Its foundation is--pies! Cape Cod, the great emporium of the
cranberry-trade, has been running short for the last few years; in other
words, its supply is unequal to the demand. The heavy Britishers
have awakened to the fact, since 1851, that, of all condiments and
delicacies, cranberry-sauce and cranberry-pie are best in their way;
and John Bull takes many a barrel clean out of our market now. It so
happened that in the Pines of New Jersey cranberries superior to those
of Cape Cod have grown unheeded for centuries,--grew red and purple
and white and pink when Columbus was unthought of, as well as when
Washington passed through the Pines,--and for sixty or seventy years
have furnished a certain class of gypsies--of whom more anon--with
merchandise which sold well in the neighboring villages and cities.
No one thought of cultivating cranberries; no one, but the gypsies
aforesaid, of gathering them for sale. But it came to pass that a
certain farmer of Hanover was, like many another, unsuccessful during
several years. As a last resource, he purchased of the owner of the Big
House a cranberry-bog,--that is to say, one of the many marshy spots
which are interspersed in the forest,--for which he paid five dollars
the acre.
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