Connecticut western news., 1873-10-17
THE OLD CIDER MILL.

THE OLD CIDER MILL.
 Yesterday they tore down the old oider-min at the Lynches'. Its place, or rather its office, is to be taken by 8 little cast-iron one set in the stable.
 Odd enough 1t will seem to go past the Lynch farm now, and miss the old mill, for 1t was very conspicuous ob- ject where it stood, three or four rods back from the house, with its great hopper and mash-wheel encircled by the deep-trodden path where old Sib used to plod endlessly through the brisk October days, grinding all the cider apples of the neighborhood. And there were the great posts and cross beam of the press, massive pine tim bers, eighteen inches square, that had 8 certain Cyclopean look, fit to make 8 boy stare, and put large ideas into his head. There, too, were the big, steam ing heaps of tan-colored "pummy (pomace), and the great sour smelling trough into which the ground apple fell and was thence conveyed to the hoops.
 For several seasons, however, the huge wooden jack-screws have been out of the lofty cross-beam, and the mash wheel has grown toothless. Indeed, the old mill has never been quite itself since the Maine (Liquor) Law made a revolution in the neighborhood. But the great pine posts stood fast, and bade fair to do so for another half cen- tury, to the wonder of strangers.
 "Say, old fellow! is that the gal lows ?" passing "runner demanded of Uncle Billy Gives, who, one day, sat nodding under the balm-o'- -Gilead, a little beyond.
 Now, Uncle Billy has always been a steady consumer of the beverage of which the old mill may be considered a shrine. and was even at that moment little under the potency of its influence.
 "Gallus p quoth the old fellow. Wal, fust an larst it's sarved me a sight wuss than gallus cud 'a',,done."
 It may be remarked that Uncle Billy stoutly denies this confession in his sober moments. It is only when "half seas over" that he frankly owns how sadly drink has ruined him.
 But at present my story relates to the last years of the,old mills active career, during which it was at certain seasons put to special, but less legitimate use, the precise nature of which long re- mained mystery. This was when the Lynch girls, then verging toward young womanhood, were all at home,-Lu- creesh, Cad, Jess, and Lorette, a merry lot, rosy, and ''full of the old cat"
 We had custom in that neighbor- hood-a custom not confined to that neighborhooa, may add-of hanging May-baskets, a sort of paper valentine, made basket-form to hold more sub stantial tokens than mere poetry; but, as the writer has already described this custom in former number, nothing need here be said concerning it, further than that the hanging part was gener- ally followed by 8 hot pursuit of the hanging parties, who, if caught, were subject to no end of laughable igno- miny. The Lynch girls, swift of foot as Diana herself, sometimes captured the lads who ventured to append favors to their door; and then came the droll part, the part which has to do with the old cider-mill.' Whenever they had caught any of the boys, there would be plenty of exultant OoaODoaO while they took him back to where the old mill stood, then extravagant ejaculations, often ye1ls of genuine distress, and no end of humble begging. The girls did something to him there at the old cider mill. What it was, whether they stuff ed his mouth with ''pummy," or pinch ed his toes in the mash-wheel, was not very clear to the other lads. And of the three or four boys they had thus misused, not one could be got to tell what the girls had done to him,-it was something he didn't like to talk about a Now, will wager that some one of my readers is saying that he should just like to see the four girls that could hustle him back to that mill and stuff his mouth with ground applet We'll, sir, I should just like to see how you would go to work to help yourself, with four girls all laughing and pulling at you. What would you do? Double up your fist? An, but you know that it's morally impossible to hit one of the soft. calico. ey things,-after you've doubled it! It's about the best way to let 'em work, and bear it all with your best grin. .-. ..g...
 This sort of thing had been going on for two springs, when, late in May, a cousin (some degrees removed) of the writer's came on from New York, where his father resides to make us all a visit, and stay through the summer. His name, as he wrote it, was Horace G. Me1cher, the G standing for the late great editor; but we knew him as "Hod simply. Iwonder whether MT. Greeley's early playfellows used to call him Hod
 We'll, Hod was pretty good sort oi fellow. Of course he had on few airs but then we expect them in city boys at first. They do have a good many advantages over country lads, and ] don't know that it is anything more than fair that they should snub us lit tie. Hod, by the way, was then thir- teen past. He ridiculed the style " of the young ladies of the neighborhood and, no doubt, they seemed different from the girls he had been used to see. ing. But he took very lively interest in May-baskets and, although May had soon given place to June, we still kept up the fun on odd evenings, ,-onlJ they were no longer May-baskets, but