The Little Tea Book | Page 7

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, cafés, 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 £10 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 knowledge
box of a Chinese priest, or a priest from China, called Père Couplet (don't print it
Quatrain), in 1667. He gave it to the Earl of Clarendon, and I extend it to you, if you wish
to try it.
John Milton knew the delights of tea. He drank coffee during the composition of
"Paradise Lost," and tea during the building of "Paradise Regained."
Like all good things, animate and inanimate, tea did not become popular without a
struggle. It, like the gradual oak, met with many kinds of opposition, from the timid, the
prejudiced, and the selfish. All sorts of herbs were put upon the market to offset its
popularity; such as onions, sage, marjoram, the Arctic bramble, the sloe, goat-weed,
Mexican goosefoot, speedwell, wild geranium, veronica, wormwood, juniper, saffron,
carduus benedictus, trefoil, wood-sorrel, pepper, mace, scurry grass, plantain, and betony.
Sir Hans Sloane invented herb tea, and Captain Cook's companion, Dr. Solander,
invented another tea, but it was no use--tea had come to stay, and a blessing it has been to
the world, when moderately used. You don't want to become a tea drunkard, like Dr.
Johnson, nor a coffee fiend, like Balzac. Be moderate in all things, and you are bound to
be happy and live long. Moderation in eating, drinking, loving, hating, smoking, talking,
acting, fighting, sleeping, walking, lending, borrowing, reading newspapers--in
expressing opinions--even in bathing and praying--means long life and happiness.

WIT, WISDOM, AND HUMOR OF TEA
Tea tempers the spirits and harmonizes the mind, dispels lassitude and relieves fatigue,
awakens thought and prevents drowsiness, lightens or refreshes the body, and clears the
perceptive faculties.--CONFUCIUS.
Thank God for tea! What would the world do without tea?--how did it exist? I am glad I
was not born before tea.--SYDNEY SMITH.
"Sammy," whispered Mr. Weller, "if some o' these here people don't want tappin'

to-morrow mornin', I ain't your father, and that's wot it is. Why this here old lady next me
is a drown-in' herself in tea."
"Be quiet, can't you?" murmured Sam.
"Sam," whispered Mr. Weller, a moment afterward, in a tone of deep agitation, "mark my
words, my boy; if that 'ere secretary feller keeps on for five minutes more, he'll blow
himself up