With regard to the disadvantages of blocks, I think they may be divided into those which may be looked upon, by such of us as are hopeful, as probably transitory, and those which seem, so far as we can see, quite essential to the block system. The transitory ones are by far the most serious. They are those which depend on the enormously increasing evil which grows up in a huge community of those who are undisciplined and untrained. They disappear with civilization; they are, so far as I know, entirely absent in large groups of blocks where the tenants are the quiet, respectable working-class families who, to use a phrase common in London, “keep themselves to themselves,” and whose well-ordered, quiet little homes, behind their neat little doors with bright knockers, nicely supplied with well-chosen appliances, now begin to form groups where responsible, respectable citizens live in cleanliness and order. Under rules they grow to think natural and reasonable, inspected and disciplined, every inhabitant registered and known, School Board laws and laws of the landlord or company regularly enforced, every infectious case of illness instantly removed, all disinfecting done at public cost, is developed a life of law, regular, a little monotonous, and not encouraging any great individuality, but consistent with happy home life, and it promises to be the life of the respectable London working man. On the other hand, what life in blocks is to the less self-controlled hardly any words of mine are strong enough to describe, and it is abhorred accordingly by the tidy and striving, wherever any—even a small number—of the undisciplined are admitted to blocks, or where, being admitted, there is no real living rule exercised. Regulations are of small avail; no public inspection can possibly, for more than an hour or two, secure order; no resident superintendent has at once conscience, nerve and devotion single-handed to stem the violence, the dirt, the noise, the quarrels; no body of public opinion on the part of the tenants themselves asserts itself: one by one the tidier ones depart disheartened, the rampant remain and prevail, and often, though with a very fair show to the outsider, the block becomes a sort of pandemonium. No one who is not in and out day by day, or, better still, night after night; no one who does not watch the swift degradation of children belonging to tidy families; no one who does not know the terrorism exercised by the rough over the timid and industrious poor; no one who does not know the abuse of every appliance provided by the benevolent or speculative but non-resident landlord, can tell what life in blocks is where the population is low class. Sinks and drains are stopped; yards provided for exercise must be closed because of misbehaviour; boys bathe in the drinking-water cisterns; washhouses on staircases—or staircases themselves—become the nightly haunt of the vicious, the Sunday gambling