THE DWELLING HOUSE

By the same Author.

Second Edition. With 6 Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.

ESSAYS ON RURAL HYGIENE.

'A highly important book. The whole book is an education in itself. It is a volume to be read and re-read equally by householders and by professional sanitarians. Our only regret is that amid the flood of hygienic literature which is year by year turned loose upon the world, there are so few books of this type—fearless, honest, and scientific criticisms of existing errors, and full, likewise, of recommendations whereby these errors may be rectified.'—Glasgow Herald.

LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 39 Paternoster Row, London
New York and Bombay.

THE DWELLING HOUSE

BY GEORGE VIVIAN POORE, M.D., F.R.C.P.

Physician to University College Hospital
Fellow of the Sanitary Institute
Member of the Permanent Committee of the International Congress of Hygiene and Demography
Honorary Member of the Hungarian Society of Public Health, &c.
Author of 'Essays on Rural Hygiene'

Houses are built to Live in, and not to Looke on.... God Almightie

first planted a Garden. And, indeed, it is the purest of Humane Pleasures.

It is the Greatest Refreshment to the Spirits of Man; without which

Buildings and Pallaces are but Grosse Handy workes.—Bacon

Is this improvement? where the human breed

Degenerate as they swarm and overflow,

Till toil grows cheaper than the trodden weed,

And man competes with man, like foe with foe,

Till Death, that thins them, scarce seems public woe?

To gorge a few with Trade's precarious prize,

We banish rural life and breathe unwholesome skies

Campbell

WITH THIRTY-SIX ILLUSTRATIONS

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1897

All rights reserved

PREFACE

This work is intended not merely to point out certain common defects in the Dwelling House, and to show how evils more or less necessary in towns may be avoided in the country, but to call attention to the fact that our modern methods of sanitation, and the heavy taxation of the dwelling, inevitably increase overcrowding, and the moral and physical ills which follow in its train.

An attempt is made to review the great subject of the disposal of house refuse in its political and scientific aspects, rather than from the point of view of the tradesman or patentee.

The greater part of the ensuing chapters has been previously published. Addresses delivered before the Royal Institution of Great Britain, the London Institution, the Sanitary Institute, and the Medico-Chirurgical Society of Nottingham, together with short papers communicated to the British Medical Association, the British Institute of Public Health, and the 'Practitioner,' have been incorporated with the text.

The author is greatly indebted to his friend, Mr. Thomas W. Cutler, F.R.I.B.A., for much valuable advice and assistance in the preparation of some of the illustrations; and he is similarly indebted to Mr. Arthur Blomfield-Jackson and the editors of the 'Lancet' and 'Practitioner.'

For permission to use the diagram illustrating the Model By-Laws of the Local Government Board (p. [109]) the thanks of the author are due to Messrs. Knight & Co.

From Mr. George Pernet, B.A., M.R.C.S. &c., the author has received much assistance and many valuable suggestions during the passage of the work through the press.

32 Wimpole Street,
July 1897

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE DWELLING HOUSE

CHAPTER I
DEFECTS IN PLANNING

It is doubtful if there be anything which more affects the health of the individual than the house in which he lives.

Modern advances in bacteriology, and the certain knowledge of the way in which many diseases are carried through the air, have given additional importance to methods of house construction. The danger, for persons who are not immune, of being under the same roof with a case of whooping cough, measles, scarlatina, diphtheria, typhus, or smallpox has long been recognised; but it is only recently that our eyes have been opened as to similar dangers in relation to tuberculosis and pneumonia. Pneumonia has now for some years been occasionally spoken of as a 'house disease,' and the same term has recently—but whether on sufficient evidence is doubtful—been applied to cancer.

A careful study of the epidemic of influenza, which is showing singular vigour in the seventh year of its reappearance amongst us, has clearly shown that it is communicable through the air. And the way in which whole households go down with it when once it gains a footing in a house, is an additional reason for reconsidering our methods of house-construction.

The main object to be kept in view in building a house is the supply of fresh air. Too much care cannot be taken to insure that all the channels of internal communication—hall, passages, staircases—have independent ventilation of their own. Unless there be the means of getting these internal channels blown out by through draughts, the house cannot be wholesome; and in the event of any of the air-borne contagia getting a footing in the house, the liability to spread is enormously increased.

Not only must these internal channels have air, but they must have light also. The dark passage, ending in a close cul-de-sac of bedroom doors, is one of the commonest features of the modern house, and is, of course, absolutely to be condemned.

When we encounter the smell of the kitchen in the corridors, this may be taken as sure evidence that the house is unwholesome, and that the internal channels of communication are as insufficiently ventilated as is the kitchen. The smell of fried bacon which oozes through the keyhole of your bedroom may be accompanied by all the infective potentialities of all the inmates of the house. This test, as applied to corridors, is analogous to the smoke test or oil of peppermint test as applied to drains, and is quite as important.

If the house be of several storeys, the ventilation of the staircase has an importance which bears a direct proportion to the height of the house. As a rule, in second-class, and, indeed, in many first-class houses, the ventilation and illumination of the staircase never trouble the mind of the builder or his architect. Starting from the front passage, the only light of which is from a closed fan-light over the door, the staircase oscillates between water-closet doors and bedroom doors, getting darker and darker as it ascends. In the houses of artizans, every doctor must be familiar with the rancid whiff that comes up the absolutely dark stairs leading to the basement; the cold, damp smell of mildew and soot in the sacred front parlour, where the 'register' is closed and the blinds are drawn; and the variety of odours which assault his nose until he arrives at the carbolic sheet protecting the door of the room containing the case of infectious illness he has possibly come to see. Such houses are almost always let in lodgings, and contain several families; and if air-borne contagia ever gain admission to them, it can be no matter for surprise that they are difficult to dislodge.

The same defect of construction is seen in a very large number of London houses, even the smartest. The defect may be shortly spoken of as this:—'that the internal channels of communication, instead of serving for the supply of fresh air, merely facilitate the exchange of foul air.' This defect of construction is dangerous in proportion to the size of the building and the number of persons it contains.

The shafts for lifts necessarily require independent ventilation as much as the staircases. The monster hotels or towers of flats, from inattention to these details, are liable to be most unwholesome residences, and to be really dangerous if air-borne contagia gain access to them.

The Typical London House

Let us look at the ordinary London house of the better class. I have borrowed the plans which were given in the 'Lancet' for July 4, 1896. Figs. [1] and [2] show the plans of all the floors of the same house before (1) and after (2) certain alterations in the plumbing arrangements. Fig. [3] is a section of the same house, kindly made for me by Mr. Thomas W. Cutler, F.R.I.B.A.

I have taken these plans for the sake of showing what are the common defects of the average better-class London house.

Fig. 1.

Fig. 2.

Typical London House.

I do not wish to be understood as saying that these defects are, in London at least, remediable. That unfortunately is not the case. That they are defects which ought to be avoided in places where land is less costly than in London is very evident.

Fig. 3.—Typical London House.

1. The main defect is due to the fact that the cubic capacity of the house is far too great for the area upon which it is built. The house is, in fact, a tower of five storeys, 60 feet high from basement to roof, and containing 37,000 cubic feet, standing on an area of 1,512 square feet. A house of this shape entails enormous labour upon servants. It has been said, that in raising the body vertically we do an amount of work equal to moving the body twenty times the distance horizontally. The climb from basement to the top storey is therefore equal to walking 1,000 or 1,200 feet along the level, and when a footman weighing 11 stone, and carrying 28 pounds weight of coals, climbs from the coal-cellar to one of the top rooms, the work done is rather more than four foot-tons. I do not know when high-service water supplies became general in London houses, but it is evident that when the only water-supply was in the basement, the inconvenience of these high houses must have been very great. Gas-pipes, hydraulic lifts, electric wires, speaking-tubes, and high water supply have so lessened the personal service required in these domestic towers, that they have become popular, and by increasing the overcrowding in our cities they now constitute a very serious sanitary danger. In America the houses with steel frames have been run up to a height of 250 feet and over, and have converted the streets into sunless, draughty cañons, in which locomotion is a matter of great difficulty, because the width of the street bears no due proportion to the cubic contents (and population) of the houses flanking it.

2. The house being flanked on either side by other houses, the front and back walls are alone available for admitting light and air, and the depth of the house is unduly great in proportion to its width. The noise of the neighbours is not always a trivial drawback.

3. One storey, and the largest, is below the street level, an arrangement which, from a sanitary point of view, is unjustifiable, and ought never to be imitated in the country.

4. There is no back door, which is a very serious defect in a house. The result is that the coals have to be got in, and the ashes and garbage to be got out, under the dining-room windows, and that while these tedious processes are in doing the traffic in the main street is very much impeded.

It is said that eels get used to skinning, and so the Londoner becomes very blind to the failings of the house which he inhabits.

The house of which the plan and sections are shown in the figures is not, be it observed, one of the dwellings of the poor, of which we hear so much, but one of the dwellings of the well-to-do, or even rich, fetching probably 350l. a year rent. It would need four servants, one of whom would sleep below ground level in the pantry; and in addition to the servants, eight persons might squeeze into such a house.

The basement below ground level is really a cellar dwelling, against which we inveigh, when we find it in Whitechapel. It is very dark, and requires artificial light nearly every day in the year. A butler sleeps in a dingy 'pantry' among the tea-cups and other gear, which he possibly sorts upon his unmade bed before he lays the cloth for breakfast.

This basement (Fig. [2]) contains four sinks and two closets, each with its trap, and in each of the three areas are trapped gullies so placed that any gases which escape from them are more likely than not to find their way into the house.

The only way into the kitchen is through the scullery. The scullery sink is turned away from the window, and the smell of cooking and of cabbage water must inevitably find its way into the basement. A water-closet has been wedged into the back area between the windows of the kitchen and the servants' hall; and the larder, while it is without adequate light or ventilation, has a trapped gully at its door to serve as a seed-bed for mould fungi which will infect the food.

There is only one staircase, and this must serve as a shaft for the culinary and other fumes of the basement to rise in. It is entirely without independent ventilation until the half-landing above the drawing-room is reached. In fig. [1] there is another staircase window on the second floor, but this, be it observed, has been blocked by a water-closet in the house, as altered by the plumbers. This is a very serious thing to have done, and, in my judgment, is not in any way compensated by the changes recommended. The staircase has a skylight at the top, but skylights, being never opened in London because of 'the blacks,' are of very little use for ventilation. On the ground floor a water-closet abuts on the morning-room windows, while in the area beneath these windows is another water-closet, previously mentioned.

The first floor contains two fine drawing-rooms and a staircase window, and being without 'sanitary apparatus' is wholesome, except for the fumes which may ascend or descend the well-staircase. On this floor the light and decoration will render one oblivious of the basement. On the second floor the staircase window has been blocked, and there is an impossible bath-room, without adequate light or ventilation, which nothing can make wholesome, and which ought to be abolished absolutely. On the top floor the staircase ends in an unventilated cul-de-sac formed by four bedrooms, a dark 'box-room,' and a water-closet which is wedged in between two bedrooms.

This house has, if one may say so, been over-plumbered. There are five closets, five sinks, and a bath-waste (eleven trapped waste-pipes) for a maximum of twelve people. The closet on the second floor, and the one in the basement between the servants' hall and kitchen, should be abolished, and the fixed bath on the second floor should be removed. A bath-room wants light and air, and should always be against an outside wall. Persons should never take houses with extemporised bath-rooms poked in 'anywhere.'

In order to be fairly wholesome this house wants a fan-light over, or a glazed panel in, the front door, to serve the purpose of a window and ventilator, and a window over the W.C. between morning-room and study. In this way there will be the possibility of a through draught at the foot of the stairs. The staircase window on the second floor should be re-opened, and a window put above the W.C. on the top floor (the W.C. need not be more than 7 feet 6 inches in height). In this way the main channel of internal communication will be ventilated, and should any of the sanitary fittings 'go wrong,' the emanations will be diluted, perhaps to safety point.

Now we may assume that the house we have been considering, with three rooms on the ground floor, would let for about 350l. per annum, and would be rated at 300l. The alterations in the plumbing arrangements, as shown in fig. [2], are estimated by the 'Lancet' experts to cost 618l., or, let us say, a sum equal to twice the rateable value, and which adds (calculating 10 per cent, for wear and tear) at least 60l. per annum to the cost of the house. The local rates for this house would amount to over 90l. per annum, and if we assume that one-third of this is for sewerage, we may say that the sanitation of the house costs 90l. per annum, a sum sufficient to pay for the transmission by Parcel Post of 1,800 packets, weighing 11 lbs. each. Leaving the question of the waste of fertilising material out of consideration, it is clear that sanitation by water is as extravagant as it is dangerous.

Ventilation of Corridors

In the suggestions which the Medical Committee has drawn up for the guidance of the architect in making plans for the extension and ultimate complete rebuilding of University College Hospital, the thorough ventilation of the staircases and corridors is insisted upon; and the building is to be so constructed that it will be impossible for air to drift from one floor to another, or from one ward to another, without first mixing with the outside air. Builders of mansions and hotels would do well to keep the same principles of construction in view.

Fig. 4.

Another suggestion which has been made is to place the secondary staircases between the wards and the sanitary offices, so that the staircase-well forms a cut-off, with cross-ventilation between the ward on one side and the various sinks, closets, and baths on the other side. These secondary staircases are absolutely necessary in case of fire; and, by making them serve a double purpose, a considerable saving of space is effected. This arrangement is shown both in plan and section in figs. [4] and [5]. It is very usual to place some of the ward offices on either side of the ward-approach, and others at the end of the ward. This is, in fact, the common arrangement; but, when adopted, it has the effect of making the ward-approach dark and gloomy, and of placing the ward between a double set of sanitary pipes, with the dangers inseparable from them. It is, I believe, a sound principle of construction for private houses, as well as for hospitals, to place the sanitary and culinary offices of all kinds on one side of the staircase, and the living rooms on the other. If the staircase-well be properly ventilated, the risk of living and sleeping in an atmosphere of sewer air is thereby diminished.

Fig. [6] is a ground plan of an ordinary country or suburban dwelling house which offers a suggestion in this direction. It is the principle only which I wish to illustrate. If the principle be sound, the method of carrying it out will certainly be improved by the experience and cunning of the trained architect.

Fig. 5.

This figure shows the 'offices' to the left and the living-rooms to the right of the staircase. The staircase has through-and-through ventilation of its own. The passage leading to the sitting-rooms has also illumination and ventilation independent of the sitting-rooms. The W.C. has a lobby with independent ventilation, and the door leading to this lobby from the hall should be a spring door. It will be observed that the 'pantry' (the workroom of the man or maid whose duty it is to answer the door) is placed as near the door as possible, and that this pantry intervenes, so to say, between the kitchen and the entrance hall. If the door between the pantry and hall, and the door between kitchen and pantry, be made to open in opposite directions and close with springs, no smell of cooking will be likely at any time to pervade the living-rooms.

Fig. 6.

Only the ground floor of this house is shown, so that it may be as well to state that, as regards the upper floor, all the bedrooms would be to the right of the staircase, while to the left, above the kitchen, &c., would be a second W.C., bath-room, housemaid's closet, and box-room. The principle of construction which it is wished to inculcate is this—that the culinary and sanitary offices should be quite distinct from the living-rooms, and be placed in an annex which should be separated from the living-house by a well-ventilated staircase. The living-house itself should not under any circumstances contain either water-tap or waste-pipe of any kind.

Aspect

In building a house, the point which requires more attention than any other is the aspect. This is too often neglected. In a climate like ours one may say that a house should receive its maximum amount of sun. If a house be well exposed to the sun there can be no doubt that the expense of keeping it warm will be considerably lessened. The best aspect for a house is generally conceded to be that which allows its chief rooms to look to the south-east. In this way the morning sun is enjoyed, and the rooms do not get the glare of the afternoon sun, which in July is apt to be intolerable. It may be advisable to build a house in the form of a veritable sun-trap. And it is quite possible so to build a modest residence that those who live in it may enjoy a maximum amount of sunshine and fresh air without exposure to cold winds.

The ground plan for such a house would have to be that of a right-angled triangle, with the apex pointing to the north (see fig. [7]). The sun, even on the shortest day, would, if visible, shine into the angle for over seven hours continuously. In this re-entrant angle there would be complete protection from northerly and easterly winds; and if provided with a glass-covered verandah, it would be possible for even the most delicate invalids to enjoy in it a maximum amount of fresh air.

As only the truncated apex of the triangle faces due north, it is obvious that every side of this house would be bathed in sunlight for a considerable time every day.

The problem in such a house would be, not how to keep warm in the winter, but rather how to keep cool in July.

There are a few points in the ground plan of this 'bungalow facing south' which may be alluded to. Such a bungalow, if placed on the south side of a public road running east and west, would require no long carriage-drive of its own. The front door might be quite close to the road (and there are many advantages on the score of economy, safety, and convenience, of such a position) without the privacy of the south side being lessened in any appreciable degree.

Fig. 7.

The absence of stairs means less fatigue for invalids and old people, and less danger for children. Provided the cost of land be reasonable, is there any advantage in having more than one storey to a house? The sanitary advantage of a large area for a house is very great indeed. In hospitals we now recognise that infinitely the most important element of the 'cubic space per bed' is the floor area, and that a deficient floor space is not to be compensated by giving great height to the wards. The same reasoning is applicable to a house; and there is this further advantage in giving a large area to a country house, that the greater the area of the roof, the greater is the amount of rain-water which can be collected. Such a bungalow in our climate would certainly provide enough rain-water for all the needs of the inmates.

The shape of this house, with a minimum exposure to the north, is such that every room in it would receive a very thorough exposure to the sun.

A reference to the ground plan will show that on either side of the front door is a window, and that at the end of both the long passages is a big window, so that the channels of internal communication receive an ample supply of light and air, and can be swept by a through draught. The closets (and these should be 'dry-closets,' and not water-closets) are cut off from the main structure by a lobby having cross ventilation.

The pantry, the occupant of which usually does duty as hall-porter, is placed immediately between the front door and the side door, so that both doors can be guarded, so to say, at the same time and by the same person.

The kitchen is shut off by two doors, and both of these should be spring-doors, in order to make perfectly sure that the house shall not be invaded by a smell of cooking. The kitchen, nevertheless, is quite close to the dining-room.

The triangular space enclosed by the two sides would, there can be no doubt, need planting with a few deciduous trees and creepers, in order that the shade afforded may undergo a progressive increase as the heat of summer reaches its maximum.

The disposition of the rooms shown is not intended to be more than tentative, and in practice it would certainly be found advisable to have at least one sitting-room with a northerly aspect.

The verandah, it is observed, is big and serviceable, the object of it being, not merely ornament, but to enable even a delicate person to live practically in the open air. The rooms opening on to such a verandah must have big casement windows with low bottom sills, in order that chairs and tables may be lifted in and out with ease.

The size of the bungalow is greater than most families would require, but as the plan is merely intended to illustrate a principle this is of no consequence.

Fig. 8.

Fig. [8] shows an adaptation of the above plan, by Mr. Thomas W. Cutler, for a Convalescent Home in Epping Forest.

Warming

Fig. [9] represents an economical and wholesome way of warming the passages of a house. It is intended to represent a stove (any slow-combustion stove) with a fresh-air pipe of large calibre opening immediately beneath it. When the stove is lighted there is necessarily a large influx of fresh air, and the result is that the air in the passage is never 'close' or 'burnt.' It is important that the fresh-air pipe should be big, and that its gratings should be easily removable for cleaning.

Fig. 9.—Stove with Air-inlet underneath.

If the hall and passages be warmed in this way it becomes possible to ventilate the rooms from the passages in the depth of winter. Fig. [10] represents one of the top panels of a door converted into a louvre ventilator, with the object of ventilating a room from the passages. A ventilator of this kind, if provided with side-pieces, delivers its air nearly vertically, and admits a large volume of air without causing draught.

Fig. 10.—Ventilating Panel in Door.

Draughts may be defined as currents of air rushing in at the wrong place through channels which have insufficient area. The only way to cure draughts is to place inlets of sufficient area in proper positions. When building a house one might, of course, place louvre ventilators in the walls between room and passage at a height of 6 ft. 6 in. above the floor. The alteration of a door panel into a ventilator costs only a shilling or two. In the writer's experience it is a most excellent way of ventilating a room, always provided that the air of the passages be wholesome.

Living-rooms

A few words may be said as to living-rooms. Most living-rooms in better-class houses are too high. This is probably due to the bad example of London. In London the height of a house is the only dimension in which there is, so to say, the least elasticity, and London architects have attempted to compensate by height for absolutely inadequate area.

The rooms of some of the learned societies at Burlington House, with a space of several feet between the top of the window and the ceiling, afford excellent illustrations of the point which is to be avoided. Windows should extend to within a few inches of the ceiling, and should open at the top. This is universally admitted. If the room be 12 feet or 13 feet high, and the windows go to the top, then the window becomes unmanageable from its weight, and the opening of the top, although theoretically possible, is seldom put in practice. The wholesomeness of a room depends very much upon the rapidity with which the air in it can be renewed—the facility, in short, with which one can give it a blow out. This depends upon the relation of window area to cubic capacity. Windows, again, should be so constructed that they can be easily manipulated by a child. The louvre window ventilator, such as is common in churches, will be found very valuable for the admission of a constant but relatively small supply of air. These ventilators were introduced by the late Professor John Marshall into his wards at University College Hospital, and with the very best results.

Relatively low rooms, with big mullioned windows going to within a few inches of the ceiling, are far more wholesome than lofty rooms in which the tops of the walls are inaccessible to the housemaid, and the window sashes too weighty for her to move without difficulty.

For wholesomeness and comfort I believe a height of 10 feet is sufficient for any domestic living-room, and 9 feet for a bedroom. Provided the windows go to the top, and can be easily opened, it is very doubtful if there is any object, from the purely sanitary point of view, in having rooms more than 9 feet high. In rooms of such a height the cornice of the ceiling can be easily reached by a housemaid standing on a set of hand-steps, and the practical advantage of this is very great.

Our health is more in the hands of the housemaid than most of us are aware. Facility for cleaning should be ever in the mind of both builder and furnisher. The modern boudoir, hung with dabs of mediæval rags, and stuffed with furniture and nicknacks till it looks like a transplanted bit of Wardour Street, is often not very cleanly; and when the daylight is excluded to a maximum extent, lest fading should take place, and the sun's rays never have a chance of disinfecting the dust upon and behind the curios, it cannot be wholesome.

It may be remarked that some of the curtain hangings and chintzes which are now, or were lately, in vogue are dressed or printed with a material which gives them a peculiar 'fusty' smell, something like inferior hay. No room in which they are used can ever smell 'fresh,' and it must be remembered that the smell of 'freshness' due to the free admission of light and air is the best practical criterion of wholesomeness.

Hotel Bedrooms

For discomfort and unwholesomeness the average hotel bedroom is hard to beat. I have occupied, in a very smart hotel, a bedroom which was 18 feet long, 13 feet high, and had a varying width from 10 feet at the window end to 8 feet at the door end (the room was wedge-shaped, owing to its being at the turn of a building which had a fine circular front facing towards two thoroughfares). The top of the window was at least 3 feet from the ceiling. The window was huge and unmanageable, and access to it blocked by a big dressing-table carrying a large looking-glass, which, in company with a once white (but now dingy yellow) roller-blind (which would not stop up) and absurdly heavy and costly (and dusty) valance and curtains, succeeded in keeping out most of the light which might otherwise have succeeded in getting through the murky atmosphere of a manufacturing town. The cubic capacity of this room was considerable (2,080 feet), but the 160 feet of floor-space was so occupied by bed, dressing-table, writing-table, wardrobe, chest of drawers, sponge-bath, fender, portmanteau stand, besides pedestal, two chairs and armchair, bidet, coal-scuttle, and boot-jack, that after having extinguished the light, which was at the farthest point from the bed, it was no easy matter to thread one's way back.

The planning and fitting of a room to serve in the best way possible the purpose for which it is intended is a problem to which architects have paid as yet but little attention. The house-builder might very well take a few hints from the ship-builder. On board ship space is economised to the utmost, and it is a matter of interest and wonder to observe how many luxuries one can have on board a well-planned ship, mainly by reason of the cleverly-designed fittings which economise space; and it is, further, a matter of interest to observe how the principle of 'a place for everything and everything in its place' lends itself to cleanliness and wholesomeness. The besetting sin of modern hospital architects is the giving of an extravagant excess of space in places where it is not needed. Because one gives, let us say, 120 feet of floor-space to every patient, it does not follow that any sanitary object is gained by giving a single square inch more than is absolutely necessary for ward offices. On the contrary, ward offices should be kept as small as possible, so that the 'place for everything' doctrine must necessarily be followed. I have seen 'ward kitchens' for twenty patients, in which the only cooking done is the heating of a little milk or beef-tea over a gas-jet, which have been about three times as big as a P. & O. galley, in which a succession of banquets are daily prepared for one or two hundred persons. If ward offices be carefully planned, and be merely 'big enough,' with no excess of cubic capacity, not only will initial cost in construction be saved, but cleanliness will be facilitated and cost of maintenance and repair lessened.

So it is with hotel bedrooms. One lives in hopes of some day seeing a competition among hotels in making the rooms occupied by travellers as convenient and wholesome as possible. There can be no doubt that a 'single' bedroom 12 feet square and 9 feet high, containing 1,296 cubic feet, if properly planned, fitted, lighted, and ventilated, would be far more wholesome and convenient than the wedge-shaped apartment containing 2,080 cubic feet to which allusion has been made. Without entering into the whole question of bedroom fittings, one may say a few words as to that very necessary article of daily use, the looking-glass. The swing looking-glass, which continues to hold its own, and which, in spite of 'curses not loud but deep,' refuses to stop at any angle, surely ought to be abandoned now that looking-glass plate has become so inexpensive. Fig. [11] represents a bedroom window comprising a thoroughly illuminated long mirror, so that for toilet purposes the face and figure are easily inspected. The looking-glass is surrounded by window, and the window itself is easily accessible, and is opened and shut with ease. All bedroom windows in tourists' hotels ought to have a balcony, in order that dusty clothing may be shaken in the open air. In hotels all heavy draperies, hangings, and carpets should be tabooed, and every effort should be made to give an appearance of elegance and luxury with a minimum amount of dust-retaining decoration. Hotels are like hospitals in this respect, that guests know nothing of the previous occupants of their room, and it must often be that such ignorance is blissful. Convenience for the guests and facility in cleaning are the objects to be attained by designers and fitters of hotels.

Fig. 11.

Putrescible Fluids

Although I do not propose to enter into the details of the plumbing and sewerage arrangements, it is nevertheless necessary to touch upon certain broad questions. Wherever organic refuse is mixed with water putrefaction results, and certain gases are given off from putrefying liquids which are poisonous and hurtful to mankind. Every cook and housemaid is familiar with the fact that all vessels which serve as receptacles for putrescible liquids require the most careful cleansing, and need to be scrubbed and scoured, washed with hot water and soap and soda, and wiped dry. If this is not done they become foul, and rapidly cause the decomposition of any liquid containing organic matter which may be subsequently added.

The modern house drains into a sewer, which is necessarily always foul and filled with the gases of putrefaction. These gases are the result of microbial action. The sewage water is full of microbes, the gases of putrefaction are the gaseous 'toxins' (CO₂, H₂S, CH₄, NH₃, &c.) which result from their growth. The air of the sewer is necessarily harmful in itself, and the presence or absence of microbes in the sewer air is a matter of practically small importance. The house drains are necessarily foul as well as the sewers. We hear a great deal about 'self-cleansing' sewers, which shows how ignorant are the surveyors and others who use such terms. A glazed pipe, with a good gradient, may be less foul than a rough sewer with insufficient gradient, but you can no more have a 'self-cleansing' sewer than you can have a self-cleansing saucepan or chamber-vessel.

The foulest place in a house is the kitchen sink, with its vegetable and animal débris, such as cabbage-water, grease, &c. Sanitary engineers are trying to cleanse these places by automatic flushing with cold water, which, to say the least, is enterprising. A few years ago 'fat traps' were fashionable, but were soon found to be intolerable from their inexpressible foulness.

It must be remembered that wherever along a line of drainage you get stagnation there must be putrefaction, and it must be borne in mind that every 'trap' which is a contrivance for ensuring stagnation is necessarily a place where putrefaction is liable to take place. Traps may keep back the smell of the street sewer in house pipes, but it must never be forgotten that they are undesirable evils in themselves.

The efforts of modern sanitary engineers are directed towards ensuring that the gases which inevitably result from putrefaction in sewers and house-drains should be as much as possible diluted with external air before we breathe them. The sewer gratings in the streets give off foul gases at the pavement level, especially in the summer. The ventilating pipes give off foul gases at the roof level, close to the water cisterns. The traps beneath every W.C. and sink are all spots where putrefaction may and often does take place. The gullies in the front and back areas of the house are also liable to be foul. Here I would insist that every gully on the ground level should, when possible, be freely exposed to the air, so that the wind may blow over it. This, in London, is impossible, as these gullies are necessarily surrounded by the walls of the area, and in still, muggy weather these areas must contain a large amount of gaseous toxins.

I insist upon this point because I see the town architect making the mistake in the country of enclosing the kitchen and pantry gullies by walls (to form a kitchen yard), so that any emanations which arise from them are liable to be drawn into the house through the open windows. Such an arrangement ought, when possible, to be carefully avoided.

Traps and trapped gullies are evils which are only to be tolerated for the prevention of greater evils. I visited not long ago a convalescent home built on the slopes of a decidedly steep hill. The building was a fine one, and (why I do not know) was three storeys high. The builder had brought the rain-water pipes from the roof, and had made them terminate in trapped gullies close to the front wall of the house. In these collections of stagnant water, dead leaves, &c., would certainly decay, and every trap would inevitably become a cultivating chamber for the growth of mildew and moulds of various kinds. These trapped gullies communicated with an underground drain, where the same growth of mildew, &c., would inevitably go forward. In such a situation the rain-water, without the interference of the builder and architect, would have got clean away into the valley below, and have left the house perfectly dry. All that was needed was an open gutter. Great expense had been incurred to make the walls of this building dry, and still greater expense had been incurred to ensure precisely those evils which come from damp walls, viz., the growth of mildew.

In the autumn of 1896 I was stopping in an hotel which had no less than 42 trapped gullies touching its walls; there was one beneath almost every window and by the side of almost every door. Here, again, a little contrivance and common sense would have obviated all this mischievous expense.

The constant inhalation of the gases of putrefaction is a great danger to health, otherwise sanitarians would not lead us to imply that we ought to spend enormous sums to ensure their dilution before we inhale them. If these gases be concentrated, they are capable of killing strong men in a few minutes. The constant inhalation of these gases in a more diluted form leads to malnutrition, and one must suppose that the pasty-faced and undersized Cockney is made in this way. We have little certain knowledge of the diseases caused by sewer air. Personally, I should say that anæmia and malnutrition are the chief resulting evils, and that these conditions make us very vulnerable to infections. Sore-throat is certainly a drain disease, and thus a vulnerability to diphtheria is probably engendered. Puerperal disease of various kinds and rheumatic fever are among the diseases which have been attributed to sewer air, and it is probable that chronic enlargement of the tonsils and the surprising increase of adenoid growths in the pharynx and naso-pharynx are not without similar relationships.

Dr. Letheby and Dr. Haldane, who both investigated cases of acute poisoning by air in sewers, came to the conclusion that sulphuretted hydrogen was the fatal ingredient.

Dr. Haldane is of opinion that the source of the sulphuretted hydrogen is the kitchen refuse in the fat traps and grease boxes. He states that ·07 per cent. (or a mixture containing 7 parts of sulphuretted hydrogen with 9,993 parts of air) is poisonous.

It is probable that the constant inhalation of very small quantities indeed would be prejudicial to health.

Damp Houses

There is a very general consensus of opinion that damp houses are unwholesome.

Why are they unwholesome? It is very doubtful if the constant inhalation of watery vapour is prejudicial to health. I am not aware that sailors and millers, and boatmen who spend their lives on the water, are a short-lived class, or that they are liable to diseases which are special to them as a class.

The probable cause of the unwholesomeness of a damp house is its liability to grow moulds and mildews and allied organisms. The growth of putrefactive and pathogenic organisms is checked by dryness and encouraged by dampness, and it is probable that it is in this direction that we are to look for the causes of the unwholesomeness of damp houses. A friend built a house some eighteen months since on an eminence in a park having a stiff clay soil. His architect advised him to have cellars under the house 'for the sake of dryness,' and such advice is very general. Let us look at the question a little more closely. Suppose you build a house having an area of 50 feet by 50 feet = 2,500 square feet. If you have no cellar this 2,500 square feet of your house rests upon the soil, and six inches of concrete will effectually stop back the moisture. Suppose you have a cellar beneath the house, say 8 feet high, then you have to excavate 2,500 feet by 8 = 20,000 cubic feet of earth; and in addition to the floor of your cellar you have four sides, each 50 feet by 8 = 400 square feet, or 1,600 extra square feet in all, in contact with the damp earth. With a cellar you have 4,100 square feet ready to imbibe moisture from the soil, and without it you have 2,500 feet only.

A big cellarage used for pantries, larders, beer, wine, coals, &c., &c., which is not artificially warmed, makes a house very cold; and if the cellarage communicate directly with the ground floor, there is a constant draught of cold air from the vaults beneath to the living-rooms above.

Supposing such a cellarage to have walls and floor impermeable to moisture, it is inevitable that whenever the wind shifts from a cold dry quarter to a warm muggy quarter (say from N.E. to S.W.), condensation will take place, and the walls of your 'dry cellar' will stream with moisture.

A cold damp cellar, which comes only occasionally under the surveillance of the master and mistress, and in which all sorts of odds and ends are poked away to accumulate dust and mildew, is an undoubted disadvantage to a house.

Such a cellar should never be 'drained,' i.e., it must on no account have a gully in it for the purpose of 'swilling down.' When such a cellar is cleansed, it must be scrubbed and wiped dry precisely like a living-room. The trap of a gully is sure to grow moulds and mildews, and if, as is not unlikely, it becomes unsealed by evaporation, then the gases from the sewer or cesspool will inevitably find their way into the cellarage and the house above it.

An inhabited basement, such as is universal in London, regarded in relation to the house above it, is a very different thing from an uninhabited cellarage.

A place where food is stored, be it larder or dairy, must be cool, and clean, and dry, and must on no account have a gully either in it or near it. Food, and milk, and cream are cultivating media for organisms of all kinds, and food, especially cold gelatinous food, may become most dangerously poisonous if stored in an unwholesome place.

I will invite attention to fig. [12], which represents a cellarage window constructed quite recently. The window is entirely below the level of the ground, and is surrounded by an 'area' for giving light and air to the window. The area is protected by a horizontal grating on the ground level, securely and permanently fastened down, and the area is drained through a gully, this being necessary because of the rain which falls into it. The gully leads to an underground drain, which, in this particular case, did not run directly to a cesspool, but to an open gutter on the side of a hill at a lower level. Into this area dead leaves are blown, and worms and slugs and snails inevitably find their way, and are washed by the rain into the stagnant gully, which becomes a place for putrefaction and the cultivation of mildew, the spores of which are necessarily blown into the house to infect the food which is stored there. Not only is the area closed by a fixed grating above, but the window is securely and permanently barred, so that this dry area (?), with its mildew trap, cannot possibly be cleaned without pulling the house to pieces.

Fig. 12.

Fig. 13.

Fig. [13] is a suggestion for the improvement of this area. A glazed shutter has been placed (to prevent the access of rain) over a fixed grating, which admits air at the sides. The gully has been removed, the front wall of the area has (at the suggestion of Mr. William White, F.S.A.) been sloped forward so as to reflect the light into the room, and the window bars have been taken away, in order that this area may be cleaned as thoroughly as the room which it serves.

Larders

In view of recent discoveries as to the liability of food to become poisonous when stored in an unwholesome place, the construction of the larder is an important matter.

The place where cooked and uncooked food is stored—the larder—must be wholesome, and to this end great care must be used in its construction. The following appear to me to be the points which demand attention in the larder, an apartment which may influence the health of a household to a very great extent:—

1. The larder must be dry. Both walls and floor should be above suspicion as to dampness. Any mould or mildew growing on the floor or walls is very apt to infect the food. The floor should be of concrete, without seams or joints. The walls should be limewashed every year, and the shelves (if expense be no object) should be of some non-absorbent material, such as marble, slate, glazed earthenware, or glass. It is better to have a larder above the ground level than below it, because in the latter situation dampness is very difficult to prevent.

2. A larder must be cool. If it have no rooms above it, the roof must be so constructed as to keep out the heat of the sun. It is essential that its windows and ventilators should face the north. The temperature which is most favourable for the growth of microbes is one which approaches to blood-heat, and, speaking generally, one may say that the higher the temperature, the more likely is the 'cultivation' of microbes to go forward. It is important that the flue of the kitchen fire, or any other flue, should not touch the wall of the larder.

3. Good ventilation is essential. The windows should be big, and should be protected on the outside with wire gauze, so as to prevent the access of flies or other insects.

4. On no account must there be a gully communicating with any underground drain or sewer either inside or, indeed, near to any place where food is stored. In short, we must bear in mind that sewer-poisoning may be indirect through the food, as well as direct from the sewer itself. When the shelves and floor of a larder are washed, they should be wiped dry, and such washing should be carried out in dry weather, so that the drying process may be complete.

We all know how sensitive food is to unwholesome contaminations, and one may well have a doubt as to the sanitary condition of show dairies, where a cool, plashing fountain plays in the centre, because such fountain must have a waste-pipe, and one must fear that such waste-pipe communicates with a drain. A dairy, equally with a larder, should be kept cool and dry, and should offer no facilities for the ingress of putrefactive products from a sewer.

I have already pointed out that it is no protection to have waste-pipes trapped, because in every form of trap one must have stagnation, and wherever stagnation occurs there must be putrefaction. A very small quantity of food-refuse or milk is enough to set up putrefaction in a trap. If any outlet for water is thought desirable in a larder, it should be in the form of an open gutter which can be thoroughly cleaned and dried, and which should pass directly through the wall on the floor-level, the opening in the wall to be closed by a sliding trap-door when the gutter is not being used. No bacteriologist needs to be reminded that a water-trap is necessarily a cultivating chamber.

CHAPTER II
THE SANITATION OF THE ISOLATED DWELLING

We are now in a position to consider the sanitation of the isolated dwelling. Having dwelt upon the evils of putrefaction, it is to be expected that methods which involve no putrefaction will be recommended. Further, it must be remembered that there are many situations which are otherwise suitable for a dwelling, but are rendered unsuitable by the lack of water; and in these days we have become so absolutely dependent upon water, that no site for a dwelling where water is scarce is acceptable.

Dry Methods

We have come to think that there can be no cleanliness without soap and water, and it may be necessary to remind the reader that the nomad Arab cleanses himself with the sand of the desert; that polished floors redolent of beeswax and turpentine are at least as wholesome as those that are scrubbed and have their crevices filled with a soapy slime; and that one of the best ways of washing a flannel shirt is said to be to hang it in the sun and beat it thoroughly with a stick. Necessity is the mother of invention, and were there a water-famine to-morrow, I have no doubt that those who were minded to be cleanly would somehow manage to be so.

There is no denying that dry methods of sanitation are in this country, where water is plentiful, far from popular. Dwellers in cities want to be rid of matters which have no value for them as individuals, and the luxury of having a scavenger 'laid on,' who can be set at work by merely turning a tap, and who, albeit that we pay handsomely for his services, does not hang about to be 'tipped,' are undeniable. Then, again, our scavenger is a very strict teetotaller and never strikes, although occasionally he is 'frozen out.' Many of us during a severe frost have, so to say, been the victims of dry methods and of 'water' closets, so called, on the principle of Lucus a non lucendo.

If dry methods of sanitation are to be successfully carried out, it is necessary to bear in mind the principles which underlie them.

Humification

The change which is produced in excrement when mixed with earth whereby the excrement is humified—i.e., changed to something which is indistinguishable by our senses from ordinary garden mould, or humus, is due to the action of fungoid organisms. Some of these belong to the 'mould' fungi, such as penicillium and saccharomyces, while others are allied to the schizomycetes, otherwise known as bacteria, bacilli, and micrococci.

A very important organism, or class of organisms, in this connection are those which bring about the nitrification of nitrogenous matters, whereby they are oxidised and made soluble, so as to be readily absorbed by the roots of growing plants. I prefer, however, to use the word humification in place of nitrification, because it is not likely that nitrification is the sole change which takes place, and it is at least highly probable that many of the fungi which grow in nitrogenous matter play a very important part in producing fertility and in feeding higher plants. The intestines of animals swarm with bacteria and allied bodies, and it may be assumed, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, that excrements carry with them, so to say, in the form of moulds and bacteria, bodies which help in their subsequent humification.

Which of us has not noticed the excrement of a dog, evenly covered with exquisitely graceful stalks of fungus as with a crop of erect white hairs. The greatest of all human observers must have seen this, for he makes the Queen say to Hamlet:

'Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,

Starts up and stands on end.'

Ordinary humus contains such organisms in countless numbers, and it is probable that when excreta are mixed with sterile bodies, such as ashes, the necessary organisms are in part supplied by the excreta themselves, or possibly gain access from the air around.

In order that humification may take place two things are necessary:—

• 1. The matter must be tolerably dry—absolute dryness checks the process, so does excess of moisture. It is stated that about 33 per cent. of moisture is the amount with which the humifying change is most rapid.
• 2. The access of air is necessary, because the organisms which produce humification are aërobic, and, as much of the change consists of oxidation, it is evident that the free access of air is essential.

Actual Practice

It may be well to refer here to what is actually done in my garden at Andover, in Hampshire.

It should be stated that the garden is close to the centre of the town of Andover, the chief town in West Hants (a purely agricultural district), with about 6,000 inhabitants.

The garden abuts on a street and lies very low, being only two or three feet at most above the average level of the river Anton, which forms one of its boundaries.

The interest of the garden lies in the fact that it has been manured for the last ten years with the excreta and other refuse of some twenty cottages, the only stable dung which has been used having been sufficient to make a hotbed in the spring, and no more.

Fig. 14.

A, cottages; B, house and garden (let for a girls' school); C, C, garden ground used for sanitary purposes, measuring (exclusive of grass and paths) about 1¼ acre; W, well, D, D, D, D, D, small stream, supplied partly by springs and partly from river.

The plan (fig. [14]) shows the position of the cottages, which form a cul-de-sac running from the street to the river, and also the position of the garden ground. This ground, which is on both sides of the cottages, measures, exclusive of paths and turf, about one and a quarter acre. Nearly an acre of the ground has, together with a house, been let for a girls' school, and in the cultivation of this piece the writer has no authority.

The cottages are fitted with 'pail closets,' with the exception of one only, which has a 'dry catch,' which is much superior from every point of view to a pail closet, and in course of time it is hoped that all the closets will be converted into 'dry catches,' of which more will be said hereafter. The contents of the pails are removed every morning, and are superficially buried in a furrow such as a gardener makes when turning up the ground with a spade. One must insist that the covering of the excreta cannot be too light, as it is essential for the due humification of the organic refuse that the air have access to the pores of the soil; and one may add that when the pores of the soil are sealed up by drenching rains, as was the case in the autumn of 1894, the process of humification is delayed, and certainly the excreta are not (owing to their sticky, glutinous nature) washed out of the soil by the heaviest rains experienced in this country. The method of superficial burial has this further advantage, that the tillage of the soil and the burying of the excreta are carried on by a single operation. As the cottages are close to the garden, the process of removing and burying the contents of the pails is done in less than an hour. Directly this has been accomplished, in the early hours of the morning, there is an end of anything which can offend either the eyes or the nose.

After the excreta have been superficially buried plants of the cabbage tribe are dibbled in as soon as may be. This is often done within three days, and the cabbages are sure to flourish. Seeds do not flourish with any certainty, and, although I have seen fair crops of turnips, peas, onions, &c., when the weather has been favourable, such crops are liable to fail, while cabbage as a first crop is practically sure to succeed. I can call to mind a spot in the Andover garden which had been sown with turnips and radishes as a first crop after manuring. The produce was Brobdingnagian, but worthless except to dig into the ground. The development of green head was very great, the roots were huge and woolly. When the plan of operations which has been described (daily superficial burial followed by cabbage planting) was commenced, some ten years ago, many were the prophecies of failure. The practical men shook their heads and said I never should succeed that way, but that I was 'bound to store the stuff in a heap to allow it to ripen before being put on the land.' As a sanitarian one was naturally anxious to get the excreta below the surface of the ground as soon as possible, and I now feel confident in stating that the plan I recommend is the best from the sanitary, agricultural, and financial points of view. Sanitarily it is the best because there is no delay in the safe bestowal of the excreta; agriculturally it is best because no ammonia or other volatile body is given to the air, but all goes to enrich the land; and financially it is best because it involves moving the dung once only instead of twice; the same operation that tills the land serves to cover the dung, and while the excreta are 'ripening' for other crops the farmer gets a crop of cabbage. After the cabbage crop the ground is still very rich and will grow everything or anything, to which the soil and situation are suited, in high perfection.

The garden is in great contrast to an ordinary sewage farm. It is used as a pleasaunce, and its luxurious herbage and bright colouring are very beautiful. The ordinary garden crops show great exuberance of growth, and the summer fruit trees (apples, pears, peaches, and nectarines) are usually hung with a very bountiful crop of fruit.

Fig. 15.—Garden at Andover.

The illustration (fig. [15]) shows the central green path of the garden, and although the rich colouring of the tritomas, gladioli, stocks, phloxes, asters, lobelias, calceolarias, roses, and dahlias, cannot be reproduced, the illustration will serve to give some idea of the general luxuriance. The writer claims to have proved (all chemical analyses to the contrary notwithstanding) that human excreta have a very high manurial value, and this will be borne out by the picture.

The 'Dry Catch'

Seeing that moderate dryness and free access of air are essential for humification, it becomes necessary so to construct our receptacle that these ends may be attained.

This end is not attained in an ordinary pail, because all the urine is retained; there is an excess of moisture, and the mixture becomes putrid and sloppy, unmanageable and offensive.

The best method of treating excreta is to allow them to be deposited in the 'dry catch,' suggested by Mr. Richardson, of Clifton (see fig. [16]). In this arrangement the seat is raised on two or three steps, and the excreta are caught on a slightly sloping concrete floor; the excreta are freely exposed to the air, and the urine flows away down the slight slope and is caught by an absorbent material, of which the best is garden humus.

With this arrangement no putrefaction takes place. It is not a matter of much practical moment whether or not earth be thrown into the dry catch after the excreta, because the arrangement ensures that offensiveness is reduced to a minimum.

If earth be used this humification will go on in the catch itself, and the longer such a catch is used the better it will act, always provided that moderate dryness and free access of air are ensured.

I speak with great confidence as to the success of this arrangement, and with an experience of some years' standing. With a dry catch of this kind used, let us suppose, for the lowest class of property and with daily removal of the excreta, the bulk and weight of the excreta are reduced to a minimum; there is no sloppiness or putrefaction. Collection and transport are easy, and the work is, with suitable tools, not repulsive. If we adopt the estimate of Parkes, that the solid excreta average for both sexes and all ages not more than 2½ ounces per diem, then the household of five persons would provide considerably less than 1 lb. weight per diem.

Fig. 16.—Section of 'Dry-Catch' Privy, with Gutter filled with Absorbent Material to absorb Excess of Urine.

Now a dry catch may in country places be used with the addition of dry earth, and where the householder has a garden he can have no difficulty in managing everything for himself, and must be little better than an idiot if he allows any sanitary authority to rob him of the finest manure the world produces, the excreta of the 'paragon of animals,' and withal the most highly fed.

Where the sanitary authority is responsible for the disposal of excrement, I believe it will be found more economical to carry the excreta to the earth than to take the earth to the excreta.

If there be cultivable land at hand, and the nearer such land is to the houses the better, I believe the best course to pursue is to bury the excreta daily in superficial furrows, as recommended above.

If there be no cultivable land at hand, then the excreta would have to be taken to a rough shed (sufficient to keep off the rain) and mixed with earth. The process of humification would be completed in three months, and the humus thus formed might be used over and over and over again ad infinitum. The great advantage which follows from the scientific use of 'dry methods' is the continuity of the process. Nature turns all the excrement to humus, and humus is acknowledged to be the very best purifier of offensive nitrogenous matter which the world affords. The dark humus which is found everywhere, and which provides for all our needs, is nothing but excrement which has suffered a natural transformation brought about by a process which is purely biological. The oftener such humus is used the better it acts, and, further, it slowly increases in bulk. There can be no doubt as to its horticultural value, and if the authority cannot use it, the neighbouring farmers and gardeners will gladly do so. One of the difficulties connected with the dry-earth system is the procuring of earth, but from what I have said it is evident that an initial store of earth sufficient for six months' use, if judiciously, carefully, and scientifically used, would for ever take away the necessity of providing a fresh store.

This continuity of action is a most important matter, and one which has been hitherto almost wholly unappreciated. This arises from the fact that those who have not carefully studied these dry methods are unable to believe that what I have stated is really true. That it is absolutely true I have no doubt whatever. Every sanitary authority should have a garden of its own for the purpose of practically demonstrating the excellent results obtained by using this 'dry' material as a manure. Such a garden, if properly cultivated, could not fail to be both beautiful and productive, and, if managed on the profit-sharing principle, would yield at least enough to pay wages. Such a garden should not have the customary notice, 'No admittance except on business,' but it should be the business of everybody to walk by it or through it while going to and from their daily work, and in so doing receive an object-lesson which would do more to enhance the health and prosperity of the country than any number of Board Schools and Free Libraries. In the last edition of 'Rural Hygiene' I have given some statements as to the financial results of my garden at Andover, which, I think, will be regarded as satisfactory. My experiments point to the fact that 600 square yards are enough for the disposal of the excreta of about 100 persons per annum.

The 'Pail' System

The causes of the ill-success of the pail system appear to me to be in large measure due to the great weight of the pails, and, in consequence of the exceeding foulness of the material, the great distances which they have to be carried.

By the adoption of the 'dry catch' the weight of material would be enormously decreased and its daily transference by means of a proper shovel and travelling receptacle would be found both easy and economical.

If the material removed be buried superficially every day with a view to cultivation and production, the land to which it is removed cannot be too near to the houses. This may seem a strong assertion, but I make it without any hesitation whatever. Should the necessity ever arise, I feel sure that all the parks and square gardens might be used in the manner I have indicated for sanitary purposes, not only without offence, but with a certain great increase in the productiveness of the ground, always provided that the atmosphere be not too foul (as is the case in central London) to permit of horticulture or agriculture in any form.

If the dry catch be used the material is not sloppy and liable to spill, and thus the great hindrance to its transport is removed.

Finally, the initial expenses and repairs of pails would no longer fall on the sanitary authority, and the huge cost of lugging about these absurdly clumsy putrefaction boxes would be at an end.

We have three specimens of municipal pails in the Parkes Museum, and these vary in weight from 40 lbs. to 50 lbs. The 50-lb. pail, which is 18 inches in diameter and 15 inches deep, weighs, when filled with water, 187¼ lbs.

If, by the help of two men, a horse, and a lorry, one has to take, in addition to the excreta, fifty pounds weight of galvanised iron, or wood and iron, a mile each way, the expense becomes huge, and anything like a daily removal is impracticable; but if one has to transport a pound of solid excrement a few hundred yards only, then the problem is a very different one.

Any sanitary authority which adopts 'dry method' should endeavour to arrange for a daily removal. I am no advocate of 'conservancy,' but would rather see the immediate utilisation of the excreta. It is only by immediate burial that one gets the full manurial value of them.

The burial must be done with a view to the cultivation of the land. It must be superficial. The excreta must be merely covered with the earth, no more. Furrows half a spit deep are ample. It is in this way only that one insures the oxidation of the excrement and the protection of the wells.

It is the almost universal custom to bury night soil deeply, and I could quote many instances in which excreta have been buried three or four feet deep, and have been exhumed some months later unchanged and still foul. If they be buried deeply, the farmer or gardener gets no benefit and the wells are endangered. The farmer, be it remembered, spreads his dung on the surface of the ground, with a maximum exposure to light and air and then ploughs it in; nothing could be more truly scientific.

We hear that in India, in spite of the earth system, typhoid is rife, and the opinion is very general there that typhoid spreads through the air. I have never been in India, and am not competent to express any opinion, but I have heard that in some places in India the excreta are deeply buried, and if this be the case, it appears to me that if the ground gets deeply fissured during drought, the torrential rains which follow may very well wash this too deeply buried and unchanged excreta into the water sources.

If excreta are to be used for agricultural purposes, no chemical antiseptics must on any account whatever be mixed with them. Antiseptics are a source of serious danger to the agriculturist. The best antiseptic for such a purpose is earth.

In-Door Earth Closet.

It has been supposed that the method of excrement disposal which I advocate necessitates the compelling of delicate persons to go out of doors in all weathers. I do not believe that it is necessary to ask delicate persons to run the risk of exposure in houses where dry methods of excrement disposal are employed. If a very small amount of the ingenuity which has been lavished upon water carriage had been devoted to overcoming the difficulties which attend the safe and decent management of dry methods, these difficulties would, I believe, have long since disappeared. If architects and builders can be impressed with the necessity, on scientific, moral, sanitary, and economic grounds, of overcoming these difficulties, the thing is done.

The house which I own at Andover (see fig. [14], B) becoming vacant, I tried the experiment of giving it a dry privy, which should be of such a kind that no lady would object to use it.

Now I hold that every closet, whether a dry closet or a water closet, should be sequestered from the main structure of a house, and should be approached by a lobby having cross ventilation. Those who in the present day put closets and waste-pipes within the four walls which enclose the living-rooms are not abreast of modern civilisation. The simplest plan for effecting my object in the present case seemed to be to throw an arch across the entrance to the stable yard, to place the ventilated passage on the top of the arch, and the closet on the far side of it, on a level with the first floor, and with a capacious vault or 'catch' beneath it. (See figs. [17] and [18].) The catch, though larger, is exactly on the same principle as that which has been described, and it has been provided with eight large air bricks, three of which are just below the level of the closet seat, three near the ground level, and two intermediate in position. The bottom of the door of the catch is about an inch above the ground level, and in addition there is an opening for a dust-shoot, protected by a fine grating, so as to insure that only dust and ashes and not cinders or clinkers are thrown into it. There can be no doubt that plenty of fresh air will get access to this receptacle.

Without special precautions such a closet would be cold and draughty, and I have endeavoured to overcome this difficulty by a specially constructed pan, closed at the bottom by a hinged flap, which opens and shuts automatically by means of a counterpoise. (See fig. [19].)

Fig. 17.—E.C. with Ventilated Lobby.

By means of this specially-devised pan all up-draught is prevented; the stuff drops out of sight, and the urine, owing to the obliquity of the bottom of the pan, runs away instantly. When the closet has been used, some earth is thrown in, and this has the effect of carrying away any paper which may lodge, and of deodorising any soiling of the pan which may have taken place. There are some points connected with this closet-pan and seat which require to be mentioned:—

1. The seat and accessories are made of the best polished mahogany, because I am very strongly of opinion that smartness leads to cleanliness.

Fig. 18.—Section through Chamber Floor E.C. and Dry Catch.

2. The seat is only 14 inches above the ground, which is some 4 inches less than is customary. Closet seats are, as a rule, too high, and the low seat, with the position it necessitates, has certain physiological advantages, among which may be mentioned the fact that the dejecta fall vertically downwards. It has one disadvantage, viz., that elderly people find a difficulty in rising; but this objection is easily overcome by fixing a handle in the wall, so that the arms may assist the feeble legs in the act of resuming the erect position.

Fig. 19.—Section of Pan for Dry Closets.

It will be observed that the back part of the pan is 3 inches beyond the rim of the seat and is nearly vertical, while the front part is set only 1 inch beyond the rim of the seat, and runs obliquely from above down and from before back. The object of this is to still further lessen the chance of the soiling of the back of the pan. The lower opening is slightly oblique, so that urine shall flow away instantly.

The supply of earth for this closet is kept in a box alongside the seat, and this box is filled from the outside by means of a hopper so arranged that the man who brings a fresh supply of earth cannot see or be seen by any chance occupant of the closet. The supply of earth is very large, being sufficient for a month or more, and there is no traffic through the house either with earth or excrement. This, again, is an important trifle.

The pans hitherto constructed on this pattern have been made of japanned iron. They have not to bear any weight or strain, and may be made very light. Enamelled iron or copper seem to me to be the best materials, but I have no doubt they could be effectually contrived in earthenware. The pans have been made for me by Messrs. Righton, 376 Euston Road. The pattern is registered.

Dry Method of Treating Urine

Most of us must have remarked, either in London or some other centre of population, how little annoyance arises from cabstands. One must know of cab ranks where dozens of horses stand for hours daily from year's end to year's end, and where tons of dung and thousands of gallons of urine are spilled upon the same spot and practically without annoyance. I do not mean to say that occasionally one may not get a strongly ammoniacal whiff from such a spot when the weather is hot and muggy, but it is notorious that they are seldom foul, and that on passing them we are never prompted to hold the nose and quicken our pace.

The condition of a cabstand is in strong contrast with the average urinal with an ordinary water supply. Such places are always pervaded with a sickening odour, and the mere addition of practically an unlimited amount of water is insufficient to keep this smell of decomposing urine (than which nothing is more offensive) in abeyance.

It is hardly too much to say that water urinals are always offensive, and that even in clubs and similar smart places the tablet of camphor, which is intended to assert itself over the head of the other smells, is not always successful.

It may, I think, be said that water urinals are never sweet except in those rare instances in which they are constantly wiped perfectly clean by an attendant. The decomposition of urine is due to micro-organisms, and it is well-known that if urine be passed into an impure vessel, its decomposition takes place with great rapidity, especially if the temperature be moderately high. All vessels intended for the reception of urine require a thorough washing and cleansing every day. The form of 'bottle' which is habitually used for bed-ridden patients is most difficult to clean, and is a very undesirable apparatus. If water urinals be provided with 'traps' in which urine, or urine and water, is allowed to stagnate, such traps must be permanently foul and become a source of annoyance if not of danger.

If urine be allowed to filter through absorbent material, the effect produced upon it is as remarkable as it is interesting. I have experimented with a variety of absorbent materials during the last six years, and now propose to shortly set forth the results, some of which have been previously published in 'Essays on Rural Hygiene' (2nd ed.: Longmans, 1894). The vessels used have been of conical form, tapering from one foot in diameter at the upper and wider end to an opening large enough to admit a big quill at the lower end (fig. [20].) The length of these vessels is 30 inches, and they are supported on a metal tripod.

Some of the vessels have been made of metal—galvanised iron—and others have been made of flannel.

Fig. 20.—Urine Filter.

The first experiments were made with ordinary garden earth, and they were conducted for me by Dr. Wells, of Brondesbury. These, and nearly all the subsequent experiments, were made in the same way, viz., by adding day by day what may be called a natural chance quantity of urine, varying in amount from about a quarter of a pint to two pints in the day. In these experiments, when fresh earth was used, the filtrate was always of lower specific gravity than the urine added, notwithstanding the considerable evaporation which must have taken place from the surface of the filter. The total solids of the urine averaged 4·44 per cent., of which 3·45 were organic and 0·99 inorganic, while the total solids of the filtrate were 1·78 per cent., of which 1·07 were organic and 0·71 inorganic. How much of the organic and inorganic matters in the filtrate came from the mould it is not possible to say. The urea was probably all reduced, as the hypobromite method gave a percentage of only 0·15 in the filtrate, a quantity which may be disregarded in the face of the fact that the hypobromite method acts upon nitrogenous bodies other than urea. The filtrate was rather deeply pigmented, but the pigment was submitted to spectroscopic examination by Dr. McMunn, of Wolverhampton, and pronounced by him to be not of urinary origin. Further—and this is most important—the filtrate could be evaporated to dryness without offensive odour, and showed no tendency whatever to putrefy when left for months in an ordinary bottle.

In short, the filtrate, although derived from urine, had none of the qualities of that fluid. The earth in the filter when stirred was distinctly ammoniacal, so that the presence of ammonia could be detected by the nose when held quite close to it, but at no time was there any foulness.

When the same earth, after some months of rest, was used a second time for the filtration of urine, the same results were obtained, with the exception that the filtrate was of higher specific gravity than the urine added, and the mineral residue of the filtrate was double that of the urine. This was caused by the solution of nitrates and other soluble salts which were formed in the earth from the residue of the first instalment of urine, but the filtrate had not the properties of urine. It contained no urea, could be evaporated to dryness without offence, and showed no tendency to putrefy.

In the same way, I have used deal sawdust instead of earth, and the following is the result of an analysis made for me by Dr. Kenwood in the Hygienic Laboratory at University College.

July 25, 1895.

Parts per 1,000.

[1] (1) Fresh urine.