BEER BREWED FROM SUGAR.

THE scarcity in, and consequent high prices of, grain, have of late led to the suggested substitution of sugar and molasses in breweries and distilleries. There are various fiscal considerations connected with this measure, to which we may hereafter advert; but first we shall glance at the employment of sugar in domestic brewing, that is, brewing upon a small scale.

A popular writer on domestic economy, (Mr. Donovan,) observes:-"For making excellent ale or table beer it is not absolutely necessary to use malt. To conceive this subject rightly, we must consider that it is the sugar of the malt which undergoes fermentation, and that any other sugar will ferment just as well, although no other sugar is so cheap." To this statement we request especial attention.

Economy and long habit," continues the writer just quoted, "have established malt sugar as a brewing material, but cane sugar will afford an excellent drink. To persons residing in the country, and far from breweries, as well as to those who do not choose the great trouble of managing malt, this is a valuable fact. Another advantage of cane sugar is, that the apparatus necessary for converting it into beer is much more simple: all that is required is a cask which has no bung-hole, or has it well stopped up. This is to be placed standing upon either of its ends: a cock is to be fixed in one of the staves, about an inch above the bottom chimb, so that, in drawing off the liquor, the sediment cannot also run. In the centre of the top of the cask, that is, in the centre of its other end, a hole is to be bored, of such size as will admit a large bottlecork.

"Let us suppose that the cask holds ten gallons, and that the drink is to be tolerably strong ale. The proper quantity of hops required for ten gallons of ale, in this process, will be about a pound and a half. On this quantity, contained in any convenient vessel, pour eleven gallons of boiling water; or, what is much better, boil the hops in the water for about five minutes, and no more; then strain off the hops; in the strained liquor dissolve fourteen pounds of sugar, and mix in a pint of yeast of the best quality.

"Pour the whole into a cask; it will soon begin to ferment; it will throw up its yeast through the cork hole at top, and then, being retained within the external rim of the chimb, it will, for the most part, fall back into liquor, and run back into the cask. It will require, at the ordinary temperature of summer, as much as three weeks or a month to complete the fermentation. For the last fortnight, the cork may be generally kept in the hole; but it should, once every two days, be removed, to give vent to the fixed air; and then it should be replaced. When the fermentation appears at an end, the taste of the sugar will almost have disappeared. The cork may then be permanently driven in, and in four days the ale will be fit for draught or bottling.

"As to the quality of the sugar, it is a matter of little consequence; white sugar will afford an ale scarcely coloured brown sugar will impart proportionate colour, and not quite so pure a flavour. Should colour be an object, it may he communicated by the raspings of an over-baked loaf, or by scorched treacle; but this is a matter of little moment. The drink will spontaneously fine itself.

"To persons who have acquired an inveterate predilection for the abominable and varied flavour which the skill of the brewer enables him to communicate, this pure and simple drink may be less pleasing; but it is singular how soon the consumer acquires a high relish for it, and prefers it to every other. There is a purity of taste belonging to it quite different from the indescribable jumble of tastes so perceptible in common

ales; while it has a slight sharpness combined with tenacity, which is much more agreeable than the glutinous or mucilaginous softness of even the best ales. But it has one advantage which places it above all competition, and that is its lightness on the stomach; this, when compared with the sickly heaviness of malt ale, is remarkable. The whiter the sugar the lighter will provided that the drink be sound, which is best insured be the ale; and age greatly conduces to the same end, by bottling."

Thus far Mr. Donovan's method: we have tasted beer made by it, though not with the requisite attention to the several stages of the process. It by no means came up to Mr. Donovan's standard; but we have known beer thus made to prove excellent.

There is, likewise, a mode of economising malt. Thus, to half a bushel add four pounds of treacle, and three quarters of a pound of hops; this will make twenty-five gallons of beer, the cost of which will be but twopence per gallon, where the materials are purchased to the best advantage. This beer will be fit to drink in a fortnight, but will not keep in warm weather. four pounds of coarse sugar, and three ounces of hops, Table-beer may be made without malt, by boiling in ten gallons of water, in a covered copper, for three quarters of an hour: ferment the strained liquor in the usual manner, keep it for a week or ten days, and it will be fit for use.

Or, a pleasant and wholesome beer may be made as follows:-to a quarter of a peck of sweet wheat bran add three handfuls of hops, and ten gallons of water, boil the whole together in a copper until the bran and hops sink to the bottom: then strain it through a hair sieve into a cooler, and when lukewarm add two quarts of molasses, this will be sufficient for a nine gallon cask. Before you pour in the liquor, which must be done as soon as the molasses is dissolved, put two table spoonfuls of good yeast into the barrel; bung is up when the fermentation has subsided, and in four days it will be fit for use; it will, however, be improved by bottling; in which case it will be ready to drink in six or seven days.

Molasses has been mentioned as a substitute for malt, as well as sugar; and we shall now proceed to consider the economy of these substitutes, as determined upon a large scale.

In "the Art of Brewing," an admirable treatise by the late Mr. David Booth, who was, at one period, a common brewer, it is stated that" of all the substitutes for malt, raw grain is the principal; if, indeed, that can be called a substitute which is merely malted in the mash-tun in place of the floor." The process by which the conversion of barley, or other grain, into malt, is thus rapidly performed, is detailed in Mr. Booth's work; while we warn the public brewer of the legal danger of its adoption, we strenuously recommend its use in private families. Were the practice to become general, a deduction of the duties on beer would indubitably follow.

"Pure sugar and water, (it has been said,) will not ferment; but raw sugar, or molasses, will make very good beer, either alone, or mixed with malt-worts. There is, however, no saving from the use of these materials, unless when malt becomes much dearer than in ordinary years; in which case they are occasionally permitted to be used under the authority of the Lords of the Treasury. A weak beer from molasses is frequently made in private families, and drunk in a half-fermented state; but it is too luscious for the taste of those who are accustomed to the small beer of malt. Molasses, mixed with a weak malt-wort, would, when fermented, be much more palatable.” A receipt of this class is given above.

Such a "permission" as Mr. Booth refers to, has of late been mooted by Government; and, with the view of determining its policy in the present scarcity of grain, the Board of Excise have reported to the Lords

"Before the Select Committee of 1831, On the Use of Molasses,' various estimates were made of the weight of sugar equivalent to a quarter of malt in brewing. Of course, they varied much, according to the allowance made for the quality of the grain and the skill of the brewer-the lowest being 1731b. of sugar to the quarter of malt, and the highest 2261b. The average is 1994lb. It is a general opinion, that the saccharine produce of barley has been increased of late years by the cultivation of a superior description of grain, and by improved modes of working in breweries;' and the mean (200lb. to the quarter) adopted in the bill brought in lately by the Chancellor of the Exchequer seems, therefore, to be a safe one for the average of years. The most common estimate is that 180 pounds of sugar is equal to a quarter of malt; but the experiments recently made fix it very near the average struck in 1831; and this seems by far the most likely to be correct. By the 52d George III., c. 3, it is assumed, as to distilleries, that a hundredweight of sugar will yield, upon an average, about 114 gallons of proof spirit. The evidence before the Committee of 1831 conducts us to the same conclusion. And the experiments now made quite confirm it. The value of molasses in brewing has now been tried by only two experiments; and the general conclusion is, that about 300lb. of molasses will yield the same quantity of beer of a given strength as a quarter of malt. The question of comparative value must remain in some degree undecided until it shall be ascertained, in practice, whether the beer brewed from the former necessarily retains any peculiar flavour. In distilling, the common opinion is, that a hundredweight of good molasses will yield eight gallons of proof spirit. The average of ten experiments by the Excise gives about seven and one-third gallons. But, if we allow for the different results invariably obtained in fermenting large and small quantities of wash, it must be allowed that here the common estimate is more likely to be found correct in practice. The Commissioners, however, seem inclined to adopt the minimum of 74 gallons; and, assuming that the quarter of malt yields 18 gallons, would fix its equivalent in molasses at 278lbs."

The following deductions are from an article in The Globe newspaper of Feb. 2:

"To apply these calculations to the present state of the markets for grain and sugar-First, as to the distiller. The London average price of barley, by Friday's Gazette, (Jan. 29,) was 58s. 3d. per quarter. Its price has since receded from 28. to 58. per quarter in all the principal markets of the kingdom; and it cannot, for practical purposes, now be taken at more than 56s., if so much. Admitting, then, that a quarter of barley will yield 20 gallons of proof spirit (a full estimate), one gallon so obtained will cost about 2s. 94d. The average price of West India sugar, duty paid, was, last week, about 52s. 6d. per hundred-weight, If one hundred-weight yield 111 gallons of spirit, a gallon of such spirit will cost about 4s. 7d. And the average price of molasses, at the same time, being about 28s. 6d. per hundredweight, it follows that if that quantity yields eight gallons of spirit, the cost per gallon will be about 3s. 6d. But the use of molasses is not yet permitted. It follows that the distiller has no inducement, at present prices, to substitute sugar for grain.

"As to the brewer, the Report before us states the relative values of sugar and malt for brewing, in reference to every price of the latter, from 50s. to 90s. per quarter. Taking the present price of malt at 80s. per quarter, if its equivalent in sugar be 200lb., the value of a hundred-weight of sugar to the brewer will be 44s. 9d.; and if the equivalent be 180lb, as is more commonly supposed, the relative value of the sugar will be 498.9d. The average price of West India sugar is now 52s. 6d. Some sugars are quoted much lower, but no large quantity could be bought for a new purpose at a less price than that stated. At present, therefore, there is little, if any, inducement, even for the brewer, to substitute sugar for malt. The free use of molasses in breweries, under the present duties, would, undoubtedly, yield a profit, assuming that its flavour did not reduce the value of the beer. But this arises from the duty on molasses being lower in proportion to its brewing value than the duty upon either sugar or malt. The abandonment of malt for molasses would therefore cause a loss to the revenue."

To this we may add, that in 1807, when the price of malt was 828. per quarter, it was shown that the price of sugar should be from 328. to 338. per cwt. to induce distillers to use that article in their trade in pre

ference to malt.

What may be the result of these financial deductions, in the reduction of the duty on sugar so employed, that malt is by no means necessary to the production remains to be seen. Meanwhile, it must be conceded, of wholesome agreeable beer.

Beer from mangold wurzel may be made by cleansing half a hundred weight of the roots, and boiling them an hour and a half in fourteen gallons of water; then, slice the roots, pulp them through a sieve, and add the juice to the water they were boiled in, which boil for an hour and a half with four ounces of hops; strain it, and work it for a day with half a pint of yeast; then, skim off the yeast, and put the beer into a barrel, keeping back the sediment. About two pounds of molasses boiled with the mangold wurzel, will much improve

this beer.

Beer from potatoes has been successfully manufactured; although, at present, this would be but substituting one scarce article for another. We, however, give the receipt as practised in France. Boil one hundred weight of peeled potatoes in eleven gallons of water, and mix them into a batter. At the same time, let seven pounds of malt be mashed in a gallon of tepid water, which add to the potatoe vat at the temperature of 144 degrees; stir the whole well together, cover it, and let it remain three or four hours. Then boil it for half an hour with two pounds of hops, strain it through a sieve, and when at 59 degrees of heat, set it with a quarter of a pint of yeast; when fermentation commences, skim the beer, and draw it off into a cask, where the fermentation should be completed. The beer thus produced, after being bottled, has been found greatly to resemble Paris beer.

In certain parts of Ireland, an excellent beer has been brewed from parsnips, by a process somewhat like the foregoing, except that no malt is used; the bitter employed is hops.

Chemistry has, of late, contributed to the economy of malt in a beautiful research. Thus, Mr. Septimus Riesse suggests, that the weight of extract of malt may be increased by simply adding diastase to the second wort, to convert the remaining starch into sugar. This is done by the addition of a portion of the malt, (which contains diastase,) previous to mashing a second time. In a brewing of thirty quarters, Mr. Riesse would take twenty-nine quarters for the first mash, and add the remaining quarter to the second; and there would be such an increase as to warrant him in advising its adoption by all brewers and distillers.

FRANK FAIRLEGH;

OR, OLD COMPANIONS IN NEW SCENES. BY F. E. S.

CHAP. XI.

WHAT HARRY AND I FOUND WHEN WE LOST OUR WAY.

ON the afternoon of the day after Lawless's wineparty, Oaklands and I were walking down to the stables, where his horses were kept, (he having, in pursuance of his plan for preventing my over-reading myself, beguiled me into a promise to ride with him,) when we encountered Archer

said he, after we had shaken hands. "I suppose you have heard the news par excellence,"

"No," replied I, "what may it happen to be?"

"Only that Lizzie Maurice, the pastry-cook's daughter, disappeared last night, and old Maurice is going about like a distracted creature this morning, and can't learn any tidings of her."

"What, that pretty girl with the long ringlets, who

used to stand behind the counter?" asked I. "What is supposed to have become of her?"

"Yes, that's the young lady," returned Archer; "and all that's known about her is, that she waited till her father went out to smoke his pipe, as he usually does for an hour or so every evening, and then got the urchin who runs of errands to carry a bundle for her, and set out without saying a word to any one. After she had proceeded a little way, she was met by a nian muffled up in a cloak, who took the bundle from the boy, threw him a shilling, and told him to go home directly. Instead of doing so, however, he let them go on for a minute or two, and then followed them. They went at a quick pace along one or two streets; at length turned down a lane, not far from the Magdalene, at the bottom of which a gig was waiting. Another man, also muffled up, was seated in the gig, into which the girl was handed by her companion, who said to the second man in a low tone, All has gone well, and without attracting notice,'-he then added in a warning voice Remember, honour bright, no nonsense, or-and here he sank his voice, so that the boy could not catch what he said; but the other replied,On my word, on my honour 'They then shook hands, the second man gathered up the reins, drew the whip across the horse, which sprang forward at speed, and they were out of sight in a moment. The man who was left gazed after them for a minute or so, and then, turning briskly on his heel, walked away, without perceiving the boy, who stood under the shadow of a door-way. On being questioned as to what the men were like, he said that the first kept his face entirely concealed, but he was rather tall, and had black hair; the second was a stout man, with light hair, and a high colour-for a dark lantern which he had with him happened to throw its light on his face, as he was lighting it."

"At what time in the evening did all this take place," inquired Oaklands.

"Between nine and ten," replied Archer. Oaklands and I exchanged glances; the same idea had evidently struck us both.

"Has any one seen Wilford this morning?" asked Oaklands.

"Scen him!" returned Archer, "yes, to be sure, he and Wentworth have been parading about arm in arm all over the town; they were with me when I met poor old Maurice, and asked him all sorts of questions about the affair. Wilford seemed quite interested in it."

"Strange!" observed Oaklands, musing. "I don't make it out. I would not willingly wrong, even in thought, an innocent man. Archer," he continued, "you have a shrewd keen wit, and sound judgment; tell me, in confidence, man, who do you think has done this?"

"Nay, I am no diviner, to guess other men's secrets," replied Archer; "and these are subjects about which it is not over safe to hazard conjectures. I have told you all I can learn about it, and it is for you to draw your own conclusions; it is no use repeating things to you, of which you are already aware: I might as well tell you dogs bark and cats mew; or that Wilford has black | hair, and Wentworth is a stout man with a high colour; or any other well-known truism,-but I am detaining you-good morning." So saying, he shook hands with us, and left us.

After walking some distance in silence, Oaklands exclaimed abruptly, "It must be so it is Wilford who has done this thing you think as I do, do you not, Frank?"

"I am sure we have not evidence enough to prove it," replied I; "but I confess I am inclined as a mere matter of opinion to agree with you, though there are difficulties in the way, for which it is not easy to account. For instance, why should Wilford have gone to that party last night, instead of remaining to carry out his schemes himself; by which he incurred the additional risk of entrusting their execution to another?"

"That is true," said Oaklands, thoughtfully, "I do not pretend to understand it all clearly, but somehow I feel a conviction that Wilford is at the bottom of it." "You should recollect, Harry, that you greatly dislike this man,-are, as I conceive, prejudiced against him, and are therefore, of course, disposed to judge him harshly."

"Yes, I know all that, still you'll see it will come out sooner or later that Wilford was the man. Her poor old father! I have often observed how he appeared to doat upon her, and how proud he was of her-his pride will be converted into mourning now. It is fearful to think," continued Oaklands, "of what crimes men are guilty in their reckless selfishness! Here is the fair premise of a young girl's life blighted, and an old man's grey hairs brought down with sorrow to the grave, in order to gratify the passing fancy of a heartless libertine." He paused, and then continued, "I suppose one can do nothing in the matter, having no stronger grounds than mere suspicion to go upon ?"

"I should say, nothing likely to be of the slightest benefit," replied I.

"Then the sooner we get to horse the better," returned Oaklands; "hearing of a thing of this kind always annoys me, and I feel inclined to hate my species: a good gallop may shake me into a better humour." "And the dolce-far-niente?" I inquired.

"Oh! don't imagine me inconsistent," was the reply; "only somehow, just at present, in fact ever since the breeze last night, I've found it more trouble to remain quiet than to exert myself; so if you would not tire me to death, walk a little faster, there's a good fellow."

After a brisk ride of nearly two hours along cross roads, we came out upon a wild heath or common of considerable extent.

"Here's a famous place for a gallop," exclaimed Oaklands; "I never can make up my mind which is the fastest of these two horses; let's have a race, and try their speed-do you see that tall poplar tree, which seems poking its top into the sky, on the other side the common that shall be the winning post; now, are you ready?"

"All right, go ahead," replied I, bending forward, '; and giving my horse the rein. Away we went merrily, the high-couraged animals bounding beneath us, and the fresh air whistling by our cars, as we seemed to cut through it. For some time we kept side by side; the horse Oaklands rode was, if anything, a finer, certainly a more powerful animal than the one on which I was mounted, but this advantage was fully compensated by the fact of his riding nearly a stone heavier than I did. We were therefore on the whole very fairly matched.

After riding at speed, as well as I could reckon, about two miles, Oaklands to his great delight had gained nearly a horse's length in advance of me, a space which it seemed beyond my powers of jockeyship to recover. Between us, however, and the tree he had fixed on as our goal, lay a small brook or water-course, along the banks of which the ground became soft and marshy. In crossing this, the greater weight of man and horse told against Oaklands, and gradually I began to creep up to him. As we neared the brook, it struck me that his horse appeared to labour heavily through the stiff clay; now or never, then, was my opportunity, and shouting gaily, "Over first, for a sovereign; good bye, Harry," I gave my horse the spur, and putting him well at it, cleared the brook splendidly, and alighted safely on the farther bank.

Determined, if possible, not to be outdone, Harry selected a place in which by crossing he could contrive to cut off a corner, and thus gain upon me considerably. In order to accomplish this, it was necessary for him to take his leap at a spot where the brook was some feet wider than ordinary; relying, however, on the known good qualities of the animal he rode, he resolved to

attempt it. Settling himself firmly in his saddle, he got his horse well together, and then throwing up his whip hand, and (as Lawless would have termed it) "plying the gaff's" eagerly, he charged the brook at full speed. It was a well-imagined and bold attempt, and had his horse been fresher, would have succeeded in winning him the race; but we had kept up a fair pace during the whole of our ride, and now our gallop across the common, and more particularly the exertions Oaklands had made in crossing the marshy ground, to preserve the advantage he had gained, had tried his horse's wind considerably. Still, however, the noble animal strove to the utmost of its power to answer the call made upon it, and by a vigorous effort succeeded in clearing the brook; but the ground on the other side was rugged and broken, and, apparently exhausted by the exertion he had made, he stumbled, and after a slight struggle to preserve his footing, fell heavily forward, pitching Harry over his head as he did so.

Fortunately the ground was soft and clayey, and neither man nor horse seemed to have sustained any injury, for I had scarcely time to draw rein, ere they were on their legs again, and as Harry's first act was to spring lightly into the saddle, I determined to secure the race at once; and cantering up to the poplar tree, which was now within a hundred yards of me, I snapped off a bough in token of victory. As I turned back again, I observed that Harry had dismounted, and was examining his horse's foot.

"Nothing wrong, is there?" asked I, as I rejoined him. "Yes, everything's wrong," was the reply; "you've been and gone and won the race, you villain you, I've tumbled nose and knees into a mud-hole, and spoiled my white cord oh-no-we-never-mention-ums, and 'the Cid' has wrenched off one of his front shoes in the skrimmage."

Mayhap there is," was the reply, in a surly tone. "Can you direct us how to find him?" continued Oaklands.

"What might you want with him, when you've found him?" was the rejoinder.

"My horse has cast a shoe, and I want one put on immediately,” replied Oaklands, who was getting impatient at the man's unsatisfactory, not to say insolent, manner.

Mayhap you won't get it done in quite such a hurry as you seem to want! There's a blacksmith lives at Stony End, about five miles furder on. Go straight up the lane for about three mile, then turn to the right, then twice to the left, and then you'll see a finger post that aint got nothing on it :--when you come to that--" "Which I never shall do, depend upon it," replied Oaklands. "My good man, you don't imagine I'm going to fatigue myself and lame my horse by walking five miles up this unlucky lane, do you? If things really are as bad as you say, I shall despatch a messenger to summon the smith, and employ myself in the meanwhile in tasting your ale, and consuming whatever you may happen to have in the house fit to eat."

I observed that the landlord and his wife, as I presumed her to be, exchanged very blank looks when Oaklands announced this determination. When he ceased speaking, she whispered a few words into the ear of the man, who gave a kind of surly grunt in reply, and then, turning to Harry, said, “ Mayhap I'll shoe your horse for you myself, if you'll make it worth my while."

"You will? why, I thought you said there was not a smith within five miles?

"No more there aint, only me."

"You're wrong about the inhabitants, I flatter myself," replied Harry. "Do you see the faint white mist curling above those trees to the right? I take that to be smoke; where there's smoke there must be fire; fire must have been kindled by some human being or other -through that individual we will endeavour to obtain an introduction to some blacksmith, conjointly with sufficient topographical information to enable us to reach our destination in time for a certain meal called dinner, which has acquired an unusual degree of importance in my eyes within the last hour or so. I have spoken."

"Like a book," replied I, "and the next thing is to bring your sapient deductions to the test of experiment. -There is a cart-track here, which appears to lead towards the smoke you observed; let us try that." So saying, I also dismounted, and throwing my horse's bridle over my arm, we proceeded together on foot, in the direction Oaklands had indicated.

Ten minutes' walking brought us into a rough country lane, winding picturesquely between high banks and green hedges, affording an agreeable contrast to the flat unenclosed tracts of corn land so general throughout Cambridgeshire. After following this lane about a quarter of a mile, we came upon a small retired ale-house, surrounded by trees. As we approached the door, a stout vulgar-looking woman, dressed in rather tawdry finery, ran out to meet us; on coming near, however, she stopped short as if surprised, and then , re-entered the house as quickly as she had left it, calling to some one within as she did so. After waiting for a minute or two she came back, accompanied by a tall disagreeable-looking man in a velveteen shooting jacket, with a remarkably dirty face, and hands to match.

"Is there a blacksmith living any where near here, my good man?" inquired Oaklands.

your own charge; be sure I'll not complain of it, only be quick," replied Oaklands.

"Pr'aps that worn't all," returned the fellow gruffly, "but if ye be in such a mighty hurry, bring 'un along here, and I'll clap a shoe on 'un for ye in a twinkling."

So saying he led the way through an old gate, and down a stable yard behind the public-house, at the bottom of which, under a kind of half barn half shed, was a blacksmith's shop, fitted up with a forge, and other appliances for shoeing. Our conductor, who, having divested himself of the velveteen jacket, which he replaced with a leather apron, seemed now much more in his proper element, displayed greater quickness and skill in making and applying the shoe, than from his previous conduct I should have anticipated; and I began to flatter myself that our difficulties were in a fair way to be got over.

I was drawing up the girths of my horse's saddle, which had become somewhat loosened from our gallop, when Oaklands, who had been sitting on a gate near, industriously flogging his boot with his riding-whip, jumped down, saying: "If you'll stay with the horses, Frank, I'll go and see if I can get some of the worst of this mud brushed off."

"Better stay where you are! I shall a' done direc'ly," observed the smith; "you aint wanted at ther house, I tell yer."

You should stick to your original trade, for your manners are certainly not calculated to fascinate customers, my friend,” replied Oaklands, walking towards the inn.

The man muttered an oath as he looked after him, and then applied himself to his work with redoubled energy. Above ten minutes had elapsed, the shoe was made, fitted to the hoof, and the process of nailing on nearly concluded, and still Oaklands did not return. I was tyeing my horse's rein up to a hook in the wall, with the intention of seeking him, when I heard the noise of wheels in the lane, followed immediately by the