before he had been one of forty crammed candidates out of 200 who had
taken the highest places in a series of examinations in Latin, English,
mathematics, &c. With the most limited experience of human life, he had
obtained his position in exactly the same way that a Chinese Mandarin
does his--by competitive examination in subjects which, even less than
in the case of the Chinese, had little bearing upon his future work; and
now, like a Chinese Mandarin, "there are few things he isn't."

On the face of it no system appears more preposterous; in its results no
system was ever more successful. The Assistant Commissioner early learns
self-reliance, decision, and ability to wield authority; and he can
always look forward to the time when he may become Chief Commissioner.

There is a wonderful mixture of types in Bhamo. Nowhere in the world,
not even in Macao, is there a greater intermingling of races. Here live
in cheerful promiscuity Britishers and Chinese, Shans and Kachins, Sikhs
and Madrasis, Punjabis, Arabs, German Jews and French adventurers,
American missionaries and Japanese ladies.

There are many ruined pagodas and some wooden temples which, however, do
not display the higher features of Burmese architecture. There is a
club, of course; a polo and football ground, and a cricket ground.
Inside the fort, among the barracks, there is a building which has a
double debt to pay, being a theatre at one end and a church at the
other, the same athletic gentleman being the chief performer at both
places. But, at its best, Bhamo is a forlorn, miserable, and wretched
station, where all men seem to regard it as their first duty to the
stranger to apologise to him for being there.

The distinguished Chinese scholar and traveller, E. Colborne Baber, who
wrote the classic book of travel in Western China, was formerly British
Resident in Bhamo. He spoke Chinese unusually well and was naturally
proud of his accomplishment. Now the ordinary Chinaman has this feature
in common with many of the European races, that, if he thinks you cannot
speak his language, he _will_ not understand you, even if you speak to
him with perfect correctness of idiom and tone. And Baber had an
experience of this which deeply hurt his pride. Walking one day in the
neighbourhood of Bhamo, he met two Chinese--strangers--and began
speaking to them in his best Mandarin. They heard him with unmoved
stolidity, and, when he had finished, one turned to his comp