He was 18 and doing well at his finishing school–or so he thought. He was boarded with some fine guys. But no matter what he did or how hard he tried, he could not stop himself from falling asleep in class. Now he had been referred to the matron of his house in the school. He was a little frightened as he approached the ornate hardwood door with “MATRON MESMER” embossed upon it’s oak panels.

The door was opened by a very dour looking lady with a stern face. She led him to a warm room lit by the glow of a log fire.  After he nervously sat down, she brought him a drink. “This is herbal tea, young man. Drink it whilst you wait for matron.” It was a strange yet quite pleasant tasting drink. He sat on the leather sofa and sipped it bit by bit. He felt the warmth of the fire. As he waited and pondered his fate, he saw nothing but the smoky flames dance and move and reflect on the high ceiling. Read more…