—That barber is no more, and I know not what has become of his sign. As an object lesson in history, undying interest attaches to Framlingham Castle and its adjacent church. The castle must have been one of the largest in England. As our Quaker poet, Bernard Barton, wrote— Still stand thy battlemented towers, Firm as in bygone years; As if within yet ruled the powers Of England’s haughtiest peers. When I first knew the castle it was used as a poor-house. The home of the Bigods and the Howards is utilised in this way no longer. The castle hall is now devoted to the recovery of small debts and other equally local matters. In the good old times the nobles settled debts, small or great, in a much easier way. The church was erected by one of the Mowbrays, and the tower, which is a handsome one, and from the top of which, on a clear day, you get a view as far as Aldeburgh, contains a clock presented by Sir Henry Thompson, our great surgeon, in memory of his father, a highly-respected inhabitant of Framlingham, who did much for the Congregational cause in that town. “Sir Henry Thompson was my Sunday School teacher,” said an intelligent tradesman to me, “and I have the book in which he signed his name as having taken the Temperance Pledge.” Framlingham—let me state by way of parenthesis—early gave in her adhesion to the Temperance movement. In the cemetery there is a monument to a worthy inhabitant of the name of Larner. He was the great Apostle of Temperance in the Eastern Counties. “He was for years,” Mr. Thomas Whittaker writes, in his _Life’s Battles in Temperance Armour_, “the man of Suffolk, the moving power, the undaunted spirit, the unwearied defender; and when it is remembered how special were the difficulties and how numerous the foes, the way in which he brought the whole district under his influence, and even to treat him with loving respect, it is the more remarkable. When he died the heart pulsation seemed to stop.” Out of the world as Framlingham is, and old-fashioned as is the town even to this day, there is a good deal of life in it, and especially so in religious matters. Including the college chapel, there are nine places of worship in it, for a population not much over two thousand. As far as I can make out, the Salvation Army here, as elsewhere, has helped to thin the attendance at most of the existing places of worship. If they can show a more excellent way it is rather a reflection upon the existing pulpits of the place. In spite of the Salvation Army, I met a man in the street who complained to me that Framlingham was dull. “You see, sir,” said he, “we are in an agriculturists’ district, and the farmers ha’n’t got any money.” It seems to me that they ought to have—at any rate, the public has to pay quite enough for its beef and mutton, and such farming produce as butter, and milk, and eggs. One odd thing in Framlingham is a tomb in a garden,