Arizona weekly enterprise., 1888-02-04
NEW ENGLAND's CIDER.
Visit to Massachusetts Cider Mill-TAe
 Rude Oldtime Hand Press.


 Rude Oldtime Hand Press.
 New England possesses an ancient in- dustry that is to be apprehended through a visit to the cider mill Cider and ap- pies were, in the olden time, indispensa- ble in every well regulated New England home. Country gallants, sparkling" their girls on Sunday nights, looked for ward to the treat. Old men and maid ems, young men and children, all partook freely of the drink, which before it grows hard and acid is as harmless as lemon ade. The old school divines alluded to cider in their sermons with wonderful moral effect. We can imagine one of them, looking at his shivering congrega- tion from beneath the immense sounding board and exhorting them to keen always the pristine sweetness of new cider, and not to initiate that liquor in becoming sour with old age. Then what a fine ethical sermon could have been preached about cider apples. which, gnarled and specked to the outward eye, are yet in- stinct with spiritual worth.
 On the river road to Holyoke, mile or two from the heart of Springfield, stands rough, unpainted building. For many rods before the traveller gets to it, the smell of cider apples is waited to him, and coming nearer he sees in front of the structure a large bin filled brimful with the fruit that led to Adams fall. The building is the Riverdale mill, con- mOnly known as ''the old saw mill, '" and now used by the proprietor for mak- ing cider. The driving public know Mir. Loomis well, and all sorts and conditions of vehicles are driven over the north end bridge and along by the winding Connec- tlcut till they come to halt beside the mill. Jugs, demijohns, kegs and what not are brought out from the wagons and filled full of the amber liquid which might well have been the nectar that made Olympus such jolly place. From Chicopee street, the Falls, Agawam and all the farming towns in the vicinity come stalwart farmer lads, their roagh carts laden with apples. Barrels are perched on top of the load, which will be filled with cider, and the liquor will cheer many rustic fireside during the dreary winter days. The load is weighed and fifty pounds are allowed to a bushel Short and merry work is made of un- loading the apples, peculiar kind of stun1py shovel being used for the pur- pose. A delightful air of .iaformality hangs over the place, and the genial pro- prietor, though he is a busy man these days, is glad to explain the workings of his fine new machinery to any one who is interested iii the matter.
 The mill consists of two stories and a cellar. In the upper story is the hopper from which the apples descend into the press, the fruit being carried from the bin outside by cog elevator. The press tlIe nrsJ noOr Is ''revOIvmg one; that is, while one ''cheese' is being pressed another is being turned out. A ''cheese" is simply the name given to a grist of apples turned in to be pressed. The machinery is turned by strong en- zine of thirty horse power, and the press capacity is 100 barrels day After the cheese has been pressed the pomace, which is the apple pulp with the juice squeezed out, passes off outside by an- other cog arrangement. No one has been able to find out exactly what the use of pomace is, but MT. Loomis, with true New England thrift, proposes to test its utility as feed for cattle. The cider runs out from the press into tank in the cellar, from which it is carried into the barrels by pipes. During the season an average of 5000 barrels of cider is pro- duced every year.
 What contrast is this well appointed mill to the rude hand cider press that used to be the property of almost every New England farmer forty or fifty years <0f@ I II turn out and bear hand at squeezing out the juice. And then there was the delight of sucking cider from the barrel through a straw delight rendered even keener when a pretty girl was engaged in the same operation close beside one. There may be less romance and less fla vor about this modern cider mill of ours, b2t the product of Mir. Loomis' press tastes just like old fashioned cider Springfield Republican.