bridges confronted her. Every path and open spot were lined with large and small flower-pots, in which grew flowers and liliputian fruit-trees of all kinds. In the art of dwarfing trees, if such distortion and crippling of Nature deserves to be called an art, the Chinese are certainly most accomplished experts; but what can we think of the taste, or want of taste, which prefers pigmies three feet high to the lofty and far-shadowing trees which embellish our English parks and gardens? Why should a civilized people put Nature in fetters, and delight in checking her growth, in limiting her spontaneous energies?
Here are some particulars about the tea-plant:—In the plantations around Canton, it is not allowed to grow higher than six feet, and is consequently cut at intervals. Its leaves are considered good from the third to the eighth year; and the plant is then cut down, in order that it may throw off new shoots, or else it is rooted out. Three gatherings take place in the year; the first in March, the second in April, and the third, which lasts for three months, in May. So fine and delicate are the leaves of the first gathering, that they might easily be mistaken for the blossom; which undoubtedly has
originated the error that the so-called “bloom or imperial tea” consists of the flowers and not of the leaves of the plant.
When gathered, the leaves are thrown for a few seconds into boiling water, and then placed on flat iron plates, inserted slantwise in stone-work. While roasting over a gentle fire, they are continually stirred. As soon as they begin to curl a little, they are scattered over large planks, and each single leaf is rolled together; a process so rapidly accomplished that it requires a person’s sole attention to detect that only one leaf is rolled up at a time. This completed, all the leaves are again placed in the pans. Black tea takes some time to roast; and the green is frequently coloured with Prussian blue, an exceedingly small quantity of which is added during the second roasting. Last of all, the tea is once more shaken out upon the boards, and submitted to a careful inspection, the leaves that are not entirely closed being rolled over again.
Madame Pfeiffer had an opportunity of tasting a cup of tea made after the most approved Chinese fashion. A small quantity was dropped into a delicate porcelain cup, boiling water was poured upon it, and a tightly-fitting cover then adjusted to
the cup. After a few seconds, the infusion was ready for drinking—neither milk, cream, nor sugar being added.
* * * * *
But we must tarry no longer within the borders of the Celestial Empire. We have to follow Madame Pfeiffer in her wanderings over many seas and through many countries,—for in the course of her adventurous career she saw more of “men and cities” than even the much-travelling Ulysses,—and our limits confine us to brief notices of the most remarkable places she visited.
From China she sailed for the East Indies.