good-fellowship they drank to one another and quoted the classics until drink tied their tongues and deposited their bodies under the table. I have already had occasion to mention six first-class inns that flourished here three hundred years ago; but in the middle of last century there were a great many more. The "George," the "Rose," and the "Red Lion" seem to have been the chiefest of them about this time; and, if we may believe Hasted (and there is no reason why we shouldn't), the "Rose" was "the most superb of any throughout the kingdom, and the entertainment afforded in it equally so." But where is the "Rose Hotel" now? Gone, alas! with the snows of yester-year. Where, also, the "George," which at the time of Waterloo kept forty pairs of post-horses? and where the "Red Lion"? It would, I fancy, puzzle most folks to say, for although they still stand, the change that came over the spirit of their dream about 1840 has caused them to be cut up into separate houses and tenements. We can, however, by intensive observation, identify the "Rose." It is a handsome red brick building on the left-hand side, now occupied by a firm of grocers. The identification is from a beautifully-carved rose in a red brick panel on the first floor, with the initials "R. I." and the date 1708. The building is large, and has eight windows in a row. But the "George" has nine, and the "Lion" twelve. About this time, too, the people seem to have given up living in hotels and inns, and to have taken to private houses. Also, they drank tea instead of beer; and so presently we find the inns disappearing that at one time stood next to one another, in a long line on both sides of the High Street, and even in the branch thoroughfares. Here was the "White Hart," large enough in 1815 to have eighteen soldiers quartered in it daily. It is now divided between a Bank and a Brewery. Here, also, was the "Gun," which, aptly enough, had as many vicissitudes as the fortunes of war, for it was turned into the Parish Workhouse, opened again in 1752 as the "Globe," and presently became the workhouse again, with, probably, the landlord as its first inmate! But it was no greater a success as what our grandfathers with an ironical humour termed a "House of Industry" than as a hostelry, and so it was not long before the paupers were marched out and another phase of its strange eventful history commenced. This time it became a coachmaker's workshop, and there we will leave it.