highway runs, its black railings in a line along the river,
the telegraph wires overhead. Scattered palms and
the roofs of a monastery proclaim the approach to the
station of Palaw. Up north, a mountain spur comes
down to the river’s edge, and beyond this lies Thayetmyo,.
K AM A
the old-time frontier-town of British Burma. Its white
roofs glisten in the sun, and behind it a blue hill, twin
to the nearer one, stretches away in a north-westerly
direction.
I am now on the threshold of the “ Dry Zone,”
and the picture is already changing from rain curtains
and drifting squalls to opal clouds and the features of
a laughing summer. The grassy .glades that mark the
river between Prome and Thayetmyo are a new feature
in the landscape, and they afford a welcome relief to
eyes weary of the wealth of unbroken forest. The
grass covers the high red cliffs with a mantle like
velvet, and falls in showers down the little gullies to
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