ning
on to London Town to destroy and be destroyed.

Leaving out the disease germs that fill the air of the East End, consider
but the one item of smoke. Sir William Thiselton-Dyer, curator of Kew
Gardens, has been studying smoke deposits on vegetation, and, according
to his calculations, no less than six tons of solid matter, consisting of
soot and tarry hydrocarbons, are deposited every week on every quarter of
a square mile in and about London. This is equivalent to twenty-four
tons per week to the square mile, or 1248 tons per year to the square
mile. From the cornice below the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral was
recently taken a solid deposit of crystallised sulphate of lime. This
deposit had been formed by the action of the sulphuric acid in the
atmosphere upon the carbonate of lime in the stone. And this sulphuric
acid in the atmosphere is constantly being breathed by the London workmen
through all the days and nights of their lives.

It is incontrovertible that the children grow up into rotten adults,
without virility or stamina, a weak-kneed, narrow-chested, listless
breed, that crumples up and goes down in the brute struggle for life with
the invading hordes from the country. The railway men, carriers, omnibus
drivers, corn and timber porters, and all those who require physical
stamina, are largely drawn from the country; while in the Metropolitan
Police there are, roughly, 12,000 country-born as against 3000 London-
born.

So one is forced to conclude that the Abyss is literally a huge
man-killing machine, and when I pass along the little out-of-the-way
streets with the full-bellied artisans at the doors, I am aware of a
greater sorrow for them than for the 450,000 lost and hopeless wretches
dying at the bottom of the pit. They, at least, are dying, that is the
point; while these have yet to go through the slow and preliminary pangs
extending through two and even three generations.

And yet the quality of the life is good. All human potentialities are in
it. Given proper conditions, it could live through the centuries, and
great men, heroes and masters, spring from it and make the world better
by having lived.

I talked with a woman who was representative of that type which has been
jerked out of its little out-of-the-way streets and has started on the
fatal fall to the bottom. Her husband was a fitter and a member of the
Engineers' Union. That he was a poor engineer was evidenced by his
inabili