The greatest treat our own loogalays ever enjoyed in this respect was brought about one day by a slight mistake I made in giving an order to Po-Sin, the head butler. My grasp of the language being but slight, my speech was often a trifle faulty, but I gave orders with a vigorous confidence, and aided by gesture and "pigeon English" I imagined that I made myself tolerably comprehensible. On the occasion to which I refer, I had prepared my sentence elaborately, and summoning Po-Sin, I informed him that his master would be at home and would want tea at three o'clock. There must have been some mistake somewhere. Possibly, I confused the word meaning "office" with the Burmese for "three o'clock." But whatever be the explanation, about a quarter of an hour later, chancing to look out of the window, I beheld a procession winding its way along the road to the Court House, and bearing with it our afternoon tea equipage displayed to the highest advantage. At the head marched Po-Sin, proudly brandishing the teapot, then Po-Mya bearing the muffins, Po Thin with the tray and tea-cups, and behind, in regular order, the other numerous members of our establishment, each bearing some dish, jug, or spoon. They had gone too far to be overtaken, tho' they walked with becoming dignity, so with deep foreboding, I watched them disappear round the corner of the road leading to the Court House.
Presently I saw the disconcerted procession returning, headed this time by my infuriated brother-in-law, who had been interrupted in the midst of an important case, by the solemn entrance of the tea bearers. The servants looked depressed and disappointed. I think they had hoped the procession might be a weekly affair. Like "Brer Rabbit," I prudently lay low until my brother's wrath had exhausted itself.
The Burman has the reputation of being a keen sportsman, and certainly, his excitement is intense on every sporting occasion, especially in games of strength and skill. But he does not excel in these. His intentions are doubtless good, but he lacks pluck and determination.
This is especially evident when a loogalay fields for his master at cricket. He will watch the game with deepest interest, loudly applauding every hit, and when the ball speeds in his direction his excitement and pride are unbounded. He runs to meet it with outstretched arms, shouting wildly, then, as the ball nears him, and the audience hold their breath, expecting a wonderful catch or piece of fielding, he quietly steps aside, allows the ball to fly past him, and then trots gently after it, overtaking it some few yards over the boundary. His fellow natives view the performance with pride, and yell with admiration when he finally secures the ball and, carrying it within an easy throwing distance of the pitch, rolls it gently back to the bowler.
The interest taken by the natives in football is overpowering, and a spectator has been known to stick a knife into the calf of one of the most active of the players on the opposing side, who happened to be standing near the "touch line." A new and unexpected source of danger in the football field.
The two chief drawbacks to the Burman servant are, firstly, his intense self-satisfaction and conceit, and secondly, his intolerable superstition.
It is impossible to find fault with a Burman. He receives all complaints with a look of such absolute astonishment and reproach that the complainant is at once disarmed. In his own eyes the Burman can do no wrong, and if other folk do not entirely concur in this opinion, that is their misfortune and not his fault. He is always quite pleased with himself, and regards with a pitying contempt all who are not equally so.
Overpowering superstition is a deeply rooted characteristic of the race, and I rather suspect, a very convenient one occasionally. The Burman will do nothing on an unlucky day or hour, and in awaiting the propitious moment, the duty is frequently left undone altogether. This is apt to be inconvenient to others, if the duty in question be the delivery of an important message, or the preparation of dinner. But I have sometimes wondered whether this particular superstition might not advantageously be introduced into England, where it would be so exceedingly useful to the school boy at the end of the holidays, and to many other folk besides.
In private life the Burman carries his superstition to a ridiculous extent. No ceremony can take place, no festival be held, the building of a house cannot even be commenced until the wise man has declared the hour and place to be propitious.