The public town dumps were on
their banks. The rival newspapers tried to belittle the evil because
their reporters were beaten. Running water purifies itself, they
said. So it does, if it runs far enough and long enough. I put
that matter to the test. Taking the case of a town some sixty miles
out of New York, one of the worst offenders, I ascertained from the
engineer of the water-works how long it ordinarily took to bring
water from the Sodom reservoir just beyond, down to the housekeepers'
faucets in the city. Four days, I think it was. Then I went to the
doctors and asked them how many days a vigorous cholera bacillus
might live and multiply in running water. About seven, said they.
My case was made. There was needed but a single case of the dreaded
scourge in any one of a dozen towns or villages that were on the
line of travel from the harbor in which a half score ships were under
quarantine, to put the metropolis at the mercy of an inconceivable
calamity.
There was in all this no attempt at sensation. It was simple fact,
as any one could see for himself.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262