der, tracing its etymology from the old Hebrew word
_shaker_ meaning "to quaff deeply"--maintains that cider should
only be drunk beside an open fire of applewood logs:

And preferably on an evening of storm and wetness, when the swish
and sudden pattering of rain against the panes lend an added
agreeable snugness to the cheerful scene within, where master and
dame sit by the rosy hearth frying sausages in a pan laid on the
embers.

This reminds one of the anecdote related by ex-Senator Beveridge in his
Life of John Marshall. Justice Story told his wife that the justices of
the Supreme Court were of a self-denying habit, never taking wine except
in wet weather. "But it does sometimes happen that the Chief Justice
will say to me, when the cloth is removed, 'Brother Story, step to the
window and see if it does not look like rain.' And if I tell him that
the sun is shining brightly, Judge Marshall will sometimes reply, 'All
the better, for our jurisdiction extends over so large a territory that
the doctrine of chances makes it certain that it must be raining
somewhere.'"

Our own theory about cider is that the time to drink it is when it
reaches you; and if it hails from Chester County, so much the better.

We remember with gusto a little soliloquy on cider delivered by another
friend of ours, as we both stood in a decent ordinary on Fulton Street,
going through all the motions of jocularity and cheer. Cider (he said)
is our refuge and strength. Cider, he insisted, drawing from his pocket
a clipping much tarnished with age, is a drink for men of reason and
genteel nurture; a drink for such as desire to drink pleasantly,
amiably, healthily, and with perseverance and yet retain the command and
superintendence of their faculties. I have here (he continued) a
clipping sent me by an eminent architect in the great city of
Philadelphia (a city which it is a pleasure for me to contemplate by
reason of the beauty and virtue of its women, the infinite vivacity and
good temper of its men, the rectitudinal disposition of its highways)--I
have here (he exclaimed) a clipping sent me by an architect of fame,
charming parts, and infinite cellarage, explaining the virtues of cider.
Cider, this clipping asserts, produces a clearness of the complexion. It
brightens the eye, particularly in women, conducing to the composition
of generous compliment and all the social suavity that endears the
intercourse of the sex