This may be avoided by "racking," that is to say, the cider when made may be turned from one hogshead to another at intervals, whenever it shows signs of fermenting. This continuous "racking" will arrest the progress of fermentation as effectually as "matching." The sweet cider is in far greater demand by the general public than that which is "rough," but a West Country labourer will hardly thank you for the cider that will be drunk with delight by the cockney. He prefers it "rough," that is to say acid, the rougher the better, till it almost cuts the throat as it passes down. Unless bottled, cider is difficult to preserve owing to the development of lactic acid. Moreover, in wood it turns dark in colour, and if allowed to stand becomes of an inky black, which is not inviting. This is due to having been in contact with iron. It is bottled from Christmas on till Easter, and so is sold as champagne cider; sometimes as champagne without the addition, we strongly suspect. The amount of alcohol produced by fermentation varies from five and a half to nine per cent. In the sweet sparkling cider the amount is very small, and it would take a great deal of it to make a man inebriate. Much difference of opinion exists as to the good of cider for rheumatic subjects. The sweet cider is of course bad, but it is certain that in the West of England a good many persons are able to drink cider who dare not touch beer--not only so, but believe that it is beneficial. Others, however, protest that they feel rheumatic pains if they touch it. The manufacturers of champagne cider very commonly add mustard to the liquid for the purpose of stinging the tongue; but apart from that, cider is the purest and least adulterated of all drinks. In conclusion I will venture to quote another West of England song concerning cider, only premising that by "sparkling" cider is not meant that which goes by the name in commerce, but the homely cask cider; and next, that the old man who sang it to the writer of this article--a Cornish tanner--claimed (but the claim may be questioned) to have composed both words and melody, so that the song, though of country origin, is not very ancient:-- "In a nice little village not far from the sea, Still lives my old uncle aged eighty and three, Of orchards and meadows he owns a good lot, Such cider as his--not another has got. Then fill up the jug, boys, and let it go round, Of drinks not the equal in England is found. So pass round the jug, boys, and pull at it free, There's nothing like cider, sparkling cider, for me. "My uncle is lusty, is nimble and spry (lively), As ribstons his cheeks, clear as crystal his eye, His head snowy white, as the flowering may, And he drinks only cider by night and by day. Then fill up the jug, &c.