Nasby in Exile: or, Six Months of Travel in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Switzerland and Belgium, with many things not of travel — John Locke — John Shaqi
Nasby in Exile: or, Six Months of Travel in England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Switzerland and Belgium, with many things not of travel
John Locke · en
At twelve o'clock, Saturday night, he would fight a rattlesnake and give
the snake the first bite. Were a venomous snake to bite such an
Englishman the man would never know it, for alcohol is a sure cure for
reptilian poison, but the poor snake would wriggle faintly away to some
secluded spot and die sadly. This is why, I presume, I have seen no
rattlesnakes in London; they cannot safely prosecute the business for
which they were created. They are similarly worried, I believe, in West
Virginia.
To drink this vile stuff successfully one would want his stomach
glass-lined and backed up with fire-brick. I never would attempt it
except as the man did in Kentucky. He walked into a bar, and distrusting
the quality of the whisky, called up a negro and gave him a glass before
drinking his own. The landlord, divining his purpose, knocked the glass
out of the negro's hand. "No you don't!" said the Boniface, "that nigger
is mine, and worth fifteen hundred dollars. Get an Irishman to try it
on."
And while I am about it I may say that alcoholization is not confined to
the lower order by any means. Almost every body drinks something beside
water. The tradesman who can afford it has claret at his table, and
during the day his "drains" of brandy are very frequent. The gentry and
nobility drink more costly wines and better brandy, but liquor is
everywhere. Nothing is done without the accompanying drink; it is
universal and in all places. The climate prevents the injury that would
visit the same man in America, but it hurts. If the English could only
live as temperately as the Americans they would be the greatest race of
people on earth.
The exclusiveness of the English is manifest in their vices as in their
virtues. Every bar is divided in the front by partitions, one for each
class. Over the one designated as "the private bar," you get precisely
the same liquors as at the others, but you pay more for it, because
laborers and the like are not admitted. One compartment exacts four
pence, the next three pence, and the last and lowest two pence. But all
are served out of the same wood.
But very few men are employed behind English bars, women filling those
places. The London bar-maid is an institution to be studied. To begin
with she must be pretty, for being pretty is a part of her
qualifications. As her feet cannot be seen, owing to her standing behind
the bar, she _is_ generally pretty. Then they are required to dress
well, and all in one establishment dress their hair alike. In one place
the maids part their hair on one side, in another on the other, and in a
third in the middle. They are alike in each shop.