“Crooked caps shake back and forward, Hung but by a single hair; Stiff old legs the dance are trying, Hoarse old voices sing out fair. “At the first cup which thou drainest, Didst thou seem transformed to me; If another now thou’dst empty, Wholly tipsy wouldst thou be. “Truly thou dost shame me sorely; Sober quite you see I stay; But if thou wilt take me homeward, Lead me gently on the way. “True, thou lead’st me into ditches, But my own head reels at last; Hold me by thy arm supported, By thy pig-tail hanging fast.” With this extreme point of drinking I will close. This dull intoxication is about what a warm grain-wine would produce, and fits the disagreeable character of the Chinese as well as the anecdote occurring in another song, where one whose invited guests do not appear at the right time, is actually rejoiced to think he may now drink up his wine alone. The value of wine for social enjoyment can scarcely be known there, where conventionality ties the tongues, where there is a tribunal of ceremonies, and where the tea-kettle is forever on the fire, which among us, too, fosters only embroidery, gossip and nervous debility. And then the greedy desire for physical enjoyment is the one thing which makes the Chinaman love his wine and his spicy concoctions, and which in this point has ever driven him into a never-before-heard-of opposition against his Government. How dreadful it is, however, to see these crude and childish remnants of antiquated customs most closely knit now with the most refined and elaborate tastes, wants and habits thus in vogue among the people, together with secret and most pernicious vices, and yet to find that not a single voice can be raised against it, because, with the most subtle cunning, down to the very limits of physical needs, every expression of indignation or of joy has been forbidden by law! End of Project Gutenberg's The Art of Drinking, by Georg Gottfried Gervinus