Ever since the time of William the Conqueror there appeared to have been too many churches in Exeter, for it was said that thirty-two were known to have existed at the time of the Conquest, and that in the year 1222 the Bishop reduced the number to nineteen, of which sixteen still remained at the time of our visit, while the sites of the remaining three could be located.  A further effort to reduce the number was made in the time of the Commonwealth, when an Act was passed to reduce them to four, but the accession of King Charles II prevented this from being carried out.

One of the old churches stood at the top of a small elevation known as Stepcote Hill, approached by a very narrow street, one half of which was paved and the other formed into steps leading to the “Church of St. Mary’s Steps,” the tower of which displayed a sixteenth-century clock.  On the dial appeared the seated figure of King Henry VIII guarded by two soldiers, one on each side, who strike the hours; they are commonly known as “Matthew the Miller and his two sons.”

[Illustration:  THE GUILDHALL, EXETER.  “We thought the old Guildhall even more interesting than the Cathedral.”]

Matthew was a miller who lived in the neighbourhood, and was so regular in his goings out and comings in that the neighbours set their time by him; but there was no doubt that the figure represented “Old King Hal,” and it seemed strange that the same king should have been associated by one of the poets with a miller who had a mill in our county town of Chester: 

  There dwelt a Miller hale and bold
    Beside the river Dee,
  He work’d and sang from morn till night,
    No lark more blithe than he;
  And this the burden of his song
    For ever used to be—­
  “I envy nobody, no, not I,
    And nobody envies me!”

  “Thou’rt wrong, my friend,” cried Old King Hal
    “Thou’rt wrong as wrong can be;
  For could my heart be light as thine
    I’d gladly change with thee. 
  And tell me now what makes thee sing
    With voice so loud and free,
  While I am sad though I’m the King,
    Beside the river Dee!”

  The Miller smil’d and doff’d his cap,
    “I earn my bread,” quoth he;
  “I love my wife, I love my friend,
    I love my children three;
  I owe no penny I cannot pay;
    I thank the river Dee,
  That turns the mill that grinds the corn
    To feed my babes and me.”

  “Farewell,” cried Hal, and sighed the while,
    “Farewell! and happy be—­
  But say no more, if thou’d be true,
    That no one envies thee;
  Thy mealy cap is worth my crown,
    Thy mill, my kingdom’s fee;
  Such men as thou are England’s boast,
    Oh Miller of the Dee.”

[Illustration:  MATTHEW THE MILLER AND HIS TWO SONS.]