This I take to be a _bona fide_ pick-me-up of two hundred years ago; and if “carduns” be the old spelling of “cardamom” ’tis very much the same mixture that the chemist will place in the trembling hand of the over-estimator, enquiring at the same time, “Would you like a lozenge after it, sir?” And the omission of sal volatile or chloric ether in the prescription leads to the belief that those drugs were joys unknown to the reveller of the seventeenth century. The most aggravating part about the aftermath of revelry is that it takes, just as it likes, directly opposite forms. Two sinners may jump the same stiff course—by this sporting metaphor is meant imbibe the same amount and description of alcohol—after dinner, and, whilst A may wake with a double-breasted headache, a taste of sewage in the mouth, and a tongue as foul and furry as a stoat’s back, B will commence the day with a {204} dreadful sinking at the base of the stomach, palpitation of the heart, and a desire to eat anything solid within reach. A prays faintly for burnt brandy, or death, and could not swallow even a devilled biscuit, were you to promise to make him a director of a gold-mine for performing that feat; whilst B is “dead off” brandy, but is capable of washing down ham and eggs and chops unlimited, with a gallon or two of coffee. Any medical man will doubtless give a reason for this discrepancy, which is quite beyond my powers of elucidation. _The Best Pick-me-up_ known to the writer is “the Boy, the whole Boy, and nothing but the Boy.” ’Tis an expensive restorative, no doubt; but, just as you cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, so are most of our pleasant vices more or less costly in the long-run. Champagne, _i.e._ genuine champagne, is about the most valuable restorative known to science, and has—I believe, though this is not within my own experience—saved the lives of sufferers from the “black death,” cholera. Whether blended with beaten eggs, bitters, or brandy, or in his pure natural beauty, there is, believe me, no such effectual sorrow-chaser as “The Boy.” _Anchovy Toast._ The next best restorer of the faculties is a quasi-solid; and the recipe for its concoction has already been given in _Cakes and Ale_. As, {205} however, a portion of the public may be fated to enjoy the ale without the cakes, here it is again. First and foremost, bear in mind that this appetizer must not be made in the kitchen. It comes under the heading of “parlour cookery,” and can even be manufactured in the bedroom of the sufferer.