Just starting for the City, when Council's Architect calls, to draw my attention to a sky-sign insufficiently secured to an upper window. It turned out to be eldest boy's socks, hung there to dry, as we have now to wash at home, or send to the Council's laundries which are relief-works for those usually unemployed in winter. Other casuals have turned barbers. I am shaved by one every morning, after slipping the coppers into a County Council "detector," which gives no change. In street, find the pavement up, "unemployed" engaged in moving "immovable objects by irresistible force," _i.e._, a frozen road, at three shillings per cube foot; Council their own contractors. Tram at last, with Council-driver, conductor, and horses (all tramways absorbed), and then a penny Council steamer (Thames Conservancy and Steamboat Companies absorbed), and, having landed at St. Paul's Pier, trip over a hole in the road. Bring action against Council for damaged ankle. (N.B. Lost it later on. Council not liable for non-reparation of holes.) At the Guildhall, find Labour Arbitration Court sitting. City and County been amalgamated, huge coalheavers, dockers, and others occupy seats of city fathers. Police outside useless. Their helmets and truncheons in British Museum as relics of Barbarous Age. Having business at a suburban town I hire cab (Council Number 23,351) and drive to Liverpool Street. The progressive members have bought up Great Eastern Railway within the county's boundaries, and are working it on their own system--one class for all, penny fare, and no return ticket. The guards, ticket-collectors, porters, and others civil enough, but no trains running, in consequence of great strike having occurred amongst Council's engine-drivers and the difficulty is just being settled by arbitration at Guildhall. The men had struck for _want_ of work and a general desire for "betterment." Thoughtfully walked back to the office, and arrived just in time to find an official poring over my ledger. He hands me his card, "Mr. INQUISITOR, Spring Gardens." Somerset House being absorbed, he says he "has just called to ascertain exactly what my income really is," and though I am perfectly civil (under pains and penalties of "civility bye-laws"), he tells me I must be "put up" next year. He departs, leaving front door open. Got a cup of tea, very poor staff, at the L. C. C. Restaurant. Walk home. No gas in streets, and the Electric Light (lately absorbed) gone out. Reached home very weary. Find on table demand-notes for Poor, Police, Sewers, School Board, Highways, Gas, Electric Light, Baths, Sanitary, Insanitary, Asylum, Water, Railway, Cab, Theatre, Market, Sky Sign, Bar and Gates, Tramway, Prisons, Restaurants, Arbitration, Establishment, Thames Conservancy, Submerged Tenth, and many other rates. Is life worth living? Ask the L. C. C. * * * * *