the felt‐covered shingles over the out‐houses, and the frames of the cottage windows, and the palings of the enclosure. Everything, even to the concealed refuse‐heaps, is trim and ship‐shape, showing the presence of an easy discipline and the predominance of habits of tidiness and order.” Then the _Review_ goes on to describe the exciting and perilous post of the coastguard when import duties were excessive, and lucky smugglers made rapid fortunes. “The sympathies of the whole adjacent country were against them. Half the country people were employed from time to time in running illicit cargoes, and made a very good thing of it. Those were the days of hard drinking, and farmers almost openly encouraged a trade that dropped kegs of cheap hollands and runlets of pure French brandy at their very doors. As for the women, of course—to say nothing of their romantic sympathies with daring law‐breakers—they were all in favour of the men who filled and sweetened the cheering tea‐cup, that would otherwise have been altogether beyond their means. Even gentlemen holding His Majesty’s commission of the peace were said to connive at the ‘fair trade’ for a consideration, and to express no surprise at the production of mysterious casks that had been concealed in out‐of‐the‐way corners of their premises. There were certain depôts, in dry caverns, in remote homesteads or sequestered barns, the secret of which was religiously preserved, although it was the common property of highly questionable characters. There were codes of signals which could be clearly read by all but the preventive men, and which gave notice of danger or of a favourable opportunity, as the case might be. The officer in charge of the station had his faculties preternaturally sharpened, and could scent something wrong in the most natural incidents. The wreaths of smoke rising from a heap of burning weeds might convey a warning to some expected vessel. A fishing‐boat putting out to sea, engaged apparently in its lawful business, might really be bound on a similar errand. Then it was the business of the day‐ watch to scan carefully each craft that appeared off the coast, and his natural vigilance was stimulated by the prize‐money that might fall to his share. Then the nocturnal promenade was no mere formality. The thicker the night the more likely that something might be going on under cover of the fog; and the ear of the look‐out was always bent to distinguish, amidst the murmur of the waves, the sound of suppressed voices, or the plash of muffled oars. Nor was the walk by any means free from personal danger, and indeed it was seldom taken in solitude; for, even apart from the inveterate animosity existing between the smugglers and the preventive men, those were days when deeds of violence were common, and the life of a man was of little account compared to the safety of a cargo that might be worth hundreds or thousands of pounds. If he chanced to fall over the