CHAPTER X.

“And then satten some and songe at the Ale.” _The Vision of Piers Ploughman._ Be mine each morn with eager appetite And hunger undissembled to repair To friendly buttery; there on smoking crust And foaming Ale to banquet unrestrained; Material breakfast! Thus in ancient days Our ancestors robust with liberal cups Usher’d the morn, unlike the squeamish sons Of modern times. _Panegyric on Oxford Ale._ _THE ALES. — ALE AT BREAKFAST. — BEQUESTS OF ALE. — DRINKING CUSTOMS. — A SERMON ON MALT. — EXCESSES OF THE CLERGY. — ANECDOTES._ So far we have only considered those merry-makings which were peculiar to certain seasons of the year. It need hardly be said that there were also a number of festivals in which ale figured as the chief beverage, in no way related to any particular day, and these, together with a variety of curious customs connected with ale and beer, will be now treated of. Prominent among the many convivial meetings indulged in by our ancestors were the _Ales_, at which, as their name indicates, malt liquor was largely consumed. Such a feast is referred to in Chaucer: “And make him grete feestes atte _nale_.” And in _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Launce says to Speed, “Thou hast not so much charity in thee as to go to the _Ale_ with a Christian.” Ben Jonson also mentions Wakes and Ales in his _Tale of a Tub_:— {267} And all the neighbourhood from old records Of antique proverbs, drawn from Whitson-lords, And their authorities at Wakes and Ales, With country precedents and old wives’ tales, We bring you now to show what different things The cotes of clowns are from the courts of kings. Of Ales there were several kinds—Church-Ales, Bride-Ales, Scot-Ales and many others. The Church-Ales, of which the Easter-Ales and Whitsun-Ales and Wakes were varieties, must be considered the most important of this class of festival. The grotesque carvings on many old churches have been considered by some to represent the humours of these curious gatherings. Their origin is no doubt to be traced to the Agapæ, or Love Feasts of the early Christian Church. Stubbe, in his _Anatomie of Abuses_ (1585), gives the following account of the manner and intent of these Ales: “In certain townes where dronken Bacchus beares swaie, against Christmas and Easter, Whitsondaie, or some other tyme, the churchwardens of every Parishe provide half a score or twentie quarters of mault, whereof some they buy of the churche-stocke and some is given them of the Parishioners themselves, everye one conferring somewhat, according to his abilitie; whiche maulte being made into very strong beere or ale, is sette to sale, either in the church or some other place assigned to that purpose. Then when this is set abroche, well is he that can gete the soonest to it, and spend the most at it. In this kinde of practise they continue sixe weekes, a quarter of a yeare, yea, halfe a year together. That money, they say, is to repaire their churches and chappels with, to buye bookes for service, cuppes for the celebration of the Sacrament, surplesses for Sir John, and other necessaries. And they maintain extraordinarie charges in their Parish besides.” The account contains some obvious exaggerations. Stubbe was one of those of whom the Earl of Dorset might have said as he said of Prynne,—“My Lords, when God made all His works, He looked upon them and saw that they were good; this gentleman, the devil having put spectacles on his nose, says that all is bad.” It will not do for Macaulay’s New Zealander in looking through the files of old newspapers, discovered in the ruins of the British Museum, to accept every statement of the modern teetotal platform as representing an actual fact. Carew gives an account of the matter which probably represents the actual state of the case:—“Touching Church-Ales: these be mine {268} assertions, if not my proofs:—Of things induced by our forefathers, some were instituted to a good use, and perverted to a bad; again, some were both naught in the invention and so continued in the practice. Now that Church Ales ought to be sorted in the better rank of these twaine, may be gathered from their causes and effects, which I thus raffe up together:—entertaining of Christian love; conforming of men’s behaviour to a civil conversation; compounding of controversies; appeasing of quarrels; raising a store, which might be converted partlie to good and goodlie uses, as relieving all sorts of poor people; repairing of bridges, amending of highways, and partlie for the Prince’s service, by defraying, at an instant, such rates and taxes as the magistrate imposeth for the countrie’s defence. Briefly, they do tend to an instructing of the mind by amiable conference, and an enabling of the bodie by commendable exercise.” The curious old Indenture of pre-Reformation times given below, is an agreement between the inhabitants of the parishes of Elvarton, Thurlaston, and Ambaston of the one part, and the good folk of Okebrook of the other part, by John, Abbot of the Dale, Ralph Saucheverell, Esqre., John Bradshaw, and Henry Tithell. It provides that—“the inhabitants, as well of the said Parish of Elvarton, as of the town of Okebrook, shall brew four Ales, and every ale of one quarter of malt, and at their own costs and charges, betwixt this and the feast of St. John Baptist next coming. And that every inhabitant of the said town of Okebrook shall be at the several Ales; and every husband and his wife shall pay two pence, every cottager one penny; and all the inhabitants of Elvarton, Thurlaston and Ambaston shall have and receive all the profits and advantages coming of the said Ales to the use and behoof of the said Church of Elvarton; and that the inhabitants of the said towns of Elvarton, Thurlaston, and Ambaston, shall brew eight Ales betwixt this and the feast of St. John the Baptist; at the which Ales, and every one of them, the inhabitants of Okebrook shall come and pay as before rehearsed: and if he be away at one Ale, to pay at t’oder Ale for both, or else to send his money. And the inhabitants of Okebrook shall carry all manner of Tymber being in the Dale wood now felled, that the said Prestchyrch of the said towns of Elvarton, Thurlaston, and Ambaston shall occupye to the use and profit of the said Church.” Shakspere mentions these festivals in _Pericles_: It hath been sung at festivals, On ember eves and holy ales; {269} and an old writer (1544) speaks of “keapinge of Church-Ales, in the whiche with leapynge, dansynge and kyssynge they maynteyne the profett of their Church.” The Church-Ale was usually celebrated in a house known as the Church House, which was either hired for the festival, or was a house to which the parishioners had a right to resort upon occasions of this character. By an old lease, mentioned in Worsley’s _History of the Isle of Wight_, a house, called the Church House held by the inhabitants of Whitwell, parishioners of Gatcombe, of the Lord of the Manor, was demised by them to John Brode on condition “that, if the Quarter shall need at any time to make a _Quarter-Ale_ or _Church-Ale_, for the maintenance of the Chapel, it shall be lawful for them to have the use of the s^d house, with all the rooms, both above and beneath, during their Ale.” Considerable sums were raised by these means. The parish books of Kingston-upon-Thames show that in the year 1526 the proceeds of the Church-Ale amounted to £7 15s., and an ancient church book of Great Marlow contains the entry in the year 1592, “Received of the torchmen, for the profytte of the Whitsun Ale £5.” No doubt some amount of abuse and excess occurred upon these occasions. Many writers of the sixteenth century stigmatise the Church-Ales and Wakes as the sources of “gluttonie and drunkenness,” and other evils; and Harrison, writing in 1587, states as of a subject for congratulation, that “The superfluous numbers of idle wakes, church-ales, helpe-ales, and soule-ales, called also dirge ales, with the heathenish rioting at bride-ales, are well diminished.” Some, however, were found to uphold them. Pierce, Bishop of Bath and Wells, writes in answer to an inquiry of Archbishop Laud, that “Church-Ales were when the people went from afternoon prayers on Sundays to their lawful sports and pastimes in the churchyard, or in the neighbourhood, or in some public-house, where they drank and made merry. By the benevolence of the people at these pastimes, many poor parishes have cast their bells and beautified their churches, and raised stock for the poor.” The Puritan movement was, of course, strongly opposed to all these festivals, and the influence of these “unco’ righteous” folk in the year 1631, procured an order from Judge Richardson, putting an end to all such gatherings in the county of Somerset, whereupon, on report being made to the King, an order was made annulling the decree of the Judge, and seventy-two of the most orthodox and able of the clergy of the county certified that “on these days (which generally fell on a Sunday) {270} the service of God was more solemnly performed, and the services better attended than on other days.” A previous attempt by the Justices of the Peace to suppress these gatherings seems to have been equally unsuccessful. In 1596, John and Alexander Popham, George Sydenham, and seven other Justices of Bridgewater, ordered that no Church-Ale, Clerk’s-Ale, or tippling should be suffered; but the decree seems to have been disregarded. A custom somewhat similar to the Church-Ale was that of “drinking ale at the Church stile.” Ale and in some cases food as well, were consumed on certain occasions on the parish account. Pepys, under date April 14, 1661, mentions that “After dinner we all went to the Church stile (at Walthamstow) and there eat and drank;” and a writer in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ (November, 1852) states that in an old book of parish accounts belonging to Warrington the entry occurs: “Nov. 5, 1688. Paid for drink at the Church steele, 13s.” Clerk-Ales, or lesser Church-Ales, were held for the maintenance of the parish clerk. Bishop Pierce, from whom we have before quoted, says of them that “in poor country parishes, where the wages of the clerk were but small, the people thinking it unfit that the clerk should duly attend at the church, and not gain by his office, sent him in provision, and then came on Sundays and feasted with him; by which means he _sold more Ale_, and tasted more of the liberality of the people, than their quarterly payments would have amounted to in many years; and since these have been put down, many ministers have complained to me (says his Lordship) that they were afraid they should have no parish clerks.” There is a tradition well known in the Vale of the Warwickshire Avon, which connects the name of Shakspere with the Whitsun-Ale. It is related that the ale of Bidford was in Shakspere’s day famed for its potency, and that on the occasion of a Whitsun-Ale held at that place, young Shakspere and some of his friends attended it, having accepted a challenge of the Bidford men to try their powers as ale-drinkers. The Bidfordians proved the better men, and the others endeavoured to return to Stratford. They had not gone far, however, when, overcome by the fumes of the ale, they were forced to rest under a crab-tree about a mile out of Bidford. Here sleep overcame them, and their nap lasted from Saturday night till Monday morning, when they were aroused by a labourer who was on his way to his work. Shakspere’s companions urged him to return and renew the contest, but he refused. “I have had enough” he said; “I have drunk with {271} “Piping Pebworth, dancing Marston, Haunted Hillbro’, hungry Grafton, Dudging Exhall, papist Wixford, Beggarly Broom, and drunken Bidford.” These villages are all visible from the spot where the Bard’s long sleep is related to have taken place, and it is said retained their characteristics until very recently. The Crab, long known as “Shakspere’s Crab,” was cut down some time in the early part of this century by the Lady of the Manor, who is said to have given the somewhat Irish reason for this act of Vandalism, that the tree was gradually being demolished by curiosity hunters. A new crab has recently been planted upon the spot, and will, it is to be hoped, hand down to future generations the memory of the Poet’s youthful escapade. The term Christian-Ale was in all probability used to denote some kind of Church or Whitsun Ale. The expression is to be found in a curious old pamphlet entitled “The Virgins’ Complaint for the loss of their sweethearts in the present wars . . . presented to the House of Commons in the names and behalfes of all Damsels both of Country and City, Jan. 29, 1642, by sundry Virgins of the City of London,” in which occurs this passage: “Since the departure of the lusty young gentlemen, and courtiers, and cavaliers, and the ablest prentices and handsome journeymen, with whom we had used to walk to Islington and Pimlico to eat Cakes and drink Christian-Ale on holy daies.” Somewhat akin to Church-Ales were the guild-feasts held by the old fraternities. The records of the ancient guild at Lynn Regis, in Norfolk (Rye’s _Hist. of Norfolk_), show that in the time of Richard II. the annual election of officers of the fraternity was followed by “a guild-feast,” in which great quantities of ale were consumed. An alderman’s allowance of ale, “while it lasteth,” was two gallons, a steward had one gallon, and the dean and clerk a pottle each. The feast was apparently prolonged night after night, till all the ale brewed for the occasion was expended, and those brethren who from any urgent cause were absent, had a gallon of ale reserved for them. Before the carouse commenced, the guild-light was lit, and the clerk read prayers. Anybody who “jangled” during prayer-time, or who fell asleep over his ale afterwards, was liable to a fine. A curious old custom of a similar nature to the Whitsun-Ale is recorded in Curll’s _Miscellanies_. It was observed at Newnton, in Wiltshire, and was intended to preserve the memory of a donation from {272} King Athelstan of a common, and a house for the hayward (the hay keeper). “Upon every Trinity Sunday, the parishioners being come to the door of the hayward’s house, the door was struck thrice, in honour of the Holy Trinity; they then entered. The bell was rung; after which, silence being ordered, they read their prayers aforesaid. Then was a ghirland of flowers made upon a hoop, brought forth by a maid of the town upon her neck; and a young man (a bachelor) of another parish, first saluted her three times in honour of the Trinity, in respect of God the Father. Then she put the ghirland upon his neck and kissed him three times in honour of the Trinity, particularly God the Son. Then he put the ghirland on her neck again, and kissed her three times, in respect of the Holy Trinity, particularly the Holy Ghost. Then he took the ghirland from her neck, and, by the custom, gave her a penny at least. The method of giving this ghirland was from house to house annually, till it came round. In the evening every commoner sent his supper up to this house, which was called the Eale-house; and having before laid in there equally a stock of malt which was brewed in the house, they supped together; and what was left was given to the poor.” Thoroton, in his _Nottinghamshire_, gives an account of a shepherd who kept ale to sell _in_ the Church of Thorpe. He was the sole inhabitant of a village depopulated by inclosure. Besides the _Ales_ already mentioned, there were Bid-Ales, Bride-Ales, Give-Ales, Cuckoo-Ales, Help-Ales, Tithe-Ales, Leet-Ales, Lamb-Ales, Midsummer-Ales, Scot-Ales, and Weddyn-Ales. Some of these are sufficiently explained by their names. Bid-Ales, or Bede-Ales, and Scot-Ales have been mentioned in Chapter V. Bride-Ale, also called Bride-bush, Bride-wain and Bride-stake, was the custom of the bride selling ale on the wedding-day, for which she received by way of contribution any sum or present which her friends chose to give her. In the _Christen State of Matrimony_ (1545) we read: “When they come home from the church, then beginneth excesse of eatyng and drynking, and as much is waisted in one daye as were sufficient for the two newe-married folkes halfe a yeare to lyve upon.” Modern wedding breakfasts and the presents given to the happy pair are, doubtless, descendants of this old custom. In Norway at the present day, a peasant’s wedding is celebrated with much the same ceremony as the old English Bride-Ale. Ale is handed round to the guests, and they are each expected to contribute, according to their ability, to form a purse to assist the bride in commencing housekeeping. Regulations were made in some places to restrain the excesses {273} attending on the keeping of Bride-Ales. In the Court Rolls of Hales Owen is an entry:—“A payne ye made that no person or persons that shall brewe any weddyn ale to sell, shall not brewe aboue twelve stryke of mault at the most, and that the said persons so marryed shall not keep nor have above eyght messe of persons at hys dinner within the burrowe, and before hys brydall daye he shall keep no unlawful games in hys house, nor out of hys house on payne of 20s.” The old custom of Cuckoo-Ale appears to have been only of local observance. In Shropshire the advent of the first cuckoo was celebrated by general feasting amongst the working classes; as soon as his first note was heard, even if early in the day, the men would leave their work and spend the rest of the day in mirth and jollity. The Tithe-Ale was a repast of bread, cheese and ale, provided by the recipient of the tithe and enjoyed by the tithe-payers. At Cumnor, in Berkshire, a curious custom of this kind still obtains. On Christmas Day, after evening service, the parishioners who are liable to pay tithe, repair in a body to the vicarage and are there entertained on bread and cheese and ale. This is not by any means considered in the light of a benefaction on the part of the vicar, but is demanded as a right by the tithe-payers, and even the quantity of the good things which the vicar is to give is strictly specified. He must brew four bushels of malt in ale and small beer, he must provide two bushels of wheat for bread making, and half a hundred-weight of cheese; and whatever remains unconsumed is given to the poor. Leet-Ales, in some parts of England, denoted the dinner given at the Court Leet of a Manor to the jury and customary tenants. Another somewhat similar custom was known by the name of Drink-lean, and was a festive day kept by the tenants and vassals of the Lord of the Manor, or, as some say, a potation of ale provided by the tenants for the entertainment of the Lord or his steward. The origin of the term is not known; it probably has no connection with the effect which a lover of old ale said that beverage had upon him. “I always find it makes me lean,” said he. “Lean!” cries his friend, in amazement; “why, I always thought ale made folks fat.” “That may be,” was the reply, “but it makes me lean, for all that—against a lamp-post.” Another variety of the Ale was called Mary-Ale, and was a feast held in honour of the Virgin Mary. Foot-Ales seem to have meant not so much feasts as sums of money paid to purchase ale on a man’s entering a new situation. We still talk of a man “paying his footing.” A short consideration may now be devoted to the use of ale in former {274} times in the household. It is easy to picture to oneself the English squire or yeoman of old times, an article of whose creed it was that “Old England’s cheer is beef and beer, Soup-meagre is Gallia’s boast,” as he sat in his hard, uncompromising chair before the fire on a winter’s evening, with perhaps a few of his cronies gathered round him, quaffing their bright March beer or mellow old October as they talked and ruminated in turns on the crops, the market or the hunt. It is not, however, so easy for the degenerate sons of modern days to realise the mighty draughts of ale taken at breakfast, soon after daylight. Yet, before the introduction of tea and coffee, ale was the morning drink in the palace of the king as in the cottage of the labourer. In 1512 the breakfast of the Earl and Countess of Northumberland on a fast-day in Lent was “a loaf of bread, two manchetts (_i.e._, rolls of fine wheat), a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of salt fish, six bawned herrings, four white herrings, or a dish of sprats.” On flesh days “half a chyne of mutton or a chyne of boiled beef” was substituted for the fish. In the same household, the boys, “my lord Percy and Mr. Thomas Percy,” were allowed “half a loaf of household bread, a manchett, a pottle (2 quarts) of beer and three mutton bones boiled.” “My lady’s gentlewoman” seems to have been a rather thirsty soul; she was allowed for breakfast “a loaf of bread, a pottle of beer and three mutton bones boiled.” Even the two children in the nursery were brought up on this diet of beer; their breakfast consisted of “a manchett, a quart of beer, a dish of butter, a piece of salt fish and a dish of sprats.” The _liveries_, or evening meal, produced even a greater supply of malt liquor. My Lord and Lady then had “two manchetts, a loaf of bread, a _gallon_ of beer and a quart of wine.” The allowance of food and drink made from the Court to Maids of Honour and other attendants, was called the _bouche of Court_, a name corrupted into the _bouge of Court_, and “to have bouge of Court” signified to have meat and drink free. In the Ordinances, of Eltham, 17 Henry VIII., Maids of Honour of the Queen are each allowed for breakfast “one chet lofe, one manchet, _two gallons of ale_, dim’ pitcher of wine.” Lady Lucy, one of the Maids of Honour in the same reign, was allowed for breakfast—a chine of beef, a loaf, and a gallon of ale; for dinner—a piece of boiled beef, a slice of roast meat and a gallon of ale; and for supper—porridge, mutton, a loaf and a gallon of ale. {275} Queen Elizabeth’s breakfast seems frequently to have consisted of little else but ale and bread. In the household accounts for the year 1576, are to be found certain items of her diet. One morning it is “Cheate and mancheate 6d., ale and beare 3½d., wine 1 pint. 7d:” another day it is bread as before, “ale and beare 10½d., wine, 7d;” and considering the prices of the times, the amount of ale represented by these figures must have been very considerable. Even well into last century ale was a common drink for breakfast among those who affected the manners of the old school. Applebie’s Journal, under date September 11th, 1731, makes mention of “an old gentleman near ninety, who has a florid and vigorous constitution, and tells us the difference between the manners of the present age, and that in which he spent his youth. With regard to _eating_ in his time, _Breakfast_ consisted of good hams, cold sirloin, and good beer, succeeded with wholesome exercise, which sent them home hungry and ready for dinner.” In an old song, _Advice to Bachelors; or, the Married Man’s Lamentations_, occurs this verse:— If I but for my breakfast ask then doth she laugh and jeer; Perhaps give me a hard dry crust and strong four shilling beer; She tells me that is good enough for such a rogue as me; And if I do but seem to pout then hey, boys, flap goes she. Between breakfast and dinner there was generally a “nunchion”[61] (noon draught), a word curious from its having been confounded with lunch, which signifies a large piece or hunch of bread. When uneducated people speak of their “nunchions,” they are unconsciously using a more correct form of word than more refined persons when they speak of “luncheon.” On any occasion when a drink between meals was needed, it was called a “russin,” as in the lines of the old poem, _The Land of Cockaigne_ (thirteenth century):— In Cockaigne is met and drink, Without care, how, or swink, The met is trie (choice), the drink is clere, To none, _russin_ and sopper. {276} An evening draught in the religious houses was called a “potatio.” When the afternoon reading was finished, the monks proceeded “_ad potationem_” (_i.e._, to take their evening draught of ale). [61] From _noon_, and _schenchen_, to pour out. Ale, generous ale, was the beverage with which all meals alike were washed down; and ale and beer were in old times considered as having a peculiar suitability to the stomach of an Englishman. A letter from John Stile to Henry VIII. (1512) on the condition of the army in France bears witness to this common notion. “And hyt plese your grace,” he writes, “the greteyst lacke of vytuals, that ys here ys of bere, for your subjectys had lyver for to drynk bere than wyne or sydere, for the hote wynys dothe burne theym, and the syder dothe caste theym yn dysese and sekenysys.” The custom of women resorting to ale-houses and taking provisions with them wherewith to make a common feast, seems to have been an early form of the modern picnic. In one of the Chester Miracle Plays Noah is represented as being greatly annoyed at finding his wife eating and drinking with her gossips in an ale-house when it is time to be getting into the Ark. Several women meet together, and one of them proposes to the others an _al fresco_ entertainment of this character. The ale is recommended in these lines:— I know a draught of merry-go-downe, The best it is in all thys towne, But yet wold I not for my gowne, My husband it wyst, ye may me trust. One of the women says, “God might send me a strype or two, if my husband should see me here.” “Nay,” said Alice, “she that is afraid had better go home; I fear no man.” And ich off them will sumwhat bryng, Gosse, pygge, or capon’s wing, Pastes off pigeons, or sum other thyng. Ech of them brought forth their dysch, Sum brought flesh and sum fysh. Nor was the “mery-go-downe” forgotten. On going home these revellers represent to their husbands that they have been _to church_. It may be gathered from Dean Swift’s satirical advice to servants that ale and beer in his day formed the principal dinner beverages in polite society. In his directions to the butler, he tells him, “If any one {277} desires a glass of bottled ale, first shake the bottle, to see if anything be in it; then taste it, to see what liquor it is, that you may not be mistaken; and, lastly, wipe the mouth of the bottle with the palm of your hand, to show your cleanliness. “If any one calls for small beer towards the end of the dinner, do not give yourself the trouble of going down to the cellar, but gather the droppings and leavings out of the several cups and glasses and salvers into one; but turn your back to the company, for fear of being observed. On the contrary, when any one calls for ale towards the end of dinner, fill the largest tankard cup topful, by which you will have the greatest part left to oblige your fellow-servants without the sin of stealing from your master.” In the seventeenth century there lived an interesting person named John Bigg, better known as the Dinton Hermit, who subsisted chiefly on bread and ale supplied him by his friends. He only begged one thing—leather—with which he patched his shoes in innumerable places. A portrait of him is to be seen in Lipscombe’s _History of Buckinghamshire_. Two leather bottles hang at his girdle, the one for ale, the other for small beer. Many records are in existence illustrative of the custom of distributing ale for charitable purposes. The following instances are selected from a collection of _Old English Customs and various Bequests and Charities_. “At Piddle Hinton, Dorsetshire. An ancient custom is for the Rector to give away, on Old Christmas Day, annually, a pound of bread, a pint of ale, and a mince pie to every poor person in the parish. This distribution is regularly made by the Rector to upwards of 300 persons.” “At Swaffham Bulbeck, Cambridgeshire. Before the enclosure, the tenant of the Abbey Farm in this parish, during those years in which the open field land was under tillage, used to give a slice of cake and a glass of ale to all parishioners who applied for it.” “At Giggleswick, Yorkshire. By the will of William Clapham (1603) 4s. 4d. was left towards a potation for the poor scholars of the Freeschool there on St. George’s Day; and the custom was formerly to give figs, bread, and ale.” “At Edgcott, Buckinghamshire. Robert Marcham, Esq., pays the overseers £3 a year, a rent charge upon an acre of land.” This was formerly distributed to the tenants in the shape of two cakes each, and as much beer as they could drink at the time. “At St. Giles’, Norwich. By the will of John Ballestin, 1584, the {278} rent from three tenements was to be distributed to the poor in the following manner: viz., that in the week before Christmas, the week before Michaelmas, and the week after Easter, in the Church of St. Giles, the Minister should request the poor people, all that should receive or have need of alms, to come to Church, and pray for the preservation of the Prince, &c.; that the poor should place themselves four and four together, all that should be above the age of eleven years, and that every four of them should have set before them a twopenny wheat loaf, a gallon of best beer, and four pounds of beef and broth.” “At Prince’s Risborough, Buckinghamshire. Up to 1813, a Bull and a boar, a sack of Wheat, and a sack of Malt were given away to the poor by the Lord of the Manor, every Christmas morning about six o’clock.” In many houses small beer was always kept to dispense in charity, Ben Jonson, in _The Alchemist_, describes a mean, stingy person as—               . . one who could keep The buttery-hatch still locked, and save the chippings, Sell the _dole_ beer to aqua vitæ men. Visitors at Leicester’s Hospital, Warwick, may have noticed a huge copper beer-tankard reposing on a shelf. This great cup holds six quarts, and is filled with strong ale thrice a year on _gaudy_ days, and passed round among the old brethren, pensioners of the house. In the fourteenth century there was a custom for one of the fishermen engaged upon the river Thames to present a salmon to the Abbot of Westminster once a year. The fisherman who bore the tribute had that day a right to sit at the prior’s table, and might demand bread and ale of the cellarer; the cellarer on his part might take from the fish’s tail as much as he could with “four fingers and his thumb erect.” Superstitious observances were rife in former times. The Roman augurs observed the flight of birds, and scrutinised the palpitating vitals of fresh slain victims, thinking thereby to steal a march upon the future. Our ancestors would draw omens from the barking of dogs, the cries of wild fowl, or from the manner in which beer, accidentally spilt from the cup, distributed itself upon the floor. Melton, in his _Astrolagaster_, observes that “if the beere fall next a man it is a signe of good luck.” The customs and ceremonies attending the actual consumption of ale and other liquors now require some few words. First in order stands the old custom of pledging, which was in origin distinct from {279} toasting or health-drinking. William of Malmesbury says that the treacherous murder of King Edward while drinking a horn of wine presented to him by his stepmother Elfrida, gave rise to the old custom of pledging. A person before drinking would ask one who sat next to him whether he would _pledge_ him. The other thereupon drew his sword and held it over the drinker as a _pledge_ to him that no secret foe should strike him in an unguarded moment while he drained the bowl. Others have referred the origin of the custom to the treachery of the Danes, who would take advantage of the attitude of a man when drinking a horn of ale or mead, to stab him unawares. Be the origin what it may, the custom prevailed for many centuries, and was one of the things noted by that lively and inquisitive French physician, Stephen Perlin, who visited England about the middle of the sixteenth century. Amongst many other entertaining observations made by him is the following:—“The English, one with the other, are joyous, and are very fond of music; they are also great drinkers, . . . and they will say to you usually at table, ‘Goude chere,’ and they will also say to you more than one hundred times, ‘Drind oui,’ and you will reply to them in their language, “I plaigui’ (‘I pledge you’).” [Illustration: Health-Drinking.] The custom of health-drinking seems to have been at one time or another common to all European nations. The Romans had their _commissationes_, or drinking bouts, and their “_bene te, bene tibi_.” Our own immediate ancestors the Saxons, as we have already seen, observed the custom of health-drinking with their “Wacht heil” and “Drinc heil.” {280} The picture of an Anglo-Saxon dinner-party is taken from a MS., supposed to be of the tenth century (Tiberius, c. vi., fol. 5, v.). The peculiar weapons borne by the attendants are, no doubt, spits from which the guests are carving meat. The preceding illustration occurs in Alfric’s version of Genesis (MS. Cotton. Claudius, B. IV., fol. 36, v.) and represents Abraham’s feast at the birth of his child. [Illustration: Anglo-Saxons Feasting and Health-Drinking.] The Danes, also, were great health-drinkers. It is recorded that previous to the invasion of England by these ravaging pirates of the North, in the reign of Sweyne, that monarch gave a great banquet on his accession to the throne. First, the ale-horns were filled and emptied in memory of the dead King Harold; the next draught was in honour of Christ, and the third of St. Michael the Archangel. A writer of the year 1623 thus describes the ceremonies of health-drinking as practised at that time:—“He that begins the health first uncovering his head, he takes a full cup in his hand, and setting his countenance with a grave aspect, he craves for audience; silence being once obtained, he begins to breathe out the name, peradventure, of some honourable personage, whose health, is drunk to, and he that pledges must likewise off with his cap, kiss his fingers, and bow himself in sign of a reverent acceptance. When the leader sees his follower thus prepared, he sups up his broth, turns the bottom of the cup upward, and, in ostentation of his dexterity, gives the cup a fillip to make it cry _twango_. And thus the first scene is acted. The cup being newly replenished to the breadth of a hair, he that is the pledger must now begin his part; and {281} thus it goes round throughout the whole company.” To prove that each person had drunk off his measure, he had to turn the glass over his thumb, and if so much liquor remained as to make more than a drop which would stand on the nail of his thumb without running off, he had to drink off another bumper. This latter practice went by the name of _supernaculm_, and is mentioned in an old ballad, _The Winchester Wedding_:— Then Phillip began her health, And turn’d a beer-glass o’er his thumb, But Jenkin was reckoned for drinking, The best in Christendom. The author of _Memoires d’Angleterre_ (1698) mentions the absolute universality of this practice of health-drinking amongst the English. “To drink at table,” he writes, “without drinking to the health of some one in especial, would be considered drinking on the sly, and as an act of incivility. There are in this proceeding two principal and singular grimaces, which are universally observed. . . .” The person whose health is drunk must remain as inactive as a statue while the drinker drinks, after which the second grimace is “to make him an _inclinabo_, at the risk of dipping his periwig in the gravy. . . . I confess that when a foreigner first sees these manners he thinks them laughable.” And yet one would have thought that a Frenchman’s familiarity with toasting would have rendered the proceeding not so singular an one after all, for that custom was carried to an extreme in his own nation, among the choice spirits of which it was not unusual to give a toast which necessitated the drinking of a glass to each letter of a mistress’s name, as illustrated in the lines:— Six fois je m’en vas boire au beau nom de Cloris, Cloris, le seul desire de ma chaste pensée. Space forbids that we should go very fully into all these old drinking customs, though some of them are fantastic and curious enough. One or two more, however, may be mentioned. In Elizabethan times it was customary for hard drinkers to put some inflammable substance on the surface of their liquor, and so to swallow the draught and the blazing fragment at a gulp. This was called flap-dragoning, and the fiery morsel was known as a flap-dragon. Shakspere has many allusions to this practice. Falstaff says of Prince Hal, that he “drinks off {282} candle-ends for flap-dragons.” And in _Winter’s Tale_ an instance of the verb occurs in the passage, “But to make an end of the ship; to see how the sea flap-dragoned it.” The captain in _Rowley’s Match at Midnight_ asserts that his corporal “was lately choked at Delf by swallowing a flap-dragon.” The term hob-nob as denoting pot-companionship, has been said by some to be a corruption of “Habbe or nabbe?” _i.e._, Will you have or not have (a drink)? Others suggest a more whimsical derivation. It is said that the Maids of Honour of the Tudor Court, who we have seen were ale-ladies, if they cannot be called ale-knights, frequently liked their beer warm, and had it placed upon the hob of the grate “to take the chill off.” It was therefore natural for their attendants to ask the question, “From the hob or not from the hob?” which in process of time became “Hob or nob?” The above remarks on drinking customs lead to the consideration of the extravagant drinking and eating of days gone by. Our ancestors, both Saxon and Dane, were tremendous drinkers, and their sole amusement after the labours of the day seems to have been drinking down mighty draughts of ale and mead, and getting themselves under the table as quickly as possible. An ancient anecdote is told of a Saxon bishop, who invited a Dane to his house for the purpose of making him drunk. After dinner “the tables were taken away, and they passed the rest of the day until evening in drinking.” The cupbearer manages matters in such a manner that the Dane’s turn comes round much oftener than that of the others, as, indeed, “the bishop had directed him,” and the desired end is at last attained. Whether Iago was right when he gave to the English the palm in drinking over “your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander,” and whether one taught the other his own particular drinking vices, we cannot stop now to inquire. The English were always famed for their love of strong ale, and passing over the intervening centuries and coming down to the Tudor period, many instances could be quoted from contemporary writers showing the proneness of our ancestors to drench deep thought in tankards of the nappy nut-brown ale. Stubbe, in his _Anatomie of Abuses_ (1585), says that the ale-houses in London were crowded from morning to night with inveterate drunkards, whose only care was how to get as much heady ale into their carcases as possible. Ale, strong ale, was all the cry; one who could not or would not quaff of the strongest was counted a milksop, {284} while he who could drink longest of it without (or rather before), getting tipsy, was the king of the company. It must have been of such an one that Herrick wrote— Tap, better known than trusted, as we hear, Sold his old mother’s spectacles for beer, And not unlikely, rather too than fail, He’ll sell her eyes and nose for beer and ale. The love for the strong and the contempt for the small is illustrated in the well-known lines of the old song:— He who drinks small beer, goes to bed sober, Falls as the leaves do fall, that fall in October; He who drinks strong ale, goes to bed mellow, Lives as he ought to live, and dies a jolly fellow. Such was the love of strong ale in the sixteenth century that a term was actually invented to describe madness produced by excessive ale-drinking. A writer in the year 1598 affords us an instance of the word in question, when he says that “to arrest a man that hath no likeness to a horse is flat lunasie or _alecie_.” Harrison, whom we have frequently had occasion to quote, in speaking of the heavy ale-drinking of his days, though the ale was then “more thick and fulsome” than the beer, says, “Certes I know some ale-knights so much addicted thereunto, that they will not cease from morow until even to visit the same, clensing house after house, till they either fall quite under the boord, or else, not daring to stirre from their stooles, sit still pinking with their narrow eies as halfe sleeping, till the fume of their adversarie be digested that he may go to it afresh.” [Illustration: The Ale-Wives’ Invitation to Married Men and Bachelors: Shewing How a good fellow is ſlighted when he is brought to Poverty. Therefore take my Counſel and Ale-wives don’t truſt. For when you have waſted and ſpent all you have Then out of doors ſhe will you headlong thruſt, Calling you raſcal and ſhirking Knave, But ſo long as you have money, come early or late You ſhall have her command, or elſe her maid Kate. To a new tune, or _Digbys Farewell._ A Ballad ſuppoſed to be ſung by a young man who, having ſpent his money in Ale-houſes, offers ſome advice on the ſubject. “And thus all young men, you plainly may ſee This ſong it will learn you good huſbands to be.” _Collec. Eng. Ballads._ ] Herrick has left us an epigram upon a person of the class described by Harrison:— Spunge makes his boast that he’s the onely man, Can hold of beere and ale an ocean; Is this his glory? then his triumph’s poore; I know the Tunne of Hidleberge holds more. Profuseness in drinking was accompanied with enormous gluttony in eating. At one of the feasts of the Court of King James I.— They served up venison, salmon, and wild boars, By hundreds, and by dozens, and by scores. {285} Hogsheads of honey, kilderkins of mustard, Muttons and fatted beeves, and bacon swine; Herons, and bitterns, peacocks, swan, and bustard. Teal, mallard, pigeons, widgeon, and in fine, Plum puddings, pancakes, apple pie and custard. And therewithal they drank good Gascon wine, With mead, and _Ale_, and cider of our own. This, however, was only a mild repetition of some of the prodigious feasts of former days. On the enthronement of George Nevile as archbishop of York, in the reign of Edward IV., the following was the list of eatables which furnished the tables:—104 oxen, 6 wild bulls, 1,000 sheep, 304 calves, 304 swine, 400 swans, 2,000 geese, 1,000 capons, 2,000 pigs, many thousand of various small birds such as quail, plovers, &c., 4,000 cold venison pasties, 500 stags, 608 pike and bream, 12 porpoises and seals, and many other delicacies. These solids were washed down with 300 tuns of ale and 100 tuns of wine and “one pynt of hypocrass.” Nor were the clergy behind the laity in their devotion to good living. In Saxon times the frequent directions to the monks and friars to abstain from excess in eating and drinking, from haunting ale-houses and from acting the ale-scop or gleeman at such places, all tell their own tale. The frequency with which from that period the intemperance of the clergy called forth the rebukes of their superiors and the satire of the writers of the day, show that matters did not mend much as mediæval times advanced. Friar Tuck, as depicted in _Ivanhoe_, is probably a type of many a jolly monk of his day. For his drink is assigned “a but of sack, a rumlet of malvoisie, and three hogsheads of ale of the first strike. And if,” continues the King, “that will not quench thy thirst, thou must come to court, and be acquainted with my butler.” Chaucer describes his monk as a free liver and a jolly good fellow, whose sentiments with regard to the duties of his order are shown in the lines:— The reule of seynt Maure or of seint Beneyt, Bycause that it was old and somdel streyt, This ilke monk let olde things pace, And held after the newe world the space. The Friar, too, who “knew the taverns well in every town,” may be taken as a true portrait of a prominent figure of the times. It is recorded that the Abbey of Aberbrothwick expended annually 9,000 {286} bushels of malt in ale-brewing, and a popular satire, perpetuated by Sir Walter Scott on the monks of Melrose, declares that— The monks of Melrose made fat kail On Fridays when they fasted; And neither wanted beef nor ale, So long as their neighbours’ lasted. The names of some of the drinks in vogue are exceedingly suggestive; we read of Bishop, Cardinal, Lawn Sleeves, Pope, and others of a similar character. The Glutton-masses of the secular clergy, as described by Henry in his _History of England_, “were celebrated five times a year, in honour of the Virgin Mary, in this manner. Early in the morning the people of the parish assembled in the church, loaded with ample stores of meats and drinks of all kinds. As soon as mass ended, the feast began, in which the clergy and laity engaged with equal ardour. The church was turned into a tavern, and became a scene of excessive riot and intemperance. The priests and people of different parishes entered into formal contests, which of them should have the greatest glutton mass, _i.e._, which of them should devour the greatest quantity of meat and drink in honour of the Holy Virgin.” The Tudor period seems to have produced but little amendment in this respect. Satirists of the day make constant allusion to the fondness of ecclesiastics, both exalted and humble, for strong drink and every kind of sensual indulgence. Skelton, in _Colin Clout_, speaking of the angry disputes of churchmen when under the influence of drink, says:— Such logic men will chop, And in their fury hop When the good ale-sop Doth dance in their foretop. In the old Comedy of _Gammer Gurton’s Needle_, already referred to, the parson is wanted, and the old Gammer gives the boy the following directions for finding him:— Hence swithe to Doctor Rat, hye thee that thou were gone, And pray him come speke with me, cham not well at ease, Shall find him at his chamber, or els at Mother Bees, Els seek him at _Hobfilcher’s_ shop; for as charde it reported There _is the best Ale in the Town, and now is most resorted_. {287} The boy goes forth to seek him as he is ordered; and when he returns, Gammer thus inquires:— _Gammer_: “Where did’st thou finde him, Boy? was he not wher I told thee?” _Cock_: “Yes, yes, even at _Hobfilcher’s_ house, by him that bought and sold me: A _cup of ale_ had in his hand, and a _crab_ lay in the fier . .” Drunkenness amongst the clergy was probably at this period too common for much mention of it to be made in the various records of ecclesiastical offences. An occasional prosecution, however, seems to have been instituted before the Ordinary. One such may be found in the Records of the Ecclesiastical Court of Chester, 1575, where the Vicar of Whalley is charged with being “a common dronker and ale-knight.” The time has happily gone by when a Swift could write of “Three or four parsons full of October, Three or four squires between drunk and sober,” or a Pope of “a parson much bemused with beer,” or when the following old Ballad could be supposed to give a true picture of the habits of village clergymen:— THE PARSON. A parson who had the remarkable foible Of minding the bottle much more than the Bible, Was deemed by his neighbours to be less perplex’d In handling a tankard than handling a text. Perch’d up in his pulpit, one Sunday, he cry’d, “Make patience, my dearly beloved, your guide, And in your distresses, your troubles, your crosses, Remember the patience of Job in his losses.” The parson had got a stout cask of beer, By way of a present—no matter from where— Suffice it to know, it was toothsome and good, And he lov’d it as well as he did his own blood. {288} While he the church service in haste rambled o’er, The hogs found a way thro’ his old cellar door, And by the strong scent to the beer barrel led Had knock’d out the spiggot or cock from its head. Out spurted the liquor abroad on the ground, The unbidden guests quaffed it merrily round, Nor from their diversion and merriment ceas’d Till ev’ry hog there was as drunk as a beast. And now the grave lecture and prayers at an end, He brings along with him a neighbouring friend, To be a partaker of Sunday’s good cheer, And taste the delightful October brew’d beer. The dinner was ready, the things were laid snug, “Here, wife,” says the parson, “go fetch us a mug,” But a mug of what?—he had scarce time to tell her, When, “yonder,” says she, “are the hogs in the cellar. To be sure they got in when we’re at prayers,” “To be sure you’re a fool,” said he, “get you down stairs, And bring what I bid you, and see what’s the matter. For now I myself hear a grunting and clatter.” She went, and returned with sorrowful face, In suitable phrases related the case, He rav’d like a madman about in the room, And then beat his wife and the hogs with the broom. “Lord, husband,” said she, “what a coil you keep here, About a poor beggarly barrel of beer. You should, ‘_in your troubles, mischances, and crosses, Remember the patience of Job in his losses_.’” “A plague upon Job,” cried the priest in his rage, “That beer, I dare say, was near ten years of age; But you’re a poor ignorant jade like _his_ wife; For Job never had such a cask in his life.” A curious tale is related of one Mr. Dod, who had a country living near Cambridge. Being impressed by the intemperance then prevalent in the University, he on one occasion preached a very vigorous condemnatory sermon on the vice of drunkenness. Soon after, several of the {289} undergraduates, who were disporting themselves at some little distance from the town, perceived Mr. Dod jogging along towards them on his old horse. Annoyed at the sermon on drinking, which had probably seemed to them as directed specially against themselves, the undergraduates rapidly consulted together, and determined in revenge to make the old man preach a sermon from a text of their own choosing. At first he declined, but his persecutors were inexorable, and he was forced to submit with the best grace he could. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “as you are thus urgent for my compliance, pray what is the subject I am to handle?” They answered, “Sir, the word _malt_; and, for want of a better, here, Sir, is your pulpit,” pointing to the stump of a hollow tree that stood by. Whereupon the venerable man mounted the rostrum, and spoke as follows:— “Beloved, “I am a little man, come at a short warning,—to deliver a brief discourse,—upon a small subject,—to a thin congregation, and from an unworthly pulpit. “Beloved, my text is— “M A L T, “Which cannot be divided into words, it being but one; nor into syllables, it being but one: therefore, of necessity, I must reduce it into letters, which I find to be these, “M—A—L—T. “M—my beloved, is Moral. A—is Allegorical. L—is Literal, T—is Theological. “The moral is set forth to teach you drunkards good manners, therefore: M—my Masters. A—All of you. L—Listen. T—to my Text. “The allegorical is when one thing is spoken, and another is intended: the thing expressed is MALT; the thing signified is the oil of Malt, which you Bacchanals make: M—your Meat. A—your Apparel. L—your liberty. T—your Text. “The Literal is according to the letter: M—Much. A—Ale. L—Little. T—Thrift. “The Theological is according to the effects it produces, which I find to consist of two kinds. The first respects this life, the second, that which is to come. “The effects it produces in this world are in some: M—Murder. A—Adultery. L—Licentious Lives. T—Treason. {290} “The effects consequent in the world to come are: M—Misery. A—Anguish. L—Lamentation. T—Torment. “Thus, sirs, having briefly opened and explained my short text, give me leave to make a little use and improvement of the foregoing. First, by way of exhortation: M—My Masters. A—All of you. L—Look for. T—Torment. “Now to wind up the whole and draw to a close, take with you the characteristics of a drunkard. A drunkard is the annoyance of modesty, the spoil of civility, his own shame, his children’s curse, his neighbour’s scoff, the alehouse man’s benefactor, the devil’s drudge, a walking swill-bowl, the picture of a beast, and monster of a man.” There was a curious custom in vogue at the beginning of the seventeenth century known as “muggling.” It was thus described by Young, in _England’s Bane_: “I have seen a company amongst the very woods and forests drinking for a muggle. Sixe determined to try their strengths who could drinke most glasses for the muggle. The first drinkes a glasse of a pint, the second two, the next three, and so every one multiplieth till the last taketh sixe. Then the first beginneth againe and taketh seven, and in this manner they drinke thrice a peece round, every man taking a glasse more than his fellow, so that he that dranke least, which was the first, dranke one and twenty pints, and the sixth man thirty-six.” So great was the ale-drinking at this time, that the headache brought on by it was known by the common expression, “the ale passion,” and one in liquor was said to have been “kicked by the brewer’s horse.” One or two instances, only, of the drinking songs popular in olden times can be given here. The _Merry Fellows_, a song of the Restoration, well illustrates the old idea that merriness must be accompanied with potations “pottle deep”:— Now, since we’re met, let’s merry, merry be, In spite of all our foes; And he that will not merry be, We’ll pull him by the nose. _Chorus._ Let him be merry, merry there, While we’re all merry, merry here; For who can know where he shall go, To be merry another year. {291} He that will not merry, merry be, With a generous bowl and a toast, May he in Bridewell be shut up, And fast bound to a post. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be, And take his glass in course, May he be obliged to drink small beer, Ne’er a penny in his purse. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be With a company of jolly boys, May he be plagued with a scolding wife To confound him with her noise. Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be, With his sweetheart by his side, Let him be laid in the cold church-yard With a head-stone for his bride. Let him, &c. Cobblers have already been mentioned as devotees of strong malt drinks, and many a cozier’s catch celebrates this propensity. Here is one:— Come, sit we here by the fire-side, And roundly drink we here, Till that we see our cheeks ale-dyed, And noses tanned with beer. Shoemakers and cobblers used to call a red-herring a pheasant, and in the same inflated style term half a pint of beer half a gallon, and a pint of beer a gallon, much after the manner of Caleb Balderstone in _The Bride of Lammermoor_. Tinkers, too, swore by Ceres and not by Bacchus, as Herrick shows in his _Tinker’s Song_. Along, come along, Let’s meet in a throng Here of tinkers; {292} And quaff up a bowl, As big as a cowl, To beer-drinkers. The pole of the hop Place in the ale shop, To bethwack us, If ever we think So much as to drink Unto Bacchus. Who frolic will be For little cost, he Must not vary From beer-broth at all So much as to call For canary. Last century may be said to have brought the vice of heavy drinking to its highest pitch. Statesmen, Judges, dignitaries of the Church—all joined in the riotous living of the time. The usual allowance for a _moderate_ man at dinner seems to have been two bottles of port. Men were known as two-bottle men, three and four-bottle men, and even in some instances _six-bottle men_. Lord Eldon, who was himself inclined to get a little merry after dinner, relates an amusing story in his _Anecdote Book_, which is illustrative of the habits of the day. He tells how Jemmy Boswell, Dr. Johnson’s Biographer, while on assize, so exceeded the bounds of moderation one evening, that he was found by his friends lying on the pavement very drunk. His comrades, of whom Lord Eldon (then Mr. Scott) was one, subscribed a guinea amongst them, and sent Boswell a bogus brief, instructing him to move the Court the next day for a writ of _Quare adhæsit pavimento_. Much to the astonishment of the learned Judge who presided, Mr. Boswell actually made the application in due course. The whole court was convulsed with laughter, and the unfortunate counsel, turning this way and that in his perplexity, knew not what to make of it. At last a learned friend came to his assistance. “My lord,” he said, “Mr. Boswell _adhæsit pavimento_ last night; there was no moving him for some time. At length he was carried to bed, and has been dreaming of what happened to himself.” Where such manners prevailed in the {293} upper ranks of life, the lower orders were not likely to be more sober. As a matter of fact, gin ran riot amongst the working classes in the great centres of population, spreading corruption of morals and ruin of health on every side. One more instance of a huge drinker may be given: One Jedediah Buxton was curious enough in his drinking habits to calculate the number of pints of ale or strong beer that he had drunk free of cost to himself since he was twelve years of age, and the names of the gentlemen at whose houses he had consumed them. The list began with the Duke of Kingston, 2,130 pints; Duke of Norfolk, 266 pints; Duke of Leeds, 232, and so on through a long list, of which it need only be said the total amounted to 5,116 pints or _winds_, as he termed them, because, he said, he never took more than one wind, or breath, to a pint and two to a quart. Surely this man deserves to rank among the curiosities of the subject. Happily times have changed and drunkenness, we may hope, will soon cease to be counted a national vice. Bearing in mind the excesses to which drinking was carried in the last century, it cannot be denied that much progress has been made in the direction of moderation; and that the habits of the whole people—slow and difficult as such habits are to change—have undergone a very marked improvement. Ere the next century has had time to grow from youth to old age, it may be impossible to find in any rank of the population a man who could say of an evening’s amusement like the old Scotch Shepherd, “It was a grand treat, for before the end o’t there was na ane of us able to bite his ain thoomb!” [Illustration] {294} [Illustration]