THE ENEMY
full scope of his power over the whole body. He will tolerate no sweet to make entrance into a system over which he exercises his tyrannous control, nor permit any acid, however refreshing, to keep harbour therein. What more poetical image in the world than to quaff the juice of the grape from Bordeaux vineyards and sun-bathed slopes of Epernay, and to dream we have clambered along the valleys and up the romantic ravines of snow-topped Helicon and tapped the fountains of Aganippe and Hippocrene, summoning the Muses themselves to play the Hebe for us? What lovelier labour does gastronomy know than to let its hand roam under the dark green strawberry leaves in English garden, and lure from its hiding-place the queen of fruits, as the rose of flowers, whether we
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