as infallible as the pope. .    .    .    I should
have took it for the parlour of some eminent
mountebank."

In other parts of his book, he mentions
the coffee-houses repeatedly; and, in the
curious slang of the day, calls coffee " Turkish
sobriety," and " Mahometan lob-lolly,"—
names which show where the coffee, then
used, came from, clearly enough. By-the-by,
Mr. Ward was not an impartial judge on the
matter, as his vocation in life was the keeping
of a public-house.

What buildings have ever been more famous
in this country than Will's and Button's?
In the first of these it was that Dryden took
his seat, holding that "snush-box" which
was the fountain of literary honour. Here
were discussed all those questions which still
interest us in his charming prefaces. When
Addison's patronage took the wits of the time
to Button's, that coffee-house, in its turn,
became a Hall of Apollo. There, Addison
presided over his friends, at once grave and
genial; there, Swift, still obscure, signalised
himself as the " mad parson; " and Phillips
hung up a rod to warn the terrible Pope of
the castigation which awaited him for his
satire. In this phase of its history, Coffee
became as classical as Castalian water. Pope
early gave the charm of his genius to its
attractions, in the delicate and chiselled lines
of the " Rape of the Lock:" that

"Coffee, which makes the politician wise,"

was an important ally to the bard who
described the repast of Belinda. Often, its
spiritual fumes strung up the nerves of his
fine organisation till it was pitched for music.
At this time, the coffee of Araby was the
luxury of the rich and great; it glowed in
china on their card-tables. The time was
still distant when it should be a necessity of
the poor—in undergoing that transition from
a luxury into a necessity, which has
characterised so many discoveries.

In the latter part of the last century, tea
became the literary rival of our beverage;
its mention at once suggests Lord Lyttelton,
Mrs. Montagu, Johnson, Goldsmith, and all
the celebrities of the age.

Great and gradual has been the increase in
the consumption of coffee in this country.
In the year 1808, the duty on colonial coffee
was reduced to seven pence a pound, and that
on "Foreign" to ten pence. Between 1801
and 1838, the consumption in England
increased from seven hundred and fifty
thousand eight hundred and sixy-one pounds,
to twenty-four millions, nine hundred and
twenty thousand, eight hundred and twenty
pounds,—a marvellous increase, though during
this interval, the duty was again raised to
one shilling for five years (1819 to 1824).*
M'Culloch observes that this increase must
be partly attributed to the reduction in
price of the important accessary, sugar, as
well as to the reduction of the duty upon
colonial and foreign coffees respectively, to
sixpence and nine pence, in the year 1824.
From this year there was a gradual and
steady increase in the home consumption, so
that in 1832, it equalled the quantity produced
by the British colonies alone; which fact
induced the foreign growers to practise an
evasion of their own severer imposts, by re-
shipping for England from the Cape. This
they were enabled to do by the laws of 1830
and 1832, which permitted the importation of
foreign-grown coffee re-shipped there at a
lower rate than when it came direct.

* Porter's "Progress of the Nation."

Hitherto there had been a difference of rates
on East Indian and West Indian coffees; in
1842 they were equalised. Since that time, the
quantity imported remained almost stationary
till the last two years, during which there has
been a falling off. Now comes the strange
fact, that the consumption of what is called
coffee has become more general, while the
importation of the genuine article sensibly
decreased—which brings us to the great
question of " adulteration."

Coffee in ships' bags is coffee; coffee in
Mincing Lane is coffee; but what you get
under that name at many grocers', and very
many coffee-houses, is no more coffee than
sloe-leaves are tea, or sand sugar. For a long
time it has been notorious that adulteration
has taken place. In the " Gentleman's Magazine"
for 1818 we find that certain grocers
were convicted and punished for adulterating
coffee with ground peas.

The arch corruptor of our coffee is "chicory."
Chicory is the wild endive (cichorium
intybus), an indigenous plant. It is
extensively cultivated in Belgium, Holland, and
Germany, and among us, now, in Yorkshire,
Hertfordshire, and Cambridgeshire. It is
the root of this plant which, cut, dried, and
roasted, is used for mixing with coffee. Thus
prepared, it is a harmless production, but
"wants," say Dr. Pereira, " the fine flavour
for which genuine coffee is renowned." In
fact, it resembles coffee much as gooseberry
wine resembles champagne; and it is easy
to see that selling a mixture of these at a
hotel price would be a highly profitable
trade! We know that the production of
chicory at home, goes on increasing; we
know that (as the " Lancet " recently
remarked in the course of its scientific
investigations) a greater amount of " coffee " is
used here than ever passes the Custom House;
and we know that direct analysis of the
coffee sold by grocers, has proved that they
mix chicory with it largely.

The use of chicory originated in France
and Germany, and was soon adopted here,
obviously in consequence of the dearness of
coffee, caused by taxation. Many people
liked this mixture, which was to be had
at a lower price; and some preferred it to
coffee itself. An act was, however, in existence