and the ‘Pardoner,’ in enumerating the company of lewd folks of Flanders, speaks of ‘fruitsters,’ ‘singers with harps,’ and ‘waferers.’ Piers Plowman puts them amid still more disreputable associates. No doubt, true to the old adage, ‘near the church, never in it,’ they were wont to hang about the sacred edifice abroad and at home, offering their traffic to the devouter worshippers as they entered in. We ourselves know how searing to heart and conscience is such a life as this. That all were not of this kind we are reminded by the will of an Archbishop of York of the thirteenth century, who therein bequeaths a certain sum to two ‘waferers,’ evidently on account of their exemplary conduct while conducting their trade at the Minster door. Chaucer, describing the prioress, says that— With rosted flesh, and milk, and wastel brede, she fed her small hounds. Cakes of wastel were of the purest flour and most careful bake, and were only second to the simnel in quality. Wasteler, found in such an entry as ‘John Wasteler,’ is extinct, but the shorter ‘Wastel’ still exists in our midst. Probably, in the latter case, it was originally but a sobriquet affixed to a baker of this peculiar kind of bread. It is in a similar manner, I doubt not, arose such early nicknames as ‘William Wytebred,’ or ‘John Holibread,’ or ‘Roger Blancpain,’ or ‘Josce Barlibred,’ or ‘Matilda Havercake,’ or ‘Lambert Simnel,’ the latter a name familiarized to the youngest student of English history. Strange to say, ‘Barlibred’ is the only one of this list that has disappeared from our directories, although ‘Barleycorn’ was in existence, I believe, but a few years ago. But to keep more strictly to tradesmen: I have no doubt myself it is here we must place our ‘Mitcheners,’ as makers of the ‘mitche’ or ‘mitchkin.’ The diminutive was the modern cracknel, while the larger seems to have been a small loaf of mixed flour. Chaucer, in his praise of contentment, says— For he that hath mitches tweine, Ne value in his demeine, Liveth more at ease, and more is rich Than doeth he that is chich (niggardly), And in his barne hath sooth to saine, A hundred mavis of wheat grain. I have, however, no proof of the connexion I deem exists, so I merely mention it and pass on. We are more certain about our rare ‘Flawners’ and ‘Flanners,’[372] once the manufacturers of the ‘flaon’ or ‘flawn,’ so popular as to have left its mark in our ‘Pancake Tuesday.’ Caxton, in his ‘Boke for Travellers,’ says, ‘of mylke and of eggs men make flawnes.’ In the story of Havelok the Dane, too, mention is made of— Brede an chese, butere and milk, Pasties and flaunes. A ‘Roger le Flaoner’ comes in the London Corporation records, A.D. 1307, while much about the same time I find a ‘Walter le Flawner’ in the Parliamentary writs.