"Our house is near the town, Eighteen big chimneys darken our daylight
and deluge us with smuts when the wind brings the smoke, our way; and
besides the smoke we are subject to unsavoury vapours from chemical
works in the other direction, so that when the wind shifts we only
exchange evils. They say these chemical fumes are not unwholesome, and
quote the death-rate, which is lower than any other place of the size
in England. In fact, scarcely anybody dies here. They go away as soon
as they begin to feel ill--perhaps that accounts for it. But those
horrid chemical fumes have a great deal to answer for. They have killed
the trees for miles around. It is the oaks that suffer principally. The
tops are nipped first, and then they gradually die downwards till the
whole tree is decayed all through. The absence of trees makes the
country bleak and desolate, and I cannot help thinking the unlovely
surroundings affect us all. The people themselves are unlovely in
thought, and word, and deed; but I have found a good deal of rough
kindliness amongst them nevertheless. They did mob me on one occasion,
and made most unkind remarks about my nether garments, when I was
obliged to walk through the town in my riding habit; but, as a rule,
the mill girls merely observe 'That's a lady,' and let me go by
unmolested--unless I happen to be carrying flowers.
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