To turn to the annals of our own land, we find that the ancient Britons did not cultivate the beard. The Saxons wore the hair of the head long, and upon the upper lip, but the chin was clean shaven. Harold, in his progress towards the fateful field of Hastings, sent spies in advance to obtain an idea as to the strength of the enemy. On their return they stated among other things that "the host did almost seem to be priests, because they had all their face and both their lips shaven," a statement borne out by the representations of the Norman soldiers in the Bayeux tapestry. It is recorded that when the haughty victors had divided the broad lands of England among themselves, and when the Englishmen had been made to feel that they were a subdued and broken nation, the conquered people still kept up the old fashion of growing their hair long, so that they might resemble as little as possible their cropped and shaven masters. Julius II., who ascended the Papal throne in 1503, was the first Pope to allow his beard to grow, "in order," as he said, "to inspire the greater respect among the faithful." A curious custom of the Middle Ages was that of imbedding three hairs from the king's beard in the wax of the seal, in order to give greater solemnity to the document. Another instance of the value placed on this adornment of nature by some nations comes to us in the story of the Eastern potentate to whom the King of England had sent a man without a beard as his ambassador. The Eastern monarch flew into a passion when the beardless visitor was presented. "Had my master measured wisdom by the beard," was the ready retort, "he would have sent a goat."