They haven't any more respect for the Sabbath day on this side of the world (except in a few spots where the missionaries have made a dent in the situation) than a lot of crows have for a farmer's rights in a field of growing corn.
Now, this business man I am writing about was born and brought up in England. He had it drilled into him when he was a boy that we should remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy; and the teaching stuck.
Between the ages of seventeen and fifty-six he got started in life; got rich; retired; and lost his fortune; and when he was fifty-six years old he was broke—down and out.
He came to Burma, prospected for gold until he was sixty-six years old, and the net result of that ten years of gold prospecting was—still broke.
As he had a character just like Gibraltar, he was able to borrow a few pounds sterling, and with it started life all over again in business here in Rangoon.
He got to going to the good; and at the end of five years, when he was seventy-one years old, he had a name and some fame in his line of trade.
At that time the heir apparent to a mighty throne came through Rangoon, touring Burma with his staff.
He heard of this man, and wanted to buy some of his goods. He decided on a Saturday afternoon, that the next day at eleven o'clock he would call at this man's store and inspect his stock with a view to purchasing.
As this potentate was a mighty gun—none bigger—he prepared the way to his proposed visit by sending one of his numerous staff to this man's store Saturday evening, to inform him that at eleven o'clock of the next day his Royal Highness would be around to buy some goods.