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Show FEATURES OF THE COCKTAIL. Those Who' Gulp It Durintr the ITlornlnj; Hours and How They . Gulp It. . . There is an unspoken apology in the voice of the man who calls for drink in tiie morning. He never looks the bartender bar-tender in the eye. . Bold he maybe in the afternoon, and brave as a mother-in-law when the shades of evening have fallen, bnt in the early morning hoars there is a sneaking air about the way he calls for a cocktail that-inclines the white-aproned servitor to be familiar and to bully him. He doesn't lock arms with a boon companion com-panion and jollily call -for his favorite beveraea with that air of TironriAtnrflhin in the premises that rings through his talk in the afternoon'. He doesn't give minute directions as to -just the right amount of lemon and a suggestion of more sugar that characterizes him at night He sneaks in, asks meekly for a cocktail, submits to being charged too much for it, and tries to glide out looking unconscious all the while. But still every class does take its morning drink in spite of warning footsteps in the sands of the bar that tell how other good men have! gone before. It is a peculiarly American custom. The man who has taken a morning drink every day for years and years is the 5 o'clock drinker. Sometimes they shorten this and call him a tramp. But the terms are synonymous and reading interchangeable. He sleeps behind the barrels outside the door, is roused up before be-fore daylight by a kick, and sweeps out in a sleepy sort of a way "for a drink that is poured out for him. This is the Bowery saloon, of course. Even Bowery saloons have side doors as naturally as a policeman has a morning morn-ing appetite, and the side door ia as easy to find as a girl's lips in the dark. The policeman is the only patron that takes the trouble to fumble at the Sunday door on a week day. Hedoesn'tlook ashamed; because unlike other morning drinkers, he does not have to call for his particular wanity. Of course if you do not call for a drink you need not pay for it. He holds up two lordly fingers and the minion behind be-hind the bar brings something in a glass, there is an authoritative gurgle and all is still except a distant clock that marks the successful effort by striking the lucky number 7. An hour later a truck-driver comes boldly in at the front door. He is boss of his ward. There was a primary meeting down at Flannagan's last night, he tells the saloon man, and his head feels a little queer this morning. Better mix something some-thing for him to keep the reins steady in his hands. So a little of the red liquor goes into a glass and the horses outside wonder why they have to work so mud. harder that - day. It is only just be-' fore the election that he does that sort of thing. The 9 o'clock drinker is usually a clerk, and he takes his medicine in a down town saloon. "Gimme a cocktail plenty bitters," bit-ters," he says, as he fishes out a quarter from a mass of pennies, dollar bills and cigar-stuinps he finds jumbled together in his pocket. "I haven't had any breakfast," break-fast," he apologizes with a nervous laugh, "and I'm late at the office, too. Went out with some of the boys last night and feel doosid stoopid this morning. Guess the cocktail will straighten me out," and chewing the lemon peel he goes on his way. Even solid men sometimes do not enjoy their breakfasts, and swear a little at the cook and come down town without eating much. Such an one is the well known business man. He says carelessly to his chief clerk that he guesses he will step out and get another paper, or something of the kind, and next minute he stands before a big mirror looking at the reflection reflec-tion of a prosperous merchant taking a 10 o'clock cocktail all alone. It is a sad sight and he hurries back to the office wim sorrow in nis neari, ana lemon-peei in his mouth. - The young man who can afford to wear lace on his night dress can afford to take his matutinal drink as late as 11 o'clock. He doesn't have to bear the scrutinizing gaze of a beastly bartender. His valet knows what he wants, and brings it before be-fore he is fairly awake. And the gilded youth gulps it down, drops back on the pillow and dreams that he is a "giraffe, with a throat as long as the North river, down which an endless cascade of cocktail cock-tail is -gloriously flowing. New York World. |