Los Angeles herald., 1909-07-24
ROAD TO MANDALAY
NOBLE SHWE DAGON
By Frederic j. Haskin

ancient Burmese arts, and create a
basis for regret at the moern decadence.
Other shrines and pagodas are resplen-
dent in jewel work of stained glass
others opulent in their covering of beat
gold: All have figures of the Buddha,
and many have dozens of them of all
sizes and materials. Here is a shrine
covered with gold protecting figure
of 'Buddha cut from alabaSter. 1t Is
neglected, and no pilgrim kneels be-
fore 1t. Adjoining 1t is crude struc-
ture of brick enshrihlng a rude wooden
| Buddha. Before 1t scores of candles
blaze, the Buddha Is weighted down
with fresh garlands of sweet-smelling
flowers. and the pavement in front is
covered with kneeling, silk-clad men
and women.
Strikingly ugly amid these surround
ings of fairy-like oriental beauty are
the new pagodas bulided by men who
sought to follow after British ways, as
we'll as to acquire merit in their effort
to escape the chains of Karma. Some
of them are like the Queen Anne"
cottages of boom town suburb, from
their dirty brown paint to their cor
rugated iron roofs. Some have copied
the Greek styles as modified by sew
eral centuries of English usage and the
peculiar notions of q Chinese carpen-
ter. And one is built after the pleas
ing dTCUileCluIdl OTueT Oh a COTTON nlli
tower, ornamented with a Connecticut
clock on each side of which a carved
wood English flag perenially waves.
But, fallen as may be their arts, the
Burmese people and their Chinese CO.
religionists lack nothing of picturesque
ness. The square about the great pa
CODA swarms with worshipers, with
yellow-robed monks. with shorn nuns
with astrologers and fortune telers and
with musicians and mountebanlcs.
Rangoon owes a large share of Its
western fame to the fact that 1t is
"On the Road to Mandalay," and is
therefore, sung of Kipling. Here about
the Shwe Dagon is found every pic
ture that the retired Tommy Atkins
conjured up when he "heard the east
a-callin'." The Burma girl is still here
with her yellow silk petticoat and her
little green cap, just as when:
" seed her first a-smokin' of
whacl1in' white cheroot,
An a wastln' Christian kisses on an 'eRthen
Idols foot"
The "whackin' white cheroot" Is n
distinctive Burmese institution. 1t is
q foot long, an inch in diameter and is
cylindrical like a cigarette, not shaped
as cigar 1t is wonderfully made of
a wrapper of corn shuck and filling
Of tobacco or various
kinds, chopped sandal-wood, raw sugar
and many incense-bearing spices. 1t
Is lighted with some difficulty, but af-
ter a few puffs II is permitted to go
out. But the "snipe" is carefully pre-
served and one cheroot will last a fru-
gal mother and daughter for a day
DR. two.
The pagoda square is the loafing
place of the Burmese. Here the girls
Keep shop and the lads stop to chat
with them. Here the old and young
IN Fe1o at ernVF n. 81 To nan
SIC, to take refreshment or to have
heir fortunes told. In Rangoon not
more than a fourth of the people are
Burmese, and the streets are filed with
indian coolies and Chinese artisans.
Here at the great pagoda the Burmese
Lre vastly in the majority, and only a
ew Chinese Buddhists and an occa-
ional European intrude.
Here there is no hint of the hustle
f the busy city over which the great
stands guard. Life is sweet
md the people take 1t easy. They are
Ievoted to a religion which teaches
hat desire for greater possessions and
ligher station in life Is a sinful waste
Il mental energy which surely will be
punished in succeeding lives. There is
10 worry, not even the metaphysics OF
ng thought. There is no hurry for
unto the day is the evil
hereof and no good comes OF hasting
mother day. There is no dissension,
or the happy Burmese goes his own
ray and permits his neighbor to do
kewise. There is no politics, for the
surmese of all the people in the In
ian empire, do not care a hang who
ules over them, or how, so long as
here is no forced labor TO be done.
ripling caught the spirit of the peo-
lie when he made the city Of Rangoon
ng to the empire:
all motherl Do they call me rioh in trader
Little care I, but hear the shorn priest
drone.
nd watch my nlk-oiad lovers. man BY
maid.
Laugh meath my shwe Dagon.
The everlasting and unheeding east
oks on the young and thriving city
; sixty years unmoved, and turns to
ream in the shadow of that pile under
hich it has dreamed since long be-
re light broke into the wilds of bar
lric Britain.
Tomorrow-Thc Road to Mandaiay. IT,
ingoon, the Boom City.