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several other writers on Chinese matters have | ally taxed at the expiration of thirty years. It shown a formidable array of statistics relating is on this account that many of the irrigation to the extent of the culture. Mr. Colborne works maintained in the days of native rule by Baber has given many an instance proving the the people, at their own cost, have been so neginfatuation the Chinese peasant has for opium lected and otherwise destroyed that the Govcultivation. The Imperial Government ful- ernment has had to step in and take them in minates terrible and barbarous denunciations charge, thus involving great outlays of money, against the poppy; but, if we are to believe which could easily be avoided if a different Mr. Baber, little or no heed is paid to the de- land tenure were adopted. Many changes have crees emanating from the Imperial Court. been suggested, but the one advising a ninety and nine years' lease seems to be the simplest and most effective. Famine in some years has been the only harvest reaped by the Government, as a reward for its obtuseness-injustice would be too harsh. However, the average Indian official is an obstinate animal, and is more conservative than the most conservative Brahmin. And it is to be feared that it will be long, if ever, before any radical change will be effected in the present system.

There is another broad fact to consider. The Emperor and his advisers are strongly averse to the culture of opium within their territories; yet they could, by fostering the cultivation of it, limit the import of Indian opium. If England ceased her export, an inferior quality would, at once, be placed in the Chinese markets, both of home and foreign manufacture. Persia within the last few years has largely increased her export. It must be admitted that the Indian opium is far superior to that made either by the Persians or the Chinese. As the case now stands, if harm accrues to smokers, that harm is limited to the smallest possible extent by the superiority of the drug. The Chinese and Persians have not the science, the appliances, nor the opportunities that are possessed by the Indian Government. And, further, it is an estab-is lished fact that no Asiatics can be trusted to maintain, without European supervision, any honesty in their dealings, or to keep in good order any machinery; or, above all, to abstain from palming off rotten wares, especially where the liability to detection is small.

Before attempting any elaborate description of poppy culture, it will be as well on my part to give brief explanation of the land tenure of India, and the relations existing between the raiat and the British Government. Four-fifths of India belongs to the Government; that is, the Government is the actual possessor and landlord. Leases of thirty years only are granted, known as the "thirty years' settlement." At the expiration of that time every rood of land is liable to be reassessed at higher valuation, according to the experiments effected by the landlord. In no country in the world is the raiat, or petty landlord, so miserable as in India. The most varied of causes conduce to this; not least, the system of land tenure in troduced by the British. It is acknowledged that the old Mohammedan emperors managed to secure a larger revenue from the land in the sixteenth century than do the British, with all their boastings of improvement, in the nineteenth century. No landlord, be he European or Asiatic, would care to put himself to the expense of digging wells and constructing works necessary for irrigation simply to be addition,

The holdings are, as a general rule, ridiculously small. Many do not exceed one-twelfth of an acre. It is such tiny plots of land-resembling a cottage garden-that the Indian raiat will, year after year, toil over and cultivate, raising barely sufficient, after all dues are paid, to keep body and soul together. Rarely nature satisfied. He is equally defenseless against the fiery loo (the hot west wind) of the spring, the dreadful rains of summer, and the biting frosts of winter. His single garment is a ragged sheet thrown over his shoulders, and twisted between his legs; his children run naked, his wife wears a thin petticoat and a still thinner shawl. Yet uncomplainingly he labors from the first glimpse of dawn to the hour when night with her black mantle casts sudden darkness over the wide - stretching plains, the broad rivers, and high mountains of Hindustan. His lot is little better than that of

the cattle he employs in plowing and watering the land. Other assistance he has none. His wife and children take the place of hired labor. The juvenile members of the family pick weeds, scare off the hungry crows and minas, and perform other light work suited to their tender age and slender physique. The wife, too, assists; but her time is, perhaps, better occupied in kneading into unwholesome bread the dough made from the coarsest cereals. This is their only food. It is occasionally garnished with a little garlic, a few chillies, and in seasons of extraordinary festivity with jagree, or solid treacle. Their only drink is water. Little wonder is it then that the average native of India is a sickly, miserable creature, dragging through a few short years of wretched and half-starved existence. Yet it may be said, and with justice, that no country

in the world shows a more frugal, hard-working, and law-abiding peasantry than India. The terrible scenes that were enacted in 1857-58 were the outburst of long pent up wrongs, suffered through generations, till the evil became unendurable and the worm turned for vengeance. It has ever been England's fatal policy to exasperate willing subjects. And it seems, too, that individual Englishmen, however high souled and right minded they may be, think that they should in their respective commands follow the course of "blind folly" dictated by the home authorities.

are packed the opium balls when ready for transport, and are valuable for that purpose. Their manufacture is simple and inexpensive. A circular ridged earthen plate, about twelve inches in diameter, is placed over a slow fire. The required quantity of petals is then placed in it and pressed with a damp cloth pad until they adhere together; the flower leaf is then removed and allowed to dry.

In February, the plant is so far matured that an estimate of the probable out-turn can be made. The second advance is now made, as also one for flower leaves. Toward the end of January and beginning of February, the plant comes to maturity, and then commences the operation of lancing the pods. This is really the main difficulty in the cultivation of opium, as the plant is hardy and requires but little, and that ordinary, care. Good irrigation, a not very liberal supply of manure, and ground clear of weeds, are all sufficient to procure a fair standing crop. But the lancing, so as to procure the juice, is quite a different matter. And it is on this account that cultivators, when first engaged in the task, are exceedingly nervous as to the result of their experiments.

The poppy plant is exclusively cultivated by natives, aided by money advances from the British Government, and under the supervision of its officers. The cultivation is exceedingly popular, for the money advance is always liberal, and the price paid for the opium when delivered leaves a handsome surplus, even after all advances and other dues have been deducted. The natives enter into contract with the Government officers, relating to the acreage of land they intend to devote to poppy culture. This is for the purpose of determining the money advance; and it is during the months from July to October that the "settlements," as they are termed, are arranged. No sooner are these settlements determined, than native surveyors are sent to the opium districts, whose duty it is to survey such lands sown with poppy seed, check any attempts at short cultivation, and, in fact, keep the raiats to the terms of their contract. To simplify matters, the cultivators, with whom the Government enters into agreement, appoint one of their own body as lambardar, or agent, and should there be any short-placed in a new earthern vessel, and is thus kept comings on the part of the raiats, the government holds the lambardar responsible. For this duty he is allowed a commission of one rupee (fifty cents) for each eighty pounds of the opium delivered by the class of men he repre

sents.

The European officers proceed into the districts in November, and remain till March. It is their business to supervise the settlements, report upon the fields, the state of the crops, and the prospects of the season. About the end of January the plant commences to flower, and continues until March. The petals are watched, and are carefully collected in the following manner. The forefinger and thumb encircle the stem just beneath the pod, and with the other fingers drawn inward a kind of tube is formed; the tube is then gently raised straight over the pod, and if the petals are matured ey come off; they are never plucked off as it would injure the pod. These petals are used for the manufacture of "flower leaves" in which

The pods are lanced in the afternoon, the opium being allowed to exude till next morning, when it is carefully taken off with an iron scraper. At the same time precaution is taken to close the incisions by running a finger over the cuts. About five or six incisions suffice for the drawing of the juice. The opium that has been collected is placed in brass vessels, slightly tilted, so as to drain off the dew or any other watery substance. It is then manipulated and

till it is brought to the godowns to be weighed. After the opium has been gathered the poppy pods are broken off, allowed to dry, and the seeds collected for the next year's sowing. Should there be a surplus it is disposed of to traders.

The time of the "weighments" depends entirely on the season. If the weather is dry, with the hot west winds, work is begun early in April; if not, it is delayed till May. The date is fixed by the opium officers; and notice is immediately given to the cultivators, in order that they present themselves with their opium at the different stations. No sooner do the cultivators receive their orders than they start for the weighing stations. Along the picturesque lanes and roads, with crates laden with earthen pots containing opium, crowds of raiats hurry to the spot where the sahib logues hold the "weighments." They travel only by night. The heat of the day is too fierce to permit exposure. When the day is done whole families

commence their weary pilgrimage, bare-footed | iodine is applied. If the raiat has been mixand half-naked, but bearing on their heads sufficient to make them comfortable if they received anything like a proper value. During the day they seek the grateful shade of the noble groves that are so liberally planted over all north-western India; and, encamping under the spreading branches of the famous mango tree, they make ready their simple meal and prepare for the day's rest. Under the care of a zilladar, or Government officer, who has charge of those representing a district, they arrive at the weighing stations, and have in turn to present their opium to be weighed and tested as to quality. The cultivators are generally ignorant, and many of them have never in their lives seen Europeans. The dread they evince of Englishmen is ludicrous as well as painful. They tremble as they approach, and regard the sahib much in the same manner as more civilized men do a tame lion or tiger. Their fears are enhanced through the play made on them by rascally peons and petty employés of the Government who, for purposes of extortion, represent that if paid they will “make it all right"| with the sahib, who, on account of such good offices, will treat them well.

ing flour, the iodine immediately discovers the attempted deception by giving the opium a bluish color. For punishment, the whole is confiscated by the Government.

Beyond weighing, classifying, testing, and | making payment, the weighing stations have nothing further to do with the opium. The actual manufacture and preparation are reserved for the central or manufacturing station, where, under scientific superintendence, the drug is made into balls, packed, and dispatched to Calcutta. For instance, Ghazipur is the central station for the North-west Provinces and Patna for Behar. To these two places all the opium that is grown in India must be sent; and it is only from their godowns that the "deleterious, death-dealing drug," as it has been facetiously termed, is sent for the use of the "poor deluded Chinese."

At sunrise, the beating of a gong announces that work for the day has commenced, and the raiats are ranged in long lines before the examining officers who test the opium. Though it looks very simple to the outsider, it is only by long experience that one can become a clever tester. The quality is ascertained by the consistency and color. First-class opium has a rich deep brown color, and is very thick and glutinous; the more inferior the quality the blacker the color and thinner the consistency. The officer, with the aid of a knife, turns the opium and smells it, marking the quality on the side of the earthen basin. This is then carried to the place where further chemical experiments are made; and to prove that the opium is not adulterated with farinaceous matter, tincture of

The out-turn of opium per acre depends entirely upon the soil. Very carefully cultivated land will produce thirty pounds to a bigha, but the most that can be hoped for is about twentyfour pounds. When we come to consider that twenty-four pounds of opium is the produce of a bigha which has been cultivated for years, and on which comparatively little manure has been expended, it must be admitted that this is a splendid average. In California, where the soil is virgin, the climate favorable, and irrigation easily supplied, the profits arising from the culture would be incalculable. It would be folly to attempt the cultivation and preparation unless it were trusted to those who understand the business. But that is of secondary importance, as there are men in San Francisco who have gained experience in opium cultivation as well under the Indian Government as in China; and there is little doubt that, under careful supervision, an important industry might be fostered in California, and an impetus imparted to a new department of the foreign trade of the United States. JNO. H. GILMOUR.

VENUS VICTRIX.

For days the wind from the north had blown cold and freezing. It ran riot through the long streets, whistled round the corners of the great houses, and beat on the window-panes as if demanding entrance. The comfortable burgher only rubbed his hands, and said, “A fearful

Winter had come, swiftly and silently, in Berne, shrouding the Alpine hights in mists of snow, covering the face of earth with a pure white pall, fascinating in its beauty, but fatal as the charms of Lady Holle of Eisenach, when by the gleam of her golden hair and the witchery of the love-light in her eyes she lured Tann-night truly. Fill up the wine-cups, Heinrich. häuser into her mount to his destruction.

Sing us a song of the Southland, Rita."

The shrill wind and the driving sleet respected not the homes of the poor, for they beat down their chimneys like evil ones pursued by the avenging fury of the Eumenides, puffed at their feeble glimmer of fire as if to extinguish it, and chilled the good Mutter's hands at her knitting until she was forced to lay down little Bertol's sock with a sigh, for her stiffened fingers refused to move. The father sat in the corner with an empty pipe in his mouth, and thought moodily and bitterly until his forehead was furrowed with lines like the cornfields when the farmer lads have gathered the harvest and turned up the earth in ridges, leaving it without yield.

The wind shrieked itself hoarse. Clouds gathered around the Alps, dimming their outline. Again, a steady, noiseless fall of snow covered the earth. Each flake chilled like the icy touch of death, and all Berne lay under the whiteness. Icicles glistened like jewels from the eaves of the houses, and the hoar-frost traced mystic pictures on many a window-pane. The birds huddled close together, hoping for warmth from companionship, but the Erl King breathed on them and they fell dead.

Little Bertol would sob every morning when he found one on the doorstep:

"Mutter, I must give my bread to the birdlings."

"Nein, nein," she answered, shaking her head sorrowfully. "The cold has frozen the rich men's hearts as it has the birdlings, liebling, and we might want."

The high mountains looked down upon the city nestling at their feet like a mother upon a child, and their heads seemed lifted into heaven as if in supplication for its needs. The Jungfrau was clothed as a bride in virgin white, and as the sun kissed her forehead ere he went to rest, she blushed in rosy glow, and all the lovely valley of Lauterbrunnen reflected her beautiful color. The echo of the "Ranz des Vaches" was hushed on the hights; the sweet sounds of the lioba, lioba, were stilled, for the cattle had been driven to shelter, or, belated, lay frozen in the snows. Alpine flowers shivered, folded their petals, and died. The pale edelweiss alone lifted her pure cup amid the white

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"We will take our savings and go to America," the father said. "The lad will be done with his dreaming then."

Bertol was a tall, slender lad, with great dreamy eyes. He worked with his father on homely sabots, ofttimes inserting delicacy in the arabesque patterns he traced upon them. The neighbors shook their heads, and said:

But

"Some day our Bertol will be great." the Berne peasants were ignorant folk, and knew nothing of the great world beyond.

Bertol went to school, and learned of Greece and Rome. His heart beat at their names as an old soldier's would when strains of martial music fill the air, causing him to dream of a Marathon or Waterloo. Genius was the plant hidden in his heart, stirring every fiber of his being. Its yield was a mystery still, its flower nameless. Once, in passing a shop, he saw a cast of the Venus of Melos, an Aphrodite, who sprung from an unknown hand. The sea foam was incarnate in her being. Her master, whether a Phidias or Alcamenes, was one whom genius inspired.

Bertol dreamed of the Venus. Her features were engraved on his memory; her image was ever before him in its divinity. But her arms were wanting. That marred her perfectness. "When I am grown," he sighed, “I shall search all Greece until I find them."

The

The time was set for their journey. night before Bertol stole softly out. The wind was cold and bitter. The large white moon shone with a clear light over the sleeping world. He went to the shop window; pressed his face close to the pane. It hurt, but he felt it not, for the moonbeams were shining on the face of the Venus. She, too, looked cold and white as the world.

"Good-bye!" he murmured fondly, as to a human being. "I shall never, never forget."

His heart ached when he saw the poor, mutilated arms, and she seemed to smile at him so pityingly!

Old Hans shook the snow from his feet joyfully, and they sailed over the seas to a new world, and traveled many weary miles, until they reached the Golden State.

"We will go up to the mountains," Hans said, "where we may have land for the taking."

"It is heavenly!" Bertol exclaimed as they neared the Sierra. "It is our Alps, only more beautiful. It is our mountains new-born in the spring-time!"

"Yes; but in the winter, snow covers them, too," Hans replied.

"But is the weeping of youth, not age, father." Their worldly possessions were few--so few, when they left the train, they were easy to carry.

Hans was a fatalist in his simple fashion, and literally carried out his beliefs. It is not a bad sort of philosophy for wiser heads. Man strives and frets against fortune; yet, after all, what is written shall be, and, like a caged bird, he breaks his wings in beating against the bars.

Some one at the wayside station told him he would find a deserted miner's cabin some miles up the gulch; so he exultingly said to the good Mutter:

"It is the finger of Providence."

They walked along the fern-bordered brook, past beds of rose-tinted rhododendrons, sweet red buds and myriads of flower blooms covering the hillside.

At sunset they reached the rude log cabin. Dead ashes were in the open fireplace, and a loaf of bread, hardened almost to stone, lay on the table, as if the occupant had just stepped out-and, indeed, the owner had stepped into another world scarce a year ago.

"The soil is rich as the mud of Aär," Hans said, as he turned it over with a stick. "We will plant and work. The man told me of a farmer above here who will let us have everything needful. You will not find time for dreaming, my lad."

The Frau simply answered:

"I shall miss our old neighbors;" then commenced dusting the floor to hide her rising

tears.

The farmer, with true mountain friendliness, sold them a cow, helped them plow a few acres of sloping land, and taught them the simple customs of agriculture.

Little May, the farmer's daughter, played, walked with Bertol, and loved him, as the years passed.

"I was so lonely before you came!" she said archly one day as they sat by the stream, idly talking. "The dolls father used to bring me were nothing but sawdust."

"It was like people in the world,” Bertol answered sadly-"hearts and brains nothing but sawdust. Helen must have been like that to have left Menelaus for Paris. Achilles was killed; it availed nothing."

He thought to himself, dreamily, as he carved a bit of soapstone, "If it had been my Venus, it would have been well."

May became impatient of his silence and slipped away, hoping he would follow, but Bertol's thoughts wandered far away. The knife fell from his hand as he lay on the grass, his face upturned to the sky.

May was a flower that had sprung up in barren soil, as the crimson snow-plant does amid depths of ice. Her parents were ruddy pioneers, and when she came to them in the May

they named her after the month, and all the joy of spring-time bubbled up in her nature, breaking into coquettish little ways and graces. She loved the delicate Swiss lad, though he did not seem of the world.

"His head is wrong," the farmer declared, roughly; "but he is a good lad."

The thought of Venus and his mission sunk deeper and deeper in his heart. He was twenty now, and longed to go out into the world and fulfill his quest. He was startled from his reverie by a voice, and, looking up, saw an old man regarding him steadily.

"Boy," he laughed, "you are young to be instilling truisms of the hollowness of the world in a maiden's ears. What do you know of it here in this solitude? Let the people dissect the dolls for themselves."

Bertol started to his feet in confusion.

"Where under the sun have you imbibed the wisdom of Thoth? Are you a Dryad, or an Adonis wandered from the classic shores to the Sierra, or an Endymion by the brook?" he asked, quizzically, with a gleam of amusement as he watched the boy's reddening face.

"I am a simple peasant boy, sir, who would be a sculptor," he said, proudly.

The stranger laughed heartily.

Fame can be

"I am a wanderer, boy, who also would be great. The would be's-'ay, there's the rub!' A shepherd and a wanderer with aspirations! It is a joke at which the world would shake its sides and scream in laughter. Ambition is for the palace, not the hut, lad. bought. The laurel weighs heavy on the brow, still we rush recklessly on, ransoming our lives for a mere sprig of the victor's shrub. Sappho won it, but the sea vanquished it. Leonidas's laurels budded in blood; Homer's grew in pain. Nonsense! The fire has taken hold. It will burn in victory or in death.”

Bertol looked dazed. He did not understand. "You would work in marble," the stranger continued. "Your friends, the Greeks, have monopolized that art. Sculpture has been born, lived well, and died."

"To all things there comes a resurrection," Bertol added, devoutly.

The stranger appeared not to notice, and continued:

"Sculpture has a limit. Science is boundless as the sea. The Greeks reached the acme of perfection in the Discobulus, their Venus. The present age is a mere copyist-a chipper in stone. Give up your dreams of greatness." The stranger's dark eyes looked far away over the mountains. "The range of science is infinite. Men are to come who will be its masters." "Do you know the Venus?" Bertol asked.

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