It would be an unprofitable exercise to trace the ownership of the Castle through the centuries; “suffice it to say,” as the Early Victorian novelists were wont to remark—that it came in course of time to one John Hooker. In 1797, that worthy demolished most of it, and with the materials thus obtained built the curious house that now adjoins the Gateway, which he probably would have destroyed as well, but that the work would have been very costly. Later, the house was a school, to which period, doubtless, the bust of the anonymous tutelary genius over the porch belongs. Quite recently, the Castle has been acquired by the town, and in the beautiful gardens there are flower-shows, and, I believe, even a band-stand and penny-in-the-slot machines. From the Castle the pilgrim naturally seeks the church, expecting to see many and stately memorials of those ancient lords. But he will find no trace of them. At some remote period, even before the church was “thoroughly restored” in 1870, improving besoms came and swept them out of existence. We may well pause here and consider with what astonishing completeness things venerable have vanished from Tonbridge. There was once, for example, south of the town, the Augustinian Priory founded by the de Clares. Wolsey seized its revenues and squelched it, on behalf of his proposed “Cardinal College” at Oxford, and the last few remains were abolished in 1839, when the South Eastern Railway came. The goods-station stands on the site. Tonbridge church is disappointing, and it is not improved by the large churchyard, filled with dense files of tombstones, around it. They are so many that it is impossible to verify the existence of the scandalous epitaph alleged to be there, on a drunkard: Hail! This stone marks the spot Where a notorious sot Doth lie; Whether at rest or not It matters not To you or I. Oft to the “Lion” he went, to fill his horn, Now to the grave he’s gone, to get it warm. _Beered by public subscription by his hail and stout companions, who deeply lament his absence._ The presumption is that it is a sheer invention, like a very large proportion of such things printed in collections of epitaphs. XXIV [Illustration: THE “CHEQUERS,” TONBRIDGE.]