Cyder

Extract

Cider is vile stuff. This is not demonstration, but abuse. So is bottled eider. So is cider. No matter which kind of cup it is drunk from; whether the blue and white decorated mug, with only one handle; or the other, with tall stem and shallow calix, used at weddings. Spelling its name with Y or Z does not enhance the beverage. Yet the drink exists.

Philips and others have blown up the subject to the limit of elasticity; but all good evidence points to the truth that it is radically the drink of the thirsty labourer.

Hark! where the sweeping scythe now rips along,

Each sturdy Mower, emulous and strong,

Whose writhing form meridian heat defies,

Bends o’er his work, and every sinew tries;

Prostrates the waving treasure at his feet,

But spares the rising clover, short and sweet.

Robert Bloomfield had reason to know what he was writing about; and is a credible witness that sturdy Mower will soon want a drink. If we assemble all the conditions, and have patience to adumbrate the sort of fluid called for, we shall approach the definition of cider. Not water; for the thirsty is not yet in pain and resisting despair. Like the seaman at the capstan or halliards, his cheerfulness is to be kept at due pitch. Enjoyment, such as it is, is already possessed; and has not now to be sought. The state of those who hope to

wade in the moonlight and snatching at a bough

is outside the desires of the moment. A brewage with the two properties of allaying and discouraging thirst is indicated.