subject, and I can only answer there are none.
I've run over the list in my own mind, and I
think I know every copyholder in Hampstead,
and I can't remember any one who belongs to
the class you speak of. In Sir Thomas Wilson's
father's time, and before, there never was any
question of copyholding for such petty privileges
as are charged for now, though the copyholders'
rights had and have distinct recognition at
the two yearly Homages, the court leet and
the court baron. A jury of copyholders are
summoned here, and receive what are called
presentments; and if any case of squatting on the
Heath is reported, they go out and view it, and
knock the building down.

"Again, there are cases on record in which the
lord of the manor and the copyholders have
agreed to permit a portion of the common to
be given up, and there's a bit so enclosed at the
top of Pond-street, for which ten shillings a rood
was paid. Half the amount given for it—and
it is important to remember this just now
—went to the lord of the manor, and half
was paid over to one of the principal
copyholders in trust for the rest. If this is not
evidence of joint rights, I should be glad to
know what is, and it must indeed have been a
strong hankering after ' bristles and all ' which
prompted the lord of the manor, in the face of
such a practical admission, to give such evidence
as he did before the House of Commons in 1865.
Sir Thomas Wilson then went ' the whole hog'
to the extent of declaring ' Hampstead Heath
his private property;' that ' the inhabitants in
the neighbourhood have no right on the Heath;'
that ' every one walking over it is a trespasser,
and might be indicted as such;' that ' there is
no one who can claim pasturage on it;' that
he ' has the power of building on the Heath,
either by granting or taking land forcibly;'
that he ' would make no compromise—no
promise,' his 'wish being to turn the Heath
to account by building on it an Agar Town, or
cottages for poor people on short leases.'
' There would be,' this thorough-going gentleman
obligingly added, 'a great outcry, of course;'
but this was of little consequence, as no one
could ' interfere or oppose him in anything
he might do.' In other words, a repetition
of ' the whole hog, bristles and all,' which
it was my privilege to hear eighteen years
ago. Now, however, theory has been partly
carried into practice, and if you'll put on
your hat and walk with me to the flagstaff
close to Jack Straw's Castle, I'll show you,
besides other encroachments, the foundation
of the house the building of which was
stopped by an injunction until our rights and
those of Sir Thomas Wilson are ascertained.

"There! You couldn't wish for a finer view than
this, and it's wonderfully little altered,
notwithstanding the many changes we've talked over.
If it's ever finished (which I take the liberty of
doubting), the dweller in this house will have one
of the most magnificent ranges from his back
windows it is possible to find. But at what a
cost! It used to be a matter for betting on, the
number of people walking from London who'd
pass the flagstaff without pausing for the view,
and I've won many a shilling that way myself,
picking a group at random, and betting that they
would stop for the view in spite of themselves.
Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of poor
Londoners stand where we are now, every
year, and go back to their dingy houses
purer and better for the sight they have
drunk in. Why, on a fine Sunday in summer,
you may see scores of families resting here for
the mere sake of the prospect, pointing out the
spire of Harrow in the distance, and letting
their eyes linger delightedly on the rich and
varied heath and pasturage you see between.
Let this house be built? No, sir, not as long
as there's justice in England, and a common
feeling of humanity among us all. Why,
Hampstead wouldn't be Hampstead any longer
without the view from the flagstaff; and I, for
one, am heartily glad that the matter's been
brought to an issue by Sir Thomas Wilson in this
audaciously practical way. Now, come down the
Hendon-road, as far as where the sand is being
dug out. To the right there through the railings,
where the carts are standing, has been a
pet bit of playground ever since I can remember,
and the volunteers used to skirmish and fire
blank volleys among its furze-bushes until quite
recently. Those monstrous holes and chasms
prevent skirmishing or playing now, and they
are caused, as you see, by sand being dug up
and sold—there's the rub—at the rate of thirty
loads a day. Now, it's always been understood
that copyholders and Sir Thomas have equal
right in the sand, both being able to use it for
the repair of their own lands and gardens,
neither having the right to vend an ounce. Is
it likely, I ask you, that an old and fair custom
like this is to be given up at the simple will of
one man?

"Now we'll pass to the Lower Heath, for I
want you to thoroughly understand how
completely ' the whole hog ' is being played for.
The turf here, as you see, has been stripped off,
and foundations for small cottages—the
commencement, I suppose, of the projected ' Agar
Town'—are already laid, while the brickfield I
took you to the other day shows another large
plot of ground which is spoilt for all public
purposes.

"Some of my neighbours thought at first that
these steps were taken to make us see the
necessity of buying Sir Thomas off. I never agreed
with them, for I was certain that the speech of the
agent long ago was the policy of to-day, and that
it had been determined to carry to their fulfilment
the claims put forward to the House of
Commons by this manor's lord. Look how he's
conducted himself throughout. When Mr. Gurney
Hoare wrote a civil letter on behalf of the
copyholders, and hoped some amicable arrangement
might be arrived at, did the reply, " Sir, take
your own course," look like a wish for
compromise? All that absurd fuss at the
Marylebone vestry about Sir John Thwaites not
being courteous enough to the lord of the
manor, and Sir Thomas Wilson's letter, with
sneers at the 'privilege he was not likely to