Wilkinson, the successor of Mulcaster, had the famous Whitelock for a pupil; and under the third master, Smith, we find at the school a boy named Juxon, who afterwards stood on the scaffold with Charles I., and smoothed the sovereign’s path from time into eternity. Boyle and Dee were also at this time young “Merchant Tailors,” whose subsequent manly merits reflected lustre on the old foundation. Smith’s successor, Haynes, was, like Mulcaster, rather ready with his tongue and heavy with his hand. He chastised unmercifully; and, on being menaced with complaint to the wardens, he was so audacious as to declare that he did not care a “phillip” for them. His ushers, too, appear to have been rough of speech; and “Bridewell rogue” was the tutorial epithet for a rebellious pupil. Haynes too was accused of encouraging little lotteries for his own profit, and not for the recreation of the pupils. “For,” says the complaint, “you suffer none to drawe any one lott, but those that bring xiiᵈ. or above. Your biggest lot is one grammer of xᵈ. which is the greate lott; the rest are ink-hornes, hobby-horses, gingerbread, paints, and puddings of very small value.” The master of Merchant Tailors’ is indignant thereat, and protests that not only is the matter one of pure entertainment, but that he makes nothing by it, and that he finds the drawers in “dyett bread, comfitts of all sorts, ffiggs, raysonnes, allmonds, stewed prunes, wiggs, beare, and some wine, and all kinds of ffrute, which the season of the yeare affordes.” A story is told of one of Haynes’s pupils, which, like many other stories, has had different individuals for its hero. It is to this effect. A very proud and an intolerably ignorant gentleman was constantly boasting that he enjoyed the advantage of having been a member of both Universities. “You remind me,” said the old Merchant Tailors’ pupil, “of a circumstance worth narrating. I have two cows at home which calved at the same time. One calf died, but I let the other calf suck both the cows.” “Well,” said the member of two Universities, “what was the consequence?” “A prodigiously great calf indeed, Sir.” For many years the scholastic portion of Merchant Tailors’ appears to have suffered by repeated visitations of the Plague. Then came the Great Rebellion, with a modifying of the rules, which were made excessively stringent, and under which the pupils were converted to as sour a series of classes as if they were enrolled in Dotheboys Hall. But then came the Restoration, and therewith relaxation; and the young “tailors” pushed up their beavers from off their eyes, turned up their lank hair into seductive curls, put their hands on their hips, and looked saucily at the maids of Cheapside. In the midst of it all burst forth the Great Fire; and the “tailors,” for a time houseless, got their lessons by fits and starts, till they were once more tabernacled, in high spirits, within a comfortable dwelling.