Arrack.This is an East Indian name, derived from the Arabic, for all sorts of distilled spirits, but chiefly for the “toddy,” or palm-liquor obtained from the cocoa-palm, as also from rice, and the coarse brown sugar known to the natives as “jaggery.” “Toddy,” when fresh, is a delicious drink, and bears no sort of relationship to whisky-toddy. An almost nude male swarms up a cocoa-palm—assisted by a rope which encircles his ankles and the trunk of the tree—early in the morning, and fetches down the vessel which has been fastened up atop, overnight, to catch the sap which has dripped from the incisions made in the tree. That sap, in its raw state, is delicious—especially with a dash of rum in it, but it ferments rapidly, and usually turns sour in three or four days. Then the natives distil, and make “arrack” of it—a liquor which is sold in the bazaars and drunk on the occasion of aburra din, or festival. Nor is its use confined to natives. The British soldier drinks it,faute de mieux; and occasionally the British officer.PoorB――,who was in my old regiment, had fuddled himself into such a state of stupidity, that all liquor was forbidden him by the doctor’s{119}orders. I, who shared his bungalow, took particular care that these orders were carried out, and threatened hisbearerandkhitmugarwith fearful penalties should they convey any surreptitious alcohol to thesahib. Still he managed to get it; and it took me a week to find outhow. Hissyce(groom) used to smuggle arrack from the bazaar, and hide it under the horse’s bedding in the stable; and whenever I was away from the house, poorB――used to creep over to the stable, and “soak” there!An imitation arrack may be made by dissolving 10 grains of benzoic acid in a pint of rum; but arrack is just the sort of fluid which ought not to be imitated. Give me the honest, manly, simple, beautiful Bass!Bhang,another dreadful East Indian drink, and a deadly intoxicant, is distilled from hemp; and if it had only been round the neck of the inventor before he invented it, society would have benefited.Saké,the favourite beverage of the Japs, who got it from the Chinese, and improved upon it, is not a desirable swallow. It is a rapid intoxicant, but the over-estimator rapidly recovers the perpendicular.Sakéwas handed round as a liqueur, at the much-advertised banquet of the “Thirteen Club”; but it is said that the liqueur was in no subsequent request. Not even one of those{120}daring and adventurous mirror-smashers and salt-spillers express the desire to take-onsaké“in a moog.”Vodkais the “livener” of the Russian peasantry, and is distilled from—what?Plain Water,whether fortunately or otherwise, comes under the heading of “Strange Swallows.” It is still consumed in prisons, and other places where sinners and paupers are dieted at the expense of the ratepayer. And hard as are the ways of the transgressor, his daily “quencher” is even harder. “Plain water,” wrote a celebrated Mongolian of his day, “has a malignant influence, and ought on no account to be drunk.” More especially if it be Thames water. I once saw a drop of this, very much magnified, displayed on a stretched cloth, in a side-show at the Crystal Palace. In that drop of water I counted three boa-constrictors, a few horrors which resembled giant lobsters, and a pair of turtles engaged, apparently, in a duel to the death. Three ladies in the front row of the stalls, at that exhibition, were carried out, swooning.Whether cold water ought to be drunk, or not, I am bound, as a tolerably truthful chronicler, to remark that very few folk who can obtain any other sort of tipple do drink it.It has been claimed by the Brahmins that{121}The Original Intoxicantwas evolved from the climbing bindweed of Hindustan, one of the convolvulus family. From this was made a liquor calledSoma, which is still the sacred beverage of the Hindus. It is the PersianHaoma, and, I should imagine, “absolutely beastly” to the Christian taste. Everybody knows the Christian bindweed—the stuff you get in your garden when you set potatoes, or early peas.Pulque, which is the sap of the aloe, is the favourite drink of the Mexicans. In Kamtchatka the natives drink (or used to drink) birch-wine, which has been already described in these pages. The Russians, also, are very fond of birch-wine; and their’s effervesces, like champagne.In Patagonia they drinkChi Chi,a cider made from wild apples. Pits are dug, and lined with the hides of horses, to prevent any liquor escaping, the apples are thrown in, and left to decay, and ferment, “on their own.” The Patagonians have an annual “big drink” of this dreadful mess, besides many smaller boosing-bouts. And upon these occasions the Patagonian ladies are in the habit of hiding all the knives and lethal weapons they can find, and retiring, with their children, into the woods, until their lords and masters and other relatives have drunk themselves mad, and then slept themselves sober again.{122}In the Caucasus district there be strange drinks made from mares’ milk, sparkling—such asKoumiss, or otherwise. But these beverages do not have a large sale in other districts.Kafta,which hardly comes under the heading of “swallows,” is in much request amongst the Arabs, especially in the neighbourhood of Yemen. These people boil the leaves and stems of thekat—a shrub about ten feet high, which is planted in the same ground as the coffee—and chew them. All visitors are presented with twigs of thiskatplant to chew; and the drawing-room carpet suffers terribly.“Very pleasant sensations” are, it is said, caused by this custom, and the effect is so invigorating that the Arab soldier who goes in steadily forKaftacan do “sentry go” all night without feeling in the least drowsy. Whether the soldiers of the Khalifa did much chewing on the night before the battle of Omdurman deponent sayeth not. Frequently thekatleaves are boiled in milk sweetened with honey, and the result is the same. The infusion is intoxicating, but the effect is not of long endurance; and at a synod of the most learned Mahomedans it was pronounced lawful for the faithful to chew, or drinkKafta, “as, whilst it did not impair the health nor hinder the observance of religious duties, it increased hilarity and good humour.” Sly rogues, these followers of the Prophet!If a man wants to retain his old friends and{123}to make fresh ones let not that man take to selling wines or spirits on commission. Some years ago I gave an old schoolfellow an order for a case of Scotch whisky, which he declared upon oath to be absolutely the best procurable. Home came the whisky, and the first cork was drawn. Pop! The stuff was literally effervescent, like champagne, or Russian birch-wine. “My dear,” I observed to the partner of my joys and cares, “we had better not drink much of this.”At the next Sandown Park race-meeting I met the whisky agent, who, I forgot to mention before, was a bit of a stammerer.“And wh-wh-wh-what,” he asked, “d’you think of that wh-wh-wh-wh-whisky?”Stammering is occasionally to be caught.“I think,” was my reply, “it’s the d-d-d-dashedest m-m-m-muck I ever t-t-t-t-tasted.”“Wh-wh-what’s the m-m-m-matter with it?”“It f-f-f-fizzes like g-g-g-ginger p-p-p-pop.”“My d-d-dear sir,” he protested, “that is no dr-dr-drawback. That’s the p-p-p-peat-r-r-reek.”Peat-reek or no, that whisky was not used for household purposes-not even for the Christmas pudding; but was kept for the special benefit of such police-constables, Inland Revenue officers, process-servers, tax-gatherers, book agents, and retailers of certain winners, as might call around, with a thirst in them.Strange whisky reminds me of the American story of the proprietor of a spirit-store in Arizona, who found the ordinary brand of “Rye” was not sufficiently attractive to his customers. So he fitted together a blend of his own, consisting of{124}essence of ginger, capsicums, croton oil, snuff, carbolic acid, pain-killer, turpentine, and a little very young and very potent spirit distilled from old junk. He placed a bottle of this on the counter, and the first customer who came along helped himself to a tumblerful, and, taking it “straight,” swallowed it at a gulp.As soon as he had got his second wind, he gasped out: “That’s the best doggoned whisky I’ve sampled in this yer camp. Sonny, guess you’ve fixed me up to rights. It’s like swallerin’ a circ’lar saw and pullin’ it up again. So long.”And with the tears pouring down his cheeks, and holding on to his diaphragm with both hands, he staggered into the open. The saloon-keeper watched him from the doorway, until he had passed the second block, and rounded the corner; and returned to his counter and his bottles, with the pious exclamation: “The Lord be praised.! He hasn’t died in our parish!”No chapter on strange drinks would be complete without the following story, which, I confess at the outset, is one of the most venerable of “chestnuts.” It appeared in theSporting Timesfour-and-twenty years ago, and I will not affirm that it was strictly original even then. It has since been translated into every known language; but it is just possible that some of the rising generation may not have heard it.A well-dressed gentleman entered a chemist’s shop one morning, evidently in a violent hurry.“Can you make me up a dose of castor-oil?”“Certainly, sir,” said the dispenser, with a bow.{125}Whilst he was going through the usual motions—no prescription can be properly made up until the chemist has overhauled every bottle on the top shelf, opened most of the empty drawers, and upset a tray of tooth-brushes—the customer was fidgeting about the shop, and fanning himself with a scented pocket-handkerchief.“It’s infernally hot,” he said presently, “and I don’t think I ever felt so thirsty in my life. Can I have a bottle of lemonade?”“Certainly, sir.”More sorting ofbottles.Presently “pop” goes a cork, and the sparkling lemonade is poured into a mammoth tumbler. The customer drains it at once.“Ah-h-h!” he crowed, wiping his mouth. “I feel a bit better now.”A pause. Presently heasked:—“Have you made that up yet?”“What, sir?” asked the chemist.“Why that stuff—the castor-oil I ordered.”“You’ve had it, sir.”“Hadit !Wotty mean?”“I gave it you in the lemonade, sir.”“Great Scotland Yard !” exclaimed the customer. “I didn’t want it for myself—I’m going to be married in half an hour!”
This is an East Indian name, derived from the Arabic, for all sorts of distilled spirits, but chiefly for the “toddy,” or palm-liquor obtained from the cocoa-palm, as also from rice, and the coarse brown sugar known to the natives as “jaggery.” “Toddy,” when fresh, is a delicious drink, and bears no sort of relationship to whisky-toddy. An almost nude male swarms up a cocoa-palm—assisted by a rope which encircles his ankles and the trunk of the tree—early in the morning, and fetches down the vessel which has been fastened up atop, overnight, to catch the sap which has dripped from the incisions made in the tree. That sap, in its raw state, is delicious—especially with a dash of rum in it, but it ferments rapidly, and usually turns sour in three or four days. Then the natives distil, and make “arrack” of it—a liquor which is sold in the bazaars and drunk on the occasion of aburra din, or festival. Nor is its use confined to natives. The British soldier drinks it,faute de mieux; and occasionally the British officer.
PoorB――,who was in my old regiment, had fuddled himself into such a state of stupidity, that all liquor was forbidden him by the doctor’s{119}orders. I, who shared his bungalow, took particular care that these orders were carried out, and threatened hisbearerandkhitmugarwith fearful penalties should they convey any surreptitious alcohol to thesahib. Still he managed to get it; and it took me a week to find outhow. Hissyce(groom) used to smuggle arrack from the bazaar, and hide it under the horse’s bedding in the stable; and whenever I was away from the house, poorB――used to creep over to the stable, and “soak” there!
An imitation arrack may be made by dissolving 10 grains of benzoic acid in a pint of rum; but arrack is just the sort of fluid which ought not to be imitated. Give me the honest, manly, simple, beautiful Bass!
Bhang,another dreadful East Indian drink, and a deadly intoxicant, is distilled from hemp; and if it had only been round the neck of the inventor before he invented it, society would have benefited.
another dreadful East Indian drink, and a deadly intoxicant, is distilled from hemp; and if it had only been round the neck of the inventor before he invented it, society would have benefited.
Saké,the favourite beverage of the Japs, who got it from the Chinese, and improved upon it, is not a desirable swallow. It is a rapid intoxicant, but the over-estimator rapidly recovers the perpendicular.Sakéwas handed round as a liqueur, at the much-advertised banquet of the “Thirteen Club”; but it is said that the liqueur was in no subsequent request. Not even one of those{120}daring and adventurous mirror-smashers and salt-spillers express the desire to take-onsaké“in a moog.”
the favourite beverage of the Japs, who got it from the Chinese, and improved upon it, is not a desirable swallow. It is a rapid intoxicant, but the over-estimator rapidly recovers the perpendicular.Sakéwas handed round as a liqueur, at the much-advertised banquet of the “Thirteen Club”; but it is said that the liqueur was in no subsequent request. Not even one of those{120}daring and adventurous mirror-smashers and salt-spillers express the desire to take-onsaké“in a moog.”
Vodkais the “livener” of the Russian peasantry, and is distilled from—what?
is the “livener” of the Russian peasantry, and is distilled from—what?
Plain Water,whether fortunately or otherwise, comes under the heading of “Strange Swallows.” It is still consumed in prisons, and other places where sinners and paupers are dieted at the expense of the ratepayer. And hard as are the ways of the transgressor, his daily “quencher” is even harder. “Plain water,” wrote a celebrated Mongolian of his day, “has a malignant influence, and ought on no account to be drunk.” More especially if it be Thames water. I once saw a drop of this, very much magnified, displayed on a stretched cloth, in a side-show at the Crystal Palace. In that drop of water I counted three boa-constrictors, a few horrors which resembled giant lobsters, and a pair of turtles engaged, apparently, in a duel to the death. Three ladies in the front row of the stalls, at that exhibition, were carried out, swooning.
whether fortunately or otherwise, comes under the heading of “Strange Swallows.” It is still consumed in prisons, and other places where sinners and paupers are dieted at the expense of the ratepayer. And hard as are the ways of the transgressor, his daily “quencher” is even harder. “Plain water,” wrote a celebrated Mongolian of his day, “has a malignant influence, and ought on no account to be drunk.” More especially if it be Thames water. I once saw a drop of this, very much magnified, displayed on a stretched cloth, in a side-show at the Crystal Palace. In that drop of water I counted three boa-constrictors, a few horrors which resembled giant lobsters, and a pair of turtles engaged, apparently, in a duel to the death. Three ladies in the front row of the stalls, at that exhibition, were carried out, swooning.
Whether cold water ought to be drunk, or not, I am bound, as a tolerably truthful chronicler, to remark that very few folk who can obtain any other sort of tipple do drink it.
It has been claimed by the Brahmins that{121}The Original Intoxicantwas evolved from the climbing bindweed of Hindustan, one of the convolvulus family. From this was made a liquor calledSoma, which is still the sacred beverage of the Hindus. It is the PersianHaoma, and, I should imagine, “absolutely beastly” to the Christian taste. Everybody knows the Christian bindweed—the stuff you get in your garden when you set potatoes, or early peas.
It has been claimed by the Brahmins that{121}
was evolved from the climbing bindweed of Hindustan, one of the convolvulus family. From this was made a liquor calledSoma, which is still the sacred beverage of the Hindus. It is the PersianHaoma, and, I should imagine, “absolutely beastly” to the Christian taste. Everybody knows the Christian bindweed—the stuff you get in your garden when you set potatoes, or early peas.
Pulque, which is the sap of the aloe, is the favourite drink of the Mexicans. In Kamtchatka the natives drink (or used to drink) birch-wine, which has been already described in these pages. The Russians, also, are very fond of birch-wine; and their’s effervesces, like champagne.
In Patagonia they drinkChi Chi,a cider made from wild apples. Pits are dug, and lined with the hides of horses, to prevent any liquor escaping, the apples are thrown in, and left to decay, and ferment, “on their own.” The Patagonians have an annual “big drink” of this dreadful mess, besides many smaller boosing-bouts. And upon these occasions the Patagonian ladies are in the habit of hiding all the knives and lethal weapons they can find, and retiring, with their children, into the woods, until their lords and masters and other relatives have drunk themselves mad, and then slept themselves sober again.{122}
In Patagonia they drink
a cider made from wild apples. Pits are dug, and lined with the hides of horses, to prevent any liquor escaping, the apples are thrown in, and left to decay, and ferment, “on their own.” The Patagonians have an annual “big drink” of this dreadful mess, besides many smaller boosing-bouts. And upon these occasions the Patagonian ladies are in the habit of hiding all the knives and lethal weapons they can find, and retiring, with their children, into the woods, until their lords and masters and other relatives have drunk themselves mad, and then slept themselves sober again.{122}
In the Caucasus district there be strange drinks made from mares’ milk, sparkling—such asKoumiss, or otherwise. But these beverages do not have a large sale in other districts.
Kafta,which hardly comes under the heading of “swallows,” is in much request amongst the Arabs, especially in the neighbourhood of Yemen. These people boil the leaves and stems of thekat—a shrub about ten feet high, which is planted in the same ground as the coffee—and chew them. All visitors are presented with twigs of thiskatplant to chew; and the drawing-room carpet suffers terribly.
which hardly comes under the heading of “swallows,” is in much request amongst the Arabs, especially in the neighbourhood of Yemen. These people boil the leaves and stems of thekat—a shrub about ten feet high, which is planted in the same ground as the coffee—and chew them. All visitors are presented with twigs of thiskatplant to chew; and the drawing-room carpet suffers terribly.
“Very pleasant sensations” are, it is said, caused by this custom, and the effect is so invigorating that the Arab soldier who goes in steadily forKaftacan do “sentry go” all night without feeling in the least drowsy. Whether the soldiers of the Khalifa did much chewing on the night before the battle of Omdurman deponent sayeth not. Frequently thekatleaves are boiled in milk sweetened with honey, and the result is the same. The infusion is intoxicating, but the effect is not of long endurance; and at a synod of the most learned Mahomedans it was pronounced lawful for the faithful to chew, or drinkKafta, “as, whilst it did not impair the health nor hinder the observance of religious duties, it increased hilarity and good humour.” Sly rogues, these followers of the Prophet!
If a man wants to retain his old friends and{123}to make fresh ones let not that man take to selling wines or spirits on commission. Some years ago I gave an old schoolfellow an order for a case of Scotch whisky, which he declared upon oath to be absolutely the best procurable. Home came the whisky, and the first cork was drawn. Pop! The stuff was literally effervescent, like champagne, or Russian birch-wine. “My dear,” I observed to the partner of my joys and cares, “we had better not drink much of this.”
At the next Sandown Park race-meeting I met the whisky agent, who, I forgot to mention before, was a bit of a stammerer.
“And wh-wh-wh-what,” he asked, “d’you think of that wh-wh-wh-wh-whisky?”
Stammering is occasionally to be caught.
“I think,” was my reply, “it’s the d-d-d-dashedest m-m-m-muck I ever t-t-t-t-tasted.”
“Wh-wh-what’s the m-m-m-matter with it?”
“It f-f-f-fizzes like g-g-g-ginger p-p-p-pop.”
“My d-d-dear sir,” he protested, “that is no dr-dr-drawback. That’s the p-p-p-peat-r-r-reek.”
Peat-reek or no, that whisky was not used for household purposes-not even for the Christmas pudding; but was kept for the special benefit of such police-constables, Inland Revenue officers, process-servers, tax-gatherers, book agents, and retailers of certain winners, as might call around, with a thirst in them.
Strange whisky reminds me of the American story of the proprietor of a spirit-store in Arizona, who found the ordinary brand of “Rye” was not sufficiently attractive to his customers. So he fitted together a blend of his own, consisting of{124}essence of ginger, capsicums, croton oil, snuff, carbolic acid, pain-killer, turpentine, and a little very young and very potent spirit distilled from old junk. He placed a bottle of this on the counter, and the first customer who came along helped himself to a tumblerful, and, taking it “straight,” swallowed it at a gulp.
As soon as he had got his second wind, he gasped out: “That’s the best doggoned whisky I’ve sampled in this yer camp. Sonny, guess you’ve fixed me up to rights. It’s like swallerin’ a circ’lar saw and pullin’ it up again. So long.”
And with the tears pouring down his cheeks, and holding on to his diaphragm with both hands, he staggered into the open. The saloon-keeper watched him from the doorway, until he had passed the second block, and rounded the corner; and returned to his counter and his bottles, with the pious exclamation: “The Lord be praised.! He hasn’t died in our parish!”
No chapter on strange drinks would be complete without the following story, which, I confess at the outset, is one of the most venerable of “chestnuts.” It appeared in theSporting Timesfour-and-twenty years ago, and I will not affirm that it was strictly original even then. It has since been translated into every known language; but it is just possible that some of the rising generation may not have heard it.
A well-dressed gentleman entered a chemist’s shop one morning, evidently in a violent hurry.
“Can you make me up a dose of castor-oil?”
“Certainly, sir,” said the dispenser, with a bow.{125}
Whilst he was going through the usual motions—no prescription can be properly made up until the chemist has overhauled every bottle on the top shelf, opened most of the empty drawers, and upset a tray of tooth-brushes—the customer was fidgeting about the shop, and fanning himself with a scented pocket-handkerchief.
“It’s infernally hot,” he said presently, “and I don’t think I ever felt so thirsty in my life. Can I have a bottle of lemonade?”
“Certainly, sir.”
More sorting ofbottles.Presently “pop” goes a cork, and the sparkling lemonade is poured into a mammoth tumbler. The customer drains it at once.
“Ah-h-h!” he crowed, wiping his mouth. “I feel a bit better now.”
A pause. Presently heasked:—
“Have you made that up yet?”
“What, sir?” asked the chemist.
“Why that stuff—the castor-oil I ordered.”
“You’ve had it, sir.”
“Hadit !Wotty mean?”
“I gave it you in the lemonade, sir.”
“Great Scotland Yard !” exclaimed the customer. “I didn’t want it for myself—I’m going to be married in half an hour!”