The governor was in session, seated on a
little dais, and the merchant ran in and knelt down, as is the custom,
in front of the dais. He began to hurriedly address the governor:

'My lord, my lord, an unjust complaint has been made against me. Someone
has abused your justice and caused a warrant to be taken out against me.
I have just escaped the bailiff, and came to your honour for protection.
It is all a mistake. I will explain. I----'

But here the governor interposed. He bent forward till his head was
close to the merchant's head, and whispered:

'Friend, have you any whisky?'

The merchant gave a sigh of relief.

'A case newly arrived is at your honour's disposal,' he answered
quickly. 'I will give orders for it to be sent over at once. No, two
cases--I have two. And this charge is all a mistake.'

The governor waved his hand as if all explanation were superfluous. Then
he drew himself up, and, addressing the officials and crowd before him,
said:

'This is my good friend. Let no one touch him.' And in an undertone to
the merchant: 'Send it soon.'

So the merchant went home rejoicing, and sent the whisky. And the lady?
Well, my story ends there with the governor and the whisky. No doubt it
was all a mistake about the lady, as the merchant said. All officials
were not so bad as this, and many officials were as strongly against
the use of liquor, as urgent in the maintenance of the rules of the
religion, as the lowest peasant.

It was the same with opium: its use was absolutely prohibited. Of
course, Chinese merchants managed to smuggle enough in for their own
use, but they had to bribe heavily to be able to do so, and the people
remained uncontaminated. 'Opium-eater,' 'gambler,' are the two great
terms of reproach and contempt.

It used to be a custom in the war-time--it has died out now, I
think--for officers of all kinds to offer to Burmans who came to see
them--officials, I mean--a drink of whisky or beer on parting, just as
you would to an Englishman. It was often accepted. Burmans are, as I
have said, very fond of liquor, and an opportunity like this to indulge
in a little forbidden drink, under the encouragement of the great
English soldier or official, was too much for them. Besides, it would
have been a discourtesy to refuse. And so it was generally accepted. I
do not think it did much harm to anyone, or to anything, except,
perhaps, to our reputation.

I remember in 1887 that I went up into a