A popular Philadelphia inn was the one which bore the sign of the "Golden Lion," standing on its hind legs. Lions fell into disrepute at the time of the Revolution, and the gallant animal that was a lion in its youth became the Yellow Cat in middle and old age. It was a vastly popular cat, however, vending beer and porter of highest repute. It was kept in ancient fashion unchanged until its antiquity made it an object alike of dignity and interest--in fact, until our own day. With its worn and sanded floor, tables unpainted, and snowy with daily scrubbing; with tallow candles when gas lighted every "saloon" in the city; with the old-time bar fenced up to the ceiling with rails, it had an old age as golden as its youth. Susan, an ancient maiden of prehistoric age, fetched up the beer in old pewter mugs on a pewter platter, and presented a pretzel with each mug. The great variety of tavern-signs in Philadelphia was noted even by Englishmen, who were certainly acquainted with variety and number at home. The Englishman Palmer wrote during his visit in 1818:-- "We observed several curious tavern signs in Philadelphia and on the roadside, among others Noah's Ark; a variety of Apostles; Bunyan's Pilgrim; a cock on a lion's back, crowing, with Liberty issuing from his beak; naval engagements in which the British are in a desperate situation; the most common signs are eagles, heads of public characters, Indian Kings, &c." There had been so many sign-boards used by business firms in Philadelphia, that they had been declared public nuisances, and in 1770 all sign-boards, save those of innkeepers, had been ordered to be taken down and removed. From a famous old hostelry in Dedham, swung from the years 1658 to 1730 the sign-board of Lieutenant Joshua Fisher, surveyor, apothecary, innholder, and officer of "ye trayne band," and his son and successor, Captain Fisher--also Joshua. About 1735 one of the latter's daughters married Dr. Nathaniel Ames, who had already started that remarkable series of annual publications, familiar now to antiquaries, and once to all New England householders, as _Ames' Almanack_. The first of these interesting almanacs had appeared in 1726, when Ames was only seventeen years old, but he was assisted by his astronomer father. After the death successively of his wife and infant child, the doctor entered into a famous lawsuit with the family of his sisters-in-law for the tenure of the land and inn; and the turning-point of the suit hung upon the settlement of the term "next of kin." By ancient common law and English law real property never ascended, that is, was never inherited by a father or mother from a child; but in absence of husband, wife, or lineal descendant passed on to the "next of kin," which might be a distant cousin. By general interpretation the Province Laws substituted the so-called civilian method of counting kinship, by which the father could inherit.