We hear of another signboard hanging out at the extreme South End of the town, on which was depicted a globe with a man breaking through the crust, like a chicken from its shell. The man's nakedness was supposed to betoken extreme poverty. So much for the sign itself. The story goes that early one morning a continental regiment was halted in front of the tavern, after having just made a forced march from Providence. The men were broken down with fatigue, bespattered with mud, famishing from hunger. One of these veterans doubtless echoed the sentiments of all the rest when he shouted out to the man on the sign, "'List, darn ye! 'List, and you'll get through this world fast enough!" [Illustration: "HOW SHALL I GET THROUGH THIS WORLD?"] In time of war the taverns were favorite recruiting rendezvous. Those at the waterside were conveniently situated for picking up men from among the idlers who frequented the tap-rooms. Under date of 1745, when we were at war with France, bills were posted in the town giving notice to all concerned that, "All gentlemen sailors and others, who are minded to go on a cruise off of Cape Breton, on board the brigantine _Hawk_, Captain Philip Bass commander, mounting fourteen carriage, and twenty swivel guns, going in consort with the brigantine _Ranger_, Captain Edward Fryer commander, of the like force, to intercept the East India, South Sea, and other ships bound to Cape Breton, let them repair to the Widow Gray's at the =Crown Tavern=, at the head of Clark's Wharf, to go with Captain Bass, or to the =Vernon's Head=, Richard Smith's, in King Street, to go in the _Ranger_." "Gentlemen sailors" is a novel sea-term that must have tickled an old salt's fancy amazingly. The following notice, given at the same date in the most public manner, is now curious reading. "To be sold, a likely negro or mulatto boy, about eleven years of age." This was in Boston. The Revolution wrought swift and significant change in many of the old, favorite signboards. Though the idea remained the same, their symbolism was now put to a different use. Down came the king's and up went the people's arms. The crowns and sceptres, the lions and unicorns, furnished fuel for patriotic bonfires or were painted out forever. With them disappeared the last tokens of the monarchy. The crown was knocked into a cocked-hat, the sceptre fell at the unsheathing of the sword. The heads of Washington and Hancock, Putnam and Lee, Jones and Hopkins, now fired the martial heart instead of Vernon, Hawk, or Wolfe. Allegiance to old and cherished traditions was swept away as ruthlessly as if it were in truth but the reflection of that loyalty which the colonists had now thrown off forever. They had accepted the maxim, that, when a subject draws his sword against his king, he should throw away the scabbard. Such acts are not to be referred to the fickleness of popular favor which Horace Walpole has moralized upon, or which the poet satirizes in the lines,--