Figures prove little, but it is a fact that for all London the average population per acre is fifty-seven; and an idea of the extent of overcrowding in certain localities may be gathered by comparing this with that of St. George the Martyr, Southwark, which is 210; with Whitechapel, 225; and with Spitalfields, 330; the latter equivalent to crowding into the area of Grosvenor Square (six acres), tenements containing 1,980 souls, instead of 342! On the other hand, in the wealthy parts of London there is far too much room, great mansions that could comfortably accommodate scores of people being habitually left almost empty. The moral effect of it all is terrible. Thousands of infants, ill-born, tainted, ill-fed, ill-clothed, ill-housed, are growing up under conditions where purity of thought is impossible, growing up to taint future generations and undo the good work effected elsewhere in social regeneration. Why keep the main stream pure if foul rivulets be allowed to arise and pollute it again? Why make clean the outside only of the cup and platter? But, as Cervantes says, “there is a remedy for everything but death.” And for the “submerged tenth,” who cannot move away to the suburbs, no doubt in time vast barracks built of steel with garden roofs, unsightly but utilitarian, will be created in every poor quarter, resembling the Park Row Buildings in New York, 380 feet in height, and consisting of thirty stories; or the Fisher, the Marquette, and the Champlain blocks in Chicago, of seventeen stories each. These buildings would accommodate thousands of lodgers--British subjects only--at low rentals, under decent and sanitary conditions. While for workmen and others in receipt of fair wages cheap electric traction, enabling them to go to and from their daily task, will solve the problem of overcrowding so far as they are concerned. Overcrowding, however, is only one out of a host of problems and questions that characterised the closing decades of the last century, and beset the opening of the present one. We are haunted with problems, and if none existed we should probably regret it, and try to invent them. There are endless political and economic problems, the naval and military, the religious and educational, the national food supply, and with it the land and agricultural question, the labour question, and the relief of the poor, who are always with us. Social problems bristle on all sides, and every active lady appears to belong, not to one, but to many of the societies for the reform or abolition of this, and for the bringing about of that, which abound. Mr. Jellyby’s little project for civilising the natives of Borrioboola-Gha on the left bank of the Niger, and providing them with blankets, would be but a drop in the philanthropic ocean of to-day!