1914 Beverages de luxe

By

A. M. I IAN AVER Of Hambuiyer Distillery Pittshurgh. Pa.

Rye whisky and wry faces do not go together. Sit down at home, at the chib or cafe, and when the choice, mild, mellow, and matured rye whisky is served, you see before you the finest drink man is capable of distilling from grain. You smile in con- templation, and comprehend how the expression

arose, "Give me a smile," meaning a drink, around which clusters only smile, laughter and joyousness, the good story brimful of wit and humor and laughter. One can understand why the sah'ation lassies get their best ijickings from the lovers of rye. One recalls Bobby Burns and his sweet songs of the rye fields, taught us in childhood's happy hours. Was it not r>i.s- marck, the greatest statesman of the nineteenth century, and himself the proprietor of a distillery, who remarked, "B.eer is for women, wine fin- men, and rye for heroes." In our country, with its rush and bustle and perpendicular drinking, one finds that some men do not understand the fine art of eating and drinking and living. You sometimes see such a man rush up to the bar, order a fine old rye, gulp it down, take some water, and rush out again. That is like turning somersaults in church— it is a sacrilege. Oh, no, my friend; that is not the way to do. Don't start a conflagration in your stomach and then start the fire department after it. Perpen- dictular drinking leads to oblique vision. The right way is to greet King Rye with ceremony, rever- ence and affection, which his age, his strength, his spirit, his purity and his birth demand. Treat him right and he will see that you are treated right; alnise him and he will see that you He permits you to look into nature's mirror. The law of comijensation holds fast— "whatever you do to him you do to yourself." Sit down, my friend, and ask for a choice real old rye, a nectar fit for the gods. Pour it slowly; feast your eyes on its golden hues. Is it the golden fleece for which the argonauts of old strived? Inhale its exquisite aroma; enjoy its superb bou- quet; it In-ings to the mind's eye the smiling rye fields, the rye waving joyously in the sun, and the troop of happy children passing through. Look again, and the liquid amber, coupled with the word Monongahela, bring remembrances of George suft'er.