of the "Star." In this instance, both hotels were kept up, for both were in good repute; but had the case been otherwise, in all probability, we should have witnessed the conjunction of signs, instead of their (6 separate maintenance." The compound signs which claim the merit of originality, and periphrastically address themselves to our intelligence, are many and multiform.

The mind of man delights in the mysterious; the obscure allegory possesses for him a powerful attraction. The "Apple Tree and Mitre" is one of these; it bears a shadowy semblance to the fall of man and the power of the church; or, appealing to things temporal, reminds us of the sparkling energy of cider and the sedative strength of "bishop." The "Ham and Windmill" may defy interpretation; but is not on that account neglected. The "Salmon and Compasses" does not very clearly develop a meaning; but the "dark obscure" is no less eagerly patronized. Why should the "Naked Boy and Woolpack," the "Fox and Frying-pan," or the "Mackerel and Bell" be conjoined, except for the sake of singularity, or the desire to induce observation by the difficulty of the enigma, whose solution might possibly be accelerated by the aid of stout, "to be had within."

Our list of singularities might be extended to an indefinite length; but we pass on to the next class-the National. These are chiefly figured forth by the heads of admirals and generals, where shine conspicuously the effigies of "Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis," on one hand, and "Marlborough, Elliot, Wolfe, Granby, Abercrombie, and Wellington," on the other-sometimes plainly set forth under their proper names, at others in allusion to their deeds of arms, as the "Hero of Trafalgar," and " Lion of Maida." Nor are these memorials of Britain's glory confined to the chiefs who have led her navies and armies to victory, the battlers themselves come in for their share of pictorial immortality. That of the Nile figures in many places, but chiefly at the eastern end of the town, in the neighbourhood of the docks and the haunts of seafaring men, while the Battle of Waterloo seek a more kindred feeling in the vicinity of Chelsea College and the barracks of the western extremity. The "Britannia" is scattered far and wide; and the "Heart of Oak," the " Royal Oak," and numerous branches of the parent-tree everywhere abound. The Oak, in fact, is as sacred to drinking at the present day as the ivy which twines around it.

The political signs are closely combined with the national; they had their birth for the most part in the troublous times which closed the last century, or during the fermentations of twenty years ago. Their landlords were partisans to a man-and some even now profess to entertain the principles of the original founders, though the majority personally eschew political feelings, and endeavour to accommodate themselves to all parties. The "British Constitution" was a favourite sign at the first-named period-as were the "Old Anti-Gallican" (still kept by one Thomas Duck), and its rival the "Anti-Gallican and Star," which, professing the same principles, professed also better measure and stronger beer.

Revolutionary signs were also rife; the "Tom Paine's Head," the "Cap of Liberty," and the "Priestley Arms," marked the period of 93; while the "Colonel Wardle," the "Sir Francis Burdett," the "Cobbett's" and "Cartwright's" Heads, and the "Henry Hunt," distin

guished successive political eras. Some of these have passed away with the momentary excitement which produced them; others still serve as houses of call to stray politicians, or the habitués of certain quarters of the town. But politics having now a wider sphere of action than formerly, the sign-posts exhibit less of this demonstrative feeling, and the newspapers more; and, except in the head of a prime minister for the time being, little change is made in these matters at the present day.

The historical signs are choice, but extremely neat; they are rather old-fashioned, but the guest is comfortably served; the charges are uniform and not exorbitant, but the sale of cheap spirits is unknown. Amongst these may be enumerated the "Alfred's Head," an emblem of antiquity, nationality, and learning. The parlour of this house is decorated with a neatly-framed engraving from Goldsmith's History of England, representing Alfred toasting cakes at the cottage fire, and the house prides itself on a reputation which the king had not, of performing that elaborate art to perfection. Mine host of the Alfred is a man of erudition, in a small way-he cares nothing for the march of intellect, but he can tell you when the Danes came to England, and why Lord Nelson went to Copenhagen-facts which none other (in his parlour) can elucidate. The "Friar Bacon's Head" is a rival of nearly equal antiquity, and perhaps of greater pretensions to learning. Over the mantel-piece is, of course, a Brazen Head which bears a strong resem blance to the landlord, and is, by many, supposed to be a plaster bust of that worthy lacquered over to replace a broken original. It is certain that the complacency with which he regards it would seem to justify the supposition. The "Black Prince" appeared at first sight to refer to a glorious epoch of British history, but we have our doubts as to the authenticity of the original, and are more inclined to imagine that Prince Le Boo is the hero more immediately in question, or, haply, one of those princes of Ind anent whose barbaric magnificence wondrous tales are, from time to time, recounted beside the hearths of suburban taverns in the populous districts of Rotherhithe and Bermondsey. The "John of Jerusalem" is a decided relic of the olden time, about whom there can be no mistake, though this sign departs from the purely historical to take refuge in scriptural authority. There are many of this class which we should be disposed to date from the time of the Puritans, had the Puritans permitted themselves the indulgence in that carnal creature called double ale. Such, for instance, are Simon the Tanner of Joppa," the "Adam and Eve," the "Tobit's Dog," and the "Bell and the Dragon," a sign by no means apocryphal*, whatever may be the history. Your landlords have ever had a strong feeling for poetry, and the legendary heroes of ballad-lore find favour still in their sight. An old ballad is in itself a strong provocative of thirst-it discourses of nutbrown ale, and makes the reader long to realize the description; and who that glanced at a sign like the "Pindar of Wakefield," the "Robin Hood and Little John," or the "Miller of Mansfield," can fail to conjure up the memory of the merry doings of those roisterers, and incontinently desire to emulate them. The "Merlin's Cave," the "Valentine and Orson," and the "Robinson Crusoe," have their attractions too, though, perhaps, they lack the spirit-stirring quality of the others.

* To be found in Worship-street, Finsbury.

That branch of signs which pertains to the classical has also a great many supporters. The art of poculation, if so it may be termed, being of the highest antiquity, and the claims of Bacchus as the inventor of the art being unquestioned. The scholastic host, who duly reverences the mysteries of propria quæ maribus, cannot forget the honour due to the jolly god, and accordingly depicts him astride of an appropriate tun, with a legend indicative of the same.

One innkeeper of our acquaintance-the intelligent traveller on the great western road may recollect where at Hammersmith-has so far rendered homage to the deity as to adopt his very name, and "William Bacchus," with no sign of more mark than the "Crown," is himself an impersonation of liquid felicity.

The local signs bespeak attention from local causes. The "British Museum" is one of these, and we have heard of instances in which innocent rustics have mistaken the substitute for the original, and whiled away the hours in the tap as much to their satisfaction as if they had been deluded into the halls of sculpture or galleries of natural history. The " Bombay Grub" is another, where, however, the delusion is less pleasing; situate in the remote region of Bow, it recalls the art of crimping as practised upon men, not fish, though the infliction on each is nearly equal; this "hostelry" has perhaps contained more "victims" than any dozen others (always excepting the clubs) in the metropolis. Thither resort the gentlemen who volunteer wonderful bargains of cigars and silk handkerchiefs, communicated in an under tone, at the corners of dark alleys in crowded thoroughfares, as if they feared lest all the world should hear and profit by the opportunity which they offer to a favoured few. Thither are unwittingly led those wise men of the east, the farmers from Essex, whom casual acquaintances, in a sudden fit of devoted zeal, earnestly conjure to take care of their money, and even assist to secure it in their (own) breeches pockets. The fortunate finders of rings, the disinterested sharers of waifs and strays with the nearest person, are patrons also of the "Bombay Grub."

The" Coal Hole" is equally significant of its origin. Bordering the gentle Thames, and approached on either side by flights of steps, its guests are not what they ought to be-coalheavers; they are merely youths of spirit who emulate the compelled coarseness of the flappedhat fraternity, and "superadd a few essentials more" of their own native culture. The coalheaver drinks and smokes from the necessity of a hard-working life-his prototype from the choice of a dissolute one.

Some of the local signs are expressive of those parts of the country to which they lead, as the Cities of Oxford, of Bath, and of Canterbury; some appeal with more particular force to local predilections, as the "Essex Serpent," though we confess we think the "Essex Calf" would have been more germane to the matter: others to the more natural productions of the soil or the celebrities of certain counties, as the "Cheshire Cheese," the "Norfolk Dumpling," and the " Ram of Derby." Such signs as the "Basing House," and the "Castle of Warkeworth," form the connecting link between locality and retainership, and imperceptibly lead us to the heraldic signs, a very numerous class, comprising more Arms" than are to be found on record in all the colleges of Europe. With a license truly commendable, but perhaps not altogether laying claim to strict originality, the first coat is appropriately given to

our first parents, whose blazon, the " Adam's Arms," may thus be read : "Azure, a tree of knowledge proper, fruited or. on a chief argent, a serpent sable, languid gules." Some arms perhaps would be of more difficult interpretation, the "Mallard's Arms," for example, which the heralds of Lincolnshire can only duly exemplify. But there are a host of others whose claims to coat-armour are very clearly defined, though few would imagine that the " Bricklayers' Arms " means other than the best adapted for carrying a hod, or the " Blacksmiths' Arms" for wielding a hammer and battering an anvil. Yet let the curious reader refer even to so modern a work as "Robson's British Herald," and he will find them regularly entered according to royal patent. We will give one specimen-the Blacksmiths' :-"Sable, a chevron or. between three hammers or. handled of the second, ducally crowned of the last. Crest, on a mount vert, a phoenix, with wings endorsed, proper, firing herself with the sunbeams of the last. Motto, By hammer and hand all things do stand.' In former times they bore also, As God will, so be it." These things are probably unknown to the worthy limners who embellish sign-posts in general, and in consequence the bad practice prevails here as elsewhere of writing the title instead of depicting it. It would have been more amusing to have had the emblems of the respective trades fully emblazoned, and would have afforded more scope for genius; but the innovation of writing has caused sad havoc in this as in so many other cases. Could the parish clerk come to life again, whom Jack Cade put to death, he would candidly confess that he merited his fate for "setting of boys' copies.' The painters have therefore left us in ignorance of the manner of marshalling the arms of tailors and tanners, shoemakers and sausage-stuffers, yet their signs are multiplied in every quarter. There is one coat which strikes us as not a little ambitious, "The Grundy Arms;" what this may be we cannot divine, and can only ask with the poet, "What does Mrs. Grundy say

the " Experienced

The signs which are personal involve many circumstantial peculiarities, and are characteristic of great precision in their inventors. What can be more particular than the following?" The late Duke of Cumberland,”—the " Captain of Man-of-War,"-the "Gentleman and Porter," the "Crown and two Chairmen,” Fowler,"-the "Carved Red Lion," and the "Painted Red Lion." Here were hosts who evidently would not content themselves with vague descriptions, but were fully bent on being personal; the two latter in particular, who seemed like Snug anxious to inform the audience that they personated no real lion—not even "a live lion stuffed with straw," according to holiday phrase, but simply the semblance of the beast carved or painted, as the case might be. Conduct like this is judicious, and merits the reward it doubtless meets with.

We had purposed to dilate much more on this subject, but our limits warn us to stop; for the present, therefore, we leave untouched the wide field of heterogeneous signs in which Cocks and Bottles, Goats in Boots, Dun Cows, Intrepid Foxes, Merry Carpenters, Jolly Hatters, Green Dragons, and Hogs in Armour, afford much food for philosophic examination. For the present we pause.

D. C.

BALDWIN, my hero, was by Charles the Bald (The Gallic king) esteem'd a subject true, And for his merits by the monarch called

To govern Flanders. There were very few With claims more stable to be thus installed,

And manage a state-vessel's helm and crew. Thus Baldwin proved himself, when settled there, A most superior kind of Flanders mayor.

He, ere he took this high Low-Country post,

Had nursed a passion for King Charles's daughter,
Of the French court the beauty and the toast,
But the despair of all who yet had sought her.
Baldwin alone of her fair love might boast;

Yet should I not say boast; for prudence taught her,
And him, precaution. Hidden burned the fire;
Her bald sire knew not Baldwin was her sigher.
Now Baldwin was "a very fine young man,"

And prone to finery, as such are commonly,
And had spent much in suits since his began

To please her (for such taste is also womanly),
Clothing himself and servants on a plan

Of habits gay, though sometimes hardly too manly.
The king, who knew a post one's costs enlarges,
Gave him some thousand francs to frank his charges.

But money made him only feel more poor;

For love is of young hearts the sole dear wealth; And to be near his Judith were a cure

For poverty, though love but lived by stealth. He therefore strove to cheat ambition's lure

By much excuse concerning skill or health;
For he could not-he quite abhorr'd the notion—
Make void his heart, to fill it with promotion.

But nought of this could serve him for excuse,
So he was fain to go, and feign a gratitude

For favour which he wished was at the deuce.

Ah! when she saw him going to change his latitude, Poor Judith! how she played at fast and loose,

With running tears! Had you but seen her at it you'd Have term'd her head a fair-faced headland mountain, Discharging from its brow a crystal fountain.

They had not dared, 'tis true, to tell their love,
The youth and maiden, but had let it simmer
And seethe within their bosoms; yet to prove
His deep devotion, he had sworn no glimmer
Of flame another in his soul should move;

And she had vow'd that, in the interim, her
Faith should be holy-that is, wholly his;
And so they parted with a "holy kiss!"