It is rather a come down, is it not? Somehow, when you are drinking
tea, you feel so very temperate. Well, at least, the above reflection
makes you sympathize with the inebriates, if it does nothing else;
and I am afraid it does nothing else with me. In spite of the warning,
I continue to take my favorite beverage as strong and as frequently as
ever, and so I suppose must look forward to a cranky nervous old age.

It is curious to notice how men are invading our precincts now-a-days.
They used to scoff at such a meal as afternoon tea, and now most of
them take it as regularly as they stream out of the trains on Saturday
afternoons with pink papers under their arms--such elevating
literature! Indeed there is quite a fuss if they have to go without
it--the tea I mean, not the paper.

It is strange too, because they dislike it so, if we trespass on their
preserves, _e.g._, their outcry on ladies smoking: which is
exceedingly unfair, for we have no equivalent for the fragrant weed.
Still I agree with the men in a way, for nothing looks worse than a
girl smoking in public, though a cigarette now and then with a brother
does, I think, no harm, provided it does not grow into a habit.

My brother once gave me a cigarette and bet me a shilling that I would
not smoke it through. It was so hard that if I had bent it, it would
have snapped in two. He had only just found it in a corner of a
cupboard where it had lain for years and years. But oh, the strength
of that cigarette! It took me hours to get through, for it would not
draw a bit. Nevertheless, with the incentive of a shilling to urge me
on, I continued "faint but pursuing" and eventually won the bet. I
would not do it again for ten times the amount.