The appearance presented by the banks between which we were now advancing, was by no means as wild and undisturbed by the hand of man as the Pegu branch; villages and cultivated patches met the eye rather frequently, though of so inconsiderable an extent as to imply that the country was but sparsely populated. It was up the smaller tributary streams that their dwellings nestled, beyond the immediate influence of a river subject to sudden floods. They were built on piles as an additional security, and even then, communication could at times only be kept up by means of boats.
Not an agreeable mode of living, according to our notions, but then the Burmese had never known any other, and besides, being to all intents and purposes amphibious, they were endowed by nature with temperaments of the Mark Tapley order, and consequently happy under almost any circumstances. Very weird was the sound of their strange voices, as they passed us dexterously paddling their canoes, and chanting one of their barbaric songs.
They would stop and look at us as we steamed past, as would also the women and children peeping from behind the trees, wondering whether we were really children of this earth, and doubtless frightened by the noise of the paddles. Many of them probably recalled the incidents of the first Burmese war; the manner in which we fought and the weapons we made use of accounting for the rapidity with which they yielded all the important places to an organization well fitted, as they could see, to carry all before it. Now and then by carefully planned ambushes in the depths of their jungles they might score an occasional advantage, but any open encounter invariably ended in their confusion.
Temples, poles bearing all manner of flags, and images of Gautama, cross-legged and contemplative as usual, and certainly the reverse of prepossessing, met the eye wherever villages existed, and in many places where they did not.
Some of the temples and Pon-gyee houses were exceedingly elegant in their design.
Without any remarkable adventure, we arrived one evening at Prome, where we anchored, without, however, landing. It was unquestionably situated in the prettiest part of the river, which here narrowed between a range of low hills clad in verdure.