Baltimore daily commercial. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1865-1867, 1866-04-21
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There are not, | fancy, many scenes more
animated than the view commanded by the
elevated recreation ground adjoining Ply
mouth, called the Hoe, on a fine summer
evening. LooBinginland, the suburbanterraces
and villas stretch far away till they become
lost or dotted among the luXuriant foliage so
pleasantly relieved by the blue hills of Devon.
Turn Stewards. and the picture is a bright and
glorious one. Immediately below us, and. as
It seems, under our very feet, lies the Sound,
smooth as an inland lake and bright and gilt
terlng as a sheet Of glass not a movement on
the surface except the almost imperceptible
ripple following the flip of the oar, or the
varying brightness which marks the track of
the sailing boat.
Studded with vessels of all sizes, from a
man ot-war lying at anchor to small fishing
craft, not a sound is heard except the subdued
and melodious cry Of the sailors as they toll
at the capstan; the cXpanse of sea is broken
only by Drake Island. and the long break
water with its refuge and lighthouse, is abruptly
but delightfully."- terminated by the refreshing
green and deep, rich shadows of the woody
part OF Mount Edgecumbe, wherethe Sycamores
and chestnuts bend over the water edge and
then, with every graduation of natural color,
the landscape melts away into the faint blue
of far off Cornwall.
1t was on an evening like this, after the
labors Of the day, that | strolled across the
Hoe, and set down to the water side to summon
one Of the watermen, always in readiness, for
an hours sail. Seated comfortably and in
dolenty in the stern, we picked our way among
the vessels in the sound, and passing by the
island | have mentioned, with its batteries,
and steering west Of the Breakwater, made for
distant point on the Cornwall side, which is
the first break III the sea-view from the Hoe.
Opposite this end of the Brcalwater and
where stands the lighthouse the land makes
sudden bend, and with Il bold curve terminates
in the hcadland ! have just indicated.
In the midst Of the bay, and concealed at
first from view by the woods and hills of the
Mount Edgecumbe estate, lies the little village
Of Cawsand, place that in the palmy days of
smuggling bore no very good repute. Whilst
staying at Plymouth, had often heard of, but
had never before seen it, so | determined to
land at the point discharge the boat, and walk
I quietly home, taking Cawsand in my way, a
| distance of seven or eight miles,
4 more delightful half hours walk by the
side Of the hill, with wood and flowers on each
side and stretching down to the shingly beach,
it is impossible to conceive, and the sweet and
balmy air Of this Deyonshire summer, COM
bined with an almost southern climate the
varledand picturesque scenery Of home. had
seated myself on a stone wall before descend
ing the path which led to the village, and was
| contemplating lazily the calm and peaceful
spot that lay before me, with the singularly
| narrow streets, and quaint, old fashioned
dwellings, where you might literally shake
| hands with Il friend across the way from the
upper windows. Influenced, perhaps, by the
calm and stiffness around, | was falling into
| q sentimental train of thought, and wondering
how crime and violence could find their way
into placid little nook like this, when l was
| reused, close TO my ear, by
"a fine evening this, sir?''
The speaker was an elderly man, apparently
about sixty years Of age, with all the signs of
| a seatarng life about him; the bronzed face,
gray hair, and good humored look common to
his order. BY no means indisposed to con-
verse, | accepted his remark as an invitation,
and we were soon engaged in an animated
chat He had been at one period Of his life,
| learned, a coast-guardsman, and had some
good stories about the Smugglers and his en-
counters with them, and his recollection dating
| back to near half century, we at last came to
| talk Of the doings Of the press-gang.
"DO you remember them ?" | asked.
| "Oh, easy enough, he replied, Though I
| was but yOungster at the time; but then,
| with what ] We actually seen or heard say by
| others, | seem to know as much as if l had
| been pressed myself"
Then you were never pressed?' | asked.
"Neyer myself; perhaps ! was too young,
| otherwise | don't know how it was kept clear
4 of them. In places, near seaport towns es-
| pecially it was nothing at one time to have the
gang come down and carry off all the likely
] young fellows they could find Why, bless
you, MASTER" he continued, ''it was common
| thing for one Of them to come all by himself,
| and perhaps in another kind Of dress, so as
you mighn't suspect him, and, going about
| among the tayerns and shops, get to know
where the sort Of men were to be found, and
then, returning with the rest of the gang, carry
| them off aboard the ship, without q by-your-
| leave or good bye to your friends or family"
But they never yentured INTO private
| houses! I" | exclaimed, bearing in mind the
| national boast Of an Englishman's castle.
| ''Nell, replied my companion, 81 don
| go so far as to say they would 20 to burst q
| door in; but if they found it open, why, in
they went; and many scrimmage took place
in those days, and many a nasty knock put
nails into collins as constables or GROWERS
never heard of. | know to one CASE he
continued with the accent and phraseology OF
Deyonshire, ''where a young tellow-ay, and
as likely one as ever drawed breath-was
| took away the very night before he was
| married, and in sight Of his sweetheart and
| his friends too! 1t was a strange matter, that
| was altogether" he added, almost to himself.
pray tell it, said becoming interested.
| OTIS long story, master, and it's dry work
| talking" he replied, with significant twinkle
in his eye, though his face maintained its
| gravity
$50 it is," said |, ''and the warm weather
has made me thirsty; suppose we step in here
and lay the dust; then perhaps, you'll favor
| me with it."
My new acquaintance requiring no further
| invitation, | led the way to little tavern | had
| noticed standing apart from the village, and
there, seated in the cool parlor overlooking
the bay, supplied with rum and a pipe OF
tobacco, while coninedmyself to remarkable
| unpleasant compound which the sign-post
| proclaimed as "home brewed," after a few
preliminary draws and puts, he commenced
| his story.
| 'You see, mate,1 he said, becoming more
familiar in his convivality this ism altogether
l a story of the press-gan as you'll hnd before
4 I've done, and it made good deal OF talk at
1 the time as ] remember, though was only q
1 lad; but YOU see the GROWERS quest set all
things right, and after that it was no use asking
| further questions. 1t must now be nigh fifty
4 wears ago-ffty years." he repeated, half
{ closing his eyes, and pauslng, as his mind
| travelled over the space which had brought so
many and great changes even to that quiet
little village-'that an old sea faring man they
| called Captain Meredith ived-at least, that
is to say, lodged-in the house Of widow
named Penhyrn. You might see the spot
from the brow of the hill, for the house itself
has been pulled down since then. Well, he
might have been captain or not, l don't
pretend to say, it is certain he had bit of
money put by, and lived comfortably enough.
Some said he had been in the smuggling trade,
and made money that way. However, it
don't much matter; he was well respected,
and though he had no wife living, he had a
lass in Cawsend and for miles around, Well.
now, this old widow had a son named Paul
and strange article he was! l remember him
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