still, singularly used, it was in vogue far earlier. A ‘slop’ in Chaucer’s day, and even up to the fifteenth century, was a kind of frock or overmantle.[350] In the ‘Chanon Yemannes’s Tale,’ the host expresses his surprise that the Chanon, a ‘lord of so high degree,’ should make so light of his worship and dignity as to wear garments well-nigh worn out. He says— His overest sloppe is not worth a mite. Our ‘Slopers’ still remind us of this. Our ‘Pilchers,’ relics of ‘Hugh le Pilecher’ or ‘Nicholas le Pilchere,’ are equally interesting. In his proverbs on covetousness and negligence, the writer I have just instanced thus speaks— After great heat cometh cold, No man cast his pylche away. A ‘pilch’ was a large outer tippet made of fur, and worn in winter. The modern ladies’ ‘pelisse’ is but another form of the same root. Speaking of furs, however, we must not forget our ‘Furriers,’ and once common ‘Pelters’ and ‘Pellipers.’ They were engaged in the preparation of the more furry coats of the wilder animals. In the Hundred and other Rolls mention is frequently made of such names as ‘Geoffrey le Pelter’ or ‘Reyner le Peleter.’ A ‘pell’ or ‘pelt’ was any undressed skin. The ‘clerk of the Pells’ used to be the guardian of the rolls of the Exchequer, which were written upon a coarse parchment of this kind. As a general term of dress it was once of the most familiar import. Wicklyffe, in his complaint to the king, speaks of the poor being compelled to provide gluttonous priests with ‘fair hors, and jolly and gay saddles and bridles, ringing by the way, and himself in costly cloth and pelure.’ An old song written against the mendicant friars, too, says— Some friars beren pelure aboute, For grete ladys and wenches stoute, To reverce with their clothes withoute, All after that they are. Among the many ordinances passed to curtail the subject’s liberty in regard to his attire, much is written on the fashion of wearing furs. It seems to have been the great mark between the higher and lower classes. In 1337 it was enacted by Edward III. that no one of those whom we now term the operative class should wear any fur on his or her dress, the fur to be forfeited if discovered. The names I have mentioned above still remain in fair numbers as a memorial of this period. Such a name from the ‘Rolls of Parliament’ as that of ‘John Orfroiser,’ although now obsolete, reminds us of an art for which English craftsmen obtained a well-nigh European reputation in mediæval times, that of embroidery. ‘Aurifrigium’ was the Latin word applied to it, and this more clearly betrays the golden tissues of which its workmanship mainly consisted. In the ‘Romance of the Rose,’ it is said of the fair maid ‘Idlenesse’—