ce; raisins were one
penny, and now sixpence. Not content with the old European trade, they
have sought out the East and West Indies, and likewise Cathay and
Tartary, whence they pretend, from their now and then suspicious voyages,
they bring home great commodities. But Harrison cannot see that prices
are one whit abated by this enormity, and certainly they carry out of
England the best of its wares.

The yeomen are the stable, free men, who for the most part stay in one
place, working the farms of gentlemen, are diligent, sometimes buy the
land of unthrifty gentlemen, educate their sons to the schools and the
law courts, and leave them money to live without labor. These are the men
that made France afraid. Below these are the laborers and men who work at
trades, who have no voice in the commonwealth, and crowds of young
serving-men who become old beggars, highway-robbers, idle fellows, and
spreaders of all vices. There was a complaint then, as now, that in many
trades men scamped their work, but, on the whole, husbandmen and
artificers had never been so good; only there were too many of them, too
many handicrafts of which the country had no need. It appears to be a
fault all along in history that there are too many of almost every sort
of people.

In Harrison's time the greater part of the building in cities and towns
was of timber, only a few of the houses of the commonalty being of stone.
In an old plate giving a view of the north side of Cheapside, London, in
1638, we see little but quaint gable ends and rows of small windows set
close together. The houses are of wood and plaster, each story
overhanging the other, terminating in sharp pediments; the roofs
projecting on cantilevers, and the windows occupying the whole front of
each of the lower stories. They presented a lively and gay appearance on
holidays, when the pentices of the shop fronts were hung with colored
draperies, and the balconies were crowded with spectators, and every pane
of glass showed a face. In the open country, where timber was scarce, the
houses were, between studs, impaneled with clay-red, white, or blue. One
of the Spaniards who came over in the suite of Philip remarked the large
diet in these homely cottages: "These English," quoth he, "have their
houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare commonly so well as the
king." "Whereby it appeareth," comments Harrison, "that he liked better
of our good fare in such coarse cabins, than of their