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I was leaning over the tea-room table on one of the lovely spring
mornings that we sometimes have in China. In front of me the large
window, like that in an artist's studio, admitted the north light upon
the long array of little porcelain teacups and saucers, and "musters,"
or square, flat boxes of tea-samples. The last new "chop" had been
carefully tasted and the leaf inspected, and I was wondering whether
the price asked by the tea-man would show a profit over the latest
quotations from London and New York, when my speculations were
disturbed by the entrance of my friend Charley, followed by Akong, well
known as the most influential tea-broker in the Oopack province.
Charley and Akong were fast friends, and I saw by the twinkle in the
eyes of each that a premeditated plot of some kind was about being
exploded upon my unsuspecting self.

But before going further, let me tell you who we all are, where we are,
and what we are doing.

Of course I am aware that it is exceedingly impolite to put oneself
first, but in the present instance you must excuse it; for besides
being the oldest, I occupy the position of guide, philosopher and
friend to Charley, and my story would scarcely be intelligible or
complete if I did not begin with myself. Well, to begin: I am one of
those unfortunate individuals known in China as "cha-szes," or
tea-tasters; doomed for my sins, or the hope of one day getting rich,
to pass the time in smelling, tasting and buying teas for the great
mercantile house or "hong" of Young Hyson & Co. The place at which you