The first blow which it received was the disbanding of the revenue police about the year 1858, and the absorption of their duties, and the drafting of the most capable members of the force into the Royal Irish Constabulary. This body have a great many duties to perform: they keep the peace; act as public prosecutors in petty cases; distribute and collect the census papers and votes for poor-law guardians; make up the agricultural statistics; act as an armed drilled force in time of riot; and lastly, as detectives of crime and, since 1858, of illicit distillation. On account of these numerous functions, they are brought into contact with almost every individual in their district, not so much at the barracks as at their own homes; and the sight of an empty jar in an unlikely place, or an unusual abundance of spirits about a particular house, are signs not lost on the vigilant constable, and carefully stored up by him for future use. Again, the improved means of transit in the mountainous districts have given the affairs of the inhabitants more publicity. Post-vans, mail-cars, and narrow-gauge railways, are everywhere furnishing certain and regular communication between the better populated and more civilised valleys and the poorer and less inhabited mountains. By these means, enterprising travellers have penetrated the backward districts, and been received with the customary hospitality of the Irish to strangers. They are occasionally even permitted to taste the native ‘mountain dew,’ and sometimes thoughtlessly bring their entertainers into trouble by incautiously boasting of their privileges before strangers. The information has been carried to the police force in the district in which the, alas! too confiding host resided, and has caused a watch to be set on him, resulting eventually in the discovery of the fountain-head.