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. 



