In these warehouses the tea is assorted, repacked, and then put
on board the chop-boats and sent down the river to the ships at their
anchorage off Whampoa. Here are enormous scales for weighing the chests;
here, where the light falls in from the roof, are tables placed for
superintendents, who carefully watch the workmen; farther off, are
foreigners inspecting a newly arrived chop; at the extreme end is the
little apartment where the tea merchant receives people upon business;
and through the high door beyond, we see the crowded river, and
chopboats waiting for cargoes. At the river end of the building a second
story is added, often fitted up with immense suites of beautiful rooms,
elegantly furnished, and abounding with rare and costly articles of
_virtu_. Here is a door leading higher still, out upon the roof, which
is flat. Below us is the river with its myriads of boats, visible as far
as the eye can reach, no less than eighty-four thousand belonging to
Canton alone. On our right is the public square, where of late stood the
foreign factories, now destroyed by the mob, while the flags of France,
England, and America have disappeared. On our left is another vista of
river life, the pagoda near Whampoa, and the forts of Dutch and French
Folly.
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