they are invisible to my eyes. The feel of the water
is warm to my fingers ; the air ambrosial and laden with
the scent of the sea. Above the harbour lights and the
mizzen-lanterns, strung high against the violet night, is
a chaplet of flame, the diadem of the city. It is held
aloft by the Shway Dagon, invisible itself in the night. CH A P T E R VI
T H E P U Z U N -D A U N G C R E E K
THE little river of this name, where it enters the
Hlaing under the guns of Monkey Point is at
N A T IV E C R A F T A T PU ZUN -DAUN G
the heart of the rice trade of Rangoon, which runs
into over two million tons a year. Its mouth during
the rice season is crowded with the carved boats of
