lambskins, with the fur of cats, hares, and
squirrels. Such furs as ermine and miniver were kept for the great
people; for there were curious rules and laws about dress in those days.
It was not, as it is now, a question of what you could afford to buy,
but of what rank you were. You could not wear ermine or samite unless
you were an earl at the lowest; nor must you sleep on a feather bed
unless you were a knight; nor might you eat your dinner from a metal
plate, if you were not a gentleman. Such notions may sound ridiculous
to us; but they were serious earnest, six hundred years ago. We should
not like to find that we had to go before a magistrate and pay a fine,
if our shoes were a trifle too long, or our trimmings an inch too wide.
But in the time of which I am writing, this was an every-day affair.

In the house, women wore an odd sort of head-dress called a wimple,
which came down to the eyebrows, and was fastened by pins above the
ears. When they went out of doors, they tied on a fur or woollen hood
above it. The gown was very loose, and had no particular waist; the
sleeves were excessively wide and long. But when women were at work,
they had a way of tucking up their dresses at the bottom, so as to keep
them out of the perpetual slop of the stone or brick floor. Rich people
put rushes on their floors except in winter, and as these were only
moved once a year, all manner of unspeakable abominations were harboured
underneath. In this respect the poor were the best off, since they
could have their brick floors as clean as they chose: as, even yet,
there are points in which they have the advantage of richer people--if
they only knew it!

But our picture is not quite finished yet. Look out of the little
window, and notice what you see. Can this be Sunday afternoon in a good
street? for every shop is open, and in the doorways stand young men
calling out to the passers-by to come in and look at their goods. "What
lack you? what lack you?"

"Cherry ripe!"

"Buy my fine kerchiefs!"

"Any thimbles would you, maids?" Such cries as these ring on every
side.

Yes, it is Sunday afternoon--"the rest of the holy Sabbath unto the
Lord." But look where you will, you can see no rest. Everywhere the
rich are at play, and the poor are at work. What does this mean?

Think seriously of it, friends; for it will be no light matter if
England return to such ways as these again, and there are plenty of
people who a