40 SUGAR 



Indians driving in a cab, the bride closely veiled, the 

 bridegroom crowned with a pagoda-like erection in 

 bamboo and cardboard, bedecked with tinsel streamers 

 and coloured paper rosettes ; darkies balancing on 

 their heads small, medium-sized, or enormous burdens 

 of all descriptions, according to their accustomed 

 method of carrying anything and everything ; odd 

 figures playing shop on the ground, seated beneath 

 an old umbrella beside a tray of fairings. 



But in spite of these many distractions, the pre- 

 dominant cane-fields ultimately succeed in winning 

 our undivided attention. They are the great spec- 

 tacle ; everything else gradually assumes its rightful 

 position as part of the mise en scene. As far as the 

 eye can see — and it has a wide range of vision over 

 this level country — they clothe the landscape. Where 

 the canes, with their numerous streamer-leaves, flank 

 an intersecting trench, they look tall ; indeed, we can 

 see that if we stood amongst the tallest of them they 

 would tower above our heads. But taken all together, 

 the cane-fields are dwarfed by the gaunt factory-shafts, 

 which here and there dart very high up into the air. 



To-day, there is smoke belching from those chimneys ; 

 and around us are many other evidences of a busy 

 harvest season, such as we noticed during our trip 

 aback. For instance, over yonder a field is ablaze, 

 and we know that the flames are preparing it for the 

 reapers ; in many of the near-at-hand fields we can see 

 bands of reapers wielding their cutlasses. 



And here is a new and very clear witness to the present 

 prevailing interest in Demerara sugar-land. Along the 

 canal, running parallel to the road we are traversing to 

 the mill, comes a train of cane-laden punts, towed by a 



