golden spire. Here the highland Shan encamp, and the
smoke of their cooking fires climbs up into the placid
sky. Beyond the red-gold and grey spires, another
path leads down, through a wide tract of dog-roses in
bloom, to the edge of the Irrawaddy. The foreshore
under the heights of the village
is crowded with rose bushes,
which lie buried for half the year
under the waters of the river ;
but in the spring they become
the home of thousands of little
birds, whose melody fills the air
with joy.
But it is the river that claims
attention; for it lies here below
the lofty bank, broad and
beautiful, a highway of the world.
The sun, nearing the horizon,
is partially hidden by broken
masses of cloud, through which
his flame breaks in long ribbons
and searchlights of fire. All the
river, north of a clear straight line
& A SHAN
across it, lies in purple shadow ;
all to the south, in a blaze of light. I stand and watch
the river porpoises plunging like steel in the oily water,
the swallows wheeling in swift circles of flight; and
the voices of men are borne up to me, dim at first,
then -swelling louder as they come by in boats, invisible
under the cliffs, and so, till they drift past into the
207