the sharp gaze of the Spectator also, and Addison, in the charming style peculiar to him, thus pleasantly attacks them: "Our streets are filled with blue boars, black swans, and red lions; not to mention flying pigs, and hogs in armour, with many other creatures more extraordinary than any in the deserts of Africa. My first task," he adds, "would be to clear the city from monsters. In the second place, I would forbid that creatures of jarring and incongruous natures should be joined together in the same sign, such as the bell and neat's-tongue, the dog and gridiron. The fox and the goose may be supposed to have met, but what have the fox and the seven stars to do together? And when did the lamb and dolphin ever meet, except upon a sign-post ?" In his capacity as a reformer of signs, he proposes that now and then they might have a suitable relation to the name of the person-a sort of embodied pun, in fact. Thus, a Mr. Bell might suspend his metallic namesake over his door; or a Mr. Hogg might live under the sign of a pig. This, of course, was a little pleasantry. Charles Dickens moralises in one of his works on street-door knockers; but Addison, with equal elegance and greater justice, moralises from signs. He declares that a choleric fellow generally makes choice of a bear for his sign, while a man of milder disposition frequently lives at the lamb. Observing near Charing Cross a sign of a punch-bowl, with a couple of graceful little angels squeezing lemons into it, he was persuaded that the tastefulness of the composition indicated a Frenchman, and on going into the house he found his conjectures correct.

honey, underwriting it with, "A dangerous Adventure, but sweet Attempt." Sometimes signs were sarcastic: in a village near London was one of some celebrity; on one side was portrayed, in an expressive manner, an unhappy wretch completely stripped of his clothes and possessions, under whom was painted, "I am the man who went to law, and lost my cause!" Apparently, his opponent fared but little better, for on the other side of the sign was an equally abject-looking figure, dressed in tattered raiment, whose sentence ran, "I am the man who went to law, and won my cause!" There was a pointed moral in such a sign, which doubtless had its effect upon the mutual charity and forbearance, if it be not tautology, of the villagers. Now and then signs contained a witty shaft directed against every spectator. At a pretty little village, well known to ourselves, on the borders of Wales, such a sign has given its name to the place: it is called the "Loggerheads." The sign represents two clownish heads grinning, and beneath is written

"We three

Loggerheads be."

The spectator, in reading it aloud, finds that the third loggerhead is necessarily himself, as the painting represents but two. We believe this is the work of an eminent artist now deceased; and we are personally aware that the honest landlord has refused some good offers for his celebrated sign. A continental surgeon, in the early days of the profession, exhibited his invaluable aid in emergencies by a sign representing a poor fellow just fallen into an apoplectic fit, and, we believe, the surgeon himself running up to the rescue; Many signs were both witty and ludicrous. At a the motto was au prompt secours. When Hogarth tobacconist's shop, in a Dutch town, was a celebrated would contrast France and England, after caricaturing sign, intended to display the happiness of St. Peter in the former country, he paints a country way-side Paradise. This was effected by depicting him seated tavern as the contrast, the sign of which is "The Duke at a table, and surrounded with-pipes and tobacco! of Cumberland. Roast and boiled every day." A How true to human nature, and to its different esti-humorous writer of the last century, in "The Craftsmates of bliss! In the imagination of a Dutchman perfect bliss was pipes and tobacco ad libitum. A butcher would be merry as well as wise, and, to the great perplexity of his less learned neighbours and fellow-townsmen, caused a sign to be erected by his slaughter-house, with the portentous words, Ex Morte Vita, "Life out of Death," emblazoned upon it, indicating, by this mysterious expression, that human life was sustained by animal 'death. A French perruquier, in order to demonstrate in a powerful manner the vast utility of bag-wigs, conceived that the most forcible method of so doing was to have the history of Absalom painted on a sign, showing how he lost his life by the entanglement of his straggling hair. And a Northampton barber, animated by a similar feeling, apostrophized David's favourite but rebellious child, on his sign, after this manner: 'Absalom, hadst thou worn a perriwig, thou hadst not been hanged!"

The more cumbrous wit of a Flanders grocer selected for his sign a bear routing a bee-hive for the

(1) This has been poetized by others thus:

"If Absalom had not worn his own hair
He'd ne'er have been seen a-hanging up there."

man," in a well-written paper, entitled "Bravery the
characteristic of Englishmen," declares that it oozes
out on our sign-boards; and in a peace-loving spirit sets
up a sign-reformation. Under his new regime no lion
was to be painted rampant, but couchant, and parti-
cular care was to be taken not to let any of his teeth
be seen, without legibly underwriting, "Though he
shows his teeth, he will not bite."
"Bulls" were to
be drawn without horns, "generals" without armour,
and "valiant troopers" were to be replaced by “hogs
in armour", or "goats in boots," to cast ridicule upon
martial hankerings. Thus signs were to become
social regenerators, for which their conspicuous position
in the eyes of the people admirably adapted them.
Those who would read a clever letter written in an
ardent love of peace, will do well to turn to the pages
of The Craftsman for this.

A very curious episode in the history of signs has turned up in our searches for information on this subject, and we believe it will prove as new to our readers, or to many of them, as to ourselves. In 1762, Mr. Bonnell Thornton, a gentleman well known in his day, took the extraordinary idea into his head, of

collecting a vast number of signs together, into an ex- | sound, painting a spotted dog in lieu of the herald's hibition at his own house in Bow Street, Covent coat. More probably the common sign of the talbot Garden. It appears more than questionable whether the caricature-loving Hogarth had not some hand in the business. The exhibition was formally anounced, a witty catalogue printed, and the whole went under the assumed title of the Society of Sign-painters. The first room contained genuine signs, collected no one knows whence or how, and ludicrously arranged and catalogued, with the usual pendent accompaniments of bells, swords, poles, sugar-loaves, tobacco rolls, wooden candles, &c. just as they then existed in the metropolis. The following notice was placarded over the entrance to this room.

“N.B. that the merit of modern masters may be fairly examined into, it has been thought proper to place some admired works of the old masters in this room, and in the passage along the yard."

Beyond this room was the grand room, all hung round, according to rule, with green baize, and a multitude of the most mirth-provoking signs were arranged in the best lights, all around it, like pictures in an exhibition. A most extraordinary picture gallery it formed, to be sure! many were old signs retouched by some playful brush, and made to assume the most ridiculous aspect. Many were political caricatures, from some eminent artist; and 'tis more than half suspected, three or four of the best were productions of that inimitable satirist, the prince of social caricaturists, Hogarth himself. These were the modern masters above alluded to. The full account is to be discovered by the curious in these matters, in the "Universal Museum" for April 1762, a monthly periodical.

is derived from the arms of the Talbot family. Our Dolphins, Blue Boars, Saracen's Heads, and many more, originated in the same class.-It has been conjectured that many of the ludicrous combinations upon signs arose from the circumstance of one person adopting the coat of arms or badge of his previous master, and uniting it with his own. Then for the historical. There has been great quarrelling about the Bull and Mouth. It is generally agreed to be a corruption of the words Boulogne Mouth. It is said, one Roger du Bourg took a house near Aldersgate, and, out of compliment to one of our princes, born at Boulogne, called it the Mouth or Harbour of Boulogne. A rival soon sprang up, and called his house the Gate of Boulogne. Hence arose, Bull and Mouth, Bull and Gate. A famous sign is King Charles in the Oak, or the Royal Oak, the historical incident recorded by which reduces it to the confines of our category. A celebrated inn in Aldersgatestreet commemorated the execution of Charles I. by the sign of the Mourning Bush. Besides these, there are Kings, Dukes, Marquises, Lords, and so on, without number. Generally, however, the martial or naval heroes appear to have been the greatest favourites; and, as though there were some intimate connexion between bravery and the tavern, they are principally discoverable swinging on creaking hinges, at the side of or over the doors of such places.

Lastly, for the miscellaneous. An incongruous heap is this! Swans with two nicks in their bills; Coal-holes; Belle Savage, a corruption of Isabella Savage, the former owner of the ground; Magpies and Stumps; Coach and Horses; Corner pins; cum multis aliis. One of the oddest corruptions we know is that of the "Bag of Nails," from Bacchanals. It has been thought that the Hole in the Wall originated in the famous aperture of that kind through which the sighs of Pyramus and Thisbe breathed, according to Ovid. We confess this is too far-fetched to appear probable; especially when it is remembered that the inn of that name was only accessible by a long passage or hole in the wall. This may suffice.

The origin of many signs is a curious but vastly extensive subject. Such parts of it as are likely to prove acceptable we shall select. Though amateur archæologists only, we have given some thought to our subject, and the conclusion at which we arrive is, that every sign must have originated in one of three classes: 1, The Heraldic; 2, The Historical; 3, Miscellaneous. And by carrying these three divisions in remembrance, almost all signs may be traced to their source. Some really sound information may be derived It appears that signs, at the period when they from this consideration. Let us take some examples of attained their highest point of splendour, were costly each, many of which are well known signs. The "Bolt-articles of display. The more advanced tradesman of in-tun," a coach office in Fleet Street, belongs to the first class; it is simply a copy of the device of a prior, William Bolton, who adopted the expression bolt-in tun, represented by an arrow piercing a hogshead, as his rebus. The Elephant and Castle is the heraldic device of the town of Coventry. The origin of the Talbot, as stated by an antiquarian correspondent of the Gentleman's Magazine, is interesting if correct. There was an old inn in the Borough, much frequented by pilgrims in their way to the shrine of Thomas a Becket, which had as its sign a Taberd—a herald's coat without sleeves. After a long time, the original taberd disappeared by dilapidation, and the proprietor adopted the name talbot, as being near the original in

to-day lavishes upon his window-front, and internal decorations, what the less refined man of yesterday spent, and gloried in spending, upon his sign. Scarcely a trace now remains of the beautiful iron-work (of the most elaborate workmanship, as may be seen in many of Hogarth's street scenes) by which the gay and flaunting sign projected for many feet into the mid-air of the street. Flower-work, gilded scrolls, lattice, and a variety of other designs, really made the suspension of the sign a work of some art. And the sign itself, especially if it belonged to the allegorical division of our miscellaneous class, was frequently produced in the studio of an academician. A portrait of Pope, long the admiration of Paternoster Row, is.

stated to have been a good work of an eminent artist; | my steps totter with emotion, when I come in sight and similar instances are innumerable. Some splendid of a melancholy and antediluvian-looking-dame? signs adorned Ludgate-hill at one period, many of No; - Church-ivy-grown, moss-covered, rickety, which cost several hundred pounds. In fact, it has tumbledown. been declared that the money which one wealthy tradesman would frequently spend on his sign, would be amply sufficient to stock the shop of a more humble competitor. Truly this was the splendour of barbarism.

resemble rather the head grizzled by the fierce storms | ful smile of pitying sympathy, holy and refined. The

of life, than that blanched by gradual decay.

It speaks to me of the past, present, and future. Yon massive buttresses, bound together by string-like mouldings, smiling in defiance of undermining time, exclaim,."Behold how this fabric, firmly founded, and propped up by virtue of its members, hath seen ages and with them all things earthy roll by."

features belonged to the figure of a man in kingly garments, clad in a ruby-coloured robe, falling in heavy folds, with a broad jewelled border; the right hand held a sceptre, and the left an orb and cross, and on the head was a strawberry-leaved crown. Strong brown lines forcibly expressed the features of a symmetrical countenance, which was represented with a Yon round-arched porch, wide and open-mouthed, curly moustache, and beard divided into two parts. disclosing within its jaws a low stone seat, invitingly There was something in the smile peculiarly sweetexclaimeth, "Enter now, weary, wayworn wanderer; something superhuman. In it my young imagination take rest, and receive strength to carry thee through discovered for the first time real pity; so saintly was the wilderness." And the spire, springing from nume-it, so different from the faces I was accustomed to rous shelvings, pointeth upwards and whispereth con- see around me, which all had traces of earth in them stantly, "Onwards-upwards-heavenwards-home- not visible here. I stood entranced and rooted to the wards." Now let us continue our gradus ad ecclesiam, spot for a few moments, but sufficiently long to and enter by the arched portal. Regard not the impress the whole so vividly on the retina of my dampness, it arises from penitents' tears; nor think mind's eye as never afterwards to be effaced; and of the close atmosphere, it is formed of their oppres- even now, in moments of extreme sorrow, I fancy sive sighs; despise not the dustiness, for the dust-I perceive the same figure beaming comfort upon my powder sprinkled on door and window, roof and floor, monument and escutcheon, is that roused from the road of years by the wheels of Time's car; and lastly, fear not the gloominess, but believe the light the richer from the passage through the blood-red robes of the martyrs, ranged in the stained-glass windows. But I am reminded by the depth of expression in these countenances, of a slight circumstance which first induced me to attach an idea of superior sanctity to a church; and if I may be permitted, I will relate it in a few brief words.

soul, in all its majesty and grace. From that time I began to consider a church as a sanctuary from the griefs of life; even when reason taught me to reverence it for a far higher motive, that consideration tended to mingle love with reverential awe. The effect of intense and early sorrow has never been entirely rooted out of my mind; its influence has been to make me shun, in some degree, the society of my fellow-men, not from misanthropical motives, but because the roughness of the world grated harshly on and jarred with the confirmed melancholy of my disWhen a child of eight years of age, a loving mother position. What wonder then, if, acting on the bias was snatched from me by the chilly grasp of death. I received in childhood, I should make those buildings She had been the whole world to me, and in her were my study, where I first felt some relief from bitter centered all the feelings of affection I was capable of pangs? Yes, I have studied them, in the species and entertaining. Imagine then, what a dull, dead blank in the individual. I have travelled far and wide in existence was to me; truly, the light of my day was search of churches. I have stood beneath the lofty fled, and all was darkness; for a father can ill supply vault of Cologne; on the Crown of Strasburgh; the a mother's place. Being of a very sensitive dispo- marble terraces of Milan; the uneven Mosaic pavesition, I drooped with head bent earthwards, my ment of St. Mark, in Venice; and under the mighty heart filled with the rain-drops of sorrow. At last, dome of St. Peter's. Nor have I, while wandering my melancholy increasing, and my relations fearing abroad, neglected the picturesque spires of England. that it might injure my constitution, determined to Odd enough, all the simple events of existence, all send me to a school at some distance from home, in the small pivots on which the door of the future has the hope that new scenes and companions might opened to me, impelled by the equal forces of freedivert my thoughts from their usual gloomy channel. will and destiny, have been connected in one way or My father accompanied me to school. We passed another with material churches. They are, therefore, through York; while there he took me to the cathe-like lighthouses on the wide sea of memory, casting dral. How well I remember the impression the first blue reflection on the circumstances which surrounded sight of that huge mass of traceried stone-work pro- them. duced upon me! I asked, too, if it were a palace built by fairy hands, for its magnitude and magnificence led me to suppose it to be of supernatural workmanship. On entering, the sublimity and grandeur of the high-arched roof converted garrulous curiosity into mute wonder, and my little eyes wandered in astonishment from the groined ceiling to the reeded columns, grim monuments, carved stalls, and richly stained windows. When passing one of these latter in the aisle, my attention was arrested by a face depicted in it, apparently gazing at me with a peace

If, pardoning my abrupt adieu to our simple village church, you are not unwilling to mount behind me on my Pegasus, or hobby-horse, and take your flight with me to the north, south, and east, I will point out to you much that I hope will interest, amuse, and perhaps instruct you, in a future chapter.