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Chemistry of Advanced Environmental Purification Processes of Water Fundamentals and Applications 1st Edition Erik Sogaard
Chemistry of Advanced Environmental Purification Processes of Water Fundamentals and Applications 1st Edition Erik Sogaard
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CHEMISTRY OF ADVANCED
ENVIRONMENTAL
PURIFICATION PROCESSES
OF WATER
This page intentionally left blank
CHEMISTRY
OF ADVANCED
ENVIRONMENTAL
PURIFICATION
PROCESSES
OF WATER
Fundamentals
and Applications
Edited by
ERIK G. SØGAARD
Aalborg University Esbjerg
Permissions may be sought directly from Elsevier’s Science & Technology Rights
Department in Oxford, UK: phone (+44) (0) 1865 843830; fax (+44) (0) 1865 853333; email:
permissions@elsevier.com. Alternatively you can submit your request online by visiting
the Elsevier web site at http://elsevier.com/locate/permissions, and selecting Obtaining
permission to use Elsevier material.
Notice
No responsibility is assumed by the publisher for any injury and/or damage to persons
or property as a matter of products liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use
or operation of any methods, products, instructions or ideas contained in the material
herein. Because of rapid advances in the medical sciences, in particular, independent
verification of diagnoses and drug dosages should be made.
ISBN: 978-0-444-53178-0
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my students and PhD fellows in chemical
engineering from my years of teaching and research at Esbjerg Teknikum
and Aalborg University Esbjerg since 1990.
Index 339
vii
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Contributors
ix
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Introduction
The book contains different aspects of water and its treatment. All
chapters can be read independently.
Chapter 1 is a short introductory chapter containing information on
different types of water and the water cycle. Chapter 2 has its focus on soil
and groundwater treatment by help of chemical oxidation, whereas
Chapter 3 covers the possibilities for electrochemical purification of soil
and groundwater and different kinds of polluted waters. These two
chapters also show important areas of advanced oxidation technology
(AOT). Chapter 4 goes on with AOT, now by including the methodology
of photochemical and photocatalytic oxidation. The chapter also contains
information on nano-particle production in the form of the photocatalytic
semiconductor TiO2 technology. Chapter 5 contains information of water
in its near-critical and supercritical phase where it totally changes its
character e a property which can be applied for different purposes
including purification of water. Chapter 6 is dedicated membranes and
membrane filtration, a methodology that can be combined with any one of
other purification methods from the other chapters. Chapter 7 is focused
on drinking water and drinking water treatment with special emphasis on
the application of iron-oxidising bacteria for iron removal. Chapter 8
covers the problems that the world has discovered in the last couple of
decades with respect to the naturally present arsenic in ground water, its
toxicity and its removal.
The co-authors of this book were all PhD students of the editor during
the period 2005e2014. We hope that the collaboration and research in our
group during these years can be of interest for other researchers in
chemical engineering, scientist with interests in environmental chemistry
and other researchers with a focus on water and water remediation
technologies and mainly for their students that are going to be trained in
chemical aspects of water, its pollution and remediation principles for the
development of sustainable solutions for societies of all kinds.
The authors want to acknowledge Arunan Sritharan and Paula Epure
for their help with some of the figures in the book.
xi
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C H A P T E R
1
Water and Water Cycle
Professor MSO Erik G. Søgaard
Section of Chemical Engineering, Department of Biotechnology,
Chemistry and Environmental Engineering, Aalborg University Esbjerg,
Niels Bohrs Vej 8, DK 6700 Esbjerg, Denmark
Where water on the Earth originally came from is in fact not known with
security. There exist two competing theories of which the most popular is
based on the fact that comets, which contain up to 90% water, should have
delivered the most important parts of the oceans. The oceans are calculated
to make up about 1% of the mass of the Earth. It has been shown that water
from some of the comets that during their passage of the Earth were
observed by spectroscopic measurements have contents of deuterium,
which is close to the content of deuterium in the oceans. A part of the
theory also goes on to state that impacts of meteors in the form of carbon
chondrites had a content of organic material including amino acids which
could have made up the indigenous organic material present in the oceans.
The alternative theory is based on the fact that indigenous water came
from the mantle of the Earth. The mantle is divided into a lower part
consisting of fixed rocks, the mesosphere, and an upper part, the
asthenosphere, which comprises plastic rocks. The transition zone be-
tween the two parts is not expected to separate them with regard to
composition of the rocks but rather with regard to physical conditions
which is crucial for the understanding of the model. Especially, the
chemical constituents that make up the mineral olivine are involved in the
theory. This mineral consisting of Fe and Mg silicates constitutes a major
part of the occurrence in the mantle of the Earth. At the transition zone
between the lower and the upper mantle from 410 km below the surface of
the Earth to about 1050 km, it can exist in a more specific part the b-phase
of olivine (Wadsleyit) that contains water as hydrate water and potential
Hydrospher, atmosphere
m r
0k Uppe crust
10 km
0 km ion
–4 Transit
3 0 360 k m
0
50 Lower
Mantle
Mg/Si/O
km
00
20
Liquid
Fe/Ni
km Core
00
22
Solid
k m Fe/Ni
1 270
FIGURE 1.1 Structure of the Earth. J.E. Fergusson (1985). Reprinted with permission from
Pergamon Press.
FIGURE 1.2 Presence of fossil water together with fossil oil and gas. Reprinted with
permission from U.S. Geological Survey.
0% 10% 20% 30% 40% 50% 60% 70% 80% 90% 100%
Thermal
Electrokinec
FIGURE 2.3 Overview of remediation technologies divided into three major categories.
(For colour version of this figure, the reader is referred to the online version of this book.)
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“I never catch cold, thank you,” said. Miss Methvyn. Mr. Guildford
fancied she spoke stiffly, and was annoyed with himself for the
suggestion. “That is not a bit of your business,” he imagined her
manner to imply. But her next words reassured him. “Perhaps it is
not wise to stand still so long,” she said, and she set off walking
round the little garden.
There was an opening at the other side in the shrubs and trees
that surrounded the enclosure of flower-beds. Here Miss Methvyn
paused. “By daylight there is such a pretty view from here,” she said.
“You can see Haverstock village, and the church, and the little river.
Even now you can see it gleaming—over there to the right, over
there where the railway bridge crosses it.”
“Ah! yes, I see. Do you think that the railway spoils the landscape,
Miss Methvyn?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it,” she said. “It has always
been there. Charlie used to be so fond of watching for the white
feathers of steam coming into sight and disappearing again. He liked
the railway, because he had a notion that any day, if he ran to
Haverstock, he could get to his mother at once. The fancy cheered
him when he first came to live here, and she went away. I have
never cared to see the trains go by lately.”
As she spoke a shrill whistle sounded in the distance. Cicely
turned and began to retrace her steps.
“Associations must sometimes be terrible things,” said Mr.
Guildford gently.
Something in his voice encouraged Cicely to say more. “There is
a still more painful feeling that I have never heard described,” she
said. “I have often wondered if other people have felt it. The sound of
that railway whistle put it into my mind, and the speaking of Charlie’s
fancy about it. What I mean is a sort of hatred of everything tangible
—material rather. It came over me dreadfully after he died. It seemed
to me that even the material things he had loved now separated me
from him. Just as he, in his innocence, loved the railway, because he
thought it would take him to his mother, so I could not endure to see
it, because I felt that it—that nothing material could take me to him or
bring him back to me. Everything, except memory, seemed to
separate me further from him. I have had this feeling twice; yes, I
think, twice in my life,” she repeated. “Did you ever feel it, or is it only
a womanish feeling?”
Mr. Guildford had listened to her with some surprise, but still with
attention and a wish to follow her meaning.
“I think I understand you,” he said thoughtfully. “It seems to me
your feeling must somewhere have affinity with what I—like every
student of practical science—realise incessantly; the utter
insurmountability of the barrier between matter and spirit. It sounds
very commonplace, but it is the puzzle. We are so hedged in, in
every direction the old hitting one’s head against the wall. And the
only thing to be done is to turn round and work one’s hardest inside
the limits.”
“Yes,” said Cicely. “Yes. I understand.” Then she was silent for a
minute or two. “I suppose,” she said at last, “I suppose if we could
put our feelings into words, we should always find some one who
shared them.”
“I suppose so,” he said. “Not that I have ever felt your special kind
of revolt against our prison bars, Miss Methvyn. I have never been
separated by death from any one that I cared very much about.”
“You have been very happy then,” she said.
“I don’t know. There are two ways of putting it. Perhaps the truth
is that I have never had any one to care enough for, for separation to
be or seem terrible,” he answered, in a tone not very easy to
interpret.
They were close to the window again. Geneviève’s music had
ceased, and glancing up, Cicely saw her cousin standing inside the
glass door looking out.
“Mr. Guildford,” she said hastily, “will you just come to the end of
the walk again for a moment. I have wanted to ask you something all
this evening, and I thought you might be annoyed at it. I want to
know what you think about my father. I cannot tell you why I ask you
—there—there is something that depends upon it. And I know you
are very clever. You must not think me very strange. I am so at a
loss,” she hurried on with what she had to say, in evident fear of Mr.
Guildford interrupting her with some cold expression of disapproval
or annoyance; for she could see that he looked grave and perplexed.
“What do you mean exactly, Miss Methvyn?” he said formally. “Do
you want to know if I think Colonel Methvyn in a critical state, or
what?”
He thought her inquiry uncalled for and hardly delicate. He felt
surprised, and a little disappointed. She was her father’s heiress;
Colonel Methvyn had told him so. Could it be—surely not—that she
was eager to claim her inheritance, making plans contingent on her
speedy succession?
“Yes,” she replied, “that is partly what I want to know. I also want
to know if any vexation—being thwarted about anything on which he
had set his heart, for instance, could do him harm.”
“Most assuredly it would,” he said somewhat sternly, “the very
gravest harm. It is very early for me to give an opinion,” he went on,
feeling anxious to avoid saying much. “I never saw Colonel Methvyn
till to-day, but I have seen similar cases. I should say he may live as
he is for many years, provided his mind is kept at ease, and that he
is not thwarted or exposed to vexation. The effect of any great
shock, of course, I could not predict.”
“Thank you,” she said very gently, almost humbly, “you have told
me what I wanted to know.”
Why did she want to know? he asked himself. She stood still for a
minute or two, as if thinking of what he had said. The moonlight fell
full on her fair face, and as she looked up with her clear honest eyes,
his heart smote him for even his passing misgiving that her motives,
her reasons, could be but of the purest and best.
“She is not a commonplace girl,” he thought, “and she won’t be a
commonplace woman; but she is too self-reliant for one so young.”
It was almost with a feeling of relief, or what he imagined to be
such, that he turned to Geneviève, who had opened the glass door
and stood waiting for them.
“How charming it is!” she said; “but, my cousin, my aunt fears lest
you should take cold.”
“I am coming in now, mother,” Cicely said as they came within
hearing, “do come here for a moment and look at the beautiful
moonlight.”
Mrs. Methvyn rose from her seat by the table, and joined the little
group at the window.
“Yes,” she said, “it is lovely, but it is rather cold.” She shivered as
she spoke, and retired to the fire. The others were following her,
when suddenly a whistle was heard, not a railway whistle this time. It
sounded at some little distance away, down among the shrubberies.
Cicely stopped, and seemed to listen.
“What was that? It surely can’t be” The whistle was repeated. “Go
in, Geneviève,” she said, “I shall be back directly.”
And almost before her cousin and Mr. Guildford saw what she
was doing, she had started off and was lost to sight among the
bushes.
Geneviève and Mr. Guildford looked at each other in surprise.
Then Geneviève came into the library again and spoke to her aunt.
“My cousin has gone out again, aunt,” she said; “shall we leave
the door open till she returns?”
“Cicely gone out again!” exclaimed Mrs. Methvyn. “How very
foolish! Do you see her Mr. Guildford?” she asked, for the young
man was still standing by the window.
“No, I don’t,” he replied; “Miss Methvyn ran off so quickly. We had
better shut the door in the meantime, however.”
He came inside and closed it. Mrs. Methvyn looked annoyed and
uneasy.
“I can’t understand what Cicely is thinking of,” she said.
“There was a—what do you call—siffle, siffle—a fistle—wistle?”
said Geneviève, “down in the garden, and then Cicely ran.”
“What do you mean, my dear?” said Mrs. Methvyn with slight
impatience. “Do you know, Mr. Guildford?”
He was half annoyed and half amused.
“It is just as Miss Casalis says,” he replied. “We heard a whistle at
some little distance, and Miss Methvyn ran off at once.”
“Was it a peculiar whistle, like two short notes and then a long
one?” inquired Mrs. Methvyn more composedly.
“Yes,” said Mr. Guildford; “I heard it twice; it was just that.”
“Then the Fawcetts must have returned,” exclaimed Cicely’s
mother. “How surprised every one will be! They intended to stay
abroad till July.”
“The Fawcetts!” repeated Geneviève impulsively.
“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. Methvyn, “the Fawcetts—our nearest
neighbours Colonel Methvyn’s cousins. Mr. Fawcett has been in the
habit of coming here at all hours since he was a boy, and there is a
short cut through the fields that saves a couple of miles,” she went
on, in a sort of generally explanatory way; “it comes out at the little
gate in the laurel-walk. By the bye, I wonder if Cicely has the key. We
generally keep it locked, for a good many tramps come round by the
Ash Lane, and Trev—Mr. Fawcett, always whistles, on the chance of
our hearing him, before coming round the other way by the lodge.”
“Cicely had a key to-day,” said Geneviève. “We went through the
little gate when we were out, and my cousin unlocked it.”
“Ah! that is all right, then; she often carries it in her pocket,”
replied Mrs. Methvyn.
She went to the glass door, and opening it, stood listening as if for
approaching voices. Geneviève sat down by the table and began idly
turning over some photographs. Mr. Guildford stood at a little
distance, wishing the carriage would come round that he might go.
From time to time, however, he could not help glancing at the face
bent over the photograph book. In profile it was hardly so perfect as
when in full view; still it was very lovely—every feature so clear, and
yet rounded, the long black eyelashes sweeping the delicately tinted
cheek, the expression so innocently wistful.
“I doubt if that little southern flower will take kindly to this soil,”
thought Mr. Guildford.
Just then Geneviève happened to look up, and catching sight of
the young man’s eyes fixed upon her, blushed vividly. Pitying her
discomfort, and annoyed with himself for being the cause of it, he
hastily made some remark about the pictures she was looking at,
thinking to himself as he did so of the shallowness of the popular
notion that French girls were more artificial, less unsophisticated and
retiring, than English maidens. Geneviève was on the point of
replying to his observation, when the door opened.
“The carriage for Mr. Guildford,” said the footman.
Mr. Guildford turned to Mrs. Methvyn, and was beginning to say
good-bye, when voices were heard outside—cheerful voices they
sounded as they came nearer—Miss Methvyn’s and another, a
deeper, fuller toned voice, and in a moment their owners appeared at
the glass door.
“Mother,” said Cicely, and to Mr. Guildford her tone sounded bright
and eager, “mother, here is Trevor, are you not astonished? Did you
think me insane when I ran off in such a hurry?” she went on
laughingly.
“We only arrived this afternoon,” said the gentleman, “two months
before we were expected. You can fancy what a comfortable
reception we had at Lingthurst. My mother and Miss Winter ended by
discovering they had lost all their luggage, that is to say, only twenty-
nine boxes turned up, and there was such a to-do that I came off.”
“It was very good of you, dear Trevor,” said Mrs. Methvyn. “It is so
nice to see you again. But why have you come home so soon?
Nothing wrong, I hope?
“Everything wrong,” said the young man laughing. But as he came
into the room he caught sight of Mr. Guildford, and, further off,
Geneviève seated by the table, but with her face turned away from
the others. “You are not alone,” he said hastily, his tone changing a
little. The change of tone, slight as it was, was enough to make Mr.
Guildford wish that his goodbyes had been completed before the
appearance of the new-comers, but almost ere he could realise the
wish Miss Methvyn had come forward.
“It was very rude of me to run away in such a hurry, Mr. Guildford,”
she said gently, “but I did not like to keep my cousin Mr. Fawcett
waiting. I was afraid he would think we had not heard him.”
“I was just about going round by the lodge when I heard your
tardy footsteps, Miss Cicely,” said Mr. Fawcett. “I had whistled till I
was tired and was thinking of trying a verse or two of Come into the
garden, Maud, for I am very tired indeed of being here at the gate
alone.”
“It would not have been at all appropriate,” said Cicely, a very
slight shadow of annoyance creeping over her face. Then there
came a little pause, which Mr. Guildford took advantage of to finish
his good-nights this time without interruption. He carried away with
him no very distinct impression of the new-comer, only that he was
tall and fair and good-looking, and that his voice was soft and
pleasant.
“She said he was her cousin,” Mr. Guildford repeated to himself.
“Ah! well, I am not likely ever to know more of her, but I almost think
she is the sort of woman one might come to make a friend of.”
CHAPTER VI.
“LE JEUNE MILORD.”
“He is as sober a man as most of the young nobility. His fortune is great. In
sense he neither abounds nor is wanting; and that class of men, take my word for
it, are the best qualified of all others to make good husbands to women of superior
talents. They know just enough to admire in her what they have not in
themselves.”