TO DESTROY ANTS AND INSECTS IN WOOD.
1. Corrosive sublimate is an effectual poison to them.
2. Oils, especially essential oils, are good preventives.
3. Cajeput-oil has been proved effectual for destroying the red ant.
4. Payne’s, Bethell’s, and Burnett’s processes are said to be proof against the white ant of India.
5. Dust the parts with pounded quicklime, and then water them with the ammoniacal liquor of gas-works, when the ammonia will be instantly disengaged by the quicklime, and this is destructive to insect life.
6. For the black ant, use powdered borax; or smear the parts frequented by them with petroleum oil; or syringe their nests with fluoric acid or spirits of tar, to be done with a leaden syringe; or pour down the holes boiling water to destroy their nests, and then stop up the holes with cement. Ants dislike arsenic, camphor, and creosote.
The preceding remedies are not by any means given with the intention of superseding the previous chapters, which should be carefully studied by those who wish to acquire a moderate knowledge of the subjects.
CHAPTER XI.
GENERAL REMARKS AND CONCLUSION.
Our task is nearly completed: we have but few general remarks to make.
The decay of wooden sleepers, posts, &c., on our railways and the destruction of timber piles by worms have been the causes of directing the attention of engineers to the preservation of timber. Most of our leading engineers now have the greater portion of the timber used in their works either creosoted or injected with chloride of zinc. Architects, as a rule, do not, unfortunately, adopt any process for preserving timber from rot and decay; and have practically no guarantee that timber used in their works has been thoroughly seasoned: posterity will not thank them for this, and yet they are not solely to blame. The fault in a great measure rests with the public, who require buildings to be erected at the least cost and in the shortest possible time. Moreover, the works executed by our leading builders are so extensive, that they have no room in their yards for large piles of timber to lie and season; and even if they had room it is doubtful if they would allow so much material, representing money, to remain idle. We are acquainted with one instance where a London architect, about a dozen years ago, erected a public building. The front of the reporters’ gallery was formed of oak panelling; and within a year after the completion of the building narrow slips or tongues of wood had to be let in in several places to fill up the holes formed by the shrinkage of the panels. Similar cases to this are by no means rare. We can quote another instance of unseasoned wood. A range of workshops was erected a few years since in South London; the principals of the roof were not ceiled; almost before the building was finished the upper floor was occupied by a battalion of workwomen. The heat of the room (the ventilation being defective) soon had an effect upon the tie-beams, but one beam, which we imagine was unseasoned, in consequence of large shakes and splits, had to be taken out and replaced with new. We will (as a lawyer would say), cite one more case. A church in Surrey required some extensive repairs to the roof: an architect and a builder were employed, and the necessary works were done. Within four years dry rot has made its appearance on the new timbers of the roof (not an air-tight one). One of the churchwardens, on consulting us last year (1874) as to the best means of stopping the rot, energetically remarked, “Who is responsible to us for this, the architect or the builder?” Charles Dickens, in his edition of ‘Bleak House’ in 1868, wrote, with reference to long Chancery suits, “If I wanted other authorities for Jarndyce and Jarndyce, I could rain them on these pages.” We are able to make a similar remark with reference to any more instances of dry rot. According to the 7th chapter of the First Book of Kings, “Solomon was building his own house thirteen years:” we cannot spare so much time now-a-days over the erection of a house, but that is no reason why our timber should not be naturally or artificially seasoned.
If we cannot obtain naturally seasoned timber, by all means let us have artificially seasoned wood. Tredgold, in his Report on Langton’s system,[42] nearly arrived at the secret. We will quote a few words from his Report:
“Mr. Langton having discovered a new method of seasoning timber … by which the time necessary to season green timber, and render it fit for use, is only about twice as many weeks as the ordinary process requires years; … it is more economical, and locks up less capital than the common method.”
We believe we may say that the number of our public buildings which have been erected during the present century with artificially prepared timber can be counted on our eight fingers (without troubling our thumbs) and not exceed that number;[43] and yet we hear of dry rot in the great dome of the Bank of England and other buildings without profiting by the events. We should like to know if the wooden dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral is safe from dry rot, (the domes at the Panthéon and the Halle-au-Blé at Paris were affected,) and plumbers fires.
It is evident that a preservative process, thoroughly suitable for everyday use and applicable to buildings, has yet to be invented: it should be cheap, should render wood uninflammable, should preserve the wood from decay and dry rot, should not harden the wood until some time after its application, and should be colourless and invisible. The invention of such a process will require careful thought and experiments, for it appears to us that the whole theory of any successful plan for the prevention of the dry rot must resolve itself into the solidifying or coagulation of albumen: this means hardening the sap-wood, and causing increased difficulty in working the wood. We can easily illustrate our remarks, by quoting one of the latest patents for preserving timber, which has recently been made public. It is the invention of a gentleman living in England, who has discovered a means of making wood uninflammable, preventing dry rot and decay, and rendering white and yellow pine, both in hardness and appearance, like teak and oak. We have no objection to its rendering wood uninflammable, providing it does not “hurt” the wood; but can the reader believe that any architect, in erecting a moderate-sized villa, would specify that all the joiners’ work, staircases, window-frames and sashes, architraves, skirtings, doors, &c., must be formed of wood as hard as teak; or rather, can the reader imagine the architect’s client would be agreeable to pay the greatly increased cost for the extra labour involved. We do not think this invention will ever be used, at least to any extent, in buildings.
Much yet remains to be done with regard to uninflammable wood for buildings: we think the matter should be dealt with (with reference to joists, floor boards, partitions, doors, staircases, roof timbers, &c.) by a new Buildings Act of Parliament. Stone and iron will not burn, but they are not fire-resisting: brick, artificial stone, and incombustible wood will give us all we desire; the details may be difficult of arrangement, but builders would comply with them if they were imperatively required. At present our houses are formed of brick walls, every room being separated vertically and horizontally from the adjoining rooms by combustible wooden walls. A street built up of fire-proof buildings would be a novelty. The whole subject requires to be dealt with thoroughly, for while we have combustible wooden floors, partitions, &c., we cannot at the same time have a fire-proof building. We have not been able to spare the space, or else we should have devoted a long chapter to this subject; a superficial consideration (such as alum and water) would have been practically useless.
In conclusion, we can only summarize our remarks on the cause of dry rot, by saying, “Season and ventilate,” in every case: as to the cure, that is not so easy to deal with. If the reader has ever had a decayed tooth aching, a friend has probably said, “Have it out;” and we say, wherever there is a piece of timber decayed in a building which can be removed, “Have it out, and stop up with new;” and in so advising we are merely following the advice to be found in a good old volume, which has never yet been equalled, and which says:
“And, behold, if the plague be in the walls of the house with hollow strakes, greenish or reddish, which in sight are lower than the wall; … Then the priest shall command that they take away the stones in which the plague is, and they shall cast them into an unclean place without the city: And he shall cause the house to be scraped within round about, and they shall pour out the dust that they scrape off without the city into an unclean place: And they shall take other stones, and put them in the place of those stones; and he shall take other mortar, and shall plaister the house.”—Leviticus xiv. 37, 40, 41, and 42.
This course will not, however, suit every case, for when the rot has spread in many directions, the best and cheapest course is to consult some professional man, well versed in the peculiarities of dry rot, before determining upon any remedy, for we have shown in the course of this work that the disease may arise from various causes; and it is not a difficult matter to select the wrong remedy, and thus increase the disease.
We trust the reader has found in this volume at least some hints which may be of service to him. A new house affected with dry rot is an unhealthy one to live in, and an old one is worse than the new; we mean the kind of house referred to in one line by an American poet, as follows:
“O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends.”
Longfellow.