Devonshire House, seen through its fine old iron gates--brought here from Chiswick--is plain enough externally, but its saloons are very handsome, and here the lovely Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, reigned as Queen of Fashion long ago. Arlington Street reminds us of the Marquis of Salisbury, of Earl Nelson, who lodged here, and of Sir Horace Walpole and his father. In Albemarle Street, Percy Bysshe Shelley once had quarters at Cooke’s Hotel. The Tube now carries its passengers ninety feet below the beautiful Piccadilly shops, past St. James’s Street and Bond Street, the Burlington Arcade and Burlington House, past the Egyptian Hall, past Fortnum and Mason’s--so universally associated with hampers, long-necked bottles, and race-meetings; past the Albany, where lived Byron, Lytton, and Lord Macaulay; past the Prince’s Restaurant, and its neighbour, St. James’s Church, where there are some splendid specimens of Grinling Gibbons’ wood-carving, and where, in 1762, occurred a singular thing. In some unexplained manner the vaults caught fire, and two hundred coffins with their inmates underwent an uncontemplated process of cremation; past St. James’s Hall opposite (eventually to be enlarged and converted to purposes other than harmony only). And now Piccadilly Circus, where six roads meet, and where, next to Spiers and Pond’s Restaurant, is the Piccadilly Circus Station of this, the longest Tube. Subways should certainly be arranged for access to this station, to avoid the very dangerous crossings from each of the six roads. Why does not the London County Council, emulating the City Fathers and their Mansion House subterranean passages, undertake this beneficent work in the West End? We are now in the region of music-halls, theatres, cafés, dining-places, and Scott’s, the famous shell-fish shop. “What is the origin of the name _Piccadilly_?” is a question asked again and again. It is difficult to decide. Was it from the ruffs called “peckadils” (from the Spanish _pica_), whose stiffened points were like diminutive spearheads, worn by the mashers or dudes of the early Carolean period, who gathered here at a gaming-house, Piccadilly Hall? Or was it, as Pennant thought, from the “piccadills” (cakes) which may have been sold in the surrounding fields? Who in the year 1903 can decide? Here I pause. The rest of the new Tube’s route to Stamford Hill is useful but prosaic, and none of the remaining ten stations, except Cranbourn Street, Covent Garden, and Holborn are surrounded with any remarkably interesting associations, either historical or modern.