KENTISBEARE, England — Visitors to Britain are often struck not just by the profusion of pubs — about one for every 1,000 people — but by their colorful names, such as the Barley Mow, the Eagle and Child and the Two Mile Oak.

Historical figures and royalty provided many of the names: the Duke of Wellington and the Queen’s Head, for example. Others require little explanation, such as the Horse and Coaches, the Cat Head and the Boot and Slipper.

But some of the monikers are of intriguing, and unresolved, origin. Take the Elephant and Castle, the name of a tavern (as well as a subway station and general area) in south London.

There are those who argue that the name is a corruption of “Infanta de Castile,” a reference to a Spanish princess. Others trace it to a medieval guild of metalworkers who took as their emblem the drawing of an elephant with what looks like a castle on its back.

In Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” the character Antonio declares: “In the south suburbs at the Elephant / Is best to lodge,” which some think is a sly reference to the Elephant and Castle in south London. But that is probably an anachronistic reading.

Still, imaginations can run free upon encountering pub signboards advertising the Wig and Miter, the Dumb Post, the Merry Harriers, the Swan With Two Necks, the Flemish Weaver, the Crown and Trumpet, the Staff of Life, the Old Saracen’s Head, the Bishop on the Bridge and the Green Dragon.

Britain remains home to 57,000 pubs, including some alehouses that can trace their history to Saxon times. Many still sport the dimly lit interiors, snug alcoves, crackling fireplaces and agreeably low ceilings made of old wooden beams (with signs warning taller customers, “Duck or grouse”) that give old public houses their unique flavor.

For centuries, virtually nothing has been more central to the good cheer and cozy charm of English village life than the local pub, whose name alone — the Bishop’s Finger, the Drunken Duck, the Quiet Woman, the Moorend Spout — could summon a smile.

But some pubs have fallen on hard times. Every week, 39 alehouses call for “last orders” one final time, according to the British Beer and Pub Association.

All told, more than 2,000 taverns have shut down since March of last year, at a cost of 20,000 jobs.