Many of the names of streets have a great historic or legendary interest; some, as in France, appear simply quaint, such as Rue da Cherche Midi, Rne du Grand Viable, etc. Great men, and great deeds, are, perhaps, in no wise better remembered than by a street name, which is in so many mouths so many times a day; and Paris appears alive to the fact, since almost every change in her political system is commemorated by a most confusing change in street names.

In Antwerp it is pleasant to see how the great Flemings live unforgotten in their old haunts, the street wherein they lived, or a street hard by, bearing their names like a perpetual monument. Rubens and Van Dyck are recalled again and again, on the corners of the streets, on the restaurants, on the quays, on the barges gliding about the smooth Scheldt; for they are ranked by virtue of their genius as high as any wealthy noble, or unscrupulous warrior, or successful cotton-spinner, is in England. In fact, it is difficult to walk for five minutes in any direction without seeing the name of Rubens or Van Dyck.

In Italy the great men are remembered. The House of Raphael, of Rienzi, of Pietro da Cortona, is pointed out by every vetturino - where the great man was born, where he worked, where he addressed the city, where he died, is not forgotten. We have many old English streets named after the trades or guilds to which they were given up, as Cornhill, Bread Street, Poultry, Cord-wainer and Silver Streets, Goldsmiths' Row, etc.; and this is as it should be in a commercial country. We have a few which record proud deeds and names: Southampton Street, Strand, is named after Lady Rachel Russell, the perfect wife, who was daughter of the Earl of Southampton; Cumberland Street after the victor of Culloden Field; Trafalgar Square commemorates a victory but not the victor's name. Some associations we should be sorry to give up; - e.g. Knightrider Street was the route of knights riding to take part in the Smithfield tourneys; Essex Street, Strand, is named after Elizabeth's ill-fated favourite; Hare Court, Temple, after Sir N. Hare, the same queen's Master of the Rolls.

Several Lothair Streets sprang up after Lord Beacons-field's novel was published, and of course every little illbuilt row of villas must be called ' Albert' or 'Victoria.' But how long will it be before England will think fit so to honour her literary and artistic giants? We are as well off as our neighbours for shining lights of learning; worse off than most for novelty in nomenclature; but when shall we see a Chaucer Street, named after him who first stamped the English tongue, the 'fynder of our faire language,' our first popular historian and novelist and greatest poet? When shall we see a Shakspere Road, a Gainsborough or Reynolds Square, a Spenser Place, a Newton or Faraday Crescent?

There has been but one exception - Milton, to whom the notorious Grub Street, sacred to unscrupulous scribblers and the nursery of lampoons, was about fifty years ago re-dedicated - -a pleasing little attention for which 'tis pity he cannot feel grateful. The squalor and long-established ill-fame of the place must have been thought peculiarly appropriate to the memory of the refined and conscientious 'Lady of Christchurch College;' or was it because anyone seeking a ' Paradise Lost' would most surely find it in that agreeable spot?

I must compare the level of British interest in her great dead with that in, say, Switzerland, Italy, Holland, - almost anywhere - by a story told me by our distinguished tragedian, Mr. Irving - yea, even at Stratford-on-Avon, where the munificent exertions of the Mayor and others have preserved so many relics of Shakspere, and might have been expected to arouse among the most ignorant of the townsfolk some interest, and some pride, in what Shakspere had done to deserve it. Mr. Irving, then, was in Stratford-on-Avon, and caught a native who directed him to the celebrated birthplace. He was moved by the man's manner to question him. ' Who was this man Shakspere that they make this fuss over? Did he belong to the town, and what did he do?' After a perplexed pause, the man said hesitatingly: - 'I think, sir, he was a - kind o' - writer.' ' What did he write?' pursued his questioner, ' was it in the newspapers? or the magazines? or was he a sign-writer - can't you tell me anything about him?' ' I think, sir,' then said the man after a still longer hesitation, 'I think he writ in Bible.'

Mr. Irving added, after telling me this story, that he considered this one of the highest tributes that could be paid to Shakspere.

Street Nuisances

London is no doubt annually improving. Thirty years ago our mothers said that beggars were fewer and meeker than of yore; and within the last ten or fifteen years, certain well-known objects, bowed and twisted and shivering, have disappeared, and I have not seen the two Oxford Street cripples, one skating through life on a little board, the other crawling onward by the aid of clubbed feet and an extensive vocabulary, for some time. Moreover, dead cats and egg-shells are rarer, and the gardener and the dustman, as aforesaid, give attention to the once-neglected squares. So far, ugliness is decreasing in our streets. But much remains to be done. We could altogether dispense with the bloated and purple-faced 'flower-girls' who sell - horrid contrast! - violets and spring-flowers, and abuse you if you don't buy; and the street singers, whose mock-sorrow and sharp glance warn you to keep your pocket-side away. There are still times when the policeman would be the greatest possible ornament to our streets - an ornament, alas ! still rare, and without which no other charm can exist.

And we yet nurse a wild hope that in the far future, which we may not live to see, covered streets, or double streets, like the Chester Rows, may be provided for those hapless foot-passengers who must walk in all weathers, an arrangement which appears to succeed very well in the long Rue Rivoli and the Victor Emanuel Arcade at Milan; and last, not least, clean cabs really worth the somewhat high fares we already pay, which we might enter without fear of vermin or infection.

In this last matter, not only every continental, but every provincial English, town is better off than London,