On my way towards Hungerford Stairs, my organ of inquisitiveness was arrested by two carvings in stone, of a wheatsheaf and sickles, let into either side of the north-end houses in the alley leading to the “The Swan.” A waterman informed me that the south portion of Hungerford Market was originally allotted for the sale of corn, but I have since learned that that device is the crest of the Hungerford family. “Pray now,” said I to my oracle, “do enumerate the signs of Swans remaining on the banks of the Thames, between London and Battersea Bridges.” “Why, let me see, Master, there’s the Old Swan at London Bridge, that’s one;--there’s the Swan in Arundel Street, two;--then ours here, three;--the Swan at Lambeth, that’s down, though;--well then, the Old Swan at Chelsea, but that has long been turned into a brewhouse, though that was where our people rowed to formerly, as mentioned in Doggett’s Will; now they row to the sign of the New Swan beyond the Physic Garden; we’ll say that’s four;--then there’s the two Swan signs at Battersea, six.”[469] Next evening, away I trudged to take water with George Heath (Mathews’s Joe Hatch) at Strand Lane. “I find the Swan to be your usual sign up the river,” said I. “Why, yes,” replied George; “I don’t know what a coach, or a waggon and horses, or the high-mettled racer have to do with our river. Bells now, bells, we might have bells, because the Thames is so famous for bells.” Bless me, thought I, how delighted would my old friend Nollekens have been, had he heard this remark! [Illustration: A PLEASURE PARTY ON THE THAMES] “You like bells, then, Master Heath?” “Oh yes! I was a famous ringer in my youth, at St. Mary Overies. They are beautiful bells; but of all the bells give me Fulham; oh, they are so soft, so sweet![470] St. Margaret’s are fine bells; so are St. Martin’s; but after all, Fulham for my money, I say. I forget where you said I was to take you to, Master?” “Row me to Hungerford,” said I.