Scrivelsby in Lincoln, as King's champions, and of the Duke of Norfolk, as Earl Marshal of England, curious enough in themselves, are too notorious for this crowded page. A few quaint tenures are of quite modern origin. Thus the honour of Woodstock (an honour was a lordship over several manors: so "Waverley Honour" in Scott's great romance) is held by the tenure of presenting a banner each second of August at Windsor Castle; that being the anniversary of Blenheim, fought in 1704; and on each 18th of June the Duke of Wellington must likewise send to the same place, for the estate of Strathfieldsay, a tri-coloured flag to commemorate Waterloo. The last century legal antiquary pricked up his ears at a fine scandal which he fondly imagined in connection with the manors of Poyle and Catteshill, both near Guildford. Their holders were bound to provide a certain number (twelve in one instance) of young women, called _meretrices_, for the service of the royal court. Dry-as-dust shook his solemn head, invented pimp-tenure (a "peculiarly odious kind of tenure" he explained), and the forerunner of the man who writes to _The Times_ (it was then to the _Gentleman's Magazine_) cracked some not particularly choice jokes on the subject. A wider knowledge restored the moral character of the King, his lords, and the much-slandered young women, whose decent dust may now repose in peace. In mediæval Latin the word was widely used for the female servant general or special, and these were, it seems, neither more nor less than laundry-maids. Manors of an early date were ofttimes held under other manors on equally whimsical conditions. A snowball at summer and a red rose at Christmas are extravagantly picturesque. A hawk was a common rent; but in one case it was carried to the Earl of Huntingdon's house, by the yielder, attended by his wife, three boys, three horses, and three greyhounds; and these must be housed for forty days at the earl's expense, while his countess must give the lady her second best gown. Again, the tenant of Brindwood in Essex, upon every change, must come with his wife, his man, and his maid, all a-horseback to the rectory, "with his hawke on his fist and his greyhound in his slip"; he blows three blasts with his horn, and then receives curious gifts, and thereafter departeth. The lord of the Manor of Essington, in Stafford, must bring a goose every New Year's Day to the head manor-house at Hilton. Here he drives it about the fire, which Jack of Hilton blows furiously, and (one regrets to add) most improperly. But Jack may be forgiven, for he is but "an image of brass about twelve inches high," whose description you read at length in old Thomas Blount, the great recorder of all these mad pranks.