About the same period, Mr. Johns tells us, he was, one fine summer evening, loitering about the beach, near a small fishing‐village, in a remote part of the county. It was about four o’clock, the sea was as smooth as glass, and the wind so light that whatever vessels and boats were in sight were either stationary or sluggishly impelled by oars. One fishing‐boat only, about a hundred yards from shore, had its sails hanging idly from the mast, but yet appeared to be creeping towards a quay which ran out between the beach on which he was standing and the houses in which the coastguard resided. At the very instant that she had advanced so far that the pier was interposed between her hull and the houses a great splashing, as of boxes or kegs, or something else, rapidly thrown in the water, was heard. Simultaneously a number of men ran down the beach into the water up to their waists, and then scampered up to their houses, each bearing an armful of something. In a few minutes the boat capsized; probably this was done on purpose, but as it was in shallow water no harm resulted. Some innocent‐looking fishermen soon righted her and baled her out. Mr. Johns learned later on that no less than 150 kegs of spirits were landed on that occasion right under the very noses of the coastguard. It was a desperate venture, but the fishermen‐smugglers had calculated that the officers would not expect any attempt of the kind in calm weather, and had reckoned rightly. Smuggling was almost invariably carried on in stormy weather, or on dark, cloudy nights. On some occasions the people of these fishing‐towns and the country behind rose _en masse_ and resisted the revenue officers, even to the extent of stoning and firing upon them. [Illustration: LOOE.]