CHAPTER XXII

RESTORATIVES

"Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some antibilious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the soul."

William of Normandy--A "head" wind at sea--Beware the druggist--Pick-me-ups of all sorts and conditions--Anchovy toast for the invalid--A small bottle--Straight talks to fanatics--Total abstinence as bad as the other thing--Moderation in all things--Wisely and slow--_Carpe diem_--But have a thought for the morrow.

"I care not," observed William of Normandy to his quartermaster-general, on the morning after the revelry which followed the Battle of Hastings, "who makes these barbarians' wines; send me the man who can remove the beehive from my o'erwrought brain."

This remark is not to be found in Macaulay's _History of England_; but learned authorities who have read the original MS. in Early Norman, make no doubt as to the correct translation.

"It is excellent," as the poet says, "to have a giant's thirst; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." And not only "tyrannous" but short-sighted. For the law of compensation is one of the first edicts of Nature. The same beneficent hand which provides the simple fruits of the earth for the delectation of man, furnishes also the slug and the wasp, to see that he doesn't get too much. Our friend the dog is deprived of the power of articulation, but he has a tail which can be wagged at the speed of 600 revolutions to the minute. And the man who overtaxes the powers of his inner mechanism during the hours of darkness is certain to feel the effects, to be smitten of conscience, and troubled of brain, when he awakes, a few hours later on. As this is not a medical treatise it would be out of place to analyse at length the abominable habit which the human brain and stomach have acquired, of acting and reacting on each other; suffice it to say that there is no surer sign of the weakness and helplessness of poor, frail, sinful, fallen humanity than the obstinacy with which so many of us will, for the sake of an hour or two's revelry, boldly bid for five times the amount of misery and remorse. And this more especially applies to a life on the ocean wave. The midshipmite who over-estimates his swallowing capacity is no longer "mast-headed" next morning; but the writer has experienced a cyclone in the Bay of Bengal, ere the effects of a birthday party on the previous night had been surmounted; and the effects of "mast-heading" could hardly have been less desirable. In that most delightful work for the young, Dana's _Two years before the Mast_, we read:

"Our forecastle, as usual after a liberty-day, was a scene of tumult all night long, from the drunken ones. They had just got to sleep toward morning, when they were turned up with the rest, and kept at work all day in the water, carrying hides, their heads aching so that they could hardly stand. This is sailors' pleasure."

Dana himself was ordered up aloft, to reef "torpsles," on his first morning at sea; and he had probably had some sort of a farewell carouse, 'ere quitting Boston. And the present writer upon one occasion--such is the irony of fate--was told off to indite a leading article on "Temperance" for an evening journal, within a very few hours of the termination of a "Derby" banquet.

But how shall we alleviate the pangs? How make that dreadful "day after" endurable enough to cause us to offer up thanks for being still allowed to live? Come, the panacea, good doctor!

First of all, then, avoid the chemist and his works. I mean no disrespect to my good friend Sainsbury, or his "Number One Pick-me-up," whose corpse-reviving claims are indisputable; but at the same time the habitual swallower of drugs does not lead the happiest life. I once knew a young subaltern who had an account presented to him by the cashier of the firm of Peake and Allen, of the great continent of India, for nearly 300 rupees; and the items in said account were entirely chloric ether, extract of cardamoms--with the other component parts of a high-class restorative, and interest. Saddening! The next thing to avoid, the first thing in the morning, is soda-water, whether diluted with brandy or whisky. The "peg" may be all very well as an occasional potation, but, believe one who has tried most compounds, 'tis a precious poor "livener." On the contrary, although a beaker of the straw-coloured (or occasionally, mahogany-coloured) fluid may seem to steady the nerves for the time being, that effect is by no means lasting.

But the same panacea will not do in every case. If the patient be sufficiently convalescent to digest a

_Doctor_

(I do _not_ mean a M.R.C.S.) his state must be far from hopeless. A "Doctor" is a mixture of beaten raw egg--not forgetting the white, which is of even more value than the yolk to the invalid--brandy, a little sifted sugar, and new milk. But many devotees of Bacchus could as soon swallow rum-and-oysters, in bed. And do not let us blame Bacchus unduly for the matutinal trouble. The fairy _Ala_ has probably had a lot to do with that trouble. A "Doctor" can be made with sherry or whisky, instead of brandy; and many stockbrokers' clerks, sporting journalists, and other millionaires prefer a

_Surgeon-Major_,

who appears in the form of a large tumbler containing a couple of eggs beaten, and filled to the brim with the wine of the champagne district.

_A Scorcher_

is made with the juice of half a lemon squeezed into a large wine-glass; add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, or Hollands, and a dust of cayenne. Mix well, and do not allow any lemon-pips to remain in the glass.

_Prairie Oyster._

This is an American importation. There is a legend to the effect that one of a hunting party fell sick unto death, on the boundless prairie of Texas, and clamoured for oysters. Now the close and cautious bivalve no more thrives in a blue grass country than he possesses the ability to walk up stairs, or make a starting-price book. So one of the party, an inventive genius, cudgelled his brains for a substitute. He found some prairie hen's eggs, and administered the unbroken yolks thereof, one at a time, in a wine-glass containing a teaspoonful of vinegar. He shook the pepper-castor over the yolks and added a pinch of salt. The patient recovered. The march of science has improved on this recipe. Instead of despoiling the prairie hen, the epicure now looks to Madame Gobble for a turkey egg. And a

_Worcester Oyster_

is turned out ready made, by simply substituting a teaspoonful of Lea and Perrins' most excellent sauce for vinegar.

_Brazil Relish._

This is, I am assured, a much-admired restorative in Brazil, and the regions bordering on the River Plate. It does not sound exactly the sort of stimulant to take after a "bump supper," or a "Kaffir" entertainment, but here it is: Into a wine-glass half full of curaçoa pop the unbroken yolk of a bantam's egg. Fill the glass up with maraschino. According to my notion, a good cup of hot, strong tea would be equally effectual, as an emetic, and withal cheaper. But they certainly take the mixture as a pick-me-up in Brazil.

_Port-flip_

is a favourite stimulant with our American cousins. Beat up an egg in a tumbler--if you have no metal vessels to shake it in, the shortest way is to put a clean white card, or a saucer, over the mouth of the tumbler, and shake--then add a little sugar, a glass of port, and some pounded ice. Strain before drinking. Leaving out the ice and the straining, this is exactly the same "refresher" which the friends of a criminal, who had served his term of incarceration in one of H.M. gaols, were in the habit of providing for him; and when the Cold Bath Fields Prison was a going concern, there was a small hostelry hard by, in which, on a Monday morning, the consumption of port wine (fruity) and eggs ("shop 'uns," every one) was considerable. This on the word of an ex-warder, who subsequently became a stage-door keeper.

One of the most unsatisfactory effects of good living is that the demon invoked over-night does not always assume the same shape in your waking hours. Many sufferers will feel a loathing for any sort of food or drink, except cold water. "The capting," observed the soldier-servant to a visitor (this is an old story), "ain't very well this morning, sir; he've just drunk his bath, and gone to bed again." And on the other hand, I have known the over-indulger absolutely ravenous for his breakfast. "Brandy and soda, no, dear old chappie; as many eggs as they can poach in five minutes, a thick rasher of York ham, two muffins, and about a gallon and a half of hot coffee--that's what I feel like." Medical men will be able to explain those symptoms in the roysterer, who had probably eaten and drunk quite as much over-night as the "capting." For the roysterer with a shy appetite there are few things more valuable than an

_Anchovy Toast_.

The concoction of this belongs to bedroom cookery, unless the sitting-room adjoins the sleeping apartment. For the patient will probably be too faint of heart to wish to meet his fellow-men and women downstairs, so early. The mixture must be made _over hot water_. Nearly fill a slop-basin with the boiling element, and place a soup-plate over it. In the plate melt a pat of butter the size of a walnut. Then having beaten up a raw egg, stir it in. When thoroughly incorporated with the butter add a dessert-spoonful of essence of anchovies. Cayenne _ad lib_. Then let delicately-browned crisp toast be brought, hot from the fire. Soak this in the mixture, and eat as quickly as you can. The above proportions must be increased if more than one patient clamours for anchovy toast; and this recipe is of no use for a dinner, or luncheon toast; remember that. After the meal is finished turn in between the sheets again for an hour; then order a "Doctor," or a "Surgeon-Major" to be brought to the bedside. In another twenty minutes the patient will be ready for his tub (with the chill off, if he be past thirty, and has any wisdom, or liver, left within him). After dressing, if he live in London and there be any trace of brain-rack remaining, let him take a brisk walk to his hair-dresser's, having his boots cleaned _en route_. This is most important, whether they be clean or dirty; for the action of a pair of briskly-directed brushes over the feet will often remove the most distressing of headaches. Arrived at the perruquier's, let the patient direct him to rub _eau de Cologne_, or some other perfumed spirit, into the o'er-taxed cranium, and to squirt assorted essences over the distorted countenance. A good hard brush, and a dab of bay rum on the temples will complete the cure; the roysterer will then be ready to face his employer, or the maiden aunt from whom he may have expectations.

If the flavour of the anchovy be disagreeable, let the patient try the following toast, which is similar to that used with wildfowl: Melt a pat of butter over hot water, stir in a dessert-spoonful of Worcester sauce, the same quantity of orange juice, a pinch of cayenne, and about half a wine-glassful of old port. Soak the toast in this mixture. The virtues of old port as a restorative cannot be too widely known.

_St. Mark's Pick-me-up._

The following recipe was given to the writer by a member of an old Venetian family.

Ten drops of Angostura in a liqueur-glass, filled up with orange bitters. One wine-glassful of old brandy, one ditto cold water, one liqueur-glassful of curaçoa, and the juice of half a lemon. Mix well together. I have not yet tried this, which reads rather acid.

For an

_Overtrained_

athlete, who may not take kindly to his rations, there is no better cure than the lean of an underdone chop (_not blue_ inside) hot from the fire, on a hot plate, with a glass of port poured over. A

_Hot-pickle Sandwich_

should be made of two thin slices of crisp toast (no butter) with chopped West Indian pickles in between. And for a

_Devilled Biscuit_

select the plain cheese biscuit, heat in the oven, and then spread over it a paste composed of finely-pounded lobster worked up with butter, made mustard, ground ginger, cayenne, salt, chili vinegar, and (if liked) a little curry powder. Reheat the biscuit for a minute or two, and then deal with it. Both the last-named restoratives will be found valuable (?) liver tonics; and to save future worry the patient had better calculate, at the same time, the amount of Estate Duty which will have to be paid out of his personalty, and secure a nice dry corner, out of the draught, for his place of sepulture. A

_Working-Man's Livener_,

(and by "working-man" the gentleman whose work consists principally in debating in taverns is intended) is usually a hair of the dog that bit him over-night; and in some instances where doubt may exist as to the particular "tufter" of the pack which found the working-man out, the livener will be a miscellaneous one. For solid food, this brand of labourer will usually select an uncooked red-herring, which he will divide into swallow-portions with his clasp-knife, after borrowing the pepper-castor from the tavern counter. And as new rum mixed with four-penny ale occasionally enters into the over-night's programme of the horny-handed one, he is frequently very thirsty indeed before the hour of noon.

I have seen a journalist suck half a lemon, previously well besprinkled with cayenne, prior to commencing his matutinal "scratch." But rum and milk form, I believe, the favourite livener throughout the district which lies between the Adelphi Theatre and St. Paul's Cathedral. And, according to Doctor Edward Smith (the chief English authority on dietetics), rum and milk form the most powerful restorative known to science. With all due respect to Doctor Smith I am prepared to back another restorative, commonly known as "a small bottle"; which means a pint of champagne. I have prescribed this many a time, and seldom known it fail. In case of partial failure repeat the dose. A valuable if seldom-employed restorative is made with

_Bovril_

as one of the ingredients. Make half-a-pint of beef-tea in a tumbler with this extract. Put the tumbler in a refrigerator for an hour, then add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, with just a dust of cayenne. This is one of the very best pick-me-ups known to the faculty. A

_Swizzle_,

for recuperative purposes is made with the following ingredients:--a wine-glassful of Hollands, a liqueur-glassful of curaçoa, three drops of Angostura bitters, a little sugar, and half a small bottle of seltzer-water. Churn up the mixture with a swizzle-stick, which can be easily made with the assistance of a short length of cane (the ordinary school-treat brand) a piece of cork, a bit of string, and a pocket knife.

A very extraordinary pick-me-up is mentioned by Mr. F. C. Philips, in one of his novels, and consists of equal parts of brandy and chili vinegar in a large wine-glass. Such a mixture would, in all probability, corrode sheet-iron. I am afraid that writers of romance occasionally borrow a little from imagination.

The most effectual restorative for the total abstainer is unquestionably, old brandy. It should be remembered that a rich, heavy dinner is not bound to digest within the human frame, if washed down with tea, or aerated beverages. In fact, from the personal appearances of many worthy teetotallers I have known digestion cannot be their strong suit. Then many abstainers only abstain in public, for the sake of example. And within the locked cupboard of the study lurks a certain black bottle, which does _not_ contain Kopps's ale. Therefore I repeat that the most effectual restorative for the total abstainer--whether as a direct change, or as a hair of the dog--is brandy.

Our ancestors cooled their coppers with small ale, and enjoyed a subsequent sluice at the pump in the yard; these methods are still pursued by stable-helpers and such like. A good walk acts beneficially sometimes. Eat or drink nothing at all, but try and do five miles along the turnpike road within the hour. Many habitual roysterers hunt the next morning, with heads opening and shutting alternately, until the fox breaks covert, when misery of all sorts at once takes to itself wings. And I have heard a gallant warrior, whilst engaged in a Polo match on York Knavesmire, protest that he could distinctly see _two_ Polo balls. But he was not in such bad case as the eminent jockey who declined to ride a horse in a hood and blinkers, because "one of us must see, and I'm hanged if _I_ can!" It was the same jockey who, upon being remonstrated with for taking up his whip at the final bend, when his horse was winning easily, replied: "whip be blowed! it was my balance pole: I should have fell off without it!"

_Straight Talks._

In the lowest depth there is a lower depth, which not only threatens to devour, but which will infallibly devour the too-persistent roysterer. For such I labour not. The seer of visions, the would-be strangler of serpents, the baffled rat-hunter, and other victims to the over-estimation of human capacity will get no assistance, beyond infinite pity, from the mind which guides this pen. The dog will return to his own vomit; the wilful abuser of the goods sent by a bountiful Providence is past praying for. But to others who are on the point of crossing the Rubicon of good discretion I would urge that there will assuredly come a time when the pick-me-up will lose its virtue, and will fail to chase the sorrow from the brow, to minister to the diseased mind. Throughout this book I have endeavoured to preach the doctrine of moderation in enjoyment. Meat and drink are, like fire, very good servants, but the most oppressive and exacting of slave-drivers. Therefore enjoy the sweets of life, whilst ye can; but as civilised beings, as gentlemen, and not as swine. For here is a motto which applies to eating and drinking even more than to other privileges which we enjoy:

"Wisely, and slow; They stumble who run fast!"

A resort to extremes is always to be deprecated, and many sensible men hold the total abstainer in contempt, unless he abstain simply and solely because a moderate use of "beer and baccy" makes him ill; and this man is indeed a rarity. The teetotaller is either a creature with no will-power in his composition, a Pharisee, who thanks Providence that he is not as other men, or a lunatic. There can be no special virtue in "swearing off" good food and good liquor; whether for the sake of example, or for the sake of ascending a special pinnacle and posing to the world as the incarnation of perfection and holiness. In the parable, the Publican was "justified" rather than the Pharisee, because the former had the more common sense, and knew that if he set up as immaculate and without guile he was deceiving himself and nobody else. But here on earth, in the nineteenth century, the Publican stands a very poor chance with the Pharisee, whether the last-named assume the garb of "Social Purity," or "Vigilance," or the sombre raiment of the policeman. This is not right. This is altogether wrong. The total abstainer, the rabid jackass who denies himself--or claims that he does so--the juice of the grape, and drinks the horrible, flatulent, concoctions known as "temperance beverages," is just as great a sinner against common sense as that rabid jackass the habitual glutton, or drunkard, who, in abusing the good things of life--the gifts which are given us to enjoy--is putting together a rod of rattlesnakes for his own back.

There is nothing picturesque about drunkenness; and there is still less of manliness therein. There is plenty of excuse for the careless, happy-go-lucky, casual over-estimater, who revels, on festive occasions, with his boon companions. 'Tis a poor heart that never rejoices; and wedding-feasts, celebrations of famous victories, birthday parties, and Christmas festivities have been, and will continue to be, held by high and low, from the earliest times. But there is no excuse, but only pity and disgust, for the sot who sits and soaks--or, worse still, stands and soaks--in the tavern day after day, and carries the brandy-bottle to bed with him. I have lived through two-thirds of the years allotted to man, and have never yet met the man who has done himself, or anybody else, any good by eating or drinking to excess. Nor is the man who has benefited himself, or society, through scorning and vilifying good cheer, a familiar sight in our midst. "Keep in the middle of the road," is the rule to be observed; and there is no earthly reason why the man who may have applied "hot and rebellious liquors" to his blood, as a youth, should not enjoy that "lusty winter" of old age, "frosty but kindly," provided those warm and warlike liquors have been applied in moderation.

I will conclude this sermon with part of a verse of the poet Dryden's imitation of the twenty-ninth Ode of Horace, though its heathen _carpe diem_ sentiments should be qualified by a special caution as to the possible ill effects of bidding too fierce a defiance to the "reaction day."

"Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own; He who, secure within, can say;-- To-morrow, do thy worst, I've liv'd to-day!"

INDEX

"_Ala_," the fairy, 68

"Albion," the, 77

Alexander Dumas, 80

Allowable breakfast-dishes, 14

_Almanach des Gourmands_, 79, 184

Anchovy toast, 267

Angel's pie, 55

_Apium_, the, 129

Apricot brandy, 229

Artichoke, the, 130 Jerusalem, 131

Ascot luncheon, 54

Asparagus, 124 with eggs, 17

Aspic, 176

Athole brose, 241

Baksheesh, 100

Ball suppers, 175

Banquet, a vegetarian, 132

"Beano," a, 121

Beans, 119 "Borston," 120

Beef, "can't eat," 96

Bernardin salmi, a, 92

Birch's, 37

_Bischoff_, 211

Biscuit, a devilled, 269

Bishop, 212

Bisque, 89

Bitters, 229

Blackmore, R. D., 247

Blue blazer, 243

Bombay duck, a, 146

Bones, grilled, 189

Bosom caresser, a, 239

Bouillabaisse, 88

Bovril, 271

Braddon, Miss, 247

Brandy, apricot, 229 cherry, 227 ginger, 230 orange, 230 sour, 243

Brazil relish, 265

Breakfast, allowable dishes at, 14 French, 27 Indian, 31 Mediterranean, 26 with "my tutor," 32

Brillat Savarin, 106

Brinjal, the, 131

Broth, Scotch, 52

Buckmaster, 77

Bull's milk, 240

Burmah, food in, 203

Burns, John, 234

Cabbage, the, 115

Calcutta jumble, 16

"Cannie Carle," 189

Canvass-back duck, a, 95

Carlton House Terrace, 91

Carlyle, Thomas, 246

Carrot, the, 121

Cassis, 244

Cauliflower, the, 115

Cedric the Saxon, 66

Celery, 129 sauce, 164

Champagne and stout, 225

Charles Dickens, 52, 248

_Chateaûbriand_, a, 70

Chef, Indian, 135

"Cheshire Cheese," the, 39 pudding, 39

Chinaman's meal, a, 91

Chops, 50

_Chota Hazri_, 29

_Choufleur aû gratin_, 116

Chowringhee Club, the, 135

Christmas dinner, a, 82

Chutnee, raw, 163

Chutnine, 163

Cinquevalli, Paul, 112

City dinners, 100

Clam chowder, 95

Cleopatra, 170

"Coal-hole," the, 187

Cobbler, champagne, 226 sherry, 226

Cocktail, Bengal, 236 brandy, 235 champagne, 236 gin, 237 Manhattan, 236 Milford, 236 Newport, 237 Saratoga, 237 whisky, 237 Yum Yum, 236

Cod liver, 102

Coffee tree, the, 7

Cold mutton, 162

Collins, John, 218

Coloured help, 94

Corelli, Marie, 247

Cow, milking a, 205

Crécy soup, 122

Cremorne Gardens, 184

Cup, ale, 226 Ascot, 224 Balaclava, 223 Chablis, 222 champagne, 222 cider, 221 claret, 220 Crimean, 223 Moselle, 226

Curry, Benares, 134 dry Madras, 144 locust, 140 Malay, 140 Parsee, 136 powder, 139 Prawn, 143 rice for, 17, 145 what to, 142 when served, 141

Cyclone, a, 262

Dana, 263

Delmonico, 95

Devilled biscuit, a, 269

Dickens, Charles, 52, 248

Dingley Dell, 249

Dinner, afloat, 101 city, 100 Christmas, 82 an ideal, 101

Doctor, a, 264 Samuel Johnson, 71

Donald, 220

Duck, Bombay, 146 canvass-back, 95 jugged, with oysters, 46 Rouen, 87 -squeezer, 93

Dumas, Alexander, 80

Dumpling, kidney, 190

Early Christians, 63 Closing Act, 181

Eggs and bacon, 13

Elizabeth, Queen, 66

Englishman in China, the, 92

Evans's, 181

Fairy "_Ala_," the, 68 kiss, a, 240

Fergus MacIvor, 67

Fin'an haddie, 23

Fixed bayonet, a, 91

Flash of lightning, a, 240

Flip, ale-, 216 egg-, 217 -flap, 241

Fowls, Surrey, 88

Free trade, 8

French soup, 97

_Fricandeau_, a, 104

Garlic, 128

Gin, sloe, 227

Ginger brandy, 230

Glasgow, the late Lord, 191

Goats, sacrifice of, 198

Goose pie, 56

Gordon hotels, 71

Green, "Paddy," 182

Greenland, across, 110

Grilled bones, 189

Grouse pie, 48

Gubbins sauce, 14

Haggis, 63

Halibut steak, a, 20

Happy Eliza, 242

Hawkins, Sir John, 113

Hawthornden, 84

Help, coloured, 94

Highland cordial, 229

Hollingshead, John, 181

Home Ruler, 227

Horatius Flaccus, 112

Horse-radish sauce, 164 steaks, 191

Hotch potch, 53

Hotel breakfasts, 17 "Parish," 21

Hot-pot, Lancashire, 42

Hunting luncheons, 48

Indian breakfasts, 31

Irish stew, 50

James I., King, 64

Japan, 92

Jesuits, the, 93

Johnson, Doctor, 71

John Collins, 218

"Jolly Sandboys," the, 51

"Joseph," 83

Jugged duck with oysters, 46

Jumping powder, 230

Kent Road Cookery, the, 109

Kidney dumpling, 190 in fire-shovel, 188

King James I., 64

Kiss, a fairy, 240

Kitchener, Doctor, 139

Knickerbein, a, 239

Lamb, Charles, 146

Lamb's head and mince, 186

Lampreys, 106

Lancashire hot-pot, 42

Large peach, a, 15

Larks, such, 46

Lightning, a flash of, 240

Li Hung Chang, 91

Liver, cod's, 102

_Lorna Doone_, 247

Louis XII., 60 XIV., 60

Lucian, 119

Luncheon, Ascot, 54 race-course, 50 Simla, 58

Macaulay, Lord, 261

_Madère_, 94

Maiden's blush, 241

Majesty, Her, 107

Mandragora, 231

Marrow, vegetable, 130

Marsala, 94

Mayfair, 85

Mayonnaise, 153

Mediterranean breakfast, a, 26

Mess-table, the, 105

Miladi's boudoir, 190

Milk, bull's, 240

Mint julep, 242

_Mirepoix_, a, 89

Mutton, cold, 162

Nansen's banquet on the ice, 109

Napoleon the Great, 107

Nero, 62

New York City, 95

Nipping habit, the, 233

"No cheques accepted," 18

Off to Gold-land, 25

"Old Coppertail," 197

Onion, the, 128

Orange brandy, 230 sauce, 161

Orgeat, 224

Out West, 96

Oven, the, 76

Overtrained, 269

Oysters, Aden, 172 in their own juice, 173 Kurachi, 171 prairie, 265 sauce, 137 scalloped, 173 stewed, 174 Worcester, 265

"Paddy" Green, 182

Parsnip, the, 129

Parlour cookery, 187

Payne, George, 82

Peake and Allen, 263

Pea soup, 118

Pease, 117

"Peg," a, 217

Pepper-pot, 195

Peter the Great, 106

Physician, an eminent, 108

Pick-me-up, "Number One," 263 St. Mark's, 268

Pickles, hot, 269

Pie, angel's, 55 goose, 56 grouse, 48 pigeon, 55 pork, 49 Wardon, 5 woodcock, 47 Yorkshire, 49

Poor, how they live, 109

Pope, Doctor Joseph, 146

Possets, 242

Pork, roast, 45

Potato, the, 111 salad, 155

Port-flip, 266

Powder, jumping, 230

_Pré salé_, a, 90

Prison fare, 110

"Property" food, 258

Pudding, Cheshire cheese, 39 plover, 46 rabbit, 45 snipe, 41

Pulled turkey, 94

Punch, 206 ale, 214 Barbadoes, 214 Cambridge, 210 Curaçoa, 214 Grassot, 214 Glasgow, 213 Halo, 212 milk, 208 Oxford, 210 Regent, 215

Queen Elizabeth, 66

Rabbit pie, 45

Race-course luncheons, 50 sandwich, 53

Rajah's hospitality, a, 196

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 113

Rat snakes, 204

Regimental dinner, a, 99

Rice for curry, 17, 145

Richardson, 81

Roasting, 76

Romans, the, 59

Royalty, 85

Rouen ducks, 87

Salad, anchovy, 160 a memorable, 157 boarding-house, 150 celery, 156 cheese in, 158 corn, 158 Francatelli's, 150 French, 151 fruit, 161 herring, 155 Italian, 159 lobster, 151 maker, a gentleman-, 156 orange, 161 potato, 155 Roman, 159 Russian, 160 tomato, 156

Salads, 147

Sala, George Augustus, 71

_Salmi Bernardin_, 92 of wild-duck, 93

Salmon steak, 24

Sandhurst R.M.C., 67

Sandwich, a race-course, 53

_Sambal_, 168

St. Leger, the, 84

Sauce, carp, 165 celery, 164 Christopher North's, 165 currant, 167 goose, 168 gooseberry, 166 Gubbins, 14 hare, 165 horse-radish, 164 orange, 161 oyster, 137 Tapp, 190 _Tartare_, 166

Savarin, Brillat, 90

Saxon dining-table, a, 65

Scorcher, a, 264

Scott, Sir Walter, 67

Scalloped oysters, 173

Scotch broth, 52

Shandy gaff, rich man's, 225

Shepherd's pie, 45

Ship and Turtle, the, 38

Sidney, Harry, 183

Simla, luncheon at, 58 to Cashmere, 200

Sligo slop, 244

Sloe gin, 227

Smith, Sydney, 147

Snipe pudding, 41

Soup, French, 97

"Spanky," 182

Spinach, 127

Sprats, 179

Staff of life, the, 7

Steaks, 50 salmon, 24 thoroughbred horse, 191

Steam-chest, the, 76

Stew, Irish, 50 "Jolly Sandboys," 51 oyster, 174

Stout and champagne, 225

Straight talks, 272

Suetonius, 61

Suffolk pride, 56

Such larks, 46

Supper, Hotel Cecil, 179 ball, 175

Surgeon-major, a, 264

Surrey fowls, 88

Swizzle, a, 271

Tapp sauce, 190

Tartar sauce, 166

Tea, 6 _à la Française_, 28

Thibet, 200

Thumb-piece, 53

Tiger's milk, 241

Toddy, 215 whisky, 216

Tomato, the, 126

Tomnoddy, Lord, 180

Toole, John Lawrence, 258

_Tournedos_, a, 89

Tripe, 177 how to cook, 178

Tsar, the, 57

Tsaritza, the, 86

Turkey, the, 94 pulled, 94

Turmeric, 139

Turnip, 127

Turner, Godfrey, 103

Vegetarian banquet, a, 132

Vitellius, 61

_Vol-au-Vent financière_, 90

Waiter, the, 112

Wardon pie, a, 5

Wellington, Duke of, 107

West Indies, the, 240

West, out, 96

Whisky, sour, 243

Wild-duck, salmi of, 93

William the Conqueror, 261

Woodcock pie, 47

Working man, the, 270

Wyndham, 241

Yates, Edmund's Reminiscences, 178

York, New, 95

Yorkshire pie, 49

THE END

MILLER, SON, AND COMPY., LIMITED, PRINTERS, FAKENHAM AND LONDON.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It is incorrect to speak of bread as the sole "staff of life." Eggs, milk, cheese, potatoes, and some other vegetables, supply between them far more phosphoric acid than is to be got from bread, either white or brown. And a man could support existence on "beer and baccy" as well as he could do so on bread alone.

[2] In most recipes for puddings or pies, rump steak is given. But this is a mistake, as the tendency of that part of the ox is to _harden_, when subjected to the process of boiling or baking. Besides the skirt--the _thick_ skirt--there be tit-bits to be cut from around the shoulder.

[3] The cannie Scot, however, never made his haggis from anything belonging to the pig. The dislike of the Scots to pork dates from very long ago, as we read in a note to Sir Walter Scott's _Waverley_. King "Jamie" carried this prejudice to England, and is known to have abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco. His proposed banquet to the "Deil" consisted of a loin of pork, a poll (or head) of ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.

[4] This dish must somewhat resemble the "Fixed Bayonet," which at one time was the favourite tit-bit of "Tommy Atkins," when quartered in India. It consisted of a fowl, stuffed with green chilis, and boiled in rum. The fowl was picked to the bones, and the soldier wound up with the soup. Very tasty!

[5] Kidney potatoes should always be boiled, as steaming makes them more "waxy."

[6] Doubtful starters.

[7] Formerly Assistant-Surgeon Royal Artillery. A celebrated lecturer on "The Inner Man," and author of _Number One, and How to take Care of Him_, etc.

[8] "Of all the delicacies in the whole _mundus edibilis_ I will maintain it to be the most delicate--_princeps obsoniorum_. I speak not of your grown porkers--things between pig and pork--those hobbydehoys; but a young and tender suckling, under a moon old, guiltless as yet of the sty, with no original speck of the _amor immunditiae_, the hereditary failing of the first parents, yet manifest--his voice as yet not broken, but something between a childish treble and a grumble--the mild forerunner or _praeludium_ of a grunt. He must be _roasted_. I am not ignorant that our ancestors ate them seethed, or boiled--but what a sacrifice of the exterior tegument!

"His sauce should be considered. Decidedly a few bread-crumbs, done up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild sage. But banish, dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole onion tribe. Barbecue your whole hogs to your palate, steep them in shalots, stuff them out with plantations of the rank and guilty garlic--you cannot poison them, or make them stronger than they are; but consider, he is a weakling--a flower."--_Lamb on Pig._

[9] Our then commanding officer was noted for his powers of self-control. I once noticed him leave the table hurriedly, and retire to the verandah. After an interval he returned, and apologised to the President. Our revered chief had only swallowed a flying bug. And he never even used a big D.

[10] An excellent aerated water and a natural one, is obtained from springs in the valley beneath the Long Mynd, near Church Stretton, in Shropshire. In fact, the Stretton waters deserve to be widely known, and are superior to most of the foreign ones.