(I do not mean a M.R.C.S.) his state must be far from hopeless. A “Doctor” is a mixture of beaten raw egg—not forgetting the white, which is of even more value than the yolk to the invalid—brandy, a little sifted sugar, and new milk. But many devotees of Bacchus could as soon swallow rum-and-oysters, in bed. And do not let us blame Bacchus unduly for the matutinal trouble. The fairy Ala has probably had a lot to do with that trouble. A “Doctor” can be made with sherry or whisky, instead of brandy; and many stockbrokers’ clerks, sporting journalists, and other millionaires prefer a
Surgeon-Major,
who appears in the form of a large tumbler containing a couple of eggs beaten, and filled to the brim with the wine of the champagne district.
A Scorcher
is made with the juice of half a lemon squeezed into a large wine-glass; add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, or Hollands, and a dust of cayenne. Mix well, and do not allow any lemon-pips to remain in the glass.
Prairie Oyster.
This is an American importation. There is a legend to the effect that one of a hunting party fell sick unto death, on the boundless prairie of Texas, and clamoured for oysters. Now the close and cautious bivalve no more thrives in a blue grass country than he possesses the ability to walk up stairs, or make a starting-price book. So one of the party, an inventive genius, cudgelled his brains for a substitute. He found some prairie hen’s eggs, and administered the unbroken yolks thereof, one at a time, in a wine-glass containing a teaspoonful of vinegar. He shook the pepper-castor over the yolks and added a pinch of salt. The patient recovered. The march of science has improved on this recipe. Instead of despoiling the prairie hen, the epicure now looks to Madame Gobble for a turkey egg. And a
Worcester Oyster
is turned out ready made, by simply substituting a teaspoonful of Lea and Perrins’ most excellent sauce for vinegar.