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huge metropolis no real remedy is applied to the
sanitary evils existing, nor does a remedy form
any portion of the gigantic plans of the
Metropolitan Board of Works. Outlet sewers will
not purify the miles of sewers now ruinous and
choked with foul deposit. Disinfecting may be
a slight palliative, but it is not an effectual
remedy. The Queen, Lords, and Commons fare
no better in their new and gorgeous palace at
Westminster than the poorest subject in the
realm. The architect has elaborated the outside
of the building with carvings in endless repetitions,
whilst within there is rottenness generating
the seeds of disease and premature death.
This "gorgeous building" has been placed on a
site below the level of river floods and daily
tides. All the sewers and drains are within the
"richly-carved walls;" all the traps and sinks
connect every apartment with such drains and
sewers; and the foul contents are retained by
river flood and tidal waters, to ferment and
give off the injurious gases of decomposition.
The government of the day had the wisdom to
consider the question of ventilation, and some
hundred thousands of pounds sterling have been
laid out, and many thousands are annually
expended, to work the ventilating apparatus
provided. The architect did not, however, believe
in the ventilating doctor; and, consequently,
little besides cost, blundering, quarrelling, and
law expenses, have come of the money expended
on ventilation. The corridors and the committee-
rooms are totally unventilated.

London is said to be "the best-sewered large
city in the world," and this, no doubt, is true.
But London sewers require many improvements.
The flat inverts and ruinous sides retain all the
foul solids, and the subsoil soaks in the tainted
fluids, so that the earth beneath and the air
above are alike poisoned. The greater portion
of the sewers in Westminster, around and
within Buckingham Palace, and about Belgravia,
have been constructed of bad sectional forms,
with defective, spongy, porous bricks and
inferior mortar, and are, consequently, inefficient.
Fever has prevailed in the neighbourhood.

The foul sewers of London taint the atmosphere
in the streets, and, through drains,
contaminate the air within the houses. Many
of the inhabitants of London judge as to changes
of weather by the effluvium from their drains.
During the so-called disinfecting operations of
last summer, the peculiar taint of certain
disinfecting material, passed down the main sewers,
was perceived within the houses on each side of
the streets: proving that sewer gases constantly
have access to the interior of such houses.
The fashionable novelist describes vast
mansions, surrounded by park and gardens, where
servants in gorgeous liveries attend the noble
and wealthy of the land. In this England of
ours, many such houses bear names renowned
in history, and are celebrated in song. The
fashionable novelist would write something as
follows: "Before us stood the embattled walls
of this famous castle, out of whose gates
lords, knights, and ladies rode forth to partake
of the excitements of the chase, in the
wide-spreading meadows and extensive woods
around." Or, "The traveller arrived before
the entrance to the park. An elaborately
polished stone archway, gates of cunning
workmanship, richly edged with gold, lodge
and gateway bearing the arms of the noble
family, stood partially shrouded amidst full-
grown trees. A neatly-kept carriage-drive led
on through forest trees centuries old, amidst
which antlered deer bounded in native freedom.
At each turn of the road some new beauty was
opened to view; until at length glimpses were
seen of grass and water, and then was fully
revealed a breadth of lake and lawn; above which,
terrace on terrace, rose the palace-like residence
of his Grace." There are many seats in England
more picturesque than the words even of the
novelist can paint. Nature and art combine to
make a perfect whole. Within, we tread polished
floors and velvet pile to examine the evidences
of luxury and taste. Every square yard of wall
and ceiling has been an artistic study. Windows
of coloured glass light up hall and corridor
with rainbow-tinted shadows. Great artists are
represented in cabinet pictures bearing fabulous
prices. Wealth, judgment, and refined taste
have accomplished all that money could do to
make a luxurious and comfortable abode for
intellect and worth. Sanitary knowledge has alone
been absent.

The castle may be surrounded with remains
of a moat, the whole basement subsoil may be
damp and rotten, so that leprous blotches of
mildew and decay are spread over floors and
walls. The mansion, in its beautiful grounds,
may stand upon a wet subsoil, ever damp and
cold. The architect was skilled in all the learning
of the Greeks and Romans, in grouping useless
columns to bear incongruous pediments, filled
with unmeaning sculpture. There may be no
room for even an architectural pedant to find
fault, as there is "precedent" for every line, and
for every break, and for every form. The elevation
in central mass and wings, from ground to
sky line, is presumed to be "perfect." Yet,
who has thought of sanitary arrangements?
Not the architect. The family physician,
generation after generation, visits and
prescribes in crampy-written Latin. The grand
house swarms with quadruped vermin, the
natives in the adjoining village know when
the family is at home or from home by the
migrating movement of the rats. Servants
suffer from rheumatism and fever, ladies may
have died of consumption, and several heirs to
the illustrious house may have been gathered to
their fathers in babyhood. There has been
fresh decorating, renewed painting and gilding,
additional pictures and statuary. But, year by
year, foul subsoil, foul drains, and foul sewers
become still fouler.

Here is no over-statement. There are few
houses in which, or about which, there are
not some causes of discomfort which are easily
removable. The sewers may be too large and
not sufficiently ventilated, the drains may