The out-patient department, which is apart from the body of the hospital, resembles that of the Queen’s Hospital, Birmingham,—­the first out-patient department, as far as I am aware, that ever deserved to be seen by a generous public.  The patients waiting for advice are seated in a large hall, warmed at all seasons to a proper heat, lighted from the top through a glass roof, and perfectly ventilated.  The infectious cases are separated carefully from the rest.  The consulting rooms of the medical staff are comfortably fitted, the dispensary is thoroughly officered, and the order that prevails is so effective that a sick person, who is punctual to time, has never to wait.

The medical officers attached to the hospital in our model city are allowed to hold but one appointment at the same time, and that for a limited period.  Thus every medical man in the city obtains the equal advantage of hospital practice, and the value of the best medical and surgical skill is fairly equalised through the whole community.

In addition to the hospital building is a separate block, furnished with wards, constructed in the same way as the general wards, for the reception of children suffering from any of the infectious diseases.  These wards are so planned that the people, generally, send sick members of their own family into them for treatment, and pay for the privilege.

Supplementary to the hospital are certain other institutions of a kindred character.  To check the terrible course of infantile mortality of other large cities,—­the 76 in the 1,000 of mortality under five years of age, homes for little children are abundant.  In these the destitute young are carefully tended by intelligent nurses; so that mothers, while following their daily callings, are enabled to leave their children under efficient care.

In a city from which that grand source of wild mirth, hopeless sorrow and confirmed madness, alcohol, has been expelled, it could hardly be expected that much insanity would be found.  The few who are insane are placed in houses licensed as asylums, but not different in appearance to other houses in the city.  Here the insane live, in small communities, under proper medical supervision, with their own gardens and pastimes.

The houses of the helpless and aged are, like the asylums, the same as the houses of the rest of the town.  No large building of pretentious style uprears itself for the poor; no men badged and badgered as paupers walk the place.  Those poor who are really, from physical causes, unable to work, are maintained in a manner showing that they possess yet the dignity of human kind; and that, being worth preservation, they are therefore worthy of respectful tenderness.  The rest, those who can work, are employed in useful labours, which pay for their board.  If they cannot find work, and are deserving, they may lodge in the house and earn their subsistence; or they may live from the house and receive pay for work done.  If they will not work, they, as vagrants, find a home in prison, where they are compelled to share the common lot of mankind.