and petty thieves-the gallows devoured three to four hundred
annually, in one place or another; and Henry VIII. in his time did hang
up as many as seventy-two thousand rogues. Any parish which let a thief
escape was fined. Still the supply held out.

The legislation against vagabonds, tramps, and sturdy beggars, and their
punishment by whipping, branding, etc., are too well known to need
comment. But considerable provision was made for the unfortunate and
deserving poor--poorhouses were built for them, and collections taken up.
Only sixty years before Harrison wrote there were few beggars, but in his
day he numbers them at ten thousand; and most of them were rogues, who
counterfeited sores and wounds, and were mere thieves and caterpillars on
the commonwealth. He names twenty-three different sorts of vagabonds
known by cant names, such as "ruffers," "uprightmen," "priggers,"
"fraters," "palliards," "Abrams," "dummerers "; and of women, "demanders
for glimmer or fire," "mortes," "walking mortes," "doxes," "kinching
coves."

London was esteemed by its inhabitants and by many foreigners as the
richest and most magnificent city in Christendom. The cities of London
and Westminster lay along the north bank in what seemed an endless
stretch; on the south side of the Thames the houses were more scattered.
But the town was mostly of wood, and its rapid growth was a matter of
anxiety. Both Elizabeth and James again and again attempted to restrict
it by forbidding the erection of any new buildings within the town, or
for a mile outside; and to this attempt was doubtless due the crowded
rookeries in the city. They especially forbade the use of wood in
house-fronts and windows, both on account of the danger from fire, and
because all the timber in the kingdom, which was needed for shipping and
other purposes, was being used up in building. They even ordered the
pulling down of new houses in London, Westminster, and for three miles
around. But all efforts to stop the growth of the city were vain.

London, according to the Venetian Busino, was extremely dirty. He did not
admire the wooden architecture; the houses were damp and cold, the
staircases spiral and inconvenient, the apartments "sorry and ill
connected." The wretched windows, without shutters, he could neither open
by day nor close by night. The streets were little better than gutters,
and were never put in order except for some great parade. Hentzner,
however, thought the