To all countries rivers serve the same purpose as the veins in one's body, being their great source of life and activity. Not only do they drain and fertilize the land, but also afford the readiest and most economical means of transit for its trade; consequently on their banks are found the largest cities and most active commercial life of the country.

This is particularly true of Burma, for, railways still being few in number, the Irrawaddy forms its great highway for traffic, and a large fleet of steamers plies regularly with freight and passengers between Rangoon, Mandalay, and Bhamo, while thousands of native craft of all shapes and sizes assist in the carrying trade of the country.

For a thousand miles the Irrawaddy is alive with traffic, and on its banks have settled the greater proportion of the population of the country, for with the exception of a few isolated towns and settlements, which are surrounded by cultivated areas of limited extent, the whole country away from the river-banks is densely covered by scrub jungle and primeval forest, practically uninhabited and uncultivable. Throughout the length of the river, however, is one long series of towns and villages, whose pagodas and monasteries crown every knoll, and whose population seems largely to live upon the water.

The Irrawaddy is a stream of great size and volume, and, like all rivers subject to periodic flood, is enclosed by high banks of alluvial deposit, between which the river winds its devious way, laden with that rich and fertile mud which, in the course of ages, has formed the delta at its mouth.

In the case of the Irrawaddy this delta is of large extent, and is everywhere intersected by the deep creeks which form the many mouths of the river, thus breaking up the alluvial plain into numerous islands, between which communication is impossible except by means of boats.

These islands are for the most part covered with a dense jungle, which forms a lair for tigers and many other wild beasts, and so close do these tigers approach to Rangoon that one was recently shot inside the great pagoda, in which it had taken refuge. While there I heard of an amusing adventure which befell the keeper of the lighthouse at the mouth of the Rangoon River. He was enjoying a morning stroll along the beach, reading a book as he walked, and, as the sun was bright, he held his white umbrella before him to shield himself from the glare of sand and water. Suddenly he stumbled over a tiger lying fast asleep upon the shore, and with a yell of terror the lighthouse man, dropping book and sunshade on the ground, fled away as hard as he could run in one direction, to discover presently that the tiger, just as much alarmed as himself, had made an equally precipitous flight in the other.

All these lower water-ways of the Irrawaddy are tidal, for they are quite close to the sea, and at high water the land is scarcely raised at all above the water level. Mango-trees, dwarf palms, and reeds fringe the muddy banks, on which, raised upon poles and built partly over the water, are the huts of the fishermen, who, half naked, ply their calling in quaintly-shaped, dug-out canoes. To the north of the principal creek which connects Rangoon with Bassein stretches a vast plain of fertile "paddy" land, where each year is grown that enormous crop of rice which forms Burma's chief export.

From every landing-place cargo boats of many kinds, manned by crews of different nationalities, drop downstream to Rangoon, heavily laden with "paddy," as the unhusked rice is called, which, after treatment at the mills, will be shipped abroad.

Though hardly beautiful, perhaps, these tidal waters are of great interest to the new-comer, who probably for the first time sees the feathery coco-nut and graceful areca-palm growing in their natural state among the many other strange trees that flourish upon the banks. At each stopping-place, also, is the picturesque native village, often surrounded by banana-groves and gardens of sesamum. High on the banks boats are being built or repaired, in readiness for next season's flood, while on the water the continuous stream of traffic is of never-failing interest.

Above Prome, however, where the river flows between the mountain ranges which form the great backbone of Burma, every mile of the journey is of great and varied beauty.

The banks are high, and cut into terraces by the varying levels of the river, and are crowned by a belt of almost continuous forest-trees, among which, half hidden in the foliage, are the towns and villages which so frequently occur on both banks. Behind, the rising ground, naturally rocky and broken, is entirely enveloped by a dense forest, which stretches in leafy undulations to the lofty mountains which loom in the far distance.

The Irrawaddy is rapid in its flow, and, like all flood rivers, is constantly changing its course, as the scour of the water washes away a portion of the bank from one spot, to form a sand-bank in the stream lower down. Consequently, navigation for large steamers is difficult, and the whole course has to be marked out by buoys of bamboo, which, in some of the more difficult reaches, must be constantly changed. Some of these steamers plying on the Irrawaddy are very large, being over 300 feet long, and nearly 80 feet in width. Many of them carry upwards of 2,000 passengers, mostly deck passengers, who, in the aft part of the ship, conduct a travelling bazaar for the benefit of such towns and villages on the banks as have no regular shops of their own. At each landing-place crowds of people, again mostly women, are awaiting the arrival of the steamer, carrying various goods for sale or barter, while others eagerly board the steamer to make such purchases as they require.

Almost every requisite of life may be bought in these floating bazaars—clothing, cutlery, or hardware, lamps and looking-glasses (which latter are always in great demand), preserved eggs from China, English flour, Indian curries and sweetmeats, cooking utensils, "ngapi" (or rotted fish) from Yandoon, are some of the articles offered for sale, in return for which the villagers have to offer supplies of oil, cutch, rice, native silks, and beautifully-made baskets and lacquer-work.

At important stations the landing-places consist of barges moored alongside the banks, and these are moved from time to time as the varying levels of the river demand. More frequently, however, the bows of the steamer are simply run into the bank, while its crew of Chittagonians jump overboard to carry the mooring rope ashore. It is amusing to watch the mass of struggling humanity who throng the landing-places on the arrival of the steamer. Every one, whether landing or embarking, strives to be first upon the narrow gangway which connects the steamer's sponson[3] with the shore, with the result that many are thrown into the water. Each is intent upon conducting his business to the best possible advantage in the limited time at his disposal, for the steamer's visit does not occur every day, and its stay is short.

Along the margin of the river are many who, indifferent to the arrival of the mail, are engaged in washing their clothes or utensils, while boys and girls gambol on the banks, or, swimming with delightful ease, frolic round the steamer in the water.

Interesting though life in the steamer is, that of the river as seen from its decks is even more so. The native boats are most quaint in their designs, the most striking being the "laungzat." This is a vessel often of very large size, and capable of carrying a large amount of cargo. Its bows are sharply uptilted, the cut-water frequently rising clear of the water. The hull is beautifully modelled, and the stern, rising high above the water in a sort of tower, is often elaborately carved. Half its length is covered by a deck-house for the crew, on the roof of which a canopy of reeds or grasses gives shelter to the steersman, who, raised in this way, is better able to steer clear of the shoals and shallows which beset the stream, and which from the lower deck would probably not be seen. The rudder is a long paddle, also carved, which is slung in a loop over the stern, while a further decorative effect is often obtained by inverted soda-water bottles stuck upon poles along the sides.

Coming downstream the vessel is propelled by oars, usually twelve to sixteen, which the crew ply with a slow rhythmic swing. During the monsoons, when strong winds blow upstream, sails are used instead of oars. The mast is composed of two bamboos lashed together at the top, their lower ends being made fast to the gunwale. On this frame, from bamboo yards curved slightly upwards, is spread a curious combination of six or seven square sails, which, though only of use when running before the wind, enable the boat to travel at a great speed. There are many other kinds of boats in use, all equally distinctive in character; and even the dug-out canoe is pretty, its fore-foot rising clear of the water in a slight curve, which lends an element of beauty to what would otherwise have been simply a straight log.

Fishing is frequent along the river-bank, the favourite appliances being nets of various kinds. Often on a sand-bank may be seen a little hut raised high above the ground, and composed of bamboo and reeds. This is the shelter for the fisherman, who with a drag-net buoyed by sun-dried gourds fishes the neighbouring shallows. Hand-nets are occasionally used, but most interesting, perhaps, is the curious kind of cradle by which a net stretched upon a bamboo frame is let down into the water from the bank, particularly on the passing of a steamer, when the startled fish dart in shore and are caught in the net, which is raised at the proper moment by the watchers on the bank.

Very interesting also are the rafts, composed of logs of teak and pyingado, which, cut in the forests far inland, are constructed in the creeks, as the forest streams are called, and are then launched into the Irrawaddy upon their voyage of often many weeks before Rangoon is reached.

These rafts are frequently of enormous size, and are manned by crews of Shans, whose numbers vary according to their size. Without means of propulsion, the rafts simply drift with the stream, but are guided to some extent by a number of paddles fixed at either end, by which the crews endeavour, not always successfully, to keep them clear of shoals and their heads downstream.

In many cases the population of a raft is so considerable that quite a little village of huts is built upon it, and I have seen cows, goats, and fowls, as well as the wives and children of the crew, housed upon it. In one case at least I remember seeing a raft upon which was erected a bamboo pagoda, and frequently upon the sand-banks in the river small pagodas of the same material are erected for devout watermen.

Not least among the many beauties of the Irrawaddy are the glorious sunsets behind the "Yomas," when the colours are repeated in the limpid water, which perfectly reflects the pinnacles of "kyoungs" or pagodas, or the pretty village that lies half hidden amidst the varied foliage which in rich masses crowns the banks.