, 1863-03-21
WASTE OF MATERIAL,


Waste of material affords livelihood to
many, though with respect to patient inge
nuity in finding use for unconsidered tri-
fes, the Celestials beat us at all points. A
Chinese can extract substance from the
refuse of Western industry, and will not
only fatten on all things edible, without
any absurd antipathis to q dict Of reptiles
or insects, but will transmute rubbish into
glistening dollars. 1t is well known that
the ng-tailed race have a secret process
for separating a slight per centage of gold
from copper ore, and can ship it to Canton
at profit. 1t is known, too, that John
Chinaman's long nails will claw out Tiny
specks of gold from the heaps of "dirt"
that the brawny European digger has flung
contemptuously aside, and that he can
thrive on the very snatchings Of an aban-
doned claim At home, his wonderful in
dustry conjures up maintenance out of
slender means. He was the first gardener,
the first breeder Of fish in artificial reser-
voirs, the first to find out how valuable
were the pig and the silkworm. His econ
omy in agriculture equals his prudence in
trade; nothing is wasted that can enrich
the soil. Some countries and some ages
are more frugal than Others We, our
selves, with all our waste, constantly find
out uses for refuse materials which our an
cestors could do nothing with coal tar, and
black Lethe that used to pour its sullen
floods from the gas works, poisoning air
and water, was an unmitigated pest till it
was found to be the parent of aniline, of
rosy Magenta, delicate mauve, oil of am
monde, and other elegant extracts. Hor-
ses hoofs were kicked into the kennel for
many a year before they were expected to
yield the royal Prussian blue. Linen rags
were scraped to lint or burned to tinder for
centuries before it was deemed possible to
convert them into glossy cream laid paper,
and bones were once neither valued by the
farmer nor the phosphorus manufacturer
To some eyes every dust heap is a mine of
wealth. 1t is a wonderful sight which is
presented by the industry of the profess
sional searchers Of such dingy piles. Ev-
cry scrap of coke, every cinder, every bone,
rag, or bit of broken pattery, has its uses.
The fragments of smashed bottles, the ash
es of burned wood, the morsels of rusty
iron, corroded copper or tarnished tin, the
hair, skin, ropes ends, leather, are eagerly
scrambled for and set apart.
The good city of Paris alone contains
some thousands of chifonniers, who live
literally by hook, and who take up daily
bread from the cutters of the city by the
help of their iron claw and twinkling Ian
tern. By night they ply this toll, and by
day they sleep, or fish with cord and bunch
of hooks over bridge or quay for objects
floating down the Seine. All is fish, in
one sense that they can secure. They
know how to find mart for every ounce
of driftwood, every cracked kettle or dam
aged saucepan, for an old hat bobbing its
way down stream, for the skin of drowned
dog aground among the rushes. Some of
them have occasionally stumbled on valu-
able prizes; and, though their reputation
for honesty stands high, they love to re-
peat some marvellous tale of the chifoniers
in bygone days who found diamond ring
OF bag of gold, and straightway blossom
ed forth a CrBsus.