Baltimore daily commercial. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1865-1867, 1866-04-21
A CO N | T E

Fl \ U N | | l..
| animated than the view commanded bv ,'' tbo
| elevated recreation-grOund ADJOINING PIv.
| mouth, called the Hoe. on fine Snmme,,
evening. Loolnginland, the suburban terraces
ana villas stretch far away till they become
lost or dotted among the luXuriant FOLIAGE 81
Pleasantly relieved by the blue hills of Devon.
urn Stewards. and the picture is bright and
glorious one. Immediately below us. and. az
1t seems, under our very feet lies the Sound
smooth as an inland lake and bright and pTt
temng as a sheet Of glass not a movement ON
the surface except the almost imperceptibIo
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
man-ot-war lying at anchor to a small fsbing
| craft, not a sound is heard EXCEPT the subdued
and meIodious cry of the sailors as thew toll
| at the capstan; the eXpanse of sea is broken
| only by Drake Island, and the long break,
water with its refuge and lighthouse. is abrun+Iv
| but delightfully."- terminated by the refresbinG
| green and deep, rich shadows of the woody
| part OF Mount Edgecumbe, wherethe sycamoreg
| and chestnuts bend over the water edge and
| then, with every graduation of natural color,
| the landscape mets 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 hour S sail. Seated comfortably and in
| dolentty in the stern, we picked our way among
| the vessels IN the sound, and passing by the
! island l have mentioned, with its batteries
1 # Z bo T.
| q distant point on the Cornwall side, which is
! the first break IN the sea-view from the Hoe.
| Opposite tins end of the Brcakwater, and
| where stands the lighthouse, the land makes a
sudden bend, and with a 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
| ot Cawsand, a 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
| quietly home, taking Cawsand in my way, a
! distance Of seven or eight miles
| \ 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,
| 1t Is impossible to conceive, and the sweet and
| balmy air Of this Devonshire summer, COM
| bined with an almost southern climate the
| vamedand 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 friend across the way from the
! upper windows. Influenced, perhaps, by the
| calm and stiffness around, | was falling into
| a sentimental train of thought, and wondering
how crime and violence could find their way
! into placid little nook like this, when | was
| roused 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
| q seaiaring 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, coast-guardsman, and had some
| good stories about the Smuggers and his en-
| counters with them, and his recollection dating
| back to near half u century, we at last came to
talk Of the doings Of the press gang.
| "DO you remember them p | asked.
ooh, easy enough, he replied, though l
| 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 | 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
| of them. In places, near seaport towns es-
| pccaily 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, lit was u common
thing for one Of them to come all by himself,
and perhaps in another kind Of dress, so as
you mighnt suspect him, and, going about
among the taycrns 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 a good bye to your friends family
But they never ventured INTO private
houses!" [ exclaimed, bearing in mind the
national boast Of an EnglishInan' S castle.
"Well," replied my companion, 81 don't
20 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 a scrimmage took place
in those days, and many a nasty knock put
nails into Collins as coustables 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 q 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," l said becoming interested.
OTIS long story, master, and it's dry work
talking he replied, with a 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 lconfnedmyself toaremarkable
unpleasant compound which the sign-post
proclaimed as "home brewed," after a few
preliminary draws and putts, he commenced
his story.
"You see, mate" he said, becoming more
familiar in hisconviyality, this ism altogether
a story of the press gang, as you Il ind before
I've done, and it made a good deal OF talk at
the time as | remember, though L was only a
lad; but YOU see the GROWERS quest set all
things right, and after that was no use asking
further questions. 1t must now be nigh fifty
years agO-fltty years! ne repeated, halt
closing his eyes, and pausing, 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 lived-at least, that
is to say, lodged-in the house of a 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, 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, 1t
don't much matter; he was well respected,
and though he had no wife living, he had a
daughter. as was called Ellen, and the prettiest
lass in Cawsend and for miles around. Well,
now, this old widow had son named Paul,
and a strange article he was! remember him,
a little bandy-legged chap with red hair, and