The pole of the hop Place in the ale shop, To bethwack us, If ever we think So much as to drink Unto Bacchus. Who frolic will be For little cost, he Must not vary From beer-broth at all So much as to call For canary. Last century may be said to have brought the vice of heavy drinking to its highest pitch. Statesmen, Judges, dignitaries of the Church—all joined in the riotous living of the time. The usual allowance for a _moderate_ man at dinner seems to have been two bottles of port. Men were known as two-bottle men, three and four-bottle men, and even in some instances _six-bottle men_. Lord Eldon, who was himself inclined to get a little merry after dinner, relates an amusing story in his _Anecdote Book_, which is illustrative of the habits of the day. He tells how Jemmy Boswell, Dr. Johnson’s Biographer, while on assize, so exceeded the bounds of moderation one evening, that he was found by his friends lying on the pavement very drunk. His comrades, of whom Lord Eldon (then Mr. Scott) was one, subscribed a guinea amongst them, and sent Boswell a bogus brief, instructing him to move the Court the next day for a writ of _Quare adhæsit pavimento_. Much to the astonishment of the learned Judge who presided, Mr. Boswell actually made the application in due course. The whole court was convulsed with laughter, and the unfortunate counsel, turning this way and that in his perplexity, knew not what to make of it. At last a learned friend came to his assistance. “My lord,” he said, “Mr. Boswell _adhæsit pavimento_ last night; there was no moving him for some time. At length he was carried to bed, and has been dreaming of what happened to himself.” Where such manners prevailed in the {293} upper ranks of life, the lower orders were not likely to be more sober. As a matter of fact, gin ran riot amongst the working classes in the great centres of population, spreading corruption of morals and ruin of health on every side.