Cathedral Street, thus bravely started, ends abruptly,
as many things in Mandalay used to, in a ditch. At its
bottom women wash clothes, pigs rout for food, and the
blue hills of Sagaing and the Shan highlands flank the
vista east and west. A crazy bridge a little way off
takes me to the other side, where the shops are nearer
to each other, and tinmen, and the makers o f gold and
IN 82, C A TH ED R A L STR E E T
silver umbrellas, display their wares. All along the way
the painted acacias make vivid patches o f green, most
vivid in Mandalay, when all else is dry and withered in
thé sun. White and gold pagodas line the road ; there
is a clanging of great bells, the tinkle o f little ones on
lofty spires. Chinese eating houses tempt the passers-
by.; silken skirts flash in the sunlight, and dustwhirls
drive along the beaten track.
From a painting by J. Îi. MuUuëtôn,
FEEDING THE TURTLES AT THE SACRED TANK, MANDALAY.
M O A T -B R ID G E A T M A N D A L A Y . p. 372.
