ary, the British Consular Agent, was murdered in 1875.
I had a long wait at the yamen gate while they were arranging where to
send me, but by-and-by two yamen-runners came and conducted me to the
City Temple. It was the same temple that Margary had occupied. Many
shaven-pated Buddhist priests were waiting for me, and received me
kindly in the temple hall. A table was brought for me and the only
foreign chair, and Laotseng was shown where to spread my bedding in the
temple hall itself. And here I held _levees_ of the townspeople of all
shades of colour and variety of feature--Chinese, Shan, Burmese, Kachin,
and hybrid. The people were very amiable, and I found on all sides the
same courtesy and kindliness that Margary describes on his first visit.
But the crowd was quiet for only a little while; then a dispute arose.
It began in the far corner, and the crowd left me to gather round the
disputants. Voices were raised, loud and excited, and increased in
energy. A deadly interest seemed to enthral the bystanders. It was easy
to imagine that they were debating to do with me as they had done with
Margary. The dispute waxed warmer. Surely they will come to blows? When
suddenly the quarrel ceased as it had begun, and the crowd came smiling
back to me. What was the dispute? The priests were cheapening a chicken
for my dinner.

The temple was built on teak piles, and teak pillars supported the
triple roof. It was like a barn or lumber room but for the gilt Buddhas
on the altar and the gilt cabinets by its side, containing many smaller
gilt images of Buddha and his disciples. Umbrellas, flags, and the
tawdry paraphernalia used in processions were hanging from the beams.
Sacerdotal vestments of dingy yellow--the yellow of turmeric--were
tumbled over bamboo rests. When the gong sounded for prayers, men you
thought were coolies threw these garments over the left shoulder,
hitched them round the waist, and were transformed into priests, putting
them back again immediately after the service. Close under the tiles was
a paper sedan-chair, to be sent for the use of some rich man in heaven.
Painted scrolls of paper were on the walls, and on old ledges were torn
books in the Burmese character, which a few boys made a pretence of
reading. Where I slept the floor was raised some feet from the ground,
and underneath, seen through the gaping boards--though previously
detected by another of the senses--were a number of coffins freighted
with de