Another interesting English book-plate, in which allegory plays a part, is that, also by J. Skinner, of William Oliver,[8] doctor of medicine, philanthropist, and inventor of biscuits. It is, judging from the form of the engraver's signature, of about the same date as the Wiltshire book-plate. The shield, bearing the Oliver coat-of-arms, rests upon a platform on which stand two figures, as in the example last described; but instead of these figures being representative of the drama and of literature, they are an ancient and a modern medical practitioner: the former, perhaps, even the god of medicine himself. This was quite appropriate, for Oliver, though a man of cultured tastes in varied walks of life, and one who might have appropriately committed the care of his family escutcheon to the allegoric representatives of many arts, was first and foremost a doctor of medicine. The modern doctor is arrayed in cap and gown, and stands on the left of the shield, with hand outstretched towards his fellow of old time. Below the platform, on a triangle, is a club, around which the serpent of Æsculapius entwines itself. [Illustration] Oliver's life lasted for hard on seventy years--1695 to 1764; after settling at Bath and commencing practice, his rise to fame was remarkable for its rapidity, and, as quite early in his career he busied himself with hospital building, hospital management, and other good works, he soon made for himself a number of enemies amongst his fellow-practitioners less capable and less energetic than himself. As a physician and philanthropist he is now forgotten; as the inventor of a biscuit he is remembered--for the 'Bath Oliver' still holds its own against the multitude of modern competitors, and is still--so the makers say--prepared from Dr. Oliver's original receipt. That receipt he confided, when on his death-bed, to his coachman, giving him £100 in money and ten sacks of the finest flour wherewith to continue the production of the then already popular biscuits. With the money the coachman opened a shop in Green Street, Bath, and so got together a comfortable fortune. Of Skinner, to whom we owe these two plates, we shall have more to say presently (pp. 203-212), in referring to the engravers of English book-plates. Ten years after the Wiltshire plate comes our next distinctly Allegoric book-plate, engraved by a second-rate engraver for 'John Duick.' I have not seen this plate, but Lord De Tabley, whose word-pictures are always good, thus describes it:--'Apollo with a broad ray effect round his head, playing the lyre to the nine Muses, who are grouped around him; the musical ones also assist in the concert with various instruments. Below are clouds, above them appear the abrupt cliffs of Helicon, with Pegasus launching himself into the air therefrom; the fountain Hippocrene, tapped by his galloping hoofs, descends the cliff-side in a cascade.'