Now, as to the length of time tea should steep:--it will vary with different teas and different tastes. Some steep tea but three minutes; others double the time; while still others extend the time to 15 minutes. In any event, as soon as the characteristic flavor is extracted from the leaves, known by the loss of an agreeable tea-odor in the withdrawn leaves, the beverage will be improved rather than impaired by pouring it off into a clean teapot, in which the tea may then be preserved for a long time without injury. To some tastes, a little of the tannin is agreeable, and its absence would be missed. Then as to sugar or milk: it is evidence of exaggerated personality (conceit, some call it), to declare that milk or cream or sugar injure the flavor of tea. As well insist upon a special spice being used for all viands because the critic likes it. To hold the Chinese up as examples of what is proper in tea drinking is to offer a limit to human progress. As milk or cream neutralize the tannin to a considerable extent, they are so far desirable, without regard to taste. OVER MY TEA CUP. by Charles J. Everett This homely can of painted tin Is casket precious in my eyes; Its withered fragrant leaves within, Beyond all costly gems I prize. For for those crumpled leaves of tea, The sunbeams of long summer days, The song of bird, the hum of bee, The cricket's evening hymn of praise, The gorgeous colors of sunrise, The joy that greets each new-born day; The glowing tints of sunset's skies, The calm that comes with evening grey; The chatter of contented toil, The merry laugh of childish glee, The tonic virtues of the soil, Were caught and gathered with the tea. Lifeless those withered leaves may seem, Locked fast in slumber deep as death, But soon the Kettle's boiling steam May rouse to life their fragrant breath. With sigh of deep content we breath The sweet mists rising lazily, With eager, parted lips receive taste of tea. Forlight and warmth and mood of men, Whate'er the plant hath heard or seen Or felt, while fixed in field or fen, And stored within its depths serene, Are now transmuted into thrills Of sense or feeling, echoes faint From peaceful perfumed tea-cladhills, From placid Orientals quaint. And fancies born in other lands, Which dormant lie in magic tea, Dream-castles fair not made with hands, By some mysterious alchemy Emerge from cloudland into sight, Transform the sombre working-world, The gloomy hours of day or night From leaden hue to tint of gold, Bring rest to wearied heart and brain, Kind nature's soul to us reveal, Enlarge the realm of Fancy's reign, Renew the power to see and feel The radiance of the rising sun, The sunset's glow, the moon's pale light, The promise of a day begun, The rest from toil that comes with night. And as I sip my cup of tea, Though not a friend may be in sight, I know that a brave company Is taking tea with me this night.