It is also somewhat significant to record that improvidence is intimately associated with cheap labour. Cheap living and cheap labour go hand-in-hand. As a matter of fact, until recently the average working members of the community, from the comparative point of view, have been guilty of greater improvidence than those who are well-blessed with this world’s goods.

This apparent anomaly is readily explicable. In the houses of the wealthy the accumulation of residues of every description must necessarily attain imposing dimensions. But these wastes are not lost to commerce and industry. In the majority of cases they are handed over to the employees by whom they are regarded as legitimate perquisites. To gratify some individual whim, passing fancy, or from inherent tendency to bargain, these residues are carefully garnered and harboured to be converted into cash through one or other of the many purchasing channels which appear to diverge to these centres. The cooks dispose of bones, fats, and greases, as well as other wastes from the kitchen, to the itinerant rag-and-bone merchant; rejected wearing apparel finds its way to the wardrobe dealer; worn-out copper, iron and aluminium culinary utensils, as well as divers other metallic odds and ends gravitate to the specialists in old iron and waste metals; superfluous produce from the kitchen garden meets with profitable distribution, while even the swill is able to command its market.

It is the opportunity to profit in pocket from such “extras” which acts as the incentive to collect, separate and to bargain for the sale of wastes from a pretentious house. But, as the social scale is descended, the tendency to keep a tight hand upon the refuse suffers unconscious relaxation. This is primarily due to the fact that the volume of such accumulations undergoes attenuation as the social ladder is descended. As the bulk diminishes so does the impression, “Oh! it is not worth while troubling about!” become accentuated. Finally, when we reach the bottom of the ladder—the average working household—the quantity of waste is considered to be so trifling as to be deemed quite unworthy of consideration. Consequently, here we find the whole, or at least 90 per cent., of the refuse consigned to the fire, or to the rubbish heap, instead of being preserved and turned into a profitable channel to receive a new lease of utility.

As with the home so with the office and factory. The small workshop or business establishment accommodated within one or two rooms records its proportion of waste, but it apparently is so slender as to be comparatively insignificant. Furthermore, as a rule, it is so varied as to aggravate the thought of being more nuisance than it is worth. Accordingly, the refuse is neither sorted nor retained, but, especially if it be combustible, meets with an untimely end. On the other hand, in the large factory, the accumulations being of distinct magnitude, segregation and careful retention are observed to facilitate ready sale, while arrangements are even completed for the periodical clearance of the refuse at mutually satisfactory if not prevailing market prices. Whether the waste ever commands its real intrinsic value is a matter of opinion, because we have never been persuaded to regard the residue disposal problem in the strict commercial sense.

Reflection gives rise to the question—What is waste? A more appropriate explanation than a paraphrase of Palmerston’s famous dictum concerning dirt would be difficult to find. Waste is merely raw material in the wrong place. In the spirit fostered by our traditional improvidence we have sought to adapt another existing term to meet the situation. We glibly dismiss waste as rubbish. It is not, but because we have been too indolent to occupy our minds in the elaboration of further possible applications for what we do not actually require for conduct of the operations with which our individual exertions are identified, we seek to satisfy our consciences in the easiest manner. In so doing we essay to flout a fundamental law of Nature—the indestructibility of matter. We have failed to appreciate that what may be of no immediate value to ourselves may, indeed can, with judicious and scientific handling be persuaded to serve in the capacity of indispensable raw material to other ranges of endeavour. It may even go so far as to supply the wherewithal for the creation of new industries, widening the possible fields of employment, and contribute pronouncedly towards the wealth of the nation.

This fact can be brought home very conclusively. In the opening days of this century the amount of fats, oils, and greases which were allowed to run to waste was colossal. They were cheap commodities and, although they occur in greater or lesser degree with the majority of organic materials in popular request, not a thought was expended upon the possible losses which their discard with so-called wastes represented. But, during the past few years, the demand for these substances has advanced by leaps and bounds. They have become vital to the table in several forms, and this request has brought the food-producing industry into conflict with another trade of far-reaching importance, namely, the manufacture of soap. The situation is rather peculiar, as I point out in a subsequent chapter. Some idea of the volume of fats absorbed in the preparation of margarine and soap, respectively, may be gathered from the narration of the fact that one of the largest soap manufactories in the world demands the supply of fat in a steady stream of about 5,000 tons per week.

A few years ago the activities of this particular firm were concentrated upon the manufacture of soap. It was the solitary product. But it had its attention attracted to the growth and possibilities of the margarine trade, and it decided to enter this market. To-day, its activities are divided between the production of the two commodities, and, curiously enough, almost equally. From its works issue out about 6,000 tons of soap and 4,000 tons of margarine every week.

This merely represents the endeavours of one firm. There are scores of others following a similar line of action. The result is that the demand for fats has reached an unprecedented level. At the moment of writing the coarsest grade of fat is able to command approximately £50—$250—a ton. Is it surprising therefore that every effort should now be made to extract the fats, grease, and oil associated with every form of organic waste, and that keen effort should be made to secure increasing quantities of waste capable of yielding this material?

So far as the public is concerned this spirited search for fat may be regarded with misgiving, if not absolute alarm. The wizardry of the chemist is acknowledged, and the thought possibly prevails that much of the fat now being turned into margarine is really only fitted for the production of soap. But alarmist or pessimistic feelings in this direction may be speedily allayed, though it is permissible to point out that ten years ago much fat was turned into the cleanser which should have been utilized as a foodstuff, inasmuch as its freshness and wholesomeness were above all criticism. It was merely turned over to the soap-maker because no alternative application was apparent. But conceding the magical qualifications of the chemist, there are some feats which yet remain beyond his powers. The ability to turn bad fat into good for dietetic purposes must be numbered among those achievements which as yet have proved impracticable. If a fat be rancid it cannot possibly be reconditioned for edible purposes. No matter how its preparation may be coaxed and nursed it cannot be converted into a foodstuff. The palate would detect rancidity instantly. Consequently, only the highest grades of animal fat are used for the preparation of margarine; the fact that the big-scale production of a food should have been embraced by the soap-maker merely represents one of those inexplicable coincidences of industry.

It is distinctly interesting, if not actually amusing, to follow what may be described as the utilitarian conjugation of waste. It remains an incubus, if not an unmitigated nuisance, until the chemist, or some other keenly observant individual possessed of a fertile mind, comes along to rake it over and to indulge in experiments. Such efforts are often followed with ill-concealed amusement. A few years since they were even regarded as so much waste of time. In due course some definite conclusion is reached, and the fact becomes driven home that, if such-and-such a process be followed a particular spurned refuse can be utilized as raw material for the production of some specific article. Then scepticism and amusement give way to intense interest and speculative rumination. The new idea is submitted to the stern test of practical application upon a commercial basis, while the financial end of the proposal, which is the determining factor, is carefully weighed.