Travels Through France And Italy by Tobias Smollett (fastest ebook reader .txt) 📕

Eggs, Which Are Carefully Preserved; But Neither She Nor Her Mate

Takes Any Nourishment, And In Eight Or Ten Days After They Quit

The Cocons, They Generally Die. The Silk Of These Cocons Cannot

Be Wound, Because The Animals In Piercing Through Them, Have

Destroyed The Continuity Of The Filaments. It Is Therefore, First

Boiled, And Then Picked And Carded Like Wool, And Being

Afterwards Spun, Is Used In The Coarser Stuffs Of The Silk

Manufacture. The Other Cocons, Which Yield The Best Silk, Are

Managed In A Different Manner. Before The Inclosed Worm Has Time

To Penetrate, The Silk Is Reeled Off With Equal Care And

Ingenuity. A Handful Of The Cocons Are Thrown Away Into A Kettle

Of Boiling Water, Which Not Only Kills The Animal, But Dissolves

The Glutinous Substance By Which The Fine Filaments Of The Silk

Cohere Or Stick Together, So That They Are Easily Wound Off,

Without Breaking. Six Or Seven Of These Small Filaments Being

Joined Together Are Passed Over A Kind Of Twisting Iron, And

Fixed To The Wheel, Which One Girl Turns, While Another, With Her

Hands In The Boiling Water, Disentangles The Threads, Joins Them 

When They Chance To Break, And Supplies Fresh Cocons With

Admirable Dexterity And Dispatch. There Is A Manufacture Of This

Kind Just Without One Of The Gates Of Nice, Where Forty Or Fifty

Of These Wheels Are Worked Together, And Give Employment For Some

Weeks To Double The Number Of Young Women. Those Who Manage The

Pods That Float In The Boiling Water Must Be Very Alert,

Otherwise They Will Scald Their Fingers. The Smell That Comes

From The Boiling Cocons Is Extremely Offensive. Hard By The

Harbour, There Is A Very Curious Mill For Twisting The Silk,

Which Goes By Water. There Is In The Town Of Nice, A Well

Regulated Hospital For Poor Orphans Of Both Sexes, Where Above

One Hundred Of Them Are Employed In Dressing, Dyeing, Spinning,

And Weaving The Silk. In The Villages Of Provence, You See The

Poor Women In The Streets Spinning Raw Silk Upon Distaves: But

Here The Same Instrument Is Only Used For Spinning Hemp And Flax;

Which Last, However, Is Not Of The Growth Of Nice--But Lest I

Should Spin This Letter To A Tedious Length, I Will Now Wind Up

My Bottom, And Bid You Heartily Farewell.

Sir,--In My Last, I Gave You A Succinct Account Of The Silkworm,

And The Management Of That Curious Insect In This Country. I

Shall Now Proceed To Describe The Methods Of Making Wine And Oil.

The Vintage Begins In September. The Grapes Being Chosen And

Carefully Picked, Are Put Into A Large Vat, Where They Are

Pressed By A Man's Naked Feet, And The Juices Drawn Off By A Cock

Below. When No More Is Procured By This Operation, The Bruised

Grapes Are Put Into The Press, And Yield Still More Liquor. The

Juice Obtained By This Double Pressure, Being Put In Casks, With

Their Bungs Open, Begins To Ferment And Discharge Its Impurities

At The Openings. The Waste Occasioned By This Discharge, Is

Constantly Supplied With Fresh Wine, So That The Casks Are

Always Full. The Fermentation Continues For Twelve, Fifteen, Or

Twenty Days, According To The Strength And Vigour Of The Grape.

In About A Month, The Wine Is Fit For Drinking. When The Grapes

Are Of A Bad, Meagre Kind, The Wine Dealers Mix The Juice With

Pigeons'-Dung Or Quick-Lime, In Order To Give It A Spirit Which

Nature Has Denied: But This Is A Very Mischievous Adulteration.

The Process For Oil-Making Is Equally Simple. The Best Olives Are 

Those That Grow Wild; But The Quantity Of Them Is Very

Inconsiderable. Olives Begin To Ripen And Drop In The Beginning

Of November: But Some Remain On The Trees Till February, And Even

Till April, And These Are Counted The Most Valuable. When The

Olives Are Gathered, They Must Be Manufactured Immediately,

Before They Fade And Grow Wrinkled, Otherwise They Will Produce

Bad Oil. They Are First Of All Ground Into A Paste By A Mill-Stone

Set Edge-Ways In A Circular Stone-Trough, The Wheel Being

Turned By Water.

This Paste Is Put Into Trails Or Circular Cases Made Of Grass

Woven, Having A Round Hole At Top And Bottom; When Filled They

Resemble In Shape Our Cheshire Cheeses. A Number Of These Placed

One Upon Another, Are Put In A Press, And Being Squeezed, The Oil

With All Its Impurities, Runs Into A Receptacle Below Fixed In

The Ground. From Hence It Is Laded Into A Wooden Vat, Half Filled

With Water. The Sordes Or Dirt Falls To The Bottom; The Oil Swims

A-Top; And Being Skimmed Off, Is Barrelled Up In Small Oblong

Casks. What Remains In The Vat, Is Thrown Into A Large Stone

Cistern With Water, And After Being Often Stirred, And Standing

Twelve Or Fourteen Days, Yields A Coarser Oil Used For Lamps And

Manufactures. After These Processes, They Extract An Oil Still

More Coarse And Fetid From The Refuse Of The Whole. Sometimes, In

Order To Make The Olives Grind The More Easily Into A Paste, And

Part With More Oil, They Are Mixed With A Little Hot Water: But

The Oil Thus Procured Is Apt To Grow Rancid. The Very Finest,

Called Virgin Oil, Is Made Chiefly Of Green Olives, And Sold At

A Very High Price, Because A Great Quantity Is Required To

Produce A Very Little Oil. Even The Stuff That Is Left After All

These Operations, Consisting Of The Dried Pulp, Is Sold For Fuel,

And Used In Brasieres For Warming Apartments Which Have No

Chimney.

I Have Now Specified All The Manufactures Of Nice Which Are Worth

Mentioning. True It Is, There Is Some Coarse Paper Made In This

Neighbourhood; There Are Also People Here Who Dress Skins And

Make Leather For The Use Of The Inhabitants: But This Business Is

Very Ill Performed: The Gloves And Shoes Are Generally Rotten As

They Come From The Hands Of The Maker. Carpenter's, Joiner's, And

Blacksmith's Work Is Very Coarsely And Clumsily Done. There Are

No Chairs To Be Had At Nice, But Crazy Things Made Of A Few

Sticks, With Rush Bottoms, Which Are Sold For Twelve Livres A

Dozen. Nothing Can Be More Contemptible Than The Hard-Ware Made

In This Place, Such As Knives, Scissors, And Candle-Snuffers. All

Utensils In Brass And Copper Are Very Ill Made And Finished. The

Silver-Smiths Make Nothing But Spoons, Forks, Paultry Rings, And

Crosses For The Necks Of The Women.

The Houses Are Built Of A Ragged Stone Dug From The Mountains,

And The Interstices Are Filled With Rubble; So That The Walls

Would Appear Very Ugly, If They Were Not Covered With Plaister,

Which Has A Good Effect. They Generally Consist Of Three Stories,

And Are Covered With Tiles. The Apartments Of The Better Sort Are

Large And Lofty, The Floors Paved With Brick, The Roofs Covered

With A Thick Coat Of Stucco, And The Walls Whitewashed. People Of

Distinction Hang Their Chambers With Damask, Striped Silk,

Painted Cloths, Tapestry, Or Printed Linnen. All The Doors, As

Well As The Windows, Consist Of Folding Leaves. As There Is No

Wainscot In The Rooms, Which Are Divided By Stone Partitions And

The Floors And Cieling Are Covered With Brick And Stucco, Fires

Are Of Much Less Dreadful Consequence Here Than In Our Country.

Wainscot Would Afford Harbour For Bugs: Besides, White Walls Have

A Better Effect In This Hot Climate. The Beds Commonly Used In

This Place, And All Over Italy, Consist Of A Paillasse, With One

Or Two Mattrasses, Laid Upon Planks, Supported By Two Wooden

Benches. Instead Of Curtains There Is A Couziniere Or Mosquito

Net, Made Of A Kind Of Gauze, That Opens And Contracts

Occasionally, And Incloses The Place Where You Lie: Persons Of

Condition, However, Have Also Bedsteads And Curtains; But These

Last Are Never Used In The Summer.

In These Countries, People Of All Ranks Dine Exactly At Noon; And

This Is The Time I Seize In Winter, For Making My Daily Tour Of

The Streets And Ramparts, Which At All Other Hours Of The Day Are

Crowded With Men, Women, Children And Beasts Of Burthen. The

Rampart Is The Common Road For Carriages Of All Kinds. I Think

There Are Two Private Coaches In Nice, Besides That Of The

Commandant: But There Are Sedan Chairs, Which May Be Had At A

Reasonable Rate. When I Bathed In The Summer, I Paid Thirty Sols,

Equal To Eighteen-Pence, For Being Carried To And From The

Bathing Place, Which Was A Mile From My Own House.

Now I Am Speaking Of Bathing, It May Not Be Amiss To Inform You

That Though There Is A Fine Open Beach, Extending Several Miles

To The Westward Of Nice, Those Who Cannot Swim Ought To Bathe

With Great Precaution, As The Sea Is Very Deep, And The Descent

Very Abrupt From Within A Yard Or Two Of The Water's Edge. The

People Here Were Much Surprised When I Began To Bathe In The

Beginning Of May. They Thought It Very Strange, That A Man

Seemingly Consumptive Should Plunge Into The Sea, Especially When

The Weather Was So Cold; And Some Of The Doctors Prognosticated

Immediate Death. But, When It Was Perceived That I Grew Better In

Consequence Of The Bath, Some Of The Swiss Officers Tried The

Same Experiment, And In A Few Days, Our Example Was Followed By

Several Inhabitants Of Nice. There Is, However, No Convenience

For This Operation, From The Benefit