r you to leave the East and come to school
in England.

Well, I may say that the English "Sahib" works very hard indeed, and I
am afraid he is already busy at his office long before we in England
have thought of getting up. Somewhere about six o'clock, after a light
breakfast called "chota-hazri," he is at his office, which he seldom
leaves till the evening. The offices are large and airy, and all the
windows are shaded by jalousies, or grass mats, which in hot weather
are wetted so as to cool the air as it passes through them. Slung from
the ceiling in long rows over tables or desks are the "punkahs," or
fans, which a "punkah-wallah" outside in the veranda pulls to and fro
with a rope in order to keep the hot air moving, and prevent the flies
and mosquitoes from settling. Every one, though clothed in the
lightest suit, works with his coat off, and in many cases, so as not
to interrupt the day's routine, "tiffin," or lunch, is eaten in the
office. Work is hard, steady, and continuous, and no one who has not
been there knows how well our relations in the East earn its many
compensations.

Life there is not _all_ work, however, and its social conditions are
very attractive. From the time when his "tum-tum"[2] arrives at the
close of office-hours and the "Sahib" bowls merrily homewards, a new
life begins. Town becomes deserted, and the suburbs awake to offer
amusement and relaxation to the workers.

[Footnote 2: Dogcart.]

Let us accompany one of our friends on his way home. The sun is
declining and the air already much cooler, and the drive through the
shopping streets and the squares is very enjoyable. The town is soon
passed, however, and broad roads well shaded with many tropical
growths lead to cantonments, as the suburbs are called. Here are the
military lines as well as the bungalows of the residents. These
bungalows are generally large and comfortable-looking, and one can see
from their broad verandas and well-shaded windows that they are
designed for coolness. Nearly all are built of timber, and each stands
in its own compound, which is usually gay with flowers and well
provided with shade-trees. Separated from the house but connected with
it by a covered walk are the kitchens, and in a corner of the garden
are the stables, for horses are an essential in Rangoon.

As we drive along the quiet roads they gradually become animated. The
ladies, who have been resting indoors during the great heat of the
day, pas