In earlier days Americans did much empty boasting and made many glorious predictions. At the same time, so far as material preparations are concerned, they could do little for those coming after them. The art of living had not then been studied as it since has been. Sanitary science can hardly be said to have been in its infancy, for in this country it seemed to have no existence whatever. In the establishing of enduring and fundamental principles of government, and in the field of law much was done for us and for our posterity by the men of previous generations, but it was necessary that there should be a gradual education of the business sense of the country before men could appreciate the nature and import of the problems now presented in the growth of cities. It was necessary that a more leisurely aspect should come over life; that comfort and health should be more highly prized. The more purely intellectual side of our ancestors' work was well done; but the needs of the by no means distant future, the inheritances which our successors should receive from us, are of a different description. Pavements, sewers, sufficient water supply, parks, schools, public buildings, an enlarged application of the results attained in sanitary science, and the solid work of masonry are the inheritances we should transmit, rather than far reaching adjudications, such as that of the Dartmouth College case, or comprehensive enactments, such as the ordinance establishing the Northwest Territory. Naturally, the greatest and most pressing need will arise here at the centre of the greatest population. How great that need may be, or how great a population may congregate within our area or upon the borders of the bay of New York, we cannot indeed actually estimate, but to some extent we can forecast it. Such forecasts are not useless. In his message of December, 1861, President Lincoln said: "There are already among us those who, if the Union be preserved, will live to see it contain two hundred and fifty millions." Such a vision of the future, at a time of extreme trial, seemed to him neither vain nor fanciful. Its utterance was evidence that he possessed the sort of political imagination which a statesman should possess if he is to discern the drift of public thought, or to picture the future material condition of his country. When compared with other estimates, his outlook was not extravagant, though it may not be realized. Its concern for us is direct and unavoidable. For the course of history, in our own land and abroad, makes it clear that the population about the port of New York is to hold a place of high importance in the nation, both numerical and otherwise.