This is simplicity itself. A teaspoonful of sifted sugar in a small tumbler, a little lemon rind and juice, one wine-glassful of brandy. Fill nearly up with crushed ice, shake and strain. WHISKY SOUR is merely Scotch whisky treated in the same kind, open-handed manner, with the addition of a few drops of raspberry syrup. _Blue Blazer._ Don't be frightened; there is absolutely no danger. Put into a silver mug, or jug, previously heated, two wine-glassfuls of overproof (or proof) Scotch whisky, and one wine-glassful of _boiling_ water. Set the liquor on fire, and pass the blazing liquor into another mug, also well heated. Pass to and fro, and serve in a tumbler, with a lump of sugar and a little thin lemon peel. Be very particular not to drop any of the blazer on the cat, or the hearth-rug, or the youngest child. This drink would, I should think, have satisfied the aspirations of Mr. Daniel Quilp. One of the most wholesome of all "refreshers," is a simple liquor, distilled from black-currants, and known to our lively neighbours as _Cassis._ This syrup can be obtained in the humblest _cabaret_ in France; but we have to thank the eccentric and illogical ways of our Customs Department for its absence from most of our own wine lists. The duty is so prohibitive--being half as much again as that levied on French brandy--that it would pay nobody but said Customs Department to import it into England; and yet the amount of alcohol contained in cassis is infinitesimal. Strange to say nobody has ever started a cassis still on this side. One would imagine that the process would be simplicity itself; as the liquor is nothing but cold black-currant tea, with a suspicion of alcohol in it. _Sligo Slop._ This is an Irish delight. The juice of ten lemons, strained, ten tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, one quart of John Jameson's oldest and best whisky, and two port wine-glassfuls of curaçoa, all mixed together. Let the mixture stand for a day or two, and then bottle. This should be drunk neat, in liqueur-glasses, and is said to be most effectual "jumping-powder." It certainly reads conducive to timber-topping. Take it altogether the daylight drink is a mistake. It is simply ruin to appetite; it is more expensive than those who indulge therein are aware of at the time. It ruins the nerves, sooner or later; it is _not_ conducive to business, unless for those whose heads are especially hard; and it spoils the palate for the good wine which is poured forth later on. The precept cannot be too widely laid down, too fully known: _Do not drink between Meals!_ Better, far better the three-bottle-trick of our ancestors, than the "gin-crawl" of to-day. CHAPTER XXI