London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 6 of 7)

London Labour and the London Poor, Vol. 2 (part 6 of 7)

In September, 1849, Mr. Banfield, at one time a Commissioner of Sewers, put the yearly quantity of sewage discharged into the Thames at 45,000,000 tons; but this is widely at variance with the returns as to quantity.

OF ANCIENT SEWERS.

The traverser of the London streets rarely thinks, perhaps, of the far extended subterranean architecture below his feet; yet such is indeed the case, for the sewers of London, with all their imperfections, irregularities, and even absurdities, are still a great work; certainly not equal, in all respects, to what once must have existed in Rome, but second, perhaps, only to the giant works of sewerage in the eternal city.

The origin of these Roman sewers seems to be wrapped in as great a mystery as the foundation of the city itself. The statement of the Roman historians is that these sewers were the works of the elder Tarquin, the fifth (apocryphal) king of Rome. Tarquin’s dominions, from the same accounts, did not in any direction extend above sixteen miles, and his subjects could be but banditti, foragers, and shepherds. One conjecture is, that Rome stands on the site of a more ancient city, and that to its earlier possessors may be attributed the work of the sewers. To attribute them to the rudeness and small population of Tarquin’s day, it is contended, is as feasible as it would be to attribute the ruins of ancient Jerusalem, or any others in Asia Minor, to the Turks, or the ruins of Palmyra to the Arabs, because these people enjoy the privilege of possession.

The main sewer of Rome, the Cloaca Maxima, is said to have been lofty and wide enough for a waggon load of hay to pass clear along it. Another, and more probable account, however, states that it was proposed to enlarge the great sewer to these dimensions, but it does not appear to have been so enlarged. Indeed, when Augustus “made Rome marble,” it was one of his great works also, under the direction of Agrippa, to reconstruct, improve, and enlarge the sewers. It was a project in the days of Rome’s greatness to turn seven navigable rivers into vast subterraneous passages, larger sewers, along which barges might pass, carrying on the traffic of Imperial Rome. In one year the cost of cleansing, renewing, and repairing the sewers is stated to have been 1000 talents of gold, or upwards of 192,000_l._ Of the average yearly cost we have no information. Some accounts represent these sewers as having been rebuilt after the irruption of the Gauls. In Livy’s time they were pronounced not to be accommodated to the plan of Rome. Some portions of these ancient structures are still extant, but they seem to have attracted small notice even from professed antiquarians; their subterranean character, however, renders such notice little possible. In two places they are still kept in repair, and for their original purpose, to carry off the filth of the city, but only to a small extent.

Our legislative enactments on the subject of sewers are ancient and numerous. The oldest is that of 9 Henry III., and the principal is that of 23 Henry VIII., commonly called the “Statute of Sewers.” These and many subsequent statutes, however, relate only to watercourses, and are silent as regards my present topic--the Refuse of London.

It is remarkable how little is said in the London historians of the sewers. In the two folio volumes of the most searching and indefatigable of all the antiquarians who have described the old metropolis, John Stow, the tailor, there is no account of what we now consider sewers, inclosed and subterranean channels for the conveyance of the refuse filth of the metropolis to its destination--the Thames. Had covered sewers been known, or at any rate been at all common, in Stow’s day, and he died full of years in 1604, and had one of them presented but a crumbling stone with some heraldic, or apparently heraldic, device at its outlet, Stow’s industry would certainly have ferreted out some details. Such, however, is not the case.

This absence of information I hold to be owing to the fact that no such sewers then existed. Our present system of sewerage, like our present system of street-lighting, is a modern work; but it is not, like our gas-lamps, an original English work. We have but followed, as regards our arched and subterraneous sewerage, in the wake of Rome.

As I have said, the early laws of sewers relate to watercourses, navigable communications, dams, ditches, and such like; there is no doubt, however, that in the heart of the great towns the filth of the houses was, by rude contrivances in the way of drainage, or natural fall, emptied into such places. Even in the accounts of the sewers of ancient Rome, historians have stated that it is not easy, and sometimes not possible, to distinguish between the sewers and the aqueducts, and Dr. Lemon, in his English Etymology, speaks of sewers as a species of aqueducts. So, in some of our earlier Acts of Parliament, it is hardly possible to distinguish whether the provisions to be applied to the management of a sewer relate to a ditch to which house-filth was carried--to a channel of water for general purposes--or to an open channel being a receptacle of filth and a navigable stream at the same time.

That the ditches were not sewers for the conveyance of the filth from the houses to any very great, or rather any very general extent, may very well be concluded, because (as I have shown in my account of the early scavagers) the excrementitious matter was deposited during the night in the street, and removed by the proper functionaries in the morning, or as soon as suited their convenience. Though this was the case generally, it is evident that the filth, or a portion of it, from the houses which were built on the banks of the Fleet River (as it was then called, as well as the Fleet Ditch), and on the banks of the other “brooks,” drained into the current stream. The Corporation accounts contain very frequent mention of the cleansing, purifying, and “thorough” cleansing of the Fleet Ditch, the Old Bourne (Holborn Brook), the Wall Brook, &c.

Of all these streams the most remarkable was Fleet Ditch, which was perhaps the first main sewer of London. I give from Stow the following curious account of its origin. It is now open, but only for a short distance, offending the air of Clerkenwell. At one period it was to afford a defence to the City! as the Tower-moat was a defence to the Tower, and fortress.

“The Ditch, which partly now remaineth and compassed the Wall of the City, was begun to be made by the Londoners, in the year 1211, and finished 1213, the 15th of K. John. This Ditch being then made of 200 foot broad, caused no small hindrance to the Canons of the Holy Trinity, whose Church stood near Ealdgate, for that the said Ditch passed through their Ground from the Tower unto Bishopsgate.

“The first Occasion of making a Ditch about the City seems to have been this: William, Bishop of Ely, Chancellor of England, in the Reign of King Richard I., made a great Ditch round about the Tower, for the better Defence of it against John the King’s Brother, the King being then out of the Realm. Then did the City also begin a Ditch to encompass and strengthen their Walls [which happened between the Years 1190 and 1193.] So the Book Dunthorn. Yet the Register of Bermondsey writes that the Ditch was begun, Oct. 15, 1213, which was in the Reign of King John that succeeded to Richard.

“This Ditch being originally made for the Defence of the City, was also a long time together carefully cleansed and maintained, as Need required; but now of late neglected, and forced either to a very narrow, and the same a filthy Channel.

“In the Year of Christ, 1354, 28 Ed. 3, the Ditch of this City flowing over the Bank into the Tower-ditch, the King commanded the said Ditch of the City to be cleansed, and so ordered, that the overflowing thereof should not force any Filth into the Tower-ditch.

“Anno, 1379, John Philpot, Maior of London, caused this Ditch to be cleansed, and every Houshold to pay 5_d._, which was a Day’s Work toward the Charges thereof.

“Ralph Joseline, Maior, 1477, caused the whole Ditch to be cast and cleansed.... In 1519, the 10th of Henry 8, for cleansing and scouring the common Ditch, between Aldgate, and the Postern next the Tower-ditch; the chief Ditcher had by the day 7_d._, the Second Ditcher, 6_d._, the other Ditchers, 5_d._ And every Vagabond (for as they were then termed) 1_d._ the Day, Meat and Drink, at the Charges of the City. Sum 95_l._ 3_s._ 4_d._

“Fleet Ditch was again cleansed in the Year 1549,” Stow continues, “Henry Ancoates being Maior, at the Charges of the Companies. And again 1569, the 11th of Queen Elizabeth; for cleansing the same Ditch between Ealdgate and the Postern, and making a new Sewer and Wharf of Timber, from the Head of the Postern into the Tower-ditch, 814_l._ 15_s._ 8_d._ (was disbursed). Before the which Time the said Ditch lay open, without either Wall or Pall, having therein great Store of very good Fish, of divers Sorts, as many men yet living, who have taken and tasted them, can well witness. But now no such matter, the Charge of Cleansing is spared, and great Profit made by letting out the Banks, with the Spoil of the whole Ditch.”

The above information appeared, but I am unable to specify the year (for Stow’s works went through several editions, though it is to be feared he died very poor) between 1582 and 1590. So did the following:--

“At this Day there be no Ditches or Boggs in the City except the said Fleet-ditch, but instead thereof large common Dreins and Sewers, made to carry away the water from the Postern-Gate, between the two Tower-hills to Fleet-bridge without Ludgate.”

Great, indeed, is the change in the character of the capital of England, from the times when the Fleet Ditch was a defence to the city (which was then the entire capital); and from the later era, when “great store of very good fish of divers sorts,” rewarded the skill or the patience of the anglers or netters; but this, it is evident, was in the parts near the river (the Tower postern, &c.), and at that time, or about that time, there was salmon-fishing in the Thames, at least as far up as Hungerford Wharf.

The Fleet Ditch seems always to have had a sewery character. It was described, in 1728, as

“The king of dykes! than whom no sluice of mud With deeper sable blots the silver flood--”

the silver flood being, in Queen Anne’s and the First George’s days, the London Thames. This silver has been much alloyed since that time.

Until within these 40 or 50 years, open sewer-ditches, into which drains were emptied, and ordure and refuse thrown, were frequent, especially in the remoter parts of Lambeth and Newington, and some exist to this day; one especially, open for a considerable distance, flowing along the back of the houses in the Westminster-road, on the right-hand side towards the bridge, into which the neighbouring houses are drained. The “Black Ditch,” a filthy sewer, until lately was open near the Broadwall, and other vicinities of the Blackfriars-road. The open ditch-sewers of Norwood and Wandsworth have often been spoken of in Sanitary Reports. Indeed, some of our present sewers, in addition to Fleet River and Wall Brook, are merely ditches rudely arched over.

The first covered and continuous street sewer was erected in London--I think, without doubt--when Wren rebuilt the capital, after the great fire of 1666. Perhaps there is no direct evidence of the fact, for, although the statutes and Privy Council and municipal enactments, consequent on the rebuilding of the capital, required, more or less peremptorily, “fair sewers, and drains, and watercourses,” it is not defined in these enactments what was meant by a “sewer;” nor were they carried out.

I may mention, as a further proof that open ditches, often enough stagnant ditches also, were the first London sewers, that, after 1666, a plan, originally projected, it appears, by Sir Leonard Halliday, Maior, 60 years previously, and strenuously supported at that time by Nic Leate, “a worthy and grave citizen,” was revived and reconsidered. This project, for which Sir Leonard and Nic Leate “laboured much,” was “for a river to be brought on the north of the city into it, for the cleansing the sewers and ditches, and for the better keeping London wholesome, sweet, and clean.” An admirable intention; and it is not impossible nor improbable that in less than two centuries hence, we, of the present sanitary era, may be accounted, for our sanitary measures, as senseless as we now account good Sir Leonard Halliday and the worthy and grave Nic Leate. These gentlemen cared not to brook filth in their houses, nor to be annoyed by it in the nightly pollution of the streets, but they advocated its injection into running water, and into water often running slowly and difficultly, and continually under the eyes and noses of the citizens. We, I apprehend, go a little further. We drink, and use for the preparation of our meals, the befouled water, which they did not; for, more than seven-eighths of our water-supply from the companies is drawn from the Thames, the main sewer of the greatest city in the world, ancient or modern, into which millions of tons of every description of refuse are swept yearly.

OF THE KINDS AND CHARACTERISTICS OF SEWERS.

The sewers of London may be arranged into two distinct groups--according to the side of the Thames on which they are situate.

Now the essential difference between these two classes of sewers lies in the elevation of the several localities whence the sewers carry the refuse to the Thames.

The chief differences in the circumstances of the people north and south of the river are shown in the annexed table from the Registrar-General’s returns:--

-------------------------+-------+-------+------- | | North | South | |side of|side of |London.| the | the | | River.| River. -------------------------+-------+-------+-------- Elevation of the ground, | | | in feet, above Trinity | | | high-water mark | 39 | 51 | 5 | | | Density, or number of | | | persons to an acre, | | | 1849 | 30 | 52 | 14 | | | Deaths from Cholera to | | | 10,000 persons living, | | | in 60 weeks, ending | | | Nov. 24, 1849 | 66 | 44 | 127 | | | Deaths from all causes | | | annually to 10,000 | | | persons (5000 males, | | | 5000 females) living, | | | during the 7 years, | | | 1838-44 | 252 | 251 | 257 -------------------------+-------+-------+--------

Here, it will be seen, that while the houses on the north side of the river stand, on an average, 51 feet above the high-water mark of the Thames, those on the south side are only 5 feet above it. The effect of this is shown most particularly in the deaths from cholera in 1849, which were nearly three times as many on the south as on the north side of the Thames. It is said, officially, that “of the 15 square miles of the Urban district on the south side of the river Thames, three miles are from six to seven feet below high-water mark, so that the locality may be said to be drained only for four hours out of the twelve, and during these four hours very imperfectly.... When the tide rises above the orifices of the sewers, the whole drainage of the district is stopped until the tide recedes again, rendering the whole system of sewers in Kent and Surrey only an articulation of cesspools.”

That this is but the fact, the following table of the elevation in feet above the Trinity high-water mark, as regards the several districts on the Surrey side of the Thames, may be cited as evidence.

Elevation. Lewisham 28 Wandsworth 22 Greenwich 8 Camberwell 4 Lambeth 3 St. Saviour (Southwark) 2 St. Olave 2 Bermondsey 0 Rotherhithe 0 St. George’s (Southwark) 0 Newington (below high water) 2

From these returns, made by Capt. Dawson, R.E., the difficulty, to use no stronger word, attending the sewerage of the Surrey district is shown at once. There is no flow to be had, or--the word more generally used, no run for the sewage. In parts of the north of England it used to be a general, and still is a partial, saying among country-people who are figuratively describing what they account impossible. “Ay, when? When water runs up bank.” This is a homely expression of the difficulties attending the Surrey sewerage.

There is, as regards these Surrey, more than the Kent, sewers, another evil which promotes the “articulation of cesspools.” Some of these sewers have “dead-ends,” like places which in the streets (a parallel case enough) are known as “no thoroughfare,” and in these sewers it is seldom, in any state of the tide, that flushing can be resorted to; consequently these cesspool-like sewers remain uncleansed, or have to be cleansed by manual labour, the matter being drawn up into the street or road.

The refuse conduits of the metropolis are of two kinds:--

1. Sewers. 2. Drains.

These two classes of refuse-charts are often confounded, even in some official papers, the sewer being there designated the “main drain.” All sewerage is undoubtedly drainage, but there is a manifest distinction between a sewer and a drain.

The First-Class Sewers, which are generally termed “main sewers,” and run along the centres of the first-class streets (first-class alike from the extent or populousness of such streets), may be looked upon as underground rivers of refuse, to which the drains are tributary rivulets. No sewer exists unconnected with the drains from the streets and houses; but many house-drains are constructed apart from the sewers, communicating only with the cesspools. Even where houses are built in close contiguity to a public sewer, and built after the new mode without cesspools, there is always a drain to the sewer; no house so situated can get rid of its refuse except by means of a drain; unless, indeed, the house be not drained at all, and its filth be flung down a gullyhole, or got rid of in some other way.

These drains, all with a like determination, differ only in their forms. They are barrel-shaped, made of rounded bricks, or earthenware pipeage, and of an interior between a round and an oval, with a diameter of from 2 to 6 inches, although only a few private houses, comparatively, are so drained. The barrel drain of larger dimensions, is used in the newer public buildings and larger public mansions, when it represents a sort of house or interior sewer as well as a house main drain, for smaller drains find their issue into the barrel-drain. There is the barrel-drain in the new Houses of Parliament, and in large places which cover the site of, and are required for the purposes of several houses or offices. The tubular drain is simply piping, of which I have spoken fully in my account of the present compulsory mode of house drainage. The third drain, one more used to carry refuse to the cesspool than the sewer, but still carrying such refuse to the sewers, is the old-fashioned brick drain, generally 9 inches square.

I shall first deal with the sewerage, and then with the house and street drainage.

The sewer is a twofold receptacle of refuse; into it are conveyed the wet refuse not only of many of the houses, but of all the streets.

The slop or surface water of the streets is conveyed to the sewer by means of smaller sewers or street-drains running from the “kennel” or channel to the larger sewers.

In the streets, at such uncertain distances as the traffic and circumstances of the locality may require, are gully-holes. These are openings into the sewer, and were formerly called, as they were, simply gratings, a sort of iron trap-doors of grated bars, clumsily made, and placed almost at random. On each side of the street was, even into the present century, a very formidable channel, or kennel, as it was formerly written, into which, in heavy rains, the badly-scavaged street dirt was swept, often demanding a good leap from one who wished to cross in a hurry. These “kennels” emptied themselves into the gratings, which were not unfrequently choked up, and the kennel was then an utter nuisance. At the present time the channel is simply a series of stone work at the edge of the footpaths, blocks of granite being sloped to meet more or less at right angles, and the flow from the inclination from the centre of the street to the channel is carried along without impedimen or nuisance into the gully-hole.

The gully-hole opens into a drain, running, with a rapid slope, into the sewer, and so the wet refuse of the streets find its vent.

In many courts, alleys, lanes, &c., inhabited by the poor, where there is imperfect or no drainage to the houses, all the slops from the houses are thrown down the gully-holes, and frequently enough blood and offal are poured from butchers’ premises, which might choke the house drain. There have, indeed, been instances of worthless street dirt (slop) collected into a scavager’s vehicle being shot down a gully-hole.

The sewers, as distinct from the drains, are to be divided principally into three classes, all devoted to the same purpose--the conveyance of the underground filth of the capital to the Thames--and all connected by a series of drains, afterwards to be described, with the dwelling-houses.

The first-class sewers are found in the main streets, and flow at their outlets into the river.

The second-class sewers run along the second-class streets, discharging their contents into a first-class sewer; and

The third-class sewers are for the reception of the sewage from the smaller streets, and always communicate, for the voidance of their contents, with a sewer of the second or first description.

As regards the destination of the sewers, there is no difference between the Middlesex and Surrey portions of the metropolis. The sewage is all floated into the river.

The first-class sewers of the modern build rarely exceed 50 inches by 30 in internal dimensions; the second class, 40 inches by 24; the third, 30 inches by 18.

Smaller class or branch sewers, from No. 4 to No. 8 inclusive, also form part of the great subterranean filth-channels of the metropolis. It is only, however, the three first-mentioned classes which can be described as in any way principal sewers; the others are in the capacity of branch sewers, the ramifications being in many places very extensive, while pipes are often used. The dimensions of these smaller sewers, when pipes are not used, are--No. 4, 20 inches by 12; No. 5, 17-1/2 inches by 10-1/2; No. 6, 15 inches by 9; No. 7, 12 inches by 7-1/2; and No. 8, 9 inches by 6.

These branch sewers may, from their circumscribed dimensions, be looked upon as mere channels of connection with the larger descriptions; but they present, as I have intimated, an important part of the general system. This may be shown by the fact, that in the estimates for building sewers for the improvement of the drainage of the city of Westminster (a plan, however, not carried out), the estimated, or indeed surveyed, run of the first class was to be 8118 feet; of the second class, 4524 feet; of the third, but 2086 feet; while of the No. 5 and No. 6 description, it was, respectively, 18,709 and 53,284 feet. The branch sewers may, perhaps, be represented in many instances as public drains connecting the sewer of the street with the issue from the houses, but I give the appellation I find in the reports.

The dimensions I have cited are not to be taken as an average size of the existing sewers of the metropolis on either side of the Thames, for no average size and no uniformity of shape can be adduced, as there has been no uniformity observed. The sewers are of all sizes and shapes, and of all depths from the surface of the streets. I was informed by an engineering authority that he had often seen it asserted that the naval authorities of the kingdom could not build a war-steamer, and it might very well be said that the sanitary authorities of the metropolis could not build a sewer, as none of the present sewers could be cited as in all respects properly fulfilling all the functions required. But it must be remembered that the present engineers have to contend with great difficulties, the whole matter being so complicated by the blunderings and mismanagement of the past.

The dimensions I have cited (because they appear officially) exceed the medium size of the newer sewerage, the average height of the first class being in such sewers about 3 feet 9 inches.

Of the width of the sewers, as of the height, no precise average can be drawn. Perhaps that of the New Palace main, or first-class sewer, 3 feet 6 inches, may be nearest the average, while the smaller classes diminish in their width in the proportions I have shown. The sewers of the older constructions nearly all widen and deepen as they near the outlet, and this at no definite distance from the river, but from a quarter of a mile or somewhat less to a mile and more. Some such sewers are then 14 feet in width; some 20 feet, and no doubt of proportionate height, but I do not find that the height has been ascertained. For flushing purposes there are recesses of greater or less width, according to the capacity of the sewer, where sluice-gates, &c., can be fixed, and water accumulated.

Under the head of “Subterranean Survey of the Sewers,” will be found some account of the different dimensions of the sewers.

The form of the interior of the sewers (as shown in the illustrations I have given) is irregularly elliptical. They are arched at the summits, and more or less hollowed or curved, internally, at the bottom. The bottom of the sewer is called the “invert,” from a general resemblance in the construction to an “inverted” arch. The best form of invert is a matter which has attracted great engineering attention. It is, indeed, the important part of the sewer, as the part along which there is the flow of sewage; and the superior or inferior formation of the invert, of course, facilitates or retards the transmission of the contents.

A few years back, the building of egg-shaped, or “oviform” sewers, was strongly advocated. It was urged that the flow of the sewage and the sewer-water was accelerated by the invert (especially) being oviform, as the matter was more condensed when such was the shape adopted, while the more the matter was diffused, as in some of the inverts of the more usual form of sewers, the less rapid was its flow, and consequently the greater its deposit.

What extent of egg-shaped sewers are now, so to speak, at work, I could not ascertain. One informant thought it might be somewhere about 50 miles.

The following interesting account of the velocities of streams, with a relativeness to sewers, is extracted from the evidence of Mr. Phillips:--

“The area of surface that a sewer will drain, and the quantity of water that it will discharge in a given time, will be greater or less in proportion as the channel is inclined from a horizontal to a vertical position. The ordinary or common run of water in each sewer, due from house drainage alone, and irrespective of rain, should have sufficient velocity to prevent the usual matter discharged into the sewer from depositing. For this purpose, it is necessary that there should be in each sewer a constant velocity of current equal to 2-1/2 feet per second, or 1-3/4 mile per hour.” Mr. Phillips then states that the inclinations of all rivulets, &c., diminish as they progress to their outfalls. “If the force of the waters of the river Rhone,” he has said, “were not absorbed by the operation of some constant retardation in its course, the stream would have shot into the Bay of Marseilles with the tremendous velocity of 164 miles every hour. Even if the Thames met with no system of impediments in its course, the stream would have rushed into the sea with a velocity of 80 feet per second, or 54-1/2 miles in an hour.... The inclinations of the sewers of a natural district should be made to diminish from their heads to their outfalls in a corresponding ratio of progression, so that as the body of water is increased at each confluence, one and the same velocity and force of current may be kept up throughout the whole of them.”

Mr. Phillips advocates a tubular system of sewerage and drainage.

The main sewer, which has lately called forth the most public attention and professional controversy, is that connected with the new Houses of Parliament, or as they are called in divers reports and correspondence, the “New Palace at Westminster.”

The workmanship in the building of the sewers is of every quality. The material of which some of the older sewers are constructed is a porous sort of brick, which is often found crumbling and broken, and saturated with damp and rottenness, from the exhalations and contact of their contents. The sewers erected, however, within the last twenty, and more especially within the last ten years, are sometimes of granite, but generally of the best brick, with an interior coating of enduring cement, and generally with concrete on their exterior, to protect them from the dampness and decaying qualities of the superincumbent or lateral soil.

The depth of the sewers--I mean from the top of the sewer to the surface of the street--seems to vary as everything else varies about them. Some are found forty feet below the street, some two feet, some almost level! These, however, are exceptions; and the average depth of the sewers on the Middlesex side is from twelve to fourteen feet; on the Surrey side, from six to eight feet. The reason is that the north shores of the metropolis are above the tide level, the south shores are below it.

An authority on the subject has said, “The Surrey sewers are bad, owing principally to the land being below tide level. They were the most expensively constructed, because, perhaps, in that Commission the surveyors were paid by percentage on the cost of works. When it was proposed, in the Westminster Commission, to effect a reduction of four-fifths in the cost, it was like a proposition to return the officers’ salaries to that extent, if they had been paid in that way.”

The reader may have observed that the official intelligence I have given all, or nearly all, refers to the “Westminster and part of Middlesex” Commission, and to that of the “Surrey and Kent.” This is easily accounted for. In the metropolitan districts, up to 1847, the only Commission which published its papers was the Westminster, of which Mr. L. C. Hertslet had the charge as clerk; when the Commissions were consolidated in 1847, he printed the Westminster and Surrey only, the others being of minor importance.

I may observe that one of the engineers, in showing the difficulty or impossibility of giving any description of a system of sewerage, as to points of agreement or difference, represents the whole mass as but a “detached parcel of sewers.”

The course of the sewers is in no direct or uniform line, with the exception of one characteristic--all their bearings are towards the river as regards the main sewers (first-class), and all the bearings of the second-class sewers are towards the main sewers in the main streets. The smaller classes of sewers fill up the great area of London sewerage with a perfect network of intersection and connection, and even this network is increased manyfold by its connection with the house-drains.

There is no map of the general sewerage of the metropolis, merely “sections” and “plans” of improvements making or suggested, in the reports of the surveyors, &c., to the Commissioners; but did a map of subterranean London exist, with its lines of every class of sewerage and of the drainage which feeds the sewers; with its course, moreover, of gas-pipes and water-pipes, with their connection with the houses, the streets, the courts, &c., it would be the most curious and skeleton-like map in the world.

OF THE SUBTERRANEAN CHARACTER OF THE SEWERS.

In my inquiries among that curious body of men, the “Sewer Hunters,” I found them make light of any danger, their principal fear being from the attacks of rats in case they became isolated from the gang with whom they searched in common, while they represented the odour as a mere nothing in the way of unpleasantness. But these men pursued only known and (by them) beaten tracks at low water, avoiding any deviation, and so becoming but partially acquainted with the character and direction of the sewers. And had it been otherwise, they are not a class competent to describe what they saw, however keen-eyed after silver spoons.

The following account is derived chiefly from official sources. I may premise that where the deposit is found the greatest, the sewer is in the worst state. This deposit, I find it repeatedly stated, is of a most miscellaneous character. Some of the sewers, indeed, are represented as the dust-bins and dung-hills of the immediate neighbourhood. The deposit has been found to comprise all the ingredients from the breweries, the gas-works, and the several chemical and mineral manufactories; dead dogs, cats, kittens, and rats; offal from slaughter-houses, sometimes even including the entrails of the animals; street-pavement dirt of every variety; vegetable refuse; stable-dung; the refuse of pig-styes; night-soil; ashes; tin kettles and pans (pansherds); broken stoneware, as jars, pitchers, flower-pots, &c.; bricks; pieces of wood; rotten mortar and rubbish of different kinds; and even rags. Our criminal annals of the previous century show that often enough the bodies of murdered men were thrown into the Fleet and other ditches, then the open sewers of the metropolis, and if found washed into the Thames, they were so stained and disfigured by the foulness of the contents of these ditches, that recognition was often impossible, so that there could be but one verdict returned--“Found drowned.” Clothes stripped from a murdered person have been, it was authenticated on several occasions in Old Bailey evidence, thrown into the open sewer ditches, when torn and defaced, so that they might not supply evidence of identity. So close is the connection between physical filthiness in public matters and moral wickedness.

The following particulars show the characteristics of the underground London of the sewers. The subterranean surveys were made after the commissions were consolidated.

“An old sewer, running between Great Smith-street and St. Ann-street (Westminster), is a curiosity among sewers, although it is probably only one instance out of many similar constructions that will be discovered in the course of the subterranean survey. The bottom is formed of planks laid upon transverse timbers, 6 inches by 6 inches, about 3 feet apart. The size of the sewer varies in width from 2 to 6 feet, and from 4 to 5 feet in height. The inclination of the bottom is very irregular: there are jumps up at two or three places, and it contains a deposit of filth averaging 9 inches in depth, the sickening smell from which escapes into the houses and yards that drain into it. In many places the side walls have given way for lengths of 10 and 15 feet. Across this sewer timbers have been laid, upon which the external wall of a workshop has been built; the timbers are in a decaying state, and should they give way, the wall will fall into the sewer.”

From the further accounts of this survey, I find that a sewer from the Westminster Workhouse, which was of all shapes and sizes, was in so wretched a condition that the leveller could scarcely work for the thick scum that covered the glasses of the spirit-level in a few minutes after being wiped. “At the outfall into the Dean-street sewer, it is 3 feet 6 inches by 2 feet 8 inches for a short length. From the end of this, a wide sewer branches in each direction at right angles, 5 feet 8 inches by 5 feet 5 inches. Proceeding to the eastward about 30 feet, a chamber is reached about 30 feet in length, from the roof of which hangings of putrid matter like stalactites descend three feet in length. At the end of this chamber, the sewer passes under the public privies, the ceilings of which can be seen from it. Beyond this it is not possible to go.”

“In the Lucas-street sewer, where a portion of new work begins and the old terminates, a space of about 10 feet has been covered with boards, which, having broken, a dangerous chasm has been caused immediately under the road.”

“The West-street sewer had one foot of deposit. It was flushed while the levelling party was at work there, and the stream was so rapid that it nearly washed them away, instrument and all.”

There are further accounts of “deposit,” or of “stagnant filth,” in other sewers, varying from 6 to 14 inches, but that is insignificant compared to what follows.

The foregoing, then, is the pith of the first authentic account which has appeared in print of the actually surveyed condition of the subterranean ways, over which the super-terranean tides of traffic are daily flowing.

The account I have just given relates to the (former) Westminster and part of Middlesex district on the north bank of the Thames, as ascertained under the Metropolitan Commission. I now give some extracts concerning a similar survey on the south bank, in different and distant directions in the district, once the “Surrey and Kent.” The Westminster, &c., survey took place in 1848; the Kent and Surrey in 1849. In the one case, 72 miles of sewers were surveyed; in the other, 69-1/8 miles.

“The surveyors (in the Surrey and Kent sewers) find great difficulty in levelling the sewers of this district (I give the words of the Report); for, in the first place, the deposit is usually about two feet in depth, and in some cases it amounts to nearly five feet of putrid matter. The smell is usually of the most horrible description, the air being so foul that explosion and choke damp are very frequent. On the 12th January we were very nearly losing a whole party by choke damp, the last man being dragged out on his back (through two feet of black fœtid deposits) in a state of insensibility.... Two men of one party had also a narrow escape from drowning in the Alscot-road sewer, Rotherhithe.

“The sewers on the Surrey side are very irregular; even where they are inverted they frequently have a number of steps and inclinations the reverse way, causing the deposit to accumulate in elongated cesspools.

“It must be considered very fortunate that the subterranean parties did not first commence on the Surrey side, for if such had been the case, we should most undoubtedly have broken down. When compared with Westminster, the sewers are smaller and more full of deposit; and, bad as the smell is in the sewers in Westminster, it is infinitely worse on the Surrey side.”

Several details are then given, but they are only particulars of the general facts I have stated.

The following, however, are distinct facts concerning this branch of the subject.

In my inquiries among the working scavagers I often heard of their emptying street slop into sewers, and the following extract shows that I was not misinformed:--

“The detritus from the macadamized roads frequently forms a kind of grouting in the sewers so hard that it cannot be removed without hand labour.

“One of the sewers in Whitehall and another in Spring-gardens have from three to four feet of this sort of deposit; and another in Eaton-square was found filled up within a few inches of the ‘soffit,’ but it is supposed that the scavengers (scavagers) emptied the road-sweepings down the gully-grate in this instance;” and in other instances, too, there is no doubt--especially at Charing Cross, and the Regent Circus, Piccadilly.

Concerning the sewerage of the most aristocratic parts of the city of Westminster, and of the fashionable squares, &c., to the north of Oxford-street, I glean the following particulars (reported in 1849). They show, at any rate, that the patrician quarters have not been unduly favoured; that there has been no partiality in the construction of the sewerage. In the Belgrave and Eaton-square districts there are many faulty places in the sewers which abound with noxious matter, in many instances stopping up the house drains and “smelling horribly.” It is much the same in the Grosvenor, Hanover, and Berkeley-square localities (the houses in the squares themselves included). Also in the neighbourhood of Covent-garden, Clare-market, Soho and Fitzroy-squares; while north of Oxford-street, in and about Cavendish, Bryanstone, Manchester, and Portman-squares, there is so much rottenness and decay that there is no security for the sewers standing from day to day, and to flush them for the removal of their “most loathsome deposit” might be “to bring some of them down altogether.”

One of the accounts of a subterranean survey concludes with the following rather curious statement:--“Throughout the new Paddington district the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gardens, and the costly squares and streets adjacent, the sewers abound with the foulest deposit, from which the most disgusting effluvium arises; indeed, amidst the whole of the Westminster District of Sewers the only little spot which can be mentioned as being in at all a satisfactory state is the Seven Dials.”

I may point out also that these very curious and authenticated accounts by no means bear out the zymotic doctrine of the Board of Health as to the cause of cholera; for where the zymotic influences from the sewers were the worst, in the patrician squares of what has been called Belgravia and Tyburnia, the cholera was the least destructive. This, however, is no reason whatever why the stench should not be stifled.

OF THE HOUSE-DRAINAGE OF THE METROPOLIS AS CONNECTED WITH THE SEWERS.

Every house built or rebuilt since the passing of the Metropolitan Sewers Act in 1848, must be drained, with an exception, which I shall specify, into a sewer. The law, indeed, divested of its technicalities is this: the owner of a newly-erected house must drain it to a sewer, without the intervention of a cesspool, if there be a sewer within 100 feet of the site of the house; and, if necessary, in places but partially built over, such owner must continue the sewer along the premises, and make the necessary drain into it; all being done under the approval of the proper officer under the Commissioners. If there be, however, an established sewer, along the side, front, or back of any house, a covered drain must be made into that at the cost of the owner of the premises to be drained. “Where a sewer,” says the 46th section of the Act, “shall already be made, and a drain only shall be required, the party is to pay a contribution towards the original expense of the sewer, if it shall have been made within thirty-five years before the 4th of September, 1848, the contribution to be paid to the builder of the sewer.”... “In cases where there shall be no sewer into which a drain could be made, the party must make a covered drain to lead into a cesspool or other place (not under a house) as the Commissioners may direct. If the parties infringe this rule, the Commissioners may do the work and throw the cost on them in the nature of an improvement rate, or as charges for default, and levy the amount by distress.”

I mention these circumstances more particularly to show the extent, and the far-continued ramification, of the subterranean metropolis. I am assured by one of the largest builders in the western district of the capital that the new regulations (as to the dispensing with cesspools) are readily complied with, as it is a recommendation which a house agent, or any one letting new premises, is never slow to advance (“and when it’s the truth,” he said, “they do it with a better grace”), that there will be in the course of occupancy no annoyance and no expense incurred in the clearing away of cesspoolage.

I shall at present describe only the house-drainage, which is connected with the public sewerage. The old mode of draining a house separately into the cesspool of the premises will, of course, be described under the head of cesspoolage, and that old system is still very prevalent.

At the times of passing both general and local Acts concerning buildings, town improvements and extensions, the erection of new streets and the removal of old, much has been said and written concerning better systems of ventilating, warming, and draining dwelling-houses; but until after the first outbreak of cholera in England, in 1832, little public attention was given to the great drainage of all the sewers. However, on the passing of the Building and Sanitary Acts generally, the authorities made many experiments, not so much to improve the system of sewerage as of house-drainage, so as to make the dwelling-houses more wholesome and sweet.

To effect this, the great object was the abolition of the cesspool system, under which filth must accumulate, and where, from scamped buildings or other causes, evaporation took place, the effects of the system were found to be vile and offensive, and have been pronounced miasmatic. Having just alluded to these matters, I proceed to describe the modernly-adopted connection of house-drainage and street-sewerage.

Experiments, as I have said, were set on foot under the auspices of public bodies, and the opinions of eminent engineers, architects, and surveyors were also taken. Their opinions seem really to be concentrated in the advocacy of one remedy--improved house-drainage; and they appear to have agreed that the system which is at present adopted is, under the circumstances, the best that can be adopted.

I was told also by an eminent practical builder, perfectly unconnected with any official or public body, and, indeed, often at issue with surveyors, &c., that the new system was unquestionably a great improvement in every respect, and that some years before its adoption as at present he had abetted such a system, and had carried it into effect when he could properly do so.

I will first show the mode and then the cost of the new system.

I find it designated “back,” “front,” “tubular,” and “pipe” house-drainage, and all with the object of carrying off all fæces, soil water, cesspool matter, &c., before it has had time to accumulate. It is not by brick or other drains of masonry that the system is carried out or is recommended to be carried out, but by means of tubular earthenware pipes; and for any efficient carrying out of the projected improvement a system of constant, and not as at present intermittent, supply of water from the several companies would be best. These pipes communicate with the nearest sewer. The pipes in the tubular drainage are of red earthenware or stoneware (pot).

The use of earthenware, clay, or pot pipes for the conveyance of liquids is very ancient. Mr. Stirrat, a bleacher in Paisley, in a statement to the Board of Health, mentioned that clay pipes were used in ancient times. King Hezekiah (2nd Book of Kings, chap. 20, and 2nd Book of Chronicles, chap. 32) brought in water from Jerusalem. “His pool and conduit,” said Mr. Stirrat, “are still to be seen. The conduit is three feet square inside, built of freestone, strongly cemented; the stone, fifteen inches thick, evidently intended to sustain a considerable pressure; and I have seen pipes of clay, taken by a friend from a house in the ruins of the ancient city, of one inch bore, and about seven inches in diameter, proving evidently, to my mind, that ancient Jerusalem was supplied with water on the principle of gravitation. The pools or reservoirs are also at this day in tolerably good order, one of them still filled with water; the other broken down in the centre, no doubt by some besieging enemy, to cut off the supply to the city.”

The new system to supply the place of the cesspools is a combined, while the old is principally a separate, system of house-drainage; but the new system is equally available for such separate drainage.

As regards the success of this system the reports say experiments have been tried in so large a number of houses, under such varied and, in many cases, disadvantageous circumstances, that no doubts whatsoever can remain in the minds of competent and disinterested persons as to the efficient self-cleansing action of well-adjusted tubular drains and sewers, even without any additional supplies of water.

Mr. Lovick said:--

“A great number of small 4-inch tubular drains have been laid down in the several districts, some for considerable periods. They have been found to keep themselves clear by the ordinary soil and drainage waters of the houses. I have no doubt that pipes of this kind will keep themselves clear by the ordinary discharge of house-drainage; assuming, of course, a supply of water, pipes of good form, and materials properly laid, and with fair usage.”

“One of the earliest illustrations of the tubular system,” it is stated in a Report of the Board of Health, “was given in the improved drainage of a block of houses in the cloisters of Westminster, which had been the seat of a severe epidemic fever. The cesspools and the old drains were filled up, and an entire system of tubular drainage and sewerage substituted for the service of that block of houses.

“The Dean of Westminster, in a letter on the state of this drainage, says, ‘I beg to report to the Commissioners that the success of the entire new pipe-drainage laid down in St. Peter’s College during the last twelve months has been complete. I consider this experiment on drainage and sewage of about fifteen houses to afford a triumphant proof of the efficacy of draining by pipes, and of the facility of dispensing entirely with cesspools and brick sewers.’ Up to this time they have acted, and continue to act, perfectly.

“Mr. Morris, a surveyor attached to the Metropolitan Sewers Commission, gives the following account of the action of trial works of improved house-drainage:--

“‘I have introduced the new 4-inch tubular house-drains into some houses for the trustees of the parish of Poplar, with water-closets, and have received no just cause of complaint. In every instance where I have applied it, I found the system answer extremely well, if a sufficient quantity of water has been used.

“‘The answer of the householders as to the effect of the new drainage has invariably been that they and their families have been better in health; that they were formerly annoyed with smells and effluvia, from which they are now quite free.

“‘Since the new drainage has been laid down there has been only occasion to go on the ground to examine it once for the whole year, and that was from the inefficiency of the water service. It was found that rags had been thrown down and had got into the pipe; and further, that very little water had been used, so that the stoppage was the fault of the tenant, not of the system.’”

Mr. Gotto, the engineer, having stated that in a plan for the improvement of Goulston-street, Whitechapel, not only was the removal of all cesspools contemplated, but also the substitution of water-closet apparatus, gave the following estimate of the cost, provided the pipes were made and the work done by contract under the Commissioners of Sewers:--

Water-closet Apparatus, &c.

£ s. d. Emptying, &c., cesspool 0 12 0 Digging, &c., for 8-feet pipe drain, at 4_d._ 0 2 8 Making good to walls and floor of water-closet over drain, at 3_d._ 0 2 0 8 feet run of 4-inch pipe, at 3_d._ 0 2 0 Laying ditto, at 2_d._ 0 1 4 Extra for junction 0 0 4 Fixing ditto 0 0 2 Water-closet apparatus, with stool cock 0 10 0 Fixing ditto 0 2 0 Contingencies (10 per cent.) 0 3 6 The yard sink and drain would cost 0 11 2 Kitchen sink and drain 0 15 7-1/2 ---------------

So that the cost of back draining one house, including water-closet, would be 3 2 9-1/2

The front tubular drainage of a similar house (with fifteen yards of carriage-way to be paved) would cost 6_l._ 2_s._ 7-1/2_d._; or the drainage would cost, according to the old system, 11_l._ 13_s._ 11_d._

“The engineering witnesses who have given their special attention to the subject,” state the Board of Health, in commenting on the information I have just cited, “affirm that upon the improved system of combined works the expense of the apparatus in substitution of cesspools would not greatly exceed one-half the expense of cleaning the cesspools.”

The engineers have calculated--stating the difficulty of coming to a nice calculation--that the present system of cesspools entailed an average expenditure, for cleansing and repairs, of 4_d._ a week on each householder; and that by the new system it would be but 1-3/4_d._ The Board of Health’s calculations, however, are, I regret to say, always dubious.

The subjoined scale of the difference in cost was prepared at the instance of the Board.

Mr. Grant took four blocks of houses for examination, and the results are given as a guide to what would be the general expenditure if the change took place:--

“In one block of 44 houses--

The length of drains by back drainage was 1544 feet.

Cost (exclusive of pans, traps, and water in both cases) of back drainage, 83_l._ 12_s._, or 1_l._ 18_s._ per house.

Cost of separate tubular drainage, 467_l._ 9_s._ 6_d._, or 10_l._ 12_s._ 6_d._ per house.

Cost of separate brick drains, 910_l._ 19_s._, or 20_l._ 14_s._ 1_d._ per house.

* * * * *

“In another block of 23 houses--

The length of back drains was 783 feet.

Of separate drains, 1437 feet.

The cost of back tubular drains, 45_l._ 12_s._ 6_d._, or 1_l._ 19_s._ 8_d._ per house.

Of separate tubular drains, 131_l._ 13_s._ 6_d._, or 5_l._ 14_s._ 6_d._ per house.

Of separate brick drains, 305_l._ 7_s._, or 13_l._ 5_s._ 6_d._ per house.

* * * * *

“In another block of 46 houses--

The length of back drainage, 1143 feet.

Ditto by separate ditto, 1892 feet.

The cost of back tubular drainage, 66_l._ 5_s._ 2_d._, or 1_l._ 8_s._ 9-3/4_d._ per house.

Ditto of separate ditto ditto, 178_l._ 19_s._ 8_d._, or 3_l._ 17_s._ 10_d._ per house.

Ditto of separate brick ditto, 390_l._ 4_s._, or 8_l._ 9_s._ 8_d._ per house.

* * * * *

“In a fourth block of 46 houses--

The length of back drains, 985 feet.

Ditto of separate ditto, 2913 feet.

Cost of back tubular drainage, 66_l._ 8_s._ 2_d._, or 1_l._ 8_s._ 10-1/2_d._ per house.

Ditto of separate ditto ditto, 262_l._ 11_s._ 7_d._, or 5_l._ 14_s._ 2_d._ per house.

Ditto of separate brick ditto, 614_l._ 16_s._ 3_d._, or 13_l._ 7_s._ 3-3/4_d._ per house.”

I have mentioned the diversity of opinion as to the best form, and even material, for a sewer; and there is the same diversity as to the material, &c., for house and gully or street-drainage, more especially in the pipes of the larger volume. The pipe-drainage of any description is far less in favour than it was. One reason is that it does not promote subsoil drainage; another is the difficulty of repairs if the joints or fittings of pipes require mending; and then the combination of the noxious gases is most offensive in its exhalations, and difficult to overcome.

I was informed by a nightman, used to the cleansing of drains and to night-work generally, that when there was any escape from one of the tubular pipes the stench was more intense than any he had ever before experienced from any drains on the old system.

OF THE LONDON STREET-DRAINS.

We have as yet dealt only with the means of removing the liquid refuse from the houses of the metropolis. This, as was pointed out at the commencement of the present subject, consists principally of the 19,000,000,000 gallons of water that are annually supplied to the London residences by mechanical means. But there still remain the 5,000,000,000 gallons of surface or rain-water to be carried off from the 1760 miles of streets, and the roofs and yards of the 300,000 houses which now form the British metropolis. If this immense volume of liquid were not immediately removed from our thoroughfares as fast as it fell, many of our streets would not only be transformed into canals at certain periods of the year, but perhaps at all times (except during drought) they would be, if not impassable, at least unpleasant and unhealthy, from the puddles or small pools of stagnant water that would be continually rotting them. Were such the case, the roads and streets that we now pride ourselves so highly upon would have their foundations soddened. “If the surface of a road be not kept clean so as to admit of its becoming dry between showers of rain,” said Lord Congleton, the great road authority, “it will be rapidly worn away.” Indeed the immediate removal of rain-water, so as to prevent its percolating through the surface of the road, and thereby impairing the foundation, appears to be one of the main essentials of road-making.

The means of removing this surface water, especially from the streets of a city where the rain falls at least every other day throughout the year, and reaches an aggregate depth of 24 feet in the course of the twelvemonth, is a matter of considerable moment. In Paris, and indeed almost all of the French towns, a channel is formed in the middle of each thoroughfare, and down this the water from the streets and houses is continually coursing, to the imminent peril of all pedestrians, for the wheels of every vehicle distribute, as it goes, a muddy shower on either side of the way.

We, however, have not only removed the channels from the middle to the sides of our streets, but instituted a distinct system of drainage for the conveyance of the wet refuse of our houses to the sewers--so that there are no longer (excepting in a very small portion of the suburbs) open sewers, meandering through our highways; the consequence is, the surface-water being carried off from our thoroughfares almost as fast as it falls, our streets are generally dry and clean. That there are exceptions to this rule, which are a glaring disgrace to us, it must be candidly admitted; but we must at the same time allow, when we think of the vast extent of the roadways of the metropolis (1760 miles!--nearly one-half the radius of the earth itself), the deluge of water that annually descends upon every inch of the ground which we call London (38,000,000,000 gallons!--a quantity which is almost sufficient for the formation of an American lake), and the vast amount of traffic, over the greater part of the capital--the 13,000 vehicles that daily cross London Bridge, the 11,000 conveyances that traverse Cheapside in the course of twelve hours, the 7700 that go through Temple Bar, and the 6900 that ascend and descend Holborn Hill between nine in the morning and nine at night, the 1500 omnibuses and the 3000 cabriolets that are continually hurrying from one part of the town to another, and the 10,000 private carriage, job, and cart horses that incessantly perviate the metropolis--when we reflect, I say, on this vast amount of traffic--this deluge of rain--and the wilderness of streets, it cannot but be allowed that the cleansing and draining of the London thoroughfares is most admirably conducted.

The mode of street drainage is by means of what is called a gully-hole and a gully-drain.

The Gully-hole[63] is the opening from the surface of the street (and is seen generally on each side of the way), into which all the fluid refuse of the public thoroughfares runs on its course to the sewer.

The Gully-drain is a drain generally of earthenware piping, curving from the side of the street to an opening in the top or side of the sewer, and is the means of communication between the sewer and the gully-hole.

The gully-hole is indicated by an iron grate being fitted into the surface of the side of a footpath, where the road slopes gradually from its centre to the edge of the footpath, and down this grate the water runs into the channel contrived for it in the construction of the streets. These gully-grates, the observant pedestrian--if there be a man in this hive of London who, without professional attraction to the matter, regards for a few minutes the peculiarities of the street (apart from the houses) which he is traversing--an observant pedestrian, I say, would be struck at the constantly-recurring grates in a given space in some streets, and their paucity in others. In Drury-lane there is no gully-grate, as you walk down from Holborn to where Drury-lane becomes Wych-street; whilst in some streets, not a tenth of the length of Drury-lane, there may be three, four, five, or six grates. The reason is this:--There is no sewer running down Drury-lane; a contiguous sewer, however, runs down Great Wyld-street, draining, where there are drains, the hundred courts and nooks of the poor, between Drury-lane and Lincoln’s-inn-fields, as well as the more open places leading down towards the proximity of Temple Bar. This Great Wyld-street sewer, moreover, in its course to Fleet Bridge, is made available for the drainage (very grievously deficient, according to some of the reports of the Board of Health) of Clare-market. Grates would of course be required in such a place as Drury-lane, only the street is thought to be sufficiently on the descent to convey the surface-water to the grate in Wych-street.

The parts in which the gully-grates will be found the most numerous are where the main streets are most intersected by other main streets, or by smaller off-streets, and indeed wherever the streets, of whatever size, continually intersect each other, as they do off nearly all the great street-thoroughfares in the City. Although the sewers may not be according to the plan of the streets, the gully-grates must nevertheless be found at the street intersections, whether the nearest point to the sewer or not, or else the water would not be quickly carried off, and would form a nuisance.

I am informed, on good authority, both as regards the City and Metropolitan Commissions, that the average distance of the gully-grates is thirty yards one from another, including both sides of the way. Their number does not depend upon population, but simply on the local characteristics of the highways; for of course the rain falls into all the streets in proportion to their size, whether populous or half-empty localities. As, however, the more distant roads have not such an approximation of grates, and the law which requires their formation is by no means--and perhaps, without unnecessary interference, cannot be--very definite, I am informed that it may fairly be represented, that, of the 1760 miles of London public ways, more than two-thirds, “or” remarked one informant, “say 1200 miles, are grated on each side of the street or road, at distances of sixty yards.” This would give 59 gully-holes in every one of the 1200 miles of street said to be so supplied. Hence the total number throughout the metropolis will be 70,800.

The gully-drain, which is the street-drain, always presents now a sloping curve, describing, more or less, part of a circle. This drain starts, so to speak, from the side of the street, while its course to the sewer, in order to economize space, is made by any most appropriate curve, to include the reception of as great a quantity of wet street-refuse as possible; for if the gully-drains were formed in a direct, or even a not-very-indirect line, from the street sides to the sewers, they would not only be more costly, more numerous, but would, in fact, as I was told, “choke the under-ground” of London, for now the subterranean capital is so complicated with gas, water, and drain-pipes, that such a system as will allow room for each is indispensable. The new system is, moreover, more economical. In the City the gully-drains are nearly all of nine-inch diameter in tubular pipeage. In the metropolitan jurisdiction they are the same, but not to the same extent, some being only six inches.

Fifty, or even thirty years ago, the old street channels for gully drainage were costly constructions, for they were made so as to suit sewers which were cleansed by the street being taken “up,” and the offensive deposit, thick and even indurated as it often was in those days, drawn to the surface. Some few were three and even four feet square; some two feet six inches wide, and three or four feet high; all of brick. I am assured that of the extent or cost of these old contrivances no accounts have been preserved, but that they were more than twice as costly as the present method.

In all the reports I have seen, metropolitan or city--the statements of the flushermen being to the same purport--there are complaints as to the uses to which the gully-holes are put in many parts, every kind of refuse admissible through the bars of the grate being stealthily emptied down them. The paviours, if they have an opportunity, sweep their surplus grout into the gullies, and so do the scavagers with their refuse occasionally, though this is generally done in the less-frequented parts, to get rid of the “slop,” which is valueless.

In a report, published in 1851, Mr. Haywood points out the prevalence of the practice of using the gully-gratings as dustbins! A sewer under Billingsgate accumulated in a few months many cart-loads, composed almost wholly of fish-shells; and 114 cart-loads of fish-shells, cinders, and rubbish were removed from the sewers in the vicinity of Middlesex-street (Petticoat-lane); these had accumulated in about twelve months. “Reconstructing the gullies,” he says, “so as to intercept improper substances (which has been recently done at Billingsgate), might prevent this material reaching the sewers, but it would still have to be removed from the gullies, and would thus still cause perpetual expense. Indeed, I feel convinced that nothing but making public example by convicting and punishing some offenders, under clause 69 of ‘The City of London Sewers’ Act,’ will stop the practice, so universal in the poorer localities, of using the gullies as dustbins.”

The Gully-holes are now trapped--with very few exceptions, one report states, while another report intimates that gully-trapping has no exception at all. The trap is resorted to so that the effluvium from a gully-drain may not infect the air of the public ways; but among engineers and medical sanitary inquirers, there is much difference of opinion as to whether the system of trapping is desirable or not. The general opinion seems to be, however, that all gullies should be trapped.

Of the City gully-traps, Mr. Haywood, in a report for the year 1851, says, as regards the period of their introduction:--

“About seventeen years ago your then surveyor (Mr. Kelsey) applied the first traps to sewer gullies, and from that date to the present the trapping of gullies has been adopted as a principle, and the city of London is still, I believe, the only metropolitan area in which the gullies are all trapped. The traps first constructed have since been (as all first inventions or adaptations ever have or will be) improved upon, and are rapidly being displaced by those of more improved construction.

“Now, of the incompatible conditions required of gully-traps, of the difficulty of obtaining such mechanical appliances so effective and perfect as can theoretically be devised, but yet of the extreme desirability of obtaining them as perfect as modern science could produce, your honourable court has, at least, for as long as I have had the honour of holding office under you, been fully alive to; no prejudice has opposed impediment to the introduction of novelties; your court has been always open to inventors, and, at the present time, there are sixteen different traps or modes of trapping gullies under trial within your jurisdiction.

“Nor has the provision of the means of excluding effluvium from the atmosphere been your only care; but the cleanliness of the sewers, and the prevention of accumulation of decomposing refuse, both by regulated cleansings, and by constructing the sewage upon the most improved principles, have also been your aim and that of your officers; and I do not hesitate to assert, that the offensiveness of the escape from the gullies has been of late years much diminished by the care bestowed upon the condition of the sewers.

“374 gullies have been retrapped in the City upon improved principles during the last year.”

The gully-traps are on the principle of self-acting valves, but it is stated in several reports, that these valves often remain permanently open, partly from the street refuse (especially if mixed with the débris from new or removed buildings) not being sufficiently liquified to pass through them, and partly from the hinges getting rusted, and so becoming fixed.

OF THE LENGTH OF THE LONDON SEWERS AND DRAINS.

There is no official account precisely defining the length of the London sewerage; but the information acquired on the subject leaves no doubt as to the accuracy of the following facts.

About 900 miles of sewers of the metropolis may be said to have been surveyed; and it is known that from 100 to 150 miles more constitute a portion of the metropolitan sewerage; this, too, independently of that of the City, which is 50 miles. Altogether I am assured that the sewers of the urban part of London, included within the 58 square miles before mentioned, measure 1100 miles.

The classes of sewers comprised in this long extent are pretty equally apportioned, each a third, or 366 miles, of the first, second, and third classes respectively. Of this extent about 200 miles are still, in the year 1852, open sewers!--to say nothing of the great open sewer, the Thames. The open sewers are found principally in the Surrey districts, in Brixton, Lewisham, Tooting, and places at the like distance from the more central parts of the Commissioners’ jurisdiction. These open sewers, however, are disappearing, and it is intended that in time no such places shall exist; as it is, some miles of them are inclosed yearly. The open sewers in what may be considered more of the heart of the metropolis are a portion of the Fleet-ditch in Clerkenwell, and places in Lambeth and Bermondsey, or about 20 miles in the interior to 180 miles in the exterior portion of the capital. These are national disgraces.

The 1100 miles above-mentioned, however, include only the sewers, comprising neither the house nor gully-drains. According to the present laws, all newly-built houses must be drained into the sewers; and in 1850 there were 5000 applications from the western districts alone to the Commissioners, for the promotion of the drainage of that number of old and new houses into the sewers, the old houses having been previously drained into cesspools.

I am assured, on good authority, that fully one-half of the houses in the metropolis are at the present time drained into the sewers. In one street, about a century old, containing in the portion surveyed for an official purpose, on the two sides of the way, 76 houses, the number was found to be equally divided--half the drainage being into sewers and half into cesspools. The number of houses in the metropolis proper, of 115 square miles area, is 307,722. The majority, as far as is officially known, are now drained into the public sewers, or into private or branch sewers communicating with the larger public receptacles, so that--allowing 200,000 houses to be included in the 58 square miles of the urban sewerage, and admitting that some wretched dwelling-places are not drained at all--it is reasonable to assume that at least 100,000 houses within this area are drained into the sewers.

The average length of the house-drains is, I learn from the best sources, 50 feet per house. The builder of a new house is now required by law to drain it, at the proprietor’s cost, 100 feet, if necessary, to a sewer. In some instances, in detached houses, where the owners object to the cesspool system, a house drain has been carried 230 feet to a sewer, and sometimes even farther; but in narrow or moderately wide streets, from 18 to 26 feet across, and in alleys and narrow places (in case there is sewerage) the house drains may be but from 12 to 20 feet. Both these lengths of drainage are exceptions, and there is no question that the average length may be put at 50 feet. In some squares, for example, the sewer runs along the centre, so that the house-drains here are in excess of the 50 feet average.

The length of the house-drainage of the more central part of London, assuming 100,000 houses to be drained into the sewers, and each of such drains to be on the average 50 feet long, is, then, 5,000,000 feet, or about 2840 miles.

But there are still the street or gully-drains for the surface-water to be estimated. In the Holborn and Finsbury division alone, the length of the “main covered sewers” is said to be 83 miles; the length of “smaller sewers” to carry off the surface-water from the streets 16 miles; the length of drains leading from houses to the main sewers, 264.

Now, if there be 16 miles of gully-drains to 83 miles of main covered sewers, and the same proportion hold good throughout the 58 square miles over which the sewers extend, it follows that there would be about 200 miles of gully-drains to the gross 1100 miles of sewers.

But this is only an approximate result. The length and character of the gully-drains I find to vary very considerably. If the streets where the gully-grates are found have no sewer in a line with the thoroughfare, still the water must be drained off and conveyed to the nearest sewer, of any class, large or small, and consequently at much greater length than if there were a sewer running down the street. Neither is the number of the gully-holes any sure criterion of the measurement of the gully-drains, for where the intersections are, and consequently the gully-holes frequent, a number, sometimes amounting to ten, are made to empty their contents into the same gully-drain. Neither do the returns of yearly expenditure, presented to Parliament by the Metropolitan Court of Sewers, supply information. But even if the exact length, and the exact price paid for the formation of that length, were given, it would supply but the year’s outlay as regards the additions or repairs that had been made to the gully-drains, and certainly not furnish us with the original cost of the whole.

One experienced informant told me--but let me premise that I heard from all the gentlemen whom I consulted, a statement that they could only compute by analogy with other facts bearing upon the subject--was confident, that taking only 1200 miles of public way as gully-drained, that extent might be considered as the length of the gully-drains themselves. Even calculating such drains to run from each side of the public way, which is generally the case, I am told that, considering the economy of underground space which is now necessary, the length of 1200 miles is as fair an estimate for gully-drainage (apart from other drainage) as for the length of the streets so gullied.

Hence we have, for the gross extent of the whole sewers and drains of the metropolis, the following result,--

Miles. Main covered sewers 1100 House-drains 2840 Gully-drains for surface-water of streets 1200 ---- Total length of the sewers and drains of the metropolis 5140

The island of Great Britain, I may observe, is, at its extreme points, 550 miles from north to south, and 290 from east to west. It would, therefore, appear that the main sewers of the capital are just double the length of the whole island, from the English Channel to John-o’-Groats, and nearly three times longer than the greatest width of the country. But this is the extent of the sewerage alone. The drainage of London is about equal in length to the diameter of the earth itself!

OF THE COST OF CONSTRUCTING THE SEWERS AND DRAINS OF THE METROPOLIS.

The money actually expended in constructing the 1100 miles of sewers and 4000 miles of drains, even if we were only to date from Jan. 1, 1800, is not and never can be known. They have been built at intervals, as the metropolis, so to speak, grew. They were built also in many sizes and forms, and at many variations of price, according to the depth from the surface, the good or bad management, or the greater or lesser extent of jobbery or “patronage” in the several independent commissions. Accounts were either not presented in “the good old times,” or not preserved.

Had the 1100 miles of sewers to be constructed anew, they would be, according to the present prices paid by the Commissioners--not including digging or such extraneous labour, but the cost of the sewer only--as follows:--

366 miles of sewers of the first class, or 1,932,480 feet, at 15_s._ per foot £1,449,360 366 miles, or 1,932,480 feet of the second class, at 11_s._ per foot 1,062,864 Same length of third class, at 9_s._ per foot 869,616 ---------- Total cost of the sewers of the metropolis £3,381,840

As this is a lower charge than was paid for the construction of more than three-fourths of the sewers, we may fairly assume that their cost amounted to from three millions and a half to four millions of pounds sterling.

The majority of the house-drains running into the sewers are brick, and seldom less than 9 inches square; sometimes, in the old brick drains, they are some inches larger, and in the very old drains, and in some 100 years old, wooden planks were often used instead of a brick or stone construction, for the sake of reducing cost, and replaced when rotted. The wood, in many cases, soon decayed, and since 1847 no wooden sewers have been allowed to be formed, nor any old ones to be repaired with new wood; the work must be of stone or brick, if not pipeage. About two-thirds of the drains running from the houses to the sewers are brick; the remaining third tubular, or earthenware pipes. The cost, if now to be formed, would be somewhat as follows:--

1893-1/3 miles of brick drains, 5_s._ per foot, as average of sizes £2,499,200 945-2/3 feet of tubular drains, average of sizes 2_s._ 6_d._ 624,800 ----------- Total cost of the house-drains of London £3,124,000

The cost of the street or gully drains have still to be estimated.

The present cost of the 9-inch gully-pipe drains is about 3_s._ 6_d._ a foot; of the 6-inch, 2_s._ 6_d._ Of the proportionate lengths of these two classes of street-drains I have not been able to gain any account, for, I believe, it has never been ascertained in any way approaching to a total return. Taking 1200 miles, however, as quite within the full length of the gully-drains, and calculating at the low average of 3_s._ the foot for the whole, the total cost of the street-drains of the metropolis would be 950,400_l._, or, I am assured, one might say a million sterling, and this, even if all were done at the present low prices; the original cost would, of course, have been much greater.

Hence, according to the above calculations, we have the following

Gross Estimate of the Cost of the Sewers and Drains of the Metropolis.

£ 1100 miles of main covered sewers 3,500,000 2840 miles of house-drains 3,000,000 1200 miles of gully or street drains 1,000,000 ---- --------- 5140 miles of sewers and drainage = 7,500,000

OF THE USES OF SEWERS AS A MEANS OF SUBSOIL DRAINAGE.

There is one other purpose toward which a sewer is available--a purpose, too, which I do not remember to have seen specified in the Metropolitan Reports.

“The first, and perhaps most important purpose of sewers, as respects health,” says the Report of Messrs. Walker, Cubitt, and Brunel (1848), “is, as under-drains to the surrounding earth. They answer this purpose so effectually and quietly, and have done it so long, that their importance in this respect is overlooked. In the Sanitary Commissioners’ Reports we do not find it once noticed, and the recommendation of the substitution of stone or earthenware pipes for the larger brick sewers, seems to show, that any provision for the under-drainage was thought unnecessary, although such a provision is in our opinion most important.

“Under the artificial ground, the collection of ages, which in the City of London, as in most ancient towns, forms the upper surface, is a considerable thickness of clean gravel, and under the gravel is the London clay. The present houses are founded chiefly on the artificial or ‘made ground,’ while the sewers are made through the gravel; and it is known practically, that however charged with water the gravel of a district may be, the springs for a considerable distance round are drawn down by making a sewer, and the wells that had water within a few feet of the surface have again to be sunk below the bottom of the sewer to reach the water. Every interstice between the stones of the gravel acts as an under-drain to conduct the water to the sewer, through the sides of which it finds its way, even if mortar be used in the construction.

“Hence the salubrity of a gravel foundation, if the water be drawn out of it by sewers or other means, as is the case with the City and with Westminster. A proof of this principle was afforded by the result of a reference to physicians and engineers in 1838, to inquire into the state of drainage and smells in and near Buckingham Palace, as to which there had been complaints, though none so heavy as Mr. Phillips now makes, when he says, ‘that the drainage of Buckingham Palace is extremely defective, and that its precincts are reeking with filth and pestilential odours from the absence of proper sewerage!’”

The Report then shows the pains that were taken to ensure dryness in the Palace. Pits were dug in the garden 14 feet below the surface, and 3-1/2 feet below high-water mark in the river, and they were found dry to the bottom. The kitchens and yard of the palace are, however, only 18 inches above Trinity high-water mark in the Thames, and therefore 18 inches below a very high tide. The physician, Sir James Clarke, and the engineers, Messrs. Simpson and Walker, in a separate Report, spoke in terms of commendation of the drainage of the Palace in 1838, as promotive of dryness. Since that time a connecting chain has been made from the Palace drains into the canal in St. James’s-park, to prevent the wet from rising as formerly during heavy rains. “The Palace,” it is stated in the Report of the three engineers, “should not be classed with the low part of Pimlico, where the drainage is, we believe, very defective, and to which, for anything we know to the contrary, the character given by Mr. Phillips may be applicable.”

Unfortunately, however, for this array of opinions of high authority, and despite the advantages of a gravel bed for the substratum of the palatial sewerage, the drainage and sewerage about Buckingham Palace is more frequently than that of any other public place under repair, and is always requiring attention. It was only a few days ago, before the court left Windsor Castle for London, that men were employed night and day, on the drains and cesspoolage channels, to make, as one of them described it to me--and such working-men’s descriptions are often forcible--“the place decent. I was hardly ever,” he added, “in such a set of stinks as I’ve been in the sewers and underground parts of the palace.”

OF THE CITY SEWERAGE.

As yet I have spoken only of the sewers of London[64] “without the City;” but the sewers within the City, though connected, for the general public drainage and sewerage of the capital, with the works under the control of the Metropolitan Commissioners, are in a distinct and strictly defined jurisdiction, superintended by City Commissioners, and managed by City officers, and consequently demand a special notice.

The account of the City sewers, however, may be given with a comparative brevity, for the modes of their construction, as well as their general management, do not differ from what I have described as pertaining to the extra-civic metropolis. There are, nevertheless, a few distinctions which it is proper to point out.

The City sewers are the oldest in the capital, for the very plain reason that the City itself, in its site, if not now in its public and private buildings, is the oldest part of London, as regards the abode of a congregated body of people.

The ages (so to speak) of these sewers, vary, for the most part, according to the dates of the City’s rebuilding after the Great Fire, and according to the dates of the many alterations, improvements, removal or rebuilding of new streets, markets, &c., which have been effected since that period. Before the Great Fire of 1666, all drainage seems, with a few exceptions, to have been fortuitous, unconnected, and superficial.

The first public sewer built after this important epoch in the history of London was in Ludgate-street and hill. This was the laudable work of the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul’s, and was constructed at the instance, it is said, and after the plans, of Sir Christopher Wren. There is, perhaps, no official or documentary proof of this, for the proclamations from the King in council, the Acts of Parliament, and the resolutions of the Corporation of the City of London at that important period, are so vague and so contradictory, and were so frequently altered or abrogated, and so frequently disregarded, that it is more impossible than difficult to get at the truth. Of the fact which I have just mentioned, however, there need be no doubt; nor that the second public City sewer was in Fleet-street, commenced in 1668, the second year after the fire.

There are, nevertheless, older sewers than this, but the dates of their construction are not known; we have proof merely that they existed in old London, or as it was described by an anonymous writer (quoted, if I remember rightly, in Maitland’s “History of London”), London “ante ignem”--London before the fire. These sewers, or rather portions of sewers, are severally near Newgate, St. Bartholomew’s Hospital sewer, and that of the Irongate by the Tower.

The sewer, however, which may be pointed out as the most remarkable is that of Little Moorgate, London-wall. It is formed of red tiles; and from such being its materials, and from the circumstance of some Roman coins having been found near it, it is supposed by some to be of Roman construction, and of course coeval with that people’s possession of the country. This sewer has a flat bottom, upright sides, and a circular arch at its top; it is about 5 feet by 3 feet. The other older sewers present much about the same form; and an Act in the reign of Charles II. directs that sewers shall be so built, but that the bottom shall have a circular curve.

I am informed by a City gentleman--one taking an interest in such matters--that this sewer has troubled the repose of a few civic antiquaries, some thinking that it was a Roman sewer, while others scouted such a notion, arguing that the Romans were not in the habit of doing their work by halves; and that if they had sewered London, great and enduring remains would have been discovered, for their main sewer would have been a solid construction, and directed to the Thames, as was and is the Cloaca Maxima, in the Eternal City, to the Tiber. Others have said that the sewer in question was merely built of Roman materials, perhaps first discovered about the time, having originally formed a reservoir, tank, or even a bath, and were keenly appropriated by some economical or scheming builder or City official.

“That the Britons,” says Tacitus in his “Life of Agricola,” “who led a roaming life, and were easily incited to war, might contract a love for peace, by being accustomed to a pleasanter mode of life, Agricola assisted them to build houses, temples, and market-places. By praising the diligent and upbraiding the idle, he excited such emulation among the Britons, that, after they had erected all those necessary buildings in their towns, they built others for pleasure and ornament, as porticoes, galleries, baths, and banqueting-houses.”

The sewers of the city of London are, then, a comparatively modern work. Indeed, three-fourths of them may be called modern. The earlier sewers were--as I have described under the general head--ditches, which in time were arched over, but only gradually and partially, as suited the convenience or the profit of the owners of property alongside those open channels, some of which thus presented the appearance of a series of small uncouth-looking bridges. When these bridges had to be connected so as to form the summit of a continuous sewer, they presented every variety of arch, both at their outer and under sides; those too near the surface had to be lowered. Some of these sewers, however, were in the first instances connected, despite difference of size and irregularity of form. The result may be judged from the account I have given of the strange construction of some of the Westminster sewers, under the head of “subterranean survey.”

How modern the City sewers are may best be estimated from the following table of what may be called the dates of their construction. The periods are given decennially as to the progress of the formation of new sewers:--

Feet. 1707 to 1717 2,805 1717 „ 1727 2,110 1727 „ 1737 2,763 1737 „ 1747 1,238 1747 „ 1757 3,736 1757 „ 1767 3,736 1767 „ 1777 7,597 1777 „ 1787 8,693 1787 „ 1797 3,118 1797 „ 1807 5,116 1807 „ 1817 5,097 1817 „ 1827 7,847 ------- 52,810

1827 to 1837 39,072 feet. 1837 to 1847 88,363 „ ------- 127,435

Thus the length made in the 20 years previous to 1847 was more than double all that was made during the preceding 120 years; while in the ten years from 1837 to 1847, the addition to the lineal extent of sewerage was very nearly equal to all that had been made in 130 years previously.

This addition of 127,435 feet, or rather more than 24 miles, seems but a small matter when “London” is thought of; but the reader must be reminded that only a small portion (comparatively) of the metropolis is here spoken of, and the entire length of the City sewerage, at the close of 1847, was but 44 miles; so that the additions I have specified as having been made since 1837, were more than one-half of the whole. The re-constructions are not included in the metage I have given, for, as the new sewers generally occupied the same site as the old, they did not add to the length of the whole.

The total length of the City sewerage was, on the 31st December, 1851, no less than 49 miles; while the entire public way was at the same recent period, 51 miles (containing about 1000 separate and distinct streets, lanes, courts, alleys, &c., &c.); and I am assured that in another year or so, not a furlong of the whole City will be unsewered.

The more ancient sewers usually have upright walls, a flat or slightly-curved invert, and a semicircular or gothic arch. The form of such as have been built apparently more than 20 years ago, is that of two semicircles, of which the upper has a greater radius, connected by sloping side walls; those of recent construction are egg-shaped. The main lines are not unfrequently elliptic; in the case of the Fleet, and other ancient affluents of the Thames, the forms and dimensions vary considerably. Instances occur of sewers built entirely of stone; but the material is almost invariably brick, most commonly 9 inches in substance; the larger sewers 14, and sometimes 18 inches.

The falls or inclinations in the course of the City sewerage vary greatly, as much as from 1 in 240 to 1 in 24, or, in the first case, from a fall of 22 feet, in the latter, of course, to ten times such fall, or 220 feet per mile. There are, moreover, a few cases in which the inclination is as small as 1 in 960; others where it is as high as 1 in 14. This irregularity is to be accounted for, partly by the want of system in the old times, and partly from the natural levels of the ground. The want of system and the indifference shown to providing a proper fall, even where it was not difficult, was more excusable a few years back than it would be at the present time, for when some of these sewers were built, the drainage of the house-refuse into them was not contemplated.

The number of houses drained into the City sewers is, as precisely as such a matter can be ascertained, 11,209; the number drained into the cesspools is 5030. This shows a preponderance of drainage into the sewers of 6179. The length of the house-drains in the City, at an average of 50 feet to each house, may be estimated at upwards of 106 miles. These City drains are included in the general computation of the metropolis.

The gully-drains in the City are more frequent than in other parts of the metropolis, owing to the continual intersection of streets, &c., and perhaps from a closer care of the sewerage and all matters connected with it. The general average of the gully-drains I have shown to be 59 for every mile of street. I am assured that in the City the street-drains may be safely estimated at 65 to the mile. Estimating the streets gullied within the City, then, at an average of 50 miles, or about a mile more than the sewers, the number of gully-drains is 3250, and the length of them about 50 miles; but these, like the house-drains, have been already included in the metropolitan enumeration.

The actual sum expended yearly upon the construction, and repairs, and improvements of the City sewers cannot be cited as a distinct item, because the Court makes the return of the aggregate annual expenditure, as regards pavement, cleansing, and the matters specified as the general expenditure under the Court of Commissioners of the City Sewers. The cost, however, of the construction of sewers comprised within the civic boundaries is included in the general metropolitan estimate before given.

OF THE OUTLETS, RAMIFICATIONS, ETC., OF THE SEWERS.

In this enumeration I speak only of the public outlets into the river, controlled and regulated by public officers.

The orifices or mouths of the sewers where they discharge themselves into the Thames, beginning from their eastern, and following them seriatim to their western extremity, are as follows:--

Limehouse Hole. Irongate Wharf. Ratcliffe Cross. Fox-lane, Shadwell. London Dock. St. Katharine’s Dock. The eleven City outlets, which I shall specify hereafter. Essex-street, Strand. Norfolk-street, Strand. Durham Hill (or Adelphi). Northumberland-street. Scotland-yard. Bridge-street, Westminster. Pimlico. Cubitt’s (also in Pimlico). Chelsea Bridge. Fulham Bridge. Hammersmith Bridge. Sandford Bridge (into a sort of creek of the Thames), or near the four bridges. Twickenham. Hampton. In all, 32.

It might only weary the reader to enumerate the outlets on the Surrey side of the Thames, which are 28 in number, so that the public sewer outlets of the whole metropolis are 60 in all.

The public sewer outlets from the City of London into the Thames are, as I have said, eleven in number, or rather they are usually represented as eleven, though in reality there are twelve such orifices--the “Upper” and “Eastern” Custom-House Sewers (which are distinct) being computed as one. These outlets, generally speaking the most ancient in the whole metropolis, are--

London Bridge. Ancient Walbrook. Paul’s Wharf. The Fleet-street Sewer at Blackfriars Bridge. (I mention these four first, because they are the largest outlets). Tower Dock. Pool Quay. Custom House. New Walbrook. Dowgate Dock. Hamburg Wharf. Puddle Dock.

Until recently, there was also Whitefriars Docks, but this is now attached to the Fleet Sewer outlet.

The Fleet Sewer is the oldest in London. No portion of the ditch or river composing it is now uncovered within the jurisdiction of the City; but until a little more than eleven years ago a portion of it, north of Holborn, was uncovered, and had been uncovered for years. Indeed, as I have before intimated, barges and small craft were employed on the Fleet River, and the City determined to “encourage its navigation.” Even the “polite” Earl of Chesterfield, a century ago (for his lordship was born in 1694, and died in 1773), when asked by a Frenchman in Paris, if there was in London a river to compare to the Seine? replied that there certainly was, and it was called Fleet Ditch! This is now the sewer; but it was not a covered sewer until 1765, when the Corporation ordered it to be built over.

The next oldest sewer outlet is that at London Bridge, and London antiquaries are not agreed as to whether it or the Fleet is the oldest.

The Fleet Sewer at Blackfriars Bridge is 18 feet high; between Tudor-street and Fleet Bridge (about the foot of Ludgate-hill), 14 feet 3 inches high; at Holborn Bridge, 13 feet; and in its continuation in the long-unfinished Victoria-street, 12 feet 3 inches. In all these localities it is 12 feet wide.

The New London Bridge Sewer, built or rebuilt, wholly or partly, in 1830, is 10 feet by 8 at its outlet; decreasing to the south end of King William-street, where it is 9 feet by 7; while it is 8 feet by 7 in Moorgate-street.

Paul’s Wharf sewer is 7 feet 6 inches by 5 feet 6 inches near the outlet.

With the one exception of the Fleet River, none of the City sewer outlets are covered, the Fleet outlet being covered even at low water. The issue from the others runs in open channels upon the shore.

Mr. Haywood (February 12, 1850), in a report of the City Sewer Transactions and Works, observes,--“During the year (1849) the outlet sewers at Billingsgate and Whitefriars, two of the outlets of main sewers which discharged at the line of the River Wall, have been diverted (times of storm excepted); there remain, therefore, but eleven main outlets within the jurisdiction of this commission, which discharge their waters at the line of the River Wall.

“As a temporary measure, it is expedient to convey the sewage of the whole of the outlets within the City by covered culverts, below low-water mark; this subject has been under the consideration both of this Commission and the Navigation Committee.”

Whether the covered culvert is better than the open run, is a matter disputed among engineers (as are very many other matters connected with sewerage), and one into which I need not enter.

Mr. Haywood says further:--“The Fleet sewer already discharges its average flow, by a culvert, below low-water mark; with one exception only, I believe, none of the numerous outlets, which, for a length of many miles, discharge at intervals into the Thames at the line of the River Wall, both within and without your jurisdiction, discharge by culverts in a similar manner.”

These eleven outlets are far from being the whole number which give their contents into “the silver bosom of the Thames,” along the bank-line of the City jurisdiction. There are (including the 11) 182 outlets; but these are not under the control (unless in cases of alteration, nuisance, &c.) of the Court of Sewers. They are the outlets from the drainage of the wharfs, public buildings, or manufactories (such as gas-works, &c.) on the banks of the river; and the right to form such outlets having been obtained from the Navigation Committee, who, under the Lord Mayor, are conservators of the Thames, the care of them is regarded as a private matter, and therefore does not require further notice in this work. The officers of the City Court of Sewers observe these outlets in their rounds of inspection, but interfere only on application from any party concerned, unless a nuisance be in existence.

To convey a more definite notion of the extent and ramified sweep of the sewers, I will now describe (for the first time in print) some of the chief Sewer Ramifications, and then show the proportionate or average number of public ways, of inhabited houses, and of the population to each great main sewer, distinguishing, in this instance, those as great main sewers which have an outlet into the Thames.

The reader should peruse the following accounts with the assistance of a map of the environs, for, thus aided, he will be better able to form a definite notion of the curiously-mixed and blended extent of the sewerage already spoken of.

First, then, as to the ramifications of the great and ancient Fleet outlet. From its mouth, so to speak, near Blackfriars Bridge, its course is not parallel with any public way, but, running somewhat obliquely, it crosses below Tudor-street into Bridge-street, Blackfriars, then occupies the centre of Farringdon-street, and that street’s prolongation or intended prolongation into the New Victoria-street (the houses in this locality having been pulled down long ago, and the spot being now popularly known as “the ruins”), and continues until the City portion of the Fleet Sewer meets the Metropolitan jurisdiction between Saffron and Mutton hills, the junction, so to call it, being “under the houses”[65] (a common phrase among flushermen). A little farther on it connects itself with an open part of the Fleet Ditch, running at the back of Turnmill-street, Clerkenwell. In its City course, the sewer receives the issue from 150 public ways (including streets, alleys, courts, lanes, &c.), which are emptied into it from the second, third, or smaller class sewers, from Ludgate-hill and its proximate streets, the St. Paul’s locality, Fleet-street and its adjacent communications in public ways, with a series of sewers running down from parts of Smithfield, &c. The greatest accession of sewage, however, which the Fleet receives from one issue, is a few yards beyond where the City has merged into the Metropolitan jurisdiction; this accession is from a first-class sewer, known as “the Whitecross-street sewer,” because running from that street, and carrying into the Fleet the contributions of 60 crowded streets.

After the junction of the covered City sewer with the uncovered ditch in Clerkenwell, the Fleet-river sewer (again covered) skirts round Cold Bath Fields Prison (the Middlesex House of Correction), runs through Clerkenwell-green into the Bagnigge Wells-road, so on to Battle-bridge and King’s-cross; then along the Old Saint Pancras-road, and thence to the King’s-road (a name now almost extinct), where the St. Pancras Workhouse stands close by the turnpike-gate. Along Upper College-street (Camden-town) is then the direction of this great sewer, and running under the canal at the higher part of Camden-town, near the bridge by the terminus of the Great North Western Railway, it branches into the highways and thoroughfares of Kentish-town, of Highgate, and of Hampstead, respectively, and then, at what one informant described as “the outside” of those places, receives the open ditches, which form the further sewerage, under the control of the Commissioners, who cause them to be cleansed regularly.

In order to show more consecutively the direction, from place to place, in straight, devious, or angular course, of this the most remarkable sewer of the world, considering the extent of the drainage into it, I have refrained from giving beyond the Whitecross-street connection with the Fleet, an account of the number of streets sewered into this old civic stream. I now proceed to supply the deficiency.

From a large outlet at Clerkenwell-green (a very thickly-built neighbourhood) flows the connected sewage of 100 streets. At Maiden-lane, beyond King’s-cross, a district which is now being built upon for the purposes of the Great Northern Railway, the sewage of 10 streets is poured into it. In the course of this sewer along Camden-town, it receives the issue of some 20 branches, or 40 streets, &c. About 15 other issues are received before the open ditches of Kentish-town, Highgate, and Hampstead are encountered.

It is not, however, merely the sewage collected in the precincts of the City proper, which is “outletted” (as I heard a flusherman call it) into the Thames. Other districts are drained into the large City outlets nearing the river. “Many of your works,” says Mr. Haywood, the City surveyor, in a report addressed to the City Commissioners, Oct. 23, 1849, “have been beneficially felt by districts some miles distant from the City. Twenty-nine outlets have been provided by you for the sewage of the County of Middlesex; the high land of and about Hampstead, drains through the Fleet sewer; Holloway and a portion of Islington can now be drained by the London Bridge sewer; Norton Folgate and the densely-populated districts adjacent are also relieved by it.”

On the other hand, the Irongate sewer (one of the most important), which has its outlet in the Tower Hamlets, drains a portion of the City.

The reader must bear in mind, also, that were he to traverse the Fleet sewer in the direction described--for all the men I conversed with on the subject, if asked to show the course of sewerage with which they were familiar, began from the outlet into the Thames--the reader, I say, must remember that he would be advancing all the way against the stream, in a direction in which he would find the sewage flowing onward to its mouth, while his course would be towards its sources.

On the left-hand side (for the account before given refers only to the right-hand side) proceeding in the same direction, after passing the underground precincts of the City proper, there is another addition near Saffron-hill, of the sewage of 30 streets; then at Gray’s-inn-road is added the sewage of 100 streets; New-road (at King’s-cross), 20 more streets; from the whole of Somers-town, a populous locality, the sewerage concentrating all the busy and crowded places round about “the Brill,” &c., the sewage of 120 streets is received; and at Pratt-street, Camden-town, 12 other streets.

Thus into this sewage-current, directed to one final outlet, are drained the refuse of 517 streets, including, of course, a variety of minor thoroughfares, courts, alleys, &c., &c., as in the neighbourhoods of Gray’s-inn-road, in Clerkenwell, Somers-town, &c. Some of these tributaries to the efflux of the sewage are “barrel-drains,” but perform the function of sewers along small courts, where there is “no thoroughfare” either upon, or below the surface.

The London Bridge sewer runs up King William-street to Moorgate-street, along Finsbury-square into the City-road, diverging near the Wharf-road, which it crosses under the canal near the Wenlock basin, and thence along the Lower-road, Islington, by Cock-lane, through Highbury-vale; after this, at the extremity of Holloway, the open ditches, as in the former instance, carry on the conveyance of sewage from the outer suburbs.

The King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer--which seems to have given the Commissioners more trouble than any other, in its connection with Buckingham Palace, St. James’s Park, and the new Houses of Parliament--runs from Chelsea-bridge past Cubitt’s workshops, and along the King’s-road to Eaton-square, the whole of which is drained into it; then “turning round,” as one man described it, it approaches Buckingham Palace, which, with its grounds, as well as a portion of St. James’s and the Green parks, is drained into this sewer; then branching away for the reception of the sewage from the houses and gardens of Chelsea, it drains Sloane-street, and, crossing the Knightsbridge-road, runs through or across Hyde-park to the Swan at Bayswater, whence its course is by the Westbourne District and under the canal, along Paddington, until it attains the open country, or rather the grounds, in that quarter, which have been very extensively and are now still being built over, and where new sewers are constructed simultaneously with new streets.

Thus in the “reach,” as I heard it happily enough designated, of each of these great sewers, the reader will see from a map the extent of the subterranean metropolis traversed, alike along crowded streets ringing with the sounds of traffic, among palatial and aristocratic domains, and along the parks which adorn London, as well as winding their ramifying course among the courts, alleys, and teeming streets, the resorts of misery, poverty, and vice.

Estimating, then, the number of sewers from the number of their river outlets, and regarding all the rest as the branches, or tributaries, to each of these superior streams, we have, adopting the area before specified as being drained by the metropolitan sewers, viz., 58 square miles, the following results:--

Each of the 60 sewers having an outlet into the Thames drains 618 statute acres.

And assuming the number of houses included within these 58 square miles to be 200,000, and the population to amount to 1,500,000, or two-thirds of the houses and people included in the Registrar-General’s Metropolis, we may say that each of the 60 sewers would carry into the Thames the refuse from 25,000 individuals and 3333 inhabited houses. This, however, is partly prevented by the cesspoolage system, which supplies receptacles for a proportion of the refuse that, were London to be rebuilt according to the provisions of the present Building and Sanitary Acts, would all be carried, without any interception, into the river Thames by the media of the sewers.

In my account of cesspoolage I shall endeavour to show the extent of fæcal refuse, &c., contained in places not communicating with the sewers, and to be removed by the labour of men and horses, as well as the amount of fæcal refuse carried into the sewerage.

OF THE QUALITIES, ETC., OF THE SEWAGE.

The question of the value, the uses, and the best means of collecting for use, the great mass of the sewage of the metropolis, seems to have become complicated by the statements which have been of late years put forth by rival projectors and rival companies. In our smaller country towns, the neighbourhood of many being remarkable for fertility and for a green beauty of meadow-land and pasturage, the refuse of the towns, whether sewage or cesspoolage (if not washed into a current, stream, or river), is purchased by the farmers, and carted by them to spread upon the land.

By sewage, I mean the contents of the sewerage, or of the series of sewers; which neither at present nor, I believe, at any former period, has been applied to any useful or profitable purpose by the metropolitan authorities. The readiest mode to get rid of it, without any care about ultimate consequences, has always been resorted to, and that mode has been to convey it into the Thames, and leave the rest to the current of the stream. But the Thames has its ebbs as well as its flow, and the consequence is the sewage is never got rid of.

The most eminent of our engineers have agreed that it is a very important consideration how this sewage should be not only innocuously but profitably disposed of; and if not profitably, in an immediate money return, to those who may be considered its owners (the municipal authorities of the kingdom), at least profitably in a national point of view, by its use in the restoration or enrichment of the fertility of the soil, and the consequent increase of the food of man and beast.

Sir George Staunton has pronounced some of the tea-growing parts of China to be as blooming as an English nobleman’s flower-garden. Every jot of manure, human ordure, and all else, is minutely collected, even by the poorest.

I have already given a popular account of the composition of the metropolitan sewage, &c. (under the head of Wet Refuse), and I now give its scientific analysis.

In some districts the sewage is more or less liquid--in what proportion has not been ascertained--and I give, in the first place, an analysis of the sewage of the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer, Westminster, the result having been laid before a Committee of the House of Commons. As the contents of the great majority of sewers must be the same, because resulting from the same natural or universally domestic causes (as in the refuse of cookery, washing, surface-water, &c.), the analysis of the sewage of the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer may be accepted as one of sewer-matter generally.

Evidence was given before the committee as to the proportion of “land-drainage water” to what was really manure, in the matter derived from the sewer in question. A produce of 140 grains of manure was derived from a gallon of sewer-water. Messrs. Brande and Cooper, the analyzers, also state that one gallon (10 lbs.?) of the liquid portion of the sewage, evaporated to dryness, gave 85·3 grains of solid matter, 74·8 grains of which was again soluble, and contained--

Ammonia 3·29 Sulphuric acid 0·62 Phosphate of lime 0·29 Lime 6·25 Chlorine 10·00

“and potass and soda, with a large quantity of soluble and vegetable matter, and 10·54 insoluble.”

This insoluble portion consisted of

Phosphate of lime 2·32 Carbonate of lime 1·94 Silica 6·28 ----- 10·54

The deposit from another gallon weighed 55 grains, of which 21·22 were combustible, being composed of animal matter “rich in nitrogen,” some vegetable matter, and a quantity of fat. Of this matter 33·75 grains consisted of

Phosphate of lime 6·81 Oxide of iron 2·01 Carbonate of lime 1·75 Sulphate of lime 1·53 Earthy matter and sand 21·65 ----- 33·75

Other Reports and other evidence show that what is described as “earthy matter and sand” is the mac, mud, and the mortar or concrete used in pavement, washed from the surface of the streets into the sewers by heavy rains; otherwise for the most part the proper load of the scavager’s cart.

Further analyses might be adduced, but with merely such variation in the result as is inevitable from the state of the weather when the sewage is drawn forth for examination; whether the day on which this is done happens to be dry or wet[66].

It has been ascertained, but the exact proportion is not, and perhaps cannot be, given, that the extent of covered to uncovered surface in the district drained by the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer was as 3 to 1, while that of the Ranelagh Sewer, not far distant, was as 1 to 3, at the time of the inquiry (1848).

“It could not be expected, therefore,” says the Report, “that the Ranelagh Sewer (which, moreover, is open to the admission of the tide at its mouth), in the quantity or quality of the manure produced, could bear any proportion to the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer.”

Mr. Smith, of Deanston, stated in evidence, that the average quantity of rain falling into King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer was 139,934,586 cubic feet in a year, and he assumes 6,000,000 tons as the amount of average minimum quantity of drainage (yearly), yielding 4 cwt. of solid matter in each 100 tons = 1 in 500.

Dr. Granville said, on the same inquiry, that he should be sorry to receive on his land 500 tons of diluted sewer water (such as that from the uncovered Ranelagh Sewer) for 1 ton of really fertilizing sewage, such as that to be derived from the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer.

I could easily multiply these analyses, and give further parliamentary or official statements, but, as the results are the same, I will merely give some extracts from the evidence of Dr. Arthur Hassall, as to the microscopic constituents of sewage-water:--

“I have examined,” he said, “the sewer-water of several of the principal sewers of London. I found in it, amongst many other things, much decomposing vegetable matter, portions of the husks and the hairs of the down of wheat, the cells of the potato, cabbage, and other vegetables, while I detected but few forms of animal life, those encountered for the most part being a kind of worm or anælid, and a certain species of animalcule of the genus monas.”

“How do you account,” the Doctor was asked, “for the comparative absence of animal life in the water of most sewers?” “It is, doubtless, to be attributed,” he replied, “in a great measure, to the large quantity of sulphuretted hydrogen contained in sewer-water, and which is continually being evolved by the decomposing substances included in it.”

“Have you any evidence to show that sewer-water does contain sulphuretted hydrogen in such large quantity as to be prejudicial and even fatal to animal life?” “With a view of determining this question, I made the following experiments:--A given quantity of Thames water, known to contain living infusoria, was added to an equal quantity of sewer-water; examined a few minutes afterwards, the animalculæ were found to be either dead or deprived of locomotive power and in a dying state. A small fish, placed in a wine glass of sewer-water, immediately gave signs of distress, and, after struggling violently, floated on its side, and would have perished in a few seconds, had it not been removed and placed in fresh water. A bird placed in a glass bell-jar, into which the gas evolved by the sewer-water was allowed to pass, after struggling a good deal, and showing other symptoms of the action of the gas, suddenly fell on its side, and, although immediately removed into fresh air, was found to be dead. These experiments were made, in the first instance, with the sewer water of the Friar-street sewer (near the Blackfriars-road); they were afterwards repeated with the water of six other sewers on the Middlesex side, and with the same result, as respects the animalculæ and fish, but not the bird; this, although evidently much affected by the noxious emanations of the sewer-water, yet survived the experiment.”

“Would you infer from these experiments that sewer-water, as contained in the Thames near to London, is prejudicial to health?” “I would, most decidedly; and regard the Thames in the neighbourhood of the metropolis as nothing less than diluted sewer-water.”

“You have just stated that you found sewer-water to contain much vegetable matter, and but few forms of animal life; the vegetable matter you recognised, I presume, by the character of the cells composing the several vegetable tissues?” “Yes, as also by the action of iodine on the starch of the vegetable matter.”

“In what way do you suppose these various vegetable cells, the husks of wheat, &c., reach the sewers?” “They doubtless proceed from the fæcal matter contained in sewage, and not in general from the ordinary refuse of the kitchen, which usually finds its way into the dust-bin.”

“Sewer-water, then, although containing but few forms of animal life, yet contains, in large quantities, the food upon which most animalculæ feed?” “Yes; and it is this circumstance which explains the vast abundance of infusorial life in the water of the Thames within a few miles of London.”

The same gentleman (a fellow of the Linnæan Society, and the author of “A History of the British Fresh-water Algæ,” or water-weeds considered popularly), in answer to the following inquiries in connection with this subject, also said:--

“What species of infusoria represent the highest degree of impurity in water?” “The several species of the genera Oxytricha and Paramecium.”

“What species is most abundant in the Thames from Kew Bridge to Woolwich?” “The Paramecium Chrysalis of Ehrenberg; this occurs in all seasons of the year, and in all conditions of the river, in vast and incalculable numbers; so much so, that a quart bottle of Thames water, obtained in any condition of the tide, is sure to be found, on examination with the microscope, to contain these creatures in great quantity.”

“Do you find that the infusorium of which you have spoken varies in number in the different parts of the river between Kew Bridge and Woolwich?” “I find that it is most abundant in the neighbourhood of the bridges.” [Where the outlet of the sewers is common.]

“Then the order of impurity of Thames water, in your view, would be the order in which it approaches the centre of London?” “Yes.”

“You find then, in Thames water, about the bridges, things decidedly connected with the sewer water, as vegetable and animal matter in a state of decomposition?” “I do; about the bridges, and in the neighbourhood of London, there is very little living vegetable matter on which animalculæ could live; the only source of supply which they have is the organic matter contained in sewer-water, and which is to be regarded as the food of these creatures. Where infusoria abound, under circumstances not connected with sewage, vegetable matter in a living condition is certain to be met with.”

Respecting the uses of the sewage, I may add the following brief observations. Without wishing in any way to prejudice the question (indeed the reader will bear in mind that I have all along spoken reprovingly of the waste of sewage), I am bound to say that the opinions I heard during my inquiry from gentlemen scientifically and, in some instances, practically familiar with the subject, concurred in the conclusion that the sewage of the metropolis cannot, with all the applications of scientific skill and apparatus, be made either sufficiently portable or efficacious for the purposes of manure to assure a proper pecuniary return. In this matter, perhaps, speculators have not traced a sufficient distinction between the liquid manure of the sewers and the “poudrette,” or dry manure, manufactured from the more solid excrementitious matter of the cesspools, not only in Paris, but, until lately, even in London, where the business was chiefly in the hands of Frenchmen. The staple of the French “poudrette” is not “sewage,” that is, the outpourings of the sewers--for this is carried into the Seine, and washed away with little inconvenience, as the tide hardly affects that river in Paris; but it is altogether “cesspoolage,” that is, the deposit of the cesspools, collected in fixed and moveable utensils, regulated by the “universal” police of Paris, and conveyed by Government labourers to the Voirées, which are huge reservoirs of nightsoil at Montfauçon, about five miles, and in the Forest of Bondy, about ten miles, from the centre of Paris. The London-made manure also was all of cesspoolage; the contents of the nightman’s cart being “shot” in the manufacturer’s yard; and when so manufactured was, I believe, without exception, sent to the sugar-growing colonies, the farmers in the provinces pronouncing it “too hot” for the ground. The same complaint, I may observe, has been made of the French manufactured cesspool manure. I heard, on the other hand, opinions from scientific and practical gentlemen, that the sewer-water of London was so diluted, it was not profitably serviceable for the irrigation of land. All, however, agreed that the sewage of the metropolis ought not to be wasted, as it was certain that perseverance in experiment (and perhaps a large outlay) were certain to make sewage of value.

The following results, which the Board of Health have just issued in a Report, containing “Minutes of Information attested on the Application of Sewer-water and Town Manures to Agricultural Production,” supply the latest information on this subject. The Report says first, that “to be told that the average yield of a county is 30 bushels of wheat per acre, or that the average weight of the turnip crop is 15 tons per acre, means very little, and there is little to be learned from such intelligence; but if it is shown that a certain farm under the usual mode of culture yielded certain weights per acre, and that the same land, by improved applications of the same manure, by the use of machinery, and by employing double the number of hands, at increased wages, is made to yield four fold the weight of crop and of better quality than was previously obtained, a lesson is set before us worth learning.”

It then proceeds to cite the following statements, on the authority of the Hon. Dudley Fortescue, as to the efficiency of sewage-water as a liquid manure applied to land.

“The first farm we visited was that of Craigentinney, situated about one mile and a half south-east of Edinburgh, of which 260 Scotch acres” (a Scotch acre is one-fourth more than any English acre) “receive a considerable proportion of such sewerage as, under an imperfect system of house-drainage, is at present derived from half the city. The meadows of which it chiefly consists have been put under irrigation at various times, the most recent addition being nearly 50 acres laid out in the course of last year and the year previous, which, lying above the level of the rest, are irrigated by means of a steam-engine. The meadows first laid out are watered by contour channels following the inequalities of the ground, after the fashion commonly adopted in Devonshire; but in the more recent parts the ground is disposed in ‘panes’ of half an acre, served by their respective feeders, a plan which, though somewhat more expensive at the outset, is found preferable in practice. The whole 260 acres take about 44 days to irrigate; the men charged with the duty of shifting the water from one pane to another give to each plot about two hours’ irrigation at a time; and the engine serves its 50 acres in ten days, working day and night, and employing one man at the engine and another to shift the water. The produce of the meadows is sold by auction on the ground, ‘rouped,’ as it is termed, to the cow-feeders of Edinburgh, the purchaser cutting and carrying off all he can during the course of the letting, which extends from about the middle of April to October, when the meadows are shut up, but the irrigation is continued through the winter. The lettings average somewhat over 20_l._ the acre; the highest last year having brought 31_l._, and the lowest 9_l._; these last were of very limited extent, on land recently denuded in laying out the ground, and consequently much below its natural level of productiveness. There are four cuttings in the year, and the collective weight of grass cut in parts was stated at the extraordinary amount of 80 tons the imperial acre. The only cost of maintaining these meadows, except those to which the water is pumped by the engine, consists in the employment of two hands to turn on and off the water, and in the expense of clearing out the channels, which was contracted for last year at 29_l._, and the value of the refuse obtained was considered fully equal to that sum, being applied in manuring parts of the land for a crop of turnips, which with only this dressing in addition to irrigation with the sewage-water presented the most luxuriant appearance. The crop, from present indications, was estimated at from 30 to 40 tons the acre, and was expected to realize 15_s._ the ton sold on the land. From calculations made on the spot we estimated the produce of the meadows during the eight months of cutting at the keep of ten cows per acre, exclusive of the distillery refuse they consume in addition, at a cost of 1_s._ to 1_s._ 6_d._ per head per week. The sea-meadows present a particularly striking example of the effects of the irrigation; these, comprising between 20 and 30 acres skirting the shores between Leith and Musselburgh, were laid down in 1826 at a cost of about 700_l._; the land consisted formerly of a bare sandy tract, yielding almost absolutely nothing; it is now covered with luxuriant vegetation extending close down to high-water mark, and lets at an average of 20_l._ per acre at least. From the above statement it will be seen how enormously profitable has been the application in this case of town refuse in the liquid form; and I have no hesitation in stating that, great as its advantages have been, they might be extended four or five fold by greater dilution of the fluid. Four or five times the extent of land might, I believe, be brought into equally productive cultivation under an improved system of drainage in the city, and a more abundant use of water. Besides these Craigentinney meadows, there are others on this and on the west side of Edinburgh, which we did not visit, similarly laid out, and I believe realizing still larger profits, from their closer proximity to the town, and their lying within the toll-gates.”[67]

Such, then, are said to be the results of a practical application of sewer-water. The preliminary remark of the Board of Health, however, applies somewhat to the statement above given; for we are not told what the same land produced before the liquid manure was applied; nor are we informed as to the peculiar condition and quantity of the land near Craigentinney, and how it differs from the land near London.

The other returns are of liquid manures, of which sewer-water formed no part, and, therefore, require no special notice of them. The following observations are, however, worthy of attention:--

“The cases above detailed furnish some measure of the possible results attainable in cultivation, especially corroborated as they are by others which did not on this occasion come under our personal observation, but one of which I may mention, having recently examined into it, that of Mr. Dickinson, at Willesden, who estimates his yield of Italian rye-grass at from 80 to 100 tons an acre, and gets 8 or 10 cuttings, according to the season; and as there is no peculiar advantage of soil or climate (the former ranging from almost pure sands to cold and tenacious clays, and the latter being inferior to that of a large proportion of England) to prevent the same system being almost universally adopted, they give some idea of the degree to which the productiveness of land may be raised by a judicious appliance of the means within our reach. When it is considered that such results may, in the vicinity of towns and villages, be most effectually brought about by the instant removal of all those matters which, when allowed to remain in them, are among the most fruitful sources of social degradation, disease, and death, one cannot but earnestly desire the furtherance of such measures as will ensure this double result of purifying the town and enriching the country; and as the facts I have stated came at the same time under the notice of the gentleman I mentioned above, under whose able superintendence the arrangements for the water-supply and drainage of several towns are now in course of execution, I trust it will not be long before this most advantageous mode of disposing of the refuse of towns may be brought into practical operation in various parts of the country.

“I have, &c.,

“D. F. FORTESCUE.

“General Board of Health.”

OF THE NEW PLAN OF SEWERAGE.

This branch of the subject hardly forms part of my present inquiry, but, having pointed out the defects of the sewers, it seems but reasonable and right to say a few words on the measures determined upon for their improvement. It is only necessary for me, however, to indicate the principal characteristics of the new, or rather intended, mode of sewerage, as the work may be said to have been but commenced, or hardly commenced in earnest, the Report of Mr. Frank Forster (the engineer) bearing the date of Jan. 30, 1851.

In the carrying out of the engineer’s plan--which from its magnitude, and, in all human probability, from its cost, when completed, would be national in other countries, but is here only metropolitan--in the carrying out of this scheme, I say, two remarkable changes will be found. The one is the employment of the power of steam in sewerage; the other is the diversion of the sewage from the current of the Thames. The ultimate uses of this sewage, agriculturally or otherwise, form no part of the present consideration.

I should, however, first enumerate the general principles on which the best authorities have agreed that the London sewers should be constructed so as to ensure a proper disposal of the sewage, for these principles are said to be at the basis of Mr. Forster’s plan.

I condense under the following heads the substance of a mass of Reports, Committee Meetings, Suggestions, Plans, &c.:--

1. The channels, or pipeage, or other means of conveying away house-refuse, should be so made that the removal will be immediate, more especially of any refuse or filth capable of suspension in water, since its immediate carrying off, it is said, would leave no time for the generation of miasma.

2. Means should be provided for such disposal of sewage as would prevent its tainting any stream, well, or pool, or, by its stagnation or obstruction, in any way poisoning the atmosphere. And, as a natural and legitimate result, it should be so collected that it could be applied to the cultivation of the land at the most economical rate.

3. In the providing works of deposit or storage in low districts, or “of discharge where the natural outlets are free,” such works should be provided as would not subject any place, or any man’s property, to the risk of inundation, or any other evil consequence; while in the construction of the drainage of the substratum, the works should be at such a depth below the foundation of all buildings that tenements should not be exposed to that continued damage from exhalation and dampness which leads to the dry rot in timber, and to an immature decay of materials and a general unhealthiness.

There are other points insisted upon in many Reports to which I need but allude, such as

(a.) The channels containing sewage should be of enduring and impermeable material, so as to prevent all soakage.

(b.) There should be throughout the channels of the subterranean metropolis a fall or inclination which would suffice to prevent the accumulation of any sewage deposit, with its deleterious influence and ultimate costliness.

(c.) Similar provisions should be used were it but to prevent the creation of the noxious gases which now permeate many houses (especially in the quarters inhabited by the poor) and escape into many streets, courts, and alleys, for until improvements are effected the pent-up sewage and the saturated brickwork of the sewers and older drains must generate such gases.

(d.) No tidal stream should ever receive a flow of sewage, because then the cause of evil is never absent, for the filth comes back with the tide; and as the Thames water constitutes the grand fount of metropolitan consumption, the water companies, with very trifling exceptions, give us back much of our own excrement, mixed with every conceivable, and sometimes noxious, nastiness, with which we may brew, cook, and wash--and drink, if we can. Filtering remedies but a portion of the evil.

Now it would appear that not one of these requirements, the necessity of which is unquestioned and unquestionable, is fully carried out by the present system of sewerage, and hence the need of some new plan in which the defects may be remedied, and the proper principles carried out.

The instructions given by the Court were to the following effect:--

A. The Thames should be kept free from sewage whatever the state of the tide.

B. There should be intercepting drains to carry off the sewage (so keeping the Thames unsoiled by it) wherever practicable.

C. The sewage should be raised by artificial means into a main channel for removal.

D. The intercepting sewers should be so constructed as to secure the largest amount of effective drainage without artificial appliances.

In preparing his plan, Mr. Forster had the advice and assistance of Mr. Haywood, of the City Court of Sewers.

The metropolis is divided into two portions--“the northern portion of the metropolis,” or rather that portion of the metropolis which is on the north or Middlesex bank of the Thames; and the southern portion, or that which is on the south or Surrey side of the river.

The northern portion is in the new plan considered to “divide itself into two separate areas,” and to these two areas different modes of sewerage are to be applied:

“1. The interception of the drainage of that district, which, from its elevation above the level of the outlet, is capable of having its sewage and rainfall carried off by gravitation.

“2. The interception of the drainage of that district, which, from its low lying position, will require its sewage, and in most localities its rainfall, to be lifted by steam-power to a proper level for discharge.”

The first district runs from Holsden-green (beyond the better-known Kensall-green) in the west, to the Tower Hamlets in the east. Its form is irregular, but not very much so, merely narrowing from Westbourn-green to its western extremity, the country then becoming rural or woodland. Its highest reaches to the north are to Highgate and Stamford-hill. The nearest approach to the south is to a portion of the Strand, between Charing-cross and Drury-lane. Care has evidently been taken to skirt this district, so to speak, by the canals and the railroads. This division of the northern portion is described as “the district for natural drainage.”

The area of this division is about 25-1/6 square miles.

The second division meets the first at the highway separating Kensington-gardens from Bayswater; and runs on, bordering the river, all the way to the West India Dock. Its shape is irregular, but, abating the roundness, presents somewhat of that sort of figure seen in the instrument known as a dumb-bell, the narrowest or hand-part being that between Charing-cross and Drury-lane, skirting the river as its southern bound. At its eastern end this second district widens abruptly, taking in Victoria-park, Stratford, and Bromley.

The area of this division of the northern portion is 16-1/8 square miles.

There are, moreover, two small tracts, comprising the southern part of the Isle of Dogs, and a narrow slip on the west side of the river Lea, which are intended to allow the rainfall to run into the Thames and the Lea respectively.

The area of the two is 1-3/4 square mile.

The area to be drained by natural outfall comprises, then, 25-1/6 square miles as regards rainfall, and the same extent as regards sewage; while the area to the drainage of which steam power is to be applied comprises 14-1/3 square miles of rainfall, and 16-1/6 square miles of sewage; the two united areas of rainfall and sewage respectively being 39-1/2 and 41-1/3 square miles.

The length of the great “high-level sewerage” will be, as regards the main sewer, 19 miles and 106 yards; that of the “low-level sewerage,” 14 miles and 1501 yards.

I will now describe the course of each of these constructions.

On the eastern bank of the Lea the sewage of both districts is to be concentrated. The high-level sewer will commence and cross the Lea near the “Four Mills.” It is then to proceed “in a westerly direction under the East and West India Dock Railway and the Blackwall Extension Railway, beneath the Regent’s-canal, to the east end of the Bethnal-green-road, at the crossing of the Cambridge-heath-road, at which point it will be joined by the proposed northern division of the Hackney-brook, which drains an extensive district up to the watershed line north of London, including Hackney, Stoke Newington and Holloway, and part of Highgate and Hampstead; from thence the main sewer proceeds along the Bethnal-green-road, Church-street, Old-street, Wilderness-row (where a short branch from Coppice-row will join) to Brook-street-hill; from thence to Little Saffron-hill, where a distance of about 100 yards is proposed to be carried by an aqueduct over the Fleet-valley; thence along Liquorpond-street, at the end of which it will receive a branch from Piccadilly, on the south side, and a diversion of the Fleet-river, on the north side; thence along Theobald’s-road, Bloomsbury-square, Hart-street, New Oxford-street, to Rathbone-place (where it will receive a diversion of the Regent-street sewer from Park-crescent), along Oxford-street, and extending thence across Regent-circus to South Molton-lane (where it will intercept the King’s Scholars’ Pond sewer), continuing still along Oxford-street to Bayswater-place, Grand Junction-road, Uxbridge-road, where it is joined by the Ranelagh sewer, the sewage of which it is capable of receiving, and at this point it terminates.”

It is difficult to convey to a reader, especially to a reader who may not be familiar with the localities of London generally, any adequate notion of the largeness, speaking merely of extent, of this undertaking. Even a map conveys no sufficient idea of it.

Perhaps I may best be able to suggest to a reader’s mind a knowledge of this largeness, when I state that in the district I have just described, which is but one portion (although the greatest) of the sewerage of but one side of the Thames, more than half a million of persons, and nearly 100,000 houses are, so to speak, to be sewered.

The low-level tract sewerage, also, concentrates on the Lea, “near to Four Mill’s distillery, taking the north-western bank of the Limehouse Cut, at which point it receives the branch intended to intercept the sewage of the Isle of Dogs; thence continuing along the bank of Limehouse Cut, through a portion of the Commercial-road, Brook-street, and beneath the Sun Tavern Fields, into High-street, or Upper Shadwell; thence along Ratcliffe-highway and Upper East Smithfield, across Tower-hill, through Little and Great Tower-streets, Eastcheap, Cannon-street, Little and Great St. Thomas Apostle, Trinity-lane, Old Fish-street, and Little Knight Rider-street; thence beneath houses in Wardrobe-terrace, and on the eastern side of St. Andrew’s-hill, along Earl-street to Blackfriars-road. From Blackfriars Bridge it is proposed to construct the sewer along the river shore to the junction of the Victoria-street sewer at Percy-wharf; which sewer between Percy-wharf and Shaftesbury-terrace, Pimlico, becomes thus an integral portion of the intercepting line; at Bridge-street, Westminster, a branch from the Victoria-street sewer is intended to proceed along Abingdon and Millbank-streets, as far as and for the purpose of taking up the King’s Scholars’ Pond and other sewers at their outlets into the Thames. From Shaftesbury-terrace the Victoria-street sewer is proposed to be extended through Eaton-square and along the King’s-road, Chelsea, to Park-walk, intercepting all the sewers along its line, and terminating at a point where the drainage of Kensington may be brought into it without pumping.”

The lines of sewerage thus described are, then, all to the west of the Lea, and all, whether from the shore of the Thames, or the northern reaches in Highgate and Hampstead, converging to a pumping station or sewage-concentration, on the east bank of the Lea, in West Ham. By this new plan, then, the high-level sewer is to cross the Lea, but that arrangement is impossible as respects the second district described, which is below the level of the Lea, so that its course is to be beneath that river, a little below where it is crossed by the high-level line. To dispose of the sewage, therefore, conveyed from the low-level tract, there will be a sewer of a “depth of forty-seven feet below” the invert of the high-level sewer. This sewer, then, at the depth of 47 feet, will run to the point of concentration containing the low-level sewage.

At this point of the works, in order that the sewage may be collected, so as to be disposed of ultimately in one mass, it has to be lifted from the low to the high-level sewer. The invert of the high-level sewer will at the lifting or pumping station be 20 feet above the ordnance datum, while that of the low-level sewer will be 27 feet below the same standard. Thus a great body of metropolitan sewage, comprising among other districts the refuse of the whole City of London, must be lifted no less than 47 feet, in order to be got rid of along with what has been carried to the same focus by its natural flow.

The lifting is to be effected by means of steam, and the pumping power required has been computed at 1100-horse power. To supply this great mechanical and scientific force, there are to be provided two engines, each of 550-horse power, with a third engine of equal capacity, to be available in case of accident, or while either of the other engines might require repairs of some duration.

The northern sewage of London (or that of the Middlesex bank of the Thames, covered by that division of the capital) having been thus brought to a sort of central reservoir, or meeting point, will be conveyed in two parallel lines of sewerage to the bank of the river Roding, being the eastern extremity of Gallion’s Reach (which is below Woolwich Reach), in the Thames. The Roding flows into the Thames at Barking Creek mouth. The length of this line will be four miles.

“At this point,” it is stated in the Report, “the level of the inverts of the parallel sewers will be eight feet below high-water mark, and here it is intended to collect the sewage into a reservoir during the flood-tide, and discharge the same with the ebb-tide immediately after high-water; and, as it is estimated that the reservoir will be completely emptied during the first three hours of the ebb, it may be safely anticipated that no portion of the sewage will be returned, with the flood-tide, to within the bounds of the metropolis.”

The whole of the sewage and rainfall, then, will be thus diverted to one destination, instead of being issued into the river through a multiplicity of outlets in every part of the northern shore where the population is dense, and will be carried into the Thames at Barking Creek, unless, as I have intimated, a market be found for the sewage; when it may be disposed of as is most advantageous. The only exceptions to this carrying off will be upon the occurrence of long-continued and heavy rains or violent storms, when the surplus water will be carried off by some of the present outlets into the river; but even on such occasions, the first scour or cleansings of the sewerage will be conveyed to the main outlet at the river Roding.

The inclination which has been assigned to the whole of the lines of sewers I have described, is, with some unimportant exceptions, 4 feet per mile, or 1 in 1320. These new sewers are, or rather will be, calculated to carry off a fall of rain, equal to 1/4 inch in 24 hours, in addition to the average daily flow of sewage.

Mr. Forster concludes his Report:--“I am only able to submit approximately that I estimate the cost of the whole of the lines of sewers, the pumping engines, and station, the reservoir, tidal gates, and other apparatus, at one million and eighty thousand pounds (1,080,000_l._). This estimate does not include the sums required for the purchase of land and houses, which may be needed for the site of the pumping engine-house, or compensation for certain portions of the lines of sewers.”

As regards the improvements in the sewerage on the south side of the Thames (the great fever district of the metropolis, and consequently the most important of all, and where the drainage is of the worst kind), I can be very brief, as nothing has been positively determined.

A somewhat similar system will be adopted on the south side of the Thames, where it is proposed to form one main intercepting sewer; but, owing to the physical configuration of this part of the town, none of the water will flow away entirely by gravitation. There will be a pumping station on the banks of the Ravensbourne, to raise the water about 25 feet; and a second pumping station to raise the water from the continued sewer in the reservoir, in Woolwich Marsh, which is to receive it during the intervals of the tides. The waters are to be discharged into the river at the last-named point. The main sewer on the south side will be of nearly equally colossal proportions; for its total length is proposed to be about 13 miles 3 furlongs, including the main trunk drain of about 2 miles long, and the respective branches. The area to be relieved is about proportionate to the length of the drain; but the steam power employed will be proportionally greater upon the southern than upon the northern side.

There are divers opinions, of course, as to the practicability and ultimate good working of this plan; speculations into which it is not necessary for me to enter. Mr. Forster has, moreover, resigned his office, adding another to the many changes among the engineers, surveyors, and other employés under the Metropolitan Commission; a fact little creditable to the management of the Commissioners, who, with one exception, may be looked upon as irresponsible.

OF THE MANAGEMENT OF THE SEWERS AND THE LATE COMMISSIONS.

The Corporation of the City of London may be regarded as the first Commission of Sewers in the exercise of authority over such places as regards the removal of the filth of towns. In time, but at what time there is no account, the business was consigned to the management of a committee, as are now the markets of the City (Markets Committee), and even what may be called the management of the Thames (Navigation Committee). It is not at all necessary that the members of these committees should understand anything about the matters upon which they have to determine. A staff of officers, clerks, secretaries, solicitors, and surveyors, save the members the trouble of thought or inquiry; they have merely to vote and determine. It was stated in evidence before a Select Committee of the House of Commons on the subject of the Thames steamers, that at that period the Chairman of the Navigation Committee was a bread and biscuit baker, but “a very-firm-minded man.” In time, but again I can find no note of the precise date, the Committee became a Court of Sewers, and so it remains to the present time. Commissions of sewers have been issued by the Crown since the 25th year of the reign of Henry VIII., except during the era of the Commonwealth, when there seems to have been no attention paid to the matter.

As the metropolis increased rapidly in size since the close of the last century, the public sewers of course increased in proportion, and so did Commissions of Sewers in the newly-built districts. Up to 1847 these Commissions or Court of Sewers were eight in number, the metropolis being divided into that number of districts.

The districts were as follows:--

1. The City. 2. The Tower Hamlets. 3. St. Katherine. 4. Poplar and Blackwall. 5. Holborn and Finsbury. 6. Westminster and part of Middlesex. 7. Surrey and Kent. 8. Greenwich.

Each of these eight Commissions had its own Act of Parliament; its own distinct, often irregular and generally uncontrolled plan of management; each had its own officers; and each had its own patronage. Each district court--with almost unlimited powers of taxation--pursued its own plans of sewerage, little regardful of the plans of its neighbour Commission. This wretched system--the great recommendation of which, to its promoters and supporters, seems to have been patronage--has given us a sewerage unconnected and varying to the present day in almost every district; varying in the dimensions, form, and inclination of the structures.

The eight commission districts, I may observe, had each their sub-districts, though the general control was in the hands of the particular Court or Board of Commissioners for the entire locality. These subdivisions were chiefly for the facilities of rate-collecting, and were usually “western,” “eastern,” and “central.”

The consequence of this immethodical system has been that, until the surveys and works now in progress are completed, the precise character, and even the precise length, of the sewers must be unknown, though a sufficient approximation may be deduced in the interim.

To show the conflicting character of the sewerage, I may here observe that in some of the old sewers have been found walls and arches crumbling to pieces. Some old sewers were found to be not only of ample proportions, but to contain subterranean chambers, not to say halls, filled with filth, into which no man could venture. While in a sewer in the newly-built district of St. John’s-wood, Mr. Morton, the Clerk of Works, could only advance stooping half double, could not turn round when he had completed his examination, but had most painfully--for a long time feeling the effects--to back out along the sewer, stooping, or doubled up, as he entered it. Why the sewer was constructed in this manner is not stated, but the work appears, inferentially, to have been scamped, which, had there been a proper supervision, could hardly have been done with a modern public sewer, down a thoroughfare of some length (the Woronzow-road).

But the conflicting and disjointed system of sewerage was not the sole evil of the various Commissions. The mismanagement and jobbery, not to say peculation, of the public moneys, appear to have been enormous. For instance, in the “Accountant’s Report” (February, 1848), prepared by Mr. W. H. Grey, 48, Lincoln’s-inn-fields, I find the following statements relative to the Book-keeping of the several Commissions:--

“The Westminster plan is full of unnecessary repetition. It is deficient in those real general accounts which concentrate the information most needed by the Commissioners, and it contains fictions which are very inconsistent with any sound system of book-keeping.

“The ledger of the Westminster Commission does not give a true account of the actual receipt and expenditure of each district.

“The Holborn and Finsbury books are still more defective than those of the Westminster Commission.... There are the same kind of fictions.... But the extraordinary defect in these books consists in the utter want of system throughout them, by keeping one-sided accounts only in the ledger, with respect to the different sewers in each district, showing only the amount expended on each.

“The Tower Hamlets books have been kept on a regular system, though by no means one conveying much general information.”

“With respect to the Surrey and Kent accounts,” says Mr. Grey, “the books produced are the most incomplete and unsatisfactory that ever came under my observation. The ledger is always thought to be a sine quâ non in book-keeping; but here it has been dispensed with altogether, for that which is so marked is no ledger at all.”

Under these circumstances, the Report continues, “It cannot be wondered at that debts should have been incurred, or that they should have swollen to the amount of 54,000_l._, carrying a yearly interest of 2360_l._, besides annuities granted to the amount of 1125_l._ a year.

“The Poplar and Greenwich accounts (I quote the official Report), confined as they are to mere cash books, offer no subjects for remark....

“No books of account have been produced with respect to the _St. Katherine’s_ Commission.”

On the 16th December, 1847, the new Commissioners ordered all the books to be sent to the office in Greek-street; but it was not until the 21st February, 1848, that all the minute-books were produced. There were no indexes for many years even to the proceedings of the Courts; and the account-books of one of the local Courts, if they might be so called, were in such a state that the book called “ledger” had for several years been cast up in pencil only.

This refers to what may be characterised, with more or less propriety, as mismanagement or neglect; though in such mismanagement it is hardly possible to escape one inference. I now come to what are direct imputations of Jobbery, and where that is flourishing or easy, no system can be other than vicious.

In a paper “printed for use of Commissioners” (Sept. 7, 1848), entitled “Draft Report on the Surrey Accounts,” emanating from a “General Purposes’ Committee,” I find the following, concerning the parliamentary expenses of obtaining an Act which it was “found necessary to repeal.” The cost was, altogether, upwards of 1800_l._, which of course had to be defrayed out of the taxes.

“This Act,” says the Report, “authorized an almost unlimited borrowing of money; and immediately upon its passing, in July, 1847, notices were issued for works estimated to amount to 100,000_l._; and others, we understand, were projected for early execution to the amount of 300,000_l._... Considering the general character of the works executed, and from them judging of those projected, it may confidently be averred that the whole sum of 300,000_l._, the progressive expenditure of which was stayed by the ‘supersedeas’ of the old Commission, would have been expended in waste.” [The Italics are not those of the Reports.]

The Report continues, “It is to be observed that each of the district surveyors would have participated in the sum of 15,000_l._ percentage on the expenditure for the extension of the Surrey works. Thus the surveyors, with their percentages on the works executed, and the clerk, by the fees on contracts, &c., had a direct interest in a large expenditure.”

Instances of the same dishonest kind might be multiplied to almost any extent.

After the above evidences of the incompetency and dishonesty of the several district Commissions--and the Reports from which they are copied contain many more examples of a similar and even worse description--it is not to be wondered at that in the year 1847 the district courts were, with the exception of the City, superseded by the authority of the Crown, and formed into one body, the present Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, of the constitution and powers of which I shall now proceed to speak.

OF THE POWERS AND AUTHORITY OF THE PRESENT COMMISSIONS OF SEWERS.

In 1847 the eight separate Commissions of Sewers were abolished, and the whole condensed, by the Government, into one Commission, with the exception of the City, which seems to supply an exception in most public matters.

The Act does not fix the number of the Commissioners. To the Metropolitan Commissioners, five City Commissioners are added (the Lord Mayor for the year being one ex officio); these have a right to act as members of the Metropolitan Board, but their powers in this capacity are loosely defined by the Act, and they rarely attend, or perhaps never attend, unless the business in some way or other affects their distinct jurisdiction.

The Commissioners (of whom twelve form a quorum) are unpaid, with the exception of the chairman, Mr. E. Lawes, a barrister, who has 1000_l._ a year. They are appointed for the term of two years, revocable at pleasure.

The authority of the City Commission, as distinct from the Metropolitan, for there are two separate Acts, seems to be more strongly defined than that of the others, but the principle is the same throughout. The Metropolitan Act bears date September 4, 1848; and the City Act, September 5, 1848.

The Metropolitan Commissioners have the control over “the sewers, drains, watercourses, weirs, dams, banks, defences, gratings, pipes, conduits, culverts, sinks, vaults, cesspools, rivers, reservoirs, engines, sluices, penstocks, and other works and apparatus for the collection and discharge of rain-water, surplus land or spring-water, waste water, or filth, or fluid, or semi-fluid refuse of all descriptions, and for the protection of land from floods or inundation within the limits of the Commission.” Ample as these powers seem to be, the Commissioners’ authority does not extend over the Thames, which is in the jurisdiction of the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London; and it appears childish to give men control over “rivers,” and to empower them to take measures “for the protection of land from floods or inundation,” while over the great metropolitan stream itself, from Yantlet Creek, below Gravesend, to Oxford, they have no power whatever.

The Commissioners (City as well as Metropolitan) are empowered to enforce proper house-drainage wherever needed; to regulate the building of new houses, in respect of water-closets, cesspools, &c.; to order any street, staircase, or passage not effectually cleansed to be effectually cleansed; to remedy all nuisances having insanitary tendencies; to erect public water-closets and urinals, free from any charge to the public; to order houses and rooms to be whitewashed; to erect places for depositing the bodies of poor persons deceased until interment; and to regulate the cleanliness, ventilation, and even accommodation of low lodging-houses.

The jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers extends over “all such places or parts in the counties of Middlesex, Surrey, Essex, and Kent, or any of them not more than twelve miles distant in a straight line from St. Paul’s Cathedral, in the City of London, but not being within the City of London or the liberties thereof.”

This, it must be confessed, is an exceedingly broad definition of the extent of the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commission, giving the Commissioners an extraordinary amount of latitude.

In our days there are many Londons. There is the London (or the metropolitan apportionment of the capital) as defined by the Registrar-General. This, as we have seen, has an area of 115 square miles, and therefore may be said to comprise as nearly as possible all those places which are rather more than five miles distant from the Post Office.

There is the Metropolis as defined by the Post-Office functionaries, or the limits assigned to what is termed the “London District Post.” This London District Post seems, however, to have three different metropolises:--First, there is the Central Metropolis, throughout which there is an hourly delivery of letters after mid-day, and which deliveries are said to be confined to “London.” Then there is the six-delivery Metropolis, or that throughout which the letters are despatched and received six times per day; this is said to extend to such of the “environs” as are included within a circle of three miles from the General Post Office. Then there is the six-mile Metropolis with special privileges. And lastly, the twelve-mile Metropolis, which, being the extreme range of the London District Post, may be said to constitute the metropolis of the General Post Office.

There is, again, the metropolis of the Metropolitan Commissioners of Police, before the region of rural police and country and parish constables is attained; a jurisdiction which covers 96 square miles, as I have shown at pp. 163-166 of the present volume, and reaches--generally speaking--to such places as are included within a circle of five miles and a half from the General Post Office.

There is, moreover, the metropolis, as defined by the Hackney-Carriage Act, which comprises all such places as are within five miles of the General Post Office.

And further, there is the Metropolis of the London City Mission, which extends to eight miles from the Post Office, and the Metropolis, again, of the London Ragged Schools, which reaches to about three miles from the Post Office.

This, however, is not all, for there are divers districts for the registration and exercise of votes, parliamentary, or municipal; there are ecclesiastical and educational districts; there is a thorough complication of parochial, extra-parochial, and chartered districts; there is a world of subdivisions and of sub-subdivisions, so ramified here and so closely blended there, and often with such preposterous and arbitrary distinctions, that to describe them would occupy more than a whole Number.

My present business, however, is the extent of the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers, or rather to ascertain the boundaries of that metropolis over which the Metropolitan Commissioners are allowed to have sway.

The many discrepancies and differences I have explained make it difficult to define any district for the London sewerage; and in the Reports, &c., which are presented to Parliament, or prepared by public bodies, little or no care seems to be taken to observe any distinctiveness in this respect.

For instance: The jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, which is said to extend to all such places as are not more than 12 miles distant in a straight line from St. Paul’s Cathedral, in the City of London, comprises an area of 452 square miles; the metropolis, that of the Registrar-General, presenting a radius of 6 miles (with a fractional addition), contains 115 square miles; yet in official documents 58 square miles, or a circle of about 4-1/2 miles radius, are given as the extent of the metropolis sewered by the Metropolitan Commission. By what calculations this 58 miles are arrived at, whether it has been the arbitrium of the authorities to consider the sewers, &c., as occupying the half of the area of the Registrar-General’s metropolis, or what other reason has induced the computation, I am unable to say.

The boundaries of the several metropolises may be indicated as follows:--

The Three-Mile Circle includes Camberwell; skirts Peckham; seems to divide Deptford (irregularly); touches the West India Dock; includes portions of Limehouse, Stepney, Bromley, Stratford-le-Bow, and about the half of Victoria-park, Hackney. It likewise comprises a part of Lower Clapton, Dalston, and a portion of Stoke Newington; and closely touching upon or containing small portions of Lower Holloway, and Kentish-town, sweeps through the Regent’s and Hyde parks, includes a moiety of Chelsea, and crossing the river at the Red-house, Battersea, completes the circle. This is the six-delivery district of the General Post Office.

In this three-mile district are chiefly condensed the population, commerce, and wealth of the greatest and richest city in the world.

The Six-Mile Circle runs from Streatham (on the south); just excludes Sydenham; contains within its exterior line Lewisham, Greenwich, and a part of Woolwich; also, wholly or partially, East Ham, Laytonstone, Walthamstow, Tottenham, Hornsey, Highgate, Hampstead, Kensall-green, Hammersmith, Fulham, Wandsworth, and Upper Tooting. The portion without the three-mile circle, and within the six, is the suburban portion or the immediate environs of the metropolis, and still presents rural and woodland beauties in different localities. This may be termed the metropolis of the Registrar-General and Commissioners of Metropolitan Police.

The Twelve-Mile Circle, or the extent of the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers, as well as the “London District Post,” includes Croydon, Wickham, Paul’s Cray, Foot’s Cray, North Cray, and Bexley; crosses the river at the Erith-reach; proceeds across the Rainham-marshes; comprises Dagenham; skirts Romford; includes Henhault-forest and the greater portion of Epping-forest; touches Waltham-abbey and Cheshunt; comprehends Enfield and Chipping-Barnet; runs through Elstre and Stanmore; comprehends Harrow-on-the-Hill, Norwood, and Hounslow; embraces Twickenham and Teddington; seems to divide somewhat equally the domains of Bushey-park and of Hampton-court Palace; then, crossing the river about midway between Thames Ditton and Kingston, the boundary line passes between Cheam and Ewell, and completes the circuit.

Over this large district, then, the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners of Sewers is said to extend, and one of the outlets of the London sewers has already been spoken of as being situate at Hampton. The district yielding the amount of sewage which is assumed as being the gross wet house-refuse of the metropolis is, as we have seen, taken at 58 square miles, and is comprised within a circle of about 4-1/2 miles radius; this reaches only to Brixton, Dulwich, Greenwich, East India Docks, Layton, Highgate, Hampstead, Bayswater, Kensington, Brompton, and Battersea. The actual jurisdiction of the Commissioners is, then, nearly eight times larger than the portion to which the estimated amount of the sewage of the metropolis refers.

The metropolitan district is still distinguished by the old divisions of the Tower Hamlets, Poplar and Blackwall, Holborn and Finsbury, Westminster, &c.; but many of these divisions are now incorporated into one district; of which there would appear to be but four at present; or five, inclusive of the City.

These are as follows:--

1. Fulham and Hammersmith, Counter’s Creek and Ranelagh districts.

2. Westminster (Eastern and Western), Regent-street, and Holborn.

3. Finsbury, Tower Hamlets, Poplar, and Blackwall.

4. Districts south of the Thames, Eastern and Western.

5. City.

The practical part or working of the Commission of Sewers is much less complicated at present than it was in the times of the independent districts and independent commissions.

The orders for all work to be done emanate from the court in Greek-street, but the several surveyors, &c. (whose salaries, numbers, &c., are given below), can and do order on their responsibility any repair of a temporary character which is evidently pressing, and report it at the next court day. The Court meets weekly and monthly, and what may be styled the heavier portion of the business, as regards expenditure on great works, is more usually transacted at the monthly meetings, when the attendance is generally fuller; but the Court can, and sometimes does, meet much more frequently, and sometimes has adjourned from day to day.

Any private individual or any public body may make a communication or suggestion to the Court of Sewers, which, if it be in accordance with their functions, is taken into consideration at the next accruing court day, or as soon after as convenient. The Court in these cases either comes to a decision of adoption or rejection of any proposition, or refers it to one of their engineers or surveyors for a report, or to a committee of the Commissioners, appointed by the Court; if the proposition be professional, as to defects, or alleged and recommended improvements in the local sewers, &c., it is referred to a professional gentleman for his opinion; if it be more general, as to the extension of sewerage to some new undertaking or meditated undertaking in the way of building new markets, streets, or any places, large and public; or in applications for the use and appropriation by enterprising men of sewage manure, it is referred to a committee.

On receiving such reports the Court makes an order according to its discretion. If the work to be done be extensive, it is entrusted to the chief engineer, and perhaps to a principal surveyor acting in accordance with him; if the work be more local, it is consigned to a surveyor. One or other of these officers provides, or causes to be prepared, a plan and a description of the work to be done, and instructs the clerk of the works to procure estimates of the cost at which a contractor will undertake to execute this work, or, as it is often called by the labouring class, to “complete the job” (a word at one time singularly applicable). The estimates are sent by the competing builders, architects, general speculators, or by any one wishing to contract, to the court house (without the intervention of any person, officially or otherwise) and they are submitted to the Board by their clerk. The lowest contract, as the sum total of the work, is most generally adopted, and when a contract has been accepted, the matter seems settled and done with, as regards the management of the Commissioners; for the contractor at once becomes responsible for the fulfilment of his contract, and may and does employ whom he pleases and at what rates he pleases, without fear of any control or interference from the Court. The work, however, is superintended by the surveyors, to ensure its execution according to the provisions of the agreement. The contractor is paid by direct order of the Court.

The surveyors and clerks of works are mostly limited as to their labours to the several districts; but the superior officers are employed in all parts, and so, if necessary, are the subordinate officers when the work requires an extra staff.

According to the Returns, the following functionaries appear to be connected with the undermentioned districts:--

Fulham, Hammersmith, Counter’s Creek, and Ranelagh. 1 Surveyor. 3 Clerks of the Works. 1 Inspector of Flushing.

Eastern and Western Divisions of Westminster and Regent-street. 1 Surveyor, who has also the Holborn division to attend to. 2 Clerks of the Works. 6 Flap and Sluice keepers.

Holborn. 2 Clerks of the Works. 1 Inspector of Flushing.

Finsbury. 1 Clerk of the Works. 1 Inspector of Flushing.

Tower Hamlets, and Poplar and Blackwall. 1 Surveyor, who has also the Finsbury division included in his district. 2 Clerks of the Works. 2 Inspectors of Flushing.

South of the Thames. Western Districts. 1 Surveyor. 2 Clerks of the Works. 2 Inspectors of Flushing.

Eastern Districts. 1 Surveyor. 2 Clerks of the Works. 2 Inspectors of Flushing.

What may be called the working staff of the Metropolitan Commissioners consists of the following functionaries, receiving the following salaries:--

£ s. Chairman, with a yearly salary of 1,000 0

Secretary, with a yearly salary of (besides an allowance of £100, in lieu of apartments) 800 0 Clerk of minutes 350 0 Two clerks of do., (each with a salary of £150) 300 0 One do., with a salary of 120 0 One do. do. 105 0 One do. do. 95 0 One do. do. 90 0

Accountant do. 350 0 Accountant’s clerk do. 150 0 Do do. 80 0 Clerk of surveyors’ and contractors’ accounts 200 0 Do. do. 125 0 Do. do. 110 0

Clerk of rates 250 0 Another do. 180 0 Do. do. 110 0 Do. do. 90 0

Engineer 1,000 0 For travelling expenses 200 0 Surveyor for Fulham and Hammersmith, Counter’s Creek, and Ranelagh districts 350 0 Clerk of works (Hammersmith) 150 0 Do. (Counter’s Creek) 150 0 Do. (Ranelagh) 150 0 Inspector of flushing 80 0

Surveyor of eastern and western divisions of Westminster, and of Regent-st. and Holborn divisions 300 0 Two clerks of works (eastern and western and Regent-street), with a salary of £300 each 600 0 Two do. (Holborn), with a salary of £150 each 300 0 Inspector of flushing 80 0 Surveyor of Finsbury, Tower Hamlets, and Poplar and Blackwall 300 0 Clerk of works (Finsbury) 150 0 Inspector of flushing 80 0 Two clerks of works (Tower Hamlets, and Poplar and Blackwall), with a salary of £150 each 300 0 Two inspectors of flushings with a salary of £80 each 160 0 One marsh bailiff 65 0 Surveyor of the western districts south of the Thames 300 0 Do., eastern do. 250 0 Clerk of works (eastern portion) 164 0 Two inspectors of flushing, £80 each 160 0 One wallreeve 22 8 Clerk of works (western portion) 164 0 Do. do. 150 0 Two inspectors of flushing, with a salary of £80 each 160 0

Two engineer’s clerks, with a salary of £150 each 300 0 One do. 150 0 One do. 100 0 One do. 80 0

One by-law clerk 150 0 Twenty-two flap and sluice keepers 892 12

Surveyor (of the surveying and drawing staff) 250 0 Drawing clerk 150 0 Two do., with a salary of £130 each 260 0 Five do., with a salary of £105 each 525 0 One do. 50 0 Six surveyors, with a salary of £100 each 600 0 Six chainmen, 18_s._ a week each 280 0

Office-keeper and crier (general service) 120 0 Bailiff, &c. 100 0 Strong-room keeper 80 0 One messenger 70 0 Two do., £40 each 80 0 Three errand-boys, £32 each 96 0 Housekeeper 150 0 --------- Yearly total £13,874 0

This is called a “reduced” staff, and the reduction of salaries is certainly very considerable.

If we consider the yearly emoluments of tradesmen in businesses requiring no great extent of education or general intelligence, the salaries of the surveyors, clerk of the works, &c., must appear very far from extravagant; and when we consider their responsibility and what may be called their removability, some of the salaries may be pronounced mean; for I think it must be generally admitted by all, except the narrow-minded, who look merely at the immediate outlay as the be-all and the end-all of every expenditure, that if the surveyors, clerks of works, inspectors of flushing, &c., be the best men who could be procured (as they ought to be), or at any rate be thorough masters of their craft, they are rather underpaid than overpaid.

The above statement may be analysed in the following manner:--

£ s. £

Chairman 1,000 Secretary and 7 clerks 1860 0 Accountant and 5 clerks 1015 0 Clerk of rates and 3 clerks 630 0 ------- 3,505 Engineer and 5 clerks 1830 0 7 surveyors, of surveying and drawing staff, with 6 chainmen and 9 drawing clerks 2125 0 5 district surveyors 1500 0 12 clerks of works 2278 0 9 inspectors of flushing 720 0 22 flap and sluice keepers 892 12 Bailiff, marsh-bailiff, and wallreeve 187 8 ------- 9,533 Office keeper, strong-room keeper, and housekeeper 350 0 3 messengers and 3 errand-boys 246 0 ------ 596 ------ £14,634

The cost of rent, taxes, stationery, and office incidentals, is now 4440_l._, which makes the total yearly outlay amount to upwards of 19,000_l._ The annual cost of the staff in the secretary’s department is said to have been reduced from 3962_l._ 4_s._ to 3605_l._; in the engineers’ department from 16,437_l._ 3_s._ to 8973_l._ 16_s._ In the general service there has been an increase from 606_l._ 16_s._ to 696_l._

A deputation who waited lately upon Lord John Russell is said to have declared the expenses of the Commissioners’ office to be at the rate of from 25 to 30 per cent. on the amount of rate collected. The sum collected in the year 1850 averaged 89,341_l._ The cost of management in that year was 23,465_l._; this, it will be seen, is 26 per cent of the gross income.

The annual statement of the receipts and expenditure under the Commission for the year 1851 has just been published, but not officially; from this it appears that in February, 1851--

The balance of cash in hand £ s. d. was 5,750 9 11 The total receipts during the year have amounted to 129,000 0 9 ------------- Making together 134,750 10 8

The expenditure, as returned under the general head, is--

For work £95,539 19 3 (This item includes the cost of supervision and compensation for damages.) The cost of surveys has been 6,332 19 9 Management 16,430 9 2 Loans 10,442 10 2 Contingencies 2,749 1 1 ------------- Total payments 131,494 19 5 Balance in hand £3,355 11 3

As an instance of the mismanagement of the sewers work of the metropolis, it is but right that the subjoined document should be published.

I need not offer any comment on the following “Return to an Address of the Honourable the House of Commons, dated 28th July, 1851,” except that I was told early in January, on good authority, that the matter was now worse than it was when reported as follows:--

“Privy Gardens, Whitehall Yard, Scotland Yard, &c., Public Sewer.

“With reference to the two orders of the Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Woods, &c., I have the honour to state that, since the 15th of November (when I last sent in a memorandum), I have frequently visited the several Crown buildings affected by the building of the main public sewer for draining Westminster; viz., the Earl of Malmsbury’s, the Exchequer Bill Office, the United Service Museum, Lord Liverpool’s, Mr. Vertue’s, Mr. Alderman Thompson’s, and Messrs. Dalgleish’s.

“All these buildings have been more or less damaged by the construction of the sewer; the Exchequer Bill Office, the United Service Museum, and Mr. Vertue’s, in a manner that, in my opinion, can never be effectually repaired.

“At Lord Malmsbury’s, the party wall next to the Exchequer Bill Office has moved, as shown by some cracks in the staircase; but for this house it may not be necessary to require more to be done than stopping and painting.

“At the Exchequer Bill Office, the old Gothic groins have been cracked in several places, and several settlements have taken place in the walls over and near to where the sewer passes under the building. The shores are still standing against this building, but it would now be better to remove them; the cracks in the groins and walls can never be repaired to render the building so substantial as it was before. The cracks in the basement still from month to month show a very slight movement; those in the staircase and roof also appear to increase. As respects this building, I would submit to the Commissioners of Woods that it would not be advisable to permit the surveyors of the Commissioners of Sewers to enter and make only a surface repair of plaster and paint; but I would suggest that a careful survey be made by surveyors appointed respectively by the Board of Woods and the Commissioners of Sewers, and that a thorough repair of the building be made (so far as it is susceptible of repair), under the Board of Woods; the Commissioners of Sewers paying such proportion of the cost thereof as may fairly be deemed to have been occasioned by their proceedings.

“At the United Service Museum, the settlements on the side next the sewer appear to me very serious.

“The house occupied by Lord Liverpool, as also Mr. Vertue’s house, of which his Lordship is Crown lessee, were both affected, the former to some extent, but not seriously; of the latter, the west front sunk, and pulled over the whole house with it; but as respects these two houses the interference of the Board is, I believe, unnecessary, Mr. Hardwicke (one of the Sewer Commissioners) having, as architect for Lord Liverpool, caused both to be repaired.

“A like repair has also been made in the kitchen offices of Mr. Alderman Thompson’s house, where alone any cracks appeared.

“At Messrs. Dalgleish and Taylor’s, very serious injury has been done to both their buildings and their trade. The Commissioners of Sewers have a steam-engine still at work on those premises, and have not yet concluded their operations there. Some of the sheds which entirely fell down they have rebuilt; and others, which appear in a very defective if not dangerous state, it is understood they propose to repair or rebuild; but as eventually Messrs. Dalgleish and Taylor will have a very heavy claim against them for interference with business, and as the extent of damage to the buildings which has been done, or may hereafter arise, cannot at present be fully ascertained, it would probably be advisable to postpone this part of the subject, giving notice, however, to the Commissioners of Sewers that it must hereafter come under consideration.

(Signed) “JAMES PENNETHORNE.

“10th May, 1851.”

“Sewer, Whitehall Yard, &c.

“Under the order of the Commissioners of Her Majesty’s Woods, &c., of yesterday’s date, endorsed on a letter from Mr. Tonna, I have inspected the United Service Institution in Whitehall Yard, and find most of the cracks have moved.

“The movement, though slight, and not showing immediate danger, is more than I had anticipated would occur within so short a period when I reported on the 10th instant. It tends to confirm the opinion therein given, and shows the necessity for immediate precaution, and for a thorough repair.

(Signed) “JAMES PENNETHORNE.

“16th May, 1851.

{Commissioners of Her “SEYMOUR, {Majesty’s Woods, Forests, “CHARLES GORE, {Land Revenues, {Works, and Buildings.

“Office of Woods, &c.

“5th August, 1851.”

OF THE SEWERS RATE.

Having shown the expenditure of the Commission of Sewers, we now come to consider its income.

The funds available for the sewerage and drainage of the several towns throughout the kingdom, are raised by means of a particular property tax, termed the Sewers Rate. This forms part of what are designated the Local Taxes of England and Wales.

Local taxes are of two classes:--

I. Rates raised upon property in defined districts, as parishes, jurisdictions, counties, &c.

II. Tolls, dues, and fees charged for particular services on particular occasions, as turnpike tolls, harbour dues, &c., &c.

The rates or sums raised upon the property lying within a certain circumscribed locality, admit of being subdivided into two orders--

1. The rates of independent districts, or those which, being required for a particular district (as the parish or some equivalent territorial limit), are not only levied within the bounds of that district, but expended for the purposes of it alone; as is the case with the poor rate.

2. The rates of aggregate districts, or those which, though required to be expended for the purposes of a given district (such as the county), are raised in detail in the several inferior districts (such as the various parishes) which compose the larger one, and which contribute the sums thus levied to one common fund; such is the case with the county rate.

But the rates of independent districts may be further distinguished into two orders, viz.--

i. Those which are levied on the same classes of persons, the same kinds of property, and the same principles of valuation as the poor rate; such are the highway rate, the lighting and watching, and the militia rate among the independent rates; and the police, borough, and county rates among the aggregate rates.

ii. Those which are not levied on the same basis as the poor rate. The church and sewers rates are familiar instances of this peculiarity.

The sewers rate, then, is a local tax required for an independent rather than an aggregate district, and is not levied upon the basis of the poor law.

The assessment of the poor rate, for instance, includes tithes of every kind, that of the sewers rate extends to such tithes only as are in the hands of laymen. Again, the sewers rate embraces some incorporeal hereditaments to which the poor rate does not extend; but stock in trade, which of late years has been specially exempted from the poor rate, was never subject to the sewers rate.

A sewers rate, however, was known as early as the sixth year of Henry VI. (1427), though “commissions” were not instituted till the time of Henry VIII. The Act which now regulates the collection of the funds required for the cleansing, building, repairs, and improvements of the sewers, is 4 and 5 Vict. (1841). This statute gives the “Courts” or “Commissions” of Sewers, power “to tax in the gross” in each parish, &c., all lands, &c., within the jurisdiction of such courts, for the requirements of the public sewerage. This impost is not periodically levied, nor at any stated or even regularly recurring term, but “as occasion requires:” perhaps once in two or three years. It is (with some exceptions, which require no notice) what is commonly called “a landlord’s tax” in the metropolis, that is, the sewers-rate collector must be paid by the occupier of the premises, who, on the production of the collector’s receipt, can deduct the amount from his rent. If this arrangement were meant to convey a notion to the public that the sewers tax was a tax on property--on the capitalist who owns, and not on the tenant who merely occupies--it is a shallow device, for every one must know that the more sewers rate a tenant pays for his landlord, the more rent he must pay to him.

The sewers rate is levied according to the rateable value put upon property by the surveyors and assessors appointed by the Commissioners, who may make the rate “by such ways and means, and in such manner and form, as to them may seem most convenient.” It seems a question yet to be determined whether or not there is a right of appeal against the sewers rate, but the general opinion is that there is no appeal. The rate can be mortgaged by the Commissioners if an advance of money is considered desirable. The maximum of 1_s._ in the pound on the net annual value of the property was fixed by the Act. The Commissioners have also the power to levy a “special rate” on any district not connected with the general system of sewerage, but which it has been resolved should be so connected; also an “improvement rate,” at a maximum of 10 per cent. on the rack rent, “in respect of works they may judge to be of private benefit,” a provision which has called forth some comments.

The metropolitan sewers rate is now collected in nine districts.

There are at present 42 Commissions or Courts of Sewers throughout England and Wales.

The only return which has yet been prepared of the annual amount assessed and collected under the authority of the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers, is one presented to the House of Commons in 1843. It includes the sum assessed in four of the eight districts within the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners from 1831 to 1840 inclusive.

------------------------+------------+------------ |Total in the| Annual Districts. | 10 years. | Average. ------------------------+------------+------------ | £ | £ Westminster | 235,397 | 23,539-7/10 Holborn and Finsbury | 123,317 | 12,331-7/10 Tower Hamlets | 82,468 | 8,246-8/10 From East Moulsey, | | in Surrey, to | | Ravensbourne, in Kent | 175,137 | 17,513-7/10 ------------------------+------------+------------ | 616,319 | 61,631-9/10 ------------------------+------------+------------

The following amounts were returned to Parliament as that expended in two other of the metropolitan districts in the year 1833:--

In the City £17,718-2/10 Poplar district 2,746-9/10 ------------ £20,465-1/10

Annual average of the four above-mentioned districts 61,631-9/10 -------------------------------------------------- Yearly total £82,097

The two districts excluded from the above total are the minor ones of St. Katherine and Greenwich, so that altogether the gross sum levied within the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Commissioners must have been between 85,000_l._ and 90,000_l._

The annual amount of the local rates in England and Wales is, according to a work on the subject (“The Local Taxes of the United Kingdom”), published “under the direction of the Poor Law Commissioners” in 1846, 8,801,838_l._[68] In this large sum only the average annual outlay on the six districts of the sewers of the metropolis is included (82,097_l._), and it is stated that not even an approximate average could be arrived at as regards the expenditure on sewers in the country districts. Such absence of statistical knowledge,--and it is a want continually observable--is little creditable to the legislative, executive, and administrative powers of the State.

I shall now proceed to show, from the best data at my command, the present outlay on the metropolitan sewers.

According to the present law, the Commissioners are required to submit to Parliament yearly returns of the money collected on account of, and expended in, the sewerage of the metropolis.

I need only state, that in the latest and, indeed, the sole returns upon the subject, the rates in 1845-6-7, under the former separate commissions, were 1_d._ and 2_d._ in the pound on land, and from 3_d._ (Ranelagh and Westminster) to 1_s._ 10_d._ (Greenwich) on houses.

The rates made under the combined and consolidated Commissions, from 30th Nov., 1847, to 8th Oct., 1849, were all 6_d._, excepting the Western division of Westminster sewers, which were 3_d._, and a part of the Surrey and Kent district, 8_d._

The rates under the present Metropolitan Commission, from 8th October, 1849, to 31st July, 1851, are all 6_d._, with a similar exception in Surrey and Kent. The following are the only further returns bearing immediately on the subject:--

RETURN OF THE PERCENTAGE ON THE TOTAL RATEABLE ANNUAL VALUE OF THE PROPERTY ASSESSED, to which the Rates collected under the separate COMMISSIONS, between January, 1845, and November, 1847, amounted; SIMILAR RETURN as to the combined and consolidated COMMISSIONS, from November, 1847, to October, 1849; and as to the present COMMISSION, from October, 1849, to July 31, 1851.

------------------------------------+---------------------+----------------+----------------------------------+ | Total Rateable | | | Annual Value of the | | Amount of the | Districts on | Average Amount | Percentage of | November 30, 1847, | collected | the Rates collected | and October 8, 1849,| for One Year. | on the Rateable | and July 31, 1851, | | Annual Value. | respectively. | | ------------------------------------+---------------------+----------------+----------------------------------+ | £ s. d.| £ s. d.| £ s. d. Under the old separate Commissions }| | | of Sewers, between }| 6,683,896 0 0 | 81,738 11 0 |{ 1 4 5 or 2-3/4_d._ ·72 in the January, 1845, and November }| | |{ pound per annum. 30, 1847 }| | | | | | Under the combined and consolidated}| | | Commissions, from November }| | |{ 0 18 11-3/4 or 2-1/4_d._ ·11 in 30, 1847, to October 8, }| 7,128,111 0 0 | 67,707 16 3 |{ the pound per 1849 (including first Metropolitan }| | |{ annum. Commission) }| | | | | | Under the present Metropolitan }| 8,135,090[69] 0 0 |{ |{ 1 1 11 or 2-1/2_d._ ·52 in the Commission of Sewers, from October }| |{ 89,341 16 0 |{ pound per annum. 8, 1849, to July 21, 1851 }| 8,820,325[70] 0 0 |{ |{ 1 0 3 or 2-1/4_d._ ·72 in the | | |{ pound per annum. ------------------------------------+---------------------+----------------+----------------------------------+

AUGUST, 1851.

THOMAS COGGIN, Clerk of Rates and Collections.

return of the present annual amount of the local rates in England and Wales.

I. RATES.

A. RATES OF INDEPENDENT DISTRICTS.

1. On the basis of the poor rate.

The poor rate, including the purposes of-- The workhouse building rate } The survey and valuation rate } Relief of the poor £4,976,093 Other objects 567,567 Contributions to county and borough rates (see below). Jail fees rate } Constables rate } unknown Highway rates 1,312,812 Lighting and watching rate unknown Militia rate not needed

2. Not on the basis of the poor rate.

Church rates 506,812 Sewers rate-- General sewers tax-- In the metropolis 82,097 In the rest of the country unknown Drainage and inclosure rates } Inclosure rate } unknown Regulated pasture rate }

B. RATES OF AGGREGATE DISTRICTS.

County rates { Contributed } Hundred rate { from the } 1,356,457 Borough rates { poor rate. } ---------- Total rates of England and Wales £8,801,834

The amount of the taxation in the shape of tolls, dues, and fees is as follows:--

II. TOLLS, DUES, AND FEES.

Turnpike tolls £1,348,085 Borough tolls and dues £172,911 City of London 205,100 -------- 378,011 Light dues 257,776 Port dues 554,645 Church dues and fees } Marriage fees } unknown Registration fees } Justiciary fees-- Clerks of the Peace £11,057 Justices’ clerks 57,668 ------- 68,725 ----------

Total tolls, dues, and fees of England and Wales £2,607,241

The subjoined, then adds the same work, founded on the preceding details, may be regarded as exhibiting an approximate estimate of the present amount of the local taxes in England and Wales, being, however, obviously below the actual total.

Rates £8,801,838 Tolls, dues, and fees 2,607,241 ---------- £11,409,079

“The annual amount of the local taxation of England and Wales may at the present time be stated, in round numbers, at not less than £12,000,000;” or we may say that the local taxation of the country is one-fourth of the amount of the general taxation.

RETURN OF THE COST OF MANAGEMENT PER ANNUM ON THE TOTAL RATEABLE ANNUAL VALUE OF THE DISTRICTS.

--------+------------------+----------------+----------------------------- | Total | | Rate per Cent. |Rateable Annual | Cost of | per Annum of Cost of YEARS. | Value of the | Management | Management on the | Districts. | per Annum. | Rateable Annual | | | Value of the Districts. --------+------------------+----------------+-------------------------+ | £ s. d.| £ s. d.| £ s. d. 1845 | 6,320,331 0 0 | 18,591 4 3 | 0 5 10-1/2 1846 | 6,423,909 0 0 | 18,097 5 1 | 0 5 7-1/2 1847 | 6,683,896 0 0 | 24,371 16 9 | 0 7 3-1/2 1848 | 6,783,111 0 0 | 20,008 7 10 | 0 5 10-3/4 1849 | 8,077,591 0 0 | 20,005 7 6 | 0 4 11-1/4 1850 | 8,791,967 0 0 | 23,465 18 7 | 0 5 4 --------+------------------+----------------+-------------------------+

AUGUST 7, 1851.

G. S. HATTON, Accountant.

OF THE CLEANSING OF THE SEWERS--VENTILATION.

There are two modes of purifying the sewers; the one consists in removing the foul air, the other in removing the solid deposits. I shall deal first with that mode of purification which consists in the mechanical removal or chemical decomposition of the noxious gases engendered within the sewers.

This is what is termed the Ventilation of the Sewers, and forms a very important branch of the inquiry into the character and working of the underground refuse-channels, for it relates to the risk of explosions and the consequent risk of destruction to men’s lives; while, if the sewer be ill-ventilated, the surrounding atmosphere is often prejudicially affected by the escape of impure air from the subterranean channels.

A survey as to the ventilation, &c., of the sewers was made by Mr. Hawkins, Assistant-Surveyor, and Mr. Jenkins, Clerk of the Works. Four examinations took place of sewers; of those in Bloomsbury; those from Tottenham-court-road to Norfolk-street, Strand; from the Guard-room in Buckingham Palace to the Horseferry-road, Millbank; and in Grosvenor-square and the streets adjacent. There were difficulties attending the experiment. From Castle-street to Museum-street there was a drop of 4 feet in the levels, so that the examiners had to advance on their hands and knees, and it was difficult to make observations. In some places in Westminster also the water and silt were knee deep, and the lamps (three were used) splashed all over. In Bloomsbury the sewers gave no token of the presence of any gas, but in the other places its presence was very perceptible, especially in a sewer on the west side of Grosvenor-square, a very low one, in which the gas was ignited within the wire shade of one of the lamps, but without producing any effect beyond that of immediately extinguishing the light. There was also during the route, in the neighbourhood of Sir Henry Meux’s brewery and of an adjoining distillery in Vine-street, a considerable quantity of steam in the sewer, but it had no material effect upon the light.

The examiners came to the conclusion that where there was any liability to an explosion from the presence of carburetted hydrogen, or other causes, the Improved Davy Lamp afforded an almost certain protection.

The attention of the Commissioners seems to have been chiefly given of late, as regards ventilation and indeed general improvement, to the sewers on the Surrey side of the metropolis. Among these a new sewer along Friar-street, running from the Blackfriars to the Southwark-bridge-road, is one of the most noticeable.

Friar-street is one of the smaller off thoroughfares, the character of which is, perhaps, little suspected by those who pass along the open Blackfriars-road. As you turn out of that road to the left hand, advancing from the bridge, almost opposite the Magdalen Hospital, is Friar-street. On its left hand, as you proceed along it, are gas-works, and the factories, or work places, of tradesmen in the soap-boiling, tallow-melting, cat and other gut manufacturing, bone-boiling, and other noisome callings. On the right hand are a series of short and often neatly-built streets, but the majority of them have the look of unmistakable squalor or poverty, though not of the poverty of the industrious. Across Flint-street, Green-street, and other ways, few of them horse thoroughfares, hang, on a fair day, lines of washed clothes to dry. Yellow-looking chemises and petticoats are affixed alongside men’s trowsers and waistcoats; coarse-featured and brazen-looking women, with necks and faces reddened, as if with brick-dust, from exposure to the weather, stand at their doors and beckon to the passers by. Perhaps in no part of the metropolis is there a more marked manifestation of moral obsceneness on the one hand, and physical obsceneness on the other. With the low prostitution of this locality is mixed the low and the bold crime of the metropolis. Some of the off-shoots from Friar-street communicate with places of as nefarious a character. Hackett, whom his newspaper admirers seem to wish to elevate into the fame of a second Jack Sheppard, resided in this quarter. The gang who were last winter repulsed in their burglarious attack on Mr. Holford’s villa in the Regent’s-park favoured the same locality, and were arrested in their old haunts. Public-houses may be seen here and there--houses, perhaps, not greatly discouraged by the police--which are at once the rendezvous and the trap of offenders, for to and from such resorts they can be readily traced. And all over this place of moral degradation extends the stench of offensive manufactures and ill-ventilated sewers. Certainly there is now an improvement, but it is still bad enough.

A Report of the 21st September, 1848, shows that a new sewer, 1500 feet in length, had been “put in along Friar-street, with a fall of 15 inches from the level of the sewer in Blackfriars-road to Suffolk-street. The sewer,” states the Report, “with which it communicates at its upper end in the Blackfriars-road contains nearly 2 feet in depth of soil; it in consequence has silted up to that level with semi-fluid black filth, principally from the factories, of the most poisonous and sickening description, forming an elongated cesspool 1500 feet in length, the filth at its lower end being upwards of 3 feet in depth. Since the building of this sewer, the foul matter so discharged into it has been in a state of decomposition, constantly giving off pestilential and poisonous gases, which have spread into and filled the adjoining sewers; thence they are being drawn into the houses by the house-drains, and into the streets by the street-drains, to such a fearful extent as to infect the whole atmosphere of the neighbourhood, and so to cause the very offensive odour so generally complained of there. Sulphuretted hydrogen is present in these sewers in large quantities, as metals, silver and copper, are attacked and blackened by it; and the smell from it is so sickening as to be almost unbearable.”

On the question of how best to deal with sewers such as the Friar-street, Messrs. John Roe and John Phillips (surveyors) and Mr. Henry Austin (consulting engineer) have agreed in the following opinion:--

“The most simple and convenient method would be by placing large strong fires in shafts directly over the crown of the sewers. The expense of each furnace, with the inclosure around it, will be about 20_l._ The fires would be fed almost constantly, by which little smoke would be generated. The heat to be produced from these fires would rarefy the air so much as to create rapidly ascending currents in the shafts, and strong draughts through the sewers, the foul air in which would then be drawn to the fires and there consumed; and as it was being destroyed fresh air would be drawn in at all the existing inlets of house and street drains, pushing forward and supplying the place of the foul air.”

Concerning the explosions of, or deaths in, the sewers from the impure gases, there is, I believe, no statistical account. The most remarkable catastrophe of this kind was the death of five persons in a sewer in Pimlico, in October, 1849; of these, three were regular sewer-men, and the others were a policeman and Mr. Wells, a surgeon, who went into the sewer in the hopes of giving assistance. Mr. Phillips, the then chief surveyor of the Commission of Sewers, stated that the cause of these deaths in the sewers was entirely an exceptional case, and the gas which had caused the accident inquired into was not a sewer gas. “There is often,” he said, “a great escape of gas from the mains, which found its way into the sewers. The gas, however, which has done the mischief in the present instance would not explode.”

Dr. Ure’s opinion was, that the deceased men died from asphixia, caused by inhaling sulphuretted hydrogen and carbonic acid gas in mixture with prussic vapour, and that these noxious emanations were derived from the refuse lime of gas-works thrown in with other rubbish to make up the road above the sewer. Other scientific gentlemen attributed the five deaths to the action of sulphuretted hydrogen gas, or, according to Dr. Lyon Playfair, to be chemically correct, hydro-sulphate of ammonia. The coroner (Mr. Bedford), in summing up, said that Mr. Phillips wished it to be supposed that gas lime was the cause of the foul gas; and Dr. Ure said that gas lime had to do with the calamity. But Dr. Miller, Mr. Richard Phillips, Mr. Campbell, and Dr. Playfair, more especially the latter, were perfectly sure that lime had nothing to do with it. The verdict was the following:--“We find that Daniel Pert, Thomas Gee, and John Attwood died from the inhalation of noxious gas generated in a neglected and unventilated sewer in Kenilworth-street. And we find that Henry Wells and John Walsh met their deaths from the same cause, in their laudable endeavours to save the lives of the first three sufferers. The jury unanimously consider the commissioners and officers of the Metropolitan Sewers are much to blame for having neglected to avail themselves of the unusual advantages offered, from the local situation of the Grosvenor-canal, for the purpose of flushing the sewers in this district.”

OF “FLUSHING” AND “PLONGING,” AND OTHER MODES OF WASHING THE SEWERS.

The next step in our inquiry--and that which at present concerns us more than any other--is the mode of removing the solid deposits from the sewers, as well as the condition of the workmen connected with that particular branch of labour. The sewers are the means by which a larger proportion of the wet refuse of the metropolis is removed from our houses, and we have now to consider the means by which the more solid part of this refuse is removed from the sewers themselves. The latter operation is quite as essential to health and cleanliness as the former; for to allow the filth to collect in the channels which are intended to remove it, and there to remain decomposing and vitiating the atmosphere of the metropolis, is manifestly as bad as not to remove it at all; and since the more solid portions of the sewage will collect and form hard deposits at the bottom of each duct, it becomes necessary that some means should be devised for the periodical purgation of the sewers themselves.

There have been two modes of effecting this object. The one has been the carting away of the more solid refuse, and the other the washing of it away, or, as it is termed, flushing in the case of the covered sewers, and plonging in the case of the open ones. Under both systems, whether the refuse be carted or flushed away, the hard deposit has to be first loosened by manual labourers--the difference consisting principally in the means of after-removal.

The first of these systems--viz., the cartage method--was that which prevailed in the metropolis till the year 1847. I shall therefore give a brief description of this mode of cleansing the sewers before proceeding to treat of the now more general mode of “flushing.”

Under the old system, the clearing away of the deposit was a “nightman’s” work, differing little, except in being more toilsome, offensive to the public, and difficult. A hole was made from the street down into the sewer where the deposit was thickest, and the deposit was raised by means of a tub, filled below, drawn up to the street, and emptied into a cart, or spread in mounds in the road to be shovelled into some vehicle. A nightman told me that this mode of work was sometimes a great injury to his trade, because “when it was begun on a night many of the householders sleeping in the neighbourhood used to say to themselves, or to their missusses, as they turned in their beds, ‘It’s them ere cussed cesspools again! I wish they was done away with.’ An’ all the time, sir, the cesspools was as hinnocent and as sweet as a hangel.”

This clumsy and filthy process is now but occasionally resorted to. A man who had superintended a labour of this kind in a narrow, but busy thoroughfare in Southwark, told me that these sewer labourers were the worst abused men in London. No one had a good word for them.

But there have been other modes of removing the indurated sewage, besides that of cartage; and which, though not exactly flushing, certainly consisted in allowing the deposit to be washed away. Some of these contrivances were curious enough.

I learn from a Report printed in 1849, that the King’s Scholars’ Pond Sewer, in the city of Westminster, running near the Abbey, contained a continuous bed of deposit, of soil, sand, and filth, from 10 to 30 inches in depth, and this for a mile and a half next the river--the first mile yielding more than 6000 loads of matter. This sewer was to be cleansed.

“We first used a machine,” says Mr. J. Lysander Hale, “in the form of a plough and harrow combined; a horse dragged it through the deposit in the sewer; one man attended the horse, and another guided the plough. The work done by this machine, in cutting a channel through the soil and causing the water to move through it quickly, was effectual to remove the deposit; but as the sewer is a tidal sewer, and its sole entrance for a horse being its outlet, the machine could only be used for a small part of any day. Sometimes with a strong breeze up the river, the tide would not recede sufficiently to permit the horse to get in at all (and it did not appear advisable to incur the expense of 50_l._ to build a sideway entrance for the animal), so that under these circumstances we were obliged to discontinue the use of the horse and plough; which, under other circumstances, would have been very effective.” From this time, I understand, the sewers of London have remained unploughed by means of horse labour.

But the plough was not altogether abandoned, and as horse-power was not found very easily applicable, water-power was resorted to. The plough and harrow were attached to a barge, which was introduced into the sewer. The sluice gates were kept shut until the ebb of the tide made the difference of level between the contents of the sewer and the surface of the Thames equal to some eight feet. “The gates were then suddenly opened, and the rapid and deep current of water following, was then sufficient to bring the barge and plough down the sewer with a force equal to five or six horse-power.”

This last-mentioned method was also soon abandoned. We now come to the more approved plan of “flushing.”

“The term ‘flushing sewers’ implies,” says Mr. Haywood, in his Report, “cleansing by the application of bodies of water in the sewers; this is periodically effected, varying in intervals according to the necessities of the sewerage or other circumstances.”

The flushing system has a two-fold object, viz., to remove old deposits and prevent the accumulation of new. When the deposit is not allowed to accumulate and harden, “flushing consists,” says Mr. Haywood, “simply in heading back and letting off flush at once” (hence the origin of the term) “that which has been delivered into the sewers in a certain number of hours by the various houses draining into them, diluted with large quantities of water specially employed for the purpose.”

Though the operation of “flushing” is one of modern introduction, as regards the metropolis--one, indeed, which may be said to have originated in the modern demand for improved sanitary regulations--it has been practised in some country parts since the days of Henry VIII.

Flushing was practised also by those able engineers, the ancient Romans. One of the grand architectural remains of that people, the best showing their system of flushing, is in the Amphitheatre at Nismes, in France. The site of the ruined amphitheatre presents a large elliptical area, 114,251 superficial feet comprising its extent. Around the arena ran a large sewer 3 feet 6 inches in width, and 4 feet 9 inches in height. With this sewer, elliptical in shape, 348 pipes communicated, carrying into it the rain-fall and the refuse caused by the resort of 23,000 persons, for the seats alone contained that number. “The system of flushing, practised here,” says Mr. Cresy, “with such advantage, deserves to be noticed, there being means of driving through this elliptical sewer a volume of water at pleasure, with such force that no solid matter could by any possibility remain within any of the drains or sewers. An aqueduct, 2 feet 8 inches in width, and 6 feet in height, brought this water from the reservoirs of Nismes, not only to fill but to purge the whole of these sewers; after traversing the arena, it deviated a little to the south-west, where it was carried out at the sixth arcade, east of the southern entrance. Man-holes and steps to descend into this capacious vaulted aqueduct were introduced in several places; and there can be no doubt that by directing for some hours such a stream of water through it, the greatest cleanliness was preserved throughout all the sewers of the building.”

The flushing of sewers appears to have been introduced into the metropolis by Mr. John Roe in the year 1847, but did not come into general use till some years later. There used to be a partial flushing of the London sewers twelve years ago. The mode of flushing as at present practised is as follows:--

In the first instance the inspector examines and reports the condition of the sewer, and receives and issues his orders accordingly. When the sewer is ordered to be flushed--and there is no periodical or regular observance of time in the operation--the men enter the sewers and rake up the deposit, loosening it everywhere, so as to render the whole easy to be swept along by the power of the volume of water. The sewers generally are, in their widest part, provided with grooves, or, as the men style them, “framings.” Into these framings are fitted, or permanently attached, what I heard described as “penstocks,” but which are spoken of in some of the reports as “traps,” “gates,” or “sluice gates.” They are made both of wood and iron. By a series of bolts and adjustments, the penstocks can be fixed ready for use when the tide is highest in the sewer, and the volume of water the greatest. They then, of course, are in the nature of dams, the water having accumulated in consequence of the stoppage. The deposit having been loosened, the bolts are withdrawn, when the gates suddenly fly back, and the accumulated water and stirred-up sewage sweeps along impetuously, while the men retreat into some side recesses adapted for the purpose. The same is done with each penstock until the matter is swept through the outlet. The men always follow the course of this sewage-current when the sewer is of sufficient capacity to enable them to do so, throwing or pushing forward any more solid matter with their shovels.

“To flush we generally go and draw a slide up and let a flush of water down,” said one man to me, “and then we have iron rakers to loosen the stuff. We have got another way that we do it as well; one man stands here, when the flush of water’s coming down, with a large board; then he lets the water rise to the top of this board, and then there’s two or three of us on ahead, with shovels, loosening the stuff--then he ups with this board and lets a good heavy flush of water come down. Precious hard work it is, I can assure you. I’ve had many a wet shirt. We stand up to our fork in the water, right to the top of our jack-boots, and sometimes over them.” “Ah, I should think you often get over the top of yours, for you come home with your stockings wet enough, goodness knows,” exclaimed his wife, who was present. “When there’s a good flush of water coming down,” he resumed, “we’re obligated to put our heads fast up against the crown of the sewer, and bear upon our shovels, so that we may not be carried away, and taken bang into the Thames. You see there’s nothing for us to lay hold on. Why, there was one chap went and lifted a slide right up, when he ought to have had it up only 9 or 10 inches at the furthest, and he nearly swamped three of us. If we should be taken off our legs there’s a heavy fall--about 3 feet--just before you comes to the mouth of the sewer, and if we was to get there, the water is so rapid nothing could save us. When we goes to work we nails our lanterns up to the crown of the sewer. When the slide is lifted up the rush is very great, and takes all before it. It roars away like a wild beast. We’re always obliged to work according to tide, both above and below ground. When we have got no water in the sewer we shovels the dirt up into a bank on both sides, so that when the flush of water comes down the loosened dirt is all carried away by it. After flushing, the bottom of the sewer is as clean as this floor, but in a couple of months the soil is a foot to 15 inches deep, and middling hard.”

“Flushing-gates,” an engineer has reported, “are chiefly of use in sewers badly constructed and without falls, but containing plenty of water; and they are of very little use where the gate has to be shut 24 hours and longer, before a head of water has accumulated; but where intermittent flushing is practised, strong smells are often caused solely by the stagnation of the water or sewage while accumulating behind the gate.”

The most general mode of flushing at present adopted is not to keep in the water, &c., which has flowed into the sewer from the streets and houses, as well as the tide of the river, but to convey the flushing water from the plugs of the water companies into the kennels, and so into the sewers. I find in one of the Reports acknowledgments of the liberal supplies granted for flushing by the several companies. The water of the Surrey Canal has been placed, for the same object, at the disposal of the Sewer Commissioners.

It is impossible to “flush” at all where a sewer has a “dead-end;” that is, where there is a “block,” as in the case of the Kenilworth-street sewer, Pimlico, in which five persons lost their lives in 1848.

There is no difference in the system of flushing in the Metropolitan and City jurisdictions, except that for the greater facilities of the process, the City provides water-tanks in Newgate-market, where the heads of three sewers meet, and where the accumulation of animal garbage, and the fierceness and numbers of the rats attracted thereby, were at one time frightful; at Leadenhall-market, and elsewhere, such tanks were also provided to the number of ten, the largest being the Newgate-market tank, which is a brick cistern of 8000 gallons capacity. Of these tanks, however, only four are now kept filled, for this collection of water is found unnecessary, the regular system of flushing answering the purpose without them; and I understand that in a little time there will be no tanks at all. The tank is filled, when required, by a water company, and the penstocks being opened, the water rushes into the sewers with great force. There is also another point peculiar to the City--in it all the sewers are flushed regularly twice a week; in the metropolitan sewers, only when the inspector pronounces flushing to be required. The City plan appears the best to prevent the accumulation of deposit.

There still remains to be described the system of “plonging,” or mode of cleansing the open sewers, as contradistinguished from “flushing,” or the cleansing of the covered sewers.

“When we go plonging,” one man said, “we has long poles with a piece of wood at the end of them, and we stirs up the mud at the bottom of the ditches while the tide’s a going down. We has got slides at the end of the ditches, and we pulls these up and lets out the water, mud, and all, into the Thames.” “Yes, for the people to drink,” said a companion drily. “We’re in the water a great deal,” continued the man. “We can’t walk along the sides of all of ’em.”

The difference of cost between the old method of removal and the new, that is to say, between carting and flushing, is very extraordinary.

This cartage work was done chiefly by contract and according to a Report of the surveyors to the Commissioners (Aug. 31, 1848), the usual cost for such work (almost always done during the night) was 7_s._ the cubic yard; that is, 7_s._ for the removal of a cubic yard of sewage by manual labour and horse and cart. In February, 1849 (the date of another Report on the subject), the cost of removing a cubic yard by the operation of flushing, was but 8_d._ This gives the following result, but in what particular time, instance, or locality, is not mentioned:--

79,483 cubic yards of deposit removed by the contract flushing system, at 8_d._ per cubic yard £2,649

Same quantity by the old system of casting and cartage, 7_s._ per cubic yard 27,819 ------- Difference £25,170 -------

“It appears, therefore,” says Mr. Lovick, “that by the adoption of the contract flushing system, a saving has been effected within the comparatively short period of its operation over the filthy and clumsy system formerly practised, of 25,170_l._, showing the cost of this system to be ten and a half times greater than the cost of flushing by contract.”

An official Report states: “When the accumulations of years had to be removed from the sewers, the rate of cost per lineal mile has varied from about 40_l._ to 58_l._, or from 6_d._ to 8_d._ per lineal yard. The works in these cases (excepting those in the City) have not exceeded nine lineal miles.”

“On an average of weeks,” says Mr. Lovick, in his Report on flushing operations, a few months after the introduction of the contract system, in Sept., 1848, “under present arrangements, about 62 miles of sewers are passed through each week, and deposit prevented from accumulating in them by periodic (weekly) flushing. The average cost per lineal mile per week is about 2_l._ 10_s._

“The nature of the agreements with the contractors or gangers are now for the prevention of accumulations of deposit in a district. For this purpose the large districts are subdivided, each subdivision being let to one man. In the Westminster district there are four, in the Holborn and Finsbury two, in the Surrey and Kent, seven subdivisions.

“The Tower Hamlets and Poplar districts are each let to one man.

“In the Tower Hamlets it will be perceived that a reduction of 8_l._ has been effected for the performance of precisely the same work as that heretofore performed; the rates of charge standing thus:--

“Under the day-work system 23_l._ per week. „ contract „ 15_l._ „

“In those portions specially contracted for, the work has been let by the lineal measure of the sewer, in preference to the amount of deposit removed.

“In the Surrey and Kent districts the open ditches have been cleansed thrice as often as formerly.

“A large proportion of the deposit removed is from the open ditches; in these the accumulations are rapid and continuous, caused chiefly by their being the receptacles for the ashes and refuse of the houses, the refuse of manufactories, and the sweepings of the roads.

“In the covered sewers one of the chief sources of accumulation is the detritus and mud from the streets, swept into the sewers.

“The accumulations from these sources will not, I think, be over-estimated at two-thirds of the whole amount of deposit removed.

“The contracts in operation, February, 1849, with the districts which they embrace, are as follows:--

“TABLE NO. I.

------------------+--------------+-------------+------------- | | Average Rate| |Sewers let for| of Work | Contract | Prevention of| performed in| Charge Districts. | Accumulations|Sewers passed| per | of Deposit. | through each| Week. | | Week. | ------------------+--------------+-------------+------------- | Lineal Feet. | Lineal Feet.| £ s. d. Westminster | 485,795 | 150,615 | 40 0 0 Holborn & Finsbury| 355,085 | 118,000 | 23 0 0 Tower Hamlets | 223,738 | 30,000 | 15 0 0 Surrey and Kent | 440,642 | 40,000 | 75 0 0 Poplar | 26,000 | 2,000 | 6 16 0 ------------------+--------------+-------------+------------- | 1,531,260 | 340,615 |159 16 0 ------------------+--------------+-------------+ Westminster--Attendance on Flaps, &c. 4 0 0 -------------- £163 16 0 -------------------------------------------------------------

“The weekly cost prior to the contract system was in the several districts as follows:--

“TABLE NO. II.

-------------------------------+------------- | £ s. d. In the Westminster District | 78 10 0 „ Holborn and Finsbury do.| 24 17 0 „ Tower Hamlets do. | 23 0 0 „ Surrey and Kent do. | 56 8 0 „ Poplar do. | 6 13 0 +------------- |189 8 0 -------------------------------+-------------

Hence there would appear to have been a saving of 25_l._ 12_s._ effected. But by what means was this brought about? It is the old story, I regret to say--a reduction of the wages of the labouring men. But this, indeed, is the invariable effect of the contract system. The wages of the flushermen previous to Sept., 1848, were 24_s._ to 27_s._ a week; under the present system they are 21_s._ to 22_s._ Here is a reduction of 4_s._ per week per man, at the least; and as there were about 150 hands employed at this period, it follows that the gross weekly saving must have been equal to 30_l._, so that, according to the above account, there would have been about 5_l._ left for the contractors or middlemen. It is unworthy of gentlemen to make a parade of economy obtained by such ignoble means.

The engineers, however, speak of flushing as what is popularly understood as but “a make-shift”--as a system imperfect in itself, but advantageously resorted to because obviating the evils of a worse system still.

“With respect to these operations,” says Mr. Lovick, in a Report on the subject, in February, 1849, “I may be permitted to state that, although I do not approve of the flushing as an ultimate system, or as a system to be adopted in the future permanent works of sewerage, or that its use should be contemplated with regulated sizes of sewers, regulated supplies of water, and proper falls, it appears to be the most efficacious and economical for the purpose to which it is adapted of any yet introduced.”

A gentleman who was at one time connected professionally with the management of the public sewerage, said to me,--

“Mr. John Roe commenced the general system of flushing sewers in London in 1847. It is, however, but a clumsy expedient, and quite incompatible with a perfect system of sewerage. It has, nevertheless, been usefully applied as an auxiliary to the existing system, though the cost is frightful.”

OF THE WORKING FLUSHERMEN.

When the system of sewer cleansing first became general, as I have detailed, the number of flushermen employed, I am assured, on good authority, was about 500. The sewers were, when this process was first resorted to, full of deposit, often what might be called “coagulated” deposit, which could not be affected except by constantly repeated efforts. There are now only about 100 flushermen, for the more regularly flushing is repeated, the easier becomes the operation.

Until about 18 months ago, the flushermen were employed directly by the Court of Sewers, and were paid (“in Mr. Roe’s time,” one man said, with a sigh) from 24_s._ to 27_s._ a week; now the work is all done by contract. There are some six or seven contractors, all builders, who undertake or are responsible for the whole work of flushing in the metropolitan districts (I do not speak of the City), and they pay the working flushermen 21_s._ a week, and the gangers 22_s._ This wage is always paid in money, without drawbacks, and without the intervention of any other middleman than the contractor middleman. The flushermen have no perquisites except what they may chance to find in a sewer. Their time of labour is 6-1/2 hours daily.

The state of the tide, however, sometimes, as a matter of course, compels the flushermen to work at every hour of the day and night. At all times they carry lights, common oil lamps, with cotton wicks; only the inspectors carry Davy’s safety-lamp. I met no man who could assign any reason for this distinction, except that “the Davy” gave “such a bad light.”

The flushermen wear, when at work, strong blue overcoats, waterproofed (but not so much as used to be the case, the men then complaining of the perspiration induced by them), buttoned close over the chest, and descending almost to the knees, where it is met by huge leather boots, covering a part of the thigh, such as are worn by the fishermen on many of our coasts. Their hats are fan-tailed, like the dustmen’s. The flushermen are well-conducted men generally, and, for the most part, fine stalwart good-looking specimens of the English labourer; were they not known or believed to be temperate, they would not be employed. They have, as a body, no benefit or sick clubs, but a third of them, I was told, or perhaps nearly a third, were members of general benefit societies. I found several intelligent men among them. They are engaged by the contractors, upon whom they call to solicit work.

“Since Mr. Roe’s time,” and Mr. Roe is evidently the popular man among the flushermen, or somewhat less than four years ago, the flushermen have had to provide their own dresses, and even their own shovels to stir up the deposit. To contractors, the comforts or health of the labouring men must necessarily be a secondary consideration to the realization of a profit. New men can always be found; safe investments cannot.

The wages of the flushermen therefore have been not only decreased, but their expenses increased. A pair of flushing-boots, covering a part of the thigh, similar to those worn by sea-side fishermen, costs 30_s._ as a low price, and a flusherman wears out three pairs in two years. Boot stockings cost 2_s._ 6_d._ The jacket worn by the men at their work in the sewers, in the shape of a pilot-jacket, but fitting less loosely, is 7_s._ 6_d._; a blue smock, of coarse common cloth (generally), worn over the dress, costs 2_s._ 6_d._; a shovel is 2_s._ 6_d._ “Ay, sir,” said one man, who was greatly dissatisfied with this change, “they’ll make soldiers find their own regimentals next; and, may be, their own guns, a’cause they can always get rucks of men for soldiers or labourers. I know there’s plenty would work for less than we get, but what of that? There always is. There’s hundreds would do the work for half what the surveyors and inspectors gets; but it’s all right among the nobs.”

Nor is the labour of the flushermen at all times so easy or of such circumscribed hours as I have stated it to be in the regular way of flushing. When small branch-sewers have to be flushed, the deposit must first be loosened, or the water, instead of sweeping it away, would flow over it, and in many of these sewers (most frequent in the Tower Hamlets) the height is not more than 3 feet. Some of the flushermen are tall, bulky, strong fellows, and cannot stand upright in less than from 5 feet 8 inches to 6 feet, and in loosening the deposit in low narrow sewers, “we go to work,” said one of them, “on our bellies, like frogs, with a rake between our legs. I’ve been blinded by steam in such sewers near Whitechapel Church from the brewhouses; I couldn’t see for steam; it was a regular London fog. You must get out again into a main sewer on your belly; that’s what makes it harder about the togs, they get worn so.”

The division of labour among the flushermen appears to be as follows:--

The Inspector, whose duty it is to go round the several sewers and see which require to be flushed.

The Ganger, or head of the working gang, who receives his orders from the inspector, and directs the men accordingly.

The Lock-keeper, or man who goes round to the sewers which are about to be flushed, and fixes the “penstocks” for retaining the water.

The Gang, which consists of from three to four men, who loosen the deposit from the bottom of the sewer. Among these there is generally a “for’ard man,” whose duty it is to remove the penstocks.

The ganger gets 1_s._ a week over and above the wages of the men.

TABLE SHOWING THE DISTRICTS UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF THE COMMISSIONERS OF SEWERS; ALSO THE NUMBER AND SALARIES OF THE CLERKS OF THE WORKS, ASSISTANT CLERKS OF THE WORKS, AND INSPECTORS OF FLUSHING, PAID BY THE COMMISSIONERS, AND THE NUMBER AND WAGES PAID TO THE FLUSHERMEN BY THE GENERAL CONTRACTORS.

--------------------+------------------------------------------------------ | Paid by the Commissioners of Sewers. +----------------------+----------+----------+--------- | | Assist. |Inspectors| Flap & | |Clerks of | Clerks of | of | Sluice | DISTRICTS. |Works. | Works[71].|Flushings.| Keepers. | | | | | |Aggregate --------------------+---+------+---+-------+---+------+---+------+ Total. | |Annual| | | |Annual| |Yearly| | |Salary| |Rate of| |Salary| |Wages | |No.|of the|No.| Annual|No.|of the|No.|of the| | |whole.| |Salary.| |whole.| |whole.| --------------------+---+------+---+-------+---+-----------------+--------- | | £ | | £ | | £ | | £ | £ Fulham and | | | | | | | | | Hammersmith.-- | | | | | | | | | Counter’s | | | | | | | | | Creek and | | | | | | | | | Ranelagh | | | | | | | | | Districts | 3| 450 | 4| 400 | 1| 120 | ..| .. | 970 Westminster | | | | | | | | | Sewers.-- | | | | | | | | | Western Division, | | | | | | | | | Eastern Division, | | | | | | | | | Regent-street | | | | | | | | | District, | | | | | | | | | Holborn Division | 4| 600 | 3| 300 | 1| 80 | 6| 390 | 1370 Finsbury Division.--| | | | | | | | | Tower Hamlets | | | | | | | | | Levels, and | | | | | | | | | Poplar and | | | | | | | | | Blackwall | | | | | | | | | Districts | 3| 450 | 2| 200 | 3| 280 | 1| 70 | 1000 Districts south of | | | | | | | | | the Thames | 3| 450 | 6| 600 | 4| 320 | 12| 374 | 1744 --------------------+---+------+---|-------+---+------+---+------+--------- Total | 13| 1950 | 15| 1500 | 9| 800 | 19| 834 | 5084 CITY | ..| .. | ..| .. | 1| 80 | 3| 148 | 228 --------------------+---+------+---+-------+---+------+---+------+---------

--------------------+--------------------------------- | Paid by Contractors. +-----------+-----------+--------- | Gangers. | Flushers. | DISTRICTS. +---+-------+---+-------+ | | Weekly| | Weekly|Aggregate |No.|Wage of|No.|Wage of|Total. | | each. | | each. | --------------------+---+-------+---+-------+--------- | | s. | | | £ s. Fulham and | | | | | Hammersmith.-- | | | | | Counter’s | | | | | Creek and | | | | | Ranelagh | | | | | Districts | 2| 22 | 13| 21 | 824 4 Westminster | | | | | Sewers.-- | | | | | Western Division, | | | | | Eastern Division, | | | | | Regent-street | | | | | District, | | | | | Holborn Division | 3| 22 | 30| 21 |1809 12 Finsbury Division.--| | | | | Tower Hamlets | | | | | Levels, and | | | | | Poplar and | | | | | Blackwall | | | | | Districts | 3| 22 | 27| 21 |1645 16 Districts south of | | | | | the Thames | 2| 22 | 22| 21 |1315 12 --------------------+---+-------+---|-------+--------- Total | 10| .. | 92| .. |5595 4 CITY | 1| 22 | 9| 21 | 548 12 --------------------+---+-------+---+-------+---------

Total cost of flushing the sewers £12,000 per annum.

⁂ The above division of districts is the one adopted by the Commissioners of Sewers, but the districts of the Flushermen are more numerous than those above given, being as follows:--

Ganger. Flushermen. Fulham and Hammersmith employing 1 and 6 } Counter’s Creek and Ranelagh }1st District of Districts. „ 1 „ 7 } Commissioners.

Westminster (Western Division) „ 1 „ 10 } Ditto (Eastern Division) „ 1 „ 12 }2nd District of Holborn Division „ 1 „ 8 } Commissioners.

Finsbury Division „ 1 „ 9 } Tower Hamlets Levels „ 1 „ 10 }3rd District of Poplar and Blackwall „ 1 „ 8 } Commissioners.

Districts south of the Thames „ 2 „ 22 4th District of Commissioners.

City „ 1 „ 9

Holborn and Finsbury districts are under one contractor, and so are the two divisions of Westminster. The same men who flush Holborn flush the Finsbury district also, 17 being the average number employed; but the Finsbury district requires rather more men than the Holborn; and the same men who work on the western division of Westminster flush also the eastern, the number of flushers in the western district being more, on account of its being the larger division.

The inspector receives 80_l._ per annum.

The table on p. 429 shows the number of clerks of the works, inspectors of flushing, flap and sluice keepers, gangers, and flushermen employed in the several districts throughout the metropolis, as well as the salaries and wages of each and the whole.

None of the flushermen can be said to have been “brought up to the business,” for boys are never employed in the sewers. Neither had the labourers been confined in their youth to any branch of trade in particular, which would appear to be consonant to such employment. There are now among the flushermen men who have been accustomed to “all sorts of ground work:” tailors, pot-boys, painters, one jeweller (some time ago there was also one gentleman), and shoemakers. “You see, sir,” said one informant, “many of such like mechanics can’t live above ground, so they tries to get their bread underneath it. There used to be a great many pensioners flushermen, which weren’t right,” said one man, “when so many honest working men haven’t a penny, and don’t know which way to turn theirselves; but pensioners have often good friends and good interest. I don’t hear any complaints that way now.”

Among the flushermen are some ten or twelve men who have been engaged in sewer-work of one kind or another between 20 and 30 years. The cholera, I heard from several quarters, did not (in 1848) attack any of the flushermen. The answer to an inquiry on the subject generally was, “Not one that I know of.”

“It is a somewhat singular circumstance,” says Mr. Haywood, the City Surveyor, in his Report, dated February, 1850, “that none of the men employed in the City sewers in flushing and cleansing, have been attacked with, or have died of, cholera during the past year; this was also the case in 1832-3. I do not state this to prove that the atmosphere of the sewers is not unhealthy--I by no means believe an impure atmosphere is healthy--but I state the naked fact, as it appears to me a somewhat singular circumstance, and leave it to pathologists to argue upon.”

“I don’t think flushing work disagrees with my husband,” said a flusherman’s wife to me, “for he eats about as much again at that work as he did at the other.” “The smell underground is sometimes very bad,” said the man, “but then we generally take a drop of rum first, and something to eat. It wouldn’t do to go into it on an empty stomach, ’cause it would get into our inside. But in some sewers there’s scarcely any smell at all. Most of the men are healthy who are engaged in it; and when the cholera was about many used to ask us how it was we escaped.”

* * * * *

The following statement contains the history of an individual flusherman:--

“I was brought up to the sea,” he said, “and served on board a man-of-war, the Racer, a 16-gun brig, laying off Cuba, in the West Indies, and there-away, watching the slavers. I served seven years. We were paid off in ’43 at Portsmouth, and a friend got me into the shores. It was a great change from the open sea to a close shore--great; and I didn’t like it at all at first. But it suits a married man, as I am now, with a family, much better than being a seaman, for a man aboard a ship can hardly do his children justice in their schooling and such like. Well, I didn’t much admire going down the man-hole at first--the ‘man-hole’ is a sort of iron trap-door that you unlock and pull up; it leads to a lot of steps, and so you get into the shore--but one soon gets accustomed to anything. I’ve been at flushing and shore work now since ’43, all but eleven weeks, which was before I got engaged.

“We work in gangs from three to five men.” [Here I had an account of the process of flushing, such as I have given.] “I’ve been carried off my feet sometimes in the flush of a shore. Why, to-day,” (a very rainy and windy day, Feb. 4,) “it came down Baker-street, when we flushed it, 4 foot plomb. It would have done for a mill-dam. One couldn’t smoke or do anything. Oh, yes, we can have a pipe and a chat now and then in the shore. The tobacco checks the smell. No, I can’t say I felt the smell very bad when I first was in a shore. I’ve felt it worse since. I’ve been made innocent drunk like in a shore by a drain from a distiller’s. That happened me first in Vine-street shore, St. Giles’s, from Mr. Rickett’s distillery. It came into the shore like steam. No, I can’t say it tasted like gin when you breathed it--only intoxicating like. It was the same in Whitechapel from Smith’s distillery. One night I was forced to leave off there, the steam had such an effect. I was falling on my back, when a mate caught me. The breweries have something of the same effect, but nothing like so strong as the distilleries. It comes into the shore from the brewers’ places in steam. I’ve known such a steam followed by bushels of grains; ay, sir, cart-loads washed into the shore.

“Well, I never found anything in a shore worth picking up but once a half-crown. That was in the Buckingham Palace sewer. Another time I found 16_s._ 6_d._, and thought that was a haul; but every bit of it, every coin, shillings and sixpences and joeys, was bad--all smashers. Yes, of course it was a disappointment, naturally so. That happened in Brick-lane shore, Whitechapel. O, somebody or other had got frightened, I suppose, and had shied the coins down into the drains. I found them just by the chapel there.”

A second man gave me the following account of his experience in flushing:--

“You remember, sir, that great storm on the 1st August, 1848. I was in three shores that fell in--Conduit-street and Foubert’s-passage, Regent-street. There was then a risk of being drowned in the shores, but no lives were lost. All the house-drains were blocked about Carnaby-market--that’s the Foubert’s-passage shore--and the poor people was what you might call houseless. We got in up to the neck in water in some places, ’cause we had to stoop, and knocked about the rubbish as well as we could, to give a way to the water. The police put up barriers to prevent any carts or carriages going that way along the streets. No, there was no lives lost in the shores. One man was so overcome that he was falling off into a sort of sleep in Milford-lane shore, but was pulled out. I helped to pull him. He was as heavy as lead with one thing or other--wet, and all that. Another time, six or seven year ago, Whitechapel High-street shore was almost choked with butchers’ offal, and we had a great deal of trouble with it.”

OF THE RATS IN THE SEWERS.

I will now state what I have learned from long-experienced men, as to the characteristics of the rats in the sewers. To arrive even at a conjecture as to the numbers of these creatures--now, as it were, the population of the sewers--I found impossible, for no statistical observations have been made on the subject; but all my informants agreed that the number of the animals had been greatly diminished within these four or five years.

In the better-constructed sewers there are no rats. In the old sewers they abound. The sewer rat is the ordinary house or brown rat, excepting at the outlets near the river, and here the water-rat is seen.

The sewer-rat is the common brown or Hanoverian rat, said by the Jacobites to have come in with the first George, and established itself after the fashion of his royal family; and undoubtedly such was about the era of their appearance. One man, who had worked twelve years in the sewers before flushing was general, told me he had never seen but two black (or old English) rats; another man, of ten years’ experience, had seen but one; others had noted no difference in the rats. I may observe that in my inquiries as to the sale of rats (as a part of the live animals dealt in by a class in the metropolis), I ascertained that in the older granaries, where there were series of floors, there were black as well as brown rats. “Great black fellows,” said one man who managed a Bermondsey granary, “as would frighten a lady into asterisks to see of a sudden.”

The rat is the only animal found in the sewers. I met with no flusherman or other sewer-worker who had ever seen a lizard, toad, or frog there, although the existence of these creatures, in such circumstances, has been presumed. A few live cats find their way into the subterranean channels when a house-drain is being built, or is opened for repairs, or for any purpose, and have been seen by the flushermen, &c., wandering about, looking lost, mewing as if in misery, and avoiding any contact with the sewage. The rats also--for they are not of the water-rat breed--are exceedingly averse to wetting their feet, and “take to the sewage,” as it was worded to me, only in prospect of danger; that is, they then swim across or along the current to escape with their lives. It is said that when a luckless cat has ventured into the sewers, she is sometimes literally worried by the rats. I could not hear of such an attack having been witnessed by any one; but one intelligent and trustworthy man said, that a few years back (he believed about eight years) he had in one week found the skeletons of two cats in a particular part of an old sewer, 21 feet wide, and in the drains opening into it were perfect colonies of rats, raging with hunger, he had no doubt, because a system of trapping, newly resorted to, had prevented their usual ingress into the houses up the drains. A portion of their fur adhered to the two cats, but the flesh had been eaten from their bones. About that time a troop of rats flew at the feet of another of my informants, and would no doubt have maimed him seriously, “but my boots,” said he, “stopped the devils.” “The sewers generally swarms with rats,” said another man. “I runs away from ’em; I don’t like ’em. They in general gets away from us; but in case we comes to a stunt end where there’s a wall and no place for ’em to get away, and we goes to touch ’em, they fly at us. They’re some of ’em as big as good-sized kittens. One of our men caught hold of one the other day by the tail, and he found it trying to release itself, and the tail slipping through his fingers; so he put up his left hand to stop it, and the rat caught hold of his finger, and the man’s got an arm now as big as his thigh.” I heard from several that there had been occasionally battles among the rats, one with another.

“Why, sir,” said one flusherman, “as to the number of rats, it ain’t possible to say. There hasn’t been a census (laughing) taken of them. But I can tell you this--I was one of the first flushermen when flushing came in general--I think it was before Christmas, 1847, under Mr. Roe--and there was cart-loads and cart-loads of drowned rats carried into the Thames. It was in a West Strand shore that I saw the most. I don’t exactly remember which, but I think Northumberland-street. By a block or a hitch of some sort, there was, I should say, just a bushel of drowned rats stopped at the corner of one of the gates, which I swept into the next stream. I see far fewer drowned rats now than before the shores was flushed. They’re not so plenty, that’s one thing. Perhaps, too, they may have got to understand about flushing, they’re that ’cute, and manage to keep out of the way. About Newgate-market was at one time the worst for rats. Men couldn’t venture into the sewers then, on account of the varmint. It’s bad enough still, I hear, but I haven’t worked in the City for a few years.”

The rats, from the best information at my command, do not derive much of their sustenance from the matter in the sewers, or only in particular localities. These localities are the sewers neighbouring a connected series of slaughter-houses, as in Newgate-market, Whitechapel, Clare-market, parts adjoining Smithfield-market, &c. There, animal offal being (and having been to a much greater extent five or six years ago) swept into the drains and sewers, the rats find their food. In the sewers, generally, there is little food for them, and none at all in the best-constructed sewers, where there is a regular and sometimes rapid flow, and little or no deposit.

The sewers are these animals’ breeding grounds. In them the broods are usually safe from the molestation of men, dogs, or cats. These “breeding grounds” are sometimes in the holes (excavated by the industry of the rats into caves) which have been formed in the old sewers by a crumbled brick having fallen out. Their nests, however, are in some parts even more frequent in places where old rotting large house-drains or smaller sewers, empty themselves into a first-class sewer. Here, then, the rats breed, and, in spite of precautions, find their way up the drains or pipes, even through the openings into water-closets, into the houses for their food, and almost always at night. Of this fact, builders, and those best informed, are confident, and it is proved indirectly by what I have stated as to the deficiency of food for a voracious creature in all the sewers except a few. One man, long in the service of the Commissioners of Sewers, and in different capacities, gave me the following account of what may be called a rat settlement. The statement I found confirmed by other working men, and by superior officers under the same employment.

“Why, sir, in the Milford-lane sewer, a goodish bit before you get to the river, or to the Strand--I can’t say how far, a few hundred yards perhaps--I’ve seen, and reported, what was a regular chamber of rats. If a brick didn’t fall out from being rotted, the rats would get it out, and send it among other rubbish into the sewer, for this place was just the corner of a big drain. I couldn’t get into the rat-hole, of course not, but I’ve brought my lamp to the opening, and--as well as others--have seen it plain. It was an open place like a lot of tunnels, one over another. Like a lot of rabbit burrows in the country--as I’ve known to be--or like the partitions in the pigeon-houses: one here and another there. The rat-holes, as far as I could tell, were worked one after another. I should say, in moderation, that it was the size of a small room; well, say about 6 yards by 4. I can’t say about the height from the lowest tunnel to the highest. I don’t see that any one could. Bless you, sir, I’ve sometimes heerd the rats fighting and squeaking there, like a parcel of drunken Irishmen--I have indeed. Some of them were rare big fellows. If you threw the light of your lamp on them sudden, they’d be off like a shot. Well, I should say, there was 100 pair of rats there--there might be more, besides all their young-uns. If a poor cat strayed into that sewer, she dursn’t tackle the rats, not she. There’s lots of such places, sir, here, and there, and everywhere.”

“I believe rats,” says a late enthusiastic writer on the subject, under the cognomen of Uncle James, “to be one of the most fertile causes of national and universal distress, and their attendants, misery and starvation.”

From the author’s inquiries among practical men, and from his own study of the natural history of the rat, he shows that these animals will have six, seven, or eight nests of young in the year, for three or four years together; that they have from twelve to twenty-three at a litter, and breed at three months old; and that there are more female than male rats, by ten to six.

The author seems somewhat of an enthusiast about rats, and as the sewerage is often the head-quarters of these animals--their “breeding-ground” indeed--I extract the following curious matter. He says:--

“Now, I propose to lay down my calculations at something less than one-half. In the first place, I say four litters in the year, beginning and ending with a litter, so making thirteen litters in three years; secondly to have eight young ones at a birth, half male and half female; thirdly, the young ones to have a litter at six months old.

“At this calculation, I will take one pair of rats; and at the expiration of three years what do you suppose will be the amount of living rats? Why no less a number than 646,808.

“Mr. Shaw’s little dog ‘Tiny,’ under six pounds weight, has destroyed 2525 pairs of rats, which, had they been permitted to live, would, at the same calculation and in the same time, have produced 1,633,190,200 living rats!

“And the rats destroyed by Messrs. Shaw and Sabin in one year, amounting to 17,000 pairs, would, had they been permitted to live, have produced, at the above calculation and in the same time, no less a number than 10,995,736,000 living rats!

“Now, let us calculate the amount of human food that these rats would destroy. In the first place, my informants tell me that six rats will consume day by day as much food as a man; secondly, that the thing has been tested, and that the estimate given was, that eight rats would consume more than an ordinary man.

“Now, I--to place the thing beyond the smallest shadow of a doubt--will set down ten rats to eat as much as a man, not a child; nor will I say anything about what rats waste. And what shall we find to be the alarming result? Why, that the first pair of rats, with their three years’ progeny, would consume in the night more food than 64,680 men the year round, and leaving eight rats to spare!”

The author then puts forth the following curious statement:--

“And now for the vermin destroyed by Messrs. Shaw and Sabin--34,000 yearly! Taken at the same calculation, with their three years’ progeny--can you believe it?--they would consume more food than the whole population of the earth? Yes, if Omnipotence would raise up 29,573,600 more people, these rats would consume as much food as them all! You may wonder, but I will prove it to you:--The population of the earth, including men, women, and children, is estimated to be 970,000,000 souls; and the 17,000 rats in three years would produce 10,995,736,000: consequently, at ten rats per man, there would be sufficient rats to eat as much food as all the people on the earth, and leaving 1,295,736,000. So that if the human family were increased to 1,099,573,600, instead of 970,000,000, there would be rats enough to eat the food of them all! Now, sirs, is not this a most appalling thing, to think that there are at the present time in the British Empire thousands--nay, millions--of human beings in a state of utter starvation, while rats are consuming that which would place them and their families in a state of affluence and comfort? I ask this simple question: Has not Parliament, ere now, been summoned upon matters of far less importance to the empire? I think it has.”

The author then advocates the repeal of the “rat-tax,” that is, the tax on what he calls the “true friend of man and remorseless destroyer of rats,” the well-bred terrier dog. “Take the tax off rat-killing dogs” he says, “and give a legality to rat-killing, and let there be in each parish a man who will pay a reward per head for dead rats, which are valuable for manure (as was done in the case of wolves in the old days), and then rats would be extinguished for ever!” Uncle James seems to be a perfect Malthus among rats. The over-population and over-rat theories are about equal in reason.

OF THE CESSPOOLAGE AND NIGHTMEN OF THE METROPOLIS.

I have already shown--it may be necessary to remind the reader--that there are two modes of removing the wet refuse of the metropolis: the one by carrying it off by means of sewers, or, as it is designated, sewerage; and the other by depositing it in some neighbouring cesspool, or what is termed cesspoolage.

The object of sewerage is “to transport the wet refuse of a town to a river, or some powerfully current stream, by a series of ducts.” By the system of cesspoolage, the wet refuse of the household is collected in an adjacent tank, and when the reservoir is full, the contents are removed to some other part.

The gross quantity of wet refuse annually produced in the metropolis, and which consequently has to be removed by one or other of the above means, is, as we have seen,--liquid, 24,000,000,000 gallons; solid, 100,000 tons; or altogether, by admeasurement, 3,820,000,000 cubic feet.

The quantity of this wet refuse which finds its way into the sewers by street and house-drainage is, according to the experiments of the Commissioners of Sewers (as detailed at p. 388), 10,000,000 cubic feet per day, or 3,650,000,000 cubic feet per annum, so that there remain about 170,000,000 cubic feet to be accounted for. But, as we have before seen, the extent of surface from which the amount of so-called Metropolitan sewage was removed was only 58 square miles, whereas that from which the calculation was made concerning the gross quantity of wet refuse produced throughout the metropolis was 115 square miles, or double the size. The 58 miles measured by the Commissioners, however, was by far the denser moiety of the town, and that in which the houses and streets were as 15 to 1; so that, allowing the remaining 58 miles of the suburban districts to have produced 20 times less sewage than the urban half of the metropolis, the extra yield would have been about 180,500,000 cubic feet. But the greater proportion, if not the whole, of the latter quantity of wet house-refuse would be drained into open ditches, where a considerable amount of evaporation and absorption is continually going on, so that a large allowance must be made for loss by these means. Perhaps, if we estimate the quantity of sewage thus absorbed and evaporated at between 10 and 20 per cent of the whole, we shall not be wide of the truth, so that we shall have to reduce the 182,000,000 cubic feet of suburban sewage to somewhere about 150,000,000 cubic feet.

This gives us the quantity of wet refuse carried off by the sewers (covered and open) of the metropolis, and deducted from the gross quantity of wet house-refuse, annually produced (3,820,000,000 cubic feet), leaves 20,000,000 cubic feet for the gross quantity carried off by other means than the sewers; that is to say, the 20,000,000 cubic feet, if the calculation be right, should be about the quantity deposited every year in the London cesspools. Let us see whether this approximates to anything like the real quantity.

To ascertain the absolute quantity of wet refuse annually conveyed into the metropolitan cesspools, we must first ascertain the number and capacity of the cesspools themselves.

Of the city of London, where the sewer-cesspool details are given with a minuteness highly commendable, as affording statistical data of great value, Mr. Heywood gives us the following returns:--

“HOUSE-DRAINAGE OF THE CITY.

“The total number of premises drained during the year was 310

“The approximate number of premises drained at the expiration of the year 1850 was 10,923

“The total number of premises which may now therefore be said to be drained is 11,233

“And undrained 5,067

“I am induced,” adds Mr. Heywood, “to believe, from the reports of the district inspectors, that a very far larger number of houses are already drained than are herein given. Indeed my impression is, that as many as 3000 might be deducted from the 5067 houses as to the drainage of which you have no information.

“Now, until the inspectors have completed their survey of the whole of the houses within the city,” continues the City surveyor, “precise information cannot be given as to the number of houses yet undrained; such information appears to me very important to obtain speedily, and I beg to recommend that instructions be given to the inspectors to proceed with their survey as rapidly as possible.”

Hence it appears, that out of the 16,299 houses comprised within the boundaries of the City, rather less than one-third are reported to have cesspools. Concerning the number of cesspools without the City, the Board of Health, in a Report on the cholera in 1849, put forward one of its usual extraordinary statements.

“At the last census in 1841,” runs the Report, “there were 270,859 houses in the metropolis. It is KNOWN that there is scarcely a house without a cesspool under it, and that a large number have two, three, four, and MORE under them; so that the number of such receptacles in the metropolis may be taken at 300,000. The exposed surface of each cesspool measures on an average 9 feet, and the mean depth of the whole is about 6-1/2 feet; so that each contains 58-1/2 cubic feet of fermenting filth of the most poisonous, noisome, and disgusting nature. The exhaling surface of all the cesspools (300,000 × 9) = 2,700,000 feet, or equal to 62 acres nearly; and the total quantity of foul matter contained within them (300,000 × 58-1/2) = 17,550,000 cubic feet; or equal to one enormous elongated stagnant cesspool 50 feet in width, 6 feet 6 inches in depth, and extending through London from the Broadway at Hammersmith to Bow-bridge, a length of 10 miles.

“This,” say the Metropolitan Sanitary Commissioners, a body of functionaries so intimately connected with the Board, that the one is ever ready to swear to what the other asserts, “there is reason to believe is an under estimate!”

Let us now compare this statement, which declares it to be known that there is scarcely a house in London without a cesspool, and that many have two, three, four, and even more under them--let us compare this, I say, with the facts which were elicited by the same functionaries by means of a house-to-house inquiry in three different parishes--a poor, a middle-class, and a rich one--the average rental of each being 22_l._, 119_l._, and 128_l._

RESULTS OF A HOUSE-TO-HOUSE INQUIRY IN THE PARISHES OF ST. GEORGE THE MARTYR, SOUTHWARK, ST. ANNE’S, SOHO, AND ST. JAMES’S, AS TO THE STATE OF THE WORKS OF WATER SUPPLY AND DRAINAGE.

----------------------------------------------+--------------------------- | PARISHES. +----------+-------+-------- CONDITION OF THE HOUSES. | St George| | | the | St. | St. | Martyr, |Anne’s,|James’s. |Southwark.| Soho. | ----------------------------------------------+----------+-------+-------- From which replies have been | | | received (Number) | 5,713 | 1,339 | 2,960 | | | With supply of Water-- | | | To the house or premises (Per cent)| 80·97 | 95·56 | 96·48 Near the privy „ | 48·87 | 38·99 | 43·42 Butts or cisterns, covered (Number) | 1,879 | 776 | 1,621 „ „ uncovered „ | 2,074 | 294 | 393 With a sink (Per cent)| 48·31 | 89·29 | 86·70 | | | With a Well-- | | | On or near premises „ | 5·32 | 13·97 | 13·85 Well tainted or foul „ | 46·92 | 3·71 | 7·36 Houses damp in lower parts „ | 52·13 | 30·90 | 26·67 Houses with stagnant water on | | | premises „ | 18·54 | 7·95 | 2·95 Houses flooded in times of storm „ | 18·15 | 5·04 | 4·05 | | | Houses with Drain-- | | | To premises „ | 87·56 | 97·12 | 96·42 Houses with drains emitting | | | offensive smells „ | 45·11 | 37·62 | 21·41 Houses with drains stopped at times „ | 22·37 | 28·50 | 13·97 Houses with dust-bin „ | 42·69 | 92·34 | 89·80 Houses receiving offensive smells from | | | adjoining premises „ | 27·82 | 22·54 | 16·74 Houses with privy „ | 97·03 | 70·63 | 62·53 Houses with cesspool „ | 82·12 | 47·27 | 36·62 Houses with water-closet „ | 10·06 | 45·99 | 65·86 ----------------------------------------------+----------+-------+--------

In this minute and searching investigation there is not only an official guide to an estimation of the number of cesspools in London, but a curious indication of the character of the houses in the respective parishes. In the poorer parish of St. George the Martyr, Southwark, the cesspools were to every 100 houses as 82·12; in the aristocratic parish of St. James, Westminster, as only 36·62; while in what may be represented, perhaps, as the middle-class parish of St. Anne, Soho, the cesspools were 47·27 per cent. The number of wells on or near the premises, and the proportion of those tainted; the ratio of the dampness of the lower parts of the houses, of the stagnant water on the premises, and of the flooding of the houses on occasions of storms, are all significant indications of the difference in the circumstances of the inhabitants of these parishes--of the difference between the abodes of the rich and the poor, the capitalists and the labouring classes. But more significant still, perhaps, of the domestic wants or comforts of these dwellings, is the proportion of water-closets to the houses in the poor parish and the rich; in the one they were but 10·06 per cent; in the other 65·86 per cent.

These returns are sufficient to show the extravagance of the Board’s previous statement, that there is “scarcely a house in London without a cesspool under it,” while “a large number have two, three, four, and more,” for we find that even in the poorer parishes there are only 82 cesspools to 100 houses. Moreover, the engineers, after an official examination and inquiry, reported that in the “fever-nest, known as Jacob’s-island, Bermondsey,” there were 1317 dwelling-houses and 648 cesspools, or not quite 50 cesspools to 100 houses.

In rich, middle-class, and poor parishes, the proportion of cesspools, then, it appears from the inquiries of the Board of Health (their guesses are of no earthly value), gives us an average of something between 50 or 60 cesspools to every 100 houses. A subordinate officer whom I saw, and who was engaged in the cleansing and the filling-up of cesspools when condemned, or when the houses are to be drained anew into the sewers and the cesspools abolished, thought from his own experience, the number of cesspools to be less than one-half, but others thought it more.

On the other hand, a nightman told me he was confident that every two houses in three throughout London had cesspools; in the City, however, we perceive that there is, at the utmost, only one house in every three undrained. It will, therefore, be safest to adopt a middle course, and assume 50 per cent of the houses of the metropolis to be still without drainage into the sewers.

Now the number of houses being 300,000, it follows that the number of cesspools within the area of the metropolis are about 150,000; consequently the next step in the investigation is to ascertain the average capacity of each, and so arrive at the gross quantity of wet house-refuse annually deposited in cesspools throughout London.

The average size of the cesspools throughout the metropolis is said, by the Board of Health, to be 9 feet by 6-1/2, which gives a capacity of 58-1/2 cubic feet, and this for 150,000 houses = 8,775,000 cubic feet. But according to all accounts these cesspools require on an average two years to fill, so that the gross quantity of wet refuse annually deposited in such places can be taken at only half the above quantity, viz. in round numbers, 4,500,000 cubic feet. This by weight, at the rate of 35·9 cubic feet to the ton, gives 125,345 tons. This, however, would appear to be of a piece with the generality of the statistics of the Board of Health, and as wide of the truth as was the statement that there was scarcely a house in London without a cesspool, while many had three, four, and even more. But I am credibly informed that the average size of a cesspool is rather more than 5 feet square and 6-1/2 deep, so that the ordinary capacity would be 5-3/4 × 5-1/4 × 6-1/2 = 197 cubic feet, and this multiplied by 150,000 gives an aggregate capacity of 29,550,000 cubit feet. But as the cesspools, according to all accounts, become full only once in two years, it follows that the gross quantity of cesspoolage annually deposited throughout the metropolis must be only one-half that quantity, or about 14,775,000 cubic feet.

The calculation may be made another way, viz. by the experience of the nightmen and the sewer-cesspoolmen as to the average quantity of refuse removed from the London cesspools whenever emptied, as well as the average number emptied yearly.

The contents of a cesspool are never estimated for any purpose of sale or labour by the weight, but always, as regards the nightmen’s work, by the load. Each night-cart load of soil is considered, on an average, a ton in weight, so that the nightmen readily estimate the number of tons by the number of cart-loads obtained. The men employed in the cleansing of the cesspools by the new system of pumping agree with the nightmen as to the average contents of a cesspool.

As a general rule, a cesspool is filled every two years, and holds, when full, about five tons. One man, who had been upwards of 30 years in the nightman’s business, who had worked at it more or less all that time himself, and who is now foreman to a parish contractor and master-nightman in a large way, spoke positively on the subject. The cesspools, he declared, were emptied, as an average, by nightmen, once in two years, and their average contents were five loads of night-soil, it having been always understood in the trade that a night-cartload was about a ton.[72] The total of the cesspool matter is not affected by the frequency or paucity of the cleansing away of the filth, for if one cesspool be emptied yearly, another is emptied every second, third, fourth, or fifth year, and, according to the size, the fair average is five tons of cesspoolage emptied from each every other year. One master-nightman had emptied as much as fourteen tons of night-soil from a cesspool or soil-tank, and a contractor’s man had once emptied as many as eighteen tons, but both agreed as to the average of five tons every two years from all. Neither knew the period of the accumulation of the fourteen or the eighteen tons, but supposed to be about five or six years.

According to this mode of estimate, the quantity of wet house-refuse deposited in cesspools would be equal to 150,000 × 5, or 750,000 tons every two years. This, by admeasurement, at the rate of 35·9 cubic feet to the ton, gives 26,925,000 cubic feet; and as this is the accumulation of two years, it follows that 13,462,500 cubic feet is the quantity of cesspoolage deposited yearly.

There is still another mode of checking this estimate.

I have already given (see p. 385, ante) the average production of each individual to the wet refuse of the metropolis. According to the experiments of Boussingault, confirmed by Liebig, this, as I have stated, amounted to 1/4 lb. of solid and 1-1/4 lb. of liquid excrement from each individual per diem (= 150 lbs. for every 100 persons), while, including the wet refuse from culinary operations, the average yield, according to the surveyor of the Commissioners of Sewers, was equal to about 250 lbs. for every 100 individuals daily. I may add that this calculation was made officially, with engineering minuteness, with a view to ascertain what quantity of water, and what inclination in its flow, would be required for the effective working of a system of drainage to supersede the cesspools.[73] Now the census of 1841 shows us that the average number of inhabitants to each house throughout the metropolis was 7·6, and this for 150,000 houses would give 1,140,000 people; consequently the gross quantity of wet refuse proceeding from this number of persons, at the rate of 250 lbs. to every 100 people daily, would be 464,400 tons per annum; or, by admeasurement, at the rate of 35·9 cubic feet to the ton, it would be equal to 16,670,950 cubic feet.

A small proportion of this amount of cesspoolage ultimately makes its appearance in the sewers, being pumped into them directly from the cesspools when full by means of a special apparatus, and thus tends not only to swell the bulk of sewage, but to decrease in a like proportion the aggregate quantity of wet house-refuse, which is removed by cartage; but though the proportion of cesspoolage which finally appears as sewage is daily increasing, still it is but trifling compared with the quantity removed by cartage.

Here, then, we have three different estimates as to the gross quantity of the London cesspoolage, each slightly varying from the other two.

The first, drawn from the Cubic Feet. average capacity of the London cesspools, makes the gross annual amount of cesspoolage 14,775,000

The second, deduced from the average quantity removed from each cesspool 13,462,500

And the third, calculated from the individual production of wet refuse 16,670,950

The mean of these three results is, in round numbers, 15,000,000 cubic feet, so that the statement would stand thus:--

The quantity of wet house-refuse annually carried off by sewers (chiefly covered) from the urban moiety of the metropolis is (in cubic feet) 3,650,000,000

The quantity annually carried off by sewers (principally open) from the suburban moiety of the metropolis 150,000,000 ------------- The total amount of wet house-refuse annually carried off by the sewers of the metropolis 3,800,000,000

The gross amount of wet house-refuse annually deposited in cesspools throughout the metropolis 15,000,000 ------------- The total amount of sewage and cesspoolage of the metropolis 3,815,000,000

Thus we perceive that the total quantity of wet house-refuse annually removed, corresponds so closely with the gross quantity of wet house-refuse annually produced, that we may briefly conclude the gross sewage of London to be equal to 3,800,000,000 cubic feet, and the gross cesspoolage to be equal to 15,000,000 cubic feet.

The accuracy of the above conclusion may be tested by another process; for, unless the Board of Health’s conjectural mode of getting at facts be adopted, it is absolutely necessary that statistics not only upon this, but indeed any subject, be checked by all the different modes there may be of arriving at the same conclusion. False facts are worse than no facts at all.

The number of nightmen may be summed up as follows:--

Masters 521 Labourers 200,000

The number of cesspools emptied during the past year by these men may be estimated at 50,692; and the quantity of soil removed, 253,460 loads, or tons, and this at the rate of 35·9 cubic ft. to the ton gives a total of 6,099,214 cubic ft.

It might, perhaps, be expected, that from the quantity of fæcal refuse proceeding from the inhabitants of the metropolis, a greater quantity would be found in the existent cesspools; but there are many reasons for the contrary.

One prime cause of the dispersion of cesspoolage is, that a considerable quantity of the night-soil does not find its way into the cesspools at all, but is, when the inhabitants have no privies to their dwellings, thrown into streets, and courts, and waste places.

I cannot show this better than by a few extracts from Dr. Hector Gavin’s work, published in 1848, entitled, “Sanitary Ramblings; being Sketches and Illustrations of Bethnal Green, &c.”

“Digby-walk, Globe-road.--Part of this place is private property, and the landlord of the new houses has built a cesspool, into which to drain his houses, but he will not permit the other houses to drain into this cesspool, unless the parish pay to him 1_l._, a sum which it will not pay.” Of course the inhabitants throw their garbage and filth into the street or the by-places.

“Whisker’s-gardens.--This is a very extensive piece of ground, which is laid out in neat plots, as gardens. The choicest flowers are frequently raised here, and great taste and considerable refinement are evidently possessed by those who cultivate them. Now, among the cultivators are the poor, even the very poor, of Bethnal-green.... Attached to all these little plots of ground are summer-houses. In the generality of cases they are mere wooden sheds, cabins, or huts. It is very greatly to be regretted that the proprietors of these gardens should permit the slight and fragile sheds in them to be converted into abodes for human beings.... Sometimes they are divided into rooms; they are planted on the damp undrained ground. The privies are sheds erected over holes in the ground; the soil itself is removed from these holes and is dug into the ground to promote its fertility.

“Three Colt-lane.--A deep ditch has been dug on either side of the Eastern Counties Railway by the Company. These ditches were dug by the Company to prevent the foundations of the arches being endangered, and are in no way to be considered as having been dug to promote the health of the neighbourhood. The double privies attached to the new houses (22 in number) are immediately contiguous to this ditch, and are constructed so that the night-soil shall drain into it. For this purpose the cesspools are small, and the bottoms are above the level of the ditch.”

It would be easy to multiply such proofs of night-soil not finding its way into the cesspools, but the subject need not be further pursued, important as in many respects it may be. I need but say, that in the several reports of the Board of Health are similar accounts of other localities. The same deficiency of cesspoolage is found in Paris, and from the same cause.

What may be the quantity of night-soil which becomes part of the contents of the street scavenger’s instead of the nightman’s cart, no steps have been taken, or perhaps can be taken, by the public sanitary bodies to ascertain. Many of the worst of the nuisances (such as that in Digby-street) have been abolished, but they are still too characteristic of the very poor districts. The fault, however, appears to be with the owners of property, and it is seldom they are coerced into doing their duty. The doubt of its “paying” a capitalist landlord to improve the unwholesome dwellings of the poor seems to be regarded as a far more sacred right, than the right of the people to be delivered from the foul air and vile stenches to which their poverty may condemn them.

There is, moreover, the great but unascertained waste from cesspool evaporation, and it must be recollected that of the 2-1/2 lbs. of cesspool refuse, calculated as the daily produce of each individual, 2-1/4 lbs. are liquid.

The gross cesspoolage of Paris should amount to upwards of 600,000 cubic mètres, or more than 21,000,000 cubic feet, at the estimate of three pints daily per head. The quantity actually collected, however, amounts to only 230,000 cubic mètres, or rather more than 8,000,000 cubic feet, which is 13,000,000 cubic feet less than the amount produced.

In London, the cesspoolage of 150,000 undrained houses should, at the rate of 2-1/2 lbs. to each individual and 15 inhabitants to every two houses, amount to 16,500,000 cubic feet, or about 460,000 loads, whereas the quantity collected amounts to but little more than 250,000 loads, or about 9,000,000 cubic feet. Hence, the deficiency is 210,000 loads, or 7,500,000 cubic feet, which is nearly half of the entire quantity.

In Paris, then, it would appear that only 38 per cent of the refuse which is not removed by sewers is collected in the cesspools, whereas in London about 54-1/2 per cent is so collected. The remainder in both cases is part deposited in by-places and removed by the scavenger’s cart, part lost in evaporation, whereas a large proportion of the deficiency arises from a less quantity of water than the amount stated being used by the very poor.

We have now to see the means by which this 15,000,000 cubic feet of cesspoolage is annually removed, as well as to ascertain the condition and incomes of the labourers engaged in the removal of it.

OF THE CESSPOOL SYSTEM OF LONDON.

A cesspool, or some equivalent contrivance, has long existed in connexion with the structure of the better class of houses in the metropolis, and there seems every reason to believe--though I am assured, on good authority, that there is no public or official record of the matter known to exist--that their use became more and more general, as in the case of the sewers, after the rebuilding of the City, consequent upon the great fire of 1666.

The older cesspools were of two kinds--“soil-tanks” and “bog-holes.”

“Soil-tanks” were the filth receptacles of the larger houses, and sometimes works of solid masonry; they were almost every size and depth, but always perhaps much deeper than the modern cesspools, which present an average depth of 6 feet to 6-1/2 feet.

The “bog-hole” was, and is, a cavity dug into the earth, having less masonry than the soil-tank, and sometimes no masonry at all, being in like manner the receptacle for the wet refuse from the house.

The difference between these old contrivances and the present mode is principally in the following respect: the soil-tank or bog-hole formed a receptacle immediately under the privy (the floor of which has usually to be removed for purposes of cleansing), whereas the refuse is now more frequently carried into the modern cesspool by a system of drainage. Sometimes the soil-tank was, when the nature of the situation of the premises permitted, in some outer place, such as an obscure part of the garden or court-yard; and perhaps two or more bog-holes were drained into it, while often enough, by means of a grate or a trap-door, any kind of refuse to be got rid of was thrown into it.

I am informed that the average contents of a bog-hole (such as now exist) are a cubic yard of matter; some are round, some oblong, for there is, or was, great variation.

Of the few remaining soil-tanks the varying sizes prevent any average being computable.

What the old system of cesspoolage was may be judged from the fact, that until somewhere about 1830 no cesspool matter could, without an indictable offence being committed, be drained into a sewer! Now, no new house can be erected, but it is an indictable offence if the cesspool (or rather water-closet) matter be drained anywhere else than into the sewer! The law, at the period specified, required most strangely, so that “the drains and sewers might not be choked,” that cesspools should “be not only periodically emptied, but made by nightmen.”

The principal means of effecting the change from cesspoolage to sewerage was the introduction of Bramah’s water-closets, patented in 1808, but not brought into general use for some twenty years or more after that date. The houses of the rich, owing to the refuse being drained away from the premises, improved both in wholesomeness and agreeableness, and so the law was relaxed.

There are two kinds of cesspools, viz. public and private.

The public cesspools are those situated in courts, alleys, and places, which, though often packed thickly with inhabitants, are not horse-thoroughfares, or thoroughfares at all; and in such places one, two, or more cesspools receive the refuse from all the houses. I do not know that any official account of public cesspools has been published as to their number, character, &c., but their number is insignificant when compared with those connected with private houses. The public cesspools are cleansed, and, where possible, filled up by order of the Commissioners of Sewers, the cost being then defrayed out of the rate.

The private cesspools are cleansed at the expense of the occupiers of the houses.

OF THE CESSPOOL AND SEWER SYSTEM OF PARIS.

As the Court of Sewers have recently adopted some of the French regulations concerning cesspoolage, I will now give an account of the cesspool system of France.

When after the ravages of the epidemic cholera of 1848-9, sanitary commissioners under the authority of the legislature pursued their inquiries, it was deemed essential to report upon the cesspool system of Paris, as that capital had also been ravaged by the epidemic. The task was entrusted to Mr. T. W. Rammell, C.E.

Even in what the French delight to designate--and in some respects justly--the most refined city in the world, a filthy and indolent custom, once common, as I have shown, in England, still prevails. In Paris, the kitchen and dry house-refuse (and formerly it was the fæcal refuse also) is deposited in the dark of the night in the streets, and removed, as soon as the morning light permits, by the public scavengers. But the refuse is not removed unexamined before being thrown into the cart of the proper functionary. There is in Paris a large and peculiar class, the chiffonniers (literally, in Anglo-Saxon rendering, the raggers, or rag-finders). These men nightly traverse the streets, each provided with a lantern, and generally with a basket strapped to the back; the poorer sort, however--for poverty, like rank, has its gradations--make a bag answer the purpose; they have also a pole with an iron hook to its end; and a small shovel. The dirt-heaps or mounds of dry house-refuse are carefully turned over by these men; for their morrow’s bread, as in the case of our own street-finders, depends upon something saleable being acquired. Their prizes are bones (which sometimes they are seen to gnaw); bits of bread; wasted potatoes; broken pots, bottles, and glass; old pans and odd pieces of old metal; cigar-ends; waste-paper, and rags. Although these people are known as rag-pickers, rags are, perhaps, the very thing of which they pick the least, because the Parisians are least apt to throw them away. In some of the criminal trials in the French capital, the chiffonniers have given evidence (but not much of late) of what they have found in a certain locality, and supplied a link, sometimes an important one, to the evidence against a criminal. With these refuse heaps is still sometimes mixed matter which should have found its way into the cesspools, although this is an offence punishable, and occasionally punished.

Before the habits of the Parisians are too freely condemned, let it be borne in mind that the houses of the French capital are much larger than in London, and that each floor is often the dwelling-place of a family. Such is generally the case in London in the poorer districts, but in Paris it pervades almost all districts. There, some of the houses contain 70, not fugitive but permanent, inmates. The average number of inhabitants to each house, according to the last census, was upwards of twenty-four (in London the average is 7·6), the extremes being eleven to each house in St. Giles’s and between five and six in the immediate suburbs (see p. 165, ante). Persons who are circumstanced then, as are the Parisians, can hardly have at their command the proper means and appliances for a sufficient cleanliness, and for the promotion of what we consider--but the two words are unknown to the French language--the comforts of a home.

“The greater portion of the liquid refuse,” writes Mr. Rammell, “including water, which has been used in culinary or cleansing processes, is got rid of by means of open channels laid across the court-yards and the foot pavements to the street gutters, along which it flows until it falls through the nearest gully into the sewers, and ultimately into the Seine. If produced in the upper part of a house, this description of refuse is first poured into an external shoot branching out of the rainwater pipe, with one of which every floor is usually provided. Iron pipes have been lately much introduced in place of the open channels across the foot pavements; these are laid level with the surface, and are cast with an open slit, about one inch in width, at the top, to afford facility for cleansing. During the busy parts of the day there are constant streams of such fluids running through most of the streets of Paris, the smell arising from which is by no means agreeable. In hot weather it is the practice to turn on the public stand pipes for an hour or two, to dilute the matter and accelerate its flow.”

“With respect to fæcal refuse,” says Mr. Rammell, “and much of the house-slops, particularly those of bed-chambers, the cesspool is universally adopted in Paris as the immediate receptacle.”

By far the greater proportion of the wet house-refuse of Paris, therefore, is deposited in cesspools.

I shall, then, immediately proceed to show the quantity of matter thus collected yearly, as well as the means by which it is removed.

The aggregate quantity of the cesspool matter of Paris has greatly increased in quantity within the present century, though this might have been expected, as well from the increase of population as from the improved construction of cesspools (preventing leakage), and the increased supply of water in the French metropolis.

The following figures show both the aggregate quantity and the increase that has taken place in the cesspoolage of Paris, from 1810 to the present time:--

Cub. Mètres. Cub. Feet. In 1810 the total quantity of refuse matter deposited in the basins at Montfaucon amounted to 50,151 = 1,770,330 In 1811 the quantity was 49,545 = 1,748,938 In 1812 49,235 = 1,737,995 ------ --------- Giving an average for the three years of 49,877 = 1,760,658 The quantity at present conveyed to Montfaucon and Bondy amounts, according to M. Héloin (a very good authority), to from 600 to 700 cubic mètres daily, giving, in round numbers, an annual quantity of 230,000 = 8,119,000

This shows an increase in 36 years of very nearly 400 per cent, but still it constitutes little more than one-half the cesspoolage of London.

The quantity of refuse matter which is daily drawn from the cesspools, Mr. Rammell states--and he had every assistance from the authorities in prosecuting his inquiries--at “between 600 and 700 cubic mètres; (21,180 and 24,710 cubic feet), giving, in round numbers, the annual quantity of 230,000 cubic mètres.

“Dividing this annual quantity at 230,000 cubic mètres (or 8,000,000 cubic feet) by the number of the population of Paris (94,721 individuals, according to the last census), we have 243 litres only as the annual produce from each individual. The daily quantity of matter (including water necessary for cleanliness) passing from each person into the cesspool in the better class of houses is stated to be 1-3/4 litre (3·08 pints), or 638 litres annually. The discrepancy between these two quantities, wide as it is, must be accounted for by the fact of a large proportion of the lower orders in Paris rarely or ever using any privy at all, and by allowing for the small quantity of water made use of in the inferior class of houses. There can be no doubt that this latter quantity of 1-3/4 litre daily is very nearly correct, and not above the average quantity used in houses where a moderate degree of cleanliness is observed. This proportion was ascertained to hold good in the case of some barracks in Paris, where the contents of the cesspools were accurately measured, the total quantity divided by the number of men occupying the barracks, and the quotient by the number of days since the cesspools had been last emptied; the result showing a daily quantity of 1-3/4 litre from each individual.

“The average charge per cubic mètre for extraction and transport of the cesspoolage is nine francs, giving a gross annual charge of 2,070,000 francs (82,800_l._ sterling), which sum, it would appear, is paid every year by the house-proprietors of Paris for the extraction of the matter from their cesspools, and its transport to the Voirie.”

Mr. Rammell says that, were a tubular system of house-drainage, such as has been described under the proper head, adopted in Paris, in lieu of the present mode, it would cost less than one-tenth of the expense now incurred.

The principal place of deposit for the general refuse of Paris has long been at Montfaucon. A French writer, M. Jules Garnier, in a recent work, “A Visit to Montfaucon,” says:--“For more than nine hundred years Montfaucon has been devoted to this purpose. There the citizens of Paris deposited their filth before the walls of the capital extended beyond what is now the central quarter. The distance between Paris and Montfaucon was then more than a mile and a half.” Thus it appears that Montfaucon was devoted to its present purposes, of course in a much more limited degree, as early as the reign of King Charles the Simple.

This deposit of cesspool matter is the property of the commune (as in the city of London it would be said to belong to the “corporation”), and it is farmed out, for terms of nine years, to the highest bidders. The amount received by the commune has greatly increased, as the following returns, which are official, will show:--

A.D. Francs £ 1808 the cesspoolage fetched 97,000, abt. 3,880 1817 „ 75,000, „ 3,000 1834 „ 165,000, „ 7,000 1843 „ 525,000, „ 21,000

It is here that the “poudrette,”[74] of which I have spoken elsewhere, is prepared. Besides this branch of commerce, Montfaucon has establishments for the extracting of ammonia from the cesspool matter, and the right of doing so is now farmed out for 80,000 francs a-year (3200_l_).

Montfaucon is on the north side of Paris, and the place of refuse deposit is known as the Voirie. The following account of it, and of the manufacture of poudrette, is curious in many respects:--

“The area, which is about 40 acres in extent, is divided into three irregular compartments:--

“1. The system of basins.

“2. The ground used for spreading and drying the matter.

“3. The place where the matter is heaped up after having been dried.

“The basins, standing for the most part in gradations, one above another, by reason of the slope of the ground, are six in number. The two upper ones, which are upon a level, first receive the soil upon its arrival at the Voirie; the four others are receptacles for the more liquid portion as it gradually flows off from the upper basins.

“There is a great difference in the character of the soil brought; that taken from the upper part of the cesspools, and amounting to a large proportion of the whole, being entirely liquid; while the remainder is more or less solid, according to the depth at which it is taken. The whole, however, during winter or rainy weather, is indiscriminately deposited in the upper basins; but in dry weather, the nearly solid portion is at once thrown upon the drying-ground.”[75]

“The quantity of poudrette sold in 1818 was:--

At the Voirie 50,000 setiers[76] Sent into the departments 20,000 „ ------ Total sale 70,000 „

at prices of 7, 8, and 9 francs the setier.

“This is equal, at the average price of 8 francs, to 22,400_l._ sterling.

“The refuse liquids, as fast as they overflow the basins, or are passed through the chemical works, are conducted into the public sewers, and through them into the Seine, nearly opposite the Jardin des Plantes. They thus fall into the river at the very commencement of its course through Paris, and pollute its waters before they have reached the various works lower down and near the centre of the city, where they are raised and distributed for household purposes, for the supply of baths, and for the public fountains.

“Rats are found by thousands in the Voirie, and their voracity is such, that I have often known them, during a single night, convert into skeletons the carcasses of twenty horses which had been brought thither the evening before. The bones are burnt to heat the coppers, or to get rid of them.

“Speaking of the disgusting practices at the Voirie, Mr. Gisquet says, ‘I have seen men stark naked, passing entire days in the midst of the basins, seeking for any objects of value they might contain. I have seen others fishing for the rotten fish the market inspectors had caused to be thrown into the basins. Two cartloads of spoilt and stinking mackerel were thrown into the largest of the basins; two hours afterwards all the fish had disappeared.’

“The emanations from the Voirie are, as may well be supposed, most powerfully offensive. To a stranger unaccustomed to the atmosphere surrounding them it would be almost impossible to make the tour of the basins without being more or less affected with a disposition to nausea. Large and numerous bubbles of gas are seen constantly rising from a lake of urine and water, while evaporation of the most foul description is going on from many acres of surrounding ground, upon which the solid matter is spread to dry.”

The late M. Parent du Châtelet, a high authority on this matter, stated (in 1833) that the emanations from the Voirie were insupportable within a circumference of 2000 mètres (about a mile and a quarter, English measure); while the winds carried them sometimes, as was shown when an official inquiry was made as to the ravages and causes of cholera, 2-1/2 miles; and in certain states of the atmosphere, 8 French miles (not quite 5 English miles). The same high authority has also stated, that in addition to the emanations from the cesspool matter at the Voirie the greater part of the carcasses of about 12,000 horses, and between 25,000 and 30,000 smaller animals, were allowed to rot upon the ground there.

To abate this nuisance a new Voirie was, more than 20 years since, formed in the forest of Bondy, 8 miles from Paris. It consists of eight basins, four on each side of the Canal de l’Ourcq, arranged like those at Montfaucon. The area of these basins is little short of 96,000 square yards, and their collective capacity upwards of 261,000 cubic yards. The expectations of the relief that would be experienced from the establishment of the new Voirie in the forest have not been realized. The movable cesspools only have been conveyed there, by boats on the canal, to be emptied; the empty casks being conveyed back by the same boats. The basins are not yet full; for the conveyance by the Canal de l’Ourcq is costly, and in winter its traffic is sometimes suspended by its being frozen. In one year the cost of conveying these movable cesspools to Bondy was little short of 1500_l._

In the latest Report on this subject (1835) the Commissioners, of whom M. Parent du Châtelet was one, recommend that all the cesspool matter at the Voiries should be disinfected. M. Salmon, after a course of chemical experiments (the Report of the Commission states), disinfected and carbonized a mass of mud and filth, containing much organic matter, deposited (from a sewer) on the banks of the Seine.

The Commissioners say, “The discovery of M. Salmon awakened the attention of the contractors of Montfaucon, who employed one of our most skilful chemists to find for them a means of disinfection other than that for which M. Salmon had taken out a patent. M. Sanson and some other persons made similar researches, and from their joint investigations it resulted that disinfection might be equally well produced with turf ashes, with carbonized turf, and with the simple débris of this very abundant substance; and that the same success might be obtained with saw-dust, with the refuse matter of the tan-yards, with garden mould, so abundant in the environs of Paris, and with many other substances. A curious experiment has even shown, that after mixing with a clayey earth a portion of fæcal matter, it was only necessary to carbonize this mixture to obtain a perfect disinfectant powder. Theory had already indicated the result.”

This disinfection, however, has not been carried out in the Voiries, nor in the manufacture of poudrette.

From the account of the general refuse depositories of Paris we pass to the particular receptacles or cesspools of the French capital.

The Parisian cesspools are of two sorts:--

1. Fixed or excavated cesspools.

2. Movable cesspools.

“In early times the excavated cesspools or pits were constructed in the rudest manner, and cleaned out more or less frequently, or utterly neglected, at the discretion of their owners. As the city increased in size, however, and as the permeations necessarily taking place into the soil accumulated in the lapse of centuries, the evil resulting was found to be of grave magnitude, calling for prompt and vigorous interference on the part of the authorities. It appears certain that prior to the year 1819 (when a strict ordonnance was issued on the subject) the cesspools were very carelessly constructed. For the most part they were far from water-tight, and very probably were not intended to be otherwise. Consequently, nearly the whole of the fluid matter within them drained into the springs beneath the substratum, or became absorbed by the surrounding soil. Nor was this the only evil: the basement walls of the houses became saturated with the offensive permeations, and the atmosphere, more particularly in the interior of the dwellings, tainted with their exhalations.

“The movable cesspools, for the most part, consist simply of tanks or barrels, which, when full, are removed to some convenient spot for the purpose of their contents being discharged. This form of cesspool, though not leading to that contamination of the substratum which is naturally induced by the fixed or excavated cesspool, may occasion many offensive nuisances from carelessness in overfilling, or in the process of emptying.”

“The movable cesspools are of two kinds; the one,” says Mr. Rammell, “extremely simple and primitive in construction, the other more complicated. The former retains all the refuse, both liquid and solid, passed into it; the latter retains only the solid matter, the liquid being separated by a sort of strainer, and running off into another receptacle.

“The advantage of this separating apparatus is, that those cesspools provided with it require to be emptied less frequently than the others; the solid matter being alone retained in the movable part. The liquid portion is withdrawn from the tank into which it is received by pumping.

“The other kind of movable cesspool consists simply of a wooden cask set on end, and having its top pierced to admit the soil-pipe. It is intended to retain both solid and liquid matter. When full, it is detached, and the aperture in the top having been closed by a tight-fitting lid secured by an iron bar placed across, it is removed, and an empty one immediately substituted for it.

“The movable cesspool last described is much more generally used than the other kind; very few are furnished with the separating apparatus. But the use of either sort, I am told, is not on the increase. The movable cesspools are found, on the whole, to be more expensive than the fixed, besides entailing many inconveniences, one of which is the frequent entrance of workmen upon the premises for the purpose of removing them, which sometimes has to be done every second or third day. Moreover, if the cask becomes in the slightest degree overcharged, there is an overflow of matter.”

Indeed, the movable system of cesspools (it appears from further accounts) seems to be now adopted only in those places where fixed cesspools could not be altered in accordance with the ordonnance, or where it is desired to avoid the first cost of a fixed cesspool.

An ordonnance of 1819 enacts peremptorily that all cesspools, fixed or excavated, then existing, shall be altered in accordance with its provisions upon the first subsequent emptying after the date of the enactment, “or if that be found impracticable, they shall be filled up.” This full delegation of power to a centralised authority was the example prompting our late stringent enactments as to buildings and sewerage.

The French ordonnance provides also that the walls, arches, and bottoms of the cesspools, shall be constructed of a very hard description of stone, known as “pierres meulières” (mill-stone); the mortar used is to be hydraulic lime and clean river sand. Each arch is to be 30 to 35 centimètres (12 to 14 inches) in thickness, and the walls 45 to 50 centimètres (18 to 20 inches); the interior height not to be less than 2 mètres (2 yards 6 inches). A soil-pipe is always to be placed in the middle of the cesspool; its interior diameter is not to be less than 9-7/8 inches in pottery-ware piping, or 7-7/8 inches in cast iron. A vent-pipe, not less than 9-7/8 inches in diameter, is to be carried up to the level of the chimney-tops, or to that of the chimneys of the adjoining houses. This is, if possible, to divert the smell from the house to which the cesspool is attached.

“A principal object of the ordonnance,” it is stated in the Reports, “was to ensure the cesspools being thenceforth made water-tight; so that further pollution of the substratum and springs might be prevented; and the provisions for its attainment have been very strictly enforced by the police. The present cesspools are, in fact, water-tight constructions, retaining the whole of the liquids passed into them until the same are withdrawn by artificial means. The advantage has its attendant inconveniences, and, moreover, has been dearly paid for; for, independently of the cost of the alterations and the increased cost of making the cesspools in the outset--the liquids no longer draining away by natural permeation--the constant expense of emptying them has enormously increased. In the better class of houses, where water is more freely used, the operation has now to be repeated every three, four, or five months, whereas formerly the cesspool was emptied every eighteen months or two years. An increased water supply has added to the evil, moderate even now as the extent of that supply is.”

“It is estimated that, in the better class of houses, the daily quantity of matter, including the water necessary for cleanliness and to ensure the passage of the solids through the soil-pipe, passing into the cesspool from each individual, amounts to 1-3/4 litre (3·08 English pints). Foreign substances are found in great abundance in the cesspools; the large soil-pipes permitting their easy introduction; so that the cesspool becomes the common receptacle for a great variety of articles that it is desired secretly to get rid of. Article 19 of the Police Regulations directs that nightmen finding any articles in the cesspools, especially such as lead to the suspicion of a crime or misdemeanor, shall make a declaration of the fact the same day to a Commissary of Police.”

In all such matters the police regulations of France are far more stringent and exacting than those of England.

“The cesspools vary considerably in foulness,” continues the Report; “and it is remarkable that those containing the greatest proportion of water are the most foul and dangerous. This is accounted for by the increased quantity of sulphuretted hydrogen gas evolved: and is more particularly the case where, from their large size, or from the small number of people using them, much time is allowed for the matter to stagnate and decompose in them. Soap-suds are said to add materially to their offensive and dangerous condition. The FOULNESS of the cesspools, therefore, would appear to be in direct proportion to the CLEANLY habits of the inmates of the houses to which they respectively belong. Where urine predominates ammoniacal vapours are given off in considerable quantities, and although these affect the eyes of those exposed to them--and the nightmen suffer much from inflammation of these organs--no danger to life results. The inflammation, however, is often sufficiently acute to produce temporary blindness, and from this cause the men are at times thrown out of work for days together.”[77]

The emptying of the cesspools is the next point to be considered.

No cesspool is allowed to be emptied in Paris, and no nightman’s cart, containing soil, is allowed to be in the streets from 8 A.M. to 10 P.M. from October 1st to March 31st, nor from 6 A.M. to 11 P.M. from April 1st to September 30th. In the winter season the hours of labour permitted by law are ten, and in the summer season seven, out of the twenty-four; while in London the hours of night-work are limited to five, without any distinction of season. These hours, however, only relate to the cleansing of the fixed cesspools of Paris.

Fixed or excavated cesspools are emptied into carts, which are driven to the receptacles. As far as regards the removal of night-soil along the streets, there are far more frequent complaints of stench and annoyance in Paris than in London. None of these cesspools can be emptied without authority from the police, and the police exercise a vigilant supervision over the whole arrangements; neither can any cesspool, after being emptied, be closed without a written authority, after inspection, by the Director of Health; nor can a cesspool, if found defective when emptied, be repaired without such authority.

“With regard to the movable cesspool,” it is reported, “the process of emptying is very simple, though undoubtedly demanding a considerable expenditure of labour. The tank or barrel, when filled, is disconnected from the soil-pipe, an empty one being immediately substituted in its place, and the bung-hole being securely closed, it is conveyed away on a vehicle, somewhat resembling a brewer’s dray (which holds about eight or ten of them), to the spot appointed as the depository of its discharged contents. The removal of movable cesspools is allowed to take place during the day.”

In opening a cesspool in Paris, precautions are always taken to prevent accidents which might result from the escape or ignition of the gases.

The general, not to say universal, mode of emptying the fixed or excavated cesspools is to pump the contents into closed carts for transport.

“This operation is,” says Mr. Rammell, “performed with two descriptions of pumps, one working on what may be called the hydraulic principle, the other on the pneumatic. In the former, the valves are placed in the pipe communicating between the cesspool and the cart, and the matter itself is pumped. In the latter, the valves are placed beyond the cart, and the air being pumped out of the cart, the matter flows into it to fill up the vacuum so occasioned. The real principle is of course the same in both cases, the matter being forced up by atmospheric pressure. One advantage of the pneumatic system is, that there are no valves to impede the free passage of matter through the suction-pipe; another, that it permits the use of a pipe of larger diameter.

“The cart employed for the pneumatic system consists of an iron cylinder, mounted sometimes upon four, but generally upon two wheels, the latter arrangement being found to be the more convenient. Previous to use at the cesspool, the carts are drawn to a branch establishment, situate just within the Barrière du Combat, where they are exhausted of air with an air-pump, worked by steam power. A 12-horse engine erected there is capable of exhausting five carts at the same time; the vacuum produced being equal to 28-3/8 inches (72 centimètres) of mercury. A cart (in good repair, and upon two wheels) will preserve a practical vacuum for 48 hours after exhaustion.”

The total weight of one of these carts when full is about 3 tons and 8 cwt. This is somewhat more than the weight of the contents of a London waggon employed in night-soil carriage. Three horses are attached to each cart.

When an opening into the cesspool has been effected, a suction-pipe on the pneumatic principle is laid from the cesspool to the cart. This pipe is 3-15/16 inches in diameter, and is in separate pieces of about 10 feet each, with others shorter (down even to 1 foot), to make up any exact length required. Two kinds are commonly used; one made of leather, having iron wire wound spirally inside to prevent collapse, the other of copper. The leather pipe is used where a certain degree of pliability is required; the copper for the straight parts of the line, and for determined curves; pieces struck from various radii being made for the purpose.

Gutta-percha has been tried as a substitute for leather in the piping, but was pronounced liable to split, and its use was abandoned. So with India-rubber in London.

The communication between the suction-pipe and the vehicle used by the nightmen is opened by withdrawing a plug by means of a forked rod into the “recess” (hollow) of the machine, an operation tasking the muscular powers of two men. This done, the cesspool contents rush into the cart, being forced up by the weight of the atmosphere to occupy the existing vacuum; this occupies about three minutes. The cart, however, is then but three-fourths filled with matter, the remaining fourth being occupied by the rarefied air previously in the cart, and by the air contained in the suction-pipe. This air is next withdrawn by the action of a small air-pump, worked usually by two, but sometimes by one man. The air-pump is placed on the ground at a little distance from the cesspool cart, and communicates with it by a flexible India-rubber tube, an inch in diameter. The air, as fast as it is pumped out, is forced through another India-rubber tube of similar dimensions, which communicates with a furnace, also placed on the ground at a little distance from the air-pump, the pump occupying the middle space between the cart and the furnace, the furnace and the pump being portable. To ascertain when the vehicle is full, a short glass tube is inserted in the end of the air-pipe (the end being of brass), and through this, with the help of a small lantern, the matter is seen to rise.

“The number of carts required for each operation,” states Mr. Rammell, “of course varies according to the size of the cesspool to be emptied; but as these contain on the average about five cartloads, that is the number usually sent.[78]

“In addition to the carts for the transport of the night-soil, a light-covered spring van drawn by one horse is used to carry the tools, &c., required in the process.

“These tools consist of--

“1. An air-pump when the work is to be done on the pneumatic system, and of an hydraulic pump when it is to be done on the hydraulic system.

“2. About 50 mètres of suction-pipe of various forms and lengths.

“3. A furnace for the purpose of burning the gases.

“4. Wooden hods for the removal of the solid night-soil.

“5. Pails, a ladder, pincers, levers, hammers, and other articles.”

I have hitherto spoken of the Pneumatic System of emptying the Parisian cesspools. The results of the Hydraulic System are so similar, as regards time, &c., that only a brief notice is required. The hydraulic pump is worked by four men; it is placed on the ground in the place most convenient for the operation, and the cart is filled in the space of from three to five minutes.

A furnace is used.

“The furnace,” says the Report, “consists of a sheet-iron cylinder, about nine inches in diameter, pierced with small holes, and covered with a conical cap to prevent the flame spreading. The vent-pipe first communicates underneath with a small reservoir, intended to contain the matter in case the operation should be carried too far. A piece is inserted in the bottom of this reservoir, by unscrewing which it may be emptied. The furnace is sometimes fixed upon a plank, which rests upon two projecting pieces behind the cart.”

An indicator is also used to show the advancement of the filling of the cart; a glass tube and a cork float are the chief portions of the apparatus of the indicator.

“Towards the end of the operation, when the quantity of matter remaining in the cesspool, although sufficiently fluid, is too shallow for pumping, it is scooped into a large pail; and, the end of the suction-pipe being introduced, drawn up into the cart. When the matter is in too solid a state to pass through the pipe, it is carried to the cart in hods, unless it is in considerable quantity. In that case it is removed in vessels called tinettes, in the shape of a truncated cone, holding each about 3-1/2 cubic feet. These vessels are closed with a lid, and are lifted into an open waggon for transport.”

Of these two systems the pneumatic is the more costly, and is likely to be supplanted by the hydraulic. Each system, according to Mr. Rammell, is still a nuisance, as, in spite of every precaution, the gases escape the moment the cesspool emptying is commenced, and vitiate the atmosphere. They force their way very often through the joints of the pipes, and are insufficiently consumed in the furnaces. Mr. Rammell mentions his having twice, after witnessing two of these operations, suffered from attacks of illness. On the first occasion, the men omitted to burn the foul air, and the atmosphere being heavy with moisture, the odour was so intense that it was smelt from the Rue du Port Mahon to the Rue Menars, more than 400 yards distant.

The emptying of the cesspools is let by contract, the commune acting in the light of a proprietor. To obtain a contract, a man must have license or permission from the prefect of police, and such license is only granted after proof that the applicant is provided with the necessary apparatus, carts, &c., and also with a suitable dépôt for the reception of the pumps, carts, &c., when not in use. The stock-in-trade of a contractor is inspected at least twice a-year, and if found inadequate or out of repair the license is commonly withdrawn. The “gangs” of nightmen employed by the contractors are fixed by the law at four men each (the number employed in London), but without any legal provision on the subject. The terms of these contracts are not stated, but they appear to have ceased to be undertakings by individual capitalists, being all in the hands of companies, known as compagnies de vidanges (filth companies). There are now eight companies in Paris carrying on these operations. More than half of the whole work, however, is accomplished by one company, the “Compagnie Richer.” The capital invested in their working stock is said to exceed 4,800,000 francs (200,000_l._). They now require the labour of 350 horses, and the use of 120 vehicles of different descriptions.

The construction of a cesspool in Paris costs about 18_l._ as an average. The houses containing from 30 to 70 inmates may have two, and occasionally more, cesspools. Taking the average at one and a half, the capital sunk in a cesspool is 27_l._ Mr. Rammell says:--

“Adopting these calculations of the number of cesspools to each house, and their cost, and allowing only the small quantity of 1-3/4 litre (3·08 pints) of matter to each individual, the annual expense of the cesspool system in Paris, per house containing 24 persons, will be,--

“For interest, at 5 per cent upon capital sunk in works of construction, 1_l._ 7_s._

“For extraction and removal of matter, 5_l._ 11_s._

“Total, 6_l._ 18_s._

“The annual expense per inhabitant will be 5_s._ 9_d._

“The latter, then, may be taken as the average yearly sum per head actually paid by that portion of the inhabitants of Paris who use the cesspools.”

The following, among others before shown, are the conclusions arrived at by Mr. Rammell:--

1. “That with the most perfect regulations, and the application of machines constructed upon scientific principles, the operation of emptying cesspools is still a nuisance, not only to the inmates of the house to which it belongs, but to those of the neighbouring houses, and to persons passing in the street.

2. “That the cesspool system of Paris presents an obstacle to the proper extension of the water supply, and consequently represses the growth of habits of personal and domestic cleanliness, with their immense moral results; and that in this respect it may be said to be inconsistent with a high degree of civilization of the masses of any community.

3. “That, compared with a tubular system of refuse drainage, it is an exceedingly expensive mode of disposing of the fæcal refuse of a town.”

OF THE EMPTYING OF THE LONDON CESSPOOLS BY PUMP AND HOSE.

Having now ascertained the quantity of wet house-refuse annually deposited in the cesspools of the metropolis, the next step is to show the means by which these 15,000,000 cubic feet of cesspoolage are removed, and whence they are conveyed, as well as the condition of the labourers engaged in the business.

There are two methods of removing the soil from the tanks:--

1. By pump and hose, or the hydraulic method;

2. By shovel and tube, or manual labour.

The first of these is the new French mode, and the other the old English method of performing the work. The distinctive feature between the two is, that in the one case the refuse is discharged by means of pipes into the sewers, and in the other that it is conveyed by means of carts to some distant night-yard.

According to the French method, therefore, the cesspoolage ultimately becomes sewage, the refuse being deposited in a cesspool for a greater or a less space of time, and finally discharged into the sewers; so that it is a kind of intermediate process between the cesspool system and the sewer system of defecating a town, being, as it were, a compound of the two.

The great advantage of the sewer system, as contradistinguished from the cesspool system of defecation, is, that it admits of the wet refuse being removed from the neighbourhood of the house as soon as it is produced; while the advantage of the cesspool system, as contradistinguished from the sewer system, is, that it prevents the contamination of the river whence the town draws its principal supply of water. The cesspool system of defecation remedies the main evil of the sewer system, and the sewer system the main evil of the cesspool system. The French mode of emptying cesspools, however, appears to have the peculiar property of combining the ill effects of both systems without the advantages of either. The refuse of the house not only remains rotting and seething for months under the noses of the household, but it is ultimately--that is, after more than a year’s decomposition--washed into the stream from which the inhabitants are supplied with water, and so returned to them diluted in the form of aqua pura, for washing, cooking, or drinking. The sole benefit accruing from the French mode of nightmanship is, that it performs a noisome operation in a comparatively cleanly manner; but surely this is a small compensation for the evils attendant upon it. The noses of those who prefer stagnant cesspools to rapid sewers cannot be so particularly sensitive, that for the sake of avoiding the smell of the nightman’s cart they would rather that its contents should be discharged into the water that they use for household purposes.

The hydraulic or pump-and-hose method of emptying the cesspools is now practised by the Court of Sewers, who introduced the process into London in the winter of 1847. The apparatus used in this country consists of an hydraulic pump, which is generally placed six or eight feet distant from, but sometimes close to, the cesspool--indeed, on its edge. It is worked by two men, “just up and down,” as one of the labourers described it to me, “like a fire-engine.” A suction-pipe, with an iron nozzle, is placed in the cesspool, into which is first introduced a deodorising fluid, in the proportion, as well as can be estimated, of a pint to a square yard of matter, and diluted with water from the fire-plugs.

The pipes are of leather, the suction-pipes being wrapped with spring-iron wire at the joints. India-rubber pipes were used, and “answered very tidy,” one of the gangers told me, but they were too expensive, the material being soon worn out: they were only tried five or six months. The pipes now employed differ in no respect of size or appearance from the leathern fire-engine pipes; and as the work is always done in the daytime, and no smell arises from it, the neighbourhood is often alarmed, and people begin to ask where the fire is. One outsideman said, “Why, that’s always asked. I’ve been asked--ay, I dare say a hundred times in a day--‘Where’s the fire? where’s the fire?’” A cesspool, by this process, has been emptied into a sewer at 300 yards distant. The pipe is placed within the nearest gullyhole, down which the matter is washed into the sewer. When the cesspool is emptied, it is well sluiced with water; the water is pumped into the sewer, and then the work is complete.

The pumping is occasionally very hard work, making the shoulders and back ache grievously; indeed, some cesspools have been found so long neglected, and so choked with rags and rubbish, that manual labour had to be resorted to, and the matter dug and tubbed out, after the old mode of the nightmen. A square yard of cesspoolage is cleared out, under ordinary circumstances, in an hour; while an average duration of time for the cleansing of a regularly-sized cesspool is from three to four hours.

A pneumatic pump, with an iron cart, drawn by two horses (similar to the French invention), was tried as an experiment, but discontinued in a fortnight.

For the hydraulic method of emptying cesspools, a gang of four men, under the direction of a ganger, who makes a fifth, is required.

The division of labour is as follows:--

1. The pumpmen, who, as their name implies, work the engine or pumps.

2. The holeman, who goes into the cesspool and stirs up the matter, so as to make it as fluid as possible.

3. The outsideman, whose business it is to attend to the pipe, which reaches from the cesspool, along the surface of the street, or other place, to the gullyhole.

4. The ganger, who is the superintendent of the whole, and is only sometimes present at the operation; he is not unfrequently engaged, while one cesspool is being emptied, in making an examination or any necessary arrangement for the opening of another. He also gives notice (acting under the instruction of the clerk of the works) to the water company of the district, that the pumps will be at work in this or that place, a notice generally given a day in advance, and the water is supplied gratuitously, from a street fire-plug, and used at discretion, some cesspool contents requiring three times more water than others to liquefy them sufficient for pumping.

The cesspool-pumping gangs are six in number, each consisting of five men, although the “outsideman” is sometimes a strong youth of seventeen or eighteen. The whole work is done by a contractor, who makes an agreement with the Court of Sewers, and finds the necessary apparatus, appointing his own labourers. All the present labourers, however, have been selected as trusty men from among the flushermen, the contractor concurring in the recommendation of the clerk of the works, or the inspector. The cesspool-sewermen work in six districts. Two divisions (east and west) of Westminster; Finsbury and Holborn; Surrey and Kent; Tower Hamlets (now including Poplar); and the City. The districts vary in size, but there is usually a gang devoted to each: in case of emergency, however, a gang from another district (as among the flushermen) is sent to expedite any pressing work. All the men are paid by the job, the payment being 2_s._ each per job, to the pumpmen and holeman, and 3_s._ to the ganger; but in addition to the 2_s._ per job, the holeman has 6_d._ a-day extra; and the outsideman has 6_d._ a-day deducted from the 4_s._ he would earn in two jobs, which is a frequent day’s work. The men told me that they had four or four and a-half days’ work (or eight or nine jobs) every week; but such was the case more particularly when the householders were less cognizant of the work, and did not think of resorting to it; now, I am assured, the men’s average employment may be put at five days a week, or ten jobs.

The perquisites of these workmen are none, except the householder sends them some refreshment on his own accord. There may be a perquisite, but very rarely, occurring to the holeman, should he find anything in the soil; but the finding is far less common than among the nightmen, with whom the process goes through different stages. I did not hear among cesspool-sewermen of anything being found by them or by their comrades; of course, when the soil is once absorbed into the pipe, it is unseen on its course of deposit down the gullyhole.

The men have no trade societies, and no arrangements of any equivalent nature; no benefit clubs or sick clubs, for which their number, indeed, is too small; or, as my informant sometimes wound up in a climax, “No, nothing that way, sir.” They are sober and industrious men, chiefly married, and with families. Into further statistics, however, of diet, rent, &c., I need not enter, concerning so small a body; they are the same as among other well-conducted labourers.

The men find their own dresses, which are of the same cost, form, and material as I have described to pertain to the flushermen; also their own “picks” and shovels, costing respectively 2_s._ 6_d._ and 2_s._ 3_d._ each.

One cesspool-sewerman told me, that when he was first a member of one of those gangs he was “awful abused” by the “regular nightmen,” if he came across any of them “as was beery, poor fellows;” but that had all passed over now.

The total sum paid to the six gangs of labourers in the course of the year would, at the rate of ten cesspools emptied per week, amount to the following:--

Yearly Total. 12 pumpmen, 10 jobs a-week each, 20_s._ per week, or 52_l._ per year, each £624

6 holemen, ditto, ditto, with 2_s._ 6_d._ a-week extra 351

6 outsidemen, 20_s._ a-week, less by 6_d._ a-day, or 2_s._ 6_d._ a-week, 45_l._ 10_s._ a-year 296 6 gangers, 30_s._ a-week each, or 78_l._ per year 468 ----- £1739

Any householder, &c., who applies to the Court of Sewers, or to any officer of the court whom he may know, has his cesspool cleansed by the hydraulic method, in the same way as he might employ any tradesman to do any description of work proper to his calling. The charge (by the Court of Sewers) is 5_s._ or 6_s._ per square yard, according to pipeage, &c. required; a cesspool emptied by this system costs from 20_s._ to 30_s._ The charges of the nightmen, who have to employ horses, &c., are necessarily higher.

Estimating that throughout London 60 cesspools are emptied by the hydraulic method every week, or 3120 every year, and the charge for each to be on an average 25_s._, we have for the gross receipts 3120 × 25_s._ = £3900

And deducting from this the sum paid for labour 1739 ----- It shows a profit of £2161

This is upwards of 123 per cent; but out of this, interest on capital and wear and tear of machinery have to be paid.

During the year 1851, I am credibly informed that as many as 3000 sewers were emptied by the hydraulic process; and calculating each to have contained the average quantity of refuse, viz. five tons or loads, or about 180 cubic feet, we have an aggregate of 540,000 cubic feet of cesspoolage ultimately carried off by the sewers. This, however, is only a twenty-seventh of the entire quantity.

The sum paid in wages to the men engaged in emptying these 3000 cesspools by the hydraulic process would, at the rate of 2_s._ per man to the four members of the gang, and 3_s._ to the ganger, or 11_s._ in all for each cesspool, amount to 1650_l._, which is 139_l._ and 250 cesspools less than the amount above given.

STATEMENT OF A CESSPOOL-SEWERMAN.

I give the following brief and characteristic statement, which is peculiar in showing the habitual restlessness of the mere labourer. My informant was a stout, hale-looking man, who had rarely known illness. All these sort of labourers (nightmen included) scout the notion of the cholera attacking them!

“Work, sir? Well, I think I do know what work is, and has known it since I was a child; and then I was set to help at the weaving. My friends were weavers at Norwich, and 26 years ago, until steam pulled working men down from being well paid and well off, it was a capital trade. Why, my father could sometimes earn 3_l._ at his work as a working weaver; there was money for ever then; now 12_s._ a-week is, I believe, the tip-top earnings of his trade. But I didn’t like the confinement or the close air in the factories, and so, when I grew big enough, I went to ground-work in the city (so he frequently called Norwich); I call ground-work such as digging drains and the like. Then I ’listed into the Marines. Oh, I hardly know what made me; men does foolish things and don’t know why; it’s human natur. I’m sure it wasn’t the bounty of 3_l._ that tempted me, for I was doing middling, and sometimes had night-work as well as ground-work to do. I was then sent to Sheerness and put on board the Thunderer man-of-war, carrying 84 guns, as a marine. She sailed through the Straits (of Gibraltar), and was three years and three months blockading the Dardanelles, and cruising among the islands. I never saw anything like such fortifications as at the Dardanelles; why, there was mortars there as would throw a ton weight. No, I never heard of their having been fired. Yes, we sometimes got leave for a party to go ashore on one of the islands. They called them Greek islands, but I fancy as how it was Turks near the Dardanelles. O yes, the men on the islands was civil enough to us; they never spoke to us, and we never spoke to them. The sailors sometimes, and indeed the lot of us, would have bits of larks with them, laughing at ’em and taking sights at ’em and such like. Why, I’ve seen a fine-dressed Turk, one of their grand gentlemen there, when a couple of sailors has each been taking a sight at him, and dancing the shuffle along with it, make each on ’em a low bow, as solemn as could be. Perhaps he thought it was a way of being civil in our country! I’ve seen some of the head ones stuck over with so many knives, and cutlasses, and belts, and pistols, and things, that he looked like a cutler’s shop-window. We were ordered home at last, and after being some months in barracks, which I didn’t relish at all, were paid off at Plymouth. Oh, a barrack life’s anything but pleasant, but I’ve done with it. After that I was eight years and a quarter a gentleman’s servant, coachman, or anything (in Norwich), and then got tired of that and came to London, and got to ground and new sewer-work, and have been on the sewers above five years. Yes, I prefer the sewers to the Greek islands. I was one of the first set as worked a pump. There was a great many spectators; I dare say as there was 40 skientific gentlemen. I’ve been on the sewers, flushing and pumping, ever since. The houses we clean out, all says it’s far the best plan, ours is. ‘Never no more nightmen,’ they say. You see, sir, our plan’s far less trouble to the people in the house, and there’s no smell--least I never found no smell, and it’s cheap, too. In time the nightmen’ll disappear; in course they must, there’s so many new dodges comes up, always some one of the working classes is a being ruined. If it ain’t steam, it’s something else as knocks the bread out of their mouths quite as quick.”

OF THE PRESENT DISPOSAL OF THE NIGHT-SOIL.

It would appear, according to the previous calculations, that of the 15,000,000 cubic feet of house-refuse annually deposited in the cesspools of the metropolis, about 500,000 cubic feet are pumped by the French process into the sewers; consequently there still remains about 14,500,000 cubic feet, or about 404,000 loads, to be disposed of by other means. I shall now proceed to explain how the cesspoolage proper, that is to say, that which is removed by cartage rather than by being discharged into the sewers, is ultimately got rid of.

Until about twenty months ago, when the new sanitary regulations concerning the disposal of night-soil came into operation, the cesspool matter was “shot” in a night-yard, generally also a dust-yard. These were the yards of the parish contractors, and were situate in Maiden-lane, Paddington, &c., &c. Any sweeper-nightman, or any nightman, was permitted by the proprietor of one of these places to deposit his night-soil there. For this the depositor received no payment, the privilege of having “a shoot” being accounted sufficient.

There were, till within these six or eight years, I was informed, 60 places where cesspool manure could be shot. These included the nightmen’s yards and the wharves of manure dealers (some of the small coasting vessels taking it as ballast); but as regards the cesspool filth, there are now none of these places of deposit, though some little, I was told, might be done by stealth.

Of one of these night-yard factories Dr. Gavin gave, in 1848, the following account:--

“On the western side of Spitalfields workhouse, and entering from a street called Queen-street, is a nightman’s yard. A heap of dung and refuse of every description, about the size of a tolerably large house, lies piled to the left of the yard; to the right is an artificial pond, into which the contents of cesspools are thrown. The contents are allowed to desiccate in the open air; and they are frequently stirred for that purpose. The odour which was given off when the contents were raked up, to give me an assurance that there was nothing so very bad in the alleged nuisance, drove me from the place with the utmost speed.

“On two sides of this horrid collection of excremental matter was a patent manure manufactory. To the right in this yard was a large accumulation of dung, &c., but to the left there was an extensive layer of a compost of blood, ashes, and nitric acid, which gave out the most horrid, offensive, and disgusting concentration of putrescent odours it has ever been my lot to be the victim of. The whole place presented a most foul and filthy aspect, and an example of the enormous outrages which are perpetrated in London against society.

“It is a curious fact, that the parties who had charge of these two premises were each dead to the foulness of their own most pestilential nuisances. The nightman’s servant accused the premises of the manure manufacturer as the source of perpetual foul smells, but thought his yard free from any particular cause of complaint; while the servant of the patent manure manufacturer diligently and earnestly asserted the perfect freedom of his master’s yard from foul exhalations; but considered that the raking up of the drying night-soil on the other side of the wall was ‘quite awful, and enough to kill anybody.’

“Immediately adjoining the patent manure manufactory is the establishment of a bottle merchant. He complained to me in the strongest terms of the expenses and annoyances he had been put to through the emanations which floated in the atmosphere having caused his bottles to spoil the wine which was placed in such as had not been very recently washed. He was compelled frequently to change his straw, and frequently to wash his bottles, and considered that unless the nuisance could be suppressed, he would be compelled to leave his present premises.”

This and similar places were suppressed soon after the passing of the sanitary measures of September, 1848.

The cesspool refuse, which was disposed of for manure, was at that time first shot into recesses in the night-yard, where it was mixed with exhausted hops procured from the brewhouses, which were said to absorb the liquid portions, when stirred up with the matter, and to add not only to the consistency of the mass, but to its readier portability for land manure or for stowage in a barge. It was also mixed with littered straw from the mews, and with stable manure generally. An old man who had worked many years--he did not know how many--in one of these yards, told me that when this night-soil was “fresh shot and first mixed” (with the hops, &c.), the stench was often dreadful. “How we stood it,” he said, “I don’t know; but we did stand it.”

In one of the night-and-dust-yards, I ascertained that as many as 50 loads, half of them waggon-loads, have been shot from the proprietor’s own carts, and from the carts of the nightmen “using” the yard, in one morning, but the average “shoot” was about ten loads (half a waggon) a-day for six days in the week.

Of the mode of manufacture of this manure, a full account has been given in the details of the cesspool system of Paris, for the process was the same in London, although on a much smaller scale; and indeed the manufacture here was chiefly in the hands of Frenchmen.

The manure was, after it had been deposited for periods varying from one month to five or six, sold to farmers and gardeners at from 4_s._ to 5_s._ the cart-load, although 4_s._, I was informed, might have been the general average. The cesspool matter, considered per se, was not worth, of late years, I am told, above 2_s._ a ton (or a load, which is sometimes rather more and sometimes less than a ton). It was when mixed that the price was 4_s._ to 5_s._ a ton. This cesspool filth was shot on the premises of the manufacturer gratuitously, as it was in any of the night-yards. It was not until it had been kept some time, and had been mixed (generally) with other manures, and sometimes with road-sweepings, that this manure was used in gardens; for it was said that if this had not been done, its ammoniacal vapours would have been absorbed and retained by the leaves of the fruit-trees.

This night-soil manure was devoted to two purposes--to the manufacture of deodorized and portable manure for exportation (chiefly to our sugar-growing colonies), and to the fertilization of the land around London.

When manufactured into manure it was shipped--in new casks generally, the manure casks of the outward voyage being transformed into the brown sugar casks of the homeward-bound vessels. I was told by a seaman who some years ago sailed to the West Indies, that these manure casks in damp weather gave out an unpleasant odour.

It was only to the home cultivators who resided at no great distance from a night-yard, from five to six miles or a little more, that this manure was sold to be carted away; their attendance at the markets with carts, waggons, and horses, giving them facilities of conveying the manure at a cheap rate. But upwards of three-fourths of the whole was sent in barges into the more distant country parts, having a ready water communication either by the Thames or by canal.

The purchaser nearer home conveyed it away in his own cart, and with his own horses, which had perhaps come up to town laden with cabbages to Covent Garden, or hay to Cumberland-market, the cart being made water-tight for the purpose. The “legal hours” to be observed in the cleansing of cesspools, and the transport of the contents upon such cleansing, not being required to be observed in this second transport of the cesspool manure, it was carted away at any hour, as stable dung now is.

It is not possible at the present time, when night-yards are no longer permitted to exist in London, and the manufacture of the night-soil manure is consequently suppressed, to ascertain the precise quantities disposed of commercially, in a former state of things.

The money returns to the master-nightman for the manure he now collects need no figures. The law requires him to refrain from shooting this soil in his own yard, or in any inhabited part of the metropolis, and it is shot on the nearest farm to which he has access, merely for the privilege of shooting it, the farmer paying nothing for the deposit, with which he does what he pleases. It is mixed with other refuse, I was told, at present, and kept as compost, or used on the land, but the change is too recent for the establishment of any systematic traffic in the article.

OF THE WORKING NIGHTMEN AND THE MODE OF WORK.

Nightwork, by the provisions of the Police Act, is not to be commenced before twelve at night, nor continued beyond five in the morning, winter and summer alike. This regulation is known among the nightmen as the “legal hours,” and tends, in a measure, to account for the heterogeneous class of labourers who still seek nightwork; for strong men think little of devoting a part of the night, as well as the working hours of the day, to toil. A rubbish-carter, a very powerfully-built man, told me he was partial to nightwork, and always looked out for it, even when in daily employ, as “it was sometimes like found money.” The scavengers, sweeps, dustmen, and labourers known as ground-workers, are anxious to obtain night-work when out of regular employment; and, ten years and more since, it was often an available and remunerative resource.

Night-work is, then, essentially, and perhaps necessarily, extra-work, rather than a distinct calling followed by a separate class of workers. The generality of nightmen are scavengers, or dustmen, or chimney-sweepers, or rubbish-carters, or pipe-layers, or ground-workers, or coal-porters, carmen or stablemen, or men working for the market-gardeners round London--all either in or out of employment. Perhaps there is not at the present time in the whole metropolis a working nightman who is solely a working nightman.

It is almost the same with the master-nightmen. They are generally master-chimney-sweepers, scavengers, rubbish-carters, and builders. Some of the contractors for the public street scavengery, and the house-dust-bin emptying, are (or have been) among the largest employers of nightmen, but only in their individual trading capacity, for they have no contracts with the parishes concerning the emptying of cesspools; indeed the parish or district corporations have nothing to do with the matter. I have already shown, that among the best-patronised master-nightmen are now the Commissioners of the Court of Sewers.

For how long a period the master and working chimney-sweepers and scavengers have been the master and labouring nightmen I am unable to discover, but it may be reasonable to assume that this connexion, as a matter of trade, existed in the metropolis at the commencement of the eighteenth century.

The police of Paris, as I have shown, have full control over cesspool cleansing, but the police of London are instructed merely to prevent night-work being carried on at a later or earlier period than “the legal hours;” still a few minutes either way are not regarded, and the legal hours, I am told, are almost always adhered to.

Nightwork is carried on--and has been so carried on, within the memory of the oldest men in the trade, who had never heard their predecessors speak of any other system--after this method:--A gang of four men (exclusive of those who have the care of the horses, and who drive the night-carts to and from the scenes of the men’s labours at the cesspools) are set to work. The labour of the gang is divided, though not with any individual or especial strictness, as follows:--

1. The holeman, who goes into the cesspool and fills the tub.

2. The ropeman, who raises the tub when filled.

3. The tubmen (of whom there are two), who carry away the tub when raised, and empty it into the cart.

The mode of work may be thus briefly described:--Within a foot, or even less sometimes, though often as much as three feet, below the surface of the ground (when the cesspool is away from the house) is what is called the “main hole.” This is the opening of the cesspool, and is covered with flag stones, removable, wholly or partially, by means of the pickaxe. If the cesspool be immediately under the privy, the flooring, &c., is displaced. Should the soil be near enough to the surface, the tub is dipped into it, drawn out, the filth scraped from its exterior with a shovel, or swept off with a besom, or washed off by water flung against it with sufficient force. This done, the tubmen insert the pole through the handles of the tub, and bear it on their shoulders to the cart. The mode of carriage and the form of the tub have been already shown in an illustration, which I was assured by a nightman who had seen it in a shopwindow (for he could not read), was “as nat’ral as life, tub and all.”

Thus far, the ropeman and the holeman generally aid in filling the tub, but as the soil becomes lower, the vessel is let down and drawn up full by the ropeman. When the soil becomes lower still, a ladder is usually planted inside the cesspool; the “holeman,” who is generally the strongest person in the gang, descends, shovels the tub full, having stirred up the refuse to loosen it, and the contents, being drawn up by the ropeman, are carried away as before described.

The labour is sometimes severe. The tub when filled, though it is never quite filled, weighs rarely less than eight stone, and sometimes more; “but that, you see, sir,” a nightman said to me, “depends on the nature of the sile.”

Beer, and bread and cheese, are given to the nightmen, and frequently gin, while at their work; but as the bestowal of the spirit is voluntary, some householders from motives of economy, or from being real or pretended members or admirers of the total-abstinence principles, refuse to give any strong liquor, and in that case--if such a determination to withhold the drink be known beforehand--the employers sometimes supply the men with a glass or two; and the men, when “nothing better can be done,” club their own money, and send to some night-house, often at a distance, to purchase a small quantity on their own account. One master-nightman said, he thought his men worked best, indeed he was sure of it, “with a drop to keep them up;” another thought it did them neither good nor harm, “in a moderate way of taking it.” Both these informants were themselves temperate men, one rarely tasting spirits. It is commonly enough said, that if the nightmen have no “allowance,” they will work neither as quickly nor as carefully as if accorded the customary gin “perquisite.” One man, certainly a very strong active person, whose services where quickness in the work was indispensable might be valuable (and he had work as a rubbish-carter also), told me that he for one would not work for any man at nightwork if there was not a fair allowance of drink, “to keep up his strength,” and he knew others of the same mind. On my asking him what he considered a “fair” allowance, he told me that at least a bottle of gin among the gang of four was “looked for, and mostly had, over a gentleman’s cesspool. And little enough, too,” the man said, “among four of us; what it holds if it’s public-house gin is uncertain: for you must know, sir, that some bottles has great ‘kicks’ at their bottoms. But I should say that there’s been a bottle of gin drunk at the clearing of every two, ay, and more than every two, out of three cesspools emptied in London; and now that I come to think on it, I should say that’s been the case with three out of every four.”

Some master-nightmen, and more especially the sweeper-nightmen, work at the cesspools themselves, although many of them are men “well to do in the world.” One master I met with, who had the reputation of being “warm,” spoke of his own manual labour in shovelling filth in the same self-complacent tone that we may imagine might be used by a grocer, worth his “plum,” who quietly intimates that he will serve a washerwoman with her half ounce of tea, and weigh it for her himself, as politely as he would serve a duchess; for he wasn’t above his business: neither was the nightman.

On one occasion I went to see a gang of nightmen at work. Large horn lanterns (for the night was dark, though at intervals the stars shone brilliantly) were placed at the edges of the cesspool. Two poles also were temporarily fixed in the ground, to which lanterns were hung, but this is not always the case. The work went rapidly on, with little noise and no confusion.

The scene was peculiar enough. The artificial light, shining into the dark filthy-looking cavern or cesspool, threw the adjacent houses into a deep shade. All around was perfectly still, and there was not an incident to interrupt the labour, except that at one time the window of a neighbouring house was thrown up, a night-capped head was protruded, and then down was banged the sash with an impatient curse. It appeared as if a gentleman’s slumbers had been disturbed, though the nightmen laughed and declared it was a lady’s voice! The smell, although the air was frosty, was for some little time, perhaps ten minutes, literally sickening; after that period the chief sensation experienced was a slight headache; the unpleasantness of the odour still continuing, though without any sickening effect. The nightmen, however, pronounced the stench “nothing at all;” and one even declared it was refreshing!

The cesspool in this case was so situated that the cart or rather waggon could be placed about three yards from its edge; sometimes, however, the soil has to be carried through a garden and through the house, to the excessive annoyance of the inmates. The nightmen whom I saw evidently enjoyed a bottle of gin, which had been provided for them by the master of the house, as well as some bread and cheese, and two pots of beer. When the waggon was full, two horses were brought from a stable on the premises (an arrangement which can only be occasionally carried out) and yoked to the vehicle, which was at once driven away; a smaller cart and one horse being used to carry off the residue.

TABLE SHOWING THE NUMBER OF MASTER-SWEEPS, DUST, AND OTHER CONTRACTORS, AND MASTER-BRICKLAYERS, THROUGHOUT THE METROPOLIS, ENGAGED IN NIGHT-WORK, AS WELL AS THE NUMBER OF CESSPOOLS EMPTIED, AND QUANTITY OF SOIL COLLECTED YEARLY. ALSO THE PRICE PAID TO EACH OPERATIVE PER LOAD, OR PER NIGHT, AND THE TOTAL AMOUNT ANNUALLY PAID TO THE MASTER-NIGHTMEN.

--------------+------------------------------------------------------------ |Number of Cesspools |emptied during the year. | | | |Quantity of Night-soil | |collected annually. | | | | | |Number of operative | | |Nightmen employed to | | |empty each Cesspool. | | | | | | | |Total number of times | | | |the working Nightmen are | | | |employed during the year. | | | | | SWEEPS | | | | |Sum paid to each operative EMPLOYED | | | | |Nightman engaged in removing AS | | | | |soil from Cesspools. NIGHTMEN | | | | | | | | | | | |Total Amount | | | | | |paid to the operative | | | | | |Nightmen during | | | | | |the year. | | | | | | | | | | | | | |Total Amount | | | | | | |paid to | | | | | | |Master-Nightmen | | | | | | |during the year | | | | | | |for emptying | | | | | | |Cesspools, at | | | | | | |10_s._ per load. --------------+----+------+----+------+------+--------------+---------------- | |Loads.| | |Pence.| £ s. d. | £. KENSINGTON. | | | | | | | Hurd | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Francis | 12| 72 | 4 | 48| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Russell | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Hough | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 CHELSEA. | | | | | | | Burns | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Clements | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Groves | 18| 108 | 3 | 54| 6 | 2 14 0 | 54 Clayton | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Sheppard | 14| 84 | 4 | 56| 6 | 2 2 0 | 32 Nie | 16| 96 | 3 | 48| 6 | 2 8 0 | 48 Haddox | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Albrook | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 5 5 0 | 90 WESTMINSTER. | | | | | | | Peacock | 60| 360 | 4 | 240| 7 | 10 10 0 | 180 Reiley | 40| 240 | 4 | 160| 7 | 6 13 4 | 120 White | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Ramsbottom | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Ness | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Porter | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 4 | 30 Edwards | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Andrews | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Foreman | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 4 | 30 ST. MARTIN’S. | | | | | | | Wakefield | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Whateley | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Templeton | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Pearce | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 MARYLEBONE. | | | | | | | Effery | 2| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Brigham | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Ballard | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Pottle | 25| 150 | 4 | 100| 7 | 3 15 0 | 75 Shadwick | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Wilson | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Lewis | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Cuss | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 4 10 0 | 90 Wood | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 PADDINGTON. | | | | | | | Prichard | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Randall | 25| 150 | 3 | 75| 6 | 3 15 0 | 75 Brown | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Lamb | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Bolton | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Davis | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Rickwood | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 4 Elkins | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 HAMPSTEAD. | | | | | | | Kippin | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Bowden | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 ISLINGTON. | | | | | | | Hughes | 25| 150 | 3 | 75| 6 | 3 15 0 | 75 Boven | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Chilcott | 25| 150 | 3 | 75| 6 | 3 15 0 | 75 Baker | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Burrows | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 ST. PANCRAS. | | | | | | | Justo | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Neill | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Robinson | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Marriage | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Rose | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Hall | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Jenkins | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Steel | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 Lake | 60| 360 | 4 | 240| 7 | 10 10 0 | 180 Hewlett | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Snell | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 McDonald | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 5 5 0 | 90 HACKNEY. | | | | | | | Mason | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Clark | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Starkey | 25| 150 | 4 | 100| 6 | 3 15 0 | 75 Attewell | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Brown | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 ST. GILES | | | | | | | AND ST. | | | | | | | GEORGE’S, | | | | | | | BLOOMSBURY. | | | | | | | Store | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Richards | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Norris | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 3 16 0 | 36 Eldridge | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Davis | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Francis | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Tiney | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Johnson | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Tinsey | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Randall | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 Day | 60| 360 | 4 | 240| 7 | 10 10 0 | 180 STRAND. | | | | | | | Catlin | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Richards | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Hutchins | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Barker | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 HOLBORN. | | | | | | | Duck | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 5 5 0 | 90 Eagle | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Froome | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Smith | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 CLERKENWELL. | | | | | | | Davis | 30| 180 | 3 | 90| 6 | 4 10 0 | 90 Brown | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Day | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Hawkins | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Grant | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 ST. LUKE’S. | | | | | | | Brown | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 0 0 | 60 Mawley | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 0 0 | 60 Stevens | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Badger | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Lewis | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 EAST LONDON. | | | | | | | Crozier | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 5 5 0 | 90 James | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Dawson | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Newell | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Lumley | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Harvey | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 WEST LONDON. | | | | | | | Rayment | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Clarke | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 0 0 | 60 Watson | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Desater | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 LONDON, CITY. | | | | | | | Tyler and | | | | | | | Tyso | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 7 | 5 5 0 | 90 Burgess | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Wilson | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 7 | 3 10 0 | 60 Potter | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Wright | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 SHOREDITCH. | | | | | | | Wells | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Whittle | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Collins | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 Crew | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Atwood | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Conroy | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Pusey | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Pedrick | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 BETHNAL GREEN.| | | | | | | Crosby | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Mull | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Darby | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Hall | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Collins | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 WHITECHAPEL. | | | | | | | Brazier | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Harrison | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Harris | 16| 96 | 3 | 48| 6 | 2 8 0 | 48 Mantz | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Whitehead | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 ST. GEORGE-IN-| | | | | | | THE-EAST. | | | | | | | Rawton | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Wrotham | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Harewood | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Rawthorn | 25| 150 | 4 | 100| 6 | 3 15 0 | 75 Darling | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Jones | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 Johnson | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Simpson | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 BERMONDSEY. | | | | | | | Wilkinson | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Goring | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 36 Lively | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 2 4 0 | 30 Stone | 9| 54 | 3 | 27| 6 | 1 7 0 | 24 Ward | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 24 WALWORTH AND | | | | | | | NEWINGTON. | | | | | | | Kingsbury | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 27 Goodge | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 18 Wells | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 18 Wilks | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 12 James | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 45 Morgan | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 36 Croney | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 30 Holmes | 8| 48 | 3 | 4| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 STEPNEY. | | | | | | | Newell | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Fleming | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Tuff | 20| 120 | 3 | 60| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Hillings- | | | | | | | worth | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Smith | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Field | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 POPLAR. | | | | | | | Weaver | 18| 108 | 3 | 54| 6 | 2 14 0 | 54 Strawson | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Culloder | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Ward | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 ST. OLAVE’S, | | | | | | | ST. | | | | | | | SAVIOUR’S, | | | | | | | AND ST. | | | | | | | GEORGE’S, | | | | | | | SOUTHWARK. | | | | | | | Vines | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Humfry | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 Young | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 James | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Penn | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Holliday | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Muggeridge | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 Alcorn | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Fisher | 12| 72 | 3 | 26| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Goode | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Smith | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Roberts | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Pilkington | 9| 54 | 3 | 27| 6 | 1 7 0 | 27 Lindsey | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Daycock | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Moulton | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 LAMBETH. | | | | | | | Roberts | 25| 150 | 4 | 100| 7 | 4 7 6 | 75 Holland | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Ballard | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Brown | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Mills | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Giles | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Spooner | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Green | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 Barnham | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 Price | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 CHRISTCHURCH, | | | | | | | LAMBETH. | | | | | | | Plummer | 18| 108 | 3 | 54| 6 | 2 14 0 | 54 Steers | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Clare | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Garlick | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Hudson | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Jones | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 WANDSWORTH & | | | | | | | BATTERSEA. | | | | | | | Foreman | 15| 90 | 3 | 45| 6 | 2 5 0 | 45 Smith | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 Giles | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Davis | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Flushman | 4| 24 | 3 | 12| 6 | 0 12 0 | 12 ROTHERHITHE. | | | | | | | Shelley | 6| 36 | 3 | 18| 6 | 0 18 0 | 18 Richardson | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Norris | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 Smith | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Dyer | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 GREENWICH & | | | | | | | DEPTFORD. | | | | | | | Manning | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 6 | 4 10 0 | 90 Vines | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Roseworthy | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Tyler | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Munshin | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 WOOLWICH. | | | | | | | Pearce | 30| 180 | 4 | 120| 6 | 4 10 0 | 90 Fiddeman | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Sims | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Smithers | 12| 72 | 3 | 36| 6 | 1 16 0 | 36 Rooke | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 James | 8| 48 | 3 | 24| 6 | 1 4 0 | 24 LEWISHAM. | | | | | | | Ridgeway | 20| 120 | 4 | 80| 6 | 3 0 0 | 60 Binney | 10| 60 | 3 | 30| 6 | 1 10 0 | 30 +----+------+----+------+------+------------- +----- Total for |2992| 14960|3&4 |10,062|6&7d. |455 15 0 |£7480 Sweep-nightmen

DUST AND OTHER CONTRACTORS ENGAGED AS NIGHTMEN.

--------------+------+-------+----+-------+------+----------+---------- | | Loads.| | |Pence.| £ s. d.| £ s. Darke | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Cooper | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200 | 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Dodd | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200 | 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Starkey | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Williams | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Boyer | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Gore | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Limpus | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Emmerson | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Duggins | 360| 2160 | 4 | 1440 | 8 |72 0 0| 1134 0 Bugbee | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Gould | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Reddin | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Newman | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Tame | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200 | 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Sinnot | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Tomkins | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Cordroy | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Samuels | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Robinson | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Bird | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Clarke | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Brown | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Bonner | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Guess | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Jeffries | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Ryan | 60| 360 | 4 | 240 | 8 |12 0 0| 189 0 Hewitt | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Leimming | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Ellis | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Monk | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Phillips | 250| 1000 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |33 6 8| 525 0 Porter | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Dubbins | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Taylor | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Nicholls | 250| 1000 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |33 6 8| 525 0 Freeman | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Pattison | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Rawlins | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Watkins | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Liddiard | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Farmer | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Francis | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Chadwick | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Perkins | 80| 480 | 4 | 320 | 8 |16 0 0| 252 0 Culverwell | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Rutty | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Crook | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 M’Carthy | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Bateman | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Boothe | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Wood | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Calvert | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Tilley | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Abbott | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Potter | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Church | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Humphries | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Jackson | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Batterbury | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Smith | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Perkins | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Rose | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Croot | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Speller | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Piper | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 North | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Crooker | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Tingey | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Jones | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Whitten | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200 | 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Webbon | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Ryder | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |30 0 0| 315 0 Wright | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Duckett | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200 | 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Elworthy | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Slee | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Adams | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Gutteris | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Martainbody | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Nicholson | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Mears | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Parsons | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Kenning | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Hooke | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Michell | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Walton | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Evans | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Walker | 90| 540 | 4 | 360 | 8 |18 0 0| 283 10 Hobman | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Stevens | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000 | 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Jeffry | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Hiscock | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Allen | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Connall | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Waller | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Mullard | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Miller | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Barnes | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Sharpe | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Graham | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Wellard | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Hollis | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Fletcher | 150| 900 | 4 | 600 | 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Hearne | 100| 600 | 4 | 400 | 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Stapleton | 50| 300 | 4 | 200 | 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Martin | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800 | 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Prett and | | | | | | | Sewell | 300| 1800 | 4 | 1200| 8 |60 0 0| 945 0 Jenkins | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Westley | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Bird | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Gale | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Porter | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Wells | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Hall | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Kitchener | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Wickham | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Walker | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Bindy | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Styles | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Kirtland | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Kingston | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Eldred | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Rumball | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Mildwater | 60| 360 | 4 | 240| 8 |12 0 0| 189 0 Lovell | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Clarkson | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Rhodes | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Pine | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Monk | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Gabriel | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Packer | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Crawley | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Easton | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Marsland | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 East | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Turtle | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Fuller | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Taylor | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Ginnow | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Peakes | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Fleckell | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |60 0 0| 157 10 Cook | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Stewart | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Cooper | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Bentley | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Harford | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Litten | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Mills | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Voy | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Cortman | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Forster | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Davison | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Williams | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Draper | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Claxton | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Robertson | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Cornwall | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Price | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Milligan | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 West | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Wilson | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Lawn | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Oakes | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Joliffe | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Liley | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 313 0 Treagle | 120| 720 | 4 | 480| 8 |24 0 0| 378 0 Coleman | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Brooker | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Dignam | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Hillier | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Simmonds | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Penrose | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Jordan | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Macey | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Williams | 150| 900 | 4 | 600| 8 |30 0 0| 472 10 Palmer | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 650 0 Anderson | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 George | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Hasleton | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Willis | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Farringdon | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Doyle | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Lamb | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Bolton | 200| 1200 | 4 | 800| 8 |40 0 0| 630 0 Lovelock | 250| 1500 | 4 | 1000| 8 |50 0 0| 787 10 Ashfield | 50| 300 | 4 | 200| 8 |10 0 0| 157 10 Braithwaite | 100| 600 | 4 | 400| 8 |20 0 0| 315 0 Total for Dust+------+-------+----+-------+------+----------+---------- and other | Contractors | engaged as | Nightmen |27,820|139,100| 4 |101,240| 8_d._|£5596 13 4|£73,027 10

MASTER-BRICKLAYERS ENGAGED AS NIGHTMEN.

-----------+-----+--------+---+------+---------+----------+-------- | | | | |Average 2| | | | | | |Cesspools| | | | | | | a Night.| | | | Loads. | | | |£. s. d.| £. s. Albon | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 |5_s._ ea.| 12 10 0 | 315 0 Danver | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Buck | 90 | 540 | 4 | 360 | „ | 11 5 0 | 283 10 Aldred | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Bowler | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Deacon | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Barrett | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Elmes | 90 | 540 | 4 | 360 | „ | 11 5 0 | 283 10 Gray | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Emmerton | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Coleman | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Belchier | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 0 Wade | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Turner | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Sutton | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Cutmore | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Plowman | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Brockwell | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Bellamy | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Janes | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200 | „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Higgs | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200 | „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Avery | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Bailey | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Pitman | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Hosier | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Chambers | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Turner | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Sutton | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Phenix | 80 | 480 | 4 | 320 | „ | 10 0 0 | 252 0 Elsden | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200 | „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Fuller | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Heath | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Beach | 80 | 480 | 4 | 320 | „ | 10 0 0 | 252 0 Jones | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Gilbert | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Green | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 King | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Parker | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Kelsey | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Palmer | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Sinclair | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Peck | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Young | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200 | „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Winter | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Wolfe | 90 | 540 | 4 | 360 | „ | 11 5 0 | 283 10 Taber | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200 | „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Kellow | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Mercer | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Oswell | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Mallett | 90 | 540 | 4 | 360 | „ | 11 5 0 | 283 10 Handley | 180 | 1080 | 4 | 720 | „ | 22 10 0 | 567 0 Bull | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Atkinson | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800 | „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Dennis | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000 | „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Fordham | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400 | „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Wigmore | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600 | „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Ricketts | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Linnegar | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Price | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 James | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Wills | 180 | 1080 | 4 | 720| „ | 22 10 0 | 567 0 Templar | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Tolley | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200| „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Smallman | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Macey | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Livermore | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Oakham | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Rudd | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Kerridge | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Perrin | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Thomas | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Moore | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Reeves | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Pearson | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Stollery | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200| „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Connew | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Floyd | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Girling | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Gilbert | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 742 10 Carter | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Clayden | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Bibbing | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200| „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Dunn | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Howell | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Fursey | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Archer | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Hart | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Cole | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Essex | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Hinton | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Wiseman | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Tepner | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Unwin | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Treharne | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Havenny | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200| „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Williams | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Plant | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Linfield | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Morris | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Jenkins | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Buck | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Hadnutt | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Cuming | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Douglas | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Hogden | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 M’Currey | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Warne | 50 | 300 | 4 | 200| „ | 6 5 0 | 157 10 Whitechurch| 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Stevenson | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Izard | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Jones | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Rutley | 100 | 600 | 4 | 400| „ | 12 10 0 | 315 0 Prichard | 200 | 1200 | 4 | 800| „ | 25 0 0 | 630 0 Watts | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Woodcock | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Osborn | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Morland | 250 | 1500 | 4 | 1000| „ | 31 5 0 | 787 10 Brown | 300 | 1800 | 4 | 1200| „ | 37 10 0 | 945 0 Hughes | 150 | 900 | 4 | 600| „ | 18 15 0 | 472 10 Total for +-------+------+---+------+---------+----------+-------- Master- | Bricklayers| engaged as | Nightmen |19,880|99,400 | 4 |59,520| 5_s._ |£2,485 0 |£52,185 0

SUMMARY OF THE ABOVE TABLE.

------------------------+-----+-------------------------------------------------------------- |Number of Masters employed as Nightmen. | |-------+------------------------------------------------------ | | Number of Cesspools emptied during the year. | | +------------------------------------------------------ | | |Quantity of Night soil collected annually. | | | +--------------------------------------------- | | | |Number of working Nightmen employed to | | | |each Cesspool. | | | | +------------------------------------- MASTER-SWEEPS EMPLOYED | | | | |Sum per load paid to each operative AS NIGHTMEN IN | | | | | Nightman engaged in removing soil | | | | |from Cesspools. | | | | | +----------------------- | | | | | |Total amount | | | | | |paid to Master-Nightmen | | | | | |during the Year for | | | | | |emptying Cesspools. ------------------------+-----+-------+--------+-------+-------------+----------------------- | | | Loads. | | Pence. | £ s. d. Kensington | 4 | 48 | 240 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 120 0 0 Chelsea | 8 | 140 | 700 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 350 0 0 Westminster | 9 | 180 | 900 | 3 | 6 | 450 0 0 St. Martin’s | 4 | 34 | 170 | 3 | 6 | 85 0 0 Marylebone | 9 | 155 | 775 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 387 10 0 Paddington | 8 | 107 | 535 | 3 | 6 | 267 10 0 Hampstead | 2 | 16 | 80 | 3 | 6 | 40 0 0 Islington | 4 | 82 | 410 | 3 | 6 | 205 0 0 St. Pancras | 13 | 226 | 1,130 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 565 0 0 Hackney | 5 | 89 | 445 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 222 10 0 St. Giles’s and St. | | | | | | George’s, Bloomsbury | 11 | 172 | 860 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 430 0 0 Strand | 4 | 30 | 150 | 3 | 6 | 75 0 0 Holborn | 4 | 74 | 370 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 185 0 0 Clerkenwell | 5 | 78 | 390 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 195 0 0 St. Luke’s | 5 | 68 | 340 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 170 0 0 East London | 6 | 92 | 460 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 230 0 0 West London | 4 | 64 | 320 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 160 0 0 London, City | 5 | 88 | 440 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 220 0 0 Shoreditch | 7 | 95 | 475 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 237 10 0 Bethnal-green | 5 | 68 | 340 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 170 0 0 Whitechapel | 5 | 66 | 330 | 3 | 6 | 165 0 0 St. George’s-in-the-East| 8 | 152 | 760 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 380 0 0 Stepney | 6 | 80 | 400 | 3 | 6 | 200 0 0 Poplar | 4 | 48 | 240 | 3 | 6 | 120 0 0 St. Olave’s, St. | | | | | | Saviour’s, and St. | | | | | | George’s, Southwark | 16 | 157 | 785 | 3 | 6 | 392 10 0 Bermondsey | 6 | 60 | 300 | 3 | 6 | 150 0 0 Walworth and Newington | 8 | 71 | 355 | 3 | 6 | 177 10 0 Lambeth | 10 | 91 | 455 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 227 10 0 Christchurch, Lambeth | 6 | 58 | 290 | 3 | 6 | 145 0 0 Wandsworth and Battersea| 5 | 43 | 215 | 3 | 6 | 107 10 0 Rotherhithe | 5 | 54 | 270 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 135 0 0 Greenwich and Deptford | 5 | 94 | 470 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 235 0 0 Woolwich | 6 | 82 | 410 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 205 0 0 Lewisham | 2 | 30 | 150 | 3 & 4 | 6 | 75 0 0 Total for Sweeps |-----+-------+--------+-------+-------------+----------------------- employed as Nightmen | 214 | 2,992 | 14,960 | 3 & 4 | 6 & 7 | 7,480 0 0 Total for Dust and other| | | | | | Contractors employed | | | | | | as Nightmen | 188 |27,820 |139,600 | 4 | 8 | 72,027 0 0 Total for Bricklayers | | | | | | employed as Nightmen | 119 |19,880 | 99,400 | 4 |5_s._ a night| 52,185 0 0 |-----+-------+--------+-------+-------------+----------------------- Gross Total | 521 |50,692 |253,960 | 3 & 4 |6_d._ 7_d._ &|131,692 10 0 | | | | |8_d._ per 1d.| | | | | |& 5_s._ per | | | | | |night. |

A TABLE SHOWING THE QUANTITY OF REFUSE BOUGHT, COLLECTED, OR FOUND, IN THE STREETS OF LONDON.

----------------+---------------+-------------------------------- Articles bought | Annual | Average Number of Buyers, collected, | gross | and quantity sold or found. | quantity. | Daily or Weekly. ----------------+---------------+-------------------------------- REFUSE METAL. | | Copper | 291,600 lbs. |200 buyers 1/4 cwt. each weekly Brass | 291,600 „ |200 do. 1/4 „ do. Iron |2,329,600 „ |200 do. 2 „ do. Steel | 62,400 „ |200 do. 6 lbs. do. Lead |1,164,800 „ |200 do. 1 cwt. do. Pewter | 291,600 „ |200 do. 1/4 „ do. | | HORSE & | | CARRIAGE | | FURNITURE. | | Carriages | 120 „ | 4 do. 30 sets yearly Wheels (4, | | from coach- | | builders) | 600 sets |100 do. 8 do. Wheels, | | in pairs | | for carts | | & trucks | 600 pairs| 50 do. 12 pairs yearly Springs | | for trucks and | | small carts | 780 „ | 5 do. 3 „ weekly Lace, from | | coach-builders | 1,344 lbs. | 12 do. 112 lbs. yearly Fringe and | | tassels, | | from ditto | 2,688 „ | 12 do. 224 „ do. Coach & | | carriage | | linings, | | singly | 156 | 12 do. 13 yearly Harness | | (carriage | | pairs) | 60 pairs| 10 do. 6 pairs do. Ditto | | (single sets) | 144 sets | 12 do. 12 sets do. Ditto | | (sets of donkey| | and pony) | 41,600 „ |100 do. 8 sets weekly Saddles | 1,040 „ | 10 do. 2 „ do. Collars | 2,080 „ | 10 do. 4 „ do. Bridles | 4,160 „ | 10 do. 6 „ do. Pads | 2,080 „ | 10 do. 4 „ do. Bits | 4,160 „ | 10 do. 3 „ do. Leather (new | | cuttings from | | coach-builders)| 58,136 lbs. | 24 do. 22 cwt. yearly Ditto (morocco | | cuttings from | | do.) | 960 „ | 20 do. 48 „ do. Old leather | | (waste from | | ditto) | 53,760 „ | 12 do. 20 „ do. | | REFUSE LINEN, | | COTTON, &C. | | Rags (woollen, | | consisting of | | tailors’ | | shreds, old | | flannel | | drugget, | | carpet, and | | moreen) |4,659,200 lbs. |200 do. 4 „ weekly Ditto (coloured | | cotton) |2,912,000 „ |200 do. 2-1/2 „ do. Ditto (white) |1,164,800 „ |200 do. 1 „ do. Canvas | 44,800 „ |200 do. 2 „ yearly Rope and sacking| 291,200 „ |200 do. 1/4 „ weekly | | PAPER. | | Waste paper |1,397,760 „ | 60 colls. each disposing | | of 4 cwt. weekly GLASS AND | | CROCKERYWARE. | | Bottles (common | | and doctors’) | 62,400 doz. |200 buyers, 24 weekly Ditto (wine) | 31,200 „ |200 do. 12 do. Ditto (porter | | and stout) | 4,800 „ |200 do. 24 dozen yearly Flint glass | 15,600 lbs. |200 do. 1-1/2 lbs. weekly Pickling jars | 7,200 „ |200 do. 36 yearly Gallipots | 20,800 doz. |200 do. 24 weekly

-----------+---------------+------------+------------------------ Obtained of| Price per | Average | Parties the Street| pound | Yearly | to Buyers. | weight, &c. |Money Value.| whom sold. -----------+---------------+------------+------------------------ | | £ s. d.| 1-500th | 6_d._ per lb. | 7,290 0 0 |Sold to brass-founders | | | and pewterers. „ | 4_d._ „ | 4,860 6 8 | Do. do. 1-200th |1/4_d._ „ | 2,246 13 4 |Do. to iron-founders | | | and manufacturers. none | 1_d._ „ | 260 0 0 |Do. to manufacturers. 1-500th |1-1/2_d._ „ | 7,280 0 0 |Do. to brass-founders | | | and pewterers. „ | 5_d._ „ | 6,075 13 4 | Do. do. | |----------- | | |28,182 13 4 | | |=========== | none | 11l. each | 1,320 0 0 |Sold to Jew dealers. „ | 25s. a set | 750 0 0 |Do. to costers and | | | small tradesmen. „ | 7s. a pair | 210 0 0 | Do. do. „ | 6s. per pair | 234 0 0 |Do. to costers | | | and others. „ | 1_d._ per lb. | 5 12 0 |Do. to cab-masters | | | and to Jews. „ |1/2_d._ „ | 5 12 0 |Do. to Jews. „ | 25s. each | 195 0 0 |Do. to cab-masters. „ | 3l. per pair | 180 0 0 |Do. to omnibus | | | proprietors. „ | 30s. per set | 216 0 0 |Do. to cab-masters. harness- | 4s. a set | 8,320 0 0 |Do. to little master makers | | | harness-makers. none | 4s. „ | 203 0 0 | Do. do. „ | 9_d._ „ | 78 0 0 | Do. do. and | | | marine stores. „ | 9_d._ „ | 138 13 4 | Do. do. do. „ | 6_d._ „ | 52 0 0 | Do. do. „ | 2_d._ „ | 34 13 4 | Do. do. do. „ | 4_d._ „ | 985 12 0 |Do. to Jews and also | | | to gunsmiths. „ |1s. 6_d._ „ | 72 0 0 |Do. to tailors’ | | | trimming-sellers. „ |2-1/2_d._ „ | 560 0 0 |Do. to Jews. | |----------- | | |13,560 2 8 | | |=========== | 1-1000th |1/2_d._ per lb.| 9,706 13 4 |Sold for manure and to | | | nail up fruit-trees. 1-500th |1/2_d._ „ | 6,066 13 4 |Do. to paper-makers | | | and for quilts. 1-1000th | 2_d._ „ | 9,706 13 4 |Do. to paper-makers. none | 1_d._ „ | 186 13 4 |Do. to chance customers. 1-500th |1/2_d._ „ | 606 13 4 |Do. for oakum and sacking | | | to mend old sacks. | |----------- | | |36,898 13 4 | | |=========== | all | 18s. per cwt. |11,232 0 0 |Do. to shopkeepers. 1-100th | 2_d._ per doz.| 520 0 0 |Do. to doctors | | | and chemists. 1-200th | 6_d._ „ | 780 0 0 |Do. to Brit. wine | | | merchants & ale stores. none | 6_d._ „ | 120 0 0 |Do. to ale and | | | porter stores. 1-1000th |1/4_d._ per lb.| 16 5 0 |Do. to glass | | | manufacturers. none |3/4_d._ each | 22 10 0 |Do. to Italian | | | warehouses, &c. „ | 2_d._ per doz.| 173 6 8 | Do. do. | |----------- | | | 1,632 1 8 | | |=========== |

REFUSE APPAREL. | | Coats | 624,000 |300 colls. each purchasing 8 coats | | daily Trousers | 312,000 pairs |300 do. do. 4 pr. trousers do. Waistcoats | 312,000 |300 do. do. 3 waistcoats do. Under-waistcoats| 46,800 |300 do. do. 3 weekly Breeches and | | gaiters | 15,600 pairs |300 do. do. 1 pair weekly Dressing-gowns | 3,000 |100 do. do. 30 yearly Cloaks (men’s) | 1,000 |100 do. do. 10 cloaks yearly Boots and shoes |1,560,000 pairs |100 do. do. 60 pairs daily | | Boot and shoe | | soles | 648,000 dz. pr|100 do. each collecting 30 dz. pr. | |daily | | Boot legs | 520,000 „ „ |200 do. do. 50 „ weekly Hats |1,879,000 |300 colls. each purchasing 24 hats daily Boys’ suits | 3,600 |300 do. do. 12 suits yearly Shirts and | | chemises | 626,400 |300 do. do. 8 daily Stockings of | | all kinds | 783,000 pairs |100 do. do. 30 pair daily Drawers (men’s | | and women’s) | 93,600 „ |300 do. do. 6 „ weekly Women’s dresses | | of all kinds | 496,800 |300 do. do. 6 dresses daily Petticoats | 939,600 |300 do. do. 12 daily Women’s stays | 261,000 pairs |100 do. do. 10 pair do. Children’s | | shirts | 187,920 | 60 do. do. 12 daily Ditto petticoats| 261,000 |200 do. do. 5 do. Ditto frocks | 522,000 |200 do. do. 10 do. Cloaks | | (women’s), | | capes, | | visites, &c. | 5,200 | 20 do. do. 5 cloaks weekly Bonnets |1,409,400 |150 do. do. 3 doz. daily Shawls of all | | kinds | 469,800 |300 do. do. 6 daily Fur boas and | | victorines | 261,000 |100 do. do. 10 do. Fur tippets and | | muffs | 130,500 |100 do. do. 5 do. Umbrella and | | parasol frames | 518,400 |200 do., each collecting 12 daily | | | | | | HOUSEHOLD | | REFUSE. | | Tea-leaves | 78,000 lbs. | ... ... ... ... Fish-skins | 3,900 „ | 25 do. do. 2 lbs. weekly for | | 6 months. Hare-skins | 80,000 | 50 do. do. 50 weekly Kitchen-stuff | 62,400 lbs. |200 do. do. 6 lbs. weekly Dripping | 52,000 „ |200 do. do. 5 „ do. Bones |3,494,400 „ |200 buyers 3 cwt. weekly Hogwash |2,504,000 gals. |200 do., each purchasing 40 gal. daily Dust (from | | houses) | 900,000 loads | ... ... ... ... Soot | 800,000 bush. |800 colls. each collectg. 19 bush. weekly Soil (from | | cesspools) | 750,000 loads | ... ... ... ... | | | | | | STREET REFUSE. | | Street sweepings| | (scavengers’) | 140,983 „ |444 do. the whole „ 452 lds. daily Ditto (street | | orderlies’) | 2,817 „ |546 do. do. „ 9 „ do. Coal and coke | | (mudlarks’) | 64,656 cwt. |550 do., each collecting 42 lbs. do. “Pure” | 52,000 pails |200 do. do. 5 pails weekly Cigar ends | 2,240 lbs. | 50 do. do. 8-1/2 lbs. do.

bt. of old clo’men|6_s._ each | 187,200 0 0|Sold to old clo’men | | | and wholesale dealers. „ |3_s._ 3_d._ per| | | pr. | 50,700 0 0| Do. do. „ |7_d._ each | 9,100 0 0| Do. do. „ |2_d._ „ | 390 0 0|Do. to wholesale and | | | wardrobe dealers. | | | „ |2_s._ per pair | 1,560 0 0|Do. to old clo’men | | | and wholesale dealers. „ |4_s._ 2_d._ | 625 0 0|Do. to wholesale | each | | and wardrobe dealers. „ |10_s._ „ | 500 0 0|Do. to wholesale dealers. „ |7_d._ per pair | 45,500 0 0|Do. to wardrobe dealers | | | and second-hand | | | boot and shoe makers. | | | | | | none |1_s._ per dz. | 32,400 0 0|Do. to Jews and gunsmiths | pr. | | to temper gun-barrels. „ |5_s._ „ | 130,000 0 0|Do. to translators. bt. of old clo’men|4_d._ each | 31,200 0 0|Do. to dealers and | | | master hatters. „ |3_s._ a suit | 540 0 0|Do. Jew dealers. | | | „ |4_d._ each | 10,400 0 0|Do. to old clo’men | | | and wholesale dealers. | | | „ |1_d._ per pair | 3,272 10 0|Do. to wholesale | | | and wardrobe dealers. | | | „ |3_d._ „ | 1,170 0 0| Do. do. | | | „ |1_s._ 9_d._ | | | each | 41,107 10 0| Do. do. „ |7_d._ „ | 27,405 0 0| Do. do. „ |5_d._ per pair | 5,437 10 0| Do. do. | | | „ |3_d._ a doz. | 195 15 0| Do. do. „ |1-1/2_d._ each | 1,639 11 8| Do. do. „ |4_d._ „ | 8,700 0 0| Do. do. | | | | | | | | | „ |4_s._ „ | 1,040 0 0|Do. to wholesale dealers. „ |6_d._ „ | 35,235 0 0| Do. do. | | | „ |1_s._ 2_d._ „ | 27,405 0 0|Do. to wholesale | | | and wardrobe dealers. | | | „ |1_s._ 2_d._ „ | 15,220 0 0| Do. do. | | | „ |1_s._ 2_d._ „ | 7,612 10 0| Do. do. | | | all |5_d._ „ | 10,300 0 0|Do. to Jews and old | | | umbrella menders. | +--------------+ | | 675,555 6 8| | +==============+ | | | | | | „ |2-1/2_d._ per | 812 10 0|Do. to merchants to | lb. | | re-make into tea. costers and |1_d._ „ | |Do. to brewers to fine | | | their ale. fishmongers | | 16 5 0| all |1_s._ a doz. | 333 6 8|Do. to Jews, hatters, | | | and furriers. none |1-1/2_d._ per | | | lb. | 390 0 0|Do. at marine stores. „ |3_d._ „ | 650 0 0| Do. do. 1-1000th |1/4_d._ „ | 105,625 0 0|Do. for manure, | | | knife-handles, &c. all |1_d._ per | | | gallon | 10,433 6 8|Do. to pig-dealers. | | | none |2_s._ 6_d._ per| 112,500 0 0|Do. for manure and | ld. | | to brickmakers. „ |5_d._ per | 16,666 13 4|Do. to farmers, | bushel | | graziers, and | | | gardeners. | | | „ |10_s._ per load| 375,000 0 0|Do. for manure. | +--------------+ | | 622,427 1 8| | +==============+ | | | | | | „ |3_s._ „ | 21,147 9 0| Do. do. | | | „ |2_s._ 6_d._ „ | 2,352 2 6| Do. do. | | | „ |8_d._ per cwt. | 2,151 17 4|Do. to the poor. „ |1_s._ per pail | 2,600 0 0|Do. to tanners and | | | leather-dressers. street-finders |8_d._ per lb. | 74 13 4|Do. to Jews in | | | Rosemary-lane. | +==============+ | | 28,326 2 2| | +--------------+ |Gross Total |1,406,592 1 6|

Curious and ample as this Table of Refuse is--one, moreover, perfectly original--it is not sufficient, by the mere range of figures, to convey to the mind of the reader a full comprehension of the ramified vastness of the Second-Hand trade of the metropolis. Indeed tables are for reference more than for the current information to be yielded by a history or a narrative.

I will, therefore, offer a few explanations in elucidation, as it were, of the tabular return.

I must, as indeed I have done in the accompanying remarks, depart from the order of the details of the table to point out, in the first instance, the particulars of the greatest of the Second-Hand trades--that in Clothing. In this table the reader will find included every indispensable article of man’s, woman’s, and child’s apparel, as well as those articles which add to the ornament or comfort of the person of the wearer; such as boas and victorines for the use of one sex, and dressing-gowns for the use of the other. The articles used to protect us from the rain, or the too-powerful rays of the sun, are also included--umbrellas and parasols. The whole of these articles exceed, when taken in round numbers, twelve millions and a quarter, and that reckoning the “pairs,” as in boots and shoes, &c., as but one article. This, still pursuing the round-number system, would supply nearly five articles of refuse apparel to every man, woman, and child in this, the greatest metropolis of the world.

I will put this matter in another light. There are about 35,000 Jews in England, nearly half of whom reside in the metropolis. 12,000, it is further stated on good authority, reside within the City of London. Now at one time the trade in old clothes was almost entirely in the hands of the City Jews, the others prosecuting the same calling in different parts of London having been “Wardrobe Dealers,” chiefly women, (who had not unfrequently been the servants of the aristocracy); and even these wardrobe dealers sold much that was worn, and (as one old clothes-dealer told me) much that was “not, for their fine customers, because the fashion had gone by,” to the “Old Clo” Jews, or to those to whom the street-buyers carried their stock, and who were able to purchase on a larger scale than the general itinerants. Now, supposing that even one twelfth of these 12,000 Israelites were engaged in the old-clothes trade (which is far beyond the mark), each man would have twelve hundred and twenty-five articles to dispose of yearly, all second-hand!

Perhaps the most curious trade is that in waste paper, or as it is called by the street collectors, in “waste,” comprising every kind of used or useless periodical, and books in all tongues. I may call the attention of my readers, by way of illustrating the extent of this business in what is proverbially refuse “waste paper,” to their experience of the penny postage. Three or four sheets of note paper, according to the stouter or thinner texture, and an envelope with a seal or a glutinous and stamped fastening, will not exceed half-an-ounce, and is conveyed to the Orkneys and the further isles of Shetland, the Hebrides, the Scilly and Channel Islands, the isles of Achill and Cape Clear, off the western and southern coasts of Ireland, or indeed to and from the most extreme points of the United Kingdom, and no matter what distance, provided the letter be posted within the United Kingdom, for a penny. The weight of waste or refuse paper annually disposed of to the street collectors, or rather buyers, is 1,397,760 lbs. Were this tonnage, as I may call it, for it comprises 12,480 tons yearly, to be distributed in half-ounce letters, it would supply material, as respects weight, for forty-four millions, seven hundred and twenty-eight thousand, four hundred and thirty letters on business, love, or friendship.

I will next direct attention to what may be, by perhaps not over-straining a figure of speech, called “the crumbs which fall from the rich man’s table;” or, according to the quality of the commodity of refuse, of the tables of the comparatively rich, and that down to a low degree of the scale. These are not, however, unappropriated crumbs, to be swept away uncared for; but are objects of keen traffic and bargains between the possessors or their servants and the indefatigable street-folk. Among them are such things as champagne and other wine bottles, porter and ale bottles, and, including the establishments of all the rich and the comparative rich, kitchen-stuff, dripping, hog-wash, hare-skins, and tea-leaves. Lastly come the very lowest grades of the street-folk--the finders; men who will quarrel, and have been seen to quarrel, with a hungry cur for a street-found bone; not to pick or gnaw, although Eugène Sue has seen that done in Paris; and I once, very early on a summer’s morning, saw some apparently houseless Irish children contend with a dog and with each other for bones thrown out of a house in King William-street, City--as if after a very late supper--not to pick or gnaw, I was saying, but to sell for manure. Some of these finders have “seen better days;” others, in intellect, are little elevated above the animals whose bones they gather, or whose ordure (“pure”), they scrape into their baskets.

I do not know that the other articles in the arrangement of the table of street refuse, &c., require any further comment. Broken metal, &c., can only be disposed of according to its quality or weight, and I have lately shown the extent of the trade in such refuse as street-sweepings, soot and night-soil.

The gross total, or average yearly money value, is 1,406,592_l._ for the second-hand commodities I have described in the foregoing pages; or as something like a minimum is given, both as to the number of the goods and the price, we may fairly put this total at a million and a half of pounds sterling!

CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

That portion of the London street-folk who earn a scanty living by sweeping crossings constitute a large class of the Metropolitan poor. We can scarcely walk along a street of any extent, or pass through a square of the least pretensions to “gentility,” without meeting one or more of these private scavengers. Crossing-sweeping seems to be one of those occupations which are resorted to as an excuse for begging; and, indeed, as many expressed it to me, “it was the last chance left of obtaining an honest crust.”

The advantages of crossing-sweeping as a means of livelihood seem to be:

1st, the smallness of the capital required in order to commence the business;

2ndly, the excuse the apparent occupation it affords for soliciting gratuities without being considered in the light of a street-beggar;

And 3rdly, the benefits arising from being constantly seen in the same place, and thus exciting the sympathy of the neighbouring householders, till small weekly allowances or “pensions” are obtained.

The first curious point in connexion with this subject is what constitutes the “property,” so to speak, in a crossing, or the right to sweep a pathway across a certain thoroughfare. A nobleman, who has been one of her Majesty’s Ministers, whilst conversing with me on the subject of crossing-sweepers, expressed to me the curiosity he felt on the subject, saying that he had noticed some of the sweepers in the same place for years. “What were the rights of property,” he asked, “in such cases, and what constituted the title that such a man had to a particular crossing? Why did not the stronger sweeper supplant the weaker? Could a man bequeath a crossing to a son, or present it to a friend? How did he first obtain the spot?”

The answer is, that crossing-sweepers are, in a measure, under the protection of the police. If the accommodation afforded by a well-swept pathway is evident, the policeman on that district will protect the original sweeper of the crossing from the intrusion of a rival. I have, indeed, met with instances of men who, before taking to a crossing, have asked for and obtained permission of the police; and one sweeper, who gave me his statement, had even solicited the authority of the inhabitants before he applied to the inspector at the station-house.

If a crossing have been vacant for some time, another sweeper may take to it; but should the original proprietor again make his appearance, the officer on duty will generally re-establish him. One man to whom I spoke, had fixed himself on a crossing which for years another sweeper had kept clean on the Sunday morning only. A dispute ensued; the one claimant pleading his long Sabbath possession, and the other his continuous every-day service. The quarrel was referred to the police, who decided that he who was oftener on the ground was the rightful owner; and the option was given to the former possessor, that if he would sweep there every day the crossing should be his.

I believe there is only one crossing in London which is in the gift of a householder, and this proprietorship originated in a tradesman having, at his own expense, caused a paved footway to be laid down over the Macadamized road in front of his shop, so that his customers might run less chance of dirtying their boots when they crossed over to give their orders.

Some bankers, however, keep a crossing-sweeper, not only to sweep a clean path for the “clients” visiting their house, but to open and shut the doors of the carriages calling at the house.

Concerning the causes which lead or drive people to this occupation, they are various. People take to crossing-sweeping either on account of their bodily afflictions, depriving them of the power of performing ruder work, or because the occupation is the last resource left open to them of earning a living, and they considered even the scanty subsistence it yields preferable to that of the workhouse. The greater proportion of crossing-sweepers are those who, from some bodily infirmity or injury, are prevented from a more laborious mode of obtaining their living. Among the bodily infirmities the chief are old age, asthma, and rheumatism; and the injuries mostly consist of loss of limbs. Many of the rheumatic sweepers have been bricklayers’ labourers.

The classification of crossing-sweepers is not very complex. They may be divided into the casual and the regular.

By the casual I mean such as pursue the occupation only on certain days in the week, as, for instance, those who make their appearance on the Sunday morning, as well as the boys who, broom in hand, travel about the streets, sweeping before the foot-passengers or stopping an hour at one place, and then, if not fortunate, moving on to another.

The regular crossing-sweepers are those who have taken up their posts at the corners of streets or squares; and I have met with some who have kept to the same spot for more than forty years.

The crossing-sweepers in the squares may be reckoned among the most fortunate of the class. With them the crossing is a kind of stand, where any one requiring their services knows they may be found. These sweepers are often employed by the butlers and servants in the neighbouring mansions for running errands, posting letters, and occasionally helping in the packing-up and removal of furniture or boxes when the family goes out of town. I have met with other sweepers who, from being known for years to the inhabitants, have at last got to be regularly employed at some of the houses to clean knives, boots, windows, &c.

It is not at all an unfrequent circumstance, however, for a sweeper to be in receipt of a weekly sum from some of the inhabitants in the district. The crossing itself is in these cases but of little value for chance customers, for were it not for the regular charity of the householders, it would be deserted. Broken victuals and old clothes also form part of a sweeper’s means of living; nor are the clothes always old ones, for one or two of this class have for years been in the habit of having new suits presented to them by the neighbours at Christmas.

The irregular sweepers mostly consist of boys and girls who have formed themselves into a kind of company, and come to an agreement to work together on the same crossings. The principal resort of these is about Trafalgar-square, where they have seized upon some three or four crossings, which they visit from time to time in the course of the day.

One of these gangs I found had appointed its king and captain, though the titles were more honorary than privileged. They had framed their own laws respecting each one’s right to the money he took, and the obedience to these laws was enforced by the strength of the little fraternity.

One or two girls whom I questioned, told me that they mixed up ballad-singing or lace-selling with crossing-sweeping, taking to the broom only when the streets were wet and muddy. These children are usually sent out by their parents, and have to carry home at night their earnings. A few of them are orphans with a lodging-house for a home.

Taken as a class, crossing-sweepers are among the most honest of the London poor. They all tell you that, without a good character and “the respect of the neighbourhood,” there is not a living to be got out of the broom. Indeed, those whom I found best-to-do in the world were those who had been longest at their posts.

Among them are many who have been servants until sickness or accident deprived them of their situations, and nearly all of them have had their minds so subdued by affliction, that they have been tamed so as to be incapable of mischief.

The earnings, or rather “takings,” of crossing-sweepers are difficult to estimate--generally speaking--that is, to strike the average for the entire class. An erroneous idea prevails that crossing-sweeping is a lucrative employment. All whom I have spoken with agree in saying, that some thirty years back it was a good living; but they bewail piteously the spirit of the present generation. I have met with some who, in former days, took their 3_l._ weekly; and there are but few I have spoken to who would not, at one period, have considered fifteen shillings a bad week’s work. But now “the takings” are very much reduced. The man who was known to this class as having been the most prosperous of all--for from one nobleman alone he received an allowance of seven shillings and sixpence weekly--assured me that twelve shillings a-week was the average of his present gains, taking the year round; whilst the majority of the sweepers agree that a shilling is a good day’s earnings.

A shilling a-day is the very limit of the average incomes of the London sweepers, and this is rather an over than an under calculation; for, although a few of the more fortunate, who are to be found in the squares or main thoroughfares or opposite the public buildings, may earn their twelve or fifteen shillings a-week, yet there are hundreds who are daily to be found in the by-streets of the metropolis who assert that eightpence a-day is their average taking; and, indeed, in proof of their poverty, they refer you to the workhouse authorities, who allow them certain quartern-loaves weekly. The old stories of delicate suppers and stockings full of money have in the present day no foundation of truth.

The black crossing-sweeper, who bequeathed 500_l._ to Miss Waithman, would almost seem to be the last of the class whose earnings were above his positive necessities.

Lastly, concerning the numbers belonging to this large class, we may add that it is difficult to reckon up the number of crossing-sweepers in London. There are few squares without a couple of these pathway scavengers; and in the more respectable squares, such as Cavendish or Portman, every corner has been seized upon. Again, in the principal thoroughfares, nearly every street has its crossing and attendant.

I.--OF THE ADULT CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

A. The Able-Bodied Sweepers.

The elder portion of the London crossing-sweepers admit, as we have before said, of being arranged, for the sake of perspicuity, into several classes. I shall begin with the Able-bodied Males; then proceed to the Females of the same class; and afterwards deal with the Able-bodied Irish (male and female), who take to the London causeways for a living. This done, I shall then, in due order, take up the Afflicted or Crippled class; and finally treat of the Juveniles belonging to the same calling.

1. THE ABLE-BODIED MALE CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

THE “ARISTOCRATIC” CROSSING-SWEEPER.

“Billy” is the popular name of the man who for many years has swept the long crossing that cuts off one corner of Cavendish-square, making a “short cut” from Old Cavendish-street to the Duke of Portland’s mansion.

Billy is a merry, good-tempered kind of man, with a face as red as a love-apple, and cheeks streaked with little veins.

His hair is white, and his eyes are as black and bright as a terrier’s. He can hardly speak a sentence without finishing it off with a moist chuckle.

His clothes have that peculiar look which arises from being often wet through, but still they are decent, and far above what his class usually wear. The hat is limp in the brim, from being continually touched.

The day when I saw Billy was a wet one, and he had taken refuge from a shower under the Duke of Portland’s stone gateway. His tweed coat, torn and darned, was black about the shoulders with the rain-drops, and his boots grey with mud, but, he told me, “It was no good trying to keep clean shoes such a day as that, ’cause the blacking come off in the puddles.”

Billy is “well up” in the Court Guide. He continually stopped in his statement to tell whom my Lord B. married, or where my Lady C. had gone to spend the summer, or what was the title of the Marquis So-and-So’s eldest boy.

He was very grateful, moreover, to all who had assisted him, and would stop looking up at the ceiling, and God-blessing them all with a species of religious fervour.

His regret that the good old times had passed, when he made “hats full of money,” was unmistakably sincere; and when he had occasion to allude to them, he always delivered his opinion upon the late war, calling it “a-cut-and run affair,” and saying that it was “nothing at all put alongside with the old war, when the halfpence and silver coin were twice as big and twenty times more plentiful” than during the late campaign.

Without the least hesitation he furnished me with the following particulars of his life and calling:--

“I was born in London, in Cavendish-square, and (he added, laughing) I ought to have a title, for I first came into the world at No. 3, which was Lord Bessborough’s then. My mother went there to do her work, for she chaired there, and she was took sudden and couldn’t go no further. She couldn’t have chosen a better place, could she? You see I was born in Cavendish-square, and I’ve worked in Cavendish-square--sweeping a crossing--for now near upon fifty year.

“Until I was nineteen--I’m sixty-nine now--I used to sell water-creases, but they felled off and then I dropped it. Both mother and myself sold water-creases after my Lord Bessborough died; for whilst he lived she wouldn’t leave him not for nothing.

“We used to do uncommon well at one time; there wasn’t nobody about then as there is now. I’ve sold flowers, too; they was very good then; they was mostly show carnations and moss roses, and such-like, but no common flowers--it wouldn’t have done for me to sell common things at the houses I used to go to.

“The reason why I took to a crossing was, I had an old father and I didn’t want him to go to the workus. I didn’t wish too to do anything bad myself, and I never would--no, sir, for I’ve got as good a charackter as the first nobleman in the land, and that’s a fine thing, ain’t it? So as water-creases had fell off till they wasn’t a living to me, I had to do summat else to help me to live.

“I saw the crossing-sweepers in Westminster making a deal of money, so I thought to myself I’ll do that, and I fixed upon Cavendish-square, because, I said to myself, I’m known there; it’s where I was born, and there I set to work.

“The very first day I was at work I took ten shillings. I never asked nobody; I only bowed my head and put my hand to my hat, and they knowed what it meant.

“By jingo, when I took that there I thought to myself, What a fool I’ve been to stop at water-creases!

“For the first ten year I did uncommon well. Give me the old-fashioned way; they were good times then; I like the old-fashioned way. Give me the old penny pieces, and then the eighteen-penny pieces, and the three-shilling pieces, and the seven-shilling pieces--give me them, I says. The day the old halfpence and silver was cried down, that is, the old coin was called in to change the currency, my hat wouldn’t hold the old silver and halfpence I was give that afternoon. I had such a lot, upon my word, they broke my pocket. I didn’t know the money was altered, but a fishmonger says to me, ‘Have you got any old silver?’ I said ‘Yes, I’ve got a hat full;’ and then says he, ‘Take ’em down to Couttseses and change ’em.’ I went, and I was nearly squeeged to death.

“That was the first time I was like to be killed, but I was nigh killed again when Queen Caroline passed through Cavendish-square after her trial. They took the horses out of her carriage and pulled her along. She kept a chucking money out of the carriage, and I went and scrambled for it, and I got five-and-twenty shillin, but my hand was a nigh smashed through it; and, says a friend of mine, before I went, ‘Billy,’ says he, ‘don’t you go;’ and I was sorry after I did. She was a good woman, she was. The Yallers, that is, the king’s party, was agin her, and pulled up the paving-stones when her funeral passed; but the Blues was for her.

“I can remember, too, the mob at the time of the Lord Castlereagh riots. They went to Portman-square and broke all the winders in the house. They pulled up all the rails to purtect theirselves with. I went to the Bishop of Durham’s, and hid myself in the coal-cellar then. My mother chaired there, too. The Bishop of Durham and Lord Harcourt opened their gates and hurrah’d the mob, so they had nothing of their’s touched; but whether they did it through fear or not I can’t say. The mob was carrying a quartern loaf dipped in bullock’s blood, and when I saw it I thought it was a man’s head; so that frightened me, and I run off.

“I remember, too, when Lady Pembroke’s house was burnt to the ground. That’s about eighteen year ago. It was very lucky the family wasn’t in town. The housekeeper was a nigh killed, and they had to get her out over the stables; and when her ladyship heard she was all right, she said she didn’t care for the fire since the old dame was saved, for she had lived along with the family for many years. No, bless you, sir! I didn’t help at the fire; I’m too much of a coward to do that.

“All the time the Duke of Portland was alive he used to allow me 7_s._ 6_d._ a-week, which was 1_s._ a-day and 1_s._ 6_d._ for Sundays. He was a little short man, and a very good man he was too, for it warn’t only me as he gave money to, but to plenty others. He was the best man in England for that.

“Lord George Bentinck, too, was a good friend to me. He was a great racer, he was, and then he turned to be member of parliament, and then he made a good man they tell me; but he never comed over my crossing without giving me something. He was at the corner of Holly Street, he was, and he never put foot on my crossing without giving me a sovereign. Perhaps he wouldn’t cross more than once or twice a month, but when he comed my way that was his money. Ah! he was a nice feller, he was. When he give it he always put it in my hand and never let nobody see it, and that’s the way I like to have my fee give me.

“There’s Mrs. D----, too, as lived at No. 6; she was a good friend of mine, and always allowed me a suit of clothes a-year; but she’s dead, good lady, now.

“Dr. C---- and his lady, they, likewise, was very kind friends of mine, and gave me every year clothes, and new shoes, and blankets, aye, and a bed, too, if I had wanted it; but now they are all dead, down to the coachman. The doctor’s old butler, Mr. K----, he gave me twenty-five shillings the day of the funeral, and, says he, ‘Bill, I’m afraid this will be the last.’ Poor good friends they was all of them, and I did feel cut up when I see the hearse going off.

“There was another gentleman, Mr. W. T----, who lives in Harley-street; he never come by me without giving me half-a-crown. He was a real good gentleman; but I haven’t seen him for a long time now, and perhaps he’s dead too.

“All my friends is dropping off. I’m fifty-five, and they was men when I was a boy. All the good gentlemen’s gone, only the bad ones stop.

“Another friend of mine is Lord B----. He always drops me a shilling when he come by; and, says he, ‘You don’t know me, but I knows you, Billy.’ But I do know him, for my mother worked for the family many a year, and, considering I was born in the house, I think to myself, ‘If I don’t know you, why I ought.’ He’s a handsome, stout young chap, and as nice a gentleman as any in the land.

“One of the best friends I had was Prince E----, as lived there in Chandos-street, the bottom house yonder. I had five sovereigns give me the day as he was married to his beautiful wife. Don’t you remember what a talk there was about her diamonds, sir? They say she was kivered in ’em. He used to put his hand in his pocket and give me two or three shillings every time he crossed. He was a gentleman as was uncommon fond of the gals, sir. He’d go and talk to all the maid-servants round about, if they was only good-looking. I used to go and ring the hairy bells for him, and tell the gals to go and meet him in Chapel-street. God bless him! I says, he was a pleasant gentleman, and a regular good ’un for a bit of fun, and always looking lively and smiling. I see he’s got his old coachman yet, though the Prince don’t live in England at present, but his son does, and he always gives me a half-crown when he comes by too.

“I gets a pretty fine lot of Christmas boxes, but nothing like what I had in the old times. Prince E---- always gives me half a crown, and I goes to the butler for it. Pretty near all my friends gives me a box, them as knows me, and they say, ‘Here’s a Christmas box, Billy.’

“Last Christmas-day I took 36_s._, and that was pretty fair; but, bless you, in the old times I’ve had my hat full of money. I tells you again I’ve have had as much as 5_l._ in old times, all in old silver and halfpence; that was in the old war, and not this runaway shabby affair.

“Every Sunday I have sixpence regular from Lord H----, whether he’s in town or not. I goes and fetches it. Mrs. D----, of Harley-street, she gives me a shilling every Sunday when she’s in town; and the parents as knows me give halfpence to their little girls to give me. Some of the little ladies says, ‘Here, that will do you good.’ No, it’s only pennies (for sixpences is out of fashion); and thank God for the coppers, though they are little.

“I generally, when the people’s out of town, take about 2_s._ or 2_s._ 6_d._ on the Sunday. Last Sunday I only took 1_s._ 3_d._, but then, you see, it come on to rain and I didn’t stop. When the town’s full three people alone gives me more than that. In the season I take 5_s._ safe on a Sunday, or perhaps 6_s._--for you see it’s all like a lottery.

“I should like you to mention Lady Mildmay in Grosvenor-square, sir. Whenever I goes to see her--but you know I don’t go often--I’m safe for 5_s._, and at Christmas I have my regular salary, a guinea. She’s a very old lady, and I’ve knowed her for many and many years. When I goes to my lady she always comes out to speak to me at the door, and says she, ‘Oh, ’tis Willy! and how do you do, Willy?’ and she always shakes hands with me and laughs away. Ah! she’s a good kind creetur’; there’s no pride in her whatsumever--and she never sacks her servants.

“My crossing has been a good living to me and mine. It’s kept the whole of us. Ah! in the old time I dare say I’ve made as much as 3_l._ a week reg’lar by it. Besides, I used to have lots of broken vittals, and I can tell you I know’d where to take ’em to. Ah! I’ve had as much food as I could carry away, and reg’lar good stuff--chicken, and some things I couldn’t guess the name of, they was so Frenchified. When the fam’lies is in town I gets a good lot of food given me, but you know when the nobility and gentlemen are away the servants is on board wages, and cuss them board wages, I says.

“I buried my father and mother as a son ought to. Mother was seventy-three and father was sixty-five,--good round ages, ain’t they, sir? I shall never live to be that. They are lying in St. John’s Wood cemetery along with many of my brothers and sisters, which I have buried as well. I’ve only two brothers living now; and, poor fellows, they’re not very well to do. It cost me a good bit of money. I pay 2_s._ 6_d._ a-year for keeping up the graves of each of my parents, and 1_s._ 2_d._ for my brothers.

“There was the Earl of Gainsborough as I should like you to mention as well, please sir. He lived in Chandos-street, and was a particular nice man and very religious. He always gave me a shilling and a tract. Well, you see, I did often read the tract; they was all religious, and about where your souls was to go to--very good, you know, what there was, very good; and he used to buy ’em wholesale at a little shop, corner of High-street, Marrabun. He was a very good, kind gentleman, and gave away such a deal of money that he got reg’lar known, and the little beggar girls follered him at such a rate that he was at last forced to ride about in a cab to get away from ’em. He’s many a time said to me, when he’s stopped to give me my shilling, ‘Billy, is any of ’em a follering me?’ He was safe to give to every body as asked him, but you see it worried his soul out--and it was a kind soul, too--to be follered about by a mob.

“When all the fam’lies is in town I has 14_s._ a-week reg’lar as clock-work from my friends as lives round the square, and when they’re away I don’t get 6_d._ a-day, and sometimes I don’t get 1_d._ a-day, and that’s less. You see some of ’em, like my Lord B----, is out eight months in the year; and some of ’em, such as my Lord H----, is only three. Then Mrs. D----, she’s away three months, and she always gives 1_s._ a-week reg’lar when she’s up in London.

“I don’t take 4_s._ a-week on the crossing. Ah! I wish you’d give me 4_s._ for what I take. No, I make up by going of errands. I runs for the fam’lies, and the servants, and any of ’em. Sometimes they sends me to a banker’s with a cheque. Bless you! they’d trust me with anythink, if it was a hat full. I’ve had a lot of money trusted to me at times. At one time I had as much as 83_l._ to carry for the Duke of Portland.

“Aye, that was a go--that was! You see the hall-porter had had it give to him to carry to the bank, and he gets me to do it for him; but the vallet heerd of it, so he wanted to have a bit of fun, and he wanted to put the hall-porter in a funk. I met the vallet in Holborn, and says he, ‘Bill, I want to have a lark,’ so he kept me back, and I did not get back till one o’clock. The hall-porter offered 5_l._ reward for me, and sends the police; but Mr. Freebrother, Lord George’s wallet, he says, ‘I’ll make it all right, Billy.’ They sent up to my poor old people, and says father, ‘Billy wouldn’t rob anybody of a nightcap, much more 80_l._’ I met the policeman in Holborn, and says he, ‘I want you, Billy,’ and says I, ‘All right, here I am.’ When I got home the hall-porter, says he, ‘Oh, I am a dead man; where’s the money?’ and says I, ‘It’s lost.’ ‘Oh! it’s the Duke’s, not mine,’ says he. Then I pulls it out; and says the porter, ‘It’s a lark of Freebrother’s.’ So he gave me 2_l._ to make it all right. That was a game, and the hall-porter, says he, ‘I really thought you was gone, Billy;’ but, says I, ‘If everybody carried as good a face as I do, everybody would be as honest as any in Cavendish-square.’

“I had another lark at the Bishop of Durham’s. I was a cleaning the knives, and a swellmobsman, with a green-baize bag, come down the steps, and says he to me, ‘Is Mr. Lewis, the butler, in?’--he’d got the name off quite pat. ‘No,’ says I, ‘he’s up-stairs;’ then says he, ‘Can I step into the pantry?’ ‘Oh, yes,’ says I, and shows him in. Bless you! he was so well-dressed, I thought he was a master-shoemaker or something; but as all the plate was there, thinks I, I’ll just lock the door to make safe. So I fastens him in tight, and keeps him there till Mr. Lewis comes. No, he didn’t take none of the plate, for Mr. Lewis come down, and then, as he didn’t know nothink about him, we had in a policeman, when we finds his bag was stuffed with silver tea-pots and all sorts of things from my Lord Musgrave’s. Says Mr. Lewis, ‘You did quite right, Billy.’ It wasn’t a likely thing I was going to let anybody into a pantry crammed with silver.

“There was another chap who had prigged a lot of plate. He was an old man, and had a bag crammed with silver, and was a cutting away, with lots of people after him. So I puts my broom across his legs and tumbles him, and when he got up he cut away and left the bag. Ah! I’ve seen a good many games in my time--that I have. The butler of the house the plate had been stole from give me 2_l._ for doing him that turn.

“Once a gentleman called me, and says he, ‘My man, how long have you been in this square?’ Says I, ‘I’m Billy, and been here a’most all my life.’ Then he says, ‘Can I trust you to take a cheque to Scott, the banker?’ and I answers, ‘That’s as you like,’ for I wasn’t going to press him. It was a heavy cheque, for Mr. Scott, as knows me well--aye, well, he do--says ‘Billy, I can’t give you all in notes, you must stop a bit.’ It nearly filled the bag I had with me. I took it all safe back, and says he, ‘Ah! I knowed it would be all right,’ and he give me a half-sovereign. I should like you to put these things down, ’cos it’s a fine thing for my charackter, and I can show my face with any man for being honest, that’s one good thing.

“I pays 4_s._ a-week for two rooms, one up and one down, for I couldn’t live in one room. I come to work always near eight o’clock, for you see it takes me some time to clean the knives and boots at Lord B----’s. I get sometimes 1_s._ and sometimes 1_s._ 6_d._ a-week for doing that, and glad I am to have it. It’s only for the servants I does it, not for the quality.

“When I does anythink for the servants, it’s either cleaning boots and knives, or putting letters in the post--that’s it--anythink of that kind. They gives me just what they can, 1_d._ or 2_d._ or half a pint of beer when they ha’n’t got any coppers.

“Sometimes I gets a few left-off clothes, but very seldom. I have two suits a-year give me reg’lar, and I goes to a first-rate tailor for ’em, though they don’t make the prime--of course not, yet they’re very good. Now this coat I liked very well when it was new, it was so clean and tidy. No, the tailor don’t show me the pattern-books and that sort of thing: he knows what’s wanted. I won’t never have none of them washing duck breeches; that’s the only thing as I refuses, and the tailor knows that. I looks very nice after Christmas, I can tell you, and I’ve always got a good tidy suit for Sundays, and God bless them as gives ’em to me.

“Every Sunday I gets a hot dinner at Lord B----’s, whether he’s out of town or in town--that’s summat. I gets bits, too, give me, so that I don’t buy a dinner, no, not once a-week. I pays 4_s._ a-week rent, and I dare say my food, morning and night, costs me a 1_s._ a-day--aye, I’m sure it does, morning and night. At present I don’t make 12_s._ a-week; but take the year round, one week with another, it might come to 13_s._ or 14_s._ a-week I gets. Yes, I’ll own to that.

“Christmas is my best time; then I gets more than 1_l._ a-week: now I don’t take 4_s._ a-week on my crossing. Many’s the time I’ve made my breakfast on a pen’orth of coffee and a halfpenny slice of bread and butter. What do you think of that?

“Wet weather does all the harm to me. People, you see, don’t like to come out. I think I’ve got the best side of the square, and you see my crossing is a long one, and saves people a deal of ground, for it cuts off the corner. It used to be a famous crossing in its time--hah! but that’s gone.

“I always uses what they calls the brush-brooms; that’s them with a flat head like a house-broom. I can’t abide them others; they don’t look well, and they wears out ten times as quick as mine. I general buys the eights, that’s 10_d._ a-piece, and finds my own handles. A broom won’t last me more than a fortnight, it’s such a long crossing; but when it was paved, afore this muckydam (macadamising) was turned up, a broom would last me a full three months. I can’t abide this muckydam--can you, sir? it’s sloppy stuff, and goes so bad in holes. Give me the good solid stones as used to be.

“I does a good business round the square when the snow’s on the ground. I general does each house at so much a-week whilst it snows. Hardwicks give me a shilling. I does only my side, and that next Oxford-street. I don’t go to the others, unless somebody comes and orders me--for fair play is fair play--and they belongs to the other sweepers. I does my part and they does theirs.

“It’s seldom as I has a shop to sweep out, and I don’t do nothink with shutters. I’m getting too old now for to be called in to carry boxes up gentlemen’s houses, but when I was young I found plenty to do that way. There’s a man at the corner of Chandos-street, and he does the most of that kind of work.”

THE BEARDED CROSSING-SWEEPER AT THE EXCHANGE.

Since the destruction by fire of the Royal Exchange in 1838, there has been added to the curiosities of Cornhill a thickset, sturdy, and hirsute crossing-sweeper--a man who is as civil by habit as he is independent by nature. He has a long flowing beard, grey as wood smoke, and a pair of fierce moustaches, giving a patriarchal air of importance to a marked and observant face, which often serves as a painter’s model. After half-an-hour’s conversation, you are forced to admit that his looks do not all belie him, and that the old mariner (for such was his profession formerly) is worthy in some measure of his beard.

He wears an old felt hat--very battered and discoloured; around his neck, which is bared in accordance with sailor custom, he has a thick blue cotton neckerchief tied in a sailor’s knot; his long iron-grey beard is accompanied by a healthy and almost ruddy face. He stands against the post all day, saying nothing, and taking what he can get without solicitation.

When I first spoke to him, he wanted to know to what purpose I intended applying the information that he was prepared to afford, and it was not until I agreed to walk with him as far as St. Mary-Axe that I was enabled to obtain his statement, as follows:--

“I’ve had this crossing ever since ’38. The Exchange was burnt down in that year. Why, sir, I was wandering about trying to get a crust, and it was very sloppy, so I took and got a broom; and while I kept a clean crossing, I used to get ha’pence and pence. I got a dockman’s wages--that’s half-a-crown a-day; sometimes only a shilling, and sometimes more. I have taken a crown--but that’s very rare. The best customers I had is dead. I used to make a good Christmas, but I don’t now. I have taken a pound or thirty shillings then in the old times.

“I smoke, sir; I will have tobacco, if I can’t get grub. My old woman takes cares that I have tobacco.

“I have been a sailor, and the first ship as ever I was in was the Old Colossus, 74, but we was only cruising about the Channel then, and took two prizes. I went aboard the Old Remewa guardship--we were turned over to her--and from her I was drafted over to the Escramander frigate. We went out chasing Boney, but he gived himself up to the Old Impregnable. I was at the taking of Algiers, in 1816, in the Superb. I was in the Rochfort, 74, up the Mediterranean (they call it up the Mediterranean, but it was the Malta station) three years, ten months, and twenty days, until the ship was paid off.

“Then I went to work at the Dockyard. I had a misfortune soon after that. I fell out of a garret window, three stories high, and that kept me from going to the Docks again. I lost all my top teeth by that fall. I’ve got a scar here, one on my chin; but I warn’t in the hospital more than two weeks.

“I was afeard of being taken up solicitin’ charity, and I knew that sweeping was a safe game; they couldn’t take me up for sweeping a crossing.

“Sometimes I get insulted, only in words; sometimes I get chaffed by sober people. Drunken men I don’t care for; I never listen to ’em, unless they handle me, and then, although I am sixty-three this very day, sir, I think I could show them something. I do carry my age well; and if you could ha’ seen how I have lived this last winter through, sometimes one pound of bread between two of us, you’d say I was a strong man to be as I am.

“Those who think that sweepin’ a crossing is idle work, make a great mistake. In wet weather, the traffic that makes it gets sloppy as soon as it’s cleaned. Cabs, and ’busses, and carriages continually going over the crossing must scatter the mud on it, and you must look precious sharp to keep it clean; but when I once get in the road, I never jump out of it. I keeps my eye both ways, and if I gets in too close quarters, I slips round the wheels. I’ve had them almost touch me.

“No, sir, I never got knocked down. In foggy weather, of course, it’s no use sweeping at all.

“Parcels! it’s very few parcels I get to carry now; I don’t think I get a parcel to carry once in a month: there’s ’busses and railways so cheap. A man would charge as much for a distance as a cab would take them.

“I don’t come to the same crossing on Sundays; I go to the corner of Finch-lane. As to regular customers, I’ve none--to say regular; some give me sixpence now and then. All those who used to give me regular are dead.

“I was a-bed when the Exchange was burnt down.

“I have had this beard five years. I grew it to sit to artists when I got the chance; but it don’t pay expenses--for I have to walk four or five miles, and only get a shilling an hour: besides, I’m often kept nearly two hours, and I get nothing for going and nothing for coming, but just for the time I am there.

“Afore I wore it, I had a pair of large whiskers. I went to a gentleman then, an artist, and he did pay me well. He advised me to grow mustarshers and the beard, but he hasn’t employed me since.

“They call me ‘Old Jack’ on the crossing, that’s all they call me. I get more chaff from the boys than any one else. They only say, ‘Why don’t you get shaved?’ but I take no notice on ’em.

“Old Bill, in Lombard Street! I knows him; he used to make a good thing of it, but I don’t think he makes much now.

“My wife--I am married, sir--doesn’t do anything. I live in a lodging-house, and I pay three shillings a-week.

“I tell you what we has, now, when I go home. We has a pound of bread, a quarter of an ounce of tea, and perhaps a red herring.

“I’ve had a weakness in my legs for two year; the veins comes down, but I keep a bandage in my pocket, and when I feels ’em coming down, I puts the bandage on ’till the veins goes up again--it’s through being on my legs so long (because I had very strong legs when young) and want of good food. When you only have a bit of bread and a cup of tea--no meat, no vegetables--you find it out; but I’m as upright as a dart, and as lissom as ever I was.

“I gives threepence for my brooms. I wears out three in a week in the wet weather. I always lean very hard on my broom, ’specially when the mud is sticky--as it is after the roads is watered. I am very particular about my brooms; I gives ’em away to be burned when many another would use them.”

THE SWEEPER IN PORTMAN SQUARE, WHO GOT PERMISSION FROM THE POLICE.

A wild-looking man, with long straggling grey hair, which stood out from his head as if he brushed it the wrong way; and whiskers so thick and curling that they reminded one of the wool round a sheep’s face, gave me the accompanying history.

He was very fond of making use of the term “honest crust,” and each time he did so, he, Irish-like, pronounced it “currust.” He seemed a kind-hearted, innocent creature, half scared by want and old age.

“I’m blest if I can tell which is the best crossing in London; but mine ain’t no great shakes, for I don’t take three shilling a-week not with persons going across, take one week with another, but I thought I could get a honest currust (crust) at it, for I’ve got a crippled hand, which comed of its own accord, and I was in St. George’s Hospital seven weeks. When I comed out it was a cripple with me, and I thought the crossing was better than going into the workhouse--for I likes my liberty.

“I’ve been on this crossing since last Christmas was a twelvemonth. Before that I was a bricklayer and plasterer. I’ve been thirty-two years in London. I can get as good a character as any one anywhere, please God; for as to drunkards, and all that, I was none of them. I was earning eighteen shilling a-week, and sometimes with my overtime I’ve had twenty shilling, or even twenty-three shilling. Bricklayers is paid according to all the hours they works beyond ten, for that’s the bricklayer’s day.

“I was among the lime, and the sand, and the bricks, and then my hand come like this (he held out a hand with all the fingers drawn up towards the middle, like the claw of a dead bird). All the sinews have gone, as you see yourself, sir, so that I can’t bend it or straighten it, for the fingers are like bits of stick, and you can’t bend ’em without breaking them.

“When I couldn’t lay hold of anything, nor lift it up, I showed it to master, and he sent me to his doctor, who gived me something to rub over it, for it was swelled up like, and then I went to St. George’s Hospital, and they cut it over, and asked me if I could come in doors as in-door patient? and I said Yes, for I wanted to get it over sooner, and go back to my work, and earn an honest currust. Then they scarred it again, cut it seven times, and I was there many long weeks; and when I comed out I could not hold any tool, so I was forced to keep on pawning and pledging to keep an honest currust in my mouth, and sometimes I’d only just be with a morsel to eat, and sometimes I’d be hungry, and that’s the truth.

“What put me up to crossing-sweeping was this--I had no other thing open to me but the workhouse; but of course I’d sooner be out on my liberty, though I was entitled to go into the house, of course, but I’d sooner keep out of it if I could earn an honest currust.

“One of my neighbours persuaded me that I should pick up a good currust at a crossing. The man who had been on my crossing was gone dead, and as it was empty, I went down to the police-office, in Marylebone Lane, and they told me I might take it, and give me liberty to stop. I was told the man who had been there before me had been on it fourteen years, and them was good times for gentle and simple and all--and it was reported that this man had made a good bit of money, at least so it was said.

“I thought I could make a living out of it, or an honest currust, but it’s a very poor living, I can assure you. When I went to it first, I done pretty fair for a currust; but it’s only three shillings to me now. My missus has such bad health, or she used to help me with her needle. I can assure you, sir, it’s only one day a week as I have a bit of dinner, and I often go without breakfast and supper, too.

“I haven’t got any regular customers that allow me anything. When the families is in town sometimes they give me half-a-crown, or sixpence, now and then, perhaps once a fortnight, or a month. They’ve got footmen and servant-maids, so they never wants no parcels taken--they make them do it; but sometimes I get a penny for posting a letter from one of the maids, or something like that.

“The best day for us is Sunday. Sometimes I get a shilling, and when the families is in town eighteen pence. But when the families is away, and the weather so fine there’s no mud, and only working-people going to the chapels, they never looks at me, and then I’ll only get a shilling.”

ANOTHER WHO GOT PERMISSION TO SWEEP.

An old Irishman, who comes from Cork, was spoken of to us as a crossing-sweeper who had formally obtained permission before exercising his calling; but I found, upon questioning him, that it was but little more than a true Hibernian piece of conciliation on his part; and, indeed, that out of fear of competition, he had asked leave of the servants and policeman in the neighbourhood.

It seems somewhat curious, as illustrative of the rights of property among crossing-sweepers, that three or four “intending” sweepers, when they found themselves forestalled by the old man in question, had no idea of supplanting the Irishman, and merely remarked,--

“Well, you’re lucky to get it so soon, for we meant to take it.”

In reply to our questions, the man said,--

“I came here in January last: I knew the old man was did who used to keep the crossin’, and I thought I would like the kind of worruk, for I am getting blind, and hard of hearing likewise. I’ve got no parish; since the passing of the last Act, I’ve niver lived long enough in any one parish for that. I applied to Marabone, and they offered to sind me back to Ireland, but I’d got no one to go to, no friends or relations, or if I have, they’re as poor there as I am mysilf, sir.

“There was an ould man here before me. He used to have a stool to rest himsilf on, and whin he died, last Christmas, a man as knew him and me asked me whither I would take it or no, and I said I would. His broom and stool were in the coal-cellar at this corner house, Mr. ----’s, where he used to leave them at night times, and they gave them up to me; but I didn’t use the stool, sir, it might be an obsthruction to the passers-by; and, sir, it looks as if it was infirrumity. But, plaise the Lord, I’ll git and make a stool for myself against the hard winter, I will, bein’ a carpenter by thrade.

“I didn’t ask the gintlefolks’ permission to come here, but I asked the police and the servants, and such as that. I asked the servants at the corner-house. I don’t know whither they could have kept me away if I had not asked. Soon after I came here the gintlefolks--some of them--stopped and spoke to me. ‘So,’ says they, ‘you’ve taken the place of the old man that’s did?’ ‘Yes, I have,’ says I. ‘Very will,’ says they, and they give me a ha’penny. That was all that occurred upon my takin’ to the crossin’.

“But there were some others who would have taken it if I had not; they tould me I was lucky in gettin’ it so soon, or they would have had it, but I don’t know who they are.

“I am seventy-three years ould the 2d of June last. My wife is about the same age, and very much afflicted with the rheumatis, and she injured hersilf, too, years ago, by fallin’ off a chair while she was takin’ some clothes off the line.

“Not to desave you, sir, I get a shillin’ a-week from one of my childer and ninepence from another, and a little hilp from some of the others. I have siven childer livin’, and have had tin. They are very much scattered: two are abroad; one is in the tinth Hussars--he is kind to me. The one who allows me ninepence is a basket-maker at Reading; and the shillin’ I get from my daughter, a servant, sir. One of my sons died in the Crimmy; he was in the 13th Light Dragoons, and died at Scutari, on the 25th of May. They could not hilp me more than they thry to do, sir.

“I only make about two shilling a-week here, sir; and sometimes I don’t take three ha’pence a day. On Sundays I take about sivenpence, ninepence, or tinpence, ’cordin’ as I see the people who give rigular.

“Weather makes no difference to me--for, though the sum is small, I am a rigular pinsioner like of theirs. I go to Somer’s-town Chapel, being a Catholic, for I’m not ashamed to own my religion before any man. When I go, it is at siven in the evening. Sometimes I go to St. Pathrick’s Chapel, Soho-square. I have not been to confission for two or three years--the last time was to Mr. Stanton, at St. Pathrick’s.

“There’s a poor woman, sir, who goes past here every Friday to get her pay from the parish, and, as sure as she comes back again, she gives me a ha’penny--she does, indeed. Sometimes the baker or the greengrocer gives me a ha’penny for minding their baskets.

“I’m perfectly satisfied; it’s no use to grumble, and I might be worrus off, sir. Yes, I go of arrinds some times; fitch water now and then, and post letters; but I do no odd jobs, such as hilping the servants to clean the knives, or such-like. No: they wouldn’t let me behint the shadow of their doors.”

A THIRD WHO ASKED LEAVE.

This one was a mild and rather intelligent man, in a well worn black dress-coat and waistcoat, a pair of “moleskin” trousers, and a blue-and-white cotton neckerchief. I found him sweeping the crossing at the end of ---- place, opposite the church.

He every now and then regaled himself with a pinch of snuff, which seemed to light up his careworn face. He seemed very willing to afford me information. He said:--

“I have been on this crossing four years. I am a bricklayer by trade; but you see how my fingers have gone: it’s all rheumatics, sir. I took a great many colds. I had a great deal of underground work, and that tries a man very much.

“How did I get the crossing? Well, I took it--I came as a cas’alty. No one ever interfered with me. If one man leaves a crossing, well, another takes it.

“Yes, some crossings is worth a good deal of money. There was a black in Regent-street, at the corner of Conduit-street, I think, who had two or three houses--at least, I’ve heard so; and I know for a certainty that the man in Cavendish-square used to get so much a week from the Duke of Portland--he got a shilling a-day, and eighteenpence on Sundays. I don’t know why he got more on Sundays. I don’t know whether he gets it since the old Duke’s death.

“The boys worry me. I mean the little boys with brooms; they are an abusive set, and give me a good deal of annoyance; they are so very cheeky; they watch the police away; but if they see the police coming, they bolt like a shot. There are a great many Irish lads among them. There were not nearly so many boys about a few years ago.

“I once made eighteenpence in one day, that was the best day I ever made: it was very bad weather: but, take the year through, I don’t make more than sixpence a-day.

“I haven’t worked at bricklaying for a matter of six year. What did I do for the two years before I took to crossing-sweeping? Why, sir, I had saved a little money, and managed to get on somehow. Yes, I have had my troubles, but I never had what I call great ones, excepting my wife’s blindness. She was blind, sir, for eleven year, and so I had to fight for everything: she has been dead two year, come September.

“I have seven children, five boys and two girls; they are all grown up and got families. Yes, they ought, amongst them, to do something for me; but if you have to trust to children, you will soon find out what that is. If they want anything of you, they know where to find you; but if you want anything of them, it’s no go.

“I think I made more money when first I swept this crossing than I do now; it’s not a good crossing, sir. Oh, no; but it’s handy home, you see. When a shower of rain comes on, I can run home, and needn’t go into a public-house; but it’s a poor neighbourhood.

“Oh yes, indeed sir, I am always here. Certainly; I am laid up sometimes for a day with my feet. I am subject to the rheumatic gout, you see. Well, I don’t know whether so much standing has anything to do with it.

“Yes, sir, I have heard of what you call ‘shutting-up shop.’ I never heard it called by that name before, though; but there’s lots of sweepers as sweep back the dirt before leaving at night. I know they do, some of them. I never did it myself--I don’t care about it; I always think there’s the trouble of sweeping it back in the morning.

“People liberal? No, sir, I don’t think there are many liberal people about; if people were liberal I should make a good deal of money.

“Sometimes, after I get home, I read a book, if I can borrow one. What do I read? Well, novels, when I can get them. What did I read last night? Well, Reynolds’s Miscellany; before that I read the Pilgrim’s Progress. I have read it three times over; but there’s always something new in it.

“Well, weather makes very little difference in this neighbourhood. My rent is two-and-sixpence a-week. I have a little relief from the parish. How much? Two-and-sixpence. How much does my living cost? Well, I am forced to live on what I can get. I manage as well as I can; if I have a good week, I spend it--I get more nourishment then, that’s all.

“I used to smoke, sir, a great deal, but I haven’t touched a pipe for a matter of forty year. Yes, sir, I take snuff, Scotch and Rappee, mixed. If I go without a meal of victuals, I must have my snuff. I take an ounce a-week, sir; it costs fourpence--that there is the only luxury I get, unless somebody gives me a half pint of beer.

“I very rarely get an odd job, this is not the neighbourhood for them things.

“Yes, sir, I go to church on Sunday; I go to All Souls’, in Langham-place, the church with the sharp spire. I go in the morning; once a day is quite enough for me. In the afternoon, I generally take a walk in the Park, or I go to see one of my young ones; they won’t come to the old crossing-sweeper, so I go to them.”

A REGENT-STREET CROSSING-SWEEPER.

A man who had stationed himself at the end of Regent-street, near the County Fire Office, gave me the following particulars.

He was a man far superior to the ordinary run of sweepers, and, as will be seen, had formerly been a gentleman’s servant. His costume was of that peculiar miscellaneous description which showed that it had from time to time been given to him in charity. A dress-coat so marvellously tight that the stitches were stretching open, a waistcoat with a remnant of embroidery, and a pair of trousers which wrinkled like a groom’s top-boot, had all evidently been part of the wardrobe of the gentlemen whose errands he had run. His boots were the most curious portion of his toilette, for they were large enough for a fisherman, and the portion unoccupied by the foot had gone flat and turned up like a Turkish slipper.

He spoke with a tone and manner which showed some education. Once or twice whilst I was listening to his statement he insisted upon removing some dirt from my shoulder, and, on leaving, he by force seized my hat and brushed it--all which habits of attention he had contracted whilst in service.

I was surprised to see stuck in the wristband of his coat-sleeve a row of pins, arranged as neatly as in the papers sold at the mercers’.

“Since the Irish have come so much--the boys, I mean--my crossing has been completely cut up,” he said; “and yet it is in as good a spot as could well be, from the County Fire Office (Mr. Beaumont as owns it) to Swan and Edgar’s. It ought to be one of the fust crossings in the kingdom, but these Irish have spiled it.

“I should think, as far as I can guess, I’ve been on it eight year, if not better; but it was some time before I got known. You see, it does a feller good to be some time on a crossing; but it all depends, of course, whether you are honest or not, for it’s according to your honesty as you gets rewarded. By rewarded, I means, you gets a character given to you by word of mouth. For instance, a party wants me to do a job for ’em, and they says, ‘Can you get any lady or gentleman to speak for you?’ And I says, ‘Yes;’ and I gets my character by word of mouth--that’s what I calls being rewarded.

“Before ever I took a broom in hand, the good times had gone for crossings and sweepers. The good times was thirty year back. In the regular season, when they (the gentry) are in town, I have taken from one and sixpence to two shillings a-day; but every day’s not alike, for people stop at home in wet days. But, you see, in winter-time the crossings ain’t no good, and then we turn off to shovelling snow; so that, you see, a shilling a-day is even too high for us to take regular all the year round. Now, I ain’t taken a shilling, no, nor a blessed bit of silver, for these three days. All the quality’s out of town.

“It ain’t what a man gets on a crossing as keeps him; that ain’t worth mentioning. I don’t think I takes sixpence a-day regular--all the year round, mind--on the crossing. No, I’d take my solemn oath I don’t! If you was to put down fourpence it would be nearer the mark. I’ll tell you the use of a crossing to such as me and my likes. It’s our shop, and it ain’t what we gets a-sweeping, but it’s a place like for us to stand, and then people as wants us, comes and fetches us.

“In the summer I do a good deal in jobs. I do anything in the portering line, or if I’m called to do boots and shoes, or clean knives and forks, then I does that. But that’s only when people’s busy; for I’ve only got one regular place I goes to, and that’s in A---- street, Piccadilly. I goes messages, parcels, letters, and anything that’s required, either for the master of the hotel or the gents that uses there. Now, there’s one party at Swan and Edgar’s, and I goes to take parcels for him sometimes; and he won’t trust anybody but me, for you see I’m know’d to be trustworthy, and then they reckons me as safe as the Bank,--there, that’s just it.

“I got to the hotel only lately. You see, when the peace was on and the soldiers was coming home from the Crimmy, then the governor he was exceeding busy, so he give me two shillings a-day and my board; but that wasn’t reg’lar, for as he wants me he comes and fetches me. It’s a-nigh impossible to say what I makes, it don’t turn out reg’lar; Sunday’s a shilling or one-and-sixpence, other days nothing at all--not salt to my porridge. You see, when I helps the party at the hotel, I gets my food, and that’s a lift. I’ve never put down what I made in the course of the year, but I’ve got enough to find food and raiment for myself and family. Sir, I think I may say I gets about six shillings a-week, but it ain’t more.

“I’ve been abroad a good deal. I was in Cape Town, Table Bay, one-and-twenty miles from Simons’ Town--for you see the French mans-of-war comes in at Cape Town, and the English mans-of-war comes in at Simons’ Town. I was a gentleman’s servant over there, and a very good place it was; and if anybody was to have told me years back that I was to have come to what I am now, I could never have credited it; but misfortunes has brought me to what I am.

“I come to England thinking to better myself, if so be it was the opportunity; besides, I was tired of Africy, and anxious to see my native land.

“I was very hard up--ay, very hard up indeed--before I took to the cross, and, in preference to turning out dishonest, I says, I’ll buy a broom and go and sweep and get a honest livelihood.

“There was a Jewish lady and her husband used to live in the Suckus, and I knowed them and the family--very fine sons they was--and I went into the shop to ask them to let me work before the shop, and they give me their permission so to do, and, says she, ‘I’ll allow you threepence a-week.’ They’ve been good friends to me, and send me a messages; and wherever they be, may they do well, I says.

“I sometimes gets clothes give to me, but it’s only at Christmas times, or after its over; and that helps me along--it does so, indeed.

“Whenever I sees a pin or a needle, I picks it up; sometimes I finds as many as a dozen a-day, and I always sticks them either in my cuff or in my waistcoat. Very often a lady sees ’em, and then they comes to me and says, ‘Can you oblige me with a pin?’ and I says, ‘Oh yes, marm; a couple, or three, if you requires them;’ but it turns out very rare that I gets a trifle for anything like that. I only does it to be obliging--besides, it makes you friends, like.

“I can’t tell who’s got the best crossing in London. I’m no judge of that; it isn’t a broom as can keep a man now. They’re going out of town so fast, all the harristocracy; though it’s middling classes--such as is in a middling way like--as is the best friends to me.”

A TRADESMAN’S CROSSING-SWEEPER.

A man who had worked at crossing-sweeping as a boy when he first came to London, and again when he grew too old to do his work as a labourer in a coal-yard, gave me a statement of the kind of life he led, and the earnings he made. He was an old man, with a forehead so wrinkled that the dark, waved lines reminded me of the grain of oak. His thick hair was, despite his great age--which was nearly seventy--still dark; and as he conversed with me, he was continually taking off his hat, and wiping his face with what appeared to be a piece of flannel, about a foot square.

His costume was of what might be called “the all-sorts” kind, and, from constant wear, it had lost its original colour, and had turned into a sort of dirty green-grey hue. It consisted of a waistcoat of tweed, fastened together with buttons of glass, metal, and bone; a tail-coat, turned brown with weather, a pair of trousers repaired here and there with big stitches, like the teeth of a comb, and these formed the extent of his wardrobe. Around the collar of the coat and waistcoat, and on the thighs of the pantaloons, the layers of grease were so thick that the fibre of the cloth was choked up, and it looked as if it had been pieced with bits of leather.

Rubbing his unshorn chin, whereon the bristles stood up like the pegs in the barrel of a musical-box--until it made a noise like a hair-brush, he began his story:--

“I’m known all about in Parliament-street--ay, every bit about them parts,--for more than thirty year. Ay, I’m as well known as the statty itself, all about them parts at Charing-cross. Afore I took to crossing-sweeping I was at coal-work. The coal-work I did was backing and filling, and anythink in that way. I worked at Wood’s, and Penny’s, and Douglas’s. They were good masters, Mr. Wood ’specially; but the work was too much for me as I got old. There was plenty of coal work in them times; indeed, I’ve yearned as much as nine shillings of a day. That was the time as the meters was on. Now men can hardly earn a living at coal-work. I left the coal-work because I was took ill with a fever, as was brought on by sweating--over-exaction they called it. It left me so weak I wasn’t able to do nothink in the yards.

“I know Mr. G----, the fishmonger, and Mr. J----, the publican. I should think Mr. J---- has knowed me this eight-and-thirty-year, and they put me on to the crossing. You see, when I was odd man at a coal job, I’d go and do whatever there was to be done in the neighbourhood. If there was anythink as Mr. G----’s men couldn’t do--such as carrying fish home to a customer, when the other men were busy--I was sent for. Or Mr. J---- would send me with sperrits--a gallon, or half a gallon, or anythink of that sort--a long journey. In fact, I’d get anythink as come handy.

“I had done crossing-sweeping as a boy, before I took to coal-work, when I first come out of the country. My own head first put me up to the notion, and that’s more than fifty year ago--ay, more than that; but I can’t call to mind exactly, for I’ve had no parents ever since I was eight year old, and now I’m nigh seventy; but it’s as close as I can remember. I was about thirteen at that time. There was no police on then, and I saw a good bit of road as was dirty, and says I, ‘That’s a good spot to keep clean,’ and I took it. I used to go up to the tops of the houses to throw over the snow, and I’ve often been obliged to get men to help me. I suppose I was about the first person as ever swept a crossing in Charing-cross; (here, as if proud of the fact, he gave a kind of moist chuckle, which ended in a fit of coughing). I used to make a good bit of money then; but it ain’t worth nothink, now.

“After I left coal-backing, I went back to the old crossing opposite the Adm’ralty gates, and I stopped there until Mr. G---- give me the one I’m on now, and thank him for it, I says. Mr. G---- had the crossing paved, as leads to his shop, to accommodate the customers. He had a German there to sweep it afore me. He used to sweep in the day--come about ten or eleven o’clock in the morning, and then at night he turned watchman; for when there was any wenson, as Mr. G---- deals in, hanging out, he was put to watch it. This German worked there, I reckon, about seven year, and when he died I took the crossing.

“The crossing ain’t much of a living for any body--that is, what I takes on it. But then I’ve got regular customers as gives me money. There’s Mr. G----, he gives a shilling a-week; and there’s Captain R----, of the Adm’ralty, he gives me sixpence a fortnight; and another captain, of the name of R----, he gives me fourpence every Sunday. Ah! I’d forgot Mr. O----, the Secretary at the Adm’ralty; he gives me sixpence now and then. Besides, I do a lot of odd jobs for different people; they knows where to come and find me when they wants me. They gets me to carry letters, or a parcel, or a box, or anythink of that there. I has a bit of vittals, too, give me every now and then; but as for money, it’s very little as I get on the crossings--perhaps seven or eight shilling a-week, reg’lar customers and all.

“I never heard of anybody as was leaving a crossing selling it; no, never. My crossing ain’t a reg’lar one as anybody could have. If I was to leave, it depends upon whether Mr. G---- would like to have the party, as to who gets it. There’s no such thing as turning a reg’lar sweeper out, the police stops that. I’ve been known to them for years, and they are very kind to me. As they come’s by they says, ‘Jimmy, how are you?’ You see, my crossing comes handy for them, for it’s agin Scotland-yard; and when they turns out in their clean boots it saves their blacking.

“Lord G---- used to be at the Adm’ralty, but he ain’t there now; I don’t know why he left, but he’s gone. He used to give me sixpence every now and then when he come over. I was near to my crossing when Mr. Drummond was shot, but I wasn’t near enough to hear the pistol; but I didn’t see nothink. I know’d the late Sir Robert Peel, oh, certantly, but he seldom crossed over my crossing, though whenever he did, he’d give me somethink. The present Sir Robert goes over to the chapel in Spring-gardens when he’s in town, but he keeps on the other side of the way; so I never had anythink from him. He’s the very picture of his father, and I knows him from that, only his father were rather stouter than he is. I don’t know none of the members of parliament, they most on ’em keeps on shifting so, that I hasn’t no time to recognise ’em.

“The watering-carts ain’t no friends of our’n. They makes dirt and no pay for cleaning it. There’s so much traffic with coaches and carts going right over my crossing that a fine or wet day don’t make much difference to me, for people are afraid to cross for fear of being run over. I’m forced to have my eyes about me and dodge the wehicles. I never heerd, as I can tell on, of a crossing-sweeper being run over.”

2. THE ABLE-BODIED FEMALE CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

THE OLD WOMAN “OVER THE WATER.”

She is the widow of a sweep--“as respectable and ’dustrious a man,” I was told, “as any in the neighbourhood of the ‘Borough;’ he was a short man, sir,--very short,” said my informant, “and had a weakness for top-boots, white hats, and leather breeches,” and in that unsweeplike costume he would parade himself up and down the Dover and New Kent-roads. He had a capital connexion (or, as his widow terms it, “seat of business”), and left behind him a good name and reputation that would have kept the “seat of business” together, if it had not been for the misconduct of the children, two of whom (sons) have been transported, while a daughter “went wrong,” though she, wretched creature, paid a fearful penalty, I learnt, for her frailties, having been burnt to death in the middle of the night, through a careless habit of smoking in bed.

The old sweeper herself, eighty years of age, and almost beyond labour, very deaf, and rather feeble to all appearance, yet manages to get out every morning between four and five, so as to catch the workmen and “time-keepers” on their way to the factories. She has the true obsequious curtsey, but is said to be very strong in her “likes and dislikes.”

She bears a good character, though sometimes inclining, I was informed, towards “the other half-pint,” but never guilty of any excess. She is somewhat profuse in her scriptural ejaculations and professions of gratitude. Her statement was as follows:--

“Fifteen years I’ve been on the crossing, come next Christmas. My husband died in Guy’s Hospital, of the cholera, three days after he got in, and I took to the crossing some time after. I had nothing to do. I am eighty years of age, and I couldn’t do hard work. I have nothing but what the great God above pleases to give me. The poor woman who had the crossing before me was killed, and so I took it. The gentleman who was the foreman of the road, gave me the grant to take it. I didn’t ask him, for poor people as wants a bit of bread they goes on the crossings as they likes, but he never interfered with me. The first day I took sixpence; but them good times is all gone, they’ll never come back again. The best times I used to take a shilling a-day, and now I don’t take but a few pence. The winter is as bad as the summer, for poor people haven’t got it to give, and gentlefolks get very near now. People are not so liberal as they used to be, and they never will be again.

“To do a hard day’s washing, I couldn’t. I used to go to a lady’s house to do a bit of washing when I had my strength, but I can’t do it now.

“People going to their offices at six or seven in the morning gives me a ha’penny or a penny; if they don’t, I must go without it. I go at five, and stand there till eleven or twelve, till I find it is no use being there any longer. Oh, the gentlemen give me the most, I’m sure; the ladies don’t give me nothing.

“At Christmas I get a few things--a gentleman gave me these boots I’ve got on, and a ticket for a half-quartern loaf and a hundred of coals. I have got as much as five shillings at Christmas--but those times will never come back again. I get no more than two shillings and sixpence at Christmas now.

“My husband, Thomas ---- was his name, was a chimley-sweep. He did a very good business--it was all done by his sons. We had a boy with us, too, just as a friendly boy. I was a mother and a mistress to him. I’ve had eleven children. I’m grandmother to fifteen, and a great-grandmother, too. They won’t give me a bite of bread, though, any of ’em, I’ve got four children living, as far as I know, two abroad and two home here with families. I never go among ’em. It is not in my power to assist ’em, so I never go to distress ’em.

“I get two shilling a-week from the parish, and I have to pay out of that for a quartern loaf, a quartern of sugar, and an ounce of tea. The parish forces it on me, so I must take it, and that only leaves me one shilling and fourpence. A shilling of it goes for my lodging. I lodge with people who knew my family and me, and took a liking to me; they let me come there instead of wandering about the streets.

“I stand on my crossing till I’m like to drop over my broom with tiredness. Yes, sir, I go to church at St. George’s in the Borough. I go there every Sunday morning, after I leave my roads. They’ve taken the organ and charity children away that used to be there when I was a girl, so it’s not a church now, it’s a chapel. There’s nothing but the preacher and the gentlefolks, and they sings their own psalms. There are gatherings at that church, but whether it’s for the poor or not I don’t know. I don’t get any of it.

“It was a great loss to me when my husband died; I went all to ruin then. My father belonged to Scotland, at Edinboro’. My mother came from Yorkshire. I don’t know where Scotland is no more than the dead. My father was a gentleman’s gardener and watchman. My mother used to go out a-chairing, and she was drowned just by Horsemonger Lane. She was coming through the Halfpenny Hatch, that used to be just facing the Crown and Anchor, in the New Kent-road; there was an open ditch there, sir. She took the left-hand turning instead of the right, and was drownded. My father died in St. Martin’s Workhouse. He died of apoplexy fit.

“I used to mind my father’s place till mother died. His housekeeper I was--God help me! a fine one too. Thank the Lord, my husband was a clever man; he had a good seat of business. I lost my right hand when he died. I couldn’t carry it on. There was my two sons went for sogers, and the others were above their business. He left a seat of business worth a hundred pound; he served all up the New Kent-road. He was beloved by all his people. He used to climb himself when I first had him, but he left it off when he got children. I had my husband when I was fifteen, and kept him forty years. Ah! he was well-beloved by all around, except his children, and they behaved shameful. I said to his eldest son, when he lay in the hospital, (asking your pardon, sir, for mentioning it)--I says to his eldest son, ‘Billy,’ says I, ‘your father’s very bad--why don’t you go to see him?’ ‘Oh,’ says he, ‘he’s all right, he’s gettin’ better;’ and he was never the one to go and see him once; and he never come to the funeral.

“Billy thought I should come upon him after his death, but I never troubled him for as much as a crumb of bread.

“I never get spoken to on my roads, only some people say, ‘Good morning,’ ‘There you are, old lady.’ They never asks me no questions whatsomever. I never get run over, though I am very hard of hearing; but I am forced to have my eyes here, there, and everywhere, to keep out of the way of the carts and coaches.

“Some days I goes to my crossing, and earns nothink at all: other days it’s sometimes fourpence, sometimes sixpence. I earned fourpence to-day, and I had a bit of snuff out of it. Why, I believe I did yearn fivepence yesterday--I won’t tell no story. I got ninepence on Sunday--that was a good day; but, God knows, that didn’t go far. I yearned so much I couldn’t bring it home on Saturday--it almost makes me laugh,--I yearned sixpence.

“I goes every morning, winter or summer, frost or snow; and at the same hour (five o’clock); people certainly don’t think of giving so much in fine weather. Nobody ever mislested me, and I never mislested nobody. If they gives me a penny, I thanks ’em; and if they gives me nothing, I thanks ’em all the same.

“If I was to go into the House, I shouldn’t live three days. It’s not that I eat much--a very little is enough for me; but it’s the air I should miss: to be shut up like a thief, I couldn’t live long, I know.”

THE OLD WOMAN CROSSING-SWEEPER WHO HAD A PENSIONER.

This old dame is remarkable from the fact of being the chief support of a poor deaf cripple, who is as much poorer than the crossing-sweeper as she is poorer than Mrs. ----, in ---- street, who allows the sweeper sixpence a-week. The crossing-sweeper is a rather stout old woman, with a carneying tone, and constant curtsey. She complains, in common with most of her class, of the present hard times, and reverts longingly to the good old days when people were more liberal than they are now, and had more to give. She says:--

“I was on my crossing before the police was made, for I am not able to work, and only get helped by the people who knows me. Mr. ----, in the square, gives me a shilling a-week; Mrs. ----, in ---- street, gives me sixpence; (she has gone in the country now, but she has left it at the oil-shop for me); that’s what I depinds upon, darlin’, to help pay my rent, which is half-a-crown. My rent was three shillings, till the landlord didn’t wish me to go, ’cause I was so punctual with my money. I give a corner of my room to a poor cretur, who’s deaf as a beadle; she works at the soldiers’ coats, and is a very good hand at it, and would earn a good deal of money if she had constant work. She owed as good as twelve shillings and sixpence for rent, poor thing, where she was last, and the landlord took all her goods except her bed; she’s got that, so I give her a corner of my room for charity’s sake. We must look to one another: she’s as poor as a church mouse. I thought she would be company for me, still a deaf person is but poor company to one. She had that heavy sickness they call the cholera about five years ago, and it fell in her side and in the side of her head too--that made her deaf. Oh! she’s a poor object. She has been with me since the month of February. I’ve lent her money out of my own pocket. I give her a cup of tea or a slice of bread when I see she hasn’t got any. Then the people up-stairs are kind to her, and give her a bite and a sup.

“My husband was a soldier; he fought at the battle of Waterloo. His pension was ninepence a-day. All my family are dead, except my grandson, what’s in New Orleans. I expect him back this very month that now we have: he gave me four pounds before he went, to carry me over the last winter.

“If the Almighty God pleases to send him back, he’ll be a great help to me. He’s all I’ve got left. I never had but two children in all my life.

“I worked in noblemen’s houses before I was married to my husband, who is dead; but he came to be poor, and I had to leave my houses where I used to work.

“I took twopence-halfpenny yesterday, and threepence to-day; the day before yesterday I didn’t take a penny. I never come out on Sunday; I goes to Rosomon-street Chapel. Last Saturday I made one shilling and sixpence; on Friday, sixpence. I dare say I make three shillings and sixpence a-week, besides the one shilling and sixpence I gets allowed me. I am forced to make a do of it somehow, but I’ve no more strength left in me than this ould broom.”

THE CROSSING-SWEEPER WHO HAD BEEN A SERVANT-MAID.

She is to be found any day between eight in the morning and seven in the evening, sweeping away in a convulsive, jerky sort of manner, close to ---- square, near the Foundling. She may be known by her pinched-up straw bonnet, with a broad, faded, almost colourless ribbon. She has weak eyes, and wears over them a brownish shade. Her face is tied up, because of a gathering which she has on her head. She wears a small, old plaid cloak, a clean checked apron, and a tidy printed gown.

She is rather shy at first, but willing and obliging enough withal; and she lives down Little ---- Yard, in Great ---- street. The “yard” that is made like a mousetrap--small at the entrance, but amazingly large inside, and dilapidated though extensive.

Here are stables and a couple of blind alleys, nameless, or bearing the same name as the yard itself, and wherein are huddled more people than one could count in a quarter of an hour, and more children than one likes to remember,--dirty children, listlessly trailing an old tin baking-dish, or a worn-out shoe, tied to a piece of string; sullen children, who turn away in a fit of sleepy anger if spoken to; screaming children, setting all the parents in the “yard” at defiance; and quiet children, who are arranging banquets of dirt in the reeking gutters.

The “yard” is devoted principally to costermongers.

The crossing-sweeper lives in the top-room of a two-storied house, in the very depth of the blind alley at the end of the yard. She has not even a room to herself, but pays one shilling a-week for the privilege of sleeping with a woman who gets her living by selling tapes in the streets.

“Ah!” says the sweeper, “poor woman, she has a hard time of it; her husband is in the hospital with a bad leg--in fact, he’s scarcely ever out. If you could hear that woman cough, you’d never forget it. She would have had to starve to-day if it hadn’t been for a person who actually lent her a gown to pledge to raise her stock-money, poor thing.”

The room in which these people live has a sloping roof, and a small-paned window on each side. For furniture, there were two chairs and a shaky, three-legged stool, a deal table, and a bed rolled up against the wall--nothing else. In one corner of the room lay the last lump remaining of the seven pounds of coals. In another corner there were herbs in pans, and two water-bottles without their noses. The most striking thing in that little room was some crockery, the woman had managed to save from the wreck of her things; among this, curiously enough, was a soup-tureen, with its lid not even cracked.

There was a piece of looking-glass--a small three-cornered piece--forming an almost equilateral triangle,--and the oldest, and most rubbed and worn-out piece of a mirror that ever escaped the dust-bin.

The fireplace was a very small one, and on the table were two or three potatoes and about one-fifth of a red herring, which the poor street-seller had saved out of her breakfast to serve for her supper. “Take my solemn word for it, sir,” said the sweeper, “and I wouldn’t deceive you, that is all she will get besides a cup of weak tea when she comes home tired at night.”

The statement of this old sweeper is as follows:--

“My name is Mary ----. I live in ---- yard. I live with a person of the name of ----, in the back attic; she gets her living by selling flowers in pots in the street, but she is now doing badly. I pay her a shilling a-week.

“My parents were Welsh. I was in service, or maid-of-all-work, till I got married. My husband was a seafaring man when I married him. After we were married, he got his living by selling memorandum-almanack books, and the like, about the streets. He was driven to that because he had no trade in his hand, and he was obliged to do something for a living. He did not make much, and over-exertion, with want of nourishment, brought on a paralytic stroke. He had the first fit about two years before he had the second; the third fit, which was the last, he had on the Monday, and died on the Wednesday week. I have two children still living. One of them is married to a poor man, who gets his living in the streets; but as far as lays in his power he makes a good husband and father. My other daughter is living with a niece of mine, for I can’t keep her, sir; she minds the children.

“My father was a journeyman shoemaker. He was killed; but I cannot remember how--I was too young. I can’t recollect my mother. I was brought up by an uncle and aunt till I was able to go to service. I went out to service at five, to mind children under a nurse, and I was in service till I got married. I had a great many situations; you see, sir, I was forced to keep in place, because I had nowhere to go to, my uncle and aunt not being able to keep me. I was never in noblemen’s families, only trades-people’s. Service was very hard, sir, and so I believe it continues.

“I am fifty-five years of age, and I have been on the crossing fourteen years; but just now it is very poor work indeed. Well, if I wishes for bad weather, I’m only like other people, I suppose. I have no regular customers at all; the only one I had left has lost his senses, sir. Mr. H----, he used to allow us sixpence a-week; but he went mad, and we don’t get it now. By us, I mean the three crossing-sweepers in the square where I work.

“Indeed, I like the winter-time, for the families is in. Though the weather is more severe, yet you do get a few more ha’pence. I take more from the staid elderly people than from the young. At Christmas, I think I took about eleven shillings, but certainly not more. The most I ever made at that season was fourteen shillings. The worst about Christmas is, that those who give much then generally hold their hand for a week or two.

“A shilling a-day would be as much as I want, sir. I have stood in the square all day for a ha’penny, and I have stood here for nothing. One week with another, I make two shillings in the seven days, after paying for my broom. I have taken threppence ha’penny to-day. Yesterday--let me see--well, it was threppence ha’penny, too; Monday I don’t remember; but Sunday I recollect--it was fippence ha’penny. Years ago I made a great deal more--nearly three times as much.

“I come about eight o’clock in the morning, and go away about six or seven; I am here every day. The boys used to come at one time with their brooms, but they’re not allowed here now by the police.

“I should not think crossings worth purchasing, unless people made a better living on them than I do.”

I gave the poor creature a small piece of silver for her trouble, and asked her if that, with the threepence halfpenny, made a good day. She answered heartily--

“I should like to see such another day to-morrow, sir.

“Yes, winter is very much better than summer, only for the trial of standing in the frost and snow, but we certainly do get more then. The families won’t be in town for three months to come yet. Ah! this neighbourhood is nothing to what it was. By God’s removal, and by their own removal, the good families are all gone. The present families are not so liberal nor so wealthy. It is not the richest people that give the most. Tradespeople, and ’specially gentlefolks who have situations, are better to me than the nobleman who rides in his carriage.

“I always go to Trinity Church, Gray’s-inn-road, about two doors from the Welsh School--the Rev. Dr. Witherington preaches there. I always go on Sunday afternoon and evening, for I can’t go in the morning; I can’t get away from my crossing in time. I never omit a day in coming here, unless I’m ill, or the snow is too heavy, or the weather too bad, and then I’m obligated to resign.

“I have no friends, sir, only my children; my uncle and aunt have been dead a long time. I go to see my children on Sunday, or in the evening, when I leave here.

“After I leave I have a cup of tea, and after that I go to bed; very frequently I’m in bed at nine o’clock. I have my cup of tea if I can anyway get it; but I’m forced to go without that sometimes.

“When my sight was better, I used to be very partial to reading; but I can’t see the print, sir, now. I used to read the Bible, and the newspaper. Story-books I have read, too, but not many novels. Yes, Robinson Crusoe I know, but not the Pilgrim’s Progress. I’ve heard of it; they tell me it is a very interesting book to read, but I never had it. We never have any ladies or Scripture-readers come to our lodgings; you see, we’re so out, they might come a dozen times and not find us at home.

“I wear out three brooms in a-week; but in the summer one will last a fortnight. I give threepence ha’penny for them; there are twopenny-ha’penny brooms, but they are not so good, they are liable to have their handles come out. It is very fatiguing standing so many hours; my legs aches with pain, and swells. I was once in Middlesex Hospital for sixteen weeks with my legs. My eyes have been weak from a child. I have got a gathering in my head from catching cold standing on the crossing. I had the fever this time twelvemonth. I laid a fortnight and four days at home, and seven weeks in the hospital. I took the diarrhœa after that, and was six weeks under the doctor’s hands. I used to do odd jobs, but my health won’t permit me now. I used to make two or three shillings a-week by ’em, and get scraps and things. But I get no broken victuals now.

“I never get anything from servants; they don’t get more than they know what to do with.

“I don’t get a drop of beer once in a month.

“I don’t know but what this being out may be the best thing, after all; for if I was at home all my time, it would not agree with me.”

STATEMENT OF “OLD JOHN,” THE WATERMAN AT THE FARRINGDON-STREET CAB-STAND, CONCERNING THE OLD BLACK CROSSING-SWEEPER WHO LEFT £800 TO MISS WAITHMAN.

“Yes, sir, I knew him for many year, though I never spoke to him in all my life. He was a stoutish, thickset man, about my build, and used to walk with his broom up and down--so.”

Here “Old John” imitated the halt and stoop of an old man.

“He used to touch his hat continually,” he went on. “‘Please remember the poor black man,’ was his cry, never anything else. Oh yes, he made a great deal of money. People gave more then than they do now. Where they give one sixpence now, they used to give ten. It’s just the same by our calling. Lived humbly? Yes, I think he did; at all events, he seemed to do so when he was on his crossing. He got plenty of odds-and-ends from the corner there--Alderman Waithman’s, I mean; he was a very sober, quiet sort of man. No, sir, nothing peculiar in his dress. Some blacks are peculiar in their dress; but he would wear anything he could get give him. They used to call him Romeo, I think. Cur’ous name, sir; but the best man I ever knew was called Romeo, and he was a black.

“The crossing-sweeper had his regular customers; he knew their times, and was there to the moment. Oh yes, he was always. Hail, rain, or snow, he never missed. I don’t know how long he had the crossing. I remember him ever since I was a postboy in Doctors’ Commons; I knew him when I lived in Holborn, and I haven’t been away from this neighbourhood since 1809.

“No, sir, there’s no doubt about his leaving the money to Miss Waithman. Everybody round about here knows it; just ask them, sir. Miss Waithman (an old maid she were, sir) used to be very kind to him. He used to sweep from Alderman Waithman’s (it’s the Sunday Times now) across to the opposite side of the way.

“When he died, an old man, as had been a soldier, took possession of the crossing. How did he get it? Why, I say, he took it. First come, first sarved, sir; that’s their way. They never sell crossings. Sometimes (for a lark) they shift, and then one stands treat--a gallon of beer, or something of that sort. The perlice interfered with the soldier--you know the sweepers is all forced to go if the perlice interfere; now with us, sir, we are licensed, and they can’t make us move on. They interfered, I say, with the old soldier, because he used to get so drunk. Why, at a public-house close at hand, he would spent seven, eight, and ten shillings on a night, three or four days together. He used to gather so many blackguards round the crossing, they were forced to move him at last. A young man has got it now; he has had it three year. He is not always here, sometimes away for a week at a stretch; but, you see, he knows the best times to come, and then he is sure to be here. The little boys come with their brooms now and then, but the perlice always drive them away.”

3. THE ABLE-BODIED IRISH CROSSING-SWEEPER.

THE OLD IRISH CROSSING-SWEEPER.

This man, a native of “County Corruk,” has been in England only two years and a half. He wears a close-fitting black cloth cap over a shock of reddish hair; round his neck he has a coloured cotton kerchief, of the sort advertised as “Imitation Silk.” His black coat is much torn, and his broom is at present remarkably stumpy. He waits quietly at the post opposite St. ----’s Church, to receive whatever is offered him. He is unassuming enough in his manner, and, as will be seen, not even bearing any malice against his two enemies, “The Swatestuff Man” and “The Switzer.” He says:--

“I’ve been at this crossin’ near upon two year. Whin I first come over to England (about two years and a half ago), I wint a haymakin’, but, you see, I couldn’t get any work; and afther thrampin’ about a good bit, why my eyesight gettin’ very wake, and I not knowin’ what to do, I took this crossin’.

“How did I get it?--Will, sir, I wint walkin’ about and saw it, and nobody on it. So one mornin’ I brought a broom wid me and stood here. Yes, sir, I was intherfered wid. The man with one arm--a Switzer they calls him--he had had the crossin’ on Sundays for a long while gone, and he didn’t like my bein’ here at all, at all. ‘B----y Irish’ he used to call me, and other scandalizin’ names; and he and the swatestuff man opposite, who was a friend of his, tried everythin’ they could to git me off the crossin’. But sure I niver harrumed them at all, at all.

“Yis, sir, I have my rigular custhomers: there’s Mr. ----, he’s gone to Sydenham; he’s very kind, sir. He gives me a shilling a-month. He left worrud with the sarvint while he’s away to give me a shilling on the first day in every month. He gave me a letter to the Eye Hospital, in Goulden Square, because of the wakeness of my eyesight; but they’ll niver cure it at all, at all, sir, for wake eyes runs in my family. My sister, sir, has wake eyes; she is working at Croydon.

“Oh no, indeed, and it isn’t the gintlefolks that thry to get me off the crossin’; they’d rather shupport me, sir. But the poor payple it is that don’t like me.

“Eighteenpince I’ve made in a day, and more: niver more than two shillings, and sometimes not sixpence. Will, sir, I am not like the others; I don’t run afther the ladies and gintlemen--I don’t persevere. Yestherday I took sixpence, by chance, for takin’ some luggage for a lady. The day before yestherday I took three ha’pence; but I think I got somethin’ else for a bit of worruk thin.

“Yes, winther is better than summer. I don’t know which people is the most liberal. Sure, sir, I don’t think there’s much difference. Oh yes, sir, young men are very liberal sometimes, and so are young ladies. Perhaps old ladies or old gintlemen give the most at a time,--sometimes sixpence,--perhaps more; but thin, sir, you don’t git anything else for a long time.

“The boy-sweepers annoy me very much, indeed; they use such scandalizin’ worruds to me, and throw dirrut, they do. They know whin the police is out of the way, so I git no purtiction.

“Sure, sir, and I think it right that ivery person should attind the worruship to which he belongs. I am a Catholic, sir, and attind mass at St. Pathrick’s, near St. Giles’s, ivery Sunday, and I thry to be at confission wonst a month.

“Whin first I took to the crossin’, I was rather irrigular; but that was because of the Switzer man--that’s the man with the one arm; he used to say he would lock me up, and iverything. But I have been rigular since.

“I come in the morruning just before eight, in time to catch the gintlefolks going into prayers; and I leave at half-past seven to eight at night. I wait so late because I have to bring a gintleman wather for his flowers, and that I do the last thing.

“I live, sir, in ---- lane, behind St. Giles’s Church, in the first-flure front, sir; and I pay one-and-threepence a-week. There are three bids in the room. In one bid, a man, his wife, his mother, and their little girl--Julia, they call her--sleep; in the other bid, there’s a man and his wife and child. Yes, I am single, and have the third bid to myself. I come from County Corruk; the others in the room are all Irish, and come from County Corruk too. They sill fruit in the sthreet; in the winther they sill onions, and sometimes oranges.

“There a Scotch gintleman as brings me my breakfast every morning; indeed, yes, and he brings it himself, he does. He has gone to Scotland now, but he will be back in a week. He brings me some bread and mate, and a pinny for a half pint of beer, sir. He has done it almost all the time I have been here.

“The Switzer man, sir, took out boards for the Polytickner, or some place like that. He got fifteen shillings a-week, and used to come here on Sundays. Yes, sir, I come here on Sundays; but it is not better than other days. Some people says to me, they would rather I went to church; but I tells ’em I do; and sure, sir, afther mass, there’s no harrum in a little sweepin’ between whiles.

“No, sir, there’s not a crossin’-sweeper in Ould Ireland. Well, sir, I niver was in Dublin; but I’ve been in Corruk, sir, and they don’t have any crossin’ sweepers there.

“Whin I git home of a night, sir, I am very tired; but I always offer up my devotions before sleepin’. Ah, sir, I should niver have swipt crossin’s if a friend of mine hadn’t died; he was collector of tolls in Clarnykilts, and I used to be with him. He lost his situation, and so I came to England.

“The Switzer man, I think he used to sweep at eight o’clock, just as the people were goin’ to prayers. Oh, sir, he was always black-geyardin’ me. ‘Go back to your own counthry,’ says he--a furriner himsilf, too.

“Will, yes sir, I do wish for bad weather; a good wit day, and a dry day afther, is the best.

“Sure and they can’t turn me off my crossin’ only for my bad conduct, and I thry to be quiet and take no notice.

“Yis, sir, I have always been a church-goer, and I am seventy-five. I used to have some good rigular customers, but somehow I haven’t seen anythin’ of them for this last twelvemonth. Ah! it’s in the betther neighbourhoods that people give rigularly. I niver get any broken victuals. Three-and-sixpence is the outside of my earnings, taking one week with the other.

“What is the laste I ever took? Will, sir, for three days I haven’t taken a farthin’. The worust week I iver had was thirteen or fourteen pence altogether; the best week I iver had was the winter before last--that harrud winter, sir, I remember takin’ seven shillings thin; but the man at Portman-square makes the most.

“Well, sir, I belave there’s some of every nation in the world as sweeps crossin’s in London.”

THE FEMALE IRISH CROSSING-SWEEPER.

In a street not far from Gordon-square and the New-road, I found this poor old woman resting from her daily labour. She was sitting on the stone ledge of the iron railings at the corner of the street, huddled up in the way seemingly natural to old Irishwomen, her broom hidden as much as possible under her petticoats. Her shawl was as tidy as possible for its age. She was sixty-seven years, and had buried two husbands and five children, fractured her ribs, and injured her groin, and had nothing left to comfort her but her crossing, her ha’porth of snuff, and her “drop of biled wather,” by which name she indicated her “tay.”

She was very civil and intelligent, and answered my inquiries very readily, and with rather less circumlocution than the Irish generally display. She seemed much hurt at the closing of the Old St. Pancras churchyard. “They buried my child where they’ll never bury me, sir,” she cried.

She told the story of her accident with many involuntary movements of her hand towards the injured part, and took a sparing pinch of snuff from a little black snuff-box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, for which she said she had given a penny. She proceeded thus:--“I’m an Irishwoman, sir, and it’s from Kinsale I come, twelve miles beyond Corruk, to the left-hand side, a seaport town, and a great place for fish. It’s fifty years the sixteenth of last June since I came in St. Giles’s parish, and there my ildest child wint did. Buried she is in Ould St. Pancras churchyarrud, where they’ll never bury me, sir, for they’ve done away with burying in churchyarruds. That girl was forty-one year of age the seventeenth of last February, born in Stratford, below Bow, in Essex. Ah! I was comfortable there; I lived there three year and abouts. I was in sarvice at Mr. ----’s, a Frinch gintleman he was, and kept a school, where they taught Frinch and English both; but I dare say they are all gone did years ago. He was a very ould gintleman, and so was his lady; she was a North-of-England lady, but very stout, and had no children but a son and daughter. I was quite young when my aunt brought me over. My uncle was three year here before my aunt, and he died at Whitechapel. I was bechuxt sixteen and seventeen when I come over, and I reckon meself at sixty-seven come next Christmas, as well as I can guess. I never had a mother, sir; she died when I was only six months old. My father, sir, was maltster to Mr. Walker the distiller, in Corruk. Ah! indeed, and my father was well to do wonst. Early or late, wit or dry, he had a guinea a-week, but he worruked day and night; he was to attind to the corun, and he would have four min, or five or six, undther him, according as busy they might be. My father has been did four-and-twinty year, and I wouldn’t know a crature if I wint home. Father come over, sir, and wanted me to go back very bad, but I wouldn’t. I was married thin, and had buried some of my childer in St. Pancras; and for what should I lave England?

“Oh! sir, I buried three in eight months,--two sons and their father. My husband was two year and tin months keeping his bed; he has been did fifteen years to the eighth of last March; but I’ve been married again.

“Siven childer I’ve had, and ounly two alive, and they’ve got enough to do to manage for thimsilves. The boy, he follers the market, and my daughter, she is along with her husband; sure he sills in the streets, sir. I see very little of her,--she lives over in the Borough.

“I think I’ll be afther going down to Kent, beyant Maidstone, a hop-picking, if I can git as much as to take me down the road.

“My daughter’s husband and me don’t agree, so I’m bitter not to see them.

“Ivery day, sir--ivery day in the week I am here. This morunning I was here at eight--that was earlier than usual, but I came out because I had not broke my fast with anything but a drop of wather, and that I had two tumblers of it from the house at the corrunner. I intind to go home and take two hirrings, and have a drop of biled wather--tay, I mane, sir.

“I come here at about half-past nine to half-past ten, but I’m gitting a very bad leg. I goes home about five or six.

“I have taken two ha’pennies this morning; thruppence I took yisterday; the day before I took, I think, fourpence ha’penny; that was my taking on Monday; on Sunday I mustered a shilling; on Saturday--I declare, sir, I forgit--fourpence or thruppence, I suppose, but my frinds is out of town very much. They gives me a penny rigular every Sunday, or a ha’penny, and some tuppence. Of a Sunday in the good time I may take eighteenpence or sixteenpence.

“Oh, yes, of Christmas it’s better, it is--four or five shillings on a Christmas-day.

“On the Monday fortnight, before last Christmas twelvemonth, I had two ribs broke, and one fractured, and my grine (groin) bone injured. Oh! the pains that I feel even now, sir. I lived then in Phillip’s-gardens, up there in the New-road. The policeman took me to the hospital. It was eighteen days I niver got off my bid. I came out in the morunning of the Christmas-eve. I hild on by the railings as I wint along, and I thought I niver should git home. How I was knocked down was by a cart; I had my eye bad thin, the lift one, and had a cloth over it. I was just comin’ out of the archway of the courrut (close by the beer-shop) away from Mr. ----’s house, when crossing to the green-grocer’s to git two pound of praties for my supper, I didn’t see the cart comin’. I was knocked down by the shaft. They called, and they called, and he wouldn’t stop, and it wint over me, it did. It was loaded with cloth; I don’t know if it wasn’t a Shoolbred’s cart, but the boy said to the hospital-doctor and to the policeman it was heavily loaded. The boy gave me a shilling, and that was all the money I received. For a twelvemonth I couldn’t hardly walk.

“On that Christmas-day I took four-and-tinpence, but I owed it all for rint and things; and I’m sure it’s a good man that let me run it the score.

“Is it a shillin’ I iver git? Well, thin, sir, there’s one gintleman, but he’s out of town--Sir George Hewitt--niver passes without givin’ me a shillin’.

“I have taken one-and-ninepence on a Sunday, and I’ve taken two shillin’s. Upon my sowl, I’ve often gone home with three ha’pence and tuppence. For this month past, put ivery day together, I haven’t taken three shilling a-week.

“I wear two brooms out in a week in bad wither, and thin p’rhaps I take four to five shillin’, Sunday included; but for the three year since here I’ve been on this crossin’, I niver took tin shillin’, sir, niver.

“Yes, there was a man here before me: he had bad eyes, and he was obligated to lave and go into the worrukhouse; he lost the sight of one of his eyes when he came back again. I knew him sweepin’ here a long time. When he come back, I said, ‘Father,’ says I, ‘I wint on your crossin’.’ ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘you’ve got a bad crossin’, poor woman; I wouldn’t go on it again, I wouldn’t;’ and I niver seen him since. I don’t know whether he is living or not.

“A wit day makes fourpence or fippence difference sometimes.

“Indeed, I have heard of crossin’-sweepers makin’ so much and so much. I hear people talkin’ about it, but, for my parrut, I wouldn’t give heed to what they say. In Oxford-street, towards the Parruks, there was a man, years ago, they say, by all accounts left a dale of money.

“I am niver annoyed by boys. I don’t spake to none of them. I was in sarvice till I got married, thin I used to sill fruit through Kentish Town, Highgate, and Hampstead; but I niver sould in the streets, sir, and had my rigular customers like any greengrocer. I had a good connixion, I had; but, by gitting old and feeble, and sick, and not being able to go about, I was forrussed to give it up, I was. I couldn’t carry twelve pound upon my hid--no, not if I was to get a sov’rin a-day for it, now.

“I niver lave the crossin’. I haven’t got a frind; nor a day’s pleasure I niver take.

“Oh, yes, sir, I must have a pinch--this is my snuff-box. I take a ha’porth a-day, and that’s the only comforrut I’ve got--that and a cup of tay; for I can’t dthrink cocoa or coffee-tay.

“My feeding is a bit of brid and butther. I haven’t bought a bit of mate these three months. I used to git two penn’orth of bones and mate at Mrs. Baker’s, down there; but mate is so dear, that they don’t have ’em now, and it’s ashamed I am of botherin’ thim so often. I frequintly have a hirrin’. Oh dear! no sir. Wather is my dthrink. I can’t afforrud no beer. Sometimes I have a penn’orth of gin and could water, and I find it do me a worruld of good. Sometimes I git enough to eat, but lately, indeed, I can’t git that. I declare I don’t know which people give the most; the gintlemen give me more in wit wither, for then the ladies, you see, can’t let their dresses out of their hands.

“I am a Catholic, sir. I go to St. Pathrick’s sometimes, or I go to Gordon-street Churruch. I don’t care which I go to--it’s all the same to me; but I haven’t been to churruch for months. I’ve nothing to charge mysilf wid; and, indeed, I haven’t been to confission for some year.

“Tradespeople are very kind, indeed they are.

“Yes, I think I’ll go to Kint a hop-pickin’; and as for my crossin’, I lave it, sir, just as it is. I go five miles beyant Maidstone. I worruked fifteen years at Mr. ----; he was a pole-puller and binsman in the hop-ground.

“I’ve not been down there since the year before last. I was too poorly after that accident. We make about eighteenpence, two shillin’s, or one shillin’, ’cording as the hops is good. No lodging nor fire to pay; and we git plinty of good milk chape there. I manage thin to save a little money to hilp us in the winther.

“I live in ---- street, Siven Dials; but I’m going to lave my son--we can’t agree. We live in the two-pair back. I pay nothing a-week, only bring home ivery ha’penny to hilp thim. Sometimes I spind a pinny or tuppence out on mysilf.

“My son is doin’ very badly. He sills fruit in the sthreets; but he’s niver been used to it before; and he has pains in his limbs with so much walking. He has no connixion, and with the sthrawbirries now he’s forrused to walk about of a night as will as a day, for they won’t keep till the morrunning; they all go mouldy and bad. My son has been used to the bricklaying, sir: he can lit in a stove or a copper, or do a bit of plasther or lath, or the like. His wife is a very just, clane, sober woman, and he has got three good childer; there is Catherine, who is named afther me, she is nearly five; Illen, two years and six months, named after her mother; and Margaret, the baby, six months ould--and she is called afther my daughter, who is did.”

4. THE OCCASIONAL CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

THE SUNDAY CROSSING-SWEEPER.

“I’m a Sunday crossing-sweeper,” said an oyster-stall keeper, in answer to my inquiries. “I mean by that, I only sweep a crossing on a Sunday. I pitch in the Lorrimore-road, Newington, with a few oysters on week-days, and I does jobs for the people about there, sich as cleaning a few knives and forks, or shoes and boots, and windows. I’ve been in the habit of sweeping a crossing about four or five years.

“I never knowed my father, he died when I was a baby. He was a ’terpreter, and spoke seven different languages. My father used to go with Bonaparte’s army, and used to ’terpret for him. He died in the South of France. I had a brother, but he died quite a child, and my mother supported me and a sister by being cook in a gentleman’s family: we was put out to nurse. My mother couldn’t afford to put me to school, and so I can’t read nor write. I’m forty-one years old.

“The fust work I ever did was being boy at a pork-butcher’s. I used to take out the meat wot was ordered. At last my master got broke up, and I was discharged from my place, and I took to sellin’ a few sprats. I had no thoughts of taking to a crossing then. I was ten year old. I remember I give two shillings for a ‘shallow;’ that’s a flat basket with two handles; they put ’em a top of ‘well-baskets,’ them as can carry a good load. A well-basket’s almost like a coffin; it’s a long un like a shallow, on’y it’s a good deal deeper--about as deep as a washin’ tub. I done very fair with my sprats till they got dear and come up very small, so then I was obliged to get a few plaice, and then I got a few baked ’taters and sold them. I hadn’t money enough to buy a tin--I could a got one for eight shillings--so I put ’em in a cross-handle basket, and carried ’em round the streets, and into public-houses, and cried ‘Baked taters, all hot!’ I used only to do this of a night, and it brought me about four or five shillings a-week. I used to fill up the day by going round to gentlemen’s houses where I was known, to run for errands and clean knives and boots, and that brought me sich a thing as four shillings a-week more altogether.

“I never had no idea then of sweeping a crossing of a Sunday; but at last I was obliged to push to it. I kept on like this for many years, and at last a gentleman named Mr. Jackson promised to buy me a tin, but he died. My mother went blind through a blight; that was the cause of my fust going out to work, and so I had to keep her; but I didn’t mind that: I thought it was my duty so to do.

“About ten years ago I got married; my wife used to go out washing and ironing. I thought two of us would get on better than one, and she didn’t mind helpin’ me to keep my mother, for I was determined my mother shouldn’t go into the workhouse so long as I could help it.

“A year or two after I got married, I found I must do something more to help to keep home, and then I fust thought of sweepin’ a crossing on Sundays; so I bought a heath broom for twopence-ha’penny, and I pitched agin’ the Canterbury Arms, Kennington; it was between a baker’s shop and a public-house and butcher’s; they told me they’d all give me something if I’d sweep the crossing reg’lar.

“The best places is in front of chapels and churches, ’cause you can take more money in front of a church or a chapel than wot you can in a private road, ’cos they look at it more, and a good many thinks when you sweeps in front of a public-house that you go and spend your money inside in waste.

“The first Sunday I went at it, I took eighteenpence. I began at nine o’clock in the morning and stopped till four in the afternoon. The publican give fourpence, and the baker sixpence, and the butcher threepence, so that altogether I got above a half-crown. I stopped at this crossing a year, and I always knocked up about two shillings or a half-crown on the Sunday. I very seldom got anythink from the ladies; it was most all give by the gentlemen. Little children used sometimes to give me ha’pence, but it was when their father give it to ’em; the little children like to do that sort of thing.

“The way I come to leave this crossing was this here: the road was being repaired, and they shot down a lot of stones, so then I couldn’t sweep no crossing. I looked out for another place, and I went opposite the Duke of Sutherland public-house in the Lorrimore-road. I swept there one Sunday, and I got about one-and-sixpence. While I was sweeping this crossing, a gentleman comes up to me, and he axes me if I ever goes to chapel or church; and I tells him, ‘Yes;’ I goes to church, wot I’d been brought up to; and then he says, ‘You let me see you at St. Michael’s Church, Brixton, and I’ll ’courage you, and you’ll do better if you come up and sweep in front there of a Sunday instead of where you are; you’ll be sure to get more money, and get better ’couraged. It don’t matter what you do,’ he says, ‘as long as it brings you in a honest crust; anythink’s better than thieving.’ And then the gent gives me sixpence and goes away.

“As soon as he’d gone I started off to his church, and got there just after the people was all in. I left my broom in the churchyard. When I got inside the church, I could see him a-sitten jest agin the communion table, so I walks to the free seats and sets down right close again the communion table myself, for his pew was on my right, and he saw me directly and looked and smiled at me. As he was coming out of the church he says, says he, ‘As long as I live, if you comes here on a Sunday reg’lar I shall always ’courage you.’

“The next Sunday I went up to the church and swept the crossing, and he see me there, but he didn’t give me nothink till the church was over, and then he gave me a shilling, and the other people give me about one-and-sixpence; so I got about two-and-sixpence altogether, and I thought that was a good beginning.

“The next Sunday the gen’elman was ill, but he didn’t forget me. He sent me sixpence by his servant, and I got from the other people about two shillings more. I never see that gentleman after, for he died on the Saturday. His wife sent for me on the Sunday; she was ill a-bed, and I see one of the daughters, and she gave me sixpence, and said I was to be there on Monday morning. I went on the Monday, and the lady was much worse, and I see the daughter again. She gave me a couple of shirts, and told me to come on the Friday, and when I went on that day I found the old lady was dead. The daughter gave me a coat, and trousers, and waistcoat.

“After the daughters had buried the father and mother they moved. I kept on sweeping at the church, till at last things got so bad that I come away, for nobody give me nothink. The houses about there was so damp that people wouldn’t live in ’em.

“So then I come up into Lorrimore-road, and there I’ve been ever since. I don’t get on wonderful well there. Sometimes I don’t get above sixpence all day, but it’s mostly a shilling or so. The most I’ve took is about one-and-sixpence. The reason why I stop there is, because I’m known there, you see. I stands there all the week selling highsters, and the people about there give me a good many jobs. Besides, the road is rather bad there, and they like to have a clean crossing of a Sunday.

“I don’t get any more money in the winter (though it’s muddier) than I do in the summer; the reason is, ’cause there isn’t so many people stirring about in the winter as there is in the summer.

“One broom will carry me over three Sundays, and I gives twopence-ha’penny a-piece for ’em. Sometimes the people bring me out at my crossing--’specially in cold weather--a mug of hot tea and some bread and butter, or a bit of meat. I don’t know any other crossing-sweeper; I never ’sociates with nobody. I always keeps my own counsel, and likes my own company the best.

“My wife’s been dead five months, and my mother six months; but I’ve got a little boy seven year old; he stops at school all day till I go home at night, and then I fetches him home. I mean to do something better with him than give him a broom: a good many people would set him on a crossing; but I mean to keep him at school. I want to see him read and write well, because he’ll suit for a place then.

“There’s some art in sweeping a crossing even. That is, you mustn’t sweep too hard, ’cos if you do, you wears a hole right in the road, and then the water hangs in it. It’s the same as sweeping a path; if you sweeps too hard you wears up the stones.

“To do it properly, you must put the end of the broom-handle in the palm of your right hand, and lay hold of it with your left, about halfway down; then you takes half your crossing, and sweeps on one side till you gets over the road; then you turns round and comes back doing the other half. Some people holds the broom before ’em, and keeps swaying it back’ards and for’ards to sweep the width of the crossing all in one stroke, but that ain’t sich a good plan, ’cause you’re apt to splash people that’s coming by; and besides, it wears the road in holes and wears out the broom so quick. I always use my broom steady. I never splash nobody.

“I never tried myself, but I’ve seen some crossin’-sweepers as could do all manner of things in mud, sich as diamonds, and stars, and the moon, and letters of the alphabet; and once in Oxford-street I see our Saviour on his cross in mud, and it was done well, too. The figure wasn’t done with the broom, it was done with a pointed piece of stick; it was a boy as I see doin’ it, about fifteen. He didn’t seem to take much money while I was a-looking at him.

“I don’t think I should a took to crossin’ sweeping if I hadn’t got married; but when I’d got a couple of children (for I’ve had a girl die; if she’d lived she’d a been eight year old now,) I found I must do a somethin’, and so I took to the broom.”

B. The Afflicted Crossing-Sweepers.

THE WOODEN-LEGGED SWEEPER.

This man lives up a little court running out of a wide, second-rate street. It is a small court, consisting of some half-dozen houses, all of them what are called by courtesy “private.”

I inquired at No. 3 for John ----; “The first-floor back, if you please, sir;” and to the first-floor back I went.

Here I was answered by a good-looking and intelligent young woman, with a baby, who said her husband had not yet come home, but would I walk in and wait? I did so; and found myself in a very small, close room, with a little furniture, which the man called “his few sticks,” and presently discovered another child--a little girl. The girl was very shy in her manner, being only two years and two months old, and as her mother said, very ailing from the difficulty of cutting her teeth, though the true cause seemed to be want of proper nourishment and fresh air. The baby was a boy--a fine, cheerful, good-tempered little fellow, but rather pale, and with an unnaturally large forehead. The mantelpiece of the room was filled with little ornaments of various sorts, such as bead-baskets, and over them hung a series of black profiles--not portraits of either the crossing-sweeper or any of his family, but an odd lot of heads, which had lost their owners many a year, and served, in company with a little red, green, and yellow scripture-piece, to keep the wall from looking bare. Over the door (inside the room) was nailed a horse-shoe, which, the wife told me, had been put there by her husband, for luck.

A bed, two deal tables, a couple of boxes, and three chairs, formed the entire furniture of the room, and nearly filled it. On the window-frame was hung a small shaving-glass; and on the two boxes stood a wicker-work apology for a perambulator, in which I learnt the poor crippled man took out his only daughter at half-past four in the morning.

“If some people was to see that, sir,” said the sweeper, when he entered and saw me looking at it, “they would, and in fact they do say, ‘Why, you can’t be in want.’ Ah! little they know how we starved and pinched ourselves before we could get it.”

There was a fire in the room, notwithstanding the day was very hot; but the window was wide open, and the place tolerably ventilated, though oppressive. I have been in many poor people’s “places,” but never remember one so poor in its appointments and yet so free from effluvia.

The crossing-sweeper himself was a very civil sort of man, and in answer to my inquiries said:--

“I know that I do as I ought to, and so I don’t feel hurt at standing at my crossing. I have been there four years. I found the place vacant. My wife, though she looks very well, will never be able to do any hard work; so we sold our mangle, and I took to the crossing: but we’re not in debt, and nobody can’t say nothing to us. I like to go along the streets free of such remarks as is made by people to whom you owes money. I had a mangle in ---- Yard, but through my wife’s weakness I was forced to part with it. I was on the crossing a short time before that, for I knew that if I parted with my mangle and things before I knew whether I could get a living at the crossing I couldn’t get my mangle back again.

“We sold the mangle only for a sovereign, and we gave two-pound-ten for it; we sold it to the same man that we bought it of. About six months ago I managed for to screw and save enough to buy that little wicker chaise, for I can’t carry the children because of my one leg, and of course the mother can’t carry them both out together. There was a man had the crossing I’ve got; he died three or four years before I took it; but he didn’t depend on the crossing--he did things for the tradespeople about, such as carpet-beating, messages, and so on.

“When I first took the crossing I did very well. It happened to be a very nasty, dirty season, and I took a good deal of money. Sweepers are not always civil, sir.

“I wish I had gone to one of the squares, though. But I think after ---- street is paved with stone I shall do better. I am certain I never taste a bit of meat from one week’s end to the other. The best day I ever made was five-and-sixpence or six shillings; it was the winter before last. If you remember, the snow laid very thick on the ground, and the sudden thaw made walking so uncomfortable, that I did very well. I have taken as little as sixpence, fourpence, and even twopence. Last Thursday I took two ha’pence all day. Take one week with the other, seven or eight shillings is the very outside.

“I don’t know how it is, but some people who used to give me a penny, don’t now. The boys who come in wet weather earn a great deal more than I do. I once lost a good chance, sir, at the corner of the street leading to Cavendish-square. There’s a bank, and they pay a man seven shillings a-week to sweep the crossing: a butcher in Oxford Market spoke for me; but when I went up, it unfortunately turned out that I was not fit, from the loss of my leg. The last man they had there they were obliged to turn away--he was so given to drink.

“I think there are some rich crossing-sweepers in the city, about the Exchange; but you won’t find them now during this dry weather, except in by-places. In wet weather, there are two or three boys who sweep near my crossing, and take all my earnings away. There’s a great able-bodied man besides--a fellow strong enough to follow the plough. I said to the policeman, ‘Now, ain’t this a shame?’ and the policeman said, ‘Well, he must get his living as well as you.’ I’m always civil to the police, and they’re always civil to me--in fact, I think sometimes I’m too civil--I’m not rough enough with people.

“You soon tell whether to have any hopes of people coming across. I can tell a gentleman directly I see him.

“Where I stand, sir, I could get people in trouble everlasting; there’s all sorts of thieving going on. I saw the other day two or three respectable persons take a purse out of an old lady’s pocket before the baker’s shop at the corner; but I can’t say a word, or they would come and throw me into the road. If a gentleman gives me sixpence, he don’t give me any more for three weeks or a month; but I don’t think I’ve more than three or four gentlemen as gives me that. Well, you can scarcely tell the gentleman from the clerk, the clerks are such great swells now.

“Lawyers themselves dress very plain; those great men who don’t come every day, because they’ve clerks to do their business for them, they give most. People hardly ever stop to speak unless it is to ask you where places are--you might be occupied at that all day. I manage to pay my rent out of what I take on Sunday, but not lately--this weather religious people go pleasuring.

“No, I don’t go now--the fact is, I’d like to go to church, if I could, but when I come home I am tired; but I’ve got books here, and they do as well, sir. I read a little and write a little.

“I lost my leg through a swelling--there was no chloroform then. I was in the hospital three years and a half, and was about fifteen or sixteen when I had it off. I always feel the sensation of the foot, and more so at change of weather. I feel my toes moving about, and everything; sometimes, it’s just as if the calf of my leg was itching. I feel the rain coming; when I see a cloud coming my leg shoots, and I know we shall have rain.

“My mother was a laundress--my father has been dead nineteen years my last birthday. My mother was subject to fits, so I was forced to stop at home to take care of the business.

“I don’t want to get on better, but I always think, if sickness or anything comes on----

“I am at my crossing at half-past eight; at half-past eleven I come home to dinner. I go back at one or two till seven.

“Sometimes I mind horses and carts, but the boys get all that business. One of these little customers got sixpence the other day for only opening the door of a cab. I don’t know how it is they let these little boys be about; if I was the police, I wouldn’t allow it.

“I think it’s a blessing, having children--(referring to his little girl)--that child wants the gravy of meat, or an egg beaten up, but she can’t get it. I take her out every morning round Euston-square and those open places. I get out about half-past four. It is early, but if it benefits her, that’s no odds.”

ONE-LEGGED SWEEPER AT CHANCERY-LANE.

“I don’t know what induced me to take that crossing, except it was that no one was there, and the traffic was so good--fact is, the traffic is too good, and people won’t stop as they cross over, they’re very glad to get out of the way of the cabs and the omnibuses.

“Tradespeople never give me anything--not even a bit of bread. The only thing I get is a few cuttings, such as crusts of sandwiches and remains of cheese, from the public-house at the corner of the court. The tradespeople are as distant to me now as they were when I came, but if I should pitch up a tale I should soon get acquainted with them.

“We have lived in this lodging two years and a half, and we pay one-and-ninepence a-week, as you may see from the rent-book, and that I manage to earn on Sundays. We owe four weeks now, and, thank God, it’s no more.

“I was born, sir, in ---- street, Berkeley-square, at Lord ----’s house, when my mother was minding the house. I have been used to London all my life, but not to this part; I have always been at the west-end, which is what I call the best end.

“I did not like the idea of crossing-sweeping at first, till I reasoned with myself, Why should I mind? I’m not doing any hurt to anybody. I don’t care at all now--I know I’m doing what I ought to do.

“A man had better be killed out of the way than be disabled. It’s not pleasant to know that my wife is suckling that great child, and, though she is so weakly, she can’t get no meat.

“I’ve been knocked down twice, sir--both times by cabs. The last time it was a fortnight before I could get about comfortably again. The fool of a fellow was coming along, not looking at his horse, but talking to somebody on the cab-rank. The place was as free as this room, if he had only been looking before him. Nobody hollered till I was down, but plenty hollered then. Ah, I often notice such carelessness--it’s really shameful. I don’t think those ‘shofuls’ (Hansoms) should be allowed--the fact is, if the driver is not a tall man he can’t see his horse’s head.

“A nasty place is end of ---- street: it narrows so suddenly. There’s more confusion and more bother about it than any place in London. When two cabs gets in at once, one one way and one the other, there’s sure to be a row to know which was the first in.”

THE MOST SEVERELY-AFFLICTED OF ALL THE CROSSING-SWEEPERS.

Passing the dreary portico of the Queen’s Theatre, and turning to the right down Tottenham Mews, we came upon a flight of steps leading up to what is called “The Gallery,” where an old man, gasping from the effects of a lung disease, and feebly polishing some old harness, proclaimed himself the father of the sweeper I was in search of, and ushered me into the room where he lay a-bed, having had a “very bad night.”

The room itself was large and of a low pitch, stretching over some stables; it was very old and creaky (the sweeper called, it “an old wilderness”), and contained, in addition to two turn-up bedsteads, that curious medley of articles which, in the course of years, an old and poor couple always manage to gather up. There was a large lithograph of a horse, dear to the remembrance of the old man from an indication of a dog in the corner. “The very spit of the one I had for years; it’s a real portrait, sir, for Mr. Hanbart, the printer, met me one day and sketched him.” There was an etching of Hogarth’s in a black frame; a stuffed bird in a wooden case, with a glass before it; a piece of painted glass, hanging in a place of honour, but for which no name could be remembered, excepting that it was “of the old-fashioned sort.” There were the odd remnants, too, of old china ornaments, but very little furniture; and, finally, a kitten.

The father, worn out and consumptive, had been groom to Lord Combermere. “I was with him, sir, when he took Bonyparte’s house at Malmasong. I could have had a pension then if I’d a liked, but I was young and foolish, and had plenty of money, and we never know what we may come to.”

The sweeper, although a middle-aged man, had all the appearance of a boy--his raw-looking eyes, which he was always wiping with a piece of linen rag, gave him a forbidding expression, which his shapeless, short, bridgeless nose tended to increase. But his manners and habits were as simple in their character as those of a child; and he spoke of his father’s being angry with him for not getting up before, as if he were a little boy talking of his nurse.

He walks, with great difficulty, by the help of a crutch; and the sight of his weak eyes, his withered limb, and his broken shoulder (his old helpless mother, and his gasping, almost inaudible father,) form a most painful subject for compassion.

The crossing-sweeper gave me, with no little meekness and some slight intelligence, the following statement:--

“I very seldom go out on a crossin’ o’ Sundays. I didn’t do much good at it. I used to go to church of a Sunday--in fact, I do now when I’m well enough.

“It’s fifteen year next January since I left Regent-street. I was there three years, and then I went on Sundays occasionally. Sometimes I used to get a shilling, but I have given it up now--it didn’t answer; besides, a lady who was kind to me found me out, and said she wouldn’t do any more for me if I went out on Sundays. She’s been dead these three or four years now.

“When I was at Regent-street I might have made twelve shillings a-week, or something thereabout.

“I am seven-and-thirty the 26th day of last month, and I have been lame six-and-twenty years. My eyes have been bad ever since my birth. The scrofulous disease it was that lamed me--it come with a swelling on the knee, and the outside wound broke about the size of a crown piece, and a piece of bone come from it; then it gathered in the inside and at the top. I didn’t go into the hospital then, but I was an out-patient, for the doctor said a close confined place wouldn’t do me no good. He said that the seaside would, though; but my parents couldn’t afford to send me, and that’s how it is. I did go to Brighton and Margate nine years after my leg was bad, but it was too late then.

“I have been in Middlesex Hospital, with a broken collar-bone, when I was knocked down by a cab. I was in a fortnight there, and I was in again when I hurt my leg. I was sweeping my crossin’ when the top came off my crutch. I fell back’ards, and my leg doubled under me. They had to carry me there.

“I went into the Middlesex Hospital for my eyes and leg. I was in a month, but they wouldn’t keep me long, there’s no cure for me.

“My leg is very painful, ’specially at change of weather. Sometimes I don’t get an hour’s sleep of a night--it was daylight this morning before I closed my eyes.

“I went on the crossing first because my parents couldn’t keep me, not being able to keep theirselves. I thought it was the best thing I could do, but it’s like all other things, it’s got very bad now. I used to manage to rub along at first--the streets have got shockin’ bad of late.

“To tell the truth, I was turned away from Regent-street by Mr. Cook, the furrier, corner of Argyle Street. I’ll tell you as far as I was told. He called me into his passage one night, and said I must look out for another crossin’, for a lady, who was a very good customer of his, refused to come while I was there; my heavy afflictions was such that she didn’t like the look of me. I said, ‘Very well;’ but because I come there next day and the day after that, he got the policeman to turn me away. Certainly the policeman acted very kindly, but he said the gentleman wanted me removed, and I must find another crossing.

“Then I went down Charlotte-street, opposite Percy Chapel, at the corner of Windmill-street. After that I went to Wells-street, by getting permission of the doctor at the corner. He thought that it would be better for me than Charlotte-street, so he let me come.

“Ah! there ain’t so many crossing-sweepers as there was; I think they’ve done away with a great many of them.

“When I first went to Wells-street, I did pretty well, because there was a dress-maker’s at the corner, and I used to get a good deal from the carriages that stopped before the door. I used to take five or six shillings in a day then, and I don’t take so much in a week now. I tell you what I made this week. I’ve made one-and-fourpence, but it’s been so wet, and people are out of town; but, of course, it’s not always alike--sometimes I get three-and-sixpence or four shillings. Some people gives me a sixpence or a fourpenny-bit; I reckons that all in.

“I am dreadful tired when I comes home of a night. Thank God my other leg’s all right! I wish the t’other was as strong, but it never will be now.

“The police never try to turn me away; they’re very friendly, they’ll pass the time of day with me, or that, from knowing me so long in Oxford-street.

“My broom sometimes serves me a month; of course, they don’t last long now it’s showery weather. I give twopence-halfpenny a piece for ’em, or threepence.

“I don’t know who gives me the most; my eyes are so bad I can’t see. I think, though, upon an average, the gentlemen give most.

“Often I hear the children, as they are going by, ask their mothers for something to give to me; but they only say, ‘Come along--come along!’ It’s very rare that they lets the children have a ha’penny to give me.

“My mother is seventy the week before next Christmas. She can’t do much now; she does though go out on Wednesdays or Saturdays, but that’s to people she’s known for years who is attached to her. She does her work there just as she likes.

“Sometimes she gets a little washing--sometimes not. This week she had a little, and was forced to dry it indoors; but that makes ’em half dirty again.

“My father’s breath is so bad that he can’t do anything except little odd jobs for people down here; but they’ve got the knack now, a good many on ’em, of doin’ their own.

“We have lived here fifteen years next September; it’s a long time to live in such an old wilderness, but my old mother is a sort of woman as don’t like movin’ about, and I don’t like it. Some people are everlasting on the move.

“When I’m not on my crossin’ I sit poking at home, or make a job of mending my clothes. I mended these trousers in two or three places.

“It’s all done by feel, sir. My mother says it’s a good thing we’ve got our feeling at least, if we haven’t got our eyesight.”

THE NEGRO CROSSING-SWEEPER, WHO HAD LOST BOTH HIS LEGS.

This man sweeps a crossing in a principal and central thoroughfare when the weather is cold enough to let him walk; the colder the better, he says, as it “numbs his stumps like.” He is unable to follow this occupation in warm weather, as his legs feel “just like corns,” and he cannot walk more than a mile a-day. Under these circumstances he takes to begging, which he thinks he has a perfect right to do, as he has been left destitute in what is to him almost a strange country, and has been denied what he terms “his rights.” He generally sits while begging, dressed in a sailor shirt and trousers, with a black neckerchief round his neck, tied in the usual nautical knot. He places before him the placard which is given beneath, and never moves a muscle for the purpose of soliciting charity. He always appears scrupulously clean.

I went to see him at his home early one morning--in fact, at half-past eight, but he was not then up. I went again at nine, and found him prepared for my visit in a little parlour, in a dirty and rather disreputable alley running out of a court in a street near Brunswick-square. The negro’s parlour was scantily furnished with two chairs, a turn-up bedstead, and a sea-chest. A few odds and ends of crockery stood on the sideboard, and a kettle was singing over a cheerful bit of fire. The little man was seated on a chair, with his stumps of legs sticking straight out. He showed some amount of intelligence in answering my questions. We were quite alone, for he sent his wife and child--the former a pleasant-looking “half-caste,” and the latter the cheeriest little crowing, smiling “piccaninny” I have ever seen--he sent them out into the alley, while I conversed with himself.

His life is embittered by the idea that he has never yet had “his rights”--that the owners of the ship in which his legs were burnt off have not paid him his wages (of which, indeed, he says, he never received any but the five pounds which he had in advance before starting), and that he has been robbed of 42_l._ by a grocer in Glasgow. How true these statements may be it is almost impossible to say, but from what he says, some injustice seems to have been done him by the canny Scotchman, who refuses him his “pay,” without which he is determined “never to leave the country.”

“I was on that crossing,” he said, “almost the whole of last winter. It was very cold, and I had nothing at all to do; so, as I passed there, I asked the gentleman at the baccer-shop, as well as the gentleman at the office, and I asked at the boot-shop, too, if they would let me sweep there. The policeman wanted to turn me away, but I went to the gentleman inside the office, and he told the policeman to leave me alone. The policeman said first, ‘You must go away,’ but I said, ‘I couldn’t do anything else, and he ought to think it a charity to let me stop.’

“I don’t stop in London very long, though, at a time; I go to Glasgow, in Scotland, where the owners of the ship in which my legs were burnt off live. I served nine years in the merchant service and the navy. I was born in Kingston, in Jamaica; it is an English place, sir, so I am counted as not a foreigner. I’m different from them Lascars. I went to sea when I was only nine years old. The owners is in London who had that ship. I was cabin-boy; and after I had served my time I became cook, or when I couldn’t get the place of cook I went before the mast. I went as head cook in 1851, in the Madeira barque; she used to be a West Indy trader, and to trade out when I belonged to her. We got down to 69 south of Cape Horn; and there we got almost froze and perished to death. That is the book what I sell.”

The “Book” (as he calls it) consists of eight pages, printed on paper the size of a sheet of note paper; it is entitled--

“BRIEF SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF

EDWARD ALBERT!

A native of Kingston, Jamaica.

Showing the hardships he underwent and the sufferings he endured in having both legs amputated.

HULL:

W. HOWE, PRINTER.”

It is embellished with a portrait of a black man, which has evidently been in its time a comic “nigger” of the Jim-Crow tobacco-paper kind, as is evidenced by the traces of a tobacco-pipe, which has been unskilfully erased.

The “Book” itself is concocted from an affidavit made by Edward Albert before “P. Mackinlay, Esq., one of Her Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the country (so it is printed) of Lanark.”

I have seen the affidavit, and it is almost identical with the statement in the “book,” excepting in the matter of grammar, which has rather suffered on its road to Mr. Howe, the printer.

The following will give an idea of the matter of which it is composed:--

“In February, 1851, I engaged to serve as cook on board the barque Madeira, of Glasgow, Captain J. Douglas, on her voyage from Glasgow to California, thence to China, and thence home to a port of discharge in the United Kingdom. I signed articles, and delivered up my register-ticket as a British seaman, as required by law. I entered the service on board the said vessel, under the said engagement, and sailed with that vessel on the 18th of February, 1851. I discharged my duty as cook on board the said vessel, from the date of its having left the Clyde, until June the same year, in which month the vessel rounded Cape Horne, at that time my legs became frost bitten, and I became in consequence unfit for duty.

“In the course of the next day after my limbs became affected, the master of the vessel, and mate, took me to the ship’s oven, in order, as they said, to cure me; the oven was hot at the time, a fowl that was roasting therein having been removed in order to make room for my feet, which was put into the oven; in consequence of the treatment, my feet burst through the intense swelling, and mortification ensued.

“The vessel called, six weeks after, at Valpariso, and I was there taken to an hospital, where I remained five months and a half. Both my legs were amputated three inches below my knees soon after I went to the hospital at Valpariso. I asked my master for my wages due to me, for my service on board the vessel, and demanded my register-ticket; when the captain told me I should not recover, that the vessel could not wait for me, and that I was a dead man, and that he could not discharge a dead man; and that he also said, that as I had no friends there to get my money, he would only put a little money into the hands of the consul, which would be applied in burying me. On being discharged from the hospital I called on the consul, and was informed by him that master had not left any money.

“I was afterwards taken on board one of her Majesty’s ships, the Driver, Captain Charles Johnston, and landed at Portsmouth; from thence I got a passage to Glasgow, ware I remained three months. Upon supplication to the register-office for seamen, in London, my register-ticket has been forwarded to the Collector of Customs, Glasgow; and he is ready to deliver it to me upon obtaining the authority of the Justices of the Peace, and I recovered the same under the 22nd section of the General Merchant Seaman’s Act. Declares I cannot write.

“(Signed) DAVID MACKINLAY, J. P.

“The Justices having considered the foregoing information and declaration, finds that Edward Albert, therein named the last-register ticket, sought to be covered under circumstances which, so far as he was concerned, were unavoidable, and that no fraud was intended or committed by him in reference thereto, therefore authorised the Collector and Comptroller of Customs at the port of Glasgow to deliver to the said Edward Albert the register-ticket, sought to be recovered by him all in terms of 22nd section of the General Merchant Seamen’s Act.

“(Signed) DAVID MACKINLAY, J. P.

“Glasgow, Oct. 6th, 1852.

“Register Ticket, No. 512, 652, age 25 years.”

“I could make a large book of my sufferings, sir, if I liked,” he said, “and I will disgrace the owners of that ship as long as they don’t give me what they owe me.

“I will never leave England or Scotland until I get my rights; but they says money makes money, and if I had money I could get it. If they would only give me what they owe me, I wouldn’t ask anybody for a farthing, God knows, sir. I don’t know why the master put my feet in the oven; he said to cure me: the agony of pain I was in was such, he said, that it must be done.

“The loss of my limbs is bad enough, but it’s still worse when you can’t get what is your rights, nor anything for the sweat that they worked out of me.

“After I went down to Glasgow for my money I opened a little coffee-house; it was called ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ I did very well. The man who sold me tea and coffee said he would get me on, and I had better give my money to him to keep safe, and he used to put it away in a tin box which I had given four-and-sixpence for. He advertised my place in the papers, and I did a good business. I had the place open a month, when he kept all my savings--two-and-forty pounds--and shut up the place, and denied me of it, and I never got a farthing.

“I declare to you I can’t describe the agony I felt when my legs were burst; I fainted away over and over again. There was four men came; I was lying in my hammock, and they moved the fowl that was roasting, and put my legs in the oven. There they held me for ten minutes. They said, it would take the cold out; but after I came out the cold caught ’em again, and the next day they swole up as big round as a pillar, and burst, and then like water come out. No man but God knows what I have suffered and went through.

“By the order of the doctor at Valparaiso, the sick patients had to come out of the room I went into; the smell was so bad I couldn’t bear it myself--it was all mortification--they had to use chloride o’ zinc to keep the smell down. They tried to save one leg, but the mortification was getting up into my body. I got better after my legs were off.

“I was three months good before I could turn, or able to lift up my hand to my head. I was glad to move after that time, it was a regular relief to me; if it wasn’t for good attendance, I should not have lived. You know they don’t allow tobaccer in a hospital, but I had it; it was the only thing I cared for. The Reverend Mr. Armstrong used to bring me a pound a fortnight; he used to bring it regular. I never used to smoke before; they said I never should recover, but after I got the tobaccer it seemed to soothe me. I was five months and a half in that place.

“Admiral Moseley, of the Thetis frigate, sent me home; and the reason why he sent me home was, that after I came well, I called on Mr. Rouse, the English consul, and he sent me to the boarding-house, till such time as he could find a ship to send me home in. I was there about two months, and the boarding-master, Jan Pace, sent me to the consul.

“I used to get about a little, with two small crutches, and I also had a little cart before that, on three wheels; it was made by a man in the hospital. I used to lash myself down in it. That was the best thing I ever had--I could get about best in that.

“Well, I went to the consul, and when I went to him, he says, ‘I can’t pay your board; you must beg and pay for it;’ so I went and told Jan Pace, and he said, ‘If you had stopped here a hundred years, I would not turn you out;’ and then I asked Pace to tell me where the Admiral lived. ‘What do you want with him?’ says he. I said, ‘I think the Admiral must be higher than the consul.’ Pace slapped me on the back. Says he, ‘I’m glad to see you’ve got the pluck to complain to the Admiral.’

“I went down at nine o’clock the next morning, to see the Admiral. He said, ‘Well, Prince Albert, how are you getting on?’ So I told him I was getting on very bad; and then I told him all about the consul; and he said, as long as he stopped he would see me righted, and took me on board his ship, the Thetis; and he wrote to the consul, and said to me, ‘If the consul sends for you, don’t you go to him; tell him you have no legs to walk, and he must walk to you.’

“The consul wanted to send me back in a merchant ship, but the Admiral wouldn’t have it, so I came in the Driver, one of Her Majesty’s vessels. It was the 8th of May, 1852, when I got to Portsmouth.

“I stopped a little while--about a week--in Portsmouth. I went to the Admiral of the dockyard, and he told me I must go to the Lord Mayor of London. So I paid my passage to London, saw the Lord Mayor, who sent me to Mr. Yardley, the magistrate, and he advertised the case for me, and I got four pounds fifteen shillings, besides my passage to Glasgow. After I got there, I went to Mr. Symee a Custom-house officer (he’d been in the same ship with me to California); he said, ‘Oh, gracious, Edward, how have you lost your limbs!’ and I burst out a crying. I told him all about it. He advised me to go to the owner. I went there; but the policeman in London had put my name down as Robert Thorpe, which was the man I lodged with; so they denied me.

“I went to the shipping office, where they reckonised me; and I went to Mr. Symee again, and he told me to go before the Lord Mayor (a Lord Provost they call him in Scotland), and make an affidavit; and so, when they found my story was right, they sent to London for my seaman’s ticket; but they couldn’t do anything, because the captain was not there.

“When I got back to London, I commenced sweeping the crossin’, sir. I only sweep it in the winter, because I can’t stand in the summer. Oh, yes, I feel my feet still: it is just as if I had them sitting on the floor, now. I feel my toes moving, like as if I had ’em. I could count them, the whole ten, whenever I work my knees. I had a corn on one of my toes, and I can feel it still, particularly at the change of weather.

“Sometimes I might get two shillings a-day at my crossing, sometimes one shilling and sixpence, sometimes I don’t take above sixpence. The most I ever made in one day was three shillings and sixpence, but that’s very seldom.

“I am a very steady man. I don’t drink what money I get; and if I had the means to get something to do, I’d keep off the streets.

“When I offered to go to the parish, they told me to go to Scotland, to spite the men who owed me my wages.

“Many people tell me I ought to go to my country; but I tell them it’s very hard--I didn’t come here without my legs--I lost them, as it were, in this country; but if I had lost them in my own country, I should have been better off. I should have gone down to the magistrate every Friday, and have taken my ten shillings.

“I went to the Merchant Seaman’s Fund, and they said that those who got hurted before 1852 have been getting the funds, but those who were hurted after 1852 couldn’t get nothing--it was stopped in ’51, and the merchants wouldn’t pay any more, and don’t pay any more.

“That’s scandalous, because, whether you’re willing or not, you must pay two shillings a-month (one shilling a-month for the hospital fees, and one shilling a-month to the Merchant Seaman’s Fund), out of your pay.

“I am married: my wife is the same colour as me, but an Englishwoman. I’ve been married two years. I married her from where she belonged, in Leeds. I couldn’t get on to do anything without her. Sometimes she goes out and sells things--fruit, and so on--but she don’t make much. With the assistance of my wife, if I could get my money, I would set up in the same line of business as before, in a coffee-shop. If I had three pounds I could do it: it took well in Scotland. I am not a common cook, either; I am a pastrycook. I used to make all the sorts of cakes they have in the shops. I bought the shapes, and tins, and things to make them proper.

“I’ll tell you how I did--there was a kind of apparatus; it boils water and coffee, and the milk and the tea, in different departments; but you couldn’t see the divisions--the pipes all ran into one tap, like. I’ve had a sixpence and a shilling for people to look at it: it cost me two pound ten.

“Even if I had a coffee-stall down at Covent-garden, I should do; and, besides, I understand the making of eel-soup. I have one child,--it is just three months and a week old. It is a boy, and we call it James Edward Albert. James is after my grandfather, who was a slave.

“I was a little boy when the slaves in Jamaica got their freedom: the people were very glad to be free; they do better since, I know, because some of them have got property, and send their children to school. There’s more Christianity there than there is here. The public-house is close shut on Saturday night, and not opened till Monday morning. No fruit is allowed to be sold in the street. I am a Protestant. I don’t know the name of the church, but I goes down to a new-built church, near King’s-cross. I never go in, because of my legs; but I just go inside the door; and sometimes when I don’t go, I read the Testament I’ve got here: in all my sickness I took care of that.

“There are a great many Irish in this place. I would like to get away from it, for it is a very disgraceful place,--it is an awful, awful place altogether. I haven’t been in it very long, and I want to get out of it; it is not fit.

“I pay one-and-sixpence rent. If you don’t go out and drink and carouse with them, they don’t like it; they make use of bad language--they chaff me about my misfortune--they call me ‘Cripple;’ some says ‘Uncle Tom,’ and some says ‘Nigger;’ but I never takes no notice of ’em at all.”

* * * * *

The following is a verbatim copy of the placard which the poor fellow places before him when he begs. He carries it, when not in use, in a little calico bag which hangs round his neck:--

KIND CHRISTIAN FRIENDS

THE UNFORTUNATE

EDWARD ALBERT

WAS COOK ON BOARD THE BARQUE MADEIRA OF GLASGOW CAPTAIN J. DOUGLAS IN FEBRUARY 1851 WHEN AFTER ROUNDING CAPE HORNE HE HAD HIS LEGS AND FEET FROST BITTEN WHEN in that state the master and mate put my Legs and Feet into the Oven as they said to cure me the Oven being hot at the time a fowl was roasting was took away to make room for my feet and legs in consequence of this my feet and legs swelled and burst----Mortification then Ensued after which my legs were amputated Three Inches below the knees soon after my entering the Hospital at Valpariso.

AS I HAVE NO OTHER MEANS TO GET A LIVELYHOOD BUT BY APPEALING TO

A GENEROUS PUBLIC

YOUR KIND DONATIONS WILL BE MOST THANKFULLY RECEIVED.

THE MAIMED IRISH CROSSING-SWEEPER.

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