The internal economy of a mug-house in the reign of George I. is thus
described by a foreign traveller:--
At the mug-house club in Long-acre, where on Wednesdays a mixture of
gentlemen, lawyers, and tradesmen meet in a great room, a grave old
gentleman in his grey hairs, and nearly ninety years of age, is their
president, and sits in an armed chair some steps higher than the rest. A
harp plays all the while at the lower end of the room; and now and then
some one of the company rises and entertains the rest with a song, (and
by the by some are good masters.) Here is nothing drank but ale, and
every gentleman chalks on the table as it is brought in: every one also,
as in a coffee-house, retires when he pleases.
N. B. In the time of the parliament’s sitting, there are clubs composed
of the members of the commons, where most affairs are digested before
they are brought into the house.
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“AS DRUNK AS DAVID’S SOW.”
A few years ago, one David Lloyd, a Welchman, who kept an inn at
Hereford, had a living sow with six legs which occasioned great resort
to the house. David also had a wife who was much addicted to
drunkenness, and for which he used frequently to bestow on her an
admonitory drubbing. One day, having taken an extra cup which operated
in a powerful manner, and dreading the usual consequences, she opened
the stye-door, let out David’s sow, and lay down in its place, hoping
that a short unmolested nap would sufficiently dispel the fumes of the
liquor. In the mean time, however, a company arrived to view the so much
talked of animal; and Davy, proud of his office, ushered them to the
stye, exclaiming, “Did any of you ever see such a creature
before?”--“Indeed, Davy,” said one of the farmers, “I never before saw a
sow so drunk as thine in all my life!”--Hence the term “as drunk as
David’s sow.”
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