Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life
more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony
known as afternoon tea. There are circumstances in
which, whether you partake of the tea or not—some
people of course never do—the situation is in itself
delightful. Those that I have in mind in beginning to
unfold this simple history offered an admirable setting to
an innocent pastime. The implements of the little feast had
been disposed upon the lawn of an old English countryhouse,
in what I should call the perfect middle of a
splendid summer afternoon. Part of the afternoon had
waned, but much of it was left, and what was left was of
the finest and rarest quality. Real dusk would not arrive
for many hours; but the flood of summer light had begun
to ebb, the air had grown mellow, the shadows were long
upon the smooth, dense turf. They lengthened slowly,
however, and the scene expressed that sense of leisure still
to come which is perhaps the chief source of one’s
enjoyment of such a scene at such an hour. From five
o’clock to eight is on certain occasions a little eternity; but
on such an occasion as this the interval could be only an
eternity of pleasure.
Download Full PDF eBook
