One of the highest medical authorities is credited with the statement
that "nine-tenths of the diseases that afflict humanity are caused by
neglect to answer the calls of Nature."
This state of affairs is generally admitted, but is usually attributed
to individual indolence. That, doubtless, has a great deal to do with
it, but should not part of the blame be laid upon the often unpleasant
environments, which make us shrink as from the performance of a painful
duty?
In social life, unless from absolute necessity or charity, people of
refined habits do not call on those whose surroundings shock their sense
of decency; but when they go to pay the calls of Nature, they are often
compelled to visit her in the meanest and most offensive of abodes;
built for her by men's hands; for Nature herself makes no such mistakes
in conducting her operations. She does not always surround herself with
the pomp and pride of life, but she invariably hedges herself in with
the thousand decencies and the pomp of privacy.
But what do we often do? We build what is sometimes aptly termed "an
out-house," because it is placed so that the delicate minded among its
frequenters may be made keenly alive to the fact that they can be
plainly seen by every passer-by and by every idle neighbor on the
lookout. This tiny building is seldom weatherproof; In consequence, keen
cold winds from above, below, and all around find ready entrance, chill
the uncovered person, frequently check the motions, and make the strong
as well as the weak, the young as well as the old, very sorry indeed
that they are so often uselessly obliged to answer the calls of Nature.
It is true, the floor is sometimes carpeted with snow, but the feet feel
that to be but cold comfort, though the door may enjoy rattling its
broken hasp and creaking its loose hinges.
How often, too, are the nose and the eye offended by disregard of the
Mosaic injunction, found in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth
verses of the twenty-third chapter of Deuteronomy! Of course this
injunction was addressed to a people who had been debased by slavery,
but who were being trained to fit them for their high calling as the
chosen of God; but is not some such sanitary regulation needed in these
times, when a natural office is often made so offensive to us by its
environments that it is difficult for us to believe that "God made man a
little lower than the angels," or that the human body is the temple of
the Holy Ghost?
Dwellers in the aristocratic regions of a well drained city, whose
wealth enables them to surround themselves with all devices tending to a
refined seclusion, may doubt all this, but sanitary inspectors who have
made a round of domiciliary visits in the suburbs, or the older,
neglected parts of a large city, of to any part of a country town or
village, will readily affirm as to its general truth.
This unpardonable neglect of one of the minor decencies by the mass of
the people seems to be caused partly by a feeling of false shame, and
partly by an idea that it is expensive and troublesome to make any
change that will improve their sanitary condition or dignify their daily
lives.
The Rev. Henry Moule, of Fordington Vicarage, Dorsetshire, England, was
one of the first to turn his attention to this matter. With the
threefold object of improving the sanitary condition of his people,
refining their habits, and enriching their gardens, he invented what he
called the "dry earth closet."
"It is based on the power of clay and the decomposed organic matter
found in the soil to absorb and retain all offensive odors and all
fertilizing matters; and it consists, essentially, of a mechanical
contrivance (attached to the ordinary seat) for measuring out and
discharging into the vault or pan below a sufficient quantity of sifted
dry earth to entirely cover the solid ordure and to absorb the urine.
"The discharge of earth is effected by an ordinary pull-up, similar to
that used in the water closet, or (in the self-acting apparatus) by the
rising of the seat when the weight of the person is removed.
"The vault or pan under the seat is so arranged that the accumulation
can be removed at pleasure.
"From the moment when the earth is discharged and the evacuation
covered, all offensive exhalation entirely ceases. Under certain
circumstances there may be, at times, a slight odor as of guano mixed
with earth, but this is so trifling and so local that a commode arranged
on this plan may, without the least annoyance, be kept in use in any
room."
The "dry earth closet" of the philanthropic clergyman was found to work
well, and was acceptable to his parishioners. One reason why it was so
was because dry earth was ready to hand, or could be easily procured in
a country district where labor was cheap. But where labor was dear and
dry earth scarce, those who had to pay for the carting of the earth and
the removal of the deodorized increment found it both expensive and
troublesome.
But a modification of this dry earth closet, the joint contrivance of an
English church clergyman and his brother, "the doctor," residents of a
Canadian country town, who had heard of Moule's invention, is a good
substitute, and is within the reach of all. This will be briefly
described.
The vault was dug as for an ordinary closet, about fifteen feet deep,
and a rough wooden shell fitted in. About four feet below the surface of
this wooden shell a stout wide ledge was firmly fastened all around.
Upon this ledge a substantially made wooden box was placed, just as we
place a well fitting tray into our trunks. About three feet of the back
of the wooden shell was then taken out, leaving the back of the box
exposed. From the center of the back of the box a square was cut out and
a trap door fitted in and hasped down.
The tiny building, on which pains, paint, and inventive genius had not
been spared to make it snug, comfortable, well lighted and well
ventilated, was placed securely on this vault.
After stones had been embedded in the earth at the back of the vault, to
keep it from falling upon the trap door, two or three heavy planks were
laid across the hollow close to the closet. These were first covered
with a barrowful of earth and then with a heap of brushwood.
Within the closet, in the left hand corner, a tall wooden box was
placed, about two-thirds full of dry, well sifted wood ashes. The box
also contained a small long-handled fire shovel. When about six inches
of the ashes had been strewn into the vault the closet was ready for
use. No; not quite; for squares of suitable paper had to be cut, looped
together with twine, and hung within convenient reaching distance of the
right hand; also a little to the left of this pad of paper, and above
the range of sight when seated, a ten pound paper bag of the toughest
texture had to be hung by a loop on a nail driven into the corner.
At first the rector thought that his guests would be "quick-witted
enough to understand the arrangement," but when he found that the
majority of them were, as the Scotch say, "dull in the uptak," he had to
think of some plan to enforce his rules and regulations. As
by-word-of-mouth instructions would have been rather embarrassing to
both sides, he tacked up explicit written orders, which must have
provoked many a smile. Above the bin of sifted ashes he nailed a card
which instructed "Those who use this closet must strew two shovelfuls of
ashes into the vault." Above the pad of clean paper he tacked the
thrifty proverb: "Waste not, want not;" and above the paper bag he
suspended a card bearing this warning: "All refuse paper must be put
into this bag; not a scrap of clean or unclean paper must be thrown into
the vault."
This had the desired effect. Some complacently united to humor their
host's whim, as they called it, and others, immediately recognizing its
utility and decency, took notes with a view to modifying their own
closet arrangements.
Sarah, the maid of all work, caused a good deal of amusement in the
family circle by writing her instructions in blue pencil on the front of
the ash bin. These were: "Strew two shuffefuls of ashes into the volt,
but don't spill two shuffefuls onto the floor. By order of the Gurl who
has to sweap up." This order was emphatically approved of by those
fastidious ones who didn't have to "sweep up."
This closet opened off the woodshed, and besides being snugly
weatherproof in itself, was sheltered on one side by the shed and on
another by a high board fence. The other two sides were screened from
observation by lattice work, outside of which evergreens were planted to
give added seclusion and shade. A ventilator in the roof and two sunny
little windows, screened at will from within by tiny Venetian shutters,
gave ample light and currents of fresh air. For winter use, the rector's
wife and daughters made "hooked" mats for floor and for foot support.
These were hung up every night in the shed to air and put back first
thing in the morning. For the greater protection and comfort of
invalids, an old-fashioned foot warmer, with a handle like a basket, was
always at hand ready to be filled with live coals and carried out.
The little place was always kept as exquisitely clean as the dainty,
old-fashioned drawing room, and so vigilant was the overseeing care
bestowed on every detail, that the most delicate and acute sense of
smell could not detect the slightest abiding unpleasant odor. The paper
bag was frequently changed, and every night the accumulated contents
were burned; out of doors in the summer, and in the kitchen stove--after
a strong draught had been secured--in the winter.
At stated times the deodorized mass of solid increment--in which there
was not or ought not to have been any refuse paper to add useless
bulk--was spaded, through the trap door, out of the box in the upper
part of the vault, into a wheelbarrow, thrown upon the garden soil, and
thoroughly incorporated with it. In this cleansing out process there was
little to offend, so well had the ashes done their concealing
deodorizing work.
In using this modified form of Moule's invention, it is not necessary to
dig a deep vault. The rector, given to forecasting, thought that some
day his property might be bought by those who preferred the old style,
but his brother, the doctor, not troubling about what might be, simply
fitted his well made, four feet deep box, with its trap door, into a
smoothly dug hole that exactly held it, and set the closet over it. In
all other respects it was a model of his brother's.
This last is within the reach of all, even those who live in other
people's houses; for, when they find themselves in possession of an
unspeakably foul closet, they can cover up the old vault and set the
well cleaned, repaired, fumigated closet upon a vault fashioned after
the doctor's plan. A stout drygoods box, which can be bought for a
trifle, answers well for this purpose, after a little "tinkering" to
form a trap door.
Of course, dry earth is by far the best deodorizer and absorbent, but
when it cannot be easily and cheaply procured, well sifted wood or coal
ashes--wood preferred--is a good substitute. The ashes must be kept dry.
If they are not, they lose their absorbing, deodorizing powers. They
must also be well sifted. If they are not, the cinders add a useless and
very heavy bulk to the increment.
An ash sifter can be made by knocking the bottom out of a shallow box,
studding the edge all round with tacks, and using them to cross and
recross with odd lengths of stovepipe wire to form a sieve.--_The
Sanitarian_.
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