of cartmen and loaders with their burdens of fresh green plant or
dripping refuse;--form such a medley of sights and sounds as I have
never seen equalled in any other industry.

The planter has to be here, there, and everywhere. He sends carts to
this village or to that, according as the crop ripens. Coolies must be
counted and paid daily. The stubble must be ploughed to give the plant
a start for the second growth whenever the weather will admit of it.
Reports have to be sent to the agents and owners. The boiling must be
narrowly watched, as also the beating and the straining. He has a large
staff of native assistants, but if his _mahye_ is to be successful, his
eye must be over all. It is an anxious time, but the constant work is
grateful, and when the produce is good, and everything working
smoothly, it is perhaps the most enjoyable time of the whole year. Is
it nothing to see the crop, on which so much care has been expended,
which you have watched day by day through all the vicissitudes of the
season, through drought, and flood, and blight; is it nothing to see it
safely harvested, and your shelves filling day by day with fine sound
cakes, the representatives of wealth, that will fill your pockets with
commission, and build up your name as a careful and painstaking
planter?

'What's your produce?' is now the first query at this season, when
planters meet. Calculations are made daily, nay hourly, to see how much
is being got per beegah, or how much per vat. The presses are calculated
to weigh so much. Some days you will get a press a vat, some days it
will mount up to two presses a vat, and at other times it will recede
to half a press a vat, or even less. Cold wet weather reduces the
produce. Warm sunny weather will send it up again. Short stunted plant
from poor lands will often reduce your average per acre, to be again