Ii5 



THE TROPICAL AGRICULTURIST. 



[August i, 1885, 



estates can still be bought for a fraction of their real 

 value, iind a few thou^aBil pounds of capital judiciously 

 invested here, now, would most certainly ensure a 

 large fortune in a very fi-w years. Existing estates 

 can be cnuverted into paying tea-gardens very cheaply, 

 and new laud can be purchased and be broughi luto 

 bearing for only a very little more. But it is not 

 to be supposed that this cnndiiion of things will last 

 much longer : the turn will be sharp and complete 

 when it does come, and those who now have the 

 means, and employ those means judiciously in Cejlon, 

 ■will reap a rich harvest in a very short tune. There 

 are plenty of men who know this, but scarcely one 

 who can turn the opportunity to account because there 

 is yet absolutely no money in the country. Those who 

 write of Ceyhin in the nineties will have a very 

 different tale to tell. 



Having had much experience of London as well 

 as of Ceylon during the period of which tliesi- papers 

 have treated, I uiay, perhaps, refer also to it, so far 

 as concerns 



C'EVLON IN London. 



In order to find Ceylon in modern Babylon, one's 

 steps are naturally directed, in the Hrst instance, to 

 that mart of the world's produce, Mincing Lane. 

 Having but little throughwhceled traffic, it is one 

 of the quiet thoroughfares of the great City, joining 

 at its top and bottom two of the noisiest in the 

 woild. How many times a day is not Fenohurch 

 Street blocked by drays, omnibuses, cabs and carts ? 

 all indiscriminately wedged together in one immov- 

 able mass until seme fallen horse is got up, or the 

 cross-traffic up and down Gracechurch Street is made 

 to wait while the jam in Feuchuroh Street is relieved. 

 Having steered safely through all this, we turn down 

 the quieter lane, where the subdued hum of men's 

 voices and the tripping of their rapid steps is all 

 we hear. A stranger wonders where all the business 

 is done, for externally there is to him absolutely 

 no signs of it, except in the quick rushes of black- 

 coated business-men in tall hats, up and down, in and 

 out of the various long passages leading to private 

 offices and to sales-rooms up and down stairs, fiom 

 basements to fourth and fifth floors of the various 

 hives. In the next thoroughfare, Mari Lane, we 

 do, indeed, find a couple of large buildings of the 

 true market type, where, inside a large open hall 

 fi ted up with stalls, samples of wheat and grain are 

 displayed. These are the "new and old Corn Ex- 

 changes," but we search in v.iin for anything of the 

 kind in the lane so wdlknown by name to all the 

 producing colonies of the world. Suppose you are 

 a "colonial" at home, and yuu know that a large 

 quantity of your own produce is to be sold that day, 

 you would like to see how it is done. You have 

 the address of the selling broker, and you feiret his 

 private office out. On several of the doors nearest 

 to the spot in the passage on which you stand, you 

 see his name painted up with the addition of the 

 word "Private" on one, "Clerks" on another, and 

 " Sales-room " on a third. You notice that this last 

 is kept ever on the swing by men rushing in and 

 rushing out with curious long blue papers in 

 their hands. Y'ou enter, but your produce is not sold 

 in this " tales-room " : only small samples of it are 

 here, ranged round and up and down the room in 

 trays of small square boxes, each bearing a number. 

 You obtain one of the said blue catalogues, or lists 

 of lots, with particulars of them all : name, mark, 

 ship, description, number and quantity. Besides your 

 own you probably find fifty other parcels perhaps 

 far larger, which knocks just a little bitof the conceit 

 out of you to begin with. You then notice that these 

 men move rapidly from sample to sample, and that 

 each makes a private mark against the lot he quickly 

 examines, passing ou (no loitering there) to make 



rCoin for the next pressing behind. Suddenly the 

 room is de. erted, but if your coffee (saj) has not 

 yet actually passed the hammer its fate as to price has 

 already heeu sealed in that room on those blue papers. 

 If you wish to see it actually sold, you must be 

 quick and find the particular auction-room .indicated, 

 in another building higher up or lower dow n the street. 

 The Mincing Lane Salesrooms are a collection of such 

 auction-rooms lu one building, where, simultaneously, 

 by different brokers, tea, coffee, cocoa, bark, tpices, 

 &c., &c. are being rapidly sold. Having found Ho. 7, 

 say, ycu enter and find business has already begun. 

 At the end is a high rostrum where the s.Uing 

 broker and his clerk staud, the rest of the room 

 being filled with benches and u:irrow desks crowded 

 with the men jou have already met before. Your 

 biggest lot comes in its tuin according to number 

 in the list. "Lot No. 20, ' shouts the broker, "a 

 thousand hundredweights"— but his further words are 

 drowned by a hideous babel of shouts, yells, catcalls, 

 squeals, grunts and other noises followed by only a 

 second's silence when the fall of the hammer is heard; 

 and if you don't know the last and highest bid and 

 who made it the selling broker does from long ex- 

 perience. "The ne.\t lot," calls the broker, and so on 

 rapidly through the list. There is no dawdling and 

 no coaxing, the brok-r knows that every buyer's mind 

 has been made up before he entered that room to 

 give only so much and to get it cftenyje?- if he can; 

 but a bundled others are as thaip as he is, so it's 

 soon all over and the parcel not likely to go either 

 above or below its value, though you may think so. 

 The last lot through, either the room rapidly empties, 

 or another broker mounts the desk to go through 

 another catalogue in the same way. 



Well, here, with the exception of very small samples, 

 you have not seen much of the produce or many of 

 the people of Ceylon ; but you have seen where and how 

 it is all sold ; and it is possible you may go away 

 with a feeling that you have seen nothing of Ceylon 

 there, for, probably at the same time and in the same 

 catalogue, more coffee from Rio; and Costa Rica was 

 sold than from Ceylon. 



If you further search for Ceylon in London you 

 will find its interests represented by Messrs. L. S. D. 

 & Co., who will accord you a few minutes' interview 

 to discuss its present condition and future prospects, 

 theirs beiuL; one of the mercantile houses doing chiefly 

 with Ceylon produce, and who found the advances you 

 used to draw through your Colombo agents against 

 your crops. In other parts of the City are the oflSces 

 of various Limited Companies of Ceylon, whose managers 

 are usually old Ceyluu men, with whom you may 

 also have a talk. Another centre is your Bank, wheie 

 you are most likely to i un up against old acquaintances, 

 but Ceylon business is only a fraction of the whole 

 there, and nowhere can you find much of Ceylon. So 

 vast is the business of the City, and so small a f raciiou of 

 it belongs to Ceylon, that it and you lire lost and 

 become only microscopical objects. Y'ou follow your 

 own little business, and you find out and consort with 

 old friends and neighbours aud talk shop, and that 'sail. 



But the most important to you is always your 

 "own said little business," aud, in pursuing that 

 from morning till night, you and the people with 

 whom you deal become for you the true centre of 

 Ceylon in London. So unfortunately I have had oc- 

 casion to feel very frecjuently. F<ir some ye&rs there 

 have been in London private businesses dealing only in 

 Ceylon produce, the success of which shows that the 

 proprietors struck out a very good line for their own 

 advantage, not the least amusing feature being the 

 struggle of one or other of them to keep the field to 

 themselves against all comers. iJIany broken Ceylon 

 men could not do better than start teahouses in 

 London, rather than go to the Congo ; i. e. Congou in 



