trenches, and remove, wash, and replace the tiles. This operation cost for a length of two hundred feet less than three dollars. For any ordinary household of six or eight persons, where the water-closet is not used, two hundred feet of drain of this sort will be sufficient. If there are water-closets, it may be well to duplicate the length; and, to provide for the necessary connections to lead the liquid to the drains, we may assume that in all five hundred feet of length will be required. The cost of two-inch tiles, at the works, in small lots and where collars are furnished, is about three cents per foot, and we will suppose that transportation will increase the cost to five cents per foot, making the cost of this item twenty-five dollars. The strips of board (three inches wide) will cost, at a very liberal estimate, five dollars more, and the cost of digging and laying not more than another five dollars, so that the establishment of this means of disposal, under the most liberal allowance of prices, will not exceed thirty-five dollars. Ordinarily, especially where neighbors combine to buy their material in larger quantities, it will hardly exceed one half of this amount. This, be it understood, is for a complete and -permanent substitute for the expensive and nasty cess-pool now so generally depended upon in the country. A piece of ground fifty feet square, having ten rows of tile five feet apart and fifty feet long, will suffice for even a large household with an abundant water supply. For the better illustration of the arrangement of this system, I give in Figure 8 a plan for the work in the case of a lot fifty feet wide, with a depth of open ground behind the house. of somewhat more than fifty feet. The leaching-drains may safely begin at a distance of even ten feet from the back of the house-requiring for the whole a clear area of only fifty feet by sixty feet. With small households the length of drain may be very much shortened. In my own case, where water-closets are not used, the total length of irrigation drain is only two hundred feet. The Earth-Closet was invented by the Rev. Henry Moule, Vicar of Fordington in England, more than ten years ago. Its progress in England has been considerable, and its introduction there has resulted in a profit to the company undertaking it. In this country it has met with less general favor; two companies, with large capital, after expending all their resources, have been obliged to abandon their attempts | to build up a profitable business. Having been actively interested in the enterprise from its inception, and having given constant attention to the merits of the system, I am to-day more than ever convinced that the solution of one of the most difficult problems connected with country and village life is to be sought in its general adoption. The public reports of sanitary officers in England, who have investigated the subject to its foundation, fully confirm every thing that has been claimed by the advocates of the earth-closet, unless, perhaps, in connec tion with the incidental question of the value of the product as a manure. The only thing which now deters the authorities of some of the larger manufacturing towns of the north of England from adopting the dry-earth system as a means of relief, under the sharp exaction of the law that prohibits Voelcker found in fresh earth prepared for use in the closet,-say about two hundred pounds,-nearly all of which organic matter it undoubtedly contained when first made ready for use. In my case, there was an addition at a moderate calculation of at least 800 lbs. of solid dry matter during the six year's use by an average of four adult persons. Professor Voelcker's analysis showed that the unused earth contained about twelve pounds of nitrogen. Professor Atwater's analysis shows that my two tons contained only about eleven pounds of nitrogen. By calculation, the 800 pounds of solid dry matters added in the use of my material contained 230 pounds of nitrogen. ing the chief purpose of deodorization, fails | tains no more organic matter than Professor to add to it a sufficient amount of fertilizing matter to make it an available commercial manure. Extended experience in small villages and public institutions seems to confirm his view that if the earth-closet is to be adopted by towns, they cannot depend either on farmers buying the manure, or undertaking the labor of supplying and removing it. It is estimated that for a population of one hundred thousand persons, there would be required seventy-five tons of earth per day, to say nothing of heavy refuse matters which would be thrown into the closets, and would increase the amount to be removed. Even the quantity required for a village of a few hundred inhabitants, if it were to be brought in and carried out, would entail a considerable cost for handling. I have recently concluded an experiment of six years' duration, the result of which seems to show that this objection to the adoption of the earth-closet system may be set aside or at least reduced to such proportions as to make it unimportant. In the autumn of 1870 I had brought to my house, where only earth-closets are used, two small cart-loads of garden earth, dried and sifted. This was used repeatedly in the closets, and when an increased quantity was required additions were made of sifted anthracite ashes. I estimate that the amount of material now on hand is about two tons. We long since stopped adding to the quantity, finding that the amount was ample to furnish a supply of dry and decomposed material whenever it becomes necessary to fill the reservoirs of the closets. The accumulation under the seats is discharged through simply arranged valves into bricked vaults in the cellar. When these vault sbecome filled,―about three times in a year, their contents, which are all thoroughly decomposed, are piled up in a dry and ventilated place with a slight covering of fresh earth to keep down any odor that might arise. After a sufficient interval these heaps are ready for further use, there being no trace, in any portion, of foreign matter or any appearance or odor differing from that of an unused fresh mixture of earth and ashes. In this way the material has been used over and over again, at least ten times, and there is no indication to the senses of any change in its condition. A sample of this material has recently been analyzed by Professor Atwater, at the Connecticut Agricultural Station, at Middletown. The analysis shows that it con Doubtless the constitution of Professor Voelcker's sample was somewhat different from the original constitution of my own; but, practically, except perhaps for the addition of a trifling amount of residual carbon remaining after the decomposition, they were about the same, and after being used ten times over, the whole of the 800 pounds of organic matter added, including 230 pounds of nitrogen, seem to have entirely disappeared. It becomes interesting and important to know what has become of this added matter. That it was absorbed into the particles of the earth is a matter of course, and the result proves that after such absorption it was subjected to such a chemical action of the concentrated oxygen always existing in porous dry material as led to its entire destruction. Porous substances condense gases-air, oxygen, etc.-in proportion to the extent of their interior surface. well-known disinfecting action of charcoal The the surface of the interior particles of which equal from fifty to one hundred square feet to each cubic inch of material, and all of which surface is active in condensing oxygen-is due not simply to an absorption of foul-smelling odors, but to an actual destruction of them by slow combustion, so that the same mass of charcoal, if kept dry and porous, will continue almost indefinitely its undiminished disinfecting action. The earth used in the closet is a porous material, sufficiently dry for the free admission of air or of oxygen. The foulest materials when covered with dry earth at once lose their odor, and are in time as effectively destroyed by combustion (oxydized) as though they had been burned in a furnace. The process is more slow but none the less sure; and it is clear that in the case of my dirt-heap the foul matters added have thus been destroyed The practical bearings of this fact are of the utmost importance. Earth is not to be regarded as a vehicle for the inoffensive removal beyond the limits of the town of what has hitherto been its most troublesome product, but as a medium for bringing together the offensive ingredients of this product, and the world's great scavenger, oxygen. My experiment seems to demonstrate the fact that there is no occasion to carry away the product from the place where it has been produced, as, after a reasonable time, it has ceased to exist, and there remains only a mass of earth which is in all respects as effective as any fresh supply that could be substituted. The quantity necessary to provide can be determined only by extended experiment; my experiment proves that the amount needed does not exceed one thousand pounds for each member of the household, and that this amount once provided will remain permanently effective to accomplish its purpose. With a suitable public supply of water for the purpose, and with a suitable means of disposal, nothing can be better and nothing is more easily kept in good condi |tion than well regulated and properly ventilated water-closets. Where these are available, with enough water for their flushing, their use is to be recommended. Where there is not sufficient water, there a wellregulated system of earth-closets seems to be imperatively demanded. By one process or the other we must prevent the fouling of the lower soil, and the consequent tainting of wells and springs, and the ground under houses and adjoining their cellars. With a system of sub-irrigation pipes which deliver foul matters into earth that is subject to the active operation of oxydizing influences, we need fear no contamination of the deep and unaerated soil. It would be better, however, where this system is used, for the disposal of the outflow of soil-pipes, to avoid the use of wells. As a general rule, it is safer not to use for drinking purposes the water of any well near a house or a stable,—practically, it is better not to use wells at all as a source of water for domestic supply. Filtered cistern water is greatly to be preferred.* * For further discussion of this topic by the same writer, see the "Home and Society" department of the present number.-ED. THE SOUL'S IMMORTALITY. AN ATTEMPT AT A SOCRATIC DIALOGUE. Soc. And the more thriving, and prosperous, and happy, the living tree is, the more certain it is to do these things. Is that not so? Socrates. Wherein, Alciphron, does a living tree differ from a dead tree? Alciphron. A living tree adds to its bulk. A dead tree loses from its bulk. Soc. And wherein besides this? Al. A living tree produces fruit, and seed also, by which its kind is propagated. A dead tree does neither of these things. Soc. And besides these? Al. A living tree prefers light, and also a soil suited to its demands, as possessing richness and moisture. A dead tree is indifferent to such things. Soc. And once more? Al. A living tree chooses such elements from the soil as make for its own prosperity, and enable it to yield what it was intended for; and it rejects what do not belong to it. A dead tree makes no choice. Soc. And yet once more? Al. A living tree is always seen making an effort to repair any injury that happens to it. If its bark or covering, for instance, is bruised, it sets itself to work at once to heal the wound. A dead tree does nothing of the kind. Al. I think that is also true. Soc. And is there any stage in the life of a tree or plant, when it first begins to do these things, having up to that time failed to do them? Al. I think there is no such stage in the life of a tree or plant. They do these things from the beginning. Soc. A tree then never is guilty, as a child is sometimes, of things hurtful to itself, so that we say of it, "when it is old enough, it will know better?" Al. I think not. Soc. And whether do you regard a living tree or a dead tree with the most pleasure? Al. Certainly the living tree. Al. For many reasons. It is much more beautiful and pleasing to the eye, as a living object is always more agreeable to look at than a dead object. Soc. And what other reason besides this you have mentioned ? Al. I think we attribute a kind of enjoyment to a living tree that is prospering, and so the sight of it affects us pleasantly. Soc. And what besides this? Al. I think there is one other reason. There is nothing like a failure about it, but it seems to be doing just what it was designed to do. Soc. And does a dead tree seem to be a failure? Al. I do not mean so. But after a tree has become dead, it ceases to bring to our minds that sense of a success, which we got from it when living. That is all. Soc. It is not then that you discover anything like a failure when you look upon a dead tree, and so your pleasure in looking at it is less for that reason? Al. I discover no failure, nor does it seem to me to be so. It is this only-that it has ceased to be an agreeable object to look at. Soc. Only then that there is nothing there which reminds you that it is a success, you would still have left that reason for regarding it with pleasure? Al. Certainly. Soc. And its having died conveys no hint of failure, and of consequent disappointment on the part of its author, because it had not answered the purpose for which it was intended? Al. It conveys no such hint. Soc. And what chiefly lessens your pain at its dying? Al. The thought that it has done that which it was intended to do. Soc. And whether is there any thought suggested of an incompleteness, or unfinished condition, when you look upon a tree? Al. None whatever. Soc. And particularly why? Al. Because it seems impossible to me to regard a thing as incomplete, which is so evidently and so perfectly fulfilling the design of him who made it. Soc. And I think you never fear lest a tree, having a variety of things offered it to choose from, should ever make a mistake, and so choose that which is not good for it? Al. I have no such fear. Soc. And when a tree thus converts certain elements in the atmosphere and in the soil into fruit, and leaf, and bark, and woody fiber, do you object to giving to these elements so converted, the name of "Equivalents?" Al. I see no objection to that use of the word. Soc. And it is because the tree does not fail to make use of these equivalents, that it is a success. Is that so? Al. I think that is so. Soc. Is it in considering a tree only, that you discover what we have agreed to call equivalents? Al. No. I discover them elsewhere. Soc. And when you find Nature has furnished these equivalents, whether do you ever doubt that upon being resorted to, they will yield the appointed result? Al. I never have such doubts. Soc. And I believe you agree that Nature never makes a mistake, and never meets with disappointment, because, having offered what she regarded as equivalents, they in the end proved to be not so? Al. I agree to that. I think Nature is never seen making such mistake. Soc. Once more. You agree that when it is once settled what an equivalent in a given case is, there can be no substitute for it? Al. That also I agree to. Soc. It appears then, that a tree, and other things which succeed in Nature, are a success, because they in the first place are never mistaken as to what a true equivalent is, and then they always make choice of it. Whether do we seem to you to be safe in saying that? Al. I think perfectly safe. It seems to me entirely true. Soc. And if passing by trees, you turn your attention to other products of Nature, Whether does all that you have been saying appear to be equally true? Al. It seems quite true everywhere. Soc. Whenever then Nature furnishes equivalents, or in other words, makes an expenditure, you feel sure of a return that is both adequate in amount, and suited also in the nature of it, to that expenditure. Is that so? Al. I certainly think that is so. Soc. But I believe you do not deny that a child sometimes chooses what is not good for it? Al. This, it is true, seems to be an exception to the rule. Soc. And whether is there any explanation for this exception? Al. I think we say in such a case, that when the child is old enough, it will know better, and choose better. Soc. And since the child at present does not know and choose better, you conclude it is incomplete-not yet finished? Al. That is the conclusion. Soc. So that, if never having yet seen or heard of such a thing as a child, and quite ignorant of any law or provision by which it should pass out of a state of childhood into a state of manhood, you should then first come to see and know a child, and learn of this imperfection which belongs to it, you would infer that it was thus far incomplete, and was destined to pass into another state, as a state of manhood, for instance, and SO the rule which you find applied everywhere else would come at last to be applied here also. Is all this true? Al. I think it is all true. It seems to me I should infer as you have suggested. Soc. And identically why? Al. Because if this were not so, it would violate a law which seems intended to be universal; and again because if it were not so, the child would be worse provided for than a tree is. But as a child is of more value than a tree, it ought to be better provided for. And a little further, Alciphron. When the child ceases to be so, and becomes a man, is he then seen choosing only that which is good for him, and rejecting that which is bad for him? Al. I cannot think that is so. Soc. And whether is he seen, or is the soul of man seen, trying to repair always any hurt or injury that happens to it? Soc. Is not here then another instance where Nature has provided equivalents that do not yield their return, and so she has been disappointed? Al. It seems to be so. Soc. And whether does the soul very frequently fall into mistakes as to what are equivalents, resorting not only to those which are useless, because they are not rightly selected, but to those also which are hurtful? Al. I think it is impossible to deny that. Soc. If then the soul knowingly rejects equivalents for its own good, and if furthermore it often mistakes what are true equivalents, does it not seem to carry with it the same evidence of incompleteness of being in an unfinished state, as the child does who, being as you say, of more value than a tree, still is seen taking less care of itself than a tree does, and less anxious for its own perfection than a tree is ? Al. I think the evidence of incompleteness is as strong in this case of the soul, as in the other of the child. Soc. And, Alciphron, may we not say of a living, prosperous tree, that it is seen desiring its own happiness? Al. I think I understand what is intended by that form of expression, and I see no reason why it should be objected to. Soc. And may we not say of anything, which, in the sense here intended, is seen uniformly desiring its own happiness, that is, of anything which seeks instantly always to repair any injury to itself,-which always knows without possibility of mistake what are the true equivalents for its growth and prosperity, and then furthermore always without fail chooses such equivalents,―may we not say of such a thing as this, that it has reached a finished state—a state of perfect completeness? Al. I certainly think we may use such language respecting it. Soc. And if on the contrary we find something steadily refusing to do any of these things, or doing them only irregularly and capriciously,-in other words, if we find something not desiring its own happiness, deliberately setting aside what it knows to be for its own happiness in favor of something opposed to it, or else left in doubt what is for its happiness,-must we not infer of a thing like this, that it has not yet reached a complete and finished state? Al. This seems also true. Soc. If it were not so, that is, if we could not take refuge by saying, as we said of the child, that when it is old enough, it will know and choose better, would it not appear that certain equivalents in one instance at least have been created in vain, and that in one instance Nature has been disappointed? Al. I think it would so appear. Soc. And, Alciphron, which would seem the greater absurdity-to create something, and then withhold the equivalents necessary to bring it to perfection, or to furnish equivalents, and then create nothing that should make use of them? Al. I think one absurdity is as great as the other. Soc. If there be then such a thing as a human soul, you do not doubt that equivalents have been provided for it, using which, |