New-York tribune., 1875-02-23

Gus enuncations Of the health and morality
latent in any drink but that of cold water.
Theoretically. we march with the Total Abb
stiaence phalanx; but practically, the nero
mention Of the old-fashioDed apple-juioe
brings up to us and to our readers pictures
which somehow embody, as does nothing else.
the country and its homes. T1e American
goes TO Europe and repairs without delay 10
study the tranquility, the garden-llke fnllness
Of An English landscape; or no hies him 70
Southern France or Italy and stands enrap-
tured gazing at the dark, lOw-lyng hills
crusted with vines, the cleaning white
villas. the cloudleSs depths Of color
which are not that which he has been
used to call the Cky. 1t is certain that h0
never saw picture 50 fair; yet after all, il
is but q picture. He has no part in it his
guide book is in his hand, his courier at his
elbow, his trunks are at the hO;el there are
u thousand other landscapes, statues, churches.
waiting for him to see 1t may be all righ.
for the Spaniard or Frenchman to talk with
efIusion of olive groves or vine-chd bills;
but what are they to Cobbs of Pennsylvania
or White of Oregon, except picture belong
ing to somebody ese' But from Pennsylva-
of which belongs TO some Americans child
hood. Every one of our readers has
such one in his minds eye now;
the grass brown after the early frost;
the white dandeion seed floating drowsily
in the yellow sunshine, and the old crooked
trees weighted with bloOd-red Baldwins and
golden pippins. These old patriarchs of tho
farm are the most friendly and human of all
trees to him; he and his brothers used TO
make seats high up in their crotched trunks.
his own children have fastened swing just
now to their branches. Between the orchard
and the house the cider-press stands, and as
he tastes the mellow golden juice, it seems as
if he were q boy again, burning with PATRIOTISM
on Independence Day, hating the British ana
ready to take oath that no skies are so faif
as the purple splcndors that rise on cold
Fall evening over the old homestead.
About this time of the year. too, when there
is nothing to be done (for not even the butter
can be sent into market on account or tho
deep snows), what part does this homely drink
play in American hospitality! Kryter, who
has just moved into his new house on Murray
Hill laughs uproarously at poor Hodge and
his like tippling cider Kryter has a cellar
he outbid Royal Duke in London. lie has
a butler, too, of like superlative quality. Ho
is apt to tell his guests before dinner is over
how much he "pays that scoundrel,' and has
paid for the wines. Half his respectablity il
based on the butler and the drinks. lie ID
afraid of the one, and does not often touch
the other Whisky, half and half, he really
enjoys Bell, Kryters clerk, has as lofty social
aims as his employer. He boards at stylish
house on one of the cross streets. where by
dint of sleeping on the fourth floor in closet
chambers he can afford his bottle of misera-
bic champagne at dinner. He goes with
ragged shirts often to buy the sour stuff, but
then what an aristOcratic sound Is in tho pop
of the cOrk His children were born in this
boarding house; they drink the dregs from
4 the glasses after dinner; they listen to gossip
of the Brooklyn trial and the last case OF
bribery at breakfast, and carry away ideas
more vile than the cheap poison OF the heel
taps. But it is only in the scant fringe OF
cities about this great country that fashion
able wines and fashionable manners prevail.
There are innumerable homes where, on this
wintry February night, you may find the
gray haired grandSire. father, mother. and
children gathered around the fire, with hands
scanned by hard work, and faces lined by
honest, shrewd thought. Some of the neigh
bors drop in, having stamped through the
snow the talk runs on politlcs-on the par
sons journey east-the wedding coming of
next week. 1t is not brilliant critical talk.
but it Is intelligent, kindly, and, above all
clean. Presently one of the boys goes down
cellar for the big basket of apples, and there
are cakes and a great jug of hot mulled cider.
1t was such homely, honest hOme-life as this
that gave Lincoln to the country, Clay. Web
ster, Stonewau Jackson, Greeley, Franklin.
Is there any way for US to go back to its
elf-respecting integrity. its simplicity, its
modesty7 Shall we ever give up our sham
wines, manufactured in the BOwery, and taxa
to honest cider again