stone. And this sulphuric acid in the atmosphere
is constantly being breathed by the London work
men 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 coun
try; while in the Metropolitan Police there are,
roughly, 12,000 country-born as against 3000 Lon
don-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 con
ditions, it could live through the centuries, and

[[47]]

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v?