The house in Leicester Fields also remained: the house on the east side of the square, called the 'Golden Head,' with its sign cut by Hogarth himself from pieces of cork glued together, and gilded over. He often took his evening walk in the enclosure in his scarlet roquelaire and cocked hat, now and then, no doubt, casting admiring glances at his gaudy emblem. The Fields were only just merging into the Square. We learn that in 1745, the streets were so thinly built in the neighbourhood, that 'when the heads of the Scottish rebels were placed on Temple Bar, a man stood in Leicester Fields, with a telescope, to give persons a sight of them for a halfpenny a piece.' Just as _we_ are sometimes offered a view of Saturn's rings from Charing Cross! Hogarth's house now forms part of a French Hotel. The lean French cook staggering under the roast beef in the 'Gates of Calais' picture has been amply revenged. The fumes of French ragouts incessantly rise, on the site where the cruel caricature was drawn.[12] [12] The Sabloniere Hotel, however, is now (1869) in course of demolition. It is hard to say when the widow's income first began to droop--when the demand for William Hogarth's prints slackened. They circulated largely, but their price was never high. The eight prints of the 'Rake's Progress' could be purchased at Mrs. Hogarth's house, in Leicester Fields, for one guinea; 'Lord Lovat,' 'Beer Street,' and 'Gin Lane,' for a shilling each only, and all the others could be obtained upon like easy terms. It cannot be told when the bill first appeared in Widow Hogarth's window--'Lodgings to Let.' But eight years after Hogarth's death there was certainly a lodger in the house in Leicester Fields--a lodger who could exclaim, 'I also am a painter!'