ho bore a dolphin;
William Alberton, the forcermonger, who kept what we should call a fancy
shop for little boxes, baskets, etcetera, and exhibited a
_fleur-de-lis_; Michael Ladychapman, who sported a unicorn, and sold
goloshes; Joel Garlickmonger, at the White Horse, who dealt in the
fragrant vegetable whence he derived his name; and Theobald atte Home,
the hatter, who being of a poetical disposition, displayed a landscape
entitled, as was well understood, the Hart's Bourne. Beyond these
stretched far away to the east other shops--those of a mealman, a
lapidary, a cordwainer--namely, a shoemaker; a lindraper, for they had
not yet added the syllable which makes it linen; a lorimer, who dealt in
bits and bridles; a pouchmonger, who sold bags and pockets; a
parchment-maker; a treaclemonger, a spicer, a chandler, and a pepperer,
all four the representatives of our modern grocer; an apothecary; a
scrivener, who wrote for the numerous persons who could not write; a
fuller, who cleaned clothes; a tapiser, who sold tapestry, universally
used for hangings of rooms; a barber, an armourer, a spurrier, a
scourer, a dyer, a glover, a turner, a goldbeater, an upholdester or
upholsterer, a toothdrawer, a buckler-maker, a fletcher (who feathered
arrows), a poulter or poulterer, a vinter or wine-merchant, a pewterer,
a haberdasher, a pinner or pin-maker, a skinner, a hamper-maker, and a
hosier. The list might be prolonged through fifty other trades, but we
have reached Temple Bar. So few houses between Saint Martin's Lane and
Temple Bar! Yes, so few. Ground was cheap, and houses were low, and it
cost less to cover much ground than to build high. Only very exalted
mansions had three floors, and more than three were unknown even to
imagination. Moreover, the citizens of London had decided ideas of the
garden order. They did not crush their houses tight together, as if to
squeeze out another inch, if possible. Though their streets were
exceedingly narrow, yet nearly every house had its little garden; and
behind that row to which we are paying particular attention, ran "le
Covent Garden," the Abbot of Westminster's private pleasure ground, and
on its south-east was Auntrous' Garden, bordered by "the King's highway,
leading from the town of Seint Gylys to Stronde Crosse." The town of
Seint Gylys was quite a country place, and as to such remote villages as
Blumond's Bury or Iseldon, which we call Bloomsbury and Islington,
nobody tho