r to warn travellers lest they should fall over the cliff, as the
unfortunate donor of the land did, for want of the due and constant
ringing of the bell.

In smuggling days, clerks, like many of their betters, were not
immaculate. The venerable vicar of Worthing, the Rev. E. K. Elliott,
records that the clerk of Broadwater was himself a smuggler, and in
league with those who throve by the illicit trade. When a cargo was
expected he would go up to the top of the spire, which afforded a
splendid view of the sea, and when the coast was clear of preventive
officers he would give the signal by hoisting a flag. Kegs of contraband
spirits were frequently placed inside two huge tombs which have sliding
tops, and which stand near the western porch of Worthing church.

The last run of smuggled goods in that neighbourhood was well within the
recollection of the vicar, and took place in 1855. Some kegs were taken
to Charman Dean and buried in the ground, and although diligent search
was made, the smugglers baffled their pursuers.

At Soberton, Hants, there is an old vault near the chancel door. Now the
flat stone is level with the ground; but in 1800 it rested on three feet
of brickwork, and could be lifted off by two men. Here many kegs of
spirit that paid no duty were deposited by an arrangement with the
clerk, and the stone lifted on again. This secret hiding-place was never
discovered, neither did the curate find out who requisitioned his horse
when the nights favoured smugglers.

In the wild days of Cornish wreckers and wrecking, both priest and clerk
are said to have taken part in the sharing of the tribute of the sea
cast upon their rockbound coast. The historian of Cornwall, Richard
Polwhele, tells of a wreck happening one Sunday morning just before
service. The clerk, eager to be at the fray, announced to the assembled
parishioners that "Measter would gee them a holiday."

I will not vouch for the truth of that other story told in the
_Encyclopaedia of Wit_ (1801), which runs as follows:

"A parson who lived on the coast of Cornwall, where one great business
of the inhabitants is plundering from ships that are wrecked, being once
preaching when the alarm was given, found that the sound of the wreck
was so much more attractive than his sermon, that all his congregation
were scampering out of church. To check their precipitation, he called
out, 'My brethren, let me entreat you to stay for five words more'; and
marchin