He was in very serious earnest.
But was ever a question more absurd? Who of women would not wish it? But
to get the wish--ah, there's a different matter! I thought he must be
crazed by over-study, and I could only sit and stare at him, open-mouthed.
"Listen!" he went on more rapidly, as if to forestall objection. "You are
scholar, too, a little. You know how Nature vorks, how men aid her in her
business. Man puts t'e mot'er of vinegar into sweet cider and it is
vinegar. T'e fermenting germs of t'e brewery chemist go in vit' vater and
hops and malt, and t'ere is beer. T'e bacilli of bread, t'e yeast,
svarming vit millions of millions of little spores, go into t'e
housevife's dough, and it is bad bread; but t'at is not t'e fault of t'e
bacilli--mein Gott, no!--for vit' t'e bacilli t'e baker makes goot bread.
T'e bacilli of butter, of cheese--you haf studied t'em. T'e experimenter
puts t'e germs of good butter into bad cream and it becomes goot. It
ripens. It is educated, led in t'e right vay. Tradition vaits for years to
ripen vine and make it perfect. Science finds t'e bacillus of t'e perfect
vine and puts it in t'e cask of fresh grape juice, and soon t'e vine
drinkers of t'e vorld svear it is t'e rare old vintage.
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