upon us, pawing us and pointing to a great image of Buddha shining out
in a ghostly way from a shrine at the end of the hall.

There are many little candles burning before it, most of them sticking
to the ground by their own grease. One of the monks takes one up and
holds it so that we can see the image, about twice life-size, seated in
that calm attitude of the sitting Buddha, with crossed legs and one hand
on the lap, while the other hangs loosely down. There is a serene
self-satisfied smirk on the marble face, which looks more like that of a
woman than a man. Ramaswamy explains to us that this is a very specially
holy Buddha, and that the little dabs of gold splashed here and there
about him are the offerings of the faithful; they are simply bits of
gold-leaf stuck on. Gold-leaf is expensive, for it is real gold beaten
very thin, and these little bits represent much self-denial on the part
of many poor people. A Burman's great object in life is to "gain merit"
for a future existence, for he thinks that he will live again and again
many times in different forms, and that as he behaves in this life so he
will be born again into a better or worse state in the next; if he is
very bad he runs the risk of becoming a snake or some other repulsive
reptile. He is not afraid of overdoing the merit, as the ancient
Egyptian was; the more he can pile up for himself the better, and the
way in which he does this is to feed the poongyis, build choungs and
pagodas, and set up or adorn figures of Buddha.

The priests at this choung own a priceless relic; it is no less than a
hair of Buddha! After some persuasion they are induced to show it to us.
They bring a great casket, which is solemnly unlocked, showing another
inside, and again another, and at last we get down to a little glass
box with an artificial white flower in it, round which is wound a long
and very wiry white hair. I should say many of the same sort could be
got from any long-tailed white horse!

[Illustration: BUDDHA.]

On a table near are various offerings, and among them we see a rather
greasy pack of ordinary playing-cards and a soda-water bottle, besides
several saucers of waxy white blossoms of the frangipani flower, such as
we saw in Ceylon, emitting a very strong scent. The soda-water bottle
and playing-cards look rather dissipated, but they are quite serious
offerings, given by somebody who thinks them rare and interesting. Our
ears for some time past have to