aprons before and behind of fantastic outline, resembling the wings of
dragons and griffins, and these coats were an incrusted mass of spangles
and pieces of coloured glass. Underneath a skirt of tartan silk was
fitfully visible. Their brown legs and feet were bare. The expression of
their faces was solemn, not to say lugubrious--one performer had a most
whimsical resemblance to Mr. Toole when he is sunk in an abyss of dramatic
woe. They realised the responsibilities of their position, and there were
moments when these seemed too many for them. The orchestra, taken as a
whole, was rather noisy; but it comprised one instrument, the "bamboo
harmonicon," which deserves to be known out of Burmah because of its
sweetness and range of tone. There were lots of "go" in the music, and
every now and then one detected a kind of echo of a tune not unfamiliar in
other climes. One's ear seemed to assure one that _Madame Angot_ had been
laid under contribution to tickle the ears of a Mandalay audience, yet how
could this be? The explanation was that the instrumentalists, occasionally
visiting Thayet-myo or Rangoon, had listened there to the strains of our
military bands, and had adapted these to the Burmese orchestra in some
deft inscrutable manner, written music being unknown in the musical world
of Burmah.

Next day the Kingwoon Menghyi took the wholly unprecedented step of
inviting to dinner the British Resident, his suite, and his visitor--
myself. Mr. Shaw accepted the invitation, and I considered myself
specially fortunate in being a participator in a species of intercourse at
once so novel, and to all seeming so auspicious.

About sundown the Residency party, joined _en route_ by Dr. Williams, rode
down to the entrance to the gardens. Here we were warmly received by the
English-speaking secretary, and by the jovial bow-windowed minister who so
much resembled the late Pio Nono. We were escorted to the verandah of the