A medallion in plaster or terra-cotta, which looked as if it might have been copied from a classical coin, was till lately to be seen on the gable of a little fishmonger’s shop in Cheyne Walk. This, though a humble specimen of its class, belonged to a style of decoration once common. I have before me a view, dated 1792, of a house on Tower Hill with similar medallions. Sometimes the heads of Roman Emperors were thus placed, sometimes the cardinal virtues or other emblematic figures. In the third edition of Stow, by Anthony Munday, occurs the following passage, descriptive of Aldgate: ‘The old ruinous Gate being taken downe, and order provided for a new foundation, divers very ancient peeces of Romane coyne were found among the stones and rubbish, which, as Mr. Martin Bond (a Worshipful Citizen, and one of the Surveyors of the worke) told me, two of them (according to their true forme and figure) he caused to be carved on stone, and fixed on eyther side of the Gates Arch without, eastward.’ These coins were of the Emperors Trajan and Diocletian. Martin Bond laid the foundation-stone of the new gate in 1607. The little house in Cheyne Walk was formerly a freehold with the right of pasturage on Chelsea Common; it was pulled down in October, 1892. I have drawn it for the frontispiece of this volume; the lower part appears in a delightful etching by Whistler, called ‘The Fish-shop.’ One of the most interesting signs in existence belongs to my friend Mr. F. Manley Sims. It does not, however, strictly belong to London, having been brought from Poole some years ago; its earlier history has yet to be discovered. This is a doctor’s signboard, excellently carved, with figures in high relief. It is divided into compartments: in the centre--more important than the rest--is the doctor himself, in Jacobean costume, his potions ranged on shelves behind him; around, in seven compartments, are represented various operations of surgery; and below, in relief, appear the words from Ecclesiasticus, ‘Altissimus creavit de terra medicynam et vir prudens non abhorebit illam.’ Anno Domini 1623. There are traces of paint and gilding; the whole is enclosed within an ornamental border, and has a highly decorative effect. Somewhat akin to the sculptured street signs are the tablets on which are inscribed the names of the streets, and often the dates of their building or completion. They have historical value where, as is not unfrequently the case, they record a name now in danger of being forgotten, and some of them are designed with a good deal of taste. So many of these tablets remain that I shall not attempt a list, but shall only mention a few good examples. One of the oldest is in Great Chapel Street, Westminster, and is inscribed: ‘This is Chappeil Street, 1656.’