YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. SKETCHES OF BURMESE LIFE AND CHARACTER. BY E. D. CUMING. LONDON : W. H. ALLEN & CO.. LIMITED, 13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W. 1897. PREFACE. A RESIDENCE of six and a half years in the country docs not qualify one to pose as an authority, and I have not even the conventional excuses to offer in submitting this very superficial book to the public ; friends have not urged its publication, and it aims at fulfilling no want. If it gives Englishmen any clearer idea of their fellow-sub jects in Burma I shall be satisfied ; it is a little singular that a people so interesting and so peculiarly accessible is not better known. I only hope that in the chapters on dacoity I have aot brought into unfairly prominent relief the national shortcomings, I lay no claim to the title of sportsman, but I havc in cluded in this book two tiger stories. That they differ in the essential feature from those generally published is my only excuse for adding to the long list of these. ^ The illustrations are from photographs by Mr. P. Klier and by Messrs. Watts and Skeen of Rangoon. For kind permission to republish herein several papers, I have to thank the proprietors of Land aud Water, Cornhill, Macmillan's, and Chainbers' s. CONTENTS, IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. CHAPTER. PAGE. I. — Some Aspects of the Country i II. — The Bukman in Town i6 III. — On the Jury 32 IV. — Some Superstitions 44 V. — The Shway Dagonb I'agoda 55 VI. — An Idle Morning 66 VII. — The Burman at Ho.me Sg VIII. — In the Busy Season 109 IX. — The Karen at Home J31 X. — Wanted, a Light 149 XI. — Not by Appointment 171 XII. — Some Compulsory Acquaintances 1S7 XIII. — The Head of Boh Gway .,, 205 XIV. — The Queen's Pardon 224 PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A DACOIT. I. — The Victim of Opportunity 239 II.— Nobody's Guest 255 III. — Left no Address 268 IV. — A Morning Call 276 V. — Will O' the Wisp 292 VI. — The First Law of Nature 307 VII. — A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing 324 VIIL— Called Behind the Curtain 343 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Shway Dagone Pagoda, Rangoon . . Frott/i. South Entrance to the Shway Dagone Pagoda Kilbey Hill House, Akyab Country Cart A Village Po.\y . , South Shrine, Shway Dagone Pagoda Shrine of the Great Bell House and Rice Mill at Padoukchoung Passenger Cart . . Houses in a Jungle Village . . Hpoongyees and Scholars A Steering Chair Paddy Boat Karen Girls BuR.MESE Convicts sp-'ece. 7 9 1 1 315862 69 7793 IOI III "3142 349 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA, CHAPTER I. SOME ASPECTS OF THE COUNTRY. You vvill not fall in love with Burma at first sight, if like most new arrivals you come to her front door, the mouth of the Rangoon River. From shipboard at Elephant Point the prospect is depressing. The low brown coast line, raggedly trimmed with jungle, falls away on either hand from the great river, brown from its wandering ovcr miles of alluvial mud. On the left bank, a little back from the stieam, the watchtower and flagstaff of the telegraph station give just a touch of lonely civi lisation to destroy the mysterious possibilities of virgin jungle. As the steamer feels her zigzag way up the channel from left mud-bank to right mud-bank, under screaming escort of gulls and kites, there is nothing to look at on either side; the swirling river hedged by rank vegetation is the view, devoid of character. A palm tree would give some sort of Eastern colouring ; but palms there are none after passing Elephant Point. You look in vain for the saving grace of a crocodile. The smallest cro codile ever born, basking on those shimmering mud slopes, B 2 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. vvould redeem the whole from the commonplace. But Nature can afford nothing better than a water-snake coiled pensive on a stump, or slithering lazily water- wards, to the terror of myriads of restless shrimps. There is no river traffic, for the tide is running up, and wc passed the fishermen hours ago out in the gulf of Martaban. You have had time to be thoroughly disappointed before a flutter of fulfilled expectancy stirs the quarter deck, and " The Pagoda ! " is on everybody's lips. Far away over the jungle, to the north, a tiny cone, tapering concavely from its broad base, stands low against the sky. " There it is again ! "groans a passenger of full habit, whose capacity for iced drinks has expanded daily since Suez. " Steward ! " For the sight of the Shway Dagone to them that know it is provocative of thirst. Past the masked battery of Syriam, born of the Russian scare of '85, and the scattered suburbs of Rangoon crop up in the chimney stalks and mill roofs of Poozoondoung. The Pagoda, solitary in its gilded majesty, glitters on the low hill beyond the town. The prospect is more interest ing now. Round the Hastings shoal, where three rivers meet, under the embrasures of Monkey Point battery, and vve are in the Port. The rice season is not open yet, but four long lines of masts, flying flags of half the nations ofthe world, cut the stately waterway into broad avenues. Save for a steamer or two loading teak from nearly sub merged rafts alongside, and three ships discharging coal in clouds of black dust over on the left at Dallah, all swing high and light in idleness. Down the right bank Rangoon throws a long tentacle of mills, native dwellings, and timber yards, varied by an occasional pagoda falling to ruins and overgrown vvith SOME ASPECTS OF THE COUNTRY. 3 vegetation. The distant left bank, the Dallah side, is lined vvith huge godowns, or sheds, vvhose low-pitched roofs of corrugated iron shelter coal and salt ; a dreary range straggling off in more and larger timber yards, wherc elephants stalk unmoved amid viciously screaming circular saws and hissing steam. Life at Dallah is banish ment. There are few Europeans there ; the assistants in charge of the timber yards and engineers at the Flotilla Company's vvorks form the white population. Their visi tors are chiefly viceroys and distinguished travellers, whose desire it is to see elephants working timber. Hence the best elephant stories come from Dallah. I think I am right in giving Dallah credit for the elephant which when stacking squares {i.e. squared logs) habitually shut one eye and applied the other to the end of the log to make sure he had put it straight. Presently we come abreast of Rangoon town, a study in greys, browns, and greens toned down with dust. On first landing you see nothing ofthe natives ofthe country. Gangs of lank Coringa coolies are working cargo on the wharf and in the godowns. The sampan-wallahs are Chittagonians ; the drivers of gharries and bullocks carts arc Malabar coast men ; if the road is under repair coolies arc the labourers ; the policeman dozing harmlessly in the shade is probably a Madras man too ; and fifteen out of twenty people you meet in the streets are of nationalities strange to the soil. Of the one hundred and eighty thou sand and odd irihabitants of Rangoon only seventy-nine thousand are Burmese ;* andthe large majority of these dwell in the suburbs, I * " The returns are analysed by religions, and though, no doubt, a return of towns by races would have been even better, yet in Burma, as nearly all Burmans are Bhuddists, the return by religions is sufiiciently accurate." — (Census report, 1891). B 2 I I 4 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. The variety of the races vvhich form the population ol the seaport towns is a tribute to the wealth of the country, Europeans of every nation, Americans, Chinese, Armenians, Negroes, and representatives of almost every Indian people between the Himalayas and Ceylon find a home here. The Burmese mingle freely with them all, giving their daughters in marriage to men differing in race, colour, and religion ; this, be it said, with the cor dial consent of thc girls themselves. The European vvho settles in the country often takes a daughter of the land to wife, so does the Armenian. So would the native of India if he found favour in the ladies' sight. The wealthier Suratis do find such favour sometimes ; but the native of India has ever in his mind's eye the home of his youth, to which he will retire to pass the evening of life, and the Burmese girl vvill not leave her countiy. The Chinaman, who prospers here even better than he seems to do everywhere else, is glad to get a Burmese wife, whose ways appeal to his business-like instincts. The boys of such a pair are educated and dressed as Chinamen and the girls as Burmese ; a fair adjustment of the claims of nationality vvhich has advantages of its own; for the boy so brought up can rely upon the aid of his father's fellow-countrymen, and a Burmese girl can always make hcr way in the world. To return to the outward aspect of Rangoon as first seen from the river. The town does not look inviting. The buildings have a substantial solvent air, but the general effect is glaring baldness. It improves on closer acquaintance. The better streets throughout are wide and clean ; guiltless of side-walks but shaded on either side by trees in leaf allthe year round. The East end is the more important, but even in Merchant Street SOME ASPECTS OF THE COUNTRY. s extremes of industry meet. Ovcr against a great mercantile ofifice forming a block in itself, stands a tumble-down tiled shed, the " shop " of Ah Toon whose signboard glibly proclaims him " Carpenter, Furniture and Contractor"; or a Madrassi's dingy sweet-stuff emporium, reached by a plank across the open brick drain, whose customers are coolies and crows. There are a few good shops to cater for European wants — if that may be called a shop vvhich rises superior to window display and wherein a set of double harness or half a pound of cheese may be had on demand. The West side of the town beyond Fytche Square is occupied almost entirely bythe Eastern traders vvho congregate, according to custom, in quarters ruled by race, and streets determined by trade. All the hardware dealers dwell side by side ; the crockery men cling together, and the dealers in cloth. It is convenient for the purchaser, and. stimulating competition, makes business distinctly lively. This vvas always a bustling part of the town and has been still more so since the introduction of the steam tram-cars. The enterprise was undertaken by the late Mr. Darwood, than vvhom no man better under stood the people. He knew that the success of his costly venture depended chiefly on the patronage of the Burmese, and began by constructing a line along the street most trodden by the people, from the Strand Road, up China Street, to within fifty yards of the gaping, vacuous monsters which guard the South entrance to the Pagoda. In India, native religious sentiment might have been outraged. The Burmese, ever practical when physical exertion is in question, took just the view Mr Darwood anticipated and looked with high favour on an innovation which vvould save their legs. Every Bhuddist, 6 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. man, woman and child, goes to offer prayer at the Pagoda with more or less frequency, and althou^'i Dar-woo' thekin was neither Burman nor Bhuddist, it was felt that the author of so msritorious a work, foreigner as he was, had claims on Neikban which coulJ scarcely be ignored. The more orthodox had their doubts at first ; but when at dawn on the first day of thc great feast of the Full Moon of Taboung, which brings Burmans in thousands from all parts of the country to worship at the Shway Dagone, the line was opened and everybody vvas carried free in honour of the occasion, the misgivings of orthodoxy vanished. It vvas unani mously agreed that when Dar-woo' thekin paid the last debt of Nature he would be caught up to the blissful abode of the Nats, in spite of accidents of birth and belief. More substantial proof of approval vvas forth coming in the meantime : people took to travelling up and down for the fun of the thing, disbursing their four anna bits on return tickets with reckless prodigality. Across the Northern limits of the town proper runs the railway, now extended to Mandalay ; and, roughly speaking, beyond this vve are in Cantonments wherc most of the European residents live. The approved style of house in Burma is a shallow box smothered under a waste of brown shingle roof, and raised high on piles. Some people enclose and floor the space amonT the piles to make a basement storey ; such are prepared to meet miniature flood in the rains, are indifferent to frogs and scorpions, and take their chance of snakes. The majority are content to utilise it as coach-house, dog- kennel or extra stable. From the town the land rises gently through Canton ments, reaches its highest in the eminence crowned by south ENTRANCE TO THE SHWAY DAGONE PAGODA. 8 IN THE SHADO W OF THE PAGODA. the Pagoda and its fortified lower court, and thence rolls away in billowy undulations to a dead level which would be monotonous but for the alternations of jungle and cultivation. Sleeping in the shade of big trees are nume rous Hpoongyee Kyoimgs, or monasteries, and "country houses" of Europeans, Suratis, and Parsees. In the twilight of mango, bamboo and jack tree on either side of the Prome Road, the industrious Chinaman watches the growth of acres of pineapples which he takes by thc cartload to sell in Rangoon at two rupees a hundred. The pineapple jungle is a favourite resort of Thomas Atkins, who revels unchecked in the turnip-like plenty of fruit he has known only through shop windows at home. Unfortunately he does not alvvays wait until the pines are ripe, and green pines are not more wholesome than bazaar liquor. Both are factors in the deadliness of the much-abused climate. The whole Delta of the Irrawaddy is a maze of water ways, great and small, which tap an endless series of streaks and patches of paddy land. The country is guiltless of roads, save for one or two trunk highways, and, with the exception of a quantity brought to Ran goon by rail, all the grain comes to market by boat. The people congregate in villages on the creeks and cultivate the land within a mile radius or less, according to population. Each area of kwin is fenced into squares by low, broad bunds of earth to retain the depth of water growing rice requires. Every village is surrounded by a lake of green with shores of jungle and perhaps an occasional island of fallow, vvhich, rising above the level, cannot be water-logged and cultivated. Where such islands are many, there is the ground for snipe, with which bird few countries are better supplied than Lower IO IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. Burma and Arracan. The attention paid him by the white man has earned him, among the country people, whose nomenclature is before all things descriptive, the euphonious name of Boh-sah-knit—the " bird the gentle man eats." The paddy lands are oases in a world of jungle, often impenetrable in its tangled density, else where open and park-like, destitute of population and full of game. The wonderful fertility of the soil is reflected in the character of the people whose predominating traits are amiability and indolence. Famine and anxiety for the morrow are unknown in the rice country, vvhere the minimum of work produces the maximum of result. Ploughing, an operation which consists of churning knee- deep mud with a rude iron-tipped implement dravvn by water-buffaloes, is performed in June and July, after the sun-cracked soil has been deluged by the early rains. Then the seed is scattered closely in the nursery kwins. When it has grown up a foot or more, the shoots are thinned out and replanted in the fields, which are more in the nature of shallow lakes. This replanting business is comparatively hard work. Small sheaves of green shoots are placed conveniently on the bunds, and the farmer, his pasch tucked closely about his thighs, wades in, carrying a handful of plants and a stick cleft at one end. Sliding the shoots rapidly one by one through his left hand he dexterously catches each above the root in the cleft stick and therewith plunges it deep into the mud. Such rough usage, one would think, should seal the fate of any growing thing, but thc hardy paddy shoot thrives on it. In a few hours it is standino- erect and healthy, asking no further aid from man. Plantino-- out finished, work is over, and the farmer looks on in 12 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. happy idleness till harvest time. When the crops arc rcady for the sickle he obtains Coringa coolies from the towns and looks on while they reap and pile the grain on the clumsy solid-wheeled carts vvhich convey it to the primitive threshing floors to be trodden out by buffaloes. From the artistic standpoint the landscape of the delta is seldom attractive. The villages, though often picturesque, nay beautiful compared with the eyesore of mud hovels which form the village of the Northern India plains, lack variety. If you seek scenery you will find it on the other side of the Gulf of Martaban, in the mountainous Tenasserim Division. Maulmain, the chief tovvn is one of the most beautifully situated places in the East, It wanders disjointedly along eight miles of hill side, overlooked by pagodas. The European town has grown up, intertwined with the Burmese, and the result is a piquant medley of East and West, For instance, the Club faces the clean-swept courtyard of a pagoda surrounded by zayats or rest-houses, hpoongyee kyoungs rich in their wealth of carved gable, and seven-storied roofs sheltering images of the Bhudda. From the road along the ridge of the hill the eye runs riot over river, green plain, hill and jungle to the far horizon of the Siamese mountain ranges on the East ; on the other hand, over tovvn and river to nearer boundaries of jungle-clad hill broken by waters which melt in mirage to sky. Maulmain is rich in rivers. The Sal- vvcen, Attaran, and Gyaing meet here and moat her round on all sides but the south. The Attaran boasts being the only stream of any size in Southern Asia vvhich flows northward. Rising sheer and abrupt from the sea of paddy on the Siam side are gigantic cliffs three and four hundred feet in height, standing out SOME ASPECTS OF THE COUNTRY. 13 lonely and rugged, like the flood-wrack of a continent washed away. One of these contains the " Farm Caves ' vvhose deeper recesses, so vast as to be poorly illu minated by a ship's Bengal light, are — or were — leased to Chinamen for the guano deposit of myriads of bats. The more accessible galleries are niched for the shrines of Bhuddas, but sacrilegious hands have carried off most of the portable images to send home as curios. There is a tiny kyoung and a few rest-houses on the north side near the mouths of the caves, and there dwelt a solitary hpoongyee, whose guardianship of the sacred treasures was lax. He vvas a weakened vessel. He kept a soda-water bottle convenient to receive the con tents of any white visitor's flask, for he happened to know a man who vvould drink whiskey. In the old days, before Rangoon became British property, Maulmain vvas a busier port than she has been since. Her rivers vvere the highways from the great forests, and besides ex-porting more timber than any port in the East, she built ships for "John Company." Within the last few years the teak forests have become worked out to a great extent ; the rice business, however, ; is considerable, and increasing. ) The vast hill-districts have a sparse and scattered population of Karens who dwell either alone in soHtary huts, in small villages, or in that peculiar barrack-like , habitation called a tai which shelters under one enormous /oof a whole clan of from fifty to eighty families, each [occupying its own rooms off the common hall vvhich 'forms the centre. On the hill slopes with infinite trouble, for Karen appliances are primitive, and the forest growth is heavy, they clear patches of land where on is grown the rice required for home consumption. 14 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. Toungyah cultivation is a very different thing from agri culture in the plains. The paddy is a distinct variety which grows on comparatively dry soil, and needs no standing water ; the weeds and undergrowth come up with it and would soon choke off the thin crop unless the Karen worked incessantly to keep his plot clcar. Then there are living enemies to guard against. By careful fencing he can keep out the deer and wild pig, which do terrible mischief if they succeed in leaping over or snouting a vvay through the close-set wattle ; but the highest fence is useless against jungle fowl and other seed-eating birds. The only professional shikaries in Burma are Karens, vvho make a business of going round from place to place to kill troublesome animals. The jungle-fowl the cultivator snares for himself. Burma is essentially a democratic country. There is no old nobility, there are no large landed proprietors, and no idle rich living on inherited wealth. Social superiority (apart from the priesthood) rests with Government officials ; ancient tradition, dating from thc oppressive rule of the local governors appointed by the king, breaks out in the deference paid the ihoogyee of a Circle by the people. Thc thoogyce is thc tax-collector, and he does his work vvith the assistance/ of loogyees and goungs, lesser lights vvho shine only ini their own villages. The cultivators hold their lands,,' patches of from ten to perhaps fifteen acres, from the Government and light taxes represent their sole responi sibility in respect thereto : unless their improvidence lead into the money-lender's clutches, which is too often the case. The character of the Burman produces onc curious result in his relations vvith Europeans in the countrv. SO:\IE ASPECTS OF THE COUNTRY. 15 Outside the ring of officialdom and a section of the mercantile community. Englishmen and Englishwomen have scarcely morc than an eye-acquaintance with the son of the soil. He is not fond of domestic service with its mild restraints and petty indignities, so the necessity of acquiring even that smattering of the language, essential in Bengal and Upper India, does not c-xist. Foreigners monopolise almost all but the interior trade of the country, and only those brought in contact with the farmers and boat-owners and with the Chinamen find a knowledge of Burmese even useful. Hindustani is the tongue of most utility for ordinary needs, and very little of that goes a long way with the majority. The p.itient Madras man comes over in hundreds to take service as butler, boy and cook, and the Bengali also finds the higher rate of wages paid in Burma an inducement to cross the " black water." These— the Madrassis at all events — bring vvith them some little knowledge of English and soon acquire as much of Burmese as enables them to transact domestic business in the bazaars. Hence, you may spend twenty years in the country and leave it wilh your linguistic acquirements confined to the solitary phrase "Nah mah lay boo" — " I do not understand." jO CPIAPTER II. THE BURMAN IN TOWN. Your first introduction to the Burman is in the office, vvhere he is to be found as a clerk. First — and last — impressions of him in this capacity are distinctly favour able. He is painstaking, neat, accurate, tolerably in dustrious, sometimes methodical, and always respectful. Moung Hpo now, is an excellent example of the intelli gent Burmese kiraui ; I take Moung Hpo because I happen to know him better than any of the other boys — he is I'ather older than I am, by the vvay, but that is a detail. His father is a much-respected man, trader, of Edward Street (I quote Moung Hpo.) Old Moung Hia Doon Oung vvas a judicious parent, and recognised that if his son was to succeed in the world he must have an- English education. So after the little Moung Hpo had^ learned at the hpoongyee kyoung to read and write, Burmese and mastered the multiplication table up trf nine times nine (for the Burman does not venture int( " double figures), he was placed in the care of Dr, MarksS The famous missionary conducts his great school ati Ahlone on broad-minded principles. He prepares his pupils for the battle of life without concerning himself with their faith; and during his long career he has THE BURMAN IN TOWN. 17 equipped a respectable army of boys vvith a sound, useful education. Moung Hpo is energetic for a Burman, and enjoyed his school days at Ahlone, He took prizes at the school sports for running and high j.umping, and if he did not care much for cricket, he made up for it by his attention to football. Football as played in Burma is rather dissimilar from the game in England ; I must confess that after watching many matches I have been unable to discover what rules are in vogue. They resemble Eton more than Rugby or Association, but it appears quite legitimate to pick up the ball by the lace and whack an opponent over the head with it. When the Burman is playing against English or Eurasian boys he wears boots, but they do not improve his play, and he does far better when he kicks them off and tackles the leather vvith his bare toes. Moung Hpo admits that hc vvas caned with some frequency, but adds that it did not hurt very much. He would have gone home if it had. His besetting sins vvere restlessness in class and want of punctuality, but in these re.spects he erred in goodly company. He was by no means an idle boy, but was neither clever nor f^idustrious enough to be considered a suitable subject to coach for the competitive examinations which lie bttween the scholar and the Government official. Meither had Moung Hia Doon Oung any "interest." Ahd by consequence, after Moung Hpo had run to seed foi- a year or two at home, he vvas glad to avail himself of an introduction and enter a merchant's office as a cl/erk. Like every other new boy he began as an unpaid volunteer. A useful, trustworthy man may earn as nfiuch as two hundred or tvvo hundred and fifty rupees C i8 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. a month, so the incipient clerk is glad to accept ari opportunity to prove what he can do. Moung Hpo did vcry well during his probation. He was never noisy, seldom went to sleep in office hours, and acquired what the head clerk, Mr„ Edward Moung Kheen, calls the " habit of business " with considerable facility, " Habit of business" I gather means the art of keeping your cheroot alight without detection vvhen a superior visits your desk ; looking busy whether you are occupied or not ; and punctuality, that is, leaving the office at fivc o'clock sharp. He also practised, with exemplary dili gence, his handwriting, which had grown a little rusty, Tke quantity of pens and paper he consumed in experimental caligraphy was simply prodigious, but as it betrayed his desire to " get on " and also kept him out of mischief any waste vvas overlooked. He made mistakes, of course, but Moung Hpo's blunders vvere usually redeemed bya touch of genius. As, for instance, when he wrote to the Government Stallion at Allanmyo and with due formality "had the honour to inform", that animal of the arrival from Madras of a package toi his address, and would he be good enough to send earlyjf instructions regarding it ; disposal. But on the whole h^'k made rapid progress, and was soon able to copy correctl'i ' the letters and papers obligingly placed at his disposV by fellow clerks inclined to enjoy a little rest or recres tion themselves. I' At the end of three months Moung Hpo decided l give us the chance of engaging him ; and accordingU one morning I found on my table a laboriously coil'' structed envelope of imposing size addressed to me J' "Superintendent Manager'' of the firm. The inferenc' vvas that Moung Hpo regarded the native staff of whicl L?' THE BURMAN IN TO WN. ig he formed one as the firm, for I superintended nobody else. This, by the vvay. The envelope contained the usual petition written in Moung Hpo's best hand, and vvith a spirited attempt at decorative capitals. The writing and spelling vvere excellent, and if the phraseology was a little eccentric it vvas agreeably free from the polysylla bic pedantry which makes the Bengali Baboo the laugh ing-stock of the East, Education has not upon the Burman the terrible effect it works upon the Bengali. The Burman eschews inapposite quotation and "ten thousand horse-power words and phrases." With him language is the means : not the end. Moung Hpo's petition, written on every second line of a double sheet of foolscap and vvith liberal margin, vvas couched in the usual strain. It painted the diligence wherewith petitioner had toiled in my honour's office vvithout pay ; dwelt at some length on the difficulty he found in maintaining his wife and little children on nothing at all ; laid stress on the advantages retention of his services must confer upon me ; and concluded vvith a confused dual prayer for my honour's eternal good health and a salary of fifty rupees a month. The punkah-wallah a yard or two behind my chair signalled when I opened the envelope, and forthwith Moung Hpo, wearing his best silk pasoh, a clean white cotton jacket and a new gouug-bouug, or head-kerchief, crept round the doorpost and squatted upon his heels*. Adoption of the attitude of respect, like the best clothes, testified to the greatness of the occasion. It would retard the course of business if the clerks habitually moved about the office in the attitude approved by "John Wellington Wells The Sorcerer," but in pre senting a petition it is considered proper. C 2 20 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. ''So you want an agreement, Moung Hpo 1 " Moung Hpo, with a spasmodic shikoh, vvould like an agreement if my honour please, " Well, tell Moung Kheen to come here, and we will ask him what he thinks," Moung Hpo shikohs again, and glides out round the doorpost as though occupying the least possible space were the first condition of an agreement, Moung Kheen, baptised Edward, for he is a Christian (the only one on the staff, by the vvay) is a tall, good- looking man of thirty-five or forty, with a slight mous tache which is uncommon among his race. He is the head kirani. Beside English, which he knows very thoroughly, he speaks Hindustani, Tamil and Malay, Moreover, he is a most intelligent and reliable fellow ; if all native Christians vvere as conscientious as Moung Kheen, the missionaries might be proud. His opinion of Moung Hpo is favourable on the whole ; he thinks him sensible and neat. " But," says Moung Kheen with judicial severity tempered by slang vvhich he rather affects, " I have sometimes to pitch it into him for coming late." Moung Hpo, squirming into a capital C and pressing his hands together, urges that he does not ^^ too very often come to office late." Moung Kheen admits it ; and adds that if Moung IIpo "sticks in" he vvill make a very good kirani. On vvhich certificate of character I offer the anxious youth an engagement for two years at a salary of twenty rupees a month ; vvith a saving clause to allow of dismissafif found necessary. Moung Hpo's face falls. He clasps his hands and looks beseechingly at Moung Kheen. But Mouris THE B URMA N IN TO WN. 2 1 Kheen has been through it too often and looks the other way. Moung Hpo resigns hope of aid from him and pleads his own case. " Tvventy rupees a month, vcry little, sir ! My wife and little children, if -you please, sir — " but here language fails him. He shakes his head sadly and murmurs, " twenty rupees a month," in a gloomy whisper. Twenty rupees a month is the usual pay for a begin ner and it vvould not do to consider Moung Hpo's family. I remind him of this, pointing out that at his age he has really no business to possess a wife and children at all. The argument is lost upon him, and he retires, thought fully repeating to himself the terms he has been offered, to report the result of his petition and interview to his friends outside. A long and earnest debate is terminated by his decision to accept the offer ; and he returns to announce the fact, vvhich he does with a suspicion of forgiving reproach. Thereafter, hc returns to his dcsl:, and having procured a new pen, devotes the remainder of the day to transcribing his ' agreement ' from a stereo typed form, of whose meaning, it is to be feared, he has but the vaguest understanding. There is nothing unusual in Moung Hpo's possession at the age of twenty of a wife and two small children, nor does it prove him at all improvident. The fact is this idyllic country's social usages not only sanction very early matrimony, but makes the path of young love easy as that leading in another direction. When Moung Hpo, aged eighteen and a-half, fell in love with Mah Shway Mee, aged sixteen, he told his mother, who men tioned the circumstance to the parents of Mah Shwaj- Mee, who said they would like ^oung Hpo very much. And forthwith Moung Hpo, with the merest shred of 22 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. ceremony, became Mah Shway Mee's husband and the son of her parents, living in their house. That is the beauty of matrimony in Burma ; no stern father to press awkward inquiries about income and prospects ; no sordid botheration about ways and means. You marry the daughter of the house and take up your quarters with her under her parents' roof. In the country you contribute to the support of the family by field labour ; in town with money if j-ou are earning any ; if not, no matter ; it is understood that you would if you could and will when you can, Moung Loogalay, the cashier, aged thirty-two and father of four youngsters, only set up house a year ago, although for the last three he has drawn a salary of a hundred and fifty rupees a month. Neither he nor his parents-in-law vvere anxious to part, but Moung Loogalay's wife, Mah Lay, had ideas of her own about a shop, and, of course, got her way. The Burmese girl is great at trade. It is not con sidered derogatory to anyone to have a stall in the public market, and the daughter of a Government official carries on her head a big brass tray laden with fruit to the big bazaar every morning, and squats behind it till she has cleared out her stock. Before marriage and aftcr, until she and her husband set up housekeeping for themselves, she does it as a matter of course ; morc, it is true, for occupation or amusement than for profit,' though the Burmese maiden is a capital hand at bargain ing. When the pair have a house of their own the wife, in nine cases out of ten, opens a shop and fills it with a wonderful collection of miscellanies, for every item of which any reasonable offer will be refusecl Hard square pillows jostle piles of lacquer betel-boxes THE BURMAN IN TOWN. 23 1 and wooden trays ; saddlery and brass-ware lie side by side with coarse English crockery and Burmese sandals. And in the midst of all sits the good lady rolling cheroots for home consumption or for sale, while she keeps an eye on the children playing in the street. Moung Hpo's father is very well off, but I do not think there vvill be much money for his two sons to divide when he dies. If you happen to visit the group of kyoungs and zayats in the grove off Godwin Road you may notice a magnificently-carved monastery occu pied by a hpoongyee of noted sanctity. Moung Hia Doon Oung assured his future by building that kyoung at his own expense ; besides that he has erected a large zayat, and is understood to be contemplating the gift of a bell to be hung on the platform of the Shway Dagone Pagoda. These works of merit are really pious investments bearing interest in koothoh, of which Moung Hia Doon Oung has now accumulated so large an amount that his conscience must be quite easy. He is held in profound respect by his neighbours, and if you want to bet with him at the Rangoon Eace Meetings you must be sure to address him as Kyoungtagah, which means Builder of a monastery. Moung Hpay, Moung Hpo's elder brother, is a social success. He was a clever boy, and Dr. Marks en couraged him to go in for the examination for the lower civil service. Moung Hpay worked hard, and now shines like a good deed in a naughty world, a myooke or magistrate of the fourth grade. He is a, great man in his quarter. He is entitled to pose as a magnate and is expected to give himself airs, and he does not disappoint his friends in these respects. In court or office Moung Hpay sits in a Windsor chair under a punkah— it looks 24 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. well to have a punkah irrespective of the tempera ture—and listens with matchless solemnity to the reports of subordinates and petitions of simple citi zens who kneel round with carefully hidden feet. In the presence of these he receives big official- looking letters from salaaming chuprassies, whose coloured belts and brasses like oval doorplates proclaim the source of their important errands. When one of those chuprassies hands a letter to Moung Hpo he makes no salaam, and complains if he is kept waiting for the answer. When Moung Hpay walks home through the streets in English shoes and socks, the children make way for him, and their parents stand hoping for the distinction his smile will confer. Moung Hpay is inti mate with the English Assistant Commissioner ; when the Deputy Commissioner makes his periodical visit Moung Hpay is the responsible spokesman. Then, too, the trustworthy myooke may be transferred to some small station in the jungle over which he will reign supreme. Here Moung Hpay will find his opportunity and if he takes it is a made man. The native official treads a path paved with rosy possibilities. For him is the prospect of presentation to the Lord Chief Commissioner at Rangoon Government House at evening durbar. In brilliantly lighted ball room thronged vvith admiring ladies and gentlemen, the happy man, bent to a semi-circle, but gorgeous in stiff silk pasoh and white linen jacket long of skirt and tight of sleeve, receives public commendation as that valuable and deserving officer the Myooke of Bamawyuahgalay, It is a great moment, Moung Hpo stands afar off, without the gates he may not enter, and shines in his brother's reflected light. THE BURMAN IN TOWN. 25 There is, too, another possibility before the diligent native officer — far away, indeed, and so beautiful that he can hardly think of it save as a dream ; that is a Decoration. He knows at least one Burmese official who received the great English title, ' Companion of the Order ofthe Indian Empire,' True, he is not very clear what it means ; but is there not a wonderful star and ribbon to explain it? It is a daring hope, but still there is no knowing what may happen in these stirring times, and perhaps some day, vvhen he is an old man, he may come in for a title himself. Only last Queen's Birthday the Decoration Angel winged its lustrous way ovcr the Province, while expectant men held their breath and watched its course with uplifted eyes. Grand and sonorous are the names bestowed upon the elect. There are glad beings who can write themselves " Bearer of a Golden Sword " and " Bearer of a Silver Sword." The man who crowns a life's work with such a halo has not lived in vain. Neither education nor success leads the Burman astray in dress. Though he attain the dizzy eminence of an Extra Assistant Commissionership, the most he does is to take to himself a gold-topped and silk-tas- selled malacca cane, and discard his easy sandals for stockings and shoes. In theory the latter enhance his dignity ; in practice they sadly discount it. Garters would overcome the difficulty, but to these the Burman has a rooted antipathy, and official swagger suffers from heavy folds of white cotton stocking about the ankles gathering dust. This change of foot-gear has become so common that a few years ago official leave was given wearers to retain their English shoes and stockings in Court, &c. c6 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGOl W. The younger men take advantage of it, but the elders seem unable to reconcile shoe-wearing with the respect they deem due to superiors ; and the old Myooke or T'seekai jealously adheres to the custom of removing his shoes in the verandah. He prefers to enhance thc privilege oi entree by keeping his chief on a pedestal. Of course a position so precious as Moung Hpay's has its thorns. The nature which revels in incense is im patient of discipline. If Moung Hpay commits a blunder he earns an official wigging, which he must swallow as best he may. If his brother Moung Hpo feels aggrieved by a scolding he can resign his clerkship without sacrificing social advantages. The Burman cannot tolerate any approach to harshness ; if you tell a kirani your mind about his stupidity he will wait until pay-day, and on the following morning send a message to say he " does not wish to come any more." Then the easy-going Burman finds in mercantile life many re deeming features. He loves gambling in every shape, and while it would be fatal to the prospects of the Government official to indulge his taste in this direction, merchants religiously close their eyes to their native subordinates' doings outside the office. Government regulations concerning gambHng are strict, so perhaps the official gains some slight recompense in punishing others for doing what he cannot do himself. He is expected to set a good example in all respects, and, as we know, setting example under any circumstances is rather hard work. However, the Burman officer acquits himself very fairly well, except vvhen a di.splay of physical courage is demanded of him. Then he is apt to initiate and carry out a policy of excessive caution. It is fair to say that some notable examples of bravery THE BURMAN IN TOWN. 27 are on record, but these are exceptional. When a "dacoit scare " has infected a district few native officials can be depended on. Ambition is foreign to the Burman character. Moung Hpo will be quite content to plod along from year to year at his desk, with no expectations beyond a period ical increase of salary and an occasional holiday to enjoy the Water Festival, and big " Pagoda Days '' as the white man calls the Bhuddist feasts. He has no craving to exchange the dust of the town for the quiet of the country, even for a month's holiday. Indeed, he speaks of the taw-tha, the son of the jungle, with a cockney's contempt. It must be admitted that life in Rangoon presents attractions. What jungle man, for instance, knows of the delights of a race meeting on the Maidan ? Race days are as good as Pagoda days, if not much better ; they offer unrivalled facilities for risking rupees vvith a sustained and repeated excitement not obtainable every day. The dweller in the jungle, too, never sees the circus which every year spends a week in Rangoon ; and the man who has not been to the English circus has something to live for. When the great tent is set up on the foreshore near the Harbour Master's office, Moung Hpo and his friends make a night of it six times a week. At every performance the cheaper seats are crammed with Burmans who roar with delight at the antics of the clown and the feats of the gymnast. The short-skirted person who jumps from her bare-backed steed through paper hoops is applauded, too, from the four-anna benches ; but the applause is muffled by doubt. The Burmese do not quite understand her. When I asked Moung Hpo what he thought of her performance, he wrinkled his brow and said in a confiding undertone. 23 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. "We think women must not let to see their legs." I vvonder what he would think of a ballet at the Empire. Certainly the Burmese dancing girl errs neither in scantiness of attire nor display of limb. But then the Burmese dancing girl is not a dancer as other nations understand the word. Suppleness, not activity, is what she cultivates. Her gay silk tamein hangs limp to the ground vvith inches to spare ; she moves her unseen feet only once in two minutes, and then to give a rabbit-like stamp. Her lithe body sways and undulates, and her seemingly boneless arms writhe from shoulder to wrist like snakes ; sensuous thoughts are the very last her per formance is likely to inspire. She accompanies the movements of her arms and body with a plaintive mono tonous song faintly audible under the bray of raucous trumpets, the clash of cymbals, the tap of various gongs hung within the circular wooden frame called tsaing-tveing, and the drum like an attenuated nail keg; not to mention the mournful piping of the paluay, a slender, primitive flute, and bamboo clappers almost as musical as that ravishing instrument the bones. Some times — in a European's house — she performs to the music of the Burmese piano. This last is more in harmony with Western notions of music. It consists of a deep oblong box sloping upward and outward at thc ends, from which depend strings supporting graduated flat strips of bamboo ; the pattala is played with two tiny drumsticks, and the notes produced are both true and melodious. It is frequenti}- to be heard in suburban houses about Rangoon, and is the only purely domestic instrument the people have. It is not in vogue for poays and outdoor performances; it does not make enough noise. '^ THE BURMAN IN TOWN. 20 The jungle village Burman has poays and, perhaps, an occasional theatrical performance ; but these bear no com parison with the entertainments the fortunate resident in Rangoon or Maulmain may enjoy almost every night of his life — except in the rains. When Moung Hpo leaves the office in the evening he need take no thought concerning amusement. Times must be bad indeed if there is '' nothing going on ; " and, moreover, the haras sing question of finance does not enter into his calcula tions. When a Burman gives a poay it is a free show, to which everybody is welcome. The stage is erected in the street, and consists ofa covered platform of bamboos and mats brilliantly illuminated with earth-oil lamps, A Burmese play is mounted on the most simple lines ; there is no scenery ; there is no curtain ; there is not even a green-room. The actors and actresses change their dresses and make-up in the glare of the footlights under the eyes of the indulgent audience. And while the play is in progress the performers awaiting cue squat smoking happily on the side of the stage. As a general rule the poay begins an hour or so after dark and goes on till two or three in the morning, A full band is inseparable from the performance, and it plays vvith heart-breaking perseverance from the moment of begin ning till the play is over. The audience bring their own mats, and choosing their own places sit all over the road smoking and eating, I cannot venture upon so large a subject as the Burmese drama. There are favourite plays for per formance both by human actors and marionettes. The skill wherewith the latter are manipulated is marvellous. I have stood watching a marionette poay in a Maulmain street ibr hours with increasing interest and respect ; but a thorough knowledge of the language and legends 30 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. is essential to proper appreciation of either class of performance. The importance of a poay as an institution is to the Burman's mind paramount ; and as it is invariably held in the street, a patient Governinent often suffers much abuse for its regard to larger considerations, Moung Loogalay once came to me at the head of a small depu tation from Edward Street to beg that I would address thc local authorities on his behalf He and a few friends had made all arrangements to hold a splendid poay in their street on the following night, and their tardy formal petition for leave to do so had been firmly refused. " We are very sorry," said Moung Loogalay ; '" very much sorry. But if your honour will tell the Deputy Commissioner that Edward Street is such a much re spectable place, he vvill give leave." Which meant that he and his friends were dreadfully disappointed, and could not understand what the callow official meant by calling a high-class dramatic entei> tainment an " obstruction." Edward Street is one of the important thoroughfares in the Burmese quarter of Rangoon. Holding a poay there meant stoppage of all traffic, foot and wheeled, for about twenty-four hours, and as destructive fires are far from uncommon in the quarter, the official objection did not appear very harsh, I endeavoured to put it in this light to Moung Loogalay. but his reply vvas conclusive : " Everybody will be sit ting in the street, so nobody will want to go through It." When I suggested the remote contingency of fire, by way of showing the danger of obstruction, he smiled. The idea of changing the venue of a poay because the vvhoie quarter might be burnt down was to his mind pure foolishness. A VILLAGE POAY. CHAPTER III. ON THE JURY. The scene is " The Court ofthe Recorder of Rangoon " ; the occasion the first day of the autumn sessions ; and the time ten A.M. on a scorching October day. The court-room and verandahs which flank it are thronged vvith people of both sexes and all nations, whom curiosity or business has brought hither. Among them are ten or a dozen Englishmen who have been called as jurors, and do not appreciate the compulsory honour, for it is mail-day, and thcy have had to leave their offices, where the weekly pile of mail-work is awaiting them, to dance attendance at the court, vvhere their services may not be required after all. His Honour the Recorder has taken his seat on thc bench, and the clerk of the court produces a hat, from vvhich he draws five names at hazard. Mine is the last to be called, and I follow the other jurors into the box under the sympathetic valedictory grins of my more fortunate fellow-countrymen, vvho have been dismis.sed for the day. " Elect your own foreman, gentlemen," says the clerk, when we have been sworn. And in deference to my status as the only pure European, my colleagues— three ON THE JURY. 33 Eurasians and one aged Burman — unanimously appoint me to that office. The Recorder beams upon us good- humouredly for a few second.';, and then, resuming his wonted air of judicial gravity, directs the clerk to call the first case on the list. The first case is not particularly interesting. Poono- sawmy Moodliar, native of Madras, aged thirty-five, domestic servant in the employ of Septimus Balthazar, trader, of Rangoon, is placed in the dock, charged with felony ; in that on the 19th day of September last he did steal and carry away one cotton umbrella, value one rupee two annas, the property of Moung Pho Loo. The clerk reads the charge at a hand-gallop, scorning the very elements of punctuation in a manner that must puzzle my Burmese fellow juror — " property of Moung Pho Loo prisoner do you plead guilty or do you claim to be tried ? " &c. The prisoner, who is undefended, pleads "not guilty"; and in reply to the usual questions, says he has no objection to any gentleman on the jury, and that he understands English, This latter admission is highly satisfactory to all concerned, as cases in vvhich every word has to be interpreted occupy double time. The Tamil interpreter sits down, and the case proceeds forth with. The first witness is Moung Pho Loo, who identi fies the umbrella — a ponderous structure of bright pink cotton — as his, and states that he laid it down on a stall in the Burra Bazaar on the morning of the 19th Sep tember, and next saw it in the prisoner's hands a week later. " No, sah 1 " from Poonosawmy, and " Chuperao " (" Hold your tongue ") from half-a-dozen officious police men, and more officious native ushers, D 34 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. Moung Pho Loo having given his evidence, is ordered to stand down, and a Coringa policeman takes his place in the box. This witness is not a bright specimen. Asked, " What are you .' " he digs his thumbs into his belt and mutely invites the court to inspect the big buckle in front. The European inspector rises to ex plain, " An extra man, your Honour, he have just lately joined," and he gives the witness a look which makes him first straighten his back spasmodically and then relax with a shudder. The constable's evidence is hard to extract, but is conclusive. He was on duty in the Burra Bazaar on the morning of the theft ; saw prisoner take an umbrella off a fruit-stall and walk away with it; did not stop him because hedid not know it was not his : that is the umbrella lying there on the table. Thatis all. Does Poonosawmy wish to ask this witness any ques tions? No; Poonosawmyis now weepingfloodsof penitent tears, and can only beg the Lord Sahib to forgive him ; he is " poor man," and he thought the umbrella was hi.";. Has he then any witnesses who could prove that he owned an umbrella like this ? No, Poonosawmy has no witnesses, and he is poor man, sah. Has he nothing else to say in his defence ? Yes ; he wishes to add that he is poor man ; very poor man, sah. If Poonosaw my had been charged vvith murder, high-treason, and incendiarism, he would have pled poverty in extenuation. It is a way the native has ; but naturally it does not count lor much in an English court of justice. A brief sum ming-up is followed by a briefer consultation, and a unanimous verdict of " Guilty." A previous conviction is proved against the prisoner ; and Poonosawmy Mood- liar, sentenced to six months' imprisonment, is removed, dolefully howling at the top of his voice. ON THE JURY. 35 I always find it a little difficult to sympathise with the Madras man "in trouble." He has a great idea ot the Law and an appreciation of legal process, which he sometimes turns to personal account in a fashion not con templated by legal authority. On one occasion wc had advertised for tenders for a certain annual contract to supply labour. Four tenders were received, including one from the man whose lease of the business was about to expire ; and the four applicants were requested to come to the ofifice at noon the next day, that their claims might be discussed. The hour came and vvith it con tractor No. I, all smiles and eagerness. He vvas very anxious to be heard, repeating his conviction that the other men had reckoned the task too much for them and would not come. He vvas told to wait. One o'clock came, but no more contractors. Two o'clock, and three, and four, and five. Contractor No. i, grew more and more eager to produce his proof of capability, as time drew on, and was finally told to go, and return next day. He went. Six o'clock brought three puzzled men in haste to the ofifice. They came from the Small Cause Court, where they had been hanging about since half- past ten. They had been summoned, by contractor No. I, to attend and give evidence in an imaginary case. The next case is one which throws lurid light upon Burmese credulity. Nga Loogalay is placed in the dock charged with cheating. Nga Loogalay, it appears, is a gentlemen of no ordinary attainments, and among other desirable talents he possesses the highly lucrative ability to turn baser metals into gold. About three months ago he made the acquaintance of Mah Too, an old lady residing in Rangoon, where she drove a snug little trade D 2 36 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA, in dried fish. Mah Too was of somewhat avaricious disposition, hence the knowledge of Nga Loogalay's alchemic accomplishments commended him strongly to her notice ; and a few days after the first occasion of their meeting she entrusted him with a sum of thirty rupees, vvhich he kindly undertook to convert into gold. The terms of the transaction were rather sporting in character, and may be shortly described as " Play or Pay " — in other words, it vvas agreed that if Nga Loogalay failed to effect transmutation within a given time, he vvas to charge nothing. If he succeeded, he was to receive a handsome percentage on results. The scienti fic nature of the prisoner's profession enabled him to dispense with the vulgar necessity of giving Mali Too a receipt for the money, so she has nothing tc show for it. But we are promised a number of witnesses who will substantiate the charge, to vvhich Nga Loogalay enters a plea of " Not guilty," The various threads of evidence make it palpable that a very singular degree of ill-luck followed the prisoner throughout the vvhoie course of this little affair. No sooner had he received the thirty rupees than the market price of mercury and other alchemic requisites began to advance, and continued to do so by leaps and bounds until they reached a level quite unheard of ; vvhich com pelled Nga Loogalay to borrow small sums from Mah Too every week to meet the expense of conducting the operation. These working expenses vvere to be deducted from his share of the profits ; and Mah Too confessed that she had been very much struck by the honesty with vvhich he retained the first-given sum intact. Nga Loogalay was an enthusiast, judging from the complainant's account. He sat up every propitious ON THE JURY. 37 night for six weeks, watching his crucibles and working charms with untiring diligence ; but gold did not come. He called upon Mah Too regularly during this period, and was able to give such satisfactory reports of his progress, that she was easily induced to part with the money he required from time to time, which amounted in all to some fifty-five rupees. Half-a-dozen times he was just on the very verge of succeeding, when a cloud obscured the moon, or the wind dropped suddenly, or something else happened and spoilt the vvhoie busi ness. Mah Too, fully aware of the extreme exactness and nicety required in the operation, forbore tc press for tan gible results so long as she saw Nga Loogalay regularly. But one day, not having seen him for a fortnight, she grew anxious, and went out to his house at Kemendine — a suburb of Rangoon — to ask how things vvere getting on. There she saw Mah Hlah, his wife, vvho informed her that Nga Loogalay had gone to Mandaiay on urgent business, and she could not exactly say when he vvould be back. He had not forgotten his contract vvith Mah Too, however ; indeed, it was solely in connection vvith this gold-making business that her husband vvas visiting Mandalay ; there are great sayahs in that city, and he had gone to consult vvith them ; for she frankly ad mitted that, up to now, Nga Loogalay had not attained the degree of success so clever an alchemist was entitled to expect. Now this story was vcry plausible, even gratifying, and had Mah Too been a more confiding old woman she would have accepted it in a friendly spirit.smoked a cheroot vvith Mah Hlah, exchanged a little gossip, and walked quietly home to Rangoon in the cool of the evening. But, un- 38 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. happily for Nga Loogalay, she was dissatisfied with the report, and hinted at taking her rupees back in their original condition. The dried-fish industry, she said, was not thriving so well as could be wished ; she was com pletely out of cheroots and betel-nut, and, to be candid she wanted a little ready money at once. Mah Hlah appears to have regarded this as an indica tion of growing scepticism, and resented it, like the loyal wife she was, with some warmth : and when she declared to Mah Too that she had not a single mat (four-anna bit) in the house, high words began. To make a long story short, fhe two ladies interchanged vigorous personalities for three-quarters of an hour, after vvhich Mah Too pro ceeded to the police-station, and laid an information against Nga Loogalay for swindling her. Search vvas instituted, and the missing alchemist was arrested, not at Mandalay — which in those days would have been a safe harbour — but at Poozoondoung, the eastern suburb of Rangoon, not five miles from his own home. It might have been his ardent pursuit of scientific knowledge that led him to the Chinese gambling den vvhere he vvas discovered; or possibly he thought that the "thirty-six animal game" would be an agreeable relaxa tion after so much studious research; his presence there, I say, vvas a detail that might have been satisfactorily explained. But when it came out that of all Mah Too's fifty-five rupees he had not a pice left, Nga Loogalay had no right to be surprised at the superintendent's locking him up. The very small amount of confidence vve on thc jury had ever entertained in thc prisoner's probity, was quite dispelled by these final revelations ; and we felt bound ON THE fURY. 39 to bring him in "guilty," in spite of the dissentient voice upraised by the Burman juror, Moung Htso. He heard all we had to say with unmoved politeness and patience, but firmly adhered to his opinion, that had Nga Loogalay been allowed sufficient time he would have triumphantly re turned to Mah Too the promised ingot of pure gold. As for the gambling-house part of the affair, that was a mere ac cident that might have befallen anybody ; all Burmans gamble more or less, and he did not see why we should lay any particular stress upon it. It is very obvious that an EngHsh education has done nothing to impair in herited beliefs, and after ten minutes' argument, I am compelled to accept his " She did not give him time " as a vote of " not guilty." So standing up in my place I inform the Recorder that the majority of four find a ver dict of " Guilty," His Honour, looking at the punkah which jerks over our heads, expresses his surprise that the evidence should have failed to convince any one of the jury. He had not thought there existed in Rangoon a juror so blind to the clearest facts. Not a quiver of the judicial eyelid conveys a hint that the Recorder knows which is the blind one, and Moung Htso listens to his strictures with the calm of conscious rectitude. He informed me afterwards, in confidence, that trans mutation was a very difficult thing to accomplish; most difficult. But every sayah worthy of the name agreed that it could be done if you could only find out the right way. It was true he had never met anyone yet who had achieved success ; but that was no proof whatever of its impossibility. Nga Loogalay now sentenced to six months in jail, had been very hardly used ; and for his (Moung Htso's) part, if he happened to want any money turned into gold by-and-by, and had not himself time 40 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. to devote to the operation, he should cheerfully entrust it to Nga Loogalay A much more glaring case of Burmese superstition handicapping justice occurred a few years ago. It is worth telling if only as illustrating native qualifica- cations for the sacred rights of citizenship. Such a case could only happen in Burma. Nga Shway Oo and Nga Let Gyee, natives of Donabyoo, vvere placed in the dock charged with the manslaughter of Moung Bah, native of the village of Panlang. They pled not guilty ; and if an air of unmoved calm goes for any thing, they did not believe themselves to be so. The Government Advocate's opening speech revealed the following facts. Early in the previous month the two prisoners, who were travelling in their canoe from their own village of Donabyoo to Rangoon, stopped at Panlang to pass the night, and went to the house of Moung Bah, who was a friend of theirs, to sleep. \ In the course of the evening, Nga Shway Oo told the company how, during a recent visit to Mandalay, he had rendered some small service to a hpoongyee, vvho had repaid it by teaching him a potent spell against death by drown ing. Moung Bah, who was a fisherman by trade, was much interested in this ; and after Nga Shway Oo had i-elated some marvellous stories illustrating the infalli bility of the spell, he implored that it might be cast upon himself; and the prisoner consented to exercise his powers for a consideration of five rupees. The money was promptly forthcoming ; and Nga Shway Oo, pro ducing the necessary implements, at once set to work to tattoo the figure of a paddy-bird (a small bird of the wader kind) on the victim's chest, muttering incantations as he did so. OA IHE JURY. 41 When the tattooing vvas finished, nothing would' satisfy Moung Bah but an immediate trial of its efificacy ; and as a full moon gave ample light, he insisted upon the prisoners taking him out in their canoe that he m.ight put it to the test before he slept. Tvvo other friends accompanied the party, and a large number of the villagers assembled on the shore to watch the pro ceedings. Every Burman can swim like a duck from infancy, and though the tide in the Panlang creek is Very powerful, with many dangerous undercurrents, any ordinary trial might have been made with perfect impunity. But Moung Bah, bent on making sure that he had got his money's woorth, persuaded the two prisoners to bind him securely, hand and foot, before they tossed him overboard. They did so, then threw him into the water, and drifted down with the stream, awaiting the course of events. Whether they expected to see their friend rise to the surface freed from his bonds, or whether they imagined the "spell" vvould cause him to float like a cork, the learned counsel was unable to tell ; but, as might have been expected, poor Moung Bah sank at once, and was not seen again till his body was recovered thirty or forty miles down the river. The prisoners appear to have entertained no feelings but those of friendship and good-will towards the deceased, or they might have been charged with the greater crime of wilful murder, Mah Lay, widow of deceased, was the first witness. She was present when the first prisoner worked the spell upon her late husband, They had all eaten the evening rice together, and there had been no quarrelling of any kind. She heard Shway Oo tell some wonderful tales. Oh, yes, she quite 42 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. believed them and did still. Did not understand vvhy Moung Bah got drowned ; thought Shway Oo may have made some little mistake in the words he spokc while tattooing the charm; or perhaps the moon was not favourable ; anyhow, vvas sure that Shway Go vvas not to blame. Thought it was an accident. Moung Zan Way and Moung Hpay, cultivators, resi dent at Panlang, told the same story in turn. The deceased was very anxious to be made proof against drowning, and begged the first prisoner to tattoo him. They accompanied him on the fatal trip ; heard deceased request prisoners to pull right out into the stream, and also heard him ask to have his hands and feet tied ; the prisoners did so quite readily, and chewed betel while waiting for deceased to reappear. Yes, they were sur prised when he did not float on the top of the water as he should have done. It was very curious indeed his sinking like that. Probably some slight miscalculation of Nga Shway Oo's. Moung Hpay thought, moreover, it was just possible that deceased might have given offence to the water nats (spirits), who pulled him under water in revenge. Neither of these two witnesses thought the prisoners at all culpable ; if anyone was to blame for the accident it vvas the deceased himself; certainly not Shway Oo. who was a highly respectable man. The English lawyer who represented the prisoners brought out most of this evidence by cross-examination; and when the last witness had been dismissed, delivered himself of a short speech dealing with the motives which actuated thc p.air of charlatans in thc dock, and left the matter in the Recorder's hands. His summing-up left no doubt in thc minds of the English and Eurasian ON THE JURY. 43 jurors, that the prisoners were guilty of manslaughter ; But their Burman colleague was not convinced. He vvas of good education, spoke English exceedingly well, and the many Europeans who knew him in his private capacity, held him a very sensible and intelligent man. But he was a Burman, and frankly of opinion that Moung Bah's death was due to causes beyond the prisoner's control, politely but firmly declined to subscribe to a verdict of guilty. Addressing the prisoners through his Burmese inter preter, the Recorder told them that they had been found guilty of an act of incredible folly, which resulted in the death of a fellow-man. Fortunately for them it had been made clear that they did not intend to injure the deceased, and he let them off vvith comparatively light punishment. Light as it vvas the prisoners appeared thunderstruck ; and the Burmese members of the audi ence, who had listened to the case with breathless attention, vvere clearly taken by surprise also. Had the jury returned a verdict of "not guilty," and the judge released the spell-worker and his assistant vvith a few well-chosen words of regret for the failure of their experiment, and advised them to make such in shallow water next time, it had created no astonishment. Far from it ; they would have gone home sounding the praises of the wise English judge, whose great mind could justly weigh the mysterious uncertainty of Burmese magic ; and in all human probability Nga Shway Oo and Nga Let Gyee would have found a score of confiding patients willing to be drowned at five rupees a head, as soon as thcy got out of court. EngHsh law is a long way above the Burman's comprehension, and in these matters always vvill be. 44 CHAPTER IV. SOME SUPERSTITIONS. What on earth has happened in thc village ? I put this question to myself, for want of anyone else to speak to, as, at about two o'clock one morning, I scramble hastily from under thc mosquito curtain, and go to the verandah to see what has prompted the peaceable inhabitants to raise such an appalling row at this hour of all the twenty- four. It is far too dark to make out what has given rise to the uproar ; so I dress hurriedly, speculating on thc probable cause. The sight that greets my eyes vvhen I reach the one street of vvhich the village consists, does not help me in arriving at a solution. Every house is lighted up with tin and earthenware lamps, and eveiy man, woman, and child is busily engaged in the appar ently purposeless occupation of making the greatest possible noise vvith the most efficient available means. Gongs, pots, huge bamboo clappers, drums, trumpets, and other unmusical instruments, are in full chorus. Every one is striving to drown his neighbour's contribution to the general din, and players vvhose instruments do not demand the aid of their lungs, exert those organs un sparingly in the utterance of fearful and blood-curdling howls. SOME SUPERSTITIONS. 43 A large number of the male residents have cHmbed to the roofs of their houses, presumably to make their share of the noise as widely audible as they can ; and everyone is sc completely absorbed in the pursuit, that I walk half-way through the village without meeting anyone capable of answering a question. At length a capering figure reels up against me as it dances back wards across the raised pathway in the middle of the street. It is armed with a large oblong drum, and is hammering thereon a spirited bass accompaniment to a tempest of shrill screams. The musician pauses sud denly as I stop, and reveals the features of the rneek little copying clerk vvho, in the ofifice, sits all day on his stool as quietly as a mouse, " What is all this row about, Shway Pho .'" I ask with out ceremony. Shway Pho looks sheepish, and stares at his drum, as though he contemplated seeking refuge from my curiosity inside it. Then he grins faintly. " The Burmese peo- ' pie think this noise is good to drive away the kcila nah [cholera], sir." " ¦ ;' " Oh, has anyone got cholera ? " "All right, now, sir— they are dead," is the glib reply. He means of course that everyone else is " all right ;" but Shway Pho's limited knowledge of English often makes his expressions a trifle ambiguous. Further queries elicit the information that a boatman named Moung Lan, his wife kah Khin, and a little boy of Moung Hlaing's, have all succumbed to this disease, so inevitably fatal to the native. " Where is Moung Than ? " I ask, naming another clerk, vvhose steadiness and good conduct are frequently 46 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. held up to his juniors by way of example. "What is Moung Than doing to-night? " Shway Pho explodes in rapturous giggles, and points with exactness to a neighbouring roof, whereon the decorous, the sedate Moung Than is seated, devoting all his energies to the flagellation of a huge iron pot with a bamboo. Shway Pho's delight at being able to point out his senior in this undignified position is in tense. He has, like most of his race, a keen sen.se of the ridiculous, and my undisguised astonishment at find ing the "model clerk" where he is, quite overcomes him. The English-speaking Burman does not like to be caught joining in the superstitious doings of his fellows, so, as Moung Than is too much absorbed in his business to notice me, I tell Shway Pho to call him down, and walk on through the village. It is the same throughout. Everybody of either sex of whatever age is engaged with all his might in the creation of the most deafening din. Presently, Moung Than joins me, breathless but re spectful ; and we walk on together to a patch Of jungle beyond the village, where the uproar is tempered by distance, and it is possible to make one's voice heard vvithout raising it to its highest pitch. You must always ask an educated Burman what " they " are doing, when you refer to the employment in which he has been engaged with his more ignorant fellows. He is much more likely to be confidential if your mode of address implies that you consider him their superior. It appears from Moung Than's report that the people are anxious about the cholera, for the Coringa coolies, vvhose lines are a few hundred yards from the village, have lately had several fatal cases, and the three deaths SOME SUPERSTITIONS. 47 amongst the Burmese had established something re sembling a scare. " But what good vvill all this noise do .' " I ask in desperation. Moung Than hoarsely explains. " These people, sir, think that a bad spirit has caused this sickne.ss ; there fore, upon that account they must make much noise, that he may become frightened and run away." This was straightforward,, and so far satisfactory ; but the din was quite as brisk now as when it first dis turbed me, and I rather anxiously asked, how long it usually took to frighten such spirits ? "I cannot tell," said my informant. " But," he con siderately added, " when the people are tired, they will stop." That was something to be thankful for, at all events ; but they showed no signs of fatigue yet, and I made some remark of the kind to Moung Than. " Soon they will be tired ; but this noise must con tinue four or five nights, sir — until the nat-soh [evil spirit] is quite gone, sir." This was not reassuring to a man who worked hard all day and earned his rest at night ; but there was still the consolation of knowing that if the " nat-soh " resembled humanity so far as to possess ears, and owned as much sense of harmony as a pariah dog, it vvould not volun tarily stay long. It was inconceivable that any spirit could withstand such a terrible notice of eviction. "Good-night, sir," said Moung Than, beginning to move off in the direction of the village. " I shall now go to my house to sleep, sir," I walked leisurely back after his retreating figure, and it crossed my mind that the clerk was in a violent hurry 48 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. to get to bed. His haste was explained by his reap pearance on his own roof dekchee and bamboo in hand, doing his best to make up for lost time. It must have been nearly dawn when the din began to die away, but it shewed signs of collapse at last ; in dividual contribution became more and more apparent, shouting ceased, and at length silence allowed sleep. Next morning discovered the villagers again on their roofs, but this time to repair the damage caused by last night's orgies. The frail thatches of dhunny and bam boo had suffered severely, being by no means equal to supporting the proprietors in their gambols thereon in a high state of excitement. Indeed, the general aspect of the houses from one end ofthe street to the other sug gested the recent passage of a cyclone. I believe "occupation of the mind and b^dy'' is warmly recommended as a means of fending off the ravages of an epidemic. Hovv far the Burmese specific can be held to afford mental employment, I leave readers to decide for themselves, but even Burmese ingenuity could not devise a more cheerful and ex hilarating means of bodily exercise ; so perhaps their method of dealing vvith cholera is less fooHsh than it appears. The poor Burman is sadly bothered by the number of nats who perpetually hover about him to bring misfor tune and trouble upon his head. However, by dint of propitiatory offerings, and by studying the well-known idiosyncracies of the more malignant spirits, so as to avoid wounding their feelings, he gets along fairly vvell — much better than any Indian race. Besides, although strict Buddhists disapprove of his regard for the nats' feelings, it is generally acknowledged that the presence SOME SUPERSTITIONS. 49 of a hpoongyee or other pious man is enough to render the bad spirits incapable of mischief And as wearers of the yellow robe are to be found everywhere, the nats are less troublesome than might be expected. Indeed, if you go the right way to work, there are few ills and dangers of life that cannot be avoided in Burma. Some of the Wise Men have such marvellous powers, and are so willing to exercise them for a trifling consideration, that it is your own fault if you run unnecessary risks, I became thaynat pyee (gun-proof) myself for five rupees ; and nothing but a foolish regard for appearances deterred me from having a really potent charm tattooed in red spots round my neck by another celebrated sayah, who kindly offered his services. The gun-charm, how ever, answered all my purposes, for the sight of such a thing in a white man's hands vvas enough to encourage the people to talk freely on the great subject of magic. Showing it as if by accident in camp one night I heard some instructive particulars. An old Burman at once begged leave to look at it, and I gave it him with feigned hesitation, and allowed it to be handed round. The charm vvas a tiny ivory figure of Gaudama in a sitting attitude, not much exceeding a large pea in size. My Burmese servant, Moung Tso, had procured it for me from a hpoongyee, as I doubted whether he vvould sell one to a European. " Does your honour always wear it?" a.sked the man who had last examined the figure, and now returned it to me in both hands. " I must always carry it in the jungle," I gravely repHed. " Are you thaynat pyee yourself ? " " Yes, your honour." He readily assented when I asked to see his talisman E so IN IHE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. and produced from some remote corner of his clothing a very dirty bundle of rags as large as a racket-ball which swathed a little tin pill-box in half-a-dozen wrappings. The box contained a figure similar to mine, and was examined with equal reverence by the men round, " Who gave you that ? " I asked. "The sayah near Thitboungyee. I paid six rupees for it." " And are you quite safe with that one .•¦ " " It is the best. I can get other kinds for three rupees ; but they are not good ; I should want many of them." " If I fired at you with my gun, vvould you be hurt ? " I asked, as he seemed to be wandering from the point, " Your honour's gun always goes off," said the old man, rather resenting the prospect of facing a gun he had not seen miss fire once in a long day's duck- shooting, " Well then, what would happen if a dacoit fired at you .•" Would he miss you .' " " Oh, his gun would not go off," vvas the reply in a tone of conviction, " This is the best charm that can be got," insisted the owner plaintively, again, " His gun would burst," put in a gray-haired Burman on the other side of the fire, in a sepulchral voice — " the dacoit's gun would certainly burst," I handed back the charm, and asked to see any others the men had with them. All had curious devices tat tooed on various parts of the breast and shoulders, and the majority had more material charms inserted under the skin, where they formed smooth unsightly lumps like huge warts. These the owners admitted had been SOME SUPERSTITIONS. 51 acquired from professors ofthe occult arts, and consisted of magic spells inscribed upon scraps of ivory, silver, and, in one case, gold. The more precious metal did not, however, confer greater immunity from danger than other substances, the value of such charms depending entirely upon the spells written on them, " I should like to become dali pyee " (sword proof), I said, after comparing notes on the gun charms. " Oh, that is easy. Your honour must eat the medi cine to become dah-proof," said two or three at once ; for all were novv interested in the discussion, and were satisfied that my inquiries vvere bona fide. " What is the medicine made of?" I asked. " We cannot tell. The hpoongyee can make and give it to your honour." " I must get some at once," I continued ; " but I do not Hke to eat it." There was a slight laugh at my squeamishness, and, after a pause, a young man suggested that I might put it in a little bag and wear it round my neck. " It is not very good like that," said the old man vvho had first seen my charm. " His honour might be wounded if he did not eat the medicine," The speaker was evidently regarded as an authority on the subject, for the others murmured assent, and the young Burman did not press his plan further. The "medicine," carefully wrapped in leaves, was afterwards brought to me as a present by one of my jungle friends. It appeared to consist of dried leaves or bark finely powdered, and had the faint smell one might expect therefrom. There was only sufficient to covel- a rupee, but I was assured that the quantity was more than enough, if I would only eat it. To satisfy the thoughtful E 2 52 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. donor, I undertook to do so, but Moung Tso consider ately stole the precious compound, and so spared me the ordeal. The Burman's faith in these charms is very deep- rooted, and in spite of frequent and painful demon strations of their fallibility, he never loses confidence in them. An excuse can readily be found for their failure to protect the holder, and the injured man is the first to explain how it happened that his talisman did not fulfil his expectations. The late Mr. St. Barbe, who vvas shot by dacoits, was credited with the possession of powerful charms against violent death, for vvhich he vvas chiefly indebted to his great stature and personal strength. Long after his cruel death, I asked a native official, in the course of a conversation on such things, how he could account for the failure of Mr. St, Barbc's charms to preserve his life. The man stooped towards me, and in an awe-struck whisper, asked : " Did not his honour the Big Deputy- Commissioner carry his man to the boat when he was wounded and could not walk } " I assented. The deed vvould have gained a soldier the Victoria Cross. "The blood from the shot-wound fell upon his honour ; therefore, it vvas easy to kill him. His charm vvas no use after that." The man drew back, and shaking his head, gravely repeated, "After the blood from the wounded man touched his honour, it was no use — no use." " Then, if the blood from a bullet-wound touches a man vvho is thaynat pyee, his charm is spoiled ? " " Yes ; it is spoiled. He must then get another one." SOME SUPERSTITIONS. 53 "And is it the same vvith a charm against dah- wound ? " " Yes ; it is the same," It would seem that the blood from a dah-wound would destroy a dah-charm, but not one against the gun, and vice versd. The man was confident that his own talis mans would withstand any reasonable test, but demurred strongly when I suggested a trial. It would be time to test their virtue when he met with dacoits, he said. Of their weapons he should have no fear whatever. English fire-arms were different ; they did not appear so amenable to the influence ol charms. It is a regrettable fact; but, if the truth must be told, the Burman's magical appliances add little to his naturally small stock of courage ; for when confronted by danger he generally elects to confide his safety to his heels. The manufacture, writing, carving, and tattooing of these charms is a regular profession, and, thanks to the boundless credulity of the people, by no means a bad one. I achieved some distinction as a sayah myself once, and might have made a considerable reputation had my tastes pointed that vvay. I chanced to be spending a few days in a remote jungle village whilst on a shooting expedition ; the rainy season was at hand, and not to be solely dependent on matches, which the searching damp vvould speedily render useless, I always carried a small un mounted burning-glass. One bright morning, whilst surrounded by the villagers I had engaged as beaters, I drcw out the glass and lighted my cheroot with it. The roar of talk ceased in a moment, and the men stared in speechless consternation. 54 /A THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. "Ahmay!" ("Mother") exclaimed one old man, re covering the use of his tongue as the smoke came from my lips, "Your honour, where did the fire come from ?" " From the sun," I replied. Every head was turned instantly to look at the sun. It was still in the sky, and there vvas a slight murmur perhaps of disappointment. " But it is not real fire ? It vvill not burn ? " " Hold up your hand, and try," I suggested. Egged on by his companions one man at last did so, giggling vvith nervous apprehension. " Look at the fire-spot. Aaaah! look at the fire-spot !" cried the men, as I focussed the glass. " O wait, Moung Tha, wait ! " \ But Moui;g Tha declined. He snatched away his hand and reir arked seriously that there was fire though you could not sce it ; and nobody else expressed a wish to try if it vvould burn. Even after I had shown them how to use the glass much persuasion was required before anyone vvould venture to take it in his hands, but their fear once overcome their admiration knew no bounds, Had I kept the mystery to myself I feel sure that, in the jungles, I might have taken high rank as a wizard, but 1 threw away the opportunity, laying my embryo mantle on Moung Tha ; thereby adding yards to his social stature. That village was burned to the ground a few weeks aftcr my departure, A gang of dacoits who werc hovering about the neighbourhood received the blame, but I have always had an uneasy feeling in my own mind that that burning glass had something to do with the disaster. 55 CHAPTER V. THE SHWAY DAGONE PAGODA. Even as the grcat Pagoda is the most prominent feature in the landscape as you approach Rangoon from the sea or from any direction, so it is by far the most famous and sacred of all the countless pagodas to be found throughout the country. Smaller shrines, the erection of some one pious individual fall to ruin and decay after the death of the builder ; but the Shway Dagone has national sanctity, and more merit is to be gained by sticking a square of gold leaf upon its side, than by completely restoring a dozen of the lonely and neglected little pagodas on the banks of the creeks in the delta. The low hill on which the Shway Dagone stands is, save the plateau hard by occupied by the barracks, the only high ground in the district. The top has been levelled and built up, and forms a wide square platform upon which stands the Pagoda surrounded a space apart by zayats, image houses and altars, backed by foliage. The lower slope is moated and built up on all four sides, enclosing the whole summit, and converting it into a fort. It is merely the conversion of Burmese defensive vvorks into British, The place vvas a strong one in native 56 IN THE SHADOW 01 THE PAGODA. hands as witness the many graves of Englishmen in thc north-east corner ofthe platform among the mangoes and bamboos ; and the batteries rather enhance than detract from the dignity of the Pagoda, while the)' in no way impair its sanctity. It is to be noted that the guns occupy a lower terrace than the platform, and that there is no communication between the two. The approaches are four, each over a drawbridge spanning the moat. That on the east is not particularly striking from vvithout, but it overlooks a grand panorama of jungle, field and lake. The north entrance, facing the commissariat elephant lines, is little used and its brick steps have crumbled into a rugged slope. The west gate, overlooking the artillery barracks, native lines and cantonments, is closed by the military authorities. The principal entrance, and by far the most imposing, is the southern at which meet the roads from Poozoon doung on the east, Kemindine on the west, and the town on the south. The lowest flights of steps are open fo the sky and are flanked by open-mouthed monsters sit ting on their haunches. Just behind these, the steps aie covered in by magnificently carved seven-fold roofs, up held by pillars of brick or wood. The whole long series of flights up to the Pagoda court is thus enclosed, and as the sides are blocked by kyoungs and rude stalls for the sale of offerings the way is one of greater or less dark ness. Parts of the ascent are so dark that the most reck less ofthe European sailors who visit the Pagoda must approach at a pace becoming its solemnity. You must feel your way, and that cautiously, up the worn irregular steps, no two of which are alike in height or breadth. The last flight, that giving upon the platform, is the darkest and most dangerous ; which suggests intention THE SHWAV DAGONE PAGODA. 57 to compel reverent approach. The devout Bhuddist removes his sandals, or shoes and stockings if he wear them, down upon the road and carries them in his hand. The tolerance of the people allows the white man to re tain his boots in any part of the Pagoda surroundings. I compare this, involuntarily, vvith the angry outcry that warned me, an unconscious trespasser, off sacrcd ground in Ambar, theold Rajpoot capital. Passing the dragon-guarded entrance on a big " Pagoda day," is trying to the nerves of unseasoned strangers, and gives the most hardened resident a twinge of appre hension. The steps are lined three deep with clamorous beggars whose hideous diseases are their stock-in-trade. Lepers shew arms eaten off to the elbow, or footless shins to stir your charity ; smaU-pox patients in ad vanced stages offer their malady in exchange for pice. Any bodily misfortune, the more loathsome the better, gives title to a place on the Pagoda steps. Save about the time of the full moon, the court is left in comparative solitude, but you vvill find one or two worshippers there any morning or evening. The de votional attitudes differ for the two sexes. The man poises himself on his toes, sits upon his heels and mut ters his prayer to his knees, above which his hands are pressed together. The woman kneels, sitting back upon her heels. While praying, a single blossom of the white frangipani is held between the fingers ; this is an offering to be after placed on altar or in shrine. Very often, instead ofa flower, a praying flag is offered ; this is a tiny flag clipped in white paper and mounted on a thin bamboo slip. They are sold on the stalls at the south entrance, and may be seen intermingled vvith dead and dying flowers where the worshippers have left them. THE SHWAY DAGONE PAGODA. 59 As you pass the cavernous shrines, pariahs sneak out licking their chops and looking back to snarl and bark ; insolent crows tardily seek the roof to drop again upon offerings of rice and fruit. Sparrows, pert as ever, twitter over the good things provided not for them, and in thc gloom vvhere Bhudda sits ghostlike, bats flit to and fro, secure from the blazing sun vvithout. The furnishings of the four principal shrines are a strange medley ; gilt and fragile white paper umbrellas are collecting dust ; lamps of English make, gorgeous in gilt mounts and coloured glasses, depend from the carved ceiling ; long limp wisps of muslin and cloth cross from pillar to pillar; vases for flowers and praying flags, and vessels which have contained rice, are scattered on the floor ; rude iron-work stands spiked or socketed for candles are all round, and the air is heavy with the smell of molten tallow. All round the Pagoda, alternating with altars, strange man-headed beasts sit bolt upright staring with mean ingless moon faces out over the court at the maze of seven-roofed shrines, zayats and image houses vvhich crowd the outer edge under the trees. These buildings are the work of merit-seeking piety, and each rivals its neighbour in richness' and beauty of carved teak gable and falling screen. Among them are stucco altars niched to receive candles and flowers, and bells suspended on rude gallows not alvvays upright. The great bell, whose history is written in Shway Yoe's exhaustive book " The Burman," hangs under its own splendidly carved seven-storied and spired roof. Images of the Bhudda arc numerous. They are in all materials and in every stage of newness and dilapidation from the latest arrival, a spotless figure in white marble sheltered under 6o IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. a glass case (!) to the worm eaten wooden images, which huddled out of sight among the trees, are falling into the decay which has long since overtaken their donors. Statues in brick, modelled over vvith plaster, are com monest ; teak is also much used ; the alabaster-like marble which rings to the touch like iron is less in vogue, but bronze statues are many. Bhudda is represented in three attitudes only. Standing erect with hand upraised in the act of teaching; sitting vvith crossed legs, hand on knee, the other in the lap palm uppermost as if awaiting alms ; and lying, head supported on arm. His ear lobes reach his shoulder; all his fingers are of equal length, and his toes; Sitting and lying, his eyes are downcast in meditation. The face never varies ; it is always calm, passionless, majestic; human, yet higher than human. In the candle-lit dark ness of the shrine the placid face inspires awe. Images, ten or twelve feet in height, are numerous cnough ; but in parts of the country there are statues of enormous size. The largest I have seen is the recum bent figure near the sacred lakes some eighteen or twenty miles from Maulmain on the Amherst Road, It is sixty or seventy feet from head to heel, but is not imposing: the plaster about the legs has fallen away re vealing the brickwork, and the face is not modelled with the skill that makes the smaller figures praiseworthy specimens of the sculptor's art. The climate deals hardly with images in the open air ; it is nobody's busi ness to keep the pious work ol an Dther in repair, and the Bhuddas exposed to the sun and rain of Lower Burma go the same way as the pagodas whose object is fulfilled by their erection. The majority of the buildings and altars on thc IHE SHWAY DAGONE PAGODA. 6i Shway Dagone platform are in good preservation, and harmonise for the mostpart. There is one discordant note, the result, of course, of civilisation. Amon;^ the altars and dragons round the base of the Pagoda, some un fortunate impulse has prompted the erection of iron lamp-posts of the commonest English street pattern Their broken panes and bent brackets show they are no one's charges now. If thcy vvere a gift, it was a cruel one. And above all the pious erections of centuries, the great gilded mass of the Pagoda itself sweeps from broad base to tapering spire, glittering in the sun. Thc summit, with its jewelled iron-work htee, belongs less to earth than sky, and the tinkling of its bells might bc the music of the spheres. The impression received at night is a lasting one. No work of human hands rouses deeper interest in the people that raised it, and in the religion of which it is a monument. The Full Moon of Taboung, at the end of March, is the greatest of the many annual festivals in Rangoon and is essentially the Shway Dagone Feast. For days beforehand people from the district have been pouring into the town. The steamers from up country arc crowded ; hundreds oi visitors come over from Maul main and from distant Tavoy and Mergui. The railway discharges its crowds of passengers, and in the first dozen miles out on the Prome Road you will come upon twenty encampments of pilgrims on the way by bullock cart. The question of accommodation does not arise in this climate during the hot weather; in March it is pleasantest to have only a mosquito curtain between your bed and the stars. On the morning following the night when the moon SHRINE or THE GREAT BELL. THE SHWAY DAGONE PAGODA, 63 has reached its full, the Pagoda court and the slopes of the nili present a wonderful sight. Every approach is thronged by brilliant crowds ; the platform itself is .n vast kaleidescope of gorgeous colour and dazzling white. There is nothing to indicate that the gathering has any religious motive ; the low hum of talk and laughter, and the quiet bustle are more suggestive of a National " At Home." The shrines are ablaze with the light of countless candles, and in every cavity in the long-niched wall round the Pagoda and on thc altars limp dips gutter smokily over blackened beds of tallow. Here and there on the lower steeps of the Pagoda, a seeker after merit has clambered painfully up to cling like a fly while he sticks on a patch of gold leaf, bought for a few annas in the bazaar. Now and again the deep musical boom of a bell bids the Master note some worshipper's offering or prayer. Scattered on the pave ment, about every bell are stags' antlers to serve as strikers. These lend themselves again to proof of Bhuddist tolerance. You may see a group of booted and spurred Englishmen, antler in hand, trying who shall strike the loudest note, while the people stand round sometimes interested, sometimes indifferent, but never disapproving. Devotional exercises are got through at dawn, and the rest of the morning is a social function. From daylight, the south and east approaches are crammed with the upward stream ; the crowd is densest and gayest from eight to nine ; then the tide sets down again. Business goes on very much as usual in the bazaar and godown on the Feast day, but the number of Europeans to be seen at the Pagoda is surprising. The "rice wallah" is there, he says, to pick up news from jungle C4 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA, men about supplies of paddy in the district. I never knew him disclose any information acquired at thc Pagoda, but perhaps it is imparted under seal of secresy. The " piece-goods " people are there to a man. The European firms do a large import trade in silks and cottons, and Manchester clothes the majority of Burmans in the loud red and yellow, green and J-ellow, and blue and yellow tartans most affected. Everyone puts on his best pasoh and goung-boung for the occasion vvhich certainly affords excellent opportunity of seeing what patterns and styles are most in vogue ; for a goodly number are wearing clothes purchased for the feast, and the bazaar for days pre viously has been as busy as Bond Street before a Drawing-room. But in view of the Burmese giris' conservatism in the matter of dress it seems strange that thc piece-goods men should devote so much atten tion to the their attire Feminine fashions in Burma ai-e as permanent and lasting as the Pagoda itself. The working house-dress is a cotton tamein reaching from breast to knee. In the bazaar the lady appears in a silk skirt trailing a {t\v inches on the ground, a white linen jacket vvith very tight long sleeves ruffled oyer wrist and forearm, and a pink or yellow kerchief lying loosely about the shoulders. On Pagoda days and great occasions she unconciously emulates her Western sisters by donning a tamein vvith a "train." Colours, patterns and cut of cach tamein do not vary. On the other hand the man is alvvays ready to adopt the latest creation in giant checks, and the European merchant employs a Burman designer to evolve novelties in this direction for the guidance of the manufacturer at home.^ Between nine and ten o'clock the crowd"" OP the THE SHWA Y DAGONE PAGODA. 65 Pagoda platform begins to drain away ; during the heat of noon the vast majority of visitors sleep in the zayats and kyoungs vvhich extend down both sides of the road to town, or make themselves comfortable in the shade of the Cantonment gardens just over the vvay from the south entrance. The morc restless find on the hill slope opposite the barracks means of secular, not to say frivo lous amusement. Here the enterprising Madras man has set up the swing-boats and merry-go-rounds which receive such liberal patronage on the Maidan during the race meetings. Jungle men do not taste these delights in their own quiet villages ; the Taboung festival affords them their annual opportunity to visit Rangoon, and they feel it a duty to make the most of it. Hence they cast their easy-fitting dignity to the winds and old men and boys alike tuck up their best pasohs and whirl round joyously on the battered hobby horses, gleefully abandoning themselves to the fun. A switch-back in Rangoon would make the owner's fortune. There are abundant opportunities in the toddy sellers' shanties, but in spite of the heat and excitement there is neither drunkenness nor rowdyism among the vast crowd. It is noisy enough in all conscience, but a more thoroughly jovial and good-tempered throng would be impossible. Contact vvith civilisation has done the Bur man little harm in these respects. CHAPTER VI. AN IDLE MORNING. It is past six o'clock. My watch succumbed to the climate years ago, but I knovv it must be long after six be cause my servant has come in, and, with his head and shoulders smothered in a dingy red blanket, is putting out my clothes. Nothing short of an earthquake would rouse Moung Tso from his sleeping mat at sunrise in the cold weather. " You are very late 1 " I say, sternly, scrambling from under the mosquito curtains. " Your honour," with a comprehensive shiver ; " it is very cold this morning." Like most Burmans Moung Tso is truthful. It would be unfair to say he is too lazy to invent excuses, but he is lazy enough to leave most things undone. There are good Burmese servants, but if you are not a Government official, and want a Burman " boy," you must take what you can get. I wanted one for the sake of the language, and Moung Tso deigned to oblige me. Flow great a favour he conferred in accepting fifteen rupees a month to look after my clothes and wait at table vvas evidenced by his choice of pronouns vvhen he took up the appointment : he employed the first person singular Nga of superiority and approached me with AN IDLE MORNING. 67 neighbourly familiarity as Kimbya. He was also frankly disinclined to let my convenience interfere vvith his own private engagements. Now, however, we havc changed all that. He is not a bad boy on the whole. Caught up from the village just outside the compound, to this his first situation, he knows none of the profitable tricks of thc too enlightened boy from Madras or Bengal. His pay-bill each month, written out for him by a clerk in the office, is unswelled by larcenous charges for " bazaar cooly," " ncedil, coton, thred," " cote-buttan," " boot-blak," and like fictions. Nay, so guileless is he that he does not even " go dhobi 'ouse get ting Master clean shirt " when he wants a midday nap. On the other hand he vvill never put in shirt studs properly if' he lives'. to be ninety; nor is there the faintest hope of his earning the silk pasoh I havc pro mised him when his blacking brush discriminates between brown shoes, patent leathers, and bluchers. Also he would resign Jiis situation a dozen times over rather than have upon his head the blood of one single gorged mosquito. This last is a matter of conscience, not in dolence ; but I am unaware of any passage in the Precepts that prohibits the mending of mosquito nets. Moung Tso does not like being found fault with. " Si-ga!at ingyee lah ? " he asks, sulkily. " What do you say ? " I demand, emerging from thc rough towel and fixing him vvith an eye. " Will your honour \vea.v si-ga/at ingyee?" he enquires morc respectfully. Why the Burman cannot apply to English the th A'hich abounds in his own language is a mystery. Onc F 2 68 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. vvould imagine, too, in view of the phonetic gymnastics to which he subjects his consonants, that he should find it easy to combine the sounds of " c " and " I " in cloth. But he cannot do it, and " si-galat " is " thick cloth " Burmescd. It is a very cold morning — for Bassein ; I can see my breath quite distinctly ; a flannel coat vvill be comfortable until the sun gains strength. At inter vals along the village street just outside the compound the people are squatting over their fires. Burmese dwellings do not lend themselves with any safety to fire- building, and consequently, when a householder gets up on a morning like this, the first thing he does is to step into the street and rekindle last night's half-burned wood. When it burns up, his next-door neighbours come and help him keep it warm. Chota haziri of tea and toast despatched, I light a cheroot and go out. Our house, a handsome two- storied teak building, is dwelling house above and ofifice below. In front stretches the best-kept lawn in Lower Burma — it is one of my senior's hobbies — and beyond, on the other side of a low grey wall, flows the wide Ngawoon river. On the right, divided from the garden by wall and ditch, a rare hunting ground for rats as the dogs knovv well, stands the huge rice " godown," whose dreary desert of corrugated iron roof is half hidden from the house by trees. That godown is one of lhe largest at any Burma rice port, covering vvith the mill that forms its heart, nearly three acres. Its waste of patched uneven flooring is bare enough novv. A speculative crow is pattering about the boards, squarking from time to time as if to enjoy the ring of the echoes in the roof Smut, my smooth English terrier, sworn foe of crows, dashes at the bird, and drives him on swishing wing HOUSE AND RICE MILL AT PADOUKCHOUNG. ¦JO IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. to shelter under the eaves. There is absolutely nothing going on at Padoukchoung in the cold season, and I spend these idle early mornings among our Burmese employees, who occupy a row of houscs in the farthest corner of the godown compound. We have no white neighbours nearer than the town of Bassein, vvhich stands out of sight two miles up the winding river on the other side ; and I do not always feel energetic enough to take my gun and look for jungle fowl in the bush behind the village. It is quite a respectable walk through the godown and along the river bank to the Burmese quarters. There is nobody about except the Punjuabi chaukidar vvho is squatting on a stone by the water performing his toilet. He says " Jao !" to Smut, vvhich unclean animal ventures to sniff at his brass lotah, and as I call the dog off, pauses in brushing his teeth with a stick to rise and salaam. Either for economy's sake, or from choice, the native of India uses a stick as a tooth-brush. Com pulsory experiment in the jungle leads me to think it is economy. From across the river comos a babel of squeaking and grunting ; for there dwells a colony of Chinamen, vvhose vocation is pork. Judging from the number of pigs, they must do a thriving trade in the bazaars. Europeans are not addicted to the consump tion of Chinese cured pork ; there are doubts concern ing the diet of the pigs. When I reach the row of neat houses in the corner of the compound ev^erybody is up and past the fire-nursing stage. Pho Miah and Moung Choe, the old paddy bro kers, clad in fur-lined coats, are already deep in their matutinal chess ; and for lack of other occupation, the rest ofthe residents, and a few early visitors, are looking AN IDLE MORNING. 71 on. Chess is very popular among the elderly and intel ligent Burmans, and these two old men vvill squat over the board, playing game after game vvithout stopping, for half a day. I do not play chess myself, but I know just enough of the English game to recognise the dif ferences between that and the Burmese. The board is a massive article, about two feet square and an inch and a half thick, standing on four stout feet. Therefore when the winner's feelings compel him to give them relief by dancing on the board he can do it safely, Pho Miah and Moung Choe get wildly excited over their games, but are too staid to go such lengths as that; nevertheless, an English chess-board vvould soon succumb to their vigorous moves. The British tar's determined method of playing the winning card at "all fours" on the fo'c'sle is gentleness itself compared with Pho Miah's thump when he places a piece to check his opponent's king : it makes the vvhoie collection jump. The pieces are admirably adapted to express emphasis, being clumsy things mod elled in earthenware, five times as large and heavy as EngHsh chessmen. Their style is much more warlike than ours. The king, min, is attended by a chief, boh, a figure with a sword, instead of by his queen ; the war-chariot, vittah, two wheels supporting a shapeless something, re places the castle, to which it corresponds in respect of powers ; the knight is represented in person and move by the pony, myin ; and the elephant, sin, certainly is more suggestive of warfare than the bishop which vvith greater mobility it replaces. The arrangement of the pieces is totally different from that approved in Eng land, and could only be described by diagram. Thc squares are all the natural dingy brown of the wood, and tvvo deep-cut lines crossing the board from corner 72 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. to corner play an important part in regulating the moves of the pieces. Moung Choe is evidently out of form this morning, and, soon after I join the circle round the board, makes a mistake, Pho Miah rises on his toes, clutches his boh, and plants it again with a crash. " Kw6 ! "* Moung Choe gives a grunt of vexation, and takes his cheroot from his mouth to consider the position, while Pho Miah, poised on his toes, parts his knees the better to survey the field. " Ko Moung Choe now can make one move safely, sir," whispers Shway Oo the store clerk, grinning and nodding to me. " Only onc move, I see which it is, sir," Moung Choe is doubtful ; he tries the probable effect of a move vvith this piece and that, muttering to himself the while, but cannot make up his mind ; and, after three minutes' earnest cogitation, moves his myin with a dubious thump. " Kw6 ! " from Pho Miah again, advancing his sin vvith truly elephantine step. Shway Oo was wrong ; the game is not lost yet. In deed it is only now getting really exciting. The audience puffs absently at its cheroots, sinks upon its heels, and wad dles in to wedge itself closely round the champions, each man obviously panting to advise, Moung Choe throws back his warm jacket, and leans forward to concentrate his whole mind on the situation. "Yattah," hints Shway Oo, " Boh," suggests Chit Oo, who, I believe, holds a higher opinion of his own skill than do his friends, Moung Choe looks from one to thc * " Dead " or " killed " the Burmese equivalent of " check." AN IDLE MORNING. 73 other, and clasps his hands about his shins. The move ment is the signal for an outburst of advice. Half-a- dozcn hands gesticulate, the corresponding half-dozen pounce on two or three pieces to show the proper move, while each of half-a-dozen voices strives to gain thc embarrassed player's ear. Pho Miah smokes calmly. He is confident of victory, and rather enjoys the row ; it is a tribute to his play. Moung Choe, pelted from all sides vvith opinions, re signs any of his own he may have cherished, and ex citedly argues with his advisers the merits and demerits of theirs. After ten minutes the uproar is suddenly quelled by two advocates seizing his wrist and com pelling the move they recommend. It has evidently been a judicious one, for, though a roof of heads conceals the board, Pho Miah's face betrays increased interest. Thc torrent of advice is now turned with beautiful impartiality upon him ; but he pays little attention to it, keeping his head and his own counsel. A decisive thump, momentary silence, and then a redoubled roar of advice hurled at Moung Choe indicates another good move. Presently a desperate bang, and silence is quickly followed by a triumphant crash from Pho Miah ; and the shouting au dience falls apart with chessmen raining on its shins. Pho Miah has checkmated and Moung Choe has cleared the board with one comprehensive sweep of his arm. "A good game, sir!" says Shway Oo, rising and feeling his ancle where a quarter pound sin has caught him. " It was much a pity Moung Choe make that little mistake, sir. Upon that account he lost." The men are already collecting the battered pieces and setting them out for another game. Very little is said about the one just ended. That, by the waj', is one 7.\ IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. redeeming grace of the excitable and ofificious Burmese enthusiast. He never, vvhen the game is finished and over, insists upon demonstrating what ought to have been done. The loser's summary clearance ofthe board may act as a deterrent in this respect. But some among decorous English whist players might take note. The sun is growing hot in the still air, and the chess players adjourn vvith the board from the sand-strewn space before the houses to Shway Oo's verandah. The store clerk's is a species of show house. When jungle people comc in the busy season they are permitted to stand without and feast their eyes upon Shway Oo's front room. Beside long-armed chairs, and a table re tired from European service for age and decrepitude, vvhose wounds are veiled under a flaring red table-cover, thc owner has gone in largely for minor refinements, well calculated to make the simple country people stare Pictures from the Graphic and Illustrated adorn thc brown wooden walls; photographs, sadly disfigured by damp, in now neutral coloured plush frames hang from huge nails. But most prized and prominent are the nic- nacs ; these dot the table, crowd the cross-pieces of thc wooden walls and cover carved teak brackets. Here are animals in coloured china, camels, monkeys, dogs, cats and frogs ; there, sitting mandarins whose tongues used to wag ; Arcadian shepherds and shepherdesses, and Three Little Maids from School, late of Oxford street, W. All rather the worse for wear, A few Benares models of natives shrink into obscure corners, clearly being, in Shway Oo's eyes, less valuable than the EngHsh pro ductions. These are castaways from our house vvhich in its time has known many masters, married and single. A few years back a lady going home presented a AN WLiL MORNING. 75 number of old drawing-room things to Shway Oo whose duties often took him upstairs and whose respectful admiration of such articles she had observed. Since then his collection has been increased by periodical con tributions till he now possesses an assortment of four- penny ornaments unrivalled by any in the Province. Shway Oo is the only Burman I ever knew afflicted vvith a craze for porcelain dolls and china camels. A shallow legless cot containing the heir to all this wealth hangs by long cords from the crossbeam over head. Burmese babies lie more comfortably than do their parents. Shway Oo's infant is deposited on a pile of soft, pliant rush mats, and to the cords two feet abovc him is tied a towel, now twisted up out of the vvay, vvhich hanging dovvn, serves as a purkahkcpt in motion by the swing of the cradle. Among no people is thc baby more master of the house than among the Burmese. A society for the prevention of cruelty to children would find time hang very heavily on its hands in Burmah. Such a thing as intentional cruelty to a child is unheard of, and more fond or indulgent parents do not exist in any country civilised or barbarous. Mah Noo Mee, Mrs. Shway Oo, is not in the house at the moment. Passing out of the compound gate, and following the path to the creek vvhich enters the river here, I see her kneeling in the stern of a canoe drawn partly up on the mud, washing her hair over the side, Mah Noo Mee, even among her well endowed sisters has splendid hair ; her smooth black coils are thicker than those of any woman about the place. Now she has taken some of them off; one "switch" (I am told that is the term) is spread out on the flat stern piece of the canoe drying in the sun and Mah Noo Mee is swishing 76 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. another about in the water while she talks to Hpo Hpay the fisherman who is patching a net in his heavy fishing canoe a few yards away. There is no false shame among thc Burmese in the matter of false hair. Man or woman vvill sit on the verandah and in sight of all the village comb out a thick tail of hair, and as publicly vvind it in vvith their natural tresses. Now I am come thus far I may as well go on to Takine village across the creek, which here, at its junction with the river does duty as harbour for a score or two of paddy boats. So I send the unwilling Smut home, and skirt round the jungle to the road which terminates in a high-arched wooden bridge over the stream. Here comes a lively party bound, I suppose, for the ferry to Bassein. I'our or five bright-looking girls in their best clothes, flowers in their hair, and powdered as to their faces with the candid tandket. The powder is only used for the sake of coolness ; as an aid to beauty it vvould be literally a glaring failure. Thcy are packed in a passenger bullock- cart, under the care of a demure matron to chaperone, and a sulky-looking young man to drive. The cart is a remarkable piece of wheeled architecture, built on the lines of a cock's comb, the body appearing to be no re lation to the wheels. Like the Burmese boat it curves boldly up behind, and though springless is by no means an uncomfortable conveyance on a smooth road. The driver sits on the base of the pole in an ornate species ot forecastle so that he can command the tender spots ot his bullocks with the blunt point of his stick. The Burman driver, be it noted, is as humane as the Madrasi is brutal, depending far more on his voice than his rod. The cattle, bright red bays, are gorgeously caparisoned with broad scarlet strips of cloth sewn with harness bells. 7S IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. On grcat occasions the bullocks are belted and festooned all over with scarlet bands ; but the practicable harness is always sweetly simple, consisting ofa cord through the nose tied behind the horns, to which the rein, a single stouter cord, is secured. High ornamental yoke-pieces hold their necks to the cross-bar on vvhose carved peak a vigorously executed figure squats or dances. At their throats hang chased copper bells squared like English sheep bells and vvith two noisy tongues. A good pair ot bullocks can be made to go at a very tolerable pace at their short jerky trot and are not deficient in staying power. The party disappears in a cloud of red laterite dust, and I cross over the bridge to Takine. Half the village was burned to the ground last hot season, and rebuilding h.as progressed very slowly, as do most works in Burmese hands. That village fire was the means of furnishing a notable study in thc national character. Some people call it laziness ; others, more thoughtful, fatalism ; but ail agreed that the behaviour of the people on the occasion referred to was eminently characteristic. Thc fire occurred at about seven o'clock one morning, and was reported by one of the mill hands vvho happened to sce the smoke burst upwards at an eariy stage. Takine did not stand on my employer's estate, but many ot the people werc boat-owners vvho worked for them, and, though the houses were worth little, the narrow creek was full of valuable paddy boats vvhose loss would be serious. The mill fire-engine was small, but powerful ; and I at once had thc hands summoned and ran the engine down to the burning village. Three or four houses at the end farthest from the creek were blazing as only planks and dhunny thatch can AN IDLE MORNING. 79 blaze. The heat vvas terrible, and there vvas just the faintest breath of win^ blowing up the river to carry sparks on to the neighbouring roofs. All thc houscs stood vvell apart from one another throughout the village, and there seemed good prospect of confining thc fire to its then dimensions, for the river was within easy reach of the supply pipe, and the engine hands pumped vvith a vvill. In spite of their exertions the next house caught almost as soon as I had persuaded the owner to move out his few goods, and then the next. The heat made work at the engine handles exhausting, and vvhen the men were tired out and streaming with per spiration I called upon the villagers to relieve them. No one moved except to urge his neighbour to do so. I called again, and the goung responded. He vvas an old man and had no immediate interests at stake, for his house stood at the farthest end of thc village, right ovcr the creek ; but, by vvay of setting example as a Govern ment ofificial, he girded up his loins and taking his stand by the pump called for men. His son and another young man got up unwillingly, carefully laid aside their cheroots, slowly twisted up their pasohs, and gingerl)' felt the handles. The rest of the population squatted round and laughed. I was weak from a long bout of fever, but at least four men vvere necessary to work the engine and I turned to myself, cursing the idiotic sloth of the people. We did not do much. The old goung vvas soon literally " pumped out," and when he stopped the other two stopped. The progress of the fire had been checked, but delay would be fatal, so, leaving the engine, I pounced upon the tvvo men nearest and, laugh ing in strained sympathy vvith them and their friends, drove them to work. They pumped half-heartedly for Co IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. five minutes ; then, as ill-luck vvould have it, a flight of paddy-birds streamed by overhead. They wheeled about to hover over the rolling smoke, and the flames gleamed rosy-pink on their snow-white plumage. The screeching of the pump ceased as I glanced up at them, " Ahmay ! Red paddy birds I Look ! Red paddy birds ! " The sight was too much for the lazy wretches at the handles. They squatted on their heels, re-lighted their cheroots and stared upward in delighted astonishment. I grew desperate. " Whose house is that ? " I demanded, pointing to the onc now threatened. The thatch was curling and scorch ing, and another two minutes would see it well alight. " Your honour, that is the house of Pho Too and his brother," replied twenty voiceo. " Where is Pho Too .? " " He is there." I turned. The man indicated was one of the two I had driven to the pump. Hc was squatting on the root of a tree, smoking, " Are you Pho Too ? " He nodded. " Is that your house .' " He nodded again and smiled pleasantly. " It vvill be on fire at once," I said, catching his infec tious coolness. " Yes, your honour, I think so," he answered, con tracting his brows and looking at it vvith a disinterested air. I burst out laughing ; I could not help it : and the assembled population rocked to and fro roaring with AN IDLE MORNING. Si merriment, as though this idea of trying to put out a fire were the greatest joke in the world. As farther endeavours to save their property would have marred the innocent pleasure these light-hearted people found in its destruction, I told the serang to coil up his hose and take the engine home. Why vvhen the villagers so thoroughly enjoyed a blaze at their own expense should an officious white person interfere ? So the fire had its fling and a couple of hours later burned itself out on the margin of the wide pathway that cuts Takine in two unequal halves. Some municipalities in Burma, that of Bassein among them, do their utmost to enforce simple and sensible provisions against fire. Every dweller in a house roofed vvith the inflammable dhunny must have fixed on the comb of his roof, brackets to support large chatties of water. In case of danger these vessels are smashed with the thrust of a long bamboo and the roof, instantly flooded, is safe from ignition. Also each house holder is compelled to keep outside and ready for emer gency two rude instruments, a " fire-hook " and a " mee- put" for which lalter there is no English equivalent. The fire-hook is merely a long bamboo carrying a sharp wooden peg spliced at an acute angle, a most efificacious instrument for tearing off the dhunny, which, when dry, the smallest wind-borne spark will ignite. The mee-put is a tool like a broad bladed paddle, well adapted for beating out the beginnings of a fire. At Padoukchoung and below, we are without the municipal pale, so any man may burn down his house when he likes. It was quite in keeping with their conduct at the fire that the villagers should have sent an informal deputa tion asking the kind assistance of our carpenter's staff to G C3 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. help rebuild their houses, A request vvhich, I need hardly say, was refused. By consequence, though seven months have elapsed since the fire the houses are not all rebuilt yet. No doubt the rainy season has hindered operations, but in view of the style of architecture it does seem unnecessary to take so much time. Pho Too and his brother have done as much as most. The roof covers the rough jungle-wood uprights, and the beams to support the two levels of floor are in place. A quan tity of bamboo is heaped on the flooring beams, and a couple of discoloured sleeping-mats, a few rags of clothing, and a betel-box on the bare ground beneath, show where the proprietors pass their nights. The majority of those who were burned out are still quartered on their neighbours, vvhose hospitality is as unbounded as their laziness. There is no work going on this morning. Burmese labour uncontrolled is spasmodic, and one day's toil entails about four of total abstention to recruit. The seniors are squatting about the street in the shade, smoking and gossiping, and the juniors are engrossed in the sedentary delights of kite-flying. The Burman is great at kite-flying, but, as might be expected, he con structs his kite so that it may be flown without much exertion on his part. It is a very simple affair. You pare down two twelve-inch slips of bamboo, tie them at their centres crosswise, run a thread round the four tips, and paste upon this frame one thickness of paper. Tie a nail or a small screw-nut to one corner, and your kite is made. The altitude a well-made kite of this kind will reach is wonderful, and the lightest breath of wind will take it up, A hundred and fifty or two hundred yards of strong sewing thread, wound on a skeleton reel of four AN IDLE MORNING. 83 inches diameter and eight inches length, completes the equipment. Then, having started the kite by a process of gentle playing, you squat down in the middle of the street, so as to keep your thread clear of the houses, and let the kite help itself If you have fastened the thread vvith cunning the kite rises almost perpendicu larly, bringing you joy in the envy and admiration of those who cannot make a steeper angle than forty degrees. The kite having taken out all the thread, you sit and contemplate it poised still and clear in the upper air, for a few hours. It is a good plan to let somebody else have the reel to hold for a while before you want the kite down ; he vvill wind up the thread in return for the privilege. In Rangoon on a still morning or evening hundreds of kites float ovcr the Burmese quarter of the town, some nearly out of sight, others hovering just above the roofs. They are in all colours, like so many green, blue, red, and yellow square stars. The trees and telegraph wires are hung with forlorn skeletons from which the gay paper droops in limp rags. Fortunately a kite is cheaply made, and when one gets stranded thus in its descent the owner vvinds in all the thread he can, breaks it off, and goes home philosophically to manufacture another. The amusement is by no means the monopoly of childhood. When driving through the Burmese quarter your syce has frequently to halloo out of thc vvay a middle-aged man who is backing slowly down in mid street coaxing his kite up. He goes about the business with a ponderous solemnity that raises it to the dignity of a science. The sun is high over the betel palms, and I am beginning to think about breakfast. Returning over the G ?. C4 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. bridge the hollow "tonk, tonk" of a wooden cowbell from the jungle-shaded creek stops me. A stout bamboo planted in the shallow under the bank is bending and quivering to the tugs of what must be a fairly heavy fish on the hook and line attached to it. Three feet down the line, just over the water, a wooden box-like bell with two clappers is dancing noisily to call Hpo Hpay. The dodge vvould not commend itself to the setter of night-lines on an English stream, but in this free country water-bailiffs and watchers are unknown ; there are no restrictions upon ingenuity, and the fixed Hne with the bell attached is much in favour on the creeks. The advantage of thus making the fish notify his arrival is undeniable, for Burmese tackle is not always to be depended on. Hpo Hpay is not within hearing, but a small boy, guiltless of clothing, comes striding down the bank with an air of manly importance to answer the bell. He draws in the fish and throws it into a con venient canoe to die at leisure ; but it is not resigned to its fate, and flops and jumps so vigorously that its escape is imminent. The small boy is equal to the occasion ; he steps into the canoe and vvith his toes kindly but firmly holds the captive down till it ceases gasping and lies still ; meantime he rebaits the hook with elaborate care. Strict observance of the Law must sometimes afford the lower animals food for regret. The shade of the godown is welcome by the time I reach it again, and so the villagers seem to find it, for the short roofed wharves standing out into the river shelter groups of Burmans idling away the day in the cool breeze, and a few lank Coringa coolies who are deep in thc excitement offered by the pursuit of small game in each other's hair, "Snowball," a big black gibbon whoes AN IDLE MORNING. 85 mischievous propensities condemn him to perpetual con finement by chain, is similarly employing his lithe fingers upon the head of a Burmese youngster who lies on his back enjoying the agreeable sensation, while two more lads squat by awaiting their turn. In the busy season, when the godown is thronged, that gibbon has his hands full. Nobody is working except Hpo Hpay ; he is busy, for the tide has turned and is running down. His method of managing both canoe and net is ingenious. He lies half on his right side on the flat up-curving stern, feet foremost, and counteracts each powerful paddle-stroke by a sweep of his left foot with vvhich he throws the net overside fathom by fathom as he works across the current in a shallow crescent. The end of the net, which is some forty yards long, is held by a rope tied to a cross-batten in the canoe, and when the whole length is out Hpo Hpay ceases paddling and lets the current belly out the net down stream. After drifting a short distance he tows his end across to that floating loose and hauls up. He is doing vvell to-day. One cast as I stand watching brings three good hilsar of quite five pounds weight each. They are handsome fish, deep and large-scaled ; wholesome looking fellows too, as indeed they are ; the hilsar, in spite of the lavish generosity vvith vvhich Nature has filled it with loose bones, being quite the best fish known to the Anglo- Burman table. The osteology of the hilsar is a mystery to the anatomist and a trial to the gourmand. It is a jumble of loose bones which appear to have no connec tion with each other or vvith the owner's spine. Hpo Hpay is a fisherman by profession, and has doubtless weighed the inevitable unpleasantness of the hereafter against the market price of hilsar in the present. At C: IN THE SHADOW OF TIIE PAGODA. any rate hc does not waste time holding his lively captures down in the canoe till thcy die. With a handy little truncheon he knocks each on the head in the most businesslike vvay in the world, and sets to work to arrange the net for a fresh cast as calmly as though the Precepts were unwritten, A weather-beaten boat carefully lined with mats is lying alongside the ballast-strewn bank opposite one of the openings in the stockade wall of the godown, and Shway Oo, squatting in the shade, is bargaining vvith the owner, a withered old man vvho has come for a load of salt and does not want to pay the prescribed price ,He requires two hundred paikthah — a paikthah, otherwise viss, is 3-65 pounds — and is strongly of opinion that he ought to havc "a reduction on taking a quantity." I con firm Shway Oo's oft repeated statement that the market rate and no less can be accepted, and the old man gives way. A tallyman to weigh the salt and coolies to carry it to the boat arc summoned and the purchaser counts out his money, " Would the gentleman like to cat some turtle eggs ?" he enquires of Shway Oo when the transfer of coin is finished, Shway Oo asks the question doubtfully, I bought some turtle's eggs on his recommendation once before from a down-river man who was taking a quantity, collected on the sea-beach round beyond Cape Negrais, to Bassein for sale. The cook poached them and I screwed up my courage to taste one ofthe hideous re sults that came to table ; semi-transparent sickly whites vvith small, pale dead eyes of yolk. Stress of hunger, nothing less, vvould induce me to touch one of the leather-skinned, chalky-looking eggs again. But anti- AN IDLE MORNING. £7 pathy is no reason for hurting thc old_.man's feelings by refusing his present ; so I accept the offer vvith the greatest effusion. "They are fine large eggs," he says, returning from his boat vvith half-a-dozen, " and quite new ; I took them from the sand only three weeks ago." I say " it is very good," privately wondering how near the eggs were to hatching when taken from the sand ; they are rather firmer to the touch than the last I had. I place them carefully on the floor and we stand round admiring them in silence for a minute. Then the old gentleman collapses upon his heels and presses his hands together. " Builder of a Pagoda ! I want very much an old cloth coat," And he gives a pantomimic shiver of cold, I have never built a pagoda and it is highly improb able that I ever shall ; but I think I have got an old coat, so tell the suppliant if he will come up to the house before he goes I will try and find one. He prays for my preservation from all the accidents, all the diseases and all the misfortunes, and we part. He to go and super intend the salt-weighing, I to surreptitiously drop the horrible eggs in the ditch on my way to bathe and change. Before seeking the tub I turn over my scanty stock of discarded " Europe clothes." I have been too charitable this cold season, and can discover only an ancient tweed waistcoat. That will have to do, and I instruct Moung Tso concerning its disposal. Half-an-hour later, while I am splashing in the bath room he calls through the door. " Your honour, this son of the jungle says the coat is not good. It has no hands " (sleeves.) S3 IN THE SHADO jy OF THE PAGODA, " I have not got a coat vvith hands I can give him Moung Tso." In the muffled distance of the back verandah I over hear a long and earnest discussion, in vvhich our old deaf khitmugar bears a prominent part. And in time Moung Tso clumps downstairs to shout through the bathroom door again. That boy has no manners what ever. " Your honour this son of the jungle wants an old trousers." I order him away with commands not to address me through the keyhole. I shall be upstairs in a minute — and what in the world does the old man want with nether garments ? He is a little incHned to be pressing when he hears me re-enter my room, so I give Moung Tso a retired pair of tweed trousers and bid him tell the jungle man that he has leave to go. Moung Tso returns to say that the recipient considered the gift " very good," and that hc is going to walk up to the ferry and cross to Bassein ; he will call to thank me on his return. I am glad he is coming back ; a Burman in trousers would be a sight for the gods. That afternoon while I vvas writing letters in thc ofifice, a figure crept dififidcntly up to the door and squatted on the sill. It was my aged friend perspiring proudly in a coat of wondrous shape. " Your honour," he said, eyeing himself complacently, " it is a very beautiful coat," It was indeed. He had sheared off the legs of thc trousers well above the knees and promoted them tothe dignity of sleeves. 89 CHAPTER vn. THE BURMAN AT IIO-ME. I IIAVE reached the village of Kannee, on my vvay to the hills, whither I am bound on a shooting excursion. Perhaps I should say ivas bound, for having arrived here, there does not seem to be much probability of my get ting any farther. An hour before my arrival, Shway Mmaw, the old carpenter, brought in the startling news that he had seen a party of dacoits in the jungle only a few miles away. No one knows but that thcy are com ing to Kannee, and I find myself now in Moung Daw's house, surrounded by nervous villagers who are dolefully comparing notes on Shway Hmaw's meagre intelligence and promising themselves all the terrors of fire and sword before the sun sets. Of course no one vvill accompany me to thc hills, so my expedition is effectually stopped. In addition to this, my boatmen are so apprehensive for my honour's safety, that they have positively declined to face the re turn journey to Bassein,— a paddle of thirty miles through narrow jungle-fringed creeks. At Kannee, therefore, it is clear I must remain for the present ; so, vvith a view to the good graces of a village which h;is frequently supplied me with beaters, I make a virtue of Cio IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. necessity, and anno.-.nce my intention of staying here for to-day at all events. My hearers receive th^ infor mation vvith gratitude, and depart with voluntary pro mises to " follow " next time I come down to shoot. There is absolutely nothing to do at Kannee, which is just like a thousand other riverside villages in the paddy- growing districts of Lower Burma. A long street, not too clean, traversed by a raised brick-paved pathway in the middle, runs parallel to the river-bank, losing itself in the jungle at either end. The houses stand at irregular intervals on both sides of it, and are all built on much the same plan, whether they be frail erections of bamboos and mats, or — like Moung Daw's — more substantially constructed of beams and planks. Their size varies much, for everyone builds his own residence, and does it as he pleases, since in this happy valley there are no municipal regulations or local government rules to curb the exercise of a taste vvhich is sometimes a little eccentric. Before many houses there are bamboo frames upheld by poles, covered with luxuriant creepers which produce immense pumpkins. Their own stalks are insufficient to bear their weight long before they ripen, so the cultivators brace them neatly up to the framework to prevent their falling. This is the only gardening attempted within the village precincts ; outside, there are some ill-kept enclosures vvhere a few coarse vegetables are grown. The interior of a Burman's house conveys the idea that he had only enough material for one entire floor, and by vvay of obtaining variety, laid the front half two feet from the ground, and the rear half six feet higher; the true object ofthis arrangement being to avoid having THE BURMAN AT IIOME. 91 any one's feet overhead. Thus, a man standing on the front and lower floor has above him only the rafters, and the floor of the rear half has nothing below it but thc bare ground. The space between the two floors is left open altogether or is protected vvith lattice-work, and a flight of rude stairs enables the family to pass from one story to the other. The upper one is screened from public view by a partition, and is used as a general bed chamber, being walled in all round, vvith a window or two on the floor-level. The lower floor is generally open on all sides, and there the occupants may be found during the day, cooking, eating, lounging, or occasion ally working, in full view of the passers-by. Thc Vacant space below the bedchamber is utilised as store house, poultry-yard, and cattle-shed ; so the owner has his worldly goods under his protecting eye at all times. The conveniences of civilised life find no place in such villages as this, and the people get on in their quiet vvay very well vvithout them. The post-office is an institution unknown, for no one writes or receives letters. There is neither lighting, nor paving, nor drainage. There are no policemen, fbr there is nothing for them to do. No goats trespass on the road at Kannee, to be caught and impounded by the stern servants of the law ; and that, as everybody knows, is the occupation without vvhich, in the busy tovvn, the native Peeler vvould be as a lost man. My friend Moung Daw, thc goung or head-man, is the sole representative of the Imperial Government, He assists the thoog)'ce of the circle in the collection of taxes payable by the cultivators resident in the village ; is responsible for their good behaviour ; and, for the 92 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. faithful discharge of these duties, enjoys the handsome stipend of ten rupees per month. He is consequently regarded with much respect as the local magnate and leader of Kannee society. Most of the villagers are paddy cultivators or boat-owners, who work hard for five months in the year, and make up for their exertions by complete idleness during the remaining seven. Now, at the end of the hot season, work for both classes is just over, and everybody is at home all day. It is drawing on towards noon, and the heat is oppressive. I sit down to breakfast, grateful for the light breeze off the river which renders the house with its thatched roof tolerably cool. Even the restless pariahs have sought refuge from the rays of the terrible sun, but a score of naked children, still interested in my doings, though I havc been here often before, stand outside open-mouthed, keeping a sharp look-out for scraps of bread or meat : luxuries the recipients generously share with their friends. Mah Lay, the goung's wife, has finished boiling the rice, and now stands holding the grimy pot in both hands while she pours off the water and issues invitations to breakfast to a few favoured friends who are squatting on the road outside under the mango trees. " Ho, Pho Loo, came and eat ! Ho, Moung Gyee, rice ! rice ! Moung Tso, good little one, you want your morning food." Hcr shrill, good-tempered voice rouses the men, who drift in leisurely and sit down round the heap of steam ing rice Mah Lay has turned out on two fresh plantain leaves on the floor. The guests do not go through the ceremony of accepting the invitation in words. It looks rude, perhaps, but it is not so in reality. The manners TC J -U.M ,^Sfe- 1 iH I '¦ws-i^ HOUSES IN A JUNGLE VILLAGE. 54 IN TIIE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. of thc Burmese amongst themselves are always easy and pleasant, but unadorned by conventional courtesies. The hostess supplies more leaves to serve as plates, and each man helps himself from the common pile to a double handful of rice, which for the time being occupies all his attention — and fingers. A Burman never drinks in the course of a meal, but, having swallowed the last mouthful, goes to the chaUty that stands in a corner in every house, and takes a little water to wind up the entertainment. As a race they are naturally temperate, but few jungle men will allow an opportunity of tasting wine, beer, or spirits to pass. All these go by the name of " berrandy." There is no equivalent for r in Burmese, but the deficiency seems easily supplied by the Burman if he wants a little stimulant. Breakfast over, the men assemble round my chair for a chat. I present them with a cheroot apiece, but it is evidently not worth while for every man to smoke his own. Moung Daw, as host, Hghts his, and the guest^ stick theirs in their ears for future enjoyment, whilst the one is passed from mouth to mouth round the little circle. " Has your honour brought the medicine-box thi? time?" asks Shway Hmaw in a tone of deep interest. I have brought the box as usual, and my reply in the afifirmative elicits a general expression of opinion that " it is good." My stock of remedies is not extensive ; in fact it is as limited as it is simple in character, con sisting of vaseline, which is the universal cure if a man has anything wrong outside him ; and quinine, chlorq- dyne, and pills for inward application. Thus my patients run at least no danger of being poisoned, if they derive no benefit from the physic. I have travelled a great deal with the above assort- THE BURMAN AT HOME. 95 ment of medicines, and, absurd as it may seem, can confidently assert that their production at the right time, when the country vvas disturbed and villages abounded with bad characters, saved me from many difficulties. The men around mc are already discussing the patients who may want medicine, and I overhear sundry remarks on the " cases," which, literally translated, read like exercise phrases from a very primitive grammar. "Can his honour's medicine cure Moung Pay's heel?" " I think Moung Pay will die ; he is very thin." " Moung Pay's inside is sick, therefore he grows thin.'' " Bah Oo had much pain yesterday." " Yes, it was his belly ; he ate many mangoes." " The little medicine balls will be good for that.'' "Will his honour give medicine for Mah Gyec's cow?" " I cannot tell. Moung Daw will ask him." And so on for five minutes whilst I am unpacking my provisions to get at the box required, " Those people who want English medicine to-day may come to me and I will give it to them," 1 say witla the generosity of a man who has a boundless stock of health at his disposal, "Yes, your honour, it is very good," the men solemnly chorus. " Tell anyone who has hurt himself to wash and come to Moung Daw's house now," I continue, vvith candour unusual in doctors. The injunction to wash is very necessary, as I have found by experience that the acquisition of a nah- pouk " sick hole," be it wound, burn, or sore, is followed by total abstention from the use of water until the place IS healed. A curious thing, for the Burman is cleanly r.1 his personal habits, bathing regulariy every day when 96 IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA, water is convenient, and in this land of heavy rains few villages are not well supplied. Plalf-a-dozen little boys constitute themselves criers, and the proclamation is rapidly conveyed to every house in the village, resulting very shortly in a large assemblage of patients, some of vvhose troubles throw a striking side-light on the carelessness of the race. Mah Too's baby is the first. It has a sore head, acquired by being accidently laid on the hot clay fire place after the ashes had been remo\ed. Thc sha\en head of the poor baby is sadly scarred, but the accident occurred some time ago, and there is nothing to bc done, as the injury is healing up. Bah Oo's four-year boy. Abovc the piercing howls of thc patient, I gather that he kicked his father's dah as it lay stuck through thc floor, and cut his foot nearly through. In stentorian tones I prescribe washing, vase line and bandages to be applied at once; and recovering breath turn to Bah Oo himself Severe pains vvhich he thought indicated cholera, but his friends ascribe to mangoes. Is better now but vvould like medicine in view of a recurrence. Accepts one pill in both hands and chews it with mournful earnestness, dashed with pleasant anticipation of immediate results. Mah Gyee applies for advice regarding a large boil on hcr neck. Gratefully receives a strong recommenda tion to wash, and a bread poultice, which she is uncer tain hovv to use, and is too shy to ask mc about. Correcting Mah La}''s suggestion that her friend should eat it hot, 1 continue dispensing medical comforts and judicious advice, keeping a watchful e}'e on Moung Tso, vvho, acting on these occasions as my assistant, dis- THE BURMAN AT HOME. 97 plays great energy in the wa.shing department. Indeed the liberal use of warm water is the initial treatment in every instance, and it is two hours before the last patient takes his departure. Regretfully declining to go and see a man who is lying ill of small-pox at a village two miles off, I wander down the street, followed by Moung Daw, to see what has attracted the little crowd there. It appears that Moung Saik's eldest boy is to be tattooed to-day, and the Htokiviusayahgyce, great pro fessor of tattooing, has just arrived vvith his formidable- looking instrument and ink.s. Of all Burmese customs, one of the most singular is that of tattooing the person, from the waist to below thc knees, with figures in black ink. Every man in the country is thus adorned, and unless his skin be un usually dark, he looks at a little distance as though hc were clothed in a tight-fitting pair of knee-breeches. The custom is said to be falling into disuse, but I havc seen very few Burmans vvithout this "mark of manhood," vvhich is conferred upon him vvhen he is twelve or four teen years old. The operation is a curious one, and I was glad of the opportunity that now offered to see it, though aware that it takes at least two or three days to complete, Pho Myin, the subject, is lying quite nude on a mat, vvith a dazed look in his half-closed eyes, and breathing heavily. Moung Daw nods at him meaningly. " He has taken much opium," he says, grinning to mc. I am not surprised at it. If the Htokwinsayahgyee vvas going to exercise his art upon me for four or five hours I should follow the Burman's plan and take opium by way of an anaesthetic. H 9S IX THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. < The tattooing will show vvell upon the plump fair- skinned lad before us, and the professor c\ idently thinks he is a subject to take pains vvith, as he sits carcfullv mixing his ink in a joint of bamboo, and preparing his weapon. This is a brass rod nearly two feet long and about half an inch thick ; it is weighted at the top with a little ornamental figure, and at the other end has a hollow steel point divided by cross-slits into four fino pricks. The professor examines the "business end'' critically, and, having satisfied himself that it is sharp enough, tucks up his pasoh, and squats at Pho Mvin's side. Selecting a spot on the thigh, he places both feet on it a few inches apart, and, stretching the skin tight, draws the outline of the first figure — a tiger rampant — vvith an inky splinter of bamboo; tliis is soon donc, and relieving himself of a large mouthful of betelnut, the professor settles down to work in earnest. Leaning forward through his widel)- parted knees, he balances the brass style daintily, and, clasping it with the finger and thumb of the right hand, makes a " bridge ' of the left which he rests on the surface betweeii his feet. After .sliding the instrument through his fingers once or twice, as if to take aim, he makes a start and pricks away steadily vvith a light firm touch that is wonderfully quick and true. In less than five minutes the tiger with its surrounding border is finished, and the artist rcmoxcs his feet from the distended skin, and washes off tho superfluous ink to see how his work has come out. Evcr}-body presses forward to look at the picture, which shows up in bold relief on thc rapidi}- formed s\\ellii\^'. Moung Saik exchanges a remark with his wife, and the tattooer resumes his working position to draw thc out line of the next figure. THE DUR.MAN AT HOME. 99 The boy, stupefied with opium, lies insensible to the pain, whilst one figure after another appears on his skin. Deep as the points of the style sink, they draw little blood, but the limb swells in a manner that vvould alarm anyone who did not know it would return to its normal size in a day or two. Fever sometimes supervenes, and in that case the patient waits for a time before the work of illustration is resumed, so it often extends over a period of a week or ten days, during which the incon venience suffered is considerable. Without the aid of opium the process would be a much longer one. I found that I could not endure the application of the style for more than thirty consecutive seconds without flinching so much as to interfere vvith the operator's movements ; for the skin is pricked over so closely that it becomes painfully tender. Eight rupees is the usual fee paid to a tattooer for endowing a lad with breeches. The figures composing them vary little, consisting as a rule of tigers, nagas, dragons, and beloos, devils. Each one is surrounded with a border of sentences, generally illegible, invoking good luck upon the owner of the skin whereon they are inscribed. The waist and knees are neatly finished off with a tasteful edging of point or scroll pattem ; these sensitive parts of the body are always the last to bc done. " Where do the children go to school, Moung Daw ? " I ask as we leave Moung Saik's house. "At the hpoongyee kyoung, your honour. This vvay," and the goung marches off down the village with all the importance of a white man's cicerone. The kyoung stands a few hundred yards from the village in a grove of gigantic bamboos. It is an ancient tumble- H 2 loo IN THE SHADOW OF THE PAGODA. dovvn structure, built on piles nine feet high, which lean a dozen different ways. The beautifully-carved eaves are falling to pieces, and through numerous gaping cracks in its wooden walls a child's head is occasionally poked out and vvithdrawn. The babel of chatter from the interior of the kyoung seems to promise anything but a sight of industry, as, led by Moung Daw, I climb the rickety stairs, on which the growling pariahs lie as if waiting for school to be over. About thirty children are lying on their stomachs in rows on the floor, learning the alphabet ; each one has a ragged book, or it may be only a leaf before him, and, with his head supported on both hands, is repeating his lesson at the top of his voice, waving his feet energetically at the same time. This is a peculiarity of the Burmese system of tuition, and has undoubted advantages. If the old hpoongyee on his mat at the top of the room does not hear voices, >ie knows at once that the silent pupils are in mischief, and comes down upon them. Besides, if they adopted the more civilised method of learning, the master would inevitably fall asleep, and every child in the academy vvould be off to play hop-scotch outside. The heat has induced the hpoongyee to throw off his heavy yellow robe, and he squats, stripped from the waist upward, lazily waving a huge palmleaf fan as he stares at his unexpected visitors. A fat, mild-looking old man with clean-shaved head, he looks as though his rule vvas not one of iron. Our appearance produces a dead silence, indicating temporary suspension of work. Having asked about the establishment, I feel that I must not leave the Temple of Learning without some further show of interest in its doings. So after being introduced to the Principal as " the gentleman from Bassein," I sit Bi<;oK Q