Mandalay to Momien / A narrative of the two expeditions to western China of 1868 and 1875 under Colonel Edward B. Sladen and Colonel Horace Browne
Date: 2022-04-02T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Burma -- Description and travel; Yunnan Sheng (China) -- Description and travel; Sladen; E. B. (Edward Bosc); 1827-1890 -- Travel -- China -- Yunnan Sheng; 1827-1890 -- Travel -- Burma; Browne; Horace Albert; 1832-1914 -- Travel -- China -- Yunnan Sheng; 1832-1914 -- Travel -- Burma

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Title: Mandalay to Momien

Author: John Anderson

Release date: April 2, 2022 [eBook #67758]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Macmillan and co, 1876

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANDALAY TO MOMIEN ***

MANDALAY, THE CAPITAL OF INDEPENDENT BURMA; FROM MANDALÉ HILL.

MANDALAY TO MOMIEN:

A NARRATIVE

OF THE

TWO EXPEDITIONS TO WESTERN CHINA

OF 1868 AND 1875

UNDER

COLONEL EDWARD B. SLADEN

AND

COLONEL HORACE BROWNE.

BY

JOHN ANDERSON, M.D.Edin., F.R.S.E., F.L.S., F.Z.S.

FELLOW OF CALCUTTA UNIVERSITY;
CURATOR OF IMPERIAL MUSEUM AND PROFESSOR OF COMPARATIVE ANATOMY,
MEDICAL COLLEGE, CALCUTTA;
MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC OFFICER TO BOTH EXPEDITIONS.

WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

London:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1876.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

PREFACE.

Seven years have elapsed since the date of the expedition which furnishes the subject of the larger portion of this work. Its results have been recorded, but can hardly be said to have been published, in the official reports of the several members, printed in India, and not accessible to the general reader.

The public interest in the subject of the overland route from Burma to China, called forth by the repulse of the recent mission and the tragedy which attended it, has suggested the present publication. It is hoped that a compendious and popular account of the expedition of 1868 will be acceptable, if only as an introduction to the simple narrative of the mission of this year, commanded by Colonel Horace Browne. The statement of the difficulties which beset our advance in 1868 will prepare the reader to estimate the opposition which, under a changed political condition of the country, compelled the mission under Colonel Browne to return without accomplishing its object.

The narrative of our experiences of the border country between Bhamô and Yunnan, and its motley population, has been supplemented from materials collected by Colonel Sladen, including a catalogue of Kakhyen deities obtained by him, and which will be found in the Appendix, along with a Panthay account of the origin of the Chinese Mahommedans. To him, as well as to my fellow travellers, Captain Bowers and Mr. Gordon, I gladly record my obligations for the information that has been derived from them.

For many details illustrating the condition of Yunnan and the Mahommedan revolt in that province, I am indebted to the volumes, issued by the French government, which contain the results of the French expedition from Saigon to Yunnan, under Lagrée, Garnier, and Carné, whose premature loss their country has to deplore, and to the travels of that enterprising pioneer of commerce, Mr. T. T. Cooper.

No one can treat of the border lands of Cathay without deriving assistance from the stores of knowledge collected and arranged by the erudite editor of ‘Marco Polo,’ Colonel Yule, to whom I tender my tribute of admiration and indebtedness.

My observations on the Kakhyens are confirmed by the learned Monsig. Bigandet, the annotator of the ‘Life of Gaudama,’ who was the first European to visit those hill tribes, and who communicated his experiences to the columns of the leading Rangoon journal. The reader will find among the appendices a valuable note by the same author, on Burmese bells, especially those of Rangoon and Mengoon.

The list of Chinese deities given in the Appendix has been translated from the original by the well-known Chinese scholar, Professor Douglas, of the British Museum, who has kindly added an explanatory note. The appended vocabularies may prove interesting to philologists.

The illustrations of the country and people as far as Ponsee have been executed from photographs taken by Major Williams and myself, while the views of the country to the east are reproductions of sketches which fairly claim the merit of accurate delineation of its features.

The map illustrating the topography of the district travelled has been based upon surveys made during the expedition by Mr. Gordon and a Burmese surveyor, and a second has been added to show the general relations of our Indian empire to Western China, with the various routes which have been explored or projected, including those followed by the French expedition, and by Margary from the terminus of the boat journey to Bhamô.

The journal of our ill-fated companion, recently published in China, and received in this country when this work was completed, unfortunately does not carry him on to Tali-fu, but his impressions of the country beyond this point have been briefly summarised in these pages.

The scientific reader will perhaps be inclined to complain that the following pages do not contain more of the results of the proper work of a naturalist. Of these, a full and illustrated report, unavoidably delayed by absence from this country, is in active preparation. This will be published by the aid of the Indian government, given at the instance of the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, the Hon. Ashley Eden, by whom the opening up of the overland route to China, as a measure beneficial to the province administered by him, has ever been strongly advocated.

J. A.

6 Royal Terrace, Edinburgh,
December 31, 1875.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

FIRST EXPEDITION:—CHAPTERS I. to XI.
SECOND EXPEDITION:—CHAPTERS XII. to XVI.

PAGES

CHAPTER I.

MANDALAY TO BHAMÔ.

Overland trade of Burma and China—Early notices—English travellers—Burmese treaty of 1862—Dr. Williams—Objects of the expedition—Its constitution—Arrival at Mandalay—Second coronation of the king—The suburbs—The bazaars—Mengoon—Burmese navigation—Shienpagah—Coal mines—The third defile—Sacred fish—Tagoung and Old Pagan—Ngapé—Katha—Magnetic battery—The first Kakhyens—The Shuaybaw pagodas—The second defile—View of Bhamô

1-36

CHAPTER II.

BHAMÔ.

Arrival at Bhamô—Our quarters—The town—The Woon’s house—The Shan-Burmese—Kakhyen man-stealing—The environs—Old Tsampenago—Legendary history—The Shuaykeenah pagodas—The Molay river—The first defile—Delays and intrigues—Sala—The new Woon—Our departure—Tsitkaw—Mountain muleteers—The Manloung lake—The phoongyee’s farewell

37-66

CHAPTER III.

KAKHYEN HILLS.

Departure from Tsitkaw—Our cavalcade—The hills—A false alarm—Talone—First night in the hills—The tsawbwa-gadaw—Ponline village—A death dance—The divination—A meetway—Nampoung gorge—A dangerous road—Lakong bivouac—Arrival at Ponsee—A Kakhyen coquette

67-86

CHAPTER IV.

PONSEE CAMP.

Desertion of the muleteers—Our encampment—Visit of hill chiefs—Sala’s demands—A mountain excursion—Messengers from Momien—Shans refuse presents—Stoppage of supplies—Ill-feeling—Tsawbwa of Seray—St. Patrick’s Day—Retreat of Sala—The pawmines of Ponsee—A burial-ground—Visit to the Tapeng—The silver mines—Approach of the rains—Hostility of Ponsee—Threatened attack—Reconciliation—A false start—Letters from Momien—A hailstorm—Circular to the members of the mission—Beads and belles—Friendly relations with Kakhyens—Their importance

87-124

CHAPTER V.

THE KAKHYENS.

The Kakhyens or Kakoos—The clans—Their chiefs—Mountain villages—Cultivation and crops—Personal appearance—Costume—Arms and implements—Female dress and ornaments—Women’s work—Sheroo—Morals—Marriage—Music—Births—Funerals—Religion—Language—Character—How to deal with them—Our party

125-154

CHAPTER VI.

MANWYNE TO MOMIEN.

Departure from Ponsee—Valley of the Tapeng—A curious crowd—Our khyoung—Matins—The town of Manwyne—Visit to the haw—The tsawbwa-gadaw—An armed demonstration—Karahokah—Sanda—The chief and his grandson—Muangla—Shan burial-grounds—The Tahô—A murdered traveller—Mawphoo valley—Muangtee—Nantin—Valley of Nantin—The hot springs—Attacked by Chinese—Hawshuenshan volcano—Valley of Momien—Arrival at the city

155-188

CHAPTER VII.

MOMIEN.

Momien—The town of Teng-yue-chow—Aspect and condition—An official reception—Return visit—Government house—A Chinese tragedy—The market—Jade manufacture—Minerals—Mines of Yunnan—Stone celts—Cattle—Climate—Environs—The waterfall—Pagoda hill—Shuayduay—Rock temples—Ruined suburbs—City temples—Four-armed deities—Boys’ school—A grand feast—The loving-cup—The tsawbwa-gadaw of Muangtee—Keenzas—The Chinese poor

189-222

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MAHOMMEDANS OF YUNNAN.

Their origin—Derivation of the term “Panthay”—Early history—Increase in numbers—Adoption of children—The Toonganees—Physical characteristics—Outbreak of the revolt—Tali-fu—Progress of revolt—The French expedition—Overtures from Low-quang-fang—Resources of the Panthays—Capture of Yunnan-fu—Prospects of their success—Our position—The governor’s presents—Preparations for return

223-247

CHAPTER IX.

THE SANDA VALLEY.

Departure from Momien—Robbers surprised—At Nantin—Our ponies stolen—We slide to Muangla—A pleasant meeting—The Tapeng ferrymen—A valley landscape—Negotiations at Sanda—The Leesaws—A Shan cottage—Buddhist khyoungs—For fear of the nats—The limestone hill—Hot springs of Sanda—The footprint of Buddha—A priestly thief—The excommunication—The chief’s farewell—Floods and landslips—Manwyne priests—A Shan dinner party—The nunnery—Departure from Manwyne—The Slough of Despond

248-273

CHAPTER X.

THE HOTHA VALLEY.

The mountain summit—A giant glen—Leesaw village—The wrong road—Priestly inhospitality—Town of Hotha—A friendly chief—The Namboke Kakhyens—The Hotha market—The Shan people—The Koshanpyi—The Tai of Yunnan—Their personal appearance—Costume—Equipment—The Chinese Shans—Silver hair ornaments—Ear-rings—Torques, bracelets, and rings—Textile fabrics—Agriculture—Social customs—Tenure of land—Old Hotha—A Shan-Chinese temple—Shan Buddhism—The fire festival—Eclipse of the sun—Horse worship—Ancient pagodas—Roads from Hotha

274-312

CHAPTER XI.

FROM HOTHA TO BHAMÔ.

Adieu!—Latha—Namboke—The southern hills—Muangwye—Loaylone—The Chinese frontier—Mattin—Hoetone—View of the Irawady plain—A slippery descent—The Namthabet—The Sawady route—A solemn sacrifice—A retrospective survey

313-332

CHAPTER XII.

INTERMEDIATE EVENTS.

Appointment of a British Resident at Bhamô—Increase of native trade—Action of the king of Burma—Burmese quarrel with the Seray chief—British relations with the Panthays—Struggle in Yunnan—Li-sieh-tai—Imperialist successes—European gunners—Siege of Momien—Fall of Yung-chang—Prince Hassan visits England—Fall of Tali-fu—Sultan Suleiman’s death—Massacre of Panthays—Capture of Momien—Escape of Tah-sa-kon—Capture of Woosaw—Suppression of rebellion—Imperial proclamation—Li-sieh-tai, commissioner of Shan states—Re-opening of trade routes—Second British mission—Action of Sir T. Wade—Appointment of Mr. Margary—Members of mission—Acquiescence of China and Burma

333-349

CHAPTER XIII.

SECOND EXPEDITION.

Start of mission—Arrival at Mandalay—The Burmese pooay—Posturing girl—Reception by the meng-gyees—Audience by the king—Departure of mission—Progress up the river—Reception at Bhamô—British Residency—Mr. Margary—Account of his journey—The Woon of Bhamô—Entertains Margary—Chinese puppets—Selection of route—Sawady route—Bullock carriage—Woon of Shuaygoo—Chinese surmises—Letters to Chinese officials—Burmese worship-day

350-378

CHAPTER XIV.

SAWADY.

The hun pooay—Mission proceeds to Sawady—Visit from Woon—Rumoured opposition—The Woon as a musician—Sawady village—Royal orders—Baggage difficulties—Arrival of Mr. Clement Allan—Paloungto chief—Kakhyen pilfering—Abandon route—Adopt Ponline route—Reasons for change—Tsaleng Woon—Departure of mission to Tsitkaw—Elias and Cooke proceed to Muangmow—Dolphins—Up the Tapeng—Tahmeylon—Arrive at Tsitkaw

379-399

CHAPTER XV.

THE ADVANCE.

Residence at Tsitkaw—View from our house—The Namthabet—Junction of the rivers—Arrival of the Woon—Conference of tsawbwas—Hostages—Kakhyen women—Rifle practice—A night alarm—A curious talisman—We leave Tsitkaw—Camp at Tsihet—Burmese guard-house—Lankon, Ponline—Camp on the Moonam—Hostile rumours—Camp on the Nampoung—Departure of Margary for Manwyne—Escape of hostages—Letter from Margary—We enter China—Camp on Shitee Meru—Burmese vigilance—Visit to Seray—Conference with Seray tsawbwa—Suspicious reception—Return to camp—Burmese barricades

400-427

CHAPTER XVI.

REPULSE OF MISSION.

Appearance of enemy—Murder of Margary—Friendly tsawbwas—Mission attacked—Woonkah tsawbwa bought over—The jungle fired—Repulse of attack—Incidents of the day—Our retreat—Shitee—Burmese reinforcements—Halt at guard-house—Retreat on Tsitkaw via Woonkah—Elias and Cooke’s visit to Muangmow—Li-sieh-tai—Return of Captain Cooke—Elias at Muangmow—Father Lecomte and the Mattin chief—A forged letter—The Saya of Kauntoung—Reports regarding Margary—The commission of inquiry—Return of Elias—Visit to the second defile—Mission’s return to Rangoon

428-454

APPENDICES.

I.

A Note by Bishop Bigandet, on Burmese Bells

455

II.

Origin of Mahommedanism in China; from Chinese Document

456

III.

Deities worshipped by Kakhyens

457-459

IV.

Deities in a Hotha Shan Temple

460-463

V.

Vocabularies:—Kakhyen, Shan, Leesaw, and Poloung

464-473

Index

475-479

LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

- Map of Country Traversed.

- General Map, with Routes.

- Plan of Momien; by Burmese Surveyor.

Mandalay, the Capital of Independent Burma; from Mandalé Hill | Frontispiece.
From a photograph by Colonel Sladen.
To face page
The Deva-faced Cliff, Second Defile of the Irawady | 34
From a photograph by the Author.
Rocky Barrier on the First or Upper Defile of the Irawady | 55
From a photograph by Major Williams.
Kakhyen Women | 74
From a photograph by Major Williams.
Our Camp at Ponsee | 89
From a photograph by Major Williams.
Kakhyen Men—Kakhyen Matrons | 125
From photographs by Major Williams.
Kakhyen and Shan Pipes, Musical Instruments, etc. | 134
From photographs.
Nantin Valley, Town of Muangtee to the Left | 178
From a sketch by the Author.
Extinct Volcano of Hawshuenshan; from Summit of Momien Hill | 186
From a sketch by the Author.
Within the Walls of Momien or Teng-yue-chow | 192
From a sketch by the Author.
Waterfall of the Tahô; Momien in the Distance | 208
From a sketch by the Author.
Valley of Sanda, looking Westward from the Hill behind the Town | 254
From a sketch by the Author.
Shan Head-dress, Bracelets, and Ear Ornaments | 296
From photographs.
Posturing Girl at Mandalay | 354
From a photograph by the Author.
View in Bhamô | 364
From a photograph by Major Williams.
Tsitkaw, on the Tapeng, looking towards the Kakhyen Hills | 401
From a photograph by the Author.

A MAP OF
the
ROUTES TRAVERSED BY THE EXPEDITIONS OF
1868 AND 1875
Stanford’s Geographical Estabᵗ 55 Charing Cross.
London; Macmillan & Cᵒ.

A MAP OF
SOUTH-WESTERN CHINA
Showing routes
TRAVERSED & PROPOSED.
Stanford’s Geographical Estabᵗ. 55 Charing Cross.
London; Macmillan & Cᵒ.

PLAN OF MOMIEN
(TENG-YUE-CHOW)
Stanford’s Geogˡ. Estabᵗ. 55 Charing Cross, London.
London; Macmillan & Cᵒ.

MANDALAY TO MOMIEN.

CHAPTER I.
MANDALAY TO BHAMÔ.

Overland trade of Burma and China—Early notices—English travellers—Burmese treaty of 1862—Dr. Williams—Objects of the expedition—Its constitution—Arrival at Mandalay—Second coronation of the king—The suburbs—The bazaars—Mengoon—Burmese navigation—Shienpagah—Coal mines—The third defile—Sacred fish—Tagoung and Old Pagan—Ngapé—Katha—Magnetic battery—The first Kakhyens—The Shuaybaw pagodas—The second defile—View of Bhamô.

For some years previous to the date of the expedition of which the progress is narrated in these pages, the attention of British merchants at home and in India had been directed to the prospect of an overland trade with Western China. Most especially did this interest the commercial community of Rangoon, the capital of British Burma, and the port of the great water highway of the Irawady, boasting a trade the annual value of which had increased in fifteen years to £2,500,000. The avoidance of the long and dangerous voyage by the Straits and Indian Archipelago and a direct interchange of our manufactures for the products of the rich provinces of Yunnan and Sz-chuen might well seem to be advantages which would richly repay almost any efforts to accomplish this purpose.

One plan, then as now, zealously insisted upon by its promoter, Captain Sprye, was the construction of a railway connecting British Burma and China via Kiang-Hung, on the Cambodia river, and the frontier position or reputed town of Esmok.

But as it was, and still is, necessary to send a surveying expedition over an unknown and alien country, as a preliminary, this project, whether chimerical or not, could not compete with the immediate possibility of opening a trade by way of the river Irawady and the royal city of Mandalay.

Although before 1867 but four English steamers with freight had ascended the river to the capital, harbingers of the numerous flotilla now plying on the Irawady, it was known that a regular traffic existed between Mandalay and China, especially in the supply of cotton to the interior, which was reserved as a royal monopoly.

This trade was reported to be mainly carried on by caravans traversing the overland route via Theinnee to Yunnan. According to the itineraries of the Burmese embassy in 1787, the distance is six hundred and twenty miles, and forty-six hills and mountains, five large rivers and twenty-four smaller ones, had to be traversed in the tedious journey of two months. But an unbroken chain of tradition and history indicated the natural entrepot of the commerce between Burma and China to be at or near Bhamô,[1] on the left bank of the upper Irawady, and close to the frontier of Yunnan.

The Burmese annals testified that during several centuries this had been the passage from China to Burma either for invading armies or for peaceful caravans. The most recent Burmo-Chinese war had arisen out of the grievances of Bhamô Chinese merchants, and the treaty of peace that was signed at Bhamô in 1769 stipulated that the “gold and silver road” between the two countries should be reopened. Mutual embassies had consequently journeyed between Pekin and Ava, and almost all had proceeded by way of the Irawady and Bhamô.

European travellers and traders had early discerned the importance of this channel of intercourse, which seems to have been alluded to by the great Venetian, Marco Polo, under the name of Zardandan.

The old documents of Fort St. George record that the English and Dutch had factories in the beginning of the seventeenth century at Syriam, Prome, and Ava, and at a place on the borders of China, which Dalrymple supposes to have been Bhamô. According to this authority, some dispute arose between the Dutch and Burmese, and on the former threatening to call in the aid of the Chinese, both the English and Dutch were expelled from Burma. In 1680 the reputation of this field for mercantile enterprise seems to have again attracted the attention of the authorities at Fort St. George, and four years afterwards one Dod, trading to Ava, was instructed to inquire into the commerce of the country, and to request that a settlement might be sanctioned at Prammoo, on the borders of China. This mission was unsuccessful, and Prammoo cannot with certainty be identified, but the strong similarity of the name seems to point to Pan-mho or Bhamô.

Coming down to more recent and certain data, we find that Colonel Symes, H.E.I.C.’s envoy to Ava in 1795 (and who was accompanied by that able geographer, Dr. Buchanan), states that an extensive trade, chiefly in cotton, existed between Ava and Yunnan. “This commodity was transported up the Irawady to Bhamô, where it was sold to the Chinese merchants, and conveyed partly by land and partly by water into the Chinese dominions. Amber, ivory, precious stones, betel-nut, and the edible birds’ nests from the Eastern Archipelago, were also articles of commerce. In return, the Burmans procured raw and wrought silks, velvets, gold-leaf, preserves, paper, and utensils of hardware.” Both the researches of Wilcox and the journal of Crawford’s embassy to Ava in 1826 referred to the trade and routes by Bhamô, and the Bengal government in 1827 published a map containing the best procurable information about the Burmo-Chinese frontier.

Colonel Burney, who was Resident at the court of Ava in 1830, published a large number of valuable contributions to the history, geography, and resources of Upper Burma, and accurate itineraries of the Theinnee and Bhamô routes to China. Our experience demonstrated the accuracy of the latter as far as Momien, and it may be inferred that the remainder will be found equally exact. Pemberton[2] seems to have been the first to fully realise that—to use his own words—“the province of Yunnan, to which the north-eastern borders of our Indian empire have now so closely approximated, has become from this circumstance and our existing amicable relations with the court of Ava an object of peculiar interest to us.” In the same year Captain Hannay accompanied a Burmese mission to Mogoung, and for the first time Bhamô was accurately described by an eye-witness, and much valuable information gained respecting the trade then carried on between Ava and China. His description of the importance of the town, however, differed widely from that of Drs. Griffiths and Bayfield, who visited it two years later.[3]

Hannay gives the reported number of houses as one thousand five hundred, while the latter travellers estimated town and suburbs as containing five hundred and ninety-eight houses, “neither good nor large,” which latter description is more in keeping with the present condition of the town.

In 1848 Baron Otto des Granges published a short survey of the countries between Bengal and China, showing the great commercial and political importance of Bhamô, and the practicability of a direct trade overland between Calcutta and China.

In this paper the far-seeing author advocated the equipment of a small expedition to ascertain the mercantile relations of the country about Bhamô, to examine the mineral wealth of Yunnan, and to enter into negotiations with the Chinese merchants.

In 1862 the government of India, in the prospect of a treaty being negotiated with the king of Burma, directed their Chief Commissioner, Sir A. Phayre, to include in it, if possible, the reopening of the caravan route from Western China by the town of Bhamô, and the concession of facilities to British merchants to reside at that place, or to travel to Yunnan, and for Chinese from Yunnan to have free access to British territory, including Assam. The first of these objects was to be effected by obtaining the king’s sanction to a joint Burmese and British mission to China. A treaty was concluded whereby the British and Burmese governments were declared friends, and trade in and through Upper Burma was freely thrown open to British enterprise. It was further stipulated that a direct trade with China might be carried on through Upper Burma, subject to a transit duty of one per cent. ad valorem on Chinese exports, and nil on imports. The proposal, however, as to the joint mission was unsuccessful.

In the following year, Dr. Williams, formerly resident at the court of Mandalay, obtained the royal permission to proceed as far as Bhamô, where he arrived in February, after a journey of twenty-two days. His object was to test the practicability of a route through Burma to Western China, and the results of his experience led him to strongly advocate the Bhamô routes as politically, physically, and commercially the most advantageous.

His energetic advocacy led the mercantile community of Rangoon to appreciate the importance of their own position, commanding, as it does, the most ancient highway to Western China. His claim, however, to have been the first to suggest this trade route must yield to that of Otto des Granges; and the assertion that he was the first Englishman who visited Bhamô could only have been made in ignorance or forgetfulness of the labours of Hannay, Bayfield, and Griffiths.

When the commercial acuteness of the merchants was thus directed to the possibilities of the overland trade, it might seem at first sight that the stream could be tapped at Mandalay without following it up to the borders of Yunnan.

But our growing intercourse with the capital of Burma made it known that for twelve years the Burmo-Chinese trade via Bhamô, which in 1855 represented £500,000 per annum, had almost entirely ceased. Whether this were owing to the effects of the Mahommedan rebellion in Yunnan, or, as some alleged, to Burmese policy, was uncertain. It was an additional problem, and the then Chief Commissioner, General Fytche, anxiously pressed upon the government of India the importance of solving it, and under the treaty of 1862 of thoroughly examining the possibility and probable results of reopening the Bhamô trade route.

This enterprise might be deemed one of hereditary interest to the descendant of that enterprising merchant-traveller, Mr. Fitch, who has left an account of his visit to Pegu in 1586. The proposed expedition was sanctioned by the government of India in September 1867, and the consent of the king of Burma having been duly obtained, arrangements were forwarded for the departure of the mission from Mandalay in January 1868. The chief objects of the expedition were, to use the words of General Fytche, “to discover the cause of the cessation of the trade formerly existing by these routes, the exact position held by the Kakhyens, Shans, and Panthays, with reference to that traffic, and their disposition, or otherwise, to resuscitate it, also to examine the physical conditions of these routes.”

Thus the duties to be discharged were multifarious, pertaining to diplomacy, engineering, natural science, and commerce. These accordingly were all represented among the members of the mission, which consisted of Captain Williams, as engineer; Dr. Anderson, as medical officer and naturalist; with Captain Bowers and Messrs. Stewart and Burn as delegates from the commercial community of Rangoon.[4] A guard of fifty armed police, with their inspector and native doctor, formed an escort, while the command of the whole was entrusted to Major Sladen, Political Resident at Mandalay. It is saying scarcely enough to add that to the foresight, tact, and resolute patience displayed by him as leader was due whatever measure of success was obtained. He had already secured not only the consent but the co-operation of the king. Written orders had been despatched to the woon, or governor, of Bhamô, and to other places, to render all assistance. Besides these verbal aids, the king placed at his disposal a royal steamer, named the Yaynan-Sekia, better known as “The Honesty,” to convey the party to Bhamô. On no former occasion had it been deemed prudent for steamers to ascend save for a few miles above Mandalay; and great difference of opinion existed as to the navigability of the upper Irawady in the dry season by a steamer, though only drawing three feet of water.

In the morning of January 6, 1868, the steamer Nerbudda, which had conveyed the party from Rangoon, made fast alongside the landing-place of the present capital of Burma, three miles from the city, of which only the golden spires could be seen above the trees. As our stay was not to exceed three or four days, all the party remained on board until it should be time to embark on the Yaynan-Sekia. Beyond a jetty used by the Burmese in the floods, lay the royal steamer undergoing thorough painting and cleaning for our reception. She was moored in a creek, the royal naval depot, where numerous war-boats of the past and the present fleet of royal steamers are laid up in ordinary. For nearly three miles the river banks presented a busy scene. Native boats were loading or discharging cargo; houses extended the whole distance, those nearer the river being tenanted by fishermen. A large suburb stretched inland from the shore; each house was surrounded by a vegetable garden enclosed in a bamboo fence eight to ten feet high, while all were embosomed in magnificent tamarind, plantain, and palm trees. The women were busily engaged weaving silk putzos and tameins in various patterns.[5] Beyond this suburb lay a large flat of alluvial land, devoted to rice fields, some in stubble, from which the grain had just been reaped; in others men and women were irrigating the young crop, now about six inches high, three crops yearly being raised from these lands, which formed, as it were, an island of cultivation, surrounded by houses.

The leader of the expedition, Major Sladen, came down to welcome us, and we rode with him to the Residency, situated on the banks of a canal, which runs parallel with the river, and halfway between it and the city. The bank of the canal is lined with houses, and broad streets lead to the city, over numerous strongly built timber bridges, the only defect in which is that the alluvial banks of the canal frequently give way, to the destruction of the bridges and interruption of the traffic. Our road lay through a populous suburb of houses built of teak and supported on piles. To the right lay a quarter occupied by the demi-monde; to the left numerous khyoungs, or monasteries, reared their graceful triple concave roofs. Phoongyees, or Buddhist monks, abounded; so did pigs and dogs, both of which are fed daily by a dole from the king, who, as a pious Buddhist, lays up a store of good works by thus preserving animal life. These ubiquitous pigs have given rise to a well-known saying, which tersely expresses the first impression made on the European visitor by the precincts of the capital. Our stay was too short to admit of more than a flying visit to Mandalay, its palace and countless pagodas.

The city properly so-called lies about three miles from the Irawady, on a rising ground below the hill Mandalé. It was founded, on his accession in 1853, by the present king; and one of his motives for quitting Ava, and selecting the new site, was to remove his palace from the sight and sound of British steamers. The city is built on the same plan as the old capital, described by Yule, and consists of two concentric fortified squares. The outer is defended by lofty massive brick walls, with earthworks thrown up on the inside. There are four gates, over each of which rises a tower with seven gilded roofs. Similar smaller towers adorn the wall at intervals. A deep moat fifty yards broad has been completed since the date of our visit, and now surrounds the walls. During the night, guard-boats, with gongs beating, patrol its waters. When the king, in compliance with a prophecy, was crowned a second time in 1874, he made the circuit of the city in a magnificent war-boat, the splendour of which eclipses the traditionary glory of the Lord Mayor’s barge. The actual ceremony of the re-coronation took place on the 4th of June, at 8 P.M., the hour pronounced propitious by the court of Brahmins.[6] Captain Strover describes the ceremony as being to a great extent private, only the various ministers of state and about eighty Brahmins being present. Incantations and sprinkling of holy water brought from the Ganges formed the chief part of the ceremony, after which his majesty was supposed to have become a new king, barring the difficulty of years. Seven days afterwards, the king went through the ceremony of taking charge of the royal city. At nine in the morning a gun announced that he had left the palace, and at half past another was fired, intimating that he had entered the royal barge. The procession round the city moat commenced from the east gate, and was led by the two principal magistrates of Mandalay in gilded war-boats; then followed all the princes in line, a short way in front of the state barge, and behind the king came the ministers and officials. Troops lined the walls all round the city, and cannon were placed every here and there at the corners of the streets. Bands of music played as the procession passed, and, altogether; the sight was most effective and unique. Having gone right round the city, he left the royal barge at the east gate, and a salute announced that he had re-entered the palace, and the ceremony was finished. According to his majesty’s own statement, the ceremony was a purely religious act.

The first square is inhabited by the officials, civil and military, and the soldiers of the royal army. All the houses are in separate enclosures, bordering broad, well kept streets; along the fronts is carried the king’s fence, a latticed palisade, behind which the subjects hide themselves when his majesty passes. During the day, stalls are set up in the streets, and the various Burmese necessaries, even to cloth, are sold, but at night all are cleared away and the gates closed. The central or royal square is surrounded by an outer stockade of teak timber twelve feet in height, and an inner wall. Entrance is given by two gates opposite each other, opening into a wide place, containing the government offices and the royal mint, on one side; on the other, a wall runs across, and a large gateway, opened only for the king, and a small postern give access to the palace enclosure. All Burmese entering this take off their shoes. Within is a wide open area, as large as a London square. On the opposite side rises a building crowned by nine roofs richly gilded, and surmounted by a golden htee, or umbrella, with its tinkling coronal of bells. This marks the audience hall. All entering this are required to take off their shoes, for the royal abode is sacred. The same rule applies to all temples, and this unbooting is really a mark of religious respect, due as much to the meanest khyoung as to the residence of the king. This fact perhaps, if borne in mind, might soothe the ruffled feelings of those who see in this unbooting a mark of degrading homage. To the left is the abode of the white elephant, which, it may be said, is scarcely distinguishable from any other elephant save by the paler hue of the skin of the head. To the right is the royal arsenal, outside of which the visitor would be now surprised by the sight of a completely armed and equipped deck of a vessel, which serves as a school for naval gunnery.

We were not admitted to an audience, nor did we see the royal gardens, which, with the other palace buildings, lie to the rear of the central hall. Dr. Dawson, as quoted in Mason’s ‘Burmah,’ describes the gardens in glowing language, as “truly beautiful, and as picturesque as they are grand.” Outside the walls of the city the suburbs, or unwalled town, stretch away southward in broad streets, which converge towards the Arracan pagoda; and in the distance the spires of pagodas mark the site of Amarapura.

It is impossible to estimate the population, but it must exceed one hundred thousand, to judge by the extent of ground covered by houses. Between the city and Mandalay hill numerous khyoungs have been erected by the queens and other members of the royal family, the teak pillars and roof timbers of which are magnificently carved and richly gilt.

In passing through the enclosures of these monasteries, it is necessary for equestrians to dismount and walk slowly through the sacred precincts. On this side also there is a large stockaded enclosure, to which the Shan caravans always resort. Here their wares, principally hlepét, a sort of salted tea—not, however, made from the true tea plant[7]—are disposed of by means of brokers. At the foot of Mandalay hill is a temple with a large seated statue of Buddha, carved from the white marble of the Tsagain hills. The hill itself is crowned by a gilded pagoda, and a statue of Buddha. The Golden King stands with outstretched finger pointing down to the golden htee that marks the royal abode, the centre of the city and of the Burman kingdom.

On the hill is a vast colony of fowls, numbers of which are purchased by the royal piety every morning, and maintained at the king’s expense. The eastern side of the city is skirted by a long swamp, which forms a lagoon in the rains. The Myit-ngé river, six miles to the south, may be said to complete the insulation of the environs of the capital. Not far from the Residency, but on the other side of the canal, there is a large bazaar, enclosed with brick walls, which presents a most busy scene. This may be said to be the principal enclosed market-place; but there are other smaller cloth bazaars; and several quarters or streets are occupied by special trades, a very noisy quarter being that of the gold-beaters. The fondness for gilding which characterises the Burmese causes an immense demand for gold-leaf, the gold used being principally brought by the caravans from Yunnan. Another quarter is tenanted by Chinese. By a curious coincidence, on the day of our arrival, a Chinese caravan of two hundred mules arrived from Tali-fu. They had come by the long overland Theinnee route, bringing hams, walnuts, pistachio-nuts, honey, opium, iron pots, yellow orpiment, &c. We noticed many Suratees among the inhabitants of the city. These acute and enterprising traders come to Burma in great numbers, and are found everywhere busily engaged in money-making. European adventurers of various nationalities form an element in the population, small, but mischievous; it is hardly to be wondered at if an ill impression of kalas[8] is formed by the Burmese nobility and gentry, judging from the conduct of some of these foreigners; while again they spread monstrous reports about the king, his social and political habits and ideas, which find their way into the Indian and English press.

The transshipment of ourselves and followers and baggage was duly effected, and in the afternoon of the 18th of January the Yaynan-Sekia left her moorings. We only proceeded as far as Mengoon, on the right bank, a few miles from the capital. Thus far we had the company of Mr. Manouk, an Armenian gentleman, who held the office of kala woon, or foreign minister. We duly visited the huge ruin of solid brickwork, which, as Colonel Yule says, represents the extraordinary folly of King Mentaragyi, the founder of Amarapura in 1787.

Intended for a gigantic pagoda, it was left unfinished, in consequence of a prediction that its completion would be fatal to the royal founder; the earthquake of 1839 split the huge cube of solid brickwork, and it is now a fantastic ruin.

Yule gives the dimensions of the lowest of the five encircling terraces as four hundred feet square; if completed, the whole edifice would have been five hundred feet high. Near this is the great bell, twelve feet high, and sixteen across at the lips, and weighing ninety tons.[9]

The most interesting object is the Seebyo pagoda, built by the grandson and successor of Mentaragyi in 1816, and named after his wife. The substructure from which the pagoda rises is circular, and consists of six successive concentric terraces. Each terrace is five feet above the one below, and six feet in breadth, and is surrounded by a stone parapet of a wavy design. In the niches of each terrace are images, fabulous dragons, birds, and beloos, or monsters. By a rough measurement the walled enclosure is four hundred yards in circumference, but an open space of thirty-five yards deep intervenes between the wall and the first terrace. The design of the pagoda is intended to represent the mythical Myen Mhoo Doung, or Meru Mountain, the central pillar of the universe, and the seven encircling ranges of mountains, or the six continents, each of which is guarded by a monster, the first by the dragon, the second by the bird Kalon. It might be also suggested that those terraces may represent the six happy abodes of nats which form successive Elysiums below the seat of Brahma.

From the rising ground above Mengoon a magnificent panorama unfolds itself: the valley from the dry and treeless Tsagain hills, a few miles to the rear, spreads out for fifteen miles in width to the eastern line of mountains, which, emerging from the north bank of the Myit-ngé, stretch away as far as the eye can reach to the north-east. The long flowing sweep of these summits singularly contrasts with the irregularly peaked outline of the Myait-loung hills, south of the Myit-ngé. Immediately beneath the spectator, the Irawady, curving under the western hills, broadens, till opposite to the capital its main banks are nearly three miles and a half apart.

The river is broken up into channels by large islands, on one of which the royal gardens are situated, and numerous sandbanks, exposed in the dry season, and cultivated with tobacco and other crops. In the foreground the various channels of the splendid river present an animated spectacle of numerous canoes, timber rafts, and boats of every form and size. In the middle distance, the golden roofs of the city gates and of the many monasteries which cluster outside the red city walls flash back the sunbeams. The fantastic forms of the many roofed spires of the zayats and rest-houses, and the sparkling htees of pagodas, everywhere perplex and please the eye, which looks from the picturesque hill to the north, crowned by the gilded temple, to the irregular outlines of the bazaar, stretching far down to the successive line of the abandoned capitals. A glorious picture, especially when the glowing orange tints of sunset are relieved by the rich purple of the cloudlike distant hills!

From Mengoon the steamer made its unaccustomed way under the right bank, passing sandbanks covered with numerous flocks of whimbrel, golden plover, and snake-birds. Although at the present time both royal and private steamers ply regularly between Mandalay and Bhamô, at the dry season frequent delays, caused by grounding on sandbanks, make the upward voyage of very uncertain duration. We as the pioneers had to feel our way most cautiously, the water being very low. Our crew, from captain to firemen, were to a man Burmese, and great was our admiration of the coolness and skill shown by the skipper in navigating the narrow channels; he seemed to have an almost instinctive intuition of the depth of the water. It was no work of love on his part, as he took no pains to disguise his dislike of the kalas, or foreigners, and was devoid of the jovial openheartedness generally characteristic of Burmese. A rich illustration of the character of the Burmese crew was afforded us by the leadsman, who quitted his post, unobserved by the captain. He provided, however, for the navigation, by telling one of his fellows to sing out for him in his absence, and imaginary depths, varying several feet, were accordingly shouted at intervals to the unconscious captain, who steered accordingly—fortunately without mishap. A court official accompanied us to see that the orders for provision of firewood were duly obeyed, and to purvey boats in case of the river proving unnavigable; but as no difficulties arose, he had nothing to do save that he once showed his zeal by inflicting an unmerciful beating on a village headman who failed to supply milk.

The banks of the river presented a succession of picturesque headlands, fifty to sixty feet high, separated by luxuriant dells, each containing a village. Between two such heights, covered with pagodas accessible only by flights of steps, lay Shienpagah, a thriving town of some four hundred houses. A brisk trade is here carried on in fish and firewood for the capital, and salt procured from the swamps behind the sterile Tsagain hills.[10] Above Shienpagah we changed our course to the other side. The villages on the eastern bank seemed small and few, each embowered among tall trees and groves of palmyra, mixed with a few cocoa-nut palms, relieved by the bright, pale, tropical green of the plantain. A broad alluvial flat extended to the low broken ranges of the Sagyen and Thubyo-budo hills, from the former of which comes nearly all the marble used in Mandalay. The distant Shan mountains rose beyond another plain sparsely covered with lofty trees and richly cultivated.

Our course lay up a channel, skirting the long island and town of Alékyoung, till the rounded hill of Kethung, dotted with white pagodas, rose over the dense greenery in which nestled the village so called. On the opposite bank lay Hteezeh, the village of oil merchants. A belt of bright yellow sand, and then a fine green sward, led up from the river to the village, shaded by noble palmyras and gigantic bamboos, which formed a background to a river scene of exquisite colouring and beauty. A mile or two above Alékyoung, the river narrowed, flowing in a stream unbroken by islands or sandbanks. Soon the short well wooded Nâttoung hills abutted on the right bank, in a pagoda-crowned headland, with Makouk village at its base. On the opposite side, the small town of Tsingu, once fortified, and still showing fragments of the old walls, occupied another headland, marking the entrance of the third defile of the Irawady.

From this point, for thirty miles, as far as Malé and Tsampenago, the country on either bank is hilly, and covered to the water’s edge with luxuriant forest. Winding in a succession of long reaches, the river presents a series of lovely lake landscapes. The stream, one thousand to fifteen hundred yards wide, flows placid and unbroken, save by the gambols of round-headed dolphins. As, preceded by long lines of these creatures, we steamed slowly along, each successive reach seemed barred by wooded cliffs. Reminiscences of the lake scenery of the old country were vividly awakened as we passed from one apparently land-locked scene of beauty to another. The high irregular hills were clothed with forest trees almost hidden by brilliant orchids and gigantic pendant creepers. Palms of various kinds feathered the water’s edge. Here and there fishing-villages peeped out, and everywhere graceful pagodas and priests’ houses gleamed amid the foliage. Parroquets darted and hornbills winged their heavy flight across the stream, while chattering troops of long-tailed black monkeys escorted the unusual visitors along the banks.

The chief object of interest is the little rocky island of Theehadaw, which boasts the only stone pagoda in Burma, and is resorted to by numbers of pilgrims at the great Buddhist festival in March. The pagoda is of no great size, but is substantially built of greyish sandstone admirably cut and laid in mortar. The building rises from a quadrangular base, with a chamber facing the east and closed with massive doors. The three other faces have false doors, and the sides of all, as well as the angles, are adorned with quasi-Doric pilasters. Our attention, like that of most pilgrims, was chiefly given to the famous tame fish. Having supplied ourselves with rice and plantains, the boatmen, called “Tit-tit-tit.” Soon the fish appeared, about fifty yards off, and after repeated cries, they were alongside, greedily devouring the offering of food. In their eagerness they showed their uncouth heads and great part of their backs, to which patches of gold leaf, laid on by recent devotees, still adhered. So tame were they that they suffered themselves to be stroked, and seemed to relish having their long feelers pulled. One fellow to whom a plantain skin was thrown indignantly rejected it, and dived in disgust.

For three miles above and three below the island fishing is prohibited by royal order, and the priests, who feed them daily, assured us that the fish never stray beyond the boundaries of their sanctuary. An offer of fifty rupees failed to secure a single specimen, but it may be here told that on another occasion, under cover of night, and without Burmese observation, one was hooked, and, though not easily, landed, photographed, and duly preserved. Two miles above the island we stopped at Thingadaw to coal. This is a depot for the produce of the coal mines, which having been accidentally discovered by some hunters were being worked by the king.

We set out to visit a newly opened mine, said to be two miles distant, but failed to find it after a walk of two hours over a broken undulating country covered with dense tree and bamboo jungle. The soil is poor and sandy, save in hollows, which afford good grazing to ponies and cattle. Fossilised wood abounds all over the surface, and soft white and reddish sandstones crop out, so soft that the cart wheels cut them into deep ruts. In these places the surface presented a remarkable appearance, being covered with symmetrical pillars of soft reddish sand, two inches high, and capped by a hard ashen-grey top of the consistence of stone, and as large as a penny piece. The little pillars in many places had crumbled away, and the soil was strewed with the little caps, giving it the appearance of an ash heap. In a later visit to the coal district, made from Kabyuet, a little south of Theehadaw, we had the assistance of the headman of the mines, who was most anxious to show us everything and secure a good report to the king.

At the first mine, called Lek-ope-bin, five miles from the river, the coal-bed, six feet thick, crops out in a hollow, and dips south-west at an angle of thirty-five degrees. A little to the north-east is the Ket-zu-bin mine, said to yield the best coal. During our visit a few men were quarrying the coal with common wood axes and wooden-handled chisels, so that they could only win a small quantity of broken coal. Under proper management these mines could give an abundant supply of useful fuel. We learned that the sand of an adjacent stream is washed for gold, and a single worker can make 303 yuey = 3s. per diem.

The black sand of the Pon-nah, a stream falling into the Irawady, is also washed for gold, which it is said to yield in large quantities at a place two days’ journey up the stream.

On the 17th of January, we reached the northern entrance of the defile, marked by two prominent headlands—the western one crowned by the pagoda of Malé, or Man-lé, formerly Muang-lé, and the eastern by those of the old Shan town of Tsampenago, above which none but Chinese could formerly trade.[11]

Malé contains about three hundred houses, and is the customs port for clearing boats bound from Bhamô to Mandalay, and the centre of a considerable trade in bamboo mats, sesamum oil, and jaggery. From it we beheld rising to the eastward the fine peaked mountains of Shuay-toung, about six thousand feet high, on which snow is said to lie in the winter.

Above Malé the river widens to a great breadth, with numerous islands, as far as Khyan-Nhyat. Thence it contracts to an unbroken stream about one hundred yards wide, flowing for twenty-two miles between high, well wooded banks.

Having halted at Tsinuhat, a little village to the south of a long promontory, on which are the ruins of Tagoung and Old Pagan, we made a short excursion to the sites of these ancient capitals. According to the Burmese chronicles, Tagoung was founded by Abhi-rája—of the Shakya kings of Kappilawot—who fled before the invasion of his country by the king of Kauthala or Oudh. After the death of Abhi-rája the succession was disputed by his two sons. They agreed that each should endeavour to construct a large building in one night, and that the crown should belong to him whose building should be found completed by the morning. As usual in legends, the younger son outwitted the elder. He artfully set up a framework of bamboos and planks, covered with cloth and whitewashed over, so as to present the semblance of a finished building. The elder brother, believing himself to have been vanquished by the aid of nats or demons, migrated to Pegu, and finally settled in the city of Arracan (Diniawadee).

The younger son assumed the throne at Tagoung, and was succeeded by thirty-three kings. An inroad of Tartars and Chinese, said to have come from Kandahar,[12] destroyed the city and expelled the last of the dynasty, who had married Nagazein, whose name indicates one of the mythical serpent race. This event may be referred to the century preceding the Christian era, and, according to the late Dr. Mason, must have occurred after the Tartar conquest of Bactria.[13]

After the death of the Tagoung king, one portion of his people migrated eastwards and founded the Shan states. Another, under the widowed queen Nagazein, settled on the river Malé. After the advent of Gaudama and the second overthrow of the cities of the Shakya kings, one of their race, named Daza-Yázá, migrated to Malé, and, having there found and married Nagazein, founded Upper or Old Pagan. A dense forest of magnificent timber and thousands of seedling eng trees surrounds and covers the sites and ruins of the ancient cities, of which nothing now remains but low lines and shapeless masses of brickwork. Near them stand pagodas of later date, still in tolerable preservation. Of the most ancient within the bounds of Old Pagan, only a single wall remained, behind a seated Buddha eight feet high. From the former we obtained small metal images of Buddha, and from the pagoda in Old Pagan bricks bearing in relief an image of Gaudama as the preceding Buddha. One of these was exactly the same as that described by Captain Hannay. Each bears an inscription in the old Devanagari character, beginning, “Ye Dhammá.”

The ancient name of Tagoung is now borne by a little fishing-village of forty houses. At the time of our passage the villagers were located in temporary huts on a long sandbank, and busily engaged in preparing ngapé or mashed salt-fish. The fishing stakes were fixed athwart a deep narrow channel separating the sandbank from the village. Such fishing-stations are numerous all along the river. Every morning large quantities of fish are taken, and sold by weight to the makers of ngapé. The fish, when cleaned, are packed between layers of salt and trodden down by the feet in long baskets lined with the leaves of the eng tree. While this narrative was being prepared for the press, a suggestion was made in the columns of a most able weekly paper that in the event of difficulties with Burma the Viceroy of India should prohibit the exportation from British Burma of ngapé, “which must be imported from the seaboard.” Undoubtedly there is a large exportation from our territories, but the fish composing that curious Burmese condiment, which, as Yule says, resembles “decayed shrimp paste,” are caught in the Irawady. The upper river teems with fish; fourteen species[14] were purchased by us at Tagoung, and the numerous fishing-villages could probably render the capital independent of the supply from British Burma.

The Shuay-mein-toung hills, on the right or western bank, opposite Tagoung, are very high, and wooded to their summits, with white pagodas peeping out amidst the dense foliage. A few miles to the north they recede from the river, where, on the eastern bank, the isolated range of the Tagoung-toung-daw, about twenty miles long and one thousand feet high, runs almost parallel to the river, in its intervening valley six miles wide. The Irawady is here studded with large islands, covered with long grass and forest trees; during the rains they are submerged, and become very dangerous to descending boats. A serpentine course, following a broad deep channel to the east of the large island of Chowkyoung, brought us to the town of Thigyain on the right bank, opposite to the village of Myadoung on the left. This latter gives its name to the district south of Bhamô. Here we were startled by the news that the Woon of Bhamô, to whom we were accredited, had been killed during a riot at Momeit, about thirty-six miles south-east of Myadoung. The Woon had proceeded thither with a force of three hundred men to collect taxes, when the Shans and Kkahyens broke out into revolt and surrounded the royal troops, many of whom, with their leader, had been killed. It was impossible not to feel a presentiment that this untoward event would prove a source of delay, by compelling us to deal with subordinates who would be timid, even if well disposed to assist. We passed, hidden by an island, the mouth of the Shuaylee, three miles above Myadoung, and halted at Katha, on the right bank, the largest place met with since Shienpagah. It is a long town, containing at least two hundred well-built timber houses, disposed in two parallel streets, and surrounded by bamboo palisades with three gates. It is the head-quarters of the woon of a considerable district, inhabited by Shan-Burmese. Long hollows of rich alluvium cultivated for rice, and closed in by undulating land covered with valuable forest trees, including teak, separate the town from the western hills. Some cotton is grown and tobacco largely raised on the islands and sandbanks. At the time of our visit, a number of Shan merchants had arrived with salted tea-leaves and other commodities. A few Yunnan Chinese, who had probably come down the Shuaylee, were also in the town. The people seemed well-clad and well-to-do, and the women were busily employed in weaving and preparing coloured cotton yarns for the manufacture of putzos and tameins.

A dense morning fog delayed our departure from Katha, and the whole population of the town swarmed on board the steamer. After satisfying their curiosity with the novelties of machinery, &c., we bethought ourselves of amusing them with a magnetic battery. At first all held back, but a few more venturous spirits leading the way, the operators were speedily besieged by eager candidates for a shock. The grimaces of each patient produced shouts of laughter. The good-humoured Shans discovered or fancied that the shock was good for would-be parents; some coaxed their timid wives to the front, while the matrons brought up their pretty young daughters to obtain a share of the benefits going. Above Katha the river is broken up by large islands into tortuous, deep, and narrow channels. Large flocks of geese kept passing us for nearly an hour, and the sandbanks and shores of the islands were covered with varieties of wild ducks. As evening closed in, at Shuaygoo-myo, immense flocks of Herodias garzetta, or the little egret, were seen roosting in the tall grass and on the high trees, which seemed illuminated by their white forms.

In this neighbourhood we saw several villages deserted for fear of the Kakhyens, who had occupied some of the abandoned houses.

Two of our party set out to visit and make their first acquaintance with those wild highlanders, who reminded them of the East Karens; they were civil, but declined an invitation to the steamer, pleading that they must rejoin their chief, but really fearing reprisals from the Burmese. Of their kidnapping habits, several proofs were given, one being in the person of a boy of Chinese extraction, who had been sold by them to the village headman for twenty-five rupees. At our departure in the morning, young women and boys raced along the river-side, keeping up with us, to secure protection from the hillmen on the way to their villages. We were also informed that the priests’ pupils who collected food from village to village were obliged to creep along under the high banks to escape the kidnappers. Subsequent experience has shown that the villagers on the eastern shore, as far as Bhamô, are in the habit of sleeping in boats moored in the river; only thus can they be secure from the nocturnal raids of their dangerous neighbours.

Leaving Shuaygoo-myo, we passed the large island of Shuaybaw, with its thousand pagodas, their bright golden htees strikingly contrasting with the rich green massive foliage, above which they rose. The great pagoda is about sixty feet high, enclosed on two sides by a richly carved zayat of teak with an elaborately decorated roof, and a cornice of small niches, containing seated marble Buddhas. Two broad paved ways, one known as the Shuaygoo-myo and the other as the Bhamô entrance, approach the pagoda, which is three quarters of a mile distant from the river. Numerous zayats cluster round the central shrine, piled to the ceiling with Buddhistic figures in metal, wood, and white marble, offered by the worshippers who yearly throng this holy place sanctified by the footprint of Gaudama.

Three miles above the island is the entrance to the second defile, where the Irawady flows through a magnificent gorge piercing a range of hills at right angles. For five miles the deep dark green current, narrowed to three hundred yards, but deepening to one hundred and eighty feet and more, is overhung by gigantic precipices. Their summits are mostly covered with scanty stunted trees, but some rise bare, with splintery peaks, and red, rocky escarpments; lower down their bold sides are mantled in dark green forest, picked out here and there with the fresher green of festooned clumps of bamboos, palms, and luxuriant musæ. Little fishing-villages enclosed in bamboo palisades lie snugly in the hollows. Entering the defile, we rounded a many-peaked hill on the left bank, which rose precipitously four hundred feet, its outline broken by huge black rocks standing out against the blue sky. The little white pagoda of Yethaycoo, in front of a cave, and dominating a grey limestone precipice one hundred and fifty feet in height, looked across the gorge to a phoongyee’s house perched on high, and accessible only by bamboo ladders. The most striking feature was the great limestone precipice which rose like a gigantic wall eight hundred feet from the water’s edge. This is the Deva-faced cliff celebrated in the mythical history of Tsampenago. At its base the little pagoda of Sessoungan was perched on a detached pyramid of limestone embowered in fine trees. During the March festival many devotees scale the long bamboo ladders which form the only access to the shrine. The Buddhist love for preserving animal life is here manifested towards the large monkeys (Macacus assamensis, M’Lelland), which, like the tame fish, come when called, and devour the offerings of the devotees. Projecting and depending from the precipice were huge masses of stalagmite formation, seemingly liable to fall at any moment. Water was dripping over them, and the natives say that during the rains the water pours over the face of the precipice in a tremendous cascade, the roar of which is deafening. It may well be so, for the echoes in the defile are most wonderful, echoing and re-echoing in almost harmonious reverberations. In the earliest morning the loud shouting of the hoolock monkeys in the forest made the whole air resonant, as it was taken up by another troop on the opposite bank, and echoed along the hills and from cliff to cliff in a constant wave of sound, curiously blended with which rang the shrill crowing of jungle cocks. As the sun rose higher, a deep bass was supplied by the hum of innumerable bees, whose pendant nests thickly studded the rocky projections of the precipice. At the next turn of the river another pagoda, with a handsome many-roofed zayat by its side, high on the western hills, marked the northern entrance of the defile, and we soon passed the ancient mart of Kaungtoung, celebrated for the repulse of the Chinese invading army in 1769, and the treaty which thenceforward secured peace and commerce between Burma and China. Subsequently it became a rival of Bhamô as an emporium of Chinese trade by the valley of the Shuaylee and the Muangmow route. The river now spread itself into a broad stream, broken up by islands and sandbanks, but in some places not less than a mile and half wide between the main banks. In front of the village of Sawady a long stretch of sand was occupied by a large encampment of Shan, Chinese, and other traders, a large fleet of boats lying ready to convey the goods down the river.

THE DEVA-FACED CLIFF, SECOND DEFILE OF THE IRAWADY.

Here we sighted Bhamô in the distance, situated on an elevated bank overlooking the river, the htees of its few pagodas glistening brightly in the setting sun. To the right the high range of the Kakhyen hills was seen stretching away in an unbroken line to the east-north-east, and on the left a low range of undulating tree-clad hills bent round to join the western heights of the defile.

The almost level sweep of country, about twenty-five miles broad between these limits, was closed in, about ten miles to the north, by another low range, marking the upper khyoukdwen, or first defile, of the Irawady.

[1] Pronounced “Bhamaw.”

[2] ‘Report on Eastern Frontier of British India,’ 1835.

[3] Vide ‘Selection of Papers on the Hill Tracts between Assam and Burmah,’ Calcutta, 1873.

[4] The Chamber of Commerce, under the able president, Mr. M’Call, had been most active in urging the despatch of the mission, and had subscribed £3000 for all expenses of their representatives, and for the purchase of specimens of manufactures.

[5] The putzo is a long narrow silken cloth of a chequered pattern, which a Burman winds round him to form a suit of clothes. The tamein is the feminine equivalent, partly of cloth, partly of silk, with a zigzag pattern, the silken portions forming the skirt, which, according to ancient custom, exposes one leg almost completely in walking.

[6] These Brahmins act as royal astrologers, who are consulted on all great occasions. The Buddhist priests took no part in the ceremonial.

[7] It appears to be made from the leaves of Elæodendron persicum, Persoön.

[8] Kalas, Burmese word for “foreigners.”

[9] See Appendix I.

[10] At this time about one million viss of salt were annually exported up the river from Shienpagah, finding its way chiefly to Bhamô and to Tsitkaw, for the supply of the Kakhyens and Shans. Lately, however, English salt is beginning to take its place, and on my last voyage up the Irawady, one flat from Mandalay carried nothing but salt. In order to proceed to Tsitkaw, it is transshipped at Bhamô into small boats, which carry only five thousand viss each, as the Tapeng is a rapid river, and rather shallow during the dry weather. On salt from Shienpagah, a duty is levied at Malé, Yuathét, and Bhamô, in addition to a boat tax, and when it proceeds up the Tapeng, an additional impost has to be paid at Tsitkaw, and a boat tax at Haylone and Tsitgna. (A viss = about 3 lbs.)

[11] Hannay, ‘Selection of Papers,’ Calcutta, 1873.

[12] In the ecclesiastical translation of the classical localities of Indian Buddhism to Indo-China, which is current in Burma, Yunnan is represented by Gandhara or Kandahár. Yule’s ‘Marco Polo,’ ii. p. 59, edition of 1874.

[13] Colonel Yule remarks that “Tartars on the Indian frontier in those centuries are surely to be classed with the Frenchmen whom Brennus led to Rome” (‘Marco Polo,’ i. p. 12).

[14] Wallago attu, Bloch and Schn.; Callichrous bimaculatus, M’Lelland; Macrones cavasius, H. B.; Macrones corsula, H. B.; Labeo calbasu, H. B.; Labeo churchius, H. B.; Cirrhina mrigala, H. B.; Barbus sarana, H. B.; Barbus apogon, C. and V.; Carassius auratus, Linn.; Catla buchanani, C. and V.; Rhotee cotio, H. B.; Rhotee microlepis, Blyth; Notopterus kapirat, Bonn.

CHAPTER II.
BHAMÔ.

Arrival at Bhamô—Our quarters—The town—The Woon’s house—The Shan-Burmese—Kakhyen man-stealing—The environs—Old Tsampenago—Legendary history—The Shuaykeenah pagodas—The Molay river—The first defile—Delays and intrigues—Sala—The new Woon—Our departure—Tsitkaw—Mountain muleteers—The Manloung lake—The phoongyee’s farewell.

We found some difficulty in steering the long steamer through the channels, but anchored about 5 P.M. on the 22nd of January off the river front of Bhamô, in a very deep and broad channel. Our arrival attracted crowds, but the whistle and rush of steam drove many into a precipitate retreat. We had now reached our true point of departure. Whatever had been the uncertainties of the untried navigation of the river, the real dangers and difficulties of the attempt to penetrate Western China were now to begin. We bore the proclamation of the king commanding all Burmese subjects to aid us. But there was no governor of Bhamô to execute the royal orders, and the secret intentions or inclinations of the Burmese were yet to be tested. The difficulties of the unknown road over the Kakhyen mountains, the hostility or friendship of the mountaineers, and of the Shan population between them and Yunnan, were equally untried. Moreover, though it had scarcely been realised in all its bearings by our own British officials, Yunnan was no longer a well ordered province of the Chinese empire; it was disorganised by the successful rebellion of the Mahommedan Chinese, called Panthays by the Burmese, who had established a partial sovereignty, extending from Momien to Tali-fu. The frontier trade had been materially interrupted, partly by the desolation caused by the internecine warfare, and partly by the depredations of imperial Chinese partisans. Of these, the most dreaded leader was a Burman Chinese, known as Li-sieh-tai, a faithful officer of the old régime, who had established himself on the borders of Yunnan, and waged a guerilla war against the Panthays and their friends. His name is Li, and his so-called small name is Chun-kwo, while from his mother having been a Burmese, he is also known as Li-haon-mien, or Li the Burman. As having been raised to the rank of a Sieh-tai in the Chinese army, he was called Li-sieh-tai or Brigadier Li.[15]

In Bhamô itself there were a number of Chinese merchants, who were unlikely to favour any project which threatened to admit the hated barbarians to a share of their monopoly and profits. This may give some idea of the state of things which we found on our arrival. Our illusions as to a speedy or easy progress were soon dissipated, and after a formal visit from the two tsitkays, or magistrates, ruling the northern and southern divisions of the town, it became evident that we must prepare for a long stay at Bhamô. The royal order to provide transport had only been received by the Woon on the eve of his departure on his fatal expedition to Momeit. Nothing, therefore, had been done; nor could they venture to act until the new governor arrived. The next best thing was to insist on their carrying into effect the royal order to build a house for us, which had not been done. This they reluctantly performed, and in a few days a bamboo edifice was run up close to the Woon’s house, consisting of a central hall, with three bedrooms on either side, and a verandah at each end of the house. A small outhouse accommodated the servants and baggage, and the guard was quartered in an adjacent zayat; a tent pitched in front of the house served as a refectory. Till these quarters were prepared, we remained on board the steamer, receiving crowds of visitors. In the press a heavy log of timber fell on a little girl and fractured her thigh; she was at once carried on board, and the broken limb duly set. This incident speedily established the reputation of the foreign doctor, and for the rest of our stay patients flocked in every day, some coming from long distances, and blind and lame eagerly expecting to be made young and whole. A great deal of blindness had resulted from small-pox. Ophthalmia was also prevalent. A common affection was a form of ulcerous inflammation, chiefly on the legs, amongst those whose occupation led them into the jungles. This was so intractable as to incline one to attribute it to poisonous thorns; but subsequent personal experience proved that slight bruises and abrasions are most apt in this country to become painful and tedious. During the whole time no case of fever was treated, nor did any occur among our party of one hundred men. This speaks volumes for the salubrity of the place during the dry season. The highest temperature experienced was 80° Fahrenheit, the average maximum being not more than 66° Fahrenheit, while the nights were very pleasant, cooling down, if we may put it so, to fifty or forty-five degrees. Fever is rather more prevalent during the rains, when the Irawady rolls down a huge volume of water, a mile and half broad, and the low lands are submerged twelve to fifteen feet.[16]

But this is a digression somewhat professional, and it is needful to revert to the narrative and try to give the reader some notion of our surroundings and proceedings until we got away fairly on the march.

Bhamô, known by the Chinese as Tsing-gai, and in Pali called Tsin-ting, is a narrow town about one mile long, occupying a high prominence on the left bank of the Irawady. Instead of walls, there is a stockade about nine feet high, consisting of split trees driven side by side into the ground and strengthened with crossbeams above and below. This paling is further defended on the outside by a forest of bamboo stakes fixed in the ground and projecting at an acute angle. However formidable to barefooted natives, the stockade does not always exclude tigers, which pay occasional visits, and during our stay killed a woman as she sat with her companions. There are four gates, one at either end and two on the eastern side, which are closed immediately after sunset; a guard is stationed at the northern and southern gates, while several look-out huts perched at intervals on the stockade are manned when an attack of the Kakhyens is expected. The population numbers about two thousand five hundred souls, occupying about five hundred houses, which form three principal streets. There are many thickly wooded by-paths, and bridges over a swamp in the centre of the town, leading to scattered houses, dilapidated pagodas, zayats, and monasteries.

The street following the course of the bank, with high flights of steps ascending from the river, has a row of houses on either side, with a row of teak planks laid in the middle to afford dry footing during the rains. The houses of the central portion are all small one-storied cottages, built of sun-dried bricks, with tiled concave roofs with deep projecting eaves. Through an open window the proprietor can be seen calmly smoking behind a little counter, for this is the Chinese quarter, and the colony of perhaps two hundred Celestials here offer for sale Manchester goods, Chinese yarns, ball tea, opium, Yunnan potatoes, lead, and vermilion, &c. They also regulate the cotton market, and the traffic in this product, which is brought both from the south and the north, is carried on even during the rains. The head Chinaman, who is responsible for order amongst his compatriots, is a man of great influence. He and his fellow merchants, professing great friendship, invited us to a grand feast and theatrical entertainment given in the Chinese temple, or rather in the theatre which formed a portion thereof. We entered through what was to us a novelty in this country, a circular doorway, into a paved court. The theatrical portion of the building was over the entrance to a second court, facing the sanctuary, which is on a higher level. A covered terrace surrounded the holy place on three sides, with recesses containing seated figures nearly life size, with rubicund faces and formidable black beards and moustaches. Each of these was carefully protected from dust by being enshrined in a square box closed in front with gauze netting. Besides the theatrical entertainment, which was interminable, we were regaled with preserved fruits and confectionery, with tea and samshu, or rice spirit, followed by numerous courses of pork, fowls, &c. The staple of conversation was the dangers and impossibilities of getting through to Yunnan; every argument they could think of to induce us to abandon the idea of progress was then and afterwards employed. It can readily be imagined that the Bhamô Chinese traders viewed with utter dismay the prospect of Europeans sharing their trade; to their schemes of hindrance we shall again recur.

The rest of the townspeople are exclusively Shan-Burmese, living in small houses built of teak and bamboo, all detached and raised on piles. The Woon’s house, on a low promontory running out into the swamp behind the Chinese quarter, was a large tumbledown timber and bamboo structure; but its double roof and high palisade covered with bamboo mats marked the dignity of its occupier. A small garden overrun with weeds contained the remains of a rockery and fish-pond, and a neglected brass cannon, under a low thatched shed, guarded either side of the gate; in a large adjacent space stood the court-house. All the public buildings were then in a state of dilapidation and decay; this the inhabitants attributed to Kakhyen raids, destructive fires, decay of trade since the Panthay wars, and misrule. Evidence was not wanting in the numerous neglected pagodas and timber bridges, and in the ruinous and charred remains of what must have been handsome zayats, that Bhamô, in palmier days, deserved the eulogiums passed on it by Hannay and other travellers.

The Shan-Burmese seemed a peaceful, industrious class. In each house a loom is found in the verandah, and the girls are taught to weave from an early age. The women are always busy weaving silk or cotton putzos and tameins, preparing yarns, husking rice, or feeding and tending the buffaloes, besides doing their household duties. The men till the fields, but are not so industrious as the softer sex. A few are employed in smelting lead, and others work in gold, or smelt the silver used as currency. To six tickals[17] of pure silver purchased from the Kakhyens, one tickal eight annas of copper wire are added, and melted with alloy of as much lead as brings the whole to ten tickals’ weight. The operation is conducted in saucers of sun-dried clay bedded in paddy husk, and covered over with charcoal. The bellows are vigorously plied, and as soon as the mass is at a red heat, the charcoal is removed, and a round flat brick button previously covered with a layer of moist clay is placed on the amalgam, which forms a thick ring round the edge, to which lead is freely added to make up the weight. As it cools, there results a white disc of silver encircled by a brownish ring. The silver is cleaned and dotted with cutch, and is then weighed and ready to be cut up. Another industry is confined to the women, who make capital chatties from a tenacious yellow clay, which overlies this portion of the river valley, in some places forty feet thick; the earthenware is coloured red with a ferruginous substance found in nodules embedded in the clay.

From the same clay, a number of Shan-Chinese from Hotha and Latha make sun-dried bricks outside the town, and a colony of the same people sojourn every winter at Bhamô, making dahs, or long knives, which are in great demand. A number of Kakhyens are often to be seen near the town, bringing rice, opium, silver, and pigs for sale. Their chief object is to procure salt, for which necessary they are dependent on Burma. They are not allowed to encamp within the town, but are compelled to shelter themselves outside the gates, in miserable wigwams. The Burmese assigned as a reason for their exclusion their dread of the Kakhyen propensity for kidnapping children and even men, and also because a small party might be the precursors of a raid.[18] A few days after our arrival, four children who had been stolen were recovered. One of them was brought by her mother, to show the large round holes bored in the back of the ears as a sign of servitude. The other three were little fat Chinese children, and adopted by the head tsitkay. A curious illustration of their habits of man-stealing was also afforded us.

The Burmese interpreter found among the Kakhyens outside the town a man who privately told him that he was a kala, or foreigner, who had been ten years in slavery; having heard of the arrival of the kalas, he anxiously desired an interview. His features showed that he was a native of India, and his history, given in a jumble of Burmese, Kakhyen, and Hindostani, was as follows. Deen Mahomed, a petty trader from Midnapore, had come to Burma with nine others ten years before. They stayed a year at Tongoo, thence making their way up as far as Bhamô. In this neighbourhood, during a halt for cooking, all had gone to seek firewood save Deen Mahomed and another, who were in charge of the goods. A party of Kakhyens suddenly rushed out of the bush, and seized both men and goods. His comrade was taken away he knew not where, and he was carried off as a slave. A log of wood was fastened to one of his legs, and he was further secured by ropes fastened to this, and braced over his shoulders. This he wore for two months, during which time he was not made to work, but was guarded by a Kakhyen. He was then released on his promise to remain. A few days after, the village was plundered by a hostile tribe, but he and his master escaped to another village, where he was bartered for a buffalo to another man. His new master treated him well, but did not allow him to leave the hills, and after two or three years gave him a Kakhyen wife. He had almost forgotten his native language, but not his native country. As soon as he heard of our arrival, he resolved to ask our aid in his deliverance. We sent him among his fellow-countrymen of the guard, who clothed him, and he was installed as a groom, and taken with us as an interpreter. That his story was true, we had confirmation, as his quondam master preferred a claim for compensation for his loss.

The country behind Bhamô runs up to the base of the mountain wall in undulations so long as to present the general aspect of a level slope, covered with eng trees and tall grass. For about a mile outside the stockade, the surface is cut up by numerous deep jheels, evidently old backwaters of the Irawady, which once flowed in a long curve, marked by an old river bank, south-east of the town. The soil, especially in the hollows, is very rich, giving two crops of rice annually. Numerous legumes, yams, and melons, and a little cotton are grown, and the sandy river islands yield capital tobacco.

The edible fruits procurable are jacks, tamarinds, lemons, citrons, peaches, &c., and plantains are plentiful.

About a mile north of the town, the Tapeng river debouches into the Irawady, after flowing twenty miles through the plain as a quiet navigable stream, hardly recognisable as the furious torrent which rushes through the neighbouring gorge. During the dry season, it is one hundred and fifty to two hundred yards wide, and navigable only by boats, which convey a constant traffic between the Irawady and Tsitkaw, where the merchandise is transferred to and from mules. During the rains, the Tapeng is at least five hundred yards wide, and navigable for small river steamers up to this place.

Occupying the angle between the two rivers, the remains of an ancient city are still discernible, though completely overgrown by magnificent trees and thickets of bamboo and elephant grass. The broad wall, composed of bricks and pebbles, can be traced from the river banks at its northern and southern extremities, which are a mile apart. We followed one section for three quarters of a mile, and found it in some places thirty feet high from the bottom of the moat, which is still traceable. The ruins, which, to judge from appearances, are coeval with those of Tagoung, mark the site of the oldest Tsampenago. This city, according to tradition, quoted by the old phoongyee at Bhamô, flourished in the days of Gaudama. There is yet another ruined city of the same name on the other side of the Tapeng, which does not present the same appearance of great antiquity. Twelve miles to the east of Bhamô are the ruins of another city named Kuttha, while Bhamô itself has a predecessor in the village called Old Bhamô, near the foot of the Kakhyen hills, the former importance of which is witnessed by its ruined pagodas. Here too is that old brick building mentioned by Dr. Bayfield as probably the remains of the old English factory erected in the beginning of the seventeenth century. We have little but conjecture to guide us as to the vicissitudes of these ancient cities of the Shan kingdom of Pong. As elsewhere in Burma, each new founder of a dynasty seems to have transferred the seat of power to a new site. But the legend of the origin of Tsampenago, of which the history of Bhamô is a continuation, may be more interesting than dryasdust details of antiquity.[19]

Tsampenago is the Burmese form of a Pali name, Champa-nagara, from nagam, town, and Champa, the seat of a powerful kingdom, flourishing in the era of Gaudama, the ruins of which are still visible near Bhaugulpore, on the Ganges. Tsampenago, then, means the city of Champa.

The founder and first king of Tsampenago was Tsitta, and his queen’s name was Wattee. They were childless, which was a cause of great grief, and the queen prayed earnestly for an heir. A son was promised to her by a dream, in which the king of the Devas presented her with a valuable gem. Soon after this, the king’s brother Kuttha rebelled, and attacked the city with a great army. The king and queen fled for their lives to Wela, a mountain three thousand feet high, a day’s journey north of Tsampenago. They were pursued, but the queen escaped and was preserved by the nats, on the mountain, where her son was born and named Welatha. The king was taken prisoner and confined in chains. When Welatha was six years old, he saw his mother in tears, and by questioning her learned that he was a prince, and his father a captive. When he was seven, his mother yielded to his importunity, and sent him, with her royal ornaments, to visit his father. On approaching Tsampenago, he met his father being led out to execution. The brave boy stopped the procession, and revealed himself, offering to die instead of his father. Kuttha ordered him to be thrown into the Irawady. But the river rose in tremendous waves, the earth shook, and the executioners could not, for terror, obey the royal order. This being reported to Kuttha, he ordered that the prince should be trodden to death by wild elephants, but the beasts could not be goaded to attack him. A deep pit was dug and filled with burning fuel, into which the prince was cast, but the flames came on him like cool water, and the burning fagots became lilies. When Kuttha heard this, in his fury he had the young prince taken down to the Deva-faced mountain (second defile), and cast from the great precipice into the river, but he was caught up by a naga, and carried away to the naga country. The earth quaked, many thunderbolts fell, the Irawady rolled up its waves, and broke down its banks. Kuttha was seized with terror, and as he fled forth of the city gate, the earth opened and swallowed him up. Thereupon, the nagas brought back the young prince and his father, and they reigned jointly. Their first care was to seek for the queen, but on approaching the mountain of Wela, the flowers were few, and their fragrance gone, and the queen was found dead. History says nothing of their after reign, but records that in the 218th year of the Buddhist sacred era, in obedience to the command of the universal monarch, four pagodas were built in the kingdom of Tsampenago—the Shuaykeenah, the Bhamô Shuay-za-tee; Koung-ting, and two others. The next item of history states that in the year 400 of the era (probably the vulgar era of 638 A.D.) the succession of kings being destroyed, and the glory of the former rulers having departed, the tsawbwa Tholyen did not dare to live in the city; so he founded a new one at the village of Manmau, and made it his capital. Now man is Shan for village, and mau for a pot; thus Bhamô, or Manmau, signifies Potters’ Village, a name still justified by the pottery there manufactured. How Tsampenago was destroyed, is not historically certain, but a tradition exists among the Shans, that it was overthrown by an army of Singphos from the north-west. After Tholyen, twenty-three tsawbwas are said to have ruled in succession at Bhamô over a district comprising one hundred and thirty-six villages. The succession was then broken, and the country was ruled by Shan deputies. After this, tsawbwas were obtained from Momeit, who ruled over Bhamô till Oo-Myat-bung and his family were made slaves by the great Alompra about 1760. Ever since, the district has been governed by myo-woons appointed by the king of Burma. The first, Thoonain, settled the boundaries of the district, including only eighty-eight villages, the eastern and north-eastern boundaries being given as China.

The legend of Tsampenago records the erection of the Shuaykeenah pagoda, the name of which at least is preserved to the present day by the group of pagodas situated on an eminence north of Tsampenago. These are still the holy places of the neighbourhood, and are thronged with pilgrims at the March festival. The great gilded pagoda has been re-edified by royal bounty and popular offerings, but others are from time to time added by private votaries. Thus it was our good fortune to witness the laying the foundation of a votive pagoda at Shuaykeenah. A small square of ground, the exact size of the base of the intended pagoda, was railed off by a fantastic bamboo fence, two feet high, decorated with flowers and paper flags. A wooden pin, covered with silver tinsel, and bearing a lighted yellow taper, was fixed in the centre, and another about two feet from the south-eastern corner of the level plot; round the first a quadrangular trench, and a deep hole by the side of the other were dug and sprinkled with water. Eight bricks, each the exact size of one side of the trench, were prepared. On four the name of Gaudama was inscribed in black paint; on the others, a leaf of gold was placed on the centre of one, silver on the second, a square of green paint on the third, and red on the fourth, each having a border of green. A round earthen vase containing gold, silver, and precious stones, besides rice and sweetmeats, was closed with wax in which a lighted taper was stuck, and deposited in the south-east hole, by the builder of the pagoda, who repeated a long prayer, while the earth was filled in and sprinkled with water. This was an offering to the great earth serpent, in the direction of whose abode the south-east corner pointed. It is an interesting relic of the snake worship once so prevalent among the Shan race to the south, which, like nat worship, has been incorporated in Buddhism. Another instance is afforded in some of the Yunnan shrines, where the canopy over Buddha is supported by many-headed snakes, as occurs in some Indian temples. In the next part of the ceremony, the depositing of the bricks in the trench, the Shan was assisted by his grandmother, wife, and daughter; he knelt at the north, faced by his wife, his daughter on his right hand, and the grandmother on the left. The silvered brick, with a lighted taper on it, was handed to the old woman, who raised it over her head, and, devoutly murmuring a long prayer, placed it in the trench; the wife did the same with the red brick and its taper, and the daughter followed with the green, while her father took the gold one. The girl, in raising her brick, burst out laughing, amused, as we were told, at having forgotten her prayers. The four bricks having been properly deposited, the others were next laid in order, the sacred name downwards, and a layer of cloth spread over all. Earth was then thrown in and sprinkled with water, and the hole having been filled up, the ceremony was over.

Four miles above Shuaykeenah and the mouth of the Tapeng, the Irawady receives the waters of the Molay. It is a narrow stream, rising in the Kakhyen hills, with a course of ninety-six miles, for thirty of which it is navigable during the rains, and a small boat traffic exists, chiefly for the conveyance of salt.

While our leader was engaged planning for our departure with the officials, three of us made a hurried excursion to the first khyoukdwen, or defile. This portion of the river commences a few miles above Bhamô, and extends for twenty-five miles, nearly to Tsenbo.

Between these two points the river flows under high wooded banks. At the lower entrance, the channel is one thousand yards broad, but gradually narrows to five hundred, two hundred, and even seventy yards, as the parallel ranges approach each other. As we ascended, the hills rose higher and closed in, rising abruptly from the stream and throwing out a succession of grand rocky headlands. We moored for the night off a Phwon village standing on a cliff eighty feet high, just above the first so-called rapids. The next day, after we had proceeded about seven miles, we came to a reach in which the river flowed sluggishly between two high conical hills, which seemed to present no outlet. The quiet motion and deep olive black hue of the water suggested great depth.[20]

ROCKY BARRIER ON THE FIRST OR UPPER DEFILE OF THE IRAWADY.

This reach extended about one mile and a half, with a breadth of two hundred and fifty yards, closing in at the upper end, where the channel is broken up by rocks jutting out boldly, and approaching each other within eighty yards. A pagoda, apparently of great age, perched on a small isolated rock, rising about forty-five feet from the stream, seemed to indicate the limit of the rising of the waters, as it could not have withstood the flood. This rocky reach stretches a mile in a north-north-westerly direction, and terminates abruptly in an elbow, from which another clear reach, overhung by precipitous but grassy hills, extends east-north-east.

This bend of the river is one of the most dangerous parts, owing to numerous insulated greenstone rocks which stretch across it, exposed twenty feet and more in February. Owing to the sudden bend, the current rushes between them with great violence, but we found no difficulty in effecting a passage for our boats. Telling evidences were not wanting in the high-water mark, twenty-five feet above the then level, and in the shivered trunks of large trees and debris of branches heaped in wild confusion among the rocks, that the body of water pouring through the narrow gorge must in the rains be enormous and of terrific power. The navigation, with the present obstructions unremoved, would be impossible for river steamers, but engineering skill could speedily render the water way practicable if desired for traffic. We had not time to ascend to the northern entrance of the defile, where the river, unconfined by the hills, is again a majestic stream half a mile in width. We could only look, and long for an opportunity of exploring its course upwards to the unknown regions whence it rolls down its mighty flood. The problem of the Irawady’s source and course has yet to be solved; but we had to return to Bhamô, expecting the solution of our perplexities, as to how and when we should reach Yunnan.

Four weeks had now been spent by our leader in a fruitless attempt to get the tsitkays to assist in making the necessary arrangements. What between the novelty of their first introduction to enterprising Englishmen, their dread of acting till the Woon arrived, and last, though not least, their fear of offending the influential Chinese, they could do nothing, nor give any information. As the arrival of large Shan caravans and companies of trading Kakhyens proved, all routes were not closed. The magistrates admitted a small trade existed by the Tapeng and Ponline route; by this route it was decided that we should go. It soon became known to our leader that the Chinese merchants, failing to deter us from proceeding, had taken more active measures. They had written to the Kakhyen tsawbwas, desiring them to withhold assistance, and they further intrigued with the imperialist officer Li-sieh-tai, who at this time threatened the road to Momien and Tali-fu, entreating him to cut off the expedition en route. The turning-point of our fortunes had now arrived. We could gain no exact information as to the political relations of the Shans, and only knew that the Panthay government extended to Momien, which was believed to be the residence of Mahommedan chiefs of importance.

Major Sladen, with promptness and decision, resolved, unknown to all, to outwit the Chinese. He despatched letters to the chiefs of Momien, explaining the peaceful objects of the mission, and the approbation given to it by the Burmese government under our treaty, and pointing out the advantages of opening the direct trade. These letters, with copies of the treaty and proclamation, were secretly sent off by three Kakhyens from the southern hills, who had attached themselves to our interest.

The next character claiming our attention was Sala, the Kakhyen chief of Ponline, who came to Bhamô at the request of Sladen, after refusing to comply with the order of the tsitkays. He visited us attired as a mandarin of the blue button, and attended by six or eight armed followers. He carried a gold umbrella, which he had received from the king of Burma, with the title of papada raza, or mountain king. There was nothing regal in his aspect or bearing. He was a tall, thin man, with a contracted chest, long neck, very small and retreating forehead, while his oval and repulsive visage was adorned with high cheek-bones, oblique eyes, and a depression instead of a nose. During the interview, when all the Burmese officials were present, he sat ill at ease, with his eyes bent on the floor. We received him as an independent chief, with the escort drawn up under arms in his honour. But little information was procured, as the interpreter, a village tamone, could not be persuaded to give correct versions of the chief’s short and almost monosyllabic answers. So Sladen brought the interview to a pleasant close by offering a friendly cup of eau de vie. This seemed to suit the chief, and he and his retinue finished a bottle of brandy, and asked for more. His parting words were, “Remember the brandy, and send it to me quickly.”

The following day, at a private interview, the chief threw off his former reserve, which he said had been forced on him, as he could not afford to offend the Bhamô Chinese. It was his own wish to assist the mission, but he stipulated for a small Burmese escort, to show that we had the full support of the king. He engaged to assemble a hundred mules at Tsitkaw, a village on the right bank of the Tapeng twenty-one miles distant; thence he undertook to conduct us safely to Manwyne, the first Chinese Shan town, and boasted himself as the greatest chief on the route, and on good terms with all the tsawbwas.

The new Woon arrived on the 20th of February, but declined to land for three days, as they were dies nefasti. In the meantime he sent word that we might have boats to take the baggage to Tsitkaw, but advised us to wait until he had fired his guns, and brought in the various Kakhyen chiefs. The day after his landing, Sladen, with Sala, visited him, and the Ponline chief asked for a Burmese guard, alleging as a precedent that a guard had been sent up with the king’s cotton. The Woon, however, declared it to be quite unnecessary and uncalled for, and told the chief that the cases were quite different. The tsawbwa then consented to take us on without the guard, but told the Woon that he had received threatening letters from the Chinese. The Woon admitted his knowledge of the Chinese opposition, and promised to admonish the head Chinaman at Bhamô that he would be held responsible for our safety. The morning after the Woon arrived, he proceeded in state to the court-house, escorted by two hundred men. He wore the fantastic dress of a Burmese prince, a short tight richly coloured coat covered with gold tinsel, with two enormous wing-like epaulettes, and a tall gilt hat like a fireman’s helmet, surmounted by a pagoda-like spire. His appointment was read, and the guns fired, after an hour had been spent in driving home the powder and cartridge of green plantain leaf. Our baggage was despatched the next day, but two difficulties remained. We had no Kakhyen interpreters, and the rupees, which were said to be useless in the Shan country, had not been changed, for no country silver was to be found in Bhamô, a mysterious and suggestive fact. But these were not held sufficient to delay our departure, which took place on the morning of the 26th of February. Our want of a guide was removed by an accidental meeting in the street with the head jailor, a good-natured Shan, whom Sladen induced to guide us to Tsitkaw, promising to screen him from any displeasure of the authorities. Although the distance is only twenty-one miles, the loss of time caused by ferrying our party of one hundred men over the Tapeng compelled us to halt at the village of Tahmeylon, where we put up in a small monastery. Early the next morning we started, skirting the Tapeng through tall grass, with occasional rice clearings. At the junction of the Manloung river with the Tapeng, a number of ruined pagodas marked the site of the second town of Tsampenago, built at a much later date than that near Bhamô.

By noon we reached Tsitkaw, and were received inside the low stockade by the Burmese officials and a miserable guard armed with rusty flint muskets, who garrison this as a customs station. We were conducted to a small barn-like zayat, which had been cleaned out for our use. Inquisitive natives speedily sought to force their way in, and had to be kept at bay by armed sentinels, though with caution. And we were requested to have a guard under arms all night, to protect our property against thieves, and perhaps ourselves against tigers, which occasionally overleap the stockade. In the morning, the Kakhyen tsawbwas, or chiefs, and pawmines, or headmen, of Ponline, Tahlone, Ponsee, and Seray, through whose lands lay the route to Manwyne, appeared to take charge of ourselves and baggage. As the Shan-Burmese of Tsitkaw and other villages near the hills keep on good terms with the highlanders, the chiefs showed no timidity of the Burmese officials; they made themselves quite at home, and asked for brandy; under its genial influence a formal assent was soon given to our passage through their territories.

The first process was to collect all our baggage, that it might be passed in review, and divided into small loads. Outside Tsitkaw, we had passed an enclosure in which were about a hundred men, chiefly Shans, with a few Kakhyens. These fellows had jeered at us in passing, and it was by no means reassuring to learn that this unmannerly mob consisted of the mule owners, as restive and untractable as their beasts. Each man owned from one to a dozen mules, and looked after his own interests without regard either to his employer’s or the rest of the caravan. The consequent shouting, disputing, and almost fighting that ensued as each helped himself to the packages that seemed desirable baffled description. At last all the baggage was distributed in little heaps, and each man marked off the number of mules required on a primitive tally, formed from a piece of bamboo, which he broke across into a corresponding number of joints, and put up carefully against the day of reckoning.

The next morning witnessed another scene of confusion and quarrelling, as the panniers or pack-saddles were brought in order to have the loads adjusted. The packs are secured to cross-trees, which fit into transverse pieces of wood, fixed in the saddles; and a band passed in front of the mule’s shoulders keeps all firm in its place. When the burdens had been arranged, it appeared that there were more mules than loads, and the disappointed proprietors furiously disputed the possession of their lots with their more fortunate competitors; hands were repeatedly laid on the hilt of the dah, but all ended in bluster, and finally the loads were arranged. When all seemed ready for the morrow’s starting, the choung-oke, or bailiff of the river, appeared on the scene, accompanied by several Kakhyens, and informed us that March 1st, being the 9th of some Kakhyen month, was an altogether ill-omened day to commence any undertaking. This Burmese official further confidentially informed Sladen that there was a quarrel brewing between the muleteers and the chiefs, which would break out before long; but he was disconcerted by the prompt action of the leader, who sent for the chiefs, and, assuring them of his confidence, said that he would abide by their arrangements for the transport. To this they replied that we were their brothers, and that they would be true to us for ever. The enforced delay at this place enabled us to make a short excursion to the Manloung lake, about one mile and a half distant. I went all round it in a small canoe, which held three people with difficulty. The western bank is high and wooded, but broken by two channels, through which the Manloung stream issues, uniting below a small island, on which stands a Shan village of the same name. Besides this, there is another island, and a village named Moungpoo. The high bank is continued on the north, beyond the lake, as a prominent ridge covered with tall trees, extending in a bold sweep to the foot of the hills; it appeared evidently to be an old river bank, and that the lake marks what was once the course of the Tapeng. The Manloung stream falls into a remarkable offshoot of the main river, which afterwards rejoins the Tapeng by several channels. This stream is deep and rapid, and supplies several irrigating water-wheels. The lake is two miles long and a mile broad, and according to native accounts very deep. To the east extended a succession of swamps, hidden under a luxuriant growth of high grass; careful search discovered no springs or streams as sources of supply, although doubtless the former exist, as there is a constant outflowing of water. It is probably also a reservoir, filled annually by the overflow of the Tapeng, which during the rainy season frequently floods the level plain to a depth of two feet for some days at a time, the flood suddenly rising and as suddenly subsiding.

Manloung contained about eighty houses, and the women at this time were all busily engaged in weaving cloth from cotton procured from the Kakhyens, who grow it on the hills. The village boasted of a large and flourishing monastery, far superior to any to be seen at Bhamô, and with a large number of resident pupils. The dormitory was exhibited with pride by the chief phoongyee; the beds were neatly arranged along one side of the room, each possessing a nice clean mattress and coverlet and superior mosquito curtains.

Thence we returned to Tsitkaw, where the filthy disregard of decency exhibited by the drunken highland chiefs, which we were obliged to tolerate, made our enforced sojourn still more insupportable; and an additional source of anxiety was furnished by the information, imparted by Sala, that Moung Shuay Yah, our Chinese interpreter, was really in collusion with the hostile Chinese.

Daylight on the 2nd of March saw us all on the qui vive in expectation of an early start, but the mule-men, at nine o’clock, had not eaten their rice, and then came a demand for an advance of mule hire; a previous request for salt to be distributed to the people of villages en route had been complied with, but no sooner had the baskets containing it been brought in front of the house than the men helped themselves at discretion, and no more was heard of it. An hour was now spent in the distribution of five hundred rupees, which were laid out on a mat, while the eagerness with which the recipients gathered round and handled the silver spoke volumes as to their greed for coin. One of the tsawbwas had been seen eagerly watching Sladen’s private cash-chest, and asked in the most pressing manner to be allowed to take charge of it, while another dogged the footsteps of Captain Bowers’ servant, endeavouring to coax him into entrusting his master’s fowling-piece to his care.

During the morning the phoongyee of an adjoining khyoung arrived to say farewell. He had been a constant visitor, and the kind reception given him, and the toleration of his curiosity, which showed itself by wandering about and prying into everything, had quite won his heart. He was far superior to the usual run of Shan phoongyees, who, according to Burmese Buddhism, are lax and unorthodox in practice and doctrine. He spent much of his time in missionary visits to the ruder villages, whose inhabitants he hoped to convert to conformity with stricter religious rules. By way of a parting gift he presented each of us with some sweet scented powder and a few fragrant seeds or pellets, which he declared to be a sovereign remedy for headache or fever, “contracted by smelling culinary operations!” His advice to Sladen at parting was so shrewd and characteristic as to deserve quoting. “We have met before in a former existence, and it is by virtue of meritorious acts there done that I am privileged to meet you again in the present life, and advise you for your welfare. Wisdom and prudence are necessary in all worldly undertakings; use then special care and circumspection in your present expedition; your enemies are numerous and powerful. We shall all hail the reopening of the overland trade with China. The prosperity of the priesthood depends on the condition of the country and the people; what is good for them is also good for religion.”

[15] A distinguished continental Chinese scholar has informed me that this title is a civil one, denoting commissioner. In the absence of the Chinese characters, the exact title of this functionary cannot be given.

[16] The meteorological registers kept at the British Residency show the annual rainfall at Bhamô to be 65 inches.

[17] One tickal = rather more than half an ounce troy.

[18] Since the date of this visit, rest-houses have been erected for the Kakhyens by the Burmese authorities, and also by the British Resident; and some of these natives are always to be found temporarily occupying them.

[19] For this the writer is indebted to the learning and industry of the late Rev. Dr. Mason.

[20] Bayfield found no bottom at twenty-five fathoms.

CHAPTER III.
KAKHYEN HILLS.

Departure from Tsitkaw—Our cavalcade—The hills—A false alarm—Talone—First night in the hills—The tsawbwa-gadaw—Ponline village—A death dance—The divination—A meetway—Nampoung gorge—A dangerous road—Lakong bivouac—Arrival at Ponsee—A Kakhyen coquette.

Almost at the last moment before setting out, while lists of the muleteers were being taken, in order to ascertain their respective chiefs, so as to know who should be held responsible, in case of default or robbery, the tsawbwas of Ponsee and Talone discovered that Sala, when at Bhamô, had received a musket as a present. Their informant was the treacherous Moung Shuay Yah, who instigated them to stand on their dignity and demand a similar gift. Compliance was impossible, so they refused their services, and prowled about in sneaking silence, ostentatiously taking lists of ourselves and of our baggage. By two o’clock a start was fairly effected, although our arrangements were by no means as complete as they might have been; but as it was settled that we should only proceed as far as Ponline village, about twelve miles distant, it was better to start than risk further delay. There was something outrageously wild in the irregular confusion of our exodus from Tsitkaw, which, though perhaps orderly according to Kakhyen ideas, presented no trace of system to our uninformed minds. The three Kakhyen chiefs led the way, followed by the unwieldy cash-chest, borne by eight men, and guarded by four sepoys; then came the long straggling caravan of a hundred and twenty mules, travelling just as it suited the peculiarities of each beast and its driver. Our police escort marched steadily on, headed by the jemadar, at whose side appeared his wife, looking like a true vivandière, her slim figure becomingly attired in a blue silk padded jacket, and trousers tucked up to the knee, with a red silk handkerchief for head-dress; with a Burmese dah and bag slung over her shoulders, and her shoes tied behind her back, she was evidently prepared for all dangers and fatigues.

We mounted our ponies and rode forward over the level plain before us; stretching north-east and south-west, rose the long undulating outline of the Kakhyen mountains, broken here and there by huge domes or pointed peaks, rising to five and six thousand feet. On our right flowed the Tapeng, gradually calming its waters into a placid stream, after having emerged as a foaming torrent from the mountain barrier. At the village of Hentha the route diverged from the river, and half a mile further we passed the long, straggling, but populous village of Old Bhamô, embosomed in a dense grove of bamboos and forest trees. Outside the village stood a solitary and almost ruined pagoda, the advanced outpost, on this side the river, of Burmese Buddhism, for none of these religious edifices are found among the Kakhyen hills.

Four miles’ ride through a succession of level swampy patches of paddy clearings, and grassy fields intersected by deep nullahs, brought us to the village of Tsihet, on slightly undulating ground. At this point the route turned almost at right angles, to ascend the hills, and here the three tsawbwas were seated in deep and excited consultation, apparently waiting for us. We had outstripped most of the convoy, and as Sladen rode up, Sala exclaimed, pointing to the hill-path, “All right, go on, and don’t be afraid.” His words were less intelligible than those of the Talone tsawbwa, who asked in an injured tone, “When are you going to give me that gun?”

We ascended about five hundred feet, over a series of rounded hills, distinct from the main range, but connected with it by spurs, up the slope of one of which we were slowly climbing, when a shot was heard in front. Sladen, the superior powers of whose pony had taken him ahead, waited until the others joined him, and another shot and then four reports together were heard, but no bullet whizzed near. A spear was picked up in the path, which a Burmese syce alleged to have been thrown from the jungle at the passing travellers; but his evidence was doubtful.

We all proceeded as if nothing had happened, but our Kakhyens, some fifty of whom were ahead, gathered round, flourishing their dahs and yelling like fiends, to assure us of their determination to protect us. A little further on we came upon two Kakhyens of our party, standing in an open by the roadside, one armed with a cross-bow and poisoned arrows, and the other with a flint musket. By signs they tried to convey to us that some evil-disposed mountaineers had hidden themselves at this spot, and had fired on them, but that on their returning the fire, the enemy had “bolted” down the hillside. We had our own opinion that the supposed attack was an ingenious ruse to try our mettle, and that most of the shots were fired by our half intoxicated muleteers, who evinced no sort of fear or misgiving. One of them, mounted on a mule, and armed with a long dah and matchlock, proved himself more dangerous as a friend than all the supposed enemies. He kept rushing backwards and forwards on a path scarcely wide enough in some places for a single pony; now he flourished his long sword in a reckless manner, and then fired his matchlock over the head of Sladen, who was in front, reloading and firing over his shoulder with a rapidity wonderful in a man so drunk as to be beyond reason. Judicious praises of his dexterity and a promise to refill his powder-horn at the next village were necessary to prevent him from becoming suddenly quarrelsome and dangerous.

From the summit of the spur fifteen hundred feet high, we descended by a rough, slippery path, the bed of a dried-up watercourse, to a level glen of rich alluvial land, and thence climbed another spur to a height of two thousand feet, whence a slight descent brought us to a long ridge, on which were situated the villages of Talone and Ponline. Approaching the first-named, we were requested to dismount, as Kakhyen etiquette does not admit of riding past a village. We led our ponies through a grassy glade, surrounded by high trees, and sacred to the nats. At one side stood a row of bamboo posts, varying in height from six to twenty feet, split at the top into four pieces, supporting small shelves to serve as altars for the offerings of cooked rice, fowls, and sheroo, wherewith the demons are propitiated. Before each altar were placed large bundles of grass, and a few old men were kneeling, muttering a low chant.

Leaving Talone on an eminence to our left, we remounted and descended a little distance through deep ravines, in secondary spurs, and, after a short ascent, traversed a tolerably level pathway, and another short rise brought us to our halting-place, the village of Ponline, lying two thousand three hundred feet above the sea. The rocks exposed were all metamorphic, consisting chiefly of a grey gneiss or red granite, and a hornblendic mica schist, huge rounded boulders of which latter were strewn on the hillsides. The hills were covered with a dense tree forest, largely intermixed with bamboos. It was already dusk when we arrived, but the moon shone brightly, and a pawmine conducted us to a house, swept and made ready for us. Like all Kakhyen houses, it was an oblong bamboo structure, with closely matted sides, raised on piles three feet from the ground. The roof thatched with grass sloped to within four feet from the ground; the eaves, propped by bamboo posts, formed a portico, used as a stable at night for ponies, pigs, and fowls, and as a general lounge by day. Notched logs served as stairs to ascend to the doorway in the gable end. On one side of the interior was a common hall, running the whole length of the building. On the other was a series of small rooms, divided from each other by bamboo partitions; a second doorway or opening at the further end was, as we afterwards learned, reserved for the use of members of the family, or household, none others being allowed to enter thereby, on pain of offence to the household nats. Chimneys and windows there were none, and the walls and roofs were blackened with smoke. In the common hall and in each room there was an open hearth sunk a little below the flooring, the closely laid bamboo work being covered with a layer of hard-pressed earth.

Only a portion of the baggage mules had arrived, and the bedding of several members of the party was among the missing property. Rumours were also afloat that robbers had succeeded in driving off eight mules, if not more, and altogether the first night in Kakhyen land seemed to some of the party inauspicious; but we made the best of it, and, having taken possession of our strange quarters, were presently joined by Williams, who had been detained taking the altitudes. He contributed the news that after leaving Talone a shot had been fired at Sala, who was in front of him. We strolled out in the pleasant night air, and admired an animated group of fair Kakhyens, busily pounding rice by moonlight. The paddy was placed in a rude mortar, or rather a cavity hollowed out in a log, and two girls stood opposite each other wielding heavy poles, four feet long. These were plied alternately, the heavy dull thud of the pestle forming a bass to the treble of a low musical cry, emitted at each stroke by the fair operators, while their bell girdles tinkled a pleasant accompaniment. These girdles marked their rank, only the daughters of chiefs being allowed to wear these musical ornaments.

An old woman beckoned Sladen to follow her, and conducted him to a house, which proved to be that of Sala, who received him most hospitably, making him share his carpet, while his guide, the tsawbwa’s wife, and her family brought successive relays of bamboo buckets, filled with sheroo, or Kakhyen beer.

At last, having divided what bedding there was, we settled ourselves to sleep, leaving it for the morrow to confirm or dissipate the fears excited by the non-arrival of guard, cash-chest, and baggage.

Our slumbers were, however, disturbed by loud shouts, repeated from height to height, which seemed to be the “All’s well!” of native guards, posted round the village to watch over our safety.

In the morning a large capon and a supply of beer arrived, as a present from the chieftainess, and later on she herself with her daughters and retinue came in state. She was a short matronly-looking woman, with an intelligent expression of countenance and good features, but for her high cheek-bones and slightly Chinese eyes. Her costume was of course the perfection of highland full dress, and, though singular, by no means unbecoming. The head-dress was the most striking part of it, consisting of blue cloth, wound round and round in a sort of turban, so as to form an inverted cone, towering at least eighteen inches above her head. Her upper garment was a sleeveless black velvet jacket, ornamented with a row of large embossed silver buttons running round the neck and continued down the front; besides these, circular plates of chased and enamelled silver, three inches in diameter, arranged in rows down the front and back seams and around the skirt, made the garment almost resemble a cuirass. The dress was completed by a single kilt-like petticoat, composed of a dark blue cotton cloth, with a broad red woollen border, wound round the hips, and reaching a little below the knee. One end was tastefully worked with deep silken embroidery, and carefully disposed, so as to hang gracefully on one side. A profusion of fine ratan girdles round the waist supported the kilt and filled up the void between it and the jacket; and, by way of stockings, a close-fitting series of black ratan rings encircled her legs below the knee. Her rank was marked by two large silver hoops round her neck, and a necklace of short cylinders of some red clayey material, intermixed with amber and ivory beads. These cumbrous ornaments are permitted only to the wives and daughters of tsawbwas and pawmines. Two silver bracelets on each arm, and long silver tubes worn in the lobes of the ears, completed her splendour. Her little daughters, besides the distinctive girdles of black beads, and silver bells, each containing a small free pellet, which tinkled pleasantly to every motion of the wearer, wore broad waist-belts ornamented with several rows of cowrie shells. Our visitor brought us goose eggs and sheroo, and apologised for not having more to offer, but promised to send us every day something to eat. Her goodwill was rewarded by presents of silk handkerchiefs and red cloth, and a gorgeous table-cloth, the splendour of which and her joy, when Sladen presented it to her, left her perfectly speechless.

KAKHYEN WOMEN.

During the day the missing mules and baggage began to arrive, the drivers having camped for the night at various places in the neighbourhood, and early in the afternoon the guard marched in, but without the cash-chest. The jemadar reported that he had remained in charge of it at Talone, where he had been obliged to leave it, together with the missing eight mules and their loads. The tsawbwa, who with his people and the Chinese interpreter, Moung Shuay Yah, had spent the night in drinking, refused to let either cash-chest or baggage proceed. The guard had been unable to obtain any food till before starting this morning, and one of the sepoys who had rashly indulged in excessive draughts of water had been seized with sickness, and died in two hours.

On the receipt of this news of the unaccountable conduct of the Talone chief and Moung Shuay Yah, Sala despatched his own son with positive orders for the instant release of the porters and drivers, and pending their arrival, we sallied forth to view the village and its surroundings. The houses were situated at short distances from each other in a deep hollow, thickly wooded with magnificent oaks and a few palms (Corypha), and very fine screw-pines, or pandani, one fallen stem of the former being fully sixty feet in length. Immediately over the village towered a bold rounded summit of the main range two thousand feet above us, halfway up the side of which a large conical Khakyen grave formed a prominent object; in shape it so strongly resembled a Burmese pagoda as to suggest an imitation. In the village very fine plantains were cultivated, and the sides of the spurs below were extensively cleared for rice and other crops. From the ground behind the tsawbwa’s house, we obtained a splendid view of the lofty hills on the southern side of the Tapeng valley, many of which appeared to rise to a height of six thousand feet above the river, cultivated and dotted with villages almost to the very summits.

In the course of our ramble we were attracted to one house by the sound of drumming; outside the portico, some men were sitting cooking chickens, which had been merely stripped of their feathers, but not otherwise cleaned. Having asked and obtained permission, we entered the common hall, round which men, women, and children were dancing, each carrying a small stick, with which they beat time, as they circled round with measured steps, curiously combining a prance and a side shuffle. The instrumentalists were a man and a girl, who vigorously beat a pair of drums, while ever and anon the dancers burst out into loud yells, and quickened the speed of their evolutions. We at first sat gravely on the logs, brought by a smiling girl, but were presently invited by signs to take our places in the dance; accordingly we stood up and went round, but had scarcely taken two turns when the whole party rushed, yelling loudly, out of the house, the leader flourishing his stick wildly, as though clearing the way. Much puzzled, we returned into the house, and found the corpse of a child, laid in a corner carefully screened off, and the poor mother wailing bitterly by its side. The festivity turned out to be the death dance, to drive away the departed spirit from hovering near its late tenement, and our exertions were believed to have mainly contributed to the speedy and happy result; so at least we were made to understand by our hosts, who hastened to refresh us with sheroo, served in cups ingeniously improvised out of plantain leaves. We paid our footing in silver, and departed with a feeling that even the entente cordiale we desired to establish with the Kakhyens hardly demanded an active participation in death-dances.

The next day Sala’s son arrived with the cash-chest and the missing mules from Talone; but the boxes had been opened, Sladen and Bowers had each lost a canteen, well stocked with knives and forks, and the mule-men had further helped themselves to all eatables. They had, however, shown a laudable consideration, for in one of Stewart’s cases was a bottle of port wine, which they had opened by pushing in the cork; not relishing the contents, they had carefully cut and fixed in a wooden stopper to prevent waste!

Sladen assembled Sala and the other chiefs, and distributed salt, cloth, and some yellow silk handkerchiefs, which were highly prized. Sala delivered a public exhortation, enjoining fidelity on all; in private he communicated the necessity of propitiating the nats, and requested our attendance at a ceremony which was to take place that night, for the purpose of ascertaining the will of the demons, by the medium of a meetway, or diviner.

Accordingly after dinner we all adjourned to the hall of the tsawbwa’s new house, and, reclining on mats brought by his wife, chatted for some time with the chiefs and headmen assembled round the fire.

The meetway now entered, and seated himself on a small stool, in one corner, which had been freshly sprinkled with water; he then blew through a small tube, and, throwing it from him with a deep groan, at once fell into an extraordinary state of tremor, every limb quivered, and his feet beat a literal “devil’s tattoo” on the bamboo flooring. He groaned as if in pain, tore his hair, passed his hands with maniacal gestures over his head and face, then broke into a short wild chant interrupted with sighs and groans, his features appearing distorted with madness or rage, while the tones of his voice changed to an expression of anger and fury. During this extraordinary scene, which realised all one had read of demoniacal possession, the tsawbwa and his pawmines occasionally addressed him in low tones, as if soothing him or deprecating the anger of the dominant spirit; and at last the tsawbwa informed Sladen that the nats must be appeased with an offering. Fifteen rupees and some cloth were produced. The silver, on a bamboo sprinkled with water, and the cloth, on a platter of plantain leaves, were humbly laid at the diviner’s feet; but with one convulsive jerk of the legs, rupees and cloth were instantly kicked away, and the medium by increased convulsions and groans intimated the dissatisfaction of the nats with the offering. The tsawbwa in vain supplicated for its acceptance, and then signified to Sladen that more rupees were required, and that the nats mentioned sixty as the propitiatory sum. Sladen tendered five more with an assurance that no more would be given. The amended offering was again, but more gently, pushed away, of which no notice was taken. After another quarter of an hour, during which the convulsions and groans gradually grew less violent, a dried leaf rolled into a cone, and filled with rice, was handed to the meetway. He raised it to his forehead several times, and then threw it on the floor; a dah, which had been carefully washed, was next handed to him and treated the same way, and after a few gentle sighs he rose from his seat, and, laughing, signed us to look at his legs and arms, which were very tired. The oracle was in our favour, and predictions of all manner of success were interpreted to us as the utterances of the inspired diviner.

It must not be supposed that this was a solemn farce, enacted to conjure rupees out of European pockets; the Kakhyens never undertake any business or journey without consulting the will of the nats as revealed by a meetway, under the influence of temporary frenzy, or, as they deem it, possession. The seer in ordinary life is nothing; the medium on whose word hung the possibility of our advance was a cooly, who carried one of our boxes on the march, but he was a duly qualified meetway, belonging to Ponsee village. When a youth shows signs of what spiritualists would call a “rapport” or connection with the spirit world, he has to undergo a sufficiently trying ordeal to test the reality of his powers. A ladder is prepared, the steps of which consist of sword blades, with the sharp edges turned upwards, and this is reared against a platform thickly set with sharp spikes. The barefooted novice ascends this perilous path to fame, and seats himself on the spikes without any apparent inconvenience; he then descends by the same ladder, and if, after having been carefully examined, he is pronounced free from any trace of injury, he is thenceforward accepted as a true diviner. Sala improved the occasion by warning Sladen that a powerful combination had been formed to oppose our advance, and that many evil reports had been circulated, but concluded by saying that a liberal expenditure of silver would remove many, if not all, obstacles. The practical application of this was made next morning. When all was ready for a start, the tsawbwa would not appear: Sladen paid him a visit, and was informed that six hundred rupees must be paid nominally as an advance for the mule-men, or else he had better go back. This extortionate demand was reduced after some debate to three hundred, which were paid, and then an additional sum of three hundred rupees was demanded for the carriage of the troublesome and tempting cash-chest. An offer of one rupee per diem each to twenty bearers was refused, and we then decided to divide the cash into parcels of three hundred rupees to be carried by the men of the escort. By this means the liability to continual “squeezes” on the part of the chiefs, or robbery by the porters, was avoided. At length we set out from Ponline, and, after proceeding a mile over an easy road along the high ground, commenced the descent to the gorge, down which, fifteen hundred feet below, the Nampoung flowed into the Tapeng, dividing the hills into two parallel ridges. The descent, at first easy, gradually became steeper, and at length precipitous; the path was cut into zigzags, but as slightly deviating from the straight line as the steepness of the declivity allowed. The weathered and disintegrated surface of metamorphic rock had been worn down by traffic and torrents, so that it often was a deep V shaped groove with but nine or ten inches of footway, and the loaded mules found it difficult to round the abrupt turns in these deep cuttings; huge boulders, stones, and sharp-pointed masses of exposed quartz, made the travelling still more hurtful and dangerous to man and beast. The beds of the streams were filled with fine granite, and in the largest watercourse crossed, a small section was observed, showing a mass of greyish micaceous schist, with large veins of quartz; it was tilted up vertically, and there were distinct indications of bedding in a nearly north and south direction. The Nampoung, whose source lies among the hills to the north-east, is the limit between the districts of Ponline and Ponsee, and was formerly, and must be considered still, the boundary between Burma and the Chinese province of Yunnan, the ruined frontier fort being pointed out on a height commanding the ford. We forded the Nampoung on our ponies, where the stream was a hundred feet wide, and three feet deep. The beasts could scarcely stem the rapid current, which in the event of a fall would have soon swept horse and rider into the foaming Tapeng. The road wound up the face of a precipice, below which the Tapeng rushed down a succession of rapids, with a deafening roar, and a force which nothing could resist, save the prodigious masses of granite which encumbered its bed, while others leaned from the banks as if ready to topple into the raging torrent.

The occasional glimpses of the distant landscape were glorious; on either hand hills towered up into mountains, and range succeeded range, till lost in the blue distance. Our enjoyment of the grandeur of the mountain scenery was, however, somewhat marred by the difficulty of the path, which compelled us frequently to dismount, and let the goat-like ponies scramble as best they could up the deep narrow cuttings. The road contoured the hillside, cut into the face of the rock for some ten feet, presenting every now and again turnings at a sharp angle. On the verge of a precipice of one thousand feet deep, the outer edge gave way under the hind hoofs of Williams’ pony, and he was only saved from destruction by the pony recovering itself with a vigorous effort. Kakhyen roads seem to be purposely designed with a view to reaching the highest points on the given route, and after leaving the river banks, we thus ascended and descended over a succession of lofty spurs abutting on the river from the main range; precipitous ridges, connecting them at right angles, presented tolerably level ground, but with a surface so confined that the traveller looked down into the deep gorges on both sides. Patches of rich loamy soil in the valleys, and on the slopes of the spurs, were cleared for paddy, and in each clearing a small thatched hut raised on poles served as a watch-tower. Near some of the villages perched on heights, limited efforts at terrace cultivation were visible, and in one place a small stream had been diverted for irrigation. Magnificent screw pines and large tree ferns displayed their exquisite foliage, relieved by the blossoms of various flowering trees.

By two o’clock the baggage mules were so jaded that, although we had not made more than eight or ten miles, it became necessary to halt in the jungle. Behind our bivouac towered an enormous shoulder of the mountains, rising four thousand feet above us, and called Lakong. The air was genial and temperate, the thermometer marking sixty-three at 9 P.M., and, with our lamps strung up on bamboos, our followers and servants surrounding the bivouac, we dined and slept comfortably and securely al fresco, while the drivers picketed their mules above and below. Close to our camp were some old Kakhyen burial-places on a rounded hill. Each consisted of a circular trench, thirty-eight feet in diameter, and about two feet deep, surrounding a low mound, containing only one body. The high conical thatched roof which covered newer graves, elsewhere observed, had disappeared, but some of the bamboo supports were still standing. The trenches of some other graves were built round with slabs of stone, the form of the grave and manner of interment reminding one involuntarily of the megalithic burial structures.

Before resuming our march to Ponsee, Sala intimated that caution would be required, as the Ponsee tsawbwa was very indignant at not having received the desired musket. The nats also had signified through the meetway that before starting the guard should fire a volley, and the tsawbwa added a recommendation to use double charges of powder, so that the nats might be doubly pleased. The road lay along tolerably easy ground, as we were now almost on a level with the origin of the main spurs, and by noon of March 6th we had reached the village of Ponsee, three thousand one hundred and eighty-seven feet above the sea-level, and forty-three miles from Bhamô. As the tsawbwa did not appear, and had made no preparation to house our party, the camp was pitched under a clump of bamboos, in a hollow below the village. Ponsee, with its twenty scattered houses, and terraced slopes of cultivated ground, occupied one side of a mountain clothed to its summit, two thousand feet above, with dense jungle and forest, save where clearings betokened the vicinity of other villages far above us.

Our muleteers dispersed themselves and their mules on the upper terrace of a tumulus-shaped knoll overlooking the road, and cultivated on one side in a succession of regular and equidistant terraces. In the afternoon we were visited by a pawmine, accompanied by his wife and several female relatives, who brought presents of sheroo and vegetables. One of the young ladies was inclined to be merry and communicative, in order to attract attention and secure a present of beads. Although she was a wife, her hair was cut straight across her forehead, and hung down behind in dishevelled locks, uncovered by the head-dress which Kakhyen wives wear. An offer of a puggery to supply the defect was received with a peal of laughter, at which the pawmine seemed startled and scandalised, and he reproved his fair cousin in a way that caused her to shrink into abashed silence. During the evening the dangerous temper of the Kakhyen was shown by an unprovoked attack made by one of the Ponsee tsawbwa’s followers upon a Burmese servant, but Sala promptly interfered to protect our man, and declared that he would resent an insult offered to any of our people as if offered to himself. Thus, as in other matters, he so far showed himself honest, though his constant demands for money began to make the leader think his friendship might be too dearly purchased.

CHAPTER IV.
PONSEE CAMP.

Desertion of the muleteers—Our encampment—Visit of hill chiefs—Sala’s demands—A mountain excursion—Messengers from Momien—Shans refuse presents—Stoppage of supplies—Ill-feeling—Tsawbwa of Seray—St. Patrick’s Day—Retreat of Sala—The pawmines of Ponsee—A burial-ground—Visit to the Tapeng—The silver mines—Approach of the rains—Hostility of Ponsee—Threatened attack—Reconciliation—A false start—Letters from Momien—A hailstorm—Circular to the members of the mission—Beads and belles—Friendly relations with Kakhyens—Their importance.

On the first night of our sojourn at Ponsee, we were roused from our beds in the open air by a violent thunderstorm, which threatened a drenching, but fortunately let us off with only a few heavy drops. One of the party drew his bed under a small thatched shed close by, and slept soundly, to awake in the morning and find that he had shared his shelter with a deceased Kakhyen, on whose grave he had been reposing. At an early hour, Sala came to inform Sladen that a small army of Shans and Kakhyens had collected to oppose our progress, but that two thousand rupees might purchase their goodwill. When informed that the disposable funds would not admit of such costly travelling, he significantly remarked that the Panthays were rich, and would be glad to assist us. This obstacle might be imaginary, but a most real difficulty left us no time to reflect on it, for instead of preparing for a start, the muleteers, without a word of complaint, or indeed any communication with us, proceeded to unpack their loads, flinging all the baggage on the ground. I went to look after my boxes, but was warned off by a Kakhyen, who flourished his dah, and worked himself up into such a fury that retreat appeared the wisest course. In a short time the mules and drivers marched away, taking the road to Manwyne, leaving us and our baggage destitute of any means of transit. A few beasts remained, belonging to Ponline, but too few to be taken into account. Here was an unexpected dilemma, such as would have delighted Sir Samuel Baker, who says he “finds pleasure in a downright fix.” Sladen set off to find out, if possible, the meaning of it all from Sala, who was seated comfortably drunk in the chief’s house. He declared that the muleteers had been influenced by messages from the Shan tsawbwas of Sanda and Muangla, threatening them with death if they brought us on. He advised threats of exclusion of the Shans from the Burmese fairs by way of reprisals, but Sladen indignantly told him that he came to promote peace, and not dissension, and that he would write conciliatory letters, explaining the object of the expedition to those chiefs who had been misled. Thereupon Sala grew confidential, and let out what certainly seemed the truth, in vino veritas, about our missing interpreter Moung Shuay Yah, who had been last seen or heard of at Ponline. It appeared that this half Chinese scoundrel had finally endeavoured to persuade Sala, and on his refusal the Talone tsawbwa, to murder Sladen and plunder the cash-chest. Thwarted in his villainous projects, he had returned to Bhamô, of which latter fact confirmation was afforded a few days later. Matters looked unpromising; it was whispered that the muleteers had become aware that our detention at Ponsee was certain, and were unwilling to hazard a delay, the profits of which would go into the greedy pockets of the Ponline chief. Besides the dark aspect of affairs, the natural atmosphere was overcast, heavy clouds presaging storm, and to be prepared against all consequences, we removed our quarters to the plateau vacated by the muleteers, where the three sepoy palls, or small tents, accommodated the Europeans, while the sepoys and followers set to work to construct bamboo tents, thatched with leaves and grass for their protection, and speedily a regular camp was established in a favourable position. Sala showed himself in a new light, later on in the day, when he came down very drunk, and dressed in a yellow silk cloth which he had stolen from Sladen’s servant. He was at first inconveniently affectionate, and, seizing Sladen by both hands, vowed eternal friendship; he then grew inquisitive about our rifles and revolvers, and required Sladen to show his marksmanship by splitting a bamboo forty yards off. A refusal to gratify him changed him at once into a violent savage, pouring out a flood of the foulest abuse in Burmese. With tact and patience, he was restrained from violence, but the real treacherous nature of the animal had shown itself unmistakably. He finally assured Sladen that he might make up his mind not to quit Ponsee until he had paid two bushels of rupees. More agreeable visitors arrived, in the persons of the Kakhyen chiefs of Nyoungen, Wacheoon, and Ponwah, small hill districts on the road to Manwyne. These tsawbwas all brought presents of fowls and rice, for which they received cloth as a return. The chief of Ponwah was a wiry little highlander, with oblique eyes, and strongly marked features of a Tartar type, adorned with two scanty tufts by way of moustache, and a sparse beard carefully restricted to the front of his chin. His dress was different from that of the other tsawbwas, and argued a higher social condition. It consisted of a blue turban, blue padded woollen jacket, a kilt of the same material and colour, with a red and blue border, finished off with richly embroidered leggings, and short blue woollen hose with thick soles. A leopard’s fang adorned his dah, and a cloth bag contained his metal pipe and bamboo flask of samshu, which frequently found its way to his thirsty lips; before each draught he dipped his finger into the liquor, and poured a few drops on the ground as a libation to the earth nats. The mother of the young Ponsee tsawbwa also came down, attended by a number of girls, bringing sheroo, or beer, cooked rice, eggs, and vegetables. Beads were distributed, but they begged for rupees; and a few four-anna pieces hardly contented them. One of us gallantly presented an importunate damsel with a pretty little bottle of perfume, and to make her appreciate it, poured a little on her hand, and signed to her to rub it on her face, but having done so, she evinced her disgust by wry faces, spitting at and abusing the donor, as though he had insulted her, to his extreme confusion.

OUR CAMP AT PONSEE.

The day of anxiety was followed by a night of rain and storm. Heavy gusts of wind, sweeping down the lofty shoulder of the mountain, threatened to carry away the light tents, and it required all our efforts to prevent this catastrophe by holding stoutly on to the tent poles. The interior was of course inundated, and beds and bedding saturated with water, but some of the followers were worse off, having no shelter of any sort. Our troubles, however, were only beginning. The Nanlyaw tamone,[21] who had been ordered to accompany us as interpreter, and had failed to do so, arrived with orders from the Woon of Bhamô to the tsawbwas of Ponsee and Ponline to repair at once to Bhamô, and assist in an inquiry about reopening the silver mines. The message and the messenger were both suspicious, and some obstructive influence speedily showed itself. A demand was set up for three hundred rupees, compensation for five houses said to have been destroyed by a jungle fire, originating in the embers of our camp-fire at Lakong. Sala evidently thought that any demands would be complied with to prevent his deserting us, and talked much about the imperative orders of the governor. By way of relief from the discussion, we made an excursion up the mountain to a height about six hundred feet above our camp, whence a splendid panorama unrolled itself of the Burmese plain as far as Bhamô, and the junction of the Tapeng with the majestic Irawady. We passed numerous oaks, and a grove of trees bearing nuts exactly like our own hazels. At the highest point reached, a Kakhyen village was found, snugly nestled in a beautifully cool hollow, with a small stream flowing down the hillside.

Our appearance startled three women, proceeding to fill the bamboos, which serve as water pitchers, carried in a wicker basket at the back; they darted into a hollow below the road, and, turning their backs to us, waited till we had passed by. A thousand feet below us, a deep ravine resounded with the cry of hoolock monkeys, howling at the full pitch of their voices. Shooting, either for sport or purposes of science, was rendered extremely difficult by the dense jungle and the steep sides of the deep gorges, where the birds are mostly found, for a bird, when shot, dropped down a steep declivity, into long grass or tangled shrub, where search was useless.

On our return, a cock and hen partridge, of a new species, belonging to the genus Bambusicola, were shot in the cleared ground, and in the woods the cry of an oriole was often heard, but the birds were invisible. Descending by another route, passing the rice clearings, where wild strawberries carpeted the ground with flowers and fruit, and two sorts of violets and various brambles were also in flower, we reached the camp, and were soon plunged again into debate with Sala. The fellow was sulky and angry, demanding six hundred rupees blackmail, and three hundred as compensation for the village fire, threatening as an alternative to leave us to “be lost in the hills and never more heard of.” Sladen temperately refused to submit to such extortionate demands, but, to prove his friendly intentions, offered to compensate for any actual damage, and to send presents to the chiefs en route. His arguments had such an effect on Sala that he was content to ask for one hundred rupees to settle the “fire.”

At this stage of the interview all were surprised by the sudden appearance on the scene of three strangers, dressed in gorgeous Chinese costume, and attended by half a dozen others; two of their faces were familiar, and they saluted Sladen with an air of recognition, but Sala and he were at first equally puzzled as to their identity. The two foremost were arrayed in blue satin skull-caps embroidered with gold, padded and embroidered jackets of fine blue cloth, and wide trousers of yellow silk. They wore new broad cane hats and gold embroidered Chinese shoes. The hilts of their dahs were each enriched with half the lower jaw of a leopard, and suspended from their button-holes was a decoration consisting of a pink and blue square of cloth, with a cipher embroidered in the corner. This was full dress Panthay uniform, which one of them proceeded to divest himself of, and exhibited his ragged Kakhyen garb underneath, and then Sladen recognised Lawloo, the scout despatched by him from Bhamô to the governor of Momien. He produced, carefully rolled up, a packet addressed in Arabic on a strip of red paper, which contained an envelope stamped with Chinese hieroglyphics in red, and a letter written in Arabic, and stamped with Chinese devices in red and blue; attached to this was another letter in Chinese. The latter no one could read, and a combined attempt made by the native doctor and the jemadar to decipher the former also failed, but Lawloo assured us that the governor of Momien was most friendly. He had received the messengers with all respect, and had equipped them in the gorgeous dresses which had disguised them from our recognition. He had also sent with them Shatoodoo, an officer in the Mahommedan service, a tall, fair-skinned, well-built man, dressed in blue uniform, with a fine intelligent face and the quiet self-possession of a well-bred gentleman. Our couriers, men belonging to the Cowlie tribe, bore their new honours with great composure; they completely ignored the presence of the Ponline tsawbwa, while they told of their kindly reception, and explained the purport of the letters. The governor had expected us by the “ambassadors’” route, which leads from Bhamô into Hotha, where he had arranged to meet us. They said we were not to advance at present via Manwyne, unless we were strong enough to fight our way past Mawphoo fort, the stronghold of Li-sieh-tai. The messengers, on their return, though conspicuous by their Panthay uniform, had travelled openly and unmolested through the Shan states, which had been declared to be hostile to our advance. The immediate effect was to cause Sala and the pawmines to withdraw from our tents, which was a great relief, as they had infested them, squatting on the beds for hours together, smoking, and chewing tobacco and betel, while any remonstrance was at once replied to with an angry scowl and a flourish of the naked dah. But the peace did not last long. The tsawbwa soon recommenced his demands, and day after day the fire question was discussed, and terms of settlement agreed upon, only to be insolently repudiated on the first occasion.

The next day more practical preparations for opening the route were made by the despatch of letters and presents to the Kakhyen chief of Seray, and to the Shan chiefs or headmen of Manwyne and Manhleo. Two of the Ponline pawmines and the interpreter Moung Mo, the tamone of Hentha village, whose services and goodwill we had secured, went in charge of the presents, and Sladen’s Burmese writer was also sent, by way of check on the pawmines. They returned in a few days with the presents, which the chiefs had declined to accept, as the tsawbwa of Sanda had refused his consent to our passage, and the Manwyne people, though favourably disposed, were afraid of the poogain, or headman, of Manhleo, a town situated on the south bank of the Tapeng, opposite Manwyne. This official was an inveterate enemy of the Panthays, and a few years before had massacred a Panthay caravan of peaceful merchants. The character and intentions of the expedition had been so misrepresented by the Chinese traders at Bhamô that the Shans were naturally indisposed to run any risks from our presence among them.

The refusal of the presents caused Sala to raise his demands; “all the people, Burmese, Chinese, and Shans,” he declared, were leagued against us, and if we did not secure his protection, we should have our heads cut off. This was his usual argument, illustrated by holding an imaginary head with his left hand, and making the motion of sawing at the supposed neck with his right.

A more practical result of the secret opposition was the stoppage of supplies. Soon after our arrival the Shans from the Manwyne district had discovered that there was a sure market for their provisions, and a regular bazaar had been established in our lines. Kakhyen villagers as well as Shans brought in fowls, rice, salt, vegetables, &c., and competition had kept prices down; empty beer bottles were found to be highly prized, and one bottle was worth twelve measures of rice. Among other things, the Manwyne Shans brought in sugar candy, and preserved milk in the form of thin cakes of paste like a film of coagulated cream, which placed in a cup of water over night supplied a cup of excellent milk in the morning. The method of preparation we could not learn, but the result was undeniably successful. The attendance of Shans, however, fell off, owing to the ill-usage received by many of them from the Kakhyens, who helped themselves to their goods, and paid them with abuse and blows. Hence supplies fell short, and prices rose accordingly, and it became unsafe moreover to wander for any distance from the camp. On one occasion one of us was tempted to indulge in a bath in the small stream which flowed immediately below. There was a most perfect douche, where the water leapt over a huge boulder, embowered in gigantic bamboos and splendid ferns, as though contrived for the secret bath of a Kakhyen sylvan nymph: but the unhappy European invader was scarcely in full enjoyment of the refreshing douche than he was saluted with a shower of stones and broken branches from some villagers who had watched him. This was a ludicrous side of popular hostility, but as the “fire” question continued to be discussed, almost daily warnings were brought to us that ill-disposed Kakhyens were collected on the heights above, intending to attack the camp under cover of night.

A slight change in affairs was effected by the arrival of the tsawbwa of Seray, a village four miles distant, who made his appearance on the 13th, attended by his pawmines and a numerous retinue. He was a rather short stout man of about forty-five, dressed in blue from turban to shoes; his manner was serious and respectful, and his remarks sensible, but evincing great curiosity about all the novelties that presented themselves. When he found leisure to discuss business matters, he asked us the particulars of the fire question, saying that if it were settled, he would undertake to guide us by a hill route to Momien, so as to avoid the necessity of passing through Sanda. Sladen explained to him that though the fire question had been settled three times, he would now submit it finally to his arbitration, and the demand, which had risen to five hundred rupees, was by his award satisfied by a promise of two hundred and sixty. Notwithstanding this settlement, that evening both the tsawbwas came down to request us to keep fires burning, and maintain a careful watch all night, as over a hundred men had collected on the hillside commanding the camp, intending to try their chance in a night attack, according to their usual tactics. Sala had endeavoured, he said, to dissuade them, and had finally told them he would look on while they were shot down by our men. The night, however, passed off more quietly than the days, which were occupied in ceaseless discussions; the question of mule hire being again in debate. Sala brought forward the preposterous demand of twenty rupees a piece for one hundred and sixty mules, those, namely, whose owners had deserted at this place. This demand was supported by fictitious tallies, and his disgust at finding we had kept an accurate account was great, while his fury at the laughter with which his attempts at extortion were met found vent in the usual pantomimic prophecy of our decapitation. The party of tsawbwas was increased by the arrival of the chief of Wacheoon, who brought a present of rice and sheroo; the object of his visit being to make the pertinent inquiry as to what still detained us at Ponsee.

On St. Patrick’s Day, matters came to a crisis. All the morning the tsawbwas and pawmines were assembled in our tent, arguing about the mule hire; even the respectable chief of Seray had caught the infection of covetousness, and demanded twenty rupees a mule for a journey of a few hours. The Seray chief was attended by a Chinaman who had been in his employment from his youth, and now acted as his chief trader. He had interpreted the Momien letters, and seemed to desire to be useful, but it was plain that he regarded the expedition as a military one, designed to assist the Panthays. He declared that the Sanda people were willing to receive us, but were restrained by fear of Li-sieh-tai. Sladen offered five hundred rupees, in addition to the money already paid, for sufficient carriage to Manwyne, where he would await the answer to his letters despatched the day before by the former messengers to Momien and to the tsawbwa of Sanda, as he was determined not to advance without the full consent of all the Shan chiefs. He then, by a happy thought, recounted to the assembled tsawbwas the sums of money and presents that the arch robber Sala had received from him for distribution. At this startling revelation, the chief of Ponsee was evidently exasperated, and a storm was brewing, when suddenly a shot was fired from a house on the hill above us, and a bullet, or slug, whizzed over the tent in which we were sitting, and presently another struck the head of a camp cot inside. All were naturally startled, but no one believed the first shot to have been intentionally aimed until the second was fired after the lapse of a few minutes. Sala and the pawmines sprang out, and vociferated frantically to the people in the village above. The chief of Seray sat silent, and presently announced that he should return to his own home, and the meeting was forthwith dissolved.

True to his word, the Seray chief departed the next day, leaving the message that he would return as soon as we were rid of Ponline; and the next news was that the Ponsee chief had threatened Sala with instant vengeance, and that our friend and protector had decamped to his own village, taking with him all the presents entrusted to him for the officials of Manwyne, &c., and forcibly carrying off our Burmese interpreter Moung Mo.

The tsawbwa and pawmines of Ponsee, who now came to the front, as self-appointed arbiters of our destinies, so far as progress was concerned, have not yet been introduced.

The tsawbwa was a youth of eighteen, who possessed no influence. What natural intelligence he might possess was obscured by his habits of continual intoxication and debauchery, in company with a number of “fast” young Kakhyens. He had hitherto preserved a sort of sullen neutrality, occasionally, however, conveying to us useful warnings, but acting neither for nor against us. The real power seemed to be exercised by his pawmines, four brothers who had generally shown themselves friendly. The eldest was a good-for-nothing merry-andrew, in a chronic state of intoxication. The next in age was a quiet, sensible man, who seemed fully to appreciate the advantages that would accrue to his people from the reopening of the trade between Yunnan and Burma, and he frequently declared that he was ready to give us all the help in his power. He was nicknamed by us the “Red Pawmine;” and his next brother and constant companion, a little spare man, with high cheek-bones, deeply sunken eyes, and features sharpened and worn by bad health, was appropriately styled “Death’s Head.” He was by far the ablest, but his quick, nervous temperament and violent temper rendered him a difficult man to deal with. The youngest, as excitable, but far less intelligent, was regarded with jealous eyes by his three elder brothers.

The young tsawbwa for about a week subsequent to Sala’s departure professed himself our friend, and a few days of tranquil and almost patient expectation ensued, during which we endeavoured to extend our acquaintance with the hill country about us, of which we had as yet been able to see no more than the outskirts of our camp or rather prison.

Accordingly, Stewart and I started on our ponies to ascend the mountain, taking Deen Mahomed as interpreter and a native boy to act as guide. No sooner had the party passed the tsawbwa’s house than a hue and cry was raised by one of the pawmines, who shouted orders to the lad to return at once. Disregarding the outcry, we pushed on along a narrow bridle-path, but were delayed by the obstinacy of a pony who declined to face a difficult bit of road, and the villagers overtaking us, the guide was dragged away by the pawmine. The tsawbwa was appealed to, but he declared that it was not safe to go up, as there was a village of “bad Kakhyens” on the mountain, and Deen Mahomed was warned with gesture symbolical of throat-cutting of what would happen to him if he got another guide. We consoled ourselves for this failure by a visit to a burial-ground, on the top of a thickly wooded height, which lay to the east of the camp. The path leading to it was sprinkled at intervals with ground rice, as an offering to the nats, and on two of the graves, which were quite recent, lay a little tobacco and a small cylindrical box containing chillies, while outside the surrounding trench the skull of a pig, with some more tobacco, had been placed. The conical roof of bamboos and grass was decorated with a finial of wood cut into two flag-like arms, painted with rosettes in black and red, which ridiculously resembled guide-posts.

The tsawbwa proved more obliging a day or two afterwards, when a request was sent to him for a guide to conduct us to the Tapeng river. The path led along the saddle of the long spurs running down to the valley, and the climate as we descended changed from temperate to tropical; the upper forest consisted of oaks, cherry, apple, and peach trees, especially in a magnificently wooded glen, while a large mountain stream made its way over a rocky channel, forming at one place a splendid waterfall over a perpendicular cliff of gneiss. Along the tops of the fruit trees a large troop of monkeys (Presbytis albocinereus) were leisurely wandering.

In descending we could only keep our footing by clutching at the overhanging branches, as our feet slipped on the fallen leaves and bamboo spathes which lay heaped in the steep and narrow path. The roots which projected every now and then were another and even worse impediment. Where, as often happened, the path turned a sharp angle on the crests of the precipitous spurs, great caution was needful, for if one had lost his equilibrium in such a place, he would have certainly sent all in front of him down the almost perpendicular declivity. As the lower level was reached, the trees became essentially tropical, intermixed with musæ, bamboos, ratans, and splendid ferns, while huge cable-like creepers intertwined their leafy cordage, and orchids of various and novel species displayed their fantastic beauties, and loaded the air with perfume.

After a long scramble down, we climbed over a secondary spur, and at its foot reached a sandy strand shaded by a magnificent banyan covered with the fragrant blossoms of a large yellow orchid (Dendrobium andersoni, Scott). Before us the roaring Tapeng rushed in a torrent forty yards wide, over a rocky bed, in a succession of foaming rapids and deep smooth reaches. At this point its bed was about thirteen to fourteen hundred feet above the plains at Tsitkaw, twenty miles distant, so that its descent is nearly seventy feet in the mile, the water mark indicating the highest rise of the flood to be twelve feet above its present level.

The only birds visible were two water wagtails flitting from boulder to boulder in the middle of the torrent. The rocks in position were gneiss, with veins and large embedded oblong pieces of quartzite; the quartz often standing out in bold relief where the gneiss surface had been worn away by the action of the water. Huge boulders of the same rock and pure white crystalline marble were strewn along the river bed. Along the bank a footpath led to a spot where a raft lay ready, in the deep smooth water above a rapid, to ferry over passengers to the silver mines. The raft was attached by a loop to a bark rope, stretched across the river. Our guide expressed his readiness “for a consideration” to conduct us across, but not “that day;” so we made our way back again, and if the descent had been difficult, it may be imagined how much more so was the return journey, which, however, was safely accomplished.

A few days after this trip, we started, accompanied by two of the Ponsee pawmines, for a visit to the silver mines. We reached the river by the next spur, to the west of the path followed on the former excursion, and, leaving the servants to prepare breakfast under the banyan tree, made for the raft. The guide rope was fastened to a fallen tree, six feet above the river on the opposite bank, while on our side it was carried over forked branches, firmly fixed in the ground and secured to a huge boulder. The raft proved to be on the other side, and one of the Burmese followers caught hold of the rope, and hand over hand succeeded in making his way across the strong current. He was followed by one of the pawmines, who evinced a careful dexterity which argued him to be well accustomed to what seemed a dangerous task. The raft was then brought across, one man in front running the loop along the rope, and the other sitting behind with a paddle to keep it stemming the stream. It was a simple wedge-shaped platform of bamboos lashed together, presenting a sort of prow which is kept against the rush of the stream. Bamboos at each side supported seats of split bamboo, and when the raft, which carried six persons, was loaded, the “deck” was a couple of inches under water.

Arrived at the other side, we were struck by the prevalence of white marble, and the extraordinary contorted folds of an abrupt cliff of blue crystalline quartzite rock, about fifty feet high, overlooking the ferry. A narrow footpath to the north-east of this cliff led to a ridge of pure white crystalline marble, of the same structure as the marble of the Tsagain hills. The ridge, which was destitute of trees, was about six hundred feet above the level of the river, running almost parallel with its course for about a mile. A small watercourse dividing the ridge from a rounded hill covered with waterworn boulders of the quartzite rock marked the limits of the marble, which terminated so abruptly as to be at once noticeable, and the pawmine said there was no silver beyond this limit. We walked along the almost level top of the treeless ridge, and found at the eastern side a pleasant valley, where the cultivated terraces showed signs of the neighbourhood of a village, and a Bauhinia in full bloom of white flowers with violet centre occurred in great profusion.

The mines consisted of a series of galleries about four feet in diameter, run horizontally into the slope of the ridge facing the river. Our conductors led us along the steep hillside, strewn with large masses of iron pyrites, and overgrown with grass and low jungle, so thick that each man had to cut his way with a dah. We passed about thirty of these adits, which penetrated the hillside for two or three hundred feet, sloping slightly downwards, and with passages opening at right angles. I crawled into one of them, preceded by a guide with a lantern, and made my way for a considerable distance along the tunnel, the sides of which showed red earth mixed with masses of marble and quartzite, but my progress was stopped by finding the passage blocked by the fallen roof, the bamboo props used when the mine was worked having given way. No detailed information regarding the productiveness of these mines could be obtained, and since the outbreak of the civil war in Yunnan they had not been worked, save to a very small and intermittent extent by the Kakhyens. The heaps of slag in the glen near the small watercourses, where all smelting operations had been conducted, showed that a very considerable quantity of ore used to be raised. Specimens of the ore assayed by Professor Oldham have been found to contain 0·191 per cent. of silver in the galena. The mines are of easy access, and from their close proximity to the borders of China, little or no difficulty would be experienced in finding labourers to work them. Silver is also said to be found on the right bank of the river, at a great elevation on the hillsides to the west of Ponsee; and gold is asserted to occur near the same locality, and specimens were shown to me at Bhamô in grains some of which were as large as small peas.

From the mines we returned across the river, and breakfasted on the bank of the Tapeng, treating our Kakhyen companions to some of the eatables, their approval of which was indicated by jerking their fists with the thumb extended, which emphatically signifies that anything is very good. The forefinger is held straight to indicate that a man is good, and crooked to denote one who is not to be trusted.

So we returned to Ponsee, where we must again take up the tangled thread of events bearing on our progress. A month had passed since our arrival, and the advance of the season was marked by the call of the cuckoo, which was often heard in the eastern woods. The jungle had all been felled in the new clearings, and nightly fires illuminated the opposite hills, caused by the burning of the jungle over acres of ground. Heavy thunder showers almost every night did not add to our comfort, and heralded the speedy setting in of the south-west monsoon.

But we were apparently as far off from any extrication from our detention as ever.

The Seray tsawbwa had on March 22nd returned with news that a Panthay official had arrived at Sanda, and that the country so far was open. He also produced a letter addressed to himself by the governor of Momien, requesting him to give us all the help in his power, and promising to reimburse any expense he might be put to in our service. The chief seemed fully disposed to help, and started for his own village to procure mules, with which he promised to return in two days, leaving his Chinese clerk to help us as an interpreter.

This was pleasant, and the improved temper of the people was shown by the arrival of messengers from the widow of a tsawbwa ruling a district on the road to Manwyne, with a present of fowls, eggs, and an uninviting compound of flour and chillies; accompanied by a message that she and her people would come and escort us to Manwyne. The dowager of the late chief of that town also sent Sladen the gift of two Kakhyen bags, and a curious implement forming a toothbrush and tongue-scraper combined.

The Seray chief, however, did not show according to promise, and a week after his departure news came that two Chinamen had arrived from Bhamô, with a party of fifty armed Burmese. These men gave out that they had been sent to recommence mining operations at the silver mines. The immediate result was that the Seray chief, first by a messenger, and then in person, repudiated his engagement to procure mules, alleging that the Ponsee chief had threatened to kill him if he assisted us to quit the Ponsee territory. Argument and expostulation were useless, and he nodded assent when Sladen attributed his change of purpose to private instructions received from Bhamô. He departed, after warning us to be on our guard against the Ponsee chief, who had resolved to attack the camp.

The hostility of the Ponsee chief was soon shown, for the day after the arrival of the Burmese his Kakhyens drove off all the Shans from our little bazaar; the chief himself came down with his dah drawn, and cut down one of the traders, which act of violence made him liable to pay an indemnity to the Manwyne people. His pawmines came next with the intelligence that he had summoned two neighbouring tsawbwas to his assistance, that two buffaloes had been slaughtered, and a grand sacrificial feast was to be held that night, after which the nats would be consulted as to our fate, when, if the oracle commended it, the Kakhyens, drunk with sheroo and samshu, would attack the camp. One of the buffaloes had been supplied by the Burmese, and the symbolic present of a pound of flesh, the acceptance of which signified consent, had been offered to and accepted by the tsare-daw-gyee, or Burmese royal secretary, in charge of the party. The pound of flesh had been also sent to the pawmines, but rejected by them, and they loudly denounced their chief as an uncontrollable madman.

A wholesome fear of the European strangers had gradually grown up; they were believed to possess supernatural powers. Breech-loading rifles and revolvers, and “Bryant and May’s matches,” which ignited only on the box, and defied wind and rain, argued a close alliance with the nats of the elements; while the photographic apparatus appeared in Kakhyen eyes to be the instruments of conjurers, who could control the sun himself. Hence but few of the Kakhyens would join the chief, whom they considered bent on his own destruction. While the conspirators were revelling and consulting, our police escort was drawn out and exercised, and the ominous sound of three volleys from fifty guns, which to their universal astonishment and awe all went off at once, terrified them, and gave a significant hint that assailants would meet a warm reception. The pawmines prayed that they and their houses might be spared in the general destruction that must overtake our enemies, and the news soon reached us that the meetway, who was secretly in our pay, had announced that the nats disapproved of the conspiracy.

The pawmines then requested permission to introduce the two hostile tsawbwas, who accordingly arrived; their naturally villainous faces were not improved by an expression of sheepish fear, but they lightened up when Sladen received them kindly, and without upbraiding them explained the advantages that would arise to all if our plans should be carried out. A present of an empty biscuit tin and a beer bottle quite won their hearts, and converted them into fast friends. The pawmines then represented that the young chief, with whom, on his repentance, they had made friends, desired to be forgiven and received into favour. It was argued that he felt very sore at Ponline having defrauded him of his rightful gains, and it was agreed that by way of making up for all neglect he should receive one hundred rupees! He swore eternal friendship, and vowed that henceforth we were his relations. Sladen asked him why he had omitted his relations in the late distribution of beef, at which he grinned, and went off awkwardly enough, but still in good humour.

During the first few days of April, the situation was hopeful and exciting, but the tsawbwa and his pawmines, though outwardly reconciled, soon made it evident that their respective interests clashed too much for united action. The chief volunteered to go and procure mules, the pawmines offered to supply any number of coolies. The amount to be paid on our arrival at Manwyne was fixed at five hundred rupees, and this was eagerly coveted by the rivals; each in turn denounced the other as entertaining designs of looting the baggage, and the pawmines declared that the chief dared not show his face in Manwyne on account of a private feud.

Sladen refused to accept the separate services of either the chief or his subordinates, and this straightforward policy compelled a seeming reconciliation. The Seray tsawbwa sent his pawmines with sixty men and six mules, far too few for the baggage of the party; his men, however, declared they could carry it all, and facetiously advised us to build houses for permanent residence at Ponsee, as the latter chief would never be able to procure mules.

An amusing interlude was afforded by the arrival of a half-caste, professing to be one of the chief men of the tsawbwa-gadaw, or dowager chieftainess, of Manwyne. He came in a breathless state of excitement, and announced that he had succeeded in hiring two hundred mules, but that the caravan had been detained by the Kakhyen chiefs on the road, who had sent him to say that they would allow them to pass for one hundred rupees, and as a pledge of their sincerity had entrusted him with an amber chain worth that sum. The fellow must have had a high opinion of our credulity, for the chain, when produced, was valued at about eight annas, and he was summarily dismissed.

At last, terms were arranged; the pawmines were to supply coolies, while the tsawbwa was to find carriage for forty mule-loads, and the 7th of April was appointed for the start. We were up with daylight, tents were speedily struck, and baggage packed for the march. The coolies soon assembled, and the area of our little camp was covered with wild-looking Kakhyens armed to the teeth with matchlocks, spears, and dahs, looking much more like a horde of banditti than peaceful porters. Their demeanour was in keeping with their appearance, and their dishonest purpose was evidenced by the bare-faced rivalry displayed by the different parties in seizing upon the packages which seemed most valuable, irrespective of size or weight. The precaution had been taken of telling off the escort into parties, with strict orders to prevent the exit of any baggage until all were in readiness for a start. The crisis was brought on by Sladen’s japanned tin cases. The youngest pawmine, who was first on the field, had appropriated them for his coolies, but when his brother, “Death’s Head,” appeared, very much excited, early as it was, with drink, he claimed them for his men. On his brother’s refusal to give them up, he lost all command over himself. After a violent outburst of passion, he made a dash at the gold sword which the king had presented to Sladen, and snatched it from the Burmese servant in charge. This attempt was frustrated by Williams, who with a vigorous wrench rescued the sword from “Death’s Head’s” grasp. Thus foiled, he attacked the Burmese clerk, who was taking down the names of the coolies, and threatened to cut him down. A general hubbub ensued, during which he rushed off to a camp fire, lit his slow-match, and advanced priming his matchlock, till he was close to Sladen, when he fired off his piece in the air. The consternation which ensued reached its climax when an assistant surveyor in a foolish panic fired his revolver. The Kakhyens showed that they had no relish for a fight, and, throwing down their loads, bolted in all directions. We of course remained quiet, while the tsawbwa showed more sense than could have been expected, calling upon the Kakhyens not to fly, and after a time order was restored. One of us followed “Death’s Head,” who had sat down at the end of the camp to reload his gun, and by a little persuasion got him to send his gun up to the village, and return to his duties. The loads were all arranged, and the escort had been so distributed that each set of coolies could be under surveillance, with a chain of communication between the van and rear-guard, while the coolies carrying the japanned tin cases were placed under the immediate supervision of armed followers, so that they could not “bolt” without creating an alarm. It was high noon before all was ready, and then the tsawbwa and pawmines, perhaps disgusted with these salutary precautions, announced that, as Manwyne could not be reached that day, our departure must be postponed till the morrow. This was pleasant after toiling six hours under a broiling sun, but we had nothing to oppose to native caprice save patience, strongly tempered with misgivings, which proved to be correct. The next morning no coolies appeared, and the pawmines came down to say that they could not fulfil their promise, as the tsawbwa had refused his co-operation. The chief himself soon afterwards arrived to lay the onus of the failure on the pawmines. A probable instigator of the whole scheme was the Nanlyaw tamone, who, after a long absence, suddenly presented himself in our camp, and whom Sladen, having had repeated proofs of his machinations, at once arrested as a spy; but at the urgent intercession of his friends, the pawmines, he was dismissed with a strong caution not to show himself again in our vicinity.

At this juncture, when all hope of extrication from our Ponsee prison seemed to have vanished, letters arrived from the governor of Momien, informing Sladen that he was about to take the field in person, with a strong force, to attack Li-sieh-tai, and drive him from his stronghold of Mawphoo. The letters further recommended us not to attempt to advance beyond Manwyne until advices should reach us of the defeat of the Chinese partisan. A second letter was a circular addressed to the Kakhyen chiefs, exhorting them to give all possible aid to the expedition. This at once gave a vantage ground, from which to deal with our highland friends, and it was improved by Sladen. Kakhyens, Burmese, and Shans had alike conceived extravagant ideas of the value of our baggage, and showed beyond doubt that the hope of getting possession of all, or a part of it, was a strong motive of their action or inaction. The leader therefore began to proclaim on all sides that though we had cheerfully endured privations and delays, in the hope of thoroughly conciliating the natives, they were not to imagine our patience to be inexhaustible. If we should be compelled to abandon all or any part of our baggage, it would be piled up and burned before our departure; thus they would lose their expected plunder, and incur the risk of future reprisals, or demands for compensation, and, above all, certainly alienate those who sought to be their friends. To this the chiefs replied in substance as follows: “Do not blame us for your misfortunes; we have been always in doubt how to act, on account of the many warnings we have received against aiding your progress. Now we know you. You have always been kind to us, and are a powerful people.”

Vexatious and harassing as had been our detention at Ponsee, it is certain that it would have been before this period quite impossible to proceed beyond Manwyne, and our residence among these semi-savage tribes served to convert their first suspicions into confidence, and to impress them with the value of our friendship. The uniform kindness with which all just services were requited, as contrasted with the treatment to which they had hitherto been subjected in their dealings with other races, especially with the Burmese, gradually worked its effect.

At this time letters were received through Burmese agency, from no less a person than Moung Shuay Yah, who since his treacherous desertion had never been heard of. Now all of a sudden his name was mentioned ad nauseam by the Burmese followers, and two Kakhyens arrived with letters purporting to have been written at some halting-place in the Shan country; but the bearers contradicted each other, and could not tell when, or from whom, they had received the letters. Next day, another letter was brought by one of the silver mining party, which, he said, Moung Shuay Yah had given him fourteen days before, but which he had forgotten to deliver. The fact was the interpreter had started for Momien, having heard of the change of our prospects, and our probable advance to that city. As it was needful, if possible, to save appearances, Moung Shuay Yah in his letter declared that he had been obliged to fly to save his life from the anger of Sala. Fortunately his place was by this time well supplied by Moung Mo, whom, it may be remembered, Sala had carried off with him, but who had returned and placed himself at Sladen’s disposal. He amply corroborated all that had been before told us of the efforts of the Bhamô people to obstruct our progress. Orders had been received from Mandalay, conveying the king’s displeasure at our detention at Ponsee, and authorising Sala to take us to Manwyne, but he had replied that after being induced by the Burmese of Bhamô to compromise himself with us, he would have nothing further to do with it.

It was supposed by our leader that the express object of stationing the armed miners at Ponsee was to deter the Kakhyens from helping us. Moung Mo, in addition, assured us that he had ascertained that Li-sieh-tai had sworn to oppose any attempt on our part to penetrate the Shan states, and he advised us on no account to proceed to Manwyne without an intimation from the Panthays that the road was open. An important circumstance occurred at this time in the arrival of messengers and a Chinese interpreter from Momien. They brought no letters, but were charged by the Tah-sa-kon[22] to make personal inquiries into the real objects of the mission and our circumstances at Ponsee. It transpired that letters from Bhamô had informed the governor that we represented a powerful nation in alliance with the Chinese, and foes to the Mahommedans all over the world, and that our real object was to destroy the Panthay dominion in Yunnan.

Sladen thoroughly dispelled these suspicions, and sent away the envoys completely satisfied as to the genuineness of our pacific intentions. The probabilities of an advance were, however, still remote and uncertain, and the wet season had fairly set in, marked by a constant succession of thunder and heavy rains. Dense masses of mist rolled up the valley like vast advancing curtains, shrouding the mountains in their gigantic folds, and producing an artificial twilight, and torrents of rain descended for three or four hours incessantly, soaking the tents; our waterproof blankets alone saving the inmates from complete saturation, but not from the utter discomfort of living in a puddle.

One storm deserves accurate description. Up to 4 P.M. of April 12th, the wind had been blowing in fitful cool gusts from the south-west, but at that hour there was a sudden lull; distant thunder was heard echoing among the mountains, and heavy black clouds came rolling up; a few drops of rain gave, as it were, the signal for a discharge of hailstones, or rather flakes of ice. The wind blew in violent gusts, and thunder rumbled over head, but the flashes of lightning were very faint. The hailstones were circular discs about the size of a shilling, flat on one side, and convex on the other. A white nucleus two-eighths of an inch in diameter, and in many cases with a prominent boss of clear ice on the convex side, formed the centre of a pellucid zone surrounded by an opaque one, in its turn encased in clear ice; the inner margin of this external zone was filled with a dark substance, resembling mud combined with delicate ice crystals; the whole disc strongly resembling a glass eye; when fractured, the nucleus separated itself as a small short column, flat at one end, and convex at the other.

During the storm, which lasted for twenty minutes, the aneroid rose from 26·62 to 26·65, and the attached thermometer registered 67°, the maximum heat during the day having been 84°.

It was evident that the season was closed for purposes of engineering survey and exploration, and this, combined with the reduced state of the exchequer, induced the leader of the expedition to address a circular to the members of the party, placing before them the facts, and suggesting that it would be for the interests of the public service that the numbers should be reduced in order to curtail the future expense of transport. It was necessary in fact to lighten the ship, and each was invited to consider how far he could assist in this needful work. Sladen had determined to remain, if necessary, for some months, until the opportunity should arrive to visit Momien, and at all hazards personally communicate with the Panthays; but he felt that he ought to place it in the power of the other members of the expedition to return, especially as the work which some of them had been despatched to effect could not be performed. This circular was sent round on the 17th, and the news of the fall of Mawphoo and the utter defeat of Li-sieh-tai reached us on the 18th of April, and was afterwards fully confirmed by despatches from the Tah-sa-kon, announcing his victory and writing to us to advance under the protection of all the chiefs en route. Our friends the tsawbwa and his pawmines, who had been day by day “making believe,” as children say, to discuss plans for procuring mules, were evidently much influenced by this; but they could not help showing their greed for rupees, and their continual demand was that three hundred should be paid before starting.

It was only later on that we learned that all these Kakhyens, especially Sala, had always been steady adherents of Li-sieh-tai, and that his utter defeat made them thoroughly anxious to conciliate the victorious Panthays.

The tsawbwa presented himself in a very penitent mood, and, confessing all his past misconduct, averred his determination to give up drink and debauchery and do his duty as a chief. Linking his fingers together with an expressive shake, he vowed leal service to his English friends, and then started off in company with his head pawmine on the road to Manwyne, where he expected to meet the Seray chief, and arrange means for our transport.

As if a new order of things had set in, our camp now was daily crowded by Kakhyens, all in the highest good humour. The women of the village came down en masse, bringing presents of fowls, eggs, sheroo, and rice, but the fair ones had an eye to business; beads, looking-glasses, bright new silver coins, and what they seemed most to prize, red cloth, were in great demand. A brisk trade was driven in the various ornaments, and they stripped off their bead necklaces and ratan girdles and leggings with great glee, and even a bell-girdle, the distinctive ornament of Kakhyen aristocracy, which hitherto even rupees had failed to secure, was now acquired in return for red cloth; indeed, it seemed quite possible to purchase a Kakhyen belle, ornaments, and all, for a few yards of the much prized material; and they returned home with great glee, shorn of their decorations, but rich in beads and cloth. Some came to solicit medical aid; cases of severe ulcerations, caused probably by their labour in the jungle, and aggravated by dirt, being common. The gratitude evinced for the relief given was touchingly shown by the presents, deposited with a fearful humility that showed the donor’s belief in the intimate connection between the doctor and the nats. Every day both chiefs and people from the more distant villages flocked in, and none came empty-handed. Gifts of rice, vegetables, tobacco, and sheroo, were brought not merely in the hope of return presents, but evidently as signs of amity. There could be no mistaking their feeling, that strangers who behaved with kindness and justice were welcome. These poor hill people had hardly ever known what it was to be treated with confidence; on either side, Burmese and Chinese had wronged and oppressed them. Monsig. Bigandet states that they had formerly been characterised by a genial kindliness and ready hospitality to strangers, but that the cruel treatment they experienced in Burmese towns, and the fraudulent evasion of payment for their services, had rendered them suspicious, greedy, and treacherous. It is not to be wondered at if the presence among them of strangers of an unknown race, escorted by an armed force, should at first have been regarded by them with fear and dislike, and it is with a modest pride that we recall the kindly confidence in the strangers which had sprung up towards the end of our long detention at Ponsee. The people from the distant villages continually asked, “Why did you not come our way? we should have then had some of the good things that you have brought for the Ponsee people.” The camp was perpetually full; the men, after curiously inspecting the many wonders that presented themselves, chatted and smoked with our followers; and the women, old and young, eagerly petitioned for small hand glasses, and black or green beads, the latter being most valued, and straightway converted their prizes into personal decorations. The young women formed in lines, each clasping her neighbour in a coquettish embrace, their shyness had vanished, they chatted and flirted freely, and did not even flinch from being photographed.

The friendly intercourse with these visitors gave us most welcome opportunities of inquiry into their customs, their national and social life. There was no backwardness in answering any questions, and the record of delays and difficulties may be well interrupted by a few pages devoted to these mountaineers. Those of whom we saw the most were all dwellers to the north of the Tapeng, but some of the visitors came from the southern hills, and the general characteristics distinguish both these and the clans visited by us on the return journey, who seem to be more civilised than their northern congeners. It is right here to acknowledge that the following account of this people has been rendered fuller and more accurate by the use of some notes furnished by Major Sladen from accounts given by natives, and by the use of a valuable memoir on the territories written by the learned and indefatigable missionary, Bishop Bigandet, whose warmest sympathies have been called out for these poor mountaineers, of whom he said, “It is of the utmost importance to know them, their character and habits, and to be prepared to secure their good will, whenever the thought of opening communications with Western China shall have been seriously entertained.”

KAKHYEN MEN.

KAKHYEN MATRONS.

[21] Tamone, a Burmese headman of a village.

[22] Tah-sa-kon, a civil title equivalent to Commissioner or Administrator.

CHAPTER V.
THE KAKHYENS.

The Kakhyens or Kakoos—The clans—Their chiefs—Mountain villages—Cultivation and crops—Personal appearance—Costume—Arms and implements—Female dress and ornaments—Women’s work—Sheroo—Morals—Marriage—Music—Births—Funerals—Religion—Language—Character—How to deal with them—Our party.

From the summit of the lofty hill, fully two thousand feet above our camp, called Shitee-doung, which it became possible to ascend during the latter part of our stay, an extensive view was obtained. From it to the north a sea of hills extended as far as the eye could reach; to the south stretched ranges of hills covered with forest, save where little clearings showed the presence of villages; to the north-east lofty parallel ranges closed in a narrow valley with a river winding down it. These hills are the country of the Kakhyens. These mountaineers belong to the widely spread race that under the name of Singphos, Kakoos, &c. occupy the hills defining the Irawady basin, up to the wall of the Khamti plain, and are probably cognate with the hill tribes of the Mishmees and Nagas. The name Kakhyen is a Burmese appellation; they invariably designating themselves as Chingpaw, or “men.”[23] By their own account the hills to the north of the Tapeng, for a month’s journey, are occupied by kindred tribes. South of the Tapeng, they occupy the hills as far as the latitude of Tagoung, and, as mentioned, were met with on our voyage near the second defile. To the east, they are found occupying the hills, and, intermixed with the Shans and Chinese, almost to Momien. Here they, as it were, run into the Leesaws, who may be a cognate, but are not an identical, race. The two chief tribes in the hills of the Tapeng valley are the Lakone and Kowrie or Kowlie, but numerous subdivisions of clans occur. All are said to have originally come from the Kakoos’ country, north-east of Mogoung; and Shans informed us that two hundred years ago Kakhyens were unknown in Sanda and Hotha valleys. To give one instance of their migrations. The Lakone tribe have at a very recent period driven the Kowlies from the northern to the southern banks of the Tapeng. A Lakone chief, having married the daughter of a Kowlie, asked permission to cultivate land belonging to his father-in-law; receiving a refusal, he took forcible possession, and drove the Kowlies across the river to the hills where they now dwell.

Among these hill tribes the patriarchal system of government has hitherto universally prevailed, although a certain, or rather uncertain, obedience is nominally due to Burmese or Chinese authorities. Thus the Ponsee and Ponline chiefs had each received a gold umbrella and the title of papada raza from the king of Burma. Each clan is ruled by an hereditary chief or tsawbwa, assisted by lieutenants or pawmines, who adjudicate all disputes among the villagers. Their office is also hereditary, and properly limited to the eldest son, whereas the chieftainship descends to the youngest son, or, failing sons, to the youngest surviving brother. The land also follows this law of inheritance, the younger sons in all cases inheriting, while the elder go forth and clear wild land for themselves. Between Tsitkaw and Manwyne seven clans under separate chiefs are met with, each chief considering himself entitled to exact a toll of four annas per mule-load from travellers through his district. The chieftain’s goodwill being secured by payment of his toll or blackmail, that of the people follows as a matter of course. When the traveller quits the lands of one chief, he is handed over by his guide to the next headman, and is as safe with him as with the former. The tsawbwa is the nominal owner of the land, but a suggestion to a villager that the chief might evict him from his holding was replied to by a significant sawing motion of the hand across the throat. As a general rule, the chief owns the slaves found everywhere among these people. Most have been stolen as children, but adults are also kidnapped. The women become concubines, the men are well treated if industrious and willing. The children of slaves belong to the owner, but really are as well treated as the members of his family. When a tsawbwa marries, he is expected to present a slave to his father-in-law, among the other gifts. The market value of a boy or girl is about forty rupees, but that of a man not more than twenty to thirty rupees, or a buffalo.

Every house pays the chief an annual tribute of a basket of rice. Whenever a buffalo is killed, a quarter is presented to him. He is usually a trader, and, besides the receipt of tolls, derives a profit from the hire of mules or coolies for transport. Save in this respect, it was impossible to help being reminded of Scottish highland clans of the olden time, so many were the points of resemblance that occurred in the customs and indeed character of these mountaineers, though, to avert all possible indignation, I hasten to add that no parallel is intended to be drawn, especially as regards their morals or social life.

The Kakhyen villages are always situated near a perennial mountain stream, generally in a sheltered glen, or straggling with their enclosures up a gentle slope, covering a mile of ground. The houses, which usually face eastwards, are all built on the same plan as that tenanted by us at Ponline. The most usual dimensions are about one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet in length, and forty to fifty feet in breadth. These large bamboo structures are veritable barracks. The first room is hospitably reserved for strangers; the others form the apartments of several families, connected by blood or marriage, which compose the household community. The back entrance is reserved for the use of the members of these families. A serious demand for compensation arose out of the inadvertence of one of our servants who entered by the family door, and thus provoked the domestic nat. The projecting eaves, supported by posts which are adorned with the skulls of buffaloes and pigs, form a portico, where men and women lounge or work by day, and at night the live stock—buffaloes, mules, ponies, pigs, and poultry—are housed, while a bamboo fence guards them from possible thief or leopard.

Near the houses are small enclosures, where white-flowered poppies, plantains, and indigo are cultivated; paddy and maize are grown together on the adjacent slopes and knolls, which are carefully scarped in terraces, presenting often the appearance of an amphitheatre. The stream is dammed near the highest point, and directed so as to overflow the terraces and rejoin the channel at the base. Bamboo conduits are sometimes used to convey the water to paddy fields or distant houses. Fresh clearings are also made every year by felling and burning the forest on the hillsides. Near every village disused paths may be seen, which have been cut to former clearings, and along which a little canal has been carried. The cleared ground is broken up with a rude hoe, but in the cultivated terraces wooden ploughs are used. Excessive rain, which makes the paddy weak and the yield scanty, is most dreaded. Generally, the natural fertility of the soil more than repays the rude husbandry with beautiful crops of rice, maize, cotton, and tobacco, of excellent quality. Near the villages, peaches, pomegranates, and guavas are grown; and the forests abound with chestnuts, plums, cherries, and various wild brambleberries. On the higher slopes, oaks and birches grow in abundance, and large areas are covered with Cinnamomum caudatum and C. cassia, the oil of which is commonly sold as oil of cinnamon. Thousands of these trees are annually felled to clear new ground for cultivation and burned where they lie. Another natural production is the tea plant (Camellia thea), which grows freely on the eastern side of the hills, and suggested dreams of future tea plantations, cultivated by improved Kakhyens or imported Shans and Paloungs.

Among the inhabitants of the villages, both those who visited our camp and the southern hillmen seen on the homeward route, the variety of faces is striking. This may be probably owing to admixture of Shan and Burmese blood, but two types may be said to predominate; the one with a fine outline of features, which recalled the womanly faces of the Cacharies and Lepchas of Sikkim. In it the oblique eye is very strongly marked, and the face is a longish, rather compressed oval, with pointed chin, aquiline nose, and prominent malars. One Kakhyen belle met with at Bhamô, with large lustrous eyes and fair skin, might almost have passed for a European. The other and by far the most prevalent type is probably the true Chingpaw, presenting a short, round face, with low forehead and very prominent malars. The ugliness of the slightly oblique eyes, separated by a wide space, the broad nose, thick protruding lips, and broad square chin, is only redeemed by the good-humoured expression. The hair and eyes are usually a dark shade of brown, and the complexion is a dirty buff. The average height for men is from five feet to five feet six inches, and four feet six inches to five feet for women. The limbs are slight, though well formed, one peculiarity being the disproportionate shortness of the legs. This is also observable among the Karens, to whom the Kakhyens bear a general resemblance, suggesting a common origin, which is further indicated by their language. Though not muscular, they are very agile, and the young girls bound like deer along the hill-paths, their loose dark locks streaming behind them. They bring down from the hills loads of firewood and deal planks which we found as much as we could lift. However interesting and picturesque their appearance may be, closer inspection dissolves the enchantment lent by distance. Both persons and clothes appear never to have been washed, and the dress, once put on, is never changed till it is worn to pieces. Neither men nor women use combs, and the state of the thick matted felt of hair can better be imagined than described. Although they never seemed to wash except faces, hands, and feet, some of the men were good swimmers and divers, and proudly exhibited their skill, disclosing thereby the fact that their bodies were tattooed with blue dots, chiefly on the chest and back. The dress of the men usually consists of a Shan jacket and short breeches of blue cotton cloth, supported by a cotton girdle. The hair is coiled in a blue or sometimes a red turban; the moustache and beard are very scanty, but their custom of eradicating the natural growth renders it hard to judge. They insert in the lobe of the ear a piece of bamboo, or a lappet of embroidered red cloth, a leaf or flower, or a piece of paper, our old newspapers being in great request; and a number of fine ratan rings encircle the leg below the knee. It seemed to us that the Kakhyen men were ready to adopt any dress; some even wore their hair in the Chinese pigtail. The “Red Pawmine,” on grand occasions, turned out in a bright red turban, rose-checked breeches, and a red blanket over his shoulders. The chiefs usually wear Chinese padded jackets, leggings made of rolls of blue cloth, and Shan shoes. They are distinguished, especially in the case of those who rigidly adhere to the ancient Kakhyen costume, by neck-hoops of silver, resembling Celtic torques, and the necklace of beads or cylinders of an ochreous earth. These are found in the Mogoung district, and are highly valued, being reputed to be the authentic handiwork of the earth nats. Some Kakoos met with at Sanda wore a broad piece of blue cotton cloth, with a red embroidered border of woollen stuff, like a kilt, reaching to the knee. This seems to be the true Kakhyen dress; and they also wore their hair uncovered, and cut straight across the forehead, like the Kakhyen maidens. No hillman is ever seen without his dah, or knife; it is half sheathed in wood, and suspended to a ratan hoop covered with embroidered cloth and adorned by a leopard’s tooth. This is slung over the right shoulder, so as to bring the hilt in front ready to the grasp of the right hand. Two sorts of dahs are in use: one the long sword, such as the Thibetans use, two feet and a half in length, with a long cylindrical wooden hilt, bound with cord and finished with a red tassel. The other is shorter and broader, widening from the hilt to the truncated tip. This knife the Burmese call “the Kakhyen’s chief”; it is wielded with great dexterity either to cut down trees or men, or to execute the fine lineal tracery with which their bamboo opium pipes and fan cases are decorated. It is appealed to in every argument, and drawn on visible foes and invisible nats with equal readiness. On one occasion we espied a woman on the hillside writhing on the ground in evident pain. A passing villager came to her assistance, and at once out flashed his dah, with which he executed several cuts in the air over the prostrate woman. This was to drive away the nat who had taken possession; he then threw earth over her head, and ran off to the village to procure help to carry her home. During the latter part of our stay, one of the police escort, during a chaffing argument with a Kakhyen visitor, was without warning felled by a blow of the dah. The savage decamped to the jungle, leaving the sepoy bleeding from a gash on his head, and another on the arm, with which he had warded off the blow and so saved his skull from being split. These dahs are made by the Shans of the Hotha valley, who are the itinerant smiths of the country. Other arms are a long matchlock, and a cross-bow, with arrows poisoned with the juice of an aconitum. They are much used in hunting; the flesh round the wound being cut out, the rest of the animal is eaten without danger. An invariable article of equipment is an embroidered bag worn over the right shoulder, containing pipe, tobacco, lime and betel box, money, and a bamboo flask of sheroo. A most ingenious apparatus supplies a light for the constant pipe. It resembles a child’s popgun, and consists of a small cylinder four inches long, open at one end, into which is very tightly fitted a piston, with a cup-shaped cavity at the lower end. In it, a small pellet of tinder is placed, the piston is driven down smartly, and as quickly withdrawn, when the tinder is found to be ignited.

KAKHYEN AND SHAN PIPES, MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, ETC.

- Fig. 1. Kakhyen ladle for preparing opium.

- 2. Kakhyen opium forceps.

- 3. 4. Kakhyen cylinder and piston for striking fire.

- 5. Shan flute with gourd mouthpiece.

- 6. Kakhyen double flute.

- 7. Kakhyen opium hookah (bamboo).

- 8. Kakhyen opium pipe.

- 9. Kakhyen opium hookah, the mouthpiece made of the underground stem and the water receptacle of the segment of a remarkable bamboo with swollen internodes.

- 10. Chinese bamboo lamp.

- 11. Shan powder flask.

- 12. Shan violin.

- 13. Bow for ditto.

- 14. Shan guitar.

It is worth recording that the men invariably smoke opium, but not to excess; rarely, if ever, did we see them use tobacco for smoking, though they were addicted to chewing it. The juice of the poppy, exuding from incisions made in the green capsules, is collected on plantain leaves, which are dried, and in this form the opium is smoked either in hookahs made of the segment of a peculiarly shaped bamboo or in brass pipes of Chinese manufacture. Whether the cultivation and use of opium have spread from Assam or from Yunnan is uncertain, but we found it universal from the Burmese plain to Momien, although the method of smoking it among the Kakhyens differs altogether from that of the Chinese. Dr. Bayfield, in 1837, observed of the Singphos, on the western side of the Irawady valley, that, “from whatever source derived, the cultivation of the poppy is now universal;” and he describes the methods of collection and use as the same, save that coarse cloth was used instead of leaves.

The men rarely employ themselves in manual labour; a few of the more industrious assist the women to fell the jungle and set it on fire, but most of this labour is left to the women. In general, the men till the land; but between the seasons, they wander from house to house, and village to village, gossiping, drinking, or smoking. Journeys to dispose of produce, or carry goods, hunting excursions, and occasional fights or forays, are not reckoned labour. They do not work in metals, but are very skilful in adorning bamboos or wooden implements with carving. The designs of their tracery are the simplest combinations of straight lines, and rude figures of birds and animals, characteristic of the most primitive art.

The Kakhyen women have adopted the short loose Shan jacket of blue cotton, slashed with red cloth, variously ornamented, according to the means of the wearer, with cowries and silver. This covers the arms and breast, but leaves the waist exposed, save for a profusion of ratan girdles, adorned with lines of white seeds. These also support the kirtle or kilt, which reaches from the hips to the knee, the border of the skirt being chequered in red, blue, and yellow. Cowries form a favourite ornamentation of every part of the dress, and the daughters of chiefs wear broad belts of these shells. Besides the distinctive bell-girdle, fine ratan rings encircle the leg below the knee, but no shoes are worn. Most of the matrons coil their hair in the folds of the Shan turban, but the original Chingpaw head-dress is a puggery of embroidered cloth, twisted round the head, while the end, fringed with beads, falls gracefully on the shoulder. Unmarried women wear no head-dress, and cut their hair square across the forehead in a fashion not unknown in England, while their back hair, unrestrained by any fastening, streams down behind. The ears are pierced both through the lobes and upper cartilage. In the latter orifice is inserted a lappet of embroidered cloth tasselled with small green and black beads; silver tubes, reaching to the shoulder, are also worn by the wealthier belles, while the poorer display fresh flowers or leaves. Anything seems convertible into an ear-ring: thus a cheroot, or, as seen by us, a freshly plucked leek, is stuck into the ear. All who can, wear necklaces of beads, but silver hoops called gerees, and the komoung of red ochreous beads, are peculiar to the necks of high-born damsels.

It has been remarked that the men are averse to labour, but the lot of all women irrespective of rank is one of drudgery. They are not allowed to eat with the men, and are looked on as mere beasts of burden, valued only for their usefulness; but they seem contented with their lot, and are always cheerful and light-hearted. Their brisk activity forms a pleasing contrast to the lounging idleness of their lords. Much, if not most, of the field-work falls to their share, and their daily routine is one of incessant and hard labour. Their first duty in the morning is to clean and crush the rice for the daily consumption, and late at night the dull thud of the heavy pestle, with the accompaniments of their regular wild cry and the jingling of the bell-girdles, was to be heard. They fetch water from the stream, and firewood from the jungle. This latter is a most laborious task, as the girls have to search for dry wood, cut it into faggots, and bring it home on their backs. Their bare legs are often lacerated in the jungle, and the wounds, aggravated by dirt and neglect, form intractable ulcers. Many such cases were brought to our camp for treatment. Another effect of the hard work and exposure is to be observed in the frequency of grey hair among the young women, the matted locks of even girls of ten and twelve years being abundantly silvered as if by premature old age.

Their ordinary house labours include the preparation of sheroo, or Kakhyen beer, a beverage always in demand. This is regarded as a serious, almost sacred task, the women, while engaged in it, having to live in almost vestal seclusion. Certain herbs and roots dried in the sun are mixed with chillies and ginger, to avert the interference of malignant nats; the mixture is pulverised with some rice in a mortar, and reduced to a paste which is carefully preserved in the form of cakes, wrapped in mats. Crushed rice mixed with fresh plantains is steeped for half a day, and allowed to dry. It is next boiled, or “mashed,” with a due proportion of the “medicine” or powdered cake in a paungyaung, or wooden tub, placed within a copper caldron, from which it is, after cooling and fermenting for a week in a leaf-covered basket, transferred to a closely covered earthen jar. After twenty days the sheroo is fit to drink, but is better if left for six months. This forms the stock, to which water is added, and the beverage is offered in a bamboo, closed with a fresh plantain leaf. This liquor resembles very small beer, but is pleasant and refreshing. A similar beverage is found among the Lepchas of Darjeeling, who imbibe it through a reed, the Looshais and Nagas. The Khyens and Karens also prepare a rice-beer like the congee of the Burmese; the Nagas also prepare “moad” from rice, and the Khamtis and Singphos of the Hoo-kong valley distil a spirit which the latter call sahoo; but the Kakhyens procure all their supplies of samshu, or rice-spirit, from the Shan-Chinese.

It is naturally the business of the women to spin, dye, and weave the home-grown cotton. Their loom is of a primitive form, the same as that used among the Khyens, the Munipoories, and other tribes on the north-east of Assam. One end of the warp is held in position by pegs driven into the ground, and the other is kept on the stretch by a broad leather strap fastened round the back of the woman as she sits on the ground with her legs straight before her. A long piece of wood keeps the threads of the warp open, so that the shuttle, which is thirty inches long, and worked by both hands, can pass easily. With this they produce a strong thick cloth, and weave fanciful patterns of red, green, and yellow. They are also adepts at embroidery in silk and cotton, which is only applied to the decoration of the bags or havresacks worn by the men.

The code of morality of the Kakhyens has been variously represented. Unchastity before marriage is certainly not regarded as a disgrace. If possible, the parents of the girl endeavour to get the lovers married, but it is not an imperative duty. Should, however, an unmarried girl die enceinte, the father of the child is bound to compensate her parents by the present of a slave, a buffalo, a dah, and other articles, and to give a feast to the inmates of the house. Failing this, he is liable to be sold as a slave. This arises from the value set upon a marriageable daughter, both as regards her present working power and her future price as a wife, which is not lessened by an indiscretion.

Infidelity after marriage is a crime which the husband may punish on the spot by the death of both the offenders. In case of elopement of a wife, the husband is entitled to recover damages, fixed at double the amount expended by him at his marriage. For this the relatives and clansmen of the lover are held liable on pain of a feud.

The ceremony of marriage, besides the religious rites, combines the idea of purchase from the parents with that of abduction, so frequently found to underlie the nuptial rites of widely separated races. An essential preliminary is to get the diviner to predict the general fortune of the intended bride. Some article of her dress or ornaments is procured, and handed to the seer, who, we may suppose, being thereby brought en rapport with her, proceeds to consult omens and predict her bedeen or destiny. If auspicious, messengers bearing presents are sent to make proposals to the girl’s parents, who specify the dowry required and agreed to by the envoys. All being adjusted, two messengers are sent from the bridegroom to inform the bride’s friends that such a day is appointed for the marriage. They are liberally feasted, and escorted home by two of her relatives, who promise to be duly prepared. When the day comes, five young men and girls set out from the bridegroom’s village to that of the bride, where they wait till nightfall in a neighbouring house. At dusk the bride is brought thither by one of the stranger girls, as it were, without the knowledge of her parents, and told that these men have come to claim her. They all set out at once for the bridegroom’s village. In the morning the bride is placed under a closed canopy, outside the bridegroom’s house. Presently there arrives a party of young men from her village, to search, as they say, for one of their girls who has been stolen. They are invited to look under the canopy, and bidden, if they will, to take the girl away; but they reply, “It is well; let her remain where she is.”

While a buffalo, &c. are being killed as a sacrifice, the bridegroom hands over the dowry, and exhibits the trousseau provided for his bride. A wealthy Kakhyen pays for his wife a female slave, ten buffaloes, ten spears, ten dahs, ten pieces of silver, a gong, two suits of clothes, a matchlock, and an iron cooking pot. He also presents clothes and silver to the bridesmaids, and defrays the expense of the feast. Meanwhile the toomsa, or officiating priest, has arranged bunches of fresh grass, pressed down with bamboos at regular intervals, so as to form a carpet between the canopy and the bridegroom’s house. The household nats are then invoked, and a libation of sheroo and water poured out. Fowls, &c. are then killed, and their blood is sprinkled on the grass path, over which the bride and her attendants pass to the house, and offer boiled eggs, ginger, and dried fish to the household deities. This concludes the ceremony, in which the bridegroom takes no part. A grand feast follows. Besides the ordinary fare of rice, plantains, and dried fish and pork, the beef of the sacrificed buffalo and the venison of the barking deer, all cooked in large iron pots, imported from Yunnan, are the viands. Abundant supplies of sheroo and Chinese samshu prepare the guests for the dance.

The orchestra consists of a drum formed of a hollowed tree stem, covered at both ends with the skin of the barking deer, a sort of jews-harp of bamboo, which gives a very clear, almost metallic, tone, and a single or double flute, with a piece of metal inside a long slit, which the performer covers with his mouth. He also accompanies the strain with a peculiar whirring noise, produced in his throat. The marriage feast ends, like all their festivities, in great drunkenness, disorder, and often in a fight.

Breach of promise is made a cause of feud, the friends of the aggrieved fair one making it a point of honour to attack the village of the offender. The curious custom obtains that a widow becomes the wife of the senior brother-in-law, even though he be already married. The day after the birth of a child, the household’s nats are propitiated by offerings of sheroo and the sacrifice of a hog. The flesh is divided into three portions, one for the toomsa, another for the slayer and cook, and the third for the head of the household. The entrails, with eggs, fish, and ginger, are placed on the altars, all the villagers are bidden to a feast, and sheroo is handed round in order of seniority. After all have drunk, the oldest man rises and, pointing to the infant, says, “That boy, or girl, is named so and so.” When a Kakhyen dies, the news is announced by the discharge of matchlocks. This is a signal for all to repair to the house of death. Some cut bamboos and timber for the coffin, others prepare for the funeral rites. A circle of bamboos is driven into the ground, slanting outwards, so that the upper circle is much wider than the base. To each a small flag is fastened, grass is placed between this circle and the house, and the toomsa scatters grass over the bamboos, and pours a libation of sheroo. A hog is then slaughtered, and the flesh cooked and distributed, the skull being fixed on one of the bamboos. The coffin is made of the hollowed trunk of a large tree, which the men fell with their dahs. Just before it falls, a fowl is killed by being dashed against the tottering stem. The place where the head is to rest is blackened with charcoal, and a lid constructed. The body is washed by men or matrons, according to sex, and dressed in new clothes. Some of the pork, boiled rice, and sheroo, are placed before it, and a piece of silver is inserted in the mouth to pay ferry dues over the streams the spirit may have to cross. It is then coffined and borne to the grave amidst the discharge of fire-arms. The grave is about three feet deep, and three pieces of wood are laid to support the coffin, which is covered with branches of trees before the earth is filled in. The old clothes of the deceased are laid on the mound, and sheroo is poured on it, the rest being drunk by the friends around it. In returning, the mourners strew ground rice along the path, and when near the village, they cleanse their legs and arms with fresh leaves. Before re-entering the house, all are lustrated with water by the toomsa with an asperge of grass, and pass over a bundle of grass sprinkled with the blood of a fowl sacrificed during their absence to the spirit of the dead. Eating and drinking wind up the day. Next morning an offering of a hog and sheroo is made to the spirit of the dead man, and a feast and dance are held till late at night, and resumed in the morning. A final sacrifice of a buffalo in honour of the household nats then takes place, and the toomsa breaks down the bamboo fence, after which the final death dance[24] successfully drives forth the spirit, which is believed to have been still lingering round its former dwelling. In the afternoon a trench is dug round the grave, and the conical cover already described is erected, the skulls of the hog and buffalo being affixed to the posts.

The bodies of those who have been killed by shot or steel are wrapped in a mat and buried in the jungle without any rites. A small open hut is erected over the spot for the use of the spirits, for whom also a dah, bag, and basket are placed. These spirits are believed to haunt the forests as munla, like the Burman tuhsais, or ghosts, and to have the power of entering into men and imparting a second sight of deeds of violence. Funeral rites are also denied to those who die of small-pox and to women dying in child-birth. In the latter case, the mother and her unborn child are believed to become a fearful compound vampyre. All the young people fly in terror from the house, and divination is resorted to, to discover what animal the evil spirit will devour, and another with which it will transmigrate. The first is sacrificed, and some of the flesh placed before the corpse; the second is hanged, and a grave dug in the direction to which the animal’s head pointed when dead. Here the corpse is buried with all the clothes and ornaments worn in life, and a wisp of straw is burned on its face, before the leaves and earth are filled in. All property of the deceased is burned on the grave, and a hut erected over it. The death dance takes place, to drive the spirit from the house, in all cases. The former custom appears to have been to burn the body itself, with the house and all the clothes and ornaments used by the deceased. This also took place if the mother died during the month succeeding child-birth, and, according to one native statement, the infant also was thrown into the fire, with the address, “Take away your child;” but if previously any one claimed the child, saying, “Give me your child,” it was spared, and belonged to the adopting parent, the real father being unable at any time to reclaim it.

These ceremonies show the character of the religion of the people. Hemmed in as they are by Buddhist populations, they adhere to the ancient form of worship of good and evil spirits. The French missionaries have been unable to produce any effect upon them. A vague idea of a Supreme Being exists among them, as they speak of a nat in the form of a man named Shingrawah, who created everything. They do not worship, but reverence him, “because he is very big.” As their funeral rites show, they believe in a future existence. Tsojah is the abode of good men; and those who die violent deaths, and bad characters generally, go to Marai. To questions as to the place and conditions of these, an intelligent Kakhyen answered, “How can I tell? no one knows anything.”

The objects of worship are the nats benign or malignant; the first such as Sinlah, the sky spirit, who gives rain and good crops; Chan and Shitah, who cause the sun and moon to rise. These they worship, “because their fathers did so, and told their children that they were good.” Cringwan is the beneficent patron of agriculture, but the malignant nats must be bribed not to ruin the crops. When the ground is cleared for sowing, Masoo is appeased with pork and fowls, buried at the foot of the village altars; when the paddy is eared, buffaloes and pigs are sacrificed to Cajat. A man about to travel is placed under the care of Muron, the toomsa, after due sacrifices, requesting him to “tell the other nats not to harm that man.”

Neglect of Mowlain will result in the want of compraw, or silver, the great object of a Kakhyen’s desire, and if hunters forbear offerings to Chitong, some one will be killed by stag or tiger. Chitong and Muron are two of ten brothers, who have an especial interest in Kakhyen affairs, and another named Phee is the guardian of the night. Every hill, forest, and stream, has its own nat of greater or less power; every accident or illness is the work of some malignant or vindictive one of “these viewless ministers.” To discover who may be the particular nat, or how he is to be appeased, is the business of the toomsa. He prescribes and assists in all sacrifices, and calls the nats to receive their share, which with economical piety generally consists of the offal. The extraordinary method of consulting the will of the nats by a possessed medium has been already described. The meetway is distinct from a toomsa, or regular priest, but there is no sacerdotal caste, the succession being kept up by a natural selection and apprenticeship. The village toomsa practises augury from fowl bones, omens, and the fracture of burned nul grass, besides holding communication with the spirit world. Besides the occasional sacrifices, at seed-time a solemn sacrifice is offered to Ngka, the earth spirit. In this the whole community participates, and the next four days are observed as a strict sabbath, no work or journey being undertaken.

At harvest-time Sharoowa and his wife are worshipped in a similar manner by the chief and villagers. All animals sacrificed must be males, but a woman’s dress and ornaments are offered to the female nat. The namsyang, or tutelary nats of the village, are also husband and wife; he ruling the western and she the eastern portion; they are venerated twice a year with other nats by the tsawbwa. All the people repair to the head village, and the chief offers buffaloes, &c., and a grand feast is held. The skulls of the animals offered and eaten are affixed to the tsawbwa’s house, where they remain as memorials of his piety and hospitality.

These recurring seasons of seed-time in May and June and harvest-time in December seemed to us to be the only divisions of time known to these mountaineers, but they were said to have a succession of months.[25]

The language of the Kakhyens is monosyllabic, and is spoken in an ascending tone, every sentence ending in a long-drawn “ee,” in a higher key, thus—“Chingpaw poong-doon tan-key-ing eee?” “Do the Kakhyens dance?” Monsig. Bigandet says: “It is the same as used by all the Singpho tribes, and bears a great resemblance to that of the Abors and Mishmees, and other tribes of the south-western spurs of the Himalayas. The pronunciation is soft and easy, and the construction of sentences simple and direct as in English. It is totally different from the Burmese, and belongs to a completely different group.” We found very few that could speak Burmese, except the Ponline and other chiefs bordering the plain; but almost all the chiefs both north and south of the Tapeng, and many of their clansmen, could speak Chinese, and a few, such as the chiefs of Mattin, Seray, &c., could write Chinese; but the Kakhyens possess no written characters of their own.

As warriors the Kakhyens cannot be ranked high. Quarrelsome and revengeful as they are, prone to exact atonement for a wrong or feud to the last, their attacks are always made stealthily, and generally at night—they may be said to crouch and spring like the tiger. As hunters, so far as we could learn, they are not very daring, but our opportunities of observation were limited, and the hills about Ponsee did not seem to contain much animal life. Their chief quarry is the barking deer, but leopards and porcupines are said to be sometimes found, and wild elephants were reported as occasional visitors. The fierce and pugnacious bamboo rat is esteemed a dainty and valuable prize. The young lads set ingenious traps for jungle fowl and pheasants. A miniature fence of the stems of tall jungle grass is constructed down the hillside for two hundred feet, through which little runs are opened. At each a pliable bamboo is firmly fixed at one end, while the other is lightly fastened to the ground. A noose fixed to this end snares the birds, which are hoisted in the air like moles in the familiar trap. We also observed boys liming small birds in an ingenious manner, with a bird-lime obtained from the root of some plant. This was smeared on the prongs of a wooden trident fixed in a bamboo handle, which was hidden in the jungle bordering a path. On a cord across the trident, a number of ants were so fixed that they could move their wings; the constant flutter allured the birds to perch on the trident and be caught. The small boys were stimulated in the pursuit of “small deer” and all sorts of birds by the rewards given for any specimens. The collection and preservation of all manner of living things was a constant source of wonder to the Kakhyens, as well as of gain. Even the young tsawbwa caught the infection, and, moved either by greed or gratitude for medical help, brought in a young example of a red-faced monkey, closely allied to Macacus tibetanus (Milne-Edwards).

It will be evident that they are a perfectly wild race of mountaineers, supplying themselves with most of the necessaries of life by rude cultivation. They are altogether dependent on their neighbours for salt and dried fish; and as their own scanty crops furnish little superfluity, their great object is to obtain compraw, wherewith to purchase what they need. They rear no animals but pigs; and the buffaloes they own have been stolen from the plains. This habit of “cattle-lifting” causes them to be regarded as natural outlaws by the Burmese; hence the constant state of hostility and reprisals on both sides. Since the time of our visit the mountaineers have been better treated at Bhamô, and a zayat has been erected for their use outside the stockade, besides one built for them near the British Residency; but no Kakhyen can enter or leave the town without a pass, for which he has to pay toll, this licence-duty being farmed by residents in Bhamô. It must be owned that, whether their character has been deteriorated by knavish injustice on the part of Chinese traders, or high-handed extortion and wrong on the part of Burmese, they are at the present time lazy, thievish, and untrustworthy. Their savage curiosity leads them to pry into every package entrusted to them. During the return journey all the collecting-boxes were opened, and every specimen unrolled and examined, with what results of utter confusion may be imagined. They consider themselves entitled to levy blackmail on all passing through their districts, and each petty chief tries to represent himself as an independent tsawbwa, with a full control of the portion of route near his village.

As any mission or trade-convoy must, however, pass through their hills, and strong and impartial justice should characterise all our relations with them, it will not be thought presumption to suggest what appears to be the best and fairest method of dealing with them. It is thoroughly well established that the Kakhyens themselves possess no mules, or at least so few as to be insufficient for the carriage of any large amount of baggage or goods. When the chiefs have been employed to procure mules, they hire them from the Shans, acting thus as middle-men, and in our case making an exorbitant profit. Their incurable habits of pilfering and meddling curiosity render them unfit to be employed as porters. All beasts of burden, and coolies, if required, should be procured either in Burma or by direct agents, hiring them in the Shan districts subject to China; in the latter case no payments in advance should be made. The chiefs of the Kakhyens occupying the portion of the route lying within the Burmese frontier line should be summoned to Bhamô by the Burmese authorities at the instance of the British Resident, and, a proper sum, in recognition of their territorial dues, being fixed, should be informed that this will be paid at the Residency on the safe passage through their territory being accomplished and certified. A similar course can be pursued by communication with the Chinese authorities with regard to those who live within the Chinese frontier. The duties to be performed by the chiefs should be limited to guaranteeing an undisturbed passage, and providing such accommodation or supplies as may be required. With regard to provision for an open trade route, a fair tariff should be fixed upon: this has been done by the Chinese, and could be accomplished by the Burmese also. The mountain chiefs may then be required to keep the roads open and in repair, and to suppress any attempt at brigandage, on pain of being fined, and otherwise punished. It must be remarked, however, with all deference to the political branch of our service, that one cannot help thinking that it will be needful in all cases that our Residents should not issue independent summonses and orders to the hill chiefs. The ill-feeling of the Burmese has not unnaturally been excited by British officers dealing, independently of the Woon, with the chiefs, nominally at least, subordinate to him as the officer of the king of Burma. It is surely incumbent on the British Resident in the town of an independent foreign power to co-operate with and recognise the local authorities, and cultivate an entente cordiale with them. If this policy be systematically observed, the Burmese will be most fairly and properly held responsible for the conduct of the chiefs whom they claim to be dependent on their authority, and who have accepted titles and insignia from the king of Burma. It may seem fanciful to suggest ways and means of removing the difficulties of the route for a future trade; but the passage of a mission, or of future explorers of the interesting country beyond the Kakhyen hills, will be only thus made possible. The arrangements must be made with the Burmese and the Chinese; the Kakhyens, being only regarded as outlying people, paid their dues, not from fear, but from generous justice; while they are sternly repressed, and taught their own insignificance and almost inutility. These remarks may seem an example of shutting the door after the steed is stolen; but if the plan proposed widely differs from that pursued by our expedition, let it be remembered that we were pioneers in an unknown country, feeling our way through tribes and populations, the political relations of which were at that time as little known as were the physical difficulties of the route we had been commissioned to explore through their midst.

These observations are the result of the experience gained in the course of this first attempt, and the opinions then formed have been confirmed on a more recent occasion, when it was not in my power to make any practical application of the knowledge of the ways and habits of the mountaineers which had been formerly gained.

If the reader is somewhat tired of the Kakhyens, he can better understand the wearisome and anxious time passed by us at Ponsee, as all through April we alternately hoped and despaired of escaping from our open-air prison. At the end of that time our party was reduced in numbers by the departure of Williams and Stewart, who acted upon the circular already mentioned as issued by the leader of the mission. They started, under the guidance of Moung Mo, on April 29th, and reached Bhamô without delay or difficulty.

[23] “En langue Mou-tse et Kong un homme se dit Ho-ka, en langue Kho il se dit Ka-sya.”—‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ tome i. p. 378.

[24] See supra, page 77.

[25] At a later visit the tsawbwa of Mattin declared the year 1874 to be the Kakhyen year 1320; and the following list of months was given to Père Lecomte:—(February) Ra, Wot, Shila, Cheetung, Shenan, Shimerray, Kopes-hay, Kopetang, Kala, Majea, Mahah, Hro (January).

CHAPTER VI.
MANWYNE TO MOMIEN.

Departure from Ponsee—Valley of the Tapeng—A curious crowd—Our khyoung—Matins—The town of Manwyne—Visit to the haw—The tsawbwa-gadaw—An armed demonstration—Karahokah—Sanda—The chief and his grandson—Muangla—Shan burial-grounds—The Tahô—A murdered traveller—Mawphoo valley—Muangtee—Nantin—Valley of Nantin—The hot springs—Attacked by Chinese—Hawshuenshan volcano—Valley of Momien—Arrival at the city.

After various reports and interchange of letters between ourselves and the Panthays, tending to the removal of any doubts in the minds of the latter, we learned that the representatives of the Shan states had come to Manwyne. A slight hint of the unchanged ill-feeling of the Bhamô people was given in the imprisonment of Moung Mo, who had acted as guide to Williams and Stewart; a vigorous remonstrance, however, forwarded to the Woon, was followed by his liberation and return to the camp.

On the 8th of May, the Shan representatives arrived. The appearance of these fair, civilised, intelligent men, dressed in dark blue from shoe to turban, was a great relief. They assured us that we might go forward, and disowned having entertained any hostile feeling. Men were sent to Manwyne to bring mules, and our departure for that town on the next day but one was resolved on.

It was amusing to see the pawmine acting as cicerone, and exhibiting the wonders of our camp furniture to the inquiring Shans. They complained bitterly of the unsettled state of the country, and declared that our presence had already contributed to restore order. One of their complaints was that they could not trade with Bhamô on account of the extortion and plunder practised by the Woon and his people on the traders resorting thither.

The Ponsee pawmines were on their best behaviour, and even the vexed question of the mule hire was at last settled. The tsawbwa declared that every man, woman, and child, was the better for our stay, and entreated us to favour him by choosing this as the return route, and to make what use we liked of him.

The Shans came down very early on the morning of May 11th to announce that sufficient mules had arrived. We packed up with right good will, and at eight o’clock the mules actually appeared. At the last moment, “Death’s Head” pawmine attempted to create a disturbance about a photograph taken of his house. He declared his wife and son had been sick ever since, and that the photographer had bewitched them, in revenge for his having stolen our cow. Another pawmine demanded a toll of two rupees per mule, and threatened an embargo. This was too much. A short and sharp refusal, emphasized by a revolver, acted like magic, and the pawmines sneaked off, thoroughly crestfallen.

At half past eleven we started from the scene of our long detention. Scarcity of mules compelled us to leave our tents behind, and trust for future shelter to the hospitality of the townspeople en route.

The road was tolerably level for a mile or so, as far as Kingdoung, whence a steep descent led to a comparatively flat glen, closed in by hills on all sides but one, covered with flooded rice terraces, while here and there the ground was being broken up by men and boys with large hoes.

The steep descent to this alluvial hollow could be easily avoided by a road skirting a spur to the east, sloping down to the Tapeng. Here numerous small streams drain into the Tapeng, from both south and north, the largest of which is called the Thamô. From the north-eastern watershed, we obtained a fine view of the Tapeng valley, stretching away to the east-north-east, and then descended to the level of the river by a gradual slope, over rounded grassy hills and dried-up watercourses. On the way we were met by the tsawbwa-gadaw of Muang-gan, accompanied by a bevy of damsels offering cooked rice, fresh sheroo, and flowers. After a short halt for refreshment and friendly talk with the old lady, whose hospitality was duly rewarded with beads, we proceeded over a fair road six feet broad. From an eminence we viewed the Tapeng entering the hills through a narrow gloomy gorge, which swallowed up the broad placid stream, descending from the north-east between low white sandy banks. Looking up the river, the level valley stretched away, till in the far distance the border ranges, three or four miles apart in the foreground, seemed almost to meet. These defining mountains rose three thousand feet, and others of still greater height towered in the background, while a loftier range, running almost at right angles to them, crowned the far horizon. The level ground on either side of the river was parcelled out into innumerable rice fields, which, with the numerous villages situated on the higher undulations amid clumps of bamboo and fruit trees, attested the presence of a numerous and industrious population. The exposed reaches of sand within the river banks suggested heavy floods during the wet season; but at this period the water was drawn off by many canals, and glistened in little lakes, from which the green blades of the young rice crop were just raising their heads. The gentle slopes running up to the base of the hills and the lower hillsides afforded rich pasture to large herds of cattle and buffaloes. At the various villages large crowds of Shans and Chinese were gathered, awaiting the strangers. At one of some importance, mats were laid out for us under the trees, and we were challenged by the officials of Manwyne, who addressed our leader somewhat to this effect: “You say you are a man of authority, therefore we allow you to pass.” It was not etiquette to take any notice of them, and mounting their ponies, they fell into the rear of the cavalcade, with a crowd of boys behind them. Outside Manwyne itself a dense crowd of men, women, and children surrounded our baggage, which had been unloaded pell-mell on a stretch of sand where we were expected to encamp. No sooner had we dismounted than the crowd pressed around. They appeared by no means friendly, and the Chinese especially jeered and hooted, and one fellow had the impudence to feel the texture of the beard of one of our party. A more inquisitive set of sightseers it is impossible to conceive, and for some time they regularly blockaded us, almost to suffocation. While impatiently waiting for the officials in the full blaze of the afternoon sun, both parties found ample interest in surveying each other. To us the first sight of the peculiar but picturesque dress of the good-looking Shan women was probably as attractive as our physiognomies and attire seemed to be to the natives. The head-dress was a long blue turban, curled in crescent-shaped folds with neat precision, towering nearly a foot above the head, and inclined backwards in an inverted cone, displaying the back of the head adorned with large silver discs. Add to this, neat little white or blue jackets slashed with red, fastened with enamelled silver brooches, and exposing plump little arms adorned with heavy silver bracelets, blue petticoats with deeply embroidered silken borders, fanciful gaiters, and blue shoes, and the reader can imagine that the curious crowd of Manwyne was picturesque.

There was a good sprinkling of Chinese women with dwarfed feet, but they were much more poorly clad than the prosperous-looking Shans.

The men, Shan and Chinese, were all dressed in dark blue jackets and trousers, the Shans being distinguished by blue turbans with the pigtail wound into their coils, while the Chinese wore skull-caps. Almost all carried long-stemmed pipes. After some delay and expostulation with the headmen, we were inducted into a Buddhist khyoung or temple, standing in a separate courtyard just within the town, but entered through a gate of its own in the town wall. It was a low square building, facing the river, built partly of bricks and partly of wood, on a rubble foundation, and roofed with fired tiles.

It had two roofs, the upper in itself somewhat like a smaller khyoung perched on the top of the larger, with two latticed windows in each of its curved sides, and borne up by strong teak pillars. At either end two wooden partitions shut off the cells of the priests and their pupils. A kitchen in one corner completed the domestic arrangements, unless we may include two or three new coffins, and materials for more, piled ready in one corner of the verandah. A long table was covered with models of pagodas, enclosing seated figures of Gaudama, one principal Buddha occupying the centre, with an umbrella suspended over his head. This seemed to serve as an altar, on which two large candles were placed during the evening prayers, intoned with bell accompaniments, strongly reminding us of the Catholic mass. In the verandah three square niches faced this altar, one containing the image of a horse.

As soon as we had taken up our quarters, the temple was thronged inside and out by a curious crowd, who favoured us with their presence till we retired for the night. The ill-feeling of certain of the Chinese inhabitants was so dreaded by the headmen that an armed Shan guard was stationed round the khyoung, in addition to our own police sentries, who were requested by the authorities to be on the alert against an attack.

In the early morning the matin bell and chanting awoke us to find the apartment filled with precise old matrons and buxom Shan girls busy at their devotions. Each carried a little basket filled with rice, and a few brought offerings of flowers. As they entered, they first knelt in front of the principal Buddha, but did not venture on the raised platform. After a short prayer, they turned to the niche containing the horse, before which they repeated a prayer standing, and then deposited an offering of cooked rice in front of the quadruped. We next became the objects of their attention, but they were too timid to give us much of it on the first occasion. After the priests had finished their prayers, all the women arranged themselves in a row outside the khyoung. Presently the burly chief priest, draped in yellow, appeared. With downcast eyes and grave face he walked slowly down the line, holding a large bowl, in which each placed an offering of cooked rice. This done, the congregation dispersed to their homes.

This practice of the phoongyees gathering their daily food from the worshippers, instead of begging it from house to house, patta, or alms-bowl, in hand, is an instance of the unorthodox laxity prevailing among the Shan Buddhists.

A delay of two days was made necessary by consultations as to the route to be followed. The choice lay between crossing the river into the Muangla territory, or continuing along the right bank, through the Sanda state, to the town of that name. The latter was finally decided on, despite the opposition of a Muangla deputy named Kingain.

The town of Manwyne, or Manyen, was itself formerly a dependency of Sanda, but had been ceded to one of the Muangla family as the dowry of a Sanda princess. It is surrounded by a low wall of sun-dried bricks, raised on a lower course of rough stones. The population of Shans and Chinese might be reckoned at seven hundred, and the district contains about five thousand. At this time numerous fugitives from the more disturbed districts had taken refuge there, the war not having extended so far down the valley. The people, though prosperous, were lawless and independent, the nominal authority of the dowager tsawbwa-gadaw, or princess, being little regarded, and the Chinese power being in abeyance. We visited the bazaar held every morning outside the wall. The vendors were mostly girls, each sitting in front of a small basket, supporting a tray on which her stock was laid out. The eatables comprised a curious curd-like paste made from peas and beans, and in great request; peas which had sprouted, beans, onions, and various wild plums, cherries, and berries, while maize, rice, and barley, and several sorts of tobacco, were also on sale. One end of the bazaar was devoted to unbleached home-made cotton cloth, with a small stock of English piece goods, and red and green broadcloth.

Many Kakhyens, chiefly young women, were present, with firewood and short deal planks for sale, and we were struck by the perfect freedom enjoyed by these people as contrasted with their treatment in Burmese territory. The town gate led into a filthy narrow street, or rather lane, about nine feet wide. It was paved with boulders, and bordered on either side by a deep open gutter close under the windows, and alive with swine. The one-storied houses were built of bricks, with one room opening on the street, the sill of the open window serving as a counter, mainly for the sale of pork. This was the Chinese quarter; beyond it lay the clean Shan division, every house detached and surrounded by a neat little courtyard, with ponies, buffaloes, and implements, housed under substantial sheds. A few villages formed, as it were, suburbs of the so-called town, each enclosed in its bamboo fence, and intersected by narrow railed paths. None of the houses were raised on piles, as in Burma; the better sort were built of bricks and tiled, and the smaller ones were mere mud hovels. In one village we saw a man cutting tobacco for the use of the ladies, and were politely invited to be seated while we were instructed in the art of the tobacconist. The fresh leaves rolled firmly together were pushed through a circular hole in a wooden upright, and thin slices rapidly cut off; these are only partially dried and smoked while still green. Some was brought to fill the visitors’ pipes, and for half an hour we sat chatting to these homely Shans. Returning to the khyoung, we found it crowded with numerous patients, all entreating medical aid. The poor people were intensely grateful, though some of the old and infirm seemed to expect miracles, and went away evidently doubting the will, rather than the power, of the physician.

During this time our leader had been busily engaged adjusting the division of three hundred rupees among the Kakhyen pawmines; they were most demonstrative in their expressions of friendship, and urgently pressed us to confide ourselves to their escort on the return route. Presents were also distributed to the headmen of the town, and those of Sanda and Muangla, and the officials escorted us on a visit of ceremony to the tsawbwa-gadaw. Her haw, or palace, built in the Chinese style of telescopic courtyards, formed an enclosure in the centre of the town. We passed through two courtyards, the sides of the outer one forming the stables, and those of the inner one the kitchen and servants’ rooms, with the residence filling up the end. The entrance from the first to the second court formed a waiting-room, where a bench covered with silken draperies had been placed. After a few minutes we were invited to proceed through the second court to the house, which was raised about three feet from the ground, with an open reception hall, apparently off a third court, containing the private apartments. The reception court was laid out with flowers, dwarf yews, and a vine trained over a trellis. High-backed chairs with red cushions were set out, and presently the dowager appeared from her apartment, accompanied by some white-robed Buddhist nuns, or rahanees, and attended by three maids. One of the nuns was her daughter; the others had visited Rangoon, as pilgrims to the great pagoda, and brought back strong impressions of the excellence of British rule; both in Manwyne and elsewhere these pious ladies subsequently did good service by spreading favourable reports of the English visitors.

But we are forgetting the tsawbwa-gadaw. She was a stout little woman of fifty summers, of quiet self-possessed carriage. Above her round fair face towered a huge blue turban eighteen inches in height. Her costume consisted of a white jacket fastened with large square enamelled silver clasps, and a blue petticoat with richly embroidered silken border and broad silken stripes; her leggings and shoes were also covered with exquisite embroidery. She entered smoking a long silver-stemmed pipe, and received us with pleasant affability. Sladen held a long conversation with her concerning the mission, and she greatly rejoiced in the prospect of reopening Burmese trade, and promised her hearty support. Small cups of bitter tea, and saucers furnished with all requisites for betel-chewing, were handed round, the style of everything being thoroughly Chinese, and we took our leave, having evidently won her esteem.

The next morning, May 13th, the entire population of the neighbourhood assembled to see the visitors depart. The fair ones were in their holiday attire, their head-dresses decorated with sweet-smelling flowers. Many parting presents of these, accompanied with good-natured nods and smiles and kind wishes, were bestowed on the travellers. Several Shan officials accompanied us, perched high on huge red-cloth saddles and padded coverlids heaped on their small ponies. The route lay along the undulating right bank of the river, over a tolerable but narrow track, which crossed the mountain streams flowing into the Tapeng by substantial granite bridges, built of long slabs laid side by side, so as to form an exact semicircular arch.

About four miles from Manwyne, our attention was called to a number of men who rushed out of a village on the opposite bank of the river. Although they were all armed, and indulged in threatening shouts and gesticulations, we did not suspect any really hostile intentions. Presently, however, we found ourselves exactly opposite to them, when, whiz! came a bullet, passing close to Sladen’s pony, which plunged violently. At this they yelled, and fired some more shots, accompanied by furious brandishing of dahs. We took no notice, and this apparent indifference cooled their ardour, and the road, diverging from the river, soon took us out of sight. The fact that small but well-armed parties of Shans were posted at intervals suggested that the officials had expected an attack.

Beyond this the march to Sanda was an ovation, the people lining the road, and waving us on with shouts of Kara! kara! “Welcome! welcome!” Most striking was the panorama of the fertile and populous valley, with the broad Tapeng winding through it, and the magnificent wall of mountains towering on either hand. Village succeeded village, and every available acre was cultivated, the young rice now rising about two inches above the water, and tobacco plantations on the higher ground displaying their delicate verdure.

Halfway between Manwyne and Sanda, the road passes through Karahokah, the chief Chinese market-town of the valley. The village consists of two long parallel lines of houses separated by a broadway, down the centre of which the booths and stalls are placed on the weekly market-day. It was full market when we passed, so by advice we went round outside the village, but the curious crowd streamed out and nearly closed the road. A striking feature was added to the landscape by the bright red soil of the lower spurs jutting out from the higher range. In contrast to the dense forests above, they were almost destitute of trees, except at the extreme points, and clothed as they were with rich short grass, their strongly marked red and green colouring completed the unique beauty of the Sanda valley. At five o’clock P.M. we reached Sanda or Tsandah, seventy-five miles from Bhamô, and were conducted to a small temporary Buddhist khyoung built on the site of one wrecked by the Panthays.

It was little better than a thatched hut, with the ground for a floor. Here, as in other Shan towns, a striking difference was observed between the phoongyees and those seen in Burma. Their huge yellow turbans, coiled round yellow skull-caps, stood out each like a solid nimbus or glory. They wore white jackets and yellow trousers, girdles, and leggings, and shoes contrary to the precepts of their religion. Each carried on his back a broad-brimmed straw hat covered with green oiled silk. Their profusion of silver ornaments, buttons, rings, and pipes, was utterly at variance with the vows of poverty taken by Rahans.

The town of Sanda, marked on maps as Santa-fu, occupies the end of a ridge in a northerly bend or bay of the valley, a mile and a half from the Tapeng. The remains of a thick loopholed wall enclose an irregular area about six hundred yards square, over which are scattered eight hundred to one thousand houses, with a population of four to five thousand. We saw neither towers, pagodas, nor public buildings, save in ruins, excepting the tsawbwa’s house. The Panthays stormed the town in 1863, and the ruined defences and buildings had not yet been restored. Indeed the dejected and poverty-stricken inhabitants had only partially repaired their own brick-built dwellings.

Four hundred yards from the north-east gate was the bazaar, a village in itself, inhabited solely by Chinese, consisting, like Karahokah, of two lines of houses, the broadway between being closed at either end by a wall. A Chinese joss house, the ruins of which showed its former importance, stood near the entrance. In our wanderings through the bazaar, we met two women from the hills to the north of Sanda, of an entirely different race from Shans, Chinese, or Kakhyens, who called themselves Leesaws.

The next day was devoted to a ceremonious visit to the old tsawbwa. We entered his haw, a handsome structure of blue gneiss, through a triple archway, and passed through the courtyards, the whole building being arranged on the same plan as the Manwyne palace, but on a much larger and handsomer scale. High-backed Chinese chairs were duly set out in the vestibule of a building leading directly to the private apartments, and the courtyard in front was crowded with the leading townsmen. The tsawbwa, a frail old man with an intelligent face and polished manners, was dressed in a long coat of sombre Shan blue and a black satin skull-cap. He was nervous and silent, nearly all the talking being done by his officials, who seemed to be gentlemen of education and considerable intelligence. They were unanimous in expressing their hopes that our mission would result in settling the country and restoring the trade.

The little grandson and heir of the tsawbwa was brought to be introduced. The old chief evidently doated on the boy, and made a most urgent request, that Sladen would consider him as his son. When he learned that he already possessed a little boy, the chief exclaimed, “Then let them be brothers.” It appeared that the astrologers, in forecasting the event of our mission, had divined that this adoption by our leader was essential to the future welfare of the heir of Sanda. The interview closed with the circulation of tea and betel, and after we had requested the chief’s acceptance of a handsome table-cloth and other presents, we took our leave, but were followed to our quarters by servants of the tsawbwa bearing supplies of rice, ducks, fowls, and salted wild geese. The next morning the tsawbwa made his appearance, accompanied by his grandson, and bringing presents of a silken quilt and handsome embroidered Shan pillows. A richly enamelled silver pipe stem was given to Sladen in the name of his newly adopted son, for whom the grandfather earnestly besought his affection and care. At his request it was arranged that in leaving the town we should pass in front of the tsawbwa’s house. As the cavalcade neared the gates of the enclosure, two trumpeters stationed there blew a lusty flourish on their long brass trumpets. The chief himself stood on the steps, shaded by two large umbrellas, one a gold chatta and the other red, with heavy fringes. His chief men surrounded him, and the little grandson was held in the arms of an attendant. We dismounted to shake hands, which rather puzzled the chief. After a cordial parting, a salute of three guns was fired, and the trumpeters preceded us, blowing sonorous blasts till we passed through the south-eastern gate.

The road followed the embankments of the paddy fields, across the entrance to the high steep glen down which flows the Nam-Sanda stream, which was forded. A low red spur from the north-west range, nearly meeting another from the opposite range, here confines the Tapeng to a narrow deep channel, and divides the valley into two basins, one of Sanda and the other of Muangla. Having crossed this spur, we forded a small stream, which was quite warm, from its being fed by the hot springs of Sanda. The Muangla valley is a repetition of that of Sanda, with the same direction, and flanked by similar parallel heights, until the head of the basin is reached. There the valley, as it were, bifurcates: down the northerly division, the main stream of the Tapeng flows from the north-east through a fine valley, shut off from the Muangla basin by an intervening range of grassy hills. A large affluent, called the Tahô, or by the Chinese Sen-cha-ho, comes down from the east-north-east, between the high hills which appeared to bound the valley before us, but, opening farther on, enclose the valley of Nantin.

Numerous villages were passed, the inhabitants of which gave us a most hearty welcome. Near the head, or fork, of the valley, the Tapeng, even now a hundred yards wide, runs nearly across it, from one side to the other. We forded it at a village called Tamon, where a large bazaar was being held. Having crossed a slightly elevated flat peninsula on the left bank, and above the junction of the rivers, covered with charming villages embowered in high trees and splendid bamboo topes, we came to the Tahô flowing in broken streams in an old channel, a mile wide, between lofty banks. A great portion of the level ground is covered with rice fields, for the irrigation of which the streams are diverted.

A very neat bamboo pavilion had been erected for us on the high bank overlooking the Tahô, and after a rest, we crossed the channel to Muangla, which was visible on the opposite side, below a range of low red hills. We ascended the old river bank, and passed through the southern gateway, screened by a brick traverse, into a short broad street closed by a stone wall. Here we were conducted to a ruined Chinese temple, which had been hastily repaired for our occupancy, and were speedily invested by a crowd of curious folk, who seemed never satiated with staring.

Muangla, or Mynela, nearly ninety miles from Bhamô, stands on a high slope on the left bank of the Tapeng, enclosed by a brick wall nine feet high, with numerous loopholes and occasional guard-houses. The wall, with its six strong gateways, protected by traverses, appeared to be in much better condition than that of Sanda. With the exception of the broad bazaar street, the various roadways were mere lanes paved with boulders. The population within the walls could not exceed two thousand, which might be doubled by the addition of the large suburban villages close to the town. One of these contained the remains of some handsome Chinese temples, destroyed by the iconoclastic Panthays. One temple, built in a picturesque series of terraces, still retained evidence of its former grandeur in elaborate carving and colouring, a number of life-sized figures, and a large sweet-toned bell on the highest terrace. In still another, one of the courts contained a symbolic representation of the passage of souls into the future life. A miniature bridge with many passengers was depicted, guarded by two human forms, and spanning a miry hollow. In the latter, human beings were being tortured by monstrous dogs and serpents. Some of the passengers were represented being thrown from the bridge into this abyss; others had passed to Elysium, or Neibban, on the further bank. In another recess stood a low square hollow pillar with an opening on one side, facing a structure resembling a small brick stove with a chimney-like orifice, over which, as issuing from it, were depicted men and animals. This seemed intended to figure the transmigrations of the soul in the whirlpool of existences, from which every good Buddhist desires to escape into Neibban.

Close to the town, but out of sight of the buildings, we came upon the burial-ground of the tsawbwas, overlooking a desolate sea of hills. Over handsome horseshoe tombs with broad terraces and lofty portals of well-hewn gneiss, a few scattered pines stood sentinels. In the common graveyard, between the town and the junction of the river, as in many others passed in the valley, the graves are all raised and rounded as in old churchyards at home, lying to all points of the compass, with a broad stone slab at the head, but little care is shown except for the burial-places of the chiefs, in this particular the Shans differing altogether from the Chinese.

Viewed from Muangla, the western range of the valley culminates in a bold precipitous mountain, frowning above the Tapeng, which comes down through a narrow gorge between it and the hills which rise behind the town, and wall the valley of the Tahô. Above this narrow gorge, the Tapeng flows down a broad level valley, from its source reported to be three days’ journey distant. At its exit from the gorge, it is a quiet deep stream; at this spot a boat ferry was plying, and the view reminded us forcibly of Scottish mountain scenery. A long deep valley ran along the eastern face of the opposite hill, dotted on both sides by Kakhyen and Poloung villages and dark green forest. Its stream was conveyed across the Tapeng gorge by a wooden aqueduct, to irrigate the fields on the further bank. We were warned not to venture far from the town, so could not explore as much as we wished and had leisure for. A ceremonial visit had been duly paid on our arrival to the youthful tsawbwa, a lad of fifteen, who, under the regency of his mother, governed the extensive district of Muangla, paying a tribute of five thousand bushels of rice to the Panthays. The officials, who evidently favoured the old Chinese imperialist regime, demurred to our proceeding, for fear of the banditti infesting the road to Mawphoo. In this they were supported by the tsawbwa of Hotha, who joined us here, on his road to Momien, with a caravan of one hundred and fifty mules laden with cotton. He was a man of energy and education, speaking and writing both Shan and Chinese. As one of the largest traders between Bhamô and Momien, he possessed the respect and confidence of both Shans and Panthays. Sladen sent letters to the governors of Nantin and Momien, to which replies were brought on May 21st by our missing interpreter, Moung Shuay Yah, who was accompanied by three well-dressed and fine-looking Panthay officers, also by a guard sent to escort us to Momien.

On the 23rd of May, we left Muangla, and crossed the muddy flat to the Tahô, where the valley contracted to a breadth of scarcely two miles. Here we were joined by the Hotha chief with his well-appointed caravan, but a halt was called, as a report came in from the front that three hundred Chinese were ahead ready to attack us. Advancing to Nahlow, a little further on, a fresh report raised the numbers of the enemy to five hundred, and we were pressed to order a volley, which would frighten them away! At Nahlow the villagers pointed out a hill as the post of the Chinese, who had killed two men, but careful examination with field-glasses could detect no signs of the enemy. Some men were now observed a thousand yards ahead, and the Panthay officers galloped forward to reconnoitre. The mules were unloaded, and the villagers brought buckets of pea curd and fried peas strung on bamboo spathes. Our scouts having reported all clear, we proceeded over undulating boggy ground, and descended about eighty-five feet to the bed of the Tahô in a long oval basin, covered with gravel and boulders, and closed in on three sides by grassy hills. We presently came upon a man lying by the stream, with a frightful gash in his head, and a wound in his chest. He was a poor trader, who had been attacked, robbed, and, as it proved, murdered, for despite our help he died in a short time. At the head of the valley, a slippery zigzag path led up the steep face of a great spur of the Mawphoo mountain, the summit of which commanded a splendid prospect of the rich valley of the Tapeng, mantled with green paddy, and of the wild barren gorge below us. The sides of the parallel ranges, here a few hundred yards apart, were marked by large landslips, many of them white as snow. Our path lay along one which formed a perpendicular precipice five hundred feet above the Tahô. A high mountain facing Mawphoo was pointed out as the Shuemuelong, famous in the wars between Burma and China. From the summit, a level path turning north-east led us to Mawphoo, situated at the extremity of a high level basin, marked by two terraces on the northern side, with the Tahô flowing invisibly in a deep cleft, or ravine, at the base of the southern hills. At first sight one is inclined to regard it as an old lake basin, for it is so closed in by hills that the presence of the river could not be even suspected by a spectator who had not previously traced its course.

Mawphoo, which was said to have been recently the stronghold of Li-sieh-tai, was a wretched walled village in ruins, garrisoned by a few Panthay soldiers. The crumbling walls and ruins were overgrown with weeds and jungle, and it was hard to believe that this place had been held by an enemy and stormed only a few weeks before. From this the road skirted the level ground of the valley, but numerous deep watercourses presented frequent difficulties, while the rain of the last few days had rendered the path dangerously slippery. There was evidence however in the paved roadway, the numerous substantial stone bridges, and the frequent ruins of villages, that this must have been a considerable highway in peaceful times; now the whole country seemed to be a desolate waste. For some miles the heights along the road were manned by strong Panthay and Kakhyen guards, who carried a profusion of yellow and white flags, striped with various colours. All were armed with matchlocks, as well as spears and tridents mounted on shafts twelve feet long. Each picquet, as we passed, discharged their pieces, and then followed in our rear beating their gongs. At the end of this remarkable valley, we made a rapid descent to the treeless valley of Nantin, which now opened to view curving to the north-east or rather almost north. At the foot of the descent, the Tahô, which leaves the valley through a deep rocky gorge, is spanned by an iron chain suspension bridge, with massive stone buttresses, and an arched gateway on either bank. The span is about one hundred feet, and planks laid across the chains, covered with earth and straw, serve as a roadway, while one of the chains sweeps down from the top of the gateway, to serve as a railing. A small circular fort on an eminence was garrisoned by a few men, who guarded the bridge. We continued along the right bank through the Nantin valley, the sides of which presented three distinctly marked river terraces, and, having forded the river, entered the little Shan town of Muangtee, or Myne-tee, one hundred and eight miles from Bhamô. The walls were crowded, and the short narrow street through which we passed was thronged with women and children. Very few men were visible, owing, as we were informed, to the incessant fighting, which had killed off most of the male population.

NANTIN VALLEY, TOWN OF MUANGTEE TO THE LEFT.

A mile beyond we reached the small walled Chinese town of Nantin, now held by the Panthays. Two officers on ponies met and conducted us through the gate to a ruined Chinese temple. This had once been a handsome structure, but the walls were riddled with shot, the images defaced, and broken open in search of plunder. Nantin itself showed all the signs of having been once a thriving Chinese town. Now one-half of it was in ruins, and the other tenanted by a scanty and miserably poor population. By its position on a triangle of land between the Tahô and a swift deep affluent, with the hills rising close behind it and forming the base line, it completely commands the main road to Momien and Yunnan. It was accordingly held by a strong Panthay force, under a governor bearing the title of Tu-tu-du.

The governor visited us, accompanied by a Chinese chief named Thongwetshein, who had recently joined the Panthay cause. They demanded either a list of the presents intended for Momien or permission to search our baggage, both of which requests Sladen stoutly refused, and referred them to Momien for instructions. In the course of the day it came out that reports had been circulated that our boxes contained live dragons and serpents and fearful explosives. The fears of the Tu-tu-du were quieted by a peep at some bottled snakes and frogs, and he begged us to pay him an official visit. This, he said, would strengthen his influence over the townspeople, whom he described as thieves and ruffians.

A veritable Mahommedan Hadji was resident in the town. Knowing a little Persian and Arabic, he led the devotions of the faithful, the Musjid being held in his house. Our jemadar visited it, and described it as miserably appointed, without water for ablutions, and the worship as very lax.

The next day, we set out in state with a guard of eight sepoys, and preceded by two gold umbrellas. We passed through the bazaar, a narrow dirty street, with a double row of stalls, displaying hoes and ploughs, a little cloth, thread, paper, and eatables, including almost ripe peaches. At the residence, we were received with a salute of three guns; and the centre gates being thrown open for our admission, as a mark of special honour, we rode forward to the second courtyard. In the reception room the governor led us to a raised dais, he himself occupying a low place on a bench at the side of the room. After a few compliments, he suddenly vanished, only to reappear in a few minutes in full mandarin costume. The explanation was that, seeing Sladen in full staff uniform, he felt it incumbent on him to assume his official robes. Tea in beautiful porcelain cups and betel-nut were served; and Sladen having presented him with a musket and one hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition, the governor escorted us to the outer court, and dismissed us under a salute of three guns.

Instructions having come from Momien that we were to proceed without delay, we started the next morning. The Panthay garrison lined the street, and at a neat stone bridge spanning a burn which runs through the town the governor and Thongwetshein with their staff awaited us to say farewell, while the band struck up a lively air on the gongs. A guard preceded us, commanded by a nephew of the governor of Momien, and a more indescribable lot of irregulars were never seen. The officers, however, were fine intelligent men, well dressed in Panthay garb. So little fear of danger seemed to exist that they were accompanied by some female relatives in full Chinese costume, who rode in the advance guard. The valley, or rather glen, as it is only a mile wide, which stretched to the north before us, seemed to be a remarkable instance of the changes effected by water. Throughout its length of about twenty miles, its sides are marked by two well defined river terraces, and indications of a third higher one corresponding to the highest of the Mawphoo glen. These terraces close in at the head, while the entrance into the deep ravine of the Mawphoo glen terminates it. This whole length of area, lying one thousand feet above the level of Sanda, has been denuded by the Tahô; the second terrace, which corresponds with the lower one of the Mawphoo glen, is almost on the same elevation with a level platform which extends from the head of the valley. From this to the foot of the Mawphoo gorge seems to have been once a level flat, perhaps a lake, like that of Yunnan, from which the Tahô precipitated itself as a waterfall into the Sanda valley. The hills to the east, at the base of which our route lay, instead of the bold precipitous mountains of metamorphic rocks, were rounded trappean hills, occasional glimpses of which reminded us of home scenery, as they swept up in grassy curves, with dense clumps of trees on or near their summits. Numerous watercourses seamed their sides, the channels strewn with waterworn granite boulders, rounded lava-like masses of cellular basalt, and large fragments of peat.

The hills to the north-west rose much higher, in a lofty, well wooded mountain wall, with grander peaks soaring beyond. Seven miles from Nantin we halted to visit the famous hot springs. The steam rising from them had been visible nearly a mile off; and the Nam-mine, a rather large stream fed by them, was hot enough to startle both men and mules while fording it. The rocks composing the side of the hill whence the springs issue consisted of a cellular basalt and a hard quartzose rock, the former being partially superficial, and the latter that through which the springs issued.

Seen from the west, the south-eastern side of the hill is marked by an apparently deep, crater-like hollow, forcibly suggesting that it was once a volcanic vent, the neighbouring rocks being almost scoriaceous, and the internal heat being still evidenced by the boiling springs. Besides those on the western face, others still larger occur on its other side, some miles to the east. Of those visible, the most important is an oval basin about three yards long, with a depth of eight inches; about six yards from it are a number of funnels, six inches in diameter, in the quartz rock, emitting steam. Higher up, and fifty yards off, another strong jet of steam occurs, and on the other side of a narrow gully are two other springs, which emit a considerable body of boiling water through the earthy face of the hill. The water in the principal spring comes up with great force through circular apertures, about three inches in diameter, and the bottom of the basin is covered with thick impalpable white mud. Owing to the heat and volume of steam, it was only accessible on the leeward side, and the ground was so hot that our barefooted followers could not approach by some yards. It vibrated in a remarkable way, and the sensation was as if one were standing over a gigantic boiler buried in the earth, which was increased by the loud roar of the steam from the funnels, and the indistinct rumbling noises in the hidden inferno.

It is remarkable that, although the steam is at scalding heat, the stones in it are covered with masses of green jelly, which thrive at a temperature only ten degrees below boiling-point. The analysis of a gallon of the water is as follows: 120 grains of solid matter; 112 salts of alkalis, almost entirely chloride of sodium; 80 earthy salts, silica, and oxide of iron. No nitric and but very little sulphuric and carbonic acids were present, but traces of phosphoric acid were detected. We were informed that the springs are much resorted to by patients from all parts, who use the spring to cook their food, and cure themselves in the vapour or the Nam-mine stream. After enjoying our halt, which had been made with the full approval of the Panthay officers and the Hotha chief, we started to overtake the cavalcade, which had marched forward. Just as we rejoined the rear-guard, four shots were fired in front, but as the road only admitted of single file, and lay along a thickly wooded hillside, marked by the ruins of many villages, no one could advance to reconnoitre. Word was presently passed down that the mules had been attacked and two Panthay officers wounded; but on proceeding onwards, we discovered that the affair was more serious, and that the two officers and another man had been killed. We soon came up to the bodies of the officers wrapped in their large turbans and tied to bamboos, ready to be carried back to Nantin. The poor fellows had both been great favourites with their comrades and the governor of Momien; and a sad group surrounded the bodies, including their female relatives, who had ridden out from Nantin only to lament their murder, for so it was. As they were riding at the head of the mules, at a corner in the narrow path, a lurking body of Chinese rushed out from the trees, shot down the first, and the second, hurrying to the rescue, was shot through the leg and cut down with a dah. Eight mules had their loads thrown off and looted, and were then driven up the hills. A little further on, the scene of the disaster was marked by the ransacked packages lying on the roadside, and among them two boxes containing my clothes and notebooks. One of these had escaped unopened, and was left in charge of a Panthay officer, who promised to see it brought on. At the head of the valley a halt was called, to enable all the Panthays to come up, as a second ambuscade was suspected in a thickly wooded hollow in the steep hillside above.

At this point the river terraces sweep round to form the head of the valley, but the Tahô has cut a deep gorge through them. The second terrace could be seen continuing to the north in a long upward slope, thrown into rounded mounds, the sites of small villages, and terminating in a distant broad plain. The hillsides were covered with pines, and the road ran through a belt of dense forest, over the shoulder of a spur from the main range of hills. Here the attack was expected to be made, so we advanced with vigilant attention to the jungle on either hand, passing ruined villages, buried in dense vegetation, consisting chiefly of fruit trees and garden plants run wild. We were unmolested, and, after a short descent, came upon the Tahô foaming along its rocky channel, spanned by a broad parapeted bridge of gneiss and granite. The roadway exactly followed the curve of the arch, and the ponies could scarcely keep their footing on the smooth slabs, worn almost to a polish by the constant traffic of bygone centuries. On the right bank a small Panthay guard met us, and reported that they had chased a body of Chinese, lurking in the dreaded hollow. We soon gained the level of the plain, seen in the distance as the upward termination of the Nantin valley. From its eastern side rose a long conical hill, stretching nearly north and south, in a black sterile mass of lava, with the exception of its rounded grassy summit. This remarkable extinct volcano of Hawshuenshan, rising abruptly from the plain, stands out in striking contrast to the tumulus-shaped grassy hills which cluster round it on all sides. A few small plants rooted in the interstices of the rocks do not, in the distance, impart even a trace of verdure to its barren sides, which are thrown into long rocky curves, evidently old lava streams. We rode over the eastern extremity of this volcano, by a broad path paved with long slabs of gneiss and granite, and again came upon the Tahô, as a narrow rapid stream running between it and the abrupt sides of the grassy hills to the east. We crossed the river over another handsome stone bridge, and passed the ruins of a rather large village. The Tahô issues at this point from between a high spur and the volcano, through a very narrow gorge; and the road wound up the side of the spur, and was laid with a double line of stone flags to facilitate the ascent. From the top we gained a fine view of the small circular lake-like valley, from which the Tahô issued below, and looked down on numerous villages encircling the irrigated level in its centre, which was covered with young rice. Continuing a slight ascent over the grassy hills, by a good broad road, we turned the flank of a lofty hill crowned with a white pagoda; and the valley of Momien lay before us, shut in on all sides by rounded hills, treeless, but covered with pasture.

EXTINCT VOLCANO OF HAWSHUENSHAN; FROM SUMMIT OF MOMIEN HILL.

The hills seemed to slope almost to the walls of the city in the centre, but the intervening area was sufficient for an almost unbroken ring of large villages, either in ruins or deserted. To the right rose the Deebay range, beyond which lay the road to Tali-fu, and in the far distance the lofty Tayshan ranges, running north and south, formed a noble background of black rugged mountains. A long narrow valley stretched in a northerly direction, marking the course of the Tahô, from its source in the Sin-hai or Pai-hai watershed, sixty miles distant. Between the foot of the hill and the city wall, a long line of flags of all shapes and colours, and glittering spears, marked the presence of the Tah-sa-kon of Momien. An aide-de-camp presently arrived with a request that we would dismount and greet the governor, who had come out to meet us. We were a motley group, not improved in appearance by twenty-one miles’ march over muddy flats and dusty hills, but, preceded by the most presentable sepoys, with the jemadar carrying a gold sword in front, the three Europeans advanced under the canopy of two gold umbrellas, through a long line of officers and banner men, to the Tah-sa-kon, who, dressed in full mandarin costume, occupied a richly cushioned chair, with three huge red silk umbrellas, fringed with gold lace, held over him. He rose to welcome us with handshaking and courteous greeting, and then escorted us to a large, well-built temple outside the town wall, but close beneath the angle where the governor’s palace stood. Here we took up our quarters with a sense of profound satisfaction at having at last, after so many delays and difficulties, reached a city of Western Yunnan.

CHAPTER VII.
MOMIEN.

Momien—The town of Teng-yue-chow—Aspect and condition—An official reception—Return visit—Government house—A Chinese tragedy—The market—Jade manufacture—Minerals—Mines of Yunnan—Stone celts—Cattle—Climate—Environs—The waterfall—Pagoda hill—Shuayduay—Rock temples—Ruined suburbs—City temples—Four-armed deities—Boys’ school—A grand feast—The loving-cup—The tsawbwa-gadaw of Muangtee—Keenzas—The Chinese poor.

A retrospect of the journey thus far showed that since our departure from the Burmese plain we had been steadily ascending. Although the altitudes could not be taken with accuracy, owing to the inefficiency of the instruments which had been supplied at Rangoon, such observations as it was in our power to make were made; they were subsequently reduced by the surveyor’s department at Calcutta, and the results are approximately correct. Where it was necessary to depend on speculation, care was taken to under-estimate the apparent altitudes. The natives always speak of ascending to Momien and descending from it, and, applied to the western approaches, this expression is fully justified. From Bhamô, four hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level, we had climbed over the Kakhyen hills to the Sanda valley, which, at Manwyne, lies at least two thousand feet above Bhamô. Throughout the forty-eight miles of its length, this valley rises so gradually as to present the appearance of a long level avenue, divided into three stages, till the head of the Muangla division is reached. From this it is requisite to ascend by a detour over the Mawphoo height, to attain the fourth stage, or the valley of Nantin, lying one thousand feet above Manwyne. From the upper extremity of the Nantin valley, the long steps, so to speak, of the Hawshuenshan glen rise fourteen hundred feet to Momien. Thus, the latter city, one hundred and thirty-five miles from Bhamô, occupies a site on a plateau elevated more than five thousand feet above the level of the sea, which is declared by native reports to be the highest inhabited position in the mountainous region of Western Yunnan.

The Chinese city of Teng-yue-chow, better known by its Shan name of Momien, is said to have been built four hundred years ago by a governor of Yung-chang, obeying the king of Mansi or Yunnan, which the Shans call Muangsee. It was probably built as a frontier garrison, to hold in check the recently conquered territories of the Shan kingdom of Pong. It thus became, as it still is, the ruling head-quarters of the tributary Koshanpyi or Nine Shan States, now represented by those of the Sanda and Hotha valleys, with Muangtee, Muang-mo, and Muangmah. We were able to procure a Chinese history of Momien as well as of Tali, though both had become rare, as the rebels had destroyed the woodblocks. These copies were brought by Major Sladen to England, in order to be deposited in the British Museum. It is to be hoped that some one of our Chinese scholars will find leisure to translate these works, which would probably throw valuable light on the little known history of these regions.

The plan and construction of the city show that it was built as a fortress. It occupies an area of five furlongs square, enclosed by a strongly built stone wall, battlemented or crenellated, twenty-five feet high. Twenty yards from the walls a deep moat surrounded the once city; it was still perfect on the eastern and southern faces, but had degenerated into a broad puddle, the favourite wallow for the bazaar pigs, on the western. The masonry is admirable, the well hewn slabs of lavaceous rock, two to four feet long, being laid in mortar, hardened almost to the consistency of the stone, while the moat is faced with stones laid together without mortar, so close and true that a penknife can scarcely be inserted between them. Inside the wall, an earthen rampart, about thirty feet wide and eighteen feet high, serves as a battery, or parade ground, as well as a promenade. There are no bastions, but at intervals turrets rise from the rampart, built of blue burned bricks, the smooth surface and sharp edges of which are uninjured by the wear and tear of centuries. The four gateways, to each of which corresponds a substantial bridge spanning the moat, are lofty and well built; but at the time of our visit, two of these gates had been built up. The south-western or bazaar gate was especially fortified by a semicircular traverse, an entrance in the side of which led into a tunnel-like archway, over which rose a lofty watch-tower, with concave roof, supported by strong pillars. The inner doorway was closed by heavy ironclad wooden valves, which were carefully shut at nightfall. Viewed from a distance, the walls and turrets, with a lofty pagoda and the roof of the watch-tower, seemed to indicate a populous and thriving town; but within the walls was almost emptiness. The broad rectangular streets were comparatively deserted, save by a few Panthay soldiers, who with their families formed the sole intramural population. But few houses remained uninjured, the best of these being the dwellings of the governor and his officers. The numerous temples had been gutted and half demolished. The images and huge stone incense vases had been overthrown and broken, while the ruined walls pitted with bullets showed the fierceness of the struggle which had taken place. The absence of all the wonted bustle and noise of a crowded city was made more striking by the evidence on all sides of the former prosperity and population.

Our stay at Momien extended over six weeks; but the state of the country, combined with the weather, reduced us almost to inaction. The depressing monotony of life under these circumstances was, however, relieved by the unvarying kindness of the hospitable Panthays. Our first day was devoted to arrangement of ourselves and baggage, in which a crowd of curious visitors assisted by uttering astonished “Iyaws!” at everything possessed by the foreigners, whose persons and goods each was anxious to inspect.

WITHIN THE WALLS OF MOMIEN OR TENG-YUE-CHOW.

The following day having been appointed by the governor for our reception, we entered the town in state, preceded by twenty Mahommedan sepoys of the escort, carrying the presents. These consisted of green and yellow broadcloths, muslins, gaudy rugs and table covers, double-barrelled guns and revolvers, with all appliances, powder and shot, penknives, scissors, a binocular glass, telescope, and musical-box, and a quantity of Bryant and May’s matches.

A large but well-behaved crowd of poverty-stricken Chinese had assembled, who matched well with the ruinous houses of the suburb. We entered by the south-western gate into a narrow dirty street, from which a lane led to the governor’s house, surrounded by a low wall. The gateway, about fifteen feet high, was formed of plain squared stone pillars, with others laid horizontally across them, like the cross beams of a doorway. This led into the usual Chinese succession of quadrangular courts. In a small circular pavilion were stationed some ragged musicians, who struck up a lively air on gongs and cymbals. As we crossed the court to the house, a salute was fired from three small cannon that were stuck into the ground, with muzzles upwards. A rabble followed into the doorway leading to the inner court, at the end of which, in the reception hall, sat the governor. He rose to receive us, and motioned us to sit on his left hand, at a long table, on which the presents were laid before him. Behind his seat there was a raised recess, covered with red cloth, in which stood a small chair of state. The sides of the room were hung with long narrow strips of blue and red cloth, covered with Chinese characters in gold-leaf. The superior officers occupied chairs along each side of the room, and a crowd of underlings blocked up the entrance. The governor was a powerful man, fully six feet three inches high, with prominent cheek-bones, heavy protuberant lips, slightly hooked nose, and faintly oblique eyes. His face was bronzed by exposure, and a deep indentation between the eyes, with other scars, told of campaigns, in which he was said to be ever foremost in the fight. He wore a grey felt hat, resembling a helmet placed sideways, the front half of the rim being turned up, and the back part downwards. A gold rosette, set with large precious stones, formed a handsome ornament in front, and a long blue silk topknot hung down behind. A pale blue silk coat, richly figured, exactly resembling a dressing-gown, completed his costume. Sladen expressed our deep regret at the death of the two officers, and promised to suggest to our government to compensate their families. The governor replied that we were not to distress ourselves, as they considered it an honour to die as those men had done. As to the opening of trade, he declared that any number of English merchants might visit Momien in the ensuing November; that he had arranged with the Shan tsawbwas, and could manage the Kakhyens, so that caravans should pass safely; but he hinted that there were too many people then present to admit of this question being discussed. He expressed great pleasure at the presents, and the musical-box being set agoing excited universal admiration; the matches astonished the company; but the sincerest satisfaction was called forth by the guns and powder. Tea, preserved oranges, jujubes, and sugar-candy were served round. In the course of general conversation the governor stated that the Sultan had been pleased to hear of our intended visit to Momien; but he feared that the road to Tali-fu was too infested with Chinese bands to allow of our proceeding further.

The governor, attended by an armed retinue, paid his return visit of ceremony the next day, carried in a gorgeous chair, and dressed in full mandarin robes, while his officers were gaily attired in white cotton jackets, braided, and adorned with silver buttons. They made a gallant show of gold swords, silver spears, banners, and other insignia. Presents were brought in, consisting of a bullock, sheep, trays of confectionery, and forty thousand cash. The latter were at first declined, but the courteous Tah-sa-kon would take no refusal, and the cash furnished an acceptable largess to the escort and followers, giving each about one rupee. The mission funds were, in truth, rather low about this time, which, it may be noted, operated against the acquisition of specimens of the local manufactures, save to a very limited amount. Among the confectionery sent was a quantity of fine white granulated honey, and a strong warning was given against the use of onions, as the combination of onions and honey in the system would be a certain poison.

When taking leave, the governor suggested that now the claims of etiquette had been satisfied, we should consider ourselves free of government house, as well as the town in general, and come and go as we liked, and promised that he would visit us sans cérémonie. Our guard and the Panthays fraternised completely, their common faith uniting them, and the Chinese Mahommedans treated the true believers from India with great respect. The jemadar was indeed in constant request to officiate at the mosque, till he lost his voice by over-exertion.

True to his promise, the governor appeared bent on carrying us off to an entertainment at his house. We were received in the same room as before, but were invited to sit with our host on the dais at the further end; constant relays of tea-cakes and sweetmeats were brought in, to all of which each man was expected to do his duty. Shouts of laughter reached our ears from time to time, as the ladies, our host’s four wives and their maids, amused themselves in the adjacent zenana with the magnetic battery. Our circle was presently joined by the tsawbwa-gadaw of Muangtee, who was on a visit to the governor. She was attended by several well-dressed Shan ladies, and they chatted and laughed with that charming good humour which seems characteristic of the Shans.

We were then shown over the private apartments by the governor himself, who led us first to his bedroom, a snug little windowless room, lighted by two doors facing each other, containing a large four-post bed, with blue silk curtains looped up by silver chains, and a comfortable couch, while the walls were decorated with an English eight-day clock, and Chinese pictures and old armour. Passing through the room, we entered a small court, where a number of tailors sat busily at work in a verandah. This led to the zenana, or women’s apartments, a pretty range of buildings, surrounding a small garden, ornamented with large vases, containing dwarfed fruit and pine trees, and stone tanks filled with goldfish. The trees included peach, plum, orange, box, &c., about two to four feet in height, which had been dwarfed by tying knots in the stem of the sapling. On our way back, we passed through a room hung round with war hats gorgeously decorated with the tail feathers of the Lady Amherst and golden pheasants, and with the handsome fox-like brush of the wah (Ailurus fulgens, F. Cuv.). After this inspection, we were conducted to an open hall, in which a theatrical entertainment was to take place. More tea and cakes were produced, while large copper vases of incense burned close to us, and the heavy fumes produced a drowsy feeling. The stage was a pavilion about twenty feet long, closed on three sides, with two doors behind it, one for the entrance and the other for the exit of the players. The orchestra of violins, gongs, and cymbals, occupied the back of the stage, and discoursed most monotonous music, like the clatter of crockery, with occasional bangs and screeches. A small panelled picture of birds and flowers served as scenery, and the properties were a table like an inverted pyramid, with a chair on either side of it. The characters were all sustained by male performers, who, on this occasion, presented a tragedy, turning on the Chinese virtue of filial obedience. This required the hero to obey his mother by rebelling against his father-in-law and killing the princess, his wife; but the latter solved the difficulty by suicide, and mother and son joined in lamentation over her. The hero had his face painted red, and adorned with a long black beard and moustache; he was accoutred in a gorgeous coat, richly embroidered with dragons and flowers, a hat with a fine bushy tail of Ailurus fulgens, red trousers, and black satin boots. He bellowed and blustered, and strode about the stage as if practising the goose-step; the close of every speech being emphasized by a bound in the air. While the play was going on, we were expected to consume the contents of eight bowls containing fowl chopped up with salted goose, dried prawns, mushrooms, vegetables, &c., each dish being evidently a choice specimen of Chinese cuisine. Ahyek, or samshoo, was then served round, but the governor, as a good Mussulman, abstained from the forbidden liquor; small saucers of rice and condiments came next, but after three hours of eating we beat a retreat from the still interminable feast and drama.

The hospitable governor renewed his invitation the next afternoon, when a farcical comedy was played, which was very broad, but fortunately brief. As this was the market-day, two officers were detached to escort us through the bazaar, the principal street of which extended half a mile straight from the south-western city gates. Each side was occupied by permanent shops, and a double row of stalls, protected by huge umbrellas, lined the whole length of the street. A dense crowd of Chinese, Shans, and Panthays, with a small sprinkling of Leesaws and Kakhyens, thronged every avenue; the people were quite good-humoured, but their curiosity would have been very troublesome but for the presence of the officers. This, however, was only at first; during our stay we roamed at will through the streets of the bazaar suburb, as well as within the walls. The shops were small, one-storied cottages, each devoted to a particular trade. Drapers, booksellers, druggists, dealers in tobacco and nuts, provision merchants, displayed their several wares, but, except on the market-day, with little custom. Numerous eating-houses were crowded by the better class of customers, while the poorer villagers were supplied by lads hawking comestibles. The stalls made a rich display of vegetables and fruit; among the former were peas, green and dried beans, potatoes, celery, carrots, onions, garlic, yams, bamboo shoots, cabbage and spinach, and ginger; the fruit comprised apples like golden pippins, pears, peaches, walnuts, chestnuts, brambleberries, rose-hips, and three sorts of unknown fruit. Mushrooms were in great demand, as well as a dried, almost black lichen; black pepper, betel-nut, and poppy capsules were seen on almost every stall, and salt sold in compressed balls, marked with a government stamp. Other departments contained coloured Chinese cloths and yarns, and buttons, English long and broad cloth, needles, and brass buttons, Mahommedan skull-caps, embroidered in gold thread, rings, mouth-pieces and brooches of amber and jade, opium pipes, and Chinese hookahs. Running at right angles to the principal street is another devoted to tailors and ready-made clothes stores, and coppersmiths, who supply all kitchen appliances, and manufacture the copper discs used in cutting jade. Along this street we came to the store of the principal Chinese merchant, who invited us in, and was very hospitable. His laments over the decay of the former trade with Burma, caused by the civil war, showed clearly to which side his sympathies inclined; and it was evident that he, as well as all the non-Mahommedan Chinese, were only kept to their present allegiance by the strong hand. The whole bazaar suburb was surrounded by a low brick wall with several gates, each guarded by a sentinel at night, and the Chinese resided here, being evidently excluded from the city. Although the manufactures seemed to be in a very depressed state, the quarters of the various artificers were still traceable; in a by-street we had an opportunity of viewing the manufacture of jade ornaments. The copper discs employed, a foot and a half in diameter, are very thin and bend easily; the centre is beaten out into a cup, which receives the end of the revolving cylinder. We watched two men at work, one using the cutter, and the other a borer tipped with a composition of quartz and little particles resembling ruby dust. Both were driven by treadles; the stone is held below the disc, under which is a basin of water and fine, silicious mud, into which the stone is occasionally dipped, the operator taking handfuls of the mud. The stones are cut into discs one-eighth of an inch thick, when intended for ear-rings, and handed over to the borer to be perforated. The most valuable jade is of an intensely bright green, something like emerald; but red and pale pink qualities are highly prized. In the extensive ruins outside the bazaar there was ample evidence, in the rejected fragments of jade, that the manufacture must have been formerly carried on on a much more extensive scale. The jade is obtained from the mines in the Mogoung district, where large masses in the form of rounded boulders are dug out of the pits; in former times a large quantity was yearly imported to Momien. One hundred rupees was the price asked for a pair of bracelets of the finest jade, and at Bhamô four rupees purchased rings worth £2 at Canton.

Of amber-workers, who manufactured rosaries, rings, mouth-pieces, &c., from the amber brought from the mines in the Hukong valley, near Mogoung, but few remained at the time of our visit. The amber most prized is perfectly clear, and the colour of very dark sherry. A triangular specimen, one inch long, and one across, cost ten shillings.

At the bazaar there was a plentiful display of the mineral wealth of Western Yunnan, which is rich in gold, silver, lead, iron, copper, tin, mercury, arsenic, and gypsum; and we obtained small specimens of most of these minerals, including a yellow orpiment, exported in quantities from Tali to Mandalay, whither a large amount of tin also is annually sent. The copper is brought from a range of hills near Khyto, three days’ march to the north-east. It is smelted on the spot, and brought in flattish pigs. The same hills are said to yield all the iron and salt used in Western Yunnan; but the most precious product of the Khyto mines is galena. Of this, a small specimen has been assayed by Dr. Oldham, who has pronounced it to be among the richest that he has ever seen; it yields 0·278 per cent., or 104 oz. of silver to the ton of lead. Flints and large quantities of lime are brought from Tali-fu, where large quarries of fine white marble exist. Sulphur is procured in the neighbourhood, but we could not learn the locality. Li-sieh-tai was subsequently reported to be raising sulphur to the south-west, and an Old Resident[26] in Western China mentions a rich mine of sulphur belonging to the northern frontier town of Atenze, behind a little mine of saltpetre. The Chinese report on the mines of Yunnan, appended to the records of the French expedition, states that in 1850 the copper mines of Yunnan, of which Tali-fu is the principal depot, produced over eleven thousand tons, and the silver amounted to two millions of francs. The Old Resident, however, says that before the outbreak of the rebellion there were one hundred and thirty-two copper mines, government knowing only of thirty-seven; and as the above account was calculated on the returns made to the government, who exact from thirty to fifty per cent. of the produce, it is plain that the mineral wealth of Yunnan is even greater than it is set forth in that report. Gold is brought to Momien from Yonephin and Sherg-wan villages, fifteen days’ march to the north-east; but no information could be obtained as to the quantity found. It is also brought in leaf, which is sent to Burma, where it is in extensive demand.

In the drug-shops a powder was vended as a nervous restorative, made of the horn of an antelope ground down, and sold at one rupee per tickal;[27] and the pharmacopœia also included the powdered shells of a tortoise (Testudo platynotus, Blyth), imported from Upper Burma, and snuff made of sambur horn, used as a styptic for bleeding from the nose. We were much surprised to find stone celts openly offered for sale. When it was known that we would purchase, numbers were brought in, and we acquired a collection of one hundred and fifty specimens, at prices varying from two shillings to sixpence. Their poverty and not their will constrained the owners to part with them, for they are believed to confer good luck on the owner, and to possess curative properties if dipped in medicine, and are exhibited to procure easy parturition. They are usually turned up by the plough; and the popular belief is that they fall from the sky as thunderbolts, and take nine years to work up to the surface. The high estimation in which they are held suggests that a Chinese Flint Jack made a profitable business of imitating the real implements, or manufacturing amulets of the same type. A large number of those purchased are small, beautifully cut forms, with few or no signs of use, and made of some variety of jade; but there is no reason to doubt the authenticity of the larger forms which were brought to us. Bronze celts are also found, but are valued at their weight in gold; we managed, however, to purchase one at Manwyne on the return journey. It belongs to the socketed type of celts without wings. The composition of the bronze is the same as that of the celts found in Northern Europe—tin 10, copper 90.

In consequence of a long period of drought preceding our arrival, the slaughter of animals had been forbidden, as it was feared that the rain would be withheld as a punishment, a curious instance of Buddhist superstition affecting the Panthays and Chinese; but in two days the rains set in, and the prohibition was removed. The markets were thenceforward well supplied with bullocks, buffaloes, sheep, goats, and pigs. The buffaloes are chiefly used for agriculture; the beeves have no hump, and are small but well made, generally of reddish-brown colour, deepening to black. The numerous sheep belong to a large blackfaced breed, with convex profiles. Two kinds of goats are common; one with long shaggy white hair nearly sweeping the ground, and flattened spiral horns, directed backwards and outwards; the other kind has very short dark brown hair, short shoulder list, and full beard, with similar flattened spiral horns, but not so procumbent. The pigs seemed to be all black. Remarkably fine ponies were common; but the mules, which were much more numerous, are more prized. Fowls, ducks, and geese are abundant and large; and last, though not least, cats, all of a uniform grey, with faint darkish spots, made themselves at home everywhere. But we noticed very few dogs, those seen being black with shaggy coats, resembling the shepherd dogs of the south of Scotland.

It has been mentioned that the rains set in soon after our arrival. From June 1st the south-west monsoon prevailed, with very few fair intervals. The sky was obscured by thick, misty clouds, that wrapped the hills in dense folds. As a rule, the rain fell very heavily; but there were days together when it was little more than a thick Scotch mist in a dead calm. Occasional thunderstorms of terrific grandeur burst over the valley, accompanied by strong gusts from the south-west; but the most characteristic feature of the weather was the generally perfect stillness of the atmosphere, while low leaden clouds poured down incessant rain, generally heavy, but sometimes only a gentle drizzle, all which combined had a sufficiently depressing effect on us. The temperature was by no means oppressive, the mean maximum in June being seventy-four degrees, and the minimum sixty-two degrees. The natives strongly assert that the climate is unhealthy for strangers, and we all suffered more or less from intractable diarrhœa. Smallpox, too, was prevalent; and one of our collectors and a Kakhyen sub-chief, who had accompanied us, died from it. We were strongly cautioned against the use of the river water, to which the natives attribute the prevalence of goitre, which is most unpleasantly remarkable among men and women and children, some goitres being so large as to require special support; even young infants were observed affected by it, and in their case it must have been congenital. Otherwise the children seemed very healthy, notwithstanding their rags and dirt, and not a single case of fever was observed, though about sixty or seventy patients were treated for other diseases.

The fact that by far the greater part of the valley is under water for six or seven months, during three of which it is little better than a huge morass, would not seem to recommend it as salubrious; but it must be remembered that it lies more than five thousand feet above the level of the sea, in the twenty-fourth parallel of north latitude, and is a comparatively dry and temperate country, singularly destitute of trees, which conditions would combine to place it beyond the range of miasma.

The worthy governor showed great anxiety about our health. He refused, on the score of security against prowling robbers, to let us shift our quarters, but sent guards to accompany us in an occasional ramble round the precincts of the city. So great was the insecurity that we dared not venture more than a few hundred yards from the walls unattended. A favourite walk was to a place less than a mile to the north-west of the town. Here the Tahô, after flowing through the valley, precipitates itself, in an all but unbroken sheet of water, over a cliff one hundred feet high; thence it foams down a steep glen to the little valley of Hawshuenshan. Immediately above the fall the stream is spanned by a substantial stone bridge of three arches with roofed approaches. Below this the thick bed of basaltic trap, over which the river leaps, is worn into a miniature horseshoe; and the overhanging luxuriant vegetation of ferns and brambles, and wild roses with double flowers, formed a strikingly beautiful scene. In the rains the body of water was so great that a column of spray ascended which was visible two miles off. From this point the crenellated walls of Momien, with the distant background of lofty ranges, completed a striking picture. Above the bridge the Tahô flows down in a tortuous stream twenty yards broad, well stocked with large gold carp (Cavassius auratus, Lin.), between banks ten feet high; and the rice fields on either side are irrigated by large wheels raising the water in long bamboo buckets, which discharge themselves into wooden pipes leading to the fields. These wheels are numerous in the valley.

WATERFALL OF THE TAHÔ; MOMIEN IN THE DISTANCE.

After visiting the waterfall, we ascended the pagoda hill, about one thousand feet above the town. The path led through potato-fields now in full bloom, the plants grown in ridges, and earthed up with a home-like effect. The leaf is smaller than that of the home plant, and the tubers in the market had a thin red skin; but they were very good, and in great demand at fourpence for three pounds and a half. Nothing could be learned of the introduction of this plant, nor of the celery, which is also largely cultivated, and seemed quite as out of place. The potato, however, is called yan-gee, evidently the same as yang-yu, foreign root, which, according to Mr. Cooper,[28] is its name in Sz-chuen, where it is said to have been introduced by the foreign teachers, i.e. the French missionaries, long ago. The lower slope of the hill was covered with stone tumulus-shaped tombs, the arched head of each containing a tablet with an epitaph. Ruder graves were simple earthen tumuli, each with its arched opening blocked by a large stone. The slopes of the hills surrounding the valley are dotted with similar graveyards—mute records of the population that once thronged the ruined villages lying below. Near the summit stood a pagoda, a whitewashed round brick tower on a stone base with six projecting rings. The hill itself, like all the eminences around, was covered with fine grass, and a number of mules were grazing under the protection of a Panthay guard. A pleasant illustration of the prevailing insecurity was given a few days later, when this guard was attacked and forty mules driven off by imperialist Chinese. We were unmolested, and climbed to the summit, flushing from the bracken beds a magnificent cock pheasant (Phasianus sladeni, And.), with long tail feathers, resembling some noticed in a Panthay head-dress. Sladen afterwards bagged the hen; and we also obtained a young fox with a golden-yellow coat and white-tipped brush, apparently of the Himalayan race. Returning, we observed a large arched cavern, which proved to be an old quarry of trachytic rock, which had probably furnished the city walls. On one occasion we were permitted to make a longer excursion to the valley of Hawshuenshan. Our party must have consisted of thirty-five men, all armed, the Panthay guard, equipped with spears and muskets, being commanded by the governor’s nephew, with several other officers: all this being necessary for safety during a mere suburban stroll. Turning southerly from Momien, we soon came in sight of the town of Yay-law, the deserted ruins of which stretched for more than a mile along the foot of the Deebay range. We skirted the pagoda hill, remarking a curious isolated heap of lava; no other rock was visible for miles around, and it had all the appearance of a small volcanic vent, and the rock was identical with that of the extinct volcano.

Rounding the hills two miles from Momien, a slight westerly descent led to a short narrow gorge, at the south-eastern angle of the little circular valley of Hawshuenshan. The once wealthy village of Shuayduay occupies an abrupt slope at the head of the gorge, rising in a series of terraces faced with mortarless walls of very porous lava, laid as closely as the facing of the Momien ditch, and protected by parapets of sun-dried brick. A small stream runs down the ravine, which is not more than a quarter of a mile long and fifty yards broad, to a substantial tank crossed by a broad stone platform, arched on one side to allow the overflow to escape. Facing Hawshuenshan valley, the platform expands into a handsome, crescent-shaped terrace, enclosed by an elegant stone balustrade, which forms the entrance to a temple built on the southern slope, opposite to Shuayduay. This temple, rising in terraces on the steep hillside, standing out beautifully against the background of green hills, was the only one spared by the Mahommedans, whose stern bigotry could not resist its beauty. The approach to the temple buildings lay through two curved courtyards with handsome arched gateways. The first enclosure was an open square with three sides built on the same level, the nearest one of which contained the priests’ apartments; to the right and left lay a neat garden of dwarfed fruit trees, the centre of which was occupied by a few stunted trees covered with a profusion of yellow orchids in full flower, and a magnificent hydrangea in a colossal vase; the furthest side next the hill was raised on a stone terrace four feet above the level of the rest. On this higher platform stood life-sized gilded figures of deities, with incense always burning in small black stone vases, and on a table in front of the images lay a large drum and grotesque hollow wooden fishes, which the priests and worshippers beat with short sticks. A passage led through each side of the court to stone staircases proceeding to the terrace above, and converging in its centre in an hexagonal tower, supported on stone pillars seven feet high; these formed an archway from which ascended a short flight of steps, dividing to the right and left to reach the highest terrace, nearly on a level with which was a chapel forming the upper chamber of the hexagonal tower. The upper temple occupied the whole of its terrace, built entirely of wood, except the back and end walls. The front was panelled with richly gilt lattice work, while the eaves and ceilings were coloured in imitation of porcelain. Behind a screen, adorned with richly coloured carvings of birds and flowers, sat three life-sized gilded figures on altars, apparently of porcelain. The central figure, of marble, represented a woman seated on a lotus, with a flower of the lily beneath her feet; she held forth a naked male child, seated on one hand, and supported by the other in front, the child’s sex being strongly marked. This was the goddess Kwan-yin, goddess of mercy and conception, and her presence would seem to mark the shrine as a Taouist temple. These terraced rock temples resembled those described by Mr. Cooper as visited by him at Chung Ching. The stone walls of the shrine were not carried to the roof, but finished with wooden panelling, pierced with circular windows of elegant tracery. These were so arranged that the light fell full on the seated figures. From the centre of this terrace a narrow stair led down to the chapel on the top of the hexagonal tower, within which sat a fine Buddhistic figure, with the head in white marble tinted brown.

Following a well-paved track along the hill to the east of the valley, a ride of a quarter of a mile brought us to the walled Chinese town of Hawshuenshan, built on the slope of the hill. The valley is abruptly closed in on three sides by rounded grassy hills rising suddenly round the dead level of the centre, then inundated for the rice crop. The south-west side is closed by the long low range of the extinct volcano, with a white pagoda standing out in strong relief from its black and barren side.

Hawshuenshan had evidently been a place of great importance, being a much larger town than Shuayduay, and must have contained at least three thousand inhabitants. At this time a considerable number of refugees had here found an asylum, who had fled from the deserted villages of Shangnan, Tahinshan, &c. We were shown an open grassy plot on the southern outskirts of the town which had, only a few months previously, been strewn with the corpses of imperialist Chinese. The people of Hawshuenshan had declared against the Panthays, and joined the Chinese partisan Low-quang-fang; on this plot they had been attacked and defeated. As usual, no quarter was given, and all who failed to fly were massacred, and afterwards buried where they fell. A fine temple overlooked a small stream running down from Shuayduay, and which now formed a small lake just outside the town. This water was crossed by a handsome stone bridge, with picturesque archways. From this we followed a raised causeway to the head of the valley, and, passing the Tahô waterfall on the left, ascended gradually four hundred feet to Momien. This vale of Hawshuenshan, though not more than two miles long by one broad, had been once encircled by large villages, the ruins of which still attested that before the war they must have been places of no little wealth.

With the exception of the walled bazaar, the once populous faubourgs of Momien had been laid in ruins; the heaps of bricks, the stone sides of the ancient wells deeply grooved by rope marks, and the long rows of detached mounds, with little grass-grown squares, defined the position of the southern and north-eastern suburbs. The houses of the north occupying a smaller area, surrounded by fine gardens, and shut in between the river and the city wall, seemed to have escaped demolition.

Amidst the general desolation within the city walls, two remarkable objects of art and nature stood, as it were, memorials of the past. One was a tall whitewashed pagoda seven stories in height, of the usual and familiar Chinese form. The other was a magnificent fir tree, which towered fully one hundred feet, although its top had been broken by a storm; at the height of four feet from the ground, the trunk measured fifteen feet in circumference.

In default of other resources, we spent a good deal of time strolling among the ruined temples and monasteries, which were numerous both in the city and suburbs; by far the greater majority were in ruins, but a few only partially destroyed were still tenanted by a few poor priests who, in spite of the Mahommedans, kept the incense burning before the gods of their forefathers. The massive stone gateways, richly carved roofs, and the elaborate decorations of the altars and images, afforded proofs of a high proficiency in art. Combinations of plants and birds furnished many of the designs of the decorations, executed either in well chiselled carvings or richly coloured paintings. In the carvings, dragons and monsters are frequent; all are generally coloured, the standard tints being red, blue, green, and yellow. The outsides of the principal walls are frequently decorated with medallion pictures of small animals and birds in black, grey, and white, alternating with squares or circles of complex geometrical figures. As far as could be judged from the images of the various deities, these temples appeared to be shrines of a compound of Buddhism, Taouism, and Confucianism, though no Buddhist priests were to be seen—or at least their yellow religious garb was nowhere visible—the priests having no distinctive costume, and living generally in their own houses in the suburbs. The images of the deities are nearly all life-sized, the place of honour being occupied sometimes by one, sometimes by three, seated on a pedestal in the centre of the principal hall. Around the central figures are disposed the statues of lesser deities, sages and scholars. In one temple where the central images were undoubtedly Buddhistic, the walls of the outer court were surrounded by fifty life-sized male and female figures, all seated, which seemed to represent the army of the Thagyameng. In another the chief deity was a colossal seated image, with a dragon at each knee, and the body of a snakelike dragon passing up under the double girdle, and breaking on the breast into a number of heads, recalling the seven-headed cobras of Hindoo mythology; the head and neck of a serpent-formed dragon issued, too, from under each armpit. Some of the female figures are seated on lions, other forms have the heads of bulls and birds, while four-armed figures also occur. In the khyoung, which formed our residence, there was a figure of Puang-ku, the creator, seated on a bed of leaves resembling those of the sacred padma or lotus. This remarkable four-armed figure was life size, and naked, save for garlands of leaves around the neck and loins. He was seated cross-legged like Buddha, the two uppermost arms stretched out, forming each a right angle. The right hand held a white disc and the left a red one. The two lower arms were in the attitude of carving, the right hand holding a mallet and the left a chisel. Except the Shuayduay images, which were of stone, almost all were constructed in the following manner: a frame of wood, making a sort of lay figure, is roughly put together, and afterwards padded to the proper proportions with layers of straw wound tightly over it; a layer of clay is plastered over the whole, and when dry, the flesh tints are laid on with marked realistic truth, and the garments duly coloured. The fact that the breast of every image of importance had been broken open seemed to show that a jewel or gold had been deposited therein, as is the custom in Burma.

During our stay the festival of the Goddess of Agriculture occurred. The stem of an iris and a branch of wild indigo were hung up over every door, and a general holiday observed; but nothing else marked the occasion, save that the priests insisted on kindling the incense in our khyoung, which act of devotion had been on other days pretermitted for the sake of our lungs. In one of the few khyoungs still inhabited by priests—all of which were situated in out-of-the-way places outside the town—I found a boys’ school conducted by an intelligent priest. A heavy shower of rain drove me in for refuge, and the master, who was seated at a low black desk, politely invited me to a seat. The pupils at once left their desks and crowded round us. A sign directing them to resume their desks and tasks was only so far obeyed that all began shouting their lessons at the full pitch of their voices; a word from the master, however, quickly dispersed them. I produced cheroots, and the priest sent for tea, and we chatted for an hour. Lying on the desk was a flat piece of wood like a gigantic paper-cutter. To explain its use, he called up a small boy, and, taking one of his hands, rubbed the palm with the instrument in a mysterious way. Suddenly, however, the paper-cutter rose and descended rapidly, tears started to the boy’s eyes, but were dried by a kindly word from the master, explaining that it was only an exhibition, not a punishment. The boys, whose ages varied from six to fifteen, seemed to enjoy their lessons there. The school hours lasted from nine to five o’clock, with an hour and a half’s interval, during which each boy purchased his dinner from a hawker of small bowls of Chinese dainties. Every boy has his own books, and, seated at a table, shouts his lesson aloud till he thinks he knows it, and then proceeds to attempt to recite it to the master, on whom he turns his back during the repetition. They learn to write at the same time as to read, for each boy first copies his lesson, getting the exact pronunciation of each letter and word from the master—thus whole books are committed to memory; but the babel of voices during the process is deafening, and the plan is not recommended for adoption to our school boards, although the punishment of the paper-knife might offer them a good model for imitation.

One bright little Momien boy was a great favourite; he was the pet son of the chief military officer, who brought him, as being deaf and dumb, in order to see what could be done. As the child attempted to imitate sounds, he was not deaf, and careful examination discovered that he was tongue-tied. A successful operation removed the impediment, much to the astonishment and delight of his father. The latter, whose title was Tah-zung-gyee, was a fine young Panthay soldier, of rather a jovial temperament. He invited us to a grand feast at his house, which was one of the few remaining uninjured within the walls. The invitation was duly conveyed to each on a piece of pink paper; and at the hour appointed—about 1 P.M.—a messenger arrived to inform us that the feast was ready. The house was approached through an outer court containing the stables. It formed a large square enclosing a central court. The principal building, facing the entrance, was raised on a terrace about four feet high, with a flight of steps at either end, each leading into an open hall. From this two doors led to the women’s apartments. The buildings on the other three sides of the square suggested Swiss cottages by their deep eaves and the large latticed windows of the second floor. A kitchen and store-rooms occupied the ground floor, and on one side was a dovecot. The eaves of the house were richly decorated with carvings representing landscapes with running water, bridges, and trees. A court outside contained a very choice garden filled with dwarf trees in vases; besides which, there were tall crimson hollyhocks and passion flowers. Two small stone tanks contained gold fish with remarkable doubly divided tails; and in one corner there was a model roughly carved in stone of a hillside, with caves and a pagoda. The walls of the rooms were decorated with Chinese landscapes and pictures of birds, in sepia and colours, which were mounted on rollers, like maps on a school-room wall. The entertainment, as usual, commenced with tea and cakes, followed by delicious nectarines and plums; after which came the more solid items of the repast. A decoction of samshoo seasoned with aromatic herbs was handed round like a loving-cup, our host first taking a vigorous pull, and passing it round till the jug was emptied. The liquid was warm and rather agreeable; but it fell to my lot to finish the contents, and, much to my disgust, I observed unmistakable pieces of pork fat among the herbs and spices. Our Mahommedan host not only drank samshoo, but allowed his drink to be thus flavoured with pork! He was most genial, and declared he would most willingly bestow his sisters on us as wives; and, in token of friendship, presented each with a jade ring and camellias. The women were curiously watching the strangers from the curtained doors; and towards the close of the evening the host asked for remedies for barrenness, with which some females of his household were affected. After some hesitation, the three patients mustered courage to show themselves, and were fine, young buxom women, with dwarfed feet. Some disappointment was evidently experienced at the refusal to prescribe for such patients as these.

The jealous reserve of the Chinese ladies was always pleasantly contrasted by the Shan manners, which united perfect modesty with a frank and pleasant demeanour. Thus the tsawbwa-gadaw of Muangtee visited us with her retinue of ladies. The old lady was splendidly attired, her towering turban being ornamented in front with the Panthay rosette of green, blue, and pink stones set in gold, and at the sides with little silver triangles set with small enamelled flowers. Her skirt was richly embroidered in silk and gold thread, and her light blue silk jacket was trimmed with black satin, which contrasted well with her massive gold bracelets. She wore amber and jade finger-rings, and a handsome silver chatelaine and richly embroidered fan-case hanging by her side. One of her maidens carried a small Chinese hookah, and another her embossed silver boxes of betel-nut, &c. She was greatly pleased with a present of a handsome carpet, needles, scissors, &c.; and her maids were charmed with small circular mirrors, which they at once fastened to their jackets as ornaments. These keenzas, as they called them, were immensely prized; and a few days after, as I was engaged in searching for land shells below the city wall, one of the Shan ladies hailed me from the battlements. The owner of the pretty face peering over the wall was evidently begging for something, which at first I thought was cheroots, and bade her by signs lower down her long head-dress, in the corner of which I tied a few cheroots, but these proved unsatisfactory; and the word keenza, keenza, at last made it plain that the young Shan lady wanted a mirror, and one had to be brought and sent up to her; and her glee was most amusing when she pulled up the cloth and found the keenza and a packet of needles. Compared to the pretty faces and picturesque attire of these Shan maidens, the dress and appearance of the Chinese women was very miserable. All the women who appeared in the streets were ugly and ill-clad, though the children had chubby, red cheeks. The majority wore pork-pie hats. All except the slaves had their feet dwarfed, and wore Dutch-like clogs in the rainy weather. The costume consisted of trousers, drawn tight round the ankle, a long loose blue garment, and a large blue double apron in front. Notwithstanding the dwarfed feet, the women walked to market three or four miles, carrying heavy loads, and seemed to think nothing of shouldering two buckets of water, slung to a bamboo. Every day our khyoung was besieged by crowds of beggars of all ages, from little ragged urchins to old men and women bent with age. Their rags and filth defied description, and sordid poverty in various degrees characterised all the wretched inhabitants of the ruined suburbs that surrounded the almost empty city. It must seem wearisome to harp upon the utter desolation and ruin that had resulted from the long continuous warfare, and the reader may prefer to gather some information as to the rebellious Mahommedan Chinese and their doings.

[26] ‘Pioneer of Commerce,’ appendix v. pp. 464 and 466.

[27] A tickal is rather more than half an ounce troy.

[28] ‘Pioneer of Commerce,’ p. 186.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE MAHOMMEDANS OF YUNNAN.

Their origin—Derivation of the term “Panthay”—Early history—Increase in numbers—Adoption of children—The Toonganees—Physical characteristics—Outbreak of the revolt—Tali-fu—Progress of revolt—The French expedition—Overtures from Low-quang-fang—Resources of the Panthays—Capture of Yunnan-fu—Prospects of their success—Our position—The governor’s presents—Preparations for return.

The Mahommedans of Yunnan have a tradition of their origin, which is curious, but mythical. The governor and the hadji at Momien stated, in substance, that their forefathers came from Arabia to China one thousand years ago, in the reign of the emperor Tung-huon-tsong, who had sent his chief minister, Khazee, to Tseeyoog(?) to implore help against the rebel Oung-loshan. Three thousand men were accordingly sent, and the rebellion was crushed by their assistance. Their former compatriots refused to receive them back, as having been defiled by a residence among pork-eating infidels, so they settled in China, and became the progenitors of the Chinese Mahommedans. This information was furnished in the form of answer to questions put by me carefully written, and translated into Chinese, and Sladen also procured a Chinese document, giving substantially the same account.[29] It will be seen that the variations of this from the account furnished to General Fytche are important;[30] but as the name of the emperor Tung-huon-tsong differs but slightly from that of Hiun-tsong of the Tung dynasty, against whom Ngan-Loshan[31] rebelled, it seems possible to connect this account with Chinese history. His son Sutsung, A.D. 757, was rescued from his difficulties by the arrival of an embassy from the khalif Abu Jafar al Mansur, the founder of Bagdad, accompanied by auxiliary troops, who were joined by Ouigoors and other forces from the West. It must be added that my informants, while claiming Arab descent, stated clearly that their more immediate ancestors had migrated from Shensi and Kansu to Yunnan about one hundred and fifty years ago. History, however, shows the early growth and rapid increase in China of a large Mahommedan population, whom the Chinese term Hwait-ze; the name Panthay or Pansee being of Burmese origin.

As to the derivation of this term, several theories have been suggested. Major Sladen gives Puthee as a Burmese term for Mahommedans generally. Garnier says that the word Pha-si, which the Burmese have corrupted into Pan-thé, according to Colonel Phayre, is the same as Parsi or Farsi, which in India is applied to the Mahommedans, and that this denomination is very ancient, as Colonel Yule pointed out that in a description of the kingdom of Cambodia, translated by A. Remusat, a religious sect is described, called Pâssi, who were distinguished by wearing white or red turbans, and by refusing to drink intoxicating liquors, or to eat in company with the other sects; but that distinguished Chinese scholar, Sir T. Wade, derives the term Panthay from a Chinese word Pun-tai, signifying the aboriginal or oldest inhabitants of a country; and Garnier mentions that a people called Penti are found on the eastern side of the Tali Lake, and in the plain of Tang-tchouen, to the north of Tali. They are a mixed race, descended from the first colonists sent into Yunnan by the Mongols, after the conquest of the country by the generals of Kublai Khan.

Mr. Cooper tells us that the term Pa-chee, or white flag party, as distinguished from the Hung-chee, or red flag, or imperialists, was also used to designate the rebels in the north of Yunnan, and Garnier frequently applies these terms to the contending parties. The termination -ze in the name Hwait-ze, as in Mant-ze, Thibetans, Miaout-ze, hill tribes, and Khwait-ze, foreigners, seems always to imply political and tribal separation from Chinese proper. These names occur in the curious prophecy of the Four -Ze Wars, quoted by Cooper.[32]

From the account of China compiled in the middle of the ninth century by Abu Zaid, from the reports of Arab traders, it is evident that his countrymen had long resorted to China. Even then the Arab community of Hang-chew-fu (Khanfu) was of great importance: it possessed a separate judge, appointed by the emperor of China, and we are told that the Mahommedan, Christian, Jewish, and Parsee population massacred in A.D. 878 numbered one hundred and twenty thousand. Mahommedanism was little known among the Tartars before the time of Chengis-khan, but his conquests were the means of bringing a considerable population of Uigurs into Shensi and Kansu; and the faith of the Prophet had spread amongst this tribe long before the Tartar conquest of China.

The vigorous trading and political intercourse subsisting between China and their mother country kept alive the religious life and social individuality of these immigrants. This large addition of population to their co-religionists already derived from the contingents of the khalifs, and the Arab traders, accounts for the number of Mahommedans which Marco Polo noted during his residence in China (1271-1295). In his description of the people on the western border of Shensi, where the celebrated mart of Singui was situated, and his account of Singan, and Carajan, a part of Yunnan, he describes the Mahommedans as forming a considerable part of the foreign population.

How strong a position this sect had obtained under the reign of Kublai appears from Marco Polo’s statement that the provincial governments were entrusted to Tartars, Christians, and Mahommedans. The invasion of Burma and the sieges of Singan and Fun-ching were entrusted to Mahommedan generals. The story of Bailo Achmed, the great minister of finance, is the most striking illustration of the Mahommedan influence, although the discovery of his crimes brought the khan’s anger upon the Saracens, and led to their being prohibited the practices as to marriage and slaughter of animals, enjoined by their religion. This check could only have been temporary, and as we find Mahommedans filling high places of trust, both civil and military, it can be fairly conjectured that after the conquest of Yunnan these enterprising soldiers and traders established themselves in the colonies planted in the new province.

In the early part of the fourteenth century, Rashid-ood-deen, Vizier of Persia, mentions Karajang or Yunnan province, and states that the inhabitants were all Mahommedans. Ibn Batuta, who visited China in the middle of the same century, found in every large town Mahommedans, who were mostly rich merchants. In all the provinces there was a town belonging to them, each of which usually possessed a mosque, market, a cell for the poor, and a kadi and sheikh ul Islam, while in some districts they were exceedingly numerous.

The Jesuit fathers, in the seventeenth century, make frequent mention of the Chinese Mahommedans. Le Compte, writing to Cardinal de Bouillon in 1680, says, “that they had been six hundred years in the country undisturbed, because they quietly enjoyed their liberty without seeking to propagate their religion, even by marriages, out of their own kindred, even in places where they were most numerous, and longest settled, as in the provinces north of the Hoang Ho, and in towns along the canal, where they had built mosques, differing altogether from Chinese architecture. They were regarded as foreigners, and frequently insulted by the Chinese.”

The oppression to which they were subjected after the second Tartar conquest began to show itself as early as the beginning of the eighteenth century, when their mosques were destroyed by the populace of Hang-chow in Hu-quang province, notwithstanding the efforts of the magistrates to protect them. At an earlier period, however, about 1651, they had been deprived by the Tartar emperor, Chunchi, of the honours enjoyed by some of their number in connection with the Board of Mathematics. This change of policy, thus begun, caused a rebellion, which broke out in the reign of Kien-hung, 1765-71, on the western frontier, and spread to the province of Kansu. The rebels resisted the imperial forces with great valour, but were ultimately subdued. The Abbé Grosier, writing subsequently to this event, says, “that for some time past the Mahommedans seem to have been more particularly attentive to the care of extending their sect.”[33]

The method they resorted to was the free use of their wealth in purchasing children to bring up as Mahommedans. During the terrible famine which devastated the province of Quangtong in 1790, they purchased ten thousand children from poor parents; these were educated, and, when grown up, provided with wives and houses, whole villages being formed of these converts. This system has been followed by them to the present day, so that large numbers of the faithful are of Chinese origin; and we found instances of it at Momien. According to Garnier, the sultan of Tali was a Chinese orphan, adopted and educated by a wealthy Mahommedan. Yunnan appears, from the Pekin Gazette, to have been the scene of almost incessant insurrections from 1817 to 1834, attributable, in all probability, to the Mahommedan element in the population. During one rebellion, in 1828, the leader had an imperial seal engraved, and issued manifestoes summoning the people to join his standard. At the same time, the mixed populations of this province appear to have been always distinguished by an independent and insubordinate spirit, which often defied the central authority. Some towns were even governed by elective municipal councils, only nominally ruled by the mandarins.

Grutzlaff mentions that during his residence in China, in 1825-1832, they had several mosques in Chekiang, Pechili, Shensi, and Shansu; but as they had occasionally joined the rebels of Turkistan, the government viewed them with a jealous eye. Nevertheless, some of their number filled offices of high trust. He also states that many of them performed the pilgrimage to Mecca, and brought back Arabian MSS. of the Koran, which a few could read imperfectly, that they were by no means bigoted nor proselytising, and that they venerated Confucius. These Mahommedans of Northern China and Turkistan include the people called Toonganees, who are said to trace their origin to a large body of Uigurs, who were transplanted to the vicinity of the North Wall, under the rule of the Thang dynasty, between the seventh and tenth centuries. These settlers were encouraged to intermarry with the Chinese women, and after this, when, following the example of their fellow tribesmen, they embraced Islam, they still retained this practice, although careful to bring up all their children in the Faith. Though a mixed race, they are distinguished from both Manchoos and Chinese by their intelligent countenances and superior strength. They have always evinced special aptitude for mercantile speculations, like their southern brethren. They have also shown themselves to be excellent warriors in the successful rebellion of Turkistan, and that which broke out in 1861 in Kansu, and under Abdul Jaffier threatened to be as successful as the revolt of Yunnan.

In the course of the present century, the Faithful appear to have multiplied in Yunnan more rapidly than in the northern provinces. Colonel Burney tells us that in 1831 almost the whole of the Chinese traders who visited the Burmese capital were Mahommedans, except a few who imported hams. Some of them could speak a little Arabic, and one read to him passages from the Koran; but none of them could tell him whence they derived their origin.

As far as appearance goes, there are strong traces of descent from a non-Chinese and, we may say, Turkish stock visible among the present Mahommedans of Western China. Garnier remarks that “the Mussulmans of Arab origin are tolerably numerous, and many are to be met with who manifest very markedly the principal traits of Arabs, some preserving the ancestral type in great purity. But the majority cannot be readily distinguished from Chinese, except by their superior stature, greater physical strength, and more energetic physiognomies. Although they only contract matrimonial alliances with those of their own creed, they commonly take Chinese women as concubines. Hence a large infusion of Chinese blood, notwithstanding which they have preserved almost all the warlike qualities of their ancestors.” Mr. Cooper describes a merchant who called upon him as “a splendid specimen of the Yunnan Mahommedan, standing over six feet; his countenance was singularly haughty and noble, and his manner peculiarly gentle and dignified.” His long black moustache and hair, hanging in a huge tail almost to the ground, are also particularly noticed.

The leading men met with by us at Momien were well-made, athletic, and of a goodly height, the governor standing six feet three inches. They were fair-skinned, with high cheek-bones, and slightly oblique eyes, their cast of countenance being quite distinct from the Chinese. In fact, the general type of face recalled that of the traders who come down to Calcutta from Bokhara and Herat. They generally wore moustaches, but depilated the rest of the face, while their long hair was coiled in the folds of huge white turbans. The only other distinctive article of dress was a bright orange-coloured waistband, which usually supported a silver-mounted dagger. As a rule they abstained from intoxicating drink, and smoking opium or tobacco; but some were lax in these particulars. Our strict Mussulmans rather despised them for laxity in worship as well, and the native doctor, who was a fanatic, declared that they were not true believers at all. On the whole, the conclusion which may be fairly arrived at as to their origin is, that to the descendants of a possible Arab stock have been added a considerable number of Turkish emigrants, who, in truth, constitute the main origin of the Mahommedan population in Yunnan. A number of Chinese proper have from time to time been added to this community, which, in all places, seems to have included the wealthiest and best class of the population. The rebellion in Yunnan seems to have been brought about solely by the oppression to which the Mahommedans were subjected by the mandarins. Their proud independent spirit would not brook the tyranny and extortion universally practised by the official class, from which they were excluded. The mandarins, according to their wont, secretly hounded the mob on to their rich and respectable enemies, riots were provoked, and their mosques were destroyed, as at Momien, where a handsome building, constructed after plans brought home from Mecca, had existed before the war. Thus their religious hatred was aroused, as the ruined temples and Buddhist monasteries testified, and both interest and revenge for insults to their religion led to a universal and well-planned rising. As the insurrection which broke out in 1855 spread, the Chinese towns and villages which resisted were pillaged, and the male population massacred; while the women were spared to minister to the passions of the undisciplined soldiery, and children were captured to be brought up as Mussulmans; but all the places which yielded were spared.

That the country suffered terribly in the struggle was proved to us by the mute evidence of the deserted towns and villages, and from the most southern border of the province to the farthest north we have the reports of eye-witnesses of the fearful devastation. The contending parties invoked the aid of the hill tribes, such as the Lolos, Lou-tse, and Kakhyens, and these had to be rewarded for their services by licensed pillage. Thus it happened that places on the debatable borders were pillaged three times over, by the Red Flag, by the White Flag, and by the marauders. In this way the towns of Sanda and Muangla had been plundered by the Kakhyens after the Panthay invasion. The officers at Momien told many stories of the conduct of their soldiers, which spoke volumes of the misery brought on the peaceful inhabitants; but the Chinese soldier is, by all accounts, as dangerous in peace to the towns on which he is billeted as any enemy could be, and scenes of violence and outrage accompany the march of the undisciplined ruffians under the imperial banners wherever they go.

The exact order of events which led to the establishment of the Mahommedan kingdom is somewhat uncertain; we could not, for want of interpreters, gain trustworthy information. In the account of the French expedition,[34] M. Garnier refers the commencement of the rebellion to an outbreak of the Mahommedans, the cause of which is not stated, and describes them as having instigated a riot in 1856, and pillaged the city of Yunnan-fu. The imperial authorities thereupon determined to rid themselves of these intractable subjects by a general massacre, which was ordered to take place on a given day. This commenced at Hoching, a town between Li-kiang-fu and Tali-fu, when upwards of a thousand Mahommedans were murdered; while similar treacherous massacres followed in different places. A simple bachelor or literatus of Moung-ho, named Tu-win-tsen or Dowinsheow, a Chinese orphan who had been adopted by Mahommedans, rallied his co-religionists. His followers at first numbered only forty, but their ranks were speedily joined by fugitives from Hoching, Yung-pe, and other places, till with six hundred men he attacked the ancient and holy city of Tali-fu, which surrendered in 1857. Although Tali-fu is a small town, the population of which did not at that time exceed thirty-five thousand, the rich plain walled in by mountains, and with a lake teeming with fish, stretching forty miles in length and ten in breadth, maintained a population estimated before the war at four hundred thousand. Garnier states that there were one hundred and fifty villages, but the Old Resident numbers them at two hundred and fifty-three. The mountains to the north and south close in upon the lake, and the plain and city are accessible only by two strongly fortified passes, Hiang-kwang and Hia-kwang, or, as the Burmese call them, Shangwan and Shagwan. Thus Tali has been from the earliest times a strong city; it was the capital of a kingdom at the invasion of Kublai Khan, and is still regarded by the Thibetans, who make pilgrimages to its vicinity, as the ancient home of their forefathers. The Mahommedans made it their head-quarters, and it seemed likely again to become the capital of an independent kingdom. Their success was facilitated by the jealousy which existed between the pure Chinese, mainly descended from immigrants from Sz-chuen, and the Minkia and Penti mixed races, descended from the early colonists planted by the Mongols, and probably by the later Tartar dynasty in 1679. These tribes, inhabiting the eastern plains of Tali and other adjacent districts, were despised, as being sprung from intermarriage with the Shan and barbarous races, by the Chinese, as the true Creoles looked down upon any in whose veins ran negro blood.[35] Hence they stood aloof in the struggle between the Chinese and the Mahommedans; the latter even succeeded in occupying Yunnan-fu for a short time, but were speedily expelled. A local revolt, however, was organised there by a Mahommedan hadji of great repute, called Lao-papa, who assassinated the viceroy Pang, and was proclaimed emperor or sultan, but enjoyed his dignity a very short time. Another Mahommedan, named Ma-kien, who, before the war, had been a seller of barley-sugar, but had become a soldier, and took the imperialist side, subdued Lao-papa in 1861, and established the authority of another Lao, who had been appointed viceroy. Ma-kien was named ti-tai, or commander of the forces, but an officer called Leang, in the south of the province, refused to obey his orders, and a little civil war ensued between their respective partisans. The Mahommedans took advantage of this division in the camp of the enemy to consolidate their power under their elected chief, Tu-win-tsen, who was proclaimed sultan, or imam, in the year 1867. Momien had been captured three years before our visit, and the Shan states on the Tapeng brought under the Mahommedan king, whose authority extended over a considerable portion of the province. In the beginning of 1868, the French found the government at Yunnan-fu administered ad interim by a mandarin of the blue button, named Song, the viceroy Lao having recently died, and his successor, though appointed, not having ventured to assume the perilous post. The office of commander-in-chief was filled by Ma-kien, supported by a staff of Mahommedan officers, whose costume and physiognomy marked them as different from the Chinese. Lao-papa also resided in Yunnan, invested with rank and honours, as the religious head of all the Mahommedans.[36] It does not appear how this could be reconciled with the religious authority of Sultan Suleiman, and it is plain that the Mahommedans were themselves divided into two parties.

It is interesting to compare this account with that derived by Mr. Cooper from information furnished him in the north of the province as to the rebellious attitude assumed by the imperial viceroy, himself a Mahommedan proselyte, who had actually concluded a treaty of partition with the sultan of Tali, and corrupted the imperial troops sent to quell the revolt with funds furnished by the sultan. We do not, however, possess such information as will enable us to reconcile the two accounts which present so many points of agreement and difference. By a curious coincidence, that most enterprising traveller, having been turned back by the impossibility of penetrating to Tali, was detained at Weisee-fu, one hundred and twenty miles distant, at the very time of our stay at Momien. The utter want of communication kept us in perfect ignorance of his being comparatively so near at hand, and he was equally unaware of our presence in Western Yunnan. Our information as to the passage of the French mission was, if anything, worse, as an obstructive falsehood is perhaps more aggravating than complete ignorance. During the first week of July the governor communicated the information that some six or eight months previously the French expedition had come into collision with hostile tribes in the vicinity of Kiang-hung, and had suffered severe losses; some of their number had perished, and the remainder had arrived in a state of exhaustion and want at a place called Thela, where they had been kindly received. This information he declared to be authentic, and furnished by a relative of his own, resident at Thela, who had purchased some of the arms and other property taken from the French. As at that time the last news received some time before our departure from Burma had stated the party to be at Kiang-tong or Xiang-tong, a Laotian state tributary to Burma, we could not help fearing that some disaster must have befallen them. The statement may have been a distorted account of the detention experienced by the French before reaching Kiang-hung, and the fact that they were obliged to reduce their baggage, some of the articles referred to as proof positive by the Panthays having perhaps come from the superfluous stores, given or bartered away to the Laotians. It does, as M. Gamier remarks, appear improbable that the governor, who was a trusted officer of the sultan, should have received no information as to the visit to Tali-fu of the party in the month of March preceding.[37] On the other hand, it is difficult to imagine any reason for his suppression of his knowledge of it, unless he feared that we should be thereby inclined to mistrust the letters from the sultan. As regards Garnier’s theory that the apparent welcome given to us was intended to do away with any unfavourable impression which might have been produced in the minds of foreigners by the sultan’s refusal to see the French party, and ordering their instant departure, it is much more probable that the French were regarded with strong suspicion, and taken for spies. The fact that they had travelled under Pekin passports, and had been guests of the viceroy ad interim at Yunnan-fu, was not in their favour; but worse than that was their connection with the French missionaries, who were everywhere most hostile to the Mahommedan cause. One of their number had been engaged in the sacerdotal task of manufacturing gunpowder for the viceroy, and had been blown up by his own petard; others had forwarded a memorial by the medium of the French minister to the emperor in favour of Ma-kien, as the only man capable of saving the province from the rebels. An imperial reply to this, promising to aid him with troops and supplies, was received before Garnier left Yunnan. It is more than probable that this was known to the authorities at Tali, and, even independently of the circumstance narrated by Mr. Cooper, would have operated against a cordial reception of the French visitors.

At our first entrance into the country, without any passports whatever, we, as commercial explorers, had appealed to the existing authorities, and had refused to advance until their safe-conduct had been received. Our neutrality between the two contending parties had been most carefully sifted by letters and envoys before we were made welcome at Momien, and little more than a week after our arrival it was tested, if not by the contrivance, certainly with the knowledge, of the governor. One evening Moung Shuay Yah, in a mysterious manner, made known the presence of an important visitor, namely, an officer sent by Low-quang-fang, the officer who, in conjunction with Li-sieh-tai, supported the imperial cause. He had brought a pony as a gift, and desired to make our friendship, and provide us with a safe escort on the return route, always provided we were unaccompanied by the Panthays. Our leader declined an interview, and refused the pony, stating that we were guests of the governor, and as such could not confer with his enemies, except with his consent. We soon learned that the governor was aware of the mission of this envoy, and that in course of time a treaty was signed by which Low-quang-fang undertook not to attack the Panthay possessions, or molest us on our return, and was to be left undisturbed in the possession of a small customs post; whether this was a ruse on the part of the Chinese partisans to win our support, or of the Panthays to sound our real opinions, it is impossible to say. At all events, it confirmed the conviction of the governor in our good faith. The terms of the agreement, if true, were another proof of the anxiety of the Panthays to re-open the western trade routes, to which we doubtless mainly owed our friendly reception.

Gamier remarks that they had all along found it essential to keep open the trade with Sz-chuen, and Mr. Cooper found Mahommedan merchants unmolested in Chinese Yunnan. The king of Burma, not only as an ally, but as a tributary of China, could not recognise the rebel sultan, nor enter into political or commercial relations with him. The sultan, who had visited Rangoon and Calcutta as a pilgrim to Mecca, may well have been disposed to court the favour of those Feringhees whose power and wealth he had witnessed in the City of Palaces. It is possible that the hospitable governor of Momien was only amusing his guests with complimentary mockeries, and that there was no intention of suffering us to proceed to Tali, and see the real state of things in the interior, the desolation of the province, and the scanty forces at the disposal of the new power. Subsequent events have shown the instability of the Panthay kingdom as soon as a regular and determined attack was made on it by the imperial government; but as regards their then condition, with the utmost respect for the memory of that distinguished explorer, Lieutenant Gamier, it is impossible to overlook the fact that he was strongly prejudiced against the Panthays, by their treatment of him, as well as by the French missionaries, one of whom speaks of the “detested yoke of the Mahommedans.” Garnier even attributes the closing of the western traffic to the robberies of the Kakhyens and the arbitrary oppression of the Panthays; who were, as our observation showed, doing all they could to encourage the Burmese and Shans to carry on the former traffic. It is possible that we were prejudiced by kindness, and misled by outward appearances of strength; but whatever the cause of the origin and progress of this rebellion, it is certain that from the outset the rebels met with little direct resistance from the imperial authorities, and the officials, with their few adherents, were gradually driven from the fertile valleys of Western Yunnan to more inaccessible fastnesses; thence they still maintained a guerilla warfare, neither side ever bringing anything like a large or well-appointed army into the field. The imperialist commanders, such as Li-sieh-tai and Low-quang-fang, who were designated robber chiefs by the Panthays, although really officials of the Pekin government, could only harass their enemies by desultory attacks. Their followers, if captured, were speedily tried and executed as robbers. We witnessed more than sixteen executions of these poor wretches. The criminal was led to the outskirts of the bazaar by a small escort, with music and banners flying, and, with his hands tied behind his back, was made to kneel by the side of the road. The executioner chopped off the head usually at one blow; the body was buried on the spot, and the ghastly head hung up by the gate of the town.

The superior prowess of the Panthays and the unanimity of their councils, directed by the sultan of Tali-fu, were apparently carrying all before them. During our stay at Momien, news was brought, apparently authentic, of the capture by his army of the great city of Yunnan-fu. The condition of Central Yunnan may be imagined from the statements made in the proclamation announcing the fall of the capital. In it are enumerated forty towns and one hundred villages as having been taken and destroyed, and upwards of three hundred persons being burned to death; while the losses of the Chinese, in various fights, amounted to over twenty thousand men. The communications were, however, interrupted by constant fighting on the road between Momien and Yung-chang, two out of three messengers, with despatches from Tali, being killed, while the Mahommedan convoys of specie, and presents sent from the sultan to us, were stopped at Sheedin, near Yung-chang. During our stay, a force of some hundreds of so-called soldiers, commanded by our friend, the chief military officer, or tah-zung-gyee, marched to repel an attack on the town and mines of Khyto; and as proofs of a victory gained by them within a few days, two hundred ears were sent into Momien, while they owned to a loss of forty men.

Although the Panthays were merciless in warfare—only those inhabitants of the towns and villages who at once tendered their submission being spared—they were desirous of establishing a firm and orderly government: in all cases their officers protected the passage of merchants, and dealt much more justly by them than the mandarins had been accustomed to do; this was admitted by the Chinese and Shans, who, though outwardly submissive, were at heart thoroughly opposed to the new régime. Similar testimony is borne by the two travellers already quoted, as regards the caravans trading with Sz-chuen and Thibet. It seemed at this period almost certain that Yunnan would become an independent kingdom, if indeed Sz-chuen and the northern provinces were not also formed into a great Mahommedan empire, and the same idea is recorded by Mr. Cooper, as having been the result of his observations of the state of the country to the north.

For us, however, to attempt to advance was impossible; even if progress had been safe, it would have been impolitic. Whether our presence at Momien was an infraction of the Chinese treaty or no, it was made necessary if any information as to the real state of the country was to be obtained, and this had been the principal object of the expedition set forth in the instructions.

The reader is earnestly requested to bear in mind that politically, socially, and almost geographically, this border land of China had been almost a terra incognita before our arrival at Momien. We realised the fact that we were in China indeed, but in a province which the rebellion had almost converted into an independent kingdom; and from which it seemed almost certain that the lingering remains of obedience to the emperor at Pekin would be soon thoroughly erased. Our leader was, therefore, very soon desirous of effecting a return, but the governor, on various pretexts of securing our safety and communicating with Tali, postponed our departure; and this although he insisted on supplying the whole party with all necessaries during the whole time of our stay. The kindly Tah-sakon was really busy preparing as good a display of presents to his English friends as he could. As de facto ruler of the country, we arranged with him the duties which should be levied on future caravans, and received letters expressive of the desire of the Panthay sultan’s government to enter into friendly relations with our government, and to foster mutual trade. The governor asked for and obtained two seals, wherewith to authenticate his future letters, and gave in exchange an official seal and a vase of red ink, the use of which would, he said, ensure the safe delivery of any letters forwarded to him.

Our farewell visits were exchanged on the 11th of July, and the good-natured governor, who was most sincerely sorry to part with his guests, brought his presents. These consisted of seventy white jackets and bamboo hats for our men, a mandarin’s full dress suit, figured silk jackets, three fine straw hats covered with oilcloth for our wear in the rain, silver-mounted daggers and spears, a gold and jade chatelaine, and amber rosaries. The mandarin’s suit was his own, and he had previously insisted on taking off the rings from his fingers, and placing them in the same order on the fingers of his “English friend,” whom he begged always to wear them for his sake.

Our departure was fixed for the 12th of July, the last advice of the governor being that we should not loiter en route, and only pass one night at each stage. A body of troops were to precede and another to follow in our rear; as a further precaution it had been decided not to employ mules but coolies to carry the baggage, as the engagement of mules would have given some days’ warning to the hostile Chinese; for the same reason the porters had not been engaged till the last—so that our anticipated start was delayed by the insufficiency of porters, and the need of cutting up old rafters to make poles for the few who did appear. The governor was very wroth with his officers, and one of them, an old Chinese, not a Panthay, pleaded in excuse that we were carrying away a number of boxes filled with mud, and worthless weeds and skins—the pursuit of natural history was by no means appreciated by the people, except by the Kakhyens, who were ready enough to bring any sort of animal or reptile they could catch. The same Chinese official tried to represent that we were carrying back a number of boxes of powder. As his object was evidently to make delays and mischief, other officials were appointed to superintend our departure, and Sladen thought it right to remove any possible ill-feeling from the kindly governor’s mind by showing him that the stock of ammunition was only as much as was needful for the escort; and we parted on the best terms.

[29] Vide Appendix II.

[30] ‘As. Soc. Proceedings,’ 1867, p. 176.

[31] Du Halde, i. p. 199.

[32] ‘Pioneer of Commerce,’ p. 352.

[33] Grosier’s ‘China,’ vol. iv. p. 270.

[34] ‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ tome i. p. 455, &c.

[35] ‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ tome i. p. 518.

[36] ‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ tome i. p. 455.

[37] ‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ tome i. p. 514, note.

CHAPTER IX.
THE SANDA VALLEY.

Departure from Momien—Robbers surprised—At Nantin—Our ponies stolen—We slide to Muangla—A pleasant meeting—The Tapeng ferrymen—A valley landscape—Negotiations at Sanda—The Leesaws—A Shan cottage—Buddhist khyoungs—For fear of the nats—The limestone hill—Hot springs of Sanda—The footprint of Buddha—A priestly thief—The excommunication—The chief’s farewell—Floods and landslips—Manwyne priests—A Shan dinner party—The nunnery—Departure from Manwyne—The Slough of Despond.

At the last our departure from Momien seemed doubtful, owing to the difficulty of finding porters, and men were forcibly impressed into the service. Any demur as to a particular box or complaint of the weight of their loads was silenced by a torrent of abuse from the Panthays, who, to these persuasives, sometimes added severe blows. About 8 A.M. on July 13th we started, waving our adieus to the governor, who had come out on the town wall to bid us farewell. The guard gave him a feeble cheer in Hindustani, which they again repeated as we marched out of the bazaar gate and set our faces westwards. Two Panthay officers, who had been our constant visitors, accompanied us for nearly a mile, and at parting they burst into tears. After we had gone a long way, and turned back to take a last look at Momien, we saw the two figures, standing on the same spot, gazing wistfully after us.

In a short time it began to rain in torrents, and the roads became very slippery, especially for men carrying heavy loads, so that we soon went ahead of the porters. At the descent into the Nantin valley, the road was as if it had been well oiled. Ponies and pedestrians slid down the steep hill-path in wild confusion, many of the party coming to serious grief. A little Chinese girl, who had been presented to the jemadar and his wife, as a return for his exertions in the mosque services, accompanied us, tied in a small bamboo chair on a pony. As the beast was quite at liberty to choose his own course, the terror and screams of the small neophyte were most piteous. At the scene of the attack made on the upward journey—marked still by some of our empty boxes—we passed the bodies of two men who had been recently killed and cast on the roadside. Halting at the hot spring to wait for the porters, we learned that these were the corpses of Chinese robbers, who had been caught, by the Panthay vanguard, crouching in the jungle with long spears, ready to stick the first mule passing, and had been summarily disposed of by them. Near Nantin all were requested to wait and allow the rear-guard to close up, as we were about to pass a favourite lurking-place for robbers.

We formed a long line, with Panthay soldiers before and behind, and, with gongs beating ahead, marched unscathed into Nantin, which was reached by six o’clock. Our former residence, the khyoung, was found to be already tenanted by a Panthay guard and a Kakhyen tsawbwa groaning with fever. A dose of sulphate of magnesia, followed up with quinine, secured to him sleep and to ourselves quiet, as far as he was concerned; but we were kept on the look-out, as the baggage arrived in detachments, much of it, including bedding, not turning up till the next day, and some articles, such as a portable bedstead, and a magazine box, not appearing at all. The governor came to greet us in the evening, attended by a guard, one of whom carried a huge gauze lantern swung from a tripod. He was full of regrets that he had not been apprised of our coming, so as to have prepared comfortable quarters, and met us on the way. The Hotha tsawbwa did not appear, according to his promise, and was reported to be still in his own valley, and his absence prevented us from adopting the embassy route across Shuemuelong into Hotha valley. As it afterwards appeared that the irrepressible Li-sieh-tai and his troops had taken up their quarters in a strong post on the Shuemuelong mountain, it was just as well that this route was not attempted. We found ourselves accordingly obliged to retrace the former road to Muangla, Sanda, and Manwyne.

The pleasing news reached us that a party of one hundred Burmese had arrived in Muangla, sent from Bhamô in charge of a remittance of five thousand rupees, and to escort us back to that place; so that, notwithstanding all the discomforts of our quarters, all turned in well pleased and prepared to make an early start for Muangla.

Our morning slumbers were rudely broken by one of the police, who reported concisely, “Of the three ponies, not one is left.” During the night thieves had made a hole in the wall of the courtyard just large enough to admit the passage of a pony, and through this the animals had been carried off unperceived by the sentries posted within twenty yards. Examination showed that the animals had been supplied with corn, and a trail of grain led to another opening in the town wall. On the previous visit we had been cautioned to watch carefully against any attempt to steal the ponies; but the warning had unfortunately been forgotten. A robbery had been attempted in the same way when the tah-sa-kon was residing in the khyoung. The thieves purloined a gun and sword, but an alarm was raised, and the latter was dropped in their flight. We borrowed ponies to carry us to Muangla, and started at half past ten. As before, considerable difficulty was caused by the absence of porters, nearly all the coolies from Momien having run away. Mules had to be found to supply their place, and the proverbial character of these beasts was fully verified by those of Nantin, which for an hour stubbornly refused to be loaded. During this interlude the Panthays were doing their best to impress men for the lighter loads. The recusants were dragged up by soldiers with drawn swords, and each, when loaded, was followed by a spearman, ready to egg him on with his spear if he attempted to lag behind. As we passed through Muangtee, the townspeople had all turned out, and our old friend, the tsawbwa-gadaw, and her retainers, male and female, stood outside her haw, and waved salutes and adieus. Outside the town a strong Shan guard of honour was drawn up, and escorted us to the chain bridge across the Tahô, three miles from the town.

During the rains the river is unfordable, and the road follows the left bank along the embankments of the paddy fields as far as the bridge. From the right bank the ascent to the lofty Mawphoo glen proved most arduous, the road being so slippery that men and beasts were continually falling, and many of the pedestrians were severely bruised. It rained incessantly, and it was a great relief to all when Mawphoo was reached, and an hour’s rest was enjoyed previous to the descent into the head of the Muangla valley. The road first led down a declivity, where the only mode of progress for the ponies was by sliding; and then followed a series of zigzags, some of them over frightful precipices, where a slip of the pony’s foot would be certain destruction. At this season the Tahô issues as a tremendous torrent from the deep gorge in the Mawphoo hills, and the distant Tapeng appeared almost as large as the Irawady in dry weather. We reached Muangla at dusk, and were astonished, on entering the town, to meet an Englishman, accompanied by some Shans. He rushed up to our leader, and introduced himself as Mr. Gordon, a civil engineer from Prome, who had been sent by the Chief Commissioner with additional funds, and to fill the post of engineer to the expedition. He had received his instructions by telegraph on May 9th, to follow the party as quickly as possible, and had obeyed them with laudable energy. He had travelled from Bhamô with a guard of fifty Burmans, and found no difficulty en route. At Manwyne he had met with the Hotha tsawbwa, who wished him to remain for a day or two; but pushing on, and passing Sanda without halting, he had reached Muangla the day of our arrival. The guard of one hundred Burmese which had been despatched in charge of the first supply of rupees had arrived there ten days previously; but the tsare-daw-gyee in charge had been afraid to advance further.

From this place our Panthay guards were to return, and the Burmese officer expected that his escort would take their place. He seemed indeed most eager to be of service, and was much chagrined when he learned our leader’s intention of exploring the route on the southern banks of the Tapeng. It was a most pleasant surprise to meet Mr. Gordon, whose goodwill and energy were inexhaustible. The supply of funds also came just in time to enable us to make complete collections of Shan products, and it also marvellously smoothed the difficulties of the return journey. So we set out from Muangla in excellent spirits, notwithstanding the incessant rain. Messages had come, from parties unknown, offering to restore the stolen ponies for three hundred and twenty rupees, but as the local authorities did not seem inclined to move in the matter, the thieves were left in possession of their booty. Our Mahommedan escort bade us farewell with evident reluctance, and one officer expressed a strong desire to accompany us to Rangoon, saying that if he was once there, he would never return to Yunnan.

On July 20th we started for Sanda, the usual difficulty as to porters having compelled me to leave behind the collecting boxes for specimens, with two of my collectors in charge, until carriage could be procured. We crossed the Tapeng above its junction with the Tahô in ferry-boats, the boatmen at first refusing to convey us unless paid five thousand cash beforehand. This attempt at extortion was resisted, and the dispute was ended by our taking forcible possession of the boats, when the boatmen at once gave in, and worked with perfect goodwill and activity till all the party were safely over. We then set out in a body for Sanda, the road at first leading along the top of some old river terraces deeply channelled by mountain streams, which were crossed by two narrow planks laid side by side. Our ponies, however, crossed them with ease, except the one which Gordon had brought from the plains, and which was unused to such acrobatic exploits; so it grew nervous on a bridge over which it was being led, and disappeared head-over-heels in the deep gully beneath. Wonderful to relate, the animal broke no limbs, and shortly reappeared a little further down, trembling, but unhurt, on the river terrace below. Two miles beyond the place where the Tapeng had been forded on the upward journey we descended towards the level centre of the valley, at this season under water, the road being carried along a substantial embankment built to keep back the floods. The whole extent of the valley was clothed in exquisitely fresh verdure, in beautiful contrast to the dark mountains which towered like a protecting wall on either side, while alternate cloud and sunshine fully displayed the beauty of the landscape. Now deep shadows of giant clouds flitted down the mountains and over the sunny plains, while occasional fleecy mists wrapt the highest peaks, and again black storms obscured the hills as with a curtain,

“Lashed at the base with slanting storm,”

the rest of the valley basking in the sunlight. Near Sanda a stream had to be crossed so swollen that the ponies could scarcely stem the current, which was over the saddles. By 6 P.M. we were safely housed in our old quarters at Sanda, and the tsawbwa’s headman speedily arrived with a supply of fowls, rice, and firewood sufficient for all our wants.

VALLEY OF SANDA, LOOKING WESTWARD FROM THE HILL BEHIND THE TOWN.

On awaking in the morning, we made the unpleasant discovery that two packages had been stolen from our bedsides. One was only a fishing-rod and bamboo pipe and stems, but the other contained the solid silver pipe-stem given by the tsawbwa to Sladen, and some other presents. The theft was duly reported to the tsawbwa, who at once offered two hundred rupees’ reward for the recovery of the stolen articles. During the day, many people crowded the khyoung, having clothes and ornaments to sell. The priests were much scandalised to see women’s clothes sold and exhibited in the sacred precincts, and at last procured an order from the tsawbwa, forbidding the women to come for the purpose of such traffic.

We remained at Sanda till July 8th, being detained partly by the rain, and partly by negotiations with the people of the Muangla district, lying on the other side of the Tapeng, relative to our homeward route. The chief persons, a village headman named Kingain, and the poogain of Manhleo, a place opposite to Manwyne, through whose jurisdiction the route lay, had both been hostile to us on the upward journey. The Hotha tsawbwa himself proved to have had some dispute with the Sanda people, which prevented his coming to meet us, while the Sanda headmen were averse to our crossing over to Hotha, for fear any future trade should be diverted from their town. In the course of the negotiations, two Shan headmen of villages informed Sladen that they could conduct us safely by a good and easy hill road to the Molay river, which could be reached in two days, at a point whence it was navigable during the floods, for large salt boats, down to the Irawady.

The skilful patience of our leader was at last rewarded by converting Kingain and the Manhleo poogain into firm friends, and it was settled that we should proceed to Manwyne, and cross the river at that place, whence they would secure our safety. The son of the poogain arrived to act as our conductor, and a letter was received from the Hotha tsawbwa, promising to meet us at Manwyne.

During our stay we had unrestricted opportunities of viewing Shan manners. Every fifth day the regular market was held, and the broad street was crowded by the country folk. Stalls lined both sides of the roadway, which seemed paved with umbrella-like straw hats. Besides Kakhyens from the hills, Leesaws were numerous, bringing oil, bamboos, and firewood for sale. Both men and women shave a circle round the head, leaving only a large patch on the upper and back parts, from which the hair is gathered into a short pigtail. Both sexes dress so much alike that the boys and girls were almost indistinguishable from each other. Some of them were induced to pay us a visit, and give words and phrases of their language, which seemed to be quite distinct from the Kakhyen tongue, and somewhat akin to the Burmese.

Seeing our interest in these people, a respectable old Shan, who had already done some trade with us, invited us to his house, where he professed to have some Leesaw clothing to dispose of. It turned out that he proposed to pass off his own old clothes on the gullible strangers; so our visit became one of politeness only. We were duly seated, and his daughters served us with sliced mangoes and plums, which were eaten with salt. Our host’s two wives were present, and other matrons flocked in from the neighbouring cottages, their hands blue with indigo. We asked if it was usual for Shans to have more than one wife, and were told that it was not, but that every man pleased himself. We also learned that the usual age for marriage is between eighteen and twenty, and the consent of the parents alone is required to make the contract binding, as there is no religious ceremony, and the priests have no voice whatever in the matter.

The house, like all the Shan cottages, was enclosed in a courtyard, and consisted of three rooms—a central living-room, with a sleeping-room on either side. Against the wall of the “keeping-room,” facing the door, stood the family altar, a small table having on it an incense vase and an ancestral tablet. A broad verandah ran along the front of the cottage, at one end of which stood a large indigo vat, hollowed out of a solid block. From this house we visited the Shan and Chinese khyoungs. Both were plain bamboo structures, built on the sites of the former buildings, described as having been rich and splendid structures, destroyed by the Panthays some years previously. The Shan temple contained only one figure of Gaudama, and as the phoongyees were seated at their rice, round a small bamboo table, we went on to that of the Chinese, next door. Here there was one principal Buddha, clothed in a yellow robe, and crowned with a nimbus resembling ostrich plumes. On the altar were a few small Buddhas freshly gilded, and a number of old pictures. On a small table was a wooden fish, such as was of frequent occurrence in the Momien khyoungs. Tradition says that in one of his former existences Gaudama was shipwrecked, but brought to land by a large fish, which he afterwards fed during its life. A strange mixture of Arion and Jonah pervades this legend; but the fish is probably a mystic legacy from the more ancient religions to which Kwan-yin and other deities belong. The chief phoongyee was very courteous, and had seats brought covered with red rugs, while his waiting-man served the guests with tea and fruit. He exhibited a number of pictures representing the judgment and punishment of sinners. One figure, evidently the judge, was seated at a table, with a book before him, and pens and ink-horn at his side, while two figures stood on either hand—one a hideous-looking monster, the other of more human and gentle aspect. The latter was the good, the former the bad recording angel. In front of the judge, the pious and wicked were depicted, in fleshly forms, departing to their several destinations. Of the latter, some were being dragged away by devils; while others in the foreground were being subjected to torments appropriate to their failings in life. The possessor of a false tongue was having it torn out by the roots, while the slayer of animals was being hacked in two, with his head downwards and his legs wide apart.

There was a grotesque humour about these horrible pictures, which made even the priest smile, as he exhibited and described them; but he waxed very grave as he told of the former splendour of the ruined religious edifices of Sanda.

There was little to be done in the way of collecting zoological specimens, and nothing in the way of sport. A thick grove of fir-trees, marking the burial-place of the tsawbwa’s family, was the only covert, but firing there was looked upon as certain to bring disease and death upon the chief and his household. After one attempt, a formal request was made that we would not shoot on the hills behind the town. A nat is said to dwell in a cutting, which marks the entrenchments made by the Chinese army in 1767, and the Shans believe that if a gun were fired, the insulted demon would come down as a tiger and carry off children. The chief himself came one day complaining of cough and headache, and asking for medicine to dislodge the nat who had seized him, but sulphate of magnesia proved too much for the demon. A Burman assistant surveyor, who had been sent to make a survey of the river, was prevented by the villagers, who pleaded a dread of the nats’ anger, and the tsawbwa, when appealed to, not only supported this view, but privately asked the interpreter if we had not a secret object in examining the country, and did not mean to return next year with a strong force to take possession. We were perfectly free to stroll about the environs, and one of the chief men undertook to guide us to visit the hill whence the lime sold in the market was procured. The road lay along the paddy fields, and was either knee-deep in mud or up to the saddle-girths in water. We crossed the Nam-Sanda, a deep strong stream flowing from the north through a short narrow glen, on the other side of which the limestone hill rose in a gentle declivity. As we rode through the fields of cotton, now in flower, and kept so clean that not a weed was visible, Shan girls, dressed in dark blue, with short trousers and petticoats with little aprons over them, looked up from their field-work with mute astonishment depicted on their round chubby faces. About four hundred feet up the grassy hill, on which not a tree was to be seen, the bluish-grey masses of hard crystalline limestone occur, lying in irregular heaps overgrown with long grass, as they have fallen down from the rocky heights above. Some superstitious ideas are attached to the occurrence of the limestone in this place, and it was shown to us as a supernatural curiosity. The masses are dug out of the ground, and carried to the villages, where they are calcined, grass being used as fuel in preference to wood. An old kiln was shown us, which had been formerly erected by some Chinese lime-burners, who had come from Tali-fu. On our return, the tsawbwa was anxious to know if the hill contained silver, the Shans having the impression that our field-glasses enable us to see into the very heart of the mountains and detect the precious metals therein concealed. In the bed of a small stream running down the little valley, the hot springs occur, consisting of two separate groups, separated by about a quarter of a mile. In the most easterly, we found only one spring, in a basin about six inches deep and a yard in diameter; the water bubbles up through a gravelly bottom, over which a fine black micaceous mud has been deposited. We found the temperature to be 204°, two degrees below the boiling-point of Sanda, viz. 206°; but in the cold weather, when undisturbed by floods, the temperature is higher. As a proof of this, we saw the feathers of fowls and hair of kids, which had been cooked in the spring, lying all about the banks of the rivulet. The natives deepen the basin by piling stones round its margin, and use the spring as a medicinal bath, and sometimes drink the waters. The other group had five openings, through which the water bubbled up in the bed of the stream, which had been diverted to expose them. All the basins but one had been obliterated by the floods, and the temperature of the water much reduced; but by inserting the bulb into the holes, the temperature was found to be the same as that of the first spring. The atmosphere round the springs was sensibly warm, and the ground so hot in some places that our barefooted companions could not stand on it. A peculiar heavy smell was perceptible, which was also perceived, after boiling, in the water brought away by us. This is probably due to the presence of some empyreumatic matter.[38] Our guide informed us with a serious face that hell was in the immediate vicinity, and that when Gaudama walked over this spot, the flames burst forth, and endeavoured to devour him, but the springs issued forth and quenched them, becoming heated in the contest. He also told us that a footprint of Gaudama was visible close at hand, in a romantic glen, down which flowed a mountain torrent called the Chalktaw. The stream was crossed by a double-spanned bamboo bridge, supported in the middle of the stream by a large boulder, and hung at either end to two bamboos driven into the ground, so that the bridge is partly arched and partly suspended. Many Kakhyen and Leesaw men and women were coming down the hill on their way to Sanda market, bringing great loads of vegetables, firewood, and planks of wood three feet long, fifteen inches broad, and one inch and a half thick. A basket of vegetables and a plank so heavy that one of us could scarcely lift it formed a mountain-girl’s load down the steep hillside. About a quarter of a mile up the wild glen, strewn with enormous waterworn granite boulders, we were shown the giant footprint in a spot surrounded by some fine old banyan trees. The print was on the end of a boulder looking up the glen, and it was evident that the hollow representing the heel had been formed by the friction of a superincumbent boulder. In time the river changed its course, and the boulder was exposed to the view of some devout and imaginative Buddhist. He, struck with the resemblance of the cavity to a huge heel-mark, carved the outline of a human foot, and proclaimed the wondrous discovery. Its great antiquity is shown by the existence of two tablets on the other face of the rock; the carved outlines are still traceable, but the inscriptions are so worn that it is impossible to decipher the form of the characters. On our way back we passed a Leesaw girl with a great display of beads, and succeeded in coaxing her to part with four strings, and six hoops from her neck, for a rupee. A little further on we met some more of her tribe resting under a tree, who rose and offered us rice-spirit out of their bamboo flasks; in exchange we gave them some watered whisky, which they seemed highly to relish. These Leesaw women wore a peculiar turban with a pendant end, of coarse white cloth patched with blue squares, and trimmed with cowries. Their close-fitting leggings were made of squares of blue and white cloth, and their ornaments consisted of large brass ear-rings, necklaces of large blue beads and seeds, and a profusion of ratan, bamboo, and straw hoops round the loins and neck. These resemble the dress of the Moso women described by Cooper, and similar dresses and ornaments are shown in Mons. Garnier’s illustrations of the Leisus in North Yunnan.

At three o’clock in the morning of August 29th, we were all startled from sleep by a loud outcry and a pistol shot. It turned out that a thief had opened the door and stolen one of the handsome silver Panthay spears, but the jingle of the ornaments had awoke Sladen, who fired a shot in the dark after the retreating robber, and raised an alarm, in vain. Suspicion at once fell on a phoongyee who slept in a room close to the door; the sentinel on duty had heard the priest stirring just before, and while he walked a few yards to consult a watch hung up on a post, the robbery was effected. The tsawbwa and his headmen showed great concern, and all agreed in suspecting the priest, whose character, it appeared, was already bad. They taxed him with the theft, and told him that it was a most disgraceful act, to steal a gift made by one official to another; they also threatened, if the spear was not restored, to degrade him from the priesthood, theft, even to the value of six annas, being one of the crimes which, at his ordination, the rahan is specially warned against, as depriving him ipso facto of his sacred character.

The tsawbwa was extremely incensed, and requested us to delay our journey to enable him, if possible, to discover and restore the spear, as well as punish the criminal. Early the next morning an old woman came crying to the khyoung, and, as she entered, threw down her pipe, and rushed up to Sladen with her hands clasped, and the tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. The interpreter explained that she was the mother of the suspected priest, and had come to intercede for him. Another of her sons presently joined her, but they were advised to go to the tsawbwa, in whose hands the matter rested. While she was being shown the door through which the thief had entered, the phoongyee himself came in, and the old woman, with a violent outburst of abuse, struck him several blows with her clenched fist, and fairly beat him out of the khyoung.

The ceremony of excommunication took place in due course, and was brief enough, lasting only five minutes. He was brought in by all the headmen, and attended by his mother and brother, the latter carrying the clothes of an ordinary Shan, which the culprit, when degraded, was to assume. All sat down, and the poor old woman made an affecting appeal to her son to confess if he were guilty; but he preserved a dogged silence, and commenced to take off his turban in front of the altar. She then retired, departing with her hands clasped above her head, and ejaculating prayers. The priest, having removed his turban, took a water lily from an offering of flowers in front of the image of Gaudama, and, placing it on a tripod, again deposited it before the image. The chief priest now appeared on the daïs, and the culprit knelt behind his lily muttering a few sentences, occasionally rising from his knees, and bending in worship before the figure, and gradually retreated after each prostration, until he was beyond the verge of the daïs peculiar to the priests. He then knelt before the chief phoongyee, and repeated some formula after him, after which he retired to his room, and soon emerged dressed as a layman. He was then taken away by the headmen, and some hours after was brought back led by a chain secured to an iron collar round his neck. In the evening he was again led by the chain, down to the khyoung, escorted by the headmen, who stated that they had failed to find any clue to the missing spear, or to establish the guilt of the prisoner. He was, however, during the ensuing conference as to our departure, kept chained to a pillar and guarded by two men. After another day of delay and barter with the people, who crowded the khyoung, the only noticeable purchase being some capital tobacco at the price of a rupee for three pounds and a half, we took our departure on August 4th. The old tsawbwa and his grandchild came with a parting present of cloth, and a request that we would not mount until we had passed his house; and a silver watch presented by Sladen to his adopted son gave immense pleasure to both the chief and his heir. As we approached the haw, three trumpeters blew a lusty blast, and the three saluting guns were fired as we ascended the steps leading to the gateway, where the chief and his grandson awaited us. After a hearty handshaking, and formal adieus, we mounted under a second salute, and rode out of the town preceded by the trumpeters in full bray.

The road at this season was carried along the embankments of the paddy fields nearer to the base of the hills. The courses of the many mountain streams showed the traces of the devastation caused by the unprecedented floods of the past week; whole rice fields had been swept away, and in others the crop had been hopelessly buried in silt. Roots and stems of large trees everywhere blocked the channels, and the sides of the mountains showed red patches, like wounds, where landslips had occurred. These had been most destructive; nine villages were said to have been overwhelmed in the Sanda valley, one, a village of forty houses, being completely destroyed with all its inhabitants, save nine who were absent. The nineteen miles to Manwyne were accomplished by 5 P.M., and we took up our quarters in the same khyoung as on the former visit; some trouble and a little gentle violence being requisite to exclude the pertinacious and curious Chinese, who went so far as to hustle a sentry. These Manwyne people (not including the Shans), though not so hostile as on our first visit, were evidently ill-disposed, and can be only classed as “rowdies.” At sundown a bell was rung and a huge candle lit in front of the altar, while the priests, kneeling on the upper daïs, supported by choristers on the lower one, chanted their vespers.

Bell-ringing and matins woke us up early in the morning, and, as before, the devout women trooped in with their offerings of rice and flowers. The phoongyees and some others were very much interested in hearing about railways, telegraphs, and other wonders of Western civilisation. One of the Sanda headmen remarked that they were much privileged to hear of such things, and that we must all have met before in a previous existence, and would doubtless meet again. They were awed by viewing the moon through a good telescope; and a prediction of the coming eclipse of the sun evidently impressed them with a deep sense of our astrological powers, the chief phoongyee, with bated breath, inquiring whether it presaged war or famine.

Our first visitor was the “Death’s Head” pawmine of Ponsee, who came with the idea that we should entrust ourselves to his friendly guidance, and was chagrined at the information that we should return by Hotha. The Hotha tsawbwa had been delayed by the difficulty of crossing the mud left by the floods, and, when he at length appeared, was at first inclined to magnify the difficulties, physical and otherwise, of reaching his valley. When he found us resolute, he made light of the difficulties, and arranged that the Manhleo poogain should take charge of the baggage, while he himself preceded us to prepare for our reception. In the meantime we were entertained at a dinner by the tsawbwa-gadaw, the honours being done by the Hotha chief. We were welcomed by the two Buddhist nuns, one a daughter of our hostess, and the other a sister of Hotha, attended by a crowd of maids and retainers, and were at once requested to take our seats at the table. Tea was then served, followed by the dinner, consisting of well-cooked fowls, roast and boiled, pork, &c., with small plates of onions, peas, and sliced mangoes; then came rice and sauce, followed by another service of tea. All the dishes were served on Chinese porcelain, and the samshu was poured from a Birmingham teapot into tiny cups of jade. We were waited on by men; but just as the dinner was placed on the table, the hostess came in for a few minutes, and made a speech of welcome, and apologies for having nothing better to offer; and when it was over, she rejoined the party. The two rahanees and their maids favoured us with their company all the time. Being struck with the red-dyed nails of the ladies, I asked one rosy-cheeked damsel to show me the dye. She volunteered to give a practical illustration, and at once brought from an inner room a pulpy mass of the petals and leaves of a red balsam beaten up with cutch. Having first begged for a small ring as a memento of our visit, she proceeded to envelop the tip of my little finger in a portion of the pulp, and covered it with a green leaf neatly tied on with thread.

After dinner the Hotha chief entertained us with a performance on the Shan guitar or banjo, for the instrument had only three strings, and the sounding-board was made of a stretched snake skin. The chief was evidently regarded, and justly, as a skilled performer, and under his fingers the instrument discoursed sweet, pleasant tinkling, while the airs, though simple, were melodious. After our return to the khyoung, the two nuns and their maids arrived with some presents from the tsawbwa-gadaw, and remained for two hours, asking intelligent questions about our country and religion, and on leaving made us promise to visit them at their own khyoung. The next afternoon a messenger came to remind us of our promise, and two of the party went to the nunnery. It consisted of two bamboo houses, side by side, enclosed by a fence. One, used as a residence, was an ordinary Shan house of three rooms; the other, used as a chapel, was a pavilion, twenty-four feet square, raised on piles four feet above the ground, and closed in with mats on all sides save that fronting the dwelling-house. The only decorations were a few small images of Gaudama, and strips of white paper cut into ornamental figures and suspended like banners from the roofs. The Hotha nun was engaged in weaving, which was a breach of the Buddhist canons, forbidding the religious to employ themselves in any useful labour. We were invited into the dwelling-house, and served with mangoes and women’s tobacco, and bidden to light our pipes. A long and interesting conversation ensued, mainly on religious subjects. The nuns, especially the young lady of Manwyne, evinced great interest in the subject of Christianity, concluding by begging us to consider her as a sister. Then we all adjourned to afternoon tea at the haw of her mother. The old lady expressed a great desire to possess a portrait of our gracious Queen, which we promised to send her from Rangoon. In the meantime, we offered a temporary substitute in the shape of four brand new rupees, with which she was greatly pleased.

August 9th found us ready for an early start from Manwyne, but the want of porters delayed us till 8.30, when we set out for the Tapeng. A farewell dish of rice and spirit, “to strengthen us for the journey,” arrived from the tsawbwa-gadaw, while the chief phoongyee presented some cloth to each of us, heartily expressing his good wishes for our welfare. The townspeople waved their adieus, some calling out Kara! kara! and others the Shan equivalent for Au revoir! It was noon before the ponies were safely across the river, now six hundred yards in breadth, on the other side of which a mud flat extended for two miles. The smooth surface had been caked hard by the sun, but with many a fissure, through which the legs of the ponies slipped into the tenacious quagmire beneath. At last a veritable Slough of Despond was reached, and the party was fairly bogged; the ponies floundered and stumbled so much that it became necessary to dismount. The next half-hour will not be easily forgotten, when, the reins in one hand and my dog held fast in the other, I plunged and struggled through the slimy ooze, which seemed to grasp the legs firmly at each step. At one place the pony made a sudden stumble, and disappeared in the mud, whilst the strain sent me rolling forwards until dragged to my feet by two unincumbered natives. The stoutest of our party was literally hauled through by men stimulated by rupees, while his pony had to be dug out of the mud by some Shans. A blunder of our guide had led us into this tract of mud, which had been recently deposited by the overflow of the river; and the amount of alluvium brought down can be imagined from the fact that the tract covered about six square miles, with an average depth of four feet. Following the embankments of the paddy fields for about two miles, we halted for breakfast on a grassy slope at the foot of the hills, under the shade of wide-spreading banyan and mangoe trees, amidst eager crowds of villagers staring at the strangers.

CHAPTER X.
THE HOTHA VALLEY.

The mountain summit—A giant glen—Leesaw village—The wrong road—Priestly inhospitality—Town of Hotha—A friendly chief—The Namboke Kakhyens—The Hotha market—The Shan people—The Koshanpyi—The Tai of Yunnan—Their personal appearance—Costume—Equipment—The Chinese Shans—Silver hair ornaments—Ear-rings—Torques, bracelets, and rings—Textile fabrics—Agriculture—Social customs—Tenure of land—Old Hotha—A Shan-Chinese temple—Shan Buddhism—The fire festival—Eclipse of the sun—Horse worship—Ancient pagodas—Roads from Hotha.

At 2 P.M. we commenced to ascend the hills, which from Manwyne had not appeared to be more than one thousand feet high, but proved to be three times that altitude above the river. The rough bridle-path led straight up the steep declivity, and in the blazing heat of an unclouded sun the ascent was most trying to man and beast, already wearied by their exertions in the quagmire. The mules were ahead, but our men soon began to lag, although we went as slowly as was compatible with the prospect of reaching Manloi, on the other side, before nightfall. A short way up the mountain, bold cliffs stood out, of white crystalline marble, weathering to a dull brown. This was succeeded by quartzose rock; and, still higher, a blueish gneissose rock formed the upper mass of the range. We passed through several Kakhyen villages, paying a few rupees by way of toll to the headmen, who were sitting by the roadside waiting for us. Near the summit, we had a splendid view of the course of the Tapeng to the Burmese plain. A high curtain of clouds to the westward hung over the entrance of the river into the gorge of the hills, while below and beyond it the immense plain of the Irawady was clearly discerned backed by high hills, and with the great river winding through it like a broad silver band. To the right extended a magnificent panorama of the valley as far as the spur above Sanda, and we took a long farewell gaze at the lovely vale, walled in by its guardian mountains, and rich in every variety of effect produced by the grouping in sunset lights and shadows, of flood and fell, and verdant fields. Having crossed the summit more than five thousand feet above the sea, we looked down on the narrow Hotha valley, not a thousand feet below, stretched out at our feet for twenty-five miles, the opposite or southern range trending round to the north-east to join the mountain wall of the Sanda valley, by a connecting ridge, much lower than the height from which we looked across, and saw to the south successive distant heights cradling valleys whose waters flow to the Shuaylee.

It is somewhat difficult to find an appropriate term for this lofty mountain-cradled district. It is a giant glen, scarcely above two miles wide, presenting no level ground, but a succession of broken surface diversified by tossed grassy knolls of red soil, dotted here and there with villages, each with its plantation of fruit trees. A narrow stream, the Namsa, winds down on the southern side, till, through a cluster of higher grassy hills covered with bracken, it forces its downward way to the Tapeng. Such is the valley of Hotha as it lay smiling before us in the fast fading light, with its hundred villages, tenanted by forty thousand peaceful and industrious Chinese-Shans, which compose the two states of Hotha and Latha, or Muangtha and Hansa.

Having commenced to descend the ridge, we met with some Leesaws carrying a freshly killed deer, which an offer of ten rupees failed to induce them to part with. Many tracts of temperate forest trees, such as oaks and beeches, were seen, and below them extensive tracts of a novel short and thin stemmed bamboo. We presently passed through the village of our Leesaw friends, picturesquely perched on the face of a steep spur among magnificent trees and enormous grey boulders, some of which were as large as the houses, which latter differed altogether from the Kakhyen habitations, being small square structures, with no floor save the ground, which was kept dry by means of a trench cut round the mud walls. We entered the village street by a wooden gateway, and passed out under a long covered passage embowered in luxuriant creepers.

The sun had set almost as we commenced the descent, and darkness overtook us halfway down. At a division of the path, a stubborn muleteer insisted on choosing what proved to be the wrong road, and half our party, including the Manhleo headman, were thus misled. We blundered along a rough bridle-track covered with loose stones and cut up by watercourses. In vain we shouted to attract the attention, and learn the whereabouts, of the rest; no answer was returned save the echoes from the hills, now shrouded in darkness. At last we met some Shans, and learned that we were close to a village called Mentone, in the Latha or western division, and some miles from Hotha. A consultation was held as to which alternative was the worst, to proceed in the dark to Hotha, or go dinnerless and supperless to bed. The latter seemed the least evil; so we made for the village khyoung, which was reached at 8.50 P.M. We could get nothing to eat; and, thoroughly tired, we unsaddled the hungry and worn-out ponies, and, taking their saddles for pillows, fell asleep on the floor in front of the altar. Our slumbers, however, were soon disturbed by the phoongyees squatting down close to our heads, and shouting out their evening prayers. The chief phoongyee, a shrivelled old man, sat cross-legged, with his prayer-book on a small stool before him, and a little acolyte sat by his side, running a wooden pointer along the lines to keep the priest’s eyes from wandering. Before him sat six choristers yelling in different keys at the pitch of their voices. The devotions of the phoongyee were interrupted by our Shan interpreter, who shouted to him that he wanted to buy four annas worth of rice. The priest at once stopped the service to bargain as to the quantity of rice to be given for the coin, which was new to him; this being settled, he resumed his office, but was again interrupted, as he had not sent any one to serve out the rice.

Prayers being ended, we requested something to eat, and were told that there were some pears on a tree outside, to which we were at liberty to help ourselves, a generous offer which was politely declined. The priest, however, gave us quilts to lie on; and being thus made at all events warmer, though still hungry, we fell asleep, and, waking before dawn, were well on the way to Hotha by sunrise.

The inhospitality of these phoongyees was in singular contrast to the tenets and practice of the Burmese Buddhist priests, who hold it a pious duty to receive and refresh the stranger. There was, however, an ill feeling at work against us, which found vent in the question asked by some of the villagers, “Why had we come to their valley to bring flying dragons and other evils on them?” This was due to the malicious reports that the Muangla people had spread. The unexampled inundations were attributed to our presence, and it was declared that our stay had been followed by death in each place. Even the Hotha chief was not free from the superstitious dread thus produced; and his father-in-law, the old Latha tsawbwa, though he accepted the presents sent him, utterly declined a visit, as he feared the strangers would bewitch him and his household. His dutiful son-in-law declined to press him, as he was “an old buffalo,” which always went in the contrary direction to that in which it was driven.

Turning our backs on the inhospitable village, we proceeded by an excellent paved road carried along the end of the spurs, and in many places cut out along the slopes. The mountain streams were crossed by means of granite bridges, some of them adorned with dragons. Numerous villages embowered among fine trees were passed; and a novel feature was introduced by the occurrence, at intervals, of roadside drinking-fountains, the wells being built over and cased in stone ornamented with a white marble frieze. A gilded pagoda surmounting a hillock opposite Manloi brought our thoughts back to Burma, as it was the first pagoda of the Burmese type seen since our departure from the plains.

At 8 A.M., August 10th, we arrived at the town of Hotha, consisting of about one hundred and fifty houses, surrounded by a low wall, somewhat ruined and dilapidated, the result, not of Panthay invasion, but of a rebellion by the tsawbwa’s subjects, who a year before, exasperated by the imposition of a new tax, rose and attacked his town. The tsawbwa and his son, in state dresses, the former attired as a mandarin of the blue button, received us at their residence, and a salute was fired from four mortar-shaped guns embedded in the ground. Quarters were assigned to us in the haw, close to the chief’s private apartments; and all our people were assembled in the course of the day. The whole of the baggage was brought in safely, although the party had been divided in the descent of the mountain, and some of the followers had been obliged to remain in the Leesaw village, the unsophisticated mountaineers charging them two rupees a head for their night’s lodging! The Manhleo poogain and Kingain, the Muangla headman to whom the convoy of the baggage had been entrusted, were very proud of the encomiums passed on their successful performance of their task, and requested a certificate to that effect, and further promised to assist all future travellers who might desire to cross from Manwyne to Hotha.

We remained until the 27th as guests of the courteous and accomplished chief Li-lot-fa, or, to give him his Chinese appellation, Li-yin-khyeen; and the recollection of our sojourn with him, and of his pleasant valley, is the most agreeable of all the reminiscences of the country beyond the Kakhyen hills. Not only did our host evince the most hospitable desire to purvey all creature comforts, but he made us feel thoroughly at home. We lived on terms of intimacy with his family, and his two wives and two daughters manifested a charming freedom of manners, combined with the most refined propriety, that would have done credit to a drawing-room at home. The chief delighted to converse about the various modern inventions of which he had heard reports from the Chinese who had visited Rangoon. Their accounts, however, more suo, had been full of marvellous exaggerations, including flying-machines, telescopes that enabled the sight to penetrate mountains, and others that divested people of their clothes! The chief had some vague ideas about railways, steamships, and gas, and was most eager for fuller and more accurate information.

We urged him to visit Rangoon and Calcutta, but he seemed to think the disturbed state of the country an insuperable obstacle; but he discussed, instead, the plan of sending his son, a lad of thirteen, to Rangoon. Li-lot-fa could read and write Shan and Chinese, and he now commenced to learn Burmese, and it was a curious sight to see him at work with his note-book, which he had obtained from us, taking down words and sentences as busily as if he had been a competition wallah preparing for an examination.

The fact that this tsawbwa had succeeded in maintaining friendly relations with both the Panthays and imperialist Chinese chiefs, with whom his real sympathies lay, so that his valley had escaped the evils of war, spoke well for his diplomatic tact. His conversation showed that he had been from the first well informed about our progress and difficulties, which he unhesitatingly attributed to the machinations of the Bhamô Chinese. He asserted that the advance to Ponsee, and the desertion of the muleteers at that place, had been part of a well concerted scheme on the part of the Kakhyen chiefs to attack and plunder our baggage. Our escape from this danger was attributed by the chief to “a supernatural power against evil, given as a reward for good deeds in former existences.”

As an energetic trader, he was most anxious to co-operate heartily in reopening all the trade routes, his especial object, as was natural, being the restoration of the central or embassy route, which had been closed for some years by feuds between the Kakhyens of the hills on the southern side of the Tapeng and the Burmese officials. The cause of quarrel was stated to have been an unprovoked attack, on the part of the Burmese, on a few Kakhyens.

The tsawbwa possessed great influence over the Kakhyen chiefs through whose territory this route passes, an instance of which was speedily given by the arrival of the chief of Namboke, accompanied by his pawmines, and a strong armed guard, the chief and his officers being mounted on ponies. As soon as he saw Sladen, he went down on one knee, in the most respectful manner of greeting, and recalled himself to his recollection as having visited us at Bhamô and received a present of a head-dress. This chief scarcely resembled a Kakhyen, his naturally Tartar-like cast of countenance being heightened by his Chinese skull-cap and dress. After remaining one night and expatiating on the advantages of the embassy route, he set out for home, bearing a letter from Li-lot-fa to all the Kakhyen chiefs, which the pawmines were to carry forward, inviting them to come in and arrange for our safe progress to Bhamô.

The bazaar or market, which is held every fifth day, took place on the 12th. There are no shops or shopkeepers, except where the Chinese reside, among the Shans, and all sale or barter is necessarily conducted at these regular markets or fairs, which are thronged by the people of the valley and adjacent hills. The Hotha fair was held on a grassy slope, about half a mile distant from the town. There were no permanent or temporary stalls, the vendors simply sitting down in long lines with their goods before them. One section was devoted to the sale of sword blades, the manufacture of which is a speciality of this valley, and another to the wooden scabbards and handles. After buying two fine blades for four shillings each, I was assured that the vendor had charged one-third over the value.

Another quarter was devoted to the sale of samshu, and close by it were the restaurants, where the hungry customers refreshed themselves with hot pork, vermicelli, or an article exactly like it, various vegetables, and peas, all hot and nicely served in little white bowls. The butchers’ quarter was amply supplied with pork and beef, and fowls and ducks were plentiful. Long lines of Kakhyen women from the hills offered for sale joss-sticks, pears, apples, plums, peaches, mustard leaves, and a variety of hill vegetables, along with basketfuls of nettles, as food for the swine, which are an invariable adjunct of a Shan household.

In the centre of the market, on a double row of stalls, were displayed various kinds of Shan cloth, Shan caps, Chinese paper, rice cutch, flint, and lime, which are brought from Tali-fu, white arsenic, yellow orpiment, &c. In another quarter, English green and blue broadcloth was selling at twenty shillings per yard, along with red flannel, for which the Kakhyens have an especial affection. It seemed to us, however, that, although the price was high, a very few pieces would “glut the market.”

Indigo, the universal dye of the dark blue-clad Shans, Kakhyens, and Chinese of Western Yunnan, also had its own quarter. The fair was thronged with people, the elder busy chaffering over their few wares, and the younger strolling about and gossiping. Almost all were clean and well-dressed, and there was an absence of the poverty-stricken class, which had been so numerous in the various towns of the Sanda valley, all appearing to be well-to-do, to judge from their appearance. The women, as a rule, were little and rather squat, with round, flat, high-cheek-boned faces, and slightly oblique eyes. Some of the younger women, with fair skins and rosy cheeks, might have been accounted good-looking, but were disfigured by the strange custom of dyeing the teeth black, which is the fashion among Shans of the better class. The dye is probably a preparation of cutch, and, according to the tsawbwa, the custom originated in a desire to preserve the teeth from decay.

For the first time we noticed the peculiar and picturesque dress of the Chinese Shan women. The men, with the exception of an occasional red turban, were dressed in the universal dark blue. The costume of the Hotha Shan women only differed from that remarked in the Sanda valley in the prevalence of dark green jackets and the number of large silver hoops worn round the neck.

It will be well here to summarise, even at the risk of repetition, our observations on the Shan inhabitants of these valleys, who belong to the Tayshan or Great Shans of the Tai race, the branches of which, under different names, are found extending to the eleventh parallel, their various states being tributary to Siam, Burma, or China. The Shan population where it has been absorbed into the Burmese kingdom has become assimilated in language and customs with the dominant race, from which they can scarcely be distinguished. Throughout the valley of the upper Irawady above Bhamô, but with the Kakhyen hills interposing their stratum of hill tribes between them and their brethren of the Chinese states, the Shan element predominates, though contending with the wilder Singphos to the west of the valley. The inhabitants, though speaking Burmese, still preserve the Shan language, and retain the physical and other characteristics of their race.

The little states of Manwyne and Sanda, Muangla, Muangtee, Muangtha, or Hotha and Latha, and Muangwan and Muangmow, which lie on the right bank of the Shuaylee, are the remains of the Koshanpyi or Nine Shan States, forming the chief component parts of the Shan kingdom of Pong, conquered by the Chinese in the fourteenth century. Bhamô or Tsing-gai, with the country extending to Katha, or perhaps to Tsampenago, and the upper part of the valley of the Irawady, with Mogoung as its chief town, were the last remaining independent remnants of this state, and have been included in Burma since the annexation by Alompra in 1752 of the semi-independent state of Mogoung.

It seems most probable that the walled Chinese town of Muanglon represents Muang Maorong, the ancient capital of the Pong kingdom, and the Chinese Shan states of Sehfan and Muangkwan, and possibly the state of Kaingmah, which is reckoned among the Koshanpyi, are under the jurisdiction of its Chinese governor, as the states we visited are dependent on Momien. Throughout Yunnan, and, according to Garnier, as far as the confines of Tong-king, the Tai race is widely diffused. The names of towns and districts seem to indicate that this region of lofty hills and great valleys was formerly the seat of the Shan kingdom, and still—though intermixed with the wild hill tribes, and the descendants of the Chinese colonists, who were settled in the newly acquired conquests—the Shans, under the name of Pa-y, hold their ancient ground. Mons. Garnier mentions that at Muang-Pong he found villages peopled with Tai-ya settlers, who had fled from the Mahommedan ravages, and settled beyond the borders of Yunnan. His description of their characteristic dress and silver ornaments would almost exactly apply to the Chinese-Shans of the Hotha valley. He describes some Tai-neua[39] refugees met with at Kiang-hung or Xien-hong itself, and remarks on the resemblance between these two divisions of the Shans. As soon as he had passed into the country where the Laotian language ceased to be understood, on the confines of Yunnan, near Se-mao, “The inhabitants presented an intermediary type between the Chinese and the Tai race. This mixed type faithfully represents that of the ancient population of Yunnan, or that of the Tai, who were conquered by the Chinese.” And at Yuen-kiang he remarks: “The Tai, whom the Chinese call Pa-y, are the ancient inhabitants of the country of Muong-Choung, which is now called Yuen-kiang. They are more numerous and more independent as the frontier of Tong-king is approached.” Thus the Chinese province of Yunnan on the one side and the upper portion of the valley of the Irawady on the other contain a largely preponderating element of Shan population, their national characteristics, however, gradually becoming obliterated by the influence of the ruling races respectively. Owing to their local position, which has preserved their subordinate independence, the little nest of valleys, cradled in the parallel secondary ranges which lie between the Salween and the Irawady, has preserved, almost unmixed, the relics of the ancient Shan kingdom, and it is with their inhabitants, so far as our observations extended, that we have to do. It is with some uncertainty that the terms Shans proper and Chinese Shans are used; not so much as indicating a theory of race as to serve as a practical distinction between the two divisions, which, though claiming to be one in race as in language, will be seen to present curious differences; while the Chinese-Shans, or Sino-Shans, as some have called them, may, according to the evidence of the French explorers, really represent the original Tai race more directly than the Shans of the Tapeng valley and the Irawady valley.

The Shans proper of these valleys are a fair race, somewhat sallow like the Chinese, but of a very faintly darker hue than Europeans, the peasantry, as a rule, being much browned by exposure; they have red cheeks, dark brown eyes, and black hair. In young people and children, the waxen appearance of the Chinese is slightly observable. The Shan face is usually short, broad, and flat, with prominent malars, a faint obliquity and contraction of the outer angle of the eye, which is much more marked in the true Chinese. The nose is well formed, the bridge being prominent, almost aquiline, without that breadth and depression characteristic of the Burman feature. The lower jaw is broad and well developed; but pointed chins below heavy, protruding lips are not infrequent. Oval faces laterally compressed, with retreating foreheads, high cheek-bones, and sharp retreating chins, are not infrequent; and the majority of the higher classes seemed to be distinguished from the common people by more elongated oval faces and a decidedly Tartar type of countenance. The features of the women are proportionately broader and rounder than those of the men, but they are more finely chiselled, and wear a good-natured expression, while their large brown eyes are very scantily adorned with eyebrows and eyelashes. They become much wrinkled by age, and, judging from the numbers of old people, appear to be a long-lived race. They are by no means a tall people, the average height for men scarcely reaching five feet eight, while the women are shorter and more squat in figure. The only difference between the Shans and Poloungs, so far as my limited observation went, seems to be that the latter are darker and smaller; but the Chinese Shans, or Sino-Shans, of the Muangtha valley differ widely from their congeners. They are a much smaller race, their little, squat figures and broad, short flat faces reminding one of Laplanders. The cheek-bones are very prominent, and their faces are much flatter and shorter than those of the other Shans. The breadth between the eyes, which are markedly oblique, is considerable, and the mouths are heavy, with protruding lips. In the women these characters are more pronounced, and their complexion strongly resembles that of the Chinese.

In the ordinary attire the Shans, except the Chinese Shans, are almost uniformly dressed in sombre dark blue, the dye being obtained from the wild indigo. In full dress, however, the women display an appreciation of colour which would delight an artist. The peculiar head-dress, like an inverted cone, has been already alluded to. It consists of a series of long blue scarves, a foot broad, and of a total length of forty to fifty feet, wound round and round the head in a huge turban, towering upwards with a backward slope, like that of the Parsee head-dress. The folds are arranged in a crescent over the forehead with most exact precision; the free end, embroidered in gold and silk, and sometimes adorned with silver pendants, hangs gracefully down the neck. The hair, left uncovered in the hollow of this structure, is adorned with silver hairpins, the heads of which are richly enamelled to represent flowers and insects. The jacket, of blue or green, and sometimes pink, is short and loose, with a narrow and erect collar. Thin square plaques of enamelled silver fasten it at and below the neck, to which are sometimes superadded three rows of large round silver bosses, enriched with birds and flowers enamelled in various colours. The loose sleeves are folded back from the elbow, displaying massive silver or silver-gilt bracelets. A tight thick skirt of cotton cloth, deeply bordered with squares of embroidered silk or satin, close-fitting leggings, and embroidered shoes, complete the toilette, a richly variegated cloth being sometimes worn as a girdle. A Shan lady thus attired is incomplete without a silver flask-shaped scent-bottle about three inches across, adorned with silver studs and pendants terminating in round silver bells, which jingle as the wearer moves. Silver chatelaines are also worn, and a needlecase formed of a silver tube, enamelled and studded, enclosing a cushion, which is attached to the waist. Silver neck-hoops, ear-rings, and rings, which deserve particular description, complete the adornments of the Shan belle, who, moreover, is seldom seen without her long-stemmed pipe, with its small bowl of glazed clay.

The male peasants wear a long double-breasted jacket of blue cotton, buttoned down the right side, often with jade, amber, or silver buttons. Of the same material are their short wide trousers and thick turbans, with a long fringe at the free end, which is usually coiled up with the pigtail on the outside. Long strips of blue cloth wound round the shins serve as leggings, and their shoes are made of cloth resembling felt, embroidered with narrow braid and soled with leather. A very broad straw hat covered with oiled silk serves as an umbrella against rain or a scorching sun.

The better classes, such as the headmen of the towns, wear long blue Chinese coats reaching to the ankles, and black satin skull caps ornamented with Chinese figures worked in gold braid. The little boys don blue cotton caps, braided, with a red topknot, and garnished with a row of silver figures of guardian nats. A silver chatelaine, with a number of little instruments, such as tweezers to depilate the face, ear and tooth picks, is frequently worn by the men. It hangs from the button-hole by a long silver chain, ornamented with beads of jade, amber, or glass, or with grotesque figures of animals carved in jade or amber. Two essentials in a Shan’s equipment are his dah and tobacco-pipe. The dah has a blade two feet and a half to three feet in length, expanding from the hilt to the almost square point, which is nearly three inches broad. The wooden handle is bound with cord covered with silver foil, and ornamented with a tassel of goat hair. The wooden half-scabbard is attached to a ratan hoop worn over the right shoulder. These dahs are chiefly manufactured by the Muangtha Shans from iron imported from Yunnan. They use charcoal as a fuel, and a bellows made of the segment of a large bamboo, with a piston and valve at each end. They supply all the hill tribes with weapons, and, as before remarked, resort to Bhamô and elsewhere to work during the winter months. These weapons exactly resemble those made by the Khampti Shans, and, like them, are keen and well tempered. The tobacco-pipes are remarkable on account of their elaborate silver stems, which are frequently a yard in length, and enriched with enamelled flowers and silver twist. Sometimes the stem swells at intervals into elongated silver spheres. A long bamboo stem intervenes between the silver and the bowl of glazed earthenware. The wealthier Shans frequently use the Chinese hookah, and the poorer the Chinese brass or iron pipes with small bowls. Tobacco, home-grown and of very excellent quality, is carried in small round boxes made of buffalo hide covered with red varnish. They are made in two halves, the upper overlapping the under, the hide being moistened and stretched over a wooden mould.

The costume of the Chinese Shan women of Hotha and Latha differs in a marked manner from that already described. They wear the Shan jacket and loose trousers like the men, and usually are barefooted. The back part of the jacket is prolonged to the knees in a half skirt, and a double Chinese apron in front overlaps it, so as to complete the dress. Besides the large silver plaques, epaulets are worn, of small semi-spherical discs, connected by a line of silver buttons from shoulder to shoulder. The broad waistband of the apron expands behind into a richly embroidered piece, which is a peculiar characteristic of this people. A still more distinctive mark is the head-dress, from which the high turban is absent. The hair is divided and gathered up on the crown of the head, when it is plaited into the ends of a flat chignon encircled by a ratan hoop covered with red cloth. This is kept in position by means of twenty-five to thirty silver pins headed with thin plates of silver embossed or engraved with leaves and flowers, and so disposed as to form a silver coronal. Outside this is wound a slight blue turban, to the pendant fringes of which are suspended a number of silver rings. In full dress four much larger hairpins, with elaborate heads eight inches in length and three inches across, are worn. They are overlaid with silver wire cunningly wrought to represent the stems and leaves of plants, which are enamelled green, brown, and yellow, and enriched with flowers in the same material, the petals formed of red and blue stones, and little silver spheres representing the unopened buds. Sometimes yet another inner circle of smaller pins, each headed with a cluster of four small caps, is added; and an elaborate head-dress forms a circle or an aureole of silver flowers fully a foot in diameter. The various patterns of hairpins are of the most intricate construction. The simplest are made chiefly of silver wire and flat pieces of silver cut into fantastic figures or forms of trailing plants in full flower, the colours being enamelled in green, blue, purple, and yellow. Some are wrought in the finest filigree, one beautiful specimen representing a swan-like bird resting on its outstretched wings among a bed of flowers. The feathers of the wings are most effectively wrought in silver wire, and among the leaflets stand up little coils of silver wire, each terminating in two square cusped discs of silver. These strongly resemble the capsuled stems of mosses; and the general appearance of these pin-heads suggests that the artist has derived his inspiration from the study of a grassy sward covered with flowers and moss; indeed, the most fashionable form of this ornament consists of two tiers of leaf-work, the uppermost supported on fine wire, while through its interstices the capsuled stems rise from the lower tier, as flowers rise above the grass.

This distinctive head-dress of the Chinese Shans seems to characterise the Pa-y or Tai women in the south of Yunnan. M. Garnier describes those of Yuen-hiang as wearing long silver hairpins, from the ends of which hung a profusion of pendants. Their costume consists of a showy corset with a little jacket over it, a petticoat with a broad coloured border, and apron; and he particularly describes a high collar made of red and black stuff, on which little silver studs are arranged in patterns reminding him of the armed collar of a “bouledogue.” The front of the vest is also thickly studded with similar ornaments. The Pa-y ear-rings are of very delicate workmanship, the usual pattern being a large ring supporting a small square plate with numerous pendants, much resembling those of the Chinese Shans. The married women of the latter especially invariably wear a silver or silver-gilt ring, overlaid with studs or filigree work, to which is attached a jade or enamelled silver disc. The Chinese Shan girls wear a tube of silver, from which is suspended an inverted rosette set with a circle of club-shaped pendants. From the centre of this flower-like ornament hangs a filigree ball and rosette set with a garnet. The ear ornaments of the Shans proper are of two kinds, only one of which, worn by the young girls, can be called an ear-ring—the large circle of silver wire suspending a flat spiral ornament resembling a favourite pattern of the Roman period in Europe. There are three forms of the second or of the cylindrical type, necessitating a large opening in the lobe of the ear, but by no means so large as the ear ornaments of the Burmese beauties, which are sometimes an inch and a half in diameter. The first are made of a piece of bamboo, which is covered with silverfoil, one end being finished by a piece of cloth, which is effectively embroidered with the green wing-cases of a beetle, red seeds, and Chinese devices in gold thread. The second form is a short cylinder of silver, with a cross piece engraved with Chinese figures. The third is nearly two inches long, widening into a disc fully an inch in diameter, and terminating in a silver knob. The front is composed of open silver filigree.

SHAN HEAD-DRESS, BRACELETS, AND EAR ORNAMENTS.

- Fig. 1. Chinese Shan chignon encircled with silver hairpins.

- 2. Shan silver bracelet.

- 3.  ”    ”        ”    in filigree.

- 4.  ”    ”        ”    enamelled.

- 5. Chinese Shan girl’s ear-drop.

- 6. 7. Shan woman’s tubular ear ornaments.

- 8. Shan finger ring.

- 9. Silver tube for enclosing a needle cushion.

These silver ornaments will be seen to be thoroughly characteristic of the Shans, who, it need not be said, are expert silversmiths, their simple tools consisting of small cylindrical bellows, a crucible, punch, graver, hammer, and little anvil. In the Sanda valley the phoongyees are the chief artificers; but in Hotha the trade is still confined to the laymen. Their enamels, of which we could not discover the materials, are very brilliant, and employed with beautiful effect in the floral patterns, which form the principal stock of designs. The only other forms of ornamentation, the rope-shaped fillets and rounded studs or bosses, singularly resemble those found on the diadems and armlets of the early historical periods of Scandinavian art. The plain torques or neck rings in use, especially among the Hotha Shans, only differ from the ancient Irish type by their more rounded form, and by the pointed ends being bent outwards, in lieu of being expanded into cymbal-shaped faces. Another kind of torque is of the same shape, but covered with leaf ornaments and cones in filigree and enamel alternating with red and blue stones or pieces of glass. Torque-like hollow rings, covered with floral enrichments, are worn as bracelets; sometimes they are gilt with very red gold and enamelled, a jewel being usually set in the centre. Another form is a silver hoop, nearly two inches in breadth, with rounded edges and filigree borders, most elaborately set with floral rosettes of three circles, rows of leaves, brown, green, and dark purple, centred by a large silver stud.

The finger-rings are generally made of rope wire, either with conical or flat spiral coils; but one curious type is formed of an oblong ornamented silver plate an inch long, and as broad as the finger. A half-circle from either side enables it to be worn on a finger of any size. Many of the rings are jewelled with garnets, moonstones, and pieces of dark green jade, but no valuable gems were observed. The men commonly wear ordinary Chinese rings of jade or amber.

The women are constantly engaged in weaving and dyeing, for the yarn from home-grown cotton is spun, dyed, and woven by their industrious fingers. They are adepts at needlework and silken embroidery; and all the clothes worn are made and ornamented by the women of each household. Straw-plaiting is another of their industries, and the broad-brimmed straw hats made in the valley would compete with the finest Leghorn fabrics. Another art in which they excel, apparently borrowed from the Chinese, is the manufacture of elaborate ornaments for the hair from the sapphire blue feathers of the roller bird (Coracias affinis). These are fastened on paper cut to imitate wreaths and flowers; and with copper wire, gold thread, and feathers, laid on with the greatest nicety, very pretty simple ornaments are produced, which are often brightened by the addition of a ruby or some other gem.

The stuffs woven in a loom similar to that in use by the Kakhyens are of all degrees of texture, the finer kinds, used for jackets, being very soft, and usually figured with large lozenge-shaped patterns of the same colour. A marked feature of the textile fabrics and embroideries of the Shans, and indeed of their ornamentation generally, is the reproduction of conventional patterns, handed down from their forefathers without any attempt to improve or vary them. The Shan designs of the nineteenth century probably are identical with those of the fourteenth, and are simple modifications of the lozenge, square, and stripe; these modifications may be, and are, almost endless, and the combinations of the elementary forms most intricate, while the ground of the fabrics in which the patterns are wrought is usually covered with numerous small truncated almond-rounded lozenges, interspersed with figures of the sacred Henza, or Brahminical goose. The chief beauty of their textile fabrics consists in the wonderful grouping and harmony of the colouring; and in the employment of their vivid full and half tints of blue, orange, green, and red, they are all but unrivalled artists.

The great body of the Shan population is engaged in agriculture; and as cultivators they may take rank even with the Belgians. Every inch of ground is utilised; the principal crops being rice, which is grown in small square fields, shut in by low embankments, with passages and floodgates for irrigation. During the dry weather, the nearest stream has its water led off, and conducted in innumerable channels, so that each block, or little square, can be irrigated at will. In the valley of the Tapeng, advantage is taken of the slope of the ground to lead canals to fields several miles away from the point of divergence. At our arrival in the beginning of May, the valley from one end to the other appeared to be an immense watery tract of rice plantations glistening in the sunshine, while the bed of the river was left half dry by the subtraction of the water. Tobacco, cotton, and opium are grown on the well-drained slopes of the hills, the two former for home use; but the white-flowered poppy is cultivated to supply the requirements of Chinese, Kakhyens, and Leesaws. A considerable quantity of Shan opium finds its way to Bhamô, and thence to Mandalay, and also to Mogoung, whence it is distributed among the Singphos.

The land is tilled by a wooden plough with an iron share, drawn by a single buffalo. Men and women work together, but the heavy tillage is done by the former, the weaker sex being only employed in weeding and thinning. Vegetables are grown round every house, and form an important article of diet. Numbers of fine cattle and pigs are reared and killed for eating, their flesh, with all kinds of poultry, being largely used, and sold freely in the markets, for the Shans have no Buddhist prejudices. The milk, however, is not used. The entrails of animals, as among the Burmese, are much used in Shan cuisine; a very fair soup, made of the intestines of fowls, being a favourite dish of the Hotha tsawbwa, who insisted, when dining with us, on substituting it for our soup, which he did not approve. The large larvæ of a giant wasp, and stewed centipedes, are Shan dainties which we could not appreciate.

Their principal stimulant is samshu, or rice-spirit; but during our stay amongst them, we observed scarcely an instance of intoxication. The vice of drunkenness and the licentiousness common amongst all their neighbours seem almost unknown among this industrious self-supporting race. They are social and good-humoured, but by no means as jovial as the Burmese, compared with whom they are a quiet, rather sedate people.

As a rule, each man is content with one wife, but polygamy is allowable to those who are wealthy enough; thus the Hotha chief had several wives at various villages. All that is required to contribute a valid union is the sanction of the parents, mutual consent, and interchange of presents between the contracting parties, but no religious rite whatever is observed on the occasion of the wedding.

They are a musical race, and possess many simple wild airs, which they play on stringed and wind instruments. Of the former, which are played like a guitar, one is about three feet in length, with three strings and a broad sounding-board; another is only half the size, the sounding-board being a short drum-like cylinder, with a snake skin stretched across it. This instrument was also a great favourite with the Momien people, and is probably of Chinese origin. The most usual wind instrument is a sort of flute, made of bamboo, with a flask-shaped gourd as mouthpiece, and the sound is full, soft, and pleasing. The long brazen trumpets, which are a sort of state appendage of the tsawbwa, are only blown to announce his arrival, or to do honour to his guests.

The chiefs, although paying an annual tribute to the authorities at Momien, exercise full patriarchal authority in their states; assisted by a council of headmen, they adjudicate all cases, civil and criminal. The tsawbwa is the nominal owner of all land, but each family holds a certain extent, which they cultivate, paying a tithe of the produce to the chief. These settlements are seldom disturbed, and the land passes in succession, the youngest son inheriting, while the elder brothers, if the farm is too small, look out for another plot, or turn traders; hence the Shans are willing to emigrate and settle on fertile lands, as in British Burma. The chiefs naturally do not approve of this, and it is to be feared that the recent emigration of these Shans to our provinces has in the last few years excited the ill-will of the tsawbwas against the British officials, whom they accuse of inducing their people to desert them. In ordinary times of peace and prosperity, the inhabitants of these valleys must have been very thriving, and the chiefs very wealthy, tokens of which appeared in their haws, though most of them had been much injured before our visit; but at this time they were certainly impoverished, and, without doubt, many of the valuable articles of dress and jewellery offered to us for sale belonged to the chiefs and their families. The great anxiety of the peaceable Shans was for the restoration of order, and though they all earnestly longed for the re-establishment of the imperial Chinese régime, they were, in the meantime, most ready to befriend those whose mission was to establish a route for commerce, necessitating peace and order as the conditions of its maintenance.

We found it impossible to obtain a guide to the southern side of the valley of Hotha beyond the Namsa, which is a very small mountain stream. The tsawbwa declared that the bridge had been washed away, and that the road was deep in mud; but he himself planned an excursion for us to visit another house belonging to him at Tsaycow, some miles to the east of Hotha. The chief set off early in the morning to prepare for our reception, and we followed at midday. The road, paved with boulders, and near the villages with long dressed slabs of granite, wound over the grassy spurs, the slopes of which were cultivated with tobacco and cotton. The mountain streams, running over rocky channels encumbered by large boulders particoloured with green moss and lichens, were spanned by bridges of gneiss or granite, those over the larger streams being handsome arched structures, twenty to twenty-five feet in span, with a rest-house at either end, and the parapets often guarded by stone dragons. Each village was approached by a long narrow lane arched by trees and feathery bamboos, terminating in a picturesque gateway, and bordered by stone drinking fountains. The houses were embowered in trees, pear, apple, chestnut, peach, and sweet lime, forming orchards round the villages, and the triple roofs of substantial khyoungs and occasional pagodas crowning the knolls, completed the rural picture, with a background of green slopes of grazing land running up to the rearward wall of mist-clad mountains. One small pagoda, called Comootonay, differed altogether from the ordinary Burmese type, in its peculiar shape and attenuated long spire, which rose to a height of fifty feet. Five miles of pleasant riding past a succession of thriving and picturesque villages, orchards, and khyoungs, brought us to Tsaycow, or Old Hotha, a much larger place than the present town of that name, embowered in trees, and delightfully situated on a spur at the opening of a little dale, down which flowed a fine mountain stream. The chief’s house, formerly his head-quarters, which was built in the Chinese fashion, though smaller than our residence, had the advantage of a better site and superior condition, the private apartments especially being richly decorated with elaborate carvings. In the inner reception hall we were welcomed by the tsawbwa, and, after being refreshed with tea, were conducted by him to see two khyoungs, one Shan and the other Chinese, built, after his own designs, one above the other, on the hillside behind the village. The Chinese temple, which occupied the highest site, was enclosed by a high wall, with a gate leading into a courtyard bordered by cloisters on either side, while a raised pavilion occupied the end, opposite to which, and above all the other buildings, towered the shrine, crowning the highest of two terraces faced with granite. Covered staircases led from the cloisters to the higher level, each terminating in a little rounded tower containing a large bell. The temple occupied the whole of the terrace, with verandahs, paved with stone, to the front and rear. A little stream bubbled up into a small basin in the front, and then formed a cascade from terrace to terrace into the court below. Two entrances led from the verandah into the temple, between which a large window exactly faced the altar-piece. On a table in front of the window stood vases with incense and flowers, and a number of boxes containing the library. The altar-piece, an admirable example of open woodcarving, about twenty feet high, resembled a huge triptych, containing three recesses about ten feet from the ground. It was enclosed by a simple wooden railing four feet high, and before it stood a small table, whereon incense is burned, and at either end two others, with a wooden fish and drumstick on each. The three recesses contained life-sized figures, each with a gauze curtain in front. A beam projecting to the front wall from either side supported two life-sized figures, and along each side wall eighteen small figures were ranged on a platform, with a vase and joss-sticks before each. The tsawbwa acted as cicerone, and explained that the central figure was Chowlaing-lon, the king of all nats, who had existed before Gaudama. The figures on either side are called Coonsang, and act as his pawmines or agents, to execute his orders; and the four standing figures are the rulers of the four great islands or quarters of the globe, who keep a record of all the actions of their subjects. After death each man is brought before Chowlaing-lon, and by him consigned to the Coonsang, who, according to the report given by the rulers, make them over to one or other of the thirty-six nats representing the army of the Thagyameng, ranged in order along the sides. One of these nats was represented with six arms, armed respectively with a belt, bow, arrow, club, and dagger, while one hand was empty as though ready to seize a victim. All the others were in different attitudes, each holding some kind of weapon, and having a long scarf-like band round his neck and shoulders, reaching to the ground, to serve as wings, recalling to our minds the flying people visited by Peter Wilkins.

The lower or Shan khyoung consisted of two oblong buildings on different levels. A grim-looking nat or Beloo guarded the door leading into the temple, where sat three colossal Buddhas, the Past, Present, and Future. On either side were two guardian figures, one mounted on a pigmy elephant, and the other on a mongrel monster, half lion and half tiger. At the feet of the Buddhas was a well executed figure of a tortoise; while vases of incense and sweet-smelling flowers placed on a table sent up their sweet odours to the calm impassive faces above them. At each side of the building, sat a row of life-sized figures, cleverly executed, and one especially, representing a shrivelled old man, with his chin resting on his knees, and the flesh tints admirably given, displayed real artistic power. In the lower temple, which was open in front, the middle of the central wall was occupied by a figure of Kwan-yin holding the child, and surrounded by a number of small adoring figures sculptured in relief; above her head a parrot, holding a rosary in its bill, was perched on a twig. On the other side of the wall, so as to be back to back with the Chinese goddess, sat a colossal Buddha flanked by two gigantic figures, one of which held a rat. The tsawbwa declared that all these temples had been erected in honour of Buddha; and he narrated the history of Kwan-yin, who was the daughter of an ancient emperor of China, but, assuming the white robe of a rahanee, spent her days in a forest, devoted to pious meditation. The mixture of ancient polytheism and Buddhism in the story was an apt illustration of the confused form of religion represented in the shrines.

Our visit was concluded by a sumptuous dinner at the tsawbwa’s house, the great point of etiquette apparently being to leave no part of the table unoccupied by dishes, save a margin for the guests to use their chopsticks. After dinner the tsawbwa introduced the subject of religion, and was much surprised at our not believing the doctrine of successive existences. Speaking of Gaudama, he distinguished him from Buddha, and was anxious to learn from us in what country he, Gaudama, was at present living.

The Buddhism of the Shans is, as has been already noticed, marked by great laxity among the phoongyees, and the most active religious feelings among the people belong to the belief in and worship of nats. During our stay, on the 13th of August, the fire festival of the Shans was celebrated, and about twenty bullocks and cows were slaughtered in the market-place; the meat was all speedily sold, part of it being cooked and eaten, while the remainder was fired out of guns at sundown, the pieces which happened to fall on the land being supposed to become mosquitoes, and those in the water leeches. Immediately after sunset the tsawbwa’s retainers began to beat gongs and blow long brass trumpets; after dark, torches were lit, and a party, preceded by the musicians, searched the central court for the fire nat, who is supposed to lurk about at this season with evil intent. They then prosecuted their search in all the apartments and the garden, throwing the light of the torches into every nook and corner where the evil spirit might find a hiding-place. Three other festivals are annually devoted to the nats of rain, wind, and cold.

The eclipse of the sun which happened on the 18th of August, commencing at 9.5 A.M., had been predicted by us at various places, and here also. The diminution of light was, as the Shans admitted, not sufficient to have called their attention to it, unless forewarned. The tsawbwa showed his usual intelligence by being able to use the telescope. As soon as he had satisfied himself that the eclipse had really commenced, he ordered his saluting guns to be fired, and the long trumpets to be blown, while, at his earnest request, we were obliged to order out the police guard to fire two volleys; all this was to terrify some monster that was threatening to devour the sun. The chief, however, listened attentively to our endeavour to explain the natural causes of the phenomenon, and even imparted them to the excited crowd which flocked eagerly about us.

Some of the khyoungs in the valley were altogether sacred to the Chinese deities Kwan-yin and Showfoo, the Prah, or god of the Yunnan Chinese, with various evil nats and famous teachers, such as Tamo, to the utter exclusion of any trace of the Buddhistic creed.

At a dilapidated little temple close to Hotha, dedicated to certain nats, the entrance was guarded by two horses, each with a horseman standing at its head. Similar figures of horses, tended by a man in Tartar costume, occurred in the khyoung at Muangla, and the reader may remember that the Manwyne women paid daily offerings of rice to the horse’s image in the khyoung at that town. The fact that the Shans are a race of horse-breeders and horsemen may account for the preservation of this curious relic of their pristine religion, along with the primæval propitiation of the dangerous nats, or powers of earth, air, and water.

The principal Buddhist khyoung of the valley, situated in the pretty walled village of Tsendong, is perfectly free from any admixture of their older superstitions. The tsawbwa, who acted as our cicerone, seemed very proud of the temple, which was declared to be very old. It is built on a low stone platform, surrounded by a narrow terraced verandah, the whole of the outside being roughly but skilfully carved. It contained richly gilt book cabinets, and elaborately carved altar-pieces, and might have been transported entire from the Burmese plains. The remains of an old and venerated phoongyee, who had died two months previously, lay in state under a double-roofed temporary pavilion, close to the khyoung. The sarcophagus, supported on two dragons, was a handsome structure, surmounted by a richly carved miniature pagoda. The ground had been levelled, and was kept scrupulously clean, and the whole enclosure carefully railed off. On a neighbouring terrace stood an octagonal zayat, enclosing a small pagoda. It was built almost entirely of wood, with five roofs, diminishing in size upwards, and capped by a golden htee. A series of open windows of carved wood-work ran round the building, and over each were two beautifully carved panels, representing a single object, as a bird, deer, plant, or bat. Each roof was raised on three projecting bearers, terminating in grotesquely carved heads. The enclosed pagoda was a square structure, with a delicately tapered spire reaching to the interior of the highest roof.

The presence of these purely Burmese buildings in the Hotha valley, while pagodas are altogether wanting in the valley of the Tapeng, is probably due to the vicinity of the ancient embassy route, but in 1769 the Burmese appealed to the existence of pagodas in this valley as a proof of their ancient right to include it within their boundaries.

The heavy rains which continued during our stay at Hotha delayed our progress, and at the same time prevented more complete explorations of the neighbourhood.

As already mentioned, we were to proceed over the Kakhyen hills, at the western end of the valley, the plan of crossing into Muangwan being impracticable, so far as we were concerned, although a Burmese surveyor was detached to examine the route. As before stated, we were debarred from even visiting the southern heights, but Mr. Gordon and I made an excursion to the eastern head of the valley, where it is closed in by a transverse ridge connecting the two ranges. A good road led to the ridge, which was crossed by a narrow track, the highest point not being more than four hundred feet above Hotha. A steep declivity led down into another valley, probably branching off from Muangwan. To the east-north-east, another valley could be descried, leading in the direction of Nantin, which lies one thousand one hundred feet lower. Through the mist and heavy rain, glimpses of high hills were dimly seen on every side, and we concluded that the Hotha valley, as a thoroughfare to Momien via Nantin, would present more difficult heights to be surmounted than the valley of the Tapeng.

We learned that from Old Hotha a road led to Muangla, reaching the Sanda valley by a gorge of lower elevation and more gradual descent on the northern slope than the route by which we had climbed up and scrambled down in our passage from Manwyne. Even an excursion, however, beyond the limits of the Hotha valley was rendered impossible by the presence of Li-sieh-tai and his force in Shuemuelong. We accordingly addressed ourselves to quit the pleasant quarters at Hotha, and recross the Kakhyen hills to the Burmese plain, all the chiefs of the hill tribes along the route having attended in person or by deputy at a meeting on August 22nd, when satisfactory arrangements had been made for our transit.

[38] Analysis by Dr. Macnamara.

One gallon contains:—

- 49·7 grains of solid matter;

- 3·6    ”     salts of alkalies, chloride of sodium;

- 19·7  ”     silica, earthy salts, and oxide of iron;

- Traces of sulphuric, carbonic, and phosphoric acids;

- No nitric acid.

[39] Thaï-neua is applied to the northern Shans. ‘Voyage d’Exploration,’ p. 409.

CHAPTER XI.
FROM HOTHA TO BHAMÔ.

Adieu!—Latha—Namboke—The southern hills—Muangwye—Loaylone—The Chinese frontier—Mattin—Hoetone—View of the Irawady plain—A slippery descent—The Namthabet—The Sawady route—A solemn sacrifice—A retrospective survey.

On the 27th of August we bade adieu to our friends at Hotha, the wife and daughters of the chief coming out to “see us off”; while their tears, and reiterated requests that we would soon come again, might have been called forth by the departure of some near relatives or very dear friends. We offered to shake hands, “English fashion,” which the eldest daughter declined, as it was contrary to Shan etiquette, but the young wife of the chief mustered up courage to defy public opinion. The saluting guns were fired, and we started amidst the good wishes of a large crowd. The tsawbwa rode with us as far as the boundary of his domains; and all along the route his people turned out with many demonstrations of goodwill to the departing strangers. On the borders of Latha, our friend took leave of us with evident regret, and handed us over to the care of the Kakhyen chief of Namboke.

The Latha district is naturally even more picturesque than that of Hotha. The hills are nearer, and the glen, as it might be called, is more thickly wooded. The town of Latha, which we passed near at hand, though separated from the road by the Namsa river, appeared to be the largest and most populous in the whole valley. We were precluded from visiting it by the unwillingness of the old chieftain to receive the foreigners. A present and polite messages were, however, sent by our leader en passant, and a return present and complimentary message, personally dictated by the chief, were brought back by our messengers. The message attributed his inability to receive us to the prejudices of some of his subjects. He promised that, whenever we should come again, he and his people would be prepared to welcome our presence. His subjects seemed to be no less thriving than those in the other section. All along the route, many-roofed khyoungs, rising above the rich greenery, marked the whereabouts of villages, and pagodas of a very striking type covered the rounded hills and thickly wooded knolls.

We crossed the Namsa by a long wooden bridge, and soon found ourselves involved in a perfect maze of little conical grassy hills, which blocked up the western end of the valley. The road turned to the left from the narrow glen of the Namsa, and gradually ascended, following the course of the Namboke stream, and, crossing a number of small hills, attained the summit of the first spur of the easterly barrier of the valley. From this point to Namboke, the road wound over a succession of spurs, till the village was reached, lying among a group of little wooded hills formed by the junction of spurs of the secondary Hotha range with the great southern barrier of the Tapeng valley, which here unite. After a march of fourteen miles, performed in five hours, we arrived at 5 P.M. in a downpour of rain, which did not make the roofless shed provided as quarters at all inviting. The tsawbwa then conducted us to his house, where we alighted under a salute of three guns, and were accommodated partly in the strangers’ hall and partly in the portico, which latter proved populous with enemies to sleep. The urgent hospitality of the Namboke chief compelled us to gratify him by a day’s halt; and it was only by dogged determination that our leader succeeded in effecting a start at midday on the 29th.

From Namboke we descended into a deep hollow, and thence gradually ascended to the ridge of the main range bordering the Tapeng gorge, along which we travelled to Ashan, eight miles distant, where we put up for the night in Kakhyen houses. The footpath which did duty for road had been recently cleared of jungle by the Kakhyens, the fresh marks of whose dahs were visible on either side, as we wound through magnificent virgin forest. From occasional points of vantage on open hill brows, we looked down on a sea of foliage, unbroken by any clearing or sign of human habitation. From the summit level of the ridge, we looked to the right across the valley of the Tapeng, and saw Ponsee lying, a little speck, on the opposite slope, halfway between the Tapeng and the summit of the lofty Shitee-doung, also called Shitee Meru, as if after the Sacred Hill. The territory of Ponsee extends from this summit to that of Kad-doung, which rose behind us, so that Ashan with its dozen houses lies within the Ponsee borders. Below us, to the left, two narrow deep valleys ran east and west, separated by a low ridge, the termination of the southern boundary of Hotha, which speedily lost itself in the bewildering maze which results from the division and commingling of the great spurs of the main lines of upheaval of these mountains. In every direction, as far as the eye could reach, extended a sea of hills, some rising in great dome-shaped masses six thousand feet above the sea, clothed to their summits with dense forest, unbroken by any cultivation. The greater number of the lesser hills had been evidently cleared, and their abrupt slopes seemed, as it were, fashioned into huge flights of broad steps, the terraces for the rice and maize crops, while by the aid of a good field-glass little Kakhyen villages could be detected dotting the slopes.

We left Ashan in heavy rain, and commenced to descend in a southerly direction. The path led along the crest of a spur running down to a village. The ponies and mules could not keep their feet on the wet, slippery paths, and kept sliding down on their hindquarters. As steep declivities bordered the path, the descent was not without risk, and a pedestrian could only keep his footing by catching hold of the long grass, and so lowering himself down.

Having crossed the Namkhong, swollen by the rains into a tempestuous stream, which taxed the uttermost strength of the ponies, the path lay over a wet and muddy alluvial flat into another valley and across another torrent. We then made a very steep ascent up the mountain side, passing the village of Lasee, perched on a lofty rounded peak. From the height we gained a full view of the ranges to the southwards, running nearly parallel to each other, east-north-east and west-south-west, with intervening valleys, much broken up by spurs. A descent of a few hundred feet brought us to the village of Muangwye, on the southern slope of a hill covered with trees and enormous granite boulders.

Our halt here was a device of the local tsawbwa, who was anxious to have the honour of entertaining us. The other chiefs had gone on to Loaylone with the baggage and commissariat, expecting us to proceed to that village as our resting-place for the night. The chief did his best to reconcile us to his hospitable ruse by a hearty welcome and liberal supplies of sheroo and samshu.

The usual and direct route from Ashan to Hoetone, the last Kakhyen village before descending to the plain, only occupies one good day’s march; but the anxiety of the respective chiefs to entertain us caused them to lead us from village to village, and make three marches instead of one; and as the rain was almost incessant, and the path up and down the hillsides slippery in the extreme, we found Kakhyen regard almost as embarrassing as the former hostility.

The next day we crossed the Muangkah stream, about fifteen feet across, and flowing in a deep nullah, which is the boundary line between the Lakhone and Cowlee Kakhyens, into whose borders we now entered. The glen was very narrow, but the rich black soil very fertile, judging from the appearance of the small rice fields. The only bridge was a felled tree, less than a foot broad, with a ricketty bamboo tied on as a handrail, along which we scrambled, almost envying the animals, which swam across. Ascending another ridge, we passed the remains of the old Chinese frontier fort, commanding this route, as a custom-house, as that above the Nampoung commands the Ponsee road. A hundred feet below, the village of Loaylone occupied a steep slope, stretching out in an amphitheatre. This was the largest and most thriving Kakhyen village we had yet seen, and the chief’s house presented the unusual feature of a high bamboo fence enclosing it. The chief was bountiful in his supplies of fowls and sheroo; and in the evening his younger brother, the tsawbwa of Mattin, paid us a visit, and proved to be the most polished and intelligent Kakhyen we had met, his manners and style being fully equal to those of any Burmese or Shan gentleman. His dress was a mixture of Shan and Chinese, but his hair was arranged in Burmese fashion. He proved to be perfectly acquainted with Burmese and Chinese, and held a long conversation on the advantages of re-establishing trade, in which he professed the utmost readiness to co-operate. He was very anxious that we should become his guests at Mattin for several days; and, after exhausting the pleas of the ill-health of some of the party, the rains, &c., we were obliged to urge that delays on the way would prejudice the minds of our rulers against the embassy route. It was necessary to remain a day at Loaylone, as, according to custom, the mules and porters had to be paid off here, and replaced by others belonging to the Cowlee Kakhyens. The ordinary central route to Momien is said to be from this place to Muangwan, a view of which valley can be gained from the Chinese fort of Loaylone, whence the road leads to Nantin, avoiding the Hotha valley. There was, of course, some trouble with the muleteers, who invariably put forth extortionate demands, only to be met by firm refusal. At the very moment of our departure, two of the Namboke pawmines laid an embargo on a mule-load of luggage as a pawn for payment for some rice, which they had already received.

The direct road to Hoetone is only six miles by a comparatively level route along the paddy fields, but the necessity of accepting Mattin’s invitation lengthened our march to fifteen miles, involving the ascent of one of the highest ranges. In a glen below Loaylone we met a caravan of mules from Bhamô laden with cotton and salt. From this point steep ascents over a succession of spurs, and descents into shallow valleys, brought us to the summit of the main ridge at an elevation of five thousand feet. Close to our left, and five or six hundred feet higher, rose the high dome-shaped hill which we had sighted from Ashan. To the south-east and south rose a few still higher peaks, but none apparently exceeding an elevation of six thousand feet. The summit of this ridge was covered with fine turf and a few trees, and strewn with enormous granite boulders, under the shelter of which were built the houses of a small village named Loayline.

From this point we began to descend the main mass of the Kakhyen hills, and soon arrived at the village of Mattin, situated on the ridge of a spur. A salute of three guns and a musical clash of gongs and cymbals announced our arrival, and we were ushered up a broad flight of stone steps leading to a Chinese gateway in a substantial brick and stone wall. Within this stood the chief’s house, of Kakhyen design, but, by its construction and rich ornaments of carving, deserving the name of a Kakhyen palace. After being duly presented to the chief’s family, and admired by an enthusiastic crowd of his subjects, who, be it said, were vastly superior both in their appearance and dress to their compatriots of the northern hills, we were conducted into a small external pavilion, and refreshed ourselves in privacy.

From Mattin a descent of two miles brought us to Hoetone, situated on a flattened depression of the same spur, strewn with huge gneiss and granite boulders. In front of the tsawbwa’s house three flat blocks of stone, about three feet high, were fixed in the ground in line, which were described as the altar whereon buffaloes were offered to the nats. We had observed similar stones in a grove outside the village, which the numerous skulls strewn about showed to have been the scene of numerous offerings. In this place there was also a circular wall, three feet high, with one of the standing stones built into it, and the ground covered with the decaying skulls of sacrificed buffaloes. The next morning we were visited first by the aged tsawbwa of Hoetone, accompanied by his wives, children, and grandchildren, all in their best attire, and laden with the usual presents of fowls, vegetables, cooked rice, and sheroo. The next to appear were the tsawbwas of Kadaw and Sakhiy, dressed in ancient black satin jackets, with their womankind attired à la Kakhyen, but decorated with a profusion of Shan silver ornaments. The sub-chief who had followed us to Momien, and died there of small-pox, was a son of Kadaw, and although he had come to Momien of his own accord, Sladen considered it just to promise to the old father that, when at Bhamô, he would consult with the other chiefs as to compensation for his son’s death. With this assurance the father departed well pleased; but a younger brother of the deceased thought fit to bully and demand instant payment, and enlisted a few of the muleteers on his side. The usual Kakhyen wrangle and bluster ensued, but being met with firm expostulation, according to custom, ended in nothing; but our departure had been thereby delayed till midday, when we gladly recommenced our descent to the plains.

In dry weather it is usual to travel from Hoetone to Bhamô by Momouk, across the plain, on the left bank of the Tapeng; but the low grounds being now under water, it was necessary to proceed to the Tapeng below its exit from the hills, and descend it in boats to Bhamô. A short distance below Hoetone, we came to a division in the road, and a discussion ensued with the Mantai tsawbwa, who was acting as guide to the advance party of the cavalcade, as to the proper path to follow. One road, along the spur which we had descended, appeared evidently to be the direct route, as the other turned off to the left down a deep hollow, towards another spur to the southward. This, the tsawbwa insisted, was as good and as short as the other, and we perforce followed him. From the brow of the spur a noble panorama of the extensive plain of the Irawady burst upon our view.

The great river, now swollen to its fullest width, wound like a broad band of silver through the plain, and our followers literally jumped and shouted with joy at the prospect, realising the speedy termination of their six months’ wanderings. Those of our party whose dignity forbade such demonstrations rejoiced no less in spirit; for even this grand hill scenery becomes wearisome when one has to scramble up the steep mountain paths and slide down the counter slope in torrents of rain. We could not grumble at the slight detour which the Mantai chief had imposed upon us, for the whole population of his village was eagerly awaiting our arrival, and saluted us with five guns. In his house, which was enclosed with a bamboo palisade, mats were spread for us, and his wife and daughters, two almost handsome maidens, vied with each other in demonstrations of welcome and proffers of very excellent sheroo. Leaving them highly delighted with a few bright silver coins and compliments, we remounted, and began a slippery descent through bamboo jungle, in which there was a fair chance of being impaled on the fallen stems, as the ponies slid down on their haunches, utterly unable to change their course. Having at least reached four thousand feet below Hoetone, we had to cross at the bottom a roaring mountain torrent by a newly constructed bridge. A large boulder lay in midstream, and two large bamboos were placed from it to the banks on either side, with smaller cross pieces to keep all secure; this primitive and rickety bridge, about eighteen inches wide, sloped down to the stone, and then rose up at a steep incline to the other bank. It was a perilous path for man and beast, for to lose one’s balance meant being swept down by the resistless current into the Tapeng. The level ground on either side of the stream was closed in by high hills, which echoed with the roar of the latter river; but the high grass which covered the alluvial flat hid it from us, until, having crossed a low spur, we came upon the banks of the foaming yellow flood, rushing down to the plains in a magnificent torrent. About two miles further, we left the Tapeng, and turned to the south-west, and, crossing a low spur, came upon the right bank of a moderate-sized, deep-flowing stream, with a very strong current, called Namthabet, which flows into the Tapeng, at its exit from the hills. This stream had to be crossed by a raft, which two Kakhyens had been sent from Hoetone to construct, but they had only completed half their task when we arrived. We were therefore compelled to bivouac, and all hands set to work to construct the small bamboo huts thatched with grass, which the Burmese call tai. The night was fine, but the sandflies proved utter foes to sleep, defying mosquito curtains; and the morning brought a tremendous thunderstorm, followed by torrents of rain, as if the hill nats wished to give us a farewell benefit.

As soon as the raft was completed, the jemadar and a number of Burmans embarked, furnished with long bamboos to pole it across; but the current swept it down stream, and it was only saved by the men jumping into the water and pushing it to bank, where all held on by the overhanging branches. The Kakhyen method of stretching a rope across the stream was next resorted to, and under the experienced direction of Captain Bowers a strong rope of the outer layer of the bamboo was speedily improvised. This attempt also failed, for the rope broke in two when the raft was in midstream, but the men kept firm hold, and hauled themselves to the opposite bank. At last we succeeded, by means of two ropes, in ferrying all the party across, drenched to the skin by the rain and river water. On the left bank we were met by the choung-sa of Tsitgna with an escort, sent to accompany us to Nampoung, on the Tapeng. Before us lay a line of low hills, running nearly north and south, dividing the valley of the Namthabet from the Burmese plain, into which they fade gradually by long undulations. Their eastern face is covered almost exclusively with bamboos, but the western slope is thickly wooded with numerous species of forest trees, until the plain is reached, when eng trees and tall elephant grass take their place. On arriving at the Tapeng, after a march of five miles, we found two large boats in readiness, one of them nicely carpeted, and carrying a band of musicians beating gongs and tomtoms. All our party, including the Kakhyen chiefs who had accompanied us, being embarked, we were towed by two war-boats, each manned by thirty men, across the broad and quickly flowing Tapeng, to the village of Tsitgna, where we were conducted by the Woon’s private secretary to a small pavilion, comfortably arranged for our reception. The Burmese officials were most attentive; gratuitous supplies of eatables were brought in abundance, and even the Kakhyen chiefs and their followers were supplied with all they needed.

On the 5th of September we settled the hire of the mules and porters without the slightest disagreement, all the baggage having been safely delivered, without the loss of a single article between Hotha and Tsitgna. Even the load of the mule detained at Loaylone, which had been divided into bundles for two porters, arrived safe, and, to the honour of the Kakhyens be it said, without so much as even an opened bottle of brandy being tampered with.

The next morning we embarked on boats constructed of two canoes, carrying a platform and a canopy or roof of leaves overhead, and glided down the broad deep Tapeng, which this season is one thousand five hundred feet wide, and deep enough for an ordinary river steamer, as far as the hills. On the way down, we looked back for a parting glance at the Kakhyen hills. On either side of the river rose the two lofty peaks, the Shitee-doung on the north and the Kad-doung on the south, seeming to stand like sentinels, to guard the routes to China, and in a very literal sense, for the old Chinese forts and frontier custom-houses occupied strong positions on either mountain, and the boundary line of the Flowery Kingdom is almost defined by these heights. Near the mouth of the river we were met by the tsare-daw-gyee with two war-boats, which towed us to Bhamô, where we landed at 2.30 in the afternoon of September 5th, having left it on the 26th of February.

The Burmese surveyor who had been despatched from Hotha to examine the route to Sawady had arrived at Bhamô on the 26th of August, having accomplished his journey in ten days. He had travelled in the disguise of a Shan, accompanied by a guide recommended by the Hotha chief, and our own Kakhyen interpreter. Carrying no instruments except an aneroid for measuring the heights, he had performed his task of observations very satisfactorily. From Hotha he had crossed the intervening ridge, seven hundred feet above the Muangtha valley, into the much larger valley of Muangwan, lying at about the same level as that of Nantin. This Chinese Shan state was governed by the grandmother of the youthful tsawbwa, acting as regent during his minority. She and her headmen agreed in promising safe conduct to all English traders adopting that route. A constant stream of mules and pack bullocks was described as passing from Sawady to Muangwan, whence they proceeded either to Nantin or to Muangkun. The route was clear of all obstructions, and smooth and even throughout. Two Kakhyen districts were passed through, named Bhagon and Phonkan, in the latter of which the highest elevation occurs. Both agreed to maintain the old Chinese tariff of one rupee for mules and eight annas for bullocks, and the Phonkan chief expressed his wish that English traders would adopt this route, and guaranteed their safety.

Our old quarters in the town of Bhamô had been thoroughly repaired, and were ready to receive us, while the tsawbwas, who had accompanied us, to the number of thirty-one, all of whom ruled districts adjacent to the central route, were housed by the Burmese in zayats outside the stockade. The object of their attendance was to take part in a solemn sacrifice according to their custom, and to enter into an engagement ratified by the most binding oath, that they would afford safe conduct and protection to all traders and travellers who might hereafter cross their hills between Bhamô and the Shan states. The ceremony took place on the 13th, after sundry open objections and hidden obstacles raised by the Burmese, who, no doubt, were at first rather puzzled by the transaction, but, after clear explanations by Major Sladen, raised no further difficulty. A species of scaffold was erected, consisting of strong posts sunk into the ground, with cross pieces, to which the victim, a buffalo, was bound. An altar was reared twenty feet in height, with a square platform of bamboos, on which the offering was placed. Before the sacrifice, and again before the offering was made, the nats or deities were duly invoked in a solemnly chanted prayer. The buffalo was firmly bound by its horns to the scaffold, and then thrown on one side, so that the whole weight of the body bore on the partially twisted neck. A Kakhyen rushed forward, in one hand holding a plantain leaf cup full of water, and brandishing his dah in the other. Simultaneously the water was thrown over the victim, and the fatal blow delivered in the neck with a force and effect as fatal as the stab of the matador. The carcase was at once cut up, the blood being received in a large vessel, while the entrails were laid as offerings to the nats on the elevated altar. With the blood a quantity of samshu was mixed, and stirred up with the points of dahs and spears, and each chief in turn drank from the bowl, and uttered his vow of fidelity to the common cause. Such was the rite that the three chiefs had joined in at Ponsee when leagued for our destruction, and now thirty-one chiefs bound themselves solemnly to maintain peace and give protection to future travellers through their borders. This was the concluding act which terminated our expedition, and it may be permitted to us to look back with satisfaction to the fact, that of the whole party which set out of Bhamô, with the exception of one sepoy and a native collector, who succumbed to disease, all returned in safety. The natives of the Kakhyen hills and of the Shan valleys had learned to regard their at first suspected or dreaded visitors as friends and benefactors; and if the advance had been slow, and in the opinion of some costly, the return had been easily accomplished, and not without a wealth of “golden opinions” won from the various chiefs with whom Englishmen for the first time had been brought in successive relations.

It is scarcely within the scope of this volume to review the political aspect of the work performed, but it is impossible to refrain from some comments. The term failure has been freely applied to the outcome of this expedition, and the conduct of the leader has been, only recently, most harshly criticised. Considering that his instructions, as received from the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, were to investigate thoroughly the causes of the cessation of trade, to discover the exact political position of the Kakhyens, the Shans, and the Panthays, and to influence these communities in favour of the restoration of commerce, it can hardly be alleged that the prescribed objects were not fully attained. While it had been considered by the superior authorities desirable to advance to Yung-chang, or, if possible, to Tali-fu, the leader had been strictly enjoined not to risk the safety of the members of the mission. From Bhamô he had to feel his way, contending against intrigues on the part of the Kakhyens and misunderstanding on the part of the Shans, fomented by the misrepresentations of the jealous Chinese merchants at Bhamô. The country to be traversed was unknown, and in an abnormal state of confusion. Where Burma ended, and China commenced, was a problem, for the ancient frontier lines had been temporarily obliterated, the authority of the mandarins had receded into the interior of Yunnan, and that of the usurping Mahommedan rulers was only partially felt to the westward of Momien. Not till that town was reached could the desired information be obtained, or the true relation of the intervening valley states to Burma or China be discerned. Not a step forwards had been taken without securing beforehand the consent, and, as it proved, the welcome, of the various rulers, subordinate or supreme; and care was especially taken to disown any political partisanship, and to proclaim to all that our object was to explore in the interests of commerce.

When, after a short stay at Momien, it became evident that further progress was at once dangerous and in the existing state of things liable to embroil us with Chinese constituted authorities, a return was resolved on, and only retarded by uncontrollable circumstances. To have obeyed orders, and in various and trying positions to have manifested a patient endurance in order to reach the farthest possible goal, and return thence with the wished for information, and thus prepare the way for future travellers, may not be accounted brilliant exploits; but these are the arduous duties of a careful scout and a successful pioneer. The reader can form his own opinion as to whether these were not worthily performed by Major Sladen.

Those who shared his journeyings, though not his responsibilities, and witnessed his cautious and resolute bearing under novel and perplexing conditions, cannot but record their opinion that he deserves a larger meed of praise than has been as yet accorded to his conduct of the first English expedition to Yunnan.

CHAPTER XII.
INTERMEDIATE EVENTS.

Appointment of a British Resident at Bhamô—Increase of native trade—Action of the king of Burma—Burmese quarrel with the Seray chief—British relations with the Panthays—Struggle in Yunnan—Li-sieh-tai—Imperialist successes—European gunners—Siege of Momien—Fall of Yung-chang—Prince Hassan visits England—Fall of Tali-fu—Sultan Suleiman’s death—Massacre of Panthays—Capture of Momien—Escape of Tah-sa-kon—Capture of Woosaw—Suppression of rebellion—Imperial proclamation—Li-sieh-tai, commissioner of Shan states—Re-opening of trade routes—Second British mission—Action of Sir T. Wade—Appointment of Mr. Margary—Members of mission—Acquiescence of China and Burma.

The first active step taken by the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, as a result of the expedition of 1868, was to recommend the appointment of a British Resident at Bhamô. The various Shan and Kakhyen chiefs, as well as the governor of Momien, had concurred in the opinion that such an appointment would be beneficial to the future trade.

By the 6th article of the treaty of 1867 it had been provided that British steamers should be allowed to navigate the Burmese waters, that British merchants should be permitted to reside at Bhamô, and, lastly, that British agents might be appointed at all customs stations, such as Bhamô and Menhla. The government of India, however, while approving of the appointment of a British Resident at Bhamô, declined to pass final or definite orders until the king’s sentiments should have been ascertained, and a distinct assent given by him. His Majesty had already, when the matter was mooted, declared that he would take care that his officer, the Woon, should co-operate with the Resident; but, according to the instructions given, that the plan should be laid before him as one “requiring a clear understanding, and a full approval on the part of his Majesty,” it was made the subject of a special audience. The king expressly declared that the appointment of a Resident at Bhamô had his full consent and approval; but he hoped that “obstinate or intractable officers, guided solely by their own opinion, without regard to advice or reason,” would not be sent. He further desired that the new official might be presented to himself, when he would introduce him to the Woon of Bhamô, in order to arrange their mutual relations. The spirit in which the king entertained and acquiesced in the proposal may be taken as an illustration of the manner in which the king of Burma has shown himself disposed to deal with the formidable power which holds the seaboard of his kingdom. Fully alive, as he must have been, to the possible embarrassments that might arise from his relations to England on the one hand, and to his suzerain, the emperor of China, on the other, it cannot be said that he has failed to carry out his treaty obligations to our government; and when the misrepresentation of which he has been the subject is taken into account, it will appear that the king of Burma has some right to complain of the treatment he has received at the hands of the British public.

In March 1869, Captain Strover was gazetted as the first British Resident at Bhamô, and in due course the British flag was hoisted at that ancient entrepot of Indo-Chinese trade. It is almost needless to remark that, as regards direct British commerce, no considerable results followed. In 1872 it was reported that not a single consignment belonging to British firms had arrived at Bhamô during the three previous years. The native trade increased considerably, and the Chinese merchants of Rangoon and Mandalay had despatched large quantities of cotton and salt, and other commodities, as well as a moderate supply of piece goods. In the spring of 1870, the arrivals at Tsitkaw averaged eight hundred mules a month. During the two following years caravans of one thousand beasts of burden are recorded as arriving from the Chinese territories. The river-borne trade increased so much that the agents for the Irawady Flotilla Company found that the monthly steamer service to Bhamô was insufficient, and besides the extra steamers placed on the line by them, the India General Steam Navigation Company despatched steamers and heavily laden flats. To quote a correspondent of the Times, “in four years the steam navigation developed itself into an almost regular fortnightly service, which, during the year ending October 1874, carried cargo to the value of about £200,000 to and from Bhamô.”

The king of Burma showed his anxiety to restore the trade of the Bhamô route by erecting and garrisoning a line of guard-houses through the Kakhyen hills, from the plain to the Nampoung, beyond which river, as being the boundary line of China, Li-sieh-tai would not permit their erection.

In 1872, no less than one hundred and fifty thousand viss of royal cotton were stored at Manwyne under the charge of the king’s agents there resident, and it is expressly noted that, so far as the Burmese are concerned, British goods could have been forwarded with perfect security. The Mandalay Chinese, however, were deterred (1871) from buying cotton for the Yunnan market by the information that the imperialist officers had laid an embargo on the caravans, to prevent them from supplying the Panthays with provisions. The caravans were not infrequently attacked by dacoits, especially near Nantin, and the Kakhyen chief of Seray was accused by the Burmese of having intercepted royal presents on their way to China. The tsare-daw-gyee of Bhamô, by way of reprisal, seized thirty mules belonging to the Seray chief, whence arose a feud, which was not forgotten at the period of the second expedition. At this time, it resulted in the messengers sent by the Resident to the governor of Momien being warned by the Seray chief not to travel that road, as it was unsafe for any Burmese.

It was a necessary, but regretable, consequence of the reception given to the first expedition by the governor of Momien that he maintained friendly relations with successive Residents. It appeared desirable, with a view to maintain the security of the trade route, to keep on friendly, though strictly neutral, terms with the holders of the commanding position of Momien. It is, doubtless, easy to look back, and be wise after the event; but, rightly or wrongly, the intercourse once begun could not be well abandoned; at all events, it was judged prudent to maintain it. It certainly created in the minds of the Chinese at Bhamô a distinct impression that the interests of their possible commercial rivals and of their actual political foes were identified. The Kakhyen chiefs of the southern route even complained that since they and the Shans had become friends of the English the Bhamô Chinese were no longer amicably disposed towards them. The presents sent by the Residents from time to time were, doubtless, magnified by the popular imagination, and neither side found it easy to believe that the sole object was the assurance of safe and commodious transit. Thus at least it may be conjectured from the study of the course of subsequent events, as well as from the manifestations of feeling on the part of both Panthays and Chinese.

The conflicting accounts and reports which were brought in, and which enable us in some degree to trace the progress of events in Yunnan, which led to the complete overthrow of the Mahommedan power, all combined to show that, from the time of our visit to Momien, the Chinese government would seem to have aroused itself to the necessity of recovering the almost lost province. Whatever the real strength of the Mahommedans may have been in 1868, it is certain that they had gradually lost ground in 1869. The various reports furnished were too contradictory, and, in truth, both the governor of Momien and the Chinese were too much given to exaggeration to furnish any trustworthy data. In 1870, as was well ascertained, Li-sieh-tai was the acknowledged leader of the imperialist Chinese troops in the Momien district, and had invested Momien, but had suffered a defeat, and been obliged to retreat into the Shitee-doung range of hills. He soon recruited his forces, and levied contributions from the Shans, and also from the Chinese merchants both of Bhamô and Mandalay. The latter were not moved by patriotism, but by the national feelings of affection for their kindred, and respect for their ancestral graves in Yunnan.

Towards the end of that year, Momien had been again invested by the Chinese, but a Panthay force from the north had succeeded in throwing reinforcements into the city, notwithstanding which, entrenchments were subsequently thrown up by the Chinese troops, who, under Li and Li-quang-fang and another officer, pressed the place hard, but to no purpose. The imperialists seem to have poured troops into the province, and a proclamation signed by Li was posted in Bhamô, announcing that ten thousand troops had surrounded Yung-chang. In the beginning of 1871, the northern districts, which had been the cradle of the rebellion, were held firmly by the Mahommedans, and the city of Tali-fu was reported by two natives of India, who came to Bhamô, to have been free two months before from the presence of imperialist troops. The Mahommedan troops then were in great force, and had been despatched to the relief of the threatened cities of Yung-chang and Shin-tin. The imperialist troops were then attacking Yeynan-sin, to the north-east of Tali-fu, and as they had cannon directed by three European gunners, the Mahommedans, though fighting with their usual bravery, suffered great losses, and could scarcely make head against them. Thus there were three lines of attack, one army assailing Yung-chang and the neighbouring cities south of the line between Momien and Tali; the main force advancing on the holy city itself, and Li-sieh-tai with his troops pressing the siege of Momien, where the governor doggedly held out, though reported to have been severely wounded, and kept up constant communication with the Residency at Bhamô. By the end of 1871, Yung-chang had been taken by the Chinese, and Tali-fu was said to be closely invested. Around Momien constant fighting continued with varied success, one Chinese leader having been killed and his troops defeated; but the Mahommedans were bravely fighting a hopeless battle against overwhelming numbers, and the more faint-hearted among them were advising surrender, or meditating treachery. The Sultan Suleiman resolved on sending his son and heir, Hassan, to solicit the aid or interference of the British government, in order to avert the threatened overthrow of his power, or secure tolerable terms of peace. The young prince, as he may be called, made his way in disguise, with a few attendants, to Rangoon, and thence proceeded to London, where he arrived in the spring of 1872. It is needless to say that his errand was bootless; but he was treated as a private guest of the government, and remained for some time in this country. On his return he was accompanied by Mr. Cooper, who was appointed in England to conduct him to the frontier of our territory. The prince had himself proposed that thence this well-known traveller should proceed with him to Tali-fu, and thus accomplish the object of his former venturous journey. En route they visited Constantinople, where the Sultan received the prince as a distinguished guest, and finally arrived at Rangoon. Here they received the intelligence of the capture of Tali-fu, the death of Suleiman, and the utter destruction of the Mahommedan power. This necessarily put a stop to their further journey, and the unhappy Hassan set out on a pilgrimage to Mecca.

During his absence in Europe, the Chinese generals had put forth all their power to capture the head-quarters of the rebels. For some months the natural strength of the position of Tali-fu, to which all the Mahommedans of the surrounding country had retired before the advancing Chinese armies, defied its assailants. Abundant provisions were stored in the granaries; and the garrison, said to number thirty or forty thousand Mahommedans, were determined to resist to the last. The chief minister of the Sultan was entrusted with the command of Shagwan, as the Burmese call the fort of Hia-kwang or Hsia-kwan, and he was bribed to admit the Chinese forces and surrender to them the granaries. The artillery of the Chinese, directed, as already stated, by European gunners, rendered it impossible for the sultan to cope with them in the field; but he held out within the walls of the city till provisions failed, and approaching famine compelled him to enter into negotiations. He was led to believe that, if he surrendered himself, his people would be spared, and willingly agreed to sacrifice his own life to save those of his followers. Knowing the fate which awaited himself and his family, he administered poison to his three wives and five children, and, having taken a fatal dose himself, proceeded in his chair to the Chinese general’s quarters, but died on the road. His head was cut off, and, preserved in honey, was forwarded to Pekin, and it is said that his three youngest sons were sent as prisoners. The Chinese general then demanded that the Mahommedans should surrender all their arms and ammunition, which was done. The officers were then required to repair to the Chinese head-quarters to pay their respects to the general. Forty-one obeyed the summons, and on entering his presence were at once seized and beheaded. Orders were then issued for a general massacre of the disarmed and leaderless garrison, and an indiscriminate slaughter of thousands of men, women, and children, completed the conquest of Tali-fu. Thence the army marched to Chun-ning-fu and Yin-chaw, which towns were successively captured, no quarter being given to any of the Mahommedans.

Another version of the fall of Tali-fu narrates that the Mahommedans invited the Chinese to a conference at one of the gates, having previously mined the ground. The Chinese came in force, but, struck with a sudden suspicion of doubt, retreated just before the explosion of the mine, which destroyed the gate and part of the wall. The Chinese then returned and stormed the city, but the citadel was too strong for them, and held out till surrendered as above described. The Mahommedans claimed in their version to have been successful in their stratagem, and to have destroyed great numbers of the enemy, of whom many panic-stricken rushed into the lake, and perished there. The fort or position of Hsia-kwan was stated by the Chinese to have been stormed by a night attack, headed by the Tartar general in person, who led the way over rocky heights supposed to be inaccessible. At all events, it is certain that Tali-fu fell in August 1872, and on the New Year of 1873 the governor-general of Yunnan sent forward letters to the king of Burma announcing the fact, and requesting the king to assist in the reopening of trade, as the rebellion was at an end; but, to use the words of Sir Thomas Wade, “the rebellion died hard,” for Momien and Woosaw still held out.

The governor of the former place had been visited by a high Panthay official, who was secretly a traitor to the cause, and advised surrender; whereupon the governor invited him into his Yamen, and promptly beheaded him. In February three officers arrived from Momien at Bhamô with letters addressed to the Chief Commissioner of Burma, and were forwarded to Rangoon. The town was finally captured in May, the strong south-western gate described in page 192 having been successfully mined; but the victors found no one in the city. The governor had succeeded in bribing the officer in command of the troops to the north of the town, who had been a former adherent of his own, and suffered his few remaining co-religionists to escape by night, much to the disappointment of the Chinese, who could not consider the country tranquillised while so brave and able a leader was at large. In June a proclamation was posted throughout the Shan valleys, announcing the marriage of the emperor and the fall of Momien, and inviting all the people to return to their homes and cultivate their lands.

The ex-governor was heard of from time to time as lurking in the mountains with a few faithful followers, and orders were issued from the king of Burma that he should be seized if found on Burmese territory, and surrendered to the Chinese. This order was issued in compliance with a request sent by an envoy from the viceroy of Yunnan to the king; but he managed to elude both Chinese and Burmese, and succeeded in entering Hoothaw or Woosaw, the last remaining stronghold of his party.

This place, three days’ march north-west of Momien, is described as a town of one thousand houses, surrounded by a stone wall twenty feet high, and defended on one side by a deep stream, and altogether stronger and more flourishing than Momien. Its position must be at a high elevation, as in winter the swamps are frozen hard enough to bear men on the ice. Communication is carried on between this place and Lay-myo, one hundred miles north of Bhamô, on the Namthabet, an affluent of the Irawady, by which route the officers from Momien reached Bhamô.

Woosaw was captured at the end of May 1874, but the ex-tah-sa-kon and the principal officers succeeded in escaping to Chang-see, a town south-west of Woosaw, and eight days distant from Talo, on the Irawady, while his sons were at Tseedai assisting the tsawbwa in a fight with the Wacheoon chief.

The Panthays, in their turn, had become dacoits, as they had formerly termed Li-sieh-tai’s troops, and from their lurking-places on the hills near Nantin attacked the caravans going to Momien; while the last news of the ex-tah-sa-kon, who for a time was supposed to be dead, were that he had joined the Shan rebel Tsan-hai, who was committing acts of brigandage in the Burmese Shan state of Namkan, on the left bank of the Shuaylee.

Thus in the middle of 1874 the Chinese authority had been thoroughly re-established. As early as August 1873, an imperial proclamation had been issued in the Pekin Gazette, in which the emperor congratulated himself on the termination of the war, which had lasted eighteen years, and in which the half of the prefectural and district cities had been taken by the rebels. All arrears of taxes due up to 1872 were remitted, and the le-kin, or special war tax, was declared to be no longer required. Li-sieh-tai was appointed commissioner of the Koshanpyi or Shan states; and Sie-ta-lin, the newly invested Chinese governor of Momien, and the officials of the other strong towns, set themselves to restore trade and resettle the country, which had been deserted and left desolate for years. It can be well imagined that no little hatred of the Panthays, not unmixed with fear, animated all the border Chinese, and the constant rumours that the rebels were collecting for a new attack combined with the actual robberies committed to keep all the Chinese officials on the qui vive.

It has been already mentioned how the trade between Burma and China increased from 1872, as soon as the head of the Mahommedan revolt was crushed at Tali-fu. It is a significant fact that in 1873 the Chinese governor of Muanglong, situated to the south-west of Momien, sent orders to his feudatory, the tsawbwa of Sehfan, to open trade to Bhamô at any risk; and the chief, in announcing the intended departure of a large caravan, requested the Resident at Bhamô to send a deputy to meet him at Hotha.

The routes were regularly open, and large quantities of cotton, &c., exported, both by Bhamô and Theinnee, although disorders still existed, and straggling dacoits and lawless Kakhyens frequently attacked the caravans. Under these circumstances, the Chief Commissioner of British Burma, the Hon. Ashley Eden, conceived that the time had come for renewing, under more favourable conditions, the opening of the overland trade route to British commerce. In this he was strongly seconded by the commercial community at Rangoon. The question of the establishment of a British Consul at Tali-fu was also discussed. The first point to be attained was to secure a safe transit from Burma into China. The passage of a peaceful British expedition, which would on its journey thoroughly examine the capabilities of the country beyond Momien, and perhaps discover an easier and better route from Bhamô to Yunnan, was still regarded as the direct method of preparing the way.

In 1874, Lord Salisbury, the Secretary of State for India, decided to send a second expedition to penetrate China from Burma, and pass through, if practicable, to Shanghai. To avoid possible misunderstandings, and to make it plain to the Western Chinese mandarins that the foreign visitors were of the same nation as the English who lived and traded in the treaty ports, her Majesty’s Minister at Pekin was instructed to send a consular official, duly furnished with imperial passports, to meet the mission on the frontiers of China. Having secured the full permission of the Pekin government, Sir T. Wade selected Mr. Margary, a young but most promising member of the consular service, thoroughly versed in Chinese language and etiquette, to proceed from Shanghai to Momien. A plan had been at first proposed of despatching a party by way of the Theinnee route from Mandalay, but had been negatived by the king of Burma, on the ground of a rebellion then existing in a Burmese Shan state on the road. Consequently there was no other alternative but to proceed by one or other of the routes from Bhamô. The consent of the king was secured to this measure, although at first his Majesty objected to an armed escort, as he was quite willing to send a sufficient force to convoy the mission to the Chinese frontier; but when he understood that the armed escort would only consist of fifteen Sikhs, he withdrew his objection, and promised his full support and assistance. A considerable quantity of valuable presents were prepared for distribution among the chiefs and officials en route. These included a supply of edible birds’ nests, jewellery, binoculars, musical-boxes, and silver-mounted revolvers. Two valuable horses, one a magnificent Australian or Waler, and the other an Arab, were destined as presents to the viceroy of Yunnan, and a pair of large Australian kangaroo dogs were added to the convoy.

The command of the expedition was entrusted to Colonel Horace Browne, of the Burmese Commission; the post of geographer was filled by Mr. Ney Elias, whose successful and intrepid journey through Mongolia and survey of the Yellow River had won for him the Gold Medal of the Royal Geographical Society of London; and the remaining scientific duties of medical officer and naturalist were entrusted to myself.

In November 1874, Mr. Elias, who was then Assistant Resident at Mandalay, was commissioned to proceed to Bhamô, there to concert with the Resident measures for providing carriage so as to avoid delay. He accordingly visited the Kakhyens holding the route selected, and made a contract with their chiefs for the conveyance and convoy of the mission.

The expedition was appointed to leave Burma in January 1875, in order to accomplish the passage of the hill country before the setting in of the rainy season. As it was possible that Mr. Margary, who left Shanghai on September 4th, might not be able to reach Momien in time, Mr. Allan, of the Chinese consular service, was sent by sea to Rangoon to accompany the mission, and facilitate our intercourse with the Chinese authorities. The preparations for ensuring the success of the mission were thus rendered as complete as foresight could make them. The respective governments of Burma and China had been fully informed of the nature and purposes of the expedition, and had both given to our diplomatic representatives their full consent and promises of safe conduct. The personal goodwill of the border chiefs and mandarins was expected to be conciliated, in the same degree as their official co-operation had been secured by the passports furnished from Pekin; and although there was an element of uncertainty arising from the possible jealousy of the border Chinese and the plundering habits of lawless factions among the Kakhyens, the precautions taken might be well considered as enough to ensure success.

CHAPTER XIII.
SECOND EXPEDITION.

Start of mission—Arrival at Mandalay—The Burmese pooay—Posturing girl—Reception by the meng-gyees—Audience by the king—Departure of mission—Progress up the river—Reception at Bhamô—British Residency—Mr. Margary—Account of his journey—The Woon of Bhamô—Entertains Margary—Chinese puppets—Selection of route—Sawady route—Bullock carriage—Woon of Shuaygoo—Chinese surmises—Letters to Chinese officials—Burmese worship-day.

In November 1874, Colonel Browne and myself arrived at Calcutta, having left England on receipt of telegraphic instructions in the preceding month. A short time was devoted to the purchase and preparation of the various articles intended as presents; while the necessary equipment of scientific instruments was completed under the personal supervision of Colonel Gastrell, of the Surveyor-General’s office, and nothing was spared by this well-known officer to make the fullest provision for all scientific purposes. Fifteen picked men were selected from a Calcutta regiment of Sikhs to form the guard, and all being thus ready, we proceeded to Rangoon, and thence, in the Ashley Eden steamer, began our journey up the Irawady on December 12th.

At Prome we picked up a Chinese named Li-kan-shin, who proved to be a nephew of Li-sieh-tai. He had been driven from his abode at Hawshuenshan by the Panthays, and had lived at Prome, where he bore the Burmese name of Moung Yoh. He now wished to return to Yunnan to visit his mother; as he spoke Burmese fluently, in addition to writing and speaking Chinese, he was taken into the service of the mission as an interpreter. At first he hesitated, fearing to be punished for bringing foreigners into Yunnan, but a sight of the imperial passport removed all his scruples.

We arrived at Mandalay in the evening of December 23rd, 1874, and were received on landing by officials sent from the palace with royal elephants to carry us up to the Residency. Very different was the reception accorded to the members of this mission from the apparent neglect which had seemed to ignore our existence when on the expedition of 1868. All the marks of honour that are usually conferred on distinguished visitors were duly paid. Silver dishes loaded with dainties were sent from the palace, and we were declared to be the king’s guests, not only at the capital, but until we should have passed his frontiers, and have been safely handed over to the Chinese. For our delectation, also, the royal corps dramatique appeared to perform a pooay, or play, the most favourite amusement of the Burmese, even to the very youngest, who will sit for hours, and night after night, listening to the adventures of the royal heroes and heroines, and enjoying the jokes which are freely interspersed. The performance takes place under an open pavilion of bamboos erected for the occasion. There is no stage, but a circular space covered with mats is reserved for the performers, and the audience squat around the edge of the matted portion. The only indication of scenery is a tree set up in the centre to do duty for the forest, in which the scene of all Burmese dramas is laid. By this tree a huge faggot is placed and a large vessel of oil, and the blazing flame, fed from time to time with oil poured over it, illuminates the performance with a lurid light, which gives a fantastic appearance to the figures. A portion of the circle is reserved for the orchestra, the leader taking his place inside a hollow cylinder hung round with drums and cymbals, while the lesser musicians group themselves around the noisy centre. No permanent theatre exists even in the capital, nor are the performers paid by the audience. It is the custom for those who desire on any particular occasion to “give a pooay” to engage one of the various troupes of players, for whom a pavilion is extemporised opposite the house, while the public form regular rows around, and enjoy the gratuitous spectacle. Such an enclosure was set up in the Residency compound. The first intimation of the coming pooay was the early arrival of the orchestra some hours before the performance was to commence, making their presence known by a noisy rehearsal of the music of the play, which soon drew together an expectant crowd. As in pooays generally, the actors and actresses then by degrees dropped in, each accompanied by a friend or servant to assist in the toilettes, which were made in public; the men and women taking their places on opposite sides of the orchestra. The actors arrayed themselves in robes stiff with tinsel, over which they placed an apron of curious work and cumbrous form, and crowned their heads with a species of tiara shaped like a pagoda. Each actress brought with her a small box containing cosmetics, flowers for adorning her hair, and a little mirror. Seating herself on a mat, she substituted for her ordinary jacket a bespangled gauze coat over her richly woven silken tamein, or skirt, which was tucked so tightly round her limbs that it gave her a shuffling gait. The decorating of her hair with sweet-smelling flowers, the powdering of her face, and the painting of her eyebrows, constituted however the chef-d’œuvre of her toilette, requiring constant appeals to the mirror to ensure its success. She then as a finishing stroke threw around her neck numerous strings of imitation pearl beads, which reached down to nearly the knee, and in each lobe of her ears inserted a solid cylinder either of gold, jade, or amber, called a nodoung. She then smoked a cheroot while unconcernedly awaiting her call. This occupation, indeed, was never pretermitted during the performance, except while the actor’s lips were occupied in declamation or song. The royal prima donna, whose professional reputation is very high, and who sang sweetly, would at the end of a passionate outburst coolly relight her cheroot at the blazing faggot by the tree, and smoke it till her next speech or song. Besides the dramatic performers, the royal tumblers and jugglers appeared every afternoon, and executed surprising feats, which were witnessed by an enthusiastic crowd. The agility of the tumblers was remarkable. One man would, as it were, fly rather than spring over a row of nine boys arranged as if for leap-frog. He also leapt through a square formed by keen-edged knives held by two men, and disposed with the edges at right angles to his progress, and giving barely space for the passage of his body. One remarkable exhibition was that of a girl of sixteen, who possessed most singular elasticity of body. She laid herself on the ground, and, without apparent effort or distress, bent her body backwards till her toes rested on her head, as shown in the illustration taken from a photograph. She also possessed the power of moving the muscles of one side of her face and body, while those of the other side remained in a perfect state of repose. The feats of the jugglers were even more puzzling than those of the Indian performers, and seemed to be very popular with the crowd.

POSTURING GIRL AT MANDALAY.

The day after our arrival, the foreign minister, or kengwoon meng-gyee, paid us a visit, and invited us to a breakfast, which was served with great profusion, and was almost English in its style. At a separate table tea was prepared of two sorts; one the ordinary infusion of tea leaves, the other from hard black cakes stamped with Chinese letters, and exactly resembling tablets of Indian ink. These are prepared by the Shans from the Chinese leaf tea, and produce a liquor as pale as sherry, but of excellent flavour. The visit and breakfast of the foreign minister was followed in due succession by similar civilities on the part of the other meng-gyees; and a day was appointed for our presentation to the king, an honour which had been vouchsafed to the mission of 1868 neither on its outward nor homeward journey. Accompanied by the British Resident, Captain Strover, we proceeded on royal elephants, sent for our use, to the palace enclosure, where we found the meng-gyees seated on carpets in a small hlot, or open hall, outside the palace gate. Having doffed our shoes, we seated ourselves on the carpets with feet carefully hidden, according to court etiquette, and conversed with the ministers, while attendants served tea, fruits, and cakes. At last we were informed that the king was ready to receive us; so, having resumed our boots, we proceeded through a small postern in the inner palace stockade into the large open space, on the far side of which rose the lofty temple-like structure with its nine roofs, topped by the golden htee which marks the centre of the capital and state of Burma. Boots were again removed, and we ascended the short flight of steps into a spacious open hall with rows of gilded pillars, and filled with a numerous guard, all prostrated on their knees before the august presence of the meng-gyees who escorted us. Two more halls were successively passed through, and then through a side passage the audience hall was reached. This was a large apartment painted white, with a gilded railing cutting off two-thirds of its area. In the wall opposite to the railing were a pair of gilded folding-doors, and on the right and left a row of pillars. From amidst the ranks of the body-guard, all dressed in spotless white, and squatted on the ground, we entered within the railing, and imitated in our own way the uncomfortable position prescribed by etiquette, carefully turning our feet to the rear. Behind either side of us, were the ministers of state duly crouching. Before the folding-doors, and a few yards removed from us, was spread a gorgeous velvet carpet of red and gold pattern, on which stood a golden couch richly bejewelled. A square pillow, an opera-glass, and two golden boxes were laid ready for the absent occupant, and by the head of the couch stood a betel box in the form of a golden henza, or sacred goose, inlaid with jewels.

Presently the folding-doors were thrown open, disclosing a long vista of golden portals, through which we saw his Majesty of Burma advancing, accompanied by a little boy five or six years old. The Burmese ministers, courtiers, and body-guard instantly bowed their faces to the ground, and remained prone with hands held up in the attitude of supplication. The Europeans bowed after their fashion, and the king, a man of about sixty years, with a refined, intellectual face, quick eye, and pleasing but dignified manners, reclined on the couch and saluted us graciously. He then entered into a complimentary conversation, looking at us through his opera-glass, though not twenty yards distant. He expressed himself in the most friendly manner, and offered one of his steamers to convey the party to Bhamô, which was politely declined on the ground of all arrangements having been already made. All his questions were duly repeated by one of the officials crouching at our side, who rendered into courtly phraseology the somewhat laconic replies of Colonel Browne. After the interview had lasted about fifteen minutes, the king suddenly closed the conversation, the folding-doors flew open, and he disappeared. The Burmese raised their heads, the Englishmen stretched their legs, fruits and cakes were served on silver salvers and cold water in golden cups, while the meng-gyees themselves helped us and pressed us to eat.

Thence we were conducted to view the so-called white elephant in his small but richly adorned dwelling, which, with the concomitants of golden umbrellas and attendants, he does not deserve by his rarity, as he is not whiter, except about the head, than many elephants I have seen in India.

For the rest of the palace and the surrounding city, the short description already given will still serve. The suburbs manifested a decided increase in the number of buildings and population, and the inhabitants seemed more busy and prosperous than ever, as a proof of which we remarked a new bazaar, built two years ago, twelve hundred feet long and five hundred broad. The beauty of the environs, as viewed from the angle towers of the city wall, seemed as striking as when first beheld, and was enhanced by the lake-like waters of the broad moat which now surrounds the walls of the city. Besides this additional defence, the king is engaged in the construction of a fort on the left bank of the river between Ava and Amarapoora. When approaching the capital, we had noticed the works, distant at this season more than a mile from the channel, though in the rainy season the river must reach almost to the walls. Immediately opposite, on the right bank, rise the chimneys of an iron foundry erected to work the iron obtained from the neighbouring Tsagain hills. Like other Burmese works, both are still unfinished, and are likely never to reach completion.

The steamer Mandalay arrived on January 2nd, bringing the numerous and cumbrous boxes of presents, the Australian and Arab horses, and the kangaroo dogs, all under the charge of the Sikh guard and Mr. Fforde, superintendent of police, who was to bring the guard back from the frontiers of China. A list of the fire-arms on board had been forwarded to the royal officials, and the Burmese customs officers had examined those brought at the frontier station of Menhla to see that they tallied with the list. On the following day we embarked, accompanied by Captain Strover and his medical attendant, Dr. Cullimore, who, with a tsare-daw-gyee deputed by the king to look after our wants, were to accompany us as far as Bhamô.

The cordial reception experienced at the capital, and the readiness shown by all the officials to “comfort and assist” the mission, seemed to prove from the first that the king of Burma was sincere in his promise to secure us a safe passage through his dominions. Sinister rumours of his real dislike to the mission were, it may be said, of course, not wanting, some of which reached our ears in the capital itself, and others at a later period. However, we felt more inclined to regard actions than mere words, and there has been no reason subsequently to doubt the king of Burma respecting the promises he had made. A royal steamer, laden with cargo and passengers, left the capital for Bhamô before we got our steamer and its flat under weigh. The latter was a large barge, somewhat resembling a Thames shallop, the hull loaded with three hundred tons of salt, and the main deck, over which the upper deck, or rather story, was raised on iron uprights, crowded with steerage passengers. Our party occupied the cabins in the fore part of the flat, the forecastle of which served us as an open-air saloon. The navigation of the Irawady in the dry season is somewhat uncertain, and the voyage proved unusually long. We had scarcely proceeded a few miles when it was discovered that the stores for the guard had been unloaded at Mandalay, and it was necessary for the steamer to cast off the flat, and return for the missing provender. The next morning, soon after starting, some native boats, laden with firewood, coming down the river, were swept by an eddy under the paddle-wheels. The steamer had been stopped, but the crews, being short-handed, were unable to pull their boats clear; they managed, however, to save their lives, but boats and cargo were totally lost. The next incident was the grounding of our too deeply laden flat on a sandbank, where we were obliged to remain for four days, until the steamer returned to Mandalay for a second flat, into which part of the cargo was transhipped. Thus by the end of the first week, we had only made twenty-five miles out of the two hundred and fifty to Bhamô.

From this point, no further delays were experienced, save those due to the usual morning fogs; and our upward voyage was, in all other respects, agreeable. We were received with every demonstration of respect by the officials of all the towns en route. On approaching the places of most importance, we were met by war-boats sent to escort us for a mile or more to the landing, where the local militia was arrayed as a guard of honour. Reception halls had been erected, and the young women were assembled singing and dancing, or rather posturing, as the performers do not stir from one spot, but sway the body and arms in measured and not ungraceful movements. Sometimes, when unable to stop, we saw the dance proceeding on the river bank. At Myadoung, the “army” drawn up in our honour consisted of three hundred men, ranged along the bank, who executed a serpentine manœuvre, as they marched to receive us at the landing-place, apparently to make their array seem more imposing; they wore no uniforms, and, besides dahs and spears, carried very old and well-worn flint muskets. At this place a handsome shed had been erected, where no less than sixty-four fair performers were assembled, and in the evening we patronised, by request, the performance of a regular pooay. All these entertainments had been commissioned by royal order, which the local officials obeyed to the best of their ability. Thus the Shuaygoo Woon came on board, and most earnestly invited us to halt for an hour, and honour his pooay by our presence, a request which, if we had known his real sentiments towards English visitors, would scarcely have been complied with. Above the second defile, we met the steamer which had preceded us coming down on her return trip, with a large flat laden with cargo and passengers.

We did not complete our journey till January 15th, having spent twelve days on the voyage, the last twelve miles of which, owing to the difficulty of the channel, took ten hours to accomplish. As the steamer neared the high river bank, the southern end of Bhamô, twelve large war-boats, each manned by thirty men, and one of which contained Captain Cooke, the British Resident, the Woon, and the other Burmese officials, paddled out to meet us, with much beating of gongs, and, passing in order, turned and followed in a long procession. The high bank was crowded with the townspeople, Shan-Burmese and Chinese, with an intermixture of Chinese Shans and Kakhyens. As soon as the steamer and flats were moored, the Resident and the Woon, with his tsitkays, came on board, and welcomed us to Bhamô. The Burmese had prepared a house in the town for our accommodation, but the Resident pressed us to take up our quarters in the Residency, whither we according proceeded. This is a fine building of teak, which has been erected at a cost of £1100, though a similar one at Rangoon would have cost at least £2000. It occupies a commanding position on the site of an old Chinese fort near the river bank, about a mile north of the town. This old fort, at my first visit, was completely hidden in jungle; the moat is still wonderfully perfect, and encloses a large area, of which the residency compound, about two acres in extent, forms but a small portion. This is surrounded by a fence or wooden framework, covered with mats. Outside the gate a zayat has been erected, which at this period was occupied by about fifty Kakhyens of the Mattin clan, whose chief had been summoned to Bhamô in reference to the possible claims of the central or embassy route. Living within the compound were a number of Shan families from the Sanda valley, who were waiting for the arrival of the Mandalay to carry them down the river, on a pilgrimage to the shrines of Rangoon. It was impossible to avoid regretting that the Residency has been built so far from the town, and in a situation so exposed to any sudden attack from Kakhyen or any other marauders. The jungle grows to the very edge of the moat, affording complete cover for assailants, while the interstices of the fence afford abundant opportunities for intruding guns or spears. One would think that the selection of a site within the town, and near the Woon’s house, would have seemed to argue more confidence in the Burmese authorities, with whom the Resident should be in constant and friendly intercourse, in order to effectually look after the interests confided to him, without setting up an imperium in imperio over the Kakhyens of the hills. Recent events have shown the insecurity of the present position, which, in the case of any serious attack, could not be defended by the sepoys of the Residency guard, who, at the time of our visit, could only muster eight effective men.

At the Residency we were welcomed by Mrs. Cooke, who shares with her husband the risks and banishment of life in this far-off place, giving a striking proof of the pluck and devotion to their lords which characterises our countrywomen. Here, too, we made the acquaintance with our future travelling companion, Mr. Ney Elias, and received the information that Mr. Margary had arrived safely at Manwyne, and might be daily expected to make his appearance at Bhamô.

The day after our arrival, we decided that Colonel Browne, Mr. Fforde, and myself, should reside in the town of Bhamô, for the greater convenience of communication with the Burmese, and, as far as I was concerned, with my staff of collectors. The Woon at once placed at my disposal a small bamboo structure, built on the site of the house tenanted by us in 1868. Opposite to it was the house, newly built, in readiness for the present mission, in which Colonel Browne and Mr. Fforde took up their quarters. The Woon was evidently much gratified by this proceeding on the part of the officers of the mission, as showing a friendly appreciation of his good offices. A temporary pavilion was speedily erected over the street between the two houses, and on our return from the Residency in the evening, a pooay was in full play before an admiring audience. As soon as we had taken our seats in the front of the verandah, trays of sweetmeats were set before us, and we sat and viewed the performance till nearly midnight, as the jovial laughter of the Burmese at the very broad jokes of the artists was not conducive to sleep.

VIEW IN BHAMÔ.

On the 17th, we were agreeably surprised by the arrival of Mr. Margary, looking none the worse for his long overland journey from Hankow, which he had left on the 4th of last September. But for a delay at Loshan of six days, while waiting for new instructions, he would have accomplished this tremendous journey in just four months. Starting from Hankow, and passing the Tung-ting lake, on the Yang-tse, he had ascended the Yuen river through Hoonan, and travelled by land through Kweichow and Yunnan.

The only real difficulty he experienced was at a town called Chen-yuen, in Kweichow, where the boat journey ended on October 27th. Here the populace endeavoured to prevent the removal of his luggage from the boat, and it was only by means of an appeal to the mandarin, who at first was uncivil but speedily yielded to the power of the passports, and the interference of an armed guard sent by that official, that he was enabled to proceed. It was necessary for him to sleep at the Yamen, and leave the town in the early morning. When the mob learned his departure, they wreaked their vengeance on the boatmen, and destroyed their boat. On his land journey the people were everywhere civil, though intensely curious, and the mandarins polite. He described the scenery in Kweichow as splendid, but the roads rough and ragged, carried almost always at a high level along pine-clad hills overlooking valleys far beneath. The province appeared to have been sadly devastated—the cities reduced to mere villages, and the villages to collections of straw huts; everywhere ruins of good, substantial stone houses abounded to show the former prosperity of the region before the Miaou-tse came down from the hills and butchered the whole population. Although twenty years have elapsed since this incursion, the cities still remain like cities of the dead—their extensive walls surrounding acres of ruins, with a few of the wild hillmen dwelling in them.

His reception by the governor of the province at Kwei-yang-fu was very cordial; and the latter promised to compensate the boatmen for their loss in the destruction of their boat by the Chen-yuen mob. From this city twenty days of steady travelling in a chair, twenty miles a day, over fine mountains and through valleys almost deserted, brought him to Yunnan-fu on November 27th. He met with civility everywhere; but the acting governor-general of Yunnan, who was then locum tenens of the absent viceroy, proved himself a most friendly and indeed an unexpected ally. Not content with loading the Englishman with honours and courtesies, he sent two mandarins to escort him the rest of the way, and despatched an avant-courrier bearing a mandate to all the local authorities, which secured marked respect for the traveller, and also sent a quick courier with orders to the mandarins on the frontier to take care of the expedition in case he should not have met us before our entrance into China. From Yunnan to Tali a dreadfully rough road or track of deep ruts and jagged stones led over high mountains and into deep valleys. The ascents were so steep as to require a team of eight or ten coolies harnessed with ropes to drag the chair up the dangerous incline, often skirting the edge of a precipice; and in the narrow and dangerous path strings of mules and ponies laden with salt were often met with, to the great risk of the traveller.

The state of the country is best described in his own words:—“It is melancholy to see these fine valleys given up to rank grass, and the ruined villages and plainly distinguishable fields lying in silent attestation of former prosperity. Every day I come to what was a busy city, but now only containing a few new houses inside walls which surround a wide space of ruins. But the people are returning gradually, and the blue smoke can be seen curling up here and there against the background of pine-clad hills. It must take some few years to re-people the country, rich as it is.”

The last four days’ travelling before reaching the plain of Tali passed through a mountainous district devoid of cities. The authorities of Tali were at first averse to his entering the city, pleading their fear of the turbulent and dangerous populace, against whom he had been already warned by the viceroy; but by an adroit appeal to the laws of etiquette, which constrained him to pay his respects to the high authorities, he got over the difficulty. The much dreaded city populace treated him not only with courtesy but with profound respect, calling him Ta-jen, or Excellency. The several officials received him well, and the Tartar general, an enormously large man, who had been foremost in the storming of the city, placed him in the seat of honour by himself, asked innumerable questions about England and Burma, and promised to invite the mission to stay a few days at Tali-fu.

Yung-chang was reached on December 27th, after passing through “glorious scenery,” by a road leading over high mountain regions, but with nothing so bad as “the horrid passes” previously encountered. A daring robbery had been just committed on the highway, and a halt was necessitated for the soldiers to scour the hills for fear of lurking dacoits. The people were gradually returning to the villages, and burning the jungle grass, which had overgrown the long abandoned fields. The mandarins at Yung-chang were inclined to be obstructive; but those at Teng-yue-chow, or Momien, which was reached in four days from the former city, were “delightfully civil.” Here he received the despatches informing him of the plans of the mission, and in accordance with them he set out for Manwyne, arriving there after a journey of five stages through the Shan country, which he described as a lovely valley, and the people as sociable and amiable. At Manwyne he found the Burmese guard of forty men, who had been sent forward from Tsitkaw to escort him through the Kakhyen hills. Here also he met with the redoubtable Li-sieh-tai, “now a Chinese general,” who was negotiating a tariff of imposts on trade with the Kakhyen chiefs and Shan headmen. Li received his first English visitor with the greatest honour, kotouing to him before all the assembled chiefs and notables. The Burmese officers requested a delay to recruit their men, after the march over the hills, and Margary, who was anxious to press on, endeavoured vainly to induce Li to give him a guard, under whose protection he could advance, leaving his followers and baggage to follow with the Burmese. He recorded his opinion that there were intrigues going on in this district adverse to the advance of the mission, but notwithstanding he relied strongly on the express commands of the all-powerful governor of Yunnan in its favour.

His stay at Manwyne was marked by the most friendly intercourse with the tsawbwa and his family, whose guest he was. He walked through the town and shot over the banks of the river freely and unmolested; and, as he writes, “I come and go without meeting the slightest rudeness among this charming people, and they address me with the greatest respect.”

Under the escort of the Burmese guard he crossed the Kakhyen hills, bivouacking one night in a clearing, as we had done on the former journey, at Lakhon. He passed through eight or nine villages of the Kakhyens, the savage appearance of these hill people striking him forcibly after the civilised aspect of the Shans of the valleys, and they treated him to a specimen of their bold impudence. His servant Lin was menaced by one of these with a large stone, which he raised to strike him with, and another drew his dah and made a daring attempt to rob one of the men of his bag. After remaining a night at Tsitkaw, he and his party descended the Tapeng by boat, and reached the Residency early in the forenoon. It can easily be imagined with what feelings we congratulated the first Englishman who had succeeded in traversing “the trade route of the future,” as he called it, and with what pleasant anticipations we heard of the accounts of his arduous but successful journey, and the reception accorded all along the line of route, crowned by the politeness shown by the dreaded Li-sieh-tai. The astonishment and admiration of the Burmese was even greater. In their own minds they had never realised the existence of English officials in China, and now there appeared a veritable Englishman speaking Chinese fluently, and versed in the use of chopsticks and all other points of etiquette. This Petching meng, or Pekin mandarin, moreover, was attended, besides the rest of his retinue, by a most imposing literate, whose huge round spectacles gave him an aspect of wonderful wisdom, and commanded the greatest respect from his countrymen at Bhamô.

This worthy man, whose real name was Yu-tu-chien, and whose office was that of writer or Chinese secretary, was a Christian from the province of Hoopeh, one of the many sincere converts made by the Lazarist missionaries. His intelligence and anxiety for knowledge, with his amiable and faithful disposition, made him justly a favourite with all. From the Woon downwards, every inhabitant who could speak Chinese was anxious to interview and pay respects to the new-comers from Pekin, and devoutly believed that the writer was a lesser mandarin sent in attendance on the great man, and it must be confessed that Yu-tu evidently increased in self-respect as he realised the estimation in which he was held by the Chinese-speaking people, including the tsawbwa of Mattin and his followers.

The Woon, or governor of the town or district of Bhamô, was most zealous in carrying out the royal orders, and was personally most friendly. He was a short, elderly Burman, with prominent eyes and good face, whose chief occupation seemed to be incessantly muttering prayers, as he slid through his fingers the beads of the black amber rosary which he invariably carried. His principal wife and his children had been left in Mandalay as hostages for his good behaviour, according to the usual Burmese policy; but his establishment was presided over by a second or inferior wife, a stout elderly lady, whose acquaintance I was privileged to make. This was on the occasion of an entertainment given by him in honour of Margary, the day but one after his arrival. We sat with him on carpets in his verandah, while about forty of the prettiest and best dressed women of Bhamô, ranged in lines, postured and sang in the covered courtyard below. The various officials formed a background, and the crowd surrounded the performers. The infusion of Shan blood is evident in the superior good looks and physique of these daughters of the land. All were well dressed and adorned with silver and some with gold bracelets and other jewellery; the older and very much uglier women stood behind the last row of performers, and led the singing. We squatted Burmese fashion, and smoked, while tea and Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits were served with nuts and persimmons dried in sugar, followed by the customary betel and pan. Fortunately, etiquette did not oblige us to continue too long in the uncomfortable posture, which Burmese adopt by habit, and we could come and go as we liked during the two hours that the performance lasted. In the evening we visited the Chinese temple, in which a ceremony or function was proceeding on behalf of a Chinese townsman who had recently become insane. One part of the ceremonial consisted of a theatrical performance or puppet-show, viewed through a transparency, the actors being represented by small figures cut out of leather, with talc heads; they were moved by bamboos, one fixed at the back and another to one of the arms. The figures were placed close behind the transparent window, and a Chinaman in charge of each shouted the words of the part, while he manipulated the figure with great skill. We were permitted to go behind the scenes, and by a narrow wooden staircase ascended to a lobby leading into a large room, which was full of Chinese, smoking and drinking tea. Hundreds of the leather puppets were suspended round the room from lines, as if they had been clothes hung up to dry. This was at once the stage, green-room, and orchestra. The musicians were seated along the walls on benches; the instruments were a flageolet and a small violin, formed of a segment of bamboo, with a snake skin over the opening, and two strings stretched to the end of the bamboo handle. One man thumped two stones on a desk by way of drum; another played the cymbals, and others small gongs. Behind the transparent windows, at one end, stood a row of Chinese moving the puppets and shouting the dialogue. All were amateurs engaged in a work of charity, though how the patient was to be benefitted did not appear.

During this exchange of civilities, the preparations for as early an advance as was possible were not pretermitted. With regard to the route to be traversed by the expedition, the Woon had fully expected that the embassy or central road would be selected, and the Mattin tsawbwa, through whose territory it passes, had come to Bhamô to make arrangements for our transit. The Burmese preferred this route, as they had more influence over those Kakhyens, and declared that they could guarantee our safe passage more certainly by this route than any other. The line to be followed would correspond with that travelled over on our return journey in 1868. A Burmese embassy, carrying tribute to China, had recently gone by this road, but was reported to have been detained in the hills for more than a month, the mountaineers having barricaded the road, in order to effectually extort black mail. This embassy, or some of their members, had been heard of by Margary, as he was passing near Momien. The fact that the tribute-bearing Burmese embassies were accustomed to travel by this route did not recommend it as advisable for the passage of our expedition, and the Political Resident, with Mr. Elias, acting under orders, had, before our arrival, made arrangements for us to proceed by the Sawady route. From thence the road leads to Mansay, ten miles distant, a Shan village under Burmese and Kakhyen protection, which is the regular rendezvous for all Kakhyens coming down to Sawady or Kaungtoung to barter their goods for salt and ngapé. From Mansay, four marches through the country of the Lenna Kakhyens conduct to Kwotloon, in the Shan state of Muangmow, on the right bank of the Shuaylee. Thence the proposed route goes by way of Sehfan, a Chinese Shan state, dependent on the governor of the walled town of Muanglong, up the valley of the Shuaylee, and crosses the watershed to Momien. Such information as was possessed had been obtained by Moung Mo, the Kakhyen interpreter, who had been despatched by the Resident, in 1873, to Muangwan, and thence to Sehfan. He described the country between this and Muangmow as a cultivated plain, studded with villages, and the Shuaylee as a deep river a hundred yards wide. Sehfan is a small town of three hundred houses, surrounded by numerous large villages. Its chief had been brought up by the Chinese governor of Muanglong, and was a firm friend of the Chinese; he had recently married the eldest daughter of my old friend, the Hotha chief, with whom we had spent such pleasant days in 1868.

In 1873, great disturbances were caused by the aggressions of a Shan rebel from Namkhan, a Burmese Shan state on the left bank of the Shuaylee; and the Maran Kakhyens, who were at feud with the next clan of the Atsees, frequently attacked caravans and looted Sehfan villages. Beyond Sehfan lay the populous Chinese Shan states of Muangkwan, with two large towns of one thousand houses, and Muangkah on the Salween. The Chinese towns of Muanglong and Muanglem were both described as containing four thousand to five thousand houses, which is probably an exaggeration.

Agreements had been entered into with the Paloungto Kakhyen chief, who had undertaken to provide two hundred bullocks for carriage, mules not being procurable, and to escort the mission safely into the Muangmow district. The necessity of employing pack bullocks extended the time likely to be required for the journey to Momien to thirty or forty days; as, however, it was a principal object to explore this partially known route, which was universally admitted to present the fewest physical difficulties, the time so expended and the slow rate of travelling appeared likely to afford the scientific members of the mission more ample time for inquiry and observations. In this view of the case, the leader did not wholly concur, and though deciding to proceed to Muangmow, he contemplated striking off thence via Muangwan and Nantin.

It turned out to have been overlooked in the preliminary arrangements that Sawady is not in the Bhamô district, but under the jurisdiction of the Woon of Shuaygoo, to whom no orders had been sent from Mandalay. The Woon of Bhamô was rather nonplussed by our decision to adopt the Sawady route, but sent to request his colleague of Shuaygoo to come and advise on the subject. This, however, the official, who, as it afterwards appeared, is utterly hostile to Englishmen, altogether refused to do; but the Bhamô Woon decided to send his own troops under the command of a tsitkay, a veteran officer, to escort us as far as Mansay; but he evidently considered the Kakhyens beyond that point as refractory, though nominally in the Burmese territory. The Kakhyen pawmines declared their willingness to be answerable for our safety from Mansay if the Burmese would convoy us thus far, and then reviewed our two hundred packages, at the size of which they shook their heads. The boxes had all been carefully calculated to hold seventy-five pounds each, half a load for a mule, which carries fifty viss, equal to one hundred and fifty pounds, and had been constructed for package on the cross-trees used in mule carriage. Bullocks, however, cannot carry so much, and the goods are loaded on them in bamboo baskets, which, lined with the bamboo spathes, are almost watertight. It became necessary, therefore, to rearrange the cumbrous baggage, which was a work of some days.

Profiting by the experience of the former expedition, Colonel Browne resolved not to be encumbered with a cash-chest. All the coined money was exchanged for sycee, or lump, silver, at the rate of one hundred rupees for seventy tickals of the finest quality, or seventy-three tickals and a half of the more alloyed which passes among the Kakhyens, and these ingots were distributed among the private boxes of the party.

Our inquiries about the several routes brought out the fact that the Chinese fully believed us to be intent on making a railway, one man remarking that the Sawady route was much the longest, but, “of course, the best for the railway.”

It is hard to follow the workings of the Chinese mind, but it was plain that the objects of our expedition were as far from being perfectly understood by them as ever, and that they watched the movements of the mission with a secret feeling that the objects contemplated were somewhat beyond the peaceful pursuit of the interests of commerce and scientific inquiry.

During the delay consequent on the alteration of the packages, our friend the Woon got up pooays, or dances, for our amusement, and for three hours at a time relays of women from the different quarters of the town danced and sang.

Shan letters were sent to the tsawbwa of Muangmow, and Margary despatched Chinese letters to the governor of Momien and to Li-sieh-tai, who had sent Kakhyen messengers to Tsitkaw to carry them forward. It subsequently appeared that the letter had not reached Li, as he had left Nantin before the arrival of the messenger, and proceeded to Muangmow to await our coming.

The 21st was a day of heavy rain, which seriously interfered with packing arrangements; and as it was full moon, all amusement was interdicted by the observance of the Burmese worship-day, which was ushered in by the tolling of the Woon’s gong at seven, and at eight o’clock we found him presiding over a congregation which assembled in his house, the prayers being led by several priests. Our tai was quite free from the motley group of Burmese, Shan, and Kakhyen visitors who had daily thronged it. This strict observance of what may be called the sabbath was due to a recent revival of piety, stimulated by royal orders on the subject.

CHAPTER XIV.
SAWADY.

The hun pooay—Mission proceeds to Sawady—Visit from Woon—Rumoured opposition—The Woon as a musician—Sawady village—Royal orders—Baggage difficulties—Arrival of Mr. Clement Allan—Paloungto chief—Kakhyen pilfering—Abandon route—Adopt Ponline route—Reasons for change—Tsaleng Woon—Departure of mission to Tsitkaw—Elias and Cooke proceed to Muangmow—Dolphins—Up the Tapeng—Tahmeylon—Arrive at Tsitkaw.

On the following day the greater part of the baggage was stowed in boats ready for departure to Sawady, which was fixed for the 23rd. The Woon made his appearance at an early hour, bent on inviting Margary and his writer, and all of us, to spend this the last day with him. In the forenoon the usual ying pooay, or dance, went on, but in the evening a hun pooay, or pooay acted by marionettes, was given. This was a much more artistic affair than that of the Chinese puppets, the marionettes being well made, regularly dressed figures about three feet high. The stage on which they are presented is removed to a distance, the proscenium forming, as it were, a frame proportioned to the size of the figures; and the movers of the puppets stand behind a screen at the back, and manipulate the little heroes and heroines by means of strings. To the spectators they have a most real appearance, being very cleverly handled, and the speeches are made by the invisible actors with such art as to really seem as if proceeding from the puppets, so as to suggest ventriloquism. This performance was evidently the most popular form of entertainment. The Woon sat eyeing the puppets intently through his binocular, just as his royal master had eyed us at the audience, and the townspeople, squatted in rows, remained till midnight eagerly watching the mannikins. The Woon produced an alarum clock which had been rendered incapable of going, and amused himself tinkling the alarum; but he was quite ignorant of the value of the hours, and even after several lessons illustrated by a watch, he utterly failed to fix the hands.

On the next day, most of our party rode to Sawady, to which place the guard and all the baggage had preceded them. Mr. Elias and I, however, remained behind until we should receive the mot d’ordre from Browne, as the operation of packing the bullocks was likely to occupy some days. The Woon, whom I had not seen that day, came in the afternoon to apologise for his apparent neglect, as he had been engaged in receiving public subscriptions for the regilding of the Shuaykeenah pagoda. He was delighted at my offering a small contribution, and waxed eloquent on the entente cordiale engendered by such conduct, and sent for his wife to bring a large silver vase containing the collection, to which my donation was duly added. We had a long talk on the archæology of the district, the old cities of Tsampenago and Kuttha, and the founder of the Shuaykeenah pagoda, whom he asserted to have been a king of Ceylon, named Thee-yee-da-ma-thanka, a legend commonly current regarding the more ancient pagodas of Burma. In the evening he sent the tsare-daw-gyee and the two tsitkays to pay a visit, from whom I learned that there existed ancient histories of the district in some of the khyoungs, one of which they promised, if possible, to obtain. When they were shown a photograph of the Soolay pagoda at Rangoon, they expressed their regret that during the municipal improvements of the town the site of the sacred building had become the junction of cross-roads, which seemed in their minds a desecration. They were, however, relieved by the assurance that this must have been done by the British authorities in ignorance of the religious prejudices thereby affected.

Two or three days passed without any incident of consequence, save that on the 25th a Chinaman came to the Residency to report that he had overheard some Yunnan Chinese talking in the bazaar, and had gathered that an armed force had been despatched from Momien and Tali-fu to Muangmow, under the command of Li-sieh-tai, to oppose our entrance into China. His account, however, was very confused, and he had not succeeded in hearing any very distinct statements, as the men had evidently been suspicious of him. It is probable that this was merely a garbled version of the fact that Li-sieh-tai had crossed from the Tapeng valley to Muangwan with a few men en route to Muangmow. The same day letters arrived from Sawady to say that the departure of the mission was fixed for the following day, upon which we went at once to the Woon to secure boats, who most readily placed them at our disposal. He afterwards paid us a visit, bringing his Burmese harp of twelve strings, on which he showed himself no mean performer. He was accompanied by a boy who played a sort of harmonicon, or musical glasses constructed of slips of hard wood, which vibrated with a sweet, full tone. Another performer clashed a pair of cymbals, and clicked split bamboos like castanets. The airs were sweet and plaintive. After the music we had a long conversation about England, Prussia, France, and Persia, with the general relations of which governments he showed himself to be well acquainted. Railways and the mode of transit to England were also discussed; my interpreter, however, though an educated Burmese and son of a native official, proving very incompetent, and putting absurd statements into my mouth. The Woon had brought a present of a fruit, which he said was a great rarity from Yunnan. It was the size of an apple, of a bright yellow colour, with a delicate skin enclosing a jelly-like pulp, the coolness of which he expressed by a pantomimic passing of his hand from the throat to the epigastric region. He called it tsay-thee; but inquiries from Elias and Margary identified it as a persimmon. Of this fruit, quantities in a dried form are imported to Burma, where they are a favourite sweetmeat; but the fresh fruit is unknown.

On the 27th we were ready to take boat to Sawady, and I bade farewell to my friend, the Woon, who charged me to write to him. Elias and myself started from Bhamô about 11.30, and arrived at Sawady in a little more than a couple of hours.

Sawady is a miserable village of about forty houses, though formerly containing five times that number; but continual inroads by the Kakhyens have reduced it to its present scanty dimensions. It is under the protection of the Phonkan tsawbwa, who also, for a yearly payment of salt, protects the village of Yuathet, situated about three quarters of a mile to the north on the high bank of a small creek called Theng-leng, which flows into the Irawady between high alluvial banks. The village of Sawady is defended by a double bamboo palisade, and a similar palisade runs along the narrow path dividing the two rows of houses. As a further protection, boats, corresponding to the number of houses, are moored to the river bank, and nightly the inhabitants retire to them for sleep, and thus secure themselves against the not infrequent nocturnal attacks of the Kakhyens. Sawady and Yuathet are both small emporiums for trade, whither the Kakhyens resort to procure fish and salt, and they bring bamboos to be floated down the river; they are also ports for the trade to the interior. Around stretches a vast plain, bounded by the distant hills, profusely covered with forest and jungle, sometimes of underwood, sometimes of thick grass fifteen feet high, with frequent swamps, which in the wet season are covered with water. Before our arrival, Margary and Fforde had made expeditions into the forest in search of game. Peafowl abounded there, perched at inaccessible heights, on the highest trees, and they found the tracks of tigers and other large game, but the solitudes were still as death, and they returned without having started any animal. We found the convoy of bullocks, under the charge of some hundred Kakhyens, encamped outside the village. The Paloungto tsawbwa, a respectable-looking man, clean and well dressed, with a huge roll of gold-leaf by way of ear-ring distending the lobe of his ear, along with his pawmines, was ready to receive the baggage. The Burmese guard encamped in hastily improvised tais, while the Englishmen were accommodated in a rickety zayat screened with curtains.

On the second day (January 24th), orders came from Mandalay that the Burmese guard should escort the mission right up to the nominal frontier of Burma and China or to Kwotloon, instead of Mansay, as previously arranged and approved by the Kakhyens, whose opinion of the change was not given. They continued to take over the packages, giving receipts for each, and making panniers suitable for carriage on the bullocks, into which the boxes were to be packed.

On the 25th, objections began to be raised to the size of the packages, which had been previously altered at Bhamô, and next the tsawbwa appeared to say that he had brought three hundred and thirty-six bullocks, although we only required two hundred. He explained this, by stating that Elias had doubted their ability to provide two hundred bullocks. The chief, therefore, had brought three hundred and thirty-six, to prove the contrary, and expected to be paid for the lot, although he admitted that the Resident had contracted for one hundred and fifty bullocks and twenty ponies. This proposal being got rid of, the next demand was for payment of the hire in advance, which Colonel Browne also negatived, but promised to pay him one-half the amount, provided all was ready for a start in two days.

The next day was accordingly spent in transferring all the remaining baggage, with the exception of the boxes containing the wardrobes of the officers and the cash, which were placed under the immediate care of the Sikhs.

The 27th found the preparations for starting still backward, a state of things which was not improved by heavy rain, against which the Englishmen and their followers were but slightly protected, and the baggage not at all. The chief and his pawmines appeared to receive the promised advance of hire, but he declined to fix a time for starting, as he required salt wherewith to load the extra bullocks. When met by a refusal to delay for this purpose, he departed in a bad temper, leaving his pawmines to continue the discussion. They finally settled to start the day but one after, on condition of receiving one viss of silver in advance, and one hundred and forty rupees as demurrage expenses, being ten rupees for each of the fourteen villages whence the bullocks had come. This was a fair charge, as the men and their beasts had been awaiting our arrival for some days. Elias and I arrived while the payment was being made in lumps of sycee silver, one of which was declared by a pawmine to be bad, and, being bitten, proved to be hollow and filled with sand. Soothed by the receipt of the compraw, the Paloungto chief declared that we were brothers, and he would be ready to start “the day after to-morrow.”

The evening brought a pleasant surprise to our party by the arrival of Mr. Clement Allan, who had come from Mandalay in ten days, in a royal boat. While passing on the river, he heard one of the Sikhs talking to a Chinaman on the bank, and, hailing them, discovered our whereabouts. He was thus saved the journey to Bhamô, and all our party were now assembled, and notwithstanding the heavy rain, we spent a pleasant evening in anticipation of a speedy departure.

While at breakfast, we were disturbed by hearing a number of gun shots, and learned that the Kakhyens had endeavoured to remove our clothes boxes in order to add them to the general baggage. The Sikhs on guard, having received orders not to lose sight of them, declined to permit their removal, whereupon the indignant Kakhyens fired their muskets in the air. The Burmese tsitkay expressed uneasiness as to the temper of the Kakhyens, and seemed to fear a collision with them, as they numbered about four hundred men armed with muskets. There evidently existed some ill-feeling between the Kakhyens and the Burmese, and it unfortunately happened that all interviews with the chief were conducted in presence of the Burmese officials. It came out in the course of the day that the Paloungto chief had not entered into any convention with the other tsawbwas of the route. The Resident had been assured that a passage through their territories was certain on payment of the ordinary dues. The chief had declared that most of them would support his arrangements, but that it would be necessary at Mansay to agree with the Phonkan tsawbwa, who would not come to Sawady. The inveterate curiosity and pilfering habits of the hillmen were exemplified by their boring holes in several provision tins in order to ascertain the contents, the holes being afterwards carefully stopped with cotton; our sugar, salt, and bags of rice were taken toll of, and sundry bottles of brandy had mysteriously disappeared; and it was subsequently discovered that the screws had been drawn out of the boxes. Still, when it is remembered that a number of wild hillmen had been detained in this place for a fortnight, with scanty provisions, allowance must be made for petty thieving, without arguing a deliberate intention of plunder. Our leader, however, began to be seriously anxious about the prospects of safe transit through the hills by this route. To the difficulty arising from the known antipathy of the Burmese to the Lenna Kakhyens, there was now added the declaration of some Shans of Muangmow, that the hillmen would not be permitted to cross their borders, and this tended to make Colonel Browne suspicious of the real intentions of the Paloungto chief. The climax was reached when the old interpreter, Moung Mo, announced in the evening that our expected start was postponed sine die, and that the chief, displeased at being refused the charge of our clothes boxes, declined to accompany us, devolving our escort on his pawmines. Upon this, Colonel Browne resolved to return to Bhamô, and make arrangements for proceeding by the old Ponline route, instead of that by Sawady and the Shuaylee. But I think it doubtful that the Paloungto chief had any dishonest intentions. He could not have divined the presence of the specie in the boxes, and it was natural that he should require all the baggage to be made over on the eve of starting, and should resent the obvious imputation on his honesty, implied in the refusal to surrender these boxes.

We rode to Bhamô through jungle grass fifteen feet high, interrupted occasionally by hollows studded with trees. The intersecting creeks were difficult to cross, as the path, or rut, through the high sandbanks was steep, and barely wide enough for a passage, so much so that one of the ponies, with his rider, rolled back into the water, which was only about three feet deep. Having arrived at Bhamô, and decided to go by the Ponline route, if practicable for the led horses, the Resident started for Tsitkaw, to summon the Kakhyen chiefs, and provide mules. The Woon, fearing that the Paloungto chief would not surrender the baggage, despatched a reinforcement of armed men on board of four war-boats, mounted with gingals. We returned to Sawady by water, bringing several large boats for the baggage, which were left at Yuathet, by way of precaution against alarming the Kakhyens. On the 30th the tsawbwa and his pawmines came in from their camp, and Browne recapitulated the delays and broken promises of the past week as well as the want of arrangements with the other tsawbwas of the route. The chief replied that his refusal to start had been caused by his anger at being refused the care of the boxes; that he was willing to start “the day after to-morrow;” but if we refused to go by his route, he should expect to be paid the agreed hire for the bullocks brought down. The reply to this was that, whatever the Resident and pawmines, who had made the original contract, agreed to as justly due should be paid. Browne, however, offered a douceur of a viss of silver as soon as the baggage was restored. This was agreed to; and the men at once set to work to bring back the boxes, which were transferred to the large boats, and on January 31st the entire mission, escorted by the Burmese war-boats, returned to Bhamô, having definitely abandoned the route by Sawady, and elected to travel by the northern or Ponline road.

Letters had been received from the Resident, written from Tsitkaw, to the effect that plenty of mules were procurable, and that the Burmese officials had summoned the Kakhyen chiefs. On our arrival at Bhamô, we found a force of three hundred men in war-boats armed with gingals, collected under the command of the Woon, who had been about to come in person to Sawady to deliver us, if necessary, from the hands of the Lenna Kakhyens. This was an additional proof, if any had been needed, of the care of the Burmese for our welfare, and of the uncertainty of their relations with the southern hill tribes. It was with great reluctance that I for one turned my back on the Sawady route, the full exploration and eventual establishment of which as the future trade route had been proposed as a special object of our mission. It was generally understood to be, though the longest, the one which presented fewest physical difficulties; and of its actual employment we had ocular demonstration in the trading parties, numbering many mules and bullocks, which were continually coming and going during our stay at its terminus.

The northern route had been thoroughly explored six years before, and full information collected concerning its physical and social conditions, while the change in the political relations affected all routes alike. As was afterwards ascertained, we were expected by the Chinese at Muangmow, whither, it appears, Li-sieh-tai had gone to meet the mission, and, as far as may be judged by his conduct, without hostile intentions; and besides all this, Mr. Elias, cooperating with the British Resident at Bhamô, had visited the Lenna Kakhyens a month before, and had made arrangements with them, according to which they had brought down their beasts of burden for the conveyance of the mission. Among various reasons assigned for abandoning the route were the suspicious bearing of the Paloungto chief, and the possible, if not probable, risk of delay in the hills. This would have been aggravated by the chance that the provisions of the Sikhs, who were only supplied with flour for thirty-five days, might run short. Another danger was conceived to lie in the want of arrangements with the Phonkan chief, who might prove as obstructive as he of Ponsee had done, and either stop or fleece the mission. With regard to the behaviour of the Lenna chief of Paloungto, it might have been expected that any lurking ill-will would have been aggravated by the disappointment experienced at losing the fair profits of a convoy, for which he had brought down carriage and waited so long. At the time, the presence of the large Burmese force may be thought to have restrained him; but the subsequent reception given by him and his brother of Wurrabone to Mr. Elias and Captain Cooke showed him to be thoroughly well affected, and almost anxious to prove the absence of any ill-feeling. It was a generally wise and proper policy to thoroughly conciliate the goodwill of the Burmese officials, and to carry them with us in all our proceedings. This line of conduct was carefully and consistently adopted by our leader, but, consequently, there was no opportunity afforded to the Kakhyen chief of expressing his sentiments as to the Burmese guard. His only intercourse with our party was by interview held in presence of the tsitkay, at which he was expected to take the position of an inferior, squatting on the ground before men to whom he acknowledged no subordination; and it is to be regretted that he did not find an opportunity for confidential communication which might probably have led to a better understanding. It must also be remembered that Kakhyen chiefs do not comprehend the value of time, or share our notions as to procrastination, and are not above “trying it on” in order to gain a little more silver. As regards the possible complications with the Phonkan tsawbwa, who six years before had announced his wish for the passage of British commerce through his country, although he could not or would not come into Sawady, he might have been induced to have met and conferred with us at Mansay, while, if supplies of flour were not procurable at Bhamô, yet, according to the experience acquired in 1868, they were available in the Shan valleys and at Momien.

On February 1st, we were all assembled in our old quarters at Bhamô. The Woon was rather nonplussed at the adoption of the Ponline route, and anxious as to the dangers of attack to which the mission might be exposed before reaching Manwyne, though no whit relaxing his efforts to carry out our wishes. Another Woon, he of Tsaleng, arrived in the royal steamer, and seemed to fill the post of counsellor to his colleague, who was perplexed by the news which arrived from Cooke, that all the tsawbwas were at Manwyne discussing the tariff, and could not return for some days. The same steamer brought up from Mandalay two Kakhyen chiefs of the central route, viz. Muangkha and Poonhya. In return for services rendered to the recent Burmese embassy, these two chiefs had been received with high honour, and presented with gold umbrellas and gilded saddles. They rode through Bhamô on ponies decorated with the gilded equipage, while each rider wore a golden head-band bearing his titles, preceded by a man carrying the golden umbrella, and escorted by others beating gongs and proclaiming his rank.

On the 3rd, the heavy baggage and guard were embarked in boats to proceed to Tsitkaw, accompanied by Fforde and myself, leaving Colonel Browne and Margary to follow by land, while Elias had arranged to attempt the passage by the Sawady route, and join the rendezvous at Momien. The flotilla started from the river bank at Bhamô, and poled up the Irawady to the mouth of the Tapeng, our progress against the rapid stream being slow, and impeded by numerous projecting snags and occasional sandbanks, where the water was so shallow that the crew were obliged to jump overboard and push or drag the heavily laden boats along. Immediately outside the mouth of the Tapeng extended a bar of sandbanks, beyond which the great river suddenly deepened to about eighty feet of water. In this deep reach numerous round-headed dolphins were sporting. This being the pairing season, the males were chasing the females. Some were swimming with their heads half out of water, and jerking from their mouths large quantities of water to some distance. One or two were noticed apparently standing erect in the water, with their heads elevated straight above its surface, so that nearly the whole of the pectoral fins was plainly visible; others, in pairs, were rolling about on their sides. One was fired at, but simply responded by a splutter and a dive. The boatmen, seeing our interest in them, declared that they would come if called, and proceeded to utter a peculiar sound of hrr, hrr, and to drum on the side of the boat with a stick. They informed us that the dolphins do not proceed higher up the river than a rocky headland in the first defile, called Labein-hin, or Dolphin Point, because the nats have established a customs station there to collect an impost, which the dolphins are not willing to pay. The dolphin of the Irawady (Orcella fluminalis, Andr.) is the only round-headed form as yet known to be found in fresh water, individuals having been rarely observed much below Prome, three hundred miles from the sea, or nearly so. The colour of the body is a dusky slate, and the under part of a dirty white; they attain a considerable size, individuals ten feet in length being not uncommon. Besides the round head, they are distinguished from the long-snouted dolphin of the Ganges (Platanista gangetica, Lebeck), which also inhabits fresh water exclusively, by the much larger, fully proportioned eye. The latter, as a tenant of the muddy water of the Ganges, which must be almost impervious to vision, has a very minute eye. In the Yang-tze and in the great lake of the Cambodia, dolphins are also found, and will probably prove to be closely allied to those of the Irawady; but as yet we have no knowledge of their characters. In the estuaries of the Bay of Bengal there is a small, round-headed dolphin closely allied to this Irawady cetacean, but it never ascends to the fresh water of the rivers. Apart from the scientific interest of these large fluviatile mammals, they form a striking feature in the river scenery of the Irawady as they roll and tumble in long lines up the deep reaches, and seem to delight in keeping pace with or outracing the steamers. They do not appear to migrate through the whole distance of the river’s course, but to confine themselves within certain districts. The fishermen of the river regard them with a superstitious respect, and each village is believed to be under the protection of a particular dolphin, which guards the fishery. An offer of one hundred rupees altogether failed to induce the people to catch a specimen; and it was only by the fortunate acquisition of a dead carcass thrown upon the bank, and secured by Captain Bowers, that I was enabled to make a thorough comparison of the structure of this remarkable inhabitant of the river. It should be added that the great black-headed gull is so regular a companion of the dolphin that it is called by the fishermen the labein-nuet, or dolphin-bird.

The progress of the flotilla of six laden boats against the rapid stream of the Tapeng was necessarily slow. The right bank presented a wide stretch of level country studded with tall cotton trees and oil trees. The highest leafless branches of the former furnish eyries for the ring-tailed eagle (Haliaetus leucoryphus, Pallas), a pair of which birds were perched on a tree close to the bank commanding the river. One bird was added to our collection. The left bank was clothed to the water line with an impenetrable forest of magnificent trees, rising from a jungle with ratans and luxuriant musæ. Numerous peacocks displayed their splendid plumage on the high branches, most provokingly out of shot. Hornbills, brown doves with violet necks abounded, and in the jungle, barking deer, hog-deer, and sambur. The exposed sandbanks were covered with snake-birds; terns, black-headed egrets, plovers, and Brahminy ducks and wild geese also were frequent. We moored for the night at the village of Queyloon, in time for a short excursion to some abandoned rice plantings, in search of wild ducks; returning from which we observed numerous small owls, the soft eccentric flight of which resembled that of the goat-sucker.

Soon after sunrise we were again en route, having waited some time for a promised supply of buffalo milk, this being an almost unattainable luxury in Burma; but the baby buffalo had anticipated our demand, and disappointed our hopes. At the village of Tahmeylon, where we had made a stoppage on the first ascent of the Tapeng in 1868, the changes of the river channel were exemplified. At that time the water ran deep under a high bank, but now a broad sandbank extended in front of the village. We had landed on the other side of a neck of land which caused a bend in the river, intending to strike the public path, which we missed, and had to make our way by buffalo runs, which penetrated the tall thick grass like tunnels. Along these we had to proceed nearly doubled up, occasionally caught and almost choked by creepers, drenched by the dank grass overhead, and knee-deep in miry clay. By dint of keeping the sun before us, we succeeded in reaching Tahmeylon by noon. Beyond this, the course of the river winds in a remarkable manner, doubling successive long tongues of land, and enclosing a large island overgrown with impenetrable jungle, until the village of Maloolah is reached, on the left bank. The villagers warned us to moor our boats for the night at some distance from the bank for fear of tigers, which are numerous, and attack boats near the bank, and even the villages, at night. In the neighbouring village of Tsitgna, ten of the inhabitants had been killed by tigers in the preceding twelve months. We crossed the stream in the morning in a dug-out, intending to shoot peafowl in the forest which covered the rising ground on the right bank, but the margin of the forest proved so swampy as to prevent all access. Jungle fowl and squirrels were numerous, and our servants reported hog-deer. We rejoined the boats at the outflow of the Manloung stream, having breakfasted at the pagodas of Old Tsampenago. A labyrinth of streams and swamps extends on the right bank to the place where a branch of the Tapeng flows round and joins the Manloung stream. On the left bank the forest is dense and high, and beyond it rises the irregular outline of the Kakhyen hills, gradually becoming more distinct as Tsitkaw is approached. At this village we found a khyoung outside the stockade prepared for our accommodation, and the baggage was stored in a large shed used for the storage of the royal cotton. A Burmese guard, under the command of the tsare-daw-gyee, formed a cordon around our residence, and by night had erected a number of huts, while their fires formed a circle within which no robbers nor tigers were likely to penetrate.

At five in the afternoon of the next day, Browne, Margary, and Allan arrived from Bhamô, which they had left at 10.30. The necessity of avoiding the network of streams and swamps had obliged them to cross the river three times in boats, while the two led horses and the ponies swam across.

CHAPTER XV.
THE ADVANCE.

Residence at Tsitkaw—View from our house—The Namthabet—Junction of the rivers—Arrival of the Woon—Conference of tsawbwas—Hostages—Kakhyen women—Rifle practice—A night alarm—A curious talisman—We leave Tsitkaw—Camp at Tsihet—Burmese guard-houses—Lankon, Ponline—Camp on the Moonam—Hostile rumours—Camp on the Nampoung—Departure of Margary for Manwyne—Escape of hostages—Letter from Margary—We enter China—Camp on Shitee Meru—Burmese vigilance—Visit to Seray—Conference with Seray tsawbwa—Suspicious reception—Return to camp—Burmese barricades.

The village of Tsitkaw, which seemed little changed as to its dirty poverty since my recollections of 1868, consists of about eighty huts, built on piles, enclosed within a bamboo stockade, which was being repaired. The western half of the village is occupied by Chinese, and for the first time the Chinese women are seen, for there are none in Bhamô. At this time the Celestials were busy erecting a wooden temple outside the stockade. Their principal men came to our khyoung to greet Li-kan-shin, otherwise Moung Yoh, who was known to them, and had been supposed to be dead. In the Buddhist khyoung, two French missionaries, Father Lecomte and another, whom we had met at Bhamô, had taken up their abode. They professed to be engaged in opening communications between their mission in Burma and that in Yunnan, and had made interest to accompany our party. It now appeared that they proposed proceeding to Manwyne by themselves; but the Woon of Bhamô interfered, and refused to allow them to enter the Kakhyen hills on the north of the Tapeng. We were rather puzzled to understand their exact object or account for their sudden change of plans.

TSITKAW, ON THE TAPENG, LOOKING TOWARDS THE KAKHYEN HILLS.

We had to remain at Tsitkaw some days, until the Kakhyen chiefs assembled and the mules for carriage to Manwyne arrived. The air and water are better than at Bhamô, and our sojourn, with its excursions, was a pleasant time. Our residence consisted of two bamboo houses, as it were, placed side by side, the drainage of the two roofs in the centre being caught in a hollowed log of wood. A wooden ladder led up to the first apartment, beyond which the sleeping room was shut off by a kalagah, or curtain. To the rear a wide alluvial flat stretched away to the dense jungles swarming with tigers, and beyond which lay the Manloung lake and its adjoining swamps. From the front a charming view presented itself. Below a grassy bank ran the swift, smooth stream, one hundred and fifty yards broad, bordered on the other side by yellow sandbanks, fringed by a high screen of rich verdure marking the limit of the Tapeng in flood. Beyond this rose the wall of the luxuriant forest, backed by the lofty, well wooded Kakhyen mountains. Six miles distant, this wall appeared unbroken, for the gorge by which this river debouches is masked by a low line of hills, round which the Tapeng is deflected in a north-west direction, until it comes round above Tsitkaw, to flow towards the Irawady. There were manifold temptations for a sportsman or a naturalist; on the long alluvial flat, in the morning, flocks of parrots, Sarus crane, and Brahminy ducks, were seen feeding in numbers, and large snipe and glossy ibis abounded in the paddy fields. On the sandbanks bordering the river, flocks of wild geese were wont to settle, and afforded us some most literally wild goose chases. In the great trees, as Margary said, the gorgeous peacocks were as plentiful as magpies, and he was most anxious to secure some of their feathered spoils, to send to General Chiang at Momien, who wanted the plumage for his hat. We participated in most enjoyable excursions, and, to quote his words again, led a regular gipsy life. One was to Manloung lake, where our havildar shot a deer, to the delight of the Sikhs, who expressed unqualified admiration of the country, and a strong desire that we should annex it.

One day was devoted to a long walk to the Namthabet river, beyond the detached range of low hills. From the village of Tsitgna, we crossed in a dug-out to the opposite village of Kambanee, where we observed some Kakhyen women, who seemed almost too frightened to raise their eyes from the ground. The road, at first broad and good, led through a level tract, covered by forest of eng tree and high grass, of the same character as that which extends between Bhamô and the hills. As the land rose in long undulations, the character of the forest changed, a variety of timber succeeded the eng trees, and dense groves of bamboos filled the hollows. The slopes soon led up to a tolerably high ridge, covered with dense forest, except where patches had been cleared for the cultivation of maize. The summit commanded an extensive view of the Tapeng plain, and of the Manloung lake, which was seen to cover a large area. We descended by a steep path, winding through bamboo thickets and clearings. In traversing this richly wooded tract, which seemingly contained all the essentials of a sylvan paradise, we were impressed with the paucity of bird life; only a few parrots screeched their surprise at the intruders. On a high tree, three pigmy hawks were seen, one of which fell a victim to the exigences of science.

We presently came on the Namthabet, a clear, rapid stream, winding in a rocky channel down a narrow valley, beyond which rose the mass of the Kakhyen hills, clothed with dense forest. A Kakhyen woman was just about to cross from the opposite side, but fled at our appearance, and no persuasion on the part of our guide could induce her to return. We descended the valley, passing a fire, on which rice was cooking in a green bamboo, but the owner had hidden himself in the bush. We reached the Tapeng at a place where a sort of slide had been cut in the banks, down which the bamboos, when felled, are launched into the river, to be floated into the Irawady, where they are made into rafts, and sent down stream to the capital. A party of Kakhyens were seen busy at work cutting bamboos, and we passed their temporary huts in a clearing; and those of our party who were unacquainted with them seemed surprised at their peaceful and friendly demeanour. A scramble over the rocky left bank of the Tapeng brought us to the junction of the two rivers, and the day’s march of fifteen miles was more than repaid by the magnificent beauty of the gorge through which the Tapeng debouched from the main range. The towering masses and walls of rock, clothed to their summits with forest, at the base of which the river flowed deep and slow, the exquisite foliage, and the rich colour of brilliant flowers, made up an enchanting scene, very different from that which the same river presented when last I viewed it, under lowering clouds and in full flood, the height of which was now indicated by a faint brown line on the rocks, thirty feet above its present level. The Namthabet flowed out of a lesser gorge spanned by a ricketty bamboo bridge, which one of us tried to walk over, but was speedily reduced to fall on hands and knees and crawl across the vibrating structure. We made our way back by a forest path through tangled vegetation, over the ups and downs of the ridge, until the proper road was struck, by which Kambanee was reached near sundown.

An armed party, preceded by a sonorous gong, were descried making for Tsitkaw, and at Tsitgna we learned that our old friend the Woon had arrived in person from Bhamô to expedite the arrangements for our progress to Manwyne. A conference had been held some days previously with the tsawbwas of the northern hills; among whom were conspicuous our old friend or enemy, Sala, the Ponline chief, and the pawmine of Ponsee whom we had nicknamed “Death’s Head;” with them were others, whose names were unknown to us. It had been agreed that the hire to be paid per mule to Manwyne should be seven rupees eight annas, besides a fee, by way of tax or toll, of five rupees for each animal. The final arrangements had been postponed for five days, when a buffalo sacrifice was to be held, at which all the chiefs interested could be present. They had been convened at Manwyne not by mandarins but by merchants, who wished to remonstrate with them about the robberies of caravans, which constantly occurred on the Ponsee route. An instance of this was reported during our stay, by some Chinese, who came in and averred that they had been fired on by Kakhyens, near Ponsee, and had been compelled to pay two hundred rupees blackmail. The day following the Woon’s arrival, the Seray chief was alleged to have brought in a drove of mules. Colonel Browne, on the Woon’s invitation, attended a second conference, at which all the chiefs were present, and signed an agreement, drawn up in Burmese. It was stipulated that they should convey us safely to Manwyne, at which place the agreed upon presents should be distributed to them, and that the sons of the Ponline, Ponsee, and Seray tsawbwas should be detained as hostages for the fulfilment of the contract.

The son of the Seray chief was a young man whose demeanour and countenance gave a most unfavourable impression; in fact, he appeared to be a dissipated young ruffian, and decidedly unfriendly to the strangers. Sala’s son was a lad of fourteen, much superior to his father in appearance and manner; he was a frequent visitor to our khyoung, and also a patient, as he suffered, like many of his countrymen, from inflamed eyes, for the cure of which he seemed duly grateful. He was rather a favourite of the old Woon, who took him to Bhamô, and it is to be hoped that the better education and training will fit him to be a better chief than his avaricious and treacherous father.

Consequent on the arrival of the tsawbwas, was a large influx of their subjects, who flocked in in great numbers, both of men and women, bringing presents of fowls and vegetables, and bamboo flasks of sheroo. The members of our party who saw them in their native independence for the first time were greatly interested in the “little scowling women” and the half savage men. An unpublished letter, almost the last written by Margary, graphically depicts them:—“We let them ascend to our ratan floor, raised on stakes, and apart from the novelty, and indeed fun, of trying to buy their various curiosities, it is by no means a savoury infliction. The shocks of an electric machine produce a constant flow of merriment, and we roar with laughter at the grimaces and contortions of our savage guests. The women are getting bold by this time, and come in considerable numbers, bringing us their simple offerings of friendship. They are the queerest creatures imaginable, and dirty beyond all description. Yet there is no small degree of coyness about them, which makes them interesting, in spite of their red-stained lips and unwashed legs. They wear the most marvellous girdles of loose rings of ratan split to the thickness of a thread, and a belt covered with cowries. The ears are pierced with big holes, in which they insert silver tubes six inches long, adorned with tufts of red cloth. We have been trying to-day to tempt them to sell these strange ornaments for dazzling bead necklaces, but to no purpose. One creature permitted me even to draw a tube out of her ear, but my attempts at bargaining only produced good-humoured laughter from the men and giggles from the women.”

The curious crowds became at last so troublesome that we were obliged to close the mat screen in front of our entrance hall, to secure ourselves from the intruders who wished to watch us at our breakfast. The excitability of their nature was exemplified when the Sikhs were paraded at rifle and revolver practice at a target. The Kakhyen eye-witnesses shouted and flourished their muskets, and some sprang to the front blowing their matches, and indicating that they wished to try their skill. The Burmese officers had to restrain them, and afterwards the pawmines came forward, and formally asked the tsare-daw-gyee to permit them to fire at the targets, at the same distance, three hundred yards. This was refused, and the excitement gradually subsided. The Burmese said that it all arose from the fact that a Kakhyen cannot even hear a gun fired without instantly discharging his own piece, if only in the air.

On February 14th the Ponsee pawmine arrived to inquire when we would start, and was informed that we were ready to set out at once. Thereupon a conference of chiefs took place under a sort of cotton tent or canopy, which had been erected by the Burmese, apparently from mistrust of the ability of our floor to bear a crowd. It was then decided that we should march on the 16th, as the Burmese wished that a Chinese caravan should precede us. The tsare-daw-gyee remarked that if the Kakhyens intended to attack either party, he would give them the opportunity to do both, to avoid mistakes. He reported that orders had been received at Manwyne, from the governor of Momien, that the English mission was to be treated “according to custom,” of which phrase no one could furnish any explanation. In the night we were alarmed by what seemed to be an apparent stampede of mules, and a prodigious shouting from the Burmese guard. It turned out that a buffalo which the Kakhyens were slaughtering had broken loose, with its throat gashed, and after a chase had been despatched just opposite our khyoung, where in the morning they were cutting it up, having fixed the head on a post of the zayat, probably in our honour as founders of the feast. At noon, the tsare-daw-gyee appeared, accompanied by a tsitkay-nekandaw, or deputy, from Bhamô, who had been sent by the Woon to report progress. The official activity was stimulated by the fact that the officer who had been sent up with us to Mandalay, and had returned thither, had been condemned to banishment in chains to Mogoung, because he had not waited to see us off. As the poor old man had returned with our consent, and was in bad health, our leader wrote to Mandalay to intercede for his pardon, which was subsequently granted by the king. The tsitkay-nekandaw afforded a curious illustration of a custom mentioned by Colonel Yule.[40] The upper part of his cheeks was disfigured by large swellings, caused by the insertion under the skin of lumps of gold, to act as charms to procure invulnerability. Yule mentions the case of a Burmese convict executed at the Andaman Islands, under whose skin gold and silver coins were found. The stones referred to in the text of Marco Polo, as well as the substances mentioned in the note by his learned editor, do not appear to have been jewels. The custom prevails among Yunnan muleteers of concealing precious stones under the skin of the chest and neck, a slit being made, through which the jewel is forced. This, however, is not to preserve the owners’ lives, but their portable wealth. While at Mandalay, I examined some men just arrived from Yung-chang, and found individuals with as many as fifteen coins and jewels thus concealed, as a precaution against the robbers who might literally strip them to their skin, without discovering the hidden treasure. But our Burmese official regarded his disfiguring gold as a certain charm against danger.

During our interview with the Burmese, some of the pawmines came to receive an advance of one-third of the mule hire, which was paid them; and then Sala appeared to definitely agree on the amount of toll. One of the other chiefs was asked to be present, but he preferred leaving it to Sala’s decision. The latter agreed to receive five rupees per mule, and was most careful to keep off any inquisitive hillmen while he was debating, and afterwards receiving the whole amount. As all baggage was ready, save such articles of bedding, &c., as were daily in use, the next day was fixed for the actual departure. Browne, as a final preparation, distributed red turbans to the Burmese guard, which gave something of a uniform appearance to the otherwise motley horde.

We rose at 6 A.M. on February 16th, and made all our personal baggage over to the Kakhyens, who were slow in completing their preparations for a start. The Ponsee pawmine first appeared, and the burden of his complaint, conveyed in the strongest affirmatives, and with most expressive pantomime, was that he had not received any of the blackmail, all the payment having been appropriated by Sala. The tsare-daw-gyee declared that the latter had been obliged to disgorge his plunder, but as a precaution he should be kept as a hostage at Tsitkaw. A difficulty then was occasioned by the size of the box of edible birds’ nests, which no muleteer would take; settlement of this was left by Colonel Browne to the Kakhyen chiefs. A sharp dispute relative to the method of taking the tallies of the number of the mules broke out between the “Death’s Head” pawmine of Ponsee and the Burmese choung-oke. This ran so high that the pawmine threatened to shoot the choung-oke, and the old Burman swore he would cut down the Kakhyen, but the contest resolved itself into abuse, and the Burman prevailed by strength of lungs. A discussion then arose between the Ponsee pawmine and another, whose contingent of mules the former was desirous of reckoning, wholly or in great measure, amongst his own.

The muleteers, having been delayed by the squabble, unloaded their animals and drove them off to graze; the regathering of them was a work of time, but they at last filed off, preceded by Margary and Allan with a division of the Burmese guard. The rest of the mission, however, was retarded by the difficulty of finding porters for the rejected box of birds’ nests, the medicine chest, and photographic apparatus, all of which had been left out in the cold, and had to be carried by Burmese. At four o’clock, we finally cleared out of Tsitkaw, watched by Sala, who waved an adieu from the porch of the house where he was to reside as a hostage for our safety. We observed by the roadside several women sitting with carafes of water, each containing a flower, from which they poured libations as they muttered prayers for our safety. As we passed the succeeding villages of Hantin, Hentha, and Myohoung, the road was lined with women similarly occupied. An hour and a half of slow progress brought us to the hamlet of Tsihet, at the foot of the hills, outside of which men awaited us with welcome draughts of pure and cool water. There are two small villages, each within its own stockade, separated by a space of thirty yards. We took up our quarters in a rickety zayat within the northernmost village. The camp outside presented a most busy scene. Burmans were cooking their dinners, while others were erecting temporary huts of freshly cut bamboos, or thatching them with bamboo leaves and long grass. Groups of Kakhyen muleteers, who had arrived first, were sitting in their huts, smoking and chatting; others were collecting and marshalling the mules in lines between the baggage, each animal having one of its feet fastened to a wooden peg driven into the ground. The Burmese had encamped in a cordon enclosing the Sikhs and Kakhyens, and of course all the baggage; and outposts had been established at the north and south of the village.

The locality of Tsihet, owing to the proximity of the hills, appeared to be unhealthy, and the children looked very sickly. This is not to be wondered at if the ordinary supply of water was to be judged by that furnished to us in the evening, which seemed to have come from a buffalo wallow. All the villagers assembled to watch the kalas at their al fresco dinner, and eagerly accepted our empty bottles, which were regarded as precious prizes.

At eight o’clock next morning we were in motion, and almost immediately began to ascend, crossing a succession of ridges, till at 9.30 the first Burmese kengdat, or guard-house, was reached, called Pahtama Kengdat. It is situated in a hollow, and, like the rest, consists of a small house built of teak and bamboo, raised on piles, and surrounded by a double bamboo stockade, with two poles bearing white pennants raised in front. The garrison consisted of some half-dozen Burmese soldiers. Still ascending, we reached the district of Singnew and at a place where the road diverged, several Kakhyen men and women had collected to see us pass. The second Burmese guard-house, or Lamen Kengdat, and soon afterwards the village of Pehtoo, or Payto, were passed, and we entered the territory of Ponline. From the first village and the third guard-house, Tap-gna-gyee, we ascended to the principal village and residence of Sala, called Lankon, where we spent our first night in Kakhyen land in 1868.[41]

We halted at noon in front of the chiefs house, by which grew a fine peach tree in full bloom. A few old Kakhyens were assembled, and among them the tsawbwa-gadaw, who produced sheroo, and demanded payment, receiving four annas, with which she seemed very dissatisfied. The road, or rather track, no wise improved during the last seven years, was marked on either hand by tufts of raw cotton which the lower hanging branches had taken as toll from the frequent caravans. From this village our route lay to the north of that formerly travelled by us, and a descent of an hour brought us to a small stream called Moonam, on the other side of which we found the camp formed on a slope which had evidently been recently cleared for the site of the fourth guard-house, named Tsadota Kengdat, surrounded by high hill spurs on all sides. We put up in the guard-house, which occupies the highest point of the slope, and the Burmese formed their usual line round the Kakhyens. The tsare-daw-gyee made his appearance later, having followed a different route, which brought him to the north-eastern end, where he encamped his party. All around us during the evening we heard the gongs answering each other, and the loud shouts, or “All’s well!” of the Burmese outposts.

After a refreshing bath, we took a stroll up the hill under the guidance of a Kakhyen to look for pheasants, from which we brought back nothing but a portion of an enormous fungus. Before bedtime, Browne announced that a Kakhyen had come to him with the information that four hundred evil-disposed Kakhyens had assembled themselves beyond Ponsee to dispute our advance. More friendly visitors were promised in the shape of the tsawbwa-gadaw of Woonkah and her followers, who were expected to arrive in the morning from her husband’s village, situated on the mountain to the north of Ponline.

While waiting in the morning of February 18th for the arrival of our expected visitors, the tsare-daw-gyee with his subordinate officers appeared, and in a very serious tone repeated the information that four hundred evil-disposed Kakhyens and Chinese hill dacoits had taken obligations among themselves to attack us, probably for the sake of plunder. The amount of credence to be given to the report was variously estimated, both by Kakhyens and Burmese. Moung Mo and Moung Yoh disbelieved it; but the former wretched old man became suddenly unwell, to such an extent that he feared he would be unable to go forward. The Ponsee pawmine scouted the story, and averred it to be an invention of a worthless Kakhyen who met us yesterday. Our Sikh havildar promptly volunteered to advance with his fifteen men, and clear the road of any number of these mountaineers, whom his observations at Sawady and elsewhere made him hold very cheaply. The tsare-daw-gyee declared that he and his men were ready to fight, but that it was desirable to advance peaceably if possible. It was finally decided that we should proceed to the last Burmese guard-house on the banks of the Nampoung, and the caravan set out about nine o’clock.

After a short, steep ascent, within hearing of the roar of the distant Tapeng, the road descended to the Nampoung. Passing over two short ridges, whence a magnificent view of the glen running south-south-west to north-north-east is obtained, and then traversing a steep path in a succession of narrow zigzags to the banks of the stream, we arrived at the fifth Burmese guard-house by 10.30 A.M.

The valley of the Nampoung is a deep, narrow glen, bordered on either side by high mountains, and in no place is it broader than two hundred yards. The river is a rapid clear stream, flowing in a rocky channel between rock-strewn flats edged by high grass on either side. The banks rise abruptly, covered with lofty forest trees, tangled with magnificent creepers and festooned with orchids. Some miles to the north a rather treeless valley communicates with the glen, apparently running in a direction behind Manwyne. The guard-house occupies a level open space, covered with terraces of paddy cultivation. To the south the glen terminates in a deep gorge, down which the river rushes to the Tapeng. We found the encampment formed, and the people, as usual, busily preparing their huts, as, notwithstanding the advice of the Ponsee pawmine, that we should proceed to Shitee, it had been decided that we should remain here.

Another Burman had arrived from Manwyne, confirming the report of danger ahead, but Margary discredited it, and expressed his readiness, if necessary, to proceed to Manwyne to inquire into the truth of the rumoured opposition. The tsare-daw-gyee approved of this step, and it was decided to send Margary forward, as he was known to the Manwyne people from his recent stay at that town, and to all the Chinese officers in the district as being under the protection of the viceroy of Yunnan.

During the afternoon gongs and cymbals were heard beating high up the hill on the Chinese or left side of the valley, and Kakhyens were seen peering down at us from among the trees. These proved to be the followers of the Shitee Meru tsawbwa, who, however, would not come across into Burmese territory, and after some time distant shots announced his return to his village. In the evening the encampment presented a picturesque scene, the red turbans of the Burmese combining with the rich greenery of the palm leaves which thatched the numerous huts. The Ponsee pawmine had erected for himself a wigwam of feathery palm fronds, and the gleam of the bright fire, round which a group of men in blue were chatting and smoking, lit up a picture that one longed to sketch.

We had a farewell dinner in the evening, to which Margary’s Chinese writer was invited. Our discussion of the prospects of the mission, though clouded by no anticipations of the fearful fate to which our gallant comrade was about to set out, lasted till a late hour, while the gongs of the watchful Burmese sounded as usual from various points all round our position.

Margary started for Seray en route for Manwyne early in the morning of February the 19th. He was accompanied by his writer, Yu-tu-chien, of whom I have already spoken, an intelligent Chinese Christian, who during his stay with us had made himself both liked and respected. The other attendants were his official messenger, or ting-chai, Lu-ta-lin, from the consulate at Shanghai; his boy, Ch’ang-yong-chien, known by the name of Bombazine; Li-ta-yu, a servant from Sz-chuen; and his cook, Chow-yu-ting, a native of Hankow, all of whom had accompanied their master in the journey across China. Besides his followers, Moung Yoh, or Li-kan-shin, and a pawmine of Seray, of by no means prepossessing appearance, and remarkable for a peculiar loud voice, escorted him to Seray.

The morning was devoted by myself to an attempt under the guidance of a Kakhyen to explore the valley, which was rendered difficult by the dense jungle, and the unwillingness of the native to proceed more than two or three miles from the camp.

The reports of threatened opposition were as rife as ever; but some Chinese who arrived during the day professed ignorance of any uneasiness among the hill tribes. A Kakhyen was brought in by the Burmese to the guard-house, who had come from Manwyne on the previous day on purpose to tell us, at some risk to himself, that a body of men had been collected to attack us, by one Yang-ta-jen, in league with the Seray tsawbwa. The messenger seemed half-witted, but was clear in his story, which certainly agreed with the previous reports. News arrived that all the hostages detained at Tsitkaw had escaped with the exception of Sala. One of them was the son of the Ponsee pawmine, and his father, who had been detailed to accompany Margary, was kept back to be sent to Tsitkaw in place of his son. The tsawbwa-gadaw of Woonkah duly arrived with her gift of fowls, eggs, and sheroo, and received broadcloth and other presents, with which she speedily disappeared, not without grumbling that she had not been paid in money for her fowls!

Nothing further occurred till next morning, when messengers brought a letter from Margary, dated from Seray, announcing that so far the road was unmolested, and all the people met with were civil, and that he should proceed to Manwyne. He noted that when in the Seray chief’s house, the Seray pawmine evinced his contempt for the Burmese by spitting on the ground.

On the strength of this communication, although the tsare-daw-gyee urged that no movement should be made until the news of Margary’s reception at Manwyne reached us, Colonel Browne resolved to proceed at once, and, if possible, reach that town in one march. The camp was accordingly struck, and, crossing the Nampoung, we entered China.

The road we were to pursue led straight up a steep spur of the main range dividing the Tapeng from the Nampoung, the highest point of which, Shitee Meru, rises immediately to the north of Ponsee, the position of the long detention of the first expedition of 1868. I set out in advance of the rest, accompanied by my men and the Kakhyen scout who had brought the information from Manwyne. The ascent commenced directly from the Nampoung valley, and three hours’ climb of the hill-path brought us to the first Shitee village at noon. The tsawbwaship has been divided among three brothers, each having a village of his own, but the youngest, according to Kakhyen rules, being the chief of Shitee Meru. At the first village we were hospitably received and refreshed with sheroo, and the children were delighted with beads and small coins. Here we found a native of India, a slave, who had come from beyond Assam, and had forgotten most of his language, but made himself known by calling out pani. On the hillside I met the Shitee Meru tsawbwa coming down with two men, one of whom escorted me some way; and next appeared the Wacheoon tsawbwa with a party of forty armed followers, some of them mounted on ponies. He was very friendly, and sent an escort back with us, one of whom had brought a lizard for the Englishman. The road wound up and over the spurs running down from the backbone of the Shitee-doung to the Nampoung, which flows from the north-east along a valley lying below the north-western slope of the main range that defines the right bank of the Tapeng. The greatest height reached on Shitee Meru Doung was about five thousand seven hundred feet above the sea, from which we descended slightly to the site chosen for our encampment, the altitude of which was found to be five thousand five hundred feet, where we halted at 3.30, after a march of about eight miles.

Between two rounded ridges running down to the Nampoung, one in our rear covered with forest, and the other with grass, about five hundred yards distant to the north-east, extended two flat clearings, where the caravans were accustomed to bivouack, the first and smaller clearing being close to the western spur. On the second and larger space, divided from the first by a mountain stream, and lying at a somewhat higher elevation, immediately along the grassy spur, the camp was pitched. Around and above the encampments the forest had been cleared, and the open space was covered with high grass interspersed with boulders. Just below the encampments the ground sloped abruptly into a grassy hollow between the ridges, which served as a grazing ground for the mules. The main mountain ridge, which rose to a height of six hundred feet above us, was clothed to its summit with dense forest, which formed a continuous covert, extending along the projecting ridge in the rear, and thus enclosing and commanding our position on the south and east. Below the hollow, the hillside, clothed with impenetrable jungle, sank abruptly to the Nampoung. The country over which the road wound along the slope, in the direction of Seray, consisted of old clearings covered with jungle grass and patches of uncut forest. The immediate exit of the road led through a depression in the ridge, and descended the intervening hollow, and, thence reascending, crossed the next spur.

We bivouacked in the open among the mules and baggage, and surrounded by the fires, the smoke from which was at first most intolerable, but no other annoyance or disturbance was experienced, and our Kakhyens enjoyed themselves listening to the melodies of a musical-box, which had become an especial favourite with them. The Burmese were as vigilant as ever, and their sentinels seemed to be on the alert all night. The tsawbwas of Wacheoon and Ponwah visited the camp, and they had heard nothing of any suspicious movements of troops, and the other Shans who brought fowls for sale confirmed this. Our interpreter, Moung Yoh, returned to the camp in company with the Seray men, the latter being remarkably well dressed and equipped, and evidently old acquaintances of the Burmese. He reported that the Seray chief was dissatisfied on account of the payment of the mule tax or dues to Sala, which, however, had been done with the knowledge and approval of the son of Seray. Moung Yoh then suggested that presents should be sent to Seray, whom he had discovered to be a great friend of his uncle, Li-sieh-tai, and to whose house he returned the same evening to await our arrival.

We were in readiness to start by seven o’clock in the morning of the 21st, but the tsare-daw-gyee intimated that he did not think it prudent to move until the tsawbwas of Shitee Meru, Woonkah, and others arrived. His real intention, however, was to remain in this camp until definite news came from Mr. Margary; but as the arrangement had been made with the latter that we were to advance if we did not hear from him warning us to the contrary, Colonel Browne resolved to push forward to Seray with the Sikhs, leaving the Burmese guard and caravan to follow. I started with my men in advance, but in a short time was overtaken by Browne, Allan, and Fforde, followed by the Sikhs and their servants, with the two led horses, the camp having thus been left to the Kakhyens, under the charge of the Burmese. Their cavalcade soon outstripped my party, as we were shooting, and collecting plants. The road lies over numerous spurs and through deep wooded hollows, and then crosses the watershed dividing the Nampoung valley from the gorge of the Tapeng; on the southern or Manwyne side of the ridge lies the district of Seray. Here a Shan Burman, wearing the red turban of our escort, accompanied by a Kakhyen, overtook us, and by signs gave me to understand that the tsare-daw-gyee wished us to return. As none of us could speak Burmese, I signed to him to proceed quickly and communicate his news to Colonel Browne, which he did, and I ordered my men to press forward to overtake the rest of the party, while I waited behind for my groom and pony. The messenger on his return signified that Colonel Browne was continuing his progress to Seray. The road descended into a hollow, from which a steep ascent leads to Seray. Here a difficulty arose about the road, as several paths diverged, and there was nothing to indicate which had been taken by Colonel Browne’s party. Unfortunately, I took a wrong one, and soon arrived at a strange village, the inhabitants of which had, doubtless, never before seen an European. According to Kakhyen custom, I dismounted before entering, and, seeing some women standing at the door of the first house, indicated by signs that I desired to know the road. They sulkily waved to me to go on upwards. Imagining that the end of the village was reached, I prepared to remount, but this was resented by a number of men who rushed out of a house, and, shouting, drew their dahs in a threatening manner. I tried to induce some of them, by the offer of compraw, to show me the way, but none would do so. Proceeding onwards, followed by the hillmen, I suddenly found my big dog by my side. As his presence was evidence that some of my men were behind, I turned my pony’s head, and all the Kakhyens bolted. After retracing my steps for some distance, I discovered my collectors and servants hiding for fear in a deep hollow. Presently I met a Kakhyen boy, who conducted us to the village of Seray.

Seray, like the majority of Kakhyen villages, is finely situated on the summit of a ridge, among lofty trees, enclosing a grassy glade in its centre. The paths approaching the village are broad, and its vicinity is indicated by groups of high massive wooden posts, with simple devices in black, and by groves to the nats, and by small circular walled enclosures devoted to the worship of the sky spirit. On arriving, I found all the Sikhs ranged in front of the tsawbwa’s house, also the chiefs of Woonkah and Wacheoon, and Allan’s Chinese clerk. It was so dark on entering that at first I could not recognise Colonel Browne, Allan, and Fforde, save by their voices. The chief, who knew me again, was seated on the ground, and it was observable that he and all his men were armed. The restlessness which he exhibited, his withdrawing outside for private conferences with his pawmine, and the fact that all the women had left the house, excited suspicion; but when the latter returned, and the chief and his pawmine divested themselves of their dahs, I concluded that any hostile intention that might have been originally entertained against us had for the present been abandoned. Then sheroo and hard boiled eggs were brought in and set before us; but further parley with the chief produced no results, and we adjourned to a grove of oak and hazel trees on the outskirts of the village. Moung Yoh, or Li-kan-shin, the professed nephew of Li-sieh-tai, who had been acting as our interpreter, and addressing Seray as uncle as a mark of friendship, presently came to request Colonel Browne to return to the chief’s house. There it was decided that the Seray and Woonkah tsawbwas should proceed to Manwyne at once, and ascertain the actual state of things, and take a letter to Margary. Another Burman had arrived from the camp to request us to return, and we mounted our ponies, and retraced our steps. On the road we met some Kakhyens, one of whom seized the bridle of Browne’s horse, and signed him to go back, as the road was beset, but as our friend was under the influence of sheroo, we spoke to him pleasantly and proceeded. This man was a pawmine of Shitee, who returned to the camp in the evening, and, when taxed with having been intoxicated, admitted that he had started with a bamboo flask full of sheroo, which he had finished. These incidents showed that there was an uneasy apprehension of danger, but that in the immediate vicinity the Kakhyens were friendly.

During our absence, the Burmese had thrown up barricades or breastworks of stones and earth, at points above the camp, and commanding the road to Seray. The tsare-daw-gyee announced to Browne that we should certainly be attacked by the Chinese either that evening or on the march the next day. Some men were observed peering down from among the trees on the hill-brow, as if reconnoitring our position. The Burmese, who were collecting firewood, came running down as fast as they could, and the whole camp set up a fearful shout to scare the supposed enemies, who disappeared, and the excitement gradually subsided.

[40] Yule’s ‘Marco Polo,’ vol. ii. (1875), p. 244.

[41] See page 73. The name of the village was understood by us, on that occasion, to be the same as that of the district, viz. Ponline.

CHAPTER XVI.
REPULSE OF MISSION.

Appearance of enemy—Murder of Margary—Friendly tsawbwas—Mission attacked—Woonkah tsawbwa bought over—The jungle fired—Repulse of attack—Incidents of the day—Our retreat—Shitee—Burmese reinforcements—Halt at guard-house—Retreat on Tsitkaw via Woonkah—Elias and Cooke’s visit to Muangmow—Li-sieh-tai—Return of Captain Cooke—Elias at Muangmow—Father Lecomte and the Mattin chief—A forged letter—The Saya of Kaungtoung—Reports regarding Margary—The commission of inquiry—Return of Elias—Visit to the second defile—Mission’s return to Rangoon.

We were all astir with early daylight on February 22nd, and prepared our baggage for the advance to Manwyne; but about seven o’clock large bodies of armed men were observed on the heights above us hurrying downwards in the direction of Shitee, as if to cut off our retreat. There was no mistaking their hostile purpose, and the Burmese immediately detached parties to occupy the positions which they had fortified, one being above the camp, and another thrown forward to a point of the road leading to Seray, which commanded the next hollow and the opposite ridge. The Woonkah tsawbwa came into the camp, and communicated to Colonel Browne a report which received almost instant confirmation. The tsare-daw-gyee appeared with a very serious countenance, and produced two letters received from the Burmese agents at Manwyne. They briefly narrated the horrible murder of Mr. Margary on the previous day at Manwyne; his writer and other attendants were also reported to have been killed. No particulars were given; but the tsare-daw-gyee was warned that we were about to be attacked, and that it would be for his own interest to detach himself by some miles from the English, failing which precaution he would incur the same danger, although the Chinese bore no ill-will to him and his party. The Burmese officer, however, promptly addressed himself to the defence of the camp, and we went up with him to the spur just above to reconnoitre, while the Sikhs took up a position behind a long low boulder lying at the western end of the camp, which served as a natural breastwork, whence they commanded the road by which we had come. The friendly Kakhyen tsawbwas of Woonkah and Wacheoon had hastened away to bring up reinforcements, and the mules were driven down into the grassy hollow below the camp. These preparations had not been completed when the enemy opened fire from all sides but one. The assailants had descended the ridge, hidden by the forest which, as already described, surrounded our position on two sides. This had masked their advance, and served as a perfect cover for them, the report and smoke of their fire-arms alone showing their whereabouts; it was plain, however, that they were in force to the south and east, and they evidently selected our party as the object of attack, avoiding the Burmese, who, however, actively returned the fire. Presently some of the assailants, led by a Chinese brandishing a long trident, rushed out from the jungle to the smaller open space. The Sikhs at once opened fire on them, which drove them behind whatever cover could be found, and stopped any further advance for a time. As soon as they were hidden, our men ceased firing. This seemed to embolden the enemy, and a second detachment rushed down and distributed themselves among the bushes. A brisk and well-aimed volley drove them out in a mass, up the narrow entrance to the road. One man at least was seen to fall dead, and others, wounded, were dragged up by their companions. For some hours, firing from the men concealed in the forest continued on all three sides. As these Kakhyens and Chinese only raised their firelocks to the side of the head, looked for a second forwards, and then fired, the bullets went over our heads. The steady firing of the Sikhs at last seemed to be too much for the enemy, and about 2 P.M. they were seen retreating along the ridge above, and the firing to the south ceased. As they were retreating, we fired on them at about a thousand yards’ range, and this evidently astonished them, as they rushed past, stooping at the exposed points where the fire told. When everything seemed quiet, and the road appeared clear, the mules were brought up from the hollow, and the muleteers hastened to get the loads ready. While this was being done, a party of our Kakhyens made a rush to the open space, where one of the enemy had been seen to fall, and returned with his head, which was tied up by the pig tail to a tree. It was subsequently reported that he was a Chinese officer, but his dress and appearance hardly indicated such rank. Before the preparations for a start were completed, the enemy returned in much greater force, and reoccupied the coverts, and it was estimated that they were at least five hundred strong. Firing recommenced from the heights and the forest around, and our position appeared to be completely surrounded, except on the side of the descent to the Nampoung valley. The question of abandoning the baggage and effecting a retreat by this, the only line left open, was mooted, but the tsare-daw-gyee urged delay, and his men as well as ourselves maintained a steady fire on the enemy.

The Woonkah tsawbwa, with a number of his men, had returned to the camp just before the first repulse of the enemy, and he informed Colonel Browne that the Seray chief had offered him five hundred rupees if he would join in the attack on us. The drift of this remark was at once seen by Colonel Browne, who promptly offered him ten thousand rupees if he could succeed in bringing off all the baggage. It was difficult for the Kakhyen’s mind to conceive so large an amount of coin, and the tsare-daw-gyee had to make him comprehend it by stating that he would receive “three basketfuls of silver.”

Just as this arrangement had been concluded, we heard the shouts of men, apparently coming up behind the southern spur, which was occupied by the enemy. The Burmese at first thought that this indicated the approach of a reinforcement which was hourly expected to arrive from Bhamô. Presently, however, the forest in front of them burst into a blaze, having been fired by the Shitee tsawbwa and his Kakhyens with those of Woonkah. This manœuvre proved most successful, and the enemy was speedily forced to retire, and as other coverts were successively fired below the heights by the Burmese, they were soon in full retreat along the heights, exposed to the fire of our rifles, which told on them at several open places. Firing, however, continued for some time below the heights, and on the side of the ridge commanding the Seray road a desultory fire was also kept up. The Burmese guard were here posted behind an earthwork, and kept the enemy at bay on that side; and after the southern spur and eastern heights were cleared, we took the Sikhs down to support the Burmese, and fired into the further hollow, the only remaining covert of the enemy.

All firing had nearly ceased by about five o’clock. The jungle on all other sides being now cleared and the road to Shitee open, the order was given to reload the mules. They were speedily brought up out of the hollow, where they had remained in safety, and all were soon loaded. Some mules and drivers had disappeared, but willing Kakhyens, either of Shitee or Woonkah, speedily shouldered the remaining loads, and the vacant pack saddles were heaped up and burned before we left. At the close of the day, though bullets had been flying about in all directions, the casualties on our side only amounted to three men slightly wounded, and a mule shot in the neck. The firing was mainly directed at the officers of the mission, and whenever we moved towards the baggage, bullets fell freely about us, while the Chinese shouted to the tsare-daw-gyee that they did not wish to kill his men, but the “foreign devils.” Our Burmese showed great spirit, and the tsare-daw-gyee, from first to last, was deserving of the highest praise. One of his men, while trying to drive out some Chinese, had his red turban carried off by the prongs of a trident, but succeeded in evading a more fatal thrust of the weapon. The loss of the enemy was variously reported, and it is impossible to give an accurate return. Some perished in the burning jungle, and so far as the reports afterwards furnished could be relied on, of the assailants about eight or ten were killed and thirty wounded. I noticed that young men not more than twenty years of age, and even boys, were numerous among their ranks. The well-known loud voice of the Seray pawmine was heard, and the tsawbwa’s son as well as the tsawbwa of Ponsee were said to have been present. The son of Seray was detected by the report of his double-barrelled gun, a present to his father at the time of the former expedition, both barrels of which were fired at once, making the double report easily distinguishable.

The letters received from Manwyne had stated that the party about to attack us was the vanguard of a force of three thousand men, whom the governor of Momien had despatched to oppose our progress. The reader will remember that our camp at Ponsee was menaced with attack, in April 1868, by the lawless Kakhyens of this very district, and, although on the other side of the mountain, our position on this occasion was close to that place. Numerous robberies had been previously reported in this district, and the attacking party undoubtedly consisted largely of the Ponsee and Seray Kakhyens. These belong to the Lakone tribe, while the clans of the Woonkah, Wacheoon, and Shitee chiefs, who rendered such faithful assistance, are offsets of the Cowlie tribe. With the Kakhyens were associated a number of Chinese rowdies or perhaps soldiers; but the assailants could hardly be reckoned other than local robbers, who thought that the Burmese would not resist, and that our own guards were too few, while the prospect of such a rich booty was enough to make them encounter the risks of a fight. The staunch defence, the effect produced by the long range of the rifles, and the bold diversion in our favour directed by the Shitee and Woonkah chiefs, who fired the jungle, combined to disappoint their expectations. It must not be understood from this that the subsequent reports of the advance of Chinese troops, and of hostility on the part of the Momien officials, are discredited. The frontier Chinese were strongly prejudiced against our entrance into Yunnan, and the Kakhyens and local robbers would be stimulated by the reported or actual advance of troops to anticipate any overt acts of hostility, and try to secure the rich booty for themselves.

When the baggage train had all moved safely off, escorted by some of the Burmese guard, we set out on the return to Shitee, followed by the Sikhs, the rear being brought up by the tsare-daw-gyee. Mr. Fforde, with a few of his men, remained for a short time, while the Burmese posted on the road to Seray held their position until all were clear off, then followed slowly after us to cover the retreat. We started at 5.30, and in half an hour reached Shitee, having met on the road some of the Burmese reinforcements which had come up from Bhamô. The baggage was all collected in a pile before the tsawbwa’s house, and the tsitkay-nekandaw, who commanded the newly arrived detachment, was posted with forty of his men behind an earthwork which they had thrown up, covering the approach to the village. Both the tsawbwa and the tsare-daw-gyee wished us to remain for the night at this place. The chief feared that the Chinese would come down and burn his village in revenge for his having aided us. The Burmese argued, that if the members of the mission continued the retreat, it would appear as though we were deserting the baggage, which could not be brought further that evening. The position of the village, situated on the slope of the mountain spur, and closely surrounded by dense jungle, seemed too much exposed to a night attack, and Colonel Browne decided to push on to the guard-house on the Nampoung. We started accordingly at 6.30, accompanied by the tsare-daw-gyee and some of the Burmese. It soon became very dark, and the descent down the rocky footpath, bordered on one side by a steep declivity, was tedious and dangerous. We could not see the stones or the edges of the track, and when passing through thick groves of trees, even a white pony right in front of me was invisible.

For nearly four long hours we stumbled downwards, the latter part of the journey being somewhat facilitated by the moonlight, which, however, was obscured by the impenetrable forest and the surrounding heights. Crossing the Nampoung, the guard-house was safely reached, and we were comfortably housed. As four of the mules had brought on some bedding, food, and cooking utensils, we were not so badly off as the Sikhs, who had marched laden with ammunition besides packets of sycee silver, which had been distributed among them for safety in the crisis of the attack, and had only supplies of dry rice.

The next morning it was resolved that the Woonkah tsawbwa, who had accompanied us, should return to Shitee, and bring down the remainder of the baggage, while we should await his arrival. Two hours later the tsare-daw-gyee reported that the Chinese were collecting in force at the northern and southern ends of the Nampoung valley to renew the attack. He therefore advised us to proceed at once to Tsitkaw by the Woonkah road. In a short time we were toiling up the steep ascent leading to the district and village of Woonkah, which lies on the summit of the high ridge forming the western watershed of the Nampoung, and must be at an altitude equal to that of Shitee. The tsare-daw-gyee brought up the rear of the party, and during the march sent forward a messenger to urge us to press on, because the Chinese were reported to be rapidly assembling. The people of the first Woonkah village welcomed us with evident satisfaction, and the tsawbwa-gadaw brought a grateful supply of sheroo, which was most refreshing. Here we were joined by the tsare-daw-gyee, and it was proposed to him that we should leave the led horses behind, but he objected to this as unnecessary.

From Woonkah the descent of the hills commenced, the road passing through a forest of very lofty trees clear of underwood. As we neared the junction of a road from the north with the Woonkah track, our advanced guard of Burmese beckoned us to follow quickly, and most carefully reconnoitred the sides of a spur which sloped down towards us, but nothing but dense jungle was visible. They evinced the same anxious caution at the point where the Ponline road joined our route before the third guard-house was reached. The Sikhs were beginning to be much distressed, and we had to relieve them by giving up our ponies for their use in turns. Tsihet was reached at 2.30, and, after a short rest, we proceeded to Tsitkaw, where we arrived at sundown, and were congratulated on our escape by the second tsitkay-nekandaw, who met us outside at the head of a guard lining each side of the road. We put up in our old quarters, but without any supplies, as no baggage had arrived; and for bedding, we had straw and Shan felt coverlets. Fortunately, some tins of preserved meat were forthcoming, but we had to procure from the villagers some clay vessels for cooking, and a blue bowl to serve instead of plates.

We remained two days at Tsitkaw expecting the baggage, the lighter portions of which arrived in charge of the Burmese. Another detachment of eighty-five men came from Bhamô, on the morning after our arrival, and marched straight on to the hills. The indefatigable tsare-daw-gyee also received orders from the Woon to return at once to Woonkah, and remain there personally to oversee the despatch of all the baggage. It is impossible to speak too highly of the care for our safety on the march, and the general conduct, of this Burmese officer. Various reports were brought in as to the loss suffered by the enemy; and both Burmese and Kakhyens seemed to have been strongly impressed by the “far shooting” of our rifles. The Kakhyen who had brought the earliest information of the intended attack made his appearance, and was delighted at finding his services recompensed with a handsome reward. He was so elated that, Kakhyen-like, he returned with a “tail” of followers, and, giving himself out as a tsawbwa, tried to get something for his companions, in which he was unsuccessful. We were also rejoined by our old interpreter, Moung Mo, who had disappeared at Shitee; but of Moung Yoh, or Li-kan-shin, and Allan’s Chinese clerk, who had been last seen or heard of at Seray, nothing certain could be ascertained. Subsequent reports stated that they had both been murdered, but no trustworthy intelligence was received either of their death or escape.

On the second day of our stay at Tsitkaw, letters were received from the Resident at Bhamô in reply to the despatch announcing our repulse. He had fortunately been on the point of sending some Lenna Kakhyens with letters to Elias at Muangmow, and had promised them a reward if they escorted our companion safely back. The Woon sent to request our return to Bhamô, as he had heard of an intended attack on Tsitkaw by the Khanloung Kakhyens, a most lawless race of robbers inhabiting the hills above the Molay river. Extra guards were accordingly posted by the choung-oke, and all the soldiers were ordered to be on the alert; but the night passed off quietly. We all returned, some by road and the rest by boat, to Bhamô, on February 26th, and were welcomed at the Residency by Captain Cooke.

He had no news of Elias, who on the 17th instant was still at Muangmow, and whose position, alone in the power of Li-sieh-tai, seemed precarious and alarming. To explain it, I must again mention that Captain Cooke and Mr. Ney Elias had started, under the convoy of the Lenna chief of Paloungto, by the Sawady route, intending, if possible, to meet us at Momien. They went from Bhamô to Mansay, and, leaving the latter place early in the morning, arrived at the Kakhyen village of Kara by nine o’clock. The chief Kara village, named Peetah, lies a few miles distant. Two miles from this place, they entered the country of the Lenna Kakhyens, and a march of seven miles brought them to Wurrabone, a small village situated near the summit of a mountain. This is the seat of the elder brother of the Paloungto chief, at whose house they spent the night, being received with the utmost attention that Kakhyen hospitality could show. From their observation, the Lenna tribe appear to be a very superior race of Kakhyens, their houses and manners evincing a higher degree of civilisation than is found amongst the Kara or Lakone tribe. Starting at midday from Wurrabone, the party arrived at sunset at Paloungto, a village of twenty houses. A march of six miles over a rough hill road led to Namkai, the largest Lenna village, containing forty houses, whence a road leads to Muangwan and Hotha. Here the road, passing through a part of the Lakone country, descended for nine miles to Pamkam, a small village lying at the foot of the hills on the right bank of the Namwan or Muangwan river. From this point, at which the Chinese frontier is crossed, and the level valley of the Shuaylee is entered, Kwotloon, in the territory of Muangmow, is only a mile distant. Arriving at sunset, the travellers halted for the night, the Shan inhabitants proving sullen and inclined to be uncivil. Their behaviour was a marked contrast to the demeanour of the dreaded Lenna Kakhyens, through whose hills the party had passed without any difficulty, while their expenses had not amounted to five rupees, the hospitable tsawbwas insisting on supplying everything required. The only chance of delay arose at Paloungto, where the tsawbwa wanted to give a grand buffalo sacrifice and feast in honour of his guests, and to propitiate the nats in their favour. He postponed the ceremonial at Cooke’s request until the return journey of the latter. After leaving Kwotloon, the Namwan stream was crossed, and a day’s march on the left bank of twenty-four miles in a south-easterly direction, and ascending the right bank of the Shuaylee through an open, level country, brought the party to the Shan town of Muangmow. This place, the residence of the tsawbwa, like the towns of the Sanda valley, is surrounded by a brick wall sixteen feet high, without bastions or embrasures, but backed by an earthwork. Four gates, corresponding to the points of the compass, lead into the town, which occupies a square of about six hundred yards, and is inhabited by Shan Chinese. The travellers at once proceeded to call on Li-sieh-tai, who was residing in a ruinous yamen, and commanded a force of apparently about fifty Chinese soldiers, although said to number three hundred. This redoubtable Chinese official received them with great civility, addressing Elias as “his elder brother,” and assigned them quarters in a khyoung close to the western gate of the town.

Li-sieh-tai is described as a little but broad-shouldered and powerful man, with a large head and ugly visage, having an unusually wide mouth, with thick and protruding lips. In conversation he looks straight at his interlocutor, which is in marked contrast to the usually downcast or shifting glance of the other Chinese. He showed his literary acquirements by carefully perusing the imperial passports, which he declared to be quite satisfactory, and amply sufficient to ensure the bearer’s safety if once in the mandarins’ country beyond Sehfan. The difficulty would be in the journey from Muangmow to Sehfan, as there was a feud between the tsawbwas of these states.

Captain Cooke resolved to return to Bhamô, as his presence might render it more difficult or tedious for Mr. Elias to proceed to Momien. When he with his followers proposed to depart, he found the western gate closed, and was told that it could not be opened without the leave of some official. He had been already requested to sign a letter of indemnity for Mr. Elias’ safety, which had, as a matter of course, been declined, and the closing of the gate was intended as a species of pressure. He outmanœuvred the officials by ordering his Kakhyens to wait till the gate should be opened, while he took his departure by another gate. They rejoined him outside the town, and all arrived without further difficulty at Paloungto. Here the nat sacrifice duly took place, and a bullock, pig, and fowls were slaughtered, a leg of the first victim being presented to Cooke, which is a mark of honour only paid to chiefs. A grand palaver was held in the tsawbwa’s house, the occasion being a dispute between the chief and one of his villages, the people of which had stolen a bullock from him. To atone for this insult, a fine of ten bullocks was imposed, to be paid in five yearly instalments. At least fifty Kakhyens were present, and sheroo and samshu were liberally supplied, but the assemblage was quiet and orderly. At midnight the English guest expressed a wish to sleep, and all at once departed, while the chief produced for his accommodation two carpets which he had recently received as a present from the Residency. The chief explained the difficulties which had arisen between himself and the leader of the mission at Sawady, by the fact that he had only agreed to convoy the British mission, and would not admit a Burmese guard into his country. It is certain that no mention of the passage of a Burmese guard had been made during the previous negotiations by Mr. Elias, who was at that time unaware of and subsequently opposed to the plan. The tsawbwa complained bitterly of the humiliation he had experienced in being obliged to squat on the ground before the Burmese officials, and that he had not had any opportunity of a private interview with the English officers. It is very much to his credit that he asked for nothing beyond what he had been promised; and his conduct and that of his brother, the chief of Wurrabone, and their subjects, showed conclusively that, so far as the Kakhyens are concerned, this route to Muangmow was unattended by any real difficulty.

On the day after our arrival at Bhamô, our anxiety concerning the position of Elias was relieved by the arrival of two Lenna Kakhyens, bringing letters from him dated from Kwotloon on the 24th. The messengers had thus accomplished their journey in two days, and were immediately sent back with letters. As it was probable that Mr. Elias would have received the letter of recall, his speedy arrival was looked for; and all our suspense on his account was ended on March 2nd, when he made his appearance, escorted by the Wurrabone pawmine.

Subsequently to Captain Cooke’s departure from Muangmow, Li-sieh-tai, whose conduct and character had made a rather favourable impression on Mr. Elias, held out hopes that he might be able to arrange for his safe conduct to Sehfan. The tsawbwa, however, was more explicit, and assured him that it was impossible in the then state of the country. Subsequent observations, and refusals of access to the tsawbwa, on various pretexts, convinced Elias that there was no intention to let him proceed. He therefore bade farewell to Li, who accepted a rifle as a parting present, and returned to Kwotloon, to which place two Shans brought the news of the attack on our camp. The aged tsawbwa of Wurrabone, with his pawmines, went to Kwotloon to escort him safely to Mansay; and leaving Kwotloon on the 28th, they accomplished the journey of sixty-four miles by a direct road, avoiding Paloungto, in two days. While passing Peetah, the Lennas evinced some apprehension that the Kara Kakhyens, who had previously grumbled about the smallness of their gains, might prove troublesome; but the party passed through without opposition.

It is impossible to avoid the reflection that, if the murder of Margary and the attack on our camp had been directed by Li-sieh-tai, he could easily, by direct or indirect means, have disposed of his visitor; and his civility and consideration for his safety by not allowing him to advance are surely to be esteemed a strong argument in his favour. Among the Lenna Kakhyens the opinion was freely expressed that the opposition was due to secret tactics on the part of the Burmese. That this idea prevailed among the hill tribes to the south of the Tapeng was further confirmed by Father Lecomte, who returned from a visit to Mattin at the time of our arrival at Bhamô. When he and his companion reached the first Kakhyen village, there was an incessant discharge of fire-arms, and the villagers appeared unwilling to receive them, until they assured them that they were not Englishmen. Their sacerdotal garb assisted to make the Kakhyens believe that they belonged to a different race, and they were then entertained, but informed that at first the people had said, “If these are kalas, let us kill them, because the king of Burma does not wish them to enter our hills.” The tsawbwa of Mattin, whose intelligence and general knowledge impressed them strongly, told them that there was no chance of the mission reaching Yunnan. He further remarked that the Kakhyens were glad to see the Englishmen at Bhamô; but “what will become of the trade and occupation of our people if they make a railway from Bhamô to Momien?” This feeling, both among the Chinese merchants and the Kakhyens, especially those under Burmese and Chinese influence, that our gain in the way of open trade would prove their loss, must be largely taken into account in estimating the difficulties of progress.

The opinion that the king of Burma was hostile to the mission owed its origin to a forged royal letter, directing the Kakhyens to oppose us. A copy of this letter was obtained by the Resident, and there was no doubt that it had been widely circulated. The forgery was brought home to no less a personage than the chief phoongyee, or saya, of Kaungtoung. The Woon of Shuaygoo, whose district includes both Kaungtoung and Sawady, it will be recollected, refused any co-operation with his colleague at Bhamô. I personally experienced his hostility to foreigners during a boat voyage through the second defile on the return from Bhamô, when he not only refused a guide, but sent instructions to the headmen of his villages to forbid my landing. He has been since deprived of office, and the actual perpetrator of the forgery has been tried by the ecclesiastical court of Mandalay, degraded from the priesthood, and sentenced to carry one hundred loads of water into the khyoung of the court. The sentence ran as follows:—“In the case of rahans, if in a matter not ordered by our most excellent Lord Buddha, one represents it to be a sacred order, he is guilty of dakka-apat. In the case of laymen, if a person represents that which is not a royal order as a royal order, the customary punishment is to widen his mouth (by slitting the cheeks) or to cut off his hand. In the present instance, Shin Thula Tsara, the Saya of Kaungtoung, without orders from an ecclesiastical court, by making that which was not a royal order into a royal order, was the one who ordered the obstruction of the British mission proceeding to China. He accordingly has been deprived of his office of bishop; but as a rahan and a soldier of the Buddhist religion is not punishable according to the civil law, the decision, in accordance with the rule given in the Wini, made by the assembled members of the ecclesiastical court, is—Let him be punished by carrying one hundred loads of water,” &c. This isolated case of hostility on the part of Burmese officials in nowise detracts from the good opinion which the zeal and energy displayed in our service by the Bhamô authorities earned from all who witnessed and profited by them.

Upon our safe arrival, the Woon sent letters to the governor of Momien to inquire into the causes of the opposition offered to the progress of the mission and the murder of one of its officers. The report that Chinese troops were still marching in great numbers from Momien to Manwyne was also the subject of inquiry. He did not disguise his fear that the Chinese would attack Bhamô; and the preparation of bricks for the construction of a wall around the town, which had already begun, was actively pressed forward.

During our stay, all opportunities for ascertaining, if possible, the exact details of the murder of Mr. Margary and his followers were eagerly availed of by us; but beyond the melancholy fact, though various reports were current, it was impossible to collect evidence either as to the perpetrators or the circumstances of this atrocious crime. It seemed, however, agreed that there were Chinese officials and troops at Manwyne. The muleteers and others who accompanied Margary had fled for their lives into the jungle. One reported that he had been examined as a friend of the foreigners, and had escaped by asserting that he was a resident of the district, and not connected with us. The most trustworthy account was furnished by two of the six Burmese who were at Manwyne, and whom the Chinese officials threatened to kill. The most intelligent one stated that he saw Margary walking about the town, sometimes with Chinese and at other times alone. On the morning of the 21st, the very day of his murder, some men invited him to go and see a hot spring, and when he was outside the town, they knocked him off his pony and speared him. His writer and messenger and two servants were killed in the khyoung. This was only hearsay, and no one had seen the heads of the victims, which were reported to have been affixed to the town wall, or, according to another account, to have been sent to Momien. Our informants had not seen any troops, though one had heard them marching at night while he was concealed in the jungle.

Later accounts stated that the Chinese officers had been ordered back in disgrace to Momien, because they had allowed our party to escape, and that the Shans were at feud with the Chinese, as the phoongyee complained that the khyoung had been desecrated by blood-shedding.

It is to be hoped that the commission of inquiry now traversing China from the east will be able to elicit the facts, and to determine to whom the guilt of the barbarous murder of a British officer attaches. It is in no wise fitting to prejudge the case. Whether local marauders or the Momien officials, actuated either by prejudice against foreigners or commercial jealousy, or, it may be, a groundless fear of encouragement to be derived by the Mahommedans from the presence of the English, violated the rights guaranteed by treaty and the express commands of an imperial passport, remains to be seen. It is possible that the authority of the viceroy of Yunnan was prostituted to oppose the entrance of the hated foreigners; and the recent reports seem to indicate a determination in the Yunnan yamens at least to screen the offenders.

For my own part, I desire to record the deep sympathy entertained for those who mourn for the loss of one so beloved. Our brief intercourse lasted long enough to win for him the esteem and cordial friendship of us all; and while we deplored the early loss to his country of the services of one whose past career and talents promised to raise him to high distinction, we lamented his untimely death as that of an old and dear friend. To his family and those who looked forward to share his future, the loss is irreparable; and the punishment of the guilty will bring but little consolation. But he may be said to have bequeathed it as a public duty—made more imperative by its being the most fitting tribute to his worth—to establish in those border lands the right of Englishmen to travel unmolested.

The death of this young officer and the repulse of the British mission from the frontiers of China have left a marked impression on the minds of the various populations. The question of opening trade routes may be left to the future. Overland commerce cannot be forced, or even stimulated, by extraordinary efforts. The existence of a channel of trade between Burma and China has been demonstrated; and when the restored prosperity of Yunnan shall create a demand, the steamers of the Burmese rivers and the entrepot of Bhamô, where the British flag assures protection to British interests, are ready to furnish the supply. For the present, above and beyond the task of avenging his murder on the guilty, of whatever rank they may be, the name of Augustus Raymond Margary will be most fitly honoured by a party of his countrymen formally asserting the right to traverse, in honour and safety, the route between Burma and China, which he was the first Englishman to explore, and which should be maintained as his most durable monument.

By the arrival of Mr. Ney Elias, our chief cause of anxiety was removed, and when on March 3rd the boats arrived from Tsitkaw freighted with the baggage and stores which successive officials had been despatched to expedite, there was no farther necessity for delay at Bhamô. Everything, with very trivial exceptions, was delivered safely according to the inventory which had been taken at Woonkah, and the tsawbwa of that place received his promised reward of £1000, which undoubtedly made him the richest chief among the northern Kakhyens.

As the steamer from Mandalay had not arrived, I hired a native boat, in order to make a leisurely inspection of the second defile, and dropped down to Sawady. The Woon of Bhamô had informed me that there was danger to be apprehended from the Kakhyens on the hills of the defile, and advised an application to the Shuaygoo Woon, who was at Sawady, for a guide. After some delay, the Woon received me, but most ungraciously, and declined the request, as the Bhamô Woon had sent no official letter on the subject. Not content with this refusal, he sent a boat with soldiers to convey orders to the villages not to allow me to remain for the night, the result of which we experienced at a place called Thembaw-eng, where the headman came down and compelled us to leave our moorings. We were not assailed by Kakhyens, but had a nocturnal alarm of a tiger, which the boatmen declared to be not a real tiger, but the nat of the locality, who was enraged at their having cut down some branches which interfered with my camera, when photographing the great cliff. A more disagreeable incident was a violent storm, almost amounting to a tornado, which overtook us in the river. The hurricane was presaged by a most brilliant light seen, in the west, from which quarter the wind soon after burst upon the river with tremendous fury, lashing its surface into great waves, while incessant flashes of lightning lit up the scene, which was one of terrific grandeur. A pleasing incident of the trip was the arrival of a boat containing our old friend and patient, the old tsare-daw-gyee, who had escorted us from Mandalay, and who had arrived at Bhamô in chains on his way to Mogoung a few days before. He expressed great pleasure at seeing me safe, and I congratulated him on having regained his liberty. This was due to royal orders brought by an express boat from Mandalay two days previously. As he intended to halt at Shuaygoo-myo, he promised to neutralise the malice of the Woon, by personal instructions to the headman, which proved most useful.

The steamer Colonel Fytche, with the members of the mission, overtook us at the wooding station of Yuathet on March 7th, and, after the usual delays caused by grounding on sandbanks, we reached Mandalay on the 10th, and found the steamer Yunnan about to start for Rangoon. We were almost amused to hear the various and contradictory rumours which had been flying about this most gossiping of capitals as to our dangers and escapes. An account of the attack, as being made by Kakhyens and disaffected Chinese, had been published in a printed Chinese broadsheet, which professed to give the most recent and exact information concerning the mission, a curious illustration of the interest which the subject possessed for the Chinese traders of Mandalay. The Yunnan conveyed us to Rangoon, where the welcome of the Chief Commissioner and the hearty congratulations, on our safety, of our other friends were not lessened by our having been compelled to return re infecta, leaving the task, it is to be hoped, soon and successfully to be accomplished by another mission.

APPENDICES.

APPENDIX I.

A Note by Bishop Bigandet on Burmese Bells.[42]

Bells are common in Burma, and the people of that country are well acquainted with the art of casting them. Most of the bells to be seen in the pagodas are of small dimensions, and in shape differ from those used in Europe. The inferior part is less widened, and there is a large hole in the centre of the upper part. No tongue is hung in the interior, but the sound is produced by striking with a horn of deer or elk the outward surface of the lower part. No belfry is erected for the bells; they are fixed on a piece of timber laid horizontally, and supported by two posts, at such a height that the inferior part of the bell is raised about five feet from the ground.

The largest specimens of Burmese art are the two bells to be seen, the one at the large pagoda of Rangoon, called Shuay Dagon, and the other at Mengoon.

The first was cast in 1842, as recorded by the inscription on it. The weight of metal is 94,682 lbs.; its height, 9½ cubits; its diameter, 5 cubits; its thickness, 15 inches. But during the process of melting, the well-disposed threw in copper, silver, and gold in great quantities. It is supposed that in this way the weight was increased one-fourth.

The bell of Mengoon was cast at the beginning of this century. In shape and form it resembles our bells of Europe. It is probable that some foreigner residing at Ava suggested the idea of giving such an unusual form to that monumental bell. Its height is 18 feet, besides 7 feet for hanging apparatus. It is 17 feet in diameter, and from 10 to 12 inches in thickness. Its weight is supposed to exceed 200,000 lbs.[43] In the interior, large yellowish and greyish streaks indicate that considerable quantities of gold and silver have been thrown in during the process of melting. No idea can at present be had of the power of the sound, as its enormous weight has caused the pillars that support it partially to give way. To prevent a final disaster, the orifice of the bell has been made to rest on large teak posts sunk in the ground and rising about 3 feet above it.

[42] From ‘The Legend of the Burmese Buddha,’ by Bishop Bigandet, Rangoon.

[43] It will be observed that these figures are in excess of those given by Colonel Yule, which I have quoted in the text.

APPENDIX II.

Translation of a Chinese Document, which purports to account for the Origin and Establishment of Mahommedanism in China. By Colonel Sladen.

The chief queen of the emperor Tanwan adopted a child and called him Anlaushan. In time the child developed into a man of extraordinary comeliness and wonderful intellect.

The queen was enamoured; and the adopted son became her paramour.

Anlaushan soon rose to distinction. His abilities were of the highest order, and raised him at once to fame and influence. The queenly passion was not disclosed; but suspicion had been sufficiently roused to make it prudent on the queen’s part to get rid of her lover, and defeat all signs of illicit intercourse.

Anlaushan was accordingly accused of being privy to a conspiracy to dethrone the emperor. The influence of the queen prevailed to obtain a conviction, and her favourite was banished from the royal capital.

But the injustice of his accusation and a sense of wrongs roused Anlaushan to action, and induced him to become in reality a leader of rebellion. He lost no time in collecting a large force with which he was able to make head against the government, and successfully encounter the troops of the emperor. In time he had approached within a league of the capital, and city and palace were alike threatened.

The emperor Tanwan in this emergency adopted the suggestion of his vizier Kanseree, and despatched a mission to Seeyoogwet, and implored foreign aid. A force of three thousand men was sent, under the command and guidance of three learned teachers, who arrived in due time at Tanwan’s capital. By their aid Anlaushan was defeated and eventually captured.

The rebellion was at an end, and the foreign contingent left China, to return to its own country. Here, however, a difficulty arose. Their rulers refused them admittance, and alleged as a cause for doing so, that it was against the constitution of the country to receive back men who had come into contact with pork-eating infidels. They had herded in fact with pigs and infidels, and could no longer be regarded as unpolluted subjects, or as fit members of a society which held pork in religious detestation.

They returned therefore to China, and became permanent sojourners in a foreign land. They are the original stock from which Mahommedanism has sprung up in China, in various communities, and under several denominations, &c.

APPENDIX III.

List of Nats, or Deities, worshipped by the Kakhyens; obtained from Native Sources by Colonel Sladen.

Ngka nat; Burmese, Me nat; Eng. God of Earth.—He is worshipped on the occasions of digging gold or other mines, founding a village, and sowing paddy. The offerings made are buffalo, hogs, fowls, dried fish, and liquor (sheroo). The worship must be celebrated by the entire population of a village, and for four days next ensuing no work nor journey must be undertaken.

Mooshen or Mofitwa nat or nats. These are husband and wife, called respectively Sharoowa and Modai-pronga. Burmese, Thakya-meng; Eng. the King of Gods.—Worshipped on the occasion of clearing fields, cutting rice crop, and founding a village. The offerings made are a young male buffalo or bull, hog, cocks, eggs, rice, dried fish, and liquor, with gifts of a silk putzo and women’s ornaments. The worship is celebrated by the tsawbwa and the whole village, and cannot be offered by a private person.

Numsyang or Noon-shan nat or nats; Burmese, Yuwa-saun; Eng. the Village Guardians.—These are male and female, the eastern portion of a village being under the custody of the former, and the western of the latter. They are worshipped twice a year; also on the occasion of any epidemic or of war, and at the foundation of a new village. The offerings are as already mentioned, but the victims must be male, and the worship is celebrated by the tsawbwa with all his people.

Chan nat; Burmese, Me nat; Eng. the Sun.—Also two, husband and wife. Worshipped by chief and people at the time of clearing fields and harvesting. The offerings are red fowls, boiled rice, eggs, dried fish, bread, and liquor, with gifts of one gong, a red putzo, and masculine ornaments.

Sada nat; Burmese, La nat; Eng. the Moon.—Worshipped as foregoing. Offerings, boiled rice, dried flesh and fish, eggs, and four bamboo flasks of liquor, with gifts of feminine clothes and ornaments and a silver pipe stem.

Ning-foi, or Pomp-woi; Burmese, Le nat; Eng. the Air.—Worshipped in sickness, time of war, when going on a trading journey, clearing fields, or founding a village. Offerings, buffalo, cow, hog, fowls, &c., with gifts of putzo, gong, and silver.

Ning-gon-wa nat; Burmese, Byama nat; the Hindoo Brahma.—Regarded as the “chief tsawbwa after death.” Offerings, bread; gifts, flowers, silk putzo, and eight bamboos of liquor.

Boom nat; Burmese, Toung nat; Eng. the God of Mountains.—Worshipped in sickness, and when clearing fields or founding a village. Offerings, buffalo, cow, hog, &c.

Mŭm Sŭn; Burmese, Soba nat; Eng. the Rice God.—Worshipped for growth of rice crop, and sometimes in sickness. Offerings the same as to the Moon.

Chegah nat; Burmese, Lay-khyan-saun; the Field and Garden Keeper.—Invoked to protect them. Offerings of buffalo and cows, of which the skin is burned and the flesh boiled. Propitiated also with offerings of tobacco. Said to inflict disease in the skin and eyes.

Waroom nat; Burmese, Ana nat; Eng. the God of Disease.—Worshipped during sickness, chiefly small-pox and cholera. Offerings, buffalo, &c.

Khakhoo Kha-nam; Burmese, Yei nat; the God of Water.—Worshipped on the occasion of any one being drowned; sometimes in sickness. Offerings, two buffaloes, two hogs, two fowls, &c.

Tsethoung nat; Burmese, Tou nat; Eng. the God of Forest.—Worshipped on the occasion of founding a village, clearing fields, war, and sickness. Offerings, a hog, a goat, &c.

Ngkhoo nat; Burmese, Aing nat; the Home God, or God of Ancestors.—Worshipped in all cases of sickness. Any one wishing to migrate to another state hangs a bamboo of liquor on a post and invokes him. New rice is also offered him at harvest. Offerings, buffalo, cow, &c.

Ndong nat; Burmese, Aing-peen nat; the God of the Outside of Home.—Believed to reside in the house, but worshipped outside if one of the family is killed in war, or by drowning, fall from a tree, or the bite of a tiger or snake. Offerings, buffalo, &c.

Mo nat; Burmese, the same; the God of Heaven.—Four brothers, viz. Moung-lam, Khreenwan, Seen-lap, Mou-sheeing, and a sister, Boung-fwoy, the Thunder Goddess. A very high god of the Kakhyens, worshipped by those who desire profit in trade, victory in war, or children; also on occasion of founding a village and of sickness. Sacrifice, buffalo, cow, hog, and fowls—all which must be white—dried fish, eggs, and liquor.

Lessa nat; Burmese, Tesey, or Tuhsai; the ghost of a person murdered by the dah, supposed to cause disease.—Offerings, buffalo, &c., and boiled rice, curry, liquor, exposed in baskets.

Needang nat; Burmese, Meima Tesey; the compound spectre of mother and unborn child.

Hau-saing nat; Burmese, Taroup nat; the Chinese god.

Khokhamla; Burmese, Sing-buring; the last king.

Phee Lomoon; Burmese, Soung; the witch, believed to be able to destroy life.

APPENDIX IV.

Note by Professor Douglas on the Deities in the Shan Temple at Tsaycow, in the Hotha Valley.

The objects of worship contained within the walls of this temple are well worthy of note, more especially as they illustrate the curious manner in which the deities representing the various faiths of Chinamen—Buddhist, Taouist, and Confucianist—are often intermingled. As the subjoined list shows, Buddhas, Buddhisatwas, Devas, Arhans, and Buddhist patriarchs, stand side by side with “True Men,” “Masters of Heaven,” and princes of the Taouist faith; while Confucianism finds a solitary representative in the Deva of Scholarly (i.e. Confucianist) Youths (No. 15). This grouping together of the deities of the “Three Religions” might appear strange to those unacquainted with the phases which these faiths have assumed in China. From the first, however, Taouism was but another form of Buddhism, and the gradual weakening, which has been going on for centuries, of the distinctive doctrines of the two sects, together with the introduction of purely Chinese superstition into both, have tended to obliterate the uncertain line of demarcation which originally separated the one from the other. Indeed, the power of absorption, whether of races or of creeds, which so peculiarly belongs to the Chinese, has served to fuse together the dogmas of Buddha and Lao-tsze with the teachings of Confucius to such an extent that, as far as the masses are concerned, they may be treated as the foundations of a common faith, and the objects set apart by each for worship are to be found not unfrequently standing in positions of equal honour—as in the present instance—in the national Pantheons.

The following is a list of the eighty deities who are enthroned in the temple:—

1. Yun lai tseĭh teen = the Deva of the Gathering Clouds.

2. Jĭh kung tsun teen = the honoured Deva of the Sun Palace.

3. To wăn tsun teen = Vaishravana.

4. Keen-na-lo Wang tsun teen = the honoured Deva, the King of the Kinnaras.

5. Ta hĕh tsun teen = Mahâ Kala.

6. Sing kung tsun teen = the honoured Deva of the Star Palace.

7. Tae suy tsun teen = the Chinese Cybele.

8. Luy shin tsun teen = the honoured Deva of Thunder.

9. Hoo-kea-lo Wang tsun teen = the honoured Deva, King Hoo-kea-lo.

10. Po-kiĕh-lo-tsew (?) tsun teen = the honoured Deva Po-kiĕh-lo-tsew (?) (Bhaskaravarna?).

11. Same as No. 8.

12. Lŭh chai pă Wang tsun teen = the honoured Deva, the Eighth King of the Six Fasts (?).

13. Hing ping kwei Wang tsun teen = the honoured Deva, the Disease-transmitting Demon King.

14. Hwa-kwang-meaou-keĭh-tseang tsun teen = Manjusri.

15. Joo tung te teen = the Imperial Deva of Scholarly (i.e. Confucianist) Youths.

16. San chi tsun teen = the Glory-scattering honoured Deva.

17. Mi-tseĭh-kin-kang tsun teen = the Vajra-holding honoured Deva.

18. Mo-le-che tsun teen = Maritchi.

19. Să chin jin = the True Man Să (Taouist).

20. Kŏ chin jin = the True Man Kŏ (Hang?) (Taouist).

21. Yuh te = the Jade Ruler (Taouist).

22. Chang Teen sze = the Master of Heaven Chang (Taou-ling?) (Taouist).

23. Heu chin keun = the Prince Heu (Taouist).

24. Ho-le-te-nan tsun = Hariti.

25. Yen-lo te teen = Yama.

26. Kwei tsze moo teen = the Demon Terrestrial Deva.

27. Poo-te-shoo teen = Buddhisatwa Druma.

28. Keen-lo te teen = the Firm and Strong Terrestrial Deva.

29. Mo-he-lo tsun teen = Maheshvara.

30. Kwang mŭh tsun teen = Virupaksha.

31. Tsăng chang tsun teen = Virudhaka.

32. Chĭh kwŏ tsun teen = Dhritarashtra.

33. Same as No. 8.

34. Kwan shing te teen = the God of War.

35. Te shĭh tsun teen = Buddha.

36. Ta fan tsun teen = Brahma.

37. Tsze tung te teen = the Deva of the Tsze and Tung Trees.

38. Ta peen teen = the Great Deva of Disputation.

39. Kung tĭh tsun teen = the honoured Deva of Good Works.

40. Hoo fa tsun teen = Dharmarakshita.

41. Heuen teen shang te = The Sombre-Heaven God.

42. Pin-too-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan[44] Pin-too-lo.

43. Choo-cha-pwan-to-kea tsun-chay = the Arhan Choo-cha-pwan-to-kea.

44. Fa-na-po-sze tsun-chay = the Arhan Fa-na-po-sze.

45. Na-kea-mow-na-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan Na-kea-mow-na-lo.

46. Pwan-to-kea tsun-chay = the Arhan Pwan-to-kea.

47. Fa-chay-fŭh-to-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan Fa-chay-fŭh-to-lo.

48. Po to-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan Po-to-lo.

49. Soo-pin-to tsun-chay = the Arhan Soo-pin-to.

50. Peen-nŏ-kea-fa-tso tsun-chay = the Arhan Peen-nŏ-kea-fa-tso.

51. Kan heen = the Watching-the-Righteous (Deity).

52. Kea-che = Kâsyapa.

53. Chay-nŏ Fŭh = the Protecting and Answering Buddha.

54. Shŭh-kea Fŭh = Sakya Buddha.

55. Pe-loo Fŭh = Vairoshana.

56. A-nan = Ananda.

57. Wăn choo = Mangusri.

58. Pin-tow-loo-to-chay tsun-chay = the Arhan Pin-tow-loo-to-chay.

59. Kea-kea-po-tĭh-to tsun-chay = the Arhan Kea-kea-po-tĭh-to.

60. Nŏ-keu-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan Nŏ-keu-lo.

61. Kea-le-kea tsun-chay = the Arhan Kalika.

62. Shoo-foo-kea tsun-chay = the Arhan Shoo-foo-kea.

63. Lo-hoo-lo tsun-chay = the Arhan Lo-hoo-lo.

64. Yin-këĕ-to tsun-chay = the Arhan Yin-këĕ-to.

65. A-she-to tsun-chay = the Arhan Asita.

66. King-yew tsun-chay = the Arhan King-yew.

67. Tă-ma tsoo sze = the Patriarch Dharma.

68. Kea-lan Poo-să = the Sam̃ghârâma Buddha.

69. Same as No. 41.

70. Kwan-yin Poo-să = Avalokites’vara.

71. Wăn-chang te keun = the God of Literature.

72. Hoo-fă Wei-to = Veda, the Defender of the Law.

73. Tsëĕ yin Fŭh = Amita.

74. Same as No. 3.

75. Same as No. 30.

76. Same as No. 32.

77. Same as No. 31.

78. Has no name attached.

79. Shwuy ho kin kang = the Water and-Fire-Varja-(throwing Deity) [an impossible title].

[44] Arhan, Professor Douglas informs me, has the same signification as the term rahan, used by me in the text.—J. A.

APPENDIX V.

Vocabulary.

English. | Kakhyen. | Shan. | Hotha Shan. | Leesaw. | Poloung.
One | Langai | Loong | Ta | Ti | Lay.
Two | Lakong | Song | Seuk | Hnuit | Eh.
Three | Masoam | Sam | Soom | Sa | Ooay.
Four | Malee | Si | Mee | Li | Pone.
Five | Mangah | Ha | Ngwa | Ngaw | Pohn.
Six | Kroo | Hoak | Ho | Chaw | Taw.
Seven | Sanet | Saet | Huit | Tshe | Ta.
Eight | Matsat | Pyet | Het | Hay | Poo.
Nine | Tsikoo | Kow | Kaow | Koo | Teen.
Ten | Shi | Sheep | Takkhay | Tsi | Kew.
Eleven | Shilangai | Sheepate | Khayta | Tsili | Kewlay.
Twenty | Koon | Sow | Sow | Meetzee | Ehkew.
Twenty-one | Koonlangai | Sowate | Sowta | Meetzeeti | Ehkewlay.
One hundred | Latsa | Packlaing | Tabac | Teengha | Oobooyaw.
One thousand | Hainglangai | Hainglaing | Tahaing | Titoo | Oohaing.
I | Ngai | Kow | Ngaw | Nga | Ow.
We | Antaing | Mowshoe | Ngawtookay | Ngaeuh | Nuibey.
You | Nongtaing | How | Kewtakah | .. .. | Ee.
He | Torawah | Mung | Mong | .. .. | Pĕh.
Of me | Ngaihome | Kowlai | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Of us | Antainglo | Howhalai | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Of you | Nangtainglo | Mowsoo | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Of him | Keyraiĕh | Hongmyoon | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Of them | Kangtengraiĕh | Myonhowlai | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Above | Lata | Kāneh | Attaw | Khanashee | Kiggo.
Below | Lawoo | Kantow | Loongbaw | Meekhya | Kirroi.
Far | Nowtsanai | Kaiyow | Vaylai | Oorăh | Loong.
Near | Aneesharengai | Cowalaí | Neenăy | Tialah | Puloang.
Alone | Nanaisha | Yonlai | Notah | Nwaday | Mowloutsay.
Inside | .. .. | .. .. | Ahhow | Nagwah | Kaffan.
Behind | .. .. | .. .. | Noongbah | Kanashee | Howlaybonow.
Before | .. .. | .. .. | Numram | Jugushee | Howlaiow.
North | .. .. | Kaneu | Oobah | Meegoakhew | Keyroi.
South | .. .. | Kantow | Meetope | Wadashee | Keygo.
East | .. .. | Wanoak | Neekcoam | Godashee | Makkayroi.
West | .. .. | Wantoak | Soobudaykhaybaw | Loosoometsighaw | Tsika.
Best | Kajai | Leesubinah | Makhay | Magee | Putzee.
Bad | Inkajah | Yunglee | Highmakhay | .. .. | .. ..
Worst | Toomsa inkajah | Moataykhew | Highmakhayaw | Oumamagee | Putzee.
High | Tsawah | Ansoong | Mahanglai | Moodah | Ko.
Higher | .. .. | Aykhera soongsa | Soobudaymahanglaí | Akkeymo | Kokakai.
Highest | .. .. | Lata | Soobudayma-hanglaibaw | .. .. | Hoakmureemurra.
Low | Nemai | Tumalai | Mahlawhoonlai | Kula | Quoikaroi.
False | Nangmasonai | Monlonlai | Manhay | Mungaw | Owmow.
Fine | Tsomai | Sanay | Tomelai | Byeedah | Tseah.
True | Raiai | Lonlai | Pēybaw | Ghooleeaw | Hawhoi.
Thin | Kasherai | Yongmai | Hyamlai | Battah | Mangah.
Fat | Kubai | Peaeh | Powlai | Tsuddah | Kalana.
Thick | Tatday | Lalai | Kanlai | Guadah | Nakakoi.
Oily | Toesa | Hackaylai | Kokklai | Khuddah | Kaiaw.
Pretty | Tsomai | Hanglilai | Tomelai | Bheda | Tsi.
Ugly | .. .. | .. .. | .. .. | Mabyee | Putzee.
Beautiful | Tsomai | Hanglilai | Tomebaw | Bheda | Tsikaw.
Clean | Tsomai | Senshitnai | Peubaw | Phaw | Lweehaw.
Dirty | Shoeshakai | Hangwheylai | Tseetbaw | Neemughoondah | Highai.
Dusty | .. .. | .. .. | Soodah | Shenggew | Peevunay.
Cheap | .. .. | Mouwai | Polai | .. .. | Noodah
Dear | Matzanneh | Paneh | Kolai | Kaddah | Gnaw.
Rich | Soneh | Me-eh | Chodo | Tsobo | .. ..
Poor | Matzaneh | Panyon | Panlai | Saddah | Anpan.
Old | Toonglasa | Tonalai | Mungsaw | Tsomaw | Takkaw.
Young | Kacheeai | Onyou | Thoay | Lanew | Taheelay.
Tall | Sawai | Soongai | Mangbah | Moakkaw | Onyou-haw.
Little | Indehkacheeai | Onzalai | Asaw | Wablaneu | Konou.
Small | Kacheecheeai | Onzeesee | Moonmoonsaw | Runurraw | Konlay-lay.
Big | Kubai | Yanalai | Khuybaw | Woodaw | Langhaw.
Tight | Teetai | Kapai | Shinglai | Tsodah | Pakkaw.
Wide | Koocabai | Quangai | Quanglabaw | Haydaw | Loomhaw.
Close | Meesa | Kowai | Naygawsabaw | Thyeedaw | Chamhaw.
Painful | Matzeeai | Sipai | Atoohenlai | Goodoonnuddah | Toeowsayowlow.
Pleasant | .. .. | .. .. | Kneelawkaybaw | Teeanaw | Khyenhaw.
Red | Khrenai | Aneng | Omnah | Yeenee | Yow.
Yellow | Somai | Anaing | Aloom | Yeeshee | Eela.
Green | Chitai | Anhew | Akkew | Yeneetshee | Eevong.
Blue | Chitai | Anpyah | Amyauh | Lasay | Lenay.
Orange | .. .. | .. .. | Aloongasaw | Attew | Quonlaylay.
Black | Changai | Anam | Annaw | Yeenah | Eewong.
White | Prongai | Angpuck | Appew | Yeepoo | Eelooee.
Hand | Lata | Mew | Taw | Lapah | Tai.
Foot | Lagong kheytai | Ting | Hkay | Khaypah | Ronaw.
Nose | Indee | Hunglan | Nayhong | Nahbay | Koorookmoo.
Eye | Me | Waydah | Knoydzee | Myetzoo | Nigh.
Mouth | Iucoop | Soap | Myoot | Malay | Moay.
Tooth | Wa | Shew | Khoway | Tsitshee | Shang.
Ear | Na | Mayloho | Neeshaw | Nabaw | Choak.
Hair | Karah | Hoonhoẃ | Oo | Oochay | Heuckhyn.
Head | Pong | Ho | Owgong | Oodew | Khyn.
Tongue | Shinglet | Lin | Whaw | Latchay | Latah.
Belly | Khan | Tong | Oondow | Hickhay | Vot.
Rock | Shemah | Lung | Wholoong | Kamah | Yahow.
Iron | Phee | Lĕh | Shan | Hhew | Tsigh.
Gold | Tsa | Hum | Say | Keypah | Yoang.
Silver | Comprong | Goom | Noway | Poo | Reun.
Copper | Makree | Tong | Toangwah | Gishshee | .. ..
Lead | Masoo | Chun | Keway | Tsew | Pachat.
Tin | Pheyprong | Laypuck | Shanphew | Hoepew | Leckleway.
Brass | Makree | Tonglung | Tungpur | Yeguw | .. ..
Earth | Kah | Lunglean | Me | Nayhew | Katai.
Father | Kowah | Paw | Apaw | Baba | Koon.
Mother | Gnoo | Ma | Aggah | Mama | Ma.
Brother | Apoo | Tsailoong | Among | Aiyee | Peeow.
Sister | Mongsow | Nongsow | Ham | Mala | Peenangow.
Man | Chingpaw | Khoon | Chow | Latchoe | Taee.
Woman | Noom | Pahying | Inggnaw | Lamurah | Yeban.
Wife | Mashanoom | Meh | Aymaw | Lameuh | Peeow.
Child | Mang | Laon | Tsoee | Lunay | Yebanay.
Son | Kashah | Look | Tsalooalisa | Tsobahla | Eemeilay.
Daughter | Mawhonkashah | Looksow | Eengnawsa | Lameungla | Eebanay.
Slave | Kashahpyeelai | Loogyonow | Khyun | Chobah | Myeh.
Cultivator | Toangnaiai | Toangla | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Shepherd | Peinamremai | Sowpalingpeh | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Hunter | Mounwhomai | Sowmonso | Muso | .. .. | .. ..
God | Shingrawah | Sowpara | Oorah | Whŏo | Chuprah.
Devil | Nateabai | Peahighloong | Tam | Gnay | Canom.
Sun | San | Wan | Poee | Neemee | Lata.
Moon | Ladah | Lhun | Pulaw | Habackhee | Takkew.
Star | Lagree | Laow | Khew | Coosah | Law.
Fire | Wan | Phai | Poee | Attaw | Nigh.
Water | Intzin | Nam | Tea | Yeghaw | Em.
House | Indah | Huhn | Een | Ghnee | Krep.
Horse | Comerang | Māh | Mang | Amho | Myong.
Cow | Toomsoo | Bow | Nochoanatsaing | Anyemah | Muckamah.
Dog | Quhay | Mah | Quhoee | Annah | Sŏw.
Cat | Ningyoueh | Myew | Kollaw | Urrah | Yewh.
Cock | Oorang | Kiephoo | Capaw | Urupah | Yehcrow.
Duck | Oopyaet | Pyet | Pāy | Ah | Pyet.
Ass | .. .. | .. .. | Mahlee | Khyamyeh | Myonglee.
Bird | Nhoopyen | Loak | Ghnaw | Nga | Ngow.
Mule | Latsayla | Mālaw | Mālaw | Teemee | Tolelaw.
Bamboo | Kawah | Myēh | Chewgen | Wahmah | Khyang.
Stone | Loong | Heen | Leekaw | Takhee | Maou.
Elephant | Maguay | Tsang | Khyang | Hamāh | Chang.
Buffalo | Ngā | Why | Noloway | Annaga | Kha.
Flea | Wahkaree | Mat | Ghlu | Catteuh | Khang.
Louse (body) | Sakhep | Mien | .. .. | Chinutah | Oo.
Louse (head) | Chee | How | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Deer | Po | Pangdai | Twing | Myloo | Ahjaw.
Goat | Painam | Pay-yah | Pa | Utchee | Mēh.
Sulphur | Khan | Khan | Khanteuk | Khang | Khan.
Salt | Tsoom | Khu | Khaw | Tsabow | Sĕh.
Sugar | Tsantang | Khuwan | Saow | Shantah | Mahmoilooay.
Milk | Tsoo | Loam | Nonow | Atchee | Emboo.
Sheep | .. .. | Toe | .. .. | Atchumew | Atchaw.
Turban | Poonkaw | Khynhoe | Wootoop | Wootew | Kameh.
Jacket | Polong | Seu | Tsay | Bucheu | Kayeup.
Trousers | Teboo | Pa | Ghlaw | Meekee | .. ..
Woman’s Jacket | Polong | Sou | Eenawtsay | Samen buchee | Kayeup yebaw.
Woman’s Turban | .. .. | Klynhoe | Eenaw ootoop | Samen wootew | Kameh yebaw.
Petticoat | Soomboo | Shin | Eenaw tungaw | Meekyee | Kalang yebaw.
Shoes | .. .. | Whyepteen | Khyapteen | Khynee | Khypteen.
Earring | Lakan | Pehwho | Kneechaw | Knockaw | Paywhoo.
Rice | Shat | How | Tsen | Dthapoo | Lakow.
Opium | Yeepyen | Phey | Yappingyen | Yappay | Yapping.
Serpent | Laboo | Moo | Mowee | Who | Hhan.
Frog | Shoo | Koap | Pāw | Oopah | .. ..
Grass | Nam | Yāh | Sieaw | Shi | Mat.
Tree | Poonsaw | Tonemai | Tsidsaing | Shidzee | Hoi.
Leaf | Poonlap | Mowmai | Skihow | Tsibeeyah | Phooan.
Wood | Poon | Mytsing | Shake | Tsidzee | Hoi.
Fish | Nga | Pa | Mushaw | Ngwa | Kā.
Cold | Kachee | Kat | Kamlai | Gyaddah | Kaw.
Warm | Katetai | Oonai | Poolai | Tsaddah | Myahcaeeai.
Ice | Tsin | Ghonlam | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Snow | Khen | Lie | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Rain | Marangto | Phoontoak | Mowrowbaw | Mahă | Qnoi.
Wind | Umboong | Loom | Ghli | Mayhee | Koo.
Thunder | Mahmoomooai | Phasowai | Mowrow | Mooggoo | Polong.
Lightning | Meeprap | Phamypai | Shapmyng | Bhyyeh | .. ..
Sky | Moo | Bhă | Annyow | Kneerueetchee | La.
Day | Sheenee | Khangwan | Knee | Myeemalaw | Tsungai.
Night | Shenah | Khanghŭm | Tmoot | Yeetah | Keisin.
Light | Shenee | Phalaing | Mowbowbaw | Kneeowmah | Qneh.
Darkness | Insin | Lapsing | Mowchootbaw | Nayaw | Tsaymawchoak.
Cloud | Soomoay | Moay | Hangeen | Mookoo | Mok.
River | Mereeha | Lamkew | Kaw | Yeegyah | Emhongfie.
Hill | Boom | Loiloo | Boom | Kneekee | Panang.
Insect | .. .. | Pieta | .. .. | Biddee | .. ..
Heart | Mashin | Hosow | .. .. | See | Hogiow.
Go | Samo | .. .. | Kawda | .. .. | .. ..
Eat | Shamo | .. .. | Kneeah | .. .. | .. ..
Sit | Domo | Laugda | Kneesh | .. .. | .. ..
Come | Wamo | Mada | .. .. | La | .. ..
Beat | Tookmo | Tainda | Tayda | .. .. | .. ..
Stand | Rotmo | Lookda | Yapda | Hatesa | .. ..
Lie | Karengmo | Einlengda | Ayda | Yeeta | Ee.
Die | Seesa | .. .. | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
Call | Shegah | Ma | Lawah | Kooyay | Tayau.
Throw | Shedeng | Tim | Koondah | Law | Vuneh.
Drop | Hatsa | Toak | Tahyoudab | Tsayloho yeuk | Oonsayau.
Place | Sherah | Teayou | Anhedah | Takyah | .. ..
Lift | Ta | Yōng | Koobawdah | Qnaw | Tayan.
Pull | Rung | Teat | Shãybawdah | Gho | Tutanlaybeneen.
Smoke | Loo | Lŭt | Gnawsheubawdah | Yehbeckshe | Owkynowkuloak.
Love | Nheyrai | Hachlai | Nawnoilawdah | Nguanah | Owingau.
Hate | Neimcome | Hhanhau | Cachencachaw | Kneemahandau | Owchungkakai.
What is your name? | Nung meing ganging sagaieh | Nong day pay cainay | .. .. | .. .. | .. ..
How old is this horse? | Daiee comerang kadeh tinglaeh goon | .. .. | Myang honehyay mang laybounay | .. .. | .. ..
I do not know | Ngai inchengai | Cow mhahow shay | Ngaw masa | .. .. | .. ..
How far is it to Sanda? | Sanda mying kadeh sanai | Muang Sanda kai halow | Chanda quhonhay wenenay | .. .. | .. ..
It is a journey of one day | Intwey langai toosa | Lam wan qua tenglai | Tanyen samhet tah | .. .. | .. .

- INDEX

- Agriculture:—
- Kakhyen, 129
- Shan, 299
- Alekyoung, 22
- Amulets, 409
- Ashan, 316
- Attack on mission of 1868, 167, 185
- Attack on mission of 1875, 429

- Bhamô:—
- Early notices, 5
- Town, 41
- Old, 69
- Chinese, 56, 337, 377
- British Residency, 333, 362
- Burma, king of, 335, 347, 357, 359
- Burmese—
- Treaty, 6
- Costume, 10
- Pooay, 352, 379
- Sabbath, 378
- Bells, 455
- Frontier guard-houses, 336, 413

- Chalktaw river, 263
- Chang-see, 344
- Chinese—
- Frontiers, 80, 318, 416, 441
- Plays, 198, 372
- The, of Bhamô, 42, 377
- The, of Mandalay, 454
- The, of Manwyne, 159, 268
- Chinese Shans, 285, 293, 374
- Chowkyoung, 30
- Climate of Bhamô, 40
- Climate of Momien, 206
- Coal mines, 25

- Deebay mountains, 187
- Divination, 79
- Dolphins, 395

- Eclipse of the sun, 1868, 308

- Elias’, Mr., journey to Muangmow, 440

- Fish, sacred, 24
- Fishes of the Irawady, 29
- Forged royal letter, 447
- French expedition, the, 238

- Gaudama, footprints of, 33, 263, 264

- Hantin, 412
- Hawshuenshan, 186, 213
- Hentha, 68, 412
- Hlepét, 15
- Hoetone, 321
- Horse worship, 309
- Hot springs of Nantin, 182
- Hot springs of Sanda, 262
- Hotha:—
- Valley of, 244
- Town, 279
- Old, 303
- Chief of, 176, 280
- Hteezeh, 22

- Irawady:—
- First defile of, 36
- Second defile of, 33, 452
- Third defile of, 23
- Steamers on, 20, 335
- Dolphins of, 395
- Fishes, 29

- Jade manufacture, 201
- Kabyuet, 25
- Kad-doung mountain, 316, 326
- Kakhyen hills, 67, 315, 369, 402, 413
- Kakhyens, 32, 45
- Manners and customs of, 125-150
- Deities of, 457
- Language of, 464
- Kambanee, 405
- Kara Kakhyens, 440
- Karahokah, 167
- Katha, 31
- Kaungtoung, 35, 447
- Kethung, 22
- Khanloung Kakhyens, 439
- Khyan-Nhyat, 26
- Khyto, 244
- Kingdoung, 157
- Kowlie Kakhyens, 126, 434
- Kuttha, 48
- Kwotloon, 441

- Lakone Kakhyens, 126, 434
- Lakong mountain, 85
- Lankon, 414
- Lasee, 317
- Latha, 314
- Lay-myo, 344
- Leesaws or Leisus, 257, 265, 276
- Lenna Kakhyens, 440
- Li-sieh-tai, 28, 338, 368, 442
- Loayline, 320
- Loaylone, 318

- Mahommedans, Chinese:—
- Origin of, 224
- Revolt of, 233
- Conquest of, 338
- Makouk, 22
- Malé, 3
- Maloolah, 4
- Mandalay, 11, 351, 358, 453
- Manhleo, 256
- Manloi, 279
- Manloung lake, 63, 399
- Mansay, 374
- Mantai, 323
- Manwyne, 159, 268, 368
- Margary, A. R.:—
- Overland journey of, 365
- Murder of, 429, 449
- Mattin, 320, 446
- Mawphoo, 177, 252
- Mengoon, 18
- Mentone, 16
- Molay river, 54, 256
- Momeit, 30
- Momien:—
- Valley of, 187
- Town of, 190
- Capture of, 343
- Momouk, 322
- Moonam river, 414
- Muang-gan, 157
- Muangkak, Shan state, 375
- Muangkha river, 318
- Muangkwan, 375
- Muangla, 173, 253
- Muanglong, 346, 374
- Muangmow, 374, 442
- Muangtee, 179, 252
- Muangtha, 289
- Muangwan, 311, 327
- Muangwye, 317
- Myadoung, 30, 361
- Myait-loung hills, 19
- Myit-ngé river, 16

- Namboke, 315
- Namkai, 441
- Namkhan, 375
- Nampoung river, 80, 416, 421
- Namsa river, 276, 314
- Namthabet river, 324, 344, 403
- Namwan river, 441
- Nantin, 179, 250
- Nantin valley, 182
- Nats:—
- Sacrifice to, 329
- Shan fear of, 260, 308
- See Kakhyens.
- Nattoung hills, 22

- Opium, 135, 300

- Overland trade, 1, 335, 391

- Pagan, Old, 28
- Pagoda:—
- Seebyo, 18
- Stone, 23
- Votive, 52
- Yethaycoo, Sessoungan, 34
- Pagodas:—
- Shuaybaw, 33
- Shuaykeenah, 51
- Hotha, 310, 380
- Paloungto, 441, 442
- Paloungto chief, 384
- Pamkan, 441
- Panthays, see Mahommedans.
- Payto, 413
- Peetah, 440
- Phonkan, 327, 387
- Ponline, 71, 414
- Ponline chief, 57, 87, 405
- Pong, 286
- Ponsee, 85, 316
- Ponwah, 422
- Potatoes, 209

- Queyloon, 394

- River steamers, 359
- River terraces, 182
- Routes (see Map):—
- Theinnee, 2, 16, 347
- Shuaylee, 35
- Ancient, 4
- Embassy, 3, 250, 319, 373
- Sawady, 374, 390
- Ponline, 56, 393
- Sprye’s, 2

- Sanda:—
- Town, 168
- Valley, 255
- Temples, 259
- Sawady, 35, 383
- Sehfan, 374
- Seray, 425
- Seray chief, 98, 419
- Shan—
- States, 286
- People, 287
- Manners and customs, 288-300
- Buddhism, 65, 306, 308
- Sheroo, 138
- Shienpagah, 21
- Shitee Meru, 316, 420
- Shuaybaw, 33
- Shuayduay, 210
- Shuaygoo, 32, 361
- Shuaykeenah, 62, 381
- Shuaylee river, 30, 345, 374
- Shuay-mein-toung hills, 29
- Shuemuelong mountains, 177
- Silver currency, 44, 377
- Silver mines, 105
- Singnew, 413
- Singpho, see Kakhyens.
- Stone celts, 204

- Tagoung, 27
- Tagoung-toung-daw hills, 30
- Tahmeylon, 398
- Taho river, 172
- Suspension bridge, 178, 252
- Fall of, 208
- Tai, see Shans.
- Tali-fu, 235, 367
- Tali-fu, capture of, 341
- Talone, 71
- Tapeng river, 47, 103, 394
- Gorge of, 324, 404
- Valley of, 158, 272
- Source of, 175
- Floods of, 270
- Tayshan mountains, 187
- Teng-yue-chow, see Momien.
- Theehadaw, 23
- Thigyain, 30
- Thingadaw, 24
- Thubyo-budo hills, 22
- Trade:—
- Burma and China, 2, 7, 335
- Of Rangoon, 1
- Of Momien, 199
- In salt, 21
- Tsagain hills, 19
- Tsampenago, 26
- Tsampenago, Old, 48
- Tsaycow, 303
- Tsihet, 69, 412
- Tsing-gai, see Bhamô.
- Tsingu, 22
- Tsinuhat, 26
- Tsitgna, 326, 398
- Tsitkaw, 60, 400, 438

- Wacheoon chief, 422, 429
- Woonkah chief, 431
- Woonkah village, 437
- Woosaw, 344
- Wurrabone, 440

- Yay-law, 210

- Yunnan:—
- Present state of, 366
- Minerals of, 202

LONDON:

PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

Transcriber’s Notes

In a few cases, obvious errors in punctuation and spacing have been corrected.

Some inconsistent hyphenization has been corrected.

Page xii: “Friendly tsawbas” changed to “Friendly tsawbwas”

Page 41: “built of sun-drie bricks,” changed to “built of sun-dried bricks,”

Page 94: “Ponline tswabwa” changed to “Ponline tsawbwa”

Page 72: “stream of the Tpeng” changed to “stream of the Tapeng”

Page 238: “a treaty of partitition” changed to “a treaty of partition”

Page 277: “and, thorougly tired,” changed to “and, thoroughly tired,”

Page 308: “on the the 13th of August” changed to “on the 13th of August”

Page 460: “found not unfrequantly” changed to “found not unfrequently”

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Table of Contents

- MANDALAY TO MOMIEN:

- PREFACE.

- TABLE OF CONTENTS.

- LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

- MANDALAY TO MOMIEN.

- CHAPTER I. MANDALAY TO BHAMÔ.

- CHAPTER II. BHAMÔ.

- CHAPTER III. KAKHYEN HILLS.

- CHAPTER IV. PONSEE CAMP.

- CHAPTER V. THE KAKHYENS.

- CHAPTER VI. MANWYNE TO MOMIEN.

- CHAPTER VII. MOMIEN.

- CHAPTER VIII. THE MAHOMMEDANS OF YUNNAN.

- CHAPTER IX. THE SANDA VALLEY.

- CHAPTER X. THE HOTHA VALLEY.

- CHAPTER XI. FROM HOTHA TO BHAMÔ.

- CHAPTER XII. INTERMEDIATE EVENTS.

- CHAPTER XIII. SECOND EXPEDITION.

- CHAPTER XIV. SAWADY.

- CHAPTER XV. THE ADVANCE.

- CHAPTER XVI. REPULSE OF MISSION.

- APPENDICES.

- APPENDIX I.

- APPENDIX II.

- APPENDIX III.

- APPENDIX IV.

- APPENDIX V.

- INDEX
- Transcriber’s Notes
- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE