"Between Kashmir and Persia, in a very mountainous and cold region."

There had been pauses more or less long between each of these questions;
the King obviously reflecting what he should ask next; then there was a
longer, and, indeed, a wearisome pause. Then the King spoke again.

"Where is the Kingwoon Menghyi?"

"In Court, your Majesty," replied Pio Nono. "It is a Court day."

"It is well. I wish the Ministers to make every day a Court day, and to
labour hard to give prompt justice to suitors, so that there be no
complaint of arrears."

With this laudable injunction, his Majesty rose and walked away, and the
audience was over.

The King of Burmah, when I saw him, was little over twenty, and he had
been barely four months on the throne. He was a tall, well-built,
personable young man, very fair in complexion, with a good forehead,
clear, steady eyes, and a firm but pleasant mouth. His chin was full and
somewhat sensual-looking, but withal he was a manly, frank-faced young
fellow, and was said to have gained self-possession and lost the early
nervous awkwardness of his new position with great rapidity. Circumstances
had even then occurred to prove that he was very far from destitute of a
will of his own, and that he had no favour for any diminution of the Royal
Prerogative. As we passed out of the Palace after the interview a house in
the Palace grounds was pointed out to me, within which had been imprisoned
in squalid misery ever since the mortal illness of the previous King, a
number of the members of the Burmese blood royal.