ic would pay the contractor well,
apart from his mail subsidy. For Burmans are always free with their
money, and the road was long and hot and dusty. I often passed that
coach as I rode. I noticed that the ponies were poor, very poor, and
were driven a little hard, but I saw no reason for interference. It did
not seem to me that any cruelty was committed, nor that the ponies were
actually unfit to be driven. I noticed that the driver used his whip a
good deal, but then some ponies require the whip. I never thought much
about it, as I always rode my own ponies, and they always shied at the
coach, but I should have noticed if there had been anything remarkable.
Towards the end of the year it became necessary to renew the contract,
and the contractor was approached on the subject. He said he was
willing to continue the contract for another year if the mail subsidy
was largely increased. He said he had lost money on that year's working.
When asked how he could possibly have lost considering the large number
of people who were always passing up and down, he said that they did not
ride in his coach. Only the European soldiers and a few natives of India
came with him. Officers had their own ponies and rode, and the Burmans
either hired a bullock-cart or walked. They hardly ever came in his
coach, but he could not say what the reason might be.

So an inquiry was made, and the Burmese were asked why they did not ride
on the coach. Were the fares too high?--was it uncomfortable? But no, it
was for neither of these reasons that they left the coach to the
soldiers and natives of India. It was because of the ponies. No Burman
would care to ride behind ponies who were treated as these ponies
were--half fed, overdriven, whipped. It was a misery to see them; it was
twice a misery to drive behind them. 'Poor beasts!' they said; 'you can
see their ribs, and when they come to the end of a stage they are fit to
fall down and die. They should be turned out to graze.'

The opinion was universal. The Burmans preferred to spend twice or
thrice the money and hire a bullock-cart and go slowly, while the coach
flashed past them in a whirl of dust, or they preferred to walk. Many
and many times have I seen the roadside rest-houses full of travellers
halting for a few minutes' rest. They walked while the coach came by
empty; and nearly all of them could have afforded the fare. It was a
very striking instance of what pure kind-heartedness will do, f