urman wishes to work he gets a Madrassi to do it
for him. How he finds the money to pay the Madrassi I was not informed,
but all men were agreed in saying that under no circumstances will the
Burman exert himself in the paths of honest industry. Now, if a
bountiful Providence had clothed you in a purple, green, amber or puce
petticoat, had thrown a rose-pink scarf-turban over your head, and had
put you in a pleasant damp country where rice grew of itself and fish
came up to be caught, putrified and pickled, would _you_ work? Would you
not rather take a cheroot and loaf about the streets seeing what was to
be seen? If two-thirds of your girls were grinning, good-humoured little
maidens and the remainder positively pretty, would you not spend your
time in making love?

The Burman does both these things, and the Englishman, who after all
worked himself to Burma, says hard things about him. Personally I love
the Burman with the blind favouritism born of first impression. When I
die I will be a Burman, with twenty yards of real King's silk, that has
been made in Mandalay, about my body, and a succession of cigarettes
between my lips. I will wave the cigarette to emphasise my conversation,
which shall be full of jest and repartee, and I will always walk about
with a pretty almond-coloured girl who shall laugh and jest too, as a
young maiden ought. She shall not pull a sari over her head when a man
looks at her and glare suggestively from behind it, nor shall she tramp
behind me when I walk: for these are the customs of India. She shall
look all the world between the eyes, in honesty and good fellowship, and
I will teach her not to defile her pretty mouth with chopped tobacco in
a cabbage leaf, but to inhale good cigarettes of Egypt's best brand.

Seriously, the Burmese girls are very pretty, and when I saw them I
understood much that I had heard about--about our army in Flanders let
us say.

Providence really helps those who do not help themselves. I went up a
street, name unknown, attracted by the colour that was so wantonly
flashed down its length. There is colour in Rajputana and in Southern
India, and you can find a whole paletteful of raw tints at any
down-country durbar; but the Burmese way of colouring is different. With
the women the scarf, petticoat, and jacket are of three lively hues, and
with the men putso and head-wrap are gorgeous. Thus you get your colours
dashed down in dots against a background of dark timb