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Updated: May 28, 2025
How high that was, or how spacious, I had not yet light enough to discern. But now there appeared from the steps down which we had descended an old woman with a light in her hand. Our boy-guide hailed her by the name of Madgy Burke.
I haven't seen a white elephant yet, but in the Shwe Dagon Temple I found a lively eight-months-old youngster, an orphan from Mandalay, that could eat bananas twice as fast as my Burmese boy-guide and I could peel them, and the boy-guide in question assured me that he will turn white by the time he is two or three years old. Which would be very interesting if true, but I fear it isn't.
It was during this excursion that he encountered the delightful Papist-Orange fiddler, whose fortunes and fingers fluctuated between "Croppies Get Up" and "Croppies Lie Down." From Bangor Borrow explored the surrounding places of interest. He ascended Snowdon arm-in-arm with Henrietta, singing "at the stretch of my voice a celebrated Welsh stanza," the boy-guide following wonderingly behind.
I immediately departed with my boy-guide, and by noon I was already installed, with bag and baggage, in the dwelling of my kind hostess. But there was no more walking for me that day. What with the journey and my morning's peregrinations I was so exhausted that I requested nothing but a resting-place, which I found among the old chests and baskets on the floor.
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