East and come to school in England.

A DAINTILY-CLAD BURMESE LADY. Page 8.

Well, I may say that the English "Sahib" works very hard indeed, and I am afraid he is already busy at his office long before we in England have thought of getting up. Somewhere about six o'clock, after a light breakfast called "chota-hazri," he is at his office, which he seldom leaves till the evening. The offices are large and airy, and all the windows are shaded by jalousies, or grass mats, which in hot weather are wetted so as to cool the air as it passes through them. Slung from the ceiling in long rows over tables or desks are the "punkahs," or fans, which a "punkah-wallah" outside in the veranda pulls to and fro with a rope in order to keep the hot air moving, and prevent the flies and mosquitoes from settling. Every one, though clothed in the lightest suit, works with his coat off, and in many cases, so as not to interrupt the day's routine, "tiffin," or lunch, is eaten in the office. Work is hard, steady, and continuous, and no one who has not been there knows how well our relations in the East earn its many compensations.

Life there is not all work, however, and its social conditions are very attractive. From the time when his "tum-tum"[2] arrives at the close of office-hours and the "Sahib" bowls merrily homewards, a new life begins. Town becomes deserted, and the suburbs awake to offer amusement and relaxation to the workers.

Let us accompany one of our friends on his way home. The sun is declining and the air already much cooler, and the drive through the shopping streets and the squares is very enjoyable. The town is soon passed, however, and broad roads well shaded with many tropical growths lead to cantonments, as the suburbs are called. Here are the military lines as well as the bungalows of the residents. These bungalows are generally large and comfortable-looking, and one can see from their broad verandas and well-shaded windows that they are designed for coolness. Nearly all are built of timber, and each stands in its own compound, which is usually gay with flowers and well provided with shade-trees. Separated from the house but connected with it by a covered walk are the kitchens, and in a corner of the garden are the stables, for horses are an essential in Rangoon.

As we drive along the quiet roads they gradually become animated. The ladies, who have been resting indoors during the great heat of the day, pass us on their way to their tennis-parties or other engagements, while, in charge of picturesquely-clad Burmese or Indian ayahs, the little ones take their evening walk. Groups of Burmans of the better class with their wives promenade the cool avenues in happy contentment, or wend their way towards Dalhousie Park. The whole scene is pretty and domestic, and the roads themselves form beautiful vistas in the evening light, which gilds the feathery crests of the coco-nuts and gives added colour to the deep-toned foliage of the padouk and other trees which fringe them. Song-birds which are strange to us call each other from the groves, and in the bamboo clumps the grasshoppers are beginning to sing, while floating in the air, which is now fresh and cool, is the scent of many flowers from the gardens.

Dalhousie Park is one of the many attractions of Rangoon. It is large and well laid out, with a very pretty lake, which winds among the well-arranged groups of forest trees. There is a boat club here, and gliding over the still water are many rowing boats and small sailing craft. Swans and ducks are swimming about as the swallow skims the surface of the water, breaking its deep reflections with a silver streak. All the paths are thronged with people, some driving, others on foot, and most of them presently congregate about the bandstand to enjoy the music or exchange the gossip of the day. It is quite an interesting sight. All the fashionable life of Rangoon is represented here, and mingling with it are yellow-robed Buddhist priests and natives of all classes; for the Burman loves to come here in the evening, to listen to the band or watch the changing glory of the sky as the sun slowly sets behind his beloved pagoda.

Now the sun has set, and every one hastily puts on overcoats or wraps before driving home, for the air becomes suddenly cold, and neglect of these precautions will probably result in fever.

Many adjourn to the gymkhana club before returning home. This is principally a man's club, but here also on many days a band plays, and the sight is a pretty one indeed as the children and their ayahs play about the lawn, while their parents enjoy their tea at the little tables scattered about it, before the falling dew drives the little ones homewards, and their elders to the club-house for a game of billiards or a chat.

All this side of Rangoon life is very pleasant and very interesting, but it is not Burmese. Rangoon has for so long been a great trade centre that the easy-going Burman is rather overshadowed; but as it is typical of many foreign places where our fathers or brothers are occupied, and where some of my readers may presently have to go, I thought it would be interesting to give you this glimpse of European life in India, and in the next chapter I will tell you something about the Burmans themselves.

CHAPTER III

THE PEOPLE

Have you ever thought how the character of the various races of the world is more or less determined by the nature of the country of their origin? Rugged mountains and a hard climate produce people of a similar severity of type, and, on the other hand, one naturally looks for poetry and music in a people so pleasantly and romantically situated as are the Italians. In the same way the Burmese are pretty much what their country has made them. The land is so very fertile that almost anything will grow there, and Nature provides food for the people with the least possible effort on their own part. The climate is also damp, warm, and enervating, so that one would not expect to find among its inhabitants much energy or decision of character. Their beautiful religion also makes them kind and gentle, and their isolation, which, as I have pointed out, separates them from the neighbouring countries, has left them almost entirely undisturbed by the activities of the greater world. In fact, on account of their easy-going and contented nature, the Burmese are often called the "Irish of the East," and I am afraid it must be said that the men are rather lazy, and, like their prototypes in some parts of Ireland, leave most of the work to the women.

As a rule, the Burmese women are industrious and clever at business, most of which is conducted by them, while the men are more fond of sport of all kinds than employment. All, however, are gentle in character, light-hearted, and merry, and like to repeat in their clothing the beautiful tints of their