CHAPTER XXII
THE KING'S REPRESENTATIVE
We are lucky! No sooner have we returned to the hotel than a gorgeous man, over six feet high, dressed in white, with a red sash, in which is stuck a tasselled dagger, greets us. He is a chuprassie, or messenger, and has come from Government House with a note inviting us to a garden-party there this afternoon. What a day of it! This is the result of my having been up there yesterday to write our names in the book kept for the purpose, while I left you to rest. That is the way people do here instead of leaving cards, so that His Excellency the Lieutenant-Governor may know who has come to the country. I thought perhaps he would take some notice of us, because his younger brother was my great friend at the 'Varsity, but this is very prompt. I am glad you will have a chance of seeing something of Government House, as most people in England have not an idea how things are run here. Burma is counted as one of the provinces of India, and is under the Viceroy of all India, but within his own borders the Lieutenant-Governor is the ruler and representative of the King.
THE GOVERNMENT SERVANT.
It is about four o'clock, when, having had a rest and made ourselves as smart as we can, we crawl up the long drive leading to Government House in one of the ridiculous small ticca-gharries which are the only conveyances one can get.
We are one of a long procession of vehicles going at a foot's pace, stopping and starting again. Some are private carriages, there are a few motors, a few dog-carts, and ours is not the only little box on wheels. Lean out a little and you will see a flash of jewels and satiny silk in that one in front of us; evidently some wealthy natives are among the guests. The long line of vehicles comes up to the door, and when the occupants have alighted the drivers curve on round the lawn and go away. At last our turn comes. A pleasant-looking man, all in white, with a red sash and sword, and a wonderful bunch of tassels and plaits in gold, called an aiguillette, on his breast, greets us as cordially as if we were old friends. Notice the plume of rose-pink feathers on his helmet! He seems to know all about us without our saying a word, and as he leads the way across the short grass lawn to where our host and hostess stand ready to greet their guests, he tells me that His Excellency's brother, my old friend, is actually staying here now.
His Excellency is in English costume, with a star on his breast; he shakes hands kindly and calls out to summon his brother, who is not far off, and we pass on to make way for the stream of newcomers.
We could not be in better hands. Claude and I have not met for years, but that makes no difference; we greet each other as if we had parted only yesterday. He takes us over to the tables for tea and fruit. And when he hears this is your first visit he insists on your eating a mango, which is the most famous fruit in the country and just ripe. These are a specially good sort, not very large, with pink "cheeks"; when you have stripped off the tough skin you find you get down to the big stone very soon, and there isn't much room for the fruity part between, still, what there is of it is excellent, and I see you furtively using your handkerchief to get rid of the stickiness afterwards!
Then we sit in basket-chairs, not too near the band, and Claude tells us "all about it." It is a much more brilliant scene than an ordinary garden-party at home, because in addition to the Europeans there are a number of high-class Burmese. Those little ladies near us standing in a group are most gorgeously attired in much-embroidered fussy little jackets with short wings, or lappets, sticking out behind, and their skirts, or tameins, are woven of the richest silk. As that one turns you see that beside the flowers in her hair she has two big pins with heads the size of small walnuts; those are real diamonds, not perhaps of the first water, but still of great value. The ladies' faces are smooth with yellow powder, and there is something very neat about their movements. A little way off is a Burman with a pink goungbaum and very rich silk skirt. The grass, kept green by plentiful early morning watering, is quite vivid in colour, and the clear cloudless sky is of a thrilling blue. Government House itself is a great palace, not beautiful, as it is built of yellow brick and pink terra-cotta, but imposing and dignified. Burman attendants wearing turbans and skirts, called lyungis, of purest mauve, and dainty white jackets, glide about with the refreshments. Burmans will seldom take service with anyone, generally they leave that to the natives of India, but they make a distinction in the case of anyone so important as the Lieutenant-Governor.