[Footnote A.:
If any higler, carrier, inn-keeper, &c. shall have in his possession, or shall buy, sell, or offer for sale, any hare, pheasant, partridge, or grouse, every such higler, &c. unless such game be sent by some person qualified, shall forfeit for every hare, pheasant, &c. the sum of five pounds, half to the informer, and half to the poor. 5 Ann. c. 14. s. 2.]
[Footnote B.:
If any person whatsoever, _whether qualified or not qualified to kill game_, shall buy any hare, pheasant, partridge, or grouse, he shall, on conviction before one justice, forfeit 5_l._ half to the informer and half to the poor. 58 G. III. c. 75. s. 1.
Any person may recover the said penalty by information, or may sue for and recover the _whole for his own use_, in any court of record, wherein the plaintiff if he recovers shall have double costs. Sect. 3.]
[Footnote C.:
If any person shall enter any park or paddock, fenced in and inclosed, or into any garden, orchard, or yard, adjoining or belonging to any dwelling house, and shall steal any fish kept in any water therein; or shall be a.s.sisting therein; or shall receive or buy any such fish, knowing the same to be stolen; and at the a.s.sizes be convicted of such offence, he shall be transported for seven years. 5 G. III. c. 14. s. 1, 2.
And if any person shall take or destroy, or attempt to take or destroy, any fish, in any other inclosed ground, being private property, without the consent of the owner, he shall upon conviction by one justice forfeit 5_l._ to the owner of the pond or fishery, and, in default of payment, shall be committed to the house of correction for any time not exceeding six months. Sect. 3, 4.]
[Footnote D.:
Whenever it shall appear to the justices, or to the overseers, to whom application shall be made for relief of any poor person, that he might, but for his _extravagance_, _neglect_, or _wilful misconduct_, have been able to maintain himself, or to support his family, it shall be lawful for the overseers (by the direction of the justices, &c.) to advance money to the person applying, by way of _loan_ only, and take his receipt for, and engagement to repay, (without stamp;) upon default of payment, two justices may commit him for not exceeding three calendar months. 59 G. III. cap. 12. sect. 29.]
[Footnote E.:
If any person shall knowingly and wilfully kill, take, or destroy any hare, or use any gun, dog, snare, net, or other engine, with intent to kill, take, or destroy any hare in the night, (or in the day time, upon a Sunday or Christmas-day,) he shall on conviction, on oath of one witness, before one justice, forfeit for the first offence not exceeding 20_l._ nor less than 10_l._; and for the second not exceeding 30_l._ nor less than 20_l._]
[Footnote F.:
If any person or persons, having entered into any park, wood, plantation, or other open or inclosed ground, with intent illegally to take, or kill, game, or rabbits, or to aid and a.s.sist in so doing, shall be found at night armed with any gun, fire arms, bludgeon, or any other offensive weapon, such person being lawfully convicted, shall be adjudged guilty of a misdemeanour, and shall be sentenced to transportation for seven years, or such other punishment as may be inflicted on persons guilty of misdemeanour; and if any such offender shall return before the expiration of such term, he shall be sentenced to transportation for life. 57 G. III. cap. 90. sect. 1.]
[Footnote G.:
_Extracts from Stonhouse"s "Sick Man"s Friend," on a Death-bed Repentance._
Bishop Burnet, in his excellent book ent.i.tled the Pastoral Care, (page 173, of the fourth edition,) says, "A clergyman ought to give no encouragement to men, who have led a bad course of life, to hope much from a death-bed repentance; yet he is to set them to implore the mercies of G.o.d in Christ Jesus, and to do all they can to obtain his favour. But unless the sickness has been of long continuance, and that the person"s repentance, patience, and piety, have been very extraordinary during the course of it, he must be sure to give him no positive ground of hope, but leave him to the mercies of G.o.d. For there cannot be any greater treachery to souls that is more fatal and pernicious than the giving quick and easy hopes, upon so short, so forced, and so imperfect a repentance. It not only makes those persons perish securely themselves, but it leads all about them to destruction, when they see one, of whose bad life and late repentance they have been the witnesses, put so soon in hopes, nay by some unfaithful guides made sure of salvation. This must make them go on very secure in their sins, when they see how small a measure of repentance sets all right at last: all the order and justice of a nation would be presently dissolved, should the howlings of criminals and their promises work on juries, judges, and princes. So the hopes that are given to death-bed penitents must be the most effectual means to root out the sense of religion from the minds of all who see it. Therefore, though no dying man is to be driven to despair, and left to die obstinate in his sins, yet, if we love the souls of our people, if we set a due value on the blood of Christ, and if we are touched with any sense of the honour or interests of religion, we must not say any thing that may encourage others, who are but too apt of themselves, to put all off to the last hour. We can give them no hopes from the nature of the Gospel covenant; yet, after all, the best thing a dying man can do is to repent. If he recover, that may be the seed and beginning of a new life, and a new nature in him: nor do we know the measure of the _riches of G.o.d"s grace and mercy_."
"When," says Dr. a.s.sheton, page 45 and 46 of his Death-bed Repentance, "you visit sick beds, and hear a poor dying creature lamenting his sins with tears, and most earnestly begging pardon for the sake of Jesus Christ; when you observe how pa.s.sionately he resolves, that if G.o.d will but spare him, he will become a new man, and never be guilty of such extravagance; what do you say or do in such a case? Nay, what must such a wicked man do, who having lived in sin, shall thus happen to be surprised by death? Dare you be so uncharitable as to declare that he is past hope, that there is no remedy, but that he will certainly be d.a.m.ned? I answer, that I dare not presume to limit G.o.d, whose mercies are infinite. In such a case I will not censure him, but admonish and instruct him to the best of my judgment and abilities. I will exhort the dying sinner to remember his sins, to bewail them, to beg pardon for them, to form firm resolutions of amendment, and (when there is occasion) to make rest.i.tution; and having prayed earnestly for him, and recommended him to G.o.d"s mercy, do I _then_ say such a one will be d.a.m.ned? No, I _dare_ not. But do I say he shall be _saved_? No, I _cannot_. What then do I resolve? What do I determine in this matter? I will be silent, and determine nothing; for as I dare not flatter him into a false and groundless presumption, so neither would I sink him into the horror of despair. I say, I will determine nothing: I will judge nothing before the time. However, I must be so faithful to my ministerial office as to admonish this dying sinner, that the Gospel (by the laws of which we are to be judged) expressly declares, that "without holiness no man shall see the Lord," and that Christ is the author of eternal salvation unto them (and to them _only_) who obey him. _Heb._ v.
9. When therefore the sick man has been vicious and extravagant all his life long, if G.o.d accepts his dying _resolutions_, it is more than he has _promised_, and it is more than he has given his ministers power to _preach_ and _declare_."
Repentance is a change of heart from an evil to a good disposition; no man can justly be called a true penitent, till his heart be thus changed, and whenever that change is made, repentance is certainly complete.
Now there is reason to conclude, G.o.d will consider that life as amended, which would have been amended if he had spared it. Repentance in the sight of man cannot be known but by its fruits. The only way man can judge is by the rule Christ himself has given us, "by their fruits ye shall know them." _Matt._ vii. 20.
But G.o.d (our great Creator) sees the fruit in the _blossom_ or in the _seed_. He (and He _only_) knows those resolutions which are _fixed_; those conversions which would be lasting; and will receive such as are qualified by holy desires for works of righteousness, without exacting from them those _outward_ duties, which the shortness of their lives hindered them from performing. All, therefore, a minister can do, is to recommend a _death-bed_ penitent to the mercies of G.o.d. But it is impossible for _him_ to p.r.o.nounce what will be his state in another world.]
THE SMUGGLER.
ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.
It is possible that in the following little Tale there may be several inaccuracies with regard to the habits and manners both of seamen, and of smugglers. The residence of the author in an _inland_ county must be his apology.
The similarity in some respects of the offence of smuggling, to the illegal pursuit which forms the subject of the preceding Tale--written two years ago--must be the author"s excuse for the recurrence of similar sentiments and expressions.
_Jan. 1823._
[Ill.u.s.tration]
THE
SMUGGLER.
It was the latter end of the month of November, when Mary Waldron, having carefully put her two children to bed, sat down with an aching head and a heavy heart, to wait for the return of her husband.
He had sailed from Folkestone in a stiff half-decked vessel, in company with eight or ten of his sea-faring companions, and then told his wife that she might expect him back on the day following. But that day and another had pa.s.sed away, and he was still absent.
The night was dark and tempestuous. The wind howled mournfully round the house; the rain beat hard against the windows; and whenever the storm seemed lulled for a moment, the continued roar of the waves, as they broke on the shingly beach, came heavily on her ear. She tried to occupy herself in mending one of her husband"s fishing jackets; but her hands and the jacket were constantly in her lap, and it was with difficulty that from time to time she was able in some degree to rouse herself.
At length, wearied out with watching and anxiety, and her candle having nearly burnt to the socket, she lay down on the bed in her clothes, and was just falling into an unquiet slumber, when she was waked by a knocking at the door. She hurried down stairs, and let in her husband, who was accompanied by a short stout-built ill-looking man, in a rough seaman"s jacket, from one of the pockets of which peeped forth the b.u.t.t end of a pistol. Both were wet and tired, and both seemed sullen, and out of temper. At their first entrance, Mary eagerly cried out, "Oh!
James, I am so glad to have you home again. I have pa.s.sed a sad wearisome time since you went." But Waldron received his wife"s greeting coldly, and almost in silence. He walked up to the fire place, and, stooping over the embers, began drawing them together, at the same time telling his wife to get a bit or two of wood, and then to warm a little beer. His companion had under his arm a large bundle, tied round with a piece of sail-cloth. "At least we"ve got that safe," said James, placing it in one of the chairs: and he then ordered his wife to put it under the bed for the night, and to carry it early in the morning, before it was quite light, to Mrs. Hawker"s shop, near the church. "I," added he, "shall be glad to lie in bed a bit, after being up three nights running." When they had finished their beer, the stranger withdrew; and Mary, after uttering a fervent prayer for all who are in peril by land or by water, and for the bringing back to the right way of those who have strayed from it, retired to rest.
Early the next morning, Mary, in compliance with her husband"s directions, carried the sail-cloth bundle to Mrs. Hawker, who received it with one of her most gracious smiles, while her little black eyes sparkled with satisfaction. She immediately took it into a back parlour, and then returning to the shop, pressed Mary Waldron to take a gla.s.s of something comfortable. This Mary declined, and immediately hastened home, carrying with her a loaf for her husband"s breakfast.
She found him still asleep, and the eldest of the two children trying to keep his little sister quiet, that she might not disturb him. At length, towards eleven o"clock, he got up, and the refreshment of a night"s rest, a comfortable breakfast, and the active though quiet a.s.siduity of his wife, seemed to have restored him to good humour. "We"d a roughish time of it last night," said he. "Yes, indeed," replied Mary; "and I wish, my dear James, you did but know a hundredth part of what I have suffered since you took to your present way of life." "Why should you be more uneasy now," said James, "than when I was nothing but a fisherman? We were then often out night after night, and sometimes in rough weather too." "To be sure, I used now and then to be a little anxious," said Mary, "but you were seldom out when it blew hard, and besides"--she hesitated a little--"besides--don"t now be angry with me, James, for saying it--I felt then that you were trying to get your living in a lawful and honest way. Now when you are absent, my thoughts run upon all horrible things. I do not think so much of the perils of the wind and the waves, though that is bad enough, as of the chance of your being taken as a smuggler, or of your doing some dreadful deed in order to escape. They tell me, that the preventive-service men keep a sharp look out."
"A pretty deal too sharp," said Waldron, "I can tell you; if it had not been for them, we should have been back to Folkestone the night before last. We were to have landed our tubs just beyond Dimchurch, and had made a signal for the men to be ready with the horses to meet us. There was a thickish fog at the time; but still, these fellows somehow got sight of us, and pulled off in their boat, just as we were nearing the land. Jack Spraggon, the man that was here last night, proposed sinking them; but, though they deserved it, I was not quite b.l.o.o.d.y-minded enough for that. We had nothing else to do, therefore, but to put about, and as the wind blew off sh.o.r.e, we soon by the help of the fog gave them the slip. As it was of no use to think of landing then, we stood right out to sea. The wind soon after chopped about, and freshened to a gale. When we were nearly off Folkestone, a Dane merchantman had managed to run aground at some distance from the sh.o.r.e. The king"s men--I must say _that_ for them--are always ready enough to help any ship in distress, and dashed away to take the poor fellows off the wreck. And while they were busy at this job, two of our boats came out to us, and put us and part of our cargo on sh.o.r.e in East Weare Bay--just under the red and white cliff there, under the signal house. As ill luck would have it, one of the men on the look out saw us, and gave the alarm. We soon knocked him down; but the rest of them got together so fast, that we were forced to run for it, leaving our tubs behind. I kept hold, however, of my bale of silk, and Jack and I scrambled up one of the winding paths in the cliff, and got clear off."
"Oh! James," said Mary, "how many risks do you run since you"ve taken to this free-trading, as you call it."
"Nonsense," replied Waldron, "a seaman"s wife must never talk of danger."
"I feel," replied Mary, "as if I could almost consent to your braving any danger in a good cause; but the cause that you are now engaged in is not a good one."
"Not a good one! Why where"s the harm, I should like to know, in buying in France a little brandy, or a few silks, or cambric, or laces, or what not, and selling them cheap in England, without going through all the trouble and expense of the custom-house?"
"There _must_ be harm," said Mary, "in constant opposition to the laws of the land; there _must_ be harm in living with such wicked men, as you now keep company with."
"Why, to be sure," replied Waldron, "the consciences of some of our free-traders are not over-scrupulous, but there are indifferent characters in all professions; and as for breaking the laws, I don"t see much harm in that--I"m sure the laws do me no good."
"And what else but the laws," said Mary, "protect your house from plunder, and your wife and children from violence, when you are far away? But I don"t pretend to argue the matter, nor is it necessary that I should; you know the word of G.o.d."