the tumbler. Epicures rub the lips of the tumbler with
a piece of fresh pine-apple, and the tumbler itself is very often
incrusted outside with stalactites of ice. As the ice melts, you drink.
I once overheard two ladies talking in the next room to me, and one of
them said, "Well, we have a weakness for any one thing, it is for a
mint-julep--" a very amiable weakness, and proving her good sense and
good taste. They are, in fact, like the American ladies, irresistible.

The Virginians claim the merit of having invented this superb compound,
but I must dispute it for my own country, although it has been forgotten
of late. In the times of Charles the First and Second it must have been
known, for Milton expressly refers to it in his Comus:--

"Behold the cordial julep--here
Which flames and dances in its crystal bounds
With spirits of _balm_ and _fragrant syrups_ mixed.
Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena
Is of such power to stir up joy like this,
To life so friendly, or so _cool to thirst_."

If that don't mean mint-julep, I don't know the English language.

The following lines, however, which I found in an American newspaper,
dates its origin very far back, even to the period when the heathen gods
were not at a discount as they are now.

ORIGIN OF MINT-JULEP.

'Tis said that the gods, on Olympus of old,
(And who, the bright legend profanes, with a doubt,)
One night, 'mid their revels, by Bacchus were told
That his last butt of nectar had somewhat run out!

But determined to send round the goblet once more,
They sued to the fairer immortals--for aid
In composing a draught which, till drinking were o'er,
Should cast every wine ever drank in the shade.

Grave Cerce herself blithely yielded her corn,
And the spirit that lives in each amber-hued grain,
And which first had its birth from the dews of the morn,
Was taught to steal out in bright dew drops again.

Pomona, whose choicest of fruits on the board,
Were scattered profusely in every one's reach,
When called on a tribute to cull from the board,
Expressed the mild juice of the delicate peach.

The liquids were mingled while Venus looked on
With glances so fraught with sweet-magical power,
That the honey of Ilybla, e'en when they were gone,
Has never been missed in the draught from that hour.

Flora, then, from her bosom of fragrance shook,
And with rose