n with Siam
difficult. On the north-west similar ranges of hills form a barrier
between Burma and the frontier provinces of India, and when I tell you
that all these mountains are densely covered with forest and jungle,
and that the rivers are wide, and in many cases unnavigable, you will
understand how it is that Burma is not better known, and that so few
people undertake the arduous work of exploring its interior. Only by
way of one little corner in the north-east, where Burma joins the
Chinese province of Yunnan, is access from the land side easy, and
here caravans of Yunnanese constantly enter the country to trade at
Bhamo and Hsipaw.

Otherwise, separated by its mountain chains and forests from the rest
of the world, Burma has for centuries remained untouched and
unspoiled, and it is only since the deposition of King Thebaw, in
1885, and the assumption of its government by England that the gradual
extension of the railway system is slowly bringing the interior into
easier communication with the outside world, and beginning to effect a
change in the character of the people.

CHAPTER II

RANGOON

Anyone wishing to visit Burma must land at Rangoon, for it is not only
the largest and most important of its seaports, but the only one that
has direct steamer communication with England, or by river traffic and
railways affords access to the interior. The harbour is formed by the
tidal estuary of one of the many mouths of the Irrawaddy. Here it is
very wide, and a large number of steamers and sailing ships ride at
anchor, loading or discharging their cargoes into lighters and
quaintly-shaped native boats.

Huge rafts of teak wood drift slowly downstream to the saw-mills below
the town, where trained elephants stack the logs with almost human
intelligence, and queer uptilted rowing boats, called "sampans," ferry
passengers across the river, or to the various vessels in the stream.
Long stretches of timber-built quays and iron-roofed "godowns" (or
warehouses) form the wharfs, upon which coolies of all nationalities
toil under the tropical sun. European officers in white drill and
sun-helmets superintend the loading of their vessels, longing to be
finished and away from a spot where everything vibrates and dithers in
the white glare.

On shore the smoke from the rice-mills adds to the already
overpowering sense of heat, while from across the water the noise of
hammered iron from the repairing yards completes a