"My maternal grandfather left New York state and moved to the vicinity of Cleveland, Ohio, in 1830. Cleveland at that time was a small, unimportant lakeport and my grandfather was offered his choice between a tract of land upon what is now the most beautiful residence street in the world, Euclid Avenue, and a piece at what was called Brighton, several miles farther from town. It speaks but little for the old gentleman's foresight, but he chose the latter, and so remained a comparatively poor man all his life, instead of becoming a millionaire. But, by dint of hard work, grandfather prospered as well as his neighbors, and was content. In course of time, a hired man became a necessary fixture upon the farm, and for many years Pete Wiggs, an honest, hardworking German, was grandfather's right-hand man. But Pete, jewel of a farmhand though he was, possessed one serious flaw: he _would_ have a periodical spree. But, so considerate was he, that he always chose a time for his sprees when 'Dere really vos notting else to do, Uncle Ezra,' as he assured my grandfather by way of extenuation. So it became an understood arrangement that Pete was to be allowed, and expected to have, a 'blowout' every spring and fall. One spring day, the crops being all in, Pete began making arrangements for one of his semi-annuals. 'Now, Pete,' said my grandmother, 'before you get drunk, I want you to be sure and not forget to buy me a pound of the new tea I have heard of. They call it 'Gunpowder tea.' Now attend to this for me before you get to drinking. 'All right, Aunt Lois, so I vill,' replied Pete. Four or five days later, Pete returned as usual, semi-intoxicated, and looking very much the worse for wear. 'Give me dish, Aunt Loish, and I gif you dot Gunpowder dee. Paper proke in mine bocket.' So out of his coat pocket he began to fish great handfuls of tea leaves, and a fine, black, granular substance. Grandmother looked at the strange mixture critically, and concluded that the reason the tea was so called was because part of it so much resembled gunpowder. So she thanked the thoughtful Dutchman most kindly, and set it away carefully. A few evenings later she invited a number of her neighbors, old cronies, to drink Gunpowder tea with her. None of them had ever seen the new variety of tea, and all were there, expecting a very great treat indeed.