Bonnington, if you are sure there are no troops 
 there." 
 
 " If there are, we must fight: that's all, 5 ' answered young 
 Radford; and so ended the conversation for the time. One of 
 those pauses of deep silence succeeded, which, by the accidental 
 exhaustion of topics and the recurrence of the mind to the 
 thoughts suggested by what has just passed, so frequently 
 intervene in the conversation even of great numbers, whether 
 occupied with light or serious subjects. How often do we 
 find, amidst the gayest or the busiest assembly, a sudden still- 
 ness pervade the whole, and the ear may detect a pin fall. 
 In the midst of the silence, however, Harding laid his hand 
 upon young Radford 's bridle, saying in a low voice, "Hark I 
 do you not hear the galloping of horses to the east there?" 
 
 The young man, on the first impulse, put his hand to his 
 holster; but then withdrew it, and listened. " I think I do," 
 he answered; "but now it has stopped." 
 
 "You are watched, I suspect," said Harding; "they did 
 not seem many, however, and may be afraid to attack you. 
 If I were you, I would put the men into a quicker pace ; for 
 these fellows may gather as they go. If you had got such 
 things with you as you could throw into the cuts, it would 
 
21(3 Til E SMUGGLES. 
 
 not much matter, for you could fight it out here, as well ns 
 elsewhere; but, if I understood your father rightly, these goods 
 would all be spoiled, and so the sooner you are out of the 
 Marsh the better. Then you will be safe enough, if you are 
 prudent. You may have to risk a shot or two; but that does 
 not much matter." 
 
 "And what do you call prudent, Harding? 5 ' asked young 
 Radford, in a wonderfully calm tone, considering his vehement 
 temperament, and the excitement of the adventure in which 
 he was engaged; " how would you have me act when I do get 
 out of the Marsh?" 
 
 "Why, that seems clear enough," replied the smuggler. 
 " I would send all the goods and the men on foot, first, keep- 
 ing along the straight road between the woods; and then, 
 with all those who have got horses, I would hang behind a 
 quarter of a mile or so, till the others had time to get on and 
 disperse to the different hides, which ought to be done as soon 
 as possible. Let a number drop off here, and a number there ; 
 one set to the Willow Cave close by Woodchurch Hill, another 
 to the old Priory in the wood, and so on, you still keeping 
 behind, and facing about upon the road, if you are pursued. 
 If you do that, you are sure to secure the goods, or by far the 
 greater part of them." 
 
 The advice was so good, as far as young Radford knew of 
 the condition of the country, and the usual plan of operations 
 which had hitherto been pursued by the customs' in their 
 pursuits of the smugglers, that he could offer no reasonable 
 argument against it; but when prejudice has taken possession 
 of a man's mind, it is a busy and skilful framer of suspicions ; 
 and he thought within his own breast, though he did not speak 
 his intentions aloud, "No! Hang me if I leave the goods till 
 I see them safe housed. This fellow may want to ruin us, by 
 separating us into small parties." 
 
 The rest of the party had by this time resumed their con- 
 versation, and both Radford and Harding well knew that it 
 would be vain to attempt to keep them quiet, for they were a 
 rash and careless set, inclined to do everything with dash and 
 swagger ; and although in the presence of actual and apparent 
 danger, they could be induced to preserve some degree of 
 order and discipline, and to show some obedience to their 
 leaders, yet as soon as the peril had passed away, or was no 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2 1 7 
 
 longer immediately before their eyes, they were like schoolboys 
 in the master's absence, and careless of the consequences which 
 they did not see. Twice Harding said, in a low voice, "I 
 hear them again to the east, there!" and twice young Radford 
 urged his men to a quicker pace ; but many of them had come 
 far, horses and men were tired, every one considered that as 
 the goods were safely landed, and no opposition shown, the 
 battle was more than half won ; and all forgot the warning of 
 the day before, as man ever forgets the chastisements which 
 are inflicted by Heaven for his good, and falls the next day 
 into the very same errors, for the reproof of which they were 
 sent. 
 
 "Now," said Harding, as they approached the spot where 
 the Marsh road opened upon the highway to Bonnington, 
 " spread some of your men out on the right and left, Mr. 
 Radford, to keep you clear in case the enemy wish to make 
 an attack. Your people can easily close in, and follow quickly, 
 as soon as the rest have passed." 
 
 "If they do make an attack," thought young Radford, 
 "your head shall be the first I send a ball through;" but the 
 advice was too judicious to be neglected, and he accordingly 
 gave orders to Ned Ramley and the major, with ten men each, 
 to go one or two hundred yards on the road towards Bilsing- 
 ton on the one hand, and Hurst on the other, and see that all 
 was safe. A little confusion ensued, as was but natural in so 
 badly disciplined a body; and in the mean while the laden 
 horses advanced along the road straight into the heart of the 
 country, while Richard Radford, with the greater part of his 
 mounted men, paused to support either of his parties in case 
 of attack. He said something in a low voice regarding the 
 money to Harding, who replied abruptly, " There, never mind 
 about that; only look out, and get off as quickly as you can. 
 You are safe enough now, I think; so good night." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned, and with the six or eight stout 
 fellows who accompanied him, trod his way back into the 
 Marsh. What passed through young Radford 's brain at that 
 moment it may be needless to dwell upon ; but Harding escaped 
 a peril that he little dreamed of, solely by the risk of ruin to 
 the whole scheme, which a brawl at that spot and moment 
 must have entailed. 
 
 The men who had been detached to the riirht advanced 
 
218 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 along the road to the distance specified, proceeding slowly in 
 the fog, and looking eagerly out before. " Look out," said 
 Ned Ramley, at length, to one of his companions, taking a 
 pistol from his belt at the same time, "I see men on horse- 
 back there, I think." 
 
 " Only trees in the fog," answered the other. 
 
 "Hush!" cried Ramley, sharply; but the other men were 
 talking carelessly, and whether it was the sound of retreating 
 horses or not that he heard, he could not discover. After 
 going on about three hundred yards, Ned Ramley turned, 
 saying, " We had better go back now, and give warning, for 
 I am very sure those were men I saw." 
 
 The other differed with him on that point; and, on rejoining 
 Richard Radford, they found the major and his party just 
 come back from the Bilsington road, but with one man short. 
 "That fellow," said the major, "has taken himself off. I was 
 sure he was a spy, so we had better go on as fast as possible. 
 We shall have plenty of time before he can raise men enough 
 to follow." 
 
 " There are others to the east, there," replied Ned Ramley, 
 "I saw two or three, and there is no time to be lost, I say, or 
 we shall have the whole country upon us. If I were you, Mr. 
 Radford, I'd disperse in as small numbers as possible whenever 
 we get to the Chequer- tree ; and then, if we lose a few of the 
 things, we shall keep the greater part, unless, indeed, you are 
 minded to stand it out, and have a fight upon the Green. We 
 are enough to beat them all, I should think." 
 
 "Ay, Ned, that is the gallant way," answered Richard 
 Radford; "but we must first see what is on before. We 
 must not lose the goods or risk them, otherwise nothing would 
 please me better than to drub these dragoons ; but in case it 
 should be dark still when they come near us, if they do at all, 
 we'll have a blow or two before we have done, I trust. 
 However, let us forward now, for we must keep up well with 
 the rest." 
 
 The party moved on at a quick pace, and soon overtook the 
 train of loaded horses, and men on foot, which had gone on 
 before. Many a time a glance was given along the road behind, 
 and many a time an attentive ear was turned listening for the 
 sound of coming horse, but all was still and silent; and wind- 
 ing on through the thick woods, which at that time overspread 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 219 
 
 all the country in the vicinity of their course, and covered 
 their line of advance right and left, they began to lose the 
 sense of danger, and to suppose that the sounds which had 
 been heard, and the forms which had been seen, were but 
 mere creations of the fancy. 
 
 About two miles from the border of Romney Marsh, the 
 mist grew lighter, fading gradually away as the sea air 
 mingled with the clearer atmosphere of the country. At times 
 a star or two might be seen above; and though at that hour 
 the moon gave no light, yet there was a certain degree of 
 brightening in the sky which made some think they had mis- 
 calculated the hour, and that it was nearer the dawn than they 
 imagined, while others contended that it was produced merely 
 by the clearing away of the fog. At length, however, they 
 heard a distant clock strike four. They were now at a spot 
 where three or four roads branch off. in different directions, at 
 a distance of not more than half-a-mile from Chequer-tree, 
 having a wide extent of rough, uncultivated land, called Ald- 
 ington Freight, on their right, and part of the Priory Wood 
 on their left; and it yet wanted somewhat more than an hour 
 to the actual rising of the sun. A consultation was then held ; 
 and, notwithstanding some differences of opinion, it was 
 resolved to take the road by Stonecross Green, where they 
 thought they could get information from some friendly cot- 
 tagers, and thence through Gilbert's Wood towards Shaddox- 
 hurst. At that point, they calculated that they could safely 
 separate in order to convey the goods to the several hides, or 
 places of concealment, which had been chosen beforehand. 
 
 At Stonecross Green they paused again, and knocked hard 
 at a cottage door, till they brought forth the sleepy tenant 
 from his bed. But the intelligence gained from him was by 
 no means satisfactory; he spoke of a large party of dragoons 
 at Kingsnorth, and mentioned reports which had reached him 
 of a small body having shown itself, at Bromley Green late 
 on the preceding night; and it was consequently resolved, 
 after much debate, to turn off before entering Gilbert's Wood, 
 and, in some degree retreading their steps towards the Marsh, 
 to make for Woodchurch Beacon, and thence to Redbrook 
 Street. The distance was thus rendered greater, and both 
 men and horses were weary ; but the line of road proposed lay 
 amidst a wild and thinly inhabited part of the country, where 
 
220 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 few hamlets or villages offered any quarters for the dragoons. 
 The} 7 calculated, too, that having turned the dragoons who 
 were quartered at Bilsingtou, they should thus pass between 
 them and those at Kingsnorth and Bromley Green ; and Richard 
 Radford, himself, was well aware that there were no soldiers, 
 when he left that part of the country, in the neighbourhood of 
 High Halden or Berthersden. This seemed, therefore, the only 
 road that was actually open before them ; and it was accord- 
 ingly taken, after a general distribution of spirits amongst the 
 men, and of hay and water to the horses. Still their progress 
 was slow, for the ground became hilly in that neighbourhood, 
 and by the time they arrived at an elevated spot, near Wood- 
 church Beacon, whence they could see over a wide extent of 
 country round, the grey light of the dawn was spreading rapidly 
 through the sky, showing all the varied objects of the fair and 
 beautiful land through which they wandered. 
 
 But it is now necessary to turn to another personage in our 
 history, of whose fate, for some time, we have had no account. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WE left our friend, Mr. Mowle, in no very pleasant situation ; 
 for although the generosity of the major, in neither divulging 
 the discovery he had made, to the rest of the smugglers, nor 
 blowing the brains of the intruder out upon the spot, was, 
 perhaps, much more than could be expected from a man in his 
 situation and of his habits, yet it afforded no guarantee what- 
 soever to the unfortunate custom-house officer, that his life 
 would not be sacrificed on the very first danger or alarm. He 
 also knew, that if such an accident were to happen again, as 
 that which had at first displayed his features to one of those 
 into whose nocturnal councils he had intruded, nothing on 
 earth could save him ; for amongst the gang by whom he was 
 surrounded, were a number of men who had sworn to shed 
 his blood on the very first opportunity. 
 
 He walked along, therefore, as the reader may well conceive, 
 with the feeling of a knife continually at his throat; and a 
 long and weary march it seemed to him, as, proceeding by tor- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 221 
 
 taous ways and zig-zag paths, the smugglers descended into 
 Komney Marsh, and advanced rapidly towards Dymchurch. 
 Mowle was, perhaps, as brave and daring a man as any that 
 ever existed; but still the sensation of impending death can 
 never be very pleasant to a person in strong health, and well 
 contented with the earth on which he is placed ; and Mowle 
 felt all the disagreeable points in his situation, exactly as any 
 other man would do. It would not be just to him, however, 
 were we not to state, that many other considerations crossed 
 his mind, besides that of his own personal safety. The first of 
 these was his duty to the department of government which he 
 served ; and many a plan suggested itself fipr making his escape 
 here or there, in which he regarded the apprehension of the 
 smugglers, and the seizure of the goods that they were going 
 to escort into the country, fully as much as his own life. 
 
 His friend the major, however, took means to frustrate all 
 such plans, and seemed equally careful to prevent Mr. Mowle 
 from effecting his object, and to guard against his being dis- 
 covered by the other smugglers. At every turn and corner, at 
 the crossing of every stream or cut, the major was by his side; 
 and yet once or twice he whispered a caution to him to keep out 
 of the way of the lights, more especially as they approached 
 Dymchurch. When they came near the shore, and a number of 
 men with lanterns issued forth to aid them from the various 
 cottages in the vicinity, he told Mowle to keep back with one 
 party, consisting of hands brought out of Sussex, who were 
 stationed in the rear with a troop of the horses. But at the 
 same time Mowle heard his compassionate friend direct two of 
 the men to keep a sharp eye upon him, as he was a stranger 
 of whom the leaders were not quite sure, adding an injunction 
 to blow his brains out at once, if he made the slightest move- 
 ment without orders. In the bustle and confusion which 
 ensued, during the landing of the smuggled goods and the 
 loading of the horses, Mowle once or twice encouraged a hope 
 that something would favour his escape. But the two men 
 strictly obeyed the orders they had received, remained close to 
 his side during more than an hour and a half, which was con- 
 sumed upon the beach, and never left him till he was rejoined 
 by the major, who told him to march on with the rest. 
 
 "What's to come of this?" thought Mowle, as he proceeded, 
 " and what can the follow intend to do with me? If he drags 
 
222 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 me along with them till daylight, one half of them will know 
 me; and then the game's up: and yet he can't mean me harm 
 cither. Well, I may have an opportunity of repaying him 
 some day." 
 
 When the party arrived at Bonnington, however, and, as 
 we have already stated, two small bodies were sent off to tho 
 right and left;, to reconnoitre the ground on either side, Mowle 
 was one of those selected by the major to accompany him on 
 the side of Bilsington. But after having gone to the prescribed 
 distance, without discovering anything to create suspicion, the 
 worthy field-officer gave the order to return; and contriving to 
 disentangle Mowle from the rest, he whispered in his ear, "Off 
 with you as fast as you can, and take back by the Marsh, for 
 if you give the least information, or bring the soldiers upon us, 
 be you sure that some of -us will find means to cut your throat. 
 Get on; get on fasti" he continued aloud, to the other men. 
 " We've no time to lose;" and Mowle, taking advantage of 
 the hurry and confusion of the moment, ran off towards Bil- 
 sington as fast as his legs could carry him. 
 
 " He's offl" cried one of the men. " Shall I give him a shot?" 
 
 " No, no," answered the major; "it will only make more 
 row. He's more frightened than treacherous, I believe. I 
 don't think he'll peach." 
 
 Thus saying, he rejoined the main body of the smugglers, 
 as we have seen; and Mowle hurried on his way without 
 pause, running till he was quite out of breath. Now, the 
 major, in his parting speech to Mowle, though a shrewd man, 
 had miscalculated his course, and mistaken the person with 
 whom he had to deal. Had he put it to the custom-house 
 officer, as a matter of honour and generosity, not to inform 
 against the person who had saved his life, poor Mowle would 
 have been in a situation of great perplexity; but the threat 
 which had been used relieved him of half the difficulty. Not 
 that he did not feel a repugnance to the task which duty 
 pointed out ; not that he did not ask himself, as soon as he had 
 a moment to think of anything, " What ought I to do? How 
 ought I to act?'' But still the answer was, that his duty and 
 his oath required him immediately to take steps for the pursuit 
 and capture of the smugglers ; and when he thought of the 
 menace he said to himself: u No, no; if I don't do what I 
 ought, these fellows will only say that I was afraid," 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 223 
 
 Having settled the matter in his own mind, he proceeded to 
 execute his purpose with all speed, and hurried on towards 
 Bilsington, where he knew there was a small party of dragoons, 
 proposing to send off messengers immediately to the colonel of 
 the regiment and to all the different posts around. It was 
 pitch dark, so that he did not perceive the first houses of the 
 hamlet till he was within a few yards of them; and all seemed 
 still and quiet in the place. But after having passed the lauo 
 leading to the church, Mowle heard the stamping of some 
 horses' feet, and the next instant a voice exclaimed, " Stand! 
 Who goes there?" 
 
 "A friend! 5 ' answered Mowle. " Where's the sergeant?" 
 ''Here am I," replied another voice. " Who are you?" 
 " My name is Mowle," rejoined our friend, " the chief offi- 
 cer of customs at Hythe. 3 ' 
 
 "Oh! come along, Mr. Mowle; you are just the man we 
 want," said the sergeant, advancing a step or two. " Cap- 
 tain Irby is up here, and would be glad to speak with you.'' 
 
 Mowle followed in silence, having, indeed, some occasion to 
 sot his thoughts in order, and to recover his breath. About 
 sixty or seventy yards farther on, a scene broke upon him 
 which somewhat surprised him ; for, instead of a dozen dragoons, 
 at the most, he perceived, on turning the corner of the next 
 cottage, a body, at least, of seventy or eighty men, as well as 
 he could calculate, standing each beside his horse, whose 
 breath was seen mingling with the thick fog, by the light of a 
 single lantern held close to the wall of the house which con- 
 cealed the party from the Bonnington road. Bound that 
 lantern were congregated three or four figures, beside that of 
 the man who held it; and, fronting the approach was a young 
 gentleman,* dressed in the usual costume of a dragoon officer 
 of that period. Before him stood another, apparently a pri- 
 vate of the regiment; and the light shone full upon the faces 
 of both, showing a cold, thoughtful and inquiring look upon the 
 
 * It will be seen that I have represented all my officers as young men, 
 even up to the very colonel of the regiment; but it must be remembered 
 that, iu those days, promotion in the service was regulated in a very clif- 
 : mnner from the present system. I remember a droll story of a 
 visitor at a nobleman's house, inquiring of the butler what was the 
 cau.se of an obstreperous roaring he heard up stairs, when the servant 
 replied, "Oh! sir, it is nothing but the little general crying for his pap." 
 
224 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 countenance of the young officer, and anxious haste upon that 
 of the inferior soldier. 
 
 "Here is Mr. Mowle, the chief officer, captain,'' said the 
 sergeant, as they advanced. 
 
 "Ha, that is fortunate!" replied Captain Irby. "Now we 
 shall get at the facts, I suppose. Well, Mr. Mowle, what 
 news?'' 
 
 " Why, sir, the cargo is landed," exclaimed Mowle, eagerly ; 
 " and the smugglers passed by Bonnington, up towards Che- 
 quer-tree, not twenty minutes ago." 
 
 " So this man says," rejoined Captain Irby, not the least 
 in the world in haste. "Have you any fresh orders from the 
 colonel ?" 
 
 "No, sir; he said all his orders were given when last I 
 saw him," replied the officer of customs; "but if you move 
 up quick towards Chequer-tree, you are sure to overtake 
 them." 
 
 "How long is it since you saw Sir Henry?" demanded 
 Captain Irby, without appearing to notice Mowle's sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh! several hours ago," answered the custom-house 
 agent, somewhat provoked at the young officer's coolness. 
 "I have been kept prisoner by the smugglers since ten o'clock: 
 but that is nothing to the purpose, sir. If you would catch 
 the smugglers, you have nothing for it but to move to Che- 
 quer-tree after them ; and that is what I require you to do." 
 
 " I have my orders," answered the captain of the troop, 
 with a smile at the impetuous tone of the custom-house officer; 
 " and if you bring me none later, those I shall obey, Mr. 
 Mowle." 
 
 " Well, sir, you take the responsibility upon yourself, then," 
 said Mowle; "I have expressed my opinion, and what I re- 
 quire at your hands." 
 
 " The responsibility will rest where it ought," replied 
 Captain Irby, " on the shoulders of him whom I am bound 
 to obey. For your opinion I am obliged to you, but it can- 
 not be followed; and as to what you require, I am under 
 superior authority, which supersedes your requisition." 
 
 He then said a word or two to one of the men beside him, 
 who immediately proceeded to the body of men behind; but 
 all that Mowle could hear was "Suave" and "Brenzet," re- 
 
225 
 
 peated once or twice, with some mention of Woodchurch and 
 the road by Red Brooke Street. The order was then given 
 to mount, and march ; and Mowle remarked that four troopers 
 rode off at a quick pace before the rest. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Mowle, we shall want you with us, if you 
 please," said Captain Irby, in a civil tone. " Where is your 
 horse ? ' ' 
 
 " Horse! I have got none;" answered the officer of customs, 
 a good deal piqued ; " did I not say that I have been a prisoner 
 with the smugglers for the last five hours? and as to my going 
 with you, sir, I see no use I can be of, if you do not choose to 
 do what I require, or follow my advice." 
 
 " Oh, the greatest, the greatest!" replied the young officer, 
 without losing his temper for an instant; " and as to a horse, 
 we will soon supply you." 
 
 An order was immediately given ; and in three minutes the 
 horse of a dragoon officer, fully caparisoned, was led up to 
 Mowle 's side, who, after a moment's hesitation, mounted, and 
 rode on with the troop. It must not be denied that he was 
 anything but satisfied, not alone because he thought that he 
 was not treated with sufficient deference; although, having for 
 years been accustomed to be obeyed implicitly by the small 
 parties of dragoons which had been previously sent down to 
 aid the customs, it did seem to him very strange that his 
 opinions should go for nought; but also because he feared that 
 the public service would suffer, and that the obstinacy, as he 
 called it, of the young officer, would enable the smugglers to 
 escape. Still more was his anxiety and indignation raised, 
 when he perceived the slow pace at which the young officer 
 proceeded, and that instead of taking the road which he had 
 pointed out, the party kept the Priory Wood on the right 
 hand, bearing away from Chequer-tree, to which he had 
 assured himself that Richard Radford and his party were 
 tending. 
 
 He saw that many precautions were taken, however, which, 
 attributing them at first to a design of guarding against sur- 
 prise, he thought quite unnecessary. Two dragoons were 
 thrown forward at a considerable distance before the head of 
 the troop ; a single private followed about twenty yards behind 
 them; two more succeeded, and then another, and last came 
 Captain Irby himself, keeping Mr. Mowle by his side. From 
 
226 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 time to time a word was passed down from those who led the 
 advance, not shouted ; but spoken in a tone only loud enough 
 to be heard by the trooper immediately behind ; and this word, 
 for a considerable way, was merely "All clear!" 
 
 At length, just at the end of the Priory Wood, where a 
 path, coming from the east, branched off towards Aldington 
 Freight, and two roads went away to the north and west, the 
 order to halt was given, to the surprise and consternation of 
 Mr. Mowle, who conceived that the escape of the smugglers 
 must be an inevitable result. At length a new word was 
 passed from the head of the line, which was, " On before." 
 But still the captain of the troop gave no command to march, 
 and the soldiers sat idle on their horses for a quarter of an 
 hour longer. Mowle calculated that it must now be at least 
 half past four or five o'clock. He thought he perceived the 
 approach of day; and though, in discontented silence, he ven- 
 tured to say no more, he would have given all he had in the 
 world to have had the command of the troop for a couple of 
 hours. 
 
 His suspense and anxiety were brought to an end at length; 
 for just as he was assured, by the greyness of the sky, that 
 they sun would soon rise, a trooper came dashing down the 
 right-hand path at full speed, and Captain Irby spurred on to 
 meet him. What passed between them Mowle could not hear ; 
 but the message was soon delivered, the soldier rode back to 
 the east, by the way he came, and the order to march was 
 immediately given. Instead, however, of taking the road to 
 Stonecross, the troop directed its course to the west, but at a 
 somewhat quicker pace than before. Still a word was passed 
 back from the head of the line ; and, after a short time, the 
 troop was put into a quick trot, Captain Irby sometimes en- 
 deavouring to lead his companion into general conversation 
 upon any indifferent subject, but not once alluding to the 
 expedition on which they were engaged. Poor Mowle was 
 too anxious to talk much. He did not at all comprehend the 
 plan upon which the young officer was acting; but yet he 
 began to see that there, was some plan in operation, and he 
 repeated to himself more than once, " There must be some- 
 thing in it, that's clear; but he might as well tell me what it 
 is, I think." 
 
 At length he turned frankly round to his companion, and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 227 
 
 said, "I see you are going upon some scheme, captain. I 
 wish to Heaven you would tell me what it is ; for you can't 
 imagine how anxious I am about this affair." 
 
 "My good friend," replied Captain Irby, "I know no more 
 of the matter than you do ; so I can tell you nothing about it. 
 I am acting under orders; and the only difference between 
 you and I is, that you, not being accustomed to do so, arc 
 always puzzling yourself to know what it all means, while I, 
 being well drilled to such things, do not trouble my head 
 about it, but do as I am told, quite sure that it will all go 
 right." 
 
 "Heaven send it!" answered Mowle; "but here it is broad 
 daylight, and we seem to be going farther and farther from 
 our object every minute." 
 
 As if in answer to his last observation, the word was again 
 passed down from the front, "On before 1" and Captain Irby 
 immediately halted his troop for about five minute:?. At the 
 end of that time, the march was resumed, and shortly after 
 the whole body issued out upon the side of one of the hills, a 
 few miles from Woodchurch. 
 
 The sun was now just risen; the east was glowing with 
 all the hues of early day; the mist was dispersed or left 
 behind in the neighbourhood of the Marsh; and a magnificent 
 scene, all filled with golden light, spread out beneath the eyes 
 of the custom-house officer. But he had other objects to con- 
 template much more interesting to him than the beauties of 
 the landscape. About three-quarters of a mile in advance, 
 and in the low ground to the north-west of the hill on which 
 he stood, appeared a dark, confused mass of men and horses, 
 apparently directing their course towards Tiffenden ; and 
 Mowle's practised eye instantly perceived that they were the 
 smugglers. At first sight he thought, " They may escape us 
 yet:" but following the direction in which Captain Irby's 
 glance was turned, he saw, further on, in the open fields 
 towards High Halden, a considerable body of horse, whose 
 regular line at once showed them to be a party of the mili- 
 tary. Then turning towards the little place on his left, called 
 Cuckoo Point, he perceived, at the distance of about a mile, 
 another troop of dragoons, who must have marched, he thought, 
 from Brenzct and Appledore. 
 
 The smugglers seemed to become aware, nearly at the same 
 
228 THE SMUGGLER* 
 
 moment, of the presence of the troops on the side of High 
 Halden ; for they were observed to halt, to pause for a minute 
 or two, then re-tread their steps for a short distance, and take 
 their way over the side of the hill, as if tending towards Piu- 
 renden or Little Ingham. 
 
 "You should cut them off, sir; you should cut them off!" 
 cried Mowle, addressing Captain Irby; "or, by Jove, they'll 
 be over the hill above Brook Street, and then we shall never 
 catch them, amongst all the woods and copses up there! 
 They'll escape, to a certainty!" 
 
 " I think not, if I know my man," answered Captain Irby, 
 coolly; "and, at all events, Mr. Mowle, I must obey my 
 orders. But there he comes over the hill; so that matter's 
 settled. Now let them get out if they can. You have heard 
 of a rat-trap, Mr. Mowle?" 
 
 Mowle turned his eyes in the direction of an opposite hill, 
 about three-quarters of a mile distant from the spot where he 
 himself stood, and there, coming up at a rapid pace, appeared 
 an officer in a plain grey cloak, with two or three others in 
 full regimentals, round him, while a larger body of cavalry 
 than any he had yet seen, met his eyes, following their com- 
 mander about fifty yards behind, and gradually crowning the 
 summit of the rise, where they halted. The smugglers could 
 not be at more than half a mile's distance from this party, 
 and the moment that it appeared, the troops from the side of 
 High Halden and from Cuckoo Point began to advance at a 
 quick trot, while Captain Irby descended into the lower 
 ground more slowly, watching, with a small glass that he 
 carried in his hand, the motions of all the other bodies, when 
 the view was not cut off by the hedge-rows and copses, as his 
 position altered. Mowle kept his eyes upon the body of 
 smugglers, and upon the dragoons on the opposite hill, and 
 he soon perceived a trooper ride down from the latter group 
 to the former, as if bearing them some message. 
 
 The next instant there was a flash or two, as if the smug- 
 glers had fired upon the soldier sent to them; and then, 
 retreating slowly towards a large white house, with some 
 gardens and shrubberies and various out-buildings around it, 
 they manifested a design of occupying the grounds with the 
 intention of there resisting the attack of the cavalry. A 
 trooper instantly galloped down, at full speed, towards Cap- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 229 
 
 tain Irby, making him a sign with his hand as he came near; 
 and the troop with whom Mowle had advanced instantly 
 received the command to charge, while the other, from the 
 hill, came dashing down with headlong speed towards the 
 confused multitude below. 
 
 The smugglers were too late in their manoeuvre. Embar- 
 rassed with a large quantity of goods and a number of men 
 on foot; they had not time to reach the shelter of the garden 
 walls, before the party of dragoons from the hill was amongst 
 them. But still they resisted with fierce determination, 
 formed with some degree of order, gave the troopers a sharp 
 discharge of fire-arms as they came near, and fought hand to 
 hand with them, even after being broken by their charge. 
 
 The greater distance which Captain Irby had to advance, 
 prevented his troop from reaching the scene of strife for a 
 minute or two after the others; but their arrival spread panic 
 and confusion amongst the adverse party ; and after a brief 
 and unsuccessful struggle, in the course of which, one of the 
 dragoons was killed, and a considerable number wounded, 
 nothing was thought of amongst young Radford's band, but 
 how to escape in the presence of such a force. The goods 
 were abandoned; all those men who had horses were seen 
 galloping over the country in different directions; and if any 
 fugitive paused, it was but to turn and fire a shot at one of 
 the dragoons in pursuit. Almost every one of the men on 
 foot was taken ere half an hour was over; and a number of 
 those on horseback were caught and brought back, some 
 desperately wounded. Several were left dead, or dying, on 
 the spot where the first encounter had taken place; and 
 amongst the former, Mowle, with feelings of deep regret, 
 almost approaching remorse, beheld, as he rode up towards 
 the colonel of the regiment, the body of his friend, the major, 
 shot through the head by a pistol- ball. Men of the custom- 
 house officer's character, however, soon console themselves for 
 such things; and Mowle, as he rode on, thought to himself, 
 "After all, it's just as well! He would only have been 
 hanged; so he's had an easier death." 
 
 The young officer in the command of the regiment ot 
 dragoons was seated on horseback, upon the top of a little 
 knoll, with some six or seven persons immediately around him, 
 while two groups of soldiers, dismounted, and guarding a 
 
230 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 number of prisoners, appeared a little in advance. Amongst 
 those nearest to the colonel, Mowle remarked his companion, 
 Birchett, who was pointing, with a discharged pistol, across 
 the country, and- saying, "There he goes, sir, there he goes! 
 I'll swear that is he, on the strong grey horse. I fired at 
 him; I'm sure I must have hit him." 
 
 "No, you didn't, sir,' 7 answered a sergeant of dragoons, 
 who was busily tying a handkerchief round his own wounded 
 arm. " Your shot went through his hat. 5 ' 
 
 The young officer fixed his eyes keenly upon the road lead- 
 ing to Harbourne, where a man, on horseback, was seen gal- 
 loping away, at full speed, with four or five of the soldiers in 
 pursuit. 
 
 "Away after him, Sergeant Miles," he said; "take straight 
 across the country, with six men of Captain Irby's troop. 
 They are fresher. If you make haste you will cut him off at 
 the corner of the wood ; or if he takes the road through it, 
 in order to avoid you, leave a couple of men at Tiffenden cor- 
 ner, and go round by the path to the left. The distance will be 
 shorter for you, and you will stop him at Mrs. Clare's cottage ; 
 a hundred guineas to any one who brings him in." 
 
 His orders were immediately obeyed; and, without noticing 
 Mowle, or any one else, the colonel continued to gaze after the 
 little party of dragoons, as, dashing on at the utmost speed of 
 their horses, they crossed an open part of the ground in front, 
 keeping to the right hand of the fugitive, and threatening to 
 cut him off from the north side of the country, towards which 
 he was decidedly tending. Whether, if he had been able to 
 proceed at the same rate at which he was then going, they 
 would have been successful in their efforts or not, is difficult 
 to say; for his horse, though tired, was very powerful, and 
 chosen expressly for its fleetness. But in a flight and pur- 
 suit like that, the slightest accident will throw the advan- 
 tage on the one side or the other; and unfortunately for the 
 fugitive, his horse stumbled, and came upon its knees. It 
 was up again in a moment, and went on, though somewhat 
 more slowly; and the young officer observed in a low tone, 
 "They will have him. It is of the utmost importance that he 
 should be taken. Ah! Mr. Mowle, is that you? Why, we 
 have given you up for these many hours. We have been 
 successful, you see ; and yet, but half successful cither, if their 
 
THE SMUGGLER.. 231 
 
 leader gets away. You are sure of the person, Mr. Bir- 
 chett?" 
 
 "Perfectly, sir," answered the officer of customs. " I was 
 as near to him, at one time, as I am now to you; and Mr. 
 Mowle here, too, will tell you I know him well." 
 
 "Who: young Radford?" asked Mowle. "Oh! yes, that 
 we all do ; and besides, I can tell you that is he on the grey 
 horse, for I was along with him the greater part of last 
 night." And Mowle proceeded to relate succinctly all that 
 had occured to him from ten o'clock on the preceding even- 
 ing. 
 
 The young officer, in the mean while, continued to follow the 
 soldiers with his eyes, commenting, by a brief word or two, 
 on the various turns taken by the pursuit. 
 
 "He is cut off," he said, in a tone of satisfaction; "the 
 troops, from Halden, will stop him there. He is turning to 
 the left, as if he would make for Tenderden. Captain Trby, be so 
 good as to detach a corporal, with as many men as you can 
 spare, to cut him off by Gallows Green, on the left hand road, 
 there. Bid them use all speed. Now he's for Harbourne 
 again! He'll try to get through the wood; but Miles will be 
 before him." 
 
 He then applied himself to examine the state of his own 
 men and the prisoners, and paid every humane attention to 
 both, doing the best that he could for their wounds, in the 
 absence of surgical assistance, and ordering carts to be pro- 
 cured from the neighbouring farms, to carry those most severely 
 injured into the village of Woodchurch. The smuggled goods 
 he consigned to the charge of the custom-house officers, giv- 
 ing them, however, a strong escort, at their express desire; 
 although, he justly observed, that there was but little chance 
 of any attempt being made by the smugglers to recover what 
 they had lost. 
 
 "I shall now, Mr. Mowle,' 7 he continued, "proceed to 
 Woodchurch, and remain there for a time, to sec what other 
 prisoners are brought in, and make any farther arrangements 
 that may be necessary; but I shall be in Hythe, in all proba- 
 bility, before night. The custody of the prisoners I shall take 
 upon myself for the present, as the civil power is evidently 
 not capable of guarding them." 
 
 "Well, sir, you have made a glorious day's work of it, 9 ' 
 
232 .THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 answered Mowle, "that I must say; and I'm sure if you like 
 to establish your quarters for the morning at Mr. Croyland's 
 there, on just before, he will make you heartily welcome, for 
 he hates smugglers as much as any one.'' 
 
 The young officer shook his head, saying, " No, I will go 
 to Woodchurch." 
 
 But he gazed earnestly at the house for several minutes, 
 before he turned his horse towards the village ; and then, leav- 
 ing the minor arrangements to be made by the inferior officers, 
 he rode slowly and silently away. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 WE must turn, dear reader, to other persons and to other 
 scenes, but still keep to that eventful day when the smugglers, 
 who had almost fancied themselves lords of Kent, first met 
 severe discomfiture at the hands of those sent to suppress their 
 illicit traffic. Many small parties had before been defeated, 
 it is true ; many a cargo of great value, insufficiently protected, 
 had been seized. Such, indeed, had been the case with the 
 preceding adventure of Richard Radford ; and such had been, 
 several times, the result of overweening confidence; but the 
 free-traders of Kent had still, more frequently, been successful 
 in their resistance of the law; and they had never dreamed that 
 in great numbers, and with every precaution and care to boot, 
 they could be hemmed in and overpowered, in a country with 
 every step of which they were well acquainted. They had 
 now, however, been defeated, as I have said, for the first time, 
 in a complete and conclusive manner, after every precaution 
 had been taken, and when every opportunity had been afforded 
 them of trying their strength with the dragoons, as they had 
 often boastfully expressed a wish to do. 
 
 But we must now leave them and turn to the interior of the 
 house near which the strife took place. Nay, more, we must 
 enter a fair lady's chamber, and watch her as she lies, during 
 the night of which we have already given so many scenes, 
 looking for a while into her waking thoughts and slumbering 
 dreams; for that night passed in a strange mingling of sleep- 
 less fancies and of drowsy visions, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 233 
 
 Far be it from me to encourage weak and morbid sensibilities, 
 or to represent life as a dream of sickly feelings, or a stage for 
 the action of ill-regulated passions; it is a place of duty and 
 of action, of obedience to the rule of the one great guide, of 
 endeavour, and, alas, of trial! But still human beings are not 
 mere machines; there is still something within this frame-work 
 of dust and ashes, besides, and very different from, the bones 
 and muscles, the veins and nerves, of which it is composed ; 
 and Heaven forbid that it should not be so! There are still 
 loves and affections, sympathies and regards, associations and 
 memories, and all the linked sweetness of that strange harmoni- 
 ous whole, where the spirit and the matter, the soul and the 
 body, blended in mysterious union, act on each other, and re- 
 ciprocate, by every sense and every perception, new sources of 
 pain or of delight. The forms and conventionalities of society, 
 the habits of the age in which we live, the force of education, 
 habit, example, may, in very many cases, check the outward 
 show of feeling, and in some, perhaps, wear down to nothing 
 the reality. But still how many a bitter heart-ache lies con- 
 cealed beneath the polished brow and smiling lip; how many 
 a bright aspiration, how many a tender hope, how many a 
 passionate throb, hides itself from the eyes of others, from the 
 foreigners of the heart, under an aspect of gay merriment or of 
 cold indifference. The silver services of the world are all, be- 
 lieve me, but of plated goods, and the brightest ornaments that 
 deck the table or adorn the saloon but of silver gilt. 
 
 Could we, as angels are supposed to do, stand by the bed- 
 side of many a fair girl who has been laughing through an 
 evening of apparent merriment, and look through the fair 
 bosom into the heart beneath, see all the feelings that thrill 
 therein, or trace even the visions that chequer slumber, what 
 should we behold? Alas! how strange a contrast to the 
 beaming looks and gladsome smiles which have marked the 
 course of the day. How often would be seen the bitter repin- 
 ing; the weary sickness of the heart; the calm, stern grief; 
 the desolation ; the despair; forming a black and gloomy back- 
 ground to the bright seeming of the hours of light. How 
 often, in the dream, should we behold " the lost, the loved, 
 the dead: too many, yet how few," rise up before memory in 
 those moments, when not only the shackles and the handcuffs 
 of the mind, imposed by the tyrant uses of society, are cast off, 
 
234 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 but also when the softer bands are loosened, which the waking 
 spirit places upon unavailing regrets and aspirations all in vain ; 
 in those hours, when memory, and imagination, and feeling 
 are awake, and when judgment, and reason, and resolution 
 are all buried in slumber. 
 
 Can it be well for us thus to check the expression of all the 
 deeper feelings of the heart, to shut out all external sympa- 
 thies, to lock within the prison of the heart its brightest trea- 
 sures like the miser's gold, and only to give up to them the 
 hours of solitude and of slumber ? I know not ; and the ques- 
 tion, perhaps, is a difficult one to solve: but such, however, 
 are the general rules of society, and to its rules we are slaves 
 and bondsmen. 
 
 It was to her own chamber that Edith Croyland usually 
 carried her griefs and memories ; and even in the house of her 
 uncle, though she was aware how deeply he loved her, she 
 could not, or she would not, venture to speak of her sensa- 
 tions as they really arose. 
 
 On the eventful day of young Radford's quarrel with Sir 
 Edward Digby, Edith retired at the sober hour at which the 
 whole household of Mr. Croylaud usually sought repose; but 
 there, for a considerable time, she meditated as she had often 
 meditated before, on the brief intelligence she had received on 
 the preceding day. " He is living," she said to herself; "he 
 is in England, and yet he seeks me not I But my sister says 
 he loves me still! It is strange; it is very strange! He must 
 have greatly changed. So eager, so impetuous as he used to 
 be, to become timid, cautious, reserved : never to write ; never 
 to send. And yet why should I blame him? What has he 
 not met with from mine, if not from me? What has his love 
 brought upon himself and his? The ruin of his father, a 
 parent's suffering and death, the destruction of his own best 
 prospects, a life of toil and danger, and expulsion from the 
 scenes in which his bright and early days were spent! Why 
 should I wonder that he does not come back to a spot where 
 every object must be hateful to him? Why should I wonder 
 that he does not seek me, whose image can never be separated 
 from all that is painful and distressing to him in memory? 
 Poor Henry! Oh! that I could cheer him, and wipe away 
 the dark and gloomy recollections of the past." 
 
 Such were some of her thoughts ere she lay down to rest; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 235 
 
 and they pursued her still, long after she had sought her pil- 
 low, keeping her waking for some hours. At length, not long 
 before daybreak, sleep took possession of her brain ; but it was 
 not untroubled sleep. Wild and whirling images for some 
 time supplied the place of thought; but they were all vague 
 and confused, and undefined for a considerable length of time 
 after sleep had closed her eyes, and she forgot them as soon as 
 she awoke. But at length a vision of more tangible form pre- 
 sented itself, which remained impressed upon her memory. In 
 it, the events of the day mingled with those both of the for- 
 mer and the latter years, undoubtedly in strange and disor- 
 derly shape, but still bearing a sufficient resemblance to reality 
 to show whence they were derived. The form of young Rad- 
 ford, bleeding and wounded, seemed before her eyes ; and with 
 one hand clasped tightly round her wrist, he seemed to drag 
 her down into a grave prepared for himself. Then she saw 
 Sir Edward Digby with a naked sword in his hand, striving in 
 vain to cut off the arm that held her, the keen blade passing 
 through and through the limb of the phantom without disse- 
 vering it from the body, or relaxing its hold upon herself. 
 Then the figure of her father stood before her, clad in a long 
 mourning cloak, and she heard his voice crying, in a dark and 
 solemn tone, " Down, down, both of you, to the grave that 
 you have dug for mel" The next instant the scene was 
 crowded with figures, both on horseback and on foot. Many 
 a countenance which she had seen and known at different times 
 was amongst them ; and all seemed urging her on down into 
 the gulf before her; till suddenly appeared, at the head of a 
 bright and glittering troop, he whom she had so long and 
 deeply loved, as if advancing at full speed to her rescue. She 
 called loudly to him, she stretched out her hand towards him, 
 and onward he came through the throng till he nearly reached 
 her. Then in an instant her father interposed again and 
 pushed him back. All became a scene of disarray and confu- 
 sion, as if a general battle had been taking place around her. 
 Swords were drawn, shots were fired, wounds were given and 
 received; there were cries of agony and loud words of com- 
 mand, till at length, in the midst, her lover reached her; his 
 arms were cast round her; she was pressed to his bosom; and 
 with a start, and mingled feelings of joy and terror, Edith's 
 dream came to an end. 
 
236 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Daylight was pouring into her room through the tall win- 
 dow; but yet she could hardly persuade herself that she was 
 not dreaming still; for many of the sounds which had trans- 
 mitted such strange impressions to her mind, still rang in 
 her ears. She heard shots and galloping horse, and the loud 
 word of command; and after pausing for an instant or two, she 
 sprang up, cast something over her, and ran to the window. 
 
 It was a bright and beautiful morning; and the room which 
 she occupied looked over Mr. Croyland's garden wall to Jie 
 country beyond. But underneath that garden wall was pre- 
 sented a scene such as Edith had never before witnessed. 
 Before her eyes, mingled in strange confusion with a group of 
 men who, from their appearance, she judged to be smugglers, 
 were a number of the royal dragoons; and, though pistols 
 were discharged on both sides, and even long guns on the part 
 of the smugglers, the use of fire-arms was too limited to pro- 
 duce sufficient smoke to obscure the view. Swords were out, 
 and used vehemently; and on running her eye over the mass 
 before her, she saw a figure that strongly brought back her 
 thoughts to former days. Directing the operations of the 
 troops, seldom using the sword which he carried in his own 
 hand, yet mingling in the thickest of the fray, appeared a tall 
 and powerful young man, mounted on a splendid charger, but 
 only covered with a plain grey cloak. 
 
 The features she could scarcely discern ; but there was some- 
 thing in the form and in the bearing, that made Edith's heart 
 beat vehemently, and caused her to raise her voice to Heaven 
 in murmured prayer. The shots were flying thick: one of 
 them struck the sun-dial in the garden, and knocked a frag- 
 ment off; but still she could not withdraw herself from the 
 window; and with eager and anxious eyes she continued to 
 watch the fight, till another body of dragoons swept up, and 
 the smugglers, apparently struck with panic, abandoned resis- 
 tance, and were soon seen flying in every direction over the 
 ground. 
 
 One man, mounted on a strong grey horse, passed close 
 beneath the garden wall; and in him Edith instantly recog- 
 nised young Richard Radfcrd. That sight made her draw 
 back again for a moment from the window, lest he should re- 
 cognise her; but the next instant she looked out again, and 
 then beheld the officer whom she had seen commanding the 
 
THE SMUGGLER* 237 
 
 dragoons, stretching out his hand and arm in the direction 
 which the fugitive had taken, as if giving orders for his pur- 
 suit. She watched him with feelings indescribable, and saw 
 him more than once turn his eyes towards the house where 
 she was, and gaze on it long and thoughtfully. 
 
 " Can he know whose dwelling this is?" she asked herself; 
 " can he know who is in it, and yet ride away?'' But so it 
 was. After he had remained on the ground for about half an 
 hour, she saw him depart, turning his horse's head slowly to- 
 wards Woodchurch; and Edith withdrew from the window, 
 and wept. 
 
 Her eyes were dry, however, and her manner calm, when 
 she went down to breakfast; and she heard unmoved, from 
 her uncle, the details of the skirmish which had taken place 
 between the smugglers and the military. 
 
 "This must be a tremendous blow to them," said Mr. 
 Croyland; " the goods are reported to be of immense value, 
 and the whole of them are stated to have been run by that old 
 infernal villain, Kadford. I am glad that this has happened, 
 trebly felix ter et amplius, my dear Edith : first, that a trade 
 which enriches scoundrels to the detriment of the fair and 
 lawful merchant, has received nearly its death-blow ; secondly, 
 that these audacious vagabonds, who fancied they had all the 
 world at their command, and that they could do as they 
 pleased in Kent, have been taught how impotent they are 
 against a powerful hand and a clear head ; and, thirdly, that 
 the most audacious vagabond of them all, who has amassed a 
 large fortune by defiance of the law, and by a system which 
 embodies cheatery with robbery I mean robbery of the re- 
 venue with cheatery of the lawful merchant has been the 
 person to suffer. I have heard a great deal of forcing nations 
 to abate their customs dues, by smuggling in despite of them ; 
 but depend upon it, whoever advocates such a system is I 
 will not say, either a rogue or a fool, as some rash and intem- 
 perate persons might say but a man with very queer notions 
 of morals, my dear. I dare say, the fellows' firing awoke you, 
 my love. You look pale, as if you had been disturbed." 
 
 Edith replied, simply, that she had been roused by the noise, 
 but did not enter into any particulars, though she saw, or fancied 
 she saw, an inquiring look upon her uncle's face as he spoke. 
 
 During the morning many. were the reports and anecdotes 
 
238 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 brought in by the servants, regarding the encounter which 
 had taken place so close to the house; and all agreed that 
 never had so terrible a disaster befallen the smugglers. Their 
 bands were quite broken up, it was said, their principal leaders 
 taken or killed, and the amount of the smuggled goods which, 
 with the usual exaggeration of rumour, was raised to three or 
 four hundred thousand pounds, was universally reported to be 
 the loss of Mr. Radford. His son had been seen by many in 
 command of the party of contraband traders ; and it was clear 
 that he had fled to conceal himself, in fear of the very serious 
 consequences which were likely to ensue. 
 
 Mr. Croyland rubbed his hands: " I will mark this day in 
 the calendar with a white stone 1" he said. "Seldom, my 
 dear Edith, very seldom, do so many fortunate circumstances 
 happen together; a party of atrocious vagabonds discomfited 
 and punished as they deserve; the most audacious rogue of 
 the whole stripped of his ill-gotten wealth; and a young ruf- 
 fian, who has long bullied and abused the whole county, driven 
 from that society in which he never had any business. This 
 young officer, this Captain Osborn, must be a very clever, as 
 well as a very gallant fellow." 
 
 l - Captain Osborn!" murmured Edith; "were they com- 
 manded by Captain Osborn?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear," answered the old gentleman; "I saw him 
 myself over the garden wall. I know him, my love; I have 
 been introduced to him. Didn't you hear me say, he is coming 
 to spend a few days with me ?" 
 
 Edith made no reply; but somewhat to her surprise, she 
 heard her uncle, shortly after, order his carriage to be at the 
 door at half-past twelve. He gave his fair niece no invitation 
 to accompany him; and Edith prepared to amuse herself, 
 during his absence, as best she might. She calculated, indeed, 
 upon that which, to a well-regulated mind, is almost always 
 either a relief or a pleasure, though too often a sad one : the 
 spending of an hour or two in solitary thought. But all human 
 calculations are vain ; and so were those of poor Edith Croy- 
 land. For the present, however, we must leave her to her 
 fate, and follow her good uncle on his expedition to Woodchurch, 
 whither, as doubtless the reader has anticipated, his steps, or 
 rather those of his coach-horses, were turned, just as the 
 hands of the clock in the vestibule pointed to a quarter to one. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DURING the whole forenoon of the 3rd of September, the little 
 village of Woodchurch presented a busy and bustling, though, 
 in truth, it could not be called a gay scene. The smart dresses 
 of the dragoons, the number of men and horses, the soldiers 
 riding quickly along the road from time to time, the occasional 
 sound of the trumpet, the groups of villagers and gaping chil- 
 dren, all had an animating effect ; but there was, mingled with 
 the other sights which the place presented, quite a sufficient 
 portion of human misery, in various forms, to sadden any but 
 a very unfeeling heart. For some time after the affray was 
 over, every ten minutes was seen to roll in one of the small, 
 narrow carts of the country, half filled with straw, and bearing 
 a wounded man, or at most, two. In the same manner, several 
 corpses, also, were carried in ; and the number of at least fifty 
 prisoners, in separate detachments, with hanging hands and 
 pinioned arms, were marched slowly through the street to the 
 houses which had been marked out as affording the greatest 
 security. 
 
 The good people of Woodchurch laughed and talked freely 
 with the dragoons, made many inquiries concerning the events 
 of the skirmish, and gave every assistance to the wounded 
 soldiers ; but it was remarked with surprise, by several of the 
 officers, that they showed no great sympathy with the smug- 
 glers, either prisoners or wounded ; gazed upon the parties who 
 were brought in with an unfriendly air, and turning round to 
 each other, commented, in low tones, with very little appear- 
 ance of compassion. 
 
 " Ay, that's one of the Ramleys' gang," said the stout 
 blacksmith of the place, to his friend and neighbour, the wheel- 
 wright, as some ten or twelve men passed before them with 
 their wrists tied. 
 
 "And that fellow in the smart green coat is another," 
 rejoined the wheehvright; " he's the mail who, I dare say, 
 
240 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ham-stringed my mare, because I wouldn't let them have her 
 for the last run.' 7 
 
 ''That's Tom Angel," observed the blacksmith; " he's to 
 be married to Jinny Eamley, they say." 
 
 " He'll be married to a halter first, I've a notion, 5 ' answered 
 the wheelwright; " and then instead of an angel he'll make a 
 devil! He's one of the worst of them, bad as they all are. A 
 pretty gaol delivery we shall have at the next 'sizes!" 
 
 " A good county delivery, too," replied the blacksmith ; 
 "as men have been killed, it's felony, that's clear: so hemp 
 will be dear, Mr. Slatterly." 
 
 By the above conversation the feelings of the people of 
 Woodchurch towards the smugglers, at that particular time, 
 may be easily divined ; but the reader must not suppose that 
 they were influenced alone by the very common tendency of 
 men's nature to side with the winning party; for such was not 
 altogether the case, though, perhaps, they would not have 
 ventured to show their dislike to the smugglers so strongly, 
 had they been more successful. As long as the worthy gentle- 
 men, who had now met with so severe a reverse, had contented 
 themselves with merely running contraband articles ; even as 
 long as they had done nothing more than take a man's horse 
 for their own purposes, without his leave, or use his premises, 
 whether he liked it or not, as a place of concealment for their 
 smuggled goods, they were not only indifferent, but even 
 friendly ; for man has always a sufficient portion of the adven- 
 turer at his heart to have a fellow feeling for all his brethren 
 engaged in rash and perilous enterprises. But the smugglers 
 had grown insolent and domineering from long success; they 
 had not only felt themselves lords of the county, but had made 
 others feel it often in an insinuating, and often in a cruel and 
 brutal manner. Crimes of a very serious character had been 
 lately committed by the Kamleys and others, which, though 
 not traced home by sufficient evidence to satisfy the law, were 
 fixed upon them by the general voice of the people; and the 
 threats of terrible vengeance which they sometimes uttered 
 against all who opposed them, and the boastful tone in which 
 they indulged, when speaking of their most criminal exploits, 
 probably gained them credit for much more wickedness than 
 they really committed. 
 
 Thus their credit with the country people was certainly on 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 241 
 
 the decline when they met with the disaster which has been 
 lately recorded ; and their defeat and dispersion was held by the 
 inhabitants of Woodchurch as an augury of better times, when 
 their women would be able to pass from village to village, even 
 after dusk, in safety and free from insult, and their cattle might 
 be left out in the fields all night, without being injured, either 
 by wantonness, or in lawless uses. It will be understood that 
 in thus speaking, I allude alone to the land smugglers, a race 
 altogether different from their fellow labourers of the sea, 
 whom the people looked upon with a much more favourable 
 eye, and who, though rash and daring men enough, were 
 generally a good-humoured, free-hearted body, spending the 
 money that they had gained at the peril of their lives or their 
 freedom, with a liberal hand and in a kindly spirit. 
 
 Almost every inhabitant of Woodchurch had some cause of 
 complaint against the Kamleys' gang; and, to say the truth, 
 Mr. Radford himself was by no means popular in the county. 
 A selfish and a cunning man is almost always speedily found 
 out by the lower classes, even when he makes an effort to 
 conceal it. But Mr. Radford took no such trouble, for he 
 gloried in his acuteness, and if he had chosen a motto, it pro- 
 bably would have been " Every man for himself." His selfish- 
 ness, too, took several of the most offensive forms. He was 
 ostentatious, he was haughty, and on the strength of riches 
 acquired, every one knew how, he looked upon himself as a 
 very great man, and treated all the inferior classes, except 
 those of whom he had need, to use their own expression, " as 
 dirt under his feet." All the villagers, therefore, were well 
 satisfied to think that he had met with a check at last; and 
 many of the good folks of Woodchurch speculated upon the 
 probability of two or three, out of so great a number of pri- 
 soners, giving such evidence as would bring that worthy 
 gentleman within the gripe of the law. 
 
 Such were the feelings of the people of that place, as well 
 as those of many a neighbouring village ; and the scene pre- 
 sented by the captive and wounded smugglers, as they were 
 led along, was viewed with indifference by some, and with 
 pleasure by others. Two or three of the women, indeed, be- 
 stowed kindly attention upon the wounded men, moved by that 
 beautiful compassion which is rarely if ever wanting in a 
 female heart; but the male part of the population took little 
 
 Q 
 
242 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 share, if any, in such things, and were quite willing to aid the 
 soldiers in securing the prisoners, till they could be marched 
 off .to prison. 
 
 The first excitement had subsided before noon, but still, 
 from time to time some little bustle took place : a prisoner was 
 caught and brought in, and carried to the public-house where 
 the colonel had established himself; an orderly galloped 
 through the street; messengers came and went; and four or 
 five soldiers, with their horses ready saddled, remained be- 
 fore the door of the inn, ready, at a moment's notice, for any 
 event. The commanding officer did not appear at all beyond 
 the doors of his temporary abode, but continued writing, 
 giving orders, examining the prisoners, and those w r ho brought 
 them, in the same room which he had entered when first he 
 arrived. As few of the people of the place had seen him, a 
 good deal of curiosity was excited by his quietness and reserve. 
 It was whispered amongst the women that he was the hand- 
 somest man ever seen ; and the men said he was a very fine 
 fellow, and ought to be made a general of. The barmaid com- 
 municated to her intimate friends, that when he took off his 
 cloak, she had seen a star upon the breast of his coat; and 
 that her master seemed to know more of him, if he liked to 
 tell ; but the landlord was as silent as a mouse. 
 
 These circumstances, however, kept up a little crowd before 
 the entrance of the inn, consisting of persons anxious to be- 
 hold the hero of the day; and just at the hour of two, the 
 carriage of Mr. Croyland rolled in, through the people, at the 
 usual slow and deliberate pace to which that gentleman accus- 
 tomed his carriage horses. 
 
 The large heavy door of the large heavy vehicle was opened 
 by the two servants who accompanied it ; and out stepped Mr. 
 Croyland, with his back as straight and stiff as a poker, and 
 his gold-headed cane in his hand. The landlord, at the sight 
 of an equipage which he well knew, came out in haste, bowing 
 low, and welcoming Mr. Croyland in the hearty good old 
 style. The nabob himself unbent a little to his friend of the 
 inn, and after asking him how he did, and bestowing a word 
 or two on the state of the weather, proceeded to say: " And 
 now, Miles, I wish to speak a word or two with Captain 
 Osborn, who is in your house, I believe." 
 
 " No, Mr. Croyland," replied the landlord, looking at the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 243 
 
 visitor with some surprise; " the captain is not here. He is 
 down at Nelly South's, and his name's not Osborn either, but 
 Irby." 
 
 " Then who the deuce have you got here, with all these 
 soldiers about the door?" demanded Mr. Croyland. 
 
 " The colonel of the regiment, sir," answered Miles; "there 
 has only been one captain here all day; and that's Captain 
 Irby." 
 
 "Not right of the lad; not right of the lad!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Croyland, rather testily; " no one should keep a man 
 waiting, especially an old man, and, more especially still, a 
 cross old man. But I'll come in and stop a bit; for I want 
 to see the young gentleman. Where the devil did he go to, I 
 wonder, after the skirmish? Halloo! you sir, corporal. Pray, 
 sir, what's your officer's name?" 
 
 The man put up his hand in military fashion, and, with a 
 strong Hibernian accent, demanded, " Is it the colonel you are 
 inquiring about, sir? Why, then, his name is Lieutenant- 
 Colonel Sir Henry Layton, Knight of the Bath: and mighty 
 cold weather it was, too, when he got the bath; so I didn't 
 envy him his ducking." 
 
 "Oh, ho!" said Mr. Croyland, putting his finger sagaciously 
 to the side of his nose; " be so good as to send up that card 
 to Lieutenant- Colonel Sir Henry Layton, Knight of the Bath, 
 and tell him that the gentleman whose appellation it bears is 
 here, inquiring for one Captain Osborn whom he once saw." 
 
 The corporal took the card himself to the top of the stairs, 
 and delivered the message, with as much precision as his in- 
 tellect could muster, to some person who seemed to be waiting 
 on the outside of a door above. "Why, you fool!" cried a 
 voice, immediately, " I told you, if Mr. Croyland came, to 
 show him up. Sir Henry will see him." And immediately 
 a servant, in plain clothes, descended to perform his function 
 himself. 
 
 "Very grand!" murmured Mr. Croyland, as he followed. 
 
 The door above was immediately thrown open, and his 
 name announced; but, walking slowly, he had not entered the 
 room before the young officer, who has more than once been 
 before the reader's eyes, was half acrqss the floor to meet 
 him. He was now dressed in full uniform; and certainly 
 a finer or more commanding-looking man had seldom, if ever, 
 
244 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 met Mr. Croyland's view. Advancing with a frank and 
 pleasant smile, he led him to the arm-chair which he had just 
 occupied, it was the only one in the room, and, after thanking 
 him for his visit, turned to the servant, and bade him shut 
 the door. 
 
 " I am in some surprise, and in some doubt, Sir Henry,' 1 
 said Mr. Croyland, with his sharp eyes twinkling a little. " I 
 came here to see one Captain Osborn, and I find a gentleman 
 very like him in truth, but certainly a much smarter looking 
 person, whom I am told is Lieutenant- Colonel Sir Henry 
 Layton, Knight of the Bath, &c. &c. &c. ; and yet he seems to 
 look upon old Zachary Croyland as a friend, too." 
 
 " He does, from his heart, I can assure you, Mr. Croyland," 
 replied the young officer; "and I trust you will ever permit 
 him to do so. But if it becomes us to deceive no man, it 
 becomes us still more not to deceive a friend; and on that 
 account it was I asked your presence here, to explain to you 
 one or two circumstances which I thought it but just you 
 should know, before I ventured to present myself at your 
 house." 
 
 "Pray speak, Sir Henry," replied Mr. Croyland; "I am 
 all ears/' 
 
 The young officer paused for a moment, and a shadow came 
 over his brow, as if something painful passed through his mind ; 
 but then, with a slight motion of his hand, as if he would 
 have waved away unpleasant thoughts, he said, " I must first 
 tell you, my dear sir, that I am the son of the Reverend 
 Henry Layton, whom you once knew, and the nephew of that 
 Charles Osborn, with whom you were also intimately ac- 
 quainted." 
 
 "The dearest friend I ever had in the world," replied Mr. 
 Croyland, blowing his nose violently. 
 
 " Then I trust you will extend the same friendship to his 
 nephew," said the colonel. 
 
 "I don't know, I don't know," answered Mr. Croyland; 
 " that must depend upon circumstances. I'm a very crabbed, 
 tiresome old fellow, Sir Henry; and my friendships are not 
 very sudden ones. But I have patted your head many a time 
 when you were a child, and that's something. Then you are 
 very like your father, and a little like your uncle, that's some- 
 thing more ; so we may get on, I think, But what have you 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 245 
 
 got to say more? and what in the name of fortune made you 
 call yourself Captain Osborn to an old friend of your family 
 like myself?" 
 
 " I did not do so, if you recollect," replied the young officer. 
 " It was my friend Digby who gave me that name; and you 
 must pardon me, if, on many accounts, I yielded to the trick; 
 for I was coming down here on a difficult service, one that I 
 am not accustomed to, and do not like ; and I was very de- 
 sirous of seeing a little of the country, and of learning some- 
 thing of the habits of the persons with whom I had to deal, 
 before I was called upon to act." 
 
 "*And devilish well you did act when you set about it," 
 cried Mr. Croyland. "I watched you this morning over the 
 wall, and wondered a little that you did not come on to my 
 house at once." 
 
 " It is upon that subject that I must now speak," said 
 Sir Henry Lay ton, taking a grave tone, " and I must touch 
 upon many painful subjects in the past. Just when I was 
 about to write to you, Mr. Croyland, to say that I would come, 
 in accordance with your kind invitation, I learned that your 
 niece, Miss Croyland, is staying at your house. Now, I know 
 not whether you have been informed, that long ago " 
 
 " Oh I yes, I know all about that," answered Mr. Croyland, 
 quickly. " There was a great deal of love and courting, and 
 all that sort of boy and girl's stuff. " 
 
 " It must be man and woman's stuff now, Mr. Croyland," 
 replied the young officer; "for I must tell you fairly and at 
 once, I love her as deeply, as truly as ever. Years have made 
 no difference; other scenes have made no change. The same 
 as I went, in every thought and feeling, I have returned ; and 
 I can never think of her without emotion, which I can never 
 speak to her without expressing." 
 
 " Indeed, indeed!" said Mr. Croyland, apparently in some 
 surprise. " That docs make some difference." 
 
 k ' That is what I feared," continued Sir Henry Lay ton. 
 " Your brother disapproved of our engagement. In consequence 
 of it he behaved to my father in a way on which I will not 
 dwell. You would not have behaved in such a way, I know; 
 and although I should think any means justifiable, to see your 
 niece when in her father's mansion, to tell her how deeply I 
 love hqr still, and to ask her to sacrifice fortune and everything 
 
246 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 to share a soldier's fate, yet I did not thiiik it would be right 
 or honourable, to come into the house of a friend under a 
 feigned name, and seek his niece, for seek her I should where- 
 ever I found her, when he might share the same views as his 
 brother, or at all events think himself bound to support them. 
 In short, Mr. Croyland, I knew that when you were aware of 
 my real name and of my real feelings, it would make a differ- 
 ence, and a great one." 
 
 " Not the difference you think, Harry,'' replied the old 
 gentleman, holding out his hand to him; "but quite the 
 reverse. I'll tell you what, young man, I think you a devil- 
 ish fine, high-spirited, honourable fellow, and the only one I 
 ever saw whom I should like to marry my Edith. So don't 
 say a word more about it. Come and dine with me to-day, 
 as soon as you've got all. this job over. You shall see her; 
 you shall talk to her; you shall make all your arrangements 
 together; and if there's a post-chaise in the country, I'll put 
 you in and shut the door with my own hands. My brother is 
 an old fool, and worse than an old fool, too: something very 
 like an old rogue; at least, so he behaved to your father, and 
 not much better to his own child; but I don't care a straw 
 about him, and never did ; and I never intend to humour one 
 of his whims." 
 
 Sir Henry Lay ton pressed the old gentleman's hand in his 
 with much emotion, for the prospect seemed brightening to 
 him, and the dark clouds which had so long overshadowed his 
 course appeared to be breaking away. He had been hitherto 
 like a traveller on a strong and spirited horse, steadfastly pur- 
 suing his course, and making his way onward with vigour and 
 determination, but with a dark and threatening sky overhead, 
 and not even a gleam of hope to lead him on. Distinction, 
 honours, competence, command, he had obtained by his own 
 talents and his own energies; he was looked up to by those be- 
 low him, by his equals, even by many of his superiors. The eyes 
 of all who knew him turned towards him as to one who was des- 
 tined to be a leading man iniiis day. Everything seemed fair and 
 smiling around him, and ito eye could see the cloud that over- 
 shadowed him but his own. But what to him were honours, 
 or wealth, or the world's applause, if the love of his early 
 years were to remain blighted for ever ? And in the tented field, 
 the city, or the court, the shadow had still remained upon his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 247 
 
 heart's best feelings, not checking his energies, but saddening 
 all his enjoyments. How often is it in the world that we thus 
 see the bright, the admired, the powerful, the prosperous, with 
 the grave hue of painful thoughts upon the brow, the never 
 uurningled smile, the lapses of gloomy meditation, and ask 
 ourselves, " What is the secret sorrow in the midst of all this 
 success? what is the fountain of darkness that turns the stream 
 of sunshine grey? what the canker- worm that preys upon so 
 bright a flower ? ' ' Deep, deep in the recesses of the heart, it 
 lies gnawing in silence, but never ceasing and never satisfied. 
 Now, however, there was a light in the heavens for him ; and 
 whether it was as one of those rays that sometimes break 
 through a storm, and then pass away, no more to be seen till 
 the day dies in darkness, or whether it was the first glad har- 
 binger of a serene evening after a stormy morning, the conclu- 
 sion of this tale must show. 
 
 "I'll tell you something, my dear boy," continued Mr. 
 Croyland, forgetting that he was speaking to the colonel of a 
 dragoon regiment, and going back at a leap to early days. 
 " Your father was my old school-fellow and dear companion; 
 your uncle was the best friend I ever had, and the founder of 
 my fortune, for to his interest I owe my first appointment to 
 India, ay, and to his generosity, the greater part of my outfit 
 and my passage. To them I am indebted for everything, to 
 my brother for nothing; and I look upon you as a relation 
 much more than upon him, so I have no very affectionate 
 motives for countenancing or assisting him in doing what is 
 not right. I'll tell you something more, too, Harry; I was 
 sure that you would do what is honourable and right, not be- 
 cause you have got a good name in the world, for I am always 
 doubtful of the world's good names ; and, besides, I never heard 
 the name of Sir Harry Layton till this blessed day, but because 
 you were the son of one honest man, and the nephew of an- 
 other, and a good, wild, frank boy too. So I was quite sure 
 you would not come to my house under a false name, when 
 my niece was in it, without, at all events, letting me into the 
 secret; and you have justified my confidence, young man." 
 
 " I would not have done such a thing for the world," replied 
 the young officer; "but may I ask then, my dear Mr. Croy- 
 land, if you recognised me in the stage-coach, for it must be 
 eighteen or nineteen years since you saw me." 
 
248 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Don't call me Mr. Croyland," said the old gentleman, 
 abruptly; "call me Zachaiy, or Nabob, or Misanthrope, or 
 Bear, or anything but that. As to your question, I say, no. 
 I did not recognise you the least in the world. I saw in your 
 face something like the faces of old friends, and I liked it on 
 that account. But as for the rest of the matter, there's a 
 little secret, my boy; a little bit of a puzzle. By one way or 
 another, it matters not what, I had found out that Captain 
 Osborn was my old friend Layton's son ; but till I came here 
 to-day, I had no notion that he was colonel of the regiment, 
 and a Knight of the Bath to-boot, as your corporal fellow took 
 care to inform me. I thought you had been going under a 
 false name, perhaps, all this time, and fancied I should find 
 Captain Osborn quite well known in the regiment. I had a 
 shrewd notion, too, that you had sent for me to tell the secret ; 
 but I was determined to let you explain yourself without help- 
 ing you at all, for I'm a great deal fonder of men's actions 
 than their words, Harry." 
 
 "Is it fair to ask, who told you who I was?" asked Sir 
 Henry Lay ton. " My friend Digby has some " 
 
 " No, no," cried Mr. Croyland ; " it wan't that good, rash, 
 rattle-pate, coxcomb of a fellow, who is only fit to be caged 
 with little Zara; and then they may live together very well, 
 like two monkeys in a show-box. No, he had nothing to do 
 with it, though he has been busy enough since he came here ; 
 shooting partridges, and fighting young Radfords, and all that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "Fighting young Radfords!" exclaimed Sir Henry Lay ton, 
 suddenly grasping the sheath of his sword with his right hand. 
 "He should not have done that, at least, without letting me 
 know.' ' 
 
 " Why, he knew nothing about it himself," replied Mr. 
 Croyland, "till the minute it took place. The young vaga- 
 bond followed him to my house ; so I civilly told my brother's 
 pet that I didn't want to see him ; and he walked away with 
 your friend Digby just across the lawn in front of the house, 
 when, after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, the baronet 
 applies a horsewhip, with considerable unction and perseverance, 
 to the shoulders of Richard Radford, Esquire, junior; upon 
 which out comes the picking-irons, and in the course of the 
 scuffle, Sir Edward receives a little hole in the shoulder, and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 249 
 
 Mr. Radford is disarmed and brought upon his knee, with a 
 very unpleasant and un gentleman-like bump upon his forehead, 
 bestowed, with hearty good- will, by the hilt of Master Digby's 
 sword. Well, when he had got him there, instead of quietly 
 poking a hole through him, as any man of common sense 
 would have done, your friend let's him get up again, and ride 
 away, just as a man might be supposed to pinch a cobra that 
 had bit him, by the tail, and then say, ' Walk off, my friend.' 
 However, so stands the matter; and young Radford rode away, 
 vowing all sorts of vengeance. He'll have it, too, if he can 
 get it, for he's as spiteful as a baboon ; so I hope youVe caught 
 him, as he was with these smuggling vagabonds, that's certain.'' 
 
 Sir Henry Layton shook his head. " He has escaped, I 
 am sorry to say/' he replied. " How, I cannot divine ; for I 
 took means to catch him that I thought were infallible. All 
 the roads through Harbourne Wood were guarded, but yet in 
 that wood all trace of him was lost. He left his horse in the 
 midst of it, and must have escaped by some of the by- paths." 
 
 "He's concealed in my brother's house, for a hundred 
 guineas 1" cried Mr. Croyland. ''Robert's bewitched to a 
 certainty; for nothing else but witchcraft could make a man 
 take an owl for a cock pheasant. Oh ! yes ; there he is, snug 
 in Harbourne House, depend upon it, feeding upon venison 
 and turbot, and with a magnum of claret and two bottles of 
 port to keep him comfortable: a drunken, beastly, vicious 
 brute 1 A cross between a wolf and a swine, and not without a 
 touch of the fox either, though the first figure is the best; for his 
 father was the wolf, and his mother the sow, if all tales be true." 
 
 4 'He cannot be in Harbourne House, I should think,'' re- 
 plied the colonel, "for my dragoons searched it, it seems; 
 violating the laws a little, for they had no competent authority 
 with them ; and besides he would not have put himself within 
 Digby's reach, I imagine." 
 
 " Then he's up in a tree, roosting in the day, like a bird of 
 prey," rejoined Mr. Croyland, in his quick way. "It's very 
 unlucky he has escaped, very unlucky indeed." 
 
 "At all events," answered the young officer, "thus much 
 have we gained, my dear friend: he dare not show himself in 
 this county for years. He was seen, by competent witnesses, 
 at the head of these smugglers, taking an active part with 
 them in resistance to lawful authority. Blood has been shed, 
 
250 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 lives have been sacrificed, and a felony has been committed; 
 so that if he is wise, and can manage it, he will get out of 
 England. If he fail of escaping, or venture to show himself, 
 he will grace the gallows, depend upon it." 
 
 "Heaven be praised 1" cried Mr. Croyland. "Give me 
 the first tidings, when it is to happen, Harry, that I may order 
 four horses, and hire a window. I would not have him hanged 
 without my seeing it for a hundred pounds." 
 
 Sir Henry Lay ton smiled faintly, saying, "Those are sad 
 sights, my dear sir, and we have too many of them in this 
 county; but you have not told me, from whom you received 
 intimation that Captain Osborn and Henry Osborn Layton 
 were the same person." 
 
 "That's a secret, that's a secret, Hal/' answered Mr. Croy- 
 land. " So now tell me when you'll come. You'll be over 
 to-night, I suppose, or have time and wisdom tamed the eager- 
 ness of love?" 
 
 " Oh no! my dear sir," answered Layton; "but I have still 
 some business to settle here, and have promised to be in Hythe 
 to-night. Before I go, however, I will ride over for an hour 
 or two, for, till I have seen that dear girl again, and have 
 heard her feelings and her wishes from her own lips, my 
 thoughts will be all in confusion. I shall be calmer and more 
 reasonable afterwards." 
 
 "Much need!" answered Mr. Croyland. "But now I 
 must leave you. I shan't say a word about it all, till you 
 coQie; for preparing people's mind is all nonsense. It is only 
 drawing them out upon the rack of expectation, which leaves 
 them bruised and crushed, with no power to resist whatever 
 is to come afterwards. But don't be long, Harry, for remem- 
 ber that delays are dangerous." 
 
 Layton promised to set out as soon as one of his messen- 
 gers, whom he expected every instant, had returned; and 
 going down with Mr. Croyland to the door of his carnage, he 
 bade him adieu, and watched him as he drove away, gratifying 
 the eyes of the people of Woodchurch with a view of his fine 
 person, as he stood uncovered at the door. In the mean time, 
 Mr. Croyland took his way slowly back towards his own 
 dwelling. 
 
 What had happened there during his absence, we shall see 
 presently. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ALL things have their several stages ; and, without a know- 
 ledge of the preceding one it is impossible to judge accurately 
 of any event which is the immediate subject of our contem- 
 plation. The life of every one, the history of the whole world 
 that we inhabit, is but a regular drama with its scenes and 
 acts, each depending for its interest upon that which preceded. 
 I therefore judge it necessary, before going on to detail the 
 events which took place in Mr. Croyland's house during his 
 absence, to visit the dwelling of his brother, and give some ac- 
 count of that which produced them. On the same eventful 
 morning, then, of which we have spoken so much already, the 
 inhabitants of Harbourne House slept quietly during the little 
 engagement between the smugglers and the dragoons, unaware 
 that things of great importance to their little circle were pass- 
 ing at no great distance. I have mentioned the inhabitants of 
 Harbourne House; but perhaps it would have been more pro- 
 per to have said the master, his family, and his guest; for a 
 number of the servants were up ; the windows were opened ; 
 and the wind, setting from Woodchurch, brought the sound of 
 fire-arms thence. The movement of the troops from the side 
 of High Halden was also remarked by one of the housemaids 
 and a footman, as the young lady was leaning out of one of 
 the windows with the young gentleman by her side. In a 
 minute or two after they perceived, galloping across the coun- 
 try, two or three parties of men on horseback, as if in flight 
 and pursuit. Most of these took to the right or left, and were 
 soon lost to the sight; but at length one solitary horseman 
 came on at a furious speed towards Harbourne House, with a 
 small party of dragoons following him direct at a couple of 
 hundred yards' distance, while two or three of the soldiery 
 were seen scattered away to the right, and a somewhat larger 
 body appeared moving down at a quick pace to the left, as if 
 to cut the fugitive off at Gallows Green. 
 
252 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 The horse of the single rider seemed tired and dirty ; and 
 he was himself without a hat ; but nevertheless, they pushed 
 on with such rapidity, that a few seconds from the time when 
 they were first seen, brought steed and horseman into the little 
 parish road which I have mentioned as running in front of the 
 house, and passing round the grounds into the wood. As the 
 fugitive drew near, the maid exclaimed, with a sort of a half 
 scream, " Why, Lord ha' mercy, Matthew, it's young Mr. 
 Radford!" 
 
 "To be sure it is," answered the footman; "didn't you 
 see that before, Betsy? There's a number of the dragoons 
 after him too. He's been up to some of his tricks, I'll war- 
 rant." 
 
 " Well, I hope he won't come in here, at all events," re- 
 joined the maid, "for I shouldn't like it, if we were to have 
 any fighting in the house." 
 
 "I shall go and shut the hall door," said the footman, 
 drily: Richard Radford not having ingratiated himself as much 
 with the servants as he had done with their master. But this 
 precaution was rendered unnecessary; for the young man 
 showed no inclination to enter the house, but passing along 
 the road with the rapidity of an arrow, was soon lost in the 
 wood, without even looking up towards the house of Sir 
 Robert Croyland. Several of the dragoons followed him 
 quickly ; but two of them planted themselves at the corner of 
 the road, and remained there immoveable. 
 
 The maid then observed, that she thought it high time 
 the gentlefolks should be called; and she proceeded to execute 
 her laudable purpose, taking care that tidings of what she 
 had seen concerning Mr. Radford should be communicated to 
 Sir Robert Croyland, to Zara, and to the servant of Sir 
 Edward Digby, who again carried the intelligence to his mas- 
 ter. The whole house was soon afoot; and Sir Robert was 
 just out of his room in his dressing-gown, when three of the 
 soldiers entered the mansion, expressing their determination 
 to search it, and declaring their conviction that the smuggler 
 whom they had been pursuing had taken refuge there. 
 
 In vain Sir Robert Croyland remonstrated, and inquired if 
 they had a warrant ; in vain the servants assured the dragoons 
 that no person had entered during the morning. The Serjeant 
 who was at their head, persisted in asserting that the fugitive 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 253 
 
 must have come in there, just when he was hid from his pur- 
 suers by the trees, assigning as a reason for this belief, that 
 they had found his horse turned loose not a hundred yards 
 from the house. They accordingly proceeded to execute their 
 intention, meeting with no farther impediment till they reached 
 the room of Sir Edward Digby, who, though he did not choose 
 to interfere, not being on duty himself, warned the Serjeant 
 that he must be careful of what he was doing, as it appeared 
 that he had neither magistrate, warrant, nor custom-house 
 officer with him. 
 
 The Serjeant, however, who was a bold and resolute fellow, 
 and moreover a little heated and excited by the pursuit, took 
 the responsibility upon himself, saying that he was fully autho- 
 rised by Mr. Birchett to follow, search for, and apprehend one 
 Richard Radford, and that he had the colonel's orders, too. 
 Certainly not a nook or corner of Harbourne House did he 
 leave nnexamined before he retired, grumbling and wondering 
 at his want of success. 
 
 Previous to his going, Sir Edward Digby charged him with 
 a message to the colonel, which proved as great an enigma to 
 the soldier as the escape of Richard Radford. " Tell him," 
 said the young baronet, " that I am ready to come down if 
 he wants me; but that if he does not, I think I am quite as 
 well where I am." 
 
 The breakfast passed in that sort of hurried and desultory 
 conversation which such a dish of gossip, as now poured in from 
 all quarters, usually produces, when served up at the morning 
 meal. Sir Robert Croyland, indeed, looked ill at ease, laughed 
 and jested in an unnatural and strained tone upon smugglers 
 and smuggling, and questioned every servant that came in for 
 further tidings. The reports that he thus received were as 
 full of falsehood and exaggeration as all such reports generally 
 are. The property captured was said to be immense. Two 
 or three hundred smugglers were mentioned as having been 
 taken, and a whole legion of them killed. Some had made 
 confession, and clearly proved that the whole property was 
 Mr. Radford's; and some had fought to the last, and killed 
 an incredible number of the soldiers. To believe the butler, 
 who received his information from the hind, who had his from 
 the shepherd, the man called the major, before he died, had 
 absolutely breakfasted on dragoons, as if they had been 
 
254 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 prawns; but all agreed that never had such a large body of 
 contraband traders been assembled before, or suffered such a 
 disastrous defeat, in any of their expeditions. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby gathered from the whole account, that 
 his friend had been fully successful, that the smugglers had 
 fought fiercely, that blood had been shed, and that Richard 
 Badford, after having taken an active part in the affray, was 
 now a fugitive, and, as the young baronet fancied, never to 
 appear upon the stage again. But still Sir Bobert Croyland 
 did not seem by any means so well pleased as might have 
 been wished; and a dark and thoughtful cloud would fre- 
 quently come over his heavy brow, while a slight twitching 
 of his lip seemed to indicate that anxiety had as great a share 
 in his feelings as mortification. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara Croyland amused herself, as usual, by doing 
 her best to tease every one around her, and by saying the 
 most malapropos things in the world. She spoke with great 
 commiseration of " the poor smugglers :" every particle of 
 her pity was bestowed upon them. She talked of the soldiers 
 as if they had been the most fierce and sanguinary monsters 
 in Europe, who had attacked, unprovoked, a party of poor 
 men that were doing them no harm ; till Zara's glowing cheek 
 recalled to her mind, that these very blood-thirsty dragoons 
 were Sir Edward Digby's companions and friends; and then 
 she made the compliment more pointed by apologizing to the 
 young baronet, and assuring him that she did not think for a 
 moment he would commit such acts. Her artillery was next 
 turned against her brother; and, in a pleasant tone of raillery, 
 she joked him upon the subject of young Mr. Badford, and of 
 the search the soldiers had made, looking with a meaning 
 smile at Zara, and saying, " She dared say, Sir Bobert could 
 tell where he was, if he liked." 
 
 The baronet declared, sharply and truly, that he knew no- 
 thing about the young man; but Mrs. Barbara shook her 
 head and nodded, and looked knowing, adding various agree- 
 able insinuations of the same kind as before, all in the best 
 humour possible, till Sir Bobert Croyland was put quite out 
 of temper, and would have retorted violently, had he not known 
 that to do so always rendered the matter ten times worse. Even 
 poor Zara did not altogether escape ; but, as we are hurrying on 
 to important events, we must pass over her share of infliction. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 255 
 
 The conclusion of Mrs. Barbara's field-day was perhaps the 
 most signal achievement of all. Breakfast had come to an 
 end, though the meal had been somewhat protracted ; and the 
 party were just lingering out a few minutes before they rose, 
 still talking on the subject of the skirmish of that morning, 
 when the good lady thought fit to remark: "Well, we may 
 guess for ever; but we shall soon know more about it; for I 
 dare say we shall have Mr. Radford over here before an hour 
 is gone, and he must know if the goods were his." 
 
 This seemed to startle, nay, to alarm Sir Robert Croyland. 
 He looked round with a sharp, quick turn of his head, and 
 then rose at once, saying, " Well, whether he comes or not, 
 I must go out and see about a good many things. Would 
 you like to take a ride, Sir Edward Digby, or what will you 
 do?" 
 
 " Why, I think I must stay here for the present," replied 
 the young baronet; "I may have a summons unexpectedly, 
 and ought not to be absent." 
 
 "Well, you will excuse me, I know," answered his enter- 
 tainer. " I must leave my sister and Zara to amuse you for 
 an hour or two, till I return." 
 
 Thus saying, and evidently in a great bustle, Sir Robert 
 Croyland quitted the room and ordered his horse. But just 
 as the three whom he had left in the breakfast-room were 
 sauntering quietly towards the library Sir Edward Digby cal- 
 culating by the way how he might best get rid of Mrs. Bar- 
 bara, in order to enjoy the fair Zara's company undisturbed 
 they came upon the baronet at the moment when he was en- 
 countered by one of his servants bringing him some unpleasant 
 intelligence. "Please, Sir Robert," said the man, with a 
 knowing wink of the eye, " all the horses are out." 
 
 "Out!'' cried the baronet, with a look of fury and con- 
 sternation. " What do you mean by out, fellow?" 
 
 "Why, they were taken out of the stable last night, sir,'' 
 replied the man. " I dare say you know where they went; 
 and they have not come back again yet." 
 
 " Pray, have mine been taken also?" demanded Sir Edward 
 Digby, very well understanding what sort of an expedition 
 Sir Robert Croyland 's horses had gone upon. 
 
 "Oh! dear, no, sir," answered the man; "your servant 
 keeps the key of that stable himself, sir." 
 
25 f) THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 The young baronet instantly offered his host the use of one 
 of his steeds, which was gratefully accepted by Sir Robert 
 Groyland, who, however, thought fit to enter into an excul- 
 pation of himself, somewhat tedious withal, assuring his guest 
 that the horses had been taken without his approbation or 
 consent, and that he had no knowledge whatsoever of the trans- 
 action in which they were engaged. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby professed himself quite convinced that 
 such was the case, and in order to relieve his host from the 
 embarrassment which he seemed to feel, explained that he was 
 already aware that the Kentish smugglers were in the habit of 
 borrowing horses without the owner's consent. 
 
 In our complicated state of society, however, everything 
 hinges upon trifles. We have made the watch so fine, that a 
 grain of dust stops the whole movement; and the best arranged 
 plans are thrown out by the negligence, the absence, or the 
 folly of a servant, a friend, or a messenger. Sir Edward Digby 's 
 groom could not be found for more than a quarter of an hour: 
 when he was, at length, brought to light, the horse had to be 
 saddled. An hour had now nearly elapsed since the master 
 of the house had given orders for his own horse to be brought 
 round immediately; he was evidently uneasy at the delay, 
 peevish, restless, uncomfortable; and in the end, he said he 
 would mount at the back door, as it was the nearest and the 
 most convenient. He even waited in the vestibule; but sud- 
 denly he turned, walked through the double doors leading to 
 the stable-yard, and said he heard the horse coming up. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara Croyland had, in the mean time, amused her- 
 self and her -niece in the library, with the door open; and 
 sometimes she worked a paroquet, in green, red, and white 
 silk embroidery, a favourite occupation for ladies in her juve- 
 nile days, and sometimes she gazed out of the window, or 
 listened to the conversation of her brother and his guest in the 
 vestibule. At the very moment, however, when Sir Robert 
 was making his exit by the doors between the principal part 
 of the house and the offices, Mrs. Barbara called loudly after 
 him, " Brother Robert! brother Robert! Here is Mr. Radford 
 coming." 
 
 The baronet turned a deaf ear, and shut the door. He 
 would have locked it, too, if the evasion would not have then 
 been too palpable. But Mrs. Barbara was resolved that he 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 257 
 
 should know that Mr. Radford was coming; and up she 
 started, casting down half-a-dozen cards of silk. Zara tried 
 to stop her ; for she knew her father, and all the signs and in- 
 dications of his humours; but her efforts were in vain. Mrs. 
 Barbara dashed past her, rushed through both doors, leaving 
 them open behind her, and caught her brother's arms just as 
 the horse which he had thought fit to hear approach a little 
 before it really did so, was led up slowly from the stables to 
 the back door of the mansion. 
 
 " Robert, here is Mr. RadfordI" said Mrs. Barbara, aloud. 
 " I know you would like to see him." 
 
 The baronet turned his head, and saw his worthy friend, 
 through the open doors, just entering the vestibule. To the 
 horror and surprise of his sister, he uttered a low but bitter 
 curse, adding, in tones quite distinct enough to reach her ear. 
 " Woman, you have ruined me!" 
 
 "Good gracious I'' cried Mrs. Barbara; " why, I thought " 
 
 "Hush! silence!" said Sir Robert Croyland, in a menacing 
 tone; " not another word, on your life;'' and turning, he met 
 Mr. Radford with the utmost suavity, but with a certain de- 
 gree of restraint which he had not time to banish entirely 
 from his manner. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Radford!'' he exclaimed, shaking him, too, 
 heartily by the hand; "I was just going out to inquire about 
 some things of importance;" and he gazed at him with a look 
 which he intended to be very significant of the inquiries he 
 had proposed to institute. But his glance was hesitating and 
 ill-assured; and Mr. Radford replied, with the coolest and 
 most self-possessed air possible, and with a firm, fixed gaze 
 upon the baronet's countenance. 
 
 " Indeed, Sir Robert!" he said; " perhaps I can satisfy you 
 upon some points; but, at all events, I must speak with you 
 for a few minutes before you go. Good morning, Sir Edward 
 Digby; have you had any sport in the field? I will not de- 
 tain you a quarter of an hour, my good friend. We had 
 better go into your room." 
 
 lie led the way thither as he spoke, and Sir Robert Croy- 
 land followed with a slow and faltering step. He knew 
 Richard Radford ; he knew what that calm and self-possessed 
 manner meant. He was aware of the significance of courteous 
 expressions and amicable terms from the man who called him 
 
258 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 his good friend; and if there was a being upon earth, on 
 whose head Sir Eobert Croyland would have wished to stamp 
 as on a viper's, it was the placid benign personage who pre- 
 ceded him. 
 
 They entered the room in which the baronet usually sat in 
 a morning to transact his business with his steward, and to 
 arrange his affairs ; and Sir Kobert carefully shut the door be- 
 hind him, trying, during the one moment that his back was 
 turned upon his unwelcome guest, to compose his agitated 
 features into the expression of haughty and self-sufficient tran- 
 quillity which they usually wore. 
 
 " Sit down, Radford," he said; "pray sit down, if it be 
 but for ten minutes,'' and he pointed to the arm-chair on the 
 other side of the table. 
 
 Mr. Radford sat down, and leaned his head upon his hand, 
 looking in the baronet's face with a scrutinizing gaze. If Sir 
 Robert Croyland understood him well, he also understood Sir 
 Robert Croyland, heart and mind, every corporeal fibre, every 
 mental peculiarity. He saw clearly that his companion was 
 terrified ; he divined that he wished to avoid him ; and the 
 satisfaction that he felt at having caught him just as he was 
 going out, at having frustrated his hope of escape, had a plea- 
 sant malice in it, which compensated for a part of all that he 
 had suffered during that morning, as report after report reached 
 him of the utter annihilation of his hopes of immense gain, the 
 loss of a ruinous sum of money, and the danger and narrow 
 escape of his son. He had not slept a wink during the whole 
 of the preceeding night ; and he had passed the hours in a 
 state of nervous anxiety which would have totally unmanned 
 many a strong-minded man when his first fears were realized. 
 But Mr. Radford's mind was of a peculiar construction : ap- 
 prehension he might feel, but never by any chance, discourage- 
 ment. All his pain was in anticipation, not in endurance. 
 The moment a blow was struck, it was over; his thoughts 
 turned to new resources ; and, in reconstructing schemes which 
 had been overthrown, in framing new ones, or pursuing old 
 ones which had slumbered, he instantly found comfort for the 
 past. Thus he seemed as fresh, as resolute, as unabashed by 
 fortune's late frowns, as ever ; but there was a rankling bitter- 
 ness, an eager, wolf-like energy in his heart, which sprung 
 both from angry disappointment and from the desperate aspect 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 259 
 
 of his present fortune; and such feelings naturally communi- 
 cated some portion of their acerbity to the expression of his 
 countenance, which no effort could totally banish. 
 
 He gazed upon Sir Robert Groyland, then, with a keen and 
 inquiring look, not altogether untinged with that sort of pity 
 which amounts to scorn; and, after a momentary pause, he 
 said, " Well, Croyland, you have heard all, I suppose!" 
 
 "No, not all; not all, Radford," answered the baronet, hesi- 
 tating; "I was going out to inquire?" 
 
 " I can save you the trouble, then," replied Mr. Radford, 
 drily. " I am ruined. That is to say, in the two last ventures 
 I have lost considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland waved his head sadly, saying, "Terrible, 
 terrible 1 But what can be done?" 
 
 "Oh! several things," answered Mr. Radford, "and that is 
 what I have come to speak to you about, because the first must 
 rest with you, my excellent good friend." 
 
 " But where is your son, poor fellow?" asked the baronet, 
 eager to avoid, as long as possible, the point to which their 
 conversation was tending. " They tell me he was well nigh 
 taken ; and, after there has been blood shed, that would have 
 been destruction. Do you know they came and searched this 
 house for him?'' 
 
 "No, I had not heard of that, Croyland," replied Mr. Rad- 
 ford ; " but he is near enough, well enough, and safe enough to 
 marry your fair daughter." 
 
 "Ay, yes," answered Sir Robert; "that must be thought 
 of, and" 
 
 " Oh dear, no I" cried the other, interrupting him; "it has 
 been thought of enough already, Croyland: too much, perhaps; 
 now, it must be done." 
 
 "Well, I will go over to Edith at once," said the baronet, 
 " and I will urge her, by every inducement. I will tell her, 
 that it is her duty, that it is my will, and that she must arid 
 shall obey." 
 
 Mr. Radford rose slowly off his seat, crossed over the rug 
 to the place where Sir Robert Croyland was placed; and, 
 leaning his hand upon the arm of the other's chair, he bent 
 down his head, saying in a low but very clear voice, and 
 perfectly distinct words, " Tell her, her father's life depends 
 upon itP 
 
260 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland shrank from him, as if an asp had 
 approached his cheek, and he turned deadly pale. " No, 
 Radford; no," he replied, in a faltering and deprecatory tone; 
 " you cannot mean such a horrible thing. I will do all that 
 I can to make her yield, I will, indeed; I will insist, I will " 
 
 " Sir Robert Croyland," said Mr. Radford, sternly and slowly. 
 "I will have no more trifling. I have indulged you too long, 
 Your daughter must be my son's wife before he quits this 
 country, which must be the case for a time, till we can get 
 this affair wiped out by our parliamentary influence. Her for- 
 tune must be his; she must be his wife, I say, before four days 
 are over. Now, my good friend," he continued, falling back, 
 in a degree, into his usual manner, which had generally a touch 
 of sarcastic bitterness in it when addressing his present com- 
 panion; "what means you may please to adopt to arrive at 
 this desirable result I cannot tell; but as the young lady has 
 shown an aversion to the match, not very flattering to my 
 son " 
 
 "Is it not his own fault?" cried Sir Robert Croyland, 
 roused to some degree of indignation and resistance; "has he 
 ever, by word or deed, sought to remove that reluctance? 
 Has he wooed her as woman always requires to be wooed ? 
 Has he not rather shown a preference to her sister; paid her 
 all attention, courted, admired her?" 
 
 "Pity you suffered it, Sir Robert," answered Radford; 
 "but permit me, in your courtesy, to go on with what I was 
 saying. As the young lady has shown this unfortunate re- 
 luctance, I anticipate no effect from your proposed use of pa- 
 rental authority. I believe your requests and your commands 
 will be equally unavailing; and, therefore, I say, tell her, her 
 father's life depends upon it; for I will have no more trifling, 
 Sir Robert; no more delay, no more hesitation. It must be 
 settled at once, this very day. Before midnight, I must hear 
 that she consents, or your understand; and consent she will, 
 if you but employ the right means. She may show herself 
 obstinate, undutiful, careless of your wishes and commands; 
 but I do not think that she would like to be the one to tie a 
 halter round her father's neck, or to bring what I think you 
 gentlemen of heraldry and coat-armour call a cross-patonce 
 into the family-bearing ; ha, ha, ha I Da you, Sir Robert ?" 
 
 The unhappy gentleman to whom he spoke covered his eyes 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 26 1 
 
 with his hand ; but, from beneath, his features could be seen 
 working with the agitation of various emotions, in which rage, 
 impotent though it might be, was not without its share. Sud- 
 denly, however, a gleam of hope seemed to shoot across his 
 mind ; he withdrew his hand, he looked up with some light in 
 his eyes. "A thought has struck me, Radford," he said; 
 "Zara, we have talked of Zara; why not substitute her for 
 Edith? Listen to me; listen to me. You have not heard 
 all." 
 
 Mr. Radford shook his head. "It cannot be done," he 
 replied; "it is quite out of the question." 
 
 "Nay, but hearl" exclaimed the baronet; "not so much 
 out of the question as you think. Look at the whole circum- 
 stances, Radford. The great obstacle with Edith, is that un- 
 fortunate engagement with young Layton. She looks upon 
 herself as his wife; she has told me so a thousand times, and 
 I doubt even the effect of the terrible course which you urge 
 upon me so cruelly." 
 
 Mr. Radford's brow had grown exceedingly dark at the 
 very mention of the name of Layton, but he said nothing, and, 
 as if to keep down the feelings that were swelling in his heart, 
 set his teeth hard in his under lip. Sir Robert Croyland saw 
 all these marks of anger, but went on: "Now, the case is 
 different with Zara. Your son has sought her, and evidently 
 admires her, and she has shown herself by no means unfavour- 
 able towards him. Besides, I can do with her what I like. 
 There is no such obstacle in her case, and I could bend her to 
 my will with a word. Yes, but hear me out. I know what 
 you would say: she has no fortune; all the land that I can 
 dispose of is mortgaged to the full, the rest goes to my brother, 
 if he survives me. True ; all very true 1 But, Radford, listen ! 
 If I can induce my brother to give Zara the same fortune 
 which Edith possesses, if this night I can bring it you under 
 his own hand that she shall have fifty thousand pounds? You 
 shake your head; you doubt that he will do it; but I can tell 
 you that he would willingly give it to save Edith from your 
 son. I am ready to pledge you my word that you shall have 
 that engagement, under his own hand, this very night, or that 
 Edith shall become your son's wife within four days. Let us 
 cast aside all idle circumlocution. It is Edith's fortune for 
 your son that you require. You can care nothing personally 
 
262 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 which of the two he marries. As for him, he evidently prefers 
 Zara. She is also well inclined to him. I can, I am sure I 
 can, offer you the same fortune with her. Why should you 
 object?'' 
 
 Mr. Radford had resumed his seat, and with his arms folded 
 on his chest, and his head bent, had remained in a listening 
 posture. But nothing that he heard seemed to produce any 
 change in his countenance; and when Sir Robert Croyland 
 had concluded, he rose again, took a step towards him, and 
 replied, through his shut teeth: "You are mistaken, Sir 
 Robert Croyland; it is not fortune alone I seek. It is re- 
 venge! There, ask me no questions: I have told you my de- 
 termination. Your daughter Edith shall be my son's wife 
 within four days, or Maidstone jail, trial, and execution, shall 
 be your lot. The haughty family of Croyland shall bear the 
 stain of felony upon them to the last generation; and your 
 daughter shall know, for if you do not tell her, I will, that it 
 is her obstinacy which sends her father to the gallows. No 
 more trifling: no more nonsense! Act, sir, as you think fit; 
 but remember, that the words, once passed my lips, can never 
 be recalled ; that the secret I have kept buried for so many 
 years, shall to-morrow morning be published to the whole 
 world, if to-night you do not bring me your daughter's con- 
 sent to what I demand. I am using no vain threats, Sir 
 Robert Croyland," he continued, resuming a somewhat soft- 
 ened tone, "and I do not urge you to this without some degree 
 of regret. You have been very kind and friendly; you have 
 done me good service on several occasions ; and it will be with 
 great regret that I become the instrument of your destruction. 
 But still every man has a conscience of some kind. Even I 
 am occasionally troubled with qualms; arid I frequently re- 
 proach myself for concealing what I am bound to reveal. It 
 is a pity this marriage was not concluded long ago, for then, 
 connected with you by the closest ties, I should have felt my- 
 self more justified in holding my tongue. Now, however, it 
 is absolutely necessary that your daughter Edith should be- 
 come my son's wife. I have pointed out the means which I 
 think will soonest bring it to bear ; and if you do not use them, 
 you must abide the consequences. But mark me: no attempt 
 at delay, no prevarication, no hesitation! A clear, positive, 
 distinct answer this night by twelve o'clock, or you are lostP 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 263 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland had leaned his arms upon the table, 
 and pressed his eyes upon his arms. His whole frame shook 
 with emotion, and the softer, and seemingly more kindly words 
 of the man before him, were even bitterer to him than the 
 harsher and the fiercer. Though he did not see his face, he 
 knew that there was far more sarcasm than tenderness in 
 them. He had been his slave, his tool for years: his tool 
 through the basest and most unmanly of human passions, fear; 
 and he felt not only that he was despised, but that at that 
 moment Radford was revelling in contempt. He could have 
 got up and stabbed him where he stood, for he was naturally 
 a passionate and violent man. But fear had still the dominion ; 
 and after a bitter struggle with himself, he conquered his 
 anger, and gave himself up to the thought of meeting the cir- 
 cumstances in which he was placed as best he might. He was 
 silent for several moments, however, after Mr. Radford had 
 ceased speaking; and then, looking up with an anxious eye 
 and quivering lip, he said: "But how is it possible, Radford, 
 that the marriage should take place in four days? The banns 
 could not be published; and even if you got a license, your 
 son could not appear at church within the prescribed hours 
 without running a fatal risk." 
 
 " We will have a special license, my good friend," answered 
 Mr. Radford, with a contemptuous smile. " Do not trouble 
 yourself about that. You will have quite enough to do with 
 your daughter, I should imagine, without annoying yourself 
 with other things. As to my son, I will manage his part of 
 the affair; and he can marry your daughter in your drawing- 
 room, or mine, at an hour when there will be no eager eyes 
 abroad. Money can do all things; and a special license is 
 not so very expensive but that I can afford it, still. My 
 drawing-room will be best ; for then we shall be all secure." 
 
 "But, Radford I Radford 1" said Sir Robert Croyland, "if 
 I do if I bring Edith at the time appointed, if she become 
 your son's wife, will you give me up that paper, that fatal 
 deposition?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, assuredly," replied Mr. Radford, with an in- 
 sulting smile; "I can hand it over to you as part of the 
 marriage settlement. You need not be the least afraid ! and 
 now, 1 think I must go; for I have business to settle as well 
 as you." 
 
264 THE SMUGGLER; 
 
 " Stay, stay a moment, Radford," said the baronet, rising 
 and coming nearer to him. " You spoke of revenge just now. 
 What is it that you mean?" 
 
 " I told you to ask no questions," answered the other, 
 sharply. 
 
 " But at least tell me, if it is on me or mine that you seek 
 revenge!" exclaimed Sir Robert Croyland. "I am uncon- 
 scious of ever having injured or offended you in any way." 
 
 " Oh! dear, no," replied Mr. Radford. " You have nothing 
 to do with it ; no, nor your daughter either, though she deserves 
 a little punishment for her ill-treatment to my son. No, but 
 there is one on whom I will have revenge, deep and bitter 
 revenge, too. But that is my affair, and I do not choose to 
 say more. You have heard my resolutions; and you know 
 me well enough to be sure that I will keep my word. So now 
 go to your daughter, and manage the matter as you judge best; 
 but if you will take my advice, you will simply ask her con- 
 sent, and make her fully aware that her father's life depends 
 upon it; and now, good-bye, my dear friend. Good luck 
 attend you on your errand; for I would a great deal rather 
 not have any hand in bringing you where destiny seems in- 
 clined to lead you very soon." 
 
 Thus saying, he turned and quitted the room; and Sir 
 Robert Croyland remained musing for several minutes, his 
 thoughts first resting upon the last part of their conversation. 
 "Revenge!" he said; "he must mean my brother; and it will 
 be bitter enough to him to see Edith married to this youth. 
 Bitter enough to me, too; but it must be done, it must be 
 done!" 
 
 He pressed his hand upon his heart, and then went out to 
 mount his horse; but pausing in the vestibule, he told the 
 butler to bring him a glass of brandy. The man hastened to 
 obey, for his master's face was as pale as death, and he 
 thought that Sir Robert was going to faint. But when the 
 baronet had swallowed the stimulating liquor, he walked to 
 the back door with a quick and tolerably steady step, mounted, 
 and rode away alone. 
 
 Before I follow him, though anxious to do so as quickly as 
 possible, I must say a few words in regard to Mr. Radford's 
 course. After he had reached the parish road I have men- 
 tioned, on which one or two dragoons were still visible, slowly 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 265 
 
 patrolling round Harbourue Wood, the man who had exercised 
 so terrible an influence upon poor Sir Robert Croyland turned 
 his horse's head upon the path which led straight through the 
 trees towards the cottage of Widow Clare. His face was still 
 dark and cloudy; and trusting to the care and sure-footedness 
 of his beast, he went on with a loose rein and his eyes bent 
 down towards his saddle-bow, evidently immersed in deep 
 thought. When he had got about two- thirds across the wood, 
 he started and turned round his head ; for there was the sound 
 of a horse's feet behind, and he instantly perceived a dragoon 
 following him, and apparently keeping him in sight. Mr. 
 Radford rode on, however, till he came out not far from the 
 gate of Mrs. Clare's garden, when he saw another soldier 
 riding slowly round the wood. With a careless air, however, 
 and as if he scarcely perceived these circumstances, he dis- 
 mounted, buckled the rein of his bridle slowly over the palings 
 of the garden, and went into the cottage, closing the door after 
 him. He found the widow and her daughter busily employed 
 with the needle, making somewhat smarter clothes than those 
 they wore on ordinary occasions. It was poor Kate's bridal 
 finery. 
 
 Mrs. Clare instantly rose, and dropped a low curtsey to Mr. 
 Radford, who had of late years frequently visited her cottage, 
 and occasionally contributed a little to her comfort in a kindly 
 and judicious manner. Sometimes he had sent her down a 
 load of wood, to keep the house warm; sometimes he had 
 given her a large roll of woollen cloth, a new gown for her 
 daughter or herself, or a little present of money. But Mr. 
 Radford had his object: he always had. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Clare," said Mr. Radford, in as easy and quiet 
 a tone as if nothing had happened to agitate his mind or 
 derange his plans; "so, my pretty little friend, Kate, is going 
 to be married to worthy Jack Harding, I find." 
 
 Kate blushed and held down her head, and Mrs. Clare as- 
 sented with a faint smile. 
 
 'There has been a bad business of it this morning, though,'' 
 said Mr. Radford, looking in Mrs. Clare's face ; " I dare say 
 you've heard all about it, over there, in the valley by Wood- 
 church and Redbrook Street." 
 
 Mrs. Clare looked alarmed, and Kate forgot her timidity, 
 and exclaimed, "Oh! is he safe." 
 
266 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Oh! yes, my dear," answered Mr. Radford, in a kindly 
 tone, " you need not alarm yourself. He was not in it at all. 
 I don't say he had no share in running the goods, for that is 
 pretty well known, I believe, and he did his part of the work 
 well ; but the poor fellows who were bringing up the things, 
 by some folly, or mistake, I do not know which, got in amongst 
 the dragoons, were attacked, and nearly cut to pieces." 
 
 "Ay, then, that is what the soldiers are hanging about here 
 for," said Mrs. Clare. 
 
 " It's a sad affair for me, indeed 1" continued Mr. Radford, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "I am truly sorry to hear that, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Clare; 
 " for you have been always very kind to me." 
 
 " Well, my good lady," replied her visitor, " perhaps you 
 may now be able to do me a kindness in return," said Mr. 
 Radford. " To tell you the truth, my son was in this affray. 
 He made his escape when he found that they could not hold 
 their ground, and it is for him that the soldiers are now look- 
 ing; at least, I suspect so. Perhaps you may be able to give 
 a little help, if he should be concealed about here?" 
 
 " That I will," said Widow Clare, "if it cost me one of my 
 hands 1" 
 
 "Oh! there will be no danger," answered Mr. Radford; "I 
 only wish yon, in case he should be lying where I think he is, 
 to take care that he has food till he can get away. It might 
 be better for Kate here to go rather than yourself; or one 
 could do it at one-time, and the other at another. With a 
 basket on her arm, and a few eggs at the top, Kate could trip 
 across the wood as if she were going to Harbourne House. 
 You could boil the eggs hard, you know, and put some bread 
 and other things underneath. Then, at the place where I sup- 
 pose he is, she could quietly put down the basket and walk on." 
 
 " But you must tell me where he is, sir," answered Mrs. 
 Clare. 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mr. Radford; "that is to say, I can 
 tell you where I think he is. Then, when she gets near it, 
 she can look round to see if there's any one watching, and if 
 she sees no one, can say aloud, 'Do you want anything?' If 
 he's there he'll answer; and should he send any message to 
 me, one of you must bring it up. I shan't forget to repay 
 you for your trouble." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 267 
 
 "Oh! dear, sir, it isn't for that," said Mrs. Clare. "Kate 
 and I will both be very glad, indeed, to show our gratitude 
 for your kindness. It is seldom poor people have the oppor- 
 tunity; and I am sure, after good Sir Robert Croyland, we 
 owe more to you than to any body." 
 
 "Sir Robert has been kind to you, I believe, Mrs. Clare!" 
 replied Mr. Radford, with a peculiar expression of countenance. 
 "Well he may be! He has not always been so kind to you 
 and yours." 
 
 " Pray, sir, do not speak a word against Sir Robert," an- 
 swered the widow; "though he sometimes used to speak 
 rather cross and angrily in former times, yet since my poor 
 husband's death nothing could be more kind than he has been. 
 I owe him everything, sir." 
 
 "Ay, it's all very well, Mrs. Clare, " replied Mr. Radford, 
 shaking his head with a doubtful smile; "it's all very well! 
 However, I do not intend to say a word against Sir Robert 
 Croyland. He's my very good friend, you know; and it's all 
 very well. Now, let us talk about the place where you or 
 Kate are to go ; but, above all things, remember that you must 
 not utter a word about it to any one, either now or hereafter, 
 for it might be the ruin of us all if you did." 
 
 "Oh, no! not for the world, sir!" answered Mrs. Clare. 
 " I know such places are not to be talked about; and nobody 
 shall ever hear anything about it from us.' 3 
 
 " Well, then," continued Mr. Radford, " you know the way 
 up to Harbourne House, through the gardens. There's the 
 little path to the right; and then, half way up that, there's 
 one to the left, which brings you to the back of the stables. 
 It goes between two sandy banks, you may recollect; and 
 there's a little pond with a willow growing over it, and some 
 bushes at the back of the willow. Well, just behind these 
 bushes there is a deep hole in the bank, high enough to let a 
 man stand upright in it, when he gets a little way down. It 
 would make a famous hide if there were a better horse-path 
 up to it, and sometimes it has been used for small things such 
 as a man can carry on his back. Now, from what I have 
 heard, my boy Richard must be in there ; for his horse was 
 found, it seems, not above two or three hundred yards from 
 the house, broken-knee'd and knocked -up. If any one should 
 follow you as you go, and make inquiries, you must say that 
 
268 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 you are going to the house; for there is a door there in the 
 wall of the stable-yard, though that path is seldom, if ever, 
 used now; but, if there be nobody by, you can just set down 
 the basket by the stump of the willow, and ask if. he wants 
 anything more. If he doesn't answer, speak again, and try at 
 all events to find out whether he's there or not, so that I may 
 hear." 
 
 "Oh! I know the place, quite well," said Mrs. Clare. 
 " My poor husband used to get gravel there. But when do 
 you think I had better go, sir? For if the dragoons are still 
 lingering about, a thousand to one but they follow me, and, 
 more likely still, may follow Kate; so I shall go myself to- 
 night, at all events." 
 
 "You had better wait till it is duskish," answered Mr. 
 Radford; "and then they'll soon lose sight of you amongst the 
 trees, for they can't go up there on horseback ; and if they 
 stop to dismount you can easily get out of their way. Let 
 me have any message you may get from Richard ; and don't 
 forget, either, if Harding comes up here, to tell him I want 
 to speak with him very much. He'll be sorry enough for 
 this affair when he hears of it, for the loss is dreadful!" 
 
 "I'm sure he will, sir," said Kate Clare; "for he was 
 talking about something that he had to do, and said it would 
 half kill him, if he did not get it done safely." 
 
 " Ay, he's a very good fellow," answered Mr. Radford, 
 " and you shall have a wedding-gown from me, Kate. Look 
 out of the window, there's a good girl, and see if any of those 
 dragoons are about." 
 
 Kate did as he bade her, and replied in the negative; and 
 Mr. Radford, after giving a few more directions, mounted his 
 horse and rode away, muttering as he went " Ay, Master 
 Harding, I have a strong suspicion of you; and I will soon 
 satisfy myself. They must have had good information, which 
 none could give but you, I think; so look to yourself, my 
 friend. No man ever injured me yet who had not cause to 
 repent it." 
 
 Mr. Radford forgot that he no longer possessed such exten- 
 sive means of injuring others as he had formerly done; but 
 the bitter will was as strong as ever. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE house of Mr. Zachary Croyland was not so large or 
 ostentatious in appearance as that of his brother ; but, never- 
 theless, it was a very roomy and comfortable house; and as 
 he was naturally a man of fine taste, though somewhat singu- 
 lar in his likings and dislikings, as well in matters of art as in 
 his friendships, and vehement in favour of particular schools, 
 and in abhorence of others, his dwelling was fitted up with 
 all that could refresh the eye or improve the mind. A very 
 extensive and well-chosen library covered the walls of one 
 room, in which were also several choice pieces of sculpture ; and 
 his drawing-room was ornamented with a valuable collection of 
 small pictures, into which not one single Dutch piece was 
 admitted. He was accustomed to say, when any connoisseur 
 objected to the total exclusion of a very fine school, " Don't 
 mention it, don't mention it; I hate it in all its branches and 
 all its styles. I have pictures for my own satisfaction, not 
 because they are worth a thousand pounds a-piece. I hate to 
 see men represented as like beasts as possible; or to refresh 
 my eyes with swamps and canals; or, in the climate of 
 England, which is dull enough in all conscience, to exhilarate 
 myself with the view of a frozen pond and fields, as flat as a 
 plate, covered with snow, while half-a-dozen boors, in red 
 night-caps and red noses, are skating away in ten pairs of 
 breeches, looking, in point of shape, exactly like hogs set upon 
 their hind legs. It's all very true, the artist may have shown 
 very great talent ; but that only shows him to be the greater 
 fool for wasting his talent upon such subjects." 
 
 His collection, therefore, consisted almost entirely of the Ita- 
 lian schools, with a few Flemish, a few English, and one or two 
 exquisite Spanish pictures. He had two good Murillos and a 
 Velasquez, one or two fine Vandykes, and four sketches by 
 Rubens of larger pictures. But he had numerous landscapes, 
 and several very beautiful small paintings of the Bolognese 
 
270 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 school ; though that on which he prided himself the most, was 
 an exquisite Correggio. 
 
 It was in this room that he left his niece Edith when he 
 set out for Woodchurch ; and, as she sat, with her arm fallen 
 somewhat listlessly over the back of the low sofa, the light 
 coming in from the window strong upon her left cheek, and the 
 rest in shade, with her rich colouring and her fine features, 
 the high-toned expression of soul upon her brow, and the 
 wonderful grace of her whole form and attitude, she would 
 have made a fine study for any of those dead artists whose 
 works lived around her. 
 
 She heard the wheels of the carriage roll away; but she 
 gave no thought to the question of whither her uncle had gone, 
 or why he took her not with him, as he usually did. She was 
 glad of it, in fact; and people seldom reason upon that with 
 which they are well pleased. Her whole mind was directed 
 to her own situation, and to the feelings which the few words 
 of conversation she had had with her sister had aroused. She 
 thought of him she loved, with the intense, eager longing to 
 behold him once more, but once, if so it must be, which perhaps 
 only a woman's heart can fully know. To be near him, to hear 
 him speak, to trace the features she had loved, to mark the traces 
 of Time's hand, and the lines that care and anxiety, and disap- 
 pointment and regret, she knew must be busily working, oh! 
 what a. boon it would be! Then her mind ran on, led by the 
 light hand of Hope, along the narrow bridge of association, to 
 ask herself, if it would be such delight to see him and to hear 
 him speak, what would it be to soothe, to comfort, to give him 
 back to joy and peace? 
 
 The dream was too bright to last, and it soon faded. He 
 was near her, and yet he did not come ; he was in the same 
 land, in the same district; he had gazed up to the house 
 where she dwelt; if he had asked whose it was, the familiar 
 name, the name once so dear, must have sounded in his ear ; 
 and yet he did not come. A few minutes of time, a few steps 
 of his horse, would have brought him to where she was ; but 
 he had turned away, and Edith's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 She rose and wiped them off, saying, " I will think of some- 
 thing else ;" and she went up and gazed at a picture. It was 
 a Salvator Rosa ; a fine painting, though not by one of the 
 finest masters. There was a rocky scene in front, with trees 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2?1 
 
 waving in the wind of a fierce storm, while two travellers stood 
 beneath a bank, and a writhing beech tree, scarcely seeming 
 to find shelter even there from the large grey streams of rain 
 that swept across the foreground. But, withal, in the distance 
 were seen some majestic old towers and columns, with a gleam 
 of golden light upon the edge of the sky; and Hope, never 
 wearying of her kindly offices, whispered to Edith's heart, 
 " In life, as in that picture, there may be sunshine behind the 
 storm." 
 
 Poor Edith was right willing to listen ; and she gave her- 
 self up to the gentle guide. "Perhaps," she thought, "his 
 duty might not admit of his coming, or perhaps he might not 
 know how he would be received. My father's anger would be 
 sure to follow such a step. He might think that insult, injury, 
 would be added. He might imagine even that I am changed," 
 and she shook her head, sadly. "Yet why should he not," 
 she continued, " if I sit here and think so of him? Who can 
 tell what people may have said? Who can tell even what 
 falsehoods may have been spread? Perhaps he's even now 
 thinking of me. Perhaps he has come into this part of the 
 country to make inquiries, to see with his own eyes, to satisfy 
 himself. Oh! it must be so: it must be sol" she cried, giving 
 herself up again to the bright dream. " Ay, and this Sir Ed- 
 ward Digby, too, he is his dear friend, his companion ; may he 
 not have sent him down to investigate and judge? I thought 
 it strange at the time, that this young officer should write to 
 inquire after my father's family, and then instantly accept an 
 invitation; and I marked how he gazed at that wretched 
 young man and his unworthy father. Perhaps he will tell 
 Zara more, and I shall hear when I return. Perhaps he has 
 told her more already. Indeed, it is very probable, for they 
 had a long ride together yesterday;" and poor Edith began to 
 feel as anxious to go back to her father's house as she had 
 been glad to quit it, Yet she saw no way how this could be 
 accomplished, before the period allotted for her stay was at an 
 end; and she determined to have recourse to a little simple 
 art, and ask Mr. Croyland to take her over to Ilarbourne on 
 the following morning, with the ostensible purpose of looking 
 for some article of apparel left behind, but, in truth, to obtain 
 a few minutes' conversation with her sister. 
 
 There are times in the life of almost every one, at least, of 
 
272 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 every one of feeling and intellect, when it seems as if we could 
 meditate for ever: when, without motion or change, the spirit 
 within the earthly tabernacle could pause and ponder over deep 
 subjects of contemplation for hour after hour, with the doors 
 and windows of the senses shut, and without any communica- 
 tion with external things. The matter before us may be any 
 of the strange and perplexing relations of man's mysterious 
 being; or it may be some obscure circumstance of our own fata; 
 some period of uncertainty and expectation; some of those 
 Egyptian darknesses which from time to time come over the 
 future, and which we gaze on half in terror, half in hope, dis- 
 covering nothing, yet speculating still. The latter was the 
 case at that moment with Edith Croyland; and, as she re- 
 volved every separate point of her situation, it seemed as if 
 fresh wells of thought sprung up to flow on interminably. 
 
 She had continued thus during more than half an hour after 
 her uncle's departure, when she heard a horse stop before the 
 door of the house, and her heart beat, though she knew not 
 wherefore. Her lover might have come at length, indeed; 
 but if that dream crossed her mind it was soon swept away ; 
 for the next instant she heard her father's voice, first inquiring 
 for herself, and then asking, in a lower tone, if his brother was 
 within. If Edith had felt hope before, she now felt apprehen- 
 sion; for during several years no private conversation had 
 taken place between her father and herself without bringing 
 with it grief and anxiety, harsh words spoken, and answers 
 painful for a child to give. 
 
 It seldom happens that fear does not go beyond reality, but 
 such was not the case in the present instance; for Edith Croy- 
 land had to undergo far more than she expected. Her father 
 entered the room where she sat, with a slow step and a stern 
 and determined look. His face was very pale, too; his lips 
 themselves seemed bloodless, and the terrible emotions which 
 were in his heart showed themselves upon his countenance by 
 many an intelligible but indescribable sign. As soon as Edith 
 saw him, she thought, " He has heard of Henry's return to 
 this country. It is that which has brought him;" and she 
 nerved her heart for a new struggle ; but still she could scarcely 
 prevent her limbs from shaking, as she rose and advanced to 
 meet her parent. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland drew her to him, and kissed her 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 273 
 
 tenderly enough; for, in truth, he loved her very dearly: and 
 then he led her back to the sofa, and seated himself beside her. 
 "How low these abominable contrivances are," he said; U I 
 do wish that Zachary would have some sofas that people can 
 sit upon with comfort, instead of these beastly things, only lit 
 for a Turkish harem, or a dog-kennel." 
 
 Edith made no reply : for she waited in dread of what was 
 to follow, and could not speak of trifles. But her father pre- 
 sently went on, saying: " So, my brother is out, and not 
 likely to return for an hour or two I Well, I am glad of it, 
 Edith, for I came over to speak with you on matters of much 
 moment." 
 
 Still Edith was silent; for she durst not trust her voice with 
 any reply, She feared that her courage would give way at 
 the first words, and that she should burst into tears, when she 
 felt sure that all the resolution she could command would be 
 required to bear her safely through. She trusted, indeed, that, 
 as she had often found before, her spirit would rise with the 
 occasion, and that she should find powers of resistance within 
 her in the time of need, though she shrunk from the contem- 
 plation of what was to come. 
 
 " I have delayed long, Edith," continued Sir Robert Croy- 
 land, after a pause, " to press you upon a subject in regard to 
 which it is now absolutely necessary you should come to a 
 decision; too long, indeed; but I have been actuated by a 
 regard for your feelings, and you owe me something for my 
 forbearance. There can now, however, be no further delay. 
 You will easily understand that I mean your marriage with 
 Richard Iladford." 
 
 Edith raised her eyes to her father's face, and, after a strong 
 effort, replied, " My decision, my dear father, has, as you know, 
 been long made. I cannot, and I will not, marry him; nothing 
 on earth shall ever induce me!" 
 
 " Do not say that, Edith," answered Sir Robert Croyland, 
 with a bitter smile; " for I could utter words, which, if I know 
 you rightly, would make you glad and eager to give him your 
 hand, even though you broke your heart in so doing. But 
 before I speak those things which will plant a wound in your 
 i for life, that nothing can heal or assuage, I will try 
 every other means. I request you, I entreat you, I command 
 you, to marry him! l>y every duty that you owe me, by all 
 
274 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the affection that a child ought to feel for a father, I beseech you 
 to do so, if you would save me from destruction and despair!" 
 
 "I cannot! I cannot!" said Edith, clasping her hands. 
 4 'Oh ! why should you drive me to such painful disobedience? 
 In the first place, can I promise to love a man whom I hate, to 
 honour and obey one whom I despise, and whose commands 
 can never be for good? But still more, my father; you must 
 hear me out, for you force me to speak; you force me to tear 
 open old wounds, to go back to times long past, and to recur 
 to things bitter to you and to me. I cannot marry him, as I 
 told you once before; for I hold myself to be the wife of 
 another. 5 ' 
 
 "Folly and nonsense!" cried Sir Robert Croyland, angrily; 
 " you are neither his wife, nor he your husband. What ! the 
 wife of a man who has never sought you for years; who 
 has cast you off, abandoned you, made no inquiry for you? 
 The marriage was a farce. You read a ceremony which you 
 had no right to read, jou took vows which you had no 
 power to take. The law of the land pronounces all such en- 
 gagements mere pieces of empty foolery!'' 
 
 "But the law of God," replied Edith, "tells us to keep 
 vows that we have once made. To those vows, I called God 
 to witness with a true and sincere heart; and with the same 
 heart, and the same feelings, I will keep them ! I did wrong, 
 my father, I know I did wrong, and Henry did wrong too ; bufc 
 by what we have done we must abide; and I dare not, I can- 
 not, be the wife of another.'' 
 
 "But, I tell you, you shall!" exclaimed her father, vehe- 
 mently. "I will compel you to be so; I will over-rule this 
 obstinate folly, and make you obedient, whether you choose it 
 or not." 
 
 "Nay, nay; not so!" cried Edith. "You could not do, 
 you would not attempt, so cruel a thing!" 
 
 " I will, so help me heav6nP exclaimed Sir Robert Croy- 
 land. 
 
 " Then, thank heaven," answered his daughter, in a low 
 but solemn voice, "it is impossible! In this country, there is 
 no clergyman who would perform the ceremony contrary to my 
 expressed dissent. If I break the vows that I have taken, it 
 must be my own voluntary act ; for there is not any force that 
 can compel me so to do ; and I call heaven to witness, that 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 2 75 
 
 even if you were to drag me to the altar, I would say, No, to 
 the last I" 
 
 "Kash, mad, unfeeling girl!" cried her father, starting up, 
 and gazing upon her with a look in which rage, and disap- 
 pointment, and perplexity were all mingled. 
 
 He stood before her for a moment in silence, and then strode 
 vehemently backwards and forwards in the room, with his 
 right hand contracting and expanding, as if grasping at some- 
 thing. "It must be done I'' he said, at length, pressing his 
 hand upon his brow; "it must be done!" and then he recom- 
 menced his silent walk, with the shadows of many emotions 
 coming over his countenance. 
 
 When he returned to Edith's side again, the manner and 
 the aspect of Sir Robert Croyland were both changed. There 
 was an expression of deep sorrow upon his countenance, of 
 much agitation, but considerable tenderness; and, to his 
 daughter's surprise, he took her hand in his, and pressed it 
 affectionately. 
 
 " Edith,'' he said, after a short interval of silence, " I have 
 commanded, I have insisted, I have threatened, but all in vain. 
 Yet, in so doing, I have had in view to spare you even greater 
 pain than could be occasioned by a father's sternness. My 
 very love for you, my child, made me seem wanting in love. 
 But now I must inflict the greater pain. You require, it 
 seems, inducements stronger than obedience to a father's ear- 
 nest commands, and you shall have them, however terrible for 
 me to speak and you to hear. I will tell you all, and leave you 
 to judge." 
 
 Edith gazed at him in surprise and terror. "Oh! do not, 
 do not, sir!" she said; "do not try to break my heart, and 
 put my duty to you in opposition to the fulfilment of a most 
 sacred vow, in opposition to all the dictates of my own heart 
 and my own conscience." 
 
 " Edith it must be done," replied Sir Robert Croyland. 
 " I have urged you to a marriage with young Richard Rad- 
 ford. I now tell you solemnly that your father's life depends 
 upon it.'' 
 
 Edith clasped her hands wildly together, and gazed for a 
 moment in his face, without a word, almost stupified with 
 horror. But Sir Robert Croyland had deceived her, or at- 
 tempted to deceive her, on the very same subject they were 
 
276 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 now discussing, more than once already. She knew it; and 
 of course she doubted ; for those who have been once false are 
 never fully believed, those who have been once deceived are 
 always suspicious of those who have deceived them, even when 
 they speak the truth. As thought and reflection came back 
 after the first shock, Edith found much cause to doubt: she 
 could not see how such a thing was possible, how her refusal 
 of Richard Radford could affect her father's life; and she re- 
 plied, after a time, in a hesitating tone, "How can that be? 
 I do not understand it. I do not see how " 
 
 "I will tell you," replied Sir Robert Croyland, in a low 
 and particularly quiet voice, 'which had something fearful in it 
 to his daughter's ear. "It is a long story, Edith, but you 
 must hear it all, my child. You shall be your father's confidant, 
 his only one. You shall share the secret, dreadful as it is, 
 which has embittered his whole existence, rendered his days 
 terrible, his nights sleepless, his bed a couch of fire." 
 
 Edith trembled in every limb; and Sir Robert, rising, 
 crossed over and opened the door of the drawing-room, to see 
 that there were none of the servants near it. Then closing it 
 again, he returned to her side, and proceeded, holding her 
 hand in his: "You must have remarked," he said, "and per- 
 haps often wondered, my dear child, that Mr. Radford, a man 
 greatly below myself in station, whose manners are repulsive 
 and disagreeable, whose practices I condemn and reprobate, 
 whose notions and principles I abhor, has exercised over me 
 for many years an influence which no other person possesses; 
 that he has induced me to do many things which my better 
 sense and better feelings disapproved; that he has even led me 
 to consent that my best-loved daughter should become the 
 wife of his son, and to urge her to be so at the expense of all 
 her feelings. You have seen all this, Edith, and wondered. 
 Is it not so?" 
 
 "I have, indeed," murmured Edith. " I have been by no 
 means able to account for it." 
 
 " Such will not be the case much longer, Edith," replied 
 Sir Robert Croyland. " I am making my confession, my dear 
 child, and you shall hear all. I must recur, too, to the story 
 of young Layton. You know well that I liked and esteemed 
 him ; and although I was offended, as I j ustly might be, at 
 his conduct towards yourself, and thought fit to show that I 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 277 
 
 disapproved, yet at first, and from the first, I determined, if I 
 saw the attachment continue and prove real and sincere, to 
 sacrifice all feelings of pride, and all considerations of fortune, 
 and when you were of a fit age, to confirm the idle ceremony 
 which had passed between you, by a real and lawful marriage." 
 " Oh! that was kind and generous of you, my dear father. 
 What could make you change so suddenly and fatally? You 
 must have seen that the attachment was true and lasting ; you 
 must have known that Henry was in every way calculated to 
 make your daughter happy." 
 
 " You shall hear, Edith ; you shall hear," replied her 
 father. "Very shortly after the event of which I have 
 spoken, another occurred, of a dark and terrible character, 
 only known to myself and one other. I was somewhat irri- 
 table at that time. My views and prospects with regard to 
 yourself were crossed; and although I had taken the resolu- 
 tion I have mentioned, vexation and disappointment had their 
 effect upon my mind. Always passionate, I gave way more 
 to my passion than I had ever done before; and the result 
 was a fatal and terrible one. You may remember poor Clare, 
 the gamekeeper. He had offended me on the Monday morn- 
 ing ; and I had used violent and angry language towards him 
 before his companions, threatening to punish him in a way he 
 did not expect. On the following day, we went out again to 
 shoot ; he and I alone together ; and, on our way back, we 
 
 passed through a little wood, which lies " 
 
 c "Oh, stop; stopl" cried Edith, covering her eyes with her 
 hands. "Do not tell me any morel" 
 
 Her father was not displeased to see her emotion, for it 
 answered his purpose. Yet, it must not be supposed that 
 the peculiar tone and manner which he assumed, so different 
 from anything that had been seen in his demeanour for years, 
 was affected as a means to an end. Such was not the case. 
 Sir Robert Croyland was now true, in manner and in words, 
 though it was the first time that he had been entirely so for 
 many years. There had been a terrible struggle before he 
 could make up his mind to speak; but yet, when he did begin, 
 it was a relief to him to unburthen the overloaded breast, 
 even to his own child. It softened him ; it made his heart 
 expand; it took the chain off long-imprisoned feelings, and 
 gave a better spirit room to make its presence felt. He did 
 
278 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 not forget his object, indeed. To save himself from a death 
 of horror, from accusation, from disgrace, was still his end; 
 but the means by which he proposed to seek it were gentler. 
 He even wavered in his resolution: he fancied that he could 
 summon fortitude to leave the decision to Edith herself, and 
 that if that decision were against him, would dare and bear 
 the worst. But still he was pleased to see her moved; for 
 he thought that she could never hear the whole tale, and 
 learn his situation fully, without rushing forward to extricate 
 him; and he went on "Nay, Edith, now the statement has 
 been begun, it must be concluded," he said. "You would 
 hear, and you must hear all. You know the wood I speak 
 of, I dare say; a little to the left of Chequer-tree?" 
 
 "Oh! yes," murmured Edith, "where poor Clare was 
 found." 
 
 The baronet nodded his head. " It was there, indeed," he 
 said. " We went down to see if there were any snipes or 
 wild fowl in the bottom. It is a deep and gloomy-looking 
 dell, with a pond of water and some rushes in the hollow, and 
 a little brook running through it, having tall trees all around, 
 and no road but one narrow path crossing it. As we came 
 down, I thought I saw the form of a man move amongst the 
 trees, and I fancied that some one was poaching there. I 
 told Clare to go round the pond and see, while I watched the 
 road. He did not seem inclined to go, saying, that he had not 
 remarked anybody, but that the people round about said the 
 place was haunted. I had been angry with him the whole 
 morning, and a good deal out of humour with many things ; 
 so I told him to go round instantly, and not make me any 
 answer. The man did so, in a somewhat slow and sullen 
 humour, I thought, and returned sooner than I fancied he 
 ought to do, saying that he could see no trace of any one. I 
 was now very angry, for I fancied he neglected his duty. I 
 told him that he was a liar; that I had perceived some one, 
 whom he might have perceived as well, and that my firm be- 
 lief was he was in alliance with the poachers, and deserved to 
 be immediately discharged. ' Well, Sir Eobert,' he said, ' in 
 regard to discharging me, that is soon settled. I will not stay 
 another day in your service after I have a legal right to go. 
 As to being a liar, I am none; and as to being in league with 
 the poachers, if you say so, you yourself lieT Such were his 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 279 
 
 words, or words to that effect. I got furious at his insolence, 
 though perhaps, Edith, perhaps I provoked it myself; at least, 
 I have thought so since. However, madly giving way to rage, 
 I took my gun by the barrel to knock him down. A struggle 
 ensued ; for lie caught hold of the weapon in my hand ; and 
 how I know not, but the gun went off, and Clare fell back 
 upon the turf. What would I not have done then to recall 
 every hasty word I had spoken! But it was in vain. I 
 stooped over him ; I spoke to him ; I told him how sorry I 
 was for what had happened. But he made no answer, and 
 pressed his hand upon his right side, where the charge had en- 
 tered. I was mad with despair and remorse. I knew not where 
 to go, or what to do. The man was evidently dying, for his 
 face had grown pale and sharp; and after trying to make him 
 speak, and beseeching him to answer one word, I set off run- 
 ning as fast as I could towards the nearest village for assist- 
 ance. As I was going, I saw a man on horseback riding 
 sharply down towards the very place. He was at some dis- 
 tance from me; but I easily recognised Mr. Eadford, and knew 
 that he must pass by the spot where the wounded man lay. 
 I comforted myself with thinking that Clare would get aid 
 without my committing myself; and I crept in amongst the 
 trees at the edge of the wood, to make sure that Mr. Radford 
 saw him, and to watch their proceedings. Quietly and 
 stealthily finding my way through the bushes, I came near; 
 and then I saw that Radford was kneeling by Clare's side 
 with an inkhorn in his hand, which, with his old tradesman- 
 like habits, he used always at that time to carry about him. 
 He was writing busily; and I could hear Clare speak, but 
 could not distinguish what he said. The state of my mind, at 
 that moment, I cannot describe. It was more like madness 
 than anything else. Vain and foolish is it, for any man, or 
 any body of men, to argue what would be their conduct in 
 trying situations which they have never been placed in. It is 
 worse than folly for them to say what would naturally be ano- 
 ther man's conduct in any circumstances; for no man can tell 
 another's character, or understand fully all the fine shades of 
 feeling or emotion that may influence him. The tale I am 
 telling you now, Edith, is true: too true, in all respects. I 
 was very wrong, certainly; but I was not guilty of the man's 
 murder. I never intended to fire : I never tried to fire ; and 
 
280 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 yet, perhaps, I acted afterwards as if I had been guilty, or at 
 all events in a way that was well calculated to make people 
 believe I was so. But I was mad at the time, mad with agi- 
 tation and grief; and every man, I believe, in moments of 
 deep emotion is mad, more or less. However, I crept out of 
 the wood again, and hastened on, determined to leave the man 
 to the care of Mr. Radford, but with all my thoughts wild and 
 confused, and no definite line of conduct laid out for myself. 
 Before I had gone a mile, I began to think what a folly I had 
 committed, that I should have joined Radford at once; that I 
 should have been present to hear what the man said, and to 
 give every assistance in my power, although it might be inef- 
 fectual, in order to staunch the blood and save his life. As 
 soon as these reflections arose, I determined, though late, to 
 do what I should have done at first; and, turning my steps, I 
 walked back at a quick pace. Ere I got half way to the top 
 of the hill which looks down upon the wood, I saw Radford 
 coming out again on horseback; but I went on, and met him. 
 As soon as he beheld me he checked his horse, which was 
 going at a rapid rate, and when I came pear, dismounted to 
 speak with me. We were then little more than common ac- 
 quaintances, and I had sometimes dealt hardly with him in his 
 different transactions ; but he spoke in a friendly tone, saying, 
 " This is a sad business, Sir Robert; but if you wilt take my 
 advice you will go home as quickly as you can, and say no- 
 thing to any one till you see me. I will be with you in an 
 hour or so. At present I must ride up to Middle Quarter, 
 and get down men to carry home the body. With a feeling I 
 cannot express, I asked if he were dead then. He nodded his 
 head significantly; and when I was going to put further ques- 
 tions, he grasped my hand, saying, ' Go home, Sir Robert; go 
 home. I shall say nothing about the matter to any one, till I 
 see you, except that I found him dying in the wood. His gun 
 was discharged, 7 he continued, 'so there is no proof that he 
 did not do it himself I' Little did I know what a fiend he was 
 into whose power I was putting myself." 
 
 "Oh, heaven!" cried Edith, who had been listening with 
 her head bent down till her whole face was nearly concealed, 
 "I see it all, now! I see it all I" 
 
 " No, dear child," replied Sir Robert Croyland, in a voice 
 sad and solemn, but wonderfully calm, "you cannot see it all; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 281 
 
 no, nor one thousandth part of what I have suffered. Even 
 the next dreadful three hours for he was fully that time ere 
 he came to Harbourne were full of horror, inconceivable to 
 any one but to him who endured them. At length, he made 
 his appearance: calm, grave, self-possessed, with nought of 
 his somewhat rude and blustering manner, and announced, 
 with an affectation of feeling to the family, that poor Clare, my 
 keeper, had been found dying with a wound in his side." 
 
 " I recollect the day, well!'' said Edith, shuddering. 
 
 "Do you not remember, then," said Sir Robert Croyland, 
 " that he and I went into my writing-room: that awful room, 
 which well deserves the old prison name of the room of tor- 
 ture ! We were closeted there for nearly two hours, and all 
 he said I cannot repeat. His tone, however, was the most 
 friendly in the world. He professed the greatest interest in 
 me and in my situation ; and he told me that he had come to 
 see me before he said a word to any one, because he wished to 
 take my opinion as to how he was to proceed. It was neces- 
 sary, he said, that I should know the facts, for, unfortunately 
 they placed me in a very dangerous situation, which he was 
 most anxious to free me from; and then he went on to tell 
 me, that when he had come up, poor Clare was perfectly sen- 
 sible, and had his speech distinctly. * As a magistrate,' he 
 continued, ' I thought it right immediately to take his dying 
 deposition, for I saw that he had not many minutes to live. 
 Here it is,' he said, showing his pocket-book; 'and, as I 
 luckily always have pen and ink with me, I knelt down, and 
 wrote his words from his own lips. He had strength enough 
 to sign the paper; and as you may see, there is the mark of 
 blood from his own hand, which he had been pressing on his 
 side.' I would fain have taken the paper, but he would not 
 let me, saying, that he was bound to keep it; and then he 
 went on, and read the contents. In it the unfortunate man 
 charged me most wrongfully with having shot him in a fit of 
 passion ; and, moreover, he said that he had been sure, before- 
 hand, that I would do it, as I had threatened him on the 
 preceding day, and there were plenty of people who could 
 prove it.'' 
 
 " Oh! how dreadful!" cried Edith. 
 
 "It was false, as I have a soul to be saved!" cried Sir 
 Robert Croyland. " But Mr. Radford then went on, and, 
 
282 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 shrugging his shoulders, said, that he was placed in a very 
 delicate and painful situation, and that he did not really know- 
 how to act with regard to the deposition. ' Put it in the fire!' 
 I exclaimed, 'put it in the firel' But he said, 'No; every 
 man must consider himself in these things, Sir Eobert. I 
 have my own character and reputation to think of my own 
 duty. I risk a great deal, you must recollect, by concealing 
 a thing of this kind. I do not know that I don't put my own 
 life in danger ; for this is clear and conclusive evidence against 
 you, and you know what it is to be accessory in a case of 
 murder 1' I then told him my own story, Edith; and he said, 
 that made some difference, indeed. He was sure I would 
 tell him the truth; but yet he must consider himself in the 
 matter; and he added hints which I could not mistake, that 
 his evidence was to be bought off. I offered anything he 
 pleased to name, and the result was such as you may guess. 
 He exacted that I should mortgage my estate, as far as it 
 could be mortgaged, and make over the proceeds to him, and 
 that I should promise to give your hand to his son. I pro- 
 mised anything, my child; for not only life or death, but 
 honour or disgrace, were in the balance. If he had asked my 
 life, I would have held my throat to the knife a thousand 
 times sooner than have made such sacrifices. But to die the 
 death of a felon, Edith to be hanged to writhe in the face 
 of a grinning and execrating multitude to have my name 
 handed down in the annals of crime as the man wlio had 
 been executed for the murder of his own servant, I could not 
 bear that, my child; and I promised anything! He kept the 
 paper, he said, as a security; and, at first, it was to be given 
 to me to do with it as I liked, when the money coming from 
 the mortgage was secretly made over to him ; but then, he 
 said, that he had lost one great hold, and must keep it till the 
 marriage was completed: for by this time the coroner's inquest 
 was over, and he had withheld the deposition, merely testify- 
 ing that he had found the man at the point of death in the 
 wood, and had gone as fast as possible for assistance. The 
 jury consisted of his tenants and mine, and they were easily 
 satisfied; but the fiend who had me in his power was more 
 greedy ; and, by the very exercise of his influence, he seemed to 
 learn to enjoy it. Day after day, month after month, he took 
 a pleasure in making me do things that were abhorrent to me. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 283 
 
 It changed my nature and my character. He forced me to 
 wink at frauds that I detested, and every year he pressed for 
 the completion of your marriage with his son. Your coldness, 
 your dislike, your refusal would, long ere this, have driven 
 him into fury, I believe, if Eichard Kadford had been eager 
 for your hand himself. But now, Edith, now, my child, he 
 will hear of no more delay. He is ruined in fortune, disap- 
 pointed in his expectations, and rendered fierce as a hungry 
 beast by some events that have taken place this morning. He 
 has just now been over at Har bourne, and used threats which 
 I know, too well, he will execute. He it was, himself, who 
 told me to inform you, that if you did not consent, your 
 father's life would be the sacrifice!" 
 
 " Oh, heaven!" cried Edith, covering her eyes with her 
 hands, "at least, give me time to think. Surely, his word 
 cannot have such power: a base, notorious criminal himself; 
 one who every day violates the law, who scoffs at his own 
 oaths, and holds truth and honour but as names, surely his 
 word will be nothing against Sir Robert Croyland's?" 
 
 " His word is nothing, would be nothing, " replied her father, 
 earnestly; "but that deposition, Edith! It is that which is my 
 destruction. Remember, that the words of a dying man, with 
 eternity and judgment close before his eyes, are held by the law 
 more powerful than any other kind of evidence; and, besides, 
 there are those still living, who heard the rash threat I used. 
 Suspicion once pointed at me, a thousand corroborative cir- 
 cumstances would come forth to prove that the tale I told of 
 parting with the dead man, some time before, was false, and 
 that very fact would condemn me. Cast away all such hopes, 
 Edith; cast away all such expectations. They are vain! 
 vainl Look the truth full in the face, my child. This man 
 has your father's life entirely and totally in his power, and ask 
 yourself, if you will doom, me to death." 
 
 "Oh! give me time; give me time!" cried Edith, wringing 
 her hands. "Let me but think over it till to-morrow, or next 
 day." 
 
 "Not an hour ago," replied Sir Robert Croyland, "he 
 swore, by everything he holds sacred, that if before twelve to- 
 night, he did not receive your consent " 
 
 "Stay, stay!'' cried Edith, eagerly, placing her hand upon 
 her brow. "Let me think; let me think. It is but money 
 
284 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 that he wants; it is but the pitiful wealth my uncle left 
 me. Let him take it, my father!" she continued, laying her 
 hand upon Sir Robert's arm, and gazing brightly in his face, 
 as if the light of hope had suddenly been renewed. " Let him 
 take it all, every farthing. I would sooner work as a hired 
 servant in the fields for my daily bread, with the only com- 
 fort of innocence and peace, than break my vows, and marry 
 that bad man. I will sign a promise this instant that he shall 
 have all." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland threw his arms round her, and looked 
 up to heaven, as if imploring succour for them both. "My 
 sweet child! My dear child !" he said, with the tears stream- 
 ing down his cheeks. "But I cannot leave you even this 
 generous hope. This man has other designs. I offered I 
 promised to give Zara to his son, and to ensure to her, with 
 my brother's help, a fortune equal to your own. But he 
 would not hear of it. He has other views, my Edith. You 
 must know all ; you must see all as it really is. He will keep 
 his word this very night ! If before twelve he do not receive 
 your consent, the intimation of the fatal knowledge he pos- 
 sesses will be sent to those who will not fail to track it 
 through every step, as the bloodhound follows his prey. He 
 is a desperate man, Edith, and will keep his word, bringing 
 down ruin upon our heads, even if it overwhelm himself 
 also." 
 
 Edith Croyland paused without reply for several minutes, her 
 beautiful face remaining pale, with the exception of one glowing 
 spot in the centre of her cheek. Her eyes were fixed upon 
 the ground, and- her lips moved, but without speech. She 
 was arguing in her own mind the case between hope and de- 
 spair; and the terrible array of circumstances on every side 
 bewildered her. Delay was her only refuge ; and looking up 
 in her father's face, she said, " But why is he so hasty? 
 Why cannot he wait a few hours longer? I will fix a time 
 when my answer shall be given; it shall be shortly, very 
 shortly: this time to-morrow. Surely, surely, in so terrible 
 a case, I may be allowed a few hours to think ; a short, a 
 very short period, to decide!" 
 
 " He will admit of no more than I have said,'' answered 
 Sir Robert Croyland: "it is as vain to entreat him as to ask 
 the hangman to delay his fatal work. He is hard as iron; 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 285 
 
 without feeling, without heart. His reasons, too, are specious, 
 my dear child. His son, it seems, has taken part this morning 
 in a smuggling affray with the troops ; blood has been shed, some 
 of the soldiers have been killed, all who have had a share 
 therein are guilty of felony; and it has become necessary that 
 the young man should be hurried out of the country without 
 delay. To him such a flight is nothing: he has no family to 
 blacken with the record of crime, he has no honourable name 
 to stain, his means are all prepared; his flight is easy, his 
 escape secure ; but his father insists that you shall be his bride 
 before he goes, or he gives your father up, not to justice, but 
 to the law; which in pretending to administer justice, but too 
 often commits the very crime it seems to punish. Four short 
 days are all that he allows, and then you are to be that 
 youth's bride." 
 
 " What! the bride of a felon!'' cried Edith, her spirit rising 
 for a moment, " of one stained with every vice and every crime; 
 to vow falsely that I will love him whom I must ever hate ; to 
 break all my promises to one I must ever love; to deceive, 
 prove false and forsworn to the noble and the true, and give 
 myself to the base, the lawless, and the abhorred! Oh, my 
 father, my father! is it possible that you can ask such a 
 thing?" 
 
 The fate of Sir Robert Croyland and his daughter hung in 
 the balance. One harsh command, one unkind word, with 
 justice and truth on her side, and feebleness and wrong on his, 
 might have armed her to resist; but the old man's heart was 
 melted. The struggle that he witnessed in his child was, for 
 a moment remark, only for a moment more terrible than 
 that within his own breast. There was something in the in- 
 nocence and truth, something in the higher attributes of the 
 passions called into action in her breast, something in the enno- 
 bling nature of the conflicting feelings of her heart: the filial 
 tenderness, the adherence to her engagements, the abhorrence 
 of the bad, the love of the good, the truth, the honour, and 
 the piety, all striving one with the other, that for a time made 
 the mean passion of fear seem small and insignificant. " I do 
 not ask you, my child,'' he said, "I do not urge you; I ask, I 
 urge you no more! The worst bitterness is past. I have 
 told my own child the tale of my sorrows, my folly, my weak- 
 ness, and my danger. I have inflicted the worst upon you, Edith, 
 
288 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and on myself; and I leave it to your own heart to decide. 
 After your generous, your noble offer, to sacrifice your property 
 and leave yourself nothing for my sake, it were cruel ; it were, 
 indeed, base, to urge you farther. To avoid this dreadful dis- 
 closure, to shelter you and myself from such horrible details, I 
 have often been stern, and harsh, and menacing. Forgive me, 
 Edith, but it is past! You now know what is on the die; 
 and it is your own hand casts it. Your father's life, the 
 honour of your family, the high name we have ever -borne, 
 these are to be lost and won. But I urge it, I ask it not. 
 You only must and can decide." 
 
 Edith, who had risen, stood before him, pale as ashes, with 
 her hands clasped so tight that the blood retreated from her 
 fingers, where they pressed against each other, leaving them 
 as white as those of the dead: her eyes fixed, straining, but 
 sightless, upon the ground. All that she saw, all that she 
 knew, all that she felt, was the dreadful alternative of fates 
 before her. It was more than her frame could bear, it was 
 more than almost any heart could endure. To condemn a 
 father to death, to bring the everlasting regret into her heart, 
 to wander, as if accurst, over the earth, with a parent's blood 
 crying out for vengeance ! It was a terrible thought, indeed. 
 Then again, she remembered the vows that she had taken, the 
 impossibility of performing those that were asked of her, the 
 sacrifice of the innocent to the guilty, the perjury that she 
 must commit, the dark and dreadful future before her, the self- 
 reproach that stood on either hand to follow her through life I 
 She felt as if her heart was bursting; and the next moment, 
 all the blood seemed to fly from it, and leave it cold and 
 motionless. She strove to speak, her voice was choked ; but 
 then, again, she made an effort, and a few words broke forth, 
 convulsively: "To save you, my father, I would do anything," 
 she cried. " I will do anything, but " 
 
 She could not finish ; her sight failed her ; her heart seemed 
 crushed ; her head swam ; the colour left her lips ; and 
 she fell prone at her father's feet, without one effort to save 
 herself. 
 
 Sir Eobert Croyland's first proceeding was, to raise her and 
 lay her on the sofa; but before he called any one, he gazed at 
 her a moment or two in silence. " She has fainted," he said. 
 " Poor child! Poor girl!" But then came another thought: 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 287 
 
 " She said she would do anything," he murmured ; " her words 
 were, * I will. 3 It is surely a consent." 
 
 He forgot, he heeded not, he would not heed, that she had 
 added, " but" 
 
 " Yes, it was a consent," he repeated; " it must have been 
 a consent, I will hasten to tell him. If we can but gain a 
 few days, it is something. Who can say what a few days 
 may bring? At all events, it is a relief. It will obtain the 
 delay she wished; I will tell him. It must have been a con- 
 sent;" and calling the servants and Edith's own maid to 
 attend upon her, he hastened out of the house, fearful of 
 waiting till her senses returned, lest other words should snatch 
 from him the interpretation he chose to put upon those which 
 had gone before. In an instant, however, he returned, went 
 into the library, and wrote down on a scrap of paper : 
 
 " Thanks, dearest Edith, thanks I I go in haste to tell 
 Mr. Radford the promise you have given.'' 
 
 Then hurrying out again, he put the paper, which he had 
 folded up, into the hands of the groom who held his horse. 
 " That for Miss Croyland," he said, " when she has quite re- 
 covered ; but not before ;" and, mounting with speed, he rode 
 away as fast as he could go. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IT was two o'clock when Sir Robert Croyland left his daughter; 
 and Edith, with the aid of her maid, soon recovered from the 
 swoon into which she had fallen. At first she hardly knew 
 where she was, or what had taken place. All seemed strange 
 to her, for she had never fainted before ; and though she had 
 more than once seen her sister in the state in which she her- 
 self had just been, yet she did not apply what she had wit- 
 nessed in others to explain her own sensations. 
 
 When she could rise from the sofa, where her father had 
 laid her, and thought and recollection returned, Edith's first 
 inquiry was for Sir Robert, and the servant's answer that he 
 had been gone a quarter of an hour, was at first a relief. But 
 Edith sat and pondered for a while, applying herself to call to 
 
288 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 mind all the last words which had been spoken. As she did 
 so, a fear came over her, a fear that her meaning might have 
 been mistaken. "No!" she murmured, at length, "no! I 
 said, but; he must have heard it. I cannot break those 
 vows; I dare not; I would do anything to save him; oh, yes! 
 doom myself to wretchedness for life; but I cannot, unless 
 Henry gives me back my promise. Poor Henry! what right 
 have I to make him suffer too? Yet does he suffer? But a 
 father's life, a father's life! That must not be the sacrifice! 
 Leave me, Caroline, I am better now!" she continued aloud; 
 "it is very foolish to faint in this way. It never happened to 
 me before." 
 
 "Oh dear! Miss Edith, it happens to every one now and 
 then," said the maid, who had been in her service long; "and 
 I am sure all Sir Robert said to you to day was enough to 
 make you." 
 
 "Good heaven!" cried Edith; in alarm, "did you hear?" 
 
 " I could not help hearing a part, Miss Edith," answered 
 the maid; "for in that little room, where I sit to be out of 
 the way of all the black fellows, one hears very plain what is 
 said here. There was once a door, I believe, and it is only 
 just covered over." 
 
 For a moment, Edith sat mute in consternation ; but at 
 length demanded, "What did you hear? Tell me all, Caro- 
 line, every word, if you would ever have me regard you more." 
 
 "Oh! it was not much, miss," replied the maid; "I heard 
 Sir Robert twice say, his life depended on it, and I suppose 
 he meant on you marrying young Mr. Radford. Then he 
 seemed to tell you a long story ; but I did not hear the whole 
 of that; for I did not try, I can assure you, Miss Edith; and 
 then I heard you say, 'To save you, my father, I would do 
 anything, I will do anything, but ' and then you stopped in 
 the middle, because I suppose you fainted." 
 
 Edith put her hands before her eyes and thought, or tried 
 to think, for her ideas were still in sad confusion. "Leave 
 me now, Caroline," she said; "but remember, I expect that 
 no part of any conversation you have overheard between me 
 and my father, will ever be repeated." 
 
 "Oh! dear no, Miss Edith," replied the woman, "I would 
 not on any account;" and she left the room. 
 
 We all know of what value are ordinary promises of secrecy, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 289 
 
 even in the best society, as it is called. Nine times out of 
 ten, there is one dear friend to whom everything is revealed; 
 and that dear friend has others ; and at each remove, the bond 
 of secrecy is weaker and more weak, till the whole world is 
 made a hearer of the talc. Now Edith's maid was a very 
 discreet person ; and when she promised not to reveal what 
 she had heard, she only proposed to herself to tell it to one 
 person in the world. Nor was that person her lover, or her 
 friend, or her fellow-servant ; nor was she moved by the spirit 
 of gossip, bnt really and truly by a love for her young lady, 
 which was great,; and by a desire to serve her. Thus, she 
 thought, as soon as she had shut the door, " I will tell it to 
 Miss Zara, though ; for it is but right that she should know 
 how they are driving her sister to marry a man she hates, as 
 well she may. Miss Zara is active and quick, and may find 
 some means of helping her." 
 
 The maid had not been gone a minute when she returned 
 with the short note which Sir Robert Croyland had left, and 
 as she handed it to her young mistress, she watched her coun- 
 tenance eagerly. But Edith took it, read it, and gazed upon 
 the paper without a word. 
 
 "Pray, Miss Edith," said the maid, " are you likely to want 
 me soon; for I wish to go up to the village for something?" 
 
 "No, Caroline, no," answered Edith, with an absent air; 
 " I shall not want you." And she remained standing with the 
 paper in her hand, and her eyes fixed upon it. 
 
 The powers by which volition acts upon the mind, and in 
 what volition really consists, are mysteries which have never 
 yet, that I have seen, been explained. Yet certain it is, that 
 there is something within us which, when the intellectual 
 faculties seem, under the pressure of circumstances, to lose 
 their functions, can, by a great effort compel them to return 
 to their duty, rally them, and array them, as it were, against 
 the enemy by whom they have been routed, Edith Croyland 
 made the effort, and succeeded, She had been taken by sur- 
 prise, and overcome; but now she collected all the forces of 
 her mind, and prepared to fight the battle over again. In a 
 few minutes she became calm, and applied herself to consider 
 fully her own situation. There were filial duty and tenderness 
 on one side, love and a strong vow on the other. "He has 
 gone to tell Mr. Radford that I have consented," was her first 
 
290 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 distinct thought, "but his having mistaken me must not make 
 me give that consent when it is wrong. Were it myself alone, 
 I would sacrifice all for him; I could but die; a few hours oi 
 misery are not much to bear: I have borne many. But I am 
 bound. Good God! what an alternative 1" 
 
 But I will not follow her thoughts : they can easily be con- 
 ceived. She was left alone, with no one to counsel, with no 
 one to aid her. The fatal secret she possessed was a bar to 
 asking advice from any one. Buried in her own bosom, the 
 causes of her conduct, the motives upon which she acted, must 
 ever be secret, whatever course she pursued. Agony was on 
 either hand. She had to choose between two terrible alterna- 
 tives: on the one hand a breach of all her engagements, a 
 few years, a few weeks, perhaps, of misery, and an early 
 death, for such she knew must be her fate : and, on the other, 
 a life, with love certainly to cheer it, but poisoned by the 
 remembrance that she had sacrificed her father. Yet Edith 
 now thought firmly, weighed, considered all. 
 
 She could come to no determination. Between two such 
 gulfs, she shrank trembling from either. 
 
 The clock in the hall, with its clear, sharp bell, struck 
 three; and the moment after, the quick sound of horse's feet 
 was "heard. "Can it be my father?" she thought. "No! 
 he has not had time, unless he has doubted;" but while she 
 asked herself the question, the horses stopped at the door, the 
 bell rang, and she went on to say to herself: ' Perhaps it is 
 Zara. That would be a comfort, indeed, though I cannot tell 
 her; I must not tell her all." 
 
 The old Hindoo opened the door, saying, "Missy, a gentle- 
 man want to see you : very fine gentleman." 
 
 Edith could not speak; but she bowed her head, and the 
 servant, receiving that token as assent, turned to some one 
 behind him and said, " Walk in, sir." 
 
 For a moment or two Edith did not raise her eyes, and her 
 lips moved. She heard a step in the room that made her 
 heart flutter; she heard the door shut, but yet for an instant 
 she remained with her head bent, and her hands clasped to- 
 gether. Then she looked up. Standing before her, and 
 gazing intently upon her, was a tall handsome man, dressed in 
 the splendid uniform of the dragoons of that time, and with a 
 star upon his left breast: a decoration worn by persons who 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 29 1 
 
 had the right to do so more frequently in those days than at 
 i the present time. But it was to the face that Edith's eyes 
 f were turned : to the countenance well known and deeply loved, 
 i Changed though it was, grave where it had been gay, pale 
 
 where it had been florid, sterner in the lines, once so full of 
 gentle youth, still all the features were there, and the expres- 
 1 sion, too, though saddened, was the same. 
 
 He gazed on her with a look full of tenderness and love; 
 J and their eyes met. On both of them the feelings of other 
 years seemed to rush with overpowering force. The interval 
 i which had since occurred, for a moment, was annihilated ; the 
 Iheart went back with the rapid wing of memory to the hours 
 1 of joy that were gone, and Layton opened wide his arms, ex- 
 claiming, "Edith! Edith!" 
 
 She could not resist. She had no power to struggle. Love, 
 i stronger than herself, was master; and, starting up, she cast 
 3 herself upon his bosom, and there wept. 
 
 " Dear, dear girl!" he said, "then you love me still; then 
 i Digby's assurance is true ; then you have not forgotten poor 
 Harry Layton; then his persevering hope, his long endurance, 
 i his unwavering love, his efforts, his success, have not been all 
 t in vain! Dear, dear Edith ! This hour repays me for all, 
 ' for all. Dangers and adversities, and wounds, and anguish of 
 } body and of mind, and sleepless nights, and days of bitter 
 ^ thought, I would endure them all. All? ay, tenfold all, for 
 Uhis one hour!" and he pressed her closer and closer to his 
 1 heart. 
 
 "Nay, Harry; nay," cried Edith, still clinging to him; 
 
 "but hear me, hear me, or if you speak such words of tender- 
 ness you will break my heart, or drive me mad." 
 
 ".Good heaven!" exclaimed Layton, unclasping his arms, 
 "what is it that you say? Edith, my Edith; my own, my 
 vowed, my bride! But now you seemed to share the joy you 
 gave: to love, as you are loved; and now " 
 
 " I do love you: oh! I do love you!" cried Edith, vehe- 
 mently; "add not a doubt of that to all I suffer. Ever, ever 
 have I loved you, without change, without thought of change. 
 But yet, but yet : I may have fancied that you have forgotten 
 me; I may have thought it strange that you did not write; 
 that my letters remained unanswered; but still I loved, still I 
 have been true to you." 
 
292 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " I did write, my Edith. I received no letters," said Layton, 
 sadly; "we have both been wronged, my dear girl* My let* 
 ters were returned in a cover directed in your own hand: but 
 that trick I understand: that I see through. Oh! do not let 
 any one deceive you again, beloved girl I You have been my 
 chief, I might say my only thought; for the memory of you 
 has mingled with every other idea, and made the whole your 
 own. In the camp and in the field, I have endured and fought 
 for Edith: in the council and in the court, I have struggled 
 and striven for her; she has been the end and object of every 
 effort, the ruling power of my whole mind. And now, Edith; 
 now your soldier has returned to you. He has won every step 
 towards the crowning reward of his endeavours; he has risen 
 to competence, to command, to some honour in the service of 
 his country; and he can proudly say to her he loves: Cast 
 from you the fortune for which men dared to think I sought 
 you ; come to your lover, come to your husband, as dowerless 
 as he was when they parted us ; and let all the world see and 
 know, that it was your love, not your wealth, I coveted: this 
 dear hand, that dear heart, not base gold, that I desired. Oh ! 
 Edith, in heaven's name, cast me not now headlong down; 
 from the height of hope and joy to which you have raised me, 
 for fear a heart and spirit, too long depressed, should never find 
 strength to rise again." 
 
 Edith staggered back and sank down upon the sofa, cover- 
 ing her eyes, and only murmuring, "' I do love you, Harry, 
 beyond life itself. Oh! that I were dead! Oh! that I were 
 dead!" 
 
 There was a terrible struggle in Henry Layton's bosom. He 
 could not understand the agitation that he witnessed. Had itj 
 borne anything like the character of joy, even of surprise, alb 
 would have been clear ; but it was evidently very different. Ify 
 was joy overborne by sorrow. It was evidently a struggle oi 
 love with some influence, perhaps not stronger, yet terrible in 
 its effect. He was a man of quick decision and strong reso-; 
 lution: qualities not always combined; and he overcame him- 
 self in a moment. He saw that he was loved, still deeply,, 
 truly loved; and that was a great point. He saw that Edith 
 was grieved to the soul; he saw that he himself could not feel 
 more intensely the anguish she inflicted than she did; that she- 
 was wringing her own heart while she was wringing his, and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 293 
 
 felt a double pang; and that was a strong motive for calmness, 
 if not for fortitude. Her last words, " I wish I were deadl" 
 restored him fully to himself; and following her to the sofa, he 
 seated himself beside her, gently took her hand in his, and 
 pressed his lips upon it. 
 
 " Edith," he said; "my own dear Edith, let us be calm! 
 Thank you, my beloved, for one moment of happiness, the 
 first I have known for years; and now let us talk, as quietly 
 as may be, of anything that may have arisen which should 
 justly cause Henry Lay ton's return to make P^dith Croyland 
 wish herself dead. Your uncle will not be long ere he arrives; 
 I left him on the road; and it is by his full consent that I 
 am here." 
 
 " Oh, no! Harry, no!" said Edith, turning at first to his 
 comment on her words: " it is not your return that makes me 
 wish myself dead ; but it is, that circumstances, dark and ter- 
 rible circumstances, which were only made known to me an 
 hour before your arrival, have turned all the joy, the pure, the 
 almost unmixed joy, that I should have felt at seeing you again, 
 into a well of bitterness. It is that I cannot, that I dare not 
 explain to you those circumstances; that you will think me 
 wrong, unkind, fickle, perhaps; perhaps even mad, in what- 
 soever way I may act." 
 
 " But surely you can say something, dear Edith," said her 
 lover; " you can give some hint of the cause of all I see. You 
 tell me in one breath that you love me still, yet wish you 
 were dead; and show evidently that my coming has been 
 painful to you." 
 
 "Xo, no, Harry," she answered, mournfully, "do not say 
 so. Painful to me? oh no I It would be the purest joy that 
 ever I yet knew, were it not that But why did you not come 
 earlier, Harry ? Why, when your horse stood upon that hill, 
 did you not turn his head hither? Would that you had, would 
 that you had! My fate would have been already decided. 
 Xow it is all clouds and darkness. I knew you instantly. I 
 could see no feature ; I could but trace a figure on horseback, 
 wrapped in a large cloak ; but the instinct of love told me who 
 it was. Oh! why did you not come then?" 
 
 t; Because it would have been dishonest, Edith," answered 
 Liyton, gravely. " Your uncle had been my father's friend, 
 iiiy uncle's friend. In a kindly manner he invited me here 
 
294 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 some time ago, as a perfect stranger, under the name of Cap- 
 tain Osborn. You were not here then ; and I thought I could 
 not in honour come under his roof, when I found you were here, 
 without telling him who I really was. He appointed this day 
 to meet me at Woodchurch at two; and I dared not venture, 
 after all that has passed between your family and mine, to 
 seek you in his dwelling, ere I had seen and explained myself 
 to him. I knew you were here: I gazed up at these windows 
 with a yearning of the heart that nearly overcame my resolu- 
 tion." 
 
 "I saw you gaze, Harry," answered Edith; "and I say 
 still, would that you had come! Yet you were right. It 
 might have saved me much misery; bat you were right. And 
 now listen to the fate that is before me; to the choice I have 
 to make, as far as I can explain it, and yet what words can I 
 use? But it must be done. I must not leave anything un- 
 performed that can prevent poor Edith Croyland from becom- 
 ing an object of hatred and contempt in Henry Lay ton's eyes. 
 Little as I can do to defend myself, I must do it." 
 
 She paused, gazed up on high for a moment, and then laid 
 her hand upon his. 
 
 "Henry I do love you," she said. "Nay, more, I am 
 yours, plighted to you by bonds I cannot and I dare not break; 
 vows, I mean, the most solemn, as well as the ties of long 
 affection. Yet, if I wed you, I am miserable for life. Self- 
 reproach, eternal self-reproach, the most terrible of all things; 
 to which no other mental or corporeal pain can ever reach, 
 would prey upon my heart for ever, and bear me down into 
 the grave. Peace, rest, I should have none. A voice would 
 be for ever howling in my ear a name that would poison sleep, 
 and make each waking moment an hour of agony. I can tell 
 you no more on this side of the question; but so it is. It 
 seems fated that I should bring misery one way or another 
 upon him who is dearest to me." 
 
 " I cannot comprehend,'" exclaimed Layton, in surprise. 
 " Your father has heard, I suppose, that I am here, and has 
 menaced you with his curse?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" answered Edith; "far from it. He was here 
 but now; he spoke of you, Henry, as you deserve. Pie told 
 me how he had loved you and esteemed you in your young 
 clays; how, though angry at first at our rash engagement, he 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 295 
 
 would have consented in the end ; but, there was a fatal c but,' 
 Henry, an impediment not to be surmounted. I must not tell 
 you what it is ; I cannot, I dare not explain. But listen to 
 what he said besides. You have heard one part of the choice, 
 hear the other : it is to wed a man whom I abhor, despise, 
 contemn ; whose very look is fearful to me ; to ask you to give 
 me back the vows I plighted, in order, in order " and she 
 spoke very low, "that I may sacrifice myself for my father; 
 that I may linger out a few weeks of wretchedness, and then 
 sink into the grave, which is now my only hope." 
 
 " And do you ask me, Edith," inquired Layton, in a sad 
 and solemn tone. " Do you, Edith Croyland, really and truly 
 ask me to give you back those vows? Speak, beloved, speak; 
 for my heart is well-nigh bursting." 
 
 He paused, and she was silent; covering her eyes with her 
 hands, while her bosom heaved, as if she were struggling for 
 breath. "No, no, no, Harry I" she cried at length, as if the 
 effort were vain; "I cannot, I cannot! Oh, Harry, Harry I 
 I wish that I were dead!" and, casting her arms round his 
 neck, she wept upon his breast again. 
 
 Henry Layton drew her closer to him with his left arm 
 round her waist; but pressed his right hand on his brow, 
 and gazed on vacancy. Both remained without speaking for 
 a time; but at length he said, in a voice more calm than 
 might have been expected, " Let us consider this matter, 
 Edith. You have been terrified by some means; a tale has 
 been told you which has agitated and alarmed you; which 
 has overcome your resolution, that now has endured more than 
 six years, and doubtless that tale has been well devised. Are 
 you sure that it is true? Forgive this doubt in regard to one 
 who is dear and near to you ; but when such deceits have been 
 practised, as those which we know have been used to delude 
 us, I must be suspicious. Are you sure that it is true, 
 I say?" 
 
 " Too true, too true," answered Edith, shaking her head, 
 mournfully; " that tale explains all, too, even those deceits 
 you mention. No, no, it is but too true; it could not be 
 feigned; besides, I remember so many things, all tending to 
 the same. It is true, I cannot doubt it." 
 
 Sir Henry Layton paused, and twice began to speak, but 
 twice stopped, as if the words he was about to utter, cost him 
 
296 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 a terrible struggle to speak. At length he said, " And the 
 man, Edith, the man they wish you to marry, who is he?" 
 
 " Ever the same," answered Edith, bending down her head, 
 and her cheek, which had been as pale as death, glowing like 
 crimson, " the same Richard Radford." 
 
 "What! a felon!" exclaimed Layton, turning round, with 
 his brows bent ; " a felon, after whom my soldiers and the 
 officers of justice are now hunting through the country! Sir 
 Robert Croyland must be mad! But I tell you, Edith, that 
 man shall never stand within a church again, till it be the 
 chapel of the gaol. Let him make his peace with heaven ; 
 for if he be caught, and caught he shall be, there is no mercy 
 for him on earth. But surely there must be some mistake. 
 You cannot have understood your father rightly, or he cannot 
 know " 
 
 "Oh! yes, yes!" replied Edith; "he knows all; and it is 
 the same. Ay, and within four days, too, that he may take 
 me with him in his flight.'' 
 
 "Ere four days be over," answered her lover, sternly, "he 
 shall no more think of bridals." 
 
 "And what will become of my father, then!'' said Edith, 
 gazing steadily down upon the ground. "It is I, I that shall 
 have done it. Alas, alas! which way shall I turn?" 
 
 There was something more than sorrow in her countenance, 
 there was anguish, almost agony; and Sir Henry Lay ton was 
 much moved. "Turn to me, Edith,'' he said, "turn to hinl 
 who loves you better than life; and there is no sacrifice that 
 he will not make for you, but his honour. Tell me, have 
 you made any promise? Have you given your father your 
 consent?'' 
 
 "No," answered Edith, eagerly; "no, I have not. He 
 took my words as consent, though, ere they were half finished 
 the horror and pain of all I heard overcame me, and I fainted. 
 But I did not consent, Harry, I could not consent without 
 your permission. Oh! Harry, aid and support me!" 
 
 "Listen to me, my beloved," replied Layton; "wealth, got 
 by any means, is this man's object. I gather from what you 
 say, that your father has some cause to dread him. Give up to 
 him this much coveted fortune, let him take it; ay, and share 
 Henry Layton's little wealth. I desire nothing but yourself." 
 
 " Alas, Henry, it is all in vain!" answered Edith; "I have 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 297 
 
 offered it; I knew your noble, generous heart. I knew that 
 wealth would make no difference to him I loved, and offered 
 to resign everything. My father, even before he came hither, 
 offered him my sister; offered to make her the sacrifice, as she 
 is bound by no promises, and to give her an equal portion; 
 but it was all refused." 
 
 " Then there is some other object," said her lover; " some 
 object that may, perhaps, tend even to more misery than you 
 dream of, Edith. Believe me, my beloved, oh! believe me, 
 did I but see how I could deliver you, were I sure that any 
 act of mine would give you peace, no sacrifice on my part 
 would seem too great. At present, however, I see nothing- 
 clearly, all is darkness and shadow around. I know not, that 
 if I give you back your promise, and free you from your vow, 
 that I shall not be contributing to make you wretched. How, 
 then, am I to act? You are sure, dear one, that you have 
 not consented?" 
 
 " Quite sure," answered Edith; "and it so happened, that 
 there was one who heard my words as well as my father. He, 
 indeed, took them as consent, and hurried away to Mr. Rad- 
 ford, without giving me time to recover and say more. Head 
 that, Harry," and she put the note her father had left into his 
 hands. 
 
 "It is fortunate you were heard by another," replied Lay- 
 ton. "Hark! there is your uncle's carriage coming. Four 
 days, did he say; four days? Well, then, dear Edith, will you 
 trust in me? Will you leave your fate in the hands of one 
 who will do anything on earth for your happiness? and will you 
 never doubt, though you may be kept in suspense, that I will 
 so act as to deliver you, if I can, without bringing ruin on 
 your father." 
 
 " It is worse than ruin," answered Edith, with the tears 
 rolling down her cheeks, " it is death. But I will trust to you, 
 Henry; I will trust implicitly. But tell me how to act, tell 
 me what I am to do." 
 
 " Leave this matter as it is," answered her lover, hearing 
 Mr. Croyland's carriage stop at the door; " your father has 
 snatched too eagerly at your words. Perhaps he has done so 
 to gain time: but, at all events, the fault is his, not yours. 
 If he speaks to you on the subject, you must tell the truth, 
 and say you did not consent, but in everything else be passive; 
 
29 8 THE SMUGGLE!*. 
 
 let him do with you what he will : take you to the altar, if he 
 so pleases ; but there must be the final struggle, Edith. There 
 you must boldly and aloud refuse to wed a man you cannot 
 love. There let the memory of your vows to me be ever pre- 
 sent with you. It may seem cruel; but I exact it for your 
 own sake. In the mean time, take means to let me know 
 everything that happens, be it small or great; cast off all 
 reserve towards Digby; tell him all, everything that takes 
 place; tell your sister, too, or any one who can bear me the 
 tidings. I shall be nearer than you think." 
 
 " OhI heaven, how will this end," cried Edith, putting her 
 hand in his; " God help me, Harry, God help me!" 
 
 " He will, dear girl," answered Layton; "I feel sure he 
 will. But remember what I have said. Fail not to tell Digby, 
 or Zara, or any one who can bear the tidings to me, every- 
 thing that occurs, every. word that is spoken, every step that 
 is taken. Think nothing too trifling. But there is your uncle's 
 voice in the passage. Can you not inform him of that which 
 you think yourself bound not to tell me? I mean the parti- 
 culars of your father's situation." 
 
 "No; oh, no!" replied Edith; "I dare tell no one, espe- 
 cially not my uncle. Though kind, and generous, and bene- 
 volent, yet he is hasty, and he might ruin all. Dared I tell 
 any one on earth, Henry, it would be you ; and if I loved you 
 before, oh! how I must love you now, when instead of the 
 anger, or even heat, which I expected you to display, you have 
 shown yourself ready to sacrifice all for one who is hardly 
 worthy of you." 
 
 Layton pressed her to his bosom, and replied, " Real love 
 is unselfish, Edith. I tell you, dearest, that I die if I lose 
 you; yet, Edith Croyland shall never do what is wrong for 
 Henry Lay ton's sake. If in the past we did commit an error, 
 if I should not have engaged you by vows without your 
 parent's consent, though God knows that error has been bit- 
 terly visited on my head ! I am still ready to make atone- 
 ment to the best of my power; but I will not consent that 
 you should be causelessly made miserable, or sacrifice yourself 
 and me, without benefit to any one. Trust to me, Edith; 
 trust to me." 
 
 "I will, I willP answered Edith Croyland; "who can I 
 trust to else?" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 299 
 
 Mr. Croyland was considerate; and knowing that Sir Henry 
 Layton was with his neice, for his young friend had passed 
 him on the road, he paused for a moment in the vestibule, 
 giving various orders and directions, in order to afford them 
 a few minutes more of private conversation. When he went 
 in, he .was surprised to find Edith's face fall of deep grief, 
 and her eyes wet with tears, and still more when Layton, 
 after kissing her fair cheek, advanced towards him, saying, 
 " I must go, my dear friend, nor can I accept you kind invi- 
 tation to stay here to-night. But I am about to show myself 
 a bold man, and ask you to give me almost the privilege of a 
 son ; that is, of coming and going, for the four or five next 
 days, at my own will, and without question.'' 
 
 " What's all this? What's all this?" cried Mr. Croyland; 
 "a lovers' quarrel? Ha! Edith? Ha! Harry?" 
 
 "Oh! no," answered Edith, giving her uncle her hand; "there 
 never can be a quarrel between me and Henry Layton." 
 
 "Well, then, what is it all?" exclaimed Mr. Croyland, 
 turning from one to the other. " Mystery, mystery! I hate 
 mystery, Harry Layton. However, you shall have your pri- 
 vilege; the doors shall be open. Come; go: do what you 
 like. But if you are not a great fool, you will order over a 
 post-chaise and four this very night, put her in, and be off for 
 Gretna Green. I'll give you my parental benediction.'' 
 
 " I am afraid, my dear sir,' 5 answered Layton, " that can- 
 not be. Edith has told me various things since I saw her, 
 which require to be dealt with in a different way. I trust, 
 that, in whatever I do, my conduct will be such as to give you 
 satisfaction ; and whether the result be fortunate or otherwise, 
 1 shall never, till the last hour of life, forget the kindness you 
 have shown me. And now, my dear sir, adieu for the pre- 
 sent, for I have much to do this night." 
 
 Thus saying, he shook the old gentleman's hand, and de- 
 parted with a heavy heart and anxious mind. During his 
 onward ride, his heart did not become lighter; his mind was 
 only more burdened with cares. As long as he was in Edith's 
 presence he had borne up and struggled against all that he 
 felt; for he saw that she was already overwhelmed with grief, 
 and he feared to add to it; but now his thoughts were all con- 
 fusion. With incomplete information, in circumstances the 
 most difficult, anxious to save her he loved, even at any sacri- 
 
300 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 fice on his part, yet seeing no distinct means of acting in any 
 direction without danger to her, he looked around him in vain 
 for any resource, or, if he formed a plan one moment, he re- 
 jected it the next. He knew Edith's perfect truth, he knew 
 the quiet firmness and power of her mind too well to doubt 
 one tittle of that which she had stated ; and though at first 
 sight he thought the proofs he possessed of Mr. Radford's par- 
 ticipation in the late smuggling transaction were quite sufficient 
 to justify that person's immediate arrest, and proposed that it 
 should take place immediately, yet the next moment he recol- 
 lected what might be the result to Sir Robert Croyland, and 
 hesitated how to act. Then, again, he turned his eyes to 
 the circumstances in which Edith's father was placed, and 
 asked himself, what could be the mystery which so terribly 
 overshadowed him ? Edith had said that his life was at stake ; 
 and Layton tortured his imagination in vain to find some ex- 
 planation of such a fact. 
 
 " Can he have been deceiving her?" he asked himself more 
 than once. But then, again, he answered, "No; it must be 
 true! He can have no ordinary motive in urging her to such 
 a step; his whole character, his whole views are against it. 
 Haughty and ostentatious, there must be some overpowering 
 cause to make him seek to wed his daughter to a low ruffian, 
 the son of an upstart, who owed his former wealth to fraud, 
 and who is now, if ail tales be true, nearly bankrupt; to wed 
 Edith, a being of grace, of beauty, and of excellence, to a 
 villain like this, a felon and a fugitive, and to send her forth 
 into the wide world, to share the wanderings of a man she 
 hates! The love of life must be a strange thing in some men. 
 One would have thought that a thousand lives were nothing to 
 such a sacrifice. Yet the tale must be true ; this old man must 
 have Sir Robert's life in his power. But how: how? that is 
 the question. Perhaps Digby can discover something. At all 
 events, I must see him without delay/' 
 
 In such thoughts, Sir Henry Layton rode on fast to Wood- 
 church, accomplishing in twenty minutes that which took good 
 Mr. Croyland, with his pampered horses, more than an hour to 
 perform; and springing from his charger at the door of the 
 inn, he was preparing to go up and write to Sir Edward 
 Digby, when Captain Irby, on the one hand, and his own ser- 
 vant on the other, applied for attention. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 301 
 
 " Mr. Warde is up stairs, sir," said the servant; "he has 
 been waiting about half an hour." 
 
 Bat Layton turned to the officer, asking, " What is it, 
 Captain Irby?" 
 
 " Two or three of the men, sir, who have been taken," re- 
 plied Captain Irby, " have expressed a wish to make a state- 
 ment. One of them is badly wounded, too; but I did not 
 know how to act till you arrived, as we had no magistrate 
 here." 
 
 "Was it quite voluntary?" demanded the young officer; 
 "no inducements held out: no questions asked?" 
 
 "Quite voluntary, sir," answered the other. "They sent 
 to ask for you ; and when I went, in your absence, they told 
 me what it was they desired ; but I refused to take the depo- 
 sition till you arrived, for fear of getting myself into a scrape." 
 
 "It must be taken," replied the colonel. "Of whatever 
 value it may be judged hereafter, we must not refuse it when 
 offered. I will come to them in a moment, Irby;" and enter- 
 ing the house, but without going up stairs, he wrote a few 
 lines, in the bar, to Sir Edward Digby, requesting to see him 
 without delay. Then, calling his servant, he said, " Tell Mr. 
 Warde I will be with him in a few minutes; after which, 
 mount your horse, and carry this note over to Harbourne 
 House, to Sir Edward Digby. Give it into his own hand; but 
 remember, it is my wish that you should not mention my name 
 there at all. Do you know the place?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the man; and, leaving him to fulfil his 
 errand, the colonel returned to the door of the house to accom- 
 pany Captain Irby. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WE must now return for a time to Harbourne House, where, 
 after Sir Robert Croyland's departure, his guest had endea- 
 voured in vain, during the whole morning, to obtain a few 
 minutes' private conversation with the baronet's youngest 
 daughter. Now, it was not in the least degree, that Mrs. 
 Barbara's notions of propriety interfered to prevent the tvvo 
 young people from being alone together; for, on the contrary, 
 
302 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara was a very lenient and gentle-minded person, 
 and thought it quite right that any two human beings, who 
 were likely to fall in love with each other, should have every 
 opportunity of doing so to their hearts' content. But it so 
 happened, from a sort of fatality which hung over all her 
 plans, that whenever she interfered with anything, which, in- 
 deed, she always did with everything she could lay her hands 
 upon, the result was sure to be directly the contrary to that 
 which she intended. It might be, indeed, that she did not 
 always manage matters quite judiciously; that she acted with- 
 out considering all the circumstances of the case; and un- 
 doubtedly it would have been quite as well if she had not 
 acted at all when she was not asked. 
 
 In the present instance, when she had remained in the 
 drawing-room with her niece and Sir Edward for near half 
 an hour after her brother had departed, it just struck her that 
 they might wish to be alone together; for she had made up 
 her mind by this time that the young officer's visit was to end 
 in a love affair; and, as the very best means of accomplishing 
 the desired object, instead of going to speak with the house- 
 keeper, or to give orders to the dairy-maid, or to talk to the 
 steward, as any other prudent, respectable, and well-arranged 
 aunt would have done, she said to her niece, as if a sudden 
 thought had occurred to her, " I don't think Sir Edward Digby 
 has ever seen the library. Zara, my dear, you had better 
 show it to him. There are some very curious books there, 
 and the manuscript in vellum, with all the kingV heads 
 painted." 
 
 Zara felt that it was rather a coarse piece of work which 
 her aunt had just turned out of hand; and being a little too 
 much susceptible of ridicule, she did not like to have anything 
 to do with it, although to say the truth, she was very anxious 
 herself for the few minutes that Mrs. Barbara was inclined to 
 give her. 
 
 " Oh I I dare say, my dear aunt, 5 ' she replied, " Sir Edward 
 Digby does not care anything about old books. I don't be- 
 lieve they have been opened for these fifty years." 
 
 " The greater the treasure, Miss Croyland," answered the 
 young officer. " I can assure you nothing delights me more 
 than an old library; so I think I shall go and find it out my- 
 self, if you are not disposed to show it to me." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 303 
 
 Zara Croyland remembered, with a smile, that Sir Edward 
 Digby had met with no great difficulty in finding it out for 
 himself on a previous occasion. She rose, however, with her 
 colour a little heightened; for his invitation was a very pal- 
 pable one, and she did not know what conclusions her aunt 
 might be pleased to draw, or to insinuate to others; and, lead- 
 ing the way towards the library, she opened the door, expect- 
 ing to find the room nntenanted. There, however, before her 
 eyes, standing opposite to a book-case, with a large folio 
 volume of divinity in his hand, stood the clergyman of the 
 parish ; and he instantly turned round his head, with spectacles 
 on nose, and advanced to pay his respects to Miss Croyland 
 and Sir Edward Digby. Now, the clergyman was a very 
 worthy man; but he had one of those peculiarities, which, if 
 peculiarities were systematically classed, would be referred to 
 the bore genus. He was frequently unaware of when people 
 had had enough of him ; and consequently on the present oc- 
 casion, after he had informed Zara, that finding her father was 
 out, he had taken the liberty of walking into the library to 
 look at a book he wanted, he put back that book, and at- 
 tacked Sir Edward Digby, toils viribus, upon the state of 
 the weather, the state of the country, and the state of the 
 smugglers. The latter topic, as it was the predominant one 
 in every man's mind at that moment, and in that part of the 
 country, occupied him rather longer than a sermon, though his 
 parishioners occasionally thought his sermons quite sufficiently 
 extensive for any sleep-resisting powers of the human frame 
 to withstand ; and then, when Sir Edward and Zara, forgetting, 
 in the interest which they seemed to take in his discourse, that 
 they had come into the library to look at the books, walked 
 out upon the terrace, he walked out with them ; and as they 
 turned up and down, he turned up and down also, for full an 
 hour. 
 
 Zara could almost have cried in the end ; but, as out of the 
 basest refuse of our stable-yards grow the finest flowers of our 
 gardens, so good is ever springing up from evil; and in the 
 end the worthy clergyman gave his two companions the first 
 distinct account which they had received of the dispersion of 
 Mr. Uadford's band of smugglers, and of the eager pursuit of 
 young Radford which was taking place through the country. 
 Thus passed the morning-, with one event or other, of little 
 
304 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 consequence, presenting obstacles to any free communication 
 between two people who were almost as desirous of some pri- 
 vate conversation as if they had been lovers. 
 
 A little before three o'clock, however, Zara Croyland, who 
 had been looking out of the window, suddenly quitted the 
 drawing-room; and Sir Edward Digby, who maintained his 
 post, was left to entertain Mrs. Barbara, which he did to the 
 best of his abilities. He was still in full career, a little en- 
 joying, to say sooth, some of the good lady's minor absurdi- 
 ties, when Zara re-entered the room with a quick step, and a 
 somewhat eager look. Her fair cheek was flushed too; and 
 her face had in it that sort of determined expression which 
 often betrays that there has been a struggle in the mind, as 
 to some step about to be taken, and that victory has not been 
 achieved without an effort. 
 
 " Sir Edward Digby,'' she said, in a clear and distinct tone, 
 " I want to speak with you for a few moments, if you please." 
 
 Mrs. Barbara looked shocked, and internally wondered that 
 Zara could not have made some little excuse for engaging Sh 
 Edward in private conversation. 
 
 " She might have asked him to go and see a flower, or 
 offered to play him a tune on the harpsichord, or taken him 
 to look at the dove-cot, or anything,'' thought Mrs. Bar- 
 bara. 
 
 The young officer, however, instantly started up, and accom- 
 panied his fair inviter towards the library, to which she led 
 the way with a hurried and eager step. 
 
 "Let us come in herel" she said, opening the door; but 
 the moment she was within, she sank into a chair and clasped 
 her hands together. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby shut the door, and then advanced to- 
 wards her, a great deal surprised and somewhat alarmed b) 
 the agitation he saw her display. She did not speak for a 
 moment, as if completely overpowered, and feeling for hei 
 more deeply than he himself knew, her companion took her 
 hand and tried to soothe her, saying, "Be calm; be calm, my 
 dear Miss Croyland! You know you can trust in me; and ii 
 I can aid you in any way, command me." 
 
 "I know not what to do, or what to say," cried Z.ira; 
 "but I am sure, Sir Edward, you will find excuses for me: 
 and therefore I will make none; though I may perhaps seem 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 305 
 
 somewhat bold in dealing- thus with one whom I have only 
 known a few days.'' 
 
 " There are circumstances which sometimes make a few days 
 equal to many years," replied Sir Edward Digby. "It is so, 
 my dear young lady, with you and I. Therefore, without fear 
 or hesitation, tell me what it is that agitates you, and how I 
 can serve you. I am not fond of making professions ; but if 
 it be in human power, it shall be done." 
 
 "I know not whether it can be done or not,'' said Zara; 
 " but if not, there is nothing but ruin and desolation for t\vo 
 people whom we both love. You saw my father set out this 
 morning. Did you remark the course he took? It was over 
 to my uncle's, for I watched him from the window. He 
 passed back again some time ago, but then struck off towards 
 Mr. Rad ford's. All that made me uneasy; but just now, I 
 saw Edith's maid coming up towards the house, and eager 
 for tidings, I hurried away. Good Heavens, what tidings she 
 has borne me!'' 
 
 "They must be evil ones, I see," answered Digby; "but I 
 trust not such as to preclude all chance of remedying what 
 may have gone wrong. When two or three people act toge- 
 gether zealously, dear lady, there are very few things they 
 cannot accomplish." 
 
 "Yes, but how to explain!" exclaimed Zara; "yet I must 
 be short; for otherwise my aunt will be in upon us. Now,' 
 Sir Edward Digby," she continued, after thinking for a mo- 
 ment, " I know you are a man of honour; I am sure you are; 
 and I ask you to pledge me that honour, that you will never 
 reveal to any one what I am going to tell you; for I know 
 not whether I am about to do right or wrong ; whether, in 
 trying to save one, I may not be bringing down ruin upon 
 others. Do you give me your honour?" 
 
 "Most assuredly I" answered her companion. "I will 
 never repeat a word that you say, unless with your permis- 
 sion, on my honour!" 
 
 " Well, then," replied Zara, in a faint voice, " Mr. Radford 
 has my father's life in his power. How, I know not: how I 
 cannot tell. But so it is ; and such are the tidings that Caro- 
 line has just brought us. Mr. Radford's conference with him 
 this morning was not for nothing. Immediately after, he 
 went over to Edith; he told her some tale which the girl did not 
 
306 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 distinctly hear; but, it seem?, some paper which Mr. Radford 
 possesses was spoken of, and the sum of the whole matter was, 
 that my poor, sweet sister was told, if she did not consent, 
 within four days, to marry that hateful young man, she would 
 sacrifice her father's life. He left her fainting, and has ridden 
 over to bear her consent to Mr. Radford.'' 
 
 "But, did she consent?" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby, in 
 surprise and consternation. "Did she really yield?" 
 
 44 No ; no !" answered Zara, " she did not. The girl said she 
 heard her words, and they were not in truth a consent. But 
 my father chose to take them as such, and left her even before 
 she recovered." 
 
 I have already shown the effect of the same account upon 
 Sir Henry Layton, with all the questions which it suggested 
 to his mind ; and the impression produced upon his friend, as 
 a man of sense arid a man of the world, were so similar, that 
 it may be needless to give any detailed statement of his first 
 observations or inquiries. Zara soon satisfied him, however, 
 that the tale her father had told, was not a mere device to 
 frighten Edith into a compliance with his wishes; and then 
 came the question, "What was to be done?" 
 
 "It is, in truth, a most painful situation in which your 
 sister is placed," said Digby, after some consideration; "but 
 think you that this man, this Radford, cannot be bought off? 
 Money must be to him, if he be as totally ruined as people 
 say, the first consideration; and I know Layton so well, that 
 I can venture to promise nothing of that kind shall stand in 
 the way, if we can but free your sister from the terrible choice 
 put before her." 
 
 Zara shook her head sadly, saying, " No ; that hope is 
 vain! The girl tells me," she added, with a faint smile, 
 which was quickly succeeded by a blush, " that she heard my 
 father say he had offered me, poor me! to Richard Radford, 
 with the same fortune as Edith, but had been refused." 
 
 " And would you have consented ?" demanded Sir Edward 
 Digby, in a more eager tone than he had yet used. 
 
 " Nay," replied Zara, " that has nought to do with the 
 present question. Suffice it, that this proves that gold is not 
 his only object." 
 
 "Nay, but answer me," persevered her companion; " would 
 you have consented? It may have much to do with the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 307 
 
 question yet." He fixed his eyes gravely upon her face, and 
 took the fair, small hand, that lay upon the arm of the chair, 
 in his. It was something very like making love, and Zara 
 felt a strange sensation at her heart; but she turned away 
 her face, and answered, with a very pale cheek, " I would 
 die for my father, Sir Edward; but I could not wed Richard 
 Radford." 
 
 Sir Edward raised her hand to his lips, and pressed them 
 on it. " I thought so," he said; " I thought sol And now, 
 heart, and mind, and hand, and spirit, to save your sister, 
 Zara! I have hunted many a fox in my day, and I don't 
 think the old one of Radford Hall will escape me. The 
 greatest difficulty is, not to compromise your father in any 
 way ; but that shall be cared for, too, to the very best of my 
 power, be assured. Henceforth, dear lady, away with all 
 reserve between us. While I am in this house, it will be 
 absolutely necessary for you to communicate with me freely, 
 and probably very often. Have no hesitation; have no 
 scruple as to hour, or manner, or means. Trust to my 
 honour as you have trusted this day, and you shall never 
 find it fail you. I will enter into such explanations with my 
 servant, Somers, in regard to poor Layton, as will make him 
 think it nothing strange if you send him for me at any time. 
 He is as discreet as a privy councillor, and you must, there- 
 fore, have no hesitation." 
 
 "I will not," answered Zara; "for I would do anything 
 to save my sister from such a fate; and I do believe you will 
 not think -you will not imagine " 
 
 She paused in some confusion; and Sir Edward Digby 
 answered, with a smile, but a kindly and a gentlemanly one, 
 " Let my imagination do as it will, Zara. Depend upon it, 
 it shall do you no wrong ; and believe me when I say, that I 
 can hardly feel so much pain at these circumstances as I 
 otherwise might, since they bring me into such near and 
 frequent communication with you." 
 
 "Hush, hushl" she answered, somewhat gravely; "I can 
 think of nothing now but my poor sister; and you must not, 
 Sir Edward, by one compliment, or fine speech, nay, nor by 
 one kind speech either," she added, laying her hand upon his 
 arm, and looking up in^his face, with a glowing cheek; "for 
 I know you mean it as kind; you must not, indeed, throw 
 
308 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 any embarrassment over an intercourse which is necessary at 
 present, and which is my only hope and resource, in the cir- 
 cumstances in which we are placed. So now tell me what 
 you are going to do ; for you seemed, but now, as if you were 
 about to set out somewhere." 
 
 " I am going to Woodchurch instantly," replied Digby. 
 " Sir Henry Layton must be there still." 
 
 " Sir Henry Layton 1 '' exclaimed Zara ; " then he has, indeed, 
 been a successful campaigner.'' 
 
 "Most successful, and most deservedly so," answered his 
 friend. "No man but Wolfe won more renown; and if he 
 can but gain this battle, Layton will have all that he desires 
 on earth. But I will not stay here, skirmishing on the flanks, 
 dear lady, while the main body is engaged. I will ride over 
 as fast as possible, see Layton, consult with him, and be back, 
 if possible, by dinner-time. If not, you must tell your fa- 
 ther not to wait for me, as I was suddenly called away on 
 business." 
 
 "But how shall I know the result of your expedition?" 
 demanded Zara; "we shall be surrounded I fear by watchful 
 eyes.'' 
 
 " We must trust to fortune and our own efforts to afford us 
 some means of communication," replied Digby. " But remem- 
 ber, dearest lady, that for this great object, you have promised 
 to cast away all reserve. For the time, at least, you miu>t 
 look upon Edward Digby as a brother, and treat him as such." 
 
 "That I will!" answered the fair girl, heartily; and Digby, 
 leaving her to explain their conduct to her aunt as she best 
 might, ordered his horse, and rode away towards Wopdchurch, 
 in haste. 
 
 Pulling his rein at the door of the little inn, hejnquired 
 which was Sir Henry Lay ton's room, and was directed up 
 stairs; but on opening the door of the chamber whicji had 
 been pointed out, he found no one in it, but the somewhat 
 strange-looking old man, whom we have once before seei with 
 Layton, at Hythe. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Warde, you here!" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby. 
 " Layton told me you were in England. But where is he? I 
 have business of some importance to talk with him upon;" and 
 as he spoke, he shook the old man's hand warmly. 
 
 " I know you have," answered Mr. Warde, gazing upon 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 30[) 
 
 him ; " at least, I can guess that such is the case. So have 
 I; and doubtless the subject is the same." 
 
 " Kay, I should think not," replied Digby; "mine refers 
 only to private affairs." 
 
 The old man smiled ; and that sharp-featured, rude counte- 
 nance assumed an expression of indescribable sweetness. 
 " Mine is the same," he said. "You come to speak of Edith 
 Croyland: so do I." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried his companion, a good deal surprised; 
 " you are a strange being, Mr. Warde. You seem to learn 
 men's secrets whether they will or not." 
 
 " There is nothing strange on earth but man's blindness," 
 answered the other; " everything is so simple, when once ex- 
 plained, that its simplicity remains the only marvel. But here 
 he comes. Let me converse with him first. Then when he 
 is aware of all that I know, you shall have my absence, or my 
 presence, as it suits you." 
 
 While he was speaking, the voice of Henry Layton was 
 heard below, and then his step upon the stairs; and, before 
 Digby could answer, he was in the room. His face was grave, 
 but not so cloudy as it had been when he returned to Wood- 
 church half an hour before. He welcomed Mr. Warde frankly 
 and cordially, but turned immediately to Sir Edward Digby, 
 saying, " You have been quick, indeed, Digby. I could not 
 have conceived that my letter had reached you." 
 
 "I got no letter," answered Digby; "perhaps it missed 
 me on the way; for, the corn being down, I came straight 
 across the country." 
 
 " It matters not; it matters not," answered Layton; "so 
 you are here: that is enough. I have much to say to you, 
 and that of immediate importance." 
 
 " I know it already," answered Digby. " But here is our 
 good friend, Warde, who seems to have something to say to 
 you on the same subject, 
 
 Sir Henry Layton turned towards the old man with some 
 surprise. "I think Digby must be mistaken," he said, "for 
 though, I am aware, from what you told me some time ago, 
 that you have been in this part of the country before, yet it 
 must have been long ago, and you can know nothing of the 
 events which have affected myself since." 
 
 The old man smiled, and shook his head, " I know more 
 
310 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 than you imagine," he answered. " It is, indeed, long since 
 first I was in this land; but not so long since I was here last; 
 and all its people and its things, its woods, its villages, its hills, 
 are as familiar to me, ay, more so than to you. Of yourself, 
 Layton, and your fate, I also know much: I might say I know 
 all; for certainly I know more than you do, can do more than 
 you are able to do, will do more than you can. To show you 
 what I know, I will give you a brief summary of your own 
 history: at least, that part of it of which you think I know 
 nothing. Young, eager, and impatient, you were thrown con- 
 stantly into the society of one, good, beautiful, gentle, and 
 true. You had much encouragement from those who should 
 not have given it, unless they had tne intention of continuing 
 it to the end. You loved, and were beloved ; and then, in the 
 impatience of your boyish ardour, you bound Edith Croyland 
 to yourself, without her parent's knowledge and consent, by 
 vows which, whatever human laws may say, are indissoluble 
 by the law of heaven ; and therein you did wrong. It was 
 a great error. Do I say right?" 
 
 " It was, indeed,' 5 answered Sir Henry Layton, casting 
 down his eyes sternly on the ground; "it was, indeed." 
 
 "More: I will tell you more," continued Mr. Warde; "you 
 have bitterly repented it, and bitterly suffered for it. You are 
 suffering even now." 
 
 " Not for it," replied the young officer; "not for it. My 
 sufferings are not consequences of my fault." 
 
 " You are wrong," answered the old man ; " wrong, as you 
 will find. But I will go on, and tell you what you have done 
 this day. Those who have behaved ill to you have been 
 punished likewise; and their punishment is working itself out, 
 but sweeping you in within its vortex. You have been over 
 to see Edith Croyland. She has told you her tale. You have 
 met in love, and parted in sorrow. Is it not so? And now 
 you know not which way to turn for deliverance." 
 
 " It is so, indeed, my good friend," said Layton, sadly; 
 " but how you have discovered all this, I cannot divine." 
 
 " That has nought to do with the subject,'' answered Warde. 
 " Now, tell me, Layton, tell me, and remember you are dearer 
 to me than you know; are you prepared to make atonement 
 for your fault? The only atonement in your power: to give 
 back to Edith the vows she plighted : to leave her free to 
 
THE SMUGGLE!?. 311 
 
 act as she may judge best. I have marked you well, as you 
 know, for years. I have seen you tried as few men, perhaps, 
 are tried; and you have come out pure and honest. The last 
 trial is now arrived ; and I ask you here, before your friend, 
 your worldly friend, if you are ready to act honestly still, and 
 to annul engagements that you had no right to contract?" 
 
 " I am," answered Sir Henry Layton ; " I am, if " 
 
 " Ay, if 1 There is ever an ' if when men would serve 
 their own purposes against their conscience,'' said Mr. Warde, 
 sternly. 
 
 "Xay, but hear me, my good friend," replied the young 
 officer. " I have every respect for you. Your whole cha- 
 racter commands it and deserves it, as well as your profession ; 
 but, at the same time, though I may think fit to answer you 
 candidly, in matters where I would reject any other man's in- 
 terference, yet I must shape my answer as 1 think proper, and 
 rule my conduct according to my own views. You must, 
 therefore, hear me out. I say that I am ready to give back 
 to Edith Croyland the vows she plighted me ; to set her free 
 from all engagements; to leave her, as far as possible, as if she 
 had never known Henry Layton, whatever pang it may cost 
 me, if it can be proved to me that by so doing I have not 
 given her up to misery, as well as myself. My own wretched- 
 ness I can bear; I have borne it long, cheered by one little 
 ray of hope. I can bear it still, even though that light go 
 out; but to know that by any act of mine, however seemingly 
 generous, or, as you term it honest, I had yielded her up to a 
 life of anguish, that I could not bear. Show me that this will 
 not be the case, and, as I have said before, I am ready to 
 make the sacrifice if it cost me life. Nay, more ; I returned 
 hither, prepared, if at the last, and with every effort to avert 
 it, I found that circumstances of which I know not the extent, 
 rendered the keeping of her vows to me more terrible in its 
 consequences than her union with another, however hateful he 
 may be; I came hither, prepared, I say, in such a case, to 
 set her free; and I will do it!" 
 
 The old man took both his hands, and gazed on him with 
 a look of glad satisfaction. " Honest to the last," he said, 
 44 honest to the last! The resolution to do this, is as good as 
 the deed; for I know you are not one to fail where you have 
 resolved, But those who might exact the sacrifice are not 
 
3 1 2 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 worthy of it. Your willingness has made the atonement, 
 Layton ; and I will deliver you from your difficulty." 
 
 "You, Mr. Warde!" exclaimed Sir Edward Digby; "I 
 cannot suppose that you really have the power; or, perhaps, 
 after all, you do not know the whole circumstances." 
 
 " Hush, hush, young man!" answered Warde, with a wave 
 of the hand; " I know all, I see all, where you know little or 
 nothing. You are a good youth, as the world goes; better 
 than most of your bad class and station; but these matters 
 are above you. Listen to me, Layton. Did not Edith toll 
 you that her father had worked upon her, by fears for his 
 safety, for his honour, for his life, perhaps?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," exclaimed Layton, eagerly, and with a 
 ray of hope beginning to break upon him. " Was the tale not 
 true, then?" 
 
 " I guessed so," answered the old man. " I was sure that 
 would be the course at last. Nevertheless, the tale he told 
 was true: too true. It was forced from him by circumstances. 
 Yet, I have said I will deliver you from your difficulty, and 
 I will. Pursue your own course ; as you have commenced, go 
 on to the end. I ask you not now to give Edith back her 
 promises. Nay, I tell you, that her misery, her wretchedness, 
 ay, tenfold more than any you could suffer, would be the con- 
 sequence, if you did so. Let her go on firmly in her truth to 
 the last; but tell her, that deliverance will come* Now I 
 leave you ; but, be under no doubt. Your course is clear ; do 
 all you can by your own efforts to save her; but it is I who 
 must deliver her in the end." 
 
 Without any further farewell, he turned and left the room; 
 and Sir Henry Layton and his friend remained for a minute or 
 two in thought. 
 
 " His parting advice is the best," said Digby, at length, 
 "and doubtless you will follow it, Layton; but, of course, you 
 will not trust so far to the word of a madman as to neglect 
 any means that may present themselves." 
 
 "He is not mad," answered Layton, shaking his head. 
 "When first he joined us in Canada, before the battle of 
 Quebec, I thought as you do; but he is not mad, Digby. 
 There are various shades of reason ; and there may be a slight 
 aberration in his mind from the common course of ordinary 
 thought. He may be wrong in his reasonings, rash in his 
 
THE SMUGGLE!*. 313 
 
 opinions, somewhat over-excited in imagination, but that is 
 not madness. His promises give me hope, I will confess; but 
 still I will act as if they had not been made. Now let us 
 speak of our plans; and first tell me what has taken place at 
 Harbourne, for you seem to know all the particulars already 
 which I sent for you to communicate, though how you learned 
 them I cannot divine." 
 
 " Oh! my dear Layton, if I were to tell you all that has hap- 
 pened," replied Sir Edward Digby, " I should have to go on 
 as long as a Presbyterian minister, or a popular orator. I had 
 better keep to the point;" and be proceeded to relate to his 
 friend the substance of the conversation which had last taken 
 place between himself and Zara. 
 
 "It is most fortunate," answered Layton, "that dear girl 
 has thus become acquainted with the facts; for Edith would 
 not have told her, and now we have some chance of obtaining 
 information of all that occurs, which must be our great secu- 
 rity. However, since I returned, I have obtained valuable 
 information, which puts good Mr. Radford's liberty, if not his 
 life, in my power. Three of the men whom we have taken, 
 distinctly state that he sent them upon this expedition himself, 
 armed, and mounted them ; and, therefore, he is a party to the 
 whole transaction. I have sent off a messenger to Mowle, the 
 officer, as faithful and as true a fellow as ever lived, begging 
 him to bring me up, without a moment's delay, a magistrate 
 in whom he can trust; for one of the men is at the point of 
 death, and all the justices round this place are so imbued with 
 the spirit of smuggling, that I do not choose the depositions 
 to be taken by them. I have received and written down the 
 statements made before witnesses, and the men have signed 
 them, but I have no power in this case to administer an oath. 
 As soon as the matter is in more formal train, I shall insist 
 upon the apprehension of Mr. Radford, whatever be the con- 
 sequences to Sir Robert Croyland; for here my duty to the 
 country is concerned, and the very powers with which I am 
 entrusted, render it imperative upon me so to act.' 7 
 
 " If you can catch him, if you can catch him!" replied Sir 
 Edward Digby. " But be sure, my dear Layton, if he once 
 discovers that you have got such a hold upon him, he will take 
 care to render that matter difficult. You may find it trouble- 
 some, also, to get a magistrate to act as you desire; for they 
 
314 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 are all of the same leaven; and I fancy you have no power to 
 do anything yourself except in aid and support of the civil 
 authorities. You must be very careful, too, not to exceed 
 your commission, where people might suspect that personal 
 feelings are concerned." 
 
 " Personal feelings shall not bias me, Digby, even in the 
 slightest degree," replied his friend. " I will act towards Mr. 
 Radford exactly as I would towards any other man who had 
 committed this offence; and, as to the imputation of motives, 
 I can well afford to treat such things with contempt. Were 
 I, indeed, to act as I wish, I should not pursue this charge 
 against the chief offender, in order not to bring down his ven- 
 geance suddenly upon Sir Robert Croyland's head, or should 
 use the knowledge I possess merely to impose silence upon 
 him through fear. But my duty is plain and straightforward, 
 and it must be done. As to my powers, they are more ex- 
 tensive than you suppose. Indeed, I would have sooner 
 thrown up my commission, than have undertaken a service I 
 disliked, without sufficient authority to execute it properly. 
 Thus, if no magistrate could be found to act as I might require, 
 I would not scruple, with the aid of any officer of customs, or 
 even without, to apprehend this man on my own responsibility. 
 But I think we shall easily find one who will do his duty." 
 
 " At all events," replied -Sir Edward Digby, " you had 
 better be cautious, my dear Layton. If you are not too quick 
 in your movements, you may perhaps trap the old bird and the 
 young one together; and that will be a better day's sport than 
 if you only got a single shot." 
 
 " Heaven send it may be before these fatal four days are 
 over!'' answered Layton; "for then the matter will be decided 
 and Edith delivered." 
 
 " Why, if you were to catch the young one, it would be 
 sufficient for that object," said his friend. 
 
 But Layton shook his head. "I fear not," he replied; 
 " yet that purpose must not be neglected. Where he has 
 concealed himself I cannot divine. It would seem certain that 
 he never got out of Harbourne Wood, unless, indeed, it was 
 by some of the bye-paths; and in that case, he surely must 
 have been seen. I will have it searched, to-morrow, from end 
 to end." 
 
 In the same strain the conversation proceeded for half an 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 315 
 
 hour more, without any feasible plan of action having been 
 decided upon, and with no further result than the arrangement 
 of means for frequent and private communication. It was 
 settled, indeed, that Lay ton should fix his head- quarters at 
 Woodchurch, and that two or three of the dragoons should 
 be biletted at a small public -house on the roacl to Harbournc. 
 To them any communication from Sir Edward Digby was to 
 be conveyed by his servant, Somers, for the purpose of being 
 forwarded to Woodchurch. Such matters being thus arranged, 
 as far as circumstances admitted, the two friends parted ; and 
 Digby rode back to Harbourne House, which he reached, as 
 may be supposed, somewhat later than Sir Robert CroylancPs 
 dinner-hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ABOUT six o'clock on the evening of the same day, the 
 cottage of Mrs. Clare was empty. The good widow herself 
 stood at the garden gate, and looked up the road into the 
 wood, along which the western sun was streaming low. After 
 gazing for a moment in that direction, she turned her eyes to 
 .the left, and then down the edge of the wood, which stretched 
 along in a tolerably even line till it reached the farther angle. 
 The persevering dragoons were patrolling round it still; and 
 Mrs. Clare murmured to herself, " How will he ever get out, 
 if they keep such a watch?" 
 
 She was then going into the cottage again, when a hurried 
 step caught her ear, coming apparently from the path which 
 led from the side of Halden to the back of the house, and 
 thence round the little garden into the road. 
 
 " That sounds like Hardirig's step," thought the widow; and 
 her ear had not deceived her. In another minute she beheld 
 him turn the corner of the fence and come towards her; but 
 there was a heated and angry look upon his face, which she 
 had never seen there before; and, although she had acted for 
 the best, and not without much consideration, in sending Kate 
 upon Mr. Radford's commission, arid not going herself, she 
 feared that her daughter's lover might not be well pleased 
 his bride should undertake such a task. As he came near, 
 
316 THE SMUGGLED. 
 
 the symptoms of anger were more apparent still. There 
 was the cloudy brow, the flashing eye, the hurried and im- 
 petuous walk, which she had often seen in her own husband, 
 a man very similar in character to him who now approached her, 
 when irritated by harsh words; and Widow Clare prepared 
 to do all she could to soothe him ere Kate's return. 
 
 But Harding did not mention her he loved, demanding, 
 while yet at some distance, "Where is Mr. Radford, Mrs. 
 Clare?" 
 
 "He is not here, Mr. Harding/' replied the widow; " he 
 has not been here since the morning. But what makes you 
 look so cross, Harding? You seem angry." 
 
 " And well I may be, ?J answered Harding, with an oath. 
 " What do you think they have set about? That I informed 
 against them, and betrayed them into the hands of the 
 dragoons, when they know I saw them safe out of the Marsh; 
 and it must have been their own stupidity, or the old man's 
 babbling fears, that ruined them; always trusting people that 
 were sure to be treacherous, and doubting those he knew to 
 be honest. But I'll make him eat his words, or cram them 
 down his throat with my fist." 
 
 " Why, he spoke quite kindly of you this morning, Hard- 
 ing,'' said the widow; "there must be some mistake." 
 
 "Mistake!" cried the smuggler, sharply; "there is no mis- 
 take. It is all over Hythe and Folkestone already, and every 
 one says that it came from him. Can you not tell me where 
 he is gone? Which way did he turn?" 
 
 "Towards his own house," replied Mrs. Clare; "but you had 
 better come in, Harding, and get yourself cool before you go 
 to him. You will speak angrily now, and mischief will come 
 of it. I am sure there is some mistake." 
 
 "I will not sit down till I have made him own it," answered 
 the smuggler. " Perhaps he is up at Harbourne. I'll go 
 there. Where is Kate, Mrs. Clare?" 
 
 "She has gone towards Harbourne House," said the widow, 
 not chosing, in the excited state of his feelings, to tell him her 
 daughter's errand; "but she will be back in one minute, if 
 you will but come in." 
 
 "No," he replied ; " I will come back by-and-bye. Perhaps 
 I shall meet her as I go;" and he was turning towards the 
 wood, when suddenly, at the spot where the road entered 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 31? 
 
 amongst the trees, the pretty figure of Kate Clare, as trim, and 
 neat, and simple as a wild flower, appeared walking slowly back 
 towards the cottage. But she was not alone. By her side 
 was a tall, handsome young man, dressed in full military cos- 
 tume, with his heavy sword under his arm, and a star upon 
 his breast. He was bending down, talking to his fair com- 
 panion with a friendly air, and she was answering him with a 
 gay smile. 
 
 A pang shot through Harding's bosom; it was the first that 
 ever the poor girl had caused; nor, indeed, would he have felt 
 it then, had he not been irritated; for his was a frank and 
 confiding heart, open as the day, in which that foul and 
 dangerous guest, Suspicion, usually could find no lurking place. 
 At first he did not recognize, in the glittering personage be- 
 fore his eyes, the grave, plain-looking stranger, who, a week 
 or two before, had conversed with him for a few minutes on 
 the cliffs near Sandgate; but he saw, as the two came on, 
 that Kate raised her eyes; and as soon as she perceived him 
 standing by her mother, a look of joy lighted up her face, 
 which made him murmur to himself, " I'm a fool!" 
 
 The stranger, too, saw him ; but it made no change in his 
 demeanour; and the next moment, to Harding's surprise, the 
 officer came forward somewhat more quickly, and took Widow 
 Clare by the hand, saying, with a grave smile, " Do you not 
 know me, Mrs. Clare?" 
 
 "Gracious heaven!" cried the widow, drawing back and 
 gazing at him. " Can it be you, sir?'' 
 
 " Yes, indeed I" he answered. " Why, Kate here knew me 
 directly, though she was but ten or eleven, I think, when I 
 went away.'* 
 
 "Oh! that was because you were always so fond of her, 
 Mr. Henry," replied Widow Clare. "Gracious ! how you are 
 changed!" 
 
 Harding was talking to Kate while these few words passed, 
 but he heard them; nor did he fail to remark that two 
 mounted dragoons, one leading a horse by the rein, followed 
 the young officer from the wood. He now recognised him 
 also; and by his dress perceived the rank he held in the 
 army, though Mrs. Clare called him " Mr. Henry." 
 
 " Yes, I am changed, indeed!'' replied Layton, to the 
 widow's last remark, " in body and health, Mrs. Clare, but 
 
318 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 not in heart, I can assure you; and as I was obliged to visit 
 this wood, I resolved I would not be so near you without 
 coming in to see how you were going on, with your pretty 
 Kate here." 
 
 "My pretty Kate, very soon!" said Harding, aloud; and 
 the young officer turned suddenly round, and looked at him 
 more attentively than before. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Harding 1" he exclaimed, "is that you? We 
 have met before, though perhaps you don't remember me. 5 ' 
 
 " Oh! yes, 1 do, sir," replied the smuggler, drily. "But I 
 must go, Kate;'' and he added, in alow tone, "I shall be 
 back by -and- bye." 
 
 Thus saying, he walked away ; but before he had taken ten 
 steps, Lay ton followed, and tools: him by the arm. " What do 
 you want with me, sir?'' asked the smuggler, turning sharply 
 round, and putting his hand in the bosom of his coat. 
 
 "Hush!" replied the young officer; "I seek no harm to 
 you; merely one word. For heaven's sake! Harding, quit 
 this perilous life of yours ; at least, before you marry that poor 
 girl if I have understood you rightly, that you are about to 
 marry her. I speak as a friend." 
 
 "Thank you, sir!'' answered the smuggler, "I dare say 
 you mean it kind ; but it was hardly fair of you, either, to 
 come and talk with me upon the cliff, if you are, as I suppose, 
 the Sir Henry Layton all the folks are speaking about.'' 
 
 " Why, my good friend, my talking with you did you no 
 harm,'' replied the young officer; "you cannot say that I led 
 you to speak of anything that could injure either you or 
 others. Besides, I have nothing to do with you gentlemen of 
 the sea, though I may with your friends on land. But take 
 the advice of one well disposed towards you; and, above all, 
 do not linger about this place at present, for it is a dangerous 
 neighbourhood for any one who has had a share in the late 
 transactions." 
 
 "That advice I shall take, at all events," answered Hard- 
 ing, bluntly; " and perhaps the other too, for I am sick of all 
 this!" And thus saying, he walked away, passing close by 
 the two dragoons, who offered no obstruction. 
 
 In the meanwhile Layton, returning to Widow Clare and 
 her daughter, went into the cottage, and talked to them, for a 
 few minutes, of old days. Gradually, however, he brought 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 319 
 
 the conversation round to the inhabitants of Harbourne House, 
 and asked if either the widow or Kate ever went up there. 
 
 "Oh! Kate goes twice every day, sir," said Mrs. Clare, 
 " for we have all the finest of the poultry to keep down here. 
 But are you not going there yourself, Mr. Henry?" 
 
 " Alas, no !' ? answered Layton, with a sigh. "Those days 
 have gone by, Mrs. Clare; and I am now a stranger where I 
 was once loved." 
 
 "Don't say so, sir," replied the widow, "don't say so! 
 For, I am sure, where you were best loved of all, there you 
 arc best loved still." 
 
 "That I believe," answered Layton; "but, at all events, I 
 am not going there at present; and if Kate would do me a 
 service, she would, the first time she sees Miss Zara Croyland 
 alone, tell her, that if ever she rides or walks out along the 
 road by the Chequers, she will find an old friend by the 
 way." 
 
 "Miss Zara, sir, did you say?" asked Widow Clare. 
 
 "Yes, mother, yes," cried Kate; "you forget Miss Edith 
 is not there now; she is down at Mr. Croyland's." 
 
 "But remember, Kate," continued Layton, "I do not wish 
 my name mentioned to many persons in the house. Indeed, 
 it will be better not to speak of me at all to any one but Zara. 
 It must be soon known that I am here, it is true; but I wish 
 to let events take their course till then. And now, Mrs. Clare, 
 good evening. I shall see you again some day soon ; and you 
 must let me know when Kate's wedding-day is fixed." 
 
 The mother looked at her daughter with a smile, and Kate 
 blushed and laughed. "It is to be this day week, sir," an- 
 swered Mrs. Clare. 
 
 Layton nodded his head, saying, " I will not forget," and, 
 mounting his horse at the door, rode away. 
 
 "Now, did you find him, Kate?" asked Mrs. Clare, in a 
 low tone, the moment Sir Henry Layton was gone. 
 
 "Oh! yes," replied her daughter; "the dragoons did not 
 follow me, as you thought they would, mother; and I set 
 down the basket close to the willow. At first he did not 
 answer when I asked if he wanted % any thing ; but when I 
 spoke again, he said, 'No. A thousand thanks for what you 
 have brought;' and he spoke kind and civilly. Then, just as 
 I was going away, he said, 'Kate, Kate! let me know when 
 
320 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the soldiers are gone. If you could bring me a woman's dres*, 
 I could easily get away.' I should not be afraid of going any 
 more, mother," the girl continued, "for he seems quite 
 changed by his misfortune, and not rude and jesting as he 
 always used to be, whenever I saw him before/ 3 
 
 The idea of the woman's clothes seemed to strike Mrs. Clan 
 very much ; and the good widow and her daughter set their 
 wits to work, to consider how all that was necessary could be 
 procured; for a very serious impediment thrust itself in the 
 way of either mother or child lending him a suit of their own 
 apparel. Neither of them were very tall women ; and though 
 young Radford was himself not above the middle height, yet 
 Kate's gown would not have fallen further than half way down 
 his leg; and the poor girl laughed merrily, to think of what a 
 figure he would make dressed in her garments. It would have 
 been the old story of the wolf in sheep's clothing, assuredly. 
 
 " If we could but accomplish it, and enable him to escape," 
 thought Mrs. Clare, "especially after Harding has just been 
 up here, it would show Mr. Radford clearly enough that John 
 had nothing to do with informing against him." But the 
 question, of where fitting apparel was to be procured still re- 
 mained unsettled, till Kate suggested that perhaps her aunt's, 
 at Glassenbury, might do. " She is very tall," continued the 
 girl, " and I am sure she would lend them to me, for she and 
 my uncle have always been so kind. Suppose I walk over 
 early to-morrow, and ask her?" 
 
 Now the little farm which Mrs. Clare's brother held was 
 somewhat more than seven miles off, on the other side of 
 Cranbrook. But still, what is the exertion which woman will 
 not make for a fellow- creature in distress? and Mrs. Clare de- 
 termined that she would rise betimes and go to William Har- 
 ris's herself, certain of a kind reception and ready consent from 
 those who had always displayed towards her, in adversity, the 
 feelings of affection, which the more worldly-minded generally 
 shower upon prosperity alone. 
 
 It was far for her daughter to walk, she thought; and be- 
 sides, Harding might come, and it would not do for Kate to 
 be absent. Thus had she settled it in her own mind, when 
 Mr. Radford entered the cottage to inquire after his son. 
 
 High were the praises that he bestowed upon Kate and Mrs. 
 Clare for their kindness ; and he expressed his warm approval 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 321 
 
 of their little scheme. Nevertheless, he turned the matter in 
 his mind, in order to see whether he could not save Mrs. Clare 
 the trouble of going nearly to Goudhurst, by obtaining the 
 necessary articles of female apparel somewhere else. His own 
 women servants, however, were all short and stout; the only 
 other persons whom he could think of, as at all approaching 
 his son in height, he did not choose to trust; and, therefore, 
 it was at length determined that the original plan should be 
 followed. But the worthy gentleman laid strict injunctions 
 upon Mrs. Clare to be early in her proceedings, as lie feared 
 much, from all he had gathered, that the wood might be more 
 strictly searched in the course of the following day. 
 
 When this was settled, and Mr. Radford had expressed his 
 thanks more than once, Mrs. Clare thought it a good oppor- 
 tunity of turning the conversation to Harding; and she asked 
 Mr. Radford if he had seen him, adding: " He has gone to 
 look for you, sir, and seems very quick and angry, because the 
 people down about his place have got a report that he in- 
 formed about the run, and he fancies you have said so." 
 
 "Pooh! nonsense, Mrs. Clare, I never said anything of the 
 kind," replied Mr. Radford. " It is a story put about by the 
 custom-house officers themselves, just to cover the persons 
 from whom they had the information. But we shall discover 
 them some day, and pay them handsomely. Tell Harding not 
 to mind what people say, for I never thought of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " That I will, sir," replied the widow, "for I'm sure it will 
 set his mind at rest. You must know very well, sir, that he's 
 as honest a man as ever lived." 
 
 "To be sure, to be sure," answered Mr. Radford, with great 
 warmth of manner; "no one knows that better than I do, 
 Mrs. Clare." 
 
 But whether Mr. Radford really felt the warmth which he 
 assumed, may be another question. His seemings were not 
 always the best indications of his real sentiments; and when 
 he left Mrs. Clare's cottage, after all had been arranged, his 
 first thought was, "We will reckon with Mr. Harding by-and- 
 bye. The account is not made up yet." 
 
 Before I proceed to other scenes, it may be as well to go 
 on with the part assigned in this history to Mrs. Clare and 
 her daughter, at least, till the morning of the following day. 
 
322 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 About eight o'clock at night Harding returned, still irritable 
 and discontented, having failed to find Mr. Radford. The ac- 
 count, however, which the widow gave of her conversation 
 with that gentleman, soothed him a good deal; but he would 
 not stay the night, as he had done before, saying that he must 
 absolutely be at home as soon as possible, and would return, 
 perhaps, the next day, or, at all events, the day after. 
 
 " I must do the best I can, Mrs. Clare," he continued, " to 
 help these fellows out of the scrape they've run into. Two or 
 three of them are good men enough; and, as they risk their 
 necks if they are taken, I should like to get them down, and 
 give them a passage to the other side. So you see I shall be 
 going about here a good deal for the next four or five days, 
 and will look in, from time to time, to see you and my dear 
 little Kate." 
 
 44 But are you going to walk all the way back to-night, 
 John?" asked Kate, as he rose to depart. 
 
 "No, my love," he answered; "I've got a horse up at 
 Plurendon ; but the beast cast a shoe as I was coming, and I 
 was obliged to leave him at the blacksmith's." 
 
 No sooner was Harding gone, than a little kindly contest 
 rose between mother and daughter, as to which should go 
 over to Glassenbury; but Mrs. Clare persisted, against all 
 her child's remonstrances; and, in order that they might rise 
 before daylight, both retired to bed early, and slept calmly 
 and peacefully, unknowing what the morrow, to which they 
 both looked anxiously forward, was to bring. The sun was 
 yet some way below the horizon, when Mrs. Clare set out; 
 but she met with no impediment, and, walking on stoutly, 
 arrived, at an early hour, at a little farm-house, inhabited by 
 her brother. She found farmer Harris and his wife, with 
 their two sons and Mrs. Harris's nephew (three stout, good- 
 humoured, young men) seated at their breakfast; and warm 
 and joyful was the reception of Aunt Clare; one joking her 
 upon Kate's approaching marriage; another declaring Jack 
 Harding, whom they all knew, was a capital fellow ; and all 
 striving to make her comfortable, and pressing her to partake 
 of their morning meal. 
 
 Every one of the party was eager to obtain some informa- 
 tion from her, who lived so much nearer to the spot, in regard 
 to the late discomfiture of the smugglers, although none seemed 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 323 
 
 to take any great interest in them ; all declaring that the Ram- 
 leys and their gang were the pest of the country, and that 
 young Dick Radford was not a bit better. Such opinions, 
 regarding that young gentleman, acted as a warning to Mrs. 
 Clare, not to mention the object of the loan she came to 
 solicit ; and when, after having rested about twenty minutes, 
 she preferred her petition to Mrs. Harris, it was readily 
 granted by the tall farmer's wife, although not without some 
 expression of curiosity, as to what her sister-in-law could want 
 a dress of hers for. 
 
 " Kate or I will bring it back to-night or to-morrow 
 morning," replied Mrs. Clare, "and I'll tell you what we 
 want it for, at the wedding, which, remember, is to be yes- 
 terday week." 
 
 " Ay, we will all come down with white favours, and our 
 best buckles," said young William, the farmer's eldest son; 
 "and I'll have a kiss of the bride." 
 
 A gown and cloak of Mrs. Harris's, having been brought 
 down (they were not her best) and neatly folded up in a 
 shawl-handkerchief, Mrs. Clare set forward on her way home, 
 hurrying her steps as much as possible, lest any untoward 
 event should prevent the execution of her scheme. A stout 
 countrywoman, accustomed to exercise, the widow accom- 
 plished the walk in as short a time as possible ; yet it was 
 nine o'clock before she reached the cottage, and she instantly 
 despatched her daughter to the "hide" in the wood, with the 
 clothes folded up in as small a space as possible, and laid in 
 the bottom of a basket, covered over with eggs. 
 
 The only difficulty was, in regard to a bonnet; and, after 
 earnest consultation between mother and child, it was deter- 
 mined that, as Mrs. Clare's head was somewhat larger than 
 Kate's, her bonnet should be put over her daughter's, which 
 was easily accomplished. Both were of straw, and both were 
 plain enough ; but, to conceal the contrivance from the eyes 
 of any one whom Kate might meet, Mrs. Clare pinned a small 
 piece of lace, which had been bought for the wedding, into the 
 inside of her own bonnet; remarking that it would do to hide 
 young Mr. Radford's face a bit. 
 
 Furnished with all that was needful, and having had the 
 instructions which Mr. Radford had left, repeated carefully to 
 her by her mother, fair Kate Clare set out upon her expcdi- 
 
324 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 tion, passing one of the dragoons, that were still patrolling 
 round the wood, near the place where the road entered it. 
 The man said something to her, as she went by, but did not 
 attempt to follow; and Kate walked on, looking behind her 
 from time to time, till she was satisfied that her proceedings 
 were unwatched. Then, hurrying on, with a quicker step, she 
 turned to the path which led to the back of the gardens of 
 Harbourne House, and approached the old willow, and the 
 brushwood which covered the place where Richard Radford 
 was concealed. 
 
 " Mr. Radford," she said, as soon as she was quite close, 
 "Mr. Radford! Here is what you wanted. Take it as fast 
 as you can." 
 
 " Is there any one near but you, Kate?" asked the voice of 
 Richard Radford. 
 
 " Oh, nol" she replied; "but the soldiers are still on the 
 outside of the wood watching." 
 
 " I know that," rejoined the voice again, "for I saw them 
 last night, when I tried to get out. But are you sure that 
 none of them followed you, Kate?" 
 
 " Oh I quite sure," she answered, "for I looked behind all 
 the wayl" 
 
 " Well, stay and help me to put the things on," said Richard 
 Radford, issuing forth from behind the bushes, like a snake out 
 of its hole. Kate Clare willingly agreed to help him, and 
 while the gown and the cloak were thrown over his other 
 clothes, told him all his father had said, desiring him not to 
 come up to Radford Hall till he heard more; but to go down 
 to the lone house, near Iden Green, where he would find one 
 or two friends already collected. 
 
 "Why, these are never your own clothes, Kate!'' said 
 young Radford, as she pinned on the gown for him. " They 
 fit as if they were made for me." 
 
 "Not at the back," answered Kate, laughing, "I cannot 
 get the gown to meet there; but that will be covered up by 
 the cloak, so it does not matter. No, they are my aunt's, at 
 Glassenbury; and you must let me have them back, Mr. Rad- 
 ford, as soon as ever you have got to Iden Green; for my 
 mother has promised to return them to-night." 
 
 "I don't know how I shall get them back, Kate, 9 ' answered 
 Richard Radford; " for none of our people will like to venture 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 325 
 
 up here. Can't you come down, and fetch them? It is not 
 much out of your way." 
 
 "No, I can't do that,'' answered Kate, who did not alto- 
 gether like going to the lone house she had mentioned; "but 
 you can send them down to Cranbrook, at all events ; and 
 there they can be left for me, at Mrs. Tims's shop; they'll 
 be quite safe; and I will call for them either to-night, or to- 
 morrow morning,'' 
 
 " Well, I will do that, my love," replied Richard Radford, 
 taking the bonnet, and putting it on his head. 
 
 " Very well, sir,'' answered Kate, not well pleased with the 
 epithet he had bestowed upon her, and taking a step to move 
 away, " I will call for them there." 
 
 But young Radford threw his arm round her waist, saying, 
 " Come, Kate, I must have a kiss before you go. You give 
 plenty to Harding, I dare say." 
 
 " Let me go, sir! '' cried Kate Clare, indignantly. " You 
 are a base, ungrateful young man I' 5 
 
 But young Radford did not let her go. He took the kiss 
 she struggled against, by force; and he was proceeding to 
 further insult, when Kate exclaimed, "If you do not let me 
 go, I will scream till the soldiers are upon you. They are 
 not far." 
 
 She spoke so loud, that her very tone excited his alarm ; 
 and he withdrew his arm from her waist, but still held her 
 hand tight, saying, "Come, come, Kate! nonsense, I did not 
 mean to offend youl Go up to Harbourne House, there's a 
 good girl, and stay as long as you can there, till I get out of 
 the wood." 
 
 "You do offend me; you do offend me I" cried Kate Clare, 
 striving to withdraw her hand from his grasp. 
 
 "Will you promise to go up to Harbourne, then?" said 
 Richard Radford, " and I will let you go." 
 
 "Yes, yes," answered Kate, "I will go;" and the moment 
 her hand was free, she darted away, leaving the basket she 
 had brought behind her. 
 
 As soon as she was gone, Richard Radford cursed her for a 
 saucy jade, as if the offence had been hers, not his; and then 
 taking up the basket, he threw it, eggs and all, together with 
 his own hat, into the deep hole in the sand-bank. Advancing 
 along the path till he reached the open road, he hurried on in 
 
326 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the direction of Widow Glare's cottage. Of a daring and 
 resolute disposition, for his only virtue was courage, he thought 
 of passing the soldiers as a good joke, rather than a difficult 
 undertaking ; but still recollecting the necessity of caution, as 
 he came near the edge of the wood he slackened his pace, tried 
 to shorten his steps, and assumed a more feminine demeanour. 
 When he was within a couple of hundred yards of the open 
 country, he saw one of the dragoons slowly pass the end of 
 the road and look up; and, on issuing forth from the wood, 
 he perceived that the man had paused, and was gazing back. 
 But at that distance, the female garments which he wore 
 deceived the soldier, and he was suffered to walk on unopposed 
 towards Iden Green. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 327 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SIR ROBERT CROYLAND himself did not return to Harbourne 
 House till the hands of the clock pointed out to every one 
 that went through the hall that it was twenty minutes past 
 the usual dinner-hour; and, though he tried to be as expedi- 
 tious as he could, he was yet fully ten minutes longer in 
 dressing than usual. He was nervous, he was agitated: all 
 the events of that day had shaken and affected him; he was 
 angry with his servant, and several times he gave the most 
 contradictory orders. Although for years he had been under- 
 going a slow and gradual change, under the painful circum- 
 stances in which he had been placed, and had, from the gay, 
 rash, somewhat noisy and overbearing country gentleman, 
 dwindled down into the cold, silent, pompous, and imperative 
 man of family, yet the alteration during that day had been so 
 great and peculiar that the valet could not help remarking it, 
 and wondering if his master was ill. 
 
 Sir Robert tried to smooth his look and compose his man- 
 ner for the dining-room, however; and when he entered, he 
 gazed round for Sir Edward Digby, observing aloud: "Why, 
 I thought soldiers were more punctual. However, as it hap- 
 pens, to-day I am glad Sir Edward is not down." 
 
 "Downl" cried Mrs. Barbara, who had a grand objection 
 
 to dinners being delayed, "why, he is out; but you could 
 
 expect no better, for yesterday you were so long that the fish 
 
 1 was done to rags, so I ordered it not to be put in till he made 
 
 his appearance." 
 
 " I told you, my dear aunt, that he said he might not be 
 back before dinner," replied her niece; "and, therefore, it will 
 be vain to wait for him. He desired me to say so, papa." 
 
 "Oh I yes, Zara knows all about it," said Mrs. Barbara, 
 with a shrewd look; "they were talking together for ten 
 minutes in the library, and I cannot get her to tell me what 
 it was about." 
 
328 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 It is, indeed, conscience that makes cowards of us all, and 
 had the fair girl's conversation with her new friend been on 
 any other subject than that to which it related, had it been 
 about love, marriage, arms, or divinity, she would have found 
 no difficulty in parrying her aunt's observations, however mal- 
 appropos they might have been. At present, however, she 
 was embarrassed by doubts of the propriety of what she was 
 doing, more especially as she felt sure that her father would 
 be inquisitive and suspicious, if the tale the maid had told was 
 true. Acting, however, as she not unfrequently did, in any 
 difficulty, she met Mrs. Barbara's inuendoes at once, replying, 
 " Indeed I shall not say anything about it to any one, my dear 
 aunt. I will manage some matters for myself; and the only 
 thing I shall repeat is Sir Edward's last dying speech, which 
 was to the effect, that he feared he might be detained till after 
 our dinner hour, but would be back as soon as ever he could, 
 and trusted my father would not wait." 
 
 "Do you know where he is gone, and why?" asked Sir 
 Eobert Croyland, in a much quieter tone than she expected. 
 But poor Zara was still puzzled for an answer; and, as her 
 only resource, she replied vaguely, " Something about some of 
 the smugglers, I believe." 
 
 " Then had he any message or intelligence brought him ?" 
 inquired Sir Robert Croyland. 
 
 " I do not know. Oh ! yes, I believe he had," replied his 
 daughter, in a hesitating tone and with a cheek that was be- 
 ginning to grow red. " He spoke with one of the soldiers at 
 the corner of the road, I know ; and, oh I yes, I saw a man 
 ride up with a letter." 
 
 "That was after he was gone," observed Mrs. Barbara; but 
 Sir Robert paid little attention, and, ringing, ordered dinner to 
 be served. Could we see into the breasts of others, we should 
 often save ourselves a great deal of unnecessary anxiety. 
 Zara forgot that her father was not as well aware that Sir 
 Edward Digby was Lay ton's dearest friend, as she was ; but, 
 in truth, all that he concluded, either from the pertinent re- 
 marks of Mrs. Barbara or from Zara's embarrassment, was, 
 that the young baronet had been making a little love to his 
 daughter, which, to say sooth, was a consummation that Sir 
 Robert Croyland was not a little inclined to see. 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour more, the dinner was an- 
 
THE SMUGCcLER, 329 
 
 nounced ; and the master of the house, his sister, and Zara, 
 sat down together. Hardly had the fish and soup made any 
 progress, when the quick canter of Sir Edward Digby's horse 
 put his fair confidante out of her anxiety; and, in a few 
 minutes after, he appeared himself, and apologized gracefully 
 to his host for having been too late. " You must have waited 
 for me, I fear," he added, " for it is near an hour after the 
 time ; but I thought it absolutely necessary, from some circum- 
 stances I heard, to go over and see my colonel before he re- 
 turned to Hythe, and then I was detained." 
 
 "Pray, who does command your regiment?" asked Mrs. 
 Barbara. But Sir Edward Digby was, at that moment, busily 
 engaged in taking his seat by Zara's side, and he did not hear. 
 The lady repeated the question when he was seated ; but then 
 he replied, " No, I thank you, my dear madam, no soup to- 
 day : a solid meal always after a hard ride ; and I have galloped 
 till I have almost broken my horse's wind. By the way, Sir 
 Robert, I hope you found my bay a pleasant goer. I have 
 only ridden him twice since I bought him, though he cost two 
 hundred guineas." 
 
 "He is well worth the money," replied the baronet: "a 
 very powerful animal : bore me like a feather, and I ride a 
 good weight." 
 
 "Have your own horses come back?" asked the young 
 officer, with a laugh. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland answered in the negative, adding, 
 " And that reminds me I must write to my brother to let 
 Edith have his carriage to-morrow, to bring her back, for mine 
 are gone, coach-horses and all." 
 
 "Edith, to-morrow 1" exclaimed Mrs. Barbara, in surprise; 
 " why, I thought she was going to stay four or five days." 
 
 " She is coming back to-morrow, Bab," replied Sir Robert, 
 sharply, and instantly turned the conversation. 
 
 During the rest of the evening, Sir Edward Digby remained 
 very constantly by fair Zara's side ; and, moreover, he paid her 
 most particular attention in so marked a manner, that both 
 Sir Robert Croyland and Mrs. Barbara thought matters were 
 taking their course very favourably. The father bubied him- 
 self in writing a letter and one or two notes, which he pro- 
 nounced to be of consequence, as, indeed, they really were; 
 while the aunt worked diligently and discreetly at embroider- 
 
330 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ing, not interrupting the conference of her niece and their guest 
 above ten times in a minute. Sir Edward, indeed, kept him- 
 self within all due and well- defined rules. He never proceeded 
 beyond what a great master of the art has pronounced to be 
 " making-love;'' "a course of small, quiet, attentions: not so 
 pointed as to alarm, nor so vague as to be misunderstood." 
 Strange to say, Zara was very much obliged to him for follow- 
 ing such a course, as it gave an especially good pretext for 
 intimacy, for whispered words and quiet conversation, and 
 even for a little open seeking for each other's society, which 
 would have called observation, if not inquiry, upon them, had 
 not her companion's conduct been what it was. She thought 
 fit to attribute it, in her own mind, entirely to his desire of 
 communicating to her, without attracting notice, whatever he 
 had learned, that could in any way affect her sister's fate ; and 
 she judged it a marvellous good device that they should appear 
 for the time as lovers, with full powers on both parts to with- 
 draw from that position whenever it suited them. Poor girl! 
 she knew not how far she was entangling herself. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby, in the meanwhile, took no alarming 
 advantage of his situation. The whispered word was almost 
 always of Edith or of Layton. He never spoke of Zara herself, 
 or of himself, or of his own feelings ; not a word could denote to 
 her that he was making love, though his whole demeanour had 
 very much that aspect to those who sat and looked on. Oh! 
 those who sit and look on, what a world they see, and what 
 a world they don't see! . Ever more than those who play the 
 game, be they shrewd as they may: ever less than the cards 
 would show, were they turned up. By fits and snatches, he 
 communicated to his fair companion, while he was playing 
 with this ball of gold thread, or winding and unwinding that 
 piece of crimson silk, as much as what had passed between 
 himself and Sir Henry Layton as he thought necessary; and 
 then he asked her to sing, as her aunt had given him a quiet 
 hint that her niece did sometimes do such a thing; saying, in 
 a low tone, while he preferred the request, "Pray, go on with 
 the song, though I may interrupt you sometimes with questions, 
 not quite relevant to the subject." 
 
 " I understand, I quite understand," answered Zara; but 
 it may be a question whether the sweet girl really quite under- 
 stood either herself or him. It is impossible that any two free 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 331 
 
 hearts can go on long, holding such intimate and secret com- 
 munion, on subjects deeply interesting to both, without being 
 drawn together by closer bonds, than perhaps they fancy can 
 ever be established between them, unless there be something 
 inherently repulsive on one part or the other. Propinquity is 
 certainly much, in the matter of love ; but there are circum- 
 stances, not rarely occurring in human life, which mightily 
 abridge the process; and such are, difficulties and dangers 
 experienced together, a common struggle for a common object, 
 but more than all, mutual and secret communion with, and 
 aid of each other in things of deep interest. The confidence 
 that is required, the excitement of imagination, the unity of 
 effort, and of purpose, the rapid exercise of mind to catch the 
 half-uttered thought, the enforced candour from want of time, 
 which admits of no disguise or circumlocution, the very mystery 
 itself, all cast that magic chain around those so circumstanced, 
 within which they can hardly escape from the power of love. 
 Nine times out of ten, they never try; and, however Zara 
 Croyland might feel, she rose willingly enough to sing, while 
 Sir Edward Digby leaned over her chair, as she sat at the 
 instrument, which in those days supplied the place of that 
 which is now absurdly enough termed in England, a piano. 
 Her voice, which was fine, though not very powerful, wavered 
 a little as she began, from emotions of many kinds. She 
 wished to sing well, but she sang worse than she might have 
 done, yet quite well enough to please Sir Edward Digby, 
 though his ear was refined by art, and good by nature. 
 Nevertheless, though he listened with delight, and felt the 
 music deeply, he forgot not his purpose, and between each 
 stanza asked some question, obtaining a brief reply. But I will 
 not so interrupt the course of an old song, and will give the 
 interrogatory a separate place : 
 
 THE LADY'S SONG. 
 
 " Oli! there may be many, many griefs, 
 
 In this world's sad career, 
 That shun the day, that fly the gaze, 
 And never, never meet the ear. 
 
 But what is darkest, darkest of them all ? 
 
 The pang of love betray'd ; 
 The hopes of youth all fleeting by; 
 
 Spring flowers that early, early fade? 
 
332 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 But there are griefs, aj^, griefs as deep: 
 
 The friendship turned to hate; 
 And, deeper still, and deeper still, 
 
 Repentance come too late, too late! 
 
 The doubt of those we love; and more 
 
 The rayless, dull despair, 
 When trusted hearts are worthless found, 
 
 And all our dreams are air, but air. 
 
 Deep in each bosom's secret cell, 
 
 The hermit-sorrows lie; 
 And thence, unheard on earth, they raise 
 
 The voice of prayer on high, on high. 
 
 Oh! there may be many, many griefs, 
 
 In this worlci|s sad career, 
 That shun the day, that fly the gaze, 
 
 And, never, never meet the ear." 
 
 Thus sang the lady; and one of her hearers,* at least, was 
 delighted with the sweet voice, and the sweet music, and the 
 expression which she gave to the whole. But though he 
 listened with deep attention, both to words and tones, as long 
 as her lips moved, yet, when the mere instrumental part of 
 the music recommenced, which was the case between every 
 second and third stanza, and the symphonetic parts of every 
 song were somewhat long in those days he instantly remem- 
 bered the object with which he had first asked her to sing, 
 (little thinking that such pleasure would be his reward) ; and 
 bending down his head, as if he were paying her some lover- 
 like compliment on her performance, he asked her quietly, as I 
 have said before, a question or two, closely connected with the 
 subject on which both their minds were at that moment prin- 
 cipally bent. 
 
 Thus, at the first pause, he inquired, "Do you know, did 
 you ever see, in times long past, a gentleman of the name of 
 AVarde, a clergyman; a good and clever man, but somewhat 
 strange and wild?' 7 
 
 "No," answered Zara, looking down at the keys of the 
 harpsichord; " I kno\v no one of that name;" and she recom- 
 menced the song. 
 
 When her voice again ceased, the young officer seemed to 
 have thought further; and he asked, in the same low tone, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 333 
 
 " Did you ever know a gentleman answering that description ; 
 his features must once have been good; somewhat strongly 
 marked, but fine and of an elevated expression, with a good 
 deal of wildness in the eye, but a particularly bland and beau- 
 tiful smile when he is pleased : too remarkable to be overlooked 
 or forgotten?" 
 
 "Can you be speaking of Mr. Osborn?'' asked Zara, in re- 
 turn. "I barely recollect him in former days; but I and 
 Edith met him about ten days ago; and he remembered and 
 spoke to her." 
 
 The song required her attention, and though she would fain 
 have played the symphony over again, she was afraid her 
 father would remark it, and went on to sing the last two 
 stanzas. As soon as she had concluded, however, she said, 
 in a low, quick voice, "He is a very extraordinary man." 
 
 " Can you give me any sign by which I should know him?" 
 asked Digby. 
 
 "He has now got a number of blue lines traced on his face," 
 answered Zara; "he went abroad to preach to the savages, I 
 have heard. He is a good man, but very eccentric." 
 
 At the same moment the voice of her father was raised, 
 saying, " I wish, my dear, you would not sing such melan- 
 choly things as that. Cannot you find something gayer? I 
 do not like young ladies singing such dull ditties, only fit for 
 sentimental misses of the true French school." 
 
 What was the true French school of his day, I cannot 
 tell. Certainly, it must have been very different from the 
 present. 
 
 " Perhaps Sir Edward will sing something more cheerful 
 himself ?" answered Zara. 
 
 "Oh! I am a very bad musician,'' replied the young officer; 
 " I cannot even accompany myself. If you will, and have any 
 of the few things I know, I shall be very happy. In every- 
 thing, one can but try," he added, in a low voice, "still hope- 
 ing for the best." 
 
 Zara looked over her collection of music with him ; and at last 
 she opened one song which was somewhat popular in those 
 times, though it has long fallen into well- merited oblivion. 
 "Can you venture to sing that?" she asked, pointing to the 
 words rather than the music; "it is quite a soldier's song." 
 Sir Edward Digby read the first line ; and thinking he ob- 
 
334 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 served a double meaning in her question, he answered, "Oh! 
 yes, that I will, if you will consent to accompany me." 
 
 Zara smiled, and sat down to the instrument again; and 
 the reader must judge from the song itself whether the young 
 officer's conjecture, that her words had an enigmatical sense, 
 was just or not. 
 
 THE OFFICER'S SONG. 
 
 " A star is still beaming 
 
 Beyond the grey cloud; 
 Its light rays are streaming, 
 
 With nothing to shroud; 
 And the star shall be there 
 
 When the clouds pass away ; 
 Its lustre unchanging, 
 
 Immortal its ray. 
 
 "Tis the guide of the true heart, 
 
 In field, or on sea; 
 'Tis the hope of the slave, 
 
 And the trust of the free ; 
 The light of the lover, 
 
 Whatever assail ; 
 The strength of the honest, 
 
 That never can fail. 
 
 Waft, waft, thou light wind, 
 
 From the peace-giving ray, 
 The vapours of sorrow, 
 
 That over it stray; 
 And let it pour forth, 
 
 All unshrouded and bright, 
 That those who now mourn, 
 
 May rejoice in its light." 
 
 " God grant it!" murmured the voice of Sir Robert Croy- 
 land. Zara said, " Arnenl" in her heart; and in a minute or 
 two after, her father rose and left the room. 
 
 During the rest of the evening, nothing very important oc- 
 curred in Harbourne House. Mrs. Barbara played her usual 
 part, and would contribute to Sir Edward Digby's amusement 
 in a most uncomfortable manner. The following morning, too, 
 went by without any incident of importance, till about ten 
 o'clock, when breakfast just being over, and Zara having been 
 called from the room by her maid, Sir Robert's butler an- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 335 
 
 nounced to his master that the groom had returned from Mr. 
 Croyland's. 
 
 " Where is the note?" demanded his master, eagerly. 
 
 " He has not brought one, Sir Robert," replied the servant, 
 " only a message, sir, to say that Mr. Croyland is very sorry 
 he cannot spare the horses to-day, as they were out a long 
 way yesterday." 
 
 Sir Eobert Croyland started up in a state of fury not at all 
 becoming. He stamped, he even swore. But we have got 
 rid of a great many of the vices of those times ; and swearing 
 was so common at the period I speak of, that it did not even 
 startle Mrs. Barbara. Her efforts, however, to soothe her 
 brother, only served to irritate him the more; and next he 
 swore at her, which did surprise her mightily. 
 
 He then fell into a fit of thought, which ended in his saying 
 aloud, " Yes, that must be the way. It is his business, and 
 so " But Sir Robert did not conclude the sentence, retiring 
 to his own sitting-room, and there writing a letter. 
 
 When he had done, he paused and meditated: his mind 
 rambling over many subjects, though still occupied intensely 
 with only one. "I am a most unfortunate man, 5 ' he thought. 
 <; Nothing since that wretched day has ever gone right with 
 me. Even trifles combine to frustrate everything I attempt. 
 Would I had died many years ago! Poor Edith, poor girl! 
 she must know more sorrow still; and yet it must be done, or 
 I am lost! If that wretched youth had been killed in that 
 affray yesterday, it would have all been over. Was there no 
 bullet that could find him? and yet, perhaps, it might not 
 have had the effect. No, no; there would have been some 
 new kind of demand from that greedy, craving scoundrel. 
 May there not be such even now? Will he give up that fatal 
 paper? He shall! by heaven he shall! But I must send the 
 letter. Sir Edward Digby will think this all very strange. 
 How unfortunate, that it should have happened just when he 
 was here. Would to heaven I had any one to consult with! 
 But I am lone, lone indeed. My wife, my sons, my friends, 
 gone, gone, all gone! It is very sad;" and after having 
 mused for several minutes more, he rang the bell, gave the 
 servant who appeared the letter which he had just written, 
 and directed him to take it over to Mr. RadfortPs as soon as 
 possible. 
 
336 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Returning to the room which he had previously left, with- 
 out bestowing one word upon Mrs. Barbara, whom he passed 
 in the corridor, Sir Robert Croyland entered into conversation 
 with Sir Edward Digby, and strove, though with too evident 
 an effort, to appear careless and unconcerned. 
 
 In the mean time, however, we must notice what was pass- 
 ing in the corridor; for it was of some importance, though, 
 like many other important things, it was transacted very 
 quietly. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara had overheard Sir Robert's directions to the 
 servant ; and she had seen the man, as he went away to get 
 ready the pony, which was usually sent in the morning to the 
 post, deposit the note he had received upon an antique piece 
 of furniture, a large marble table, with great sprawling gilt 
 legs, which stood in the hall, close to the double doors that 
 led to the offices. 
 
 Now, Mrs. Barbara was one of the most benevolent people 
 upon earth: she literally overflowed with the milk of human 
 kindness; and, if a few drops of that same milk occasionally 
 spotted the apron of her morality, which we cannot help ac- 
 knowledging'was sometimes the case, she thought, as a great 
 many other people do of a great many other sins, that " there 
 was no great harm in it if the motive was good.'' This was 
 one of those cases and occasions when the milk was beginning 
 to run over. She had a deep regard for her brother: she 
 would have sacrificed her right hand for him ; and she was 
 quite sure that something very sad had happened to vex him, 
 or he never would have thought of swearing at her. She 
 would have done, she was ready to do, anything in the world 
 to help him; but how could she help him without knowing 
 what he was vexed about? It is wonderful how many lines 
 the devil always has out for those who are disposed to take a 
 bait. Something whispered to Mrs. Barbara, as she gazed at 
 the letter, "The whole story is in there!" Ah! Mrs. Bar- 
 bara, do not take it up, and look at the address! It is dan- 
 gerous, very dangerous. 
 
 But Mrs. Barbara did take it up and looked at the address, 
 and then at the two ends. It was folded as a note, unfortu- 
 nately; and she thought il There can be no harm, Pm sure; 
 I won't open it, though I've seen him open Edith's letters, 
 poor thing! I shall hear the man pull back the inner door, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 337 
 
 and can put it down in a minute. Nobody else can see mo 
 here ; and if I could but find out what is vexing him, I might 
 have some way of helping him ; I'm sure I intend well." 
 
 All this argumentation in Mrs. Barbara's mind took up the 
 space of about three seconds ; and then the note, pressed be- 
 tween two fingers in the most approved fashion, was applied 
 as a telescope to her eye, to get a perspective view of the 
 cause of her brother's irritation. I must make the reader a 
 party to the transaction, I am afraid, and let him know the 
 words which Mrs. Barbara read : 
 
 "My dear Radford," the note began "As misfortune 
 would have it, all my horses have been taken out of the stable, 
 and have not been brought back. I fear that they have 
 fallen into other hands than those that borrowed them ; and 
 my brother Zachary has one of his crabbed moods upon him, 
 and will not lend his carriage to bring Edith back. If your 
 horses have not gone as well as mine, I should feel particularly 
 obliged by your sending them down here, to take over my 
 coach to Zachary's and bring Edith back; for I do not wish 
 her to stay there any longer, as the marriage is to take place 
 so soon. If you can come over to-morrow, we can settle 
 whether it is to be at your house or here, though I should 
 prefer it here, if you have no objection." 
 
 There seemed to be a few words more; but it took Mrs. Bar- 
 bara longer to decipher the above lines, in the actual position 
 of the note, than it might have done, had the paper been spread 
 out fair before her; so that, just as she was moving it a little, 
 to get at the rest, the sound of the farther of the two doors 
 being thrown open, interrupted her proceedings; and, laying 
 down the letter quickly, she darted away, full of the important 
 intelligence which she had acquired. 
 
338 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THERE arc periods in the lives of some men, when, either by a 
 concatenation of unfortunate events, or by the accumulated 
 consequences of their own errors, the prospect on every side 
 becomes so clouded, that there is no resource for them, but to 
 shut their eyes to the menacing aspect of all things, and to take 
 refuge in the moral blindness of thoughtless inaction, against 
 the pressure of present difficulties. "I dare not think,'' is the 
 excuse of many a man, for continuing in the same course of 
 levity which first brought misfortune upon him ; but such is 
 not always the case with those who fly to wretched merriment 
 in the hour of distress; and such was not the case with Sir 
 Robert Croyland. 
 
 He had thought for long years, till his very heart sickened 
 at the name of reflection. He had looked round for help and 
 had found none. He had tried to discover some prospect of 
 relief; and all was darkness. The storm he had long foreseen 
 was now bursting upon his head; it was no longer to be 
 delayed ; it was not to be warded off. His daughter's misery, 
 or his own destruction, was the only choice before him ; and 
 he was resolved to think no more: to let events take their 
 course, and to meet them as he best might. 
 
 But to resolve is one thing, to execute, another; arid Edith's 
 father was not a man who could keep such a determination 
 long. He might indeed, for a time, cease to think of all the 
 painful particulars of his situation ; but there will ever come 
 moments when thought is forced even upon the thoughtless, 
 and events will arise, to press reflection upon any heart. His 
 efforts were, at first, very successful. After he had despatched 
 the letter to Mr. Radford, he had said, "I must really pay my 
 visitor some attention. It will serve to occupy my mind, too. 
 Anything to escape from the torturing consideration of ques- 
 tions, which must ever be solved in wretchedness." And 
 when he returned to Sir Edward Digby, his conversation was 
 particularly gay and cheerful. It first turned to the unpleasant 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 339 
 
 fact of the abstraction of all his horses ; but he now spoke of 
 it in a lighter and less careful manner than before. 
 
 "Doubtless," he said, "they have been taken without leave, 
 as usual, by the smugglers, to use for their own purposes. It 
 is quite a common practice in this county ; and yet we all go 
 on leaving our stable-doors open, as if to invite all who pass 
 to enter, and choose what they like. Then, I suppose, they 
 have tren captured with other spoil, in the strife of yesterday 
 morning, and are become the prize of the conquerors ; so that 
 I shall never see them again." 
 
 "Oh, no!'' answered the young officer, "they will be re- 
 stored, I am quite sure, upon your identifying them, and 
 proving that they were taken, without your consent, by the 
 smugglers. I shall go over to Woodchurch by-and-bye ; and 
 if you please, I will claim them for you." 
 
 "It is scarcely worth while," replied the baronet; "I doubt 
 that I shall ever get them back. These are little losses which 
 every man in this neighbourhood must suffer, as a penalty for 
 remaining in a half savage part of the country. What are 
 you disposed to do this morning, Sir Edward? Do you again 
 walk the stubbles?" 
 
 " I fear it would be of little use," answered Digby ; " there 
 has been so much galloping lately, that I do not think a par- 
 tridge has been left undisturbed in its furrow; and the sun is 
 too high for much sport." 
 
 " Well, then, let us walk in the garden for a little, 5 ' said 
 Sir Robert; "it is curious, in some respects, having been laid 
 out long before this house was built, antiquated as it is." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby assented, but looked round for Zara, as 
 he certainly thought her society would be a great addition to 
 her father's. She had not yet returned to the room, however; 
 and Sir Robert, as if he divined his young companion's feelings, 
 requested his sister to tell her niece, when she came, that 
 he and their guest were walking in the garden. "It is one 
 of her favourite spots, Sir Edward,' 7 he continued, as they 
 went out, "and many a meditative hour she spends there; 
 for, gay as she is, she has her fits of thought too." 
 
 The young baronet internally said, " Well she may, in this 
 house!" but making a more civil answer to his entertainer, he 
 followed him to the garden; and so well and even cheerfully 
 did Sir Robert Cropland keep up the conversation, so learnedly 
 
340 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 did he descant upon the levelling and preservation of turf in 
 bowling-greens, and upon the clipping of old yew-trees, both 
 before and after Zara joined them, that Digby began to doubt, 
 notwithstanding all he had heard, whether he could really have 
 such a load upon his heart as he himself had stated to Edith, 
 and to fancy that after all, it might be a stratagem to drive 
 her to compliance with his wishes. 
 
 A little incident, of no great moment in the eyes of any one 
 but a very careful observer of his fellow-men; and Digby was 
 far more so than he seemed, soon settled the doubt. As they 
 were passing under an old wall of red brick, channelled by 
 time and the shoots of pears and peaches, which separated the 
 garden from the different courts, a door suddenly opened be- 
 hind them, just after they had passed it ; and while Sir Edward's 
 eyes were turned to the face of the master of the house, Sir 
 Robert's ear instantly caught the sound, and his cheek became 
 as pale as ashes. 
 
 "There is some dark terror there!" thought the young 
 officer; but, turning to Zara, he finished the sentence he had 
 been uttering, while her father's coachman, who was the 
 person that had opened the door, came forward to say that one 
 of the horses had returned. 
 
 "Returned!" exclaimed Sir Robert Croyland; "has been 
 brought back, I suppose you mean?" 
 
 "Ay, Sir Robert," replied the man; "a fellow from the 
 lone house at Iden Green brought him, and in a sad state the 
 poor beast is. He's got a cut like with a knife all down his 
 shoulder." 
 
 "Your dragoon's swords are sharp, Sir Edward,'' said the 
 old baronet, gaily, to his guest; " however, I will go and see 
 him myself, and rejoin you here in a minute." 
 
 "I am so glad to have a moment alone," cried Zara, as 
 soon as her father was gone, "that you must forgive me if I 
 use it directly. I am going to ask you a favour, Sir Edward. 
 You must take me a ride, and lend me a horse. I have just 
 had a message from poor Harry Layton ; he wishes to see me, 
 but I ana afraid to go alone, with so many soldiers about." 
 ' "Are they such terrible animals?" asked her companion, 
 with a smile, adding, however, " I shall be delighted, if your 
 father will consent; for I have already told him that I am 
 going to Woodchurch this afternoon." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 341 
 
 "Oh! you must ask me yourself, Sir Ed ward, "replied Zara, 
 
 quite in a civil tone; "and then when you see that I am wil- 
 ling, you must be very pressing with my father, quite as if you 
 were a lover; and he will not refuse you. I'll bear you harm- 
 less, as I have heard Mr. Radford say;" she added with a 
 playful smile that was quickly saddened. 
 
 "You shall command for the time," answered Digby, as 
 gaily; "perhaps, after that, I may take my turn, sweet lady. 
 But I have a good deal to say to you, too, which I could not 
 fully explain last night." 
 
 "As we go, as we go," replied Zara; "my father will be 
 back directly, otherwise I would tell you a long story about 
 my aunt, who has evidently got some great secret which she 
 is all impatience to divulge. If I had stayed an hour with 
 her, I might have arrived at it; but I was afraid of losing my 
 opportunity here. Oh! that invaluable thing, opportunity. 
 Once lost, what years of misery does it not sometimes leave 
 behind. Would to heaven that Edith and Layton had run 
 away with each other when they were about it. We should 
 all have been happier now." 
 
 "And I should never have known you," replied Digby. 
 Zara smiled, and shook her head, as if saying, " That is hardly 
 fair;" but Sir Robert Croyland was seen coming up the walk, 
 and she only replied, "Now, do your devoir, gallant knight, 
 and let me see if you do it zealously." 
 
 "I have been trying in your absence, my dear sir," said 
 Digby, rather maliciously, as the baronet joined them, "to 
 persuade your fair daughter to run away with me. But she 
 is very dutiful, and will not take such a rash step, though the 
 distance is only to Woodchurch, without your consent. I 
 pray you give it; for I long to mount her on my quietest 
 horse, and see her try her skill in horsemanship again." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland looked grave; and ere the words were 
 half spoken, Sir Edward Digby felt that he had committed an 
 error in his game; for he was well aware that when we have 
 a favour to ask, we should not call up, by speech or look, in 
 the mind of the person who is to grant it, any association 
 having a contrary tendency. 
 
 " I am afraid that I have no servant whom I could send 
 with you, Sir Edward," replied her father; "one I have just 
 despatched to some distance, and you know I am left without 
 
342 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 horse?, for this poor beast just come bade, is unfit. Neither 
 do I think it would be altogether consistent with decorum, for 
 Zara to go with you quite alone." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby mentally sent the word decorum back 
 to the place from whence it came; but he was resolved to 
 press his point; and wheii Zara replied, "Oh! do let me go, 
 papa ;" he added, "My servant can accompany us, to satisfy 
 propriety, Sir Robert ; and you know I have quartered three 
 horses upon you. Then, as I find the fair lady is somewhat 
 afraid of a multitude of soldiers, I promise most faithfully not 
 even to dismount in Woodchurch, but to say what I have to 
 say, to the officer in command there, and then canter back 
 over the country." 
 
 "Who is the officer in command?" asked Sir Robert 
 Croyland. 
 
 Zara drew her breath quick, but Sir Edward Digby avoided 
 the dangerous point. " Irby has one troop there," he replied ; 
 "and there are parts of two others. When I have made 
 interest enough here," he continued, with a half bow to Zara, 
 "I shall beg to introduce Irby to you, Sir Robert; you will 
 like him much, I think. I have known him long." 
 
 " Pray invite him to dinner while he stays," said Sir Robert 
 Croyland; " it will give me much pleasure to see him." 
 
 "Not yet; not yet!" answered Digby, laughing; "I always 
 secure my own approaches first." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland smiled graciously, and, turning to 
 Zara, said, "Well, my dear, I see no objection, if you wish 
 it. You had better go and get ready." 
 
 Zara's cheek was glowing, and she took her father at the 
 first word; but when she was gone, Sir Robert thought fit to 
 lecture his guest a little, upon the bad habit of spoiling young 
 ladies which he seemed to have acquired. He did it jocularly, 
 but with his usual pompous and grave air; and no one would 
 have recognised in the Sir Robert Croyland walking in the 
 garden, the father whom we have lately seen humbled before 
 his own child. There is no part of a man's character which 
 he keeps up so well to the world as that part which is not his 
 own. The assertion may seem to be a contradiction in terms ; 
 but there is no other way of expressing the sense clearly ; and 
 whether those terms be correct or not, will depend upon 
 whether character is properly innate or accumulated. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 343 
 
 Sir Ed ward Digby answered gaily, for it was his object to 
 keep his host in good humour; at least, for the time. He 
 denied the possibility of spoiling a lady, while he acknow- 
 ledged his propensity to attempt impossibilities in that direc- 
 tion ; and at the same time, with a good grace, and a frankness, 
 real yet assumed, for his words were true, though they might 
 not have been spoken just then, under any other circumstances, 
 he admitted that, of all people whom he should like to spoil, 
 the fair being who had just left them was the foremost. The 
 words were too decided to be mistaken. Sir Edward Digby 
 was evidently a gentleman, and known to be a man of honour. 
 No man of honour trifles with a woman's affections ; and Sir 
 Robert Croyland, wise in this instance, if not in others, did 
 as all wise fathers would do, held his tongue for a time that 
 the matter might cool and harden, and then changed the 
 subject. 
 
 Digby, however, had grown thoughtful. Did he repent 
 what he had said? No, certainly not. He wished, indeed, 
 that he had not been driven to say it so soon; for there were 
 doubts in his own mind whether Zara herself were altogether 
 won. She was frank, she was kind, she trusted him, she 
 acted with him ; but there was at times a shade of reserve 
 about her, coming suddenly, which seemed to him as a warn- 
 ing. She had from the first taken such pains to ensure that 
 her confidence, the confidence of circumstances, should not 
 be misunderstood; she had responded so little to the first 
 approaches of love, while she had yielded so readily to those 
 of friendship, that there was a doubt in his mind which made 
 him uneasy; and, every now and then, her uncle's account of 
 her character rung in his ear, and made him think " I have 
 found this artillery more dangerous than I expected." 
 
 What a pity it is that uncles will not hold their tongues I 
 
 At length, he bethought him that it would be as well to 
 order the horses, which was accordingly done; and some time 
 before they were ready, the fair girl herself appeared, and con- 
 tinued walking up and down the garden with her father and 
 their guest, looking very lovely, both from excitement, which 
 gave a varying colour to her cheek, and from intense feelings, 
 which, denied the lips, looked out with deeper soul from the 
 eyes. 
 
 "I think, Zara," said Sir Robert Croyland, when it was 
 
344 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 announced that the horses and the servant were ready, " that 
 you took Sir Edward to the north, when you went over to 
 your uncle's. You had better, therefore, in returning, for I 
 know, in your wild spirits, when once on horseback, you will 
 not be contented with the straight road, you had better, I 
 say, come by the south-west." 
 
 " Oh I papa, I could never learn the points of the compass 
 in my life I" answered Zara, laughing; "I suppose that is the 
 reason why, as my aunt says, I steer so ill.'' 
 
 "I mean, by the lower road," replied her father; and he 
 laid such emphasis on the words, that Zara received them as 
 a command. 
 
 They mounted and set out, much to the surprise of Mrs. 
 Barbara Croyland, who saw them from the window, and 
 thence derived her first information of their intended expedi- 
 tion; for Zara was afraid of her aunt's kindnesses, and never 
 encountered them when she could help it. When they were a 
 hundred yards from the house, the conversation began ; but I 
 will not enter into all the details ; for at first they related to 
 facts with which the reader is already well acquainted. Sir 
 Edward Digby told her at large, all that had passed between 
 himself and Lay ton on the preceding day, and Zara, in return, 
 informed him of the message she had received from his friend, 
 and how it had been conveyed. Their minds then turned to 
 other things, or rather to other branches of the same subjects ; 
 and, what was to be done? was the next question; for hours 
 were flying. The moment that was to decide the fate of the 
 two beings in whom each felt a deep though separate interest, 
 was approaching fast; and no progress had apparently been 
 made. 
 
 Zara's feelings seemed as much divided as Edith's had been. 
 She shrank from the thought, that her sister, whom she loved 
 with a species of adoration, should sacrifice herself on any ac- 
 count to such a fate as that which must attend the wife of 
 Richard Radford. She shrank also, as a young, generous 
 woman's heart must ever shrink, from the thought of any one 
 wedding the abhorred, and separating for ever from the be- 
 loved; but then, when she came to turn her eyes towards her 
 father, she trembled for him as much as for Edith ; and, with 
 her two hands resting on the pommel of the saddle, she gazed 
 down in anxious and bitter thought. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 345 
 
 11 1 know not your father as well as you do, my dear Miss 
 Croyland,'' said her companion, at length, as he marked these 
 emotions; "arid therefore I cannot tell what might be his con- 
 duct under particular circumstances." Zara suddenly raised 
 her eyes, and fixed them on his face; but Digby continued. 
 " I do not speak of the past, but of the future. I take it for 
 granted, not alone as a courtesy, but from all I have seen, 
 that Sir Robert Ooyland cannot have committed any act that 
 could justly render him liable to danger from the law." 
 
 "Thank you; thank you!'' said Zara, dropping her eyes 
 again; "you judge rightly, I am sure." 
 
 " But at the same time," he proceeded, "it is clear that 
 some unfortunate concurrence of circumstances has placed him 
 either really, or in imagination, in Mr. Radford's power. 
 Now, would he but act a bold and decided part, dare the 
 worst, discountenance a bad man and a villain ; even, if neces- 
 sary, in his magisterial capacity, treat him as he deserves, he 
 would take away the sting from his malice. Any accusation 
 this man might bring would have enmity too strongly written 
 upon it, to carry much weight; and all the evidence in favour 
 of your father would have double force.'' 
 
 "He cannot; he will not,' 7 answered fara, sadly, "unless 
 he be actually driven. I know no more than you, Sir Ed- 
 ward, how all this has happened; but I know my father, and 
 I know that he shrinks from disgrace more than death. An 
 accusation, a public trial, would kill him by the worst and 
 most terrible kind of torture. Mr. Radford, too, has wound 
 the toils around him completely; that I can see. He could 
 say that Sir Robert Croyland has acted contrary to all his own 
 principles, at his request; and he could point to the cause. 
 He could say that Sir Robert Croyland suddenly became, and 
 has been for years, the most intimate friend and companion of a 
 man he scorned and avoided; and he could assert that it was 
 because the proud man was in the cunning man's power. If, 
 for vengeance, he chooses to avow his own disgrace; (and 
 what is there Mr. R idford would not avow to serve his ends ?) 
 believe me, he has my father in a net, from which it will be 
 difficult to disentangle him." 
 
 They both fell into thought again; but Zara did not sink, in 
 Digby's estimation, from the clear and firm view which she 
 took of her father's position. 
 
3-lG THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Well," he said, at length, "let us wait, and hear what 
 poor Lay ton has to tell you. Perhaps he may have gained 
 some further insight, or may have formed some plan; and now 
 Zara, let us for a moment speak of ourselves. You see, to-day, 
 I have been forced to make love to you." 
 
 " Too much,'' said Zara, gravely. " I am sure you intended 
 it for the best ; but I am sorry it could not be avoided." 
 
 " And yet it is very pleasant," answered Digby, half jest- 
 ingly, half seriously. 
 
 Zara seemed agitated : " Do not, do not I" she replied ; " my 
 mind is too full of sad things, to think of what might be plea- 
 sant or not at another time;" and she turned a look towards 
 him, in which kindness, entreaty, and seriousness were all so 
 blended, that it left; him in greater doubt than ever, of her 
 sensations. "Besides," she added, the serious predominating 
 in her tone, "consider what a difference one rash word, on 
 either part, may make between us. Let me regard you, at 
 least for 'the present, as a friend, or a brother as you once said, 
 Digby; let me take counsel with you, seek your advice, 
 call for your assistance, without one thought or care to shackle 
 or restrain me. In pity, do; fur you know not how much I 
 need support." 
 
 " Then I am most ready to give it, on your own terms, and 
 in your own way," answered Digby, warmly; but, immedi- 
 ately afterwards, he fell into a reverie, and in his own mind 
 thought: " She is wrong in her view; or indifferent towards 
 me. With a lover to whom all is acknowledged, and with 
 whom all is decided, she would have greater confidence, than 
 with a friend, towards whom the dearest feelings of the heart 
 are in doubt. This must be resolved speedily, but not now t ; 
 for it evidently agitates her too much. Yet, after all, in that 
 agitation is hope." 
 
 Just as his meditations had reached this point, they passed 
 by the little public house of the Chequers, then a very favou- 
 rite sign in England, and especially in that part of the country ; 
 and in five minutes after, they perceived a horseman on the 
 road, riding rapidly towards them. 
 
 " There is Layton," said Sir Edward Digby, as he came 
 somewhat nearer; but Zara gazed forward with surprise at 
 the tall, manly figure, dressed in the handsome uniform of the 
 time, the pale but noble countenance, and the calm command- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 347 
 
 ing nir. " Impossible!" she cried. "Why, he was a gay, 
 slight, florid, young man!" 
 
 " Six or seven years ago," answered Digby ; " but that, my 
 dear Miss Croyland, is Sir Henry Layton, depend upon it." 
 
 Now, it may seem strange that Edith should have instantly 
 recognised, even at a much greater distance, the man whom 
 her sister did not, though the same period had passed since 
 each had seen him ; but it must be remembered, that Edith 
 was between two and three years older than Zara; and those 
 two or three years, at the time of life which they had reached 
 when Layton left England, are amongst the most important in 
 a woman's life; those when new feelings and new thoughts 
 arise, to impress for ever, on the woman's heart, events and 
 persons that the girl forgets in an hour. 
 
 Layton, however, it certainly was; and when Zara could 
 ROC his features distinctly, she recalled the lines. Springing 
 from his horse as soon as he was near, her sister's lover cast 
 the bridle of his charger over his arm, and, taking the hand 
 she extended to him, kissed it affectionately: " Ohl Zara how 
 you are changed," he said. " But so am I; and you have 
 gained, whilst I have lost. It is very kind of you to come 
 thus speedily." 
 
 " You could not doubt, Layton, that I would, if possible," 
 answered Zara; "but all things are much changed in our 
 house, as well as ourselves ; and that wild liberty which we 
 formerly enjoyed, of running whithersoever we would, is sadly 
 abridged now. But what have you to say, Layton? for I 
 dare not stay long." 
 
 Digby was dropping" behind, apparently to speak to his 
 servant for a moment; but Layton called to him assuring him 
 that he had nothing to say which he might not hear. 
 
 "Presently, presently," answered Zara's companion; and 
 leaving them alone, he rode up to good Mr. Somers, who, with 
 his usual discretion, had halted, as they halted, at a very re- 
 spectful distance. The young officer seemed to give some 
 orders, which were rather long, and then returned at a slow 
 pace. In the mean time, the conversation of Layton and Zara 
 liad gone on; but his only object, it appeared, was to see her, 
 and to entreat her to aid and support his Edith in any trial 
 she might be put to. " I spent a short period of chequered 
 happiness with her last night," he said; "and she then told 
 
348 THE SMUGGLER* 
 
 me, dear Zara, that she was sure her father would send for 
 her in the course of this day. If such be the case, keep with 
 her always as far as possible ; bid her still remember Harry 
 Layton; bid her resist to the end; and assure her that he will 
 come to her deliverance ultimately. Were it myself alone, I 
 would sacrifice anything, and set her free; but when I know 
 that, by so doing, I should make her wretched for ever, that 
 her own heart would be broken, and nothing but an early 
 death would relieve her, I cannot do it, Zara ; no one can ex- 
 pect it.'' 
 
 "Perhaps not, perhaps not, Layton;" answered Zara, with 
 the tears in her eyes; "but yet, my father! However, I can- 
 not advise, I cannot even ask anything. All is so dark and 
 perplexed, I am lost!" 
 
 "I am labouring now, dear Zara," replied the young officer, 
 "to find or devise means of rendering his safety sure. Already 
 I have the power to crush the bad man in whose grasp he is, 
 and render his testimony, whatever it may be, nearly valueless. 
 At all events, the only course before us, is that which I have 
 pointed out; and while Digby is with you, you can never want 
 the best and surest counsel and assistance. You may confide 
 in him fully, Zara. I have now known him many years; and 
 a more honourable and upright man, or one of greater talent, 
 does not live." 
 
 There was something very gratifying to Zara in what he 
 said of his friend ; and had she been in a mood to scrutinize 
 her own feelings accurately, the pleasure that she experienced 
 in hearing such words spoken of Sir Edward Digby, the agi- 
 tated sort of pleasure, might have given her an insight into 
 her own heart. As it was, it only sent a passing blush into 
 her cheek, and she replied, "I am sure he is all you say, 
 Harry; and indeed, it is to his connivance that I owe my 
 being able to come hither to-day. These smugglers took away 
 all my father's horses; and I suppose, from what I hear, that 
 some of them have been captured by your men." 
 
 "If such is the case they shall be sent back,'' replied Layton ; 
 " for I am well aware that the horses being found with the 
 smugglers is no proof that they were there with the owner's 
 consent. To-morrow, I trust to be able to give you a further 
 insight into my plans, for I am promised some information of 
 importance to-night; and, perhaps, even before you reach 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 349 
 
 home, I shall have put a bar against Mr. Richard Radford's 
 claims to Edith, which he may find insurmountable." 
 
 As he was speaking, Sir Edward Digby returned, quicken- 
 ing his horse's pace as he came near, and pointing with his 
 hand. " You have got a detachment out, I see, Lay ton," he 
 said; " is there any new affair before you?" 
 
 "Oh! no," replied the colonel; "it is merely Irby and a 
 part of his troop, whom I have despatched to search the wood, 
 for I have certain intelligence that the man we are seeking is 
 concealed there." 
 
 "They may save themselves the trouble," replied Zara, 
 shaking her head; "for though he was certainly there all 
 yesterday, he made his escape this morning." 
 
 Lay ton bit his lip, and his brow grew clouded. **" That is 
 unfortunate," he said, "most unfortunate 1 I do not ask you 
 how you know, Zara; but are you quite sure?" 
 
 "Perfectly," she answered; "I would not deceive you for 
 the world, Layton, and I only say what I have said, because 
 I think that, if you do search the wood, it may draw attention 
 to your being in this neighbourhood, which as yet is not known 
 at Harbourne, and it may embarrass us very much." 
 
 "I am not sure, Layton," said Sir Edward Digby, "that 
 as far as your own purposes are concerned, it might not be 
 better to seem, at all events, to withdraw the troops, or at 
 least a part of them from this neighbourhood. Indeed, though 
 I have no right to give you advice upon the subject, I think 
 also it might be beneficial in other respects, for as soon as the 
 smugglers think you gone, they will act with more freedom." 
 
 "I propose to do so, to-morrow, 5 ' replied the colonel, "but 
 I have some information already, and expect more, upon which 
 I must act in the first place. It will be as well, however, to 
 stop Irby's party, if there is no end to be obtained by their 
 proceedings." 
 
 He then took leave of Zara and his friend, mounted his 
 horse, and rode back to meet the troop that was advancing; 
 while Zara and Sir Edward Digby, after following the same 
 road up to the first houses of Woodchurch, turned away to the 
 right, and went back to Harbourne by the small country road 
 which leads from Kenardington to Tenterden. 
 
 Their conversation, as they went, would be of very little 
 interest to the reader; for it consisted almost altogether of 
 
350 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 % 
 
 comments upon Layton's changed appearance, and discussions 
 of the same questions of doubt and difficulty which had 
 occupied them before. They went slowly, however; and when 
 they reached the house it did not want much more than three 
 quarters of an hour to the usual time of dinner. Sir Robert 
 Croyland they found looking out of the glass-door which com- 
 manded a view towards his brother's house, and his first 
 question was, which way they had returned. Sir Edward 
 Digby gave an easy and unconcerned reply, describing the 
 road they had followed, and comparing it, greatly to its disad- 
 vantage, with that which they had pursued on their former 
 expedition. 
 
 "Then you saw nothing of the carriage, Zara? 5 ' inquired 
 her father^ " It is very strange that Edith has not come back." 
 
 "No; we saw no carriage of any kind, but a carrier's cart 
 replied the young lady. " Perhaps, if Edith did not know you 
 were going to send, she might not be ready." 
 
 This reason, however, did not seem to satisfy Sir Robert 
 Croyland; and after talking with him for a few minutes more 
 as be stood, still gazing forth over the country, Zara and Digby 
 retired to change their dress before dinner, and the latter 
 received a long report from his servant of facts which will be 
 shown hereafter. The man was particularly minute and com- 
 municative, because his master asked him no questions, and 
 suffered him to tell his tale his own way. But that tale fully 
 occupied the time till the second bell rang, and Digby hurried 
 down to dinner. 
 
 Still, Miss Croyland had not returned; and it was evident 
 that Sir Robert Croyland was annoyed and uneasy. All the 
 suavity and cheerfulness of the morning was gone, for one im- 
 portunate source of care and thought will always carry the 
 recollection back to others, and he sat at the dinner table in 
 silence and gloom, only broken by brief intervals of conversa- 
 tion, which he carried on with a laborious effort. 
 
 Just as Mrs. Barbara rose to retire, however, the butler re- 
 entered the room, announcing to Sir Robert Croylaud that Mr. 
 Radford had called, and wished to speak with him. " He 
 would not come in, sir," continued the man, " for he said he 
 wanted to speak with you alone, so I showed him into the 
 library." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland instantly rose, bat looked with a hesi- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 35 1 
 
 tating glance at his guest, while Mrs. Barbara and Zara retired 
 from the room. 
 
 "Pray, do not let me detain you, Sir Robert," said the young 
 officer; " I have taken as much wine as I ever do, and will go 
 and join the ladies in the drawing room." 
 
 The customs of the day required that the master of the 
 house should press the bottle upon his guest; and Sir Robert 
 Croyland did not fail to do so. But Digby remained firm, 
 and, to settle the question, walked quietly to the door and 
 entered the drawing-room. There, he found Zara seated; but 
 Mrs. Barbara was standing near the table, and apparently in 
 a state, for which the English language supplies but one term, 
 and that not a very classical one. I mean, she was in a 
 fidget. 
 
 The reader is aware that the library of Harbourne House 
 was adjacent to the drawing-room, and that there was a door 
 between them. It was a thick, solid, oaken door, however, 
 such as shut out the wind in the good old times ; and, more- 
 over, it fitted very close. Thus, though the minute after Sir 
 Edward had entered the room, a low murmur, as of persons 
 speaking somewhat loud, was heard from the library, not a 
 single syllable could be distinguished; and Mrs. Barbara looked 
 at the keyhole, with a longing indescribable. After about 
 thirty seconds' martyrdom, Mrs. Barbara quitted the room: 
 Zara, who knew her aunt, candidly trusting that she had gone 
 to put herself out of temptation ; and Sir Edward Digby never 
 for a moment imagining, that she could have been in any 
 temptation at all. It may now be necessary, however, to fol- 
 low Sir Robert Croyland to the library, and to reveal to the 
 reader all that Mrs. Barbara was so anxious to learn. 
 
 He found Mr. Radford, booted and spurred, standing, with 
 his tall, bony figure, in as easy an attitude as it could assume, 
 by the fire-place; and the baronet's first question was, "In the 
 name of heaven, Radford, what has become of Edith? Neither 
 she nor the carriage have returned." 
 
 " Oh! yes, the carriage has, half an hour ago!" replied Mr. 
 Radford; " and I met the horses going back as I came. Didn't 
 you get my message which I sent by the coachman?" 
 
 ' Xo, I must have been at dinner," answered Sir Robert 
 Croyland, " and the fools did not give it to me." 
 
 " Well, it is no great matter," rejoined Mr. Radford, iu the 
 
352 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 quietest possible tone. " It was only to say that I was coming 
 over, and would explain to you all about Miss Croyland." 
 
 " But where is she! Why did she not come?" demanded 
 her father, with some of the old impetuosity of his youth. 
 
 "She is at my house," answered the other, deliberately; 
 " I thought it would be a great deal better, Croyland, to bring 
 her there at once, as you left to me the decision of where the 
 marriage was to be. She could be quite as comfortable there 
 as here. My son will be up to-morrow; and the marriage can 
 take place quietly, without any piece of work. Now, here it 
 would be difficult to manage it; for, in the first place, it would 
 be dangerous for my son. You have got a stranger in the 
 house, and a whole heap of servants, who cannot be trusted. 
 I have arranged everything for the marriage, and for their 
 going off quietly on their little tour. We shall soon get a 
 pardon for this affair with the dragoons; and that will be all 
 settled." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland had remained mute; not with any calm 
 or tranquil feelings, but with indignation and astonishment. 
 "Upon my life and soul," he cried, "this is too bad! Do 
 you mean to say, sir, that you have ventured, without my 
 knowledge or consent, to change my daughter's destination, 
 and take her to your house when I wished her to be brought 
 here?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Eadford, with the most perfect 
 calmness. 
 
 " Well then, sir," exclaimed the baronet, irritated beyond 
 all endurance; "I have to tell you, that you have committed 
 a gross, insolent, and unjustifiable act; and I have to insist 
 that she be brought back here this very night." 
 
 "Nay, my dear friend, nay,' 5 replied Mr. Radford, in a half 
 jeering tone. " These are harsh words that you use; but you 
 must hear me first, before I pay any attention to them." 
 
 "I want to hear nothing, sir,'' cried Sir Robert Croyland, 
 his anger still carrying him forward. " But if you do not 
 send her back to her own home, I will get horses over from 
 Tenterden, and bring her myself. Her slavery has not yet 
 commenced, Mr. Radford." 
 
 " I shall not be able to bring her over," answered Mr. 
 Radford, still maintaining the same provoking coolness; "be- 
 cause, in case of her return, I should be obliged to use my 
 
THE SMUG G LEU. 353 
 
 horses myself, to la} 7 certain important facts, which we both 
 know of, before a brother magistrate." 
 
 He paused, and Sir Robert Croyland winced. But still in- 
 dignation was uppermost for the time; and rapidly as lightning 
 the thoughts of resistance passed through his mind. " This 
 man's conduct is too bad," he said to himself. " After such 
 a daring act as this, with his character blackened by so many 
 stains, and so clear a case of revenge, the magistrates will 
 surely hardly listen to him." But as he continued to reflect, 
 timidity, the habitual timidity of many years, began to mingle 
 with and dilute his resolution; and Mr. Radford, who knew 
 him to the very heart, after having- suffered him to reflect just 
 long enough to shake his firmness, went on in a somewhat dif- 
 ferent tone, saying, " Come, Sir Robert! don't be unreasonable; 
 and before you quarrel irretrievably with an old friend, listen 
 quietly to what he has got to say. 5 ' 
 
 " Well, sir, well," said Sir Robert Groyland, casting him- 
 self into a chair, " what is it you have got to say?" 
 
 " Why, simply this, my dear friend," answered Mr. Rad- 
 ford ; " that you are riot aware of all the circumstances, and 
 therefore cannot judge yet whether I have acted right or 
 wrong. You and I have decided, I think, that there can no 
 longer be any delay in the arrangement of our affairs. I put 
 it plainly to you yesterday, that it was to be now or never; 
 and you agreed that it should be now. You brought me your 
 daughter's consent in the afternoon; and so far the matter was 
 settled. I don't want to injure you; and if you are injured, 
 it is your own fault " 
 
 "But I gave no consent, 5 ' said Sir Robert Croyland, "that 
 she should be taken to your house. The circumstances, the 
 circumstances, Mr. Radford I" 
 
 " Presently, presently," replied his companion. " I take 
 it for granted, that, when you have pledged yourself to a thing, 
 you are anxious to accomplish it. Now I tell you, there was 
 no sure way of accomplishing this, but that which I have 
 taken. Do you know who is the commander of this dragoon 
 regiment which is down here? No: but I do. Do you know 
 who is the man, who, like a sub-officer of the customs, at- 
 tacked our friends yesterday morning, took some fifty of them 
 prisoners, robbed me of some seventy thousand pounds, and is 
 now hunting after my sou, as if he were a fox? No: but I do; 
 
35 1 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 and I will tell yon who ho is: one Harry Lay ton, whom you 
 may have heard of; now, Lieutenant- Colonel Sir Henry Lay ton, 
 Knight of the Bath, forsooth 1" 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland gazed upon him in astonishment ; but, 
 whatever were his other sensations, deep grief and bitter re- 
 gret mingled with them, when he thought that circumstances 
 should ever have driven or tempted him to promise his daugh- 
 ter's hand to a low, dissolute, unprincipled villain, and to put j 
 a fatal barrier between her and one whom he had always > 
 known to be generous, honourable, and high principled, and ; 
 who had now gained such distinction in the service of his 
 country. He remained perfectly silent, however; and the 
 expression of surprise and consternation which his countenance 
 displayed, was misinterpreted by Mr. Radford to his own ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 "Now, look here, Sir Robert," he continued; "if your 
 daughter were in your house, you could not help this young 
 man having some communication with her. He 'has already 
 been over at your brother's, and has seen her, I doubt not. 
 Here, then, is your fair daughter, Miss Zara; your guest, Sir 
 Edward Digby, his intimate friend, I dare say; all your 
 maids and half your men servants, even dear Mrs. Barbara 
 herself, with her sweet meddling ways, would all be ready to 
 fetch and carry between the lovers. In short, our whole 
 plans would be overturned ; and I should be compelled to do 
 that which would be very disagreeable to me, and to strike at 
 this upstart Henry Layton through the breast of Sir Robert 
 Croyland. In my house, he can have no access to her; and 
 though some mischief may already have been done, yet it can 
 go no further. " 
 
 " Now I understand what you mean by revenge," said the 
 baronet, in a low tone, folding his hands together. " Now I 
 understand." 
 
 "Well, but have I judged rightly or wrongly?" demanded 
 Mr. Radford. 
 
 "Rightly, I suppose,'' said Sir Robert Croyland, sadly. 
 " It can't be helped; but poor Edith, how does she bear it?" 
 
 "Oh! very well," answered Mr. Radford, quietly. " She 
 cried a little at first, and when she found where they were 
 going, asked the coachman what he meant. It was my coach- 
 man, you know, not yours; and so he lied, like a good, honest 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 355 
 
 fellow, and said you were waiting for her at my house. I was 
 obliged to make up a little bit of a story too, and tell her you 
 knew all about it, but that was no great harm; for I was 
 resolved you should know all about it, very soon/* 
 
 "Lied like a good honest fellow!" murmured Sir Robert 
 Croyland, to himself. " Well," he continued, aloud, " at all 
 events I must come over to-morrow, and try to reconcile the 
 poor girl to it," 
 
 "Do so, do so,'' answered Mr. Radford; "and in the 
 mean time, I must be off, for I've still a good deal of work to 
 do to-night. Did you see, they have withdrawn the dragoons 
 from the wood? They knew it would be of no use to keep 
 them there. So now, good night: that's all settled." 
 
 "All settled, indeed," murmured Sir Robert Croyland, as 
 Mr. Radford left him; and, for nearly half an hour after, he 
 continued sitting in the library, with his hands clasped upon 
 his knee, exactly in the same position. 
 
 
256 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 SIR EDWARD DIGBY did not take advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity which Mrs. Barbara's absence afforded him. This may 
 seem extraordinary conduct in a good soldier and quick and 
 ready man ; but he had his reasons for it. Not that he was 
 beginning to hesitate, as some men do, when, after having 
 quite made up their minds, they begin to consider all the perils 
 of their situation, and retreat, without much regard for their own 
 consistency, or the feelings of the other persons interested. 
 But no, Digby justly remembered that what he had to say 
 might require some time, and that it might produce some 
 agitation. Moreover, he recollected that there are few things 
 so disagreeable on earth, as being interrupted at a time when 
 people's eyes are sparkling or in tears, when the cheek is 
 flushed or deadly pale; and as he knew not when Mrs. Barbara 
 might return, and certainly did not anticipate that she would 
 be long absent, he resolved to wait for another opportunity. 
 
 When he found minute after minute slip by, however, he 
 began to repent of his determination ; and certainly, although 
 the word love never passed his lips, something very like the 
 reality shone out in his eyes. Perhaps, had Zara been in any 
 of her usual moods, more serious words might have followed. 
 Had she been gay and jesting, or calm and thoughtful, a thou- 
 sand little incidents might have led on naturally to the unfold- 
 ing of the heart of each. But, on the contrary, she was 
 neither the one nor the other. She was evidently anxious, 
 apprehensive, ill at ease; and though she conversed rationally 
 enough for a person whose mind was in such a state, yet she 
 frequently turned her eyes towards the door of the adjoining 
 room, from which the sound of her father's voice and that of 
 Mr. Radford might still be heard. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby endeavoured to gain her attention to 
 himself, as much with a view to withdraw it from unpleasant 
 subjects as anything else; and it was very natural that, with 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 357 
 
 one so fair and so excellent, one possessing so much bright- 
 ness, in spite of a few little spots, it was natural that his tone 
 should become tenderer every minute. At length, however, 
 she stopped him, saying, " I am very anxious just now. I 
 fear there is some mischief going on there, which we cannot 
 prevent, and may never know. Edith's absence is certainly 
 very strange ; and I fear they may foil us yet." 
 
 In a minute or two after, Mrs. Barbara Croyland returned, 
 but in such a flutter that she spoilt her embroidery, which she 
 snatched up to cover her agitation, dropped her finest scissors 
 and broke the point off, and finally ran the needle into her 
 finger, which, thereupon, spotted the silk with blood. She 
 gave no explanation, indeed of all this emotion, but looked 
 several times at Zara, with a meaning glance; and when, at 
 length, Sir Robert Croyland entered the drawing-room, his 
 whole air and manner did not tend to remove from his 
 daughter's mind the apprehension which his sister's demeanour 
 had cast over it. 
 
 There is a general tone in every landscape which it never 
 entirely loses; yet how infinite are the varieties which sun- 
 shine, and cloud, and storm, and morning, evening, and noon, 
 bring upon it ; and thus with the expression and conduct of 
 every man, although they retain certain distinctive character- 
 istics, yet innumerable are the varieties produced by the moods, 
 the passions, and the emotions of the mind. Sir Robert 
 Croyland was no longer irritably thoughtful; but he was 
 stern, gloomy, melancholy. He strove to converse, indeed; 
 but the effort was so apparent, the pain it gave him so evident, 
 that Sir Edward Digby felt, or fancied, that his presence was 
 a restraint. He had too much tact, however, to show that he 
 imagined such to be the case; and he only resolved to retire 
 to his own room as soon as he decently could. He was wrong 
 in his supposition, indeed, that his host might wish to commu- 
 nicate something privately to Zara, or to Mrs. Barbara. Sir 
 Robert had nothing to tell ; and therefore the presence of Sir 
 Edward Digby was rather agreeable to him than not, as 
 shielding him from inquiries, which it might not have suited 
 him to answer. He would have talked if he could, and would 
 have done his best to make his house agreeable to his young 
 guest; but his thoughts still turned, with all the bitterness of 
 (smothered anger, to the indignity he had sufferec!, and he 
 
358 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 asked himself, again and again, " Will the time ever come, I; 
 when I shall have vengeance for all this?" 
 
 The evening passed gloomily, and in consequence slowly; 
 and at length, when the clock showed that it still wanted a 
 quarter to ten, Digby rose and bade the little party good night, : 
 saying that he was somewhat tired, and had letters to write. 
 
 " I shall go to bed too,'' said Sir Robert Croyland, ringing i 
 for his candle. But Digby quitted the room, first; and Zara 
 could not refrain from saying, in a low tone, as she took leave 
 of her father for the night, and went out of the room with 
 him, " There is nothing amiss with Edith, I trust, my dear 
 father?" 
 
 "Oh! dear, no!" answered Sir Robert Croyland, with as 
 careless an air as he could assume. " Nothing at all, but that 
 she does not come home to-night, and perhaps may not to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Still unsatisfied, Zara sought her own room; and when her 
 maid had half performed her usual functions for the night, she 
 dismissed her, saying, that she would do the rest herself. 
 When alone, however, Zara Croylaud did not proceed to un- 
 dress, but remained thinking over all the events of the day, 
 with her head resting on her hand, and her eyes cast 
 down. The idea of Edith and her fate mingled with other 
 images. The words that Digby had spoken, the increas- 
 ing tenderness of his tone and manner, came back to me- 
 mory, and made her heart flutter with sensations unknown 
 till then, She felt alarmed at her own feelings; she knew 
 not well what they were; but still she said to herself, at 
 every pause of thought, "It ail nonsense! He will go 
 away and forget me ; and I shall forget him ! These soldiers 
 have always some tale of love for every woman's ear. It is 
 their habit, almost their nature." Did she believe her own 
 conclusions? Not entirely; but she tried to believe them, 
 and that was enough for the present. 
 
 Some minutes after, however, when a light knock was heard 
 at the door, she started almost as if some one had struck her; 
 and Fancy, who is always drawing upon improbability, made 
 her believe, for an instant, that it might be Digby. She said, 
 "Come in, J> however, with tolerable calmness; and the next 
 instant, the figure of her aunt presented itself, with eagerness 
 in her looks and importance in her whole air. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 359 
 
 " My dear child !" she said, " I did not know whether your 
 maid was gone ; but I am very happy she "is, for I have some- 
 thing to tell you of very great importance indeed. What do 
 you think that rascal Kadford has done?" and as she spoke, 
 she sank, with a dignified air, into a chair. 
 
 "I really can't tell, my dear aunt," replied Zara, not a little 
 surprised to hear the bad epithet which her aunt applied to a 
 gentleman, towards whom she usually displayed great polite- 
 ness. "I am sure he is quite capable of anything that is 
 bad." 
 
 "Ah! he is very much afraid of me, and what he calls my 
 sweet meddling ways, 5 ' said the old lady; " but, perhaps, if I 
 had meddled before, it might have been all the better. I am 
 sure I am the very last to meddle, except when there is an 
 absolute occasion for it, as you well know, my dear Zara." 
 
 The last proposition was put in some degree as a question ; 
 but Zara did not think fit to answer it, merely saying, " What 
 is it, my dear aunt? I am all anxiety and fear regarding 
 Edith." 
 
 "Well you may be, my love,' 5 said Mrs. Barbara; and 
 thereupon she proceeded to tell Zara, how she had overheard 
 the whole conversation between Mr. Kadford and her brother, 
 through the door of the library, which opened into the little 
 passage, that ran between it and the rooms beyond. She did 
 not say that she had put her ear to the keyhole, but that 
 Zara took for granted, and indeed felt somewhat like an ac- 
 complice, while listening to secrets which had been acquired 
 by such means. 
 
 Thus almost everything that had passed in the library, with 
 a few very short variations and improvements, but with a 
 good deal of comment, and a somewhat lengthy detail, was 
 communicated by Mrs. Barbara to her niece ; and when she 
 had done, the old lady added, " There, my dear, now go to 
 bed and sleep upon it; and we will talk it all over in tho 
 morning, for I am determined that my niece shall not bo 
 treated in such a way by any vagabond smuggler like that. 
 Dear me! one cannot tell what might happen, with Edith shut 
 up in his house in that way. Talk of my meddling, indeed! 
 He shall find that I will meddle now to some purpose! Good 
 night, my dear love; good night!" But Mrs. Barbara stop- 
 ped at the door, to explain to Zara that she had not told her 
 
360 tHE SMUGGLER. 
 
 before, "Because, you know," said the good lady, "I could 
 not speak of such things before a stranger, like Sir Edward 
 Digby; and when he was gone, I didn't dare say anything to 
 your father. Think of it till to-morrow, there's a dear girl, 
 and try and devise some plan." 
 
 u I will," said Zara, "I will;" but as soon as her aunt 
 had disappeared, she clasped her hands together, exclaiming: 
 " Good heaven! what plan can I form? Edith is lost! They 
 have her now completely in their power. Oh! that I had 
 known this before Sir Edward Digby went to sleep. He might 
 have gone over to Layton to-morrow, early; and they might 
 have devised something together. Perhaps he has not gone 
 to rest yet. He told me to throw off all restraint, to have no 
 ceremony in case of need. Layton told me so, too; that I 
 might trust in him, that he is a man of honour. Oh! yes, I 
 am sure he is a man of honour: but what will he think? He 
 promised he would think no harm of anything I might be 
 called upon to do, and I promised I would trust him. I will 
 go 1 He can speak to me in the passage. No one sleeps near 
 to overhear. But I will knock softly; for though he said he 
 had letters to write, he may have gone to bed by this time." 
 
 Leaving the lights standing where they were, Zara cast on 
 a long dressing-gown, and crept quietly out into the passage, 
 taking care not to pull the door quite to. All was silent in 
 the house ; not a sound was heard ; and with her heart beating 
 as if it would have burst through her side, she approached Sir 
 Edward Digby's door, but there she paused. Had she not 
 paused, but gone on at once, and knocked, all would have been 
 well; for, so far from being in bed, he was sitting calmly 
 reading. But ladies' resolutions, and men's, are made of very 
 much the same materials. The instant her foot stopped, her 
 whole host of woman's feelings crowded upon her, and barred 
 the way. First, she thought of modesty, and propriety, and 
 decency ; and then, though she might have overcome the whole 
 of that squadron for Edith's sake, the remembrance of many 
 words that Digby had spoken, the look, the tone, the manner, 
 all rose again upon her memory. She felt that he was a lover; 
 and putting her hand to her brow, she murmured: "I cannot; 
 no, I cannot. Had he been only a friend, I would. I will see 
 him early to-morrow. I will sit up all night, that I may not 
 sleep, and miss the opportunity; but I cannot go to-night;" 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 361 
 
 and, returning as quietly to her own chamber as she had come 
 thence, she shut the door and locked it. She had never 
 locked it in her life before, and she knew not why she did it. 
 
 Then, drawing the arm-chair to the hearth, Zara Croyland 
 trimmed the fire, wrapped herself up as warmly as she could, 
 and putting out one of the candles, that she might not be left 
 in darkness by both being burnt out together, she took up a 
 book and began to read. From time to time, during that long 
 night, her eyes grew heavy, and she fell asleep; but something 
 always woke her. Either her own thoughts troubled her in 
 dreams, or else the book fell out of her hand, or the wind 
 shook the window, or the cold chill that precedes the coming 
 morning disturbed her; and at length she looked at her watch, 
 and, finding it past five o'clock, she congratulated herself at 
 having escaped the power of the drowsy god, and, dressing in 
 haste, undrew the curtains, and looked out by the light of the 
 dawning day. When she saw the edge of the sun coming up, 
 she said to herself, " He is often very early. I will go down." 
 But, bethinking herself that no time was to be lost, she hurried 
 first to her maid's room, and waking her, told her to see Sir 
 Edward .Digby's servant as soon as he rose, and to bid him 
 inform his master that she wanted to speak with him in the 
 library. " Speak not a word of this to any one else, Eliza," 
 she said ; and then, thinking it necessary to assign some rea- 
 son for her conduct, she added, "I am very anxious about my 
 sister; her not coming home yesterday alarms me, and I want 
 to hear more." 
 
 "Oh! dear, you needn't frighten yourself, Miss Zara," re- 
 plied the maid. " I dare say there's nothing the matter." 
 
 " But I cannot help frightening myself," replied Zara; and 
 going down into the library, she unclosed one of the shutters. 
 
 The maid was very willing to gratify her young lady, for 
 Zara was a favourite with all ; but thinking from the look of 
 the sky, that it would be a long time before the servant rose, 
 and having no such scruples as her mistress, she went quietly 
 away to his room, and knocked at his door, saying, " I wish 
 you would get up, Mr. Somers, I want to speak with you." 
 
 Zara remained alone for twenty minutes in the library, or 
 not much more, and then she heard Digby's step in the pas- 
 sage. There was a good deal of alarm and surprise in his 
 look when he entered ; but his fair companion's talc was soon 
 
3G2 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 told, and that sufficiently explained her sudden call for his 
 presence. He made no comment at the moment, but replied, 
 " Wait for me here one instant. I will order my horse, and 
 be back directly." 
 
 He was speedily by her side again; and then, taking her 
 hand in his, he said, "I wish I had known this last night. 
 You need not have been afraid of disturbing me, for I was up 
 till nearly one." 
 
 Zara smiled. " You do not know," she answered, " how 
 near I was to your door, with the intention of calling you." 
 
 "And why did you not?" asked Digby eagerly. '-Nay, 
 you must tell me, why you should hesitate when so much was 
 at stake." 
 
 "I can but answer, because my heart failed me," replied 
 Zara. " You know women's hearts are weak foolish things." 
 
 "Nay," said Digby, "you must explain further. Why 
 did your heart fail you? Tell me, Zara. I cannot rest satis- 
 fied unless you tell me." 
 
 " Indeed, there is no time now for explanation," she replied, 
 feeling that her admission had drawn her into more than she 
 had anticipated; "your horse will soon be here; and there is 
 not a moment to lose." 
 
 " There is time enough for those who will," answered Digby, 
 in a serious tone; "you promised me that you would not hesi- 
 tate, whenever necessity required you to apply to me for counsel 
 or aid; you have hesitated, Zara. Could you doubt me, could 
 you be apprehensive, could you suppose that Edward Digby 
 would, in word, deed, or thought, take advantage of your gene- 
 rous confidence?" 
 
 "No, no! oh, no!" answered Zara, warmly, blushing, and 
 trembling at the same time, " I did not, I could not, after all 
 you have done, after all I have seen. No, no; I thought you 
 would think it strange; I thought " 
 
 " Then you supposed I would wrong you in thought!" he 
 replied, with some mortification in his manner; "you do not 
 know me yet." 
 
 "Oh! yes, indeed I do," she answered, feeling that, she was 
 getting further and further into difficulties; and then she added, 
 with one of her sudden bursts of frankness, "I will tell you 
 how it was, candidly and truly. Just as I was at your door, 
 and about to knock, the memory of several things you had 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 363 
 
 said, inadvertently, perhaps, crossed my mind; and, though I 
 felt that I could go at any hour to consult a friend in such 
 terrible circumstances, I could not, no, I could not do so with 
 a with one You see what harm you have done by such 
 fine speeches 1" 
 
 She thought that by her last words she had guarded her- 
 self securely from any immediate consequences of this unreserved 
 confession; but she was mistaken. She merely hurried on 
 what might yet have rested for a day or two. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby took her other hand also, and held it 
 gently, yet firmly, as if he was afraid she should escape from 
 him. u Zara," he said, "dear Zara, I have done harm, by 
 speaking too much, or not enough. I must remedy it by the 
 only means in my power. Listen to me for one moment, for 
 I cannot go till all is said. You must cast off this reserve, you 
 must act perfectly freely with me; I seek to bind you by no 
 engagement, I will bear my doubt; I will not construe any- 
 thing you do as an acceptance of my suit; but you must know, 
 nay, you do know, you do feel, that I am your lover. It was 
 doubt of your own sensations towards me, that made you hesi- 
 tate; it was fear that you should commit yourself to that 
 which you might, on consideration, be indisposed to ratify. 
 You thought that I might plead such confidence as a tacit 
 promise, and that made you pause. But hear me, as I pledge 
 myself, upon my honour, as a gentleman, that if you act fear- 
 lessly and freely in the cause in which we are both engaged 
 if you confide in me, trust in me, and never hesitate to put 
 yourself, as you may think, entirely in my power, I will never 
 look upon anything as plighting you to me in the slightest de- 
 gree, till I hear you say the words, 4 Digby, I am yours,' if 
 ever that happy day should come. In the mean time, however, 
 to set you entirely free from all apprehension of what others 
 may say, I hold myself bound to you by every promise that 
 man can make; and this very day I will ask your father's ap- 
 probation of my suit. But I am well aware, though circum- 
 stances have shown me, in a marvellous short time, that your 
 heart and mind is equal to your beauty, yet it is not to be ex- 
 pected that such a being can be won in a few short days, and 
 that I must wait in patience, not without hope, indeed, but 
 with no presumption. By your conduct, at least, I shall know 
 whether I have gained your esteem; your love, perhaps, may 
 
364 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 follow; and now I leave you, to serve your sister and my 
 friend to the best of my power." 
 
 Thus saying, he raised her hand to his lips, kissed it, and 
 moved towards the door. 
 
 There was a sad struggle in Zara's breast; but as he was 
 laying his hand upon the lock, to open it, she said, " Digby 
 Digby Edward!" 
 
 He instantly turned, and ran towards her; for her face had 
 become very pale. She gave him her hand at once, however : 
 "Kind, generous man!" she said, "you must not go without 
 hearing my answer. Such a pledge cannot be all on one part. 
 I am yours, Digby, if you wish it; yet know me better first 
 before you answer; see all my faults, and all my failings. 
 Even this must show you how strange a being I am: how un- 
 like other girls, how unlike, perhaps, the woman you would 
 wish to call your wife I" 
 
 "Wish it I" answered Digby, casting his arm round her. 
 " from my heart, from my very soul, Zara. I know enough, 
 I have seen enough, for I have seen you in circumstances that 
 bring forth the bosom's inmost feelings; and though you are 
 unlike others, and I have watched many in their course: that 
 very dissimilarity is to me the surpassing charm. They are 
 all art, you are all nature, ay, and nature in its sweetest and 
 most graceful form ; and I can boldly say, I never yet saw 
 woman whom I should desire to call my wife till I saw you. 
 I will not wait, dear girl; but pledged to you as you are 
 pledged to me, will not press this subject further on you, till 
 your sister's fate is sealed. I must, indeed, speak with your 
 father at once, that there may be no mistake, no misappre- 
 hension ; but till all this sad business is settled, we are brother 
 and sister, Zara; and then a dearer bond." 
 
 " Oh! yes, yes; brother and sister 1" cried Zara, clinging to 
 him at the name which takes fear from woman's heart, " so 
 will we be, Edward; and now all my doubts and hesitations 
 will be at an end. I shall never fear more to seek you when 
 it is needful." 
 
 " And my suit will be an excuse and a reason to all others, 
 for free interviews, and solitary rambles, and private confe- 
 rence, and every dear communion," answered Digby, pleased, 
 and yet almost amazed at the simplicity with which she lent 
 herself to the magic of a word, when the heart led her, 
 
THE SMUGGLE!*, 365 
 
 But Zara saw he was a little extending the brother's privi- 
 lege; and with a warm cheek but smiling lip, she answered, 
 "There, leave me now; I see you are learned in the art of 
 leading on from step to step. Go on your way, Edward; 
 and, oh! be kind to me, and do not make me feel this new 
 situation too deeply at first. There, pray take away your 
 arm ; none but a father's or a sister's has been there before ; 
 and it makes my heart beat, as if it were wrong." 
 
 But Digby kept it where it was for a moment or two longer, 
 and gave a few instants to happiness, in which she shared, 
 though it agitated her. "Nay, go," she said, at length, in a 
 tone of entreaty, " and I will lie down and rest for an hour; 
 for I have sat up all night by the fire, lest I should be too 
 late. You must go, indeed. There is your horse upon the 
 terrace ; and we must not be selfish, but remember poor Edith 
 before we think of our own happiness." 
 
 There was a sweet and frank confession in her words that 
 pleased Digby well; and leaving her with a heart at rest on 
 his own account, he mounted his horse and rode rapidly away 
 towards the quarters of Sir Henry Layton. 
 
366 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE reader has doubtless remarked for every reader who 
 peruses a book to any purpose must remark everything, inas- 
 much as the most important events are so often connected 
 with insignificant circumstances, that the one cannot be 
 understood without the other; the reader has doubtless re- 
 marked, that Mr. Radford, on leaving Sir Robert Croyland, 
 informed his unhappy victim, that he had still a good deal of 
 business to do that night. Now, during the day he had, as 
 may well be judged from his own statement of all the prepara- 
 tions he had already made, done a great deal of very important 
 business ; but the details of his past proceedings I shall not 
 enter into, and only beg leave to precede him by a short time, 
 to the scene of those farther operations which he had laid out 
 as the close of that evening's labours. It is to the lone house, 
 as it was called, near Iden Green, that I wish to conduct my 
 companions, and a solitary and gloomy-looking spot it was, at 
 the time I speak of. All that part of the country is now very 
 thickly inhabited: the ground bears nearly as large a popula- 
 tion as it can support; and though there are still fields, and 
 woods, and occasional waste places, yet no such events could 
 now happen as those which occurred eighty or a hundred 
 years ago, when one might travel miles, in various parts of 
 Kent, without meeting a living soul. The pressure of a large 
 population crushes out the bolder and more daring sorts of 
 crime, and leaves small cunning to effect, in secret, what 
 cannot be accomplished openly, under the police of innume- 
 rable eyes. 
 
 But it was not so in those days; and the lone house near 
 Iden Green, whatever it was originally built for, had become 
 the refuge and the lurking-place of some of the most fierce 
 and lawless men in the country. It was a large building, 
 with numerous rooms and passages; and it had stables behind 
 it, but no walled court-yard ; for the cloie sweeping round of 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 367 
 
 the wood, a part of which still exists in great beauty, was 
 a convenience on which its architect seemed to have calcu- 
 lated. Standing some way off the high road, and about half 
 a mile from Collyer Green, it was so sheltered by trees that, 
 on whichever side approached, nothing could be seen but the 
 top of the roof and part of a garret -window, till one was 
 within a short distance of the edifice. But that garret- 
 window had its advantages, for it commanded a view over a 
 great part of the country, on three sides, and especially gave 
 a prospect of the roads in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The building was not a farm-house, for it had none of the 
 requisites; it could not well be a public-house, though a sign 
 swung before it; for the lower windows were boarded up, and 
 the owner or tenant thereof, if any traveller whom he did not 
 know, stopped at his door, which was, indeed, a rare occur- 
 rence, told him that it was all a mistake, and cursing the 
 sign, vowed he would have it cut down. Nevertheless, if the 
 llamlcys, or any of their gang, or, indeed, any members of a 
 similar fraternity, came thither, the doors opened as if by 
 magic; and good accommodation for man and horse was sure 
 to be found within. 
 
 It was also remarked, that many a gentleman in haste 
 went in there, and was never seen to issue forth again till he 
 appeared in quite a different part of the country; and, had 
 the master of the house lived two or three centuries earlier, 
 he might on that very account have risked the faggot, on a 
 charge of dealing with the devil. As it was, he was only 
 suspected of being a coiner; but in regard to that charge, 
 history has left no evidence, pro or con. 
 
 It was in this house, however, on the evening of the day 
 subsequent to the discomfiture of the smugglers, that six men 
 were assembled in a small room at the back, all of whom had, 
 more or less, taken part in the struggle near Woodchurch. The 
 two younger Ramley's were there, as well as one of the princi- 
 pal members of their gang, and two other men, who had been 
 engaged in carrying smuggled goods from the coast, as a regu- 
 lar profession ; but who were, in other respects, much more 
 respectable persons than those by whom they were surrounded. 
 At the head of the table, however, was the most important 
 personage of the whole: no other than Richard Radford him- 
 self, who had joined his comrades an hour or two before. 
 
3GQ THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 The joy and excitement of his escape from the wood, the teni j 
 porary triumph which he had obtained over the vigilance of 
 the soldiery, and the effect produced upon a disposition natu- 
 rally bold, reckless, and daring, by the sudden change from 
 imminent peril to comparative security, had all raised his 
 spirits to an excessive pitch; and, indeed, the whole party, 
 instead of seeming depressed by their late disaster, appeared 
 elevated with that wild and lawless mirth, which owns no tie 
 or restraint, reverences nothing sacred or respectable. Spirits 
 and water were circulating freely amongst them; and they 
 were boasting of their feats in the late skirmish, or commenting 
 upon its events, with many a jest and many a falsehood. 
 
 " The major did very well, too," said Ned Ramley, "for 
 he killed one of the dragoons, and wounded another, before he 
 went down himself, poor devil!" 
 
 " Here's to the major's ghost 1" cried young Radford, " and. 
 I'll try to give it satisfaction by avenging him. We'll have 
 vengeance upon them yet, Ned." 
 
 " Ay, upon all who had any concern in it," answered Jim 
 Ramley, with a meaning look. 
 
 " And first upon him who betrayed us,'' rejoined Richard 
 Radford; " and I will have it, too, in a way that shall punish 
 him more than if we flogged him to death with horse-whip?, 
 as the Sussex men did to Chater, at the Flying Bull, near 
 Hazlemere." 
 
 The elder of the two Ramley 's gave a look towards the 
 men who were at the bottom of the table; and Richard Rad- 
 ford, dropping his voice, whispered something to Ned Ramley, 
 who replied aloud, with an oath, " I'd have taken my revenge, 
 whatever came of it." 
 
 "No, no,'' answered Radford, "the red-coats were too near. 
 However, all's not lost, that's delayed. I wonder where that 
 young devil, Little Starlight's gone to. I sent him three hours 
 ago to Cranbrook with the clothes, and told him to come back 
 and tell me if she passed. She'll not go now, that's certain; 
 for she would be in the dark. Have you any notion, Ned, 
 how many men we could get together in case of need? 5 ' 
 
 " Oh, fifty or sixty!" said one of the men from the bottom 
 of the table, who seemed inclined to have his share in the con- 
 versation, as soon as it turned upon subjects with which lie 
 was familiar; "there are seven or eight hid away down at 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 369 
 
 (jranbrook, and nine or ten at Tenderden, with some of the 
 goods, too." 
 
 " Ah, that's welll" answered young Kadford; " I thought 
 all the goods had been taken." 
 
 " Oh! dear no," replied Jim Ramley, "we've got a thousand 
 pounds' worth in this house, and I dare say double as much 
 is scattered about in different hides. The light things were 
 got off; but they are the most valuable.'' 
 
 " I'll tell you what, my men,'' cried young Radford, "as 
 soon as these soldiers are gone down to the coast again, we'll 
 all gather together, and do some devilish high thing, just to 
 show them that they are not quite masters of the country yet. 
 I've a great mind to burn their inn at Woodchnrch, just for 
 harbouring them. If we don't make these rascally fellows fear 
 us, the trade will be quite put down in the county." 
 
 44 1 swear," exclaimed Ned Ramley, with a horrible blas- 
 phemy, "that if I can catch any one who has peached, even 
 if it be but by one word, I will split his head like a lobster." 
 
 "And I, too!'' answered his brother; and several others 
 joined in the oath. 
 
 The conversation then took another turn, and while it went 
 on generally around the table, young Radford spoke several 
 times in a low voice to the two who sat next to him, and the 
 name of Harding was more than once mentioned. The glass 
 circulated very freely also ; and although none of them became 
 absolutely intoxicated, yet all of them were more or less 
 affected by the spirits, when the boy whom we have called 
 Little Starlight, crept quietly into the room, and approached 
 Mr. Radford. 
 
 " She's not come, sir," he said; "I waited a long while, 
 and then went and asked the old woman of the shop, telling 
 her that I was to be sure and see that Kate Clare got the 
 bundle; but she said that she certainly wouldn't come to- 
 night." 
 
 "That's a good boy," said young Radford. " Go and tell 
 the people to bring us some candles; and then I'll give you 
 a glass of Hollands for your pains. It's getting infernally 
 dark," he continued, " and as nothing more is to be done to- 
 day, we may as well make a night of it." 
 
 " No, no," answered one of the men at the bottom of the 
 table, " I've had enough, and I shall go and turn in." 
 A A 
 
370 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Nobody opposed him; and he and his companion soon after 
 left them. A smile passed round amongst the rest as soon as 
 the two had shut the door. 
 
 " Now those puny fellows are gone," said Jim Ramley, " we 
 can say what we like. First, let us talk about the goods, Mr. 
 Radford, for I don't think they are quite safe here. They had 
 better be got up to your father's as soon as possible, for if the 
 house were to be searched, we could get out into the wood, but 
 they could not." 
 
 "Hark!" said young Radford; " there's some one knock- 
 ing hard at the house door, I think." 
 
 "Ay, trust all that to Obadiah," said Ned Ramley. " He 
 won't open the door till he sees who it is." 
 
 The minute after, however, old Mr. Radford stood amongst 
 them ; and he took especial care not to throw any damp upon 
 their spirits, but rather to encourage them, and make light oi 
 the late events. He sat down for a few minutes by his son, 
 took a glass of Hollands and water, and then whispered to his 
 hopeful heir that he wanted to speak with him for a minute, 
 The young man instantly rose, and led the way out into the 
 room opposite, which was vacant. 
 
 "By heaven, Dick, this is an awkward job!" said his fa- 
 ther; " the loss is enormous, and never to be recovered." 
 
 " The things are not all lost," answered Richard Radford. 
 " A great quantity of the goods are about the country. There's 
 a thousand pounds' worth, they say, in this house.' 7 
 
 "We must have them got together as fat as possible." 
 said Mr. Radford, " and brought up to our place. All that is 
 here had better be sent up about three o'clock in the morning." 
 
 "I'll bring them up myself," replied his son. 
 
 44 No, no, no!" said Mr. Radford; "you keep quiet where 
 you are, till to-morrow night." 
 
 "Pooh, nonsense," answered the young man; " I'm not at 
 all afraid. Very well, very well, they shall come up, and I'll 
 follow to-morrow night, if you think I can be at the Hall in 
 safety." 
 
 " I don't intend you to be long at the Hall," answered Mr. 
 Radford: " you must take a trip over the sea, my boy, till we 
 can make sure of a pardon for you. There ! you need not look; 
 so blank. You shan't go alone. Come up at eleven o'clock; 
 and you will find Edith Croylaud waiting to give you her hand, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 3?1 
 
 the next day. Then a post-chaise and four, and a good tight 
 boat on the beach, and you are landed in France in no time. 
 Everything is ready, everything is settled ; and with her for- 
 tune, you will have enough to live like a prince, till you can 
 come back here." 
 
 All this intelligence did not seem to give Richard Kadford 
 as much satisfaction as his father expected. " I would rather 
 have had little Zara, a devillish deal!" he replied. 
 
 4 'Very likely," answered his father, with his countenance 
 changing, and his brow growing dark; " but that won't do, 
 Dick. We have had enough nonsense of all sorts; and it 
 must now be brought to an end. It's not the matter of the 
 fortune alone ; but I am determined that both you and I shall 
 have revenge." 
 
 " Revenge!" said his son; " I don't see what revenge has 
 to do with that." 
 
 " I'll tell you," answered old Mr. Radford, in a low tone, 
 but bitter in its very lowness: "The man who so cunningly 
 surrounded you and the rest yesterday morning, who took all 
 my goods, and murdered many of our friends, is that very 
 Harry Lay ton, whom you've heard talk of. He has come 
 down here on purpose to ruin you and me, if possible, and to 
 marry Edith Croyland; but he shall never have her, by ," 
 and he added a fearful oath which I will not repeat. 
 
 " Ay, that alters the case," replied Richard Radford, with 
 a demoniacal smile ; " oh 1 I'll marry her, and make her happy, 
 as the people say. But I'll tell you what, I'll have my revenge, 
 too, before I go, and upon one who is worse than the other 
 fellow; I mean the man who betrayed us all." 
 
 " Who is that?" demanded the father. 
 
 "Harding," answered young Radford, "Harding." 
 
 " Are you sure that it was he?" asked the old gentleman; 
 "I have suspected him myself, but I have no proof." 
 
 " But I have," replied his son ; " he was seen several nights 
 before by Little Starlight, talking for a long while with this 
 very colonel of dragoons upon the cliff. Another man was 
 with him, too, most likely Mowle; and then, again, yesterday 
 evening, some of these good fellows, who were on the look-out 
 to help me, saw him speaking to a dragoon officer at Widow 
 Clare's door; so he must be a traitor, or they would have taken 
 him." 
 
372 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Then he deserves to be shot," said old R ad ford, fiercely; 
 " but take care, Dick, you had better riot do it yourself. 
 You'll find him difficult to get at, arid may be caught." 
 
 " Leave him to me; leave him to me," answered his hope- 
 ful son; "I've a plan in my head that will punish him better 
 than a bullet. But the bullet he shall have, too, for all the 
 men have sworn that they will take his blood ; but that can 
 be done after I'm gone.' 7 
 
 "But what's your plan, my boy?" asked old Mr. Eadford. 
 
 "Never mind, nevermind!" answered Richard; "I'll find 
 means to execute it. I only wish those dragoons were away 
 from Harbourne Wood." 
 
 "Why, they are," exclaimed his father, laughing. "They 
 were withdrawn this afternoon, and a party of them, too, 
 marched out of "Woodchurch, as if they were going to Ashford. 
 I dare say, by this time to-morrow night, they will be all 
 gone to their quarters again." 
 
 "Then it's all safe!" said his son; and after some more 
 conversation between the two, and various injunctions upon 
 the part of the old man, as to caution and prudence, upon the 
 part of the young one, they parted for the time. Young Rad- 
 ford then rejoined his companions, and remained with them 
 till about one o'clock in the morning, when the small portion 
 of smuggled goods which had been saved, was sent off, escorted 
 by two men, towards Eadford Hall, where they arrived 
 safely, and were received by servants well accustomed to such 
 practices. They consisted of only one horse-load, indeed, so 
 that the journey was quickly performed, and the two men re- 
 turned before five. Although Richard Radford had given his 
 father every assurance that he would remain quiet, and take 
 every prudent step for his own concealment, his very first acts 
 showed no disposition to keep his word. Before eight o'clock 
 in the morning, he, the two Ramleys, and one or two other 
 men, who had come in during the night, were out amongst 
 the fields and woods, "reconnoitring," as they called it; but 
 with a spirit in their breasts which rendered them ready for 
 any rash and criminal act that might suggest itself. Thus 
 occupied, I shall for the present leave them, and show more of 
 their proceedings at a future period. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 3 73 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 HAVING now led the history of a great part of the personages' 
 in our drama up to the same point of time, namely, the third 
 morning after the defeat of the smugglers, we may as well turn 
 to follow out the course of Sir Edward Digby, on a day that 
 was destined to be eventful to all the parties concerned. On 
 arriving at Woodchurch, lie found a small body of dragoons, 
 ready mounted, at the door of the little inn, and two saddled 
 horses, held waiting for their riders. Without ceremony, he 
 entered, and went up at once to Layton's room, where he found 
 him, booted and spurred to set out, with Mowle, the officer, 
 standing by him, looking on while Sir Henry placed some 
 papers in a writing-desk and locked them up. 
 
 The young commander greeted his friend warmly; and then, 
 turning to the officer of customs, said, " If you will mount, 
 Mr. Mowle, I will be down with you directly;" and as soon 
 as Mowle, taking the hint, departed, he continued, in a quick 
 tone, but with a faint smile upon his countenance, " I know 
 your errand, Digby, before you tell it. Edith has been trans- 
 ferred to the good charge and guidance of Mr. Radford; but 
 that has only prepared me to act more vigorously than ever. 
 My scruples on Sir Robert Croyland's account are at an end. 
 Heaven and earth! Is it possible that a man can be so 
 criminally weak, as to give his child up; a sweet, gentle girl 
 like that, to the charge of such abase unprincipled scoundrel I" 
 
 " Nay, nay, we must do Sir Robert justice," answered 
 Digby. " It was done without his consent; indeed, against 
 his will; and a more impudent and shameless piece of trickery 
 was never practised. You must listen for one moment, 
 Lay ton, though you seem in haste;'' and he proceeded to 
 detail to him, as succinctly as possible, all that had occurred 
 between Mr. Radford and Edith's father on the preceding 
 evening, stating his authority, arid whence Zara had received 
 her information. 
 
374 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " That somewhat alters the case, indeed;" answered Layton ; 
 "but it must not alter my conduct. I am, indeed, in haste, 
 Digby, for I hope, ere two or three hours are over, to send 
 the young scoundrel, for whose sake all this is done, a prisoner 
 to the gaol. Mowle has somehow got information of where 
 he is, from undoubted authority, he says; and we are away to 
 Iden Green, in consequence. We shall get more information 
 by the way; and I go with the party for a certain distance, in 
 order to be at hand, in case of need ; but, as it does not do for 
 me, in my position, to take upon me the capture of half-a- 
 dozen smugglers, the command of the party will rest with 
 Cornet Joyce. We will deal with Mr. Eadford, the father, 
 afterwards. But, in the mean time, Digby, as your information 
 certainly gives a different view of the case, from that which I 
 had before taken, you will greatly oblige me if you can contrive 
 to ride over to Mr. Croyland's, and see if you can find Mr. 
 Warde there. Beg him to let me have the directions he pro- 
 mised, by four o'clock to*day ; and if you do not find him, leave 
 word to that effect, with Mr. Croyland himself." 
 
 " You seem to place great faith in Warde," said Sir Edward 
 Digby, shaking his head. 
 
 " I have cause, I have cause, Digby," answered his friend. 
 " But I must go, lest this youth escape me again." 
 
 " Well, God speed you, then !" replied Digby. " I will go 
 to Mr. Croyland at once, and can contrive, I dare say, to get 
 back to Harbourne by breakfast time. It is not above t\vo or 
 three miles round, and I will go twenty at any time, to serve 
 you, Layton." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby found good Mr. Zachary Croyland walk- 
 ing about in his garden, in a state of irritation indescribable. 
 He, also, was aware, by this time, of what had befallen his 
 niece ; and such was his indignation, that he could scarcely find 
 it in his heart to be even commonly civil to any one. On Sir 
 Edward Digby delivering his message, as he found that Mr. 
 Warde was not there, the old gentleman burst forth, exclaim- 
 ing, " What have I to do with Warde, sir, or you friend either, 
 sir? Your friend's a fool! He might have walked out of 
 that door with Edith Croyland in his hand ; and that's no light 
 prize, let me tell you; but he chose to be delicate, and gentle- 
 manly, and all that sort of stupidity, and you see what has 
 come of it. And now, forsooth, he sends over to ask advice 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 375 
 
 and directions from Wardo. Well, I will tell the man, if I see 
 him, though heaven only knows whether that will be the case 
 or not." 
 
 " Sir Henry Layton seems to place great confidence in Mr. 
 Warde," replied Digby, " which I trust may be justified." 
 
 Mr. Croyland looked at him sharply, for a moment, from 
 under his cocked hat, and then exclaimed, "Pish! you are a 
 fool, young man. There, don't look so fierce. I've given 
 over fighting for these twenty years; and, besides, you wouldn't 
 come to the duello with little Zara's uncle, would 'you? Ha, 
 ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!" and he laughed im- 
 moderately, but splenetically enough at the same time. " But 
 I ought to have put my meaning as a question, not as a pro- 
 position," he continued. " Are you such a fool as not to know 
 the difference between an odd man and a madman, an eccentric 
 man and a lunatic? If so, you had better get away as fast as 
 possible ; for you and I are likely soon to fall out. I under- 
 stand what you mean about Warde, quite well; but I can tell 
 you, that if you think Warde mad, I'm quite as mad as he is, 
 only that his oddities lie all on the side of goodness and philan- 
 thropy, and mine now and then take a different course. But 
 get you gone, get you gone ; you are better than the rest of 
 them, I believe. I do hope and trust you'll marry Zara, and 
 then you'll plague each other's souls to my heart's content.' 5 
 
 He held his hand out as he spoke; and Digby shook it, 
 laughing good-humouredly ; but, ere he had taken ten steps 
 towards the door of the house, through which he had to pass 
 before he could mount his horse, Mr. Croyland called after 
 him. "Digby, Digby! Sir Eddard! Eldest son! I say, 
 how could you be such a fool as not to run that fellow through 
 the stomach when you had him at your feet? You see what a 
 quantity of mischief has come of it, You are all fools together, 
 you soldiers, I think; but it's true, a fool does as well as any- 
 thing else to be shot at. How's your shoulder? Better, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " I have not thought of it for the last two days," replied 
 Digby. 
 
 " Well, that will do," said Mr. Croyland. " Cured by the 
 first intention. There, you may go ; I don't want you. Only, 
 pray tell my brother that I think him as great a rascal as old 
 liadford. He'll know how much that means. One's a weak 
 
376 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 rascal, and the other's a strong one; that's the only difference 
 between them; and Robert may fit on which cap he likes 
 best." 
 
 Digby did not think it necessary to stop to justify Sir Robert 
 Croyland in his brother's opinion ; but, mounting his horse, he 
 rode back across the country towards Harbourne as fast as he 
 could go. He reached the house before the usual breakfast 
 hour; but he found that everybody there had been an early 
 riser as well as himself; the table was laid ready for break- 
 fast; and Sir Robert Croyland was waiting in the drawing- 
 room with some impatience in his looks. 
 
 " I think I am not too late, Sir Robert," said Digby, taking 
 out his watch, and bowing with a smile to Zara and Mrs. 
 Barbara. 
 
 "No, oh dear! no, my young friend," replied the baronet; 
 " only in such a house as this, breakfast is going on all the 
 morning long ; and I thought you would excuse me, if I took 
 mine a little earlier than usual, as I have got some way to go 
 this morning.* 
 
 This was said as they were entering the breakfast-room; 
 but Sir Edward Digby replied, promptly, " I must ask you to 
 spare me five minutes before you go, Sir Robert, as I wish to 
 speak with you for a short time." 
 
 His host looked uneasy; for he was in that nervous and 
 agitated state of mind, in which anything that is not clear and 
 distinct seems terrible to the imagination, from the conscious- 
 ness that many ill-defined calamities are hanging over us. He 
 said, " Certainly, certainly!" however, in a polite tone; but he 
 swallowed his breakfast in haste; and the young officer per- 
 ceived that his host looked at every mouthful he took as if liltely 
 to procrastinate the meal. Zara's face, too, was anxious and 
 thoughtful ; and consequently he hurried his own breakfast as 
 fast as possible, knowing that the signal to rise would be a 
 relief to all parties. 
 
 " If you will come into my little room, Sir Edward," said 
 the master of the house, as soon as he saw that his guest was 
 ready, " I shall be very happy to hear what you have to say." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby followed in silence; and, to tell the truth, 
 his heart beat a good deal, though it was not one to yield upon 
 slight occasions. 
 
 " I will not detain you a moment. Sir Robert," he said, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 377 
 
 when they had entered, and the door was shut, " for what I 
 have to say will be easily answered. I am sensible, that 
 yesterday my attention to your youngest daughter must have 
 been remarked by you, and, indeed my manner altogether 
 must have shown you, and herself also, that I feel differently 
 towards her and other women. I do not think it would bo 
 right to continue such conduct for one moment longer, without 
 your approbation of my suit; and I can only farther say, that 
 if you grant me your sanction, I feel that I can love her deeply 
 and well, that I will try to make her happy to the best of my 
 power, and that my fortune is amply sufficient to maintain her 
 in the station of life in which she has always moved, and to 
 make such a settlement upon her as I trust will be satisfactory 
 to you. I will not detain you to expatiate upon my feelings ; 
 but such is a soldier's straightforward declaration, and I trust 
 you will countenance and approve of my addressing her." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland shook him warmly by the hand. 
 " My dear Sir Edward,' 3 he said, "you are your father's own 
 son ; frank, candid, and honourable. He was one of the most 
 gentlemanly and amiable men I ever knew; and it will give 
 me heartfelt pleasure to see my dear child united to his son. 
 But, indeed, I must deal with you as candidly." He hesi- 
 tated for a moment or two, and then went on, " Perhaps you 
 think that circumstances here are more favourable than they 
 really are. Things may come to your knowledge things may 
 have to be related, Zara's fortune will be " 
 
 Sir Edward Digby saw that Sir Robert Croyland was 
 greatly embarrassed; and for an instant, for love is a very 
 irritable sort of state, at least for the imagination, and he was 
 getting over head and ears in love, notwithstanding all his 
 good resolutions; for an instant, I say, he might think that 
 Zara had been engaged before, and that Sir Robert was about 
 to tell him that it was not the ever-coveted, first freshness of 
 the heart he was to possess in her love, even if it were gained 
 entirely. But a moment's thought, in regard to her father's 
 situation, together with the baronet's last words, dispelled that 
 unpleasant vision, and he replied, eagerly, " Oh! my dear sir, 
 that can make no difference in my estimation. If I can ob- 
 tain her full and entire love, no external circumstance what- 
 soever can at all affect my views. I only desire her hand." 
 
 " No external circumstances whatsoever 1" said Sir Robert 
 
378 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Croyland, pausing on the words. "Are you sure of your own 
 firmness, Sir Edward Digby? If her father were to tell you 
 he is a ruined man; if he had many circumstances to relate 
 which might make it painful to you to connect yourself with 
 him; I do not say that it is so; but if it were?" 
 
 "Rather an awkward position," thought Sir Edward 
 Digby; but his mind was fully made up, and he replied, with- 
 out hesitation, " It would still make no difference in my eyes, 
 Sir Eobert. I trust that none of these terrible things are the 
 case, for your sake; but I should despise myself if, with 
 enough of my own, I made fortune any ingredient in my con- 
 siderations, or if I could suffer my love for a being perfectly 
 amiable in herself, to be affected by the circumstances of her 
 family." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland wrung his hand hard; and Digby felt 
 that it was a sort of compact between them. " I fear I must 
 go," said Zara's father, " and therefore I cannot explain more ; 
 but it is absolutely necessary to tell you that all my unmort- 
 gaged property is entailed, and will go to my brother, that 
 Edith's fortune is totally independent, and that Zara has but 
 a tithe of what her sister has." 
 
 " Still I say, as I said before," replied Digby, " that no- 
 thing of that kind can make any difference to me; nor will I 
 ever suffer any consideration, not affecting your daughter per- 
 sonally, *(and I beg this may be clearly understood,) to make 
 any change in my views. If I can win her love, her entire, 
 full, hearty love, with your sanction, she is mine. Have I 
 that sanction, Sir Robert?" 
 
 " Fully, and from my heart," replied Sir Robert Croyland, 
 with the unwonted tears coursing over his cheeks. "Go to 
 her, my dear friend ; go to her, and make what progress you 
 may, with my best wishes. This is, indeed, a great happi- 
 ness, a great relief." 
 
 Thus saying, he followed Sir Edward Digby out of the room, 
 and mounting a new horse which had been brought up from 
 his bailiff's, he rode slowly and thoughtfully away. As he 
 went, a faint hope, nay, it could hardly be called a hope, a 
 vague, wild fancy of explaining his whole situation to Sir 
 Edward Digby, and gaining the blessed relief of confidence 
 and counsel, arose in Sir Robert Croyland's breast. 
 
 Alas I what an unhappy state has been brought about by 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 379 
 
 the long accumulation of sin and deceit which has gathered 
 over human society; that no man can trust another fully; that 
 we dare not confide our inmost thoughts to any; that there 
 should be a fear, the necessity for a fear, of showing the un- 
 guarded heart to the near and dear; that every man should, 
 according to the most accursed axiom of a corrupt world, live 
 with his friend as if he were one day to be his enemy ! Oh ! 
 truth, and honour, and sincerity! Oh! true Christianity! 
 whither are ye gone? Timidity soon banished such thoughts 
 from the breast of Sir Robert Croyland, though there was 
 something in the whole demeanour of his daughter's lover 
 which showed him that, if ever man was to be trusted, he 
 might trust there; and had he known how deeply Digby was 
 already acquainted with much that concerned him, he might, 
 perhaps, have gone one step farther, and told him all. As it 
 Avas, he rode on, and soon gave himself up to bitter thoughts 
 again. 
 
 In the mean time, Sir Edward Digby returned to Zara and 
 Mrs. Barbara in the drawing-room, with so well satisfied a 
 look, that it was evident to both, his conversation with Sir 
 Robert had not referred to any unpleasant subject, and had 
 not had any unpleasant result. He excited the elder lady's 
 surprise, however, and produced some slight agitation in the 
 younger, by taking Zara by the hand, and in good set terms of 
 almost formal courtesy, requesting a few minutes' private 
 audience. Her varying colour, and her hesitating look, showed 
 her lover that she apprehended something more unpleasant than 
 he had to say; and he whispered, as they went along towards 
 the library, u It is nothing; it is nothing but to tell you what 
 I have done, and to arrange our plan of campaign." 
 
 Zara looked up in his face with a glad smile, as if his words 
 took some terror from her heart; and as soon as he was in 
 the room, he let go her hand, and turned the key in such a 
 manner in the door, that the key-hole could not serve the pur- 
 pose of a prospective glass, even if it might that of an ear- 
 trumpet. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear Zara," he said, "if I take care to secure 
 our defences; otherwise, as your good aunt is perfectly certain 
 that I am about to fall on my knees, and make my declaration, 
 she might be seized with a desire to witness the scene, not at 
 all aware that it has been performed already. 13 ut not to say 
 
380 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 more," he continued, " on a subject on which you have kindly 
 and frankly set a lover's heart at rest, let me only tell you 
 that your father has fully sanctioned my suit, which I know, 
 after what you have said, will not be painful to you to 
 hear." 
 
 " I was sure he would/' answered Zara; "not that he en- 
 tered into any of my aunt's castles in the air, or that he di- 
 vined my schemes, Digby; but, doubtless, he wishes to see a 
 fortuneless girl well married, and would have been content 
 with a lover for her who might not have suited herself quite 
 so well. You see I deal frankly with you, Digby, still ; and 
 will do so both now and hereafter, if you do not check me." 
 
 " Never, never will I!" answered Sir Edward Digby; "it 
 was so you first commanded my esteem, even before my love ; 
 and so you will always keep it." 
 
 "Before your love?'' said Zara, in an unwontedly serious 
 tone; "your love is very young yet, Digby; and sometimes I 
 can hardly believe all this to be real. Will it last? or will it 
 vanish away like a dream, and leave me waking, alone and 
 sorrowful?'' 
 
 "And yours for me, Zara?" asked her lover; but then he 
 added quickly, "no, I will not put an unfair question: and 
 every question is unfair that is already answered in one's 
 own heart. Yours will, I trust, remain firm for me; so mine, 
 I know, will for you, because we have seen each other under 
 circumstances which have called forth the feelings, and dis- 
 played fully all the inmost thoughts which years of ordinary 
 intercourse might not develope. But now, dear Zara, let us 
 speak of our demeanour to each other. It will, perhaps, give 
 us greater advantage if you treat me, perhaps, as a favoured, 
 but not yet as an accepted lover. I will appear willingly as 
 your humble slave and follower, if you will, now and then, let 
 me know in private that I am something dearer; and by keep- 
 ing up the character with me, which has gained you your 
 uncle's commendation as a fair coquette, you may, perhaps, 
 reconcile Mrs. Barbara to many things, which her notions of 
 propriety might interfere with, if they were done as between 
 the betrothed." 
 
 "I fear I shall manage it but badly, Digby,'' she answered. 
 "It was very easy to play the coquette before, when no 
 deeper feelings were engaged, when I cared for no one, when 
 
THL SMUGGLER. 381 
 
 all were indifferent to me. It might be natural to me, then; 
 but I do not think I could play the coquette with the man I 
 loved. At all events, I should act the part but badly, and 
 should fancy he was always laughing at me in his heart, and 
 triumphing over poor Zara Croyland, when he knew right well 
 that he had the strings of the puppet in his hand. However, 
 I will do my best, if you wish it ; and I do believe, from know- 
 ing more of this house than you do, that your plan is a good 
 one. The airs I have given myself, and the freedom I have 
 taken, have been of service "both to myself and Edith; to her 
 in many ways, and to myself in keeping from me all serious 
 addresses from men I could not love. Yours is the first pro- 
 posal I have ever had, Digby; so do not let what my uncle 
 has said, make you believe that you have conquered a queen 
 of hearts, who has set all others at defiance.'' 
 
 "No gentleman was ever refused by a lady" answered 
 Digby, laying a strong emphasis on each noun-substantive. 
 
 "So, then, you were quite sure before you said a word!" 
 cried Zara, laughing. " Well, that is as frank a confession 
 as any of my own ! And yet you might have been mistaken ; 
 for esteeming you as I did, and circumstanced as I was, I 
 would have trusted you as much, Digby, if you had been 
 merely a friend." 
 
 " IJut you would not have shown me the deeper feelings 
 of your heart upon other indifferent subjects," replied her 
 lover. 
 
 Zara blushed and looked down; then suddenly changed the 
 course of the conversation, saying, " But you have not told 
 me what Lay ton thought of all this, and what plans you have 
 formed. What is to be done? Was he not deeply grieved 
 and shocked?" 
 
 Sir Edward Digby told her all that had passed, and then 
 added, " I intend now to send out my servant, Somers, to re- 
 connoitre. He shall way-lay Layton on his return, and bring 
 me news of his succsss. If this youth be safely lodged in 
 gaol, his pretensions are at an end, at least for the present; 
 but if he again escape; I think, ere noon to-morrow, I must 
 interfere myself. I have now a better right to do so than I 
 have hitherto had ; and what I have heard from other quarters 
 will enable me to speak boldly, even to your father, dear one, 
 without committing cither you or Edith." 
 
382 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 Zara paused and thought ; but all was still dark on every 
 side, and she could extract no ray of light from the gloom. 
 Digby did not fail (as how could a lover neglect?) to try to 
 lead her mind to pleasanter themes; and he did so in some 
 degree. But we have been too long eaves- dropping upon pri- 
 vate intercourse, and we will do so no more. The rest of the 
 day passed iii that mingled light and shade, which has a finer 
 interest than the mere broad sunshine, till the return of Sir 
 Robert Groyland, when the deep sadness that overspread his 
 countenance clouded the happiness of all the rest. 
 
 Shortly after, Zara saw her lover's servant ride up the 
 road, at considerable speed ; and as it wanted but half an hour 
 to dinner-time, Digby, who marked his coming also, retired to 
 dress. When he returned to the drawing-room, there was a 
 deeper and a sterner gloom upon his brow than the fair girl 
 had ever seen; but her father and aunt were both present, 
 and no explanation could take place. After dinner, too, Sir 
 Robert Croyland and his guest returned to the drawing-room 
 together; and though the cloud was still upon Digby 's coun- 
 teii^^e, and he was graver than he had ever before appeared, 
 yet she whom he loved could gain no tidings. To her he was 
 still all tenderness and attention; but Zara could not play the 
 part, she had undertaken; and often her eyes rested on his 
 face, with a mute, sad questioning, which made her aunt say 
 to herself, " Well, Zara is in love at last I" 
 
 Thus passed a couple of hours, during which not above ten 
 words were uttered by Sir Robert Croyland. At length, lights 
 were brought in, after they had been for some time necessary; 
 and at the end of about ten minutes more, the sound of several 
 horses coming at a quick pace was heard. The feet stopped 
 at the great door, the bell rang, and voices sounded in the 
 hall. The tones of one, deep, clear and mellow, made both 
 Zara and her father start ; and in a minute after, the butler 
 entered (he was an old servant) saying, in a somewhat em- 
 barrassed manner, " Colonel Sir Henry Lay ton, sir, wishes to 
 speak with you on business of importance.'' 
 
 "Who, who? 5 ' demanded Sir Robert, " Sir Henry Laytonl 
 Well, well, take him in some where I'' 
 
 He rose from his chair, but staggered perceptibly for a mo- 
 ment; then, overcoming the emotion that he could not but 
 feel, he steadied himself by the arm of his chair, and left the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 383 
 
 room. Zara gazed at Digby, and he at her he loved ; but this 
 night Mrs. Barbara thought fit to sit where she was; and 
 Digby, approaching Zara's seat, bent over her, whispering, 
 4 ' Lay ton has a terrible tale to tell; but not affecting Edith. 
 She is safe. What more he seeks, I do not know." 
 
384 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AFTER parting with Sir Edward Digby at Woodchurch, Henry 
 Layton had ridden on at a quick pace to Park-gate, and thence 
 along the high road, to Cranbrook. He himself was habited 
 in the undress of his regiment, though with pistols at his 
 saddle, and a heavy sword by his side. One of his servants 
 followed him similarly accoutred, and an orderly accompanied 
 the servant, while by the young officer's side appeared our 
 good friend Mr. Mowle, heavily armed, with the somewhat 
 anomalous equipments of a riding officer of customs in those 
 days. At a little distance behind this first group, came Cornet 
 Joyce, and his party of dragoons; and in this order they all 
 passed through Cranbrook, about nine o'clock; but a quarter 
 of a mile beyond the little town they halted, and Mowle rode 
 on for a short way alone, to the edge of Hangley Wood, 
 which was now close before them. There he dismounted, and 
 went in amongst the trees ; but he was not long absent, for in 
 less than five minutes he was by the colonel's side again. 
 "All's right, sir,'' he said, "the boy assures me that they 
 were all there still, at six this morning, and that their captain, 
 Radford, does not move till after dark, to-night. So now we 
 shall have the worst fellows amongst them: the two Ramleys 
 and all." 
 
 " Well then," answered Layton, "you had better go on at 
 once with the party, keeping through the wood. I %-ill remain 
 behind, coming on slowly ; and if wanted, you will fmd me some- 
 where in the Hanger. Cornet Joyce has his orders in regard 
 to surrounding the house ; but of course he must act according 
 to circumstances." 
 
 No more words were needed : the party of dragoons moved 
 on rapidly, with Mowle at their head; and Layton, after paus- 
 ing for a few minutes on the road, dismounted, and giving his 
 rein to the servant, walked slowly on into the wood, telling 
 the two men who accompanied him to follow. There was, at 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 385 
 
 that time, as there is now, I believe, a broad road through 
 Hangley Wood, leading into the cross-road from Biddenden to 
 Goudhurst; but at that period, instead of being tolerably 
 straight and good, it was very tortuous, rough, and uneven. 
 Along this forest path, for so it might be called, the dragoons 
 had taken their way, at a quick trot; and by it their young 
 colonel followed, with his arms crossed upon his chest, and his 
 head bent down, in deep and anxious meditation. The dis- 
 tance across the wood at that part is nearly a mile; and when 
 he had reached the other side, Lay ton turned upon his steps 
 again, passed his servant and the orderly, and walked slowly 
 on the road back to Cranbrook. The two men went to the 
 extreme verge of the wood, and looked out towards Iden 
 Green for a minute or two before they followed their officer, 
 so that in the turnings of tlie road, they were out of sight by 
 the time he had gone a quarter of a mile. 
 
 Layton's thoughts were busy, as may be well supposed; 
 but at length they were suddenly interrupted by loud, repeated, 
 and piercing shrieks, apparently proceeding from a spot at 
 some distance before him. Darting on, with a single glance 
 behind, and a loud shout to call the men up, he rushed forward 
 along the road, and the next instant beheld a sight which 
 made his blood boil with indignation. At first, he merely 
 perceived a girl, struggling in the hands of some five or six 
 ruffians, who were maltreating her in the most brutal manner; 
 but in another instant, as, drawing his sword, he rushed for- 
 ward, he recognised for it can scarely be said, he saw poor 
 Kate Clare. With another loud shout to his men to come up, 
 he darted on without pause or hesitation; but his approach 
 was observed ; the ruffians withdrew from around their victim, 
 and one of them exclaimed, "Run, run! the dragoons are 
 coming 1" 
 
 "D me! give her a shot before you go," cried another, 
 " or she'll peach." 
 
 "Let her," cried young Radford; "but here goes;" and 
 turning as he hurried away, he deliberately fired a pistol at the 
 unhappy girl, who was starting up wildly from the ground. 
 She instantly reeled and fell, some seconds before Layton 
 could reach her, for she was still at the distance of a hundred 
 yards. 
 
 All this had taken place in an inconceivably short space of 
 B B 
 
386 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 time ; but the next minute the panic with which the villains 
 had been seized subsided a little. One turned to look back, 
 another turned; they beheld but one man on the road; and 
 all the party were pausing, when Lay ton reached poor Kate 
 Clare, and raised her in his arms. It might have fared ill with 
 him had he been alone; but just at that moment the orderly 
 appeared at the turn, coming up at the gallop, with the young 
 officer's servant behind him; and not doubting that a large 
 party was following, Radford and his companions fled as fast 
 as they could. 
 
 " On after them, like lightning!" cried Layton, as the men 
 came up. "Leave the horse, leave the horse, and away! 
 Watch them wherever they go, especially the man in the green 
 coat! Take him if you can: shoot him dead if he resist. Ah! 
 my poor girl," he cried, with the tears rising in his eyes, "this 
 is sad, indeed! Where has he wounded you?" 
 
 " There," said Kate, faintly taking away her hand, which 
 was pressed' upon her right side ; " but that was his kindest 
 act. Thank God, I am dying!" 
 
 "Nay, nay," answered Leyton, "I trust not!" But the 
 blood poured rapidly out, staining all her dress, which was torn 
 and in wild disorder, and so rapidly did it flow that Layton 
 clearly saw her words would probably prove too true. Who 
 was that villain?" he cried; "I will punish him if there be 
 justice on earth!" 
 
 " Don't you know him?" said Kate, her voice growing more 
 and more low. " I thought you were seeking him: Richard 
 Radford." 
 
 " The atrocious scoundrel!" said Layton; and drawing his 
 handkerchief from his breast, he tied it tightly over her side, 
 trying, though he saw it was nearly in vain, to staunch the 
 blood, while at the same time he supported her against his 
 knee, with one arm thrown round her waist. Poor Kate 
 closed her eyes with a faint shudder, and for a moment Lay- 
 ton thought she was dead. She appeared to bo reviving again, 
 however, when a loud voice, not far distant, exclaimed, "Ha! 
 halloo! What the devil is this?" 
 
 Layton looked suddenly up, for his eyes had been bent on 
 the poor girl's face for several minutes, and then beheld, hur- 
 rying up the road with a look of fury in his countenance, 
 Kate's promised husband, Harding. With a violent oath the 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 387 
 
 man rushed on, exclaiming, "Kate, what is all this? Villain, 
 have you misused the girl?" 
 
 " Hush, hush!" cried Layton, with a stern gesture of his 
 hand; "she is dying! I would have saved her if I could; 
 but, alas! I came too late." 
 
 The whole expression of Harding 's countenance changed in 
 an instant. Grief and terror succeeded to rage; and, catching 
 her frantically in his arms, he exclaimed, " Kate, Kate, speak 
 to me! Tell me, who has done this?" 
 
 " I can tell you," answered Layton: " Richard Radford." 
 
 While he was speaking, Kate Clare opened her eyes again, 
 and gazed on Harding's face, moving her hand faintly round 
 and placing it upon his. 
 
 " Give me that handkerchief from your neck," said Layton; 
 i - if we can stop the blood, we may save her yet. I have seen 
 very bad wounds recovered from " 
 
 " No, no!" said Kate Clare; " thank God, I am dying; I 
 would rather diel Harding, I am not in fault: they caught 
 me in the wood. Oh! they treated me horribly. Mr. Rad- 
 ford said it was revenge. God forgive him! God forgive 
 him ! But I would rather die thus in your arms. Do not 
 try to stop it; it is all in vain." 
 
 Layton and Harding still persisted, however, and bound 
 another handkerchief tight over the wound, in some degree 
 diminishing the stream of blood, but yet not stopping it 
 entirely. 
 
 "Let us carry her to some house/' cried Layton, "and then 
 send for assistance. See! her lips are not so pale." 
 
 " I will carry her," cried Harding, raising her in his power- 
 ful arms. 
 
 "To my aunt's, then; to my aunt's, Harding," muttered 
 Kate; "I would sooner die there than in any other place." 
 And on Harding sped without reply, while Layton, sheathing 
 his sword, which he had cast down, followed him, inquiring, 
 "Is it far?" 
 
 " But a step, sir," answered the smuggler. " Pray, come 
 with us. This must be avenged." 
 
 "It shall," replied Layton, sternly; "but I must stay here 
 for a minute or two, till you can send somebody to me to take 
 my place, and let my men know where I am when they 
 return." 
 
388 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Harding nodded his head, and then turned his eyes upon 
 the face of the poor girl whom he bore in his arms, hurrying 
 on without a moment's pause, till he was lost to the young 
 officer's sight. 
 
 It is needless to describe the feelings of a high-minded and 
 noble man like Layton, when left alone to meditate over the 
 horrible outrage which had been committed under his very 
 eyes. He gave way to no burst of indignation, indeed, but 
 with a frowning brow walked back upon the road, caught his 
 horse without difficulty, and mounting, remained fixed near 
 the spot where poor Kate had received her death-wound, like 
 a soldier upon guard. In less than ten minutes, a lad ran up, 
 saying, " Mr. Harding sent me, sir." 
 
 "Well, then, walk up and down here, my good boy," 
 replied Layton, " till some one comes to inquire for me. If it 
 should be a servant, or a single soldier, send, him down to the 
 place which you came from, and wait where you are till a 
 larger party of dragoons come up, when you must tell them 
 the same, to go down to me there. If the party come first, 
 wait for the servant and the soldier." 
 
 Having given these directions, he was turning away, but 
 paused again to inquire his way to the place where Harding 
 was; and then, pointing to a bundle that lay upon the road, 
 he said, "You had better bring that with you." 
 
 Following the boy's direction, as soon as he issued out of 
 the wood, Sir Henry Layton turned through a little field to 
 the left, and seeing a small farm-house at some distance before 
 him, he leaped his horse over two fences to abridge the way. 
 Then riding into the farm-yard, he sprang to the ground, 
 looking round for some one to take his charger. Several men 
 of different ages were running about with eagerness and haste 
 in their faces. Horses were being led forth from the stable ; 
 guns were in the hands of several; and one of them, a fine $ 
 tall, powerful young fellow, exclaimed, as soon as he saw 
 Layton, " We will catch them, sir; we will catch them; and, 
 
 by , they shall be hanged as high as Haman for hurting 
 
 the poor dear girl. Here, take his honour's horse, Bill." 
 
 " Is she still living?" asked Layton. 
 
 " Oh dear, yes, sir!" cried the young man; "she seemed 
 somewhat better for what mother gave her." 
 
 " Well, then," rejoined the young officer, " if you are going 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 389 
 
 to search for these scoundrels, gallop up to the wood as fast as 
 you can ; you will find my servant and a trooper watching. 
 They will give you information of which way the villains are 
 gone. I will join you in a minute or two with a stronger 
 force." 
 
 " Oh, sir, we shall do! we shall do," cried William Harris; 
 " we will raise the whole county as we go, and will hunt them 
 down like foxes. Do they think that our sisters and our wives 
 are to be ill-used and murdered by such scum as they are?" 
 and at the same time he sprang upon his horse's back. Layton 
 turned towards the house, but met the old farmer himself 
 coming out with a great cavalry sword in his hand, and the 
 butt end of a pistol sticking out of each pocket. " Quick, quick I 
 to your horses!" he cried, "they shall rue the day, they shall 
 rue the day! Ah! sir, go in," he continued, seeing Layton; 
 " she is telling my wife and Harding all about it; but I can't 
 stop to hear. I will have that young Radford's blood, if I have 
 a soul to be saved!" 
 
 " Better take him alive, and hand him over to justice," said 
 Layton, going into the house. 
 
 " D n him, I'll kill him like a dog!" cried the farmer; 
 and mounting somewhat less nimbly than his son, he put him- 
 self at the head of the whole party assembled, and rode fast 
 away towards Hangley Wood. 
 
 In the mean time Layton entered the kitchen of the farm ; 
 but it was quite vacant. Voices, however, were heard speak- 
 ing above, and he ventured to go up and enter the room. 
 Three or four women were assembled there round good Mrs. 
 Harris's own bed, on which poor Kate Clare was stretched, 
 with Harding on his knees beside her, and her hand in his, 
 the hot tears of man's bitterest agony, coursing each other 
 down his bronzed and weather-beaten cheek. 
 
 "There, there!" said Mrs. Harris; "don't take on so, 
 Harding, you only keep down her spirits. She might do very 
 well, if she would but take heart. You see she is better for 
 the cordial stuff I gave her." 
 
 Harding made no reply; but Kate Clare faintly shook her 
 head; and Layton, after having gazed on the sad scene for a 
 moment, with bitter grief and indignation in his heart, drew 
 back, thinking that his presence would only be a restraint to 
 Kate's family and friends. He made a sign, however, to one 
 
390 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 of tho women before he went, who followed him out of the 
 room. 
 
 " I merely wish to tell you," he said, in a low voice, when 
 the woman joined him at the top of the stairs, " that I am 
 going back to the wood, to aid in the pursuit of these villains; 
 for I can be of no use here, and may be there. If any of my 
 people come, tell them where to find me; bid them follow me 
 instantly, and stop every man on foot they see quitting the 
 wood, till he gives an account of himself. But had you not 
 better send for a surgeon ?" 
 
 44 One is sent for, sir," replied the woman; "but I think 
 she is not so bad as she was. I'll take care and tell your 
 people. I do hope they will catch them, for this is too bad." 
 
 Without more words Layton went down, remounted his 
 horse, and galloped back towards the edge of the wood. The 
 news of what had happened, however, seemed to have spread 
 over the country with the speed of lightning; for he saw four 
 or five of the peasantry mounted on horseback, already riding 
 in the same direction across the fields. Two stout farmers 
 joined him as he went, and both were already fall of the story 
 of poor Kate Clare. Rage and indignation were universal 
 amongst the people; but as usual on such occasions, one pro- 
 posed one plan, and another the other, so that by want of 
 combination in their operations, all their resolution and eager- 
 ness were likely to be fruitlessly employed. 
 
 Layton knew that it was of little use to argue on such points 
 with undisciplined men ; and his only trust was in the speedy 
 arrival of the soldiers from Iden Green. When he reached 
 the edge of the wood, however, with his two companions, they 
 came upon farmer Harris's party, now swelled to twelve or 
 thirteen men ; and at the same moment his own servant rode 
 round, exclaiming, as soon as he saw his master, " They are 
 still in the wood, sir, if they have not come out this way. 
 They dispersed so that we could not follow them on horse- 
 back, and we galloped out by different ways to watch." 
 
 " They haven't come here," cried farmer Harris, " or we 
 should have seen them. So now we have them safe enough." 
 
 "Ride off towards Iden Green," said Layton to the servant, 
 "and direct Cornet Joyce to bring down his men at the gallop 
 to the edge of the copse. Let him dismount twelve on the 
 north side of the wood, and, with all the farm -servants and 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 391 
 
 country people he can collect, sweep it down, while the rest of 
 the mounted men advance, on a line, on either side. Stay, 
 I will write;'' arid tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book, he 
 put down his orders in pencil. 
 
 The man had just galloped away, when the young farmer, 
 William Harris, shouted, "There they go, there they go I 
 After them! after them! Tally hoi" and instantly set spurs 
 to his horse. All the rest but Layton followed at full speed; 
 but he paused, and, directing his eyes along the edge of the 
 wood, clearly saw, at the distance of somewhat more than 
 half a mile, three men, who seemed to have issued forth from 
 amongst the trees, running across the fields as fast as they 
 could go. It would seem that they had not been aware of the 
 numbers collected to intercept them, till they had advanced 
 too far to retreat ; but they had got a good start ; the country 
 was difficult for any but well- trained horses; and darting on, 
 they took their way towards Goudhurst, passing within a 
 hundred yards of the spot where the victim of their horrid 
 barbarity lay upon the bed of death. 
 
 Taking the narrow paths, leaping the stiles and gates, they 
 at first seemed to gain upon the mass of peasantry who fol- 
 lowed them, though their pursuers were on horseback and they 
 on foot. But, well knowing the country, the farmers spread 
 out along the small bridle-roads ; and, while the better 
 mounted horsemen followed direct across the fields, the others 
 prepared to cut off the ruffians on the right and left. Gra- 
 dually a semicircle, enclosing them within its horns, was thus 
 formed ; and all chance of escape by flight was thus cut off. 
 
 In this dilemma the three miscreants made straight towards 
 a farm-house at which they occasionally received hospitality 
 in their lawless expeditions, and which bears the name of 
 "Smuggler Farm" to this day; but they knew not that all 
 hearts had been raised against them by their late atrocities, 
 and that the very tenant of the farm himself was now one of 
 the foremost in pursuit. Rushing in, then, with no farther 
 ceremony than casting the door open, they locked and barred 
 it, just as some of the peasantry were closing in upon them; 
 and then, hurrying to the kitchen, where the farmer's wife, 
 his sister, and a servant was collected, Ned Ramley, who was 
 the first, exclaimed, "Have you no hide, good dame?" 
 
 "Hide!'' replied the stout farmer's wife, eyeing him ask- 
 
392 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 ance ; "not for sucli villains as you! Give me the spit, 
 Madge; I've a great mind to run him through." Ned Ramley 
 drew a pistol from his pocket ; but at that moment the window 
 was thrown up, the back door of the house was cast open, and 
 half-a-dozen of the stout yeomanry rushed in. The smugglers 
 saw that resistance would be vain ; but still they resisted ; and 
 though, in the agitation of the moment, Ned Ramley's pistol 
 was discharged innocuously, he did not fail to aim it at the 
 head of young William Harris, who was springing towards 
 him. The stout farmer, however, instantly levelled him with 
 the ground by a thundering blow upon the head; and the 
 other two men, after a desperate struggle, were likewise taken 
 and tied. 
 
 " Lucky for you it was me, and not my father, Master 
 Kamley," said William Harris. "He'd have blown your 
 brains out; but you're only saved to be hanged, anyhow. 
 Ay, here he comes I Stop, stop, old gentleman ! he's a pri- 
 soner; don't you touch him. Let the law have the job, as 
 the gentleman said." 
 
 "Oh, you accursed villain! oh, you hellish scoundrel 1" 
 cried old Harris, kept back with difficulty by his son and the 
 rest. " You were one of the foremost of them. But where 
 is the greatest villain of them all? Where's that limb of the 
 devil, young Eadford? I will have himl Let me go, Will; 
 I will have him, I say!" 
 
 Ned Ramley laughed aloud: "You won't, though," he 
 answered, bitterly; "he's been gone this half hour, and will 
 be at the sea, and over the sea, before you can catch him. 
 You, may do with me what you like, btt^ he's safe enough." 
 
 " Some one ride off and tell the officer Vhat he says!" cried 
 the farmer. But when the intelligence was conveyed to Sir 
 Henry Layton, he was already aware that some of the men 
 must have made their escape unobserved; for his servant had 
 met Cornet Joyce and the party of dragoons by the way, and 
 with the aid of a number of farm servants from Iden Green 
 and its neighbourhood, the wood had been searched with such 
 strictness, that the pheasants, which were at that time nume- 
 rous there, had flown out in clouds, as if a battue had been 
 going on. He mistrusted Ned Ramley's information, how- 
 ever; knowing that the hardened villain would find a sort of 
 pride in misleading the pursuers of young Radford, even 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 393 
 
 though taken himself. Hiding quickly across to the farm, 
 then, together with Mowle and the cornet, he interrogated 
 the men separately, but found they were all in the same story, 
 from which they varied not in the least ; that Richard Rad- 
 ford had crept out by the hedges near the wood, and had gone 
 first to a place where a horse was in waiting for him, and 
 thence would make straight to the sea-side, where a boat was 
 already prepared. Instant measures to prevent him from 
 executing this plan now became necessary ; and Layton 
 directed the cornet to hasten away as fast as possible in 
 pursuit, sending information from Woodchurch to every point 
 of the coast where the offender was likely to pass, spreading 
 out his men so as to cover all the roads to the sea, and only 
 leaving at the farm a sufficient guard to secure the prisoners. 
 
 On hearing the latter part of this order, however, farmer 
 Harris exclaimed, "No, no, sir; no need of that. We've 
 taken them, and we'll keep them safe enough. I'll see these 
 fellows into prison myself; ay, and hanged too, please God! 
 and we'll guard them sure, don't you be afraid." 
 
 Layton looked to Mowle, saying, " I must abide by your 
 decision, Mr. Mowle." But the officer answered, " Oh 1 you 
 you may trust them, sir, quite safely, after all I hear has hap- 
 pened. But I think, Mr. Harris, you had better have just a 
 few men to help you. You've got no place to keep them 
 here ; and they must be taken before a magistrate first, before 
 they can be committed.'' 
 
 " Oh! we'll keep them safe enough," replied the farmer. 
 "We'll put them in Goudhurst church, till we can send them 
 off, and, in the mean time, I'll have them up before Squire 
 Broughton. My son's a constable, so they are in proper 
 hands." 
 
 " Very well," answered Layton; u in this case I have no 
 right to interfere; but, of course, you are responsible for their 
 safe custody." 
 
 "I say, Mowle," cried Ned Ramley, in his usual daring 
 manner, " bid them gave me something to drink, for I'm 
 devilish thirsty; and I'll give you some information, if you 
 will." 
 
 Mowle obtained some beer for him, and then demanded, 
 "Well, what is it, Ned?" 
 
 44 Why, only this," said Ned Ramley, after they had held 
 
394 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 the beer to his lips, and he had taken a deep draught, "you 
 will have your brains blown out, before ten days are over." 
 
 "I am not afraid," replied Mowle, laughing. 
 
 " That's right," answered Ned Ramley. " But it will hap- 
 pen; for fifty of us have sworn it. We have had our revenge 
 of your spy, Harding ; and we have only you to settle with 
 now." 
 
 "Harding I" cried Mowle. "He's no spy of mine. It 
 was not he that peached, you young scoundrel; it was one of 
 those whom you trusted more than him.'* 
 
 "Ah! well," answered Ned Kamley, indifferently; "then 
 he'll have a sore heart to-night that he didn't work for. 
 But you'll have your turn yet, Mr. Mowle, so look that you make 
 good use of your brains, for they won't be long in your skull." 
 
 "You are a hardened villain,'' said Sir Henry Layton. 
 " You had better march them off as fast as you can, my good 
 friends; take them before a magistrate; and above all things, 
 get them to prison ere nightfall, or we may have another 
 rescue." 
 
 "No fear; no fear!" answered farmer Harris. " To rescue 
 a smuggler is one thing. I never liked to see them taken my- 
 self; but bloodthirsty villains like these, that would ill use a 
 poor, dear, good girl, and murder her in cold blood, why there 
 is not a man in the county would not help to hang them. But 
 I wish, sir, you would go yourself, and see and stop that 
 other great villain. If he isn't hanged too, I don't think I 
 shall ever rest in my bed again." 
 
 " I will do my best, depend upon it,'' replied Layton; "but 
 I must first, Mr. Harris, go to your house, and see the state 
 of that poor girl. I have known her since she was a child, 
 and feel for her almost as if she were a sister." 
 
 "Thank you, sir; thank you!" cried old Harris, shaking 
 him by the hand. " There, boys,'' he continued, dashing 
 away the tears from his eyes; "make a guard, and take 
 these blackguards off in the middle of you. We'll have 
 them up to Squire Broughton's at once; and then I must go 
 back, too." 
 
 On his way to the farm, Layton desired Mowle to return to 
 Woodchurch, and to wait for him there, taking every step 
 that he might think necessary, with the aid of Captain Irby. 
 "I will not be long,'' he added. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 395 
 
 "Pray don't, sir," rejoined Mowle; "for we Lave oilier 
 business to do to-night;" and, sinking his voice to a whisper, 
 he added, " I've got the information I wanted, sir. A part of 
 the goods are certainly at Iladford Hall, and if we can seize 
 them there, that, with the deposition of the men at Wood- 
 church, will bring him in for the whole offence." 
 
 "I shall, very likely, overtake you by the way," replied 
 Lay ton. " But, at all events, I shall be there before four." 
 
 Most such calculations are vain, however. Layton turned 
 aside to the Harris's farm, where he found poor Kate Clare 
 sinking rapidly. The curate of the parish had been sent for, 
 and, by his advice, Mr. Broughton, the magistrate, who had 
 entered the house but two or three minutes before Layton him- 
 self. Though her voice now scarcely rose above a whisper, she 
 made her dying declaration with clearness and accuracy. It 
 is not necessary here to give any of the details; but, as she 
 concluded, she turned her faint and swimming eyes towards 
 Layton, saying, "That gentleman, who has always been such 
 a good friend to me and mine, can tell you more, sir, for he 
 came up to my help, just as they shot me." 
 
 The magistrate raised his eyes, and inquired, in a low tone, 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " Sir Henry Layton," replied the poor girl, loud enough for 
 that officer to hear; and thinking that she asked for him, he 
 approached nearer, and stood by Harding' s side. Kate raised 
 her hand a little from the bedclothes, as if she would have 
 given it to him, and he took it kindly in his, speaking words 
 of comfort. 
 
 "Thank you, sir; thank you, for all your kindness," said 
 Kate. "I am glad you have come, that I 'may wish you good- 
 bye, and ask you to be kind to poor Harding, too. It will 
 soon be over now; and you had better all leave me. Not 
 you, Harding, not you. You must close my eyes, as my poor 
 mother is not here." 
 
 A groan burst from the stout seaman's breast; and giving 
 way to all his feelings, he sobbed like a child. According to 
 her desire, Layton and Mr. Broughton retired from the room; 
 and the young officer informed the magistrate, that the pri- 
 soners who had been taken were waiting for examination at 
 his house. 
 
 " We shall want your evidence, Sir Henry," said the ma- 
 
396 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 gistrate. " It is absolutely necessary, if, as I understand, yon 
 were eye-witness to the murder." 
 
 Leyton saw the propriety of the magistrate's demand, and 
 he yielded immediately. But the investigation was prolonged 
 by several circumstances; and, what between the time that it 
 took up, and that which had been previously spent in the pur- 
 suit of the murderers, it was past three o'clock before Layton 
 mounted his horse at Mr. Broughton's door. He paused for 
 an instant at the gate of the Harris's farm-yard, where a girl 
 was standing with tears in her eyes ; but before he could ask 
 any question, she replied to that which was rising to his lips. 
 " She is gone, sir," said the girl; "she is gone. She did not 
 last half an hour after you were here." 
 
 With a sad heart, Leyton rode on, passing at a quick pace 
 through Harbourne Wood, and not trusting himself to stop at 
 Mrs. Clare's cottage. The windows, however, were closed; 
 and the young officer concluded from that circumstance, that 
 the tidings of her daughter's fate must by this time have 
 reached the childless widow. Not far beyond her gate, he was 
 met by Sir Edward Digby's servant; but eager to arrive at 
 Woodchurch, Layton did not stop to speak with him, and 
 Somers, turning his horse with the orderly and his old compa- 
 nion, Lay ton's servant, gleaned what information he could from 
 them as he went. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the speed he could use, however, it was 
 half-past four before Layton reached Woodchurch; and, on 
 inquiring for Mr. Warde, he found that gentleman had called, 
 but gone away again, saying he would return in an hour. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 397 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 SUCH as we have described in the last chapter, were the fatal 
 events to which Sir Edward Digby had alluded in the few 
 words he had spoken to Zara Croyland; and it may be need- 
 less to explain to the reader, that he had learned the tale from 
 his servant just before he came down to dinner. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland, as we have shown, after some agita- 
 tion and hesitation, quitted the drawing-room to meet the 
 first time for many years the son of a man, whom, at the 
 instigation of others, he had cruelly persecuted. He paused 
 as soon as he got into the passage, however, to summon cou- 
 rage, and to make up his mind as to the demeanour which he 
 should assume, always a vain and fruitless task; for seldom, 
 if ever, do circumstances allow any man to maintain the as- 
 pect which he has predetermined to affect. Sir R/obert Croy- 
 land resolved to be cold, stately, and repulsive; to treat Sir 
 Henry Layton as a perfect stranger, and if he alluded to their 
 former intimacy, to cut the conversation short by telling him 
 that, as all the feelings of those days were at an end, he did 
 not wish to revive their memory in any shape. He did not 
 calculate, indeed, upon the peculiar state of Layton's mind, at 
 the moment, nay, nor even upon the effect of his former fa- 
 vourite's personal appearance upon himself; and when he 
 entered the library and saw the tall, powerful, dignified-look- 
 ing man, the pale, thoughtful, stern countenance, and the 
 haughty air, he felt all his predeterminations vain. 
 
 Layton, on his part, had done the same as Sir Robert Croy- 
 land, and in setting out from Woodchurch had made up his 
 mind to see in the man he went to visit, nothing but Edith's 
 father, to treat him kindly, gently, and with compassion for 
 his weakness, rather than anger at his faults; but as he rode 
 along, and conversed with one who accompanied him thither, 
 the memory of much that Sir Robert Croyland had done in 
 
398 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 former days, came painfully back upon him, and combining 
 with his treatment of Edith, raised up bitter and indignant 
 feelings that he could have wished to quell. The scenes which 
 he had passed through that day, too, had given a tone of 
 sternness to his mind which was not usual; and the few 
 minutes he had waited in the library, when every moment 
 seemed of value, added impatience to his other sensations. 
 
 The baronet entered as firmly as he could, bowing his head 
 and motioning coldly to a chair. But Layton did not sit down, 
 gazing for an instant on the countenance of Sir Robert, struck 
 and astonished by the change that he beheld. That steadfast 
 gaze was painful to its object, and sank his spirit still farther, 
 but Layton, the moment after, began to speak, and the well- 
 known tones of his clear, mellow voice, awakened the recol- 
 lection of the days when, they were once pleasant to hear. 
 
 " Sir Robert Croyland," he said, " I have come to you on 
 business of importance, in which it is necessary for you to act 
 immediately in your magisterial capacity." 
 
 "I have no clerk with me, sir," answered the baronet, in a 
 hesitating manner; "at this late hour, it is not usual, except 
 under circumstances " 
 
 " The circumstances admit of no delay, Sir Robert Croy- 
 land," replied Layton. "As the nearest magistrate, I have 
 applied to you in the first instance, and have done so for many 
 other reasons besides your being the nearest magistrate." 
 
 "Well, sir, what is your application?" demanded Edith's 
 father. " I wish, indeed, you had applied to somebody else 
 at this time of night; but I will do my duty: oh, yes, I will 
 do my duty I" 
 
 " That is all that is required, sir," answered the young 
 officer. " My application is for a warrant to search the house 
 of one Richard Radford, and I have to tender you, on oath, 
 information that customable goods, which have been introduced 
 without the payment of duty, are concealed on his premises. 
 One moment more, if you please ; I have also to apply to you, 
 upon similar evidence, for a warrant to search his house for 
 his son, Richard Radford, charged with murder; and, in the 
 end, if you would allow me to advise you, you would instantly 
 mount your horse, and superintend the search yourself." 
 
 There was a marked and peculiar emphasis on the last few 
 words which Sir Robert Croyland did not understand. The 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 399 
 
 manner was not agreeable to him, but it was scarcely, perhaps, 
 to be expected that it should be; for there had been nothing 
 in his own to invite that kindly candour which opens heart to 
 heart. All that had of late years passed between him and Sir 
 Henry Lay ton, had been of a repulsive kind. For one youth- 
 ful error, he had not only repelled and shut his house against 
 the son, but he had persecuted, ruined, and destroyed the 
 father, who had no part in that fault. Every reason, too, 
 which he had given, every motive he had assigned, for his 
 anger at Henry Layton's pretensions to Edith's hand, he had 
 set at nought, or forgotten, in the case of him whom he had 
 chosen for her husband. Even now, althoug-h his manner was 
 wavering and timid, it was cold and harsh ; and it was a hard 
 thing for Henry Layton to assume the tone of kindness towards 
 Sir Robert Groyland, or to soften his demeanour towards him, 
 with all the busy memories of the past and the feelings of the 
 present thronging upon him, on his first return to the house 
 where he had spent many happy days in youth. I am paint- 
 ing a man, and nothing more ; and he could not, and did not, 
 overcome the sensations of human nature. 
 
 His words did not please Sir Eobert Croyland, but they 
 somewhat alarmed him. Everything that was vague in his 
 present situation, did produce fear; but after a moment's 
 thought, he replied, coldly, " Oh dear no, sir! I do not see 
 that it is at all necessary I should go myself. I really think 
 the application altogether extraordinary, seeing that it comes 
 from, I am led to imagine, the lieutenant-colonel, commanding 
 the regiment of dragoons, quartered in this district, who 
 has no primary power, or authority, or even duty in such 
 affairs; but can only act as required by the officers of customs, 
 to whom he is so far subordinate. But still I am ready to re- 
 ceive the informations tendered, and then shall decide in regard 
 to my own conduct, as the case may require." 
 
 " You are wrong in all respects, but one, Sir Robert Croy- 
 land," answered Layton, at once; "I am empowered to act 
 very differently from any officer who has been in command 
 here before me. If my powers are beyond that which the law 
 authorizes, those who gave them are responsible to their coun- 
 try ; but, for an extraordinary case, extraordinary means are 
 requisite ; and as I require of you nothing but what the law 
 
 uires, I shall not pause to argue, whether I am exactly the 
 
 req 
 
400 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 proper person to make the application. It might easily be 
 made by another, who is without; but I have reasons for 
 what I am doing, and reasons, believe me," he added, after 
 a moment's pause and reflection, " not unfriendly to Sir Robert 
 Croyland." 
 
 Again his words and manner were peculiar. Sir Robert 
 Croyland began to feel some apprehension lest he might push 
 his coldness too far. Bat he did not see how he could change 
 his tone; and he was proceeding with the same distant re- 
 serve, to repeat that he was ready to receive the information 
 in a formal manner, when Layton suddenly interrupted him, 
 after a severe struggle with himself. 
 
 " Sir Robert Croyland," he said, " let us speak as friends. 
 Let griefs and complaints on both sides be forgotten for the 
 moment; let us bury, for the time, seven years in oblivion. 
 Look upon me, if it be but for a few minutes, as the Henry 
 Layton you knew before anything arose to produce one ill 
 feeling between us; for, believe me, I come to you with kindly 
 sentiments. Your own fate hangs in the balance at this hour. 
 I would decide it favourably for you, if you would let me. 
 But, you must shake off doubt and timidity; you must act 
 boldly and decidedly, and all will be well." 
 
 " I do not understand what you mean, sir," cried Sir 
 Robert Croyland, astonished at his change of tone, and with- 
 out time to collect his ideas, and calculate the probabilities. 
 " My fate! How can you affect my fate?" 
 
 " More than you are aware," answered Layton; "even now 
 I affect your fate, by giving you the choice of at once pro- 
 ceeding in the line of your duty, against a bad man who has 
 overruled your better nature too long, by allowing you to con- 
 duct the search, which must be instituted either by yourself or 
 others. In one word, Sir Robert Croyland, I know all, and 
 would serve you, if you would let me." 
 
 u You know all!" exclaimed Edith's father, in a dull, 
 gloomy tone; "you know all! She has told you, then! That 
 explains it; that shows how she retracted her consent; how 
 she was willing to-day to sacrifice her father. You have seen 
 her ; you have taught her her part ! Yes, she has betrayed 
 her parent's confidence." 
 
 Layton could bear no more. Himself he could have heard 
 slandered calmly; but he could not hear such words of her he 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 401 
 
 loved. " It is false!" he said; "she did not betray your 
 confidence ! She told me no more than was needful to induce 
 me to release her from bonds she was too faithful and true to 
 break. From her I have heard nothing more, but from others 
 I have heard all; and now, Sir Eobert Croyland, you have 
 chosen your part, I have but to call in those who must lay the 
 required information. Our duty must be clone, whatever be 
 the consequences; and as you reject the only means of saving 
 yourself from much grief, though, I trust, not the danger you 
 apprehend, we must act without you;" and he rose and 
 walked towards the door. 
 
 "Stay, Lay ton; stay!" cried Sir Robert Croyland, catch- 
 ing him eagerly by the arm; "yet a moment; yet a moment. 
 You say you know all. Do you know all? all? everything?" 
 
 "All! everything!" answered Layton, firmly; "every 
 word that was spoken; every deed that was done; more than 
 you know yourself." 
 
 " Then, at least, you know I am innocent," said the old 
 man. 
 
 A calm but grave serenity took the place, on Sir Henry 
 Layton's countenance, of the impetuous look with which ho 
 had last spoken. " Innocent," he said " of intentional mur- 
 der; but not innocent of rash and unnecessary anger; and, 
 oh ! Sir Robert Croyland, if I must say it, most culpable in 
 the consequences which you have suffered to flow from one 
 hasty act. Mark me, and see the result! Your own dear 
 child, against your will, is in the hands of a man whom you 
 hate and abhor. You are anxious to make her the wife of a 
 being you condemn and despise! The child of the man that 
 your own hand slew, is now lying a corpse, murdered by him 
 to whom you would give your daughter! Your own life 
 is " 
 
 "What, Kate! Kate Clare!" exclaimed Sir Robert Croy- 
 land, with a sudden change coming over his countenance: 
 " murdered by Richard Radford!" 
 
 "By his hand, after the most brutal usage," replied 
 Layton. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland sprang to the bell and rang it vio- 
 lently, then threw open the door and called aloud: "My 
 horse! my horse! saddle my horse! If it cost me land and 
 living, life and honour, she shall be avenged!" he added, 
 C c 
 
402 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 turning to Layton, and raising his head erect, the first time 
 for many years. "It is over: the folly and the weakness and 
 crime are at an end. I have been bowed and broken, but 
 there is a spark of my former nature yet left. I vowed to 
 God in heaven that I would ever protect and be a father to 
 that child, as an atonement, as some some compensation, 
 however small, and I will keep my vow." 
 
 " Oh 1 Sir Kobert," cried Layton, taking his hand and 
 pressing it in his, " be ever thus, and how men will love and 
 venerate you!" 
 
 The barrier was broken down, the chain which had so long 
 bound him was cast away ; and Sir Robert returned Lay ton's 
 grasp with equal warmth. " Harry," he said, " I have done 
 you wrong; but I will do so no more. I was driven, I was 
 goaded along the road to all evil, like a beast driven to the 
 slaughter. But you have done wrong, too, young man ; yours 
 was the first offence." 
 
 " It was," answered Layton; " I own it, I did do wrong; 
 and I will make no excuse, though youth, and love as true as 
 ever man felt, might afford some. But let me assure you, 
 that I have been willing to make reparation; I have been will- 
 ing to sacrifice all the brightest hope of years to save you, 
 even now. I assured Edith that I would, when she told me 
 the little she could venture to tell; but it was her misery that 
 withheld me, it was the life-long wretchedness to which she 
 was doomed if I yielded, that made me resist. Nothing else 
 on earth should have stopped me; but now, Sir Robert, the 
 prospect is more clear for you." 
 
 " Nay, do not speak of that," replied Sir Robert Croyland ; 
 " I will think of it no more, I have now chosen my path; and 
 I will pursue it, without looking at the consequences to myself. 
 Let them come when they must come; for once in life, I will 
 do what is just and right." 
 
 "And by so doing, my dear sir, you will save yourself," 
 answered Layton. " Moved by revenge, with no doubt what- 
 soever of his motive, after a concealment of six years, this 
 base man's accusation will be utterly valueless. Your bare I 
 statement of the real circumstances will be enough to dissipate 
 every cloud. I shall require that all his papers be seized; and : 
 I have many just reasons for wishing that they should be in j 
 your hands," 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 403 
 
 " I understand you, Harry, and I thank you," said Sir 
 Robert Groyland; " but with my present feelings I would 
 not" 
 
 " You do not understand me fully, Sir Robert," replied 
 Lay ton. " I wish you only to act as you will find just, right, 
 and honourable, and wait for the result. It will be, or I am 
 much mistaken, more favourable to yon, personally, than you 
 imagine. Now, as you have decided on the true and upright 
 course, let us lose no time in carrying it into execution. I 
 will call in the men who have to lay the information; and 
 when you have received it, I will place before you depositions 
 which will justify the most vigorous measures against both 
 father and son. In regard to the latter, I must act under 
 your authority in my military capacity, as I have no civil 
 power there; but in regard to the former, I am already called 
 upon, by the officers of the revenue, to aid them in entering 
 his house by force, and searching it thoroughly." 
 
 " Call them in, Harry; call them inl" replied Sir Robert 
 Croyland;" every man is justified by the law in apprehending 
 a murderer. But you shall have full authority. Kate Clare! 
 How could this have happened?" 
 
 " I will explain as we ride on," answered Lay ton, going to 
 the door; and speaking to one of the servants who was stand- 
 ing in the hall, he added, " Desire Mr. Mowle to walk in, and 
 bring the boy with him." 
 
 In another minute, Mowle entered the room with another 
 man, holding by the arm the boy Ray, whom the smugglers 
 had chosen to denominate Little Starlight. He came, appar- 
 ently, unwillingly, for though ever ready, for money, to spy 
 and to inform secretly, he had a great abhorrence of being 
 brought publicly forward, and when on coming to Mowle that 
 evening with more information, he was detained and told he 
 must go before a magistrate, he had made every possible effort 
 to escape. 
 
 He was now somewhat surprised, on being brought forward 
 after Mowle had laid the information, to find that he was not 
 questioned upon any point affecting the smuggling transactions 
 which had lately taken place, as the evidence upon that sub- 
 ject was sufficient without his testimony. But in regard to 
 the proceedings of young Radford, and to the place where he 
 was concealed, he was interrogated closely. It was all in vain, 
 
404 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 however. To obtain a straightforward answer from him was 
 impossible; and although Mowle repeated distinctly that the 
 boy had casually said, the murderer of poor Kate Clare had 
 gone to his father's house, Little Starlight lied and pre- 
 varicated at every word, and impudently, though not unskil- 
 fully, attempted to put another meaning on his previous 
 admission. 
 
 As time was wearing away, however, Sir Henry Layton, at 
 length, interposed; " I think it is unnecessary, Sir Robert," 
 he said, " to push this inquiry further at present. As the 
 whole house and premises must be searched on other grounds, 
 we shall discover the villain if he is there. Mr. Mowle and I 
 have adopted infallible means, I think, to prevent his escaping 
 .from any point of the coast; and the magistrates at every 
 port were this evening furnished with such information that, if 
 they act with even a moderate degree of ability, he must be 
 taken." 
 
 "Besides, sir,'' rejoined Mowle, "the frigate has come round ; 
 and she will take care that, with this wind, not a boat big 
 enough to carry him over shall get out. We had better set 
 out, your worship, if you please; for if old Radford gets an 
 inkling of what is going on, he will double upon us some 
 way." 
 
 " I am quite ready,'' said Sir Robert Croyland. "I will 
 call my clerk to accompany us as we go, in case of any further 
 proceedings being necessary. We must pass through the vil- 
 lage where he lives." 
 
 With a firm step he moved towards the door ; and, strange 
 as it may seem, though for six years, while supposing he was 
 taking the only means of self-preservation, he had lived in con- 
 stant terror and anxiety, he felt no fear, no trepidation now, 
 when he had determined to do what was right at every per- 
 sonal risk. An enfeebling spell seemed to have been taken off 
 his mind, and the lassitude of doubt and indecision was gone., 
 But such is almost always the result, even upon the nerves of 
 our corporeal frame, of a strong effort of mental energy. It is 
 one thing certainly to resolve and another to do ; but the very act 
 of resolution, if it be sincerely exerted, affords a degree of vigour 
 which is sure to produce as great results as the means at our 
 disposal can accomplish. Energetic determination will carry 
 men through things that seem impossible, as a bold heart will 
 
THE SMUGGLER, 405 
 
 carry them over Alps, that, viewed from their base, appear 
 insurmountable. 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland did not venture into the drawing-room 
 before he went ; but he told the butler, who was waiting in 
 the hall, to inform Sir Edward Digby and the family that he 
 had been called away on business, and feared he should not 
 return till a late hour; and having left this message, he went 
 out upon the terrace. He found there a number of persons 
 assembled, with some twenty or thirty of the dragoons. Five 
 or six officers of the customs were present, besides Mowle; 
 but the darkness was too great to admit of their faces being 
 seen ; and Sir Robert Croyland mounted without speaking to 
 any one. Sir Henry Layton paused for an instant* to give 
 orders, that the boy should be taken back to Woodchurch, 
 and kept there under a safe guard. He then spoke a few 
 words to Digby 's servant, Somers, and springing on his horse 
 placed himself at Sir Robert Croyland's side. 
 
 The night was as dark as either of the two which had pre- 
 ceded it; the same film of cloud covered the sky; not a star 
 was to be seen; the moon was far below the horizon; and 
 slowly the whole party moved on, two and two abreast, through 
 the narrow lanes and tortuous roads of that part of the country. 
 It halted for a minute in the nearest village, while Sir Robert 
 Croyland stopped at his clerk's house, and directed him to 
 follow as fast as possible to Mr. Radford's; and then, resum- 
 ing their march, the dragoons, and those who accompanied 
 them, wound on for between four and five miles further, when, 
 as they turned the angle of a wood, some lights, apparently 
 proceeding from the windows of a house half way up a gentle 
 slope, were seen shining out in the midst of the darkness. 
 
 "Halt!'' said Sir Henry Lay ton; and before he proceeded 
 to give his orders for effectually surrounding the house and 
 grounds of Mr. Radford, he gazed steadfastly for a moment or 
 two upon the building which contained her who was most dear 
 to him, and whose heart he well knew was at that moment 
 wrung with the contention of many a painful feeling. " I 
 promised her I would bring her aid, dear girl," he thought, 
 " and so I have. Thanks be to God, who has enabled mel" 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland, too, gazed, with very different feelings, 
 it is true, but still with a stern determination that was not 
 shaken in the least. It seemed, when ha thought of KatQ 
 
406 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Clare, that he was atoning to the spirit of the father, by seek- 
 ing to avenge the child; and the whole tale of her wrongs and 
 death, which he had heard from Layton, as they came, had 
 raised the desire of so doing almost to an enthusiasm. Human 
 passions and infirmities, indeed, will mingle with our best feel- 
 ings ; and as he gazed upon Mr. Radford's house, and remem- 
 bered all that he had endured for the last six years, he said to 
 himself, with some bitterness, " That man shall now taste a 
 portion of the same cup he has forced upon others." 
 
 Sir Henry Layton woke from his reverie sooner than his 
 companion ; and turning his horse, he spoke for a few moments 
 with Mowle, somewhat longer with another person wrapped in 
 a dark horseman's coat behind, and then gave various distinct 
 orders to the dragoons, who immediately separated into small 
 parties, and, taking different roads, placed themselves in such 
 positions as to command every approach to the house. Then 
 riding forward with Sir Robert Croyland, the officers of cus- 
 toms, and one or two soldiers, he turned up the little avenue 
 which led from the road, consulting with Edith's father as he 
 went. At about a couple of hundred yards from the house he 
 paused, turning his head and saying to Mowle, " You had 
 better, I think, all dismount ; and, making fast the horses, get 
 behind the nearest laurels and evergreens, while Sir Robert 
 and I ride on alone, and ask admission quietly. When the 
 door is opened, you can come up and make yourselves masters 
 of the servants till the search is over. I do not anticipate 
 any resistance ; but if the young man be really here, it may 
 be made." 
 
 He then rode on with the baronet at a quicker pace, the 
 noise of their horses' feet, as they trotted on and approached 
 the great doors, covering the sound of the movements of the 
 party they left behind. 
 
 The house, to which the actual possessor had given the name of 
 Radford Hall, was an old-fashioned country mansion, and pre- 
 sented, like many another building at that time, several large 
 iron hooks, standing out from the brick-work on each side of 
 the door- way, on which it was customary for visitors on horse- 
 back to hang their rein while they rang the bell, or till a ser- 
 vant could be called to take them to the stable. Sir Robert 
 Croyland was acquainted with this peculiarity of the house, 
 though Layton was not, and he whispered to his companion, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 407 
 
 " Let us hook up our horses before we ring.'* This was ac- 
 cordingly done, and then taking the long iron handle of the 
 bell, Layton pulled it gently. A minute or two after, a step 
 sounded in the hall, aud a servant appeared: a stout, red- 
 faced, shrewd-looking fellow, who at first held the great door 
 only half open. As soon, however, as he saw Sir Robert 
 Croyland's face, he threw it back, replying, in answer to the 
 baronet's question as to whether Mr. Radford was at home, 
 " Yes, Sir Robert, he has been home this hour." 
 
 Layton had stood back, and, in the darkness, the man did 
 not see him, or took him for a groom ; but when the young 
 officer advanced, and the uniform of the dragoon regiment 
 became apparent, Mr. Radford's servant suddenly stretched 
 his hand towards the door again, as if about to throw it vio- 
 lently to. But Layton's strong grasp was on his shoulder in 
 a moment. " You are my prisoner," he said, in a low tone ; 
 " not a word not a syllable, if you would not suffer for it. 
 No harm will happen to you if you are only quiet." 
 
 At the same moment, Mowle and the rest came running 
 across the lawn, and, giving the man into their hands, Layton 
 entered the house with Sir Robert Crovland. 
 
408 THE SMUCIGLrn, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 ABOUT an hour before the event took place, which we have 
 last related, Edith Croyland sat in a small drawing-room at the 
 back of Mr. Radford's house, in which she had been kept cap- 
 tive, for we may well use that term, ever since her removal 
 from Mr. Croyland's. Her first day had been spent in tears 
 and indignation; for immediately after her arrival, on finding 
 that her father was not really there, she became convinced 
 that she had been deceived, and naturally doubted that it was 
 with his consent she had been removed. Nor had Mr. Rad- 
 ford's manner at all tended to do away with this impression. 
 He laughed at her remonstrances and indignation, treated her 
 tears with cold indifference, and told his servants, before 
 her face, that she was on no account to be suffered to. go 
 out, or to see any one but Sir Robert Croyland. In other 
 respects, he treated her well ; did all in his power to provide 
 for her comfort; and, as his whole establishment was arranged 
 upon a scale of luxury and extravagance rarely met with in 
 the old country houses of the gentry of that time, none of 
 the materials of that which is commonly called comfort were 
 wanting. 
 
 But it was the comfort of the heart which Edith required, 
 and did not find. Mr. Radford handed her down to dinner 
 himself, and with as much ceremonious politeness as he could 
 show, seated her at the end of his ostentatious table; but 
 Edith did not eat. She retired at night to the downy bed 
 prepared for her; but Edith did not sleep. Thus passed the 
 first day and the morning of the second; and when, about 
 noon, Sir Robert Croyland arrived, he found her pale and 
 wan with anxiety and watching, and he left her paler still ; 
 for he resisted all her entreaties to take her thence, and her 
 last hope of relief was gone. 
 
 He had spoken kindly, tenderly, indeed; he had even shed 
 tears; but his mind at the time of his visit was still in a state 
 
409 
 
 of suspense, irritated by injuries and insult, but not yet roused by 
 indignation to dare the worst that Mr. Radford could do; and 
 though he heard her express her determination never to marry 
 Richard Radford, unless free from her vows to Henry Layton, 
 without remonstrance, only begging her to keep that resolu- 
 tion secret till the last moment, yet, with the usual resource 
 of weakness, he sought to postpone the evil hour by seeming 
 to enter into all his enemy's views. 
 
 Thus had passed Edith's time; and it is unnecessary to 
 enter into a more detailed account of her thoughts and feelings 
 previous to the period we have mentioned: namely, one hour 
 before the arrival of her father and Henry Layton at the door 
 of the house. She was sitting, then, in that small back draw- 
 ing-room, with her fair cheek leaning on her hand, her eyes bent 
 down upon the table, and her mind busy with the present and 
 the future. "It is foolish," she thought, "thus to alarm my- 
 self. No harm can happen. They dare not show me any 
 violence; and no clergyman in England will venture to pro- 
 ceed with the service against my loud dissent. My uncle 
 and Layton, too, must soon hear of this, and will interfere. I 
 will not give way to such terrors any more." 
 
 As she thus meditated, she heard a rapid step upon the 
 great stairs, and the next moment Mr. Radford entered, 
 booted, spurred, and dusty, as from a journey, and with a 
 heavy horsewhip in his hand. His face betrayed more agita- 
 tion than she had ever seen it display. There was a deep 
 line between his brows, as if they had been long bent into 
 such a frown, that they could not readily be smoothed again. 
 His long upper-lip was quivering with a sort of impatient 
 vehemence that would not be restrained; and his eye was 
 flashing as if under the influence of some strong passion. 
 
 "Well, Miss Croyland," he said, throwing his horsewhip 
 down upon the table, and casting himself into a chair, 
 "I hope they have made you comfortable during my ab- 
 sence?" 
 
 Edith merely bowed her head without reply. 
 
 " Well, that's civil 1'' cried Mr. Radford; "but I think every- 
 body is going mad, and so it is no wonder that women do I 
 Miss Croyland, I have a piece of news for you ; there is going 
 to be a wedding in our house, to-night 1" 
 
 Still Edith was silent, and looked towards the fire. 
 
410 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 " I tell you of the fact," continued Mr. Radford, " because 
 it may be necessary for you to make some little preparation 
 for your journey. I don't know whether you hear or not; but 
 you are to be married to my son, to-night. It is now nine; 
 the clergyman and Richard will be here by eleven ; and the 
 marriage will take place half an hour before twelve. So you 
 have two hours and a half to prepare." 
 
 "You are mistaken altogether, Mr. Radford," replied 
 Edith, in as firm a tone as she could assume. "It is not my 
 intention to marry your son at all. I have often told you 
 so; I now repeat it.'' 
 
 "You do, do you!' 7 exclaimed Mr. Radford, giving her a 
 furious glance across the table; "then I will tell you some- 
 thing, young woman. Your consent was given to your father; 
 and I will have no trifling backwards and forwards. Circum- 
 stances have arisen to-day, curses be upon them all! which ren- 
 der it necessary that the marriage should take place fotir-and- 
 twenty hours before it was first fixed, and it shall take place, 
 by P and he added a terrible oath. 
 
 "You will find it will not take place, Mr. Radford, ''replied 
 Edith, in the same tone as before, "for, in the first place, I 
 never did consent. My father left me fainting, without wait- 
 ing to hear what I had to say, or he would not have so de- 
 ceived himself. 5 ' 
 
 "Then he shall die the death of a felon," cried Mr. Radford, 
 " and you yourself shall be the person to put the rope round 
 his neck." 
 
 " Whatever be the consequences, I shall be firm," replied 
 Edith; " but at the same time, let me tell you, I do not believe 
 you have the power you suppose. You may bring a false ac- 
 cusation, an accusation you know to be false ; but such things 
 are never so well prepared but they are discovered at last ; and 
 so it will be in your case." 
 
 "A false accusation 1" exclaimed Mr. Radford vehemently; 
 " an accusation I know to be false ! I'll soon show you that, 
 girl;" and starting up from his seat, he hurried out of the 
 room. 
 
 Contrary to Edith's expectation, Mr. Radford was absent 
 for a long time; but when he returned he had several papers 
 in his hand, some apparently freshly written, and one which 
 bore the yellow marks of age. His face was stern and reso- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 411 
 
 lute, but displayed less excitement than when he left her. He 
 entered with a slow step, leaving the door partly open behind 
 him, seated himself, and gazed at her for a moment, then 
 spread out the small yellow paper on the table, but held his hand 
 tight upon the lower part, as if he feared she might snatch it 
 up and destroy it. 
 
 " There, look at that, Miss Croyland!" he said; "you spoke 
 of false accusations; look at that, and be ashamed of bringing 
 them yourself." 
 
 Edith gave a glance towards it with a sensation of awe, but 
 did not attempt to read it. Her eye rested upon the words, 
 " Deposition of;" and upon a stain of blood at the bottom of 
 the page, and she turned away with a shudder. I have 
 heard of it before," she answered, " yet every word in it may 
 be false." 
 
 " False, or not false," replied Mr. Radford, " it sends your 
 father to gaol to-morrow, and to the gallows a month after; 
 if you do not instantly sign thatl" and he laid another freshly 
 written page open before her. 
 
 Edith took it in her hand, and read, " I hereby consent and 
 promise, when called upon, to marry Richard Radford, junior, 
 Esquire, the son of Richard Radford, of Radford Hall." 
 
 " You have your choice, Miss Croyland," continued her 
 persecutor, in a low and bitter tone, " either to save your 
 father, or to put him to death with your own hands ; for I 
 swear, by all that I hold sacred, that if you do not instantly* 
 sign that paper, ay, and fulfil its engagement, I will send off 
 this deposition to the bench of magistrates, with the letter I 
 have just written, giving an account of all the circumstances, 
 and explaining how, out of weak kindness and friendship for 
 Sir Robert Croyland, I have been prevailed upon to keep back 
 the information until now. Do not deceive yourself, and think 
 that his fortune or his station would save him. A peer of the 
 realm has been hanged before now for the murder of his own 
 servant. Neither must you suppose that upon that deposition 
 alone rests the proof of his guilt. There was other evidence 
 given at the coroner's inquest, all bearing upon the same 
 point, which requires but this light to be made plain. The 
 threats your father previously used, the falsehoods he told re- 
 garding where he had been, all these things can be proved, for 
 I have taken care to preserve that evidence." 
 
412 THE SMUGGLER* 
 
 " That was like a friend, indeed!" murmured Edith; u but 
 such are the friendships of the world." 
 
 " I am acting like a friend to you, Miss Croyland," rejoined 
 Mr. Radford, apparently neither touched nor hurt by her 
 words, " in letting you see clearly your father's situation, while 
 I give you the opportunity of saving him if you will. Do as 
 you please, there is the paper. Sign it if you like, but sign it 
 quickly; for this night brings all tergiversation to an end. I 
 will have no more of it ; and five minutes decides your father's 
 life or death. Do not say I do it. It is you. His pardon 
 is before you. You have nothing to do but to put your, name. 
 If you do not, you sign his death warrant!" 
 
 "Five minutes!" said Edith, with her heart beating vio- 
 lently. 
 
 " Ay, five minutes," answered Mr. Radford, who saw, from 
 the wild look of her beautiful eyes, and the ashy paleness of 
 her cheek and lips, how powerfully he had worked upon her; 
 "five minutes, no longer;" and he laid his watch upon the 
 table. Then, turning somewhat ostentatiously to a small fixed 
 writing-desk, which stood near, he took up a stick of sealing- 
 wax, and laid it down beside the letter he had written, as if 
 determined not to lose a moment beyond the period he had 
 named. 
 
 Edith gazed upon the paper for an instant, agitated and 
 trembling through her whole frame; but her eye fell upon the 
 name of Richard Radford. His image rose up before her, re- 
 calling all the horror that she felt whenever he was in her 
 presence; then came the thought of Lay ton, and of her vows 
 to him yet uncancelled. " Richard Radford 1" she said to her- 
 self; " Richard Radford! marry him, vow that I will love him, 
 call God to witness, when I know I shall abhor him more and 
 more; when I love another? I cannot do it, I will not do it!" 
 and she pushed the paper from her, saying, aloud, " No, I will 
 not sign it!" 
 
 " Very well," said Mr. Radford, " very well. Your parent's 
 blood be upon your head;" and he proceeded to fold up slowly 
 the deposition he had shown her in the letter he had written. 
 But he stopped in the midst; and then, abandoning the calm, 
 low tone, and stern, but quiet, demeanour he had lately used, 
 he started up, striking the table violently with his hand, and 
 exclaiming, in a loud and angry tone, " Wretched, miserable 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 4 1 3 
 
 girl, dare you bring upon your head the guilt of parricide? 
 What was the curse of Cam to that? How will you bear the 
 day of your father's trial? ay, how bear the day of his death, 
 the lingering agony of his imprisonment, the public shame of 
 the court of justice, the agony of the gallows and the cord? 
 The proud Sir Robert Croyland become the gaze of hooting 
 boys, the spectacle of the rude multitude, expiring, through 
 his daughter's fault, by the hand of the common hangman! 
 Ay, think of it all, for in another minute it will be too late I 
 Once gone from my hand, this paper can never be recalled." 
 
 Edith uttered a faint cry ; but at the same moment, a voice 
 behind Mr. Radford said, "Nor can it, now!" and Sir Robert 
 Croyland himself laid his hand upon the papers. 
 
 Mr. Radford turned round fiercely, and was darting forward 
 to seize them from him, bat he was held back by a more 
 powerful arm; and the baronet went on, in a voice grave and 
 sad, but firm and strong: " Sir Henry Laytou," he said, "I 
 give these papers into your hands, to do with them exactly as 
 you may think right, as a man of honour, a gentleman, and a 
 respecter of the law. I ask not to hold them for one moment." 
 
 "Do not struggle, sir, do not struggle 1" cried Layton, 
 holding Mr. Radford fast by the collar; "you are a prisoner." 
 
 "A prisoner!" exclaimed Mr. Radford. "What! in my 
 own house; a magistrate! 5 ' 
 
 "Anywhere, sir," answered Layton; "and for the time, 
 you are a magistate no longer. Ho! without there! send some 
 one in." 
 
 Edith had sunk down in her seat; for she knew not whether 
 to rejoice or grieve. The first feeling undoubtedly was joy; 
 but the next was bitter apprehension for her father. At first 
 she covered her eyes with her hands, for she thought to hear 
 the terrible truth proclaimed aloud; but when she looked up, 
 Sir Robert Croyland's face was so calm, so resolute, so unlike 
 what it had ever appeared of late years, that fear gave way to 
 surprise, and surprise began to verge into hope. As that bright 
 flame arose again in her heart, she started up, and cast herself 
 upon her father's bosom, murmuring, while the tears flowed 
 rapidly from her eyes, "Are you safe; are you safe?" 
 
 " I know not, my dear child," replied Sir Robert Croyland, 
 "but I arn now doing my duty, and that gives me strength." 
 
 In the mean time, a dragoon had appeared at the door, and 
 
414 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 as soon as Mr. Eadford beheld him, he exclaimed, " This is a 
 base and infamous plot to defeat the ends of justice. I under- 
 stand it all: the military power called in, right willingly, I 
 have no doubt, to take away the documents which prove that 
 felon's guilt. But this shall be bitterly repaid, and I hold you 
 responsible, sir, for the production of these papers." 
 
 ''Certainly, Mr. Radford," replied Layton, with a caltn 
 smile, "I will be responsible. But as you object to the mili- 
 tary power, we will hand you over to the civil. Hart," he 
 continued, speaking to the soldier, "call up Mowle or Birchett, 
 or any of the other officers, and let them bring one of the 
 constables with them, for this is not purely a case for the 
 customs. Then tell Serjeant Shaw to bring on his men from 
 the back, as I directed, seeing that nothing, not an inch of 
 ground, not a shed, not a tool-house, remains unexamined." 
 
 " Of what am I accused, sir, that you dare to pursue such 
 a course in my house?" demanded Mr. Radford. 
 
 " Of murder, sir," replied Sir Henry Layton. 
 
 " Murder!" exclaimed Mr. Eadford, and then burst into an 
 affected laugh. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the young officer; "and you may find 
 it not so much a jest as you suppose; for though the law, in 
 consequence of the practices of yourself and others, has slept 
 long ineffective, it is not dead. I say for murder; as an 
 accessory before the fact, to the armed resistance of lawful 
 authority, in which his majesty's subjects have been killed in 
 the execution of their duty, and as an accessory after the fact, 
 in harbouring and comforting the actual culprits, knowing 
 them to be such." 
 
 Mr. Radford's countenance fell ; for he perceived that the 
 matter was much more serious than he at first supposed. He 
 trusted, indeed, from the laxity with which the law had lately 
 been carried into execution, that he might escape from the 
 gravest part of the charge ; but still, if Sir Henry Layton was 
 in a condition to prove the participation of which he accused 
 him, in the crimes that had been committed, nothing short of 
 transportation for life could be anticipated. But he had other 
 sources of anxiety. His wretched son, he expected to present 
 himself every minute; and well aware of the foul deed which 
 Richard Radford had that morning perpetrated, and of his 
 person having been recognised, he was perfectly certain, that 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 415 
 
 his apprehension would take place. He would have given 
 worlds to speak for a single instant with one of his own ser- 
 vants ; but none of them appeared ; and while these thoughts 
 were passing rapidly through his brain, the officer Birchett 
 entered the room with a constable, and several other persons 
 followed them in. He was startled from his reverie, however, 
 by Sir Henry Layton's voice demanding: "Have you brought 
 handcuffs, constable?" 
 
 "Oh! ay, sir," answered the man, "I've got the brace- 
 lets." 
 
 "Good evening, Mr. Radford!" said Birchett; "we have 
 hold of you at last, I fancy." 
 
 Mr. Radford was silent, and the young officer demanded, 
 " Have you found anything else, Birchett?" 
 
 "Oh! yes sir, plenty," answered Birchett; "and besides 
 the run goods, things enough to prove all the rest even if we 
 had not proof sufficient before; one of your own dragoon's 
 swords, sir, that must have been snatched up from some poor 
 fellow who was killed. Corporal Hart says, he thinks it 
 belonged to a man named Green," 
 
 " Well, there is your prisoner," replied Lay ton; " you and 
 the constable must take care that he be properly secured. 
 No unnecessary harshness, I beg; but you know how rescue 
 is sometimes attempted, and escape effected. You had better 
 remove him to another room; for we must have all the papers 
 arid different articles of smuggled goods brought hither." 
 
 " I protest against the whole of this proceeding," exclaimed 
 Mr. Radford, on whom the constable was now unceremoniously 
 fixing a pair of handcuffs, "and I beg everybody will take 
 notice of my protest. This person, who is, I suppose, a 
 military officer, is quite going beyond his duty, and acting as 
 if he were a civil magistrate." 
 
 " I am acting- under the orders and authority of a magis- 
 trate, sir," replied Sir Henry Lay ton, "and according to my 
 instructions. Dear Edith," he continued, crossing over to 
 her, and taking her hand as she still clung to her father; for 
 all that I have described had taken place with great rapidity; 
 " you had better go into another room till this is over. We 
 shall have some papers to examine, and I trust another pri- 
 soner before the search is finished. Had she not better retire, 
 Sir Robert?" 
 
416 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 But Mr. Radford raised his voice again, as the constable 
 was moving him towards the door, exclaiming, "At all events, 
 I claim my right to witness all these extraordinary proceed- 
 ings. It is most unjust and illegal for you to seize and do 
 what you will with my private papers, in my absence." 
 
 " It is a very common occurrence," said Sir Henry Layton, 
 "in criminal cases like your own." 
 
 " Let him remain, let him remain!" said Sir Robert Croy- 
 land. "He can but interrupt us a little. Oh! here is the 
 clerk at last! Now, Edith, my love, you had better go; these 
 are no scenes for you." 
 
 Layton took her by the hand, and led her to the door, 
 bending down his head and whispering as he went, " Be under 
 no alarm, dear girl. All will go well." 
 
 " Are you sure, Harry .^ are you sure?" asked Edith, gazing 
 anxiously in his face. 
 
 " Certain," he replied; " your father's decision has saved 
 him." 
 
 As he spoke, there was a violent ringing at the bell; and 
 Mr. Radford said to himself, "It is that unhappy boy; he 
 will be taken, to a certainty." But the next instant, he 
 thought, " No, no, he would never come to the front door. 
 It must be some more of their party." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland, in the mean time, seated himself at 
 the end of the table, and handed over a number of papers, 
 which Layton had given him at his own house, to the clerk, 
 who, by his direction, seated himself near. " I have no 
 objection, Mr. Radford," he said, turning to the prisoner, 
 " that you should hear read, if you desire it, the depositions 
 on which I have granted a warrant for your apprehension, 
 and, at the requisition of the officers of customs, have autho- 
 rised your premises to be searched for the smuggled goods, a 
 part of which has been found upon them. The depositions 
 are those of a man named George Jones, since dead, and of 
 Michael Scalesby, and Edward Larchant, at present in the 
 hands of justice; and the information is laid by John Mowle 
 and Stephen Birchett." 
 
 At the recital of the names of several of the men whom he 
 himself had furnished with arms and directions, Mr. Radford's 
 heart sunk; but the moment after, a gleam of bitter satisfac- 
 tion sprang up in his breast, as the door opened, and Mr. 
 
THE SMUGGLED. 417 
 
 Croylafld entered, exclaiming, " How's this, how's 
 this? I came to take a dove out of a hawk's nest, and here 
 I find the dogs unearthing a fox." 
 
 " I am very glad you are come, sir," replied Mr. Radford, 
 before anyone else could speak; "for, though you are the 
 brother of that person sitting there, you are a man of honour, 
 and an honest man " 
 
 "More than I can say for you, Radford," grumbled Mr. 
 Croyland. 
 
 "And, moreover, a magistrate for this county," continued 
 Mr. Radford. 
 
 " I never act, I never act!" cried the old gentleman. " I 
 never have acted; I never will act." 
 
 " But in this case I shall insist upon your acting," said the 
 prisoner; "for your brother, who is now proceeding thus 
 virulently against me, does it to shield himself from a charge 
 of murder, which he knew I was about to bring against him." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks' ends!" cried Mr. Croyland. " This is what 
 people call turning the tables, I think. But it won't succeed 
 with me, my good friend. I am an old bird, a very old bird, 
 indeed ; and I don't like chaff at all, Radford. If you have 
 any charge to make against my brother, you must make it 
 where you are going. I'll have nothing to do with it. I 
 always knew him to be a fool; but never suspected him of 
 being anything else." 
 
 "At all events," said Mr. Radford, in a gloomy tone, 
 " since simple justice is denied me at all hands, I require that 
 the papers which have been seized in this house, be placed in 
 proper hands, and duly authenticated. The important evi- 
 dence of the crime of which I charge him, has been given by 
 your brother, sir, to one who has but too great an interest, I 
 believe, to conceal or destroy it. I say it boldly, those papers 
 are not safe in the keeping of Sir Henry Layton; and I 
 demand that they be given up, duly marked by the clerk, and 
 signed by myself, and some independent person." 
 
 Layton's eyes flashed for a moment, at the insinuation which 
 the prisoner threw out ; but he overcame his anger instantly, 
 and took the papers which had been handed him, from his 
 pocket, saying, " I will most willingly resign these documents 
 whatever they may be. Mr. Croyland, this person seems to 
 wish that you should keep them rather than myself; but here 
 DD 
 
418 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 is another paper on the table, which may throw some light upon 
 the whole transaction ;" and he took up the written promise, 
 which Mr. Kadford had been urging Edith to sign, and on which 
 liis eyes had been fixed during the last few minutes, and handed 
 it with the rest to her uncle. 
 
 " Stay, stay a moment!" said Mr. Croyland, putting on his 
 spectacles. " I will be responsible for the safe keeping of 
 nothing of which I do not know the contents;" and he pro- 
 ceeded to read aloud the engagement to wed Richard Radford, 
 which Edith had rejected. "Ay, a precious rascally document 
 indeed 1" said the old gentleman, when he had concluded; 
 " written in the hand of the said Richard Radford, Esq. senior, 
 and which, I suppose, Miss Croyland refused to sign under any 
 threats. Be so good as to put your name on that, at the back, 
 Mr. Clerk. I will mark it too, that there be no mistake." 
 
 " And now, sir, since you have read the one, will you be 
 good enough to read the other?" exclaimed Mr. Radford, with 
 a triumphant smile. " Even-handed justice, if you please, 
 Mr. Zachary Croyland; the enclosure first, then the letter, il 
 you will. I see there are a multitude of persons present; 1 
 beg they will all attend." 
 
 " I will read it certainly," replied Mr. Croyland, drawing 
 one of the candles somewhat nearer. " It seems to be some- 
 what indistinct." 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland leaned his head upon his hand, anc 
 covered his eyes ; and several persons pressed forward, to heai 
 what seemed of importance, in the eyes of the prisoner, al 
 least. 
 
 Mr. Croyland ran over the writing, as a preliminary to read- 
 ing it aloud; but as he did so, his countenance fell, and he 
 paused and hesitated. The next moment, however, he ex- 
 claimed, " No, hang it I it shall be read. 'The deposition o1 
 William Clare, now lying at the point of death, and with the 
 full assurance that he has not many minutes to live, made be- 
 fore Richard Radford, Esquire, J.P. ; this 24th day of Septem- 
 ber, in the year of grace 17 ;" and he proceeded to read, 
 with a voice occasionally wavering, indeed, but in general firm 
 and clear, the formal setting forth of the same tale which the 
 reader has heard before, in the statement of Sir Robert Croy- 
 land to his daughter. 
 
 His brother paused, and held the paper in his hand for a 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 419 
 
 moment after he had done, while Lay ton, who had been stand- 
 ing close beside him, bore a strange, almost sarcastic smile 
 upon his lip, which strongly contrasted with the sad and solemn 
 expression of Mr. Croyland's countenance. 
 
 " What is this great red blot just below the man's name?" 
 asked the old gentleman, at length, looking to Mr. Radforcl. 
 
 " That, sir," replied the prisoner, in a calm, grave tone, 
 which had much effect upon the hearers, "is the poor fellow's 
 own blood, as I held him up to sign the declaration. He had 
 been pressing his right hand upon the wound, and where it 
 rested on the paper it gave that bloody witness to the authen- 
 ticity of the document." 
 
 There was something too fine in the reply, and Mr. Croy- 
 land repeated, "Bloody witness! authenticity of the docu- 
 ment!" 
 
 But Layton stretched out his hand, saying, " will you allow 
 me to look at the paper, Mr. Croyland?" and then added, as 
 soon as he received it, " Can any one tell me whether William 
 Clare was left-handed?" 
 
 "Nol" replied Sir Robert Croyland, suddenly raising his 
 head, " no, he was not. Why do you ask?" 
 
 " That I can answer for," said the constable, coming for- 
 ward, "for he carved the stock of a gun for me; and I know 
 he never used his left hand when he could use his right one." 
 
 " Why do you ask, Harry? why do you ask?" exclaimed 
 Mr. Croyland. 
 
 "Because, my dear sir, 5 ' answered Layton, aloud and clear, 
 " this is the print of the thumb of a man's right hand. To 
 have made it at all, he must have held the paper with his right, 
 while he signed with his left, and even then, he could have done 
 it with difficulty, as it is so near the signature that his fingers 
 would not have room to move;'' and as he ended, he fixed his 
 eyes sternly on Mr. Radford's face. 
 
 The prisoner's countenance had changed several times while 
 Sir Henry Layton spoke, first becoming fiery red, then deadly 
 pale, then red again. 
 
 " However it happened, so it was," he said, doggedly. 
 
 "Well!" exclaimed Mr. Croyland, sharply, " your evidence 
 will fetch what it is worth! I hope, clerk, you have got down 
 Mr. Radford's statement." 
 
 "He has written the same down here, your worship," re- 
 
420 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 plied the man, pointing to the letter in which the deposition 
 had been enclosed, and which, having been cast down by Mr* 
 Zachary, had been busily read by the clerk. 
 
 " Well, then, we will read that too," observed the old gen- 
 tleman. " Silence there!" he continued; for there was a good 
 deal of noise at the side of the room, as the different persons 
 present conversed over the events that were passing: "but first 
 we had better docket this commodity which we have just pe- 
 rused. Mr. Clerk, will you have the sroodness to sign it also: 
 on the back?" 
 
 " Stay," said a voice from behind the rest, " let me sign it 
 first;" and the man who accompanied Lay ton thither, wrapped 
 in the dark horseman's coat, advanced between Mr. Croyland 
 and the clerk. 
 
 "Any one that likes, any one that likes!" answered the 
 former. "Ah! is that you, my old friend?" 
 
 Both Mr. Radford and Sir Robert Croyland gazed, with 
 looks of surprise not unmirigled with more painful feelings, on 
 the countenance of Mr. Warde, though each doubted his iden- 
 tity with one whom they had known in former years. But, 
 without noticing any one, the strange-looking old man took 
 the paper from the clerk, dipped the pen in the ink, and, in a 
 bold, free hand, wrote some words upon the back. 
 
 " Ha, what is this?" cried Mr. Croyland, taking the paper, 
 and reading: "An infamous forgery; Henry Osbornl" 
 
 " Villain, you are detected!" cried the person who has been 
 called Mr. Warde. " I wrote from a distant land to warn you, 
 that I was present when you knelt by William Clare ; that I 
 heard all, that I marked you try to prompt the dying man to 
 an accusation he would not make; that I saw you stain the 
 paper with his blood, ay, and sign it, too, after life had quitted 
 him. I wrote to warn you, for I suspected you, for all I 
 heard of your poor tool's changed conduct; and I gave you 
 due notice, that if you ceased not, the day of retribution would 
 arrive. It is come ; and I am here, though you thought me 
 dead! All your shifts and evasions are at an end. There is 
 no collusion here; there is no personal interest. I have not 
 conversed with that weak man for many years ; and he it was 
 who persecuted my sister's husband unto death!" 
 
 " At his suggestion ; from his threats!" exclaimed Sir Robert 
 Croyland, pointing with his hand to Mr, Radford. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 421 
 
 " Take me away," said the prisoner, turning to the con- 
 stable; " I ani faint, I am sick; take me away!" 
 
 Mr. Croyland nodded his head ; and, supported by the con- 
 stable and Birchett, Mr. Radford was led into the adjoining 
 room. 
 
 The scene that followed is indescribable. It was all con- 
 fusion ; every one spoke at once ; some strove to make them- 
 selves heard above the rest ; some seemed little to care whether 
 they were heard or not; if any man thought he could fix 
 another's attention, he tried to converse with him apart ; many 
 fixed upon the person nearest; but one or two endeavoured to 
 make others hear across the room ; and all order and common 
 form were at an end. 
 
 I have said every one spoke; but I should have made one 
 exception. Sir Robert Croyland talked eagerly with his 
 brother, and said a few low words to Mr. Osborn; but Lay ton 
 remained profoundly silent for several minutes. The din of 
 many voices did not seem to disturb him; the strange turn 
 that events had taken, appeared to produce no surprise ; but 
 he remained fixed to the same spot, with his eyes bent upon 
 the table, and his mind evidently absent from all that was 
 passing round. It was the abstraction of profound emotion ; 
 the power which the heart sometimes exercises over the mind, 
 in withdrawing all its perceptions and its operative faculties 
 from external things, to fix them concentrated upon some 
 great problem within. At length, however, a. sense of higher 
 duties made him shake off the thoughts of his own fate and 
 situation; of the bright and glorious hopes that were rising 
 out of the previous darkness, like the splendour of the coming 
 star after a long night ; of the dreams of love and joy at length ; 
 of the growing light of " trust in the future, 5 ' still faintly over- 
 shadowed by the dark objects of the past. With a quick start, 
 as if he had awakened from sleep, he looked round, and de- 
 manded of one of the soldiers, many of whom were in the 
 room, " Have you found the person accused ; Richard Radford, 
 I mean ; has any one been taken in the premises and the house, 
 besides the servants?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, a person just arrived in a post-chaise," replied 
 the sergeant. 
 
 "We must have order, Sir Robert,' 7 continued Lay ton, his 
 powerful voice rising above the din; " there is much more to 
 
422 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 be done! Clear the room of your men, sergeant. They are 
 not wanted here; but stay, I will speak with Mr. Haveland;" 
 and he went out, followed by the sergeant and some half-dozen 
 of the dragoons, who had accompanied their non-commissioned 
 officer into the room. 
 
 Layton soon returned; but the precautions he had gone to 
 enforce were vain. The person who had arrived in the chaise, 
 proved to be a somewhat disreputable clergyman from a distant 
 parish. Young Eichard Kadford was not taken; another fate 
 awaited him. A man, indeed, on horseback, was seen to ap- 
 proach the grounds of Radford Hall towards eleven o'clock; 
 but the lights that were apparent through many windows 
 seemed to startle him as he rode along the road. He paused 
 for a moment, and gazed, and then advanced more slowly; 
 but the eagerness of '"the small guard at that point, perhaps, 
 frustrated their object, for it is not certain to this day who the 
 person was. When he again halted, and seemed to hesitate, 
 they dashed out after him ; but instantly setting spurs to his 
 horse, he galloped oif into the woods and, knowing the country 
 better than they did, he was soon lost to their pursuit. 
 
 In the mean time, the result of the search in Mr. Radford's 
 house was made known, in a formal manner, to the party 
 assembled in the small drawing-room. Abundant evidence 
 was found of his having been implicated in all the most crimi- 
 nal parts of the late smuggling transactions, and the business 
 of the night concluded by an order to remand him, to be 
 brought before the bench of magistrates on the following day: 
 for Sir Robert Croyland declined to commit him on his own 
 responsibility. 
 
 " He has preferred a charge against me," he said, in the 
 same firm tone he had lately assumed, "let us see whether he 
 will sustain it to-morrow.'' 
 
 Before all was concluded, it was near midnight; and then 
 every one rose to depart. Mr. Croyland eagerly asked for 
 Edith, saying he would convey her home in his carriage; but 
 Layton interposed, replying, " We will bring her to you in a 
 moment, my dear friend. Sir Robert, it may be as well that 
 you and I should seek Miss Croyland alone. I think I saw her 
 maid below." 
 
 "Certainly/' answered her father; "let us go, my dear 
 Henry, for it is growing very late." 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 423 
 
 Mr. Croyland smiled, saying, " Well, well, so be it ;" and 
 the other two left the room. They found Edith, after some 
 search, seated in the dining-hall. She looked pale and anxious ; 
 but the expression of Layton's face relieved her from her worst 
 apprehensions, not that it was joyful, for there was a touch 
 of sadness in it; but she knew that his aspect could not be 
 such if her father's life were in any real danger. 
 
 Layton advanced towards her at once, even before her 
 father, took her hand in his, and kissed it tenderly. " I told 
 you, dearest Edith," he said, "that I would bring you aid; 
 and I have, thank God, been able to redeem that promise; 
 but now I have another task to perform. Your father's safety 
 is placed beyond doubt, his innocence made clear, and your 
 happiness, beloved one, is not sacrificed. The chance of en- 
 dangering that happiness was the only cause of my not doing 
 what, perhaps, you desired for his sake, what I do now. Sir 
 Robert Croyland, I did wrong in years long past, in boy- 
 hood and the intemperance of youthful love and hope, by en- 
 gaging your daughter to myself by vows, which she has nobly 
 though painfully kept. As an atonement to you, as a satisfaction 
 to my own sense of right, I now, as far as in me lies, set her 
 free from those engagements, leaving to her own self how she 
 will act, and to you how you will decide. Edith, beloved, 
 you are free, as far as I can make you so; and, Sir Robert, 
 I ask your forgiveness for the wrong act I once committed." 
 
 Edith Croyland turned somewhat pale, and looked at her 
 father earnestly; but Sir Robert did not answer for a moment. 
 Was it that he hesitated? No; but there was an oppressive 
 weight at his heart, when he thought of all that he had done, 
 all that he had inflicted, not only on the man before him, but 
 on others guiltless of ail offence, which seemed almost to stop 
 its beating. But at length, he took Edith's hand and put it 
 in Layton's, saying, in a low, tremulous voice, " She is yours, 
 Henry, she is yours; and, oh! forgive the father for the 
 daughter's sake!" 
 
424 THE SMUGGLER, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII, 
 
 THERE was a solitary light in an upstairs window of farmer 
 Harris's house, and, by its dim ray, sat Harding the smuggler, 
 watching the inanimate form of her upon whom all the strong 
 affections of his heart had been concentrated. No persuasions 
 could induce him to entrust "the first watch," as he called it, 
 to others; and there he sat, seldom taking his eyes from that 
 pale but still beautiful countenance, and often stooping over to 
 print a kiss upon the cold and clay-like forehead of the dead. 
 His tears were all shed: he wept not, he spoke not; but the 
 bitterness which has no end was in his heart, and, with a 
 sleepless eye, he watched through the livelong night. It was 
 about three o'clock in the morning, when a hard knocking was 
 heard at the door of the farm; and, without a change of fea- 
 ture, Harding rose and went down in the dark. He unlocked 
 the door, and opened it, when a hand holding a paper was 
 thrust in, and instantly withdrawn, as Harding took the letter. 
 
 "What is this?" he said; but the messenger ran away 
 without reply; and the smuggler returned to the chamber of 
 death. 
 
 The paper he had taken was folded in the shape of a note, 
 but neither sealed nor addressed; and, without ceremony, 
 Harding opened it, and read. It was written in a free, good 
 hand, which he recognised at once, with rage and indignation 
 all the more intense because he restrained them within his own 
 breast. He uttered not a word; his face betrayed, only in 
 part, the workings of strong passioii within him. It is true, 
 his lip quivered a little, and his brow became contracted, but 
 it soon relaxed its frown; and, without oath or comment, 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 425 
 
 though very blasphemous expletives were then tolerated in 
 what was called the best society, and were prevalent amongst 
 all the inferior classes, he proceeded to read the few lines 
 which the letter contained, and which something, perhaps the 
 emotions he felt, had prevented him from seeing distinctly at 
 first. 
 
 The epistle was, as we have seen, addressed to no one, and 
 was drawn up, indeed, more in the form of a general notice 
 than anything else. Many, of nearly the same import, as was 
 afterwards discovered, has been delivered at various farm- 
 houses in the neighbourhood; but, as all were in substance 
 the same, one specimen will suffice. 
 
 "We give you to know," so the letter ran, " that, unless 
 Edward llamley and his two comrades are set free before day- 
 light to-morrow, we will come to Goudhurst, and burn the 
 place. Neither man, woman, nor child, shall escape. We 
 are many, more than you think, and you know we will keep 
 our word. So look to it, if you would escape 
 
 "VENGEANCE!" 
 
 Harding approached the bed, with the letter in his hand, 
 gazed steadfastly upon the corpse for several minutes, and 
 then, without a word, quitted the room. He went straight 
 to the chamber which farmer Harris and his wife now occu- 
 pied, and knocked sharply at the door, exclaiming, " Harris, 
 Harris! I want to speak with you!" 
 
 The good farmer was with difficulty roused; for though no 
 man felt more warmly, or, indeed, more vehemently, yet the 
 corporeal had its full share with the mental; and when the 
 body was fatigued with more than its ordinary portion of labour, 
 the mind did not keep the whole being waking. At length, 
 however, he came out, still drowsy, and taking the letter, 
 gazed on it by the light of the candle, "with lack-lustre eye!" 
 But Harding soon brought him to active consciousness, by 
 saying, " They threaten to burn the village, Harris, unless the 
 murderers be suffered to escape. I am going up to the church, 
 where they are kept. Wake some one to sit up stairs. 1 
 will die before a man of them goes out." 
 
 "And so will I," cried Harris; "let me sec, let me sec! 
 
426 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 My heart's asleep still, but I'll soon wake up, Why, where 
 the mischief did this come from?" and he read the letter over 
 again, with more comprehension of its contents. When he 
 had done, he swore vehemently, " They shall find that the 
 men of Goudhurst can match them," he cried; "but we must 
 set about it quick, Harding, and call up all the young men. 
 They will come, that is certain; for the devil himself has not 
 their impudence; but they must be well received when they 
 do come. We'll give them a breakfast, Harding, they shan't 
 forget. It shall be called the Goudhurst breakfast, as long as 
 men can remember. Stay, I'll just put on my coat, and get 
 out the gun and the pistols, we shall want as many of those 
 things as we can muster. I'll be back in a minute." 
 
 From that hour till five o'clock the little village of Goud- 
 hurst was all alive. Intimation of the danger was sent to all 
 the neighbouring farmers; every labouring man was roused 
 from his bed with directions to meet the rest in the churchyard ; 
 and there, as the sky became grey, a busy scene was displayed : 
 some sixty stout men being assembled before the porch, most 
 of them armed with old muskets or fowling pieces. Amongst 
 those to whom age or habitual authority assigned the chief 
 place, an eager consultation went on as to their proceedings; 
 and though there was, as is generally the case in such meet- 
 ings, a great difference upon many points, yet three acts were 
 unanimously decided upon ; first, to send all the women and 
 children out of the village; next, to despatch a messenger to 
 Woodchurch for military aid; and next, to set about casting 
 bullets immediately, as no shot larger than slugs were to be 
 found in the place. 
 
 The reader will probably ask, with a look of surprise, " Is 
 this a scene in North America, where settlers were daily 
 exposed to the incursions of the savages?" and he may add, 
 "This could not have happened in England!" But I beg to 
 say, this happened in the county of Kent, less than a century 
 ago; and persons are still living, who remember having been 
 sent with the women and children out of the village, that the 
 men might not be impeded by fear for those they loved, while 
 defending the spot on which they were born. 
 
 A fire of wood was speedily lighted by some of the men in 
 the churchyard; others applied themselves with what moulds 
 could be procured to the casting of ball; others, again, woke 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 427 
 
 the still slumbering inhabitants of the cottages and houses 
 round, and warned the women to remove to the neighbouring 
 farms, and the men to come and join their friends at the 
 rendezvous; and a few of the best instructed proceeded to 
 arrange their plan of defence, barricading the gates of the 
 cemetery, and blocking up a stile, which at that time led from 
 the right-hand wall, with an old grave-stone, against which 
 they piled up a heap of earth. 
 
 The vestry, in which the prisoners had been confined, after 
 having been brought from Mr. Broughton's at too late an hour 
 to convey them to gaol, was luckily protected by strong iron 
 bars over the windows, and a heavy plated door between it 
 and the church ; and the old tower of the building afforded a 
 strong point in the position of the villagers, which they flat- 
 tered themselves could not easily be forced. 
 
 " How many men do you think they can muster, Harding?" 
 asked farmer Harris, when their first rude preparations were 
 nearly complete. 
 
 " I can but guess," answered the smuggler; "perhaps two 
 hundred. They had more than that in the Marsh, of whom 
 I hear some fifty were taken or killed; but a good many were 
 not there, who may, and will be here to-day: old Ilamley for 
 one, I should think." 
 
 " Then we had better get into the church when they come," 
 replied the farmer; "they cannot force us there till the sol- 
 diers come." 
 
 "Did you send for them?" asked Harding. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" answered the farmer, "half-an-hour ago. I 
 sent the young boy, who would be of no good here, on the 
 pony ; and I told him to let Sir Robert know, as he passed ; 
 for I thought the soldiers might not meddle if they had not a 
 magistrate with them." 
 
 " Very well," replied Harding, and set himself to work 
 away again. 
 
 Six o'clock was now past, seven approached and went by ; 
 the hand of the dial moved half-way on to eight, and yet 
 nothing indicated the approach of the smugglers. In a few 
 minutes after, however, the sound of horses' feet galloping was 
 heard ; and a young man who had been placed in the belfry 
 to look out, shouted down to those below, "Only twol" and 
 the next moment a horseman in military half dress, with 
 
428 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 a servant behind him, rode up at speed to tho principal 
 entrance of the churchyard. 
 
 "I ana come to help yon, my men," cried Sir Edward 
 Digby^ springing to the ground, and giving his rein to his 
 servant. " Will you let us in to your redoubt? The dragoons 
 will soon be over; I sent your messenger on." 
 
 " Perhaps, sir, you may have your trouble for your pains, 
 after all," answered young Harris, opening the gate to let 
 Digby and his horses in; "the fellows have not shown them- 
 selves,, and very likely won't come." 
 
 "Oh, yes! they will," said the young baronet, advancing 
 simongst them, and looking round on every side; "I saw a 
 long line of men on horseback moving over the hill as I came. 
 Put the horses under cover of that shed, Somers. You should 
 cut down those thick bushes near the wall. They will conceal 
 their movements. Have you any axes?" 
 
 " Here is one," cried a young man, and immediately he set 
 to work, hewing down the shrubs and bushes to which Digby 
 pointed. 
 
 In the mean time the young officer ran over the groups 
 with his eye, calculating their numbers, and at length he said: 
 " You had better confine yourselves to defending the church; 
 you are not enough to meet them out here. I counted a 
 hundred and fifty, and there may be more. Station your best 
 marksmen at the windows and on the roof of the tower, and 
 put a few stout resolute fellows to guard the door in case these 
 scoundrels get nearer than we wish them. As we all act 
 upon our own responsibility, however, we had better be cau- 
 tious, and abstain from offensive measures till they are abso- 
 lutely necessary for the defence of ourselves and the security 
 of the prisoners. Besides, if they are kept at bay for some 
 time, the dragoons will take them in flank, and a good number 
 may be captured." 
 
 "We can deal with them ourselves," said the voice of 
 Harding, in a stern tone. He had been standing by, listening 
 in grave silence, with a gun in his hand, which he had bor- 
 rowed at farmer Harris's; and now, as soon as he had spoken, 
 he turned away, walked into the church, and climbed to the 
 roof of the tower. There, after examining the priming of the 
 piece, he seated himself coolly upon the little parapet, and 
 looked out over the country, the moment after his voice was 
 
HIE SMUGGLER. 429 
 
 heard, calling from above: "They are Coming Up, Harris I 
 Tell the officer." 
 
 Sir Edward Digby had, in the mean time, advanced to the 
 gates to insure that they were securely fastened; but he heard 
 what Harding said, and turning his head, exclaimed: "Go 
 into the church, and garnish the windows with marksmen, as 
 I said. I will be with you in a moment. Here, Somers, 
 help me here for a moment. They will soon pull this down;'' 
 and he proceeded calmly to fasten the barricade more strongly. 
 Before he had accomplished this to his satisfaction, men oa 
 horseback were seen gathering thick in the road, and on the 
 little open space in front; but he went on without pausing to 
 look at them, till a loud voice exclaimed: "What are you 
 about there? Do you intend to give the men up or not?" 
 
 Sir Edward Digby then raised his head, and replied: " Cer- 
 tainly not! Oh! Mr. Richard Radford, you will have the 
 goodness to remark that if you advance one step towards these 
 gates, or attempt to pass that wall, you will be fired on from 
 the church." 
 
 While he was speaking, he took a step back, and then 
 walked slowly towards the building, making his servant go 
 first; but half-way thither he paused, and turning towards the 
 ruffians congregated at a little distance from the wall, he 
 added aloud, addressing Richard Radford: " You had better 
 tell your gang what I say, my good friend, for they will find 
 we will keep our word." 
 
 As he spoke, some one from the mass fired a pistol at him ; 
 but the ball did not take effect, and Digby raised his hand, 
 waving to those in the church not to fire, and at the same time 
 hurrying his pace a little till he had passed the door and or- 
 dered it to be shut. 
 
 "They have now fair warning, " he said to one of the young 
 Plarrises, who was en guard at the door; "but I will go up 
 above and call to you when I think anything is necessary to 
 be done. Remember, my good fellows, that some order must 
 be kept; and as you cannot all be at the windows, let those 
 who must stand back load while the rest fire." 
 
 Thus saying, he mounted to the top of the tower with a 
 quick step, and found Harding and five others on the roof. 
 The horsemen in front of the church were all gathered toge- 
 ther at a little distance, and seemed in eager consultation ; and 
 
430 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 amongst them the figures of young R ad ford and the two Ram- 
 leys, father and son, were conspicuous from the vehement 
 gestures that they made, now pointing to the top of the tower, 
 now to the wall of the churchyard. 
 
 " I think we could bring a good many down as they stand 
 now," said young William Harris, moving his gun towards his 
 shoulder, as if the inclination to fire were almost irresistible. 
 
 " Stay, stay! not yet," replied Sir Edward Digby; "let it 
 bo clearly in our own defence. Besides, you must remember 
 these are but fowling-pieces. At that distance, few shots 
 would tell." 
 
 " One shall tell at least, before this day is over," said 
 Harding, who had remained seated, hardly looking at the 
 party without. " Something tells me I shall have vengeance 
 this day." 
 
 "Hallo! they are going to begin!" cried another man; and 
 the same moment the gang of miscreants spread out, and while 
 some advanced on horseback towards the wall, at least fifty, 
 who were armed with guns, dismounted and aimed deliberately 
 at the tower and windows. 
 
 "Down with your heads behind the parapet!" cried Digby, 
 though he did not follow the caution himself; "no use of ex- 
 posing your lives needlessly. Down, down, Harding!" 
 
 But Harding sat where he was, saying, bitterly, "They'll 
 not hit me; I know it; they've done worse already." As he 
 spoke, a single gun was fired, and then a volley from the two 
 sides of the churchyard wall. One of the balls whizzed close 
 by Sir Edward Digby's head, and another struck the parapet 
 near Harding; but neither were touched, and the stout seaman 
 did not move a muscle. 
 
 "Now up, and give it them back!" exclaimed Digby; and, 
 speaking clown the trap that led to the stairs, he called to 
 those below, "Fire now, and pick them off! Steadily, 
 steadily!" he continued, addressing his companions on the 
 roof, who were becoming somewhat too much excited. ''Make 
 every shot tell, if you can; a good aim; a good aim!" 
 
 "Here goes for one!" cried William Harris, aiming at Jim 
 Ramley, and hitting him. in the thigh; and instantly, from the 
 roof and the windows of the church, blazed forth a sharp lire 
 of musketry, which apparently was not without severe cifect ; 
 for the men who had dismounted were thrown into great con- 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 431 
 
 fusion, and the horsemen who were advancing recoiled, with 
 several of their horses plunging violently." 
 
 The only one on the roof who did not fire was Harding, and 
 he remained with his gun resting on the parapet beside him, 
 gazing, with a stern, dark brow, upon the scene. 
 
 "There are three down," cried one of the men, "and a lot 
 of horses!" 
 
 But Richard Radford was seen gesticulating vehemently; 
 and at length taking off his hat, he waved it in the air, shout- 
 ing so loud that his words reached those above: "I will show 
 you the way, then; let every brave man follow me!" And as 
 he spoke he stuck his spurs into his horse's sides, galloped on, 
 and pushed his beast at the low wall of the churchyard. 
 
 The animal, a powerful hunter, which had been sent to him 
 by his father the day before, rose to the leap as if with pride. 
 But just then Harding raised his gun, aimed steadily, and 
 pulled the trigger. The smoke for a moment obscured Digby's 
 view; but the instant after he saw Richard Radford falling 
 headlong from the saddle, and his shoulder striking the Avail 
 as the horse cleared it. The body then fell over, bent up, 
 with the head leaning against a tombstone and the legs upon 
 an adjoining grave. 
 
 "There! that's done!" said Harding; and laying down 
 the gun again, he betook himself quietly to his seat upon the 
 parapet once more. 
 
 " The dragoons ! the dragoons!" cried a young man from 
 the other side of the tower. But ere he spoke, the gang of 
 villains were already in retreat, several galloping away, and 
 the rest wavering. 
 
 Loading as fast as they could, the stout yeomanry in the 
 church continued firing from the windows and from the roof, 
 accelerating the movements of their assailants, who seemed 
 only to pause for the purpose of carrying off their wounded 
 companions. Sir Edward Digby, however, ran round to the 
 opposite side of the tower, and, clearly seeing the advance of 
 some cavalry from the side of Cranbrook, though the trees 
 prevented him from ascertaining their numbers, he bade the 
 rest follow, and ran down into the body of the church. 
 
 "Now out, and after them!" he exclaimed; "we may 
 make some prisoners!" But as soon as the large wooden 
 doors were thrown back and the peasantry were seen pouring 
 
432 THE SMUGCiLEil 
 
 forth, old Rarnley, who was amongst the last who lingered. 
 turned his horse and galloped away, his companions following 
 as fast as they could. Four men were found on the outside 
 of the churchyard wall, of whom two were living; but Sir 
 Edward Digby advanced with several others to the spot where 
 Richard Radford was lying. He did not appear to have moved 
 at all since he fell; and on raising his head, which had fallen 
 forward on his chest as he lay propped up by the gravestone, 
 a dark red spot in the centre of the forehead, from which a 
 small quantity of blood had flowed down over his cyos and 
 cheeks, told how fatally true the shot had gone to the mark. 
 
 When he had gazed on him for a moment, Digby turned 
 round again, to look for Harding; but the man who had slain 
 him, did not approach the corpse of Richard Radford; and 
 Digby perceived him standing near a low shed, which at that 
 time encumbered the churchyard of Goudlmrst, and under 
 which the young baronet's horses had been placed. Thither 
 the strong hunter, which Radford had been riding, had trotted 
 as soon as his master fell; and Harding had caught it by the 
 bridle, and was gazing at it with a thoughtful look. 
 
 The last time Sir Edward Digby had seen him, before th t at 
 morning, he was in high happiness by the side of poor Kate 
 Clare ; and when the young officer looked at him, as he stood 
 there, with a sort of dull despair in his whole aspect, he could 
 not but feel strong and painful sympathy with him, in his 
 deep grief. 
 
 "Mr. Harding," he said, approaching him, "the unhappy 
 man is quite dead." 
 
 "Oh! yes, sir," answered Harding; "dead enough, I am 
 sure. I hope he knew whose hand did it. 5 ' 
 
 " I am sorry to give you any further pain or anxiety at this 
 moment," continued Digby, sinking his voice, "but I have 
 heard that you are supposed to have taken some part in land- 
 ing the goods which were captured the other day. For aught 
 we know, there may be information lodged against you, and 
 probably there will be some officer of customs with the troop 
 that is coming up. Would it not be better for you to retire 
 from this scene for a little?" 
 
 "Thank you, sir; thank you! That is kind," answered 
 Harding. "Life's a load to me; but a prison is another 
 thing. I would have given any of those clumsy fellows a 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 433 
 
 hundred guineas to have shot me as I sat there; but no man 
 shall ever take me, and clap me up in a cell. I could not bear 
 that, and my poor Kate lying dead there, tool I'll go, as you 
 say." 
 
 But before he could execute his purpose, a small party of 
 dragoons, commanded by a lieutenant, with Birchett, the riding- 
 officer, and two or three of his companions, came up at a trot, 
 and poured through the gate of the churchyard, which was 
 now open. 
 
 Sir Edward Digby advanced at once towards them, if the 
 truth must be told, to cover Harding'a retreat; but Birchett's 
 quick, shrewd eye had run round the place in an instant, and, 
 before the young baronet had taken two steps along the path, 
 he cried, "Why, there is Harding! Stop himl stop him! 
 We have information against him! Don't let him passl" 
 
 "I will pass, though," cried Harding, leaping at once upon 
 the back of Richard Radford's horse. "Now, stop me, if you 
 canl" and striking it with his heel, he turned the animal across 
 the churchyard, taking an angle away from the dragoons. 
 Birchett spurred after him in a moment, and the other officers 
 followed, but the soldiers did not move. Passing close by the 
 spot where young Radford lay, as the officers tried to cut him 
 off from the gate, Harding cried, with a wild and bitter laugh, 
 " He is a good leaper, I knowl" and instantly pushed his horse 
 at the wall. 
 
 The gallant beast took it at once, and dashed away with its 
 rider along the road. The officers of customs dared not trust 
 their own cattle with the same feat; but Birchett exclaimed, 
 in a loud and imperative tone, turning to the lieutenant of 
 dragoons, " I require your aid in capturing that man. He is 
 one of the most daring smugglers on the whole coast. We 
 can catch him easily, if we are quick." 
 
 " I do not know that I am authorized," said the lieutenant, 
 not well pleased with the man's manner; "where no armed 
 resistance is apprehended, I doubt if " 
 
 "But there may be resistance, sir," replied Birchett, 
 vehemently; "he is gone to join his comrades. Well, the 
 responsibility be on your headl I claim your aid! Refuse it 
 or not, as you shall think fit. I claim and require it instantly." 
 
 " What do you think, sir?" asked the young officer, turning 
 to Digby. 
 
 EE 
 
43' THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 "Nay, I am not in command here," answered the other; 
 "you know your orders." 
 
 " To give all lawful aid and assistance," said the lieutenant. 
 " Well, take a Serjeant's guard, Mr. Birchett." 
 
 In. haste, the men were drawn out, and followed; Birchett 
 leading them furiously on the pursuit : but ere they had quitted 
 the churchyard, Harding was half-a-mile upon the road, and 
 that was all he desired. 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 4R5 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THERE was a large lugger lying off, at no great distance from 
 the beach, near Sandgate, and a small boat, ready for launch- 
 ing, on the shore. At the distance of two or three miles out, 
 might be seen a vessel of considerable size, and of that peculiar 
 rig and build which denoted, to nautical eyes, that there lay a 
 king's vessel. She was, indeed, a frigate of inferior class, 
 which had been sent round to co-operate with the customs, in 
 the suppression of the daring system of smuggling, which, as 
 we have shown, was carried on in Romney Marsh, and the 
 neighbouring country. By the lesser boat, upon the shore, 
 stood four stout fellows, apparently employed in making ready 
 to put off; and upon the high ground above, was seen a single 
 officer of customs, walking carelessly to and fro, and appa- 
 rently taking little heed of the proceedings below. Some move- 
 ments might be perceived on board the ship ; the sails, which 
 had been furled, now began to flutter in the wind, which was 
 blowing strong; and it seemed evident that the little frigate 
 was about to get under weigh. The lugger, however, remained 
 stationary; and the men near the boat continued their labours 
 for nearly an hour after they seemed in reality to have nothing 
 more to do. 
 
 At length, however, coming at a furious pace, down one of 
 the narrow foot-paths from the high ground above, which led 
 away towards Cheriton and Newington, was seen a horseman, 
 waving his hand to those below, and passing within fifty yards 
 of the officer of customs. The sailors, who were standing by 
 the boat, instantly pushed her down to the very verge of the 
 water; the officer hallooed after the bold rider, but without 
 causing him to pause for an instant in his course; and down, 
 
436 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 fit thundering speed, across the road, and over the sand and 
 shingle, Harding, the smuggler, dashed on, till the horse that 
 bore him stood foaming and panting beside the boat. Instantly 
 springing out of the saddle, he cast the bridle on the tired 
 beast's neck, and jumped into the skiff, exclaiming, " Shove 
 her offl" 
 
 " Arn't there some more Jack?" asked one of the men. 
 
 "None but myself," replied Harding, "and me they shan't 
 catch. Shove her off, I say; you'll soon see who are coming 
 after!" 
 
 The men obeyed at once; the boat was launched into the 
 water; and almost at the same instant, the party of dragoons 
 who were in pursuit appeared upon the top of the rise, followed 
 a moment after, by Birchett, and another officer of the customs. 
 The vehement and angry gestures of the riding officer indicated 
 plainly enough that he saw the prey had escaped him ; but 
 while the dragoons and his fellow officer made their way slowly 
 down the bank, to the narrow road which at that time ran 
 along the beach, he galloped off towards a signal-post, which 
 then stood upon an elevated spot, not far from the place where 
 the turnpike, on the road between Sandgate and Folkestone, 
 now stands. In a few minutes various small flags were seen 
 rapidly running up to the top of the staff; and, as speedily as 
 possible afterwards, signals of the same kind were displayed on 
 board the frigate. 
 
 In the mean time, however, Harding and his party had 
 rowed rapidly towards the lugger, the sails of which were 
 already beginning to fill; and in less than two minutes she 
 was scudding through the water as fast as the wind would bear 
 her. But the frigate was also under weigh ; and, to both ex- 
 perienced and inexperienced eyes, it seemed that the bold 
 smuggler had hardly one chance of escape. Between Dunge- 
 ness Point, and the royal vessel, there appeared to be no space 
 for any of those daring manoeuvres by which the small vessels, 
 engaged in the contraband trade, occasionally eluded the pur- 
 suit of their larger and more formidable opponents ; but Harding 
 still pursued his course, striving to get into the open sea, before 
 the frigate could cut him off, 
 
 Bending under the press of sail, the boat rushed through 
 the waves, with the uptide running strong against her, and 
 the spray dashing over her from stem to stern ; but still, as 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 437 
 
 she took an angle, though an acute one, with the course of the 
 frigate, the latter gained upon her every moment, till at length 
 a shot, whistling across her bows, gave her the signal to bring 
 to. It is needless to tell the reader, that that signal received no 
 attention; but, still steered with a firm hand, and carrying 
 every stitch of canvass she could bear, the lugger pursued her 
 way. A minute had scarcely passed, ere flash and report 
 came again from the frigate, and once more a ball whistled 
 by. Another and another followed; but, no longer directed 
 across the lugger's bows, they were evidently aimed directly 
 at her; and one of them passed through the foresail, though 
 without doing any farther damage. The case seemed so hope- 
 less, not only to those who watched the whole proceeding 
 from the shore, but to most of those who were in the lugger, 
 that a murmured consultation took place among the men ; and 
 after two or three more shots had been fired, corning each 
 time nearer and nearer to their flying mark, one of the crew 
 turned to Harding, who had scarcely uttered a word since he 
 entered the boat, and said, " Come, sir, I don't think this will 
 do. \Ye shall only get ourselves sunk for no good. We had 
 better douse." 
 
 Harding looked sternly at him for a moment without reply, 
 and a somewhat bitter answer rose to his lips. But he 
 checked himself, and said, at length, " There's no use sacrific- 
 ing your lives. You've got wives and children, fathers and 
 mothers. I have no one to care for me. Get into the boat 
 and be off. Me they shall never catch, dead or alive; and if 
 I go to the bottom, it's the best berth for me now. Here, 
 just help me reeve these tiller-ropes that I may take shelter 
 under the companion; and then be off as fast as you can." 
 
 The men would fain have remonstrated, but Harding would 
 hear nothing; and, covering himself as much as he could 
 from the aim of small arms from the vessel, he insisted that 
 the whole of his crew should go and leave him. 
 
 A short pause in the lugger's flight was observable from the 
 shore, and everybody concluded that she had struck. The 
 row-boat, filled with men, was seen to pull off from her, and 
 the large heavy sails to flap for an instant in the wind. But 
 then her course was altered in a moment; the sails filled again 
 with the full breeze; and going like a swallow over the waves, 
 she dashed on towards the frigate, and passing her within 
 
438 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 pistol-range immediately after, shot across upon her weather- 
 bow. 
 
 A cloud of smoke ran all along the side of the frigate, as 
 this bold and extraordinary manoeuvre was executed. The 
 faint report of small arms was wafted by the wind to the 
 shore, as well as the sound of several cannon; but still, 
 whether Harding was wounded or not wounded, living or 
 dead, his gallant boat dashed steadily on, and lefc the frigate 
 far behind, apparently giving up the chase, as no longer pre- 
 senting any chance of success. On, on, went the lugger, 
 diminishing as it flew over the waves, till at length, to the 
 eyes even of those who watched from the heights, its dark, 
 tanned sails grouped themselves into one small speck, and 
 were then lost to the sight. 
 
 The after-fate of that adventurous man, who thus, single 
 and unaided, trusted himself to the wide waves, is wrapped in 
 obscurity. The writer of these pages, indeed, did once see a 
 stern-looking old man of the same name, who had returned some 
 few years before from distant lands, no one well knew whence, 
 to spend the last few years of a life, which had been protracted 
 considerably beyond the ordinary term of human existence, in 
 a seaport not very far from Folkestone. The conversation of 
 the people of the place pointed him out as one who had done 
 extraordinary deeds, and seen strange sights ; but whether he 
 was, indeed, the Harding of this tale or not, I cannot say. 
 Of one thing, however, the reader may be certain, that in all 
 the statements regarding the smuggler's marvellous escape, 
 the most scrupulous accuracy has been observed, and that 
 every fact is as true as any part of history, and a great deal 
 more so than most. 
 
 Having now disposed of one of our principal characters, let 
 me take the reader gently by the hand, and lead him back to 
 Harbourne House. The way is somewhat long, but still, not 
 more than a stout man can walk without fatigue upon a plea- 
 sant morning; and it lies, too, among sweet and interesting 
 scenes, which, to you and me are, I trust, embellished by some 
 of the charms of association. 
 
 It was about six days after the attack upon the church at 
 Goudhurst, when a great number of those personages with 
 whom it has been necessary to make the reader acquainted, 
 were assembled in the drawing-room of Sir Robert Croyland's 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 439 
 
 mansion. One or two, indeed, were wanting, even of the 
 party which might have been expected there, but their ab- 
 sence shall be accounted for hereafter. The baronet himself 
 was seated in the arm-chair, which he generally occupied 
 more as a mark of his state and dignity, than for comfort and 
 convenience. In the present instance, however, he seemed to 
 need support, for he leaned heavily upon the arm of the chair, 
 and appeared languid and feeble. His face was very pale, his 
 lips somewhat livid ; and yet, though suffering evidently under 
 considerable corporeal debility, there was a look of mental 
 relief in his eyes, and a sweet placidity about his smile, that no 
 one had seen on his countenance for many years. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara was, as usual, seated at her everlasting em- 
 broidery; and here we may as well mention a fact which we 
 omitted to mention before, but which some persons may look 
 upon as indicative of her mental character; namely, that the 
 embroidery, though it had gone on all her life, by no means 
 proceeded in an even course of progression. On the contrary, 
 to inexperienced eyes, it seemed as if no sooner was a stitch 
 put in than it was drawn out again; the point of the needle 
 being gently thrust under the loop of the thread, and then the 
 arm extended with an even sweep, so as to withdraw the silk 
 from its hole in the canvass. Penelope's web was nothing to 
 Mrs. Barbara Croyland's embroidery: for the queen of Ithaca 
 only undid what she had previously done, every night; and 
 Aunt Bab undid it every minute. On the present occasion, 
 she was more busy in the retroactive process than ever, not 
 only pulling out the silk she had just put in, but a great deal 
 more ; so that the work of the last three days, was in immi- 
 nent danger of total destruction. 
 
 Mr. Zachary Croyland never sat down when he could stand ; 
 for there was about him, a sort of mobility and activity of 
 spirits, which always inclined him to keep his body ready for 
 action. He so well knew that, when seated, he was inces- 
 santly inclined to start up again, that probably he thought it 
 of little use to sit down at all; and consequently he was even 
 now upon his feet, midway between his brother and his sister, 
 rubbing his hands, and giving a gay, but cynical glance from 
 one to the other. 
 
 In a chair near the window, with his wild, but fine eye 
 gazing over the pleasant prospect which the terrace com- 
 
440 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 manded, and apparently altogether absent in mind from the 
 scene in the drawing-room, was seated Mr. Osborn; and not 
 far from Mr. Croyland stood Sir Henry Layton, in an ordinary 
 riding-dress, with his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, 
 speaking in any easy, quiet tone to Sir Robert Croyland; and 
 nearly opposite to him was Edith, with her arm resting on the 
 table, and her cheek supported on her hand. Her face was 
 still pale, though the colour had somewhat returned; and the 
 expression was grave, though calm. Indeed, she never re- 
 covered the gay and sparkling look which had characterised 
 her countenance in early youth; but the expression had gained 
 in depth and intensity more than it had lost in brightness; 
 and ,then, when she did smile, it was with ineffable sweetness : 
 a gleam of sunshine upon the deep sea. Her eyes were fixed 
 upon her lover ; and those who knew her well could read in 
 them satisfaction, love, hope, nay, more than hope, a pride, 
 the only pride that she could know, that he whom she had 
 chosen in her girlhood, to whom she had remained true and 
 faithful through years of sorrow and unexampled trial, had 
 proved himself in every way worthy of her first; affection and 
 her long constancy. 
 
 But where was Zara? where Sir Edward Digby? for 
 neither of them were present at the time. From the laws of 
 attraction between different terrestrial bodies, we have every 
 reason to infer that Digby and Zara were not very far apart. 
 However, they had been somewhat eccentric in their orbits; 
 for Zara had gone out about a couple of hours before, Digby 
 being then absent, no one knew where, upon a charitable 
 errand, to carry consolation and sympathy to the cottage of 
 poor Mrs. Clare, whose daughter had been committed to the 
 earth the day before. How it happened, heaven only knows, 
 but certain it is, that at the moment I now speak of, she and 
 Digby were walking home together, towards Harbourne 
 House, while his servant led his horse at some distance 
 behind. 
 
 Before they reached the house, however, a long conversation 
 had taken place between the personages in the drawing-room, 
 of which I shall only give the last few sentences. 
 
 " It is true, Harry, it is true," said Sir Robert Croyland, in 
 reply to something just spoken by Layton; "and we have 
 both things to forgive ; but you far more than I have ; and as 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 441 
 
 you have set me an example of doing good for evil, and aton- 
 ing, by every means, for a slight error, I will not be backward 
 to do the same, and to acknowledge that I have acted most 
 wrongly towards you, for which may heaven forgive me, as 
 you have done! I have small means of atoning for much that 
 is past ; but to do so, as far as possible, freely and with my 
 full consent, take the most valuable thing I have to give, my 
 dear child's hand: nay, hear me yet a moment. I wish your 
 marriage to take place as soon as possible. I have learned to 
 doubt of time, and never to trust the future. Say a week, a 
 fortnight, Edith; but let it be speedily. It is my wish; let 
 me say, for the last time, it is my command." 
 
 " But, brother Robert," exclaimed Mrs. Barbara, ruming 
 her embroidery irretrievably in the agitation of the moment, 
 "you know it can't be so very soon; for there are all the 
 dresses to get ready, and the settlements to be drawn up, and 
 a thousand things to buy ; and our cousins in Yorkshire must 
 be informed, and 
 
 " D n our cousins in Yorkshire!" exclaimed Mr. Zachary 
 Croyland. "Now, my dear Bab, tell me candidly, whether 
 you have or have not any nice little plan ready for spoiling the 
 whole, and throwing us all into confusion again. Don't you 
 think you could just send Edith to visit somebody in the small- 
 pox? or get Harry Lay ton run through in a duel? or some 
 other little comfortable consummation, which may make us all 
 as unhappy as possible?" 
 
 " Really, brother Zachary, I don't know what you mean I" 
 said Mrs. Barbara, looking the picture of injured innocence. 
 
 "I dare say not, Bab," answered Mr. Croyland; "but I 
 understand what you mean; and I tell you it shall not be. 
 Edith shall fix the day; and as a good child, she will obey 
 her father, and fix it as early as possible. When once fixed, 
 it shall not be changed or put off, on any account or con- 
 sideration whatever, if my name's Croylaad. As for the 
 dresses, don't you trouble your head about that; I'll under- 
 take the dresses, and have them all down from London by the 
 coach. Give me the size of your waist, Edith, upon a piece 
 of string, and your length from shoulder to heel, and leave all 
 the rest to me. If I don't dress her like a Mahommedan prin- 
 cess, may I never hear Bismillah again." 
 
 Kdith smiled, but answered, " I don't think it will be at all 
 
442 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 necessary, my dear uncle, to put you to the trouble ; and I do 
 not think it would answer its purpose if you took it." 
 
 " But I will have my own way," said Mr. Croyland; "you 
 are my pet; and all the matrimonial arrangements shall be 
 mine. If you don't mind, and say another word, I'll insist 
 upon being bridesmaid too; for I can encroach in my demands, 
 I can tell you, as well as a lady or a prime minister." 
 
 As he spoke, the farther progress of the discussion was in- 
 terrupted by the entrance of Zara, followed by Sir Edward 
 Digby. Her colour was a little heightened, and her manner 
 somewhat agitated ; but she shook hands with her uncle and 
 Layton, neither of whom she had seen before during that 
 morning; arid then passing by her father, in her way towards 
 Edith, she whispered a word to him as she went. 
 
 "What, whatl" exclaimed Sir Robert Croyland, turning 
 suddenly round towards Digby, with a look of alarm, and 
 pressing his left hand upon his side, " she says you have some- 
 thing important to tell me, Sir Edward. Pray speak! I 
 have no secrets from those who are around me." 
 
 "I am sure, what I have to say will shock all present I" 
 replied Sir Edward Digby, gravely; " but the fact is, I heard 
 a report this morning, from my servant, that Mr. Radford had 
 destroyed himself last night in prison ; and I rode over as fast 
 as I could, to ascertain if the rumour was correct. I found 
 that it was but too accurate, and that the unhappy man ter- 
 minated a career of crime by the greatest that he could 
 commit." 
 
 "Well, there's one rascal less in the world; that's some 
 comfort," said Mr. Zachary Croyland; "I would rather, in- 
 deed, he had let some one else hang him, instead of doing it 
 himself; for I don't approve of suicide at all; it's foolish, and 
 wicked, and cowardly. Still, nothing else could be expected 
 from such a man ; but what's the matter with you, Robert ? 
 you seem ill; surely, you can't take this man's death much to 
 heart?" 
 
 Sir Robert Croyland did not reply, but made a faint sign to 
 open the window, which was immediately done; and he re- 
 vived under the influence of the air. 
 
 "I will go out for a few minutes," he said, rising; and 
 Edith instantly starting up, approached to go with him. He 
 would not suffer her, however. " No, my child," he replied 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 443 
 
 to her offer, " no: you can understand what I feel; but I shall 
 be better presently. Stay here, and let all this be settled; 
 and remember, Edith, name the earliest day possible ; arrange 
 with Zara and Digby. Theirs can take place at the same 
 time." 
 
 Thus saying, he went out, and was seen walking slowly to 
 and fro upon the terrace for some minutes after. In the 
 meanwhile the war had commenced between Mr. Zachary 
 Croyland and his younger niece. "Ah! Mrs. Madcap!'' he 
 exclaimed, "so I hear tales of you. The coquette has been 
 caught at length! You are going to commit matrimony; and 
 as birds of a feather flock together, the wild girl and the wild 
 boy must pair." 
 
 With her usual light, graceful step, and with her usual gay 
 and brilliant smile, Zara left Sir Edward Dighy's side, and 
 crossing over to her uncle, rested both her hands upon his 
 arm, while he stood as erect and stiff as a finger post, gazing 
 down upon her with a look of sour fun. But in Zara's eyes, 
 beautiful and beaming as they were, there was a look of deeper 
 feeling than they usually displayed when jesting, as was her 
 wont, with Mr. Croyland. 
 
 "Well, chit," he said, "well, what do you want? A new 
 gown, or a smart hat, or a riding- whip, with a tiger's head 
 in gold at the top?" 
 
 u Xo, my dear uncle," she answered, "but I want you not 
 to tease me, nor to laugh at me, nor to abuse me just now. 
 For once in my life, I feel that I must be serious; and I think 
 even less teasing than ordinary might be too much for me. 
 Perhaps, one time or another, you may find out that poor Zara's 
 coquetry was more apparent than real, and that though she 
 had an object, it was a better one than you, in your benevo- 
 lence, were disposed to think." 
 
 An unwonted drop swam in her eyes as she spoke ; and 
 Mr. Croyland gazed down upon her tenderly for a moment. 
 Then throwing his arms round her, he kissed her cheek. Ci l 
 know it, my dear," he said; "I know it. Edith has told me 
 all ; and she who has been a kind, good sister, will, I am sure, 
 be a kind, good wife. Here, take her away, Digby. A better 
 girl doesn't live, whatever I may have said. The worst of it 
 is, she is a great deal too good for you, or any other wild, 
 harem-scarein fellow. But stay, stay," he continued, as 
 
444 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 Digby came forward laughing, and took Zara's hand: "here's 
 something with her; for, as I am sure you will be a couple of 
 spendthrifts, it is but fit you should have something to set out 
 upon." 
 
 Mr. Cropland, as he spoke, put his hand into the somewhat 
 wide and yawning pocket of his broad-tailed coat, and pro- 
 duced his pocket-book, from which he drew forth a small slip 
 of paper. 
 
 Digby took it, and looked at it, but instantly held it out 
 again to Mr. Croyland, saying, "My dear sir, it is quite un- 
 necessary. I claim nothing but her hand ; and that is mine 
 by promises which I hope will not be very long ere they are 
 fulfilled." 
 
 "Nonsense, nonsense!" cried Mr. Croyland, putting away 
 the paper with the back of his hand; "did ever any one see 
 such a fool? I tell you, Sir Edward Digby, I'm as proud a 
 man as you are; and you shall not marry my niece without 
 receiving the same portion as her sister possesses. I hate all 
 eldest sons, as you well know; and I don't see why eldest 
 daughters should exist either. I'll have them all equal. No 
 differences here. I've made up to Zara the disparity which 
 one fool of an uncle thought fit to put between her and Edith. 
 Such was always my intention ; and moreover, let it be clearly 
 understood, that when you have put this old carrion under 
 ground, what I leave is to be divided between them; all 
 equal, all equal; co -heiresses of Zachary Croyland, Esq. sur- 
 named the Nabob, alias the Misanthorpe; and then, if you 
 like it, you may each bear in your arms a crow rampant, on 
 an escutcheon of pretence." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, my dear uncle," answered Edith 
 Croyland, while Zara's gay heart was too full to let her speak; 
 " thank you for such thought of my sweet sister; for, indeed, 
 to me, during long years of sorrow and trouble, she has been 
 the spirit of consolation, comfort, strength, even hope." 
 
 Poor Zara was overpowered, and. she burst into tears. It 
 seemed as if all the feelings, which for the sake of others she 
 had so long suppressed: all the emotions, anxieties, and cares 
 which she had conquered or treated lightly, in order to give 
 aid and support to Edith, rushed upon her at once in the mo- 
 ment of joy, and overwhelmed her. 
 
 "Why, what's the foolish girl crying about?" exclaimed 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 445 
 
 Mr. Cropland ; but then, drawing her kindly to him, he added, 
 " Come, my clear, we will make a truce upon the following 
 conditions: I won't tease you any more; and you shall do 
 everything I tell you. In the first place, then, wipe your 
 eyes, and dry up your tears; for if Digby sees how red your 
 cheeks can look when you've been crying, he may find out 
 that you are not quite such a Venus as he fancies just now. 
 There; go along!" and he pushed her gently away from him. 
 
 While this gayer conversation had been going on within, 
 Mr. Osborn had passed through the glass doors, and was walk- 
 ing slowly up and down with Sir Robert Croyland. The 
 subject they spoke upon must have been grave, for there was 
 gloom upon both their faces when they returned. 
 
 " I know it," said Sir Robert Croyland to his companion, 
 as they entered the room; "I am quite well aware of it; it is 
 that which makes me urge speed." 
 
 " If such be your view," replied Mr. Osborn, " you are 
 right, Sir Robert; and heaven will bless those acts which are 
 done under such impressions." 
 
 The party in the drawing-room heard no more; and, not- 
 withstanding the kindly efforts of Mrs. Barbara, and a thou- 
 sand little impediments, which, " with the very best motives 
 in the world," she created or discovered, all the arrangements 
 for the double marriage were made with great promptitude and 
 success. At the end of somewhat less than a fortnight, with- 
 out any noise or parade, the two sisters stood together at the 
 altar, and pledged their troth to those they truly loved. Sir 
 Robert Croyland seemed well and happy; for during the 
 last few days previous to the wedding, both his health and 
 spirits had apparently improved. But ere a month was over, 
 both his daughters received a summons to return, as speedily 
 as possible, to Harbourne House. They found him on the 
 bed of death, with his brother and Mr. Osborn sitting beside 
 him. But their father greeted them with a well-contented 
 smile, and reproved their tears in a very different tone from 
 that which he had been generally accustomed to use. 
 
 " My dear children," he said, in a feeble voice, " I have 
 often longed for this hour; and though life has become hap- 
 pier now, I have for many weeks seen death approaching, and 
 have seen it without regret. I did not think it would have 
 been so slow, and that was the cause of my hurrying your 
 
446 THE SMUGGLER. 
 
 marriage; for I longed to witness it with my own eyes, yet 
 was unwilling to mingle the happiness of such a union with 
 the thought that it took place while I was in sickness and 
 danger. My brother will be a father to you, I am sure, when 
 I am gone; but still it is some satisfaction to know that you 
 have both better protectors, even here on earth, than he or I 
 could be. I trust you are happy; and believe me, I am not 
 otherwise, though lying here with death before me." 
 
 Towards four o'clock on the following day, the windows of 
 Harbourne House were closed; and about a week after, the 
 mortal remains of Sir Robert Croyland were conveyed to the 
 family vault in the village church. Mr. Croyland succeeded 
 to the estates and title of his brother; but he would not quit 
 the mansion which he himself had built, leaving Mrs. Barbara 
 with a handsome income, which he secured to her, to act the 
 Lady Bountiful of Harbourne House. 
 
 The fate of Edith and Zara we need not farther trace. It 
 was such as might be expected from the circumstances in 
 which they were now placed. We will not venture to say that 
 it was purely happy; for when was ever pure and unalloyed 
 happiness found on earth? There were cares, there were 
 anxieties, there were griefs from time to time : for the splendid 
 visions of young imagination may be prophetic of joys that 
 shall be ours, if we deserve them in our trial here, but are 
 never realized within the walls of our mortal prison, and re- 
 cede before us, to take their stand for ever beyond the portals 
 of the tomb. But still they were as happy as human beings, 
 perhaps, ever were ; for no peculiar pangs or sufferings were 
 destined to follow those which had gone before; and in their 
 domestic life, having chosen well and wisely, they found, as 
 every one will find who judges upon such grounds, that love, 
 when it is pure, and high, and true, is a possession, to the 
 brightness of which even hope can add no sweetness, imagina- 
 tion no splendour, that it does not in itself possess. 
 
 The reader may be inclined to ask the after fate of some of 
 the other characters mentioned in this work. In regard to 
 many of them, I must give an unsatisfactory reply. What 
 became of most, indeed, I do not know. The name of Mowle, 
 the officer of customs, is still familiar to the people of Hythe 
 and its neighbourhood. It is certain that Ramley and one of 
 his sons were hanged; but the rest of the records of that 
 
THE SMUGGLER. 447 
 
 respectable family are, I fear, lost to the public. Little Star- 
 light seems to have disappeared from that part of the country, 
 for some time; and in truth, I have no certainty that the well- 
 known pickpocket, Night Ray, who was transported to Botany 
 ^ay, some thirty years after the period of this tale, and was 
 in an attempt to escape, was the same person whose early 
 v.er is here recorded. But of one thing the reader may be 
 ^orfectly certain, that, whatever was the fortune which attended 
 any of the persons I have mentioned; whether worldly pros- 
 ! ty, or temporary adversity befell them, the real, the solid 
 j, the happiness of spirit, was awarded in exact proportion 
 -.h, as their acts were good, and their hearts were pure. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 "<*BEL 
 
 i '<.*&'