a dainty little Burmese girl in green ("The
jewel in the lotus") in its petals, posturing and singing. The heavy
white petals in lamplight and rosy lights in the reddish buds and leaves
against the dark water were charming, and the Burman in charge, with the
usual red strip of cloth round his black hair, brown face, and white
jacket, caught a little of the warm light and so blended into the
picture. Burmese crews in dug-out war canoes, towed the Royal barge
across the lake, and as each canoe crossed the paths of light reflected
from the illuminated boats, the figures paddling stood out clearly and
were then lost in darkness. They sang in full chorus with a reed piping
between each line, liquid quiet music; who was it said--like the sound
of grass growing? For a moment the charm was broken by the brass band
behind us beginning, but mercifully some one stopped it, and the Royal
passengers landed to gentle native music.

[Illustration: H.R.H. Prince and Princess of Wales landing at the
Boat Club, Rangoon]

Here is, as nearly as possible, in colour, what I remembered of the
Prince and Princess landing on the lawn, and neither more nor less, I
hope--but one is so apt to put in more from careless habits of
accuracy--to count the spokes of the moving wheel.

The words the crews sang were of "Our King Emperor, who is of the
lineage of World Emperors (Mandat), and who on the lustrous throne of
Britain was crowned." They compare our King to the resplendent Indian
sun; "Our King Emperor" begins each stanza with the catch of the stroke,
or rather, the dig of the paddle. "Our King Emperor, who enjoys his
Imperial pleasures in the golden palace[23] in London, and with
especially distinguished intellectual powers rules over a kingdom whose
inhabitants are like the Nimmanarati Gods delighting in self created
pleasures.... The illustrious Royal couple come from the palace of
flowers over distant seas in the _Renown_ surrounded on all sides by the
blue expanse of wave after wave, through the Indian Empire escorted by
Guards of honour, and amidst echoes of the Royal salute from the
Artillery.... For long life extending over a hundred years for our
sovereign's heir-apparent and for his Royal consort, the Princess of
Wales, who is like a wreath of the much prized Tazin (orchid) flowers on
a bed of roses...." It is pretty in bits, I think, the blue expanse,
wave after wave, and the wreath of Tazin on a bed of roses quite take my
fancy.