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 



