Close as this district is to the Strand--and it is within a stone’s throw--it has a charm of old fashion that is extraordinary. Unhappily the devouring “Market” is rapidly absorbing the whole. Two entire sides have been swept away to find room for carts and vegetables. The eminent ground landlord seems insatiable in this respect; though it must be said that it is difficult, if not impossible, to resist the pressing advances of the dealers. It is said that a small space or coign of vantage is let three times over to successive tenants in the course of the twenty-four hours. The old Bow Street Court, and the buildings beside it, have been drawn in and swallowed up; the Floral Hall, erst a concert room, is now converted into a market. The lease of Drury Lane Theatre, close by, will run out in a few years, and it is rumoured will yield itself up to the inexorable market. This, as I said, is but the pressure of circumstances. “Facts are stubborn,” but the force of trade is irresistible. We often lament the destruction of old houses with traditions, and the present writer has often joined in such jeremiads. But here is the test. Some one of moderate income, as most persons are, is the proprietor of some sacredly antique monument,--let us say Fairfax House at Brixton, standing in its “fayre grounds.” Presently the district has come into request; the speculative builder is about, and by-and-by a heavy, substantial sum that would yield an annuity is offered for the whole. The æsthetic proprietor cannot resist, for he will rationally argue, that if he decline, he will be paying an amount equal to the annuity he declines for the pleasure of retaining his old monument. Notwithstanding this process of unceasing destruction there is much left to interest, and the old tone of the place remains: as Mr. Hare points out, even the very names of the streets surrounding it, often carelessly and familiarly pronounced, have a suggestive significance.