With long-barrelled flint-lock guns they ranged over that wonderful map of the land which lies spread out at your feet as you look down from the Dyke. There are already yellowing leaves; they will be brown after a while, and the covers will be ready once more for the visit of the hounds. The toast upon this mug would be very gladly drunk by the agriculturist of to-day in his silk hat and black coat. It is just what he has been wishing these many seasons.
"Here's to thee, mine honest friend,
Wishing these hard times to mend."
Hard times, then, are nothing new.
"It is good ale," is the inscription on another jug; that jug would be very welcome if so filled in many a field this very day. "Better luck still" is a jug motto which every one who reads it will secretly respond to. Cock-fighting has gone by, but we are even more than ever on the side of fair play, and in that sense can endorse the motto, "May the best cock win." A cup desires that fate should give
"Money to him who has spirit to use it,
And life to him who has courage to lose it."
A mug is moderate of wishes and somewhat cynical:—
"A little health, a little wealth,
A little house, and freedom;
And at the end a little friend,
And little cause to need him."
The toper, if he drank too deep, sometimes found a frog or newt at the bottom (in china)—a hint not to be too greedy. There seem to have been sad dogs about in those days from the picture on this piece—one sniffing regretfully at the bunghole of an empty barrel:—
"This cask when stored with gin I loved to taste,
But now a smell, alas! must break my fast."