scarcely reached the top, when a mine having
been sprung, the ground gave way, and he
was hurled below with fearful violence.
Seeing the disaster, his staff, with little hope
that any life was left in him, had him dug
out. However, he slowly revived, and the
first words which passed his white and
trembling lips were, "Bring me a glass of eau
sucrée!"—For this climate, however,
something more stimulating is required; but
our range of drinks is curiously limited. Yet
how easily it might be extended! There
is, for example, a weak decoction of barley-
water, with lemon and sugar, which for a
summer beverage is unaccountably delicious.

With the pleasures of cheap eating and
drinking are naturally connected the subject
of cheap party-giving. An English family who
are accustomed to entertain their acquaintances
with much expense at dull, expensive
dinners, or to crowd a vast number of
persons into small rooms—cleared away and
made uncomfortable for the especial purpose
—can have no idea how cheaply pleasant
parties may be given. The whole art in
England is founded on a grand social mistake.
Too often we invite people less because we
are pleased with their society, or for the
interchange of rational ideas, than from
ostentation. On the continent there are seldom
"crush" parties in private houses. Few
people think of giving yearly balls or half-
yearly dinners, but receive their friends every
night on which they do not themselves go
out; coffee, negus, ices, sherbet, lemonade,
sugared water, a few cakes, are all their
guests seem to require. There is not much
elaboration of dress, though it is always neat
and pleasing.

Subscription pic-nics are the peculiar
delight of the Germans. Some months since
we were of a party of this sort, near Vienna.
The members of the pic-nic were just on terms
of sufficient distance that each should have
something new to tell his neighbour, and
quite intimate enough to banish any kind of
formality. We roamed about all day among
old ruins, gathering flowers, and playing
games, and dancing in the ruined halls which
had echoed, perhaps, to the tread of dames
and cavaliers in the time of Rudolphe or
Maximilian. It was a scene from Boccaccio.
As is usual near such places, there was a
rustic inn where we had dined and forgotten
it; but noticing that the lady who had bidden
us to the feast seemed rather uneasy in her
mind, and looked several times towards us,
we thought it would be but polite, when
the next dance was over, to give her an
opportunity of unburthening herself. For
this purpose, entering into a conversation
with her, we discovered that each guest was
expected to pay, in ready money, the price
of his entertainment; our share was two
shillings! That was our contribution for
everything. How much better this than the
English mode, which consists of contributions
in kind, instead of in money; when
every matron, if she do not bring a tongue,
contributes a pigeon-pie, and everybody has
forgotten the salt!

The accessibility of every class to public
pleasures abroad, has a marked effect in
refining the manners of the people. In the
public gardens, all classes mix. The Grand
Duke walks about quietly with the humblest
of his subjects, and the humblest subject is
consequently well-behaved. Crowned heads
are not mobbed, and the breath is not drawn
with reverential awe at the mention of a
lord. The habit of frequent intercourse
amongst his equals—especially those of the
other sex—and among his superiors, gives
the foreigner an open, unembarrassed manner,
which is always more agreeable than the
constrained awkwardness of some free-born
Britons.

CHIPS
ACORN-COFFEE

IN addition to the unpalatable circumstances
respecting coffee which we put forth
in our fifty-fifth number, we have to add
endeavours made in 1778, by Dr. Marx, of
Hanover, to establish the excellent properties
of burnt acorns as a substitute for coffee. He
published a recipe for his concoction, which
ran as follows:—

"Take sound and ripe acorns, peel off the
shell or husk, divide the kernels, dry them
gradually, and then roast them in a close
vessel or roaster, keeping them continually
stirring; in doing of which, especial care must
be taken that they be not burnt or roasted too
much, both which would be hurtful. Take
of these roasted acorns (ground like other
coffee) half an ounce every morning and
evening, alone or mixed with a drachm of
other coffee, and sweetened with sugar, with
or without milk."

The author of this recipe then goes on to
enlarge upon the fine medicinal properties of
the acorn, its strengthening effect upon
the nerves,—its loss of all hurtful qualities after
roasting, and, at worst, its claim to rank, as a
sanitary drink with coffee. He adduces many
instances of diseases eradicated by his acorn-
coffee, and concludes by recommending it to
general attention. How far his efforts met
with success does not appear; nor is there
any means of judging whether or not his
investigations had the harmful effect of setting
the busy brains of rapacious adulterators to
work upon this article. However, acorn-coffee
is a curious suggestion, and may have some
claim to the attention of the gastronomic
chemistry of the present time. It may,
perhaps, be a humiliating instance to apply to
an enlightened beverage-loving public; but
we diffidently remind it that acorns are a
principal ingredient in the production of the
best pork. Judging from that fact it may