I should probably be told that a peg was something to hang something or somebody else on, or that it was something to be driven through or into something else. And the latter would be the more correct answer, for at the time of my sojourn in the great continent of India, a peg meant a large brandy-and-soda. At that time whisky was but little known in Punkahland, and was only used high up in the Punjaub during the "cold weather"--and it is cold occasionally in that region, where for some months they are enabled to make ice--but that is _une autre histoire_. Rum I once tasted at Simla, and gin will be dealt with presently. But since the visit of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, a peg has always signified a _whisky_-and-soda. And yet we have not heard of any particular decrease in the death-rate. Despite what those who have only stayed a month or two in the country have committed to print, alcohol is _not_ more fatal in a tropical country than a temperate one. But you must not overdo your alcohol. I have seen a gay young spark, a fine soldier, and over six feet in height, drink _eight_ pegs of a morning, ere he got out of bed. There was no such thing as a "split soda"--or a split brandy either--in those days. We buried him in the Bay of Bengal just after a cyclone, on our way home. By the way, the real meaning of "peg" was said to be the peg, or nail, driven into the coffin of the drinker every time he partook. And the coffin of many an Anglo-Indian of my acquaintance was all nails. A _John Collins_ is simply a gin-sling with a little curaçoa in it. That is to say, soda-water, a slice of lemon, curaçoa--and gin. But by altering the proportions this can be made a very dangerous potion indeed. The officers of a certain regiment--which shall be nameless--were in the habit of putting this potion on tap, after dinner on a guest night. It was a point of honour in those evil, though poetical, times, to send no guest empty away, and more than one of those entertained by this regiment used to complain next morning at breakfast--a peg, or a swizzle, and a hot pickle sandwich--of the escape of "Private John Collins" from the regimental guard-room. For towards dawn there would not be much soda-water in that potion--which was usually served hot at that hour. CHAPTER XIX CUPS AND CORDIALS "Can any mortal mixture Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?" "The evil that men do lives after them." Five recipes for claret cup--Balaclava cup--Orgeat--Ascot cup--Stout and champagne--Shandy-gaff for millionaires--Ale cup--Cobblers which will stick to the last--Home Ruler--Cherry brandy--Sloe gin--Home-made, if possible--A new industry--Apricot brandy--Highland cordial--Bitters--Jumping-powder--Orange brandy--"Mandragora"--"Sleep rock thy brain!"