I N his presidential address at the Conference of the Sanitary
Inspectors' Association at Bournemouth Sir James Crichton-Browne drew an interesting distinction between the conditions of life at Middlesbrough, where the last Conference was held, and at Bournemouth, where he was then speaking. At Middlesbrough wealth was the main object, and health, though not lost sight of, was a by-pro- duct. At Bournemouth the dominant idea was health, and the tables showed that the end in view was achieved, for the town held what might be termed a "sanitary primacy" amongst the larger urban populations of England. His review of the various reforms in the details of the health of towns in general, and of Bournemouth in particular, though not intended as more than a modern survey and com- parison of what is being done with what the sanitary authori- ties of to-day think ought to be done, suggests a comparison between the state of cities in England now and some centuries ago, and with the cities of the East to-day. One fact seems certain,—that it is not good for men and animals to live in the same city. The sanitary authority of to-day objects to the pig in cities altogether. Eighty-two "piggeries " have been removed from Bournemouth ; and though the gentle and harmless cow still remains in St. James's Park to remind Londoners that milk is produced, not from " churns " or tins, but by animals, the urban cowhouse is also condemned. The cities of India are full of cow-stables ; but those of England are being gradually persuaded to abolish them, and to-day in the outer rim of London proper there are numerous old cowsheds, spacious and roomy enough, which are empty and deserted. The horse still lives amongst the densest populations iu England, though there are many misgivings as to whether the dog ought to be given the free range of the town to the extent now allowed. But there is little doubt that speciali- sation of settlement is the true ideal on which the urban sanitary authority should fix its eyes for the future. Cities would probably be vastly more healthy if they were inhabited solely by birds and men, while the rest of the population of domestic animals were relegated to the country which is their natural habitat.
If this is the high-and-dry sanitary " light " in regard to animals for food and beasts of draught, it applies still more urgently to the creatures which are more or less parasitic on man, and which invade the town areas against his will. Even the cat is more than suspected of being a dangerous carrier of disease. Inquiries into certain outbreaks of diphtheria held some years ago showed that cats not only con- tracted but communicated this disease, and that an epidemic amongst the cats had in some cases preceded its introduction among the people of a new area. It is somewhat difficult to distinguish between the urban animals which are " corn- mensalistic " with man, sharing in a sense the crumbs which fall from his table, creatures of which the sparrow is the commonest and the blackbeetle the most unpleasant of those coming in this category in London, and the others which are almost parasitic, like the rat. But while the modern English city is wonderfully clean, and void of the insect vermin which swarm in the East, it is still very far behind the times in regard to that worst of all vermin, the rat. From a sanitary point of view, the rat is as much an anachronism as the plague itself. It is a carrier of plague and of other horrible diseases. And yet English householders, who would be shocked out of all propriety by the suggestion that a bug could be found on their premises, seem to regard the presence of rats with the utmost equanimity. This feeling is not shared by domestic animals. Dogs and horses are often absolutely horrified if rats come into their sleeping places or touch their food, and all kinds of poultry suffer, apparently from a form of nervous malaise, if there aro rats
about. In a plague-infested district even the fleas on plague- smitten rats early the pestilence, and the foul creatures them- selves are often the first to suffer from the disease. So-called " drunken " rats, seen and killed in the streets in India, are not intoxicated, but are regular precursors of the plague. In Bombay the appearance of dead rats in a new quarter was almost a certain sign that the pestilence would follow. Curiously enough, in the carefully recorded phe- nomena accompanying the epidemics of the Middle Ages rats are not specially mentioned, though the general fact that "all animals" or "all domestic animals" were affected is noted. A mortality amongst mice is referred to as accompanying a great epidemic in Silesia as late as 1728. But there are at least two most ancient refer- ences to the death of so-called "mice," which were probably rats, accompanying " morbific conditions" at an enormously remote date. One is the connection of " mice " with the sick- ness which fell on the Philistines who detained the Ark, which it is now surmised was bubonic plague. The other is the very curious reference to the destruction of Sennacherib's host by Herodotus. Both the Hebrew account and the echo of the facts heard by Herodotus agree that there was a great disaster to this army. The former speaks of sudden death which smote the host. Herodotus, who refers to the event as the battle of Pelusium, records a story that the bowstrings of the Egyptians were miraculously eaten through by " mice "—or rats. Connecting the " mice " and the sudden death, it is not illogical to surmise that the rats and the plague are here once more seen in conjunction.
At present our great towns are so well " scavenged " that there are by no means so many rats in them as there were. Like other vermin, they have moved further off. In London, for example, where they used to swarm by the banks of the Thames, under the wharves, when the sewage ran into the river, they are now mainly confined to the outer suburbs, where there are " piggeries" and other abominations, and to the docks, where the professional rat-catcher still " attends " ships before they sail, and is sometimes not paid till the said ship returns, as was testified not long ago by a rat-catcher who interviewed a Police Magistrate on the subject. The latter offered him sympathy, and also told him that it would be all the same in the total of the year's earnings. But the rat-catcher explained that, unlike the Magistrate, he was paid by the job, and enigmatically observed that " sympathy without money was like a pudding without fat." A deter- mined raid was made upon the dock rats in recent years, partly on account of plague rumours, and partly because it is more or less decided, in regard to insurance, that, in case of damage to cargo, rats are only " an act of God " after a rat-catcher has done his best to kill them. Consequently, they have largely migrated even from the London Thames. But they swarm in the country districts, which have never known such a plague of them. Essex has suffered most, perhaps because they have been driven from East London. But there is scarcely an enclosed district, whether with banks and hedges or stone walls as divisions, and consequently as homes for rats, where they have not greatly multiplied. Things must be rather hard even with rats, and the struggle for existence dire amongst such resourceful animals, when they invade a workhouse and dispute the paupers' food, as has happened at D un mow.
It was noted in a sporting paper lately that one of the greatest difficulties in the way of recruiting the stock of partridges is the unusual number of rats, which could not be reduced sufficiently before April, when they move into the fields and fences. A partridge forsakes its nest even if one egg is sucked by these disgusting creatures. Two years ago the keepers of a Norfolk proprietor said that they were afraid to go down to one of the covers at night because of the numbers and boldness of an army of rats which had come up from the shore after the herring season was over and taken up their quarters in the wood. A daily paper suggests that it would be an excellent new form of sport for " gilded youth " to take to rat-hunting. The game is subtle, swift, and an enemy of mankind, and the slayers of the beasts would incur public gratitude. The sug- gestion has its merits. It would provide an admirable week- end amusement for people with a turn for sport and adventure. City men might take a cab and go down with a bag of ferrets and a terrier to the docks, while those whose vocations gave them more time for absence could select their ground in the devastated regions of Essex. The comparison of bags, methods, dogs' exploits, and general strategy would afford varied conversation, and be a change from the predominance of golf. " Studies in the Art of Rat-catching," by the late Mr. H. C. Barkley (London : John Murray, 2s.), will be found both useful and entertaining if this pursuit finds favour. The author when a boy living in a Norfolk rectory took up ratting seriously, and used to be paid his regular " twopence a tail " by the farmers and neighbours for his services. His greatest achievement was the luring to their doom of a whole company of rats which had taken possession of a large house. He regularly fed the rats in a cellar, in which he had placed a few faggots to give the more nervous rats confidence, with balls of barley-meal. There were no holes in the cellar walls, and the rats came in through an open door. To this one night he fastened a string, and sat up in the adjacent kitchen reading a book till after midnight. Then he pulled the string and banged the door. A lantern was lighted, all the dogs summoned and let in, and fifty rats were slain.
If any special inducement to the undertaking of a national rat campaign is needed, it may be found in the undoubted fact that they spread typhoid. They habitually run down drains, and then swim in wells, or run up the pipes of pumps and conduits, and in this way are " unlicensed carriers " of this particular form of infection.
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