50 THE AMERICAN FARMER. 



formerly drawn, in order to precipitate the fertilizing matters by some chemical process, but 

 it failed. The water was made clear, but the main impurities were not removed, and the 

 works stand there as a monument of the work required to accomplish this end, so important 

 for all cities, where filth will accumulate and must be removed or destroyed.&quot; 



France has set a good example to other countries in thus disposing of the sewage of her 

 largest city, and though some improvements can doubtless be made in this system, it is 

 admirable in its results thus far practiced. As apropos to the subject, a description of a sail 

 in the Paris sewers, as given by a Boston journalist, may not be devoid of interest to our 

 readers : 



&quot;A Sail in a Paris Sewer. A visit to the sewers of Paris is indeed a novel one. 

 There are two visiting days per week for the sewers, and, by writing to the prefect, the person 

 who desires to make them a visit can obtain a pass. This pass is about three inches square, 

 and is as finely embellished and printed as an invitation to a millionaire s reception. The 

 entrance to the sewers is at the Place du Chatelet, and is simply a slab removed from the top 

 of the main sewer. &quot;When my turn came to enter into the yawning blackness below, I 

 shuddered as one would who never expected to see the light of day again. Descending the 

 narrow, winding stairs, I found myself in a large vaulted space. This was the main sewer, 

 black as the Styx, and probably many times nastier. Directly over the nastiness, the rails 

 resting on either side of the sewer, were a number of open cars, holding fifteen or twenty 

 each, whose construction would almost warrant the term elegant. Bottoms and sides were of 

 light wicker-work, and at either end shoen two globular lamps. As fast as a car was filled with 

 passengers, two men on either side of the sewer passed a stout bar through fixed iron rings 

 in the car-frame, and, bracing themselves against the projecting ends, trolled off and trundled 

 us away into the darkness. At short intervals the noise of murmuring rills and babbling 

 brooks came to our ears. These, as we were rushed by them, we saw to be the tributaries of 

 the main stream. The sewer over which we rode was named from the street under which it 

 ran the Rue de Rivoli and the murmuring rills, brooks and rivulets, were called from the 

 streets under which they passed. Some bounded into the main river in joyous little cascades, 

 and the meeting of others with the parent river was conducted in a more quiet, orderly, and 

 solemn fashion. The average smell was simply that of a sewer, somewhat carbolized, 

 perhaps, but still a sewer. We stopped. Here we were to leave the car. Here began the 

 remainder of the passage by water at least, it is called water, and for navigation the fluid 

 answers the purpose ; but it isn t water. We left the car. The barges were loading up. 

 Each would hold fifteen or twenty people. Our barge started. It rolled unctuously in the 

 dark-colored fluid. As the passengers moved about in getting to their seats, it rolled as a 

 vessel might roll in a lake of molasses. It was an unpleasant sensation. The motive power 

 was furnished by a few blouse-covered Frenchmen attached to long ropes, who, in the capacity 

 of mules, hauled us along. Silently we moved on. Not a ripple was heard under the prow. 

 The sewer had no capacity for rippling. Little was seen, save the glimmer of the lamp on 

 the barge ahead of us, and a long, straight, silent stream. The barge, loaded deeply, seemed 

 but a few inches above this Parisian Styx. As we slightly rocked, there came awful sugges 

 tions to our minds of the possibility of shipping a sea. On the current we saw straws, corks, 

 and lemon peelings. A young man, actively and unpleasantly curious, thrust his cane in the 

 stream, with a view of getting soundings. On bringing the cane on board, all in its vicinity 

 moved away. Some folks never can let well-enough alone. We turned into the Rue Royale. 

 The stream grew wider, the current more rapid. Most of the ladies now held handkerchiefs 

 to their faces. They seemed a deeply-affected company. The smell was that of carbonated 

 sewage. It was discernible by the tongue as well as the nose. The combined rido and sail 

 occupied one hour and a quarter. I suppose we traversed two miles of sewer; anyhow, I 

 was only too glad when the voyage ended and I once more inhaled the pure air of heaven.&quot; 



