kegs were safely housed. Only fourteen years ago the last of his gang
died in Eastbourne Workhouse. Smuggling is a vanished profession
nowadays, a feature of vanished England that no one would seek to
revive. Who can tell whether it may not be as prevalent as ever it
was, if tariff reform and the imposition of heavy taxes on imports
become articles of our political creed?

[Illustration: The Star Inn, Afriston Sussex. Fred Roe, 16 Sep 97]

Many of the inns once famous in the annals of the road have now
"retired from business" and have taken down their signs. The First and
Last Inn, at Croscombe, Somerset, was once a noted coaching hostel,
but since coaches ceased to run it was not wanted and has closed its
doors to the public. Small towns like Hounslow, Wycombe, and Ashbourne
were full of important inns which, being no longer required for the
accommodation of travellers, have retired from work and converted
themselves into private houses. Small villages like Little Brickhill,
which happened to be a stage, abounded with hostels which the ending
of the coaching age made unnecessary. The Castle Inn at Marlborough,
once one of the finest in England, is now part of a great public
school. The house has a noted history. It was once a nobleman's
mansion, being the home of Frances Countess of Hereford, the patron of
Thomson, and then of the Duke of Northumberland, who leased it to Mr.
Cotterell for the purpose of an inn. Crowds of distinguished folk have
thronged its rooms and corridors, including the great Lord Chatham,
who was laid up here with an attack of gout for seven weeks in 1762
and made all the inn-servants wear his livery. Mr. Stanley Weyman has
made it the scene of one of his charming romances. It was not until
1843 that it took down its sign, and has since patiently listened to
the conjugation of Greek and Latin verbs, to classic lore, and other