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Ebook has 4169 lines and 151300 words, and 84 pages
Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have been retained as printed.
CUPS AND THEIR CUSTOMS
"Touch brim! touch foot! the wine is red, And leaps to the lips of the free; Our wassail true is quickly said,-- Comrade! I drink to thee!
"Touch foot! touch brim! who cares? who cares? Brothers in sorrow or glee, Glory or danger each gallantly shares: Comrade! I drink to thee!
"Touch brim! touch foot! once again, old friend, Though the present our last draught be; We were boys--we are men--we'll be true to the end: Brother! I drink to thee!"
LONDON: JOHN VAN VOORST, PATERNOSTER ROW.
PRINTED BY TAYLOR AND FRANCIS, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET.
PREFACE
We have selected a sprig of Borage for our frontispiece, by reason of the usefulness of that pleasant herb in the flavouring of cups. Elsewhere than in England, plants for flavouring are accounted of rare virtue. So much are they esteemed in the East, that an anti-Brahminical writer, showing the worthlessness of Hindu superstitions, says, "They command you to cut down a living and sweet basil-plant, that you may crown a lifeless stone." Our use of flavouring-herbs is the reverse of this justly condemned one; for we crop them that hearts may be warmed and life lengthened.
And here we would remark that, although our endeavours are directed towards the resuscitation of better times than those we live in, times of heartier customs and of more genial ways, we raise no lamentation for the departure of the golden age, in the spirit of Hoffmann von Fallersleben, who sings:--
"Would our bottles but grow deeper, Did our wine but once get cheaper, Then on earth there might unfold The golden times, the age of gold!
"But not for us; we are commanded To go with temperance even-handed. The golden age is for the dead: We've got the paper age instead!
"For, ah! our bottles still decline, And daily dearer grows our wine, And flat and void our pockets fall; Faith! soon there'll be no times at all!"
This is rather the cry of those who live that they may drink, than of our wiser selves, who drink that we may live. In truth, we are not dead to the charms of other drinks, in moderation. The apple has had a share of our favour, being recommended to our literary notice by an olden poet--
"Praised and caress'd, the tuneful Phillips sung Of cyder famed, whence first his laurels sprung;"
and we have looked with a friendly eye upon the wool of a porter-pot, and involuntarily apostrophized it in the words of the old stanza,
"Rise then, my Muse, and to the world proclaim The mighty charms of porter's potent name,"
without the least jealous feeling being aroused at the employment of a Muse whose labours ought to be secured solely for humanity; but a cup-drink, little and good, will, for its social and moral qualities, ever hold the chief place in our likings.
Lastly, although we know many of our friends to be first-rate judges of pleasant beverages, yet we believe that but few of them are acquainted with their composition or history in times past. Should, therefore, any hints we may have thrown out assist in adding to the conviviality of the festive board, we feel we shall not have scribbled in vain; and we beg especially to dedicate this bagatelle to all those good souls who have been taught by experience that a firm adhesion to the "pigskin," and a rattling galopade to the music of the twanging horn and the melody of the merry Pack, is the best incentive to the enjoyment of all good things, especially good appetite, good fellowship, and
GOOD HEALTH.
...... And, although alone, We'll drain one draught in Memory of many a joyous Banquet past.
PREFACE TO
THE SECOND EDITION.
The Second Edition of this book contains much additional matter, all of which has been derived from notes collected by one of the original authors of the work, whose untimely death is mourned, and whose genial hospitality is remembered, by very many friends. The compiler believes that the additions made will greatly increase the usefulness of the book to all compounders of Cups.
CUPS AND THEIR CUSTOMS.
.... "Then shall our names, Familiar in their mouths as household words, Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd."
As in all countries and in all ages drinking has existed as a necessary institution, so we find it has been invariably accompanied by its peculiar forms and ceremonies. But in endeavouring to trace these, we are at once beset with the difficulty of fixing a starting-point. If we were inclined to treat the subject in a rollicking fashion, we could find a high antiquity ready-made to our hands in the apocryphal doings of mythology, and might quote the nectar of the gods as the first of all potations; for we are told that
"When Mars, the God of War, of Venus first did think, He laid aside his helm and shield, and mix'd a drop of drink."
...... "when God made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the limpid brook."
HANAP is the name of a small drinking-cup of the 15th and 16th centuries, made usually of silver, gilt, standing upon feet. They were made at Augsburgh and Nuremberg.
The bell-shaped drinking-glasses of the sixteenth century are specially worthy of observation; and there are three very good specimens in the Bernal Collection at the South-Kensington Museum, one of which is said to be German, and the others Venetian. The mounting of the German glass consists of a hollow sphere in silver, which encloses a dice and is surmounted by a small statuette of Fortune. To the mounting of another of these glasses is attached a little bell. These glasses will stand in the reversed position only, and were of course intended to be emptied at one draught, the dice being shaken or the bell tinkled as a finale to the proceeding. There is also a curious cup in the possession of the Vintners' Company, representing a milk-maid carrying a pail on her head. This pail is set on a swivel, and is so contrived that the uninitiated, when attempting to drink, invariably receive its contents on their neck or chest.
In the last century it was very fashionable to convert the egg of the ostrich or the polished shell of the cocoa-nut, set in silver, into a drinking-vessel.
The Bride of the Tomb
AND
Queenie's Terrible Secret
"A Crushed Lily," "Brunette and Blonde," "Nina's Peril," etc.
NEW YORK
STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 79-89 SEVENTH AVENUE
The Bride of the Tomb Queenie's Terrible Secret
THE BRIDE OF THE TOMB;
OR,
Lancelot Darling's Betrothed.
Oh! impossible! A girl so young, so gifted, so lovely, the darling of her father's heart, the idol of her brilliant lover, the heiress of a splendid fortune--what had she to do with the grim king of terrors? Death to her was an enemy to be shunned and dreaded rather than a lover to be courted.
And to-morrow was her bridal day!
A thrill of universal horror ran through the great city where she had been known and loved, not more for her beauty and wealth than for her sweet and gentle character. Friends came and went through the portals of Banker Lawrence's splendid brown stone mansion on Fifth avenue for a sight of the beautiful suicide who had been expected to appear so soon as a happy bride. Mr. Lawrence, the bereaved and sorely stricken father, appeared like one dazed with grief and horror. Ada, his younger and only remaining daughter, was confined to her room in strong hysterics, attended by the maids. Mrs. Vance, the beautiful widow of a second cousin of Mrs. Lawrence, a lady who made her home at the banker's, was the only one in the house who retained sufficient calmness to attend to anything at all. It was she who kept back the curious throng of the news-seekers who would fain have invaded the mansion. It was she who talked with sympathizing friends, breaking now and then into a heart-wrung sob, and hiding her eyes in her damp lace handkerchief.
"Oh, doctor," she cried, as the physician who had been hastily summoned after the shocking discovery, bent over the pale form trying to see if any spark of life remained--"oh, doctor, she is not really dead, is she? Surely our darling Lily is not gone from us forever!"
The physician looked up curiously at the dark, beautiful face of the speaker now convulsed with grief and horror. He bent again over the recumbent form, closely examining the beautiful white features of the girl, touched her wide-open eye-lids, felt her tightly clenched hands carefully, and laid his ear over the still breast whose crimson blood had stiffened the bridal robe above the tender heart so lately bounding with the joyous pulses of youth and hope and perfect happiness.
"I am sorry to say," he answered, rising and looking down with a pale face and trembling hands, "that Miss Lawrence is, indeed, no more. Life has been extinct for hours."
A few hours later a coroner's inquest was held over the remains. Mrs. Vance, Miss Ada Lawrence, and the deceased girl's waiting-maid were the three who had seen Lily Lawrence last in life. Their testimony was accordingly taken.
The maid deposed that on the night on which the fatal event had transpired her mistress had kept her in her room until about eleven o'clock, for the purpose of making some trifling alterations in the fit of the elegant white satin bridal robe.
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