THE OUTER HIMALAYAH. 19 



of wood to feed the flames, which caused the leaves to 

 hiss and crackle, as the chop-sticks in the nimble hands 

 of the Chinamen rattled their accompaniment on the 

 sides. In one part the contortions of the tea rollers 

 met your eye as they pressed the steaming leaves from 

 which the warm green sap oozed, as if in torture. In 

 another part the quiet hins, half filled, offered a tem- 

 porary asylum to the finished tea. If seeking in the 

 usually quiet garden around a rest from the confusion 

 and noise within, scores of trays of half-made tea drying 

 in the sun impeded your progress. 



This turmoil seemed incompatible with the peaceful 

 product whose grateful and refreshing qualities fortu- 

 nately survive the rough usage that calls them forth, 

 the process of which, as it may be interesting to some 

 of my readers, I will briefly describe, noticing first the 

 mode in which the black teas are manufactured. The 

 newly-picked leaves are forthwith bruised and left in a 

 heap for about twenty-four hours. That this process 

 should cause discoloration of the leaves by rupture of 

 the small sap vessels and cells, will not be a matter of 

 surprise to any reflecting individual, who, having 

 studied the intimate connection between the vegetable 

 and animal kingdoms, may have observed the result 

 of violent contact with a hard body upon his own 

 economy. Portions of the mass of discoloured leaves 

 are now gradually put into pans over a brisk fire, and 

 are diligently mixed up to allow of an equal distribution 

 of heat. 



While still pliable, and when just beginning to 

 shrivel in their novel position, they are extricated and 



B2 



