taken to tea as naturally as a bee takes to a rose or
honeysuckle; for the very word "tea" suggests all that is
fragrant, and clean, and spotless: linen, silver, china, toast,
butter, a charming room with charming women, charmingly gowned,
and peach and plum and apple trees, with the scent of roses,
just beyond the open, half-curtained windows, looking down
upon, or over, orchard or garden, as the May or June morning
breezes suggest eternal youth, as they fill the room with
perfume, tenderness, love, optimism, and hope in immortality.
Coffee suggests taverns, cafes, sailing vessels, yachts,
boarding-houses-by-the-river-side, and pessimism. Tea suggests
optimism. Coffee is a tonic; tea, a comfort. Coffee is prose; tea
is poetry. Whoever thinks of taking coffee into a sick-room?
Who doesn't think of taking in the comforting cup of tea? Can
the most vivid imagination picture the angels (above the stars)
drinking coffee? No. Yet, if I were to show them to you over the
teacups, you would not be surprised or shocked. Would you?
Not a bit of it. You would say:

"That's a very pretty picture. Pray, what are they talking about,
or of whom are they talking?"

Why, of their loved ones below, and of the days of their coming
above the stars. They know when to look for us, and while the
time may seem long to us before the celestial reunion, to them it
is short. They do not worry, as we do. We could not match their
beautiful serenity if we tried, for they know the folly of wishing
to break or change divine laws.

What delightful scandals have been born at tea-tables--rose and
lavender, and old point lace scandals: surely, no brutal scandals
or treasons, as in the tavern. Tea-table gossip surely never
seriously hurt a reputation. Well, name one. No? Well, think of
the shattered reputations that have fallen around the bottle. Men
are the worst gossips unhanged, not women.

In 1652, tea sold for as high as L10 in the leaf. Pepys had his
first cup of tea in September, 1660. (See his Diary.) The rare
recipe for making tea in those days was known only to the elect,
and here it is:

"To a pint of tea, add the yolks of two fresh eggs; then beat
them up with as much fine sugar as is sufficient to sweeten the
tea, and stir well together. The water must remain no longer
upon the tea than while you can chant the Miserere psalm in a
leisurely fashion."

But I am not indorsing recipes of 250 odd years ago. The above
is from the knowledg