I shall now pass on to a description of the tepid swimming baths of London, but, before doing so, I will first make a few remarks on tepid swimming baths in general. If the water be but moderately heated, say not above 70°, and frequently renewed, and if the ventilation of the bath be good, swimming in it would be refreshing and salubrious, and if not possessing all the charm or all the hygienic power of open-air bathing, it may still be a health-giving exercise not altogether despicable. But if, as often happens, the water is too warm, say about 80°, seldom renewed, and the ventilation bad, in all or either of such conditions swimming, in place of being a healthy exercise, becomes just the reverse. On coming out of such a bath we feel no refreshment, but, on the contrary, we feel limp and exhausted from the heat of the sodden water which has lost all its vivifying air, and from the confined atmosphere of the bathing room, tainted with the exhalations from the bodies of the bathers. The temperature in these baths, even of the same bath at different times, is very unequal. Sometimes they are fresh and cool and apparently unmixed with warm water. I found this to be the case in one of the best of these baths one Sunday morning. I asked the attendant how it happened that the bath was so pleasantly cool, and he informed me that it was often so on a Sunday morning, as so many people came there for warm baths that there was no warm water to spare for the swimming bath. However, he added a piece of information not altogether so agreeable, to the effect that when it was deemed necessary to heat the swimming bath under these circumstances, this was often done by letting into it the water that had already been used in the warm baths. If this little manœuvre, so naïvely revealed to me by this bath attendant, often takes place, it will fully account for the flat “wersh” feel of the water of so many of the swimming baths. But, without supposing anything so nasty, the water will readily acquire this unrefreshing character, with a number of persons bathing in it, if it be not frequently renewed. In some of the swimming baths the water is allowed to flow off every night and fresh water admitted in the morning, and in them a certain amount of freshness is always perceptible. But in many baths this excellent plan is not adopted, and the water is either very seldom allowed to flow off entirely, or the dribbling inflow from a meagre jet and a corresponding outflow are considered sufficient. Swimming in baths of this character is neither refreshing nor wholesome. Imperfect ventilation is not such a common occurrence in the metropolitan swimming baths, for they have mostly lofty roofs and plenty of open windows. However, some of them are defective on this point, and all swimming in such a tainted atmosphere must be more prejudicial than beneficial. On the whole, however, a careful examination of the London swimming baths has convinced me that,