The daily morning journal and courier., 1901-09-21

l
 ters of Ruknabad or the fountains of
 Mosul; no songs and laughter accom- pany the strenuous eXertions Of the
 men, converting their duties into fes- tival and work at the same time; no halo of light verse encircles their mem
 ory To most people it is a. prosaic ting, a mere detail connected with the
 better mixing of the opium, prepara-
 tory step to the process Of manufac-
 ture. Yet there is much that is pie
 turesque in it.
 Passing from this scene of stress and turmoil, we enter another room of
 precisely the same size and arrange
 ment. The vats in this room contain
 the opium of a previous mixing, and
 are already giving up their contents to
 the busy hands of the workmen in the manufacturing room. Here are num-
 Der of scales at which large tin vessels
 filled with opium from the vats are be-
 ing weighed As each vessel passes the
 scales a carrier snatches 1t up and
 darts into the caking room, where the
 opium is being packed in the form in
 which John Chinaman is accustomed to
 obtain it from the merchant princes
 who deal in this expensive luxury
 The hum of many voies gradually in
 creasing in strength has for some time
 warned us that we are near the caking
 room. AS one steps into this long and
 crowded hall the first sensation is one of bewilderment A thousand men are
 around us, all working as if their lives I depended upon the rate at which they
 could turn out their task. Again it
 strikes one very forcibly that, if the poppy-god sleeps, his workmen are un-
 usually wide awake.
 A number of iron cages occupy the
 central portion of the room, in each of which sits placid weighman, weigh ing out opium as calmly as the fat bum
 niah In the bazaar weighs out his doles of adulterated flour and weevil-eaten | grain. To each cage there is a little
 door at which, platter in hand. stoops an expectant sprite. The help of opium is deftly tilted into the platter
 and the sprite is off and lost in the
 long line of similar brown imps, ali
 standing before their masters, the cakemakers. The movements of this sepia squire guide us to where the
 cakemakers sit arranged in two long rows on the opposite sides of the room.
 Upon the walls over each mans head is | a white circle with his number in black painted on it.
 l Let us stand before No. 1, who pre- sumably, from his number, Is the doy- | en of the craft, and see what his delft fingers are making. He himself is man in the prime of life, with shapey l head and fine aquiline features; a small we'll trimmed black mustache | curls fiercely over his lips, his large eyes are full of intelligence, and his | long, slender fingers move swiftly and almost mechanically ab6nt his work. He is a Brahman of the Bfahmans, and is courteously addressed by WI men of | inferior caste as "Maharaj" CGreat King') when they speak to him. He is | sitting on low. sloping stool, stripped | to his waistcloth, for it is May and | the temperature of the room is un- speakable, although it is only about nine in the morning. Great beads of precipitation stand on his back and lit tie streams trickle down his shoulders to his elbows We ourselves, though our progress has been a leisurely walk, are mopping our foreheads as we go along But Mahadeo Maharaj, as he is 1 popularly known. is too absorbed in his work to pay much attention to the | heat. tsf
 | He bends down to a tray before his feet, in which lies a brass cup. Near the edge of the tray isaiplatter with pat of opium on 1t. A small cup full Of some liquid substance, which we are told is opium, Is on his right, and on his left is pile of what looks not un- like 2 number of pancakes, but Whlcn are really wrappers made of the petals of the poppy flower. Hooked on to the edge of his tray is a little tin box full of paper tickets bearing his number Before him his assistant kneels, reVer- entity holding one of the wrappers Tn his hands. Mahadeo shoots one glance at us out of those keen eyes of his and then sets to work with complete calm ness. He has played before bigger audience ere now, for the great Lord Sahib, who rules over Bengal, has watched him making cakes. Tearing the leaf his assistant hands him to convenient size, he deftly arranges 1t in the brass cup and smears 1t over with the liquid opium. Bit after Dit he adds, his fingers moving like the needle of a sewing machine, until nice soft bed of leaf has been made. Then in a moment he turns the opium into it, and, drawing up the edge of the leaf, covers it up and, in manner which baffles description, makes in few minutes a perfect sphere, which he shakes out of the cup on to the palm or his left hand and adorns with one of the little tickets from his tin box. He then hands the cake, as this sphere IS called, to his attendant, who receives 1t carefully in the palms of his joined hands, for it is yet soft and pulpy, ana bears it away to the examiner. The examiner has not much trouble with this cake. which is symmetrical in shape and of the correct weight. It is once more handed to the sprite, who takes it off to large box, in which powdery looking substance resembling fine bran is kept, and dusts half of it with this Next fitting 1t with little earthen cup from a stack of these artt- cles. he carries it out into the large stone paved yard we crossed when on our way to the malkhana or store room. Here he deposits 1t in front of metal plauue bearing the wol'kman's number and hurries back to see that his masters wants are properly attend ] ed to.