105 / 148
r
nearest thing extant to the American national drink, the classic of
classics, the colonel's delight, a snare and engine of destruction for
the unwar·y, the ever changing yet immutable and changeless mint
julep.
The fallacious belief that adequate juleps cannot be served,
obtained or appreciated anywhere north of, at the very extremity
of geographic possibility, Baltimore, has long since vanished in
the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. The julep can
and does flourish, green-bay-tree like, within the boundaries of Man–
hattan and, more specifically and even more handily for present
purposes, in Fifty-third Street not
1;l
seltzer squirt from Fifth Avenue.
Space, the informed intelligence of the author and the patience of
thirsty readers all militate against any prolonged discussion of the
several and various aspects of juleps. The author has hoisted them
gratefully in silver chalices of half quart capacity in Maysville,
Kentucky, overlooking the incomparable vista of the Ohio as the
Chesapeake and Ohio's "George Washington"has rolled dovm the
valley at summer dusk. He has lifted them in the perfumed precincts
of a springtime garden in Charleston in little gold toddy mugs that
were prized in the family still owning them when gentlemen wore
court swords on the street and satin breeches and silver buckled
pumps were taken for granted. He has
drunk
drastic juleps
in
Natchez-Above-the-Levee that made him ,.Vonder how the Mississippi
packet
ga~blers
of the fifties with their skirted coats and the Rem–
ington derringers concealed in lace cuffs could see a hand of cards.
And he has accepted juleps that were a sacrament in old walled
gardens in New Orleans while the sailors fought fistfights and the
town tarts paraded the ill-lit and uneven pavements of Royal Street
nearby.
All the juleps were good. Some seemed better than others, but
that was only because the others had been drunk first.
105: Night