CHAPTER FORTY SIX.
A SCIENTIFIC JULEP.
To drown care and sorrow men drink. The spirit of wine freely quaffedwill master either bodily pain or mental suffering--for a time. Thereis no form of the one or phase of the other so difficult to subdue asthe pang of jealousy. Wine must be deeply quaffed before that corrodingpoison can be washed free from the heart.
But there is a partial relief in the wine-cup, and I sought it. I knewit to be only temporary, and that the sorrow would soon return. Buteven so--even a short respite was to be desired. I could bear mythoughts no longer.
I am not brave in bearing pain. I have more than once intoxicatedmyself to deaden the pitiful pain of a toothache. By the same means Iresolved to relieve the dire aching of my heart.
The spirit of wine was nigh at hand, and might be imbibed in many forms.
In one corner of the "smoking-saloon" was the "bar," with its elegantadornments--its rows of decanters and bottles, with silver stoppers andlabels its glasses, and lemons, and sugar-crushers--its bouquet ofaromatic mint and fragrant pines--its bunches of straw tubes for"sucking" the "mint-julep," the "sherry-cobbler," or the "claretsangaree."
In the midst of this _entourage_ stood the "bar-keeper," and in thisindividual do not picture to yourself some seedy personage of the waiterclass, with bloodless cheeks and clammy skin, such as thosemonstrosities of an English hotel who give you a very _degout_ for yourdinner. On the contrary, behold an _elegant_ of latest fashion--thatis, the fashion of his country and class, the men of the river. Hewears neither coat nor vest while in the exercise of his office, but hisshirt will merit an observation. It is of the finest fabric of theIrish loom--too fine to be worn by those who have woven it--and no BondStreet furnishing-house could equal its "make up."
Gold buttons glance at the sleeves, and diamonds sparkle amid theprofuse ruffles on the bosom. The collar is turned down over a blacksilk riband, knotted _a la Byron_; but a tropic sun has more to do withthis fashion than any desire to imitate the sailor-poet. Over thisshirt stretch silk braces elaborately needle-worked, and still furtheradorned by buckles of pure gold. A hat of the costly grass from theshores of the South Sea crowns his well-oiled locks, and thus you havethe "bar-keeper of the boat." His nether man need not be described.That is the unseen portion of his person, which is below the level ofthe bar. No cringing, smirking, obsequious counter-jumper he, but adashing sprig, who, perhaps, _owns_ his bar and all its contents, andwho holds his head as high as either the clerk or captain.
As I approached this gentleman, he placed a glass upon the counter, andthrew into it some broken fragments of ice. All this was done without aword having passed between us.
I had no need to give an order. He saw in my eye the determination todrink.
"Cobbler?"
"No," said I; "a mint-julep."
"Very well, I'll mix you a julep that'll set your teeth for you."
"Thank you. Just what I want."
The gentleman now placed side by side two glasses--tumblers of largesize. Into one he put, first, a spoonful of crushed white sugar--then aslice of lemon--ditto of orange--next a few sprigs of green mint--afterthat a handful of broken ice, a gill of water, and, lastly, a largeglass measure of cognac. This done, he lifted the glasses one in eachhand, and poured the contents from one to the other so rapidly that ice,brandy, lemons, and all, seemed to be constantly suspended in the air,and oscillating between the glasses. The tumblers themselves at no timeapproached nearer than two feet from each other! This adroitness,peculiar to his craft, and only obtained after long practice, wasevidently a source of professional pride. After some half-score ofthese revolutions the drink was permitted to rest in one glass, and wasthen set down upon the counter.
There yet remained to be given the "finishing touch." A thin slice ofpine-apple was cut freshly from the fruit. This held between the fingerand thumb was doubled over the edge of the glass, and then passed withan adroit sweep round the circumference.
"That's the latest Orleans touch," remarked the bar-keeper with a smile,as he completed the manoeuvre.
There was a double purpose in this little operation. The pine-apple notonly cleared the glass of the grains of sugar and broken leaves of mint,but left its fragrant juice to mingle its aroma with the beverage.
"The latest Orleans touch," he repeated; "scientific style."
I nodded my assent.
The julep was now "mixed"--which fact was made known to me by the glassbeing pushed a little nearer, across the marble surface of the counter.
"Have a straw?" was the laconic inquiry.
"Yes; thank you."
A joint of wheaten straw was plunged into the glass, and taking thisbetween my lips I drew in large draughts of perhaps the most deliciousof all intoxicating drinks--the mint-julep.
The aromatic liquid had scarce passed my lips when I began to feel itseffects. My pulse ceased its wild throbbing. My blood became cool, andflowed in a more gentle current through my veins, and my heart seemed tobe bathing in the waters of Lethe. The relief was almost instantaneous,and I only wondered I had not thought of it before. Though still farfrom happy, I felt that I held in my hands what would soon make me so.Transitory that happiness might be, yet the reaction was welcome at themoment, and the prospect of it pleasant to my soul. I eagerly swallowedthe inspiring beverage--swallowed it in large draughts, till the strawtube, rattling among the fragments of ice at the bottom of the glass,admonished me that the fluid was all gone.
"Another, if you please!"
"You liked it, I guess?"
"Most excellent!"
"Said so. I reckon, stranger, we can get up a mint-julep on board thishere boat equal to either Saint Charles or Verandah, if not a leetlesuperior to either."
"A superb drink!"
"We can mix a sherry-cobbler too, that ain't hard to take."
"I have no doubt of it, but I'm not fond of sherry. I prefer this."
"You're right. So do I. The pine-apple's a new idea, but animprovement, I think."
"I think so too."
"Have a fresh straw?"
"Thank you."
This young fellow was unusually civil. I fancied that his civilityproceeded from my having eulogised his mint-juleps. It was not that, asI afterwards ascertained. These Western people are little accessible tocheap flattery. I owed his good opinion of me to a far differentcause--_the discomfiture I had put on the meddling passenger_! Ibelieve he had also learnt, that it was I who had chastised the BullyLarkin! Such "feats of arms" soon become known in the region of theMississippi Valley, where strength and courage are qualities of highesteem. Hence, in the bar-keeper's view, I was one who deserved a civilword; and thus talking together on the best of terms, I swallowed mysecond julep, and called upon him for a third, Aurore was for the momentforgotten, or when remembered, it was with less of bitterness. Now andthen that parting scene came uppermost in my thoughts; but the pang thatrose with it was each moment growing feebler, and easier to be endured.