The land (if land it could then be called) did not, oddly enough, remain long in the Cringle family. It was sold by Lord Edward to the Carmelites, and on the dissolution of that order was returned by the grateful monarch to its original owner. We next find “Manning” or “Foul Marsh” drained during that period of active beneficence on the part of the great landlords which marked the seventeenth century. We are acquainted of this fact in our agricultural history by an action recorded in 1631, where it appears that one Nicholas Hedon had gone to shoot snipe, as had been once of common right in the manor, and had so trespassed upon land “now drained at his lordship’s charges, and by him enclosed.” Hedon lost both ears, and was pilloried. Manning is probably alluded to also in a strong protest of the old Liberal blood[12] against ship-money, to which exaction it contributed 1_s._ 4_d._ The sum need not excite ridicule, as it represents quite 4_s._ of our present currency. The vigorous protest of the family against this extortion is one of the finest examples of our sterling English spirit on the eve of the Civil War. The money was, however, paid. In the troubles of the Civil Wars Manning (now no longer a marsh, but a _green_) was sold to John Grayling, but the deed of conveyance being protested at the Restoration, it was restored to its original owners at the intruder’s charge by an action of _Novel Disseizin_. After Monmouth’s rebellion, Manning was in danger of suffering confiscation, and was hurriedly sold to a chance agent (William Greaves) at so low a price as to refute for ever all insinuations of rapacity upon the part of its now ducal owners. It was happily restored by a grateful nation as a free gift after the glorious Revolution of 1688, and the agent, who had only acquired it by taking advantage of the recent troubles, was very properly punished. King William congratulated the family in a famous epigram, which a natural ignorance of the Taal forbids us to transcribe. In 1718, Manning being still pasture of a somewhat spongy nature (Guy, in his report, calls it “soggy and poor land, reedy, and fit for little”), there was a rumour that the New River canal would pass through it, and it was sold to Jonathan Hemp. The New River was proved, however, in the pleadings before both Houses of Parliament, to have no necessity for this canal, and Hemp was compelled (as it was a mere speculation on his part) to sell it back again to its distinguished owner at a merely nominal price. Nothing further can be traced with regard to Manning Green (as it was now commonly called) till the report in 1780 that coal had been found beneath it. Such a deposit so near the metropolis naturally attracted the attention of merchants, and the Family sold the place for the last time to a merchant of the name of Hogg for £20,000. The report proved false; yet, oddly enough, it was the beginning of Mr. Hogg’s prosperity.