Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-03-20

consider IL the most sacred spot upol
earth. The pagoda stands on a little
hill on the banks Of the Irawadi river
in this red-hot town of Rangoon. The
sun here is deadly. at monday, and we
get up with the crows. Their cawing
begins before day. and the light is just
coming through the palm trees as We
sit down in the hotel bedrooms to our
tea, toast and jam before starting out.
black turbaned Hindu with a rat
like Indian pony carries us in his gharry
through the wide streets of Rangoon.
we pass half naked coolies on their
way to work: jostle the street water
works consisting of bare-legged men.
who. with buckets. are sprinkling the
roads; turn out for the carts hauled by
bumped bullocks carrying great loads,
and at last pass through section of
tine bunga lows in which the better class
IS of the city live, and are dropped at
the foot OF Pagoda hill.
1t is now o'clock this bright Sunday
morning, and the worshipers are out in
full force. Scores of brown-skinned
shaven-headed monks clad in a single
sheet Of yellow cotton going in and
out of the rest houses along the way.
Each carries begging bowl for the rice
offerings which are freely given. We see
scores of worshipers on their way to the
shrine, and at the entrance find peddlers
OF flowers, incense and candles to be
We can see the great pagoda long be-
fore we reach it. Its golden spire kisses
the sky five hundred feet above the spot
where we get down from our gharry.
With the hill upon which it stands the
monument is tall as the great marble
shaft erected to Washington on the banks
OF the Potomac, and as we look up we
are dazzled by the blaze OF gold upon it,
and the wonderful structures which
form its base. The sides Of the hill are
covered with carved buildings e1ch of
which is a jewel, and a gorgeous covered
avenue OF gold. with ridge roof upheld
by white marble pillars, leads by stair
ways 10 the platform above Tie plat
form itself covers fourteen acres,
much space as the Pyramid of Cheops
and 1t is from this that the gold spire
starts.
But first let us make our way up
through the arcades. There is no road on
earth more curious than that which leads
TO the shrine Its stone floor has through
out the ages been polished by the bare
feet of the thousands who have tramped
up to pray. The worshipers take off
their sandals as they come to the en-
trance, and walk on with them in their
hands. We foreigners keep our shoes on
and mix with the crowd. AS we go in we
hear the birds sing. Thousands of them
nave made nests IN the carvings, and
they fly back and forth through the ar
cades and about the pagoda from daylight
TO dark. At night they roost on the gold
According to the tenets of Buddhist re-
ligion, it is sin 10 kill anything that
has life, and the birds know they are in
the house OF their friends
Going onward we pass booths all the
way. Pretty Burmese girls with plugs
OF gold, silver or glass as big as my
thumb in the lobes of their ears. sit
cross-legged on the mats. selling offerings
for Buddha. The candles are of all
sizes, from tapers as thin as the finger
of a two-year-old baby to great cylinders
nf wax as tall as the girls who are SELL
ing and as thick their waists. I buy
n bunch of the tapers and give them
over to one of the worshipers. She
smiles with delight al the thought of
the sins that Will be washed away IS