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nevertheless you'd have drunk it and you'd have liked it!
This revered uncle of mine had his own ideas but, gen–
erally speaking, he followed the formula of one of the old
masters, the late Judge J. Soule Smith who lived - while
he did live, which was a long time ago - up in Lexington.
Now, Judge Smith was both a monarch among mixologists
and a sweet singer in Israel. When he cleared his voice and
twanged on his harp - but wait; let me quote to you his
remarks upon this illustrious topic. Here, verbatim, is the
way
h~
poured the language forth:
"In
the Blue Grass there is a softer sentiment - a gentler
soul. There where the wind makes waves of the wheat and
scents itself with the aroma of new-mown hay, there is no
contest with the world outside. On summer days when
from his throne the great
s~n
dictates his commands, one
looks forth across broad acres where the long grass falls
and rises as the winds may blow it. He can see the billowy
slopes,
f~~
off, each heaving as the zephyrs touch it with a
caressing hand. Sigh of the earth, with never a sob - a
tender sigh, a lover's touch, she gives the favored land.
And the moon smiles at her caressing, and the sun gives
benediction to the lovers. Nature and earth are one -
married by the wind and sun and whispering leaflets on
the happy trees.
"Then comes the zenith of man's pleasure. Then comes
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