a town so arid and sordid and un-prepossessing in parts, that even to walk through its monotonous murky streets, let alone to live in them, is to fill the soul with a mid-Victorian gloom; that most desolating of all gloom. For even if the sun succeeds, with a great effort as it were, to pierce the veil of fog which hangs like an evil wraith hovering over the vast array of houses and high factory-chimneys and smoky railway stations, its rays are bilious and unexhilarating, while all too often its contour may be seen, resembling not the sun at all, but a rather red diminutive moon instead.

deafened by the roar of careering motor-cyclists and the discordant honks of motor-buses and similar vehicles, my world of sound being largely confined to the clip-clop of horses, the shouts of errand boys and newspaper sellers, with an occasional barrel-organ's music by way of contrast.