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A Tea-Planter's Life in Assam
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After the soil has been deep-hoed and is quite ready, transplanting from the nursery begins; few men sow the seed at stake. The nursery is made and carefully planted with seed on the first piece of ground that is cleared, so that by the time the remainder of the garden is ready to be planted out the seed has developed into a small plant, with strength enough to stand being transplanted. Holes are prepared at equal distances, into which the young plants are carefully transferred. The greatest caution is exercised in both taking them up and putting them in their new places, that the root shall be neither bent up nor injured in any way. For this work women and children are employed, as it is light, but requires a gentle hand to pat down the earth around the young plant. It speedily accommodates itself to its new circumstances, and thrives wonderfully if the weather is at all propitious. A succession of hot days with no rain has a most disastrous effect on transplants; their heads droop and but a small percentage will be saved, which means that most of the work will have to be done over again. Once started, plenty of cultivation is the only thing required to keep the plant healthy, and it is left undisturbed for a couple of years to increase in size and strength. At the end of the second year, when the cold season has sent the sap down, the pruning knife dispossesses it of its long, straggling top shoots, and reduces it to a height of four feet; every plant is cut to the same level. The third year enables the planter to pluck lightly his first small crop. Year succeeds year, and the crop increases until the eighth or ninth year, when the garden arrives at maturity and yields as much as ever it will. During the rains the gong is beaten at five o'clock every morning, and again at six, thus allowing an hour for those who wish to have something to eat before commencing the labours of the day. In the cold weather the time for turning out is not so early; even the Eastern sun is lazier, and there is not so much work to get through. Few of the coolies take anything to eat until eleven o'clock, when they are rung in. The leaf plucked by the women is collected and weighed, and most of the men have finished their allotted day's work by this time, so they retire to their huts to eat the morning meal and to pass the remainder of the day in a luxury of idleness. For the ensuing two or three hours there is perfect rest, except for the unfortunate coolies engaged in the tea-house; their work cannot be left, and as fast as the leaf is ready it must be fired off, else it would be completely ruined. At two o'clock the women are turned out again to pluck, and those men who have not finished their hoeing have to return to complete their task. About six o'clock the gong sounds again, the leaf is brought in, weighed, and spread, and outdoor work is over for the day. No change can be made in the tea-house work, which goes on steadily, and if there has been much leaf brought in the day before, firing will very frequently last from daybreak until well into the night, or small hours of the morning.