THROUGH A GLASS LIGHTLY
they know their business, which is to vend at all hazards; and none is more keenly conscious that the specious flavour of an adjective may render palatable a whole dishful of unwholesome nouns. The seductive epithet, indeed, is the licensed victualler’s handiest weapon. For Saumur, unembellished by any qualifying epithet, we have scant affection, but to hear of it as “pale, dry, and creaming” and to see it foaming forth from the giant bottles on the posters at railway stations, is to create a thirst which must be quenched. And to lure us on to Burgundy by pronouncing it an Accretor of Blood is neither more nor less than to put a cheat upon us. For Burgundy, being the first red wine in the world, stands in need of no puffery. Not Claret itself can match it for richness and perfume. The aroma and bouquet,
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