"Gentlemen smugglers!" said Osborn; "that seems to me to be a strange sort of anomaly. I was not aware that there were such things." "Pooh! the country is full of them," cried Mr. Croyland. "It is not here that the peasant treads upon the kybe of the peer; but the smuggler treads upon the country gentlemen. Many a merchant who never made a hundred pounds by fair trade, makes thousands and hundreds of thousands by cheating the Customs. There is not a man in this part of the country who does not dabble in the traffic more or less. I've no doubt all my brandied cherries are steeped in stuff that never paid duty; and if you don't smuggle yourself, your servants do it for you. But I'll tell you all about it," and he proceeded to give them a true and faithful exposition of the state of the county, agreeing in all respects with that which has been furnished to the reader in the first chapter of this tale. His statement and the various conversation, which arose from different parts of it, occupied the time fully, till the coach, as it was growing dark, rolled into Ashford. There Mr. Croyland quitted his two companions, shaking them each by the hand with right goodwill; and they pursued their onward course to Hythe and Folkestone, without any farther incident worthy of notice. CHAPTER III. At Hythe, to make use of a very extraordinary though not uncommon expression, the coach stopped to sup--not that the coach itself ate anything, for, on the contrary, it disgorged that which it had already taken in; but the travellers who descended from it were furnished with supper, although the distance to Folkestone might very well have justified them in going on to the end of their journey without any other pabulum than that which they had already received. But two or three things are to be taken into consideration. The distance from London to Folkestone is now seventy-one miles. It was longer in those days by several more, besides having the disadvantage of running up and down over innumerable hills, all of which were a great deal more steep than they are in the present day. The journey, which the travellers accomplished, was generally considered a feat both of difficulty and danger, and the coach which performed that feat in one day, was supposed to deserve right well the name which it had assumed, of "The Phenomenon." Before it began to run, seventy-one miles in seventeen hours was considered an impracticable journey for anything but a man on horseback, and when first the coach appeared upon the road, the towns-people and villagers turned out in multitudes, with admiration and wonder, not unmixed with dread, to see the rapid rate at which it went--very nearly six miles an hour! The old diligence, which had preceded it, had slept one night, and sometimes two, upon the road; and, in its first vain struggles with its more rapid successor, it had actually once or twice made the journey in two-and-twenty hours.