The Crown and Treaty Inn at Uxbridge reminds one of the meeting of the Commissioners of King and Parliament, who vainly tried to arrange a peace in 1645; and at the “Bear,” Hungerford, William of Orange received the Commissioners of James II, and set out thence on his march towards London and the English throne.

The Dark Lantern Inn at Aylesbury, in a nest of poor houses, seems to tell by its unique sign of plots and conspiracies.

Aylesbury is noted for its inns.  The famous “White Hart” is no more.  It has vanished entirely, having disappeared in 1863.  It had been modernized, but could boast of a timber balcony round the courtyard, ornamented with ancient wood carvings brought from Salden House, an old seat of the Fortescues, near Winslow.  Part of the inn was built by the Earl of Rochester in 1663, and many were the great feasts and civic banquets that took place within its hospitable doors.  The “King’s Head” dates from the middle of the fifteenth century and is a good specimen of the domestic architecture of the Tudor period.  It formerly issued its own tokens.  It was probably the hall of some guild or fraternity.  In a large window are the arms of England and Anjou.  The George Inn has some interesting paintings which were probably brought from Eythrope House on its demolition in 1810, and the “Bull’s Head” has some fine beams and panelling.

[Illustration:  The Green Dragon Inn, Wymondham, Norfolk]

Some of the inns of Burford and Shrewsbury we have seen when we visited those old-world towns.  Wymondham, once famous for its abbey, is noted for its “Green Dragon,” a beautiful half-timbered house with projecting storeys, and in our wanderings we must not forget to see along the Brighton road the picturesque “Star” at Alfriston with its three oriel windows, one of the oldest in Sussex.  It was once a sanctuary within the jurisdiction of the Abbot of Battle for persons flying from justice.  Hither came men-slayers, thieves, and rogues of every description, and if they reached this inn-door they were safe.  There is a record of a horse-thief named Birrel in the days of Henry VIII seeking refuge here for a crime committed at Lydd, in Kent.  It was intended originally as a house for the refreshment of mendicant friars.  The house is very quaint with its curious carvings, including a great red lion that guards the side, the figure-head of a wrecked Dutch vessel lost in Cuckmen Haven.  Alfriston was noted as a great nest of smugglers, and the “Star” was often frequented by Stanton Collins and his gang, who struck terror into their neighbours, daringly carried on their trade, and drank deep at the inn when the 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?