infatuated Chin at last shouted, "Make it quick." The demon smith whipped round on the instant and flung the red-hot dah at him, burning his cheek. The spy took to his heels and ran. After he had got a mile away, he rubbed his blistered cheek, and in after times there rose at that place Pah-poht, "the cheek-rubbing village." A mile farther on he began to shake all over with fatigue and terror, whence the name of Tohn, "the trembling village." Finally when he reached the site of Pouk-poh-goo, the "swelling burst" and he sank down on the ground and was found there next morning with just enough life left to tell his story. The smith never worked again, but his fire may be seen to this day. Once a year all the house fires in Kahma are put out and lighted again from the Should any one neglect so to pay honour to the nat, his house and all his goods will be burnt before the year is out. The resemblance to the legend of Wayland Smith at Lambourn in Berkshire is obvious.

nat-mee.

The common notion of earthquakes is that the earth is supported on the shoulders of four creatures called nga-hlyin. These monsters are less sturdy than the classical Atlas, and occasionally want to shift shoulders. When they do so an earthquake is the result. Others declare that the quaking of the earth is caused by gusts of wind on the under surface of the world. The idea is that the solid mass of the earth is supported on a double thickness of water, and this again by twice its thickness of air, below which is a vacuum, occasionally however disturbed by storms. The Buddha gave a much more extensive explanation to his favourite disciple Ananda. 'My son," he said, "eight causes make the earth tremble. First, the earth lies on a mass of water, which rests on the air, and the air on space; when the air is set in motion, it shakes the water, which in its turn shakes the earth;

second, any being gifted with extraordinary powers; third, the conception of a payah aloung for his last existence ; fourth, his birth; fifth, his becoming a Buddha; sixth, his preaching the Law of the Wheel; seventh, his mastering and renouncing existence; eighth, his obtaining the state of neh'ban. These are the eight causes of earthquakes.”

The Law of the Wheel is the doctrine of the four great truths: pain, the production of pain, the destruction of pain, and the way leading to that destruction. These constantly revolve upon themselves, and the manifestation of these truths is the great work a Buddha has to perform.

Omens are drawn from the appearance of the sun and moon, and especially from the particular constellation which presides over one's birth. The howling of dogs, the flight and song of birds, the appearance of any strange creature, or of a wild animal in an unexpected place, all have their special meaning. So have the nervous twitching of the eye, or of any part of the body. If the sun or any of the planets approaches the moon there is danger about. In the four months when Venus is not to be seen, in a month when there is an earthquake or an eclipse, and on the first or last day of a month, it is advisable not to cut one's hair, marry, build a house, or begin any important business whatever. These and hundreds more may be found in the Dehtton, a book very full of singular information. Palmistry is a science of which every educated person professes to have more or less knowledge. The less a man knows, the more truculent his deductions are.

A state envelope is a very curious affair. It is nothing else but two large elephant's tusks. Half-way up they are hollow, and on the mouth there is a heavy gold cover. The tusks are mounted in different parts with gold of no mean thickness. The letter of the lord of the Golden

Throne is deposited inside, and borne to its destination with the flourish of trumpets and the braying of drums. The majesty of the Burmese king would suffer if he forwarded a communication to the Viceroy in a cover which cost anything under a couple of hundred pounds sterling. In similar fashion the reports of subordinate officials are written with steatite pencils on coarse black paper, and this is rolled up and put in a hollow joint of bamboo. The whole is then enveloped in cloth and sealed with the peacock seal. Communications of this kind are sometimes received by English officials on the British Burma frontier.

The following are a few proverbs :

If you want to go fast, go the old road.

Wisdom guards life; no one can escape bad luck. The man gifted with wisdom is never left in peace.

Every bird is handsome compared with the vulture. A mountain is climbed by degrees; property acquired by degrees; wisdom learnt by degrees.

Have regard for a whole family of rats, instead of for one cat.

The more you know, the more luck you have.

A short boat is hard to steer; a dwarf is quick in the temper.

If a cock ruffles up his feathers, it is easy to pluck him. If a man gets angry he is done for.

Constant cutting dulls the knife; constant talking dulls the wits.

A pot half full of water is hard to carry [on the head of course; because the water sways from side to side]; the less a man knows, the harder he is to argue with.

A cow that can give no milk will kick. An ignorant man is to be feared for his ignorance.

If there is much paddy [unhusked rice] in the bowl, it

is hard to eat. If there is much talking it is hard to understand.

Don't speak like a mountain, it is so easy to fall off.

Eat little, stomach slender; eat much, stomach-ache. Beware of a man's shadow [i.e. his relations] and a bee's sting.

A coward tiger growls; a coward human howls.

The well-born are fair of speech; the low-born crooked. A slave's son is a stupid son.

If a great man flatters you, be afraid.

A great man's sword is never blunt.

There are three chances in a nagah's stare; there is but one in a king's. [That is to say, you may escape from the dragon, but if the king is angry with you, speedy death is all you can expect.]

"Kyet-go a-yoh,

Loo-go a-myoh."

Blood always tells; literally, you know a game-cock from his bones, a man from his family.

THE veneration and respect which meet the yahan all through his life are extended to his remains when he dies, or rather when he leaves this world. The monk does not "die" as a common layman does, he does not even, like the king, "ascend to the nat-dewahs' village." The holy man in his last existence must have been holy in order to have accumulated the sum of merits which enabled him upon earth to remain steadfast in the sacred order. When he passes away, he "returns," to the highest heavens of nats, or to the meditative states of zahn, or perhaps even to the pure and immaterial realms of arupa. Therefore a mendicant's funeral is called a pohngyee byan—the return of the great glory. Even a junior member is burnt with great solemnity and state; but when a distinguished brother dies, one famous for his learning, his austerity, or the great number of Wahs he has spent in the cloister, the obsequies swell into a ceremonial which attracts people from all parts of the country.

As soon as life leaves the body, the corpse is carefully washed in the usual way by the dead pohn-gyee's chief supporters and some of the monastic scholars. Then the