Such close union of brain power and ingenuity is not confined to any one industry. The search for the most promising fields for waste-products is far too fascinating. Even the private member of the community is taking a hand in the great game, and is contributing, in varying degree, to the widespread success which has been, and still is being, recorded.
The rural housewife, in her lonely remote home, contributes to the amenities of country life by bottling her own fruits, following this practice to avoid wastage arising from a glut of produce in her own garden, or in her appreciation of the prolific luscious contributions offered by the wild hedgerow. She knows that the rubber rings with which the bottles are sealed can only be used once. Hitherto, she has always thrown the spent rings into the fire to get rid of them. Now, true housewife that she is, she reasons that surely these rings, while useless to her for fruit bottling, are suitable for some other equally important purpose. Forthwith she makes inquiries to ascertain the quarter in which they are likely to find favour, even if it be only to swell the scrap-rubber melting-pot.
The closely observant student of the countryside, during his autumnal rambles through the copses and spinneys, reflects upon the profusion of the hazel-nut, and the circumstance that this crop is permitted to fall to the ground to rot, or to suffer only partial appropriation by the thrifty squirrel. Surely, he ruminates, such wild fruit possesses some commercial value. The shell can be turned into a high grade charcoal for the laboratory, while the nut itself is rich in oil, which it ought to pay to extract, leaving a residue to offer an excellent winter-feed for cattle. As he ponders upon the problem the fact dawns upon him that the country is rather more disposed to import vast quantities of a similar product, derived from the coco-nut, palm kernels and other exotic fruits, than to exert itself a trifle to turn its domestic resources to account.
It is useless for him to try to rouse the country to realize the wealth it is allowing to slip through its fingers. Any suggestion concerning the recovery of the hazel-nut meets with the instant retort that there is no organization available to conduct the requisite collection of the nuts in due season, and that the end would not justify the means, owing to the time, labour, and expense involved. But when we come face to face with stress such potential wealth of wild rural Britain meets with recognition. Was it not stringency which prompted the harvest of the blackberry crop in 1918 to avert the threatened shortage of jam? Yet the very success which attended the gathering of the blackberry crop, and the zest with which the task was pursued by the juvenile section of the population of the country, should suffice to indicate that the hazel-nut might just as profitably, easily, cheaply, and efficiently be gathered to swell the output of margarine or to be turned to other industrial account. Surely, by the exercise of enterprise and thrift in this direction, we might be able to reduce our expenditure of upwards of £16,000,000—$80,000,000—a year upon oils and materials for the preparation of edible foodstuffs for both man and beast to a certain degree, and thereby foster additional native industries. If further testimony be required to demonstrate the facility with which such a wild home-product might be secured were collection attacked along the proper lines, does not the acquisition of the horse-chestnut crop of the country in 1917 suffice?
The photographer is another lamentable, albeit unconscious, contributor to the great wastage problem. There are hundreds of thousands of enthusiastic amateurs scattered up and down the country. Their consumption of glass negatives and films during the course of the year runs into colossal figures. Yet of the millions of exposures which are made how many can be construed into successes, or, if satisfactory, need be retained for any prolonged period? If preserved the negatives accumulate at an alarming rate, to present exasperating posers in regard to their safe storage.
What becomes of these ruined and superfluous negatives? So far as the films are concerned there is no mystery. They meet an unmourned fate in flames. But the glass negatives are somewhat more troublesome to scrap. Some idea of the immensity of the hoards of negatives possessed by both amateur and professional photographers was revealed during the war. The stupendous production of anti-gas masks was responsible for huge inroads upon our glass manufacturing facilities. When the United States of America entered the arena, and concluded arrangements in this country for the supply of this indispensable article of equipment to the American troops, the demand for suitable glass was forced up to such a level as to tax our producing capacity to a supreme degree.
The glass was required to furnish the eye-pieces to the masks. These were circular in shape, and about 2¹⁄₂ inches in diameter. Each eye-piece was made from two discs of glass which were superimposed, with a thin layer of xylonite between. The last-named was introduced to extend enhanced safety to the fighting men. A ricocheting shell splinter might strike the goggle, shattering the outer layer, but the inner section might possibly escape all injury. Even if the blow were sufficiently severe to smash both sections of a single eye-piece the goggle was not certain to be shivered like the window-pane struck by a stone. The intermediate layer of xylonite nullified the force of the impact to a striking degree, any starring that might be communicated to the inner disc not necessarily being in line with that produced on the outer glass, except, of course, in instances of a direct hit. Moreover, the glass was deprived of its characteristic tendency to splinter under a blow, owing to the intervening thin film of xylonite. Photographers will appreciate the situation from their experience with their glass negatives. When dropped the glass may be smashed into a hundred fragments, but they are invariably held in position by the attached film.
The glass required for this purpose had to be of a certain standard, not exceeding one-sixteenth of an inch in thickness, and free from flaws. The authorities discovered that photographic negatives were made of the very material desired, and realized that here was a peculiar opportunity to remedy the deficiency they were experiencing in regard to the supply of new material from the accepted manufacturing sources. Accordingly, appeal was made to all photographers to turn out their stocks of dismal failures and negatives which need be retained no longer, and to surrender them to the Government.
The demand was certainly pretentious. The eye-pieces were required at the rate of 500,000 a week. As two quarter-plate negatives were required to produce a single goggle—four for each mask—it will be seen that 2,000,000 discarded quarter-plate negatives were sought weekly to keep pace with demand. Of course, larger-sized plates enabled the discs to be cut more economically, but it is the quarter-plate which has the biggest vogue among the huge army of amateur photographic enthusiasts, owing to questions of expense, and so appeal was especially made for plates of this size, in the feeling that here was the richest mine to be tapped.
The negatives were stripped, the emulsion being dissolved from the foundation by the aid of chemicals. In this manner the nitrate of silver content was recovered to be turned to profitable account. The metallic yield from the individual plate is negligible, but, under quantitative treatment, as in this instance, the reclamation was rendered profitable. No attempt was made to exploit the emulsion, but there seems to be no reason why this should not have been utilized.