he equal, of London.

Here is the great mart of the world, to which the best and richest
products are brought from every land and clime, so that if you have put
money in your purse you may command every object of utility or fancy which
grows or is made anywhere without going beyond the circuit of the great
cosmopolitan city. Parisian, German, Russian, Hindu, Japanese, Chinese
industry is as much at your service here, if you have the all-compelling
talisman in your pocket, as in Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, Benares,
Yokohama, or Peking. That London is the great distributing center of the
world is shown by the fleets of the carrying trade of which the countless
masts rise along her wharves and in her docks. She is also the bank of the
world. But we are reminded of the vicissitudes of commerce and the
precarious tenure by which its empire is held when we consider that the
bank of the world in the middle of the last century was Amsterdam.

The first and perhaps the greatest marvel of London is the commissariat.
How can the five millions be regularly supplied with food, and everything
needful to life, even with such things as milk and those kinds of fruits
which can hardly be left beyond a day? Here again we see reason for
excepting to the sweeping jeremiads of cynicism, and concluding that tho
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, the