43 



not easily clarify by itself. If warmer, the oil will soon deteriorate, if not 

 pass into rancidity. 



The only danger to which pure olive oil of all grades is subject is the 

 contact of air at a temperature above 63 degrees. Out of the contact of air 

 it will stand almost any amount of heat without altering. It is thus under- 

 stood that frequent changes of weather are also injurious, if the oil is not 

 kept in air-tight vessels. 



The bruised olives are taken from the trough and rapidly put in cages 

 or sacks, shaped like a California cheese weighing twenty-five or thirty 

 pounds, made of a . seaweed, known to botanists as Juncus acutus — a most 

 excellent material for the purpose. 



From five to eight of these cages are piled in a press on top of each other, 

 with a metallic disk, generally of copper or galvanized iron, between each 

 cage. The press is very similar to the one used in this country for cider 

 making. 



If it is of hard wood exclusively, the press gives better results than when 

 it is made of iron or steel. Metal generates heat easier than wood, and 

 heat is always most injurious to oil. For the same reason olives in the 

 trough are never laid thicker than three inches, and the crushing stone is 

 never made to revolve more than six times per minute, although much 

 less liable to become heated by friction than iron. The use of iron rollers 

 in olive crushing, as now practiced in California, has been tried long ago 

 also in Italy, but it was soon discarded as absolutely contrary to the pro- 

 duction of fine oil. 



Several twists are gradually given to the screw of the press, and the 

 almost colorless virgin oil streams down to the bed of the press, from where 

 it runs into a vessel. When the flow begins to diminish another twist is 

 given to the screw. As soon as a change of color is observed in the oil, the 

 flow is stopped by a sudden unscrewing of the press. 



The olive paste is taken from the cages and returned to the trough. The 

 millstone is lowered to its bed and a perfect crushing now ensues. The 

 paste' is again pressed, gradually but energetically, and the oil is left to 

 flow until it stops by itself. This is a beautiful straw colored oil, univer- 

 sally esteemed, although only of second quality. 



The pressed paste is again put under the crushing stone, but this time 

 moistened with water heated 80 degrees, or, better still, moistened with 

 wine vinegar. The resultant oil, naturally deteriorated by the temperature 

 of the water or by the strength of the vinegar, is of third quality, but the 

 untrained palate is apt to take it as a much finer oil. When, however, the 

 temperature of the water used is above 80 degrees, the oil is not fit for food 

 on account of its disagreeable taste. In such cases the oil is generally 

 made tolerably good by washing it several times in first-class wine vinegar. 



At this stage of the process, the oil is far from being all extracted from 

 the remaining paste. It is, however, beyond the power of the common 

 producer to proceed further in the extraction. It is here that ingenuity 

 and capital step in for their share of profit. 



The Yankees are no longer the only wonderful people in the world. They 

 are getting civilized in Italy as anywhere else. Unfortunately for the dime- 

 novelists and over-sentimental young ladies, they have no more brigands in 

 that country, unless they be cowboys as we have on this continent. If the 

 clever Yankee can sell corner lots in an unborn city, or get good whisky 

 out of sulphuric acid ; if the patient German can get good beer out of bean 

 stalks; if the obliging Frenchman can get good cognac out of potato-roots, 

 the hot-blooded Italian is cool enough to get more oil out of the olive than 

 any other man. 



