barbarians. Following some of the coolies, who with filled bags were
trudging off to the curing-house, we saw the most interesting operation
of all. Here, at least thirty young girls were engaged in assorting the
leaves, picking out all the dead and yellow ones, and preparing them
for the hands of the rollers and firers. Our entrance excited quite a
commotion among the damsels, as we were probably the first barbarians
they had seen, and we had the reputation of living entirely on fat
babies. A word from Akong, who had joined us, reassured them, and in a
few minutes Charley was airing his little stock of Chinese, more, I
thought, to their amusement than their edification. Leaving this room
we went into another where the curing was in progress. On one side
extended a long furnace built of bricks, with large iron pans placed at
equal distances, and heated by charcoal fires below. Into these pans
leaves by the basketful were poured, stirred rapidly for a few minutes,
and then removed to large bamboo frames, where they were rolled and
kneaded until all the green juice was freed. They were then scattered
loosely in large, flat baskets, and placed in the sun to dry.
Subsequently, the leaves were again carried to the furnaces and exposed
to a gentle heat, until they curled and twisted themselves into the
shapes so familiar to you all. Some of the finer kinds often prepared
for exportation are rolled over by hand before being fired. The great
object appears to be to prevent the leaf from breaking; hence, in the
commoner kinds and those intended for home consumption, which do not
receive the same care, the leaves are found to be very much broken. In
fact, the preparation of this latter sort is very simple: a mere drying
in the sun, after which it presents a dry, broken appearance, like
autumn leaves.

Green tea, although grown in particular districts, receives its
peculiar color by being stirred with a mixture of gypsum and Prussian