Instantly it gushes out
again at every pore. I swill in more, and out it rushes again, madly
rushes out as quickly as it can. I swill in more and more, and out it
comes defiantly. I can keep none inside me. Useless--I _cannot_ quench
my thirst. At last the thirst thinks its conquest assured, taking the
hot tea for a signal of surrender; but I pour in more, and gradually
feel the tea settling within me. I am a degree less torrid, a shade more
substantial.
And then here comes my boy.
"Master, you wantchee makee one drink brandy-and-soda. No can catchee
soda this side--have got water. Can do?"
Ah! shall I? Shall I? No! I throw it away from me, fling a bottle of
cheap brandy which he had bought for me at Chung-king away from me, and
the boy looks forlorn.
Tea is the best of all drinks in China; for the traveler unquestionably
the best. Good in the morning, good at midday, good in the evening, good
at night, even after the day's toil has been forgotten. To-morrow I
shall have more walking, more thirsting, more tea. China tea, thou art a
godsend to the wayfarer in that great land!
I endeavored to get the details of the population of the province of
Szech'wan, the variability of the reports providing an excellent
illustration of the uncertainty impending over everything statistical in
China--estimates ranged from thirty-five to eighty millions.
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