320 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



still the air of sovereignty descends upon the present 

 tenant occupier. The rooms are furnished with solid 

 mahogany twelve-foot sideboards, with four-post 

 bedsteads worthy of a lit de justice, with great oak 

 settles and gargantuan tables in the retainers' quarters. 

 Their inheritor through several generations, having 

 weighed the butter, sits at the table and discusses 

 the laying powers of her poultry with the knowledge 

 of one who wields the actual selective power of life 

 and death over them. The sense of false security 

 which pervades the modern world does not bid her 

 garnish her homely speech with affectation. She 

 knows that she is in her throne-room, or, if you 

 will, safe by her husband's right arm, within her 

 keep. Him we met in a yard, a slim young man, 

 dressed for convenience in a long smock, and lending 

 a lone magisterial hand to the rehanging of a gate. 

 Some would prefer to see here a portly proprietor 

 in the garb of Plutus, with hands deep in jingling 

 pockets, regarding with proud approval his respect- 

 able gargoyles. 



Modern wealth and modern worth, it seems, must 

 jingle. They are unrecognisable in woolly flocks 

 and lowing herds though these were once the 

 universal coin of wealth, and gave its name to the 

 blessed word "pecuniary." In the time of Henry 

 VIII., it was stated in an Act of Parliament designed 

 to promote tillage in England that " Some have 

 24,000 sheep, some 20,000 sheep, some 10,000, some 

 6,000, some 4,000, and some more and some less," 

 and that yet the price of wool had nearly doubled. 

 Wool at that time was the word of England's 

 commercial greatness, and its chief profit went, not 



