Over the Teacups | Page 4

midst of a crowd of ardent and eager candidates for public
attention, that I had already had my day, and that if, like the unfortunate
Frenchman we used read about, I had "come again," I ought not to
surprised if I received the welcome of "Monsieur Tonson."
It has not proved so. My old readers have come forward in the
pleasantest possible way and assured me that they were glad to see me
again. There is no need, therefore, of apologies or explanations. I
thought I had something left to say and I have found listeners. In

writing these papers I have had occupation and kept myself in relation
with my fellow-beings. New sympathies, new sources of
encouragement, if not of inspiration, have opened themselves before
me and cheated the least promising season of life of much that seemed
to render it dreary and depressing. What particularly pleased me has
been the freedom of criticisms which I have seen from disadvantageous
comparisons of my later with my earlier writings.
I should like a little rest from literary work before the requiescat
ensures my repose from earthly labors, but I will not be rash enough to
promise that I will not even once again greet my old and new readers if
the impulse becomes irresistible to renew a companionship which has
been to me such a source of happiness.
BEVERLY FARM, Mass., August, 1891.
O. W. H.

OVER THE TEACUPS.
I
INTRODUCTION.
This series of papers was begun in March, 1888. A single number was
printed, when it was interrupted the course of events, and not resumed
until nearly years later, in January, 1890. The plan of the series was not
formed in my mind when I wrote the number. In returning to my task I
found that my original plan had shaped itself in the underground
laboratory of my thought so that some changes had to be made in what
I had written. As I proceeded, the slight story which formed a part of
my programme eloped itself without any need of much contrivance on
my, part. Given certain characters in a writer's conception, if they are
real to him, as they ought to be they will act in such or such a way,
according to the law of their nature. It was pretty safe to assume that
intimate relations would spring up between some members of our
mixed company; and it was not rash conjecture that some of these
intimacies might end in such attachment as would furnish us hints, at
least, of a love-story.
As to the course of the conversations which would take place, very
little could be guessed beforehand. Various subjects of interest would
be likely to present themselves, without definite order, oftentimes
abruptly and, as it would seem, capriciously. Conversation in such a

mixed company as that of "The Teacups" is likely to be suggestive
rather than exhaustive. Continuous discourse is better adapted to the
lecture-room than to the tea-table. There is quite enough of it, I fear too
much,--in these pages. But the reader must take the reports of our talks
as they were jotted down. A patchwork quilt is not like a piece of
Gobelin tapestry; but it has its place and its use.
Some will feel a temptation to compare these conversations with those
earlier ones, and remark unamiably upon their difference. This is hardly
fair, and is certainly not wise. They are produced under very different
conditions, and betray that fact in every line. It is better to take them by
themselves; and, if my reader finds anything to please or profit from, I
shall be contented, and he, I feel sure, will not be ungrateful.
The readers who take up this volume may recollect a series of
conversations held many years ago over the breakfast-table, and
reported for their more or less profitable entertainment. Those were not
very early breakfasts at which the talks took place, but at any rate the
sun was rising, and the guests had not as yet tired themselves with the
labors of the day. The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about
it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea
cannot be expected to reproduce. The toils of the forenoon, the heats of
midday, in the warm season, the slanting light of the descending sun, or
the sobered translucency of twilight have subdued the vivacity of the
early day. Yet under the influence of the benign stimulant many trains
of thought which will bear recalling, may suggest themselves to some
of our quiet circle and prove not uninteresting to a certain number of
readers.
How early many of my old breakfast companions went off to bed! I am
thinking not merely of those who sat round our table, but of