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"THE BOY'
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after indulging somewhat freely in the "sparlc-
ling" proffered me on the previous day in a
booth on Knavesmire. Do what I would—and
I walked ten miles, went for a scull on the river
Ouse, and then swallowed hot mustard-and-water
—the distressing sensations, the great wave of
depression which seemed to have swamped the
heart, would not quit the body, until—and the
idea came as a bolt from the blue—I had sum
moned up sufficient strength of mind to enter
the coffee-room of the principal hotel, and
demand a pint of Pommery. It was not a hair
of the dog which had bitten me; the mangy
brute from the attention of whose fangs I was
suffering was no sort of relation to the highly-
bred terrier who rooted out the anguish from my
soul. And that small pint was so successful that
another went the same way. And by that time
I had been inspired with nerve enough to face a
charging tiger, unarmed.
Many learned people, including one section
of the medical profession, incline to the belief
that consumption of champagne offers direct en
couragement to gout.
But there is no such
idea amongst those employed in the cellars of
Moet et Chandon, Geisler, Mum, Pommery, and
other large firms. Not that these workmen are
allowed to drink as much of their own foaming
productions as they have a mind to. As a matter
of fact the wine supplied to the ouvriers is the
thin red stuff of the district, resembling inferior
Burgundy, and not of a very elevating nature.
It is not particularly attractive, this life of labour,
for nine or ten hours a day, in a damp, cold
K
"(•a