d by fishermen,
flocks of wild-goose, storks, and other waders are roosting or fishing
in the shallow pools. Kingfishers dart hither and thither after their
prey, and wild-duck in great numbers settle upon its smooth surface,
to feast upon the teeming fish with which the river abounds.

In general the scene is one of placid beauty: even the rugged mountain
sides are smoothed and softened by their covering of greenery, and the
warm air and limpid water combine to produce an effect of quietude and
repose, which the contented character of the Burman does little to
disturb.

At certain places, however, as in the defile above Mandalay, the
scenery is of a more vigorous character.

Here the river narrows considerably, and in its deep and silent flow
winds for many miles between high hills which closely confine it, and
in one place rise in a perpendicular cliff 800 feet sheer above the
water.

I was fortunate in approaching the defile in the early dawn, when the
morning mists still hung heavy upon the hills of lurid blackness which
marked its entrance. Between them was an impenetrable gloom, which
seemed to promise no means of egress, and as we steamed rapidly
towards it, one unconsciously felt that here was the end of all
things, and that nothing could possibly lie beyond. It was a most
weird sensation, which the river, so darkly flowing between banks we
could hardly see, served to emphasize.

Presently the rising sun lit up the clouds of vapour piled high above
the hills, and then for half an hour continued the most beautiful and
ever-changing play of colour imaginable, as the slowly-moving fog
wreaths wound about the mountain tops, now rosy in the sunlight, or
again in pearly shade, while alternate gloom and gleam tipped the
hills with gold or enveloped them in a purple mystery.

By the time our steamer entered the defile full daylight better
enabled us to observe our surroundings.

Here, as elsewhere, the vegetation was luxuriant; every crevice in the
rocks afforded foothold for some tree or creeper, while the hilltops
and more sloping sides were densely covered with forest trees.

The passage of the defile occupies about two hours, and the course of
the river is very tortuous.

At the bends little beaches of bright shingle lie against the
tree-roots. Fishing cradles, such as I have described, are frequent,
and cormorants in great numbers share with the fishermen the spoils of
the river, for nowhere on the Irra