The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-07-08
BURNING A MONK IN BURMAH.

though now an obsolete custom, was sometimes resorted to in the brave old days to cure them of their supposed sinfulness, but in Burmah monks are burned on account of their sanctity, and the more holy and saintly the man the greater the pomp and circumstance of his burning. The ceremony called Phongyi Evan, or "'The Return of the Great Glory" is one of the most char acteristic and interesting in Burmah, and it has often been vividly described both by those who have and by those who have not witnessed it. The follow ing account however, since it differs in many details from the classic descrip- tions of previous writers, may serve to show that even in Burmah, where custom is the ultimate authority, change is now a motor greatly at work. To fully understand the cere- mony one must begin with some ap- preciation of the man.
 Aukhlegah Sayadaw was known far and wide for the devotion and saintli- ness of his life. He was an ornament to the sacred order of the Yellow Robe, an example to many of those who, like himself were seeking to escape from LII tlOuplCN SuILClll OL SOtiIi!lOOdo iliCS for such is the pious Buddhist's am- bition. He had been for years the head of the monastry, whose pinnacles and clustered roofs are visible from the dusty city amid their framework of cool, green, slender palms. Here he was visited by many devout men and women, who came drawn by his pres- ence and the fame of his great piety. Here, in it's sheltered gloom, seated on the raised dais of rriestly honor, near one of the great red and gold columns of teak which support it's sevenfold roof the Sayadaw (the Royal Teacher) --thin with age and fervent asceticism was about to receive his visitors.
 Aneeta, pookha, Anata-Change, Sorrow, Unreality-such was the main burden of his talk, the devotional for mula of his life. Hour after hour, when his visitors had gone and the last flash of their slken skirts had long since disappeared in the outer sunlight he would sit and brorod on the mys- tery of life. The beads of his rosary would turn slowly in his withered hands; no sounds would break from his lips save at intervals when, with a sigh, he repeated the sad confession of his faith. Aneetsa, Dookha Anata- Change, sorrow, Unreality-such was Aukhlegah Sayadaw, the man, the weary waiter for the death that was to bring him one step nearer to ulti- mate release.
 One night as the old monk asleep Tn a quiet corner of the monastery his life insensibly fluttered away, and when at dawn the monastery bell changed out and the novices awoke and came by with the brethren to pay their respects to their venerable head they found that the great change had come. He hath returned" said one, "he hath re- turned to the heavens whence he came" For monks, like kings, in Bur nah never die, that is the lot only of the common people.
 The question at once arose as to the disposal of his body-that tenement of little more than bones and wrinlSled skin in which the light of his life had burned. The chapter of Phongyis, hastily assembled for the purpose, de- cided unanimously on a great cere- mony of public cremation. It had been Q foregone conclusion for many years. A meeting of his disciples and lay supporters was called, at which con- tributions toward the expenses were offered, and the first general details settled. It was felt on all hands that the ceremony must be made an impos- ing one. The Leogyis, or head man of wards in the neighboring town, called successive meeting to the same end at which contributions of money, of vel vet carpets and decorations were tend- cred The share of each ward and quarter of the town in the general ar engagements was apportioned, and sub scriptions were lodged for the purpose with the head man, whose honor in such matters is implicitly trusted, for a rendering of accounts forms no part at any time of the proceedings.
 Meanwhile-in the tropics such mat ters brook no delay-the body of the dead man had been embalmed. The viscera had been removed, and their place taken by compound of saffron, camphor, quicksilver and honey. The body had been wrapped tightly in folds of yellow cloth, bound up in bam- boo splfnts to keep it rigid, and wrap ped again in yellow and white cloth. Thereafter it was placed in coffin of zinc, which was soldered and finally IHClOSSu III d WOOdSIl tci5C, llot llO1io"- ed, acording to old usage, out of sim gle trunk. Placed on bier in prom inent position in the kyaung where he had lived, it remained for many months, the object of many visits and much interest. Small figures of Gau- anna, the Buddha, some in gold and silver seated under the hoods of white snake dragons carved in ivory, were placed on the coffin. Each morning at the "Phongyis' feeding time" the dead mans successor came and placed cup of water, some rice and plantains near the bier, with the words, Food for you to eat Phaya." The same cere- mony was observed at the noontide meal So the months passed.
 The pious came as before on duty days, and prayed by the coffined corpse burning their incense sticks before it, and placing on the bier their offerings of flowers; the champak, the threaded jasmine, and scattered petals of roses. Some beat their breasts and wept with longdrawn lamentations in the gloom and the silence. Some of these were relatives, some visitors seized with re- ligious emotion, and others were the Gnoyinthai, the professional mourners, who were there to weep and chant