the subject of these cottages. The actual rent
of each is not particularly low; about ten or
twelve pounds a-year you might be asking.
Well, sir, he says, I'll tell you what it is.
Rents differ. In Liverpool, a room equal in
size to this living-room in which we now
stand, would lodge a family, and let at five
shillings a week; in London it would let for
something less for the four rooms, eight or
ten shillings a week: that is to say, you
know such rents are charged for equal space
enclosed in damp and rotten walls, that will
not hold a water-pipe, they are so rotten, but
hold vermin in plenty, suck up water from the
soil and from the cesspools, and imbibe and
retain all noxious effluvia. Here are the
measurements and rents of rooms ravaged by
fever in Church Lane, St. Giles's. I stared to
hear him talk about Church Lane, but got his
list, and here you have it. After all, it's
something to be proud of in a business point
of view.
Rent per week. Now, our rooms average a shilling apieceRoom 13 ft. by 14 feet, 6 ft. high . . .
Room 11 ft. 4in.by 11 ft. 3 in., ft. 5 in. high}8s. Room 17 ft. 6 in. by 13 ft., 8 ft. high . . 5s. Room 11 ft. 2 in. by 9 ft. 4 in., 5 ft. 6 in. high 2s. Room 14 ft. 6 in. by 13 ft., 6ft. 5 in. high . . 4s. Room 9 ft. by 7 ft., 6 ft. 5 in. high . . . 4s.
weekly. Down with your particulars, said I,
doubling my fist, although it wasn't policy to
hit him. Well, sir, said he, one grand point
in these houses is the use of hollow bricks.
And what of that? I ask. Is that a new
idea? Quite so, says the gentleman; it is
little more than brick piping made rectangular
; but the idea is new, and the manufacture
in its infancy. They must be very weak,
says I. But, he replies, look at the Britannia
Bridge. That was to have been a solid beam;
but it is hollow, and the trains run through
it. There is no strength lost by using hollow
bricks; and you save money to the tune of
twenty-four per cent, on your materials. One
pair of these model cottages, in ordinary
brick work, can be put up for one hundred
and eighty-one pounds. If built on our
principles, and of hollow bricks, there is a
saving in the
But the saving by the use of hollow bricksWalls, of ... £22 0 0 Floors, of ... 3 0 0 Roof, of ... 7 0 0 Plastering to walls, of .. 5 0 0 Plastering to ceilings, of . 1 15 0 Heads, sills, and flaps, of . 2 10 0 __________ £41 5 0
does not end here. Go on then, sir, says I,
sucking my stick. Absence of timber will
save fire insurance; and there is a constant
current saving in repairs and fuel. I don't
see that, says I. Why, sir, he answers, the
common loose brick is an absorbent. By
capillary attraction, which, you know, means—
Go a-head, says I. Well, says he, by capillary
attraction, brick walls suck up water from
the ground, and make the damp kitchens and
parlours with which we are all familiar;
walls also exposed to rain, and sheltered from
the sun, imbibe much moisture. A common
brick, when saturated, will hold somewhere
about a pint of water; so that a damp cottage,
with five hundred cubic feet of wall, may
possibly contain in the said walls eight
hundred and seventy-five gallons, or fourteen
hogsheads of water. This water evaporates
constantly upon the surface of the walls within
the dwelling; and as evaporation can only
take place by the conversion of sensible heat
into latent, a degree of cold is produced, which
it would take more than half a ton of coal
to neutralise. The chill acts upon inmates,
and depresses vital power; they waste fuel in
vain, while the damp walls are rotting, and the
entire dwelling falls into a quick decay. How
many infant lives are nipped by these chills!
how many inflammations, catarrhs, agues,
rheumatisms, might be done away with by the
use of hollow bricks! Preventive measures,
hitherto, foundation drains, layers of pitch, or
slate, or zinc, coatings of stucco, have been
certainly expensive, and of uncertain advantage
very often. They cannot be afforded for
the dwellings of the poor. Well, says I, sir,
as for damp walls from driving rain, and so
on, what you say reminds me of my old friend,
Tom Ottenstrong, who travels as a commercial
gent. Whenever you go into a country inn,
says he, don't sleep in any room with a north
aspect. I've always, says he, met with damp
beds in them rooms. Their walls never get a
touch of the sun, and if a bedstead touches such
a wall, look out, my man, for damp sheets and
lumbago. To be sure they might light fires
to dry the rooms. Yes, sir, replies the gent,
but fires cost money to be added to the rental.
Against damp, hollow bricks were suggested
long ago, sir, by Vitruvius; only he wanted to
put pitch inside them.
Anything more, sir, about hollow bricks?
Much, I assure you. The enclosed air
hindering absorption, not only makes the
bricks less damp and cold, but it prevents
the warmth within, or the cold without a
house, from passing through its walls. For
all purposes of defence against the weather,
a five-inch wall of hollow brick is equal to
a nine-inch common one; that gives more
space within. Four inches won out of each
wall will add five hundred cubic feet to
the accommodations of a fourth-class house.
The confined air, again, not only hinders the
transmission of heat and cold, but it hinders
also the transmission of sound. Our flooring
here is a thin arch of hollow brick, and you
may have observed, down-stairs, that there
was silence overhead, though many people
walked about the rooms above. Through
floors, and thin partitions made of hollow
bricks, romping of children, crying, laughing,
music, conversations, do not pass as distinct
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