seemed very anxious to be pulling, but his
hands were handcuffed. His legs were free,
however, and he was quite able to run away;
which he would have done, no doubt, but for
the fear of our Hester, in whose charge the
watchman had left him. I did not feel
enough curiosity to follow him to the
watchhouse, and I do not remember now what
daring act had brought him to that degrading
position. I do remember, however, meeting
old Martin again that day, and asking him,
"How it was that all the smugglers in his
stories were such murderous villains, while
everywhere else they were as mild as lambs?"

Old Martin did not like any joking upon
the subject of his smuggling stories. He
shook his head, and merely said, " Wait till
next time." Then, to put an end to the
conversation, he drew out his spy-glass and
began to observe what the men were doing
in the Jenny;—a kind of barge, in which lived
two look-out men, and which always stood,
high and dry, on a part of the beach.

"But," said I (for I would not let him off
so cheaply), " they tell me the last man was
just such a bumpkin as that fellow you
caught this morning."

"I didn't catch him," said the old man,
evasively.

"But you caught the last," said I, "and
they tell me more by running after him, than
by fighting with him."

"Well; " said Martin, peevishly.
"Smuggling ain't what it was."

"Ay! ay! Martin," said I, "it is the
old story. The wonderful times are always
past. To-day is never like yesterday."

The old man did not answer my remark;
but merely took off his hat, and bending his
head downwards, bade me "just look at that."
I noticed, for the first time, a long line across
the back of his head, where the hair was
wanting, and the scalp looked quite white, as
it will where a wound has healed. He put on
his hat again, and said, " It ain't such fellows
as that pitiful sneak this morning that 'll
mark a man like it."

"I never heard of this before," said I.
"Where, in the name of all that's fierce! did
you get such a wound as that?"

"Never mind," he replied, with an affected
obstinacy which I knew would melt away
in a moment, " I suppose you'll say I fell
asleep on my watch, and dreamed it."

"No," said I, " this is a certificate that you
will not lose very easily; tell me something
about it."

"It was a son of those Baters, who keep
the huckster's," said Martin; " a nest of
rascals they are. I have told our commander,
many a time, that smuggling will always
flourish till they are rooted out: and he says
he knows it: which being the case, any
sensible man would naturally ask, why they
don't root them out?"

"You can't do anything till you catch
them smuggling, Martin," I interrupted.

"Why, everybody knows they are
continually smuggling. The whole family of
them has got their living chiefly by it for I
don't know how many generations. Ask
that child there: ask anybody. But, never
mind about that now. I was out on my
watch one night—it is full seven years ago
—a very dark night it was, and my beat
lay along by old Borsted church that stands
out, all in ruins, on a point half rubbed away
by the sea. It is about the dreariest spot
along the coast; but I did not care about
that, as far as what harm men could do me;
though I don't like the way of those old
tumble-down churches at night."

"Pooh," said I, "you don't believe in
ghosts."

"Mr. John," said the old man, solemnly,
"I could tell you a story would make you
think a little different about ghosts: but
never mind now. My walk was on the cliff,
at that part. I passed the church once;
and when I had got to the end of my beat,
and had met the next man, and bid him
good night, I turned back to go over the
ground again. I had left him about twenty
minutes when I came to the church again.
Dark night as it was, I could see the shape
of its rent and ragged walls, and the sky
through its windows. My way lay right
under the old low wall, and I always walked
pretty fast by there; but this time I thought
I saw something moving, just this side of the
wall. I stopped a moment, and watched
it, and then I saw what seemed to me the
shape of a man standing upright. I
challenged him directly, and ran towards him.
I thought I saw him leap over the wall; but
when I came up there, and looked about, I
could see no one. However, I drew out my
pistols, and got over into the church-yard
and walked about there for some time; but
I could see nothing like a man there, and I
began to think I had only fancied it, and was
getting over the wall again, just where I got
over before, when I stumbled over something
on the ground. I stooped down and found it
was a large parcel, strapped across and
across, like a hawker's pack, and very heavy.
I was curious to know what was in it.
Luckily I carried a dark lantern in my pocket,
besides some German tinder, and matches to
light my port-fire, if I wanted. Well, I struck
a light, and lighted my lantern, which I set
beside me on the ground, while I began to
undo the pack. It seemed to me all fine
tobacco, pressed hard—I dare say some thirty
pound of it. Perhaps there's something else
under this, thought I; but just as I began to
turn it over, I heard a footstep close to me,
and before I could get off my knees I felt a
blow on the back of the head, which staggered
me for a moment. Another blow followed
—on the shoulder this time; but my coat
was thick just there, and my leather brace
protected me, so that it didn't cut through.
I got upon my feet, and closed with the