there may be fraud and scamping in the industrial world, genuine
production, faithful service, disciplined energy, and skill in
organization, can not wholly have departed from the earth. London is not
only well fed, but well supplied with water and well drained. Vast and
densely peopled as it is, it is a healthy city. Yet the limit of practical
extension seems to be nearly reached. It becomes a question how the
increasing multitude shall be supplied not only with food and water, but
with air.

The East of London, which is the old city, is, as all know, the business
quarter. Let the worshiper of Mammon when he sets foot in Lombard Street
adore his divinity, of all whose temples this is the richest and the most
famous. Note the throng incessantly threading those narrow and tortuous
streets. Nowhere are the faces so eager or the steps so hurried, except
perhaps in the business quarter of New York. Commerce has still its center
here; but the old social and civic life of the city has fled. What once
were the dwellings of the merchants of London are now vast collections of
offices. The merchants dwell in the mansions of the West End, their clerks
in villas and boxes without number, to which when their offices close they
are taken by the suburban railways. On Sunday a more than Sabbath
stillness reigns in those streets, while in the churches, the monuments of
Wren's architectural genius which in Wren's day were so crowded, the
clergyman sleepily performs the service to a congregation which you may
count upon your fingers.

It is worth while to visit the city on a Sunday. Here and there, in a back
street, may still be seen what was once the mansion of a merchant prince,
ample and stately, with the rooms which in former days displayed the pride
of commercial wealth and resounded with the festivities of the olden time;
now the sound of the pen alone is heard. These and other relics of former