The Long Drink — Cremorne Gardens — Hatfield — Assorted cocktails — Brandy-and-Soda — Otherwise Stone Fence — Bull’s milk — A burglar’s brew — More cocktails — A “swizzle” — L’Amour Poussée — A corpse reviver — A golden slipper — A heap of comfort.

Our grandfathers knew not the Long Drink; the chief reason for this fact being that a?rated water, and consequently large tumblers, had not been invented. And soda-water—one of the most ineffectual restoratives I know—was originally employed, under its pet name “sober water,” as a pick-me-up. The Long Drink came in, I fancy, with Cremorne. At prim?val Vauxhall men still refreshed themselves with glasses of alleged sherry, and with rummers of brandy-and-water—a flat, stale, and unprofitable potion, which nobody who is in complete possession of his faculties thinks of imbibing nowadays.

Let us now run over a few recipes which require large tumblers to hold the drinks. And we will commence with “cobblers,” those seductive warm-weather importations from the United States. {150}
Catawba Cobbler,

so called because Catawba (which is a Californian wine and but little known in this island of ours) is seldom used in its concoction. Champagne is an excellent substitute, whilst a cheaper one is the Italian wine, sparkling Asti.

    Dissolve one teaspoonful of sifted sugar in one tablespoonful of water in a tumbler; add two glasses of Catawba, or Asti, or champagne, and fill the tumbler with crushed ice. Shake, ornament with a slice of orange or pine-apple, and drink through straws.

Moselle Cobbler.

    One glass of sparkling moselle in a large tumbler, a spot of old brandy, sugar to taste, a slice of lemon, and filled up with crushed ice.

But there is a sameness in the man-u-fac-ture of cobblers, in which almost every known wine, or strong water, may be used, with the other ingredients, ice, sugar, slices of lemon or orange, and water (not much water) added.

“The secret of making
“Hatfield,”

writes an invaluable authority, “is supposed to be a secret only known to the manager at The Oval. We used to drink at the Old Winchester Music Hall an imitation, composed of two bottles of soda-water to one ginger-beer, a quartern of Old Tom and a half-quartern of noyeau, duly iced.”

Most “cocktails” come under the heading of {151} “Short Drinks,” and will be found duly scheduled, farther on. Here, however, is a long ’un.
Saratoga Cocktail.

    Put into a large tumbler twenty drops of pine-apple syrup, twelve of Angostura bitters, twenty of maraschino, and a wine-glass of old brandy; nearly fill the glass with pounded ice, and mix well. Add two or three strawberries and a shred of thin lemon-peel, and top up with champagne.

Arctic Regions.

    Large tumbler. Quarter of a pint of milk, wine-glass of sherry, and liqueur-glass of old brandy. Fill up with pounded ice, and sweeten to taste. Shake well, dust with cinnamon, and suck through a straw.

Brandy-and-Soda.

Every Saturday morning, of all respect-able news-agents, in the pink paper, price?―― Pshaw! What am I thinking about? This con-coction is also known in America as “Stone Wall” (Why?), and used to be known in Her Majesty’s dominions in Asia as a “Peg”—simply because every dose swallowed was said to represent a peg in the coffin being man-u-fac-tured for the swallower. It is unneces-sary to give any recipe for this mixture, the proportion of the ingredients varying with the inclination, disposition, indis-po-si-tion, state of health, or pocket, of the swallower. But above all let your ingredients be of the best. There is only one thing worse {152} than bad brandy, and that is bad soda-water. Avoid the cheap stuff with the little glass stoppers, as you would the tipstaff.
Brandy Daisy.

    Put into a large tumbler the juice of a small lemon, half a tablespoonful of sifted sugar, and dissolve with one squirt of a?rated water from a syphon. Add a liqueur-glass of yellow chartreuse, nearly fill the glass with crushed ice, and add one wine-glassful of old brandy. Stir well and strain.

Bull’s Milk

    A large tumbler. One teaspoonful of sifted sugar, half a pint of milk, one-third of a wine-glassful of old rum, one wine-glassful of old brandy. Add ice, shake, strain into another glass, and dust with cinnamon and nutmeg.

Julap, or Julep.
Behold this cordial Julap here,
That flames and dances in his crystal bounds,
With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mixt.

Although the mint julep is compounded and used principally in the continent of America, the original “julap” is a Persian word, signifying a sweet potion. John Quincey, the author of a dictionary on Physic, describes julap as “an extemporaneous form of medicine, made of simple and compound water, sweetened, and serves for a vehicle to other forms not so convenient to take alone.” {153}

The simple water is usually omitted nowadays. And here is one recipe for a Mint Julep.

    Pound a quantity of ice quite fine, enough to half fill a large tumbler. Add two teaspoonfuls of sugar. Then add a wine-glass of old brandy, half a wine-glass of old rum, and two or three sprigs of mint. Stir well together, and drink through a straw.

Another way to make a
Mint Julep.

    Put into a large tumbler two and a half tablespoonfuls of water, a tablespoonful of sugar, and two or three sprigs of mint pressed well into the sugar-and-water to extract the flavour; add one and a half wine-glassfuls of brandy, fill up with crushed ice, shake well, draw the sprigs of mint to the top of the glass with the stems downwards, and decorate with berries in season and small slices of orange; dust with a little sugar, and dash with rum. Serve with a straw.

Mint julep, it may be added, is supposed to have been introduced into England by Captain Marryat, the nautical novelist.
Pine-apple Julep.

This is a beverage for book-makers and company-pro-mot-ers only. All others should substitute pine-apple syrup from the tin for the slice of pine-apple.

    Large tumbler. Slice of pine-apple. The juice of half an orange, ten drops of maraschino, ten drops {154} of raspberry syrup, half a wine-glassful of gin; half fill the tumbler with crushed ice, shake well, and top up with champagne. Drink through straws.

Saratoga Brace-up.

    Large tumbler, tablespoonful sifted sugar, twelve drops of Angostura bitters, twelve drops of lemon juice, six drops of lime juice, twelve drops of anisette, one fresh egg, and a wine-glass of old brandy. Half fill the glass with crushed ice, shake thoroughly, strain into another large tumbler, and fill up with Seltzer or Apollinaris water.

A Burglar’s Brew.

Amongst the kind and generous cor-re-spon-dents who have furnished me with matter for this work is an Austrian gentleman, who, apparently, holds some appointment under Government. He writes: “Our local man in blue (or rather in green, in Prussia) and I have just driven twenty miles a burglar to the police-station. Bobby and I being both new to this part of the world, did not know the road, but our passenger directed us quite well, and actually rang the bell himself at the gaol; after which he most properly wished a very happy new year to the head constable, with whom he seemed to be quite on sitting terms.

“But the point of this is to tell you of a very decent drink, mixed by ‘Billy’?”—presumably the burglar—“himself, on our journey—a most acceptable ‘gargle,’ with two feet of snow and a beastly east wind. {155}

    “?2 pints lager beer, brought to boiling point.

    3 glass rhum.

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