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 



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