We asked ourselves whether it was possible that anything decent, virtuous or intelligent could live under such conditions?
The "place" was dignified by the name of a street, although in reality it was a blind alley, for a high wall closed one end of it.

It was very narrow, and while infants played in the unclean gutters, frowsy women discussed domestic or more exciting matters with women on the opposite side.
They discussed us too as we passed, and audibly commented, though not favourably, on our business.

I had visited the street scores of times, and consequently I was well known.

Unfortunately my address was also well known, for every little act of kindness that I ventured to do in that street had been followed by a number of letters from jealous non-recipients.
I venture to say that from every house save one I had received begging or unpleasant letters, for jealousy of each other's benefits was a marked characteristic of that unclean street.

As we entered the house from which no letter had been received, we heard a woman call to her neighbour, "They are going to see the old shoemaker." She was correct in her surmise, and right glad we were to make the old man's acquaintance; not that he was very old, but then fifty-nine in a London slum may be considered old age.