" As I follow my leader through the vaults all this
occurs to me, as does also the appropriately melancholy refrain of
another old song or "catch," "Down among the dead men let him lie!"
We are under the central dome of this Stalactite Champagne Cathedral
dedicated to the worship of Bacchus. [_Happy Thought_.--The Champagne
country is the true "Poppy Land." I present this with my compliments
to Mr. CLEMENT SCOTT, whose pleasant articles in the _Daily Telegraph_
on "Poppy Land" are, and will be, for some time to come, so deservedly
poppylar on the North coast of Norfolk. When driving round and
about Cromer, our flyman pointed out "Poppy Land" to me. _Happy
Thought_.--In future let this be known as "Caledonia Up to Date, or
the New Scott-land."] A strange light descends from somewhere above,
producing a blueish atmospheric effect. Weird, very. We are now in
the Wine Demon's Cave. More pantomimic effects: big demons and little
demons at work everywhere: champagne demons with strange faces,--I
should say "fizzes,"--moving about noiselessly: the only sound is
that of the occasional irrepressible effervescence of youth, or a
pop from a recalcitrant cork in a distant cell, and, in a mysterious
all-pervading way, an accompaniment of hammering. The lights and awful
shadows of the scene recall to my mind CRUIKSHANK's grim illustrations
to AINSWORTH's _Tower of London_.
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