Page:The Magic Carpet Magazine v04n01 (1934-01).djvu/69

 raise a chrysanthemum as beautiful as the lady of his dreams.

Chu Chen was a business man. He had spent his life in counting-houses, along the various wharves of China, and his thoughts were in the various warehouses of the world. He was a rice king. It was his boast that at one time one quarter of all the people of China existed on his rice; but Chu Chen was a past master at exaggeration. Nevertheless he was wealthy. He considered rice the very blood of China. It represented life. He cared more for it than anything else beneath the sun except the lovely lady in Canton, the lady who was ail his and now waited for him in her Cantonese garden.

Voong Wo, the last of the merchants, dealt in tea. He was older and more complacent than any of the others. He liked to sip tea and think of the Canton lady of his dreams. She gladdened the pictures which he imagined existed in the perfume. Now he was hastening to her with a gift of tea that was as precious as jewels, tea from Ming Shan Mountain in Western Szechuan, the rarest of all known teas, cultivated by Buddhist priests. For tea is the soul of life.

OW the tea-house of Lum Lee was called "The Tea-House of the Jasmine Gate," and merchants from far and near liked to stop and sip of the flower-scented tea for which it was famous. Lum Lee was a Tea-Master. His father before him had been a Tea-Master. For generations the family of Lum Lee had been Masters of the most elusive of all beverages. And when Lum Lee poured tea he made a perfect ritual of it. It must be served in cups of finest china, so delicate that they might have been fashioned from the petals of a flower. To bring out the best that is in tea it must be handled with reverence. Never would he serve customers when there were harsh noises filtering into the shop. For tea is sensitive. It can only give of its best when it is serene. Tea is liquid poetry. It is music. It is the soul of China.

Everyone who entered the tea-house talked in hushed whispers. No man was ever served unless he was dressed in suitable attire. Lum Lee kept extra suits which he loaned to those whom he wished to make his guests. And the windows of the tea-house opened upon a garden. Through the room floated the mingled perfumes of peach blossoms, wisteria and sandalwood. Tea-drinking is a religion. To the man who has faith, tea gives much: dreams, contentment, rest.

On this day the tea-house was deserted except for the five merchants who were strangers to each other. They sat at separate tables and sipped the amber beverage. And then they were no longer strangers, for the aroma of the tea rose from all their cups until it mingled with the perfume of the room. Lee Lum noticed that they were beginning to nod to one another. Impulsively he did something which had never before been done in the history of his house. He invited them all to sit about a common table, a round table which was the pivot of the room.

"Tea makes all men brothers," he said as they eagerly complied with their host's suggestion. While he withdrew to bring new cups, they conversed in whispers with one another.

"I am Ling Yoong," said the first. "I am a jewel merchant. I have been on a long journey. Now I am returning to the woman I love, who dwells in Canton."

"I am Dien Lee," said the second, "a merchant in tapestry and rare silks. I too am returning to Canton to the woman I love."

"I am Chu Kai," said the third, "a