In response to the claim that tea and coffee (and other caffeinated drinks, for that matter) are not foods but poisonous stimulants, the strong protest from some will likely be: “I positively know that tea is nourishing and strengthening. Why, I couldn’t get through my morning’s work without my tea. I must have a cup of tea before I can do anything in the morning, and then in the middle of the forenoon my strength is gone, and I am so faint that I should give out entirely if it were not for the tea; but directly I have had my tea I am fresh and strong for work again.”

Exactly, and that statement is in itself the best of evidence that tea does not give strength, but rather deprives one of it. It simply satisfies a craving which it has created for itself, and not any natural desire of the body. In reality it does not satisfy anything, since the more one uses it, the more the desire for it increases.

The difference between food and stimulants may be briefly stated thus: Food supplies a real want of the system. The body is continually using up substances which must be replaced by food, or else the strength will be utterly lost. When this substance is replaced with food, the longing of the system is satisfied. But the point to be specially noted is that any kind of good food will satisfy this desire. It is true that a hungry person may at a particular time have a preference for a certain kind of food, yet if that is not at hand, any other wholesome food will do as well. When the waste has been repaired, the system does not bother itself about what particular food it was that did the work. But it is not so with the unnatural appetite that exists for a stimulant. Nothing but the stimulant will answer the demand. If it were a real desire for food, a piece of bread would fully satisfy the desire, but nothing but tea will do. That shows that the tea does not satisfy a legitimate desire of the body, but a fictitious desire which it has created for itself. It is the supply that has created the demand.

Suppose that there were a big strong ruffian [bully] who should make a regular practice of picking up a small boy and throwing him into the water, and then plunging in and pulling the lad out just as he was drowning; would you praise that fellow’s bravery and humanity? Would you recommend him for a medal on account of his activity in saving life? Of course you would not. You would on the contrary report him to the police, that he might be punished for his brutality.

Now tea is just such a conscienceless ruffian as that. It throws its victim into the ditch, and then pulls him out, and the poor, deluded victim embraces it, and says, “Noble fellow! you have saved my life.” And the more the thing is done, the more the victim falls in love with his tormentor. The trouble is, he does not know that the one who lifts him up temporarily is the one who has pushed him down. Do you not think that we can get along better without such a “benefactor”?

A food is a servant, while stimulants are tyrants. Let the woman who now thinks herself wholly dependent on tea for strength, make a desperate struggle and free herself from its clutches, and it will not be long before she will find that when she depends solely on food she can dispatch her morning’s work without that terrible feeling of faintness that she before experienced. Then she will see for herself that her tea was not a food, serving the needs of the body, but a tyrant stimulant, producing a feeling of weakness in order that it might get credit for seeming to undo its own mischief. Tea and coffee are thieves and robbers, and lying ones at that.