But the remarkable thing is that the betel nut has these effects only on the Hindu constitution.  To a European the strong, astringent taste and penetrating odour of the betel nut are alike insufferable, and there is no instance on record, as far as I know, of an Englishman becoming a betel nut chewer.  But wherever Hindu blood circulates, not in India only, but all through the islands of the Malay Archipelago, as far as the Philippines, the betel nut is an indispensable ingredient of any life that is worth living.  Mohammedanism forbids spirits and Brahminism condemns all things that intoxicate or stupefy, but the betel nut is like the cup that cheers yet not inebriates.  No religion speaks disrespectfully of it.  It flourishes, blessed by all, and takes its place among the institutions of civilisation.  Indeed it is the chief cement of social intercourse in a country where all ordinary conviviality between man and man is almost strangled by the quarantine enforced against ceremonial defilement.  Friend offers friend the betel nut box just as Scotsmen offered the snuff-box in the hearty old days that are passing away.  And all visits of ceremony, durbars, receptions, leave-takings, and public functions of the like kind are brought to an august close by the distribution of pan supari.  To go through this rite without visible repugnance is part of the training of our young Civil Servants.  When the interview or ceremony has lasted as long as it was intended to last, there enter, with due pomp, bearers of heavy-scented garlands, woven of jasmine and marigold, and in form like the muffs and boas that ladies wear in winter.  These are put upon the necks and wrists of the guests in order of rank.  Silver vases and sprinklers follow, containing rose-water and attar of roses.  You may ward off the former from your person by offering your handkerchief for it, and you may present the back of your hand for the latter, of which one drop will be applied to your skin with a tiny silver or golden spoon.

Finally, when everybody is reeking with incongruous odours and trying not to be sick, a silver tray appears with the daintiest little packets of pan supari, each pinned with a clove, and every guest is expected to transfer one to his mouth, for they have been prepared by a Brahmin and cannot hurt the most delicate caste.  To an Englishman, however, it is now generally conceded to compromise by keeping the morsel in his hand, as if waiting an opportunity to enjoy it more at his leisure.  When you get home your servant craves it of you and contrasts real rajah’s pan supari with the stuff which the poor man gets in the bazaar.

The chewing of betel nut requires more apparatus and makes greater demands on a man’s time and personal care than the smoking of tobacco or any of the allied vices.  To cut the nut neatly an instrument is used like an enormous pair of nutcrackers with a sharp cutting edge.  The lime should be made from oyster shells and it must be freshly burned and slaked.  Exposure to the air soon spoils it, so a small, air-tight tin box is required to keep it in.  Lastly, the betel leaf must be fresh, and in a hot climate green leaves do not keep their freshness without special care.