“The nutricious and strengthening[I] beverage” of the English, “their own native old Sir John Barleycorn,” is not exempt from the sophistications and corruptions of the adulterator! Ye topers of “_pure_ extract from malt and hops,” do you hear this? That your own sweet proper suction—your ancient and legitimate accompaniment of the sirloin and the plum-pudding, is composed of every thing else than what it ought to be,—in fact, that it is one of the slowest and most fatal poisons with which your good friends “the _honest_ English brewers” are continually entertaining you. Aye, John, it is the truth—and the whole truth. But should you, with your usual “well-clothed stupidity, and sneering ignorant scepticism,” feel inclined to doubt my assertion, a reference to the “Minutes of the House of Commons, appointed for examining the price and quality of beer,” will furnish you with a goodly list of nearly two hundred Excise prosecutions and convictions (between the years 1812 and 1819), of wholesale and retail brewers, publicans, and brewers’ druggists, for the nefarious adulterations of your favourite beverage, or for having in their possession, or selling the poisonous ingredients for the purpose; in which there are several instances of penalties of £500, with costs having been inflicted on the offenders. Since that time, seizures of illegal and poisonous articles have also been often made by the Excise, and convictions have taken place. During the latter end of the last year, and at the commencement of the present year, seizures have been made, and convictions have taken place, nearly equal in number to those before stated: indeed, as a writer on the subject truly observes, “scarcely a week passes without witnessing the detection of some wicked greedy wretch,” who has been sporting with the lives and health of his fellow-creatures. And, when you have satisfied your incredulous understanding of your “_honest_” countrymen’s dealings with you, you may, perhaps, by reading the following extract from Mr. Accum’s book on Culinary Poisons, p. 189, be satisfied that you are not exactly swallowing a “cordial balsam,” or “the elixir of life,” when you are pouring into your portly stomach that delectable mixture, in the composition of whose combustible materials the brewer’s (or “_gentleman_”) druggist, the brewer, and the publican have kindly and humanely exerted their honest and patriotic skill.