From what may be called one river side extremity of South London, we skip over the central water-side parishes, and go to the opposite extremity of the metropolis to find at Greenwich our next healthiest district. Like Lambeth, this place lies low, is badly drained, and has a poor class of houses, and consequently of people. The secret of its position on the scale of health is to be found in the fact that the population is not dense, being only twenty-one to an acre; that it has a fine park for a playground, and is in near neighbourhood to Blackheath, and thence to the open and healthy hills and fields of Kent. Now we must return again to the centre of London for its next most healthy parish. It is St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields; but having, it is almost needless to say, no rural character, except by name. Trafalgar Square, with its fountains, is almost its only enjoyable open space. The density of population is not over great for such a position; the rental high; the deaths two hundred and forty to ten thousand living each year. Away east again for our next and last parish that stands above the general average of London. Stepney is the place, with its multitude of small houses at low rentals. It has its water from the river Lea, and its inhabitants have not very far to go when they wish for a ramble in the fields. Its yearly contribution to our total mortality is two hundred and forty-two out of ten thousand souls. And here a dark line has to be drawn; for Stepney is close down upon the average mortality of all London. Each parish already named pays less than the average tribute to death—those presently to be enumerated pay more. The contributions vary from Clerkenwell, which is the least unhealthy on the black list to Whitechapel, which is the most unhealthy. This last parish indeed is the worst in all the metropolis. Between the two extremes of insalubrity, the districts range in the following order: Clerkenwell, brought down in the scale by its nests of poverty, and doubtless, by its huge over-gorged grave-yard. Bethnal Green, with its host of small houses, and average rental of only 9_l._ The Strand—the great thoroughfare of fine shops—with a back neighbourhood of filthy alleys and riverside abominations. Shoreditch, with its stock of poor people and old clothes. Westminster—regal, historical Westminster—raised but two feet above the water level, and famous alike for its abbey, its palace, and its rookeries. Bermondsey, just level with the water line, and poisoned by open drains and unsavoury factories. Rotherhithe, damp and foggy. St. Giles’s, another spot renowned for vice, poverty, and dirt. St. George’s, Southwark, low, poor, and densely crowded. Next come the two portions of the City of London, technically described as East London and West London, being in fact those parts beyond the centre surrounding the Mansion House—the portions indeed especially indulged with the frowsiness of Cripplegate and the choked-up smells of