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 



