The _Eagle and Child_ was the crest of the Earls of Derby, the _Maiden Head_, of the Dukes of Buckingham, and the _White Bear_, that of the Earls of Kent. A still more frequent sign in the home counties, the _Grasshopper_, shows the popularity of the great Sir Thomas Gresham, to whom we owe the Royal Exchange and many other great City institutions. Sir Christopher Hatton and Sir Francis Walsingham, both Elizabethan statesmen of eminence, gave us respectively the _Hind_ and the _Tiger’s Head_. For the _Saracen’s Head_ there will be various claimants, according to locality, so many crusaders having adopted this charge; but a few innkeepers of Lollard sympathies possibly adopted the sign out of compliment to Sir John Oldcastle. Bagford informs us that the _Pelican_ was the badge of Lord Cromwell, the despoiler of monasteries, who also stole this emblem from the Church. At Speen, near Newbury, there was a coaching inn on the Bath Road, which provoked an epigram: “The famous house at Speenhamland, That stands upon the hill, May well be called the Pelican, From its enormous bill.” Coming to the ballad heroes, _Guy of Warwick_ and the _Dun Cow_ slain by him are found all through the Midlands; but they cannot compare for popularity with _Robin Hood_, who is usually accompanied by _Little John_ on the signboard. This is not a result of the modern taste for romantic literature. The _Robin Hood_ is mentioned as a common alehouse sign by Samuel Rowlands in “Martin Mark-all, Beadle of Bridewell,” published in 1610. All the world loved Robin Hood, and cherished his memory as a jolly good-natured outlaw, manly and fearless, generous to the poor and careful for the honour of womenkind. Robin Hood alone among the revolutionary spirits of the Middle Ages has a place on the signboards, although Wat Tyler is remembered in connection with the _Crown Inn_ at Dartford, and _Jack Straw’s Castle_ was until lately a great resort for holiday-makers on Hampstead Heath. _King James and the Tinker_ inn at Enfield, which claims on doubtful authority to be over a thousand years old, is associated with another ballad story of which there are many versions, such as “King Henry and the Miller of Mansfield,” or “King John and the Miller of Charlton.” In one of these tales our old friend, the Vicar of Bray, was dining at the _Bear_ at Maidenhead with some friends. The party had taxed all the resources of the hotel, and when a stranger tired and hungry asked for refreshments, the vicar only admitted him to table very grudgingly. At the end of the meal the stranger discovered that he had left his purse behind him, and was roundly abused by the dignitary. However, his curate pleaded that the merry quips and anecdotes of the guest deserved consideration; he had proved himself a good fellow and had earned his dinner. At this moment some members of the royal staff enter, and the guest turns out to be nothing less than his Majesty James I. So