Have you ever thought how the character of the various races of the world is more or less determined by the nature of the country of their origin? Rugged mountains and a hard climate produce people of a similar severity of type, and, on the other hand, one naturally looks for poetry and music in a people so pleasantly and romantically situated as are the Italians. In the same way the Burmese are pretty much what their country has made them. The land is so very fertile that almost anything will grow there, and Nature provides food for the people with the least possible effort on their own part. The climate is also damp, warm, and enervating, so that one would not expect to find among its inhabitants much energy or decision of character. Their beautiful religion also makes them kind and gentle, and their isolation, which, as I have pointed out, separates them from the neighbouring countries, has left them almost entirely undisturbed by the activities of the greater world. In fact, on account of their easy-going and contented nature, the Burmese are often called the "Irish of the East," and I am afraid it must be said that the men are rather lazy, and, like their prototypes in some parts of Ireland, leave most of the work to the women.

As a rule, the Burmese women are industrious and clever at business, most of which is conducted by them, while the men are more fond of sport of all kinds than employment. All, however, are gentle in character, light-hearted, and merry, and like to repeat in their clothing the beautiful tints of their forest flowers and gaily-coloured birds and butterflies.

It is not surprising, therefore, that among the alien races so busily engaged in the trade of Rangoon the Burmans should be overshadowed and rather lost to sight; and though in Rangoon itself there are many streets occupied entirely by them, it is in the quieter surroundings of the suburbs that the Burman appears to advantage.

Many little Burmese villages surround Rangoon, where, half buried in the trees and creepers which envelop them, the quaint dwellings lie more or less secluded from the road. All are built of timber or bamboo, and have nothing in their design to make them noticeable. Among them, however, are occasional "kyoungs," or Buddhist monasteries, which are much more ornamental and striking. Like their other buildings, the "kyoung" is constructed of timber, and stands upon a wooden platform raised from the ground some four or five feet by thick posts, which are usually carried through the balustrade which surrounds the platform, and terminate in a carved head, steps leading to the stage upon which the monastery is built. These "kyoungs" are very curious in design, the walls, doors, and windows being ornamented with carving, while their succession of roofs, one above the other, often rise to a great height. To afford shade to the platform below, the roofs project considerably beyond the walls, and the ridges of each are decorated with carved woodwork representing their "nats" and "beloos," as they call their good and evil spirits, and the ends of the eaves terminate in a very striking ornament supposed to represent the peacock, which, as you will see from the picture, gives the building a very quaint appearance indeed. Sometimes the monasteries are gilded, and the doors and wall-panels inlaid with looking-glass, tinsel, and other glittering material, which makes them appear very gorgeous in the sunlight.

These monasteries are occupied by Buddhist priests, who teach the children of the neighbourhood, or instruct the pilgrims who visit them in the beauties of their religion, of which I shall have something to tell you presently. All the priests have shaven heads, and wear a simple robe of cotton, dyed to a bright yellow by the juice of the cutch-tree. Gentle and hospitable themselves, they lead the most simple lives. All the food they eat is given by the people, and it is a very picturesque sight to see the daily procession of priests and novices, each carrying a bowl in which to receive the offerings of food so willingly given by the inmates of the houses they visit. No request for alms is ever made, nor any word of thanks spoken, for such gifts are freely offered by a people who believe in their religion, and do so as an "act of merit."

Close by the monasteries are the "zeyats," or homes for wandering pilgrims. Though their roofs are ornamented in the same way as the "kyoungs," they are more simple in appearance, and often have one side entirely open to the air. Built primarily for pilgrims, anyone may use them, and often a belated traveller is very thankful to take advantage of their shelter against the night dews or tropical rains.

Another striking feature of their architecture is the "pyathat," or spire of five or seven roofs, each smaller than the other, which finish in what they call a "ti," or umbrella of wrought iron ornamented with flowers, and from which little bells and cymbals swing and tinkle in the breeze. These spires, however, are only erected over sacred buildings or the palace of a King.

Most beautiful of all their buildings is the pagoda, as their temples are called, and most beautiful, perhaps, of all the temples in Burma is the great Shwe Dagon pagoda in Rangoon. "Shwe" means golden, and this beautiful bell-shaped pyramid, which rises 370 feet above the mound upon which it is built, is entirely overlaid with gold. The mound itself, which is of considerable height, is artificially made, the earth having been carried there in order to form a fortress and a pedestal for the shrine. These pagodas are constructed of solid brickwork, in which is often enclosed some sacred relic. Originally of small dimensions, generations of Kings have from time to time added further layers of brickwork to the gradually increasing structure, until to-day this stupendous Shwe Dagon pagoda stands before us so immense and so beautiful as to be rightly considered one of the wonders of the world. Around the base of the temple is a large number of shrines, each lofty, beautified by carved woodwork and towering pinnacles, richly embellished with gilding and coloured inlay, and each worthy itself to be a separate temple. Fantastic images and carved balustrades connect the various shrines with each other and with the great temple itself, and from ornamental pedestals spring conventional representations of the sacred tree of Buddha, delicately wrought in iron. Tall flagstaffs, 60 or 80 feet high, surmounted by emblematical figures or representations of the Brahminy duck, float their long streamers in the wind, while the sound of tinkling bells descends from the "tis" with which every pinnacle is crowned. Surrounding all is a broad platform fringed with shops and other buildings, for the Burmese love their pagoda, and many spend their days here, and the necessities of life must be provided.

Nowhere in all Burma may a better idea of the Burmese be obtained than on this pagoda platform. At all times of the day it is thronged by people, not only from Rangoon, but from all parts of the country, who come to pray or wonder at its beauty. At the shrines, in which are always one or more images of Buddha, groups of devout Burmans pray. Lighted candles burn before the images, while the worshippers, among whom it will be noticed women predominate, bear flowers in their hands, which before their departure they reverently lay upon the niche in which the "Master" is enshrined.

These flowers and coloured candles are sold upon the platform, leading up to which are several covered staircases, which form the best bazaar in Rangoon, as in the shops on either side of the ascent almost everything from jewellery and toys to food-stuffs may be bought. The entrance from the street below is very striking. The flight of broad steps leads to a gilded and painted pavilion, on either side of which stand enormous leogryphs, the mythical guardians of the temple. Passing through an archway embellished by figures of "nats" and other imaginary creatures, a long succession of steps, covered throughout the whole distance by ornamental roofs, leads to the temple above, and at all times of the day is thronged by brightly-clothed pedestrians, ascending and descending through the alternate gleams of sunlight and cool shade of the bazaar. Nowhere else in Burma can the people be better studied than here, all classes being represented, and it may be interesting if I describe them more closely. Like their neighbours of Siam and China, the Burmese are Mongolian in type, but, without so pronounced a cheekbone and slanting eye as the Chinese, are more pleasing in appearance. Indeed, the men are often handsome, and among the women and young girls I have seen many of extreme beauty. While the men are often sallow, the women are generally more ruddy in complexion, and all have hair of an almost purple blackness. Their clothing is bright and clean-looking. All wear a short jacket, usually white, though ladies of the better degree sometimes adopt figured velvets and other rich materials. The men commonly wear a "lungyi," or short skirt composed of coloured silk or cloth gathered round their loins, or the more elaborate "petsoe," which is made of coloured silk and in which many yards of loose material twisted into a bunch about the waist serves as an additional scarf or head-dress should it be cold. Short socks and boots of European make are now unfortunately commonly worn, while a silk scarf of bright colour tied round the head completes the male costume.

The women are clad in much the same way, wearing a similar "lungyi" and jacket or the more beautiful "temaine," a skirt of rich figured silk, which is open on one side, exposing the leg up to the knee, to which is added a broad fringe of darker material, which trails upon the ground, giving it a more graceful appearance than the shorter "lungyi." Wooden sandals are worn on the feet, while on their shoulders is thrown a long scarf of delicately-coloured silk. Unlike the men, the women wear no head-dress, but take great pride in their hair, which is always glossy and well dressed, and almost invariably is adorned by a comb or some choice flower. Endowed by Nature with beautiful hands, they love to accentuate the point by a display of jewellery, which, though sometimes worn to excess, is always good, for the Burmese lady would scorn to wear a spurious gem. Pretty fans or handkerchiefs are carried in the hand, while, like a halo surrounding the head, dainty parasols, semi-transparent and hand-painted, shield them from the sun. It is difficult to give any true impression of such a Burmese crowd, in which every conceivable variety of tint and texture is displayed, and permeating which is a sense of universal gaiety and lightness of heart. It is like nothing so much as a beautiful flower-garden, while the people themselves would seem to be as free from care as the butterflies that hover above the blooms.