for herself, and
those in which, if she act at all, it is for her husband.

Thus, as I have said, she will, as regards her own property or her own
business, act freely in her own name, and will also frequently act for
her husband too. They will both sign deeds, borrow money on joint
security, lend money repayable to them jointly. But in public affairs
she will never allow her name to appear at all. Not that she does not
take a keen interest in such things. She lives in no world apart; all
that affects her husband interests her as keenly as it does him. She
lives in a world of men and women, and her knowledge of public affairs,
and her desire and powers of influencing them, is great. But she learnt
long ago that her best way is to act through and by her husband, and
that his strength and his name are her bucklers in the fight. Thus women
are never openly concerned in any political matters. How strong their
feeling is can better be illustrated by a story than in any other way.

In 1889 I was stationed far away on the north-west frontier of Burma, in
charge of some four thousand square miles of territory which had been
newly incorporated. I went up there with the first column that ever
penetrated that country, and I remained there when, after the partial
pacification of the district, the main body of the troops were
withdrawn. It was a fairly exciting place to live in. To say nothing of
the fever which swept down men in batches, and the trans-frontier people
who were always peeping over to watch a good opportunity for a raid, my
own charge simply swarmed with armed men, who seemed to rise out of the
very ground--so hard was it to follow their movements--attack anywhere
they saw fit, and disappear as suddenly. There was, of course, a
considerable force of troops and police to suppress these insurgents,
but the whole country was so roadless, so unexplored, such a tangled
labyrinth of hill and forest, dotted with sparse villages, that it was
often quite impossible to trace the bands who committed these attacks;
and to the sick and weary pursuers it sometimes seemed as if we should
never restore peace to the country.

The villages were arranged in groups, and over each group there was a
headman with certain powers and certain duties, the principal of the
latter being to keep his people quiet, and, if possible, protect them
from insurgents.

Now, it happened that among these headmen was one named Saw Ka, who had
been a free