Tacking brass and copper on to the many other specialities I have gone in for may cause the remark that had I confined myself to a more limited sphere I might have had a finer result in fewer classes, but that would have curtailed the pleasurable excitement of my rambles. Then again, when once you get the collecting fever you are not likely to get the better of it; it is far more likely to get the better of you, and I am of opinion it is better so, provided you do not let it obtain an undue hold on your pocket. It is undoubtedly hard at times to say “No,” but it is more difficult to get rid of a bad bargain. It is a singular trait of character, not altogether limited to collectors, which impels the individual to tell everyone when he secures anything cheap but constrains him to be as close as an oyster when he is done with a “dud,” yet the best tales usually most enjoyed by the hearers are those which tell against the teller.
As regards the copper I am rather afraid of giving a wrong designation to the lipped pan with wood handle. It may have been a posset pot, or a beer-warmer, possibly it was used for both purposes, though not at the same time. The conical shaped warmer would put the pot to bed, as it would heat the mulled ale much quicker by being pushed down to the bottom of the fire, and, what was of more consequence in those days, it held more. The straight measure with a slot cut out at the top bears the inscription “Standard I Pint of the Corporation of Wexford Anno 1810” and is twice stamped “G.R. III.” When I bought it I was assured by the broker that he could swear it was genuine as he knew the man who fetched it out of Wales. I bought this “eneuch measure,” as a French visitor once called it to me, on January 1, 1910, and I remember wondering if this find augured well for the New Year from the collecting point of view, and it turned out quite a prosperous one.
There is a peculiar pewter half-pint Glasgow measure with copper top fitted with an overflow pipe, so that not a drop of the precious liquor would be lost. The two-handled measure is stamped “One-Pint,” so also is the pedestal-shaped one next to it. I do not know the trade name for the four measures with bell mouthpieces or pouring spouts, but I found them and the fine jug at one shop Bolton way. The small funnel is provided with a strainer. There are two powder-flasks on the top and two snuff-boxes on the bottom shelf. What sort of spectacles ever fitted into that heavy spectacle case? But one may conjecture everlastingly with these queer old relics of bygone days and ways.
FOURTH COURSE
Old Mortars
I shall only indulge in a short preliminary canter on this course as there are few competitors, and the chances of gaining a prize in this field are rather remote. I was not long before I had bought several bronze mortars, all plain, as I did not know fancy ones existed.
No. 1.—When I found this and bought it, I sent a photograph to the editor of the Chemist and Druggist, telling him it had been dredged up from the Liverpool Docks. He submitted the photograph to an expert, and reproduced the photograph in his paper in 1908 with the following remarks:
“Here we have the new Prime Minister, Mr. Asquith in effigy, on a two or three century old mortar. The left projecting wing shows a profile very like that of Mr. Asquith. The firmly sealed lips probably represent the receptive condition of his mind when the suggestions of subjects for new taxation fall upon his ear, and the features between the profile may, perhaps, bear some resemblance to the horrified expression worn by brewery directors, and those interested in the ‘Trade’ generally, on the morning following the introduction of the Licensing Bill. The type is Portuguese or Spanish, and probably of the sixteenth or seventeenth century. The projections, which so resemble a human profile are a feature of this type of Mortar.”