228 
BURMA AND ITS PEOPLE. 
Oct., 1891 . 
the space beneath being coach-house, conservatory and 
store-room. A broad verandah affords access to the various 
rooms, and broad, overhanging eaves give shade throughout 
the day. The front is covered with creepers, scarlet Ipomoeas 
and blue Clitorias climbing to the roof and mingling with 
a much prized English honeysuckle. 
In the garden are English roses growing side by side with 
Crotons, Allamandas, Eucharis, and various species of 
Hibiscus. 
Annuals such as we cultivate at home, Zinnias and 
Phloxes, for instance, flourish alongside of Vanda teres , the 
beautiful V. ccerulea and rare Dendrobes which we nurse with 
so much care in our stoves. 
Vegetables, too, such as carrots, beans, parsnips, and 
cabbages, are grown with success but not without labour, for 
already four months have passed without rain, and two pani- 
wallahs are busy from early morn to dewy eve in carrying 
water to the garden from the River Sittang, which flows a few 
hundred yards away. 
In these parts one rises betimes in the morning, for the 
moment the sun appears above the distant hills his rays smite 
hard, and before 7 a.m. the thermometer stands in deep shade 
regularly at from 80° to 82° Fahr. Cliota hazri, light early 
breakfast (of coffee, bread and butter, and fruit, such as 
papaws, custard apples, and delicious oranges from the Shan 
Hills), is soon despatched; and then we turn out for our 
morning drive, our heads well protected by huge sola topees. 
Already the roads are alive with people, labourers are on 
their way to till the fields, or are driving teams of patient 
white oxen along the streets. 
At frequent intervals one meets a Hpoongyee in yellow robe, 
bearing his two alms-bowls of lacquered wood suspended from 
the ends of a bamboo pole, or accompanied by a boy who 
carries them. Presently he stops before a cottage, but speaks 
not a word. Then one of the inmates emerges and deposits 
in one of the bowls a plate of rice, a bundle of sugar-cane, a 
fruit or a cake, and retires; the monk receives the gift in 
silence, and passes on to the next house. Thus do these 
simple brethren still obey the precept delivered by Gautama 
to his first disciples twenty-three centuries ago, “ Let your food 
be broken victuals given as alms.” 
A sufficiency having been collected, it is carried to the 
Kyoung, where it serves a treble purpose as food, first, for 
the Hpoongyees of the brotherhood; second, for the 
numerous pupils in their day schools (for they are the national 
schoolmasters of the country, and this is their only remunera- 
