Another point of great importance is the bestowal of rain-water. The usual method is to conduct the rain-water from the eaves by means of pipes which open directly into an underground sewer or empty over a gully which runs into an underground sewer. This underground sewer conducts the rain-water either to a main sewer or cesspool, and the important fact to be borne in mind is that the length of underground pipes, whose main function is to conduct rain-water, are nothing but prolongations of sewers or cesspools which conduct the gases of putrefaction to many points round the dwelling, either at the ground level or the roof level.
There can be no reason why rain-water pipes should not end in a 'shoe,' and discharge over open gutters which might flow to a gully, if absolutely necessary, at a distance from the house. The practice of taking rain-water direct into underground drains is a great cause of damp walls. A year or so ago the rain-water pipes of a country house well known to the author, which ran direct apparently into the underground drain, were examined. In every case the underground drain was broken and leaky, and in some places completely choked by the roots of plants and trees, while the rain-water got away as it could, and kept the foundations of the walls perpetually soaked.
In the London house, with its cave-dwelling basement and narrow area, it is inevitable that the rain-water must flow to an underground sewer more or less directly, but there is no reason why this Cockney necessity should be adopted in the country. It is obviously advisable to conduct rain-water clear of the walls and foundations. The mediæval gargoyle was useful in this way, and I think I am right in stating that the 'flying buttress' was occasionally made to serve the purpose of a water-gutter with the same object.
Refuse.
It has been said that classification is the basis of all science, and it most certainly is the basis of the scientific disposal of refuse. Refuse matter is most varied in its nature, and the items of which it is composed—excrement, rags, bones, paper, straw, sawdust, and other packing materials, cinders and ashes, old crockery, broken glass, old metal, &c.—all demand a different method of treatment.
When I see the grimy gentlemen in fan-tailed hats engaged in the marvellous operation of climbing over spiked railings with the object of filling a huge lumbering cart with a mixture of some or all of the things mentioned above, I feel that they are occupied in a bit of wilful mischief, and are merely increasing the dangers and difficulties of that sorting which is inevitable. In cities house refuse should be collected every day, and the sorting should be done at once by the collector, with the intelligent co-operation of the householder. Things dissimilar in nature should never be mixed. The first division is into putrescible and non-putrescible, and the former should be sent forthwith to the farmer to be dug into the ground. The non-putrescible refuse—glass, crockery, cinder, ash, metal—if sorted and temporarily stored in bins, would probably pay the cost of its collection and removal, and might perhaps yield a slight return. A great deal of the non-putrescible refuse might be of use to the sanitary authority on the spot for making foundations for paths and roads, or for scattering on the streets in slippery or frosty weather. Ash (not cinder) beneath the gravel on a garden path gives in time a firmness and stability which are remarkable. Whether it would work in with the macadam in road-making, and cause a similar improvement in the road, I do not know. It is difficult to understand why it should not do so. Non-putrescible refuse is not a danger to health, and it is certain that a great deal of it might be used for various purposes by the sanitary authority.
This immediate sorting is only possible when such materials are collected every day and the bulk is small.
It seems to me that much of our municipal scavenging is too magnificent, and that it is often inefficient in proportion to its magnificence. The nimble boys who collect the street droppings and store them in bins which contain nothing but the valuable and marketable manure are the type of what is good. The showy Clydesdale slowly dragging the most lumbering cart conceivable filled with an unmarketable mixture is the type of what is bad.
Farmers are shy of taking London sweepings, because, as one told me, 'they send such stuff.' All organic refuse is good for the land, but the farmer wants it in a form which does not hinder tillage. Pieces of oil-cloth, hamper lids, dead dogs and cats, and old tin canisters, are a nuisance to the farmer, and a very slight admixture of such things spoils the practical value (a different thing to theoretical value) of the manure which is mixed with them.