achieved with infinite grace and discretion. After which,
there is some washing to be done, and then mother
and daughter return home.
All the women of the village are at this hour by
the river’s edge ; some with babies barely able to walk,
but receiving early initiation into the joys of the beautiful
river that flows by their homes. There is a curious
contrast to be found between the face of the unhappy
urchin, enduring the gaunt ministrations of a nurse,
familiar to every purchaser of a certain English soap,
and that of a little Burmese child, taking its first lessons
by the river’s side. It is in the river, where he plays
and splashes for hours every day of his youth, that the
Burman learns his gaiety of heart, and develops the fine
muscles of his race.
C H A P T E R X X X V I
P R IM IT IV E TEA VEL
I H E grey dawn calls us, sleepers on the pebbled
-L shore; and we wake one by one, each man
after his own habit. We have been sleeping under
the stars for the sake of the cool air and an early
start. A pot of rice is put on the fire ; the polers get
feady for the long day’s work. The sun, is not yet
risen as we get under weigh, the boat gliding forward o o ’ 0 0
tinder the banks. It is a grey day, heavy with
plouds, and the sun, when he comes, shines only at
intervals, sending down broad f t ^ ribs of lioght in a
manner that makes the firmament overhead seem
like a richly striped dome. Seldom is this effect of
Sunlight so complete as it is to-day.
Very quickly the fascination of primitive travel
Steals over my spirit, and all that spoke at the outset
of discomfort is forgotten. The broad river lies about
us, and laps our bows ; at once a familiar friend and
a stately companion. Its wide expanses reach away
¡to the horizon, and its cool green stream runs laughing
through the fingers of one who leans over the boat’s
edge. The water is as clear and limpid as that of a