Puzzle jugs were known in the time of Henry VIII. There is a puzzle jug at the Bethnal Green Museum, which was made by Mr. John Wedgwood, great-uncle to Joshua Wedgwood, and is dated 1691. The principle of the puzzle is that there are three spouts, each projecting from a tube which runs round the rim and down the handle to the bottom of the vessel. The top of the neck being perforated, it seems impossible to obtain any of the liquor without spilling it. The secret is to stop two of the spouts with the fingers while drinking at the third. Other forms are the Tyg, a tall cup, with two or more handles, and decorated either with names or initials; and the Piggin, a small shallow vessel some few inches high, provided with a long handle, and used for ladling out the liquor brewed in the tyg. The doubled-handled tygs are generally called “parting-cups,” while those with more than two handles pass under the name of “loving-cups.” The word tyg comes from the Anglo-Saxon “tigel,” or tile, and survives in the word “tilewright” and other corruptions common in Staffordshire. Some of the puzzle jugs bear interesting doggerel lines upon them. One runs— “What though I’m common and well known To almost every one in town? My purse to sixpence if you will That if you drink you some do spill.” Not a very good recommendation for a jug, but a very profitable alehouse amusement from mine host’s point of view. Another bears the lines— “In this jug there is good liquor, Fit for either priest or vicar; But to drink and not to spill Will try the utmost of your skill.” [Illustration: _By courtesy of Mr. S. G. Fenton, Cranbourne Street._ GROUP OF OLD ENGLISH DATED WARE.] There is a very quaint inscription on a four-handled goblet, possibly a christening cup. It is dated 1692, and has the sides decorated with rough devices. Attached to one of the sides is a whistle; the mug has written upon it in atrocious spelling— “Here is the geste of the barley corne; Glad ham I the child is born.” The orthography of potters in the age before School Boards is something to marvel at. Apparently the following is the gift of an amorous potter to his lady-love. I. W. has gone the way of all lovers, but the little mug he made for his sweetheart lies on the museum shelf, an object-lesson to all “golden lads and lasses” who, as Herrick’s fair daffodils, “haste away so soon.” “Ann Draper, this cup I made for you, and so no more.—I. W.” Dated 1707, in the days of the great Marlborough. Some mugs have the precept, “Obeay the King,” while others bear the superscription, “Come let us drink to the pious memory of Good Queen Anne.” One or two utter the toast, “God Save King George.” A Gossip’s Bowl, dated 1726, has the couplet— “I drink to you with all my hart, Mery met and mery part.” Another old mug, doubtless sent as a present, has the words—