enerally seen people get a little
white when they lose--and--well--I do not care for their subdued
expressions when they win--but there was a boyish hilarity and hardihood
about this gambling that made it almost attractive.

Here is one view of the Joss House. The Chinamen were intensely
interested, as I painted, and crowded round. They were perfectly polite
and well-intentioned as also are the Burmese, but I think the Chinaman's
interest in the technique is so great that he cannot keep at any
distance, so it was an enormous effort to concentrate on the subject and
not just to draw the nearest heads. Here is one, however, a boy with fur
cap, his complexion was like fine China and showed great finish of form.
I noticed they were all very clean indeed, their clothes spotless, and
the scent of their tobacco quite good.

[Illustration]

I had sent my Boy round to find a place where we might stay, and on our
return to the steamer he told me the Dak bungalow was occupied, likewise
the circuit house, so we were stranded and homeless on the banks of the
Irrawaddy. We then went up to the club, and there found to our relief
our Boy was ... mistaken, and that the Dak bungalow was available. A
member of the club kindly introduced himself and entertained us whilst
we waited for our host, we noticed his hands were both in bandages, but
of this more anon. From the club we went back in the starlight to our
home on the ship for one more night, our minds at rest and bodies
refreshed. The ladies drove in a bullock cart, the writer walked
behind--the sand and track were too rough for The Bhamo gharry, and
truly we considered our cart was more picturesque and comfortable. The
grey wood of the cart and the ladies' white hats and dresses, and the
natives' white robes and the grey white sand and white oxen, all blended
into a very pretty moth-like harmony; and overhead the sky was mat blue
with many solemn stars twinkling. As we crossed the little desert of
sand we passed the camp and fires of the Northern peoples, beside their
scores of ponies, and bales of cotton, and pack saddles; everything
uncovered and open on the dry sand, no need here at this season for
shelter excepting from the sun at mid-day.

[Illustration: A Chinese Joss House]

Miss B. leaves us here, going south by what is called the Ferry Boat, a
most excellent little steamer, with roomy, comfortable cabins. It goes
down to Katha, thence she goes by train to Mandalay, and