334: ABOUT COMMON WATER. 



providing the people who live near them with the 

 brightest and purest water. These happy people have 

 all my land, and all the high surrounding land, as a 

 collecting-ground, on which the rain falls, and from 

 which it trickles through the body of the hill, to appear 

 at lower levels. 



What, then, am I obliged to do? It stands to 

 reason that if I could bore down to a depth lower than 

 the springs, the water, instead of flowing to them, 

 would come to me. This is what I have done. I have 

 sunk a well two hundred and twenty-five feet deep, and 

 am thereby provided with an unfailing supply of the 

 most delicious water. 



The water drawn from this well comes from what 

 geologists call the greensand. Within sight of my 

 balcony rise the well-known South Downs, which are 

 hills of chalk covered with verdure. Now, if a bucket 

 of water were taken from my well, and a similar bucket 

 from a well in the South Downs, and if both buckets 

 were handed over to a laundress, she would have no 

 difficulty in telling you which she would prefer. With 

 my well-water it would be easy to produce a beautiful 

 lather. With the South Downs well-water it would be 

 very difficult to do so. In common language, the one 

 water is soft, like rain-water, while the other is hard. 



We have now to analyse and understand the meaning 

 of "hard water," and to examine some of its effects. 

 Suppose, then, three porcelain basins to be filled, the 

 first with pure rain-water, the second with greensand- 

 water, and the third with chalk-water; all three waters 

 at first being equally bright and transparent. Suppose 

 the three basins placed on a warm hob, or even exposed 

 to the open air, until the water of each basin has wholly 

 evaporated. In evaporation the water only disappears; 

 the mineral matter remains. What, then, is the result ? 



