Each naturally wished to be first in the field, and thus lay her case before his worship without interruption, and make the most favourable impression. The first to arrive, however, was not long left in possession of the mayoral ear, and so incensed was the other on her arrival that she commenced to abuse the first comer with all the eloquence of an unbridled tongue. His worship called the town constable in self-defence, and when the latter arrived ordered him promptly to “Take these two women to the cage, and there keep them till they have settled their dispute.” A decision, we think, that would have done credit to Solomon himself. We are told by Mr Bond, the historian of this exciting event in the history of East Looe, “They were immediately conveyed thither, and after a few hours’ confinement became as quiet and inoffensive beings as ever breathed!” If the “cage” of East Looe was anything like those of other places we know of we can well believe that peace reigned after but a short incarceration. The Napoleonic invasion scare, which was renewed after the short-lived treaty of Amiens, affected Looe as it did most towns on the south and south-west coasts. “The country,” says Jonathan Couch, “from end to end bristled with volunteers. Even those persons who were not actually enrolled had some specific duty assigned to them in case of invasion,” such as the exciting work of driving off the cattle inland, setting fire to the corn, ricks, and other stores which could not be removed to a place of safety. Many honest, though timid-hearted, individuals lived in continual fear, dreading to go to bed, lest they should awake to the call of French trumpets, in midst of the invaders’ troops, or perhaps be foully murdered by “Boney’s” myrmidons whilst asleep. “A fear,” says another historian of this period, “not altogether unreasonable was entertained that a diversion would be made by sending an army into Cornwall to draw hither the troops whilst the main efforts of the invaders were directed against London.”