MODERN SMUGGLERS.

Otaki Mail, 9 August 1922, Page 3

MODERN SMUGGLERS.

OLD PICTURESQUE GONE. fu the Dover police court more thau ikIiJUU in lines has been imposed in the past few months for smuggling. A study of the situation has led a well-kuo-wu writer to observe that smuggling to-day, in spite of its apparent prevalence, is a veif" diiforent sort oi affair from what it was in the good old days. The * ‘ difference ” is well shown in the following article: “Smuggling,” forsooth! Tho whole sordid, miserable, prosaic business is not worthy the name, comments a writer in a contemporary. Tho man who walks ashore in broad daylight, in the raiment of rcspectubil.- 1 ity, arm in arm with virtue, with a few i diamond-studden watches in his waist- 1 belt, or bottles of perfume in his hat, is ( but a pitiable traverstv on a great call-! ing that made history in the good old days. Smuggling may be law-breakiitg, but at its best, it spells bravery, courage, resource. Its very name is redolent of romance and adventure, of murky nights at sea, of llie boom of breakers on the beach, of dark figures huddled under tlie eliiV, of revenue cutters in the oiling, of exchanges with pistols,, and of dead men on the beach. There was life and colour and the bright face of danger in these tilings. The necessity of secrecy was crooned by mothers into the ears of their children when tlie smugglers were heard coming up tho street: Five and twenty ponies. Trotting through the park, Brandy for the parson, Baccy for the. Clerk. | Laces for a lady, \ Letters for a spy. , And watch the wall, my darling. | While the gentlemen go by.

This quaint custom, which existed | not only on the sea-coast, but at all the villages on the route to Loudon, saved many a trembling housewife a lie when the revenue otlicer called to inquire which way the smugglers had gone. FAMOUS GANGS. The golden age of smuggling "as in the ISth century, but long before then it had become a serious evil, and in some districts it was eoiiducted on a big scale. A cargo of Lyons silk and , Valenciennes lace was landed at Rom- ■ nev Marsh in ljjOli, of such proportions] that 30 puckhorsos were necessary to . convey the contraband to Loudon. I Kent and Sussex boasted **y«ral famous gaugs of smugglers. On« had its centre at Hawkhurst, Huxley's gang was at Hastings, and the Alfriston yang, the last survivor of which died in Eastbourne Workhouse within the last -d vears, worked the coast around Boa ford, Beachy Head and Cuckmere Haven. Practically every fisherman and tradesman in many of the seaport towns and villages took a hand in the game, ’file revenue officer wu- the common enemy orf' all. Even the doctor aud the parson tol- j ~rated the smuggling habit and par-| I id,,ated to a greater or lesser degree in Hi; boot'". I knew a medical man on the Hampshire coast who was knocked up at midnight by three masked men. They explained that a comrade was, badly injured. Would the doctor allu" them to blindfold him and take him to where the wounded man was? The doctor went. He found a man lying in a lonely cottage, with gunshot wounds in the arm. He. extracted the bullet and. dressed the wound. Then he allowed himself to be blindfolded aud led home. No questions were asked or answered. Two morning! Inter the doctor found a keg of tlie finest French brandy on his doorstep. It was payment for service? renderedNor was the parson immune. A famous story of the smuggling cleric is fob!. In- that great West couuiry character. 1 Stephen Hawker, of Morwynstuw. A stranger to the district arrived on the beach when a cargo of contraband was being run ashore, The visitor wa» horror-stricken at the sight. “Is there no magistrate here?” he asked. PARSON’!? LIGHT. “None within eight miles, thank God!” •‘Well. then, is there a clergyman hereabout! ” “Aye, to be sure there is.” “Well, how far oS does he live! Where is he?H “That!? he yonder, soy. with the lanthorn.” And sure enough there he was, standing on a rock pc-uring with pastoral diligence the light of other days on a busy congregation. Bus the best story concerns immaculate Hove, which a recent writer has described as “Mrs Grundy’s seaside tome.” On a Sunday morning esrlf last century the parish clc-rx begged I audience of the parson. “It is/' he faid. “impossible to hold a service Jo-day. “Why!’’ queried the vicar. “Because, sir.” replied the clerk, “the jjews Is full of tubs and tl£ pn?pit is full of tea.’!