Sir Edward takes great pride in his well that he has dug in More Street, which he gravely tells his son brews as much ale out of four measures of malt as any other out of five measures, and there is no well like it for boiling pease and bearing soap.
“Mrs. Rose, now married to one Diggler, a glazier,” seems with her husband to have been very much in Sir Edward’s black books. They were “extreme unthankful to me, and abused me much behind my back, therefore never let him glaze for you, and if ever he have occasion to use you, deal with him accordingly.... I got him much custom, and she out of my own good will I paid six pounds for a gable end, when she had neither money nor credit to have built it, and ill words is all I got for my pains. But God reward them. Make them pay thirty shillings rent, and thirty pounds fine at least. Hens, two.” And so he runs through the roll of his tenantry, till one is startled to find one Thomas Narbury, “a very honest man, and built a good house; and is so well pleased with his landlord that he intends to lay out £250 more under me in building.” Richard Bushell also, and his wife, are “very honest people; use them well. Make the old rent 40s. a year, and whereas it deserves a hundred pounds fine, bate them fifty pounds for their honesty to their landlord.” Of Robert Woodside also he says, “he is a good honest man, of a Scot;” but relapses at once into more accustomed phraseology when speaking of his wife, who is, he says, “as ungratefull a beast as is in England.” It would be interesting to hear the accounts the tenantry gave of their landlord, but such have not been preserved.
[Illustration: LORD WINMALEIGH’S HOUSE IN WARRINGTON.]
Bank Hall at Warrington, was built shortly after this summary was sent to Sir Edward’s heir. It is a fine example of the best Queen Anne’s style, and
is now turned into public offices. The gardens and grounds are still intact, but smoky tall chimneys envelope them on every side, and it is probably in the transition state. Indeed, before very long a street will pass its noble entrance, and people will remember that “it once stood in its own grounds, and the street you are walking in was a geranium bed thirty years ago.” Murray in his guide-book speaks of Lancashire as a county abounding in ancient black-and-white houses, and places it at the head of all others. Cheshire, however, must have many more, and of course, as far as the towns are concerned, there can be no comparison in antique relics. There are in Lancashire now twelve boroughs, with mayors and corporations, and though Lancaster is rather picturesque, it may be fairly said that the character of these corporate towns is dreariness. We look in vain for some pleasant