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SOME OLD INN SIGNS AN ANTIQUARIAN’S INTERPRETATION OF HULL INN NAMES www.yorkshirehistory.com takes no responsibility for the veracity of what follows. This article, the date of which now eludes me, certainly harks back at least 80 years when more emphasis was placed upon the salacious rather than the prosaic or mundane. In truth, this still happens in regard to the histories of public houses but not, it is intended, within www.yorkshirehistory.com This article however, is so absurd in places as to be laughable, and yet it retains that certain quiet charm that can only be gained from earlier antiquarians and their predilection for the perpetuation of myths and legends. For examples of deeply researched narratives of a few of Hull’s lost hostelries, please see: http://www.yorkshirehistory.com/3pubs/index.htm and: http://www.yorkshirehistory.com/3pubs2/index.htm The article does however provide some entertaining aspects from Hull’s past, and it is hoped that its inclusion herein will prove enjoyable, and is presented here only in the spirit of comparison. It should not be seen or used as reliable history – you have been warned!! To view images of some of the houses mentioned herein, click those highlighted in BLUE Inns or taverns as mentioned in Instalment 1 that have illustrations:
THE OLD INNS OF HULL An article in two parts written by G. J. M[onson]. Fitzjohn, B.Sc. Instalment 1 “Thou most beauteous inn.” – Shakespeare, “Richard II” In all my peregrinations, I have yet to come across a city in which the historical aspect of its business and social advancement is written so large as in the case of “The King’s Town on Hull”, to call it by the name bestowed between 1292-99 by King Edward I, upon what we now briefly designate as HULL. This interesting evolution of the town is particularly noticeable if we cast our thoughts back to the days when all the dwelling houses, such as those of the De la Poles and other city merchants, were “inns,” a term, Anglo-Saxon in origin, which means a hospitable resting place for man and beast, as for instance, to take but three of the great London “Inns” – Lincoln’s Inn, the home of the Earls of Lincoln: Clifford’s Inn, the residence of the de Clifford’s: and Grey’s Inn, where the Lords Grey once lived in state. These houses had usually reed strewn annexes, in which the poorer wayfarers could obtain lodging and refreshment, a legacy of thought and deed bequeathed to the well-to-do folk by the monks of old. As time went on, Hull, through its sheltered position on the coast, increased in prosperity, and consequently in dimensions, with the natural result that the owners of inns built mansions further afield, more fitted to display their wealth, leaving their old dwellings to the care of servants, who honourably carried on the hospitable traditions of the family. Eventually, but by no means at the same time, these houses actually became inns in the sense that we know them, although it was left to a much later generation to call them “hotels” or even “alehouses”. So, in Hull we find under other names houses which have sheltered beneath the same roof royalty and travel-stained merchantmen. With regard to the names of these old Hull inns, to emphasise what I have just pointed out, we will take the Cross Keys in the Market Place, the George and Dragon in High Street, and the George in Whitefriargate. [see: http://www.yorkshirehistory.com/3pubs2/crosskeys.htm for my in-depth look into the history of the Cross Keys – RGH, ©2007] In the case of the Cross Keys , it was originally the “inn” or residence of the Archbishops of York, and a mightily fine house it was in the days when the great men of the Church vied with those of the State to shew [sic] who could lavish the most money on entertainments and in personal display. In the old days ecclesiastical magnates combined the professions of soldiering and ministering, and when equipped for the fray had their coats of mail and long swords, also exhibiting shields which bore a heraldic device painted upon them to designate in some form or another the identity of the man behind it. When the loader of a cavalcade arrived at his inn after being away on business, his shield was hung up in a prominent position outside the house, to indicate that he was, in modern parlance, “at home”. People could not read in those days, and nearly everything was advertised by signs. Kings came and went; nobles were but here-today and gone to-morrow; Bishops, like other mortals, spent but a transitory period on this terrestrial globe, and their particular names were forgotten, but the “arms” or heraldic “achievements” as the old heralds termed a “coat of arms”, were handed down from generation to generation. Therefore, the shield bearing the symbol of St. Peter – the Cross Keys – the mark of the Archbishops of York, was well known through being hung up for many scores of years over the doorway of their house in the Market Place until it became popular as “ye signe of ye Crosse Keyes.” The same applies to the old George and Dragon in High Street, only in this case it was a painted representation of St. George killing the dragon, the insignia of the Order of St. George, which had been bestowed by a grateful sovereign upon the owner of the inn and one of the De la Poles – who was so proud of being the only one in Hull thus honoured that he exhibited it in lieu of a coat of arms. The George in Whitefriargate took its name from the legendary arms of St. George, a red cross on a white ground, the patron saint of the Company of Merchant Adventurers of Hull. This Gild [sic] had a hostelry near the site where the George now stands, the land adjoining being a waste space until a member of the Gild, whose remains repose in Holy Trinity church, planted the ginger plant to please Henry VIII., who was inordinately fond of it, having previously planted some in his native county of Lincoln, which is known as the Land of Green Ginger. This waste land off Whitefriargate also became known as the Land of Green Ginger, and was practically at the back-door of the royal residence which faced St. Mary’s Church in Lowgate. So much for the origin of the nomenclature of inns which have names relating to heraldry, for it is necessary to remember that everyone who had the right to bear arms disported them outside their residences when occupying them, hence the reason we find Golden Lions, Red Lions, Blue Lions etc. scattered all over the place. The next step showing the commercial advancement of the town is the excellence – or the reverse – of the signboards which were exhibited outside the shops owned by the burgesses. Glass show windows were quite out of the question on account of their cost, so there was nothing else for it but to hang out a sign decorated with what was then considered an attractive inducement to enter the shop, but what a modern art critic would call a problem picture! It was the custom then, as is often the case in this year of grace, to seal a bargain over a tankard, or even two, of wine or ale, and as many shopkeepers found most of our forefathers called upon them more for what they received than to make purchases, wily traders charged a small sum for their liquid refreshments until some of them, finding that the drink side of their business was more profitable than the other side, permitted their interest in the latter to wane and eventually blossomed out as “Tippling House” keepers under their old signs; in this way a furrier whose original sign was a fox or beaver, would be known as mine host of the Fox or Beaver Tavern. This rule applied all round. A carpenter would display a square and compass; a butcher, a cleaver; an alchemist, a mortar and pestle; a tailor, a pair of shears; a blacksmith, one or more horseshoes; a maltster, a shovel; and so on, and when the shopkeeper became a fully fledged ale house keeper, he retained his custom under the name of his old trade, hence the variety of signs we see today. To jump a century or two onwards to a date when there were but 127 licensed houses in the centre of Hull, these were located thus:- High Street, at the time of the main thoroughfare, had twenty-five; Mytongate, then as it is now – rendezvous for farmers, had fourteen; Whitefriargate and Silver Street, the two streets being previously known as Aldeburgh-street in the 14 th century, had thirteen; Beverley Gates, which included that part now occupied by the Victoria Square, had twelve; Market Place, nine; and the remainder being dotted about in what are now side streets, and also across the river. This gives us an excellent idea as to where the money of Hull a couple of centuries ago was being made and circulated. What has happened to these old landmarks which meant so much to our forebears? The old Bull and Sun, No. 1 Mytongate, is now the Tivoli ; what possessed some vandal to change a good old English name for that of a sulphurous town in Italy goodness knows! However, the interior has luckily been left much as it was, and is typical of an old hostelry where many a main of cocks have met, conquered and died; this was a great cock-fighting establishment until this once favoured amusement was suppressed. The present kitchen was once the place where two game cocks, each backed with large sums of money, armed with long, brutal curved spurs attached to their natural ones, would fight each other until the conqueror crowed over the defunct body of his opponent ‘midst the loud applause of the onlookers leaning over the rough gallery above, which still stands. Birds of tried valour, strain and stamina were bred and born on the premises, and were lowered by means of a lift into the arena below; incidentally, this lift was frequently used to elevate the birds out of sight at a moments notice when a representative of the law appeared on the scene after cock-fighting was made illegal, for I regret to say it was carried on sub-rosa for many a day afterwards. The dual name of the house, the Bull and Sun, came about in this way: Bull-baiting was once a popular national sport, and a landlord who catered for its enthusiasts called the house the Bull, and with this name both occupants and customers were quite happy until an enterprising landlord came over the river [Hull – RGH] from the Sun Tavern, which was so-called from the cognisauce [sic] (the Sun in its splendour) of King Edward I., that astute monarch who exchanged or bartered land out-side the town with the Abbot of Meux [sic], who owned property in Hull, so that His Majesty could grant a charter of incorporation to the city. Having taken up his occupancy of the Bull the ingoing landlord added the sign of his late house, the Sun, to the existing sign-board in Mytongate, in the hope of favours to come from his old friends across the river, a by no means unusual device in those days: and thus it became known as the Bull and Sun until the advent of some person who named it the Tivoli. [Compare the above with http://www.yorkshirehistory.com/pubs_J_m.htm 1 Mytongate - the reader should make up his/her own mind! RGH] There are several inns in Mytongate which have managed to retain their original interiors which remind one so forcibly of Charles Dickens’ delightful books. Besides the Bull and Sun, there is the Coach and Horses , a typical old-town hostelry, where the well-to-do farmers “put up” on a market day, accompanied by their buxom wives with poke bonnets and large baskets; the Rampant Horse , so called after the crest of a family connected with Hull; Christies, which is licensed under the title of Imperial Measure, was once connected with the river Humber by a path through a long garden up which casks of wine were rolled into the cellars behind the house; the King’s Head, the Golden Gallon, etc., are all redolent of the past. There was an Old England Tavern, no. 106, a Gainsborough Coffee House, no. 107, an Old Harbour , no. 116, a Sheffield Arms, not called after the town of that name, but after the Lincolnshire family which is now represented by Sir Berkeley Sheffield, Bart., a Nag’s Head , no. 133, originally spelt Knagg’s Head, which was undoubtedly started by a Mr. Arthur Knagg, in the same manner that the King’s Head obtained its high sounding title; the Abercrombie at the corner of Bishop Lane was so named after the Warrior Duke; and what is now known as the Edinburgh Castle; the Square and Compass, no. 155; the Yarmouth Arms , no. 168; Globe, no. 181; Prince George, no. 184; Hammer in Hand, no. 187; Anchor, no. 190; Unicorn, no. 191; Fleece, no. 192; all in High-street remember! The Tigress, which still exists, has stood on the present site for generations. The Black Boy was originally a tobacco and snuff shop; this was at the latter end of the 17 th century, subsequently becoming a coffee-house, and the sign then was the customary full-sized figure of a high-caste Mahomidan [sic], which was exhibited at the doorway of the shop; but when coffee-shops became more and more popular and numerous, the owners racked their brains to think of some alternative advertising novelty; so in this case the owner obtained the services of a black slave from Morocco (for the fair fame of Hull, I must say that this was before the days of the great emancipator of slaves, William Wilberforce), and from this living sign it is but a short step to the pictorial one which still hangs outside no. 151, High-street. There was a Lugger Tavern; Doncaster Arms, no. 104; and the Regatta, no. 105, also in High-street. Of curious names it is easy to compile quite a lengthy list; during the first twenty years of the last century [the 19 th century – RGH] we find in Hull the following: Billy Boy, 19 North Walls; Jack–on-a-Cruise – what sort of a cruise had better be left to the imagination – no. 7 North Street; and Jack’s Return, 32 Grimsby Lane, comes in much the same category. Anyone conjuring up a vision of the respective and respected managers of the …………… The Seven Stars , 16, Fish Street, reminds one of the words in Shakespeare in Henry IV “What! We have seen the seven stars!” this name is an old one for inns, and is supposed to have come from the number of stars on the Virgin’s celestial crown as shown in old rural pictures, but it is much more likely to have obtained its name at a period when it was the fashion to call houses after constellations. There was a sign in the Holderness Road called the Four Alls, one of those humorous signs beloved of our forefathers , of which we have many examples scattered over the country, such as the Quiet Woman, a lady with her head off, which was the sign of the Nelson, Drypool. The Four Alls, the sign of which consisted of four panels, the first one showing the reigning sovereign (I rule all), a parson, (I pray for all), a soldier (I fight for all), and lastly a John Citizen of that day (I pay for all). The last panel in some cases depicts His Satanic Majesty with the words below him “I take all.” For some unexplained reason the name of this house was changed to that of the Four-in-Hand, but whether this was done by someone who dreamt he possessed a coach and four, or that he once held in his hand four aces, I cannot say, I do not know.
There was an Indian Chief, no. 10 Blackfriargate, a relic of the “spacious” days of Elizabeth; three Crooked Billets, the sign consisting of two pieces of wood crossed in the shape of a St. Andrew’s cross which was the symbol of Saint Julien [sic], the patron saint of travellers, so called because he was supposed to have attended to the wants of the weary; one was in Wincolmlee, one in Strawberry Gardens, Drypool, and another in Trippet. One of the most striking things in the way of naming taverns was the method employed by a Mr. Stephenson who acquired a number of licensed houses in Hull, and as he obtained possession of each of them he renamed them numerically after the name of his first house at 42, Waterworks Street, The Tiger. Incidentally the name Tiger was the name for a time of a house now the Windsor in the same street, but that, as Kipling would say, is another story. This Mr. Stephenson of the Tiger bought a house, 14 Lowgate, previously known as the City of London Arms, and called it Tiger no. 2, the original Tiger automatically becoming Tiger no. 1. this enterprising landlord went still further; 27 Church-street, Sculcoates, as it was then called became Tiger no. 3; the Golden Cup, 58 Mytongate, became Tiger no. 4; the Ferry-boat, Wincolmlee became Tiger no. 5; and lastly the Labour-in-Vain , 46 Humber-street, which had borne that name for years and showed as a sign an old lady vigorously “tubbing” a black boy in the anticipation of making him respectable; this house had just become the New Bridge Inn, when it also fell into the Tiger Habit and became Tiger no. 6. Of these Tigers, no. 1 lived until about 1905, when his carcase was required by the civic authorities to make room for the present City Hall. No. 2 reverted to part of its original name and became the City Arms; no. 3 is still living, and the owners, Messrs. Moors’ and Robson’s, have endeavoured to prove that a tiger can change his stripes if a leopard cannot change his spots, by re-naming it the “Raywell Hotel”; no. 4 became defunct in or about 1900; no. 5, is also living, but prefers to be known by its maiden name, the “Ferry-boat”; and the youngest of the family, no. 6, died a sad death in 1895, and the premises are now the branch offices of Messrs. Hewett Bros., of Grimsby. There was, for a very brief period, a “Tiger Cub”, and its mother, the Tigress still holds out as a vigorous old lady at 7, High-street. I have mentioned the Quiet Woman, with her head off; close by in that part of Hull is a house previously licensed under the name of the Shipwright’s Arms, 9 Great Union-street, which is now called the Carpenter’s Arms, but in between the time it changed its title from the two above mentioned names, it was called and officially recognised as the Heart that Feels Another. What the natives called it I can only surmise. One curious name recalls others. There was a “ Shepherd ” in Witham, and a Shepherdess at 28, Myton-street, and a Lamb in High-street, three Windmills, viz., Trinity House-lane, 49 Whitefriargate, and Holderness-road. Hull was a great place for the real article in days gone by: in fact, when other means than windmills were first mooted there was an Anti-mill Society with a licensed house at 59 Whitefriargate called the Anti-Mill Tavern, which had been previously known as the Windmill. Inns or taverns as mentioned in Instalment 2 that have illustrations:
THE OLD INNS OF HULL An article in two parts written by G. J. M[onson]. Fitzjohn, B.Sc. Instalment 2
A good old English name for a licensed house was “Board.” Hull at one time was plentifully supplied with inns of this name. the name comes from the great heavy oak boards which supported the great joints of meat in those manorial days when a whole household fed in one common room or hall. “Board” is purely a term suggesting the good things of this world to the mind and body of the traveller; in fact it is a sort of Pelmanism. [A system of mind-training to improve the memory; Early 20c: named after The Pelman Institute, London, founded in 1899, which devised the system. RGH] Its prototype several hundreds of years ago was a brush bearing all the good gifts supplied by nature suspended from its boughs. This degenerated into a besom-looking affair stuck into a hole in the wall; then one enterprising landlord increased the length of the shaft and suspended a leather jack or tankard from it; the landlady promptly supplemented this form of advertising by adding to it a row of pewter platters, all suggestive of the good things she had ready inside, hence the name “Board,” and from it we obtain the modern names, boarding house, board and lodgings, etc. The title Town and Trade of Hull sounds like the toast given on one of those auspicious occasions when complimentary certificates of efficiency are mutually exchanged, but, nevertheless, at no. 25, Blanket Row there really was a tavern of this name . Whittington and Cat were honoured at 15, Castle-row, although it is a far meow from either his birthplace or London. A Blue Ball was in Air-street, which was originally intended to be an illustration of a hemisphere, but a coat of blue pigment changed its tone. Another Blue Ball was locally known as the Blue Pudding, also from its new coat of paint. The Bull and Dog, Witham, is reminiscent of the days when bull baiting by terriers was considered great sport. The Recruiting Sergeant in Chariot Street smacks of the Napoleonic Wars. There was also a John Bull, which it is only proper that Hull should possess; a Mermaid and a hand and Glass (a looking-glass of course) in Little Lane, Humber Street, and, as a reminder of the days when we delighted in fables and fairy stories, we find the Fox and Grapes, in English Street. There is till a Marrowbone and Cleaver in Fetter-lane, a name which owes its origin to a custom much thought of by butcher boys of a by-gone day. This custom consisted of serenading newly married couples with various sized meat cleavers and shank bones, which they banged together, making the night hideous until they were bribed to depart from that particular quarter.
No list of famous inns in Hull would be complete without a mention of the Olde White Harte , in Silver-street. Up a narrow passage either from Silver-street or from Bowlalley-lane this once important house, alas, now stands squashed and cramped up to make room for the houses of mammon (without which it would undoubtedly fall). The Olde White Harte was once a civic building in which military governors of Hull resided. Hull was a walled city in those days, quite capable of looking after itself under all conditions. When King Charles I demanded entrance into Hull, Sir John Hotham was military governor of the city, and it was actually upstairs in a room in the Olde White Harte, which remains today (so far as oak-panelling is concerned) just as it did in those days, where the final decision was made that the king should be refused admission into the town. Sir John and his followers left this residence to parley with the king on the ramparts of the wall at Beverley-gate, which stood about where the Wilberforce Monument stands now. [The location of the gate has been established and preserved by archaeology, and is much closer to the western end of Whitefriargate than Fitzjohn suggests – see here . RGH] T he rest is history, so let us return to the White Harte. Inside are two fine fireplaces; above one of them are hanging a pair of ancient swords dug up on the premises during alterations. Up the grand old-time grimed oak stair-case, charred somewhat by a fire, which broke out several years ago, we turn on the right hand into the “Plotting Chamber,” which was connected with the outside world by a secret passage cunningly concealed by a door which was made from the same material and pattern as the rest of the panelling around the room; here, grave councils were held concerning the City of Hull, and plots were certainly hatched in this room. [It is a fact that it was not until 6 th July, 1897, that the Royal Charter was signed creating Kingston-upon-Hull a city – until then, it was a town and borough. RGH] Opposite, on the same landing, is another room, also oak-panelled. It is certainly worth a visit quite apart from its cuisine and refreshments, which are enhanced by the surroundings in which they are consumed. There are but few houses now left in Hull which can boast of being the actual spot where the town’s history has been made. Long may the Olde White Harte and Wilberforce House remain with us. There is also a White Hart in Alfred Gelder Street, built on the site of an older house of the same name, which had its frontage in Salthouse-lane, a place where gamekeepers foregathered in the days when there were fields right up to North Bridge. [Research has failed to discover the identity and location of the alluded to earlier White Harte at this site. RGH] Of the remaining houses, we have that hotel with a sporting name, the Tally-Ho, in Bond-street, the Zoological Hotel , Beverley-road; there is an excellent modern house on Spring-bank, once name the White Bear, but now with zoological exactitude called the Polar Bear , which is admirably run. The Harp and Shamrock, in West-street, was doubtless so named as an attraction to the visitors from the Emerald Isle. The Cotton Tree calls loudly to the toilers in the cotton oil and cake mills. In many cases a cotton tree indicated the spot where the plant (also known as a way-faring tree) has flourished. It was known as a covenant or coven tree through being the trysting place for lovers when they delighted to exchange those time-honoured vows which are for ever new. The hero of John Poole’s comedy “Paul Pry” which was played in 1823, was honoured by having his name bestowed on 34, Waterworks-street, the position being now occupied by P. R. Davies’ shop. The Old English Gentleman is still to be found in Worship-street, the sign depicting a gentleman of Stuart period taking his ease in an inn with a King Charles spaniel on his knees. An old house situated in Prospect Street was once the Tea Cannister, but better known as Ye Hole in the Wall; why it had this cognomen I do not know, for at no period of Hull’s history was there a wall in Prospect Street. Usually the name meant literally a hole in a wall of a debtor’s prison, or in a wall surrounding a house for lepers, through which food was passed. The name of the late king Edward VII, is to be found on a house which had previously been known as the Prospect Tavern; such is the manner in which the twentieth century owners shoot the names of old houses at random here, there, and everywhere. Down near the Pier, erected on land which has ousted the Humber stands a house, the Vittoria , called after Vittoria in the North of Spain, where the “Iron Duke” won a famous victory in the year 1812. the Pilot Office opposite being built in 1820. a century ago it was the modern hotel of Hull. One of the quaintest signs I have ever come across in Hull is that of a house in Osbourne Street, at the corner of Chapel-court, which was once known as the Be Sharp. There was, many years ago, a house in Lincoln of this name with identically the same sign entirely wrought in iron, which was fixed over a shop kept by a maker of harpsichords and other musical instruments; this house, like many others, ultimately becoming an inn under the old sign, and it has been copied in several towns, in this case by a Mr. Brennan, who was a bandsman in the old Hull Volunteers. There have been many Gate inns from time to time in Hull, one called after a church lych gate, after a battlemented gate, one after a prison gate, the last one seen in Hull having a swinging gate and upon the cross bars were painted the words: “The gate hangs well, and hinders none, Refresh and pay and travel on.” There was once a Beehive in 25, Church-lane, which recalls the verse which appeared on a Beehive in another place:- “Within this hive, we are all alive Good spirits make us merry. So, if you’re dry, come in and try The flavour of our sherry.” At 6, Love-lane (now Cogan-street) there was one of three Crooked Billets, which was afterwards called Robinson Crusoe, to remind us of Defoe’s novel published in 1719, which exploited the adventures of Alexander Selkirk on the island of Juan Fernandez. At 38, Blanket-row, we find a Black-eyed Susan . “All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d When Black-eyed Susan came on board” in whose memory thus sang the poet John Gay. The Three Crowns, to do honour to the arms of Hull, were to be found in the Market-place. One of the many curious names given to a house in Hull was “Tom Coffin,” 41, Humber-street, which was kept by a Mr. J. Ticklepenny; let us hope he succeeded in doing more than his patronymic name implied. A memory of King Charles II’s flight after the battle of Worcester (one of Oliver Cromwell’s “Crowning Glories”) still remains with us under the sign of the Royal Oak , the first licensed exactly 100 years after the battle, on Princes Dock-side, the hospitality of the original oak tree being always kept evergreen by the present occupants. At 12, Myton-place the name of that interesting outlaw Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, yelept [sic] Robin Hood and Little John (his six foot henchman) were both recognised. The sign of the “Grapes” in Chariot-street and elsewhere is but a reminder of the fact that the Produce of the vine was at one time as popular as ale in England. These by no means exhaust the total number of these old Hull landmarks, but regretfully observe that I have exceeded the space so courteously allotted to me by the Editor-in-Chief, so I am afraid the remainder of these old houses must be recorded on another occasion. My thanks are due to the civic authorities of Hull, to the director of Hull Museums, to the chief librarian and his staff, who with exemplary patience greatly assisted me, to Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Holmes of Messrs. Henry Wilson’s, the former being 50 years manager at S… House, and a host of other kind frie… without whose whole-hearted co-operation I would not have undertaken these articles. The illustrations are supplied by courtesy of Messrs. Herbert Jenkins Ltd., the publishers of “Quaint Signs of Old Inns” by the present author, obtainable at all booksellers. It is hoped that the above is appreciated for what it is, and for what it was intended for. As a piece for publication in a periodical, it serves its purpose, as so many similar articles today on all manner of subjects, but such sources should always be treated with caution by the serious researcher. That however, does not in the opinion of www.yorkshirehistory.com detract from the enjoyment it provides seen from a different age, it is, in its own right, a little gem. Richard Hayton © 2007
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The Hull High-street has been rich in old hostelries, but few now remain. In its palmy [sic] days High-street had the old 
The old Splaw Bone (Wincolmlee) is an unusual designation for a tavern, but in the vernacular it is the term for a whale’s shoulder-blade or flapper bone to distinguish it from the whale-bone proper, which was also the name of two alehouses in Wincolmlee. It is no surprise to find such a sign in Hull when we recollect what a renowned port it was in the old whaling days, many interesting relics of which can be seen in that charming old house in High-street, where Wilberforce was born. [now to be viewed at the Maritime Museum, Queen Victoria Square – RGH] 
Where Savile House is now, once stood an old-fashioned shop, which was first licensed under the name of the “Two Lions”, so called from the carved representation of two lions, one each side of the doorway. This house was so much patronised by the theatrical profession, including the well-known Mr. Sims Reeves, as well as the Queen’s jester (W. F. Wallet), whose excellent portrait in oils hangs now in the 
The Cup and Ball, 21, Salthouse-lane, is a relic of the old game of that name, and the same applies to the Corner Pin, which refers to that particular “pin” the most difficult to knock down in the very ancient game of Nine Pins, a past-time that was doubtless an attraction to the house. I have mentioned in connection with no. 1 Waterworks-street a name which is interesting in many ways. At the corner of Chariot-street and Waterworks-street there stood a ram-shackle old inn called the Two Sweeps, which was kept by two brothers, who, as was the custom in those days, exhibited a sign denoting their occupation. The illustrations of the old sign shows the sweep followed by his son; this was in the days when boys were forced bodily up a chimney, and this picture so tickled the fancy of a youthful humorist of nearly a century ago that he wrote underneath it, “The March of Intellect,” and by this name the house became known. 
Whimsical Walker, the famous clown, was born here, and I have it on excellent authority that it was he who gave it the new title, but he must have been very young at the time. Between the time it was the Sweeps and the March of Intellect, it was known for a short period as the Tiger, which name was later transferred to no. 42, the same street. After the old march of Intellect was pulled down, the present house, which occupies the same site, was built, and hard as it is to believe, is called the “Windsor” of all names for a house in Hull, which has been known for a generation as the March of Intellect. 
