‘Peter le Salter’ or ‘Hugh Saltman’ furnished forth the chloride itself; ‘William le Mustarder’ or ‘Peter le Mustardman,’ or ‘Alice Mustard-maker,’ the mustard; ‘Thomas le Pepperer,’[377] now spelt ‘Pepper,’ the pepper; ‘Ralph le Soper’ or ‘Adam le Savonier,’ the soap. Each set before his customers’ eyes those peculiar articles of household consumption their names severally represent. All these, having flourished in the earlier age, established for themselves a better place in our register than our rare ‘Grosers’ or ‘Grossers,’ who in this respect only appeared in time to save themselves from oblivion, though they have long ago revenged themselves on their humbler brethren by swallowing up entire the occupations they followed. It is curious to note that in later days, through the various accessions of luxury, the result in well-nigh every case of foreign discovery, even ‘Grocer’ has failed to comprehend all. In our country villages we all but invariably find added ‘and licensed dealer in tea, coffee, tobacco, snuff, &c.’ In our towns, however, this addendum has been dropped, and a ‘grocer’s shop’ is the place we turn to, without thought of refusal, for these modern introduced luxuries. What changes in our domestic resources are here presented for our notice! In my previous chapter it was the over-abundance of certain rural and primitive surnames which told the story of the times in which they sprang. The contrary is here the case. It is in the absence of particular names, some of which I have already noticed, we have the best guide to the extraordinary changes that have taken place in our household economy. Look at our tea-table. Already in the two short centuries from its introduction this article has given its name to a special meal, having thrown the once afternoon supper into a nocturnal repast. Even Shakespeare could only say— Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep.[378] How strangely would it have affected our nomenclature had this and other like novelties been brought in earlier. We should have had ‘William le Coffyer’ giving us endless anxiety in the endeavour to separate it from the actual ‘Godfrey le Coffrer.’ We should have had, too, such folk as ‘John le Riceman,’ ‘Walter le Snuffer,’ ‘Ralph le Tobacconer,’ shortened into ‘Bacconer,’ and the still more awkward ‘le Potatoman,’ almost as inconvenient as ‘Garlickmonger,’ though doubtless it would have been quickly curtailed into ‘Taterman’ or ‘Taterer’ or ‘Tatman’ and ‘Tatter,’ and later on again into other forms too obscure to contemplate. The very recounting of these changes, which are strictly on a par with other names of a less hypothetical character, serve to impress us with the difficulties we have to encounter in the task of deciphering many of our surnames after the wear and tear they have undergone through lapsing generations.