seemed to me at the time to be very wicked that a man should look
glum when he heard of a British victory; and when they burned his
straw image at the gate of his farm, Boy Jim and I were among those
who lent a hand. But we were bound to confess that he was game,
though he might be a traitor, for down he came, striding into the
midst of us with his brown coat and his buckled shoes, and the fire
beating upon his grim, schoolmaster face. My word, how he rated us,
and how glad we were at last to sneak quietly away.

"You livers of a lie!" said he. "You and those like you have been
preaching peace for nigh two thousand years, and cutting throats the
whole time. If the money that is lost in taking French lives were
spent in saving English ones, you would have more right to burn
candles in your windows. Who are you that dare to come here to
insult a law-abiding man?"

"We are the people of England!" cried young Master Ovington, the son
of the Tory Squire.

"You! you horse-racing, cock-fighting ne'er-do-weel! Do you presume
to talk for the people of England? They are a deep, strong, silent
stream, and you are the scum, the bubbles, the poor, silly froth
that floats upon the surface."

We thought him very wicked then, but, looking back, I am not sure
that we were not very wicked ourselves.

And then there were the smugglers! The Downs swarmed with them, for
since there might be no lawful trade betwixt France and England, it
had all to run in that channel. I have been up on St. John's Common