TESTING THE CIDER.

Thames Star, Volume X, Issue 3141, 13 March 1879, Page 4

TESTING THE CIDER.

Yesterday afternoon a farmer having a barrel of cider on tap in his waggon was doing a fine retail business near the market at five cents per glass, when a man with a very thin voice and very old clothes softly advanced and said, " Has the state inspector of pomological juices inspected that cider yet?" "I—l guess not," replied the farmer, greatly embarrassed in a moment. "I thought not," continued the thin-voiced man; well, sir, you can draw me a full glass." The farmer drew one, scanning the man with great anxiety, and when the " inspector " had received it he held it up between his eye and the sun, and said, " The precipitation appears most too rapid, while these floating particles denote unusual depression. Perhaps a second glass will be clearer." He swallowed the contents of the first at exactly four gulps, and taking a second glass he critically examined it and said, "Ah! The precipitation is clearing >away. This cider seems to have been made from apples." "It was, Bir, and they were very nice apples, too," replied the farmer. "Let's see how a third glass will look. I am not quite satisfied on the point of compression." He drained the second, and received the third, and as he sipped it he inquired, " You used a hand cider press, didn't you ?" " Yes, sir." "Ah ! I thought so. Worked it with a lever, didn't you P" " Yes, sir." " Did the mill stand in a draught of air while you were working it ?" " I—l—don't know, sir." " Well, I think it did. Be a little more careful after this. The inspector of the pomological juices grades this barrel ' A No. 2,' but if you take a little more pains you can increase the grade every time in the future. All right, sir, go on with your selling." The man had been gone 10 minutes before any one mustered courage to remark he-was a fraud. " I know he's aUright," persisted the farmer. "The minnit I saw him draw his coat tail around to wipe out the corner of his mouth I knew he was a big gun, and I was just shivering in my boots for fear he'd ask me why I didn't punch the seeds out of the apples before grinding."—Detroit Free Press.