In 1739 the initials were by law altered from the first two letters of the surname to the first letter of the surname and the first letter of the Christian name. In earlier years the maker had a device--a dolphin, a star, a cross, or any other symbol to denote his individual work. Nowadays anonymity is further safeguarded by the Goldsmiths’ Company of London, who admit names of firms. Their printed form runs: “Statement to be made in writing by Manufacturers, Dealers and others, bringing or sending Gold or Silver Plate to be Assayed and Hall-Marked.” Presumably in the old days prentice work passed as that of the master. But the prentice grew older and was allowed to come out into the light. But X & Co., Y & Co., Z & Co. may send their stamps round to smaller and more original men to impress on their work. The public, caring more for the lion, _et cetera_, than for X, Y, and Z, know no better; as for the real makers the public know nought. But we ask, is this the way to encourage our workers in plate? Syndicates have no bowels of compassion, but assay offices might be supposed to minister to the interests of the art of the worker in precious metals. To kill or to stifle individuality is a crime against Art. If Sheraton had been a silversmith his name would have been unknown. By law it has been determined that the initials of the maker shall appear on each article of silver assayed; there is nothing in any statute concerning the middle man. It would be interesting to know what steps the various assay offices take to ascertain that the actual maker’s name is upon the pieces to which they affix their official symbols. To go back to the fourteenth century: there is a fine touch of human nature recorded of one member of the goldsmiths’ guild of London who was found guilty of _mals outrages_ in connexion with his work. He was fined a pipe of wine, and twelve pence a week for one year to a poor member of the company. Among the human touches left there are fragments recorded which are interesting to collectors. Sir Thomas Gresham, the great London goldsmith in the middle sixteenth century, carried on business in Lombard Street at the sign of the Grasshopper. To this day there is a grasshopper as a weathercock behind the Royal Exchange. There is Sir Robert Vyner, who made the coronation crown jewels for Charles II, afterwards stolen by Colonel Blood and scattered in the Minories, who was a goldsmith of Lombard Street. He entertained Charles II during his mayorality. Sir Robert, when he had well drunken, grew very familiar with the king, who wished to steal away without ceremony and proceed to his coach. But the mayor pursued him to Guildhall yard, and catching hold of him exclaimed with an oath, “Sir, you shall stay and take t’ other bottle,” and the Merry Monarch, true to his name, with a smile hummed the line of the old song: “He that is drunk is as great as a king,”