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ing pipe from mouth; 'not that!' (a fillip.) 'As long as I smuggled I made money' (a pose of defiance). 'When I went into proper trade, as they call it' (a contemptuous grin, the word 'proper' emphasised), ‘I lost it. All I know is, if I'd got money now, I'd go smuggling again.' "You don't mean it?'

'Don't I, though? Why not?' He fell to smoking again, the old sinner, and in that sort of contemplative way that made me again fear I should lose his narrative.

'There's nothing worth smuggling,' at last muttered he, with a sigh and a shoulder shrug; 'nothing but tobacco. Smuggling's altogether different to what it used to be. 'Bacco running's about all, and that's done by steamboat stokers and suchlike.'

Clearly I had failed to apprehend informant's smuggling social status. Steamboat stokers and suchlike were emphasised, and in a way that implied reproof. Informant had not been one of the suchlike, and somebody ought to have known it.

'What branch of the uncovenanted import trade may that have been to which you devoted your talents?' deferentially inquired I.

'Lace, sir, lace. Nothing like lace for smuggling. Packs small, sells well, and in my time trade could be done crosswise, as this may be.' The old sinner thereupon placed his two forefingers in suchwise as to represent a St. Andrew's cross. 'Just this way,' resumed informant: 'right hand, France we'll say; left hand, England. Fingers crossing just means this-smuggling lace from France into England, and vicey vercey, England into France.'

To me the notion of conveying English lace into France was strange. It seemed like the carrying of coals to Newcastle or tin to Cornwall. The sinner noticed

my perplexity, and went about setting me right. 'English cottonlace,' said he, 'was in much request amongst French people of middle ranks. I don't know how things are now, but in my time the Normandy peasant-girls could get no more acceptable presents than English lace, such as I could buy here for six shillings the piece. They trimmed their caps with it, and, I suppose, do now, if it hasn't gone out of favour because of free trade.'

'What you would seem to imply,' was my remark, the Normandy girls have the curious and peculiar tendency of preferring things obtained by stealth to things acquired hon-that's to say, aboveboard?'

'Yes. I mean to say that, and a good deal more. "Tisn't only the Normandy girls, but every mortal woman in this world, God bless 'em!'

Informant's communications were intermittent, which will account for certain breaks and pauses in what else would have been a straightforward narrative. Never in the whole course of my experience had I heard the dictum of women's proclivity to the contraband so strenuously propounded. It was not done savagely, however, as the final 'God bless 'em!' made manifest

lovingly, reverentially even. He meant it as a tribute of regard by the possessor of a faculty, to one who, like myself, might not possess it in an equal degree.

'Women,' continued he after a short introspective pause and some few smoke whiffs, 'women are the best part of us, after all. If they'd only the strength and pluck of men, besides their own virtues, they'd beat men out and out at smuggling,—that is,' ejaculated informant, with a sigh, if there was any smuggling left to do. I couldn't have got on at all without the ladies; and, God bless 'em! this is what I'll say for 'em, now I've

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got one foot in the grave, so to speak, and t'other not far out of it. What I've got to say is this: hundreds of times my liberty has been in their hands-some few times my life—and they never played me a shabby trick, the dears.'

'That's pleasant to hear,' said I, 'especially after what once I did hear, from the mouth of a gentleman engaged in the same branch of enterprise as yourself. He told me a harrowing tale of betrayal by the girl he loved best in the whole world. He explained how

'You needn't explain how,' said the smuggler patriarch. 'It's told. Your informant was a fool, sir; maybe worse. What business has any man in the smuggling line to love any one girl better than any other girl in the whole world? In the smuggling line, a man who knows his business has got to be beholden to not one woman, or two, or ten, but to every well-disposed woman wherever he goes. Mustn't have favourites; mustn't get loving any one girl better than any other girl; it makes others jealous. And then-' whew!

'Always kept in with the women, strangers or no strangers; could always put myself on a good understanding with them. Men in my Men in my line of business, sir, must understand human nature. 'Twasn't all cutting and running, throwing gaugers over the cliff and pistolling,. and that sort of thing, as some people seem to think, and as you see at the theatres. There might be a little that way-well, there was. Not all, though it was human natur, sir-gumption.

'Now look here, my prettiest ventures were in blond. You know what blond is? Well, yes. 'Tis out of fashion now; more the pity. Blond is always made in short lengths. Ever so many women make—well, say a yard apiece, each keeping to her pattern.

As

made the various pieces are taken to some wholesale man and sold. By and by he gathers all his similar patterns together, and then they have to be joined into the regulation lengths for commerce. This joining is all done by the needle, and done so well that I'll defy anybody to tell where one piece ends and the other begins. The English custom - house big wigs weren't up to that, so they fancied they'd make all safe for revenue by clapping a seal upon one end of each piece of blond. I don't mean those short pieces I told you of, but the long commercial pieces. This is exactly what I did. bought just the little tags on which the seals were, and I hired one of those Frenchwomen I've told you of who gained her living by joining blond together. After that 'twas easy, you know. Once get a venture of smuggled blond over, and get the sealed part sewn on, I could take my blond anywhere without fear of all the revenue officers out of' (I here leave a blank by preference). To give you an idea of the neat way in which blond can be joined, just listen. My mother-in-law-'

I

"Your mother-in-law,' interrupted I, with just a little emphasis. 'You must have been married, then?'

'Stands to reason. What of that?'

'O, nothing,' said I. Yet there was something; the recollection came to mind of a certain sentiment relative to loving all well-disposed womankind alike, yet no one in particular. Nothing,' said I once more; 'go on, please.'

Well, the old girl wanted a blond veil, so I sold her a blond veil. Eight guineas she gave me, I remember. It might have cost me two, that being my usual rate of profit. Mighty pleased she was with her blond veil. 'Twas always on her old head. She couldn't

even go a-gossiping without that blessed veil. But one fine day it caught in a bramble bush, and she tore it all to pieces. Mighty put out she was, to be sure; when, says I, "Don't fret, I'll find you another like it for half the money you gave me for that." Done! 'twas a bargain. So I set my young woman to work upon the rag; and the young woman joined the pieces so well that 'twas the same as new-it passed for new. I got my four guineas.'

Do not forget that the old sinner had fallen into ecstasies about the kindness of woman's heart towards well-disposed gentlemen of the contraband profession, and all but pledged himself to relate an instance. What he had just told me, and what I have duly set down, had no relevance to any such manifestation; as little to the purpose, my informant's demeanour to his mamma-in-law not illustrating any deep consideration on his part to this member of the female sex.

"Your treatment of that respected lady,' said I, 'manifests a refined appreciation of her wants and wishes; but that's not exactly what I thought you were going to tell me. I had expected to hear something about the refined appreciation of the fair sex for your wants and wishes.'

'Did I ever tell you about the cherry-girls of Pierre l'Evêque?' demanded he, after a pause.

'Never; so please tell now.'

'How I made friends all of a sudden with more than thirty Frenchwomen going to market with cherries ?'

'Never.'

'How under their cherries they smuggled in all my stock of English cotton-lace?'

'Never.'

'Come, then, I'll tell you. My venture was a batch of English cotton-lace, ten packages in all. We

had a stormy run across the Channel one night in September, and arriv ing at the Normandy coast, the question was how to get ashore. We did it somehow, ten of us altogether, each seizing a bale. I, being master of the expedition, favoured myself a little, shouldering a bale that did not weigh much over half a hundred. Not knowing who might be about, we did not drive the boats far in shore, but waded for it, so that little else than heads and shoulders, with a bale upon each pair of shoulders, could be seen. On we went; when close on the beach before us, the figures of five or six men loomed out. We ducked for it almost to the noses, waiting for the men to go by. Once or twice it seemed they were fixing their eyes upon us; but there was no help for it, and so we had to wait. Then, all at once, I sank into a deep pit, nose, bale, and all; but though under water, I stuck like grim death to my property. How I ever got out I can't say; but out I did get, and landed a bale. It wasn't mine, though-one much heavier. My people seeing the mess I had got into, left me and looked to themselves, each making his own way to some hole in the cliff where they might hide. Carry the bale I couldn't; half crippled I had to drag it along. The ground wasn't new to me; many a venture had I brought safe to land at that very spot. Every hole in the cliff I knew as well as the chairs in my own house. I had scarce hid myself away when six douaniers in full accoutrements passed right before me. They'd got news something was up, and were on the prowl. Me they couldn't see anyhow, and presently they turned about, listened, and then scuttled away towards a hill, over which I knew my fellows had to go. "All up with us now," thought I; "to-morrow we'll be all

in prison."

Well, faint heart don't

do for smuggling. I concluded to stick to my bale. The hill was about as big and steep as Primrosehill. Over that blessed hill I had to go somehow, dragging the best part of a hundredweight. I did it, how I can't tell. At the top of that hill were some brambles and furzebushes; so I left my lace there and went away prospecting. There was a sort of village close by; in it two estaminets-Le Lion d'Or was the sign of one, I forget that of the other. I knocked at the door of the one whose sign I forget; nobody answered. It might have been. two in the morning. I knocked again; still no answer: so I went away. "Better luck here," said I to myself as I knocked at Le Lion d'Or. A woman answered. God bless the women! I say again. I knew it was all right now. There and then I told her what I was, and what I had done. She bore a candle in her hand, and by its light she took stock of me from top to toe. I seemed all right, for she smiled.

"Contraband," says I. "Lace!" Her little eyes sparkled again. "Some for madame to-morrow. Give me lodgings to-night."

"C'est bien !" I had better not come in; the hay-loft was at my service. She led the way.

Sorry to trouble madame," said I. "Tried to get in at the other estaminet; couldn't make anybody hear."

"A good thing too, monsieur. The douaniers have taken up their quarters là-bas; you'd have been nicely in for it there."

"Would I like an omelette? By and by; but first my bale. It's out yonder, confoundedly heavy, and I must get it in before daybreak."

"I'll help you," said she; and sure enough she did help me; Normandy women are like little horses, mon ami.

'We found the bale, and carried it between us. Before daybreak

there it was in my hay-loft beside me. Then came the omelette and some nice hot coffee. As for me, Be sure I did by madame what any proper-disposed gentleman-smuggler should have done-that is, I was liberal. I slept well on my hay, and at early dawn I got up and speered about to find some signs of my fellows. One by one I picked them up, and one by one all those blessed bales were got into the hay-loft. Well, they couldn't stay there for ever, d'ye see, that wasn't business; besides, I was afraid of compromising madame. I wanted to get my property into Pierre l'Evêque, where I had ever so many customers.

""How will you do it?" said madame next day.

'I was nonplussed. How should I do it?

""Ecoutez," said madame, holding up her finger. "We must circumvent the octroi. I'll tell you how. To-morrow is market-day in Pierre l'Evêque. Some scores of girls will be passing the gates with market - cherries. I know some. We'll get them to put your lace in the bottom of their baskets. Oui, monsieur."

'She caused me to understand I must stump down something, but made no bargain. Evening brought a nice little conclave of cherry-girls to the Lion d'Or. I think there must have been thirty of them at least. I stood cider for all, and cakes to boot, and having unpacked a bale, I displayed the dearly-won lace.

"That's yours; and yours; and yours," said I, measuring off what I meant to give.

'You should have seen how they danced for joy. The main stock I handed them for stowage away. Where they did stow it, I don't know. It was always a mystery to me where women do manage to stow away all the lace they could

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Of autumn sunshine, there are glimpses still;
The sheaves are garnered in, the harvest done,
The leaves have left their branches ev'ry one,
And garbed in snowy white each distant hill.

No woodland music, save the robin's trill—
Our latest warbler in the choral train;

As those dear links in friendship's holy chain,
When some we loved are lost, will bind us still.

The last few daisies hide beneath the snow,

The frost gems glisten on each naked bough,
And nature's beauty slumb'ring even now
Is far surpassing artificial show.

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