Chapter V: The Circulation of Organic Matter3

It is quite impossible to define 'organic matter,' or to indicate the line, if there be any, between organic and inorganic.

Organic matter is the material of which living things are made. When a chemist analyses anything which is the product of life, whether vegetable or animal, he often speaks of his incombustible residue or ash as 'inorganic matter,' but this is clearly an arbitrary use of the term, for this incombustible residue has formed an indispensable part of one living thing, and may in due time be incorporated with other living things as something which they cannot do without.

It may well be that everything of which we have knowledge (even including the igneous rocks) has at one time or another formed part of a living organism, and it is certain that a large proportion of the commoner chemical elements may form a part, more or less indispensable, of the bodies and framework of plants or animals.

Oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon, chlorine, sulphur, phosphorus, iron, sodium, potassium and calcium seem to be indispensable to almost every living thing. Many more of the elements are constantly found in some organisms, while others, such as lead, mercury, silver, &c., may be temporarily incorporated with living bodies.

We shall deal mainly with those elements which are pre-eminently mobile, which are constantly changing and exchanging, combining and separating, and which are readily combustible. For practical purposes one might, indeed, use the terms 'organic' and 'combustible' to signify the same thing.

With regard to solid matter, the power of readily circulating implies a readiness of combustibility, but it must be remembered that there is no hard line between combustible and incombustible. This is a matter of temperature, and many things which are incombustible here are said to be blazing in the sun.

The combustion of organic matter may take place slowly, or with moderate rapidity, or with explosive violence.

When we burn coal, which is a vegetable product, we find that the carbon and hydrogen escape as carbonic acid and water, accompanied by nitrogen, sulphuric acid, and volatile hydrocarbons. The residue consists mainly of silica and alumina, which are removed from the furnace in the form of clinker and ash. The water ultimately returns to the earth in the form of rain or dew; the carbonic acid is ultimately absorbed by green plants, and, by stimulating the growth of these, helps to furnish us with more combustible material; while the residue is almost a waste product. Thus, in this example we find that the carbon and watery vapour readily 'circulate,' while the residue can only do so after a long interval of time, and is practically lost. The volatile hydrocarbons and sulphuric acid, being poisonous to herbage, are a source of practical loss rather than gain.

Let us take next the case of an animal, which is really a living furnace, browsing in a field; as it browses we may often see the breath, which is the smoke of this furnace, laden with carbonic acid and water, escaping from its mouth and nostrils, and it is probable that the green leaves of the herbage absorb this carbonic acid almost as soon as it escapes, and, appropriating the carbon, return oxygen to the animal to help its respiration and combustion. The animal as it eats continues to grow and increase in bulk and value, whereas the artificial furnace in which the coal is burnt tends steadily to wear out and decrease in value. As it browses and grows, the droppings of the animal nourish the herbage which here and there, by patches of more vigorous growth and deeper green, afford sure evidence of the value of these waste products.

In this arrangement there is no waste, for both the animal and the herbage, by a process of mutual exchange and the circulation of organic matter, increase in value.

Not only is there no waste, but, strange as it may seem, there is a positive gain, with no loss whatever. The furnace and the fuel are both increased! This increase can only be apparent, and not real, for it is well known that although we may alter the form of matter, we can add nothing to and subtract nothing from the sum total of the world.

One would say that this apparent increase is due to the stimulating effect of the excreta upon the soil, which enables us to draw something extra from that inexhaustible storehouse of plant-food and water, and enables the animal to use these materials, instead of allowing them to drain to the springs, and so find their way to the sea. We know that a far greater proportion of the rainfall percolates through barren soil than through soil bearing crops. If this be so, there is a practical increase of the land at the expense of the water.

Again, we must remember that our knowledge of the sources of the gases of the atmosphere is not complete. It may be that all the oxygen of the air is furnished by the green leaves of plants, and all the carbonic acid by processes of respiration and combustion, but we are by no means sure of this. Of the sources of the atmospheric nitrogen we know nothing. Now it is certain that much of the carbon of the atmosphere is appropriated by the plants, and much of the oxygen by the animals. If among the herbage there be plants of clover, it is now certain that much of the atmospheric nitrogen will be drawn into the soil to nourish these plants and generally to increase their fertility. Whether the return of oxygen, carbon, and nitrogen is, in the long run, equal to the intake we cannot tell.

When, however, we ponder upon the gradual increase of vegetable soil or humus with which the bare rocks have been clothed in the course of ages, it is almost impossible not to come to the conclusion that the humus, and with it the fertility of the soil, has steadily increased at the expense of the sea on the one hand, and, possibly, of the atmosphere on the other. To put the matter in the form of question and in other terms, 'Does the _Lithosphere_ increase at the expense of the _Atmosphere_ and the _Hydrosphere_?' Does the land increase at the expense of sea and air? Be this as it may, it seems certain that by scrupulous return to the soil of all that comes out of it the resources of Nature are made increasingly available for the benefit of man.

When organic matter is mixed with water, a process of putrefaction and fermentation is started, and the organic matter, instead of undergoing oxidation, is reduced, and among the commoner products of this process are ammonia with sulphuretted hydrogen and marsh-gas, which are both combustible. These processes furnish us with other combustible matters, among the commonest of which are the alcohols, the familiar products of fermentation.

It is interesting to note the tendency of organic matter, when mixed with water, to give rise to explosive and combustible products. Explosions in cesspools and sewers have occurred many times. When wet hay is stored in stack it catches fire. When we stir the mud at the bottom of a pond or river, bubbles of combustible marsh-gas rise to the surface. The coal measures are due to the storing under water of semi-aquatic plants which have been preserved by being silted up, and we know that coal is full of olefiant gas, marsh-gas, sulphuretted hydrogen and carbon monoxide, which are all combustible, and that the carbonaceous residue, charged with volatile and combustible hydrocarbons, forms the chief fuel of the civilised world. Peat is formed in ways analogous to that of coal, and the so-called mineral oils are certainly the products of organic matter which has been silted up.

These subterranean stores of combustibles, all of organic origin, are, as we know, prodigious in quantity. Nobody can predict the time which it will take to exhaust the coal measures of the world, and we know for a fact that the sacred fires of Baku on the Caspian, fed by subterranean reservoirs of naphtha, have been burning for centuries.

When we see the end of a tin of 'preserved meat' bulged, we know that the gas-forming organisms have been at work within, and when the bed of the lower reaches of the Mississippi rises as a small mud mountain, spluttering with carburetted hydrogen, we know that analogous forces have been in operation. It seems, indeed, to be a law of Nature that the ultimate destiny of organic matter is to 'circulate,' and that if it does not do so quietly, as in the ordinary processes of nutrition in plants and animals, it merely bides its time, and ultimately attains its end with more or less destructive violence.

Nitre (nitrate of potash or nitrate of soda) is an organic product, and sulphur is an essential constituent of all or nearly all organisms. Of the three ingredients of gunpowder, two (charcoal and saltpetre) are, it is certain, of exclusively organic origin, and the third, sulphur, may be so also.

All the common combustibles with which we are familiar are certainly of organic origin, and one is almost forced to the conclusion that in this world life must have preceded combustion. If we are to explain what _has been_ by what _is_, such a conclusion is irresistible. Are we quite sure that volcanoes, which are seldom far from the sea, are not fed by old deposits of organic matter which has collected in the primeval ocean, and, like the more recent coal measures, have been silted up?

What has been the destiny of the protoplasm of the countless animals and plants which are found in geologic strata? What part have ancient microbes had in the formation and disruption of the successive layers of which this earth is formed? These are questions which force themselves upon the mind, but which I will not attempt to answer. This biological view of the cosmogony which subjects the world, equally with all that is upon it, to the laws of development, evolution, and decay, does not, I believe, present so many difficulties as might at first sight appear.

_Omne vivum ex vivo_ is a law of Nature, and all organic bodies spring from organic antecedents. Organic matter is our capital in this world, and the more frequently we can turn it over, and the more quickly and efficiently we can make it circulate, the more frequent will be our dividends. If we burn organic matter we may get a good dividend of energy, but nothing further is to be expected. The construction of the furnace involves an outlay of capital, which steadily diminishes as the furnace wears out by frequent use. If we burn organic matter merely to be rid of it, we spend our money for the sole purpose of dissipating our capital. The function of fire is to destroy and sterilise.

If we mix organic matter with large quantities of water, we have to encounter all the evils and annoyance of putrefaction, and if, when so mixed, we send it to the sea, we have no material gain of any kind. We spend our money for the purpose of dissipating our capital.

We may place the water containing the organic matter upon the land, and in tropical countries this is done, with excellent effect, for the production of rice, a semi-aquatic plant, which, according to Professor Georgeson, Professor of Agriculture in the Imperial University of Tokio, is said to prefer its nitrogen in the form of ammonia. The same authority states that nitrification does not take place under water, and careful experiments carried out at Tokio show that sulphate of ammonia is a much better manure for irrigated rice than nitrate of soda.

In our damp climate sewage farming has proved a dismal failure, and the difficulties seem to increase with the quantity of water which has to be dealt with. Excess of water drowns the humus, and nitrification cannot go on in a soil the pores of which are closed by excess of moisture.

The living earth, teeming with aërobic microbes, must be allowed to breathe. It needs for this purpose a certain amount (about 30 per cent.) of moisture; but it stands drowning no better than a man does, and if it be drowned, agricultural failure is inevitable.

If we carefully return to the upper layers of the humus, in which air and microbes exist in plenty, the residue of everything which we extract from it, we inevitably increase the thickness of the humus and its fertility. Our capital increases, and our dividends increase and recur with a frequency which depends upon the climate.

With thrifty and high cultivation it may, indeed, prove profitable to compensate defects of climate by the use of glass and artificial heat.

The part played in the economy of Nature by fungi and bacteria—the new learning of the last half-century—is an addition to human knowledge which is destined to revolutionise our views of many natural phenomena. It has already exercised enormous propulsive power on human thought, and has stimulated our imagination scarcely less than when, to use the words of Froude, 'the firm earth itself, unfixed from its foundations, was seen to be but a small atom in the awful vastness of the universe.'

This knowledge has provided us with a new world, peopled with organisms in numbers which, like the distances of the astronomers and the periods of the geologists, are really unthinkable by the human mind. Their variety also, both in form and function, is, for practical purposes, infinite.

When, with the help of the many inventions of the optician and the dyer, we catch a glimpse of things which a few years back were 'undreamt of in our philosophy,' and when we reflect that these organisms are certainly the offspring of 'necessity,' and are probably mere indications of infinities beyond, we cannot be too thankful for the flood of light which these discoveries have shed upon the enormity of human ignorance.

The lower animals and the lower vegetable organisms (fungi and bacteria) co-operate in a remarkable way in the circulation of organic matter.

In the autumn the gardener, with a view to what is called 'leaf mould,' sweeps the dead leaves into a heap, where they are exposed to air and rain. This heap when thus treated gets hot, and last autumn I found that the temperature of such a heap had risen in the course of a week or so to 104° F., and remained at a temperature considerably above that of the surrounding air during the whole winter. On turning it over after a month or so one found in it a large number of earthworms and endless fungoid growths visible to the naked eye, and one felt sure that it was swarming with countless millions of bacteria, invisible except to the highest powers of the microscope. In the beginning of March this heap, much reduced in size, was spread loosely over a patch of ground which was previously dug. If one examined that ground to-day one would scarcely recognise the structure of leaves, and in a few weeks more it will have become nothing but ordinary garden mould, and anything planted in it will grow with vigour. This is a familiar everyday fact.

We know also that noisome filth spread over a field by the farmer in the autumn or winter loses its offensiveness in a few days, and by the spring neither our eyes nor noses give us any clue to the cause of the fertility of the field which is covered with ordinary 'mould.' This process of 'humification' is largely due to earthworms and other earth dwellers, which pass the earth repeatedly through their bodies, and in doing so reduce it to a very fine powder. I have examined worm castings picked off a lawn, and which, after being slowly dried, have been gently sifted through muslin. Those who have never examined a worm casting in this way will be interested to know of what an impalpable dust the greater part is composed, and will also note the considerable size of the pieces of flint and grit which the animal has used in its living mill, and which have been separated by the muslin sieve.

These castings are full of microbes, and those who will take the trouble to scatter the smallest conceivable pinch of this impalpable dust upon a sterilised potato, after the manner and with all the precautions familiar to bacteriologists, will obtain an abundant and varied growth of bacteria and moulds, which will completely baffle their powers of enumeration and discrimination.

The greatest hindrance in the bacterial examination of the soil is this _embarras de richesses_, which makes the isolation of different species a matter of extreme difficulty.

The bacteria exist in the soil in countless millions, but it must be remembered that they get fewer as we go deeper. The first few inches of the soil are, in the matter of bacterial richness, worth all the rest, and at a depth of five or six feet they appear to be almost non-existent. The practical lesson which we have to lay to heart in applying this knowledge is that the upper layers of the soil are the potent layers in bringing about the circulation of organic matters, and that if we wish to hasten this process we must be careful to place our organic refuse near the surface, and not to bury it deeply, a process by which the circulation is inevitably delayed or practically prevented. If we bury it deeply we not only get no good, but we may get harm by poisoning our wells and springs.

It is the same with organic liquids. If these be poured on the surface, the 'living earth' (_i.e._ the humus stuffed with animal and microbial life) purges them of their organic matter, and transmits a relatively pure liquid to the deeper layers. If they be taken to the barren subsoil direct, as in underground sewers and cesspools, they escape the purifying action of air and aërobic organisms, and inevitably poison the water. Filthy liquids accumulating in cesspools and leaking _under pressure_ to our wells have cost us health and money incalculable.

Liquids poured upon the surface cannot, owing to the crumby nature of the humus, exert any appreciable hydraulic pressure. This is a fact of huge importance in the practical management of organic refuse.

All effete organic matter instantly becomes the prey of animals and plants. The dead body of an animal teems with life—_Le roi est mort, vive le roi_. M. Mégnin, a skilled entomologist and a member of the French Academy of Medicine, has made a study, which is full of gruesome interest, of the living machinery which makes away with the bodies of animals not buried but exposed to the air and protected from beasts of prey.

M. Mégnin shows that the destruction of the animal is accomplished in no haphazard fashion, but that successive squadrons of insects are attracted by the successive stages of putrefaction.

The first squadron which arrives, sometimes before death and always before putrefaction, consists entirely of dipterous insects, house-flies and their relative, the blow-fly.

The next squadron are also diptera, and are said to be attracted by the commencing odour of decomposition. These squadrons use the carcase as a procreant cradle, and thus ensure the nourishment of the larvæ so soon as they are hatched. Amongst these flesh-seeking flies there are said to be specialists which prefer the flesh of particular animals.

The third squadron is attracted when the fat begins to undergo an acid fermentation. These consist of coleoptera and lepidoptera, beetles and butterflies, and among them is _Dermestes Lardarius_, the Bacon Beetle.

When the fats become cheesy the diptera reappear, and among them is _Pyophila Casei_, the fly which breeds jumpers in cheese, which is accompanied by a beetle, whose larvæ are connoisseurs in rancidity.

When the carcase becomes ammoniacal, black, and slimy, it is visited by a fifth squadron of flies and beetles.

And these are succeeded by the sixth squadron, consisting of acari or mites, whose function it is to dry up the moisture and reduce the carcase to a mummy-like condition.

The dried carcase proves attractive to the seventh squadron, consisting of beetles and moths, some of which are the familiar pests of the housewife, the furrier, and the keepers of museums. These animals gnaw the softer parts, such as ligaments, and leave nothing but a fine powder behind them, which is in fact their dung.

The last and eighth squadron consists solely of beetles, which clean up the débris, in the shape of dung, shells, pupa cases, &c., of the seven squadrons which have preceded them.

M. Mégnin, being an entomologist and not a bacteriologist, deals exclusively with the insects concerned in making away with a carcase, but it is evident that bacteria work hand in hand with them.

There are many other instances which may be quoted of the co-operation of fungi with other organisms, and it is only of late years that we have appreciated the fact of _symbiosis_, or the living together of two organisms for the mutual benefit of each. This fact was first pointed out in so-called lichens, which are now shown to be complex bodies consisting of a fungus and an alga, living in symbiotic community for the mutual benefit of each.

It was next shown that the papilionaceous leguminosæ are unable to flourish without certain bacterial nodules which grow upon their roots, and by the instrumentality of which they can appropriate the nitrogen of the air, and thus the fact, familiar for centuries, that the leguminosæ leave the ground in a state of great fertility, while they are singularly independent of nitrogenous manures, has been explained.

But if the plants themselves are independent of dung, it is not so, apparently, with the symbiotic nodules, which seem to flourish far more vigorously in rich garden ground than they do in comparatively poor farm land. Thus Sir John Lawes has grown clover in a rich old garden for forty-two years, and has had luxuriant crops every year.

According to my own observation on the scarlet runner bean these nodules are more plentiful upon the roots which grow superficially than upon those which run deeply.

Symbiosis is observable in many plants other than the leguminosæ, and it is certain that many of our big forest trees depend for their nourishment upon fungi which grow upon their roots.

All animals appear to be symbiotic, for we all carry about millions of microbes, which must fairly be regarded as junior partners in our economy, and which we cannot do without. The microbe which has been chiefly studied—the _Bacterium Coli commune_—appears to be essential for certain digestive processes which go on in the intestines while we live; and when we die, this microbe is active in starting the dead body upon that cycle of events which is one form of the 'Circulation of Organic Matter.'

Now it is certain that the dung of all animals swarms with bacteria and allied organisms when it leaves the intestines, and it seems highly probable that excrement carries with it the biological machinery which is necessary for its dissolution and ultimate humification.

My friend, Mr. George Murray, F.R.S., the keeper of the Botanical Department of the British Museum, whose learning in fungology is well known, has kindly furnished me with an elaborate list of 139 genera of fungi which flourish on excrement.

Of these 139 genera, Mr. Murray has tabulated no less than 628 species which are known to flourish on excrement.

Of the 628 species, 226 have been found on the dung of more than one genus of animals, but no less than 402 species of fungi are peculiar to the excrement of only one genus of animals.

Of these 402 species of fungi, 91 are peculiar to the dung of the ox; 78 to the horse; 68 to the hare and rabbit; 30 to the dog; 25 to the sheep; 28 to birds; 21 to man; 16 to the mouse; 9 to the deer; 7 to the pig; 7 to the wolf; and 22 to other animals.

This search for fungi in excrement is necessarily incomplete. In Mr. Murray's list it is evident that the greatest number of species has been found in the dung of animals which are domesticated and common, and which offer facilities to the fungologist. The numbers are startling, but when we consider that the dung of every living thing which crawls or burrows, or swims or flies, has properties which are peculiar to it, and which fit it to become the nidus of some peculiar fungoid or bacterial growth, the part played by fungi in the distribution and circulation of organic matter cannot be over-estimated.

The facts which have been recounted, and which seem to show that fungi and bacteria are necessary for the growth and development of even the highest plants and animals, and that fungi and animals are equally necessary for the dissolution of organic matter, point to the conclusion that the correlation of the biological forces in this world is no less exact than the correlation of the physical forces. The uniform composition of the atmosphere, except under special and local conditions, is a fact which tends in the same direction.

While it is impossible to over-estimate the debt which agriculture owes to chemistry, we have, nevertheless, learnt from the bacteriologist that there are biological problems underlying the question of fertility, and that a mere chemical estimation of the constituents of organic manure is insufficient, by itself, to fix its manurial value. It is by the agency of bacteria that organic matter is changed into nitrates and other soluble salts, which are absorbed by the roots of plants and serve to nourish them. This change only takes place provided the temperature and moisture are suitable and the ground be properly tilled. Drought and frost arrest the change, and excess of moisture, by closing the pores of the soil, does the same thing.

Organic manures are economical in the long run, because if the weather is adverse they bide their time until the advent of 'fine growing weather.' If one season prove unfavourable, a large amount of the organic matter remains in the soil to nourish the next crop. This is not the case when soluble chemical manures are used.

That it is necessary to put dung upon the ground if we are to maintain the fertility of the soil has been the experience of all peoples in every age.

I will now allude to a diagram (fig. 35) which represents by a curve the yearly produce of barley, in bushels per acre, grown continuously on the same plots of ground for forty years, but with this difference, that one plot (represented by the upper curve) received 14 tons per annum per acre of farmyard manure, while the other, represented by the lower curve, has been unmanured continuously. This diagram has been constructed from figures given by Sir John Lawes and Sir Henry Gilbert in the 'Transactions of the Highland and Agricultural Society of Scotland' for 1895. I have replaced fractions by the nearest whole figure. The fluctuations of both these curves are very great, and it will be noticed that they are exactly parallel to each other. This teaches us that weather is the most important factor in agricultural success, and shows the extreme danger to the farmer of 'placing all his eggs in one basket,' as has been done by the so-called farmers of the Far West, who have attempted to grow wheat _only_ by the process of scratching the prairie, without returning any dung to the soil, and many of whom have been financially swamped by the first bad season.

Taking the average of the forty years, it will be found that the produce of the manured land averaged 49 bushels per acre per annum, while the unmanured land gave only 16½ bushels.

I might have added to the diagram a third curve showing the produce of that plot of ground which, of all those manured with artificials, gave the highest yield. The yield of this plot for the whole forty years averaged 46 bushels, or only 3 bushels short of the average yield of the plot treated with farmyard manure. If, however, we take the average yield of the three plots for each of the four decades comprising the forty years, the value of the organic matter becomes very manifest. Thus the yield for each decade was with

Farmyard dung 44·9 51·5 50·0 51·6
Artificial manure 48·7 49·4 42·8 41·5
Unmanured 22·2 17·5 13·7 12·6

It will be observed that the yield from artificial manuring only exceeded the yield from the farmyard plot in the first decade, when it showed an excess of 3·8 bushels. In the other three decades it was deficient by 2·1, 7·2, and 10·1 bushels.

The deficiency of the unmanured plot in each decade, as compared with the farmyard plot, was 22·7, 34·0, 37·3, and 39·0.

These figures are very convincing, and as practical agriculturists seem to be now agreed that farming is hopeless without an adequate amount of live-stock to furnish dung, no more need be said upon this head.

But is there no danger in using organic refuse, which may be infective and dangerous, as an application to the land? To this I should say emphatically 'No,' provided it be put in the upper layers of the soil, and the soil be tilled. Our organic refuse, when allowed to putrefy in water, and to trickle _under pressure_ to our wells, or run direct into our sources of drinking-water, has turned millions of pounds into the pockets of members of my profession, but when rationally used as a top-dressing for the well-tilled soil it has never, that I am aware of, produced any harm.

I have tried to investigate this matter. Some five years ago I constructed a well five feet deep in the middle of a garden which is plentifully manured with all that is most loathsome to our senses. This well is lined to the very bottom with concrete pipes, further protected by an external coating of concrete; the junctions of the pipes are securely closed by cement, and there is a good parapet and efficient cover (see page 65 and figs. 22 and 23).

Now no water can possibly enter the well, except through the bottom. The water in it is clear and bright, and since its construction no mud has collected on the bottom. The sides of the pipes also remain absolutely clean, so much so that when, in 1895, I showed this well to a party of scientific friends, some of them dropped a hint that it had possibly been scrubbed in honour of their visit. This, however, was not the case.

The water from this well has been examined three times chemically, with the result that it has been pronounced free from organic impurities, and three bacteriological examinations have been made, with the result of showing a bacterial purity which is quite exceptional. The last examination was made by Dr. Cartwright Wood in November 1895, and showed a very high degree of bacterial purity. The water was specially examined by Dr. Wood for the presence of _Bacterium Coli commune_, but with negative results. Dr. Wood writes: 'The results are exceedingly satisfactory, and I must admit surprised me very much.' A surface-well on this pattern has lately been constructed in a village near Andover, and the results, as far as the appearance of the well and water is concerned, seem to be entirely satisfactory.

When people live crowded together in cities, the difficulties connected with the cleaning of the houses are very great. After the invention of the steam-engine it was found possible to supply even the top floors of the highest houses with an ample supply of water. We accordingly abolished the scavenger, and adopted a complete system of water-carried sewage. In this way our houses have been cleansed, and our rivers and surface-wells have been fouled, and it is difficult to say whether at present there be a balance of advantage or disadvantage. We have had epidemics of cholera and of typhoid, and it is almost certain that there is no one here present but has suffered in some way or other from the 'drains.'

The greatest drawback of this system is the fact that it encourages overcrowding of houses on inadequate areas, and, unfortunately, it is this fact which has rendered the system so popular. With water under pressure there is no need to provide houses with any back-door or back-yard, and there is no inconvenience in having excessively high buildings. The speculative builder, who has been relieved of all responsibilities in connection with sewage and water supply, has abundantly used his opportunities, and the happy ground-landlord has sold his land at large prices per square foot. We are shutting out the light and air more and more from our cities, and the crowding in the streets is making locomotion in them difficult. This overcrowding is a serious matter, and I will show what it means in London by means of a table and diagrammatic plan of the sanitary areas of London, with the mortality figures in the years 1892 and 1893, as calculated by Mr. Shirley Murphy, after due correction for abnormalities of age and sex distribution.

This table and plan (p. 144) shows at a glance that the mortality of London as a whole (taken as 1,000) is 14 or 15 per cent. higher than that of England and Wales, and that while some of the outlying districts, such as Hampstead, Lewisham, and Plumstead, have a mortality below that of England and Wales, the areas near the centre of London are all considerably above it; and some, such as the Strand, Holborn, St. George's-in-the-East, and Whitechapel, have a mortality as high as that of the worst manufacturing towns.

The danger of overcrowding is well shown by the explosive outburst of small-pox in Marylebone in 1894.

MORTALITY FIGURES

(Figures in small type show the population of the Sanitary Areas)

England and Wales=~860~ ~1893~ London (entire)=~1000~ +----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Hampstead Hackney | | 73,380 240,584 | | ~673~ ~892~ | +--+ | | Paddington Marylebone St. Pancras Islington | | 120,421 139,726 233,936 327,919 | | ~762~ ~1103~ ~1054~ ~942~ | | | | Hammersmith Shoreditch | | 103,044 123,440 | | ~865~ ~1193~ +-----------------+ | +-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | St. George's W. |St. James St. Giles Holborn Clerkenwell St. Luke Bethnal Green Mile End | Poplar | | 76,043 | 24,000 38,641 32,690 65,589 41,577 129,620 108,041 | 169,141 | | ~803~ | ~991~ ~1193~ ~1327~ ~1327~ ~1498~ ~1175~ ~1045~ | ~1072~ | | | | | | Kensington |Westminster St. Martin Strand City of London Whitechapel St. George's E. Limehouse| Woolwich Plumstead | | 167,029 | 54,829 14,034 23,788 35,870 75,178 45,493 57,115 | 41,854 94,596 | | ~874~ | ~1197~ ~1161~ ~1592~ ~1215~ ~1238~ ~1439~ ~1381~ | ~1022~ ~762~ | | | | | |Fulham Chelsea | Newington St. Saviour St. George's S. St. Olave Bermondsey Rotherhithe| Greenwich | |104,735 98,182 | 117,672 26,854 59,953 12,903 84,246 40,020 | 171,120 | | ~910~ ~955~ | ~1139~ ~1135~ ~1404~ ~1130~ ~1135~ ~1076~ | ~951~ | | +-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | Lambeth Lewisham | | 280,284 98,258 | | ~969~ ~704~ | | | | Wandsworth Battersea Camberwell | | 172,143 158,105 245,143 | | ~726~ ~910~ ~915~ | +-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+

DR=Corrected Death Rate ~1892~ MF=Mortality Figures

DR MF

Hampstead 14·2 657
Lewisham }
Plumstead } 15·7 727
Wandsworth 16·8 778
Hackney 18·1 838
~England and Wales~ ~19·0~ ~880~
Paddington }
St. George's, Hanover } 19·3 894
Square }
Battersea }
Kensington } 19·4 898
Greenwich 19·7 912
Camberwell 19·9 921
Islington 20·1 931
St. James's, W. 20·2 935
Lambeth 20·7 958
Hammersmith 20·8 963
Fulham 20·9 968
~London (entire)~ ~21·6~ ~1000~
Chelsea 22·0 1019
Rotherhithe 22·2 1028
Woolwich 22·8 1056
Poplar 23·2 1074
St. Marylebone 23·4 1083
St. Pancras 23·5 1088
Mile End 23·8 1102
Shoreditch 23·9 1106
Bethnal Green 24·1 1115
Bermondsey 24·3 1125
City of London 25·3 1171
Newington 25·5 1181
St. Giles 26·2 1213
Westminster 26·6 1231
St. Saviour, Southwark 26·7 1236
Whitechapel 26·8 1241
Clerkenwell }
St. George's, Southwark } 27·5 1273
Limehouse 27·8 1287
St. Martin's in the Fields 27·9 1292
St. Olave's 28·1 1301
St. Luke's 28·2 1306
St. George's East 28·8 1333
Holborn 29·7 1375
Strand 33·4 1546

Fig. 36 represents part of the Asylums Board Map, in which each case of notified small-pox is shown by a black dot. This map shows that the outbreak was limited to two spots, one in Portland Town and one round Nightingale Street, Edgware Road, where the density of population, according to Mr. Charles Booth, is over 300 persons to the acre.

Other maps published by the Asylums Board show that whereas the air-borne contagium, diphtheria, was confined more or less to the crowded districts, enteric fever, which is a water-borne contagium, was evenly spread over the whole parish. It need hardly be said that the enforcement of vaccination, notification, and isolation, is important in proportion to the density of population. The working of the sanitary laws is a great expense to the ratepayers. I find it stated, for instance, in the report of the Asylums Board, that for the removal of the 260 small-pox patients from Marylebone the ambulances travelled nearly twenty miles for each patient, and collectively 5,200 miles, or about the distance from here to Bombay. Overcrowding is not cheap, and I find, by a reference to the report of St. Marylebone, that whereas in 1871 that parish, of about 1,500 acres, and with a diminishing population, could be 'run' for about 660_l._ a day, it now costs about 1,100_l._ per day. It is right to add that the parish has no control over a great part of the expenditure, but, nevertheless, 440_l._ per diem is a fair sum to place upon the shrine of progressive municipalism.

If infectious disease occurs in our houses we have only to notify, and the parish does the rest. We have put a premium on fever, and the lucky man whose house is visited by a mild scarlatina is rewarded by having his family maintained for six weeks at the public expense, and his whitewashing done by the parish. If, on the return of a child from the hospital, another child catches the disease, he can recover damages.

The Asylums Board is probably the most pauperising institution ever conceived, but we are such cowards in the presence of disease that financial and moral considerations have but little weight, provided the unclean be removed.

Another great drawback to the water-carriage system of sewage is the increasing difficulty with regard to water supply. Our needs per head per diem in the matter of water have gradually increased to something like forty gallons, which many experts consider to be none too much. In London the air is so foul that rain-water is valueless for domestic use, and the water of the surface wells is too poisonous to drink, because we have neglected what I believe to be the most important of the principles of sanitation, viz. the keeping of organic refuse, whether solid or liquid, on the surface. The humus is the most perfect purifier and the best of filters, in virtue of its physical conditions and the life that is in it. We deliberately take our filth to the under side of the filter, and then complain because our surface wells are foul. The water companies are masters of the situation. Water is not paid for, as a rule, in proportion to the quantity used, because Parliament in its wisdom has decided that thriftiness in the use of water is wicked. The grossly overburdened ratepayer is now pricking up his ears to listen to the prattle about Welsh water schemes at the cost of 38,000,000_l._, and is congratulating himself that he is only a leaseholder, and that his bondage is terminable in seven, fourteen, or twenty-one years at most. Water carriage, in which the carrier is some sixty times more heavy and twenty times more bulky than the thing to be carried, is economically ridiculous (except in places where Nature has provided enormous quantities of water), and involves everyplace where it is tried in ruinous debt. Let us take an illustration.

A suburban district having 27,000 persons on 7,000 acres of land, or a population of less than four to the acre, mainly engaged in market gardening, has in the last ten years borrowed 106,442_l._ for sewerage works. The only visible result to the inhabitants is that even country roads, with houses at ¼-mile or ½-mile intervals, have been dotted with foul-smelling manholes.

In 1894-5 the sum of 18,534_l._ 14_s._ 1_d._ was raised from rates, and of this there was spent 6,518_l._ 13_s._ 10_d._ for interest and repayment of sewerage loans, and 2,542_l._ 3_s._ 11_d._ for current expenses in connection with sewage. If to this be added one-third of the establishment charges (say 700_l._), we reach a total of 9,860_l._, or more than half the sum received from rates.

The provision and maintenance of all the patent domestic gimcracks which water carriage involves, together with the necessarily increased bills for water paid by the householder, would probably double that sum, and we shall not be far wrong in saying that these 27,000 persons are spending 20,000_l._ a year for the purpose of throwing their capital into the Thames.

This doubling of rates has most seriously crippled the chief industry of the district, and the market gardeners feel severely the heavy extra charges which they are called upon to pay. These gentlemen, by putting much of the offal of great towns to its proper use, and converting it into food and wages for the poor, are doing a great work, but they are in a fair way of being ruined by the silly recklessness of our local governors.

On December 8, 1895, a writer in _The Times_ pointed out that in 1895, as compared with 1890, 633,000 acres of land were either out of cultivation or had been converted into 'permanent pasture,' a term which implies a minimum cultivation. Of these lands there were in Essex over 31,000 acres, in Kent nearly 30,000, in Surrey 15,000, in Sussex 29,000, in Berks 20,000, in Bucks 11,500, Herts 7,600, Middlesex 5,500.

It is a noteworthy fact that in the eight counties nearest London, which provides for them an insatiable market, nearly 150,000 acres of land should have glided out of cultivation in the last five years. It is impossible not to believe that the local rates in places near London are the last straw upon the back of the agriculturist, who is ruinously taxed in order that his land may be starved. To show what suburban agriculturists have to bear in the way of local taxation I will quote from my little book, 'Essays on Rural Hygiene,'[4] a few figures showing what is paid by a gentleman who farms 200 acres of land, of which 15 are grass:

£ _s._ _d._
Income Tax (at 6_d._) 47 4 9
Land Tax 24 16 8½
Poor Rate 123 0 5
Burial Rate 19 13 8
District Rate 83 1 11
Tithe (considered low) 15 11 4
----------------
£313 8 9½

The social problems of the present day are many and complicated, and all of us have heard of 'Distressed Agriculture,' 'Pauperism,' 'The Aged Poor,' and the 'Unemployed.'

The agriculturist, who is being burdensomely taxed in order that his land may be starved, now has part of his rates paid for him out of the Imperial Exchequer. No one who knows the straits he is in will grudge him this relief. But the paying of local charges out of Imperial taxes has the inevitable result of making our 'Local Boards' more and more extravagant, because they have the spending without the trouble of raising money.

The reform most needed in the interest of agriculturists and others is to put an effectual check upon the extravagance and ostentation of Local Boards and District Councils, and to see that they spend no more money in any one year than they can raise in their districts. These bodies are now obliged to submit their accounts to a proper audit and to publish them, and it is hoped that the ratepayer will subject them to close criticism.

The policy of allowing persons who are elected for three years to raise loans and plunge a district into debt for a period of thirty years without one iota of personal responsibility is obviously dangerous. To allow reckless borrowing for the construction of works which are a source of expense and waste, and never of profit, would be called madness in private life.

Doubtless a seat on a Council which borrows money in lots of 100,000_l._ at a time affords a delightful amusement to the idle man, the busybody, the faddist, the philanthropist with a mission for fumbling in other persons' pockets, and the prophet who is ever anxious to borrow in order to provide for the future of which he is ignorant. Your prophet is the most dangerous of these persons, and instances will occur to the minds of most of us of municipalities which have been half ruined by over-sanguine persons endowed with speculative minds and persuasive tongues. The risk run by these persons is so small, be it remembered, that if an aggrieved ratepayer makes them defendants in an action, they enjoy the unique privilege of paying part of their costs and damages out of the successful plaintiff's pockets.

Most of the local borrowing in this country has been for works of sewerage, and although such works are financially ruinous, we are told that we get a dividend of 'Health.' This, however, is not true, and nobody could expect health to emerge from a system of which putrefaction and overcrowding are the chief characteristics.

The application of organic matter to well-tilled soil leads to positive gain and definite increase. The soil is the only permanent source of wealth in this world. And we are all of us absolutely dependent upon it for existence and happiness. The soil, if properly tilled, provides health as well as wealth, and be it remembered that in proportion to its productiveness so is the need of labour; and further, be it remembered that long after the eye is too dim and the hand too slow to keep time with steam machinery, the physical powers are amply sufficient for the cultivation of the land.

Many of our pressing social problems are inextricably linked with our duty to the soil, and any country in which the fertility of the soil does not increase cannot be rightly regarded as really in the van of civilisation and scientific progress. We are probably the wealthiest country on the globe, because for some time past we have been the hub of the entire financial world. Our success in one direction is no excuse for neglecting the more certain sources of wealth, and it is to be hoped that it will soon be regarded as evidence of neglect of our moral obligations to allow the land to drift out of cultivation.