One of these blue enamelled signboards imposed a tremendous strain upon my intellect when I first came hither and penetrated this region on my tours of exploration. It was a signboard particularly long in shape and the word street _(strasse)_ had been preserved without a break. But of the actual name which, as I have indicated, was very long, or rather had been very long, the letters were nearly all completely “blinded” or devoured by rust. The reddish-brownish gaps gave one some idea of their number, but nothing was decipherable except the half of a capital S and an e in the middle, and another e at the end. This riddle was a little too much for my astuteness—I was face to face with too many unknown quantities. So I stood there for a long time, my hands upon my back, staring at the long signboard and studying it closely. And then I gave it up and went strolling along the rudimentary pavement with Bashan. But whilst I thought that I was occupying myself with other things, this particular thing kept working within the mnemonic depths of me. My sub-intelligence kept scenting out the destroyed name, and suddenly it shot into my consciousness. I stood still—as in a fright. I rushed back and once more planted myself in front of the signboard. I counted and compared and tested the elements of my guess. Yes, it fitted, it “worked out!” We were wandering in the street which had been called “Shakespeare.” These signboards befit the streets which justify their metallic existence, and these streets the signboards which give them a local habitation and a name. Both of them are dreamily and wonderfully lapped in forgetfulness and decay. They pursue their way through the wood which they have invaded—but the wood refuses to rest. It refuses to leave these streets inviolate for a decade or more until settlers choose to pitch their tents or villas here. So the wood calmly goes to work and makes preparations to close the streets, for the green things that grow here have no fear of gravel or macadam—they are used to it and thrive in it and on it. So everywhere upon the streets and upon the pavements the purple-headed thistles, the blue sage, silvery willow shrubs, and the green of young ash-tree sprouts begin to take root and shoot forth.