lmost violent contrast to the first
anticipation. It is much more probable that these coming cities will not
be, in the old sense, cities at all; they will present a new and
entirely different phase of human distribution.

The determining factor in the appearance of great cities in the past,
and, indeed, up to the present day, has been the meeting of two or more
transit lines, the confluence of two or more streams of trade, and easy
communication. The final limit to the size and importance of the great
city has been the commercial "sphere of influence" commanded by that
city, the capacity of the alluvial basin of its commerce, so to speak,
the volume of its river of trade. About the meeting point so determined
the population so determined has grouped itself--and this is the point I
overlooked in those previous vaticinations--in accordance with _laws
that are also considerations of transit_.

The economic centre of the city is formed, of course, by the wharves and
landing places--and in the case of railway-fed cities by the
termini--where passengers land and where goods are landed, stored, and
distributed. Both the administrative and business community, traders,
employers, clerks, and so forth, must be within a convenient access of
this centre; and the families, servants, tradesmen, amusement purveyors
dependent on these again must also come within a maximum distance. At a
certain stage in town growth the pressure on the more central area would
become too great for habitual family life there, and an office region
would differentiate from an outer region of homes. Beyond these two
zones, again, those whose connection with the great city was merely
intermittent would constitute a system of suburban houses and areas.
But the grouping of these, also, would be determined finally by the
convenience of access to the dominant centre. That secondary centres,
literary, social, political, or military, may arise about the initial
trade centre, complicates the application but does not alter the
principle here stated. They must all be within striking distance. The
day of twenty-four hours is an inexorable human condition, and up to the
present time all intercourse and business has been broken into spells of
definite duration by intervening nights. Moreover, almost all effective
intercourse has involved personal presence at the point where
intercourse occurs. The possibility, therefore, of going and coming and
doing that day's work ha