ing the happiness of their tranquil possession。 I cast an eye towards my pipe； perhaps I prepare it； with seeming thoughtfulness； for the reception of tobacco。 And never； surely； is tobacco more soothing； more suggestive of humane thoughts； than when it es just after tea……itself a bland inspirer。
In nothing is the English genius for domesticity more notably declared than in the institution of this festival……almost one may call it so……of afternoon tea。 Beneath simple roofs； the hour of tea has something in it of sacred； for it marks the end of domestic work and worry； the beginning of restful； sociable evening。 The mere chink of cups and saucers tunes the mind to happy repose。 I care nothing for your five o'clock tea of modish drawing…rooms； idle and wearisome like all else in which that world has part； I speak of tea where one is at home in quite another than the worldly sense。 To admit mere strangers to your tea…table is profanation； on the other hand； English hospitality has here its kindliest aspect； never is friend more wele than when he drops in for a cup of tea。 Where tea is really a meal； with nothing between it and nine o'clock supper； it is……again in the true sense……the homeliest meal of the day。 Is it believable that the Chinese； in who knows how many centuries； have derived from tea a millionth part of the pleasure or the good which it has brought to England in the past one hundred years？
I like to look at my housekeeper when she carries in the tray。 Her mien is festal； yet in her smile there is a certain gravity； as though she performed an office which honoured her。 She has dressed for the evening； that is to say； her clean and seemly attire of working hours is exchanged for garments suitable to fireside leisure； her cheeks are warm； for she ha