Colonel Money's "Cultivation and Manufacture of Tea," which might well be taken to heart in China. He says that "the three leaves at the growing point," by which I understand that he means the three topmost leaves of the plant, "and the whole shoot down to the stem in the order of their age give flowery pekoe, pekoe, pekoe Souchong, Souchong, and Congou. Were the flush further developed another leaf might be taken which might be classed as bohea." When a sufficiency of leaf has been picked, it is thrown into large flat basket-trays and exposed to the sun. As the leaves begin to darken and curl up they are gathered up and manipulated into balls. When there is a very large quantity of leaf to be twisted, and not too much time to do it in, the twisting is done by the feet. And this, and the treading the fired leaf into the chests in which it is packed, are the only sentimentally dirty elements in the manufacture of China lea. The operation is simple enough. A horizontal bamboo is affixed to two perpendicular poles. The operators, supported and steadied by the bamboo, gather the sun-dried leaf and work it into a ball—often as large as an Association football—with their feet. When a sufficient "twist" has been obtained, the ball is broken up, the leaves thrust into cotton bags and hawked about the nearest marts for sale. Any one who has seen the Chinese irrigate their fields with chain-pumps worked by the feet will easily understand how the "twist" may be given to tea. The writer, when in Sung Yang, in the province of Hupeh, on a tea visit, was much struck with the speed with which the twist was thus given to the leaf. The real manufacture of tea only begins when it reaches the firer's hands, and the operation has been so well described by many writers, notably by Fortune (whose account, written more than sixty years ago, is about the best and truest existent to-day), Wells Williams, Sir John Davies, and Dyer Ball, that a reference to any of these authorities is all that is needed.
"The leaves are first thinly spread on shallow trays to dry off all moisture. They are then thrown into the air and tossed about and patted till they become soft: a heap is made of these wilted leaves and left to lie for an hour or more, when they become moist and dark in colour. They are then thrown on the hot pans for five minutes and rolled on the rattan table previous to exposure out-of-doors for three or four hours on sieves, during which time they are turned over and opened out. After this they get a second roasting and rolling to give them their final curl. When the charcoal fire is ready, a basket, shaped something like an hour-glass, but about three feet high, is placed endwise over it, having a sieve in the middle, on which the leaves are thinly spread. When dried five minutes in this way they undergo another rolling, and are then thrown into a heap until all the lot has passed over the fire. When this firing is finished the leaves are opened out (not untwisted, of course) and are again thinly spread on the sieve in the basket for a few minutes, which finishes the drying and rolling for most of the heap, and makes the leaves a uniform black. They are now placed in the basket in greater mass and pushed against its sides by the hands in order to allow the heat to come up through the sieve and the vapour to escape; a basket over all retains the heat, but the contents are turned over until perfectly dry and the leaves become uniformly black."
Thus much for the manufacture of black tea, from which may be gathered the main fact that often a considerable time may elapse after the sun-drying process and before the teas are put into the firing pans. Thus it is that black teas are heavily fermented.
Different altogether is the course of procedure in regard to green teas, whose leaves are roasted almost immediately after they are gathered, and dried off quickly after the rolling process. When the leaves are brought in from the gardens or patches they are lightly spread out on flat bamboo trays in order to dry off any superfluous moisture, and are left exposed for an hour or two, according to the state of the weather. The roasting pans having been properly heated, a quantity of leaves is thrown into them and deftly and rapidly shaken up by hand. As they become affected by the heat they begin to make a spluttering, crackling noise and become quite moist and flaccid, while at the same time they give out a considerable amount of vapour. After a few minutes the leaves are withdrawn and placed upon the rolling table. Here men take up as much leaf as they can handle and press it into the form of a ball. This is rolled upon the rattan table, and squeezed so as to get rid, as Fortune says, of a portion of the sap and moisture. And herein lies one of the great differences between the Indian and Chinese process. In the latter a good deal of the life-blood of the leaf is lost. In the former it is most carefully retained. As soon, then, as the requisite twist is obtained the teas are at once returned to the roasting pan, where they are kept in a state of constant move by deft hands. In an hour or two the leaves will be found to be well dried and the colour fixed, which is of a dull green at first but becomes brighter afterwards. From the foregoing it will be noticed that the hand seems to have most to do in the case of green teas, and the fire in that of black.
The leaves are now ready to receive their unnatural green colour. In his all-informing book. "The Middle Kingdom," Dr. Wells Williams says in respect of this artificial colouring that "the first tea sent to Europe was from Fohkien and all black, but as the trade extended some of the delicate hyson sorts were occasionally seen at Canton, shipped to England and America, and their appearance was appreciated in those countries as more and more was sent. It was found, however, very difficult to maintain a uniform tint. If cured too slightly the leaf was liable to fermentation during the voyage; if cured too much it was unmarketable, which for the manufacturer was worse. Chinese ingenuity was equal to the call." In short, it faced the hysons. For we have it on record that when the Bostonians on December 16, 1773, summarily threw overboard the tea cargoes of the Dartmouth, Eleanor, and Beaver, only amounting, it is true, to 342 packages, the contents were known to have been hysons. In reference to that event Dr. Holmes has it that—
"The waters in the rebel bay
Have kept the tea-leaf savour—
Our old North-Enders in their spray
Still taste a Hyson flavour,"
The notion that green tea derives its colour from being cured in copper pans is not wholly dead yet, and the question is often asked how tea obtains its green colour. The operation is simple enough and may be seen any day in Shanghai when the faking of what are called Shanghai packed green teas is going on. Williams concisely describes it: "A quantity of Prussian blue is pulverised to a very fine powder and kept ready at the last roasting. Pure gypsum is burned in the charcoal fire till it is soft and fit for easily triturating. Four parts thereof are then thoroughly mixed with three parts of Prussian blue, making a light blue powder. About five minutes before finally taking off the dried leaves this powder is sprinkled on them, and instantly the whole panful of two or three pounds is turned over by the workman's hands till a uniform colour is obtained. His hands come out quite blue, but the compound gives the green leaves a brighter green hue." The compound, if deleterious, is only so in an infinitesimal degree, and bears the proportion of about one pound of the powder to two hundred pounds of tea, and
