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J4-0
THE FLOWING BOWL
life I once made trial of it at nine o'clock one
morning.
This was in the good town of Reading, in
company with a schoolmate or two. We were
on our way home for the holidays, and had been
entrusted, for the first part .of the journey, to
the care of the French master.
Him we had
evaded for the time being—he was much inter
ested in the manufacture of sweet biscuits—and
marching boldly into the best inn's best room,
we demanded bread and cheese and a bottle of
the most expensive port on the wine-list. School-
boy-like our fancy turned to quaintness in the
matter of meals ; and I am bound to add that
the state of our health was not one whit improved
by this weird breakfast. As for the French
master, no sooner had he run us to earth, than
but that part of the story is too painful to tell.
One of the oldest winter beverages known to
civilization is
Bishops
a composition of port wine and spices of which
it has been written :—
Three cups of this a prudent man may take ;
The first of these for constitution's sake.
The second to the girl he loves the best,
The third and last to lull him to his rest.
And an effectual luller is this Bishop,
Make several incisions in the rind of a lemon,
stick cloves in the incisions, and roast the lemon
at a slow fire. Put small but equal quantities of