rough-headed farmer, that "perhaps a meeting with such a party, at a
late hour, might be inconvenient, especially if the traveller had a full
purse." The fellow turned on me a countenance of ridicule. "What?" said
he, "do you take them for robbers? Heaven bless you, my lad, they could
buy the stage, horses, passengers, and all. I'll warrant you, they will
have news from over there," and he pointed towards France, "before it
gets into the newspapers, long enough. They are the richest fellows in
the county."

"Are they smugglers?" I asked, with sufficient want of tact.

"Why, no," was the answer, with a leer. "We have nothing of that breed
among us; we are all honest men. But what if a man has an acquaintance
abroad, and gets a commission to sell a cargo of tea or brandy, or
perhaps a present from a friend--what shall hinder him from going to
bring it? I'm sure, not I."

It was evidently not the "etiquette" on the roof of the Royal Sussex to
think much on the subject, and before my curiosity could reach the
length of actual imprudence, the coachman pulled up, and informed me
that I had reached the nearest turn to "the Hermitage." My valise was
lowered down, a peasant was found to carry it, and I plunged into the
depth of a lane as primitive as if it had been a path in Siberia.

It was brief, however, and in a few minutes I was within sight of the
villa. Here I at once discovered that Mordecai was a man of taste;
perhaps the very roughness of the Sussex jungle, through which I had
just come, had been suffered to remain for the sake of contrast. A small
lodge, covered with late blooming roses, let me into a narrow avenue of
all kinds of odorous shrubs; the evening sun was still strong enough to