yet wine of this tint continued to reappear from time to time, securing a transitory popularity from its attractive appearance, which caused it to be likened to the dying reflection of the setting sun on a clear stream. An interesting incident in connection with its advent on one of these occasions at the table of Rogers, the banker-poet, has been recorded by Mr. R. A. Tracy Gould of the American Bar. He was dining, it seems, in company with Tom Moore and John Kenyon, with Rogers at St. James’s-place, when their host, who had recently received through the French Ambassador a present of a case of pink Champagne from Louis Philippe, had the first bottle of it produced at the end of the dinner. The saucer-shaped Champagne glasses were then just coming into use, and pink Champagne, which was a revived novelty in England at that moment, looked singularly beautiful in them, crowned with its snow-white foam. Kenyon, who, as Gould remarks, was nothing if not declamatory, held up his glass, and apostrophised it as follows:
‘Lily on liquid roses floating!
So floats yon foam o’er pink Champagne!
Fain would I join such pleasant boating,
And prove that ruby main,
And float away on wine!’
This being vociferously applauded, after a few minutes’ pause he added the second verse:
‘Those seas are dangerous, graybeards swear,
Whose sea-beach is the goblet’s brim;
And here it is they drown dull Care—