“ Now we get a whiff of the gutta-percha works; then comes a faint gust from some floor-cloth shed; next we dash through an odoriferous belt of bone-boiling atmosphere; and after that through a film of fetor rank with the fumes from the glazing of potteries; whereupon this is followed by bands of nauseous vapours from decomposing hides and horses’ hoofs, resin and whiting works; and the next instant these give place to layer after layer of sickening exhalations from gas-factories, and soap boiling establishments, and candle companies; so we are thus led by the nose along a chromatic scale, as it were, of the strong suburban stenches that encompass, in positive rings of nausea, the great cathedral dome of the Metropolis, like the phosphoric glory environing the head of some renowned Catholic saint.”
Henry Mayhew (b1812d1887) “A Train to Clapham Common”.
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 