and the mountains pass out of immediate sight ; but the
woods line it with continuous beauty, and in the waning
afternoon every white trunk on the eastern shore meets
its image in the clear water.
At Tamanth^ the river returns again to its mountains,
which loom up blue and majestic in bold outline against
the s k y ; waves upon waves of them, ramparts, and
peaks, and shadowy valleys. The sun, passing on to
the portals of night, sends his last splendour abroad
from behind the
clouds that marshal,
his retreat. Wide
shafts of ligh t
flame in fans over
the sp a c e s o f
h e aven . From
cloud to cloud the
fires race until,
through infinite
gradations, the day
maung-kan runs out to its close.
Tamanth^ is the last British outpost on the Chindwin.
It is garrisoned by half a hundred fighting men, under
the command of a Sikh officer. The steamer has
scarcely done screaming, the gangway planks are not
yet slippery with the wet footprints of the crew, when
he comes hurrying along, under the stress of a tight
uniform and long sword dangling by his side, to , pay
his respects. White man to him is synonymous with
ruler, and three Englishmen do not come this way in
448
the year. His men
are hastily forming
up on the parade
ground, and he is
disappointed that
they are not to be
inspected. No one
e v e r comes to
T amanthe except
for some such purpose.
The Subah-
dar practically rules
here alone.
Two miles beyond
Tamanthe is
the v illa g e o f
Htwatwa, on the
further shore of
the Nam Talei,
which comes down
here, a broad swift p o r t e r a g e
.stream, fresh from
the Naga strongholds. There is a pathway to Htwatwa
from Tamanthd through the dense forest, and midway
in its stillness one can hear the booming of the village
drums, falling clear and seemingly close at hand, like
the hammered notes of the woodpecker.
And now the last day t>1 my voyage has come.
The actualities of rule have almost ceased, and wide
incognita, unvisited by any Englishman, surround me
v o l . 11. 449 D