An English writer tells this story:
Once a French chemist came to Yorkshire, his object being to
make his fortune. He believed that he might do this by picking
up something which Yorkshiremen threw away. That something was
soap-suds. The cloth-workers of Yorkshire use tons and tons of
soap for scouring their materials, and throw away millions of
gallons of soap-suds. Besides this, there are manufactories of
sulfuric acid near at hand, and a large demand for machinery
grease just thereabouts. He accordingly bought iron tanks,
and erected works in the midst of the busiest center of the
woolen manufacture. But he failed to pay expenses, for in his
calculations he had omitted to allow for the fact that the soap
liquor is much diluted, and therefore he must carry much water
in order to obtain a little fat. This cost of carriage ruined
his enterprise, and his works were offered for sale.
When he was about to demolish the works, the Frenchman took the
purchaser, a shrewd Yorkshireman, into confidence, and told the
story of his failure. The Yorkshireman, having finally assured
himself that the carriage was the only difficulty, made an offer
of partnership on the basis that the Frenchman should do the
chemistry of the work, and that he should do the rest.
Accordingly, he went to the works around, and offered to
contract for the purchase of all their soap-suds, if they would
allow him to put up a tank or two on their premises. This he
did; the acid was added, the fat rose to the surface, was
skimmed off, and carried, without the water, to the central
works. The Frenchman’s science and skill, united with the
Yorkshireman’s practical sagacity, built up a flourishing
business, and the grease thus made is still in great demand and
high repute for lubricating the rolling-mills of iron-works, and
for many other kinds of machinery.
(2820)