And yet the overcrowding in London does not appear in official documents. Thus the City of London, on an area of 668 acres, in 1871 had 9,415 inhabited houses, and 3,222 uninhabited, and a population just short of 76,000; whereas in 1881 the inhabited houses had fallen to 6,562, the uninhabited had risen to 4,770, and the population had fallen to 51,439. Some historian of the future may draw the conclusion that the decay of London set in acutely about the year 1871, unless he should perchance discover that within the same period the rateable value had risen from £2,500,000 to £3,500,000; that the day population had risen from 170,000 to 260,000, and that the number of persons entering the City daily for business had risen from 657,000 to 739,000. This population is one mainly of adult males, and since, if they get ill in the City they don’t die in it, the death-rate keeps down, and we like to think it is a wholesome place for a young man to work in. The 50,000 people who have to live night and day on this square mile of ground have not a very cheerful time in this wealthy city, where nature has been most effectually obliterated by the brute force of the almighty dollar. What chance have they of any fresh air with a radius of houses extending to five miles all round them? At one time the Thames served as a recreation ground, but that was in the days before the tide rolled in charged with the excrements of 4,000,000 people, and when it was possible to fish and boat, and perhaps catch a salmon, without the danger of being sunk by some headlong steam-tug. Until a few years ago there was a little green spot called Drapers’ Gardens, but now Drapers’ Gardens is occupied by Throgmorton Avenue, where dwell 322 different firms of stockbrokers and others, and the nearest recreation ground is St. James’s Park, three miles off. I have lately seen a young man, aged 21, with signs of incipient consumption. He is a fine young fellow, and three years ago entered one of the large City warehouses connected with the drapery trade, in the centre of the City. At first he was employed mainly in the basement, where gas was burning all day. During times of extra pressure he often worked from eight in the morning to past midnight, and when he retired to rest he had to share a bedroom with other men, the windows being shut. I believe this is no uncommon case, and I commend it most heartily to the attention of the “Sweating Committee.” Occasionally on a Saturday afternoon he got a game of football, his very slender resources being severely taxed to pay the railway fare to the spot where the games are contested. What has occurred in the City has occurred elsewhere in London.