Street side, where they could put up their wagons. The "Butchers' Arms," at the old drove-yard, was on the north side of Vine Street, between Lawrence [now Franklin] and Eighth Streets. The site is now occupied by the Star Brewery.

The names and figures of certain animals were to be found on many signs. They seemed to have been specially adopted by innkeepers in America as well as in England. The "white horse" and the "black horse," 'black" and "white bears;" lions, red, white, and blue; bulls and bull's heads, were very common. But there were other subjects of a more local or national interest, and a still greater number presenting quaint devices, the whimsical creations of the sign-painter, and generally accompanied by some suggestive doggerel rhymes. The sign-painter of olden time was often an artist of no small merit. Woodside's signs were famous. Matthew Pratt, a native artist who had studied under Benjamin West, at London, painted many of these signs with an artistic execution that would have made them worthy of a place in a picture-gallery, but in those days picture-galleries were not common, and artists found their best patrons among the tavern- and store-keepers. It is said that the equestrian figure of Frederick the Great, on the sign of the King of Prussia Inn, was painted by Gilbert Stuart in one of his eccentric spells. He permitted the painting to be used as a sign, with the understanding that his name should be withheld. Some years later the landlord, or his customers, did not think Stuart's picture suggestive enough, and an "improvement" was decided upon. A painter was hired, who, like the schoolboy who writes under his first attempt at copying nature, "This is a horse," or "This is a cow," painted under the Prussian hero's portrait the words, "The King of Prussia Inn."

One of Matthew Pratt's most famous signs, perhaps the best for the artistic skill displayed in the execution of so vast a subject, was the picture of the Convention seated in Independence Hall, which he painted for the "Federal Convention of 1787" Inn, kept by Hanna, and afterward by George Poppal, at No. 178 South Street, between Fourth and Fifth. The figures in this picture were striking likenesses of the members of the convention. In the Portfolio of 1824 this sign was thus described:

"The room itself was correctly represented as it stood at the timerichly wainscoted, with pediments over the doors, and Ionic pilasters supporting a full entablature of the order beneath a coved ceilingthough all these appropriate accompaniments of a public apartment have since been taken down by some ruthless commissioner of repairs, to be replaced with naked walls and meagre door-cases, which now disappoint the expectations of those who visit this memorable councilchamber, which has not been inaptly denominated 'the cradle of American independence,' and which ought to have been scrupulously preserved in its pristine state to future ages. On one side of this highly-interesting historical composition the President, George Washington, was seen in the chair, under the lofty central panel at the east end of the room, which was then ornamented with the arms of Pennsylvania. On his right, Judge Wilson occupied the chair with that imposing air which was natural to him, and which had strongly impressed the delineator; while on his left, and immediately under the eye of the spectator, sat

the aged Franklin in his arm-chair, which must have been placed so near the bar that the venerable sage, then in his eighty-third year and suffering under a peculiar infirmity, might approach his seat in the sedan-chair he had bought in Europe, and which was the only mode of conveyance he could then support. On the other side of this contemporaneous memento the House was depicted in committee, and no particu. lar feature of the scene is now recollected, but on both sides was inscribed the following quaint prognostication of their patriotic exertions, which has since been so happily fulfilled,

"These thirty-eight men together have agreed

That better times to us shall very soon succeed.'"

In the beginning of the century there stood on Second Street, between Race and Vine Streets, an ancient tavern, with the sign of the "Federal Procession," commemorating the great procession of the 4th of July, 1788.

As was natural, the name and portrait of Gen. Washington were among the most popular signsymbols. The oldest, probably, was that of the General Washington Hotel, started immediately after the war by Capt. Jacob Mytinger, who had served under Washington. It was in Vine Street, between Second and Third. Capt. Mytinger kept this house until 1793, when he died of the yellow fever.

The Washington Tavern, at the corner of Sixth and Carpenter [now Jayne] Streets, was opened about 1790. Who was its first landlord does not appear, but in 1795 it was kept by Lewis Young. In 1810, Peter Evans became the landlord. He was succeeded in 1815 by James Stell. In 1822 it was leased by John Chase, who changed its name to the New Theatre Hotel. Woodside painted a handsome sign for the hotel, which represented Warren in the character of Falstaff. Beneath the figure was inscribed the appropriate quotation, "Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?" How, by a third transformation, the old Washington Tavern became the "Falstaff Inn," is thus told by a correspondent in the Dispatch:

"Chase did not keep the place very long, and we are not able to trace the succession of the subsequent tenants. Its principal uses were in renting its rooms for arbitrations, the use of juries, audits, and other legal proceedings, and as a meeting-room for societies. There was only one occupant of this tavern who could have made it anyways famous, and that was William Warren, the actor, who, after he had fallen into the sere and yellow leaf, and had ceased to be a manager of the Chestnut Street Theatre, was induced to lease the Falstaff Inn, in the expectation that he might do a good business there. It was a mistake. Even Warren could not draw to the house such a custom as would make it worth while for him to remain. He was there but a short time. This was about 1830. He afterward kept a tavern in Baltimore, and died, in 1832, at Washington. Isaac Anderson kept this tavern in 1834 and for some years afterward. In time the original Woodside sign of the Falstaff faded out. It was replaced by a plain, painted board, on which were the words, Falstaff Inn.' This was succeeded by a new painted sign, which was so roughly done that it was not to be compared with the old work of Woodside, and might be justly denominated a daub. It is prob able that the persons who put up that sign never had seen the old one. The motto, so very appropriate, and which poor Warren perhaps thought would induce patronage enough to make him comfortable in his old age, was changed to Bring me a cup of sack, Hal,' which was not near so appropriate, neither to host nor to guest, as that which was upon the first sign. The place was a horrible old rattletrap, and there ought to be no regret that it was demolished."

At the corner of Eighth and Zane [Filbert] Streets was an old tavern dating from the time of the Revo

lution, and which, in the origin, had for its sign a "Golden Lion," standing on its hind legs. Whether the sign-painter had not done justice to the king of animals, or exposure to the weather had made the picture indistinct, or our patriotic predecessors wished to show their contempt for the British Lion, is not clearly shown; but in course of time the "Golden Lion" became the "Yellow Cat." This change of name has led to much discussion, and the "reminiscences" of old gentlemen have not thrown much light on the matter, for while some maintained that they had ever heard this old tavern designated as the "Golden Lion," others stoutly contended that they had never known it by another name than the "Yellow Cat." Our surmise that in its youth it was a lion, and when age effaced somewhat its bold outlines it was adjudged a cat, seems plausible, inasmuch as both animals have the feline aspect. Howbeit, the place was a famous resort in 1794. An old Philadelphian gives his recollection of it as follows:

"It was held in high repute for its well-drawn beer and porter, and was much resorted to by mechanics and working people to quaff the finest malt liquors from the then fashionable pewter mugs. At that time the President's house (late the University) in Ninth Street was being built, and many of the workmen and contractors-my father being one of them-would meet at the tavern in the evenings for the purpose of paying and receiving their pay. Many of them being from the old country, they adopted, or rather pursued, their old habits here. Governor Mifflin, Gen. Knox, and many others of the committee took their mugs of beer there, and it is probable that Gen. Washington did likewise."

Another describes it as it was at a later period, when it was kept by the Holohans,—

"It was until within fifteen or twenty years famous for its being kept in old-fashioned style. There was a huge ten-plate stove in the middle of the room. The bar was boxed up with rails, reaching to the ceiling. The sanded floor was worn, but clean; the tables were scrubbed every day until they were as white as snow, and tallow candles illuminated the room long after plate-glass, gilding, and gas distinguished the flashy city 'saloon.' But The Yellow Cat' was attractive as an old-fashioned place, by its dissimilarity to other places, and Susan, the ancient maiden who brought up the beer in pewter mugs upon an antique pewter salver, accompanying the presentation of each mug with the inevitable pretzel, will not soon be forgotten by the middle-aged gentlemen of the present generation."

As far back as 1750, there was a tavern at the corner of Front and Chestnut Streets, having for its sign a Turk's head, with the name "Kouli Khan." Thamas Kouli Khan was a Persian partisan of great valor, who drove away the Afghans from his country, and defeated the Turkish invaders. His prowess was rewarded by the crown of Persia. The fame of the victorious patriot and monarch became world-wide, and his head made a popular tavern-sign. But some time later he became a tyrant, and signalized the closing years of his reign by the most atrocious cruelties, which led to his assassination. The sign of the Kouli Khan, having survived the original many years, those who were not aware of how long it had been standing felt puzzled and somewhat indignant that the image of such a bad man should have been chosen for a sign. The proprietor of the old inn did

not, perhaps, observe the change that took place in his hero after the latter had reigned some years, or if he did, he concluded wisely that his sign was a good sign, and as it was not his fault if Kouli Khan had lost the good opinion of mankind, he let it stand. The "Turk's Head," meanwhile, had acquired popularity from its gorgeous coloring, and several other taverns adopted it.

The Harp and Crown Tavern of ante-Revolutionary times was at the corner of Third Street and Elbow Lane; during the Revolution the name was changed to the Harp and Eagle; and some time after the tavern was removed to the east side of Third Street, below Arch. It was a well-patronized place. The house was torn down some time afterward, and an elegant structure erected by Heiskell, who gave it the name of the City Hotel. This establishment was considered one of the finest hotels in the city, and soon became the favorite. A public dinner was given there on the 27th of November, 1813, to Capt. Bainbridge, in honor of his capture of the British frigate "Java." Chief Justice Tilghman presided on this occasion, assisted by Charles Biddle, Alexander J. Dallas, and John Smith. It was at the City Hotel that, on the 24th day of June, 1833, at a quarter before twelve o'clock, John Randolph, of Roanoke, departed this life. The hotel at that time was kept by the late Edmund Badger. That same month President Jackson came on a visit to Philadelphia, and was quartered at the City Hotel.

The old building occupied by the Harp and Eagle, at Third Street and Elbow Lane, became the Robinson Crusoe, and was embellished with a well-painted representation of De Foe's hero.

A popular place of resort in those days is thus described:

"David Weaver's house was situated on the north side of Poplar Street, about where Ninth Street now goes through. In those days Poplar Lane only ran out as far as Fifth Street. Beyond that were farms. David Weaver's was a place of great resort for military companies for target-shooting; and it was a great place for sports of all kinds, such as bear-baiting, bull-baiting, foot-racing, pig-chasing, fox-chasing, badgerbaiting, climbing a greased pole, wheeling a barrow blindfolded to a stake, and many other sports. Madam Johnson, the great aeronautist, attempted to make an ascension in her balloon from that place twice, and failed on both occasions. At that time there was a man by the name of John Runner, whom the Philadelphians thought could not be beaten at running one hundred yards. A race was made up between him and a Virginian. When the race came off there were five thousand persons on the ground, and great excitement was manifested; but the Virginian beat Runner easily."

Many of these taverns, on the edges of the town, were places of amusement, which enjoyed great popularity. The Yellow Cottage was one of these wellknown taverns. It was situated in the lower part of Southwark, and had originally been built for a country house. It was on the east side of Second Street near Greenwich. The sign swinging in front told that the tavern was kept by Thomas B. Steele, and contained the following invitation:

"Rove not from sign to sign, but stop in here,
Where naught exceeds the prospect but the cheer."

An old citizen contributed to the Dispatch a description of the place and its ways, which is copied here in extenso, as giving a graphic and interesting picture of the popular amusements in vogue at the time. Says this correspondent,

"Visitors passed through a large double gate on a gravel walk to the cottage, which was surrounded on three sides by a brick pavement, five or six feet wide, edged with lilac bushes and Washington bowers, concealing the lower story, except, perhaps, the door of the entrance. The bar was directly to the right as you went in, and, passing through to another room, a door opened out to a porch extending across the eastern side of the house, above the level of the ground, sufficient to walk in and out of the basement on the slope of the hill. This slope continued to descend for about one hundred feet beyond the cottage, or one hun. dred and fifty feet from Second Street. Then the ground began to rise gradually to the end of a large lot which had a plain board fence across it, with an opening, and a post and pivot cross-pieces, to pass in and out on Front Street. Near the fence, on the hill, stood a large poplar tree. Beyond the lot it was all an open space to the Delaware River. On the right (along the Second Street fence) of the main entrance there was a row of sheds, a stable, a chicken-house, and a few hog-pens, where there was usually to be seen an immense fat hog, a fat ox, or something else to attract patronage. Occasionally shooting parties enjoyed themselves here. The rifle and target were used for prize-shooting for a pool, for chickens, and sometimes for a fat hog. Qucits, throwing of an axe, large stones, and fifty-six-pound weights, were also indulged in. But the most amusing entertainment was walking up the hill to the tree blindfolded. A man would start off. For a few steps he appeared to go direct toward the tree; then he would slide off to the right or left and walk till he thought he had accomplished the feat, or until he was tired. He then removed the handkerchief from his eyes, to behold, amidst loud shouting, that he had walked in a circle to the place from which he had started, or that he was in the bushes, farther from the tree than ever. The novelty was sometimes changed by trundling a wheelbarrow to the tree blindfolded: Old-sledge, all-fours, and dominoes were indulged in on the porch, which was shaded by the house and by a few trees. A good southerly breeze could be enjoyed, together with a charming view of the river."

One square below the Yellow Cottage, already described, was the "Purple and. Blue" Tavern, kept by a Frenchman named Lutier. It took its name from a sign representing a large bunch of purple grapes painted on a blue ground. This place was a favorite resort for military companies. A Mr. Douglas succeeded Lutier, and changed the name of the tavern to "The Quiet Woman," but the ungallant fellow had a sign painted which represented a woman without a head. His joke cost him dear, for the denizens of Southwark and "the Neck," however they might appreciate the company of a quiet woman, would not countenance this libel upon the fair sex; they withdrew their patronage, and the discomfited landlord removed himself and his sign to other parts.

More touching was the idea that inspired the painter of "A Man full of Trouble," in the small alley which runs from the north side of Spruce Street into Dock Street. The sign of this very ancient tavern represented a man on whose arm his wife was leaning heavily, while a monkey was perched on his shoulders and a parrot on his hand; the woman carried a band-box, on the top of which was a cat. Quite a family picture!

The proprietor of a tavern on Thirteenth Street above Locust, whose wooden walls were painted in cerulean hues, announced his business in the following quatrain:

"I, William McDermott, lives here; I sells good porter, ale, and beer; I've made my sign a little wider

To let you know I sell good cider." There was a sign in Southwark representing a group of dogs baying at the full moon, which is believed to have been painted by Pratt. Beneath was the motto,

"Ye foolish dogs! Why bark ye so?

When I'm so high and ye're so low."

The Lebanon Tavern, better known as the Lebanon Garden, was at the former country-seat of the Emlen family, at the southeast corner of Tenth and South Streets. It had a handsome sign, painted by Pratt, which represented on one side Neptune in his seachariot, surrounded by Tritons, with the following inscription:

"Neptune with his triumphant host
Commands the ocean to be silent;
Smooths the surface of its waters,
And universal calm succeeds."

On the other side of the picture there was a marine scene, sailing ships, etc., with the following lines:

"Now calm at sea and peace on land

Have blest our Continental stores.
Our fleets are ready, at command,

To sway and curb contending powers."

Over the door of the tavern were these words,

"Of the waters of Lebanon,

Good cheer, good chocolate and tea, With kind entertainment,

By John Kennedy."

George Brown kept the Lebanon Inn in 1817.

The Sorrel Horse was once a famous old tavern in Kensington, at the intersection of Shackamaxon Street and the Frankford road. Dancing was one of the principal amusements that brought patronage to the tavern, and old Kensingtonians remember hearing the sound of the violin and tambourine as they passed by the Sorrel Horse. There was another well-known tavern sign, the "Lady Washington," on the Frankford road, opposite Bedford [Wildey] Street. The OddFellows or Masons had a large room with a frescoed ceiling in the third story of the building,-an old brick house, which may be still standing.

Another famous sign, "Shooting the Deserter," swung in front of Peter Boon's Tavern, at the foot of Shackamaxon Street, on the Delaware. "Penn's Treaty" tavern sign was on Beach Street, below Marlborough. The sign of the "Landing of Columbus," painted by Woodside, was on Beach Street, one door from Laurel. On Second Street, between Thompson and Master Streets, west side, was a sign of Daniel O'Connell, under whose bust was inscribed

these lines,

"Hereditary bondmen! who would be free,
Themselves must strike the blow.'"

The Bolivar Tavern and Garden (formerly the Columbian Garden) was on the square bounded by

what is now Market, Filbert, Merrick, and Fifteenth Streets. The grounds were inclosed by a high fence and contained many fine old trees. The house was built in the centre of the lot, and could be seen from afar, the space around being open. The seclusion of the "Bolivar," the orderly regulations adopted for its management, and the many attractions of the place made it a favorite resort for the most respectable people. Quoits, tenpins, shuffleboards, and other games of the kind were provided for the entertainment of visitors. The First City Troop had their drill-ground there.

Muirheid, who succeeded George Parkinson at the Burns' Head, in Bank Street, opposite Elbow Lane, had upon his swinging sign a very good portrait of Scotia's bard, beneath which were the following lines:

"Tak' a Scotsman frae his hill,

Clap in his cheek a Highland gill,
Say, 'Such is Royal George's will,
And there's the foe;'

He has nae thought but how to kill
Twa at a blow!"

On the other side of the sign there was no painting, but the following was set out in large gilt letters:

"Twas thus the Royal mandate ran,

When first the human race began:
The friendly, social, honest man,
Whate'er he be,

'Tis he fulfills great Nature's plan,
And none but he.""

There was a tippling-house near the navy-yard, on whose sign were painted a tree, a bird, a ship, and a mug of beer, with the following quaint lines:

"This is the tree that never grew;
This is the bird that never flew ;
This is the ship that never sailed;
This is the mug that never failed."

In the same locality was another sign representing a cock in the act of crowing, with the motto, "The

old cock revived." Whether the resuscitated ancient

rooster was emblematical of the host's commercial resurrection, or of some event in the history of the tavern, tradition sayeth not.

On Shippen Street, between Third and Fourth, there used to be a tavern sign representing a sailor and a woman, separated by these two lines,

"The seaworn sailor here will find

The porter good, the treatment kind."

The thirsty tars found, doubtless, this invitation irresistible. A tavern-keeper at the corner of South and Vernon Streets, in 1794, who was of a philosophical turn of mind, had on his sign a woman sitting before a tub, from which protruded the woolly head and bare shoulders of a negro boy; in her raised hand she held a brush in an attitude indicative of hard scrubbing, while a scroll issuing from her mouth informed the passers-by that 'twas "Labor in vain to wash blackamoor white."

The Three Jolly Sailors was the sign of a tavern

on Water Street, above Almond. One of the tars was busy strapping a block, and the motto below made him say,—

"Brother sailor! please to stop,

And lend a hand to strap this block; For if you do not stop or call,

I cannot strap this block at all."

The Caledonia Tavern, on South Street near Front, had on one side of its sign a thistle, and on the other side two men shaking hands, with the motto, “May

we never see an old friend with a new face."

There used to be a singular sign near the corner of Second and Union Streets. It represented a gate, with the following lines painted beneath :

"This gate hangs well,

It hinders none;
Refresh and pay,

Then travel on."

A tavern on Sixth Street, below Catharine, bore the puzzling name of "The Four Alls." The sign, five feet long and four feet wide, represented a palatial abode, on the steps of which stood four figures, a king in his royal robes, a general officer in full uniform, a clergyman with his gown and bands, and a peasant in the plain garb of his station. The riddle was explained by the following inscription: "1. King. I govern all.

2. General.-1 fight for all. 3. Minister. I pray for all.

4. Laborer. And I pay for all."

The sign of the Huntsman and Hounds, kept by Widow Sarah Brown; on Arch Street, west of Sixth, represented a deer hunt. Beneath were these lines,"Our hounds are good, and the horses too;

The buck is near run down;

Call off the hounds, and let them blow,
While we regale with Brown."

After a time the "Huntsman and Hounds" was

designated by the briefer name of "The Buck." The well-known anecdote of Sir Walter Raleigh's servant finding him surrounded with a cloud of smoke from his pipe, and throwing water over him to put out the fire, formed the subject of the sign of the Sir Walter Near the entrance Raleigh Tavern, on Third Street. to the barracks, on Second Street, near Buttonwood, was a tavern with the figure of Hudibras painted on its sign. An inscription beneath the figure informed the public that

"Sir Hudibras once rode in state;

Now sentry he stands at barrack's gate."

A small, one-story house with a high-pitched roof, whose quaint style of architecture and ancient look made it appear to date almost as far back as its neighbor, the old Swedes' Church, used to stand on Christian Street above Swanson. Over the door was a sign representing an old hen with a brood of young chickens, and, hovering over them, as if to protect them, an eagle holding a crown in its beak, with this pithy inscription, "May the wings of Liberty cover the chickens of freedom, and pluck the crown from