FORESTERS’ LIFE IN BURMA 183 
sit over the evening fire far above the sweltering 
river, though it is perhaps more sentiment and 
home-longing than chilliness which leads you to 
enjoy it. It is, in fact, a rite rather than a necessity. 
In the cold weather of 1901 we started on a long 
tramp, commencing in the Mu district, and ending on 
the Irrawadi. The first march was eventful, for we 
walked for sixteen weary miles through a jungle 
where the ‘‘dahs” were frequently in requisition to 
cut a path, our object being to pitch camp by the 
side of a stream of running water that was known 
to the guides. It seems strange in a tropical country, 
where evergreen vegetation is not infrequent, that 
scarcity of water should be such a common hindrance 
to roving through the forest, yet in all the Provinces 
of the Empire that I have visited Burma is easily the 
most prominent as regards the difficulty of the water- 
supply to the wandering forester. No sooner does 
he leave the main watercourses than he is confronted 
with the inconvenience of filthy water, often so pro- 
nounced that the filter worked by a force-pump 
would require to be cleaned after it had yielded a 
pint of clear fluid. On this occasion, parched with 
thirst, though bathed in perspiration after a trying 
walk, we hurried over the last mile, to find our 
stream a sandy watercourse destitute of moisture. 
Ten miles was the distance to the next water-supply, 
and instantly everyone was digging frantically, in 
the hope that the spring-level was still within reach ; 
and soon from many little basins in the sand clear 
water was trickling in welcome streams. It re- 
minded one forcibly of childhood’s days on the sea- 
shore, where water-level is sought under no penalties, 
