even though they should stop where they are. The work would not, could not stop with them. They have already proved that good, substantial, cleanly, wholesome, tight-roofed, well ventilated dwellings for the Poor are absolutely cheaper than any other, so that Shylock himself might invest his fortune in the construction of such with the moral certainty of receiving a large income therefrom, while at the same time rescuing the needy from wretchedness, disease, brutalization and vice. Shall not New-York, and all her sister cities, profit by the lesson?
Of the correlative doings of the organized Promoters of Working Men's Associations, Coöperative Stores, &c., I would not be justified in speaking so confidently, at least until I shall have observed more closely. My present impression is that they are both far less mature in their operations, and that, as they demand of the Laboring Class more confidence in themselves and each other, than, unhappily, prevails as yet, they are destined to years of struggle and chequered fortunes before they will have achieved even the measure of success which the Model Lodging and the Bathing and Washing Houses have already achieved. Still, I have not yet visited the strongest and most hopeful of the Working Men's Associations.
I spent last evening with the friends of Robert Owen, who celebrated his 80th birthday by a dinner at the Cranbourne Hotel. Among those present were Thornton Hunt, son of Leigh Hunt, and one of the Editors of "The Leader;" Gen. Houg, an exile from Germany from Freedom's sake; Mr. Fleming, Editor of the Chartist "Northern Star;" Mons. D'Arusmont and his daughter, who is the daughter also of Frances Wright. Mr. Owen was of course present, and spoke quite at length in reiteration and enforcement of the leading ideas wherewith he has so long endeavored to impress the world respecting the absolute omnipotence of circumstances in shaping the Human Character, the impossibility of believing or disbelieving save as one must, &c. &c. Mr. Owen has scarcely looked younger or heartier at any time these ten years; he did not seem a shade older than when I last before met him, at least three years ago. And not many young men are more buoyant in spirit, more sanguine as to the immediate future, more genial in temper, more unconquerable in resolution, than he is. I cannot see many things as he does; it seems to me that he is stone blind on the side of Faith in the Invisible, and exaggerates the truths he perceives until they almost become falsehoods; but I love his sunny, benevolent nature, I admire his unwearied exertions for what he deems the good of Humanity; and, believing with the great Apostle to the Gentiles, that "Now abide Faith, Hope, Charity: these three; but the greatest of these is Charity," I consider him practically a better Christian than half those who, professing to be such, believe more and do less. I trust his life may be long spared, and his sun beam cloudless and rosy to the last.
VII.
LONDON—NEW-YORK.
London, Monday, May 15, 1851.
I have now been fifteen days in this magnificent Babel, but so much engrossed with the Exhibition that I have seen far less of the town than I otherwise should. Of the City proper (in the center) I know a little; and I have made my way thence out into the open country on the North and on the West respectively, but toward the South lies a wilderness of buildings which I have not yet explored; while Eastward the metropolitan districts stretch further than I have ever been. The south side of Hyde Park and the main line of communication thence with the City proper is the only part of London with which I can claim any real acquaintance. Yet, on the strength of what little I do know, I propose to say something of London as it strikes a stranger; and in so doing I shall generally refer to New-York as a standard of comparison, so as to render my remarks more lucid to a great portion of their readers.
The Buildings here are generally superior to those of our City—more substantial, of better materials, and more tasteful. There are, I think, as miserable rookeries here as anywhere; but they are exceptions; while most of the houses are built solidly, faithfully, and with a thickness of walls which would be considered sheer waste in our City. Among the materials most extensively used is a fine white marble[A] of a peculiarly soft, creamy appearance, which looks admirably until blackened by smoke and time. Regent-street and several of the aristocratic quarters west of it are in good part built of this marble; but one of the finest, freshest specimens of it is St. George's Hospital, Piccadilly, which to my eye is among the most tasteful edifices in London. If (as I apprehend) St. Paul's Church, Somerset House, and the similarly smoke-stained dwellings around Finsbury Oval were built of this same marble, then the murky skies of London have much to answer for.
Throughout the Western and Northern sections of the Metropolis, the dwellings are far less crowded than is usual in the corresponding or up-town portion of New-York, are more diverse in plan, color and finish, and better provided with court-yards, shrubbery, &c. In the matter of Building generally, I think our City would profit by a study of London, especially if our lot-owners, builders, &c., would be satisfied with London rates of interest on their respective investments. I think four per cent. is considered a tolerable and five a satisfactory interest on money securely invested in houses in London.
By the way: the apostles of Sanitary Reform here are anticipating very great benefits from the use of the Hollow Brick just coming into fashion. I am assured by a leading member of the Sanitary Commission that the hollow brick cost much less than the solid ones, and are a perfect protection against the dampness so generally experienced in brick houses, and often so prejudicial to health. That there is a great saving in the cost of their transportation is easily seen; and, as they are usually made much larger than the solid brick, they can be laid up much faster. I think Dr. Southwood Smith assured me that the saving in the first cost of the brickwork of a house is one-third; if that is a mistake, the error is one of misapprehension on my part. The hollow brick is a far less perfect conductor of heat and cold than the solid one; consequently, a house built of the former is much cooler in Summer and warmer in Winter. It is confidently and reasonably hoped here that very signal improvements, in the dwellings especially of the Poor, are to be secured by means of this invention. Prince Albert has caused two Model Cottages of this material to be erected at his cost in Hyde Park near the Great Exhibition in order to attract general attention to the subject.
The Streets of London are generally better paved, cleaner and better lighted than those of New-York. Instead of our round or cobble stone, the material mainly used for paving here is a hard flint rock, split and dressed into uniform pieces about the size of two bricks united by their edges, so as to form a surface of some eight inches square with a thickness of two inches. This of course wears much more evenly and lasts longer than cobble-stone pavements. I do not know that we could easily procure an equally serviceable material, even if we were willing to pay for it. One reason of the greater cleanness of the streets here is the more universal prevalence of sewerage; another is the positive value of street-offal here for fertilizing purposes. And as Gas is supplied here to citizens at 4s. 6d. ($1.10) per thousand feet, while the good people of New-York must bend to the necessity of paying $3.50, or more than thrice as much for the like quantity, certainly of no better quality, it is but reasonable to infer that the Londoners can afford to light their streets better than the New-Yorkers.
But there are other aspects in which our streets have a decided superiority. There are half a dozen streets and places here having the same name, and only distinguished by appending the name of a neighboring street, as "St. James-place, St. James-st.," to distinguish it from several other St. James-places, and so on. This subjects strangers to great loss of time and vexation of spirit. I have not yet delivered half the letters of introduction which were given me at home to friends of the writers in this city, and can't guess when I shall do it. Then the numbering of the streets is absurdly
