A great step has thus been gained towards the objects in view. Much, however, remains still to be done. The new China plants ought to be carefully propagated and distributed over all the plantations; some of them ought also to be given to the zemindars, and more of these fine varieties might be yearly imported from China.
The Chinese manufacturers, who were obtained some years since from Calcutta or Assam, are, in my opinion, far from being first-rate workmen; indeed, I doubt much if any of them learned their trade in China. They ought to be gradually got rid of and their places supplied by better men, for it is a great pity to teach the natives an inferior method of manipulation. The men brought round by me are first-rate green tea makers, they can also make black tea, but they have not been in the habit of making so much black as green. They have none of the Canton illiberality or prejudices about them, and are most willing to teach their art to the natives. I have no doubt some of the latter will soon be made excellent tea manufacturers. And the instruction of the natives is, no doubt, one of the chief objects which ought to be kept in view, for the importation of Chinese manipulators at high wages can only he regarded as a temporary measure; ultimately the Himalayan tea must be made by the natives themselves; each native farmer must learn how to make tea as well as how to grow it; he will then make it upon his own premises, as the Chinese do, and the expenses of carriage will be much less than if the green leaves had to be taken to the market.
But as the zemindars will be able to grow tea long before they are able to make it, it would be prudent, in the first instance, to offer them a certain sum for green leaves brought to the government manufactory.
I have pointed out the land most suitable for the cultivation of tea, and shown that such land exists in the Himalayas to an almost unlimited extent. But if the object the government have in view be the establishment of a company to develop the resources of these hills, as in Assam, I would strongly urge the propriety of concentrating, as much as possible, the various plantations. Sites ought to be chosen which are not too far apart, easy of access, and, if possible, near rivers; for, no doubt, a considerable portion of the produce would have to be conveyed to the plains or to a sea-port.
In my tour amongst the hills, I have seen no place so well adapted for a central situation as Almorah, or Hawulbaugh. Here the government has already a large establishment, and tea lands are abundant in all directions. The climate is healthy, and better suited to a European constitution than most other parts of India. Here plants from nearly all the temperate parts of the world are growing as if they were at home. As examples, I may mention myrtles, pomegranates, and tuberoses from the south of Europe; dahlias, potatoes, aloes, and yuccas from America; Melianthus major and bulbs from the Cape; the cypress and deodar of the Himalayas, and the lagerstrœmias, loquats, roses and tea of China.
In these days, when tea has become almost a necessary of life to England and her wide-spreading colonies, its production upon a large and cheap scale is an object of no ordinary importance. But to the natives of India themselves, the production of this article would be of the greatest value. The poor paharie, or hill farmer, at present has scarcely the common necessaries of life, and certainly none of its luxuries. The common sorts of grain which his lands produce will scarcely pay the carriage to the nearest market town, far less yield a profit of such a kind as will enable him to purchase some few of the necessary and simple luxuries of life. A common blanket has to serve him for his covering by day and for his bed at night, while his dwelling-house is a mere mud-hut, capable of affording but little shelter from the inclemency of the weather. Were part of these lands producing tea, he would then have a healthy beverage to drink, besides a commodity which would be of great value in the market. Being of small bulk compared with its value, the expense of carriage would be trifling, and he would return home with the means in his pocket of making himself and his family more comfortable and more happy.
Were such results doubtful, we have only to look across the frontiers of India into China. Here we find tea one of the necessaries of life, in the strictest sense of the word. A Chinese never drinks cold water, which he abhors, and considers unhealthy. Tea is his favorite beverage from morning until night; not what we call tea, mixed with milk and sugar, but the essence of the herb itself, drawn out in pure water. One acquainted with the habits of this people can scarcely conceive the idea of the Chinese empire existing were it deprived of the tea plant; and I am sure that the extensive use of this beverage adds much to the health and comfort of the great body of the people.
The people of India are not unlike the Chinese in many of their habits. The poor of both countries eat sparingly of animal food, and rice, with other grains and vegetables, form the staple articles on which they live; this being the case, it is not at all unlikely the Indian will soon acquire a habit which is so universal in the sister country. But in order to enable him to drink tea, it must be produced at a cheap rate; he cannot afford to pay at the rate of four or six shillings a pound. It must be furnished to him at four pence or six pence instead; and this can be done easily, but only on his own hills. If this is accomplished, and I see no reason why it should not be, a boon will have been conferred upon the people of India, of no common kind, and one which an enlightened and liberal government may well be proud of conferring on its subjects."
I shall now add a description of the Chinese method of making black tea in Upper Assam, by Mr. C.A. Bruce, superintendent of tea culture:—
"In the first place, the youngest and most tender leaves are gathered; but when there are many hands and a great quantity of loaves to be collected, the people employed nip off with the forefinger and thumb the fine end of the branch, with about four leaves on, and sometimes even more if they look tender. These are all brought to the place where they are to be converted into tea: they are then put into a large, circular, open worked bamboo basket, having a rim all round, two fingers broad. The leaves are thinly scattered in these baskets, and then placed in a framework of bamboo, in all appearance like the sides of an Indian hut, without grass, resting on posts, 2 feet from the ground, with an angle of about 25 deg. The baskets with leaves are put in this frame to dry in the sun, and are pushed up and brought down by a long bamboo with a circular piece of wood at the end. The leaves are permitted to dry about two hours, being occasionally turned; but the time required for this process depends on the heat of the sun. When they begin to have a slightly withered appearance, they are taken down and brought into the house, when they are placed on a frame to cool for half an hour; they are then put into smaller baskets of the same kind as the former, and placed on a stand. People are now employed to soften the leaves still more, by gently clapping them between their hands, with their fingers and thumbs extended, and tossing them up and letting them fall, for about five or ten minutes. They are then again put on the frame during half an hour, and brought down and clapped with the hands as before. This is done three successive times, until the leaves become to the touch like soft leather; the beating and putting away being said to give the tea the black color and bitter flavor. After this the tea is put into hot cast-iron pans, which are fixed in a circular mud fireplace, so that the flame cannot ascend round the pan to incommode the operator. This pan is well heated by a straw or bamboo fire to a certain degree. About two pounds of the leaves are then put into each hot pan, and spread in such a manner that all the leaves may get the same degree of heat. They are every now and then briskly turned with the naked hand, to prevent a leaf from being burnt. When the leaves become inconveniently hot to the hand, they are quickly taken out and delivered to another man with a close-worked bamboo basket, ready to receive them. A few leaves that may have been left behind are smartly brushed out with a bamboo broom: all this time a brisk fire is kept up under the pan. After the pan has been used in this manner three or four times, a bucket of cold water is thrown in, and a soft brick-bat and bamboo broom used, to give it a good scouring out; the water is thrown out of the pan by the brush on one side, the pan itself being never taken off. The leaves, all hot in the bamboo basket, are laid on a table that has a narrow rim on its back, to prevent these baskets from slipping off when pushed against it. The two pounds of hot leaves are now divided into two or three parcels, and distributed to as many men, who stand up to the table with the leaves right before them, and each placing his legs close together, the leaves are next collected into a ball, which he gently grasps in his left hand, with the thumb extended, the fingers close together, and the hand resting on the little finger. The right hand must be extended in the same manner as the left, but with the palm turned downwards resting on the top of the ball of tea leaves. Both hands are now employed to roll and propel the ball along; the left hand pushing it on, and allowing it to revolve as it moves; the right hand also pushes it forward, resting on it with some force, and keeping it down to express the juice which the leaves contain. The art lies here in giving the ball a circular motion, and permitting it to turn under and in the hand two or three whole revolutions, before the arms are extended to their full length, and drawing the ball of leaves quickly back without leaving a leaf behind, being rolled for about five minutes in this way. The ball of tea leaves is from time to time delicately and gently opened with the fingers lifted as high as the face, and then allowed to fall again. This is done two or three times to separate the leaves; and afterwards the basket with the leaves is lifted up as often, and receives a circular shake to bring these towards the centre. The leaves are now taken back to the hot pans and spread out in them as before, being again turned with the naked hand, and when hot taken out and rolled; after which, they are put into a drying basket and spread on a sieve, which is in the centre of the basket, and the whole placed over a charcoal fire. The fire is very nicely regulated; there must not be the least smoke, and the charcoal should be well picked.