oes these
people good; witness the hospitals in Rangoon, and the veil of soot from
its factories!

[25] But see this author's latest book "The Inward Light"--a most
exquisite description of what the Burman believes is the teaching of
Buddha.

Within a hundred years I can see a few odd Burmans going about with hair
long and some little suggestion of the old times, a red silk tie
perhaps, and a low collar. Foolish fellows, with quaint ideas about
simplicity of life, fraternity, and jollity, and old world ideals of
beauty. They will be called artists, or Bohemians, men without any firm
belief in the doctrine of necessity, or of the beauty of work for work's
sake; men who, when they get to heaven, will say, "First rate, for any
sake don't spoil it--don't make it strenuous at any price!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

We go ashore, the Captain and I, and Mr Buchanan, the Woods and Forest
man. The air is brisk and the sun hot--such a change from Rangoon. We
climb the clay steps and walk along the tiny village to the native
(Indian) store, to buy a famous headache medicine for G. It is the
principal thing they sell. The owner of the store got the recipe from a
British Medico, and sells it now all over Burmah, to the tune of 1,300
rupees profit per month--if I may believe my informant! Burmese suffer
a great deal from headaches; the sun is strong, and they don't wear
hats. There were six native clerks occupied with the sale of this
nostrum. I deposited my half rupee for six doses--I'd have taken a ton
with hope some years ago.

Then Mr B. showed us his teak logs tethered alongside the banks, waiting
for high water to take them on their road south. Some logs are said to
take nine years to come down from the upper reaches to Rangoon. Then he
rode away on a pretty white pony, first asking me to come and stay in
the jungle with him, and don't I wish I could. You feel inclined to stop
at Henzada for ever, it is so picturesque and fresh, and the walks by
the river under the high trees are very pretty, and there's no dustiness
or towniness.

I am sorry Mr Buchanan went; there's much to ask, about what he knew; of
trees and beasts and people, or of the geology of these mountains that
are beginning to appear to our left and right: to the west, the southern
spine of the Arrakan Mountains, and to the east, the ranges of the Shan
Highlands, which divide the Irrawaddy valley from the valley of