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II. — The Paris Sewage Irrigation at Gennevilliers. By F. R. 
DE LA Tr^HONNAIS. 
[With a Map.] 
The village of Gennevilliers, notwithstanding its close vicinity 
to the gay city of Paris, never was a lively spot. Its very name 
was scarcely known but a few years ago ; and very scanty are, 
even now, the visitors who bend their way to its barren solitude. 
But the tide of progress has lately reached that lonely suburb ; 
and what pleasure-seeking and merry throngs have done for the 
fame and prosperity of its near neighbour, Asnieres, sewage has 
accomplished at last for Gennevilliers. The Paris sewers, whose 
turgid streams have been directed round about the all but 
deserted village, and made to pour their noxious filth over its 
sandy waste, have brought fertility to its natural barrenness, 
and, as if with a magic wand, changed its desert-like wilderness 
into luxuriant fields, teeming with verdure and plenty. 
But, alas ! prosperity and fame — as frequently is the wont of 
those two goals of human ambition — have lately brought discord 
and strife in their train. A recent debate in the Legislative 
Assembly of Versailles has divulged the existence of a serious 
quarrel between two parties of the inhabitants of the district, 
and between one of these parties and the city of Paris — the bone 
of contention being the disputed advantages of sewage as applied 
to the Gennevilliers fields and market-gardens. As the question 
at issue forms one of the most interesting chapters of my subject, 
some further reference to it will be made hereafter. 
Here the question will naturally be asked, whereabouts is 
Gennevilliers ? Before I fully enter into my sewage narrative, 
I think it expedient to answer that pertinent question. 
Visitors to Paris have no doubt observed those remarkable 
meanderings of the River Seine, which occur immediately after 
its effluence from the city. The first bend of the stream takes 
place just above St. Cloud. There the river turns sharply to the 
right, reflecting from its clear surface, formerly the splendour, 
now the blackened ruins of the royal village. Retracing its 
course, as it were, the Seine then skirts the base of the frowning 
height upon which sits the fortress of Mont Valerien. Farther 
on, it hugs closer Mill the very outskirts of Paris, and soon in- 
verts in its yet clear waters the Longchamps racecourse, and the 
green plantations of the Bois de Boulogne. Then come Neuilly 
on the right, Courbevoie and Asnieres on the left bank, and 
then at last, not far from the line of fortifications, Clichy is 
reached. It is at that spot that the first outlet of the Paris 
sewage disgorges its black stream into the River Seine. Up to 
that spot the river is as clear as a mountain torrent. Its pas- 
