Across the river from Mandalay is a very pretty scene. Low conical hills rise from the banks of the river, each crowned by a pagoda, around which are many "kyoungs" and "zeyats." Scattered over the hill-sides are many others, gleaming white against the warm earth tints and the foliage which surround them. This is old Sagaing, once a capital of Burma; but the city has gone, and only its temples now remain. Crossing the river in sampans painted red, blue, and yellow, or landing on the pearly shingle of the beach, are crowds of well-dressed Burmans from Mandalay and Ava, bent on a pilgrimage to one or other of the many shrines, which are reached by long flights of steps, whose entrance is guarded by enormous leogryphs.
THE SHWE ZIGON PAGODA, PAGAN. [Page 82].
A pretty legend gives the origin of these monsters, which, often of enormous size, invariably guard the entrance to a temple. Long ago in the dim past a Princess was stolen by "nats," and hidden away in the dark recesses of the forest. The King made every effort to find the hiding-place of his daughter, but without success, until one day a lioness rescued the Princess, and restored her to her home. Ever since then the lion, which in the course of centuries has gradually become changed into the leogryph (or half-lion, half-griffin), has been accepted by the people as the emblem of protecting watchfulness.
Close to Mandalay on the south is Amarapura, another of Burma's many capitals, and though we cannot hope to see all the many interesting monuments that remain, it has one pagoda in particular which well repays us for our long and dusty journey.
This is the Arracan pagoda, one of the most famous shrines in Burma, and the one most frequented by the Shans and other hill tribes, whose time of pilgrimage occurs "between the reaping and the sowing."
There is no ascent to this temple, which, through a series of ornamented doorways, is approached by a long flat corridor, which, as usual, serves the purpose of a bazaar. Here perhaps the best Burmese gongs may be purchased, and the stalls for cut flowers display a rich profusion of blooms, whose scent fills the whole temple precincts. The temple itself is different in design from any others we have seen, being built in the form of a square tower, above which rises a series of diminishing terraces, each beautified by carved battlements and corner pinnacles, the whole being richly gilt.
Beneath the central tower is the shrine, before which a constant stream of devotees succeed each other in prayer. This contains an enormous brass image of Buddha, 12 feet in height, thickly plastered with the pilgrims' offerings of gold-leaf. Behind the temple are the sacred tanks, whose green and slimy water is alive with turtles, too lazy or too well fed to eat the dainty morsels thrown to them by the onlookers, but which are pounced upon by hundreds of hawks, who often seize the tit-bits before they reach the water.
The courtyards are, as usual, thronged, and pastry-cooks and story-tellers, soothsayers and musicians, provide refreshment and amusement to the ever-moving crowd of happy people, at whom we never tire of looking.