THE SWEAT OF OTHER MEN’S BROWS.
And finally after the dough had been tormented a sufficient length of time it was formed into rolls, five or six feet long, and not more than six inches in diameter, and placed in the oven, from whence it emerged the most deliciously crisp bread that ever was eaten, and entirely different from the heavy, soggy English bread which has dyspepsia in every crumb of it.
The secret of this light, delicious crustiness is not only in the form in which it is baked, but also in the thoroughness of the kneading. It is worked over and over, till it is as smooth as silk all the way through, and as light as a feather. Such bread needs no butter (and, by the way, very little is used) and may be eaten with gustatory delight anywhere, and at any time.
Still, a person who has to eat bread had better not go and see it made, on the same principle that a wise old boarder of experience never ventures near the kitchen. “Where ignorance is bliss,” etc. The industry and conscientious perseverance of the kneaders cannot be too highly commended, but the consumer of their product had better remain in ignorance of the perspiration. I prefer not to live upon the sweat of other men’s brows. There are seasonings more to my taste.
One of the very pleasant things in Switzerland, and France as well, is the perfect system of roads everywhere, and the care taken to shade the roads. The road-beds are marvels of excellence, and well would it be for America could we find it in our people to pay some little attention to this important matter. Whatever else may be slighted the roads are not. In making a comparison between Swiss roadways and American, I take into consideration the fact, that Switzerland is old and America new, and that the present Swiss road represents the labor of hundreds, or, for that matter, thousands of years, while the average age of the American road is not sixty years. Still, we might, and should, with our enterprise come nearer to continental roads than we do.
SWISS ROADS.