(_For the Mirror._)


Maturin in his fearful romance of _Melmoth_, has well exemplified the
change of character and frequent subversion of intellect occasioned by
untoward circumstances. The human mind, like a woody fibre, when
submitted to the action of a petrifying stream, gradually assimilates
the qualities of its associates. This truth is strikingly verified in
the persons of the men on our blockade stations, for the prevention of
smuggling. They are a numerous race, and inhabit little fortalices on
the coasts of our sea-girt isle, which to an imaginative mind would give
it the appearance of a beleagured citadel. The powerful, but still
ineffective means resorted to by government for the suppression of
illicit traffic, sadly demonstrates the degeneracy of our nature, and
may be seen in full operation on the coast between Margate, Dover, and
Hastings. For this purpose, the stranger on his arrival at Margate, must
take the path leading to the cliff's, eastward of the town, and after
walking a little way with the sea on his left hand, he will pass,
at intervals, certain neat, though gloomy looking cottages, chiefly
remarkable for an odd, military aspect, strongly reminding one of a red
jacket turned up with white. These, perched like the eagle's eyry on the
very edge and summit of those crested heights that "breast the billows
foam," are the _preventive stations_, inhabited by the _dumb_ and
isolated members of the blockade. These men will now be seen for the
rest of the journey, mounted on the jutting crags, straining their weary
eyes over the monotonous expanse of waters which for ever splash beneath
them--a sullen accompaniment to their gloomy avocations.

On a first sight of these men, you are ready to exclaim with Mercutio,