An English Girl's First Impressions of Burmah

by Beth Ellis

That part of the evening which I enjoyed most was when I made the mulled claret. I had no idea how to make it, but I should obtain uninterrupted possession of the stove during the operation, so I volunteered for the task. I put the claret, and anything suitable and "Christmassy," I could think of, into a saucepan, and stirred it over the stove until the other guests became suspicious, and I was forced to abandon my warm post.

I did not like the result at all, and I noticed the other guests lost interest in it as a drink after the first sip, though they clung to their glasses, using them as impromptu hand warming pans.

But what proved the greatest check upon the enjoyment of the evening was the great anxiety of the guests for the welfare of the furniture.

Our host and hostess were on the point of leaving the station, and as is the custom, had sold their furniture to the other residents, though they retained it in their house until departure. Now when one has just bought, and paid for, say, a set of drawing room chairs, or china ornaments, one does not enjoy seeing the former subjected to the rough usage of a game of "Bumps" nor the latter endangered by a game of Ball. Consequently, each and all were busily engaged during the evening in protecting their prospective possessions, and had little opportunity of abandoning themselves to enjoyment.

One very amusing instance of this was the behaviour of the new owners of the carpet. It was a poor carpet, old, faded, and thread-bare, but it was the only carpet in the station and the recent purchasers regarded it with pride. They looked anxious all the evening, when chairs were dragged about over weak spots, and peg glasses were placed in dangerous proximity to restless feet.

But the climax of their concern was reached when "Snap dragon" was proposed. The game was hailed with delight by every one (there really is a little imaginary warmth in the flame), but the contempt of the carpet-owners was unbounded. They said nothing, but looked volumes; they did not join in the game, but crawled about the ground round the revellers, busily engaged in picking up the numerous raisins scattered on the floor, forcibly holding back feet which threatened to crush the greasy fruit, and showing by all means in their power that they considered "Snap dragon" a most foolish amusement.

Small wonder, considering all these disadvantageous circumstances, that the Christmas party was not an unqualified success, and that the cold and weary guests, plodding home in the early hours of Christmas morning, mentally vowed that such wild dissipation was not good for them and should never again be repeated.

Dances are necessarily unknown in such a small station as Remyo. An energetic bachelor did once make an effort to give one, but as the only available room was the ticket office at the railway station, the only available music the bagpipes of the Goorkhas, and the only available ladies five in number, he was reluctantly obliged to abandon the project.

A much enduring form of entertainment in Remyo is the musical afternoon, or evening party. The inhabitants assemble in turns at one of the three houses which boast a piano; but the repertoire of the combined station is limited, and as every one expects to sing on these occasions (ignorance of time and tune being considered no drawback), and further, intends to sing one or other of the few songs most popular in the station, things are not in any sense as harmonious as they should be.

This great eagerness to perform entailed much manœuvring to obtain first possession of the piano, and it was amusing to watch the expressions of mingled indignation and scorn on the faces of others less fortunate, when they recognised the prelude to what they each claimed as their own particular song.