It might have been expected, from the value of the refuse as manure (one of the most powerful known), that the great demand for it would have afforded a price which might have returned, in some degree, the expense and charge of cleansing. But this appears not to be the case in the metropolis. It is stated that at present, with the exception of coal-ashes, which are indispensable for making bricks, some description of lees, and a few other inconsiderable exceptions, no refuse in London pays half the expense of removal by cartage. The cost of removal, or of the labour and cartage, limits the general use or deposit of the refuse within a radius which does not exceed three miles beyond the line of the district-post of the metropolis, that is, about six miles. It is stated that, partly from the nature of the holdings, and from other circumstances within this limited district, agricultural improvements are not so great as might be expected where the facilities are so easy for obtaining any quantity of manure. Some idea may be formed of the loss of value of this manure from the metropolis, occasioned by the expense of its collection and removal, from the evidence of a considerable contractor for scavengering, &c., who states, with respect to the most productive manure,—“I have given away thousands of loads of night-soil: we knew not what to do with it.”[4] In the parts of some towns adjacent to the rural districts the cesspools are emptied gratuitously for the sake of the manure; but they only do this when there is a considerable accumulation, and any accumulation of any decomposing material which offends the smell is injurious to the health, especially in a town where all miasma is less diluted with fresh air, and where the population is less robust. For the saving of cartage, as well as the convenience of use, accumulations of refuse are frequently allowed to remain and decompose and dry amidst the habitations of the poorer classes. _Dr. Laurie_ in his report on the sanitary condition of Greenock, furnishes an example. He says,— “The first question I generally put when a new case of fever is admitted, is as to their locality. I was struck with the number of admissions from Market-street; most of the cases coming from that locality became quickly typhoid, and made slow recoveries. This is a narrow back street; it is almost overhung by a steep hill, rising immediately behind it; it contains the lowest description of houses, built closely together, the access to the dwellings being through filthy closes. The front entrance is generally the only outlet. Numerous food for the production of miasma lies concealed in this street. I think I could point out one in each close.