CHAPTER X.

"The east wind fans a gentle breeze,
The streams and trees glory in the brightness of the spring.
The bright sun illuminates the green shrubs,
And the falling flowers are scattered and fly away,
The solitary cloud retreats to the hollow hill;
The birds return to their leafy haunts:
Every being has a refuge whither he may turn;
I alone have nothing to which to cling.
So, seated opposite the moon shining o'er the cliff,
I drink and sing to the fragrant blossoms."

The foregoing lines are by Le Tai-Pih, styled the Chinese
Anacreon, literally translated by R. K. Douglas, in the
Encylopaedia Britannica. They might easily apply to a tea garden.

The power of a single word to arouse trains of thought composed
of the most varied ideas, to set in motion a panorama of scenery
which is well nigh endless with persons of lively imaginations,
is illustrated by this word, tea. While to one person it may
suggest only refreshment and personal comfort, and to another,
scenes of home life, to still others it will bring into being all
that the dreamer has read or heard of China, that land of Cathay,
and of its slant-eyed, mild mannered wearers of the pig-tail, and
their real or fabulous characteristics. Not the least interesting
of such associations are memories of the queer manners and habits
of the Chinese people, some of which to us outside barbarians,
appear so drolly opposed to our civilization of fancied