That Excellent and by all Physitians approved _China_ Drink called by the _Chineans Tcha_, by other Nations _Tay alias Tee_, is sold at the _Sultaness Head Cophee-House_, in _Sweetings_ Rents, by the Royal Exchange, _London_.--_Mercurius Politicus_, September 30, 1658. This is undoubtedly the earliest authentic announcement yet made known of the public sale in England of this now famous beverage. The mention of a "Cophee-house" proves that the sister stimulant was even then making way in the country.[1] It took, however, a couple of centuries to convert them, in the extended sense of the term, into national drinks; but, like many other good things, it came too early. Tea may have sufficed for fanatics, Anabaptists, Quakers, Independents, and self-denying sectaries of all kinds; and for all we know, its early introduction, had the Commonwealth lasted, might have accelerated the temperance movement a century at least; but the wheel of fortune was about to turn once more--mighty ale had to be broached, and many deep healths to be drunk by those who had "come to their own again;" and tea, for full half a century, was washed away by brown October and the French wines that came in with the Merry Monarch. We have now brought the reader upon the very borders of the period when Charles, with his hungry followers, landed in triumph at Dover. The advertisements which appeared during the time that Monk was temporizing and sounding his way to the Restoration, form a capital barometer of the state of feeling among political men at that critical juncture. We see no more of the old Fifth-Monarchy spirit abroad. Ministers of the steeple-houses evidently note the storm coming, and cease their long-winded warnings to a backsliding generation. Every one is either panting to take advantage of the first sunshine of royal favour, or to deprecate its wrath, the coming shadow of which is clearly seen. Meetings are advertised of those persons who have purchased sequestered estates, in order that they may address the King to secure them in possession; parliamentary aldermen repudiate by the same means, charges in the papers that their names are to be found in the list of those persons who "sat upon the tryal of the late King;" the works of "late" bishops begin again to air themselves in the Episcopal wind that is clearly setting in; and "The Tears, Sighs, Complaints, and Prayers of the Church of England" appear in the advertising columns in place of the sonorous titles of sturdy old Baxter's works. It is clear there is a great commotion at hand; the leaves are rustling, and the dust is moving. In the very midst of it, however, we find one name still faithful to the "old cause," as the Puritans call it: on the 8th of March, 1660--that is, while the sway of Charles's sceptre had already cast its shadow from Breda--we find the following advertisement in the _Mercurius Politicus_:--