The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1867-02-27
Among the Butterflies.

At one. of our uptown New York
hotels, last fall, gentleman sat placidiy
eating his dinner, when waiter suddenly
approached and deposited before him a
plate of butter The gentlemans coun-
tenance underwent rapid and astonish,
ing change. He paused with suspended
fork for moment, then pushed the plate
from him with very evident scorn, and
said sternly, 81 told you-No BUTTER.
The waiter retreated little discomftted,
and moment afterward said, in our
hearing, 81 know where that gentleman s
from, certain "Indeed where is that?'
we asked. "From Philadelphia, wal
ter answered, emphatically; because
thea never eat any butter here. "Never
eat any butter here!' We pondered
upon this singular fact in epicurean an
nails, in doubt whether to ascribe it to
excessive frugality, or excessively bad
taste, either O: which might prevail to
an unlimited extent in the City of Penn.
Shortly afterward we found ourselves
unexpectedly in that same city, and
early one sunny October morning we
went to market 1t was new expe-
rience; we passed through it with doubt
with wonder, and with incredulity.-
Never had there been such going to
market for us before We entered spa
cious halls, with arched domes and fret
ted windows, of faultless architectural
beauty and finish, and as neat in all their
arrangements as lady's parlor. There
were rows of white marble counters, and
spotlessly clean wooden stalls, heaped
with their tempting display of fruits and
vegetables. There were apples, fragrant
and mellow, as if they had ripened under
a tropical sky; hives of clear, sparkling
honey; great jars of snow-white lard
sausages that Mr.. Weller could eat with
out pang before or afterward;) won
derful clusters of grapes, and rich golden
cheeses. There were, too, rows of ruddy,
checked farmers, young and old gentle
men in dress and department, represen-
tatives of the industry and wealth of the
adjacent counties. There were even
farmers wives and daughters, placid ma,
irons and sober but beautiful maidens
clad in Quaker garb. Verify, it was al.
most Arcadia But at last we reached
the browning glory of that feast of good
things. We saw tubs of wood absolutely
spotless, bound with hoops Of brass alb.
solutely dazzling, filled with little rolls
of butter, cut to weigh half or quarter
pound, stamped with various pretty
| figures, and enclosed each in dainty
little linen napkin. One of those curl
Gus little rolls we tasted. Our new ex.
perience reached its climax. Was THAT
BUTTER? No. it was the essence of June
mornings caught and imprisoned in glow
ing globules, the fragrance of clover fields
ripening into sweetness in the brooding
sunshine, the warm delicious flavor Of
new milk foaming in the overfowing
bucket. Our eyes closed involuntarily
and we saw the low brown "spring- house,
with the clear cool water flowing over its
stone floor, and the shining pans filled
with yellow wrinkled cream, and drip
ping with moisture. Higher and higher
our fancies scared. We thought Of
Ganymede. But the beautiful boy
was not befee~- In his stead was g
sober Quaker gentleman, clad in gray
who would have resented such an allu'
sion as heathenish in supreme degree
and yet-and veto Jupiter! thy nee
tar rare has come down to US moderns
and the fortunate children of Penn spread
it on their--daily bread.-ln ~ Y. In
dependent. j. &. S,