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 



