The jurors were practically both judges and witnesses, and gave evidence as to all the facts connected with the deceased’s death, so far as they could be ascertained. The corpse was then viewed, and if its appearance tallied with the evidence given, and the jury were decided as to who caused the death, a precept was issued for the arrest of the felon (if not already in custody), and his goods were valued, for which the Sheriffs were answerable. The discoverer of the corpse, as well as those who witnessed the felony, and two or four neighbours, were usually attached by sureties to appear, if required, before the Justices Itinerant at their next coming to the City. Not only was the discoverer of the corpse bound to raise the hue and cry so that the neighbours (_patria_) might come and assist in the capture of the felon, but every one who saw the felony committed was bound to do the same, and to lose no time in giving notice to the Chamberlain and Sheriffs, or risk imprisonment on the appearance of the Justices.” (_Letter Book B_, p. xii.) The custom of deodand, which was kept up until very recently, was curious. The thing which caused the death of any person by misadventure became forfeited to the King by way of deodand, or gift of God. In course of time not the thing itself, but its value, was the deodand. Thus, if a horse, a boat, a beam, caused the death of any one, its value was forfeited and paid to the Sheriffs for the Mayor and Corporation. [Illustration: SOUTH-EAST VIEW OF THE OLD HOUSE LATELY STANDING IN SWEEDON’S PASSAGE, GRUB STREET] The laws by which London was governed are too long for quotation; they are explicitly set forth in _Liber Albus_. In the year 1191 it was provided that a body of twelve Aldermen should be elected in full Husting, in order to decide all questions that might arise over the enclosure of land; they also had the power to prevent the erection of any wooden house; the walls, either party wall or outside wall, were to be sixteen feet high at least, and three feet thick; and the roofs were to be of tiles or slate instead of thatch. The law, like so many mediæval laws, was sensible and necessary. It fell through, as did all mediæval laws, for want of police to execute it. In London there were thousands of houses at that moment built of wood with roofs of thatch. There does not appear to have been any attempt made to replace wood with stone. That, indeed, would have been impossible on account of the cost; but, at least, as houses fell down, and many of them in the narrow courts were only wattle and daub, an attempt might have been made to replace them with more substantial houses having roofs of tiles. The mediæval way was to understand very clearly what ought to be, then to pass a law commanding that thing to be, and then to sit down, with the feeling that duty had been done. The general regulations which governed the daily life are given under the heading of “Inquisitions at the Ward Motes”:—