as that of a man
singularly skilful in defrauding the revenue, as well as in avoiding
the penalties which surround that dangerous vocation. One day, he was
pointed out to me when standing by the Cross-House near the Ferry, in
company with a comparatively youthful desperado, whose real name was
John Wyatt, though generally known amongst the smuggling fraternity
and other personal intimates, by the _sobriquet_ of Black Jack--on
account, I suppose, of his dark, heavy-browed, scowling figure-head,
one of the most repulsive, I think, I have ever seen. Anne's husband,
Henry Ransome, seemed, so far as very brief observation enabled me to
judge, quite a different person from his much younger, as well as much
bigger and brawnier associate. I did not doubt that, before excessive
indulgence had wasted his now pallid features, and sapped the vigour
of his thin and shaking frame, he had been a smart, good-looking chap
enough; and there was, it struck me, spite of his reputation as 'a
knowing one,' considerably more of the dupe than the knave, of the
fool than the villain, in the dreary, downcast, skulking expression
that flitted over his features as his eye caught mine intently
regarding him. I noticed also that he had a dry, hard cough, and I set
down in my own mind as certain that he would, ere many months passed
away, be consigned, like scores of his fellows, to a brandy-hastened
grave. He indicated my presence--proximity, rather--to Wyatt, by a
nudge on the elbow, whereupon that respectable personage swung sharply
round, and returned my scrutinising gaze by one of insolent defiance
and bravado, which he contrived to render still more emphatic by
thrusting his tongue into his cheek. This done, he gathered up a coil
of rope from one of the seats of the Cross-House, and said: 'Come,
Harry, let's be off. That gentleman seems to want to take our
pictures--on account that our mugs are such handsome ones, no doubt;
and if it was a mildish afternoon, I shouldn't mind having mine done;
but as the weather's rather nippy like, we'd better be toddling, I
think.' They then swaggered off, and crossed the Ferry.

Two or three weeks afterwards, I again met with them, under the
following circumstances:--I landed from the _Rose_ at Lymington, for
the purpose of going by coach to Lyndhurst, a considerable village in
the New Forest, from which an ex-chancellor derives his title. I had
appointed to meet a confidential agent there at the Fox and Houn