it may be assumed that the nearest source of water in a village is
certain to be found upon the premises of some agriculturist. He
will, doubtless, be perfectly willing to allow free access to his
stream or pool; but he cannot be expected to construct conveniences
for the public use, and he may even feel naturally annoyed if
continual use by thirty people, twice a day, finally breaks his
pump. He naturally believes that other gentlemen in the village
should take an equal interest with himself in the public welfare,
but they do not appear to do so. It may be that the path to the pump
leads through the private garden, right before his sitting-room
window, and the constant passage of women and children for water,
particularly children, who are apt to lounge and stare about them,
becomes a downright nuisance. This, surely, ought not to be. A very
little amount of united action on the part of the principal
inhabitants of the village would put this straight. The pump could
be repaired, a new path made, and the water conveyed to a stone
trough by a hose, or something of the kind, and the owner would be
quite willing to sanction it, but he does not see why it should all
be done at his expense. The other inhabitants of the village see the
difficulty, recognize it, perhaps talk about remedying it, but
nothing is done, simply because there exists no body, no council to
undertake it. Spontaneous combination is extremely uncertain in its
action; the organization should exist before the necessity for
utilizing it arises. In other places what is wanted is a well, but
cottagers cannot afford to dig a deep well, and certainly no
combination can be expected from them alone and unassisted. Village
wells require also to be under some kind of supervision. At
intervals they require cleaning out. The machinery for raising water
must be prepared; the cover to prevent accidents to children
renewed. A well that has no one to look after it quickly becomes the
receptacle of all the stones and old boots and dead cats in the
place. But if there is a terror of prosecution, the well remains
clear and useful. The digging of a deep well is an event of national
importance, so to say, to a village. It may happen that a noble
spring of water bursts out some little distance from the village,
but is practically useless to the inhabitants because of its
distance. What more easy than to run a hose from it right to a stone
trough, or dipping-place, in the centr