But I must not wander. The sale of vegetables and fruits left its mark in our former ‘John le Fruemongers’ and ‘Ralph le Frueters,’ and ‘Hugh le Fruters;’ ‘Richard le Graper’ testifying seemingly to a more specific dealing. Our ‘Butchers’ of course have been busy enough from the day that the Normans brought them in. The variety of spelling which is found in olden records of this name is so great that I dare not attempt a list, but I believe there still exist, _sans_ the article, such of the old forms as ‘le Bouchier,’ ‘le Bowcher,’ and ‘le Bowsher,’ while ‘Botcher’ is at least not altered in sound from ‘le Bochere’ of the same period—‘Labouchere,’ which preserves this article, is of more modern introduction from the Gallic shore. But the Norman was not without his rivals. Such names as ‘Walter le Fleshmongere,’ or ‘Eudo le Flesshemongere,’ or ‘Richard le Flesmongere,’[379] prove that the Saxon did not give up even this branch of daily occupation without a struggle, and in the two isolated cases of ‘William Fleschour’ and ‘John Fleshewer’ that I have lit upon we are reminded that Scotland, with its still flourishing ‘flesher,’ is but the asylum where this truly Saxon term found its latest retreat. Even yet in England with the country folk the butchers’ shambles are the ‘flesh-market.’ That ‘Fleshmonger’ was the colloquial term, we may prove from a list of tradesmen mentioned in ‘Cocke Lorelle’s Bote,’ a poem I have already quoted several times; reference is there made to— Woolemen, vynterers and flesshemongers, Salters, jewelers, and haberdashers. The ‘Pardoner,’ too, in the same poem, thus begins his roll— Here is first Cocke Lorelle the Knyght, And Symkyn Emery, mayntenaunce agaynz ryght; With Slyngethryfte Fleshemonger. But if not in the common mouth, yet in our rolls there were two other names of this craft, which we must not pass over unrecorded. They were those of ‘Carnifex’ and ‘Massacrer,’ both representing the slaughter-house, I doubt not. The existence of the former would lead us to suppose that the old Roman hangsman was settled in our midst, but it was merely a mediæval Latinism for a butcher.[380] After the fashion of the time nicknames were affixed upon everybody, and our ‘Butchers’ and ‘Slaughters’ did not escape. The Hundred Rolls alone register the names of ‘Reginald Cullebol,’ ‘Henry Cullebulloc,’ ‘William Cullehare,’ and ‘William Culle-hog,’ or in more modern parlance ‘Kill-bull,’ ‘Kill-bullock,’ Kill-hare,’ and ‘Kill-hog.’ The original and more correct ‘poulter,’ he who dealt in ‘poults’ or poultry, as we now term it, has bequeathed his name to our ‘Poulters’ and ‘Pulters.’ Such names as ‘Adam le Puleter,’ or ‘Bernard le Poleter,’ or ‘William le Pulter,’ by the frequency with which we come across them, show how much did the farmyard help to provide in these days for the supply of the dining-table.