The street immediately beyond on the left, is NEWGATE STREET, anciently styled _Fleshmonger Lane_, from its having been at one time the chief place of business of the butchers. Nearly opposite to it, on the right hand, is ST. WERBURGH STREET, which we shall notice by and bye, when we pay our visit to the Cathedral. And here we are introduced to another unique characteristic of old Chester,—its venerable Rows. To account satisfactorily for the origin of these Rows, is a problem which has troubled far brighter heads than ours; and, indeed, all we know in the present day is, that in reality we _know nothing_ of their earliest history. Some writers, with exuberant fancies, have attributed to the Rows a British foundation: while others, with greater apparent reason, consider them a vestige of the dominion of Rome, and to have been by them erected, conjointly for the purposes of recreation and defence. There are many circumstances which seem to justify this view of the case; particularly that of their resemblance to the porticoes or _vestibula_ spoken of by Plautus and other Latin authors. Further confirmatory of their Roman origin, we may add that there is, or was, a street in old Rome, bearing a close analogy to the Rows of Chester. Taking into account also that a Roman Bath and Lavatory exist to this very hour under one of these Rows, the arguments in favour of their Roman creation are certainly entitled to a fair amount of weight. If it be difficult to arrive at the early history of these Rows, equally difficult is it to attempt to describe them to a stranger. Distrusting our own powers, we will call in the aid of our friend Albert Smith, who in describing the Rows of what he calls “this marvellous city,” proceeds to say that “the passenger’s footway lies right through the first floor fronts of the houses—which are cleared away altogether, and above the shop, of ordinary normal position, by the road-side; and thus, the back drawing-rooms, or whatever else they may be, are turned into more shops; and great is the puzzle of the stranger as to whether the roadway is down in the cellar, or he is up stairs on the landing, or the house has turned itself out of window; affording a literal proof of that curious state of domestic affairs so often spoken of. And first he fancies the ‘Row’—as it is termed—is like the Quadrant, with the road excavated a floor lower, and shops made under the pavement; and then it reminds him of a Thames-side tavern, with all the shutter wainscots, that divide the large convivial room into so many little philandering ones, drawn away, and the windows knocked out. And finally he arrives at the conclusion that there is nothing else in the world at all like it, except the prints published by the enterprising booksellers who live there. But very convenient is this arrangement for old ladies of weak minds who quail at meeting cattle; and young ladies of extravagant ones who doat on shopping, in spite of the weather.