garden. The leaves are boiled and sold to trading
Burmans who raft them down the river. Seeds have
been sold to “ men from the west ” ; but no purchasers
have appeared for the past three years. The last
comers were emissaries from the white planters of
Assam. The seed trade is not, it would seem, a prospering
one; but a large business is done in boiled tea for
export to Lower Burma.
At Kawya there is a colony of dark pagodas overlooking
the river ; tagdn-daings of glittering mosaic ;
and a thousand Buddha stupa overlaid with gold. The
river bank recalls Bhamo. The people dress like
Burmese. Yet the village is not Burmese in its-vsug-
gestion. I have long since left Burma behind me and
am here amongst the Shan.
Kawya has for its neighbour an island, cleaving
south. Above it the river runs on unbroken between
rich woods to Maung-Kan, where oranges grow A,
Tazon follows, also a place of tea. From Maihg
Taung to Shwelaung there is a straight way marked
out for the river, between near woods on the east and
great forests on the west, reaching away over flat and
rolling country to the foot of the mountains, whence
they climb in unbroken splendour to heights of eight
thousand feet. The Nan-Kaung here comes down
with its tribute, and the place of its union with its
over-lord is green and tempting.; One would willingly
stay to trace its secret course, of which there is only a
glimpse from the passing ship. Later the Namwe
enters. A waterfall of great size is visible on the face
of the distant cliffs,
and at Maingwe
the further course
of the river is concealed
from the
eye, so sharp is the
curve it makes
there. A passage
of marked beauty
follows, the river
winding in and out,
through “ zones o f
light and shadow,”
its waters gaining
clarity with every
mile, till it reaches
the climax of a
horseshoe curve,
where the Naya-
yin enters at Yet
IN THE TEA ORCHARDS AT KAWYA Both arms of
the river here reach
away like lakes, through avenues of forest to the stately
mountains, whose king is Saramati, snow-crowned like
Soracte, in the winter. The winds that blow here at
this season are laden with the scent of forest flowers__
a rich heavy scent as from a distillery. There are miles
upon miles of it here.
After the horseshoe turn at Yet Pa—noblest passage
0 the Chindwin—the river breaks away to the east,
447