Sidelights on Chinese Life

by J. Macgowan

The effect of all this was seen in the luxuriant crops of rice that could be seen stretching far into the distance. It would seem indeed as though they were conscious of the boundless supply of water that ran on in an endless stream close within sight. There was a deeper colour in the dark-green hue with which they were tinged, and a sturdier and more independent growth, than where the grain was dependent on the rainfall or on the ponds that had been filled during the rainy season and that were intended to be the supplies from which they were to draw when there was a dearth of rain.

There is one feature in the cultivation of this plain that is but rarely seen in any other district. You might travel for fifty miles in any direction you please, and you would never be able to catch a trace of it. I refer to the numerous clumps of sugar cane that occupy every little bit of rising ground, where the water would not lie so as to bear a crop of rice. Scattered over the great area of this extensive valley, they seem like sentinels placed to guard the growing grain that looks so beautiful in the great sheets of water that gleam and glisten in the sun’s rays at its feet.

There is something special in the soil of this region that is favourable to the cultivation of this plant, for the sugar that is produced in this district is famous, and it finds a ready market not only in far-off distant places in China, but also in countries beyond the limits of the Empire. The amount of sugar actually raised is large enough to form an industry that is of sufficient importance to give employment to considerable numbers of the people in the towns and villages on the plain.

But here is a village, right on the water’s edge, that is evidently a centre of the trade, where we shall be able to get a good idea of the processes through which the sugar has to go before it is ready for the market. We stop our boat, and climbing the grassy bank and crossing the path that runs close along the river side, we come at once into a scene of the greatest activity. Men and women and young lads are gathered round the sugar-crusher, which is being turned by a huge water buffalo, which with slow and ponderous tread and with a look of oppression in its large liquid eyes travels round and round in a perpetual circle, causing the pair of huge stones to revolve in the same direction and to crush the canes that are thrust in between them by the feeders.

Underneath the crushers is a drain into which the juice from the canes drops and which conveys it into a large vat that stands ready to receive it. The liquid in this is of a very dark colour, very sticky, and has a strong resemblance to treacle. So intense has been the pressure of the crushers upon the canes, that after they have come out from between the revolving stones, not a particle of moisture is left in any of them, and they are no longer of any use except for firewood.

This treacly substance is then put into earthenware jars of the shape of a pyramid with a slight perforation at the apex and turned upside down and allowed to drain. The sugar at the broader end is covered with a layer of damp mud from the river, and the moisture from it is allowed to soak through the mass. The result is the whole becomes refined, and there remains, after a certain time has been allowed for the process to work, a light-coloured specimen of soft brown sugar.

A further stage is reached by boiling the brown sugar in huge iron pans and pouring the liquid into coarse jars, the whole of whose interiors have been threaded backward and forward with coarse string. By the wonderful alchemy of nature these have the power of crystallizing the boiling liquid, and the result is a brown sugar candy, that whilst it is wanting in the golden hue and the delicate fascinations of the English article, it is just as toothsome and a great deal less expensive; for a catty (1⅓ lb.) of the very best can be purchased in any of the shops that deal in such articles for about three pence halfpenny.

We leave the sugar factory, and proceed up the river, but as the sun has gone down beyond the mountains, and the shadows fall thickly upon the darkening waters, the captain chooses a place where he will anchor for the night. Just ahead of us there are a number of junks that have already lowered their sails and let down their anchors, and towards them our boat is steered. In a few minutes we too have joined company with them, and form part of the little fleet that will safely defy any attempt of river thieves to molest us.

The scene on the river is just now a very pleasing one. Boats of various sizes and descriptions are making vigorous efforts to reach their destination at villages on the river. The glory of the setting sun that tipped the mountains in the near distance is gradually dying out, and the deep shadows settle on their sides, making them look grand and gloomy. The crows that have wandered far during the day in search of food, warned by the waning light, are hurrying in flocks up the river and from across the plain in the direction of the great tree upon which they are accustomed to roost during the night. The sounds of human voices from the boats anchored near us come to us with a pleasant sense of companionship as the night deepens on the river. The laughter at some side-splitting joke, the noisy discussion of some disputed point—for the Chinese never can talk in a low voice—the voice of some mother hushing her little one to sleep, all fill the air with a music of its own, and seem to be a pleasant ending to the events of the day. A spice of mystery, too, is added, for some of the crows that have been abroad, heedless of time, have delayed their return till darkness has almost settled on the land. Attracted by the lights of the boats they fly close over our heads so that we can hear the whirr of their wings, and then with a rush like an arrow from a bow they dash with the speed of lightning into the night and are gone, leaving an uncanny feeling in our minds, as though we had been visited by spirits from the vasty deep.

Supper ended, the Chinese sit for a short time smoking their pipes and chatting indifferently upon any subject that may turn up, but before long the captain takes a look at the sky to see what weather may be expected. He then examines his cable to see whether the anchor is holding or not, and having satisfied himself that there is no danger of his boat drifting during the night, he utters the welcome order, “Now let us sleep,” and in a few minutes the crew are in the land of dreams, from which they will not return until the dawn with its silent touch brings them back once more to a busy working world.