And turning to that place, in which whyleare He left his loftie steed with golden sell, And goodly gorgeous barbes. Every mediæval roll has its ‘Warin le Seler’ or ‘Thomas le Seller.’[284] The pack-saddle was of such importance that it required a special manufacturer, and this it had in our now somewhat rare ‘Fusters’ or ‘Fewsters.’[285] In his ‘Memorials of London,’ Mr. Riley mentions a ‘Walter Polyt, fuyster’ (p. xxii.). A fuster was, strictly speaking, a joiner employed in the manufacture of the saddle-bow, that is, the wooden framework of the old saddle. It is derived from the French ‘fust,’ wood, and that from the late Latin ‘fustis.’ Our ‘Shoosmiths,’ as I have before hinted, made the horseshoe, while ‘John le Mareshall,’ or ‘Ranulph le Marescal,’ or ‘Osbert le Ferrur,’ or ‘Peter le Ferrour,’ fitted it to the foot. The modern forms are simple ‘Marshall,’ and ‘Ferrier,’ or ‘Ferrer.’ In the ‘Boke of Curtasye’ it is said— For eche a hors that ferroure schalle scho, An halpeny on day he takes hym to. Nothing could be more natural than that the shoeing-forge should become associated with the doctoring of horseflesh, but it is somewhat strange that when we now speak of a farrier we recognise in this old term[286] simply and only the horse-leech. So full of changes are the lives of words, as well as places and people. A curious insight into mediæval travel is presented to our notice in our ‘Ostlers’ and ‘Oastlers’ and ‘Oslers,’ relics of such old registries as ‘Ralph le Hostiler’ or ‘William le Ostiller.’ This term, once applied, as it rightly should, to the ‘host’ or ‘hosteller’ himself, has now become confined to the stableman, thus incidentally reminding us how important this part of the hostel duties would be at such a time as I am endeavouring to describe. The idea of the hosteller being one whose especial office it was to tend that which was their sole means of locomotion, thus in time resolved itself into a distinct name for that branch of his occupation.[287] The old ‘Herberjour’ gave lodging, whence it is we get our ‘arbour.’ Our kings and barons in their journeys always kept an officer so termed, whose duty it was to go before and prepare and make ready for their coming. Owing to the large number of household attendants for whom lodging was required, this was an important and responsible duty. Thus has arisen our ‘harbinger,’ so often poetically applied to the sun as heralding the approach of day. The older spelling is preserved in the ‘Canterbury Tales,’ where it is said— The fame anon throughout the town is born, How Alla King shal come on pilgrimage, By herbergeours that wenten him beforn.