hing stronger. The
Chinese coolie's thirst arises from the grilling sun, from a dancing
glare, from hard hauling, struggling with 120 pounds slung over his
shoulders, dangling at the end of a bamboo pole. I have had this thirst
of the Chinese coolie--I know it well. It is born of sheer heat and
sheer perspiration. Every drop of liquid has been wrung out of my body;
I have seemed to have swum in my clothes, and inside my muscles have
seemed to shrink to dry sponge and my bones to dry pith. My substance,
my strength, my self has drained out of me. I have been conscious of
perpetual evaporation and liquefaction. And I have felt that I must stop
and wet myself again. I really _must_ wet myself and swell to life
again. And here we sit at the tea-shop. People come and stare at me, and
wonder what it is. They, too, are thirsty, for they are all coolies and
have the coolie thirst.

I wet myself. I pour in cup after cup, and my body, my self sucks it in,
draws it in as if it were the water of life. 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.

The surface of this province is made up of masses of rugged mountains,
through whic