in my time would only take if they had a little
cough or sore throat, as a drug. And will you believe me, people
actually put sweet Spanish stuff into true Rhine wines because they say
we are sour.'

The Apostles roared with laughter at this last idea, and I couldn't
help joining. As for Bacchus, he had to be patted on the back by
Balthasar to recover him. 'Yes, the g-g-g-good old times,' sputtered he
as he got breath again, 'every burgher drank his honest half gallon and
went home as sober as a judge: now a glass upsets them, they're so out
of practice.'

'There was a fine story to that effect a couple of centuries ago,' said
my Lady, and smiled to herself at the recollection of it. 'Please tell
it us, Frau Rose. Yes! the story! the story!' they all began to cry.
She emptied her bowl to clear her voice, and began.

'You must know that in 1620 or 30 there was a great rumpus in Germany
about a very small matter--the Form of Religion. Each side wanted its
own form shoved down the throat of the other, and instead of sitting
down to talk it over sensibly over a pipe of wine, they proceeded to
knock each other on the head. Albrecht von Wallenstein, the Kaiser's
field-marshal in particular, made sad havoc of the Protestant
countries, until the King of Sweden, called Gustavus Adolphus, took
pity on them, and crossed the Baltic with a large army, and went at it
hammer and tongs in defence of the Protestant religion. Well, they
fought a lot of battles, and chased each other about from the Rhine to
the Danube, and from the Danube to the Rhine with mighty little result.
At that time Bremen and the other Hanse towns were neutral, and did not
wish to quarrel with either party; but as Gustavus wanted a passage
through their territories, he determined to send an embassy to them. It
was well known, however, that everything like state business in Bremen
was transacted in this cellar, and that the Bremeners were good hands
at stowing away liquor: so the king was in some perplexity lest his
ambassadors should be drunk under the table, and then made to sign an
unfavourable treaty. Now, there was by chance in the Swedish camp a
captain of the Yellow Regiment who was a notable drinker. Two or three
quarts for breakfast were a trifle to him, and in the evening he would
half empty a four-gallon cask and sleep well after it. The chancellor
Oxenstiern brought this man to the king's notice. Captain Tosspot he
was called. The king was much plea