Mrs. Gregory loved a wedding. Her rooms, appointments and well-drilled staff readily lent themselves to such festivals, and why, she asked, should Sophy not be married from the “Barn,” take a trip up the river for her honeymoon, in order to see something of the real country, and buy her trousseau after her arrival in London?
Fired with this project, both she and Shafto dispatched long and plausible letters to Mrs. Leigh; but Mrs. Leigh declined to entertain the idea and, in equally long and eloquent effusions, set forth the fact that she had seen nothing of her youngest daughter for nearly two years and claimed a share of her company ere she was carried away to another home. She had, however, given a cordial assent to Sophy’s engagement, and declared that she would gladly accept Douglas Shafto as a son, but Sophy must be married from home and in the old church at Chelsea.
As Mrs. Gregory returned this letter, she said:
“Well, Sophy, you must only take a sort of pre-honeymoon tour; we will go up to Mandalay, and maybe explore a bit of the Shan hills; I shall coax George to come—he has not had a holiday for ages. Douglas must get a fortnight off duty, and Martin Kerr, our donnish old cousin, who is arriving from Calcutta in a day or two, may accompany us; he is a bachelor, very well off, and has lived all his life like a hermit crab in his college in Oxford. Lately he had a bad breakdown, and was ordered an immense rest and change; so now he has ventured out to blink at the universe beyond Carfax and the High, I expect he will find us shamelessly trivial and ignorant. How his eyes will open when they look upon this glaring world and behold some glaring facts! I shall invite Miss Maitland to join our party; she is of a nice suitable age, and I shall pair her off with Martin; we will take George’s durwan, as courier, for he has Upper Burma at his finger-ends, and will see that we are comfortable.”
The projected tour proved entirely successful; Mandalay was reached in thirty hours. From Mandalay, after a few days’ halt, the explorers fared to farther and less trodden fields, visited the ruby mines, and the wonderful remains of Pagan; occasionally they found the accommodation at zayats, or rest houses, a little rough, but this was handsomely discounted by novel sights and experiences, a full view of the Burman at home, and the easy joys of village life. First of all, there was the morning procession of the stately pongyes, carrying their empty begging-bowls, and looking neither to the right nor left; there were delicious hours in the forests; boating and fishing expeditions on the rivers, or rides to the ruins of ancient cities, half buried in jungle.
Shafto and Sophy saw so many novelties that they were almost bewildered, but not nearly so much bewildered or impressed as was the Professor, when first introduced to the library of an ancient monastery, in comparison with whose age his beloved Bodleian was a mere infant. Here the volumes were written on palm leaves, then rubbed over with oil to toughen and preserve them; the edges were richly gilt and fastened together by drilling a hole at one end, through which a cord was passed, then they were placed in elaborate lacquer boxes. There were countless numbers of such books, devout and mystic, all inscribed in Pali; they included the “Three Baskets of the Law,” also the Laws of Manu, which dated from the fifth century before Christ. Professional scribes were kept constantly employed in re-copying and restoring these precious tomes, as the palm leaves only last about a hundred years, after which they become brittle and difficult to decipher, and the copyists have an endless task.
The Professor, attended by an interpreter, haunted the library, made eloquent signs to the pongyes in charge, and was permitted to examine and make notes of the rarest of their frail treasures, for which favour he duly made a generous acknowledgment.
Thanks to Mr. Gregory’s courier, the travellers found comfortable quarters in his own ancestral village, and here they were able to watch the inhabitants both at work and play. They saw the oxen treading out grain, men working an oil mill, or caging fish; women weaving gay material, and children plaiting straw mats; so much for day-time occupations! At nights there were songs, dancings, gamblings, and games; these included chess, played somewhat differently from what it is in Europe, but still the same chess as when it crossed the frontiers from China. There was a king, but instead of a queen a general, instead of bishops, elephants; and some of the moves were unusual.
Mr. Gregory, who rather fancied himself as a chess-player, boldly challenged one of the elders and, with the entire village as solemn spectators, suffered, alas! a humiliating defeat. Then Shafto took a hand at dominoes, at which, thanks to May Lee, he was an expert; fortunately he came off conqueror, and thus restored to some extent the credit of the party. These games were played by torchlight, the local band—harp, dulcimer, two drums and clappers—discoursed at intervals; here the inhabitants, unlike those of Rangoon, were early birds. By ten o’clock lights were extinguished, the crowd had dispersed, and a serene silence fell on the soft, purple night.
The College Don had thoroughly enjoyed this excursion into primitive life in Upper Burma; he also enjoyed the stimulating company of Miss Maitland; and in this delightful, highly coloured atmosphere, surrounded by agreeable companions, he fished, joked, flirted, and appeared to have shed his formal Oxford manner, along with his Oxford trencher and gown. He remembered Shafto’s father and, on the strength of this memory, the two became excellent friends, and Shafto gave him assistance in the way of adjusting his puttees, helping him over awkward places, advising him what food to avoid and what insects to destroy.