ple on the hill.

There is no dearth of priests, for every family in the village with male
children is required to send at least one boy to live a part of his life
under the tutelage of the Church. He must remain three years, and longer,
if he wishes. The priests are fed by the monastery, and their clothing is
not an important item of expenditure as it consists merely of a straw hat
and a yellow robe. They lead a lazy, worthless life, and from their sojourn
in religious circles they learn only indolence and idleness.

The day following our arrival in Meng-ting the weekly market was held, and
when Wu and I crossed the little stream to the business part of the
village, we found ourselves in the midst of the most picturesque crowd of
natives it has ever been my fortune to see. It was a group flashing with
color, and every individual a study for an artist. There were blue-clad
Chinese, Shans with tattooed legs, turbans of pink or white, and Burmans
dressed in brilliant purple or green, Las, yellow-skinned Lisos, flat-faced
Palaungs, Was, and Kachins in black and red strung about with beads or
shells. Long swords hung from the shoulders of those who did not carry a
spear or gun, and the hilts of wicked looking daggers peeped from beneath
their sashes. Every man carried a weapon ready for instant use.

Nine tribes were present in the market that day and almost as many
languages were being spoken. It was a veritable Babel and half the trading
was done by signs. The narrow street was choked with goods of every kind
spread out upon the ground: fruit, rice, cloth, nails, knives, swords,
hats, sandals, skins, horns, baskets, mats, crossbows, arrows, pottery,
tea, opium, and scores of other articles for food or household use.

Dozens of natives were arriving and departing, bringing new goods or
packing up their purchases; under open, thatched pavilions were silent
groups of men gambling with cash or silver, and in the "tea houses"
white-faced natives lay stretched upon the couches rolling "pills" of
opium and oblivious to the constant stream of passers-by.

It was a picturesque, ever changing group, a kaleidoscopic mass of life and
color, where Chinese from civilized Canton drank, and gambled, and smoked
with wild natives from the hills or from the depths of fever-stricken
jungles.

After one glimpse of the picture in the market I dashed back to camp to
bring the "Lady of the Camera." On the way I met her, hot and breathless,