When we arose in the morning, all we found in the little hut at the bottom of the bungalow compound were three belated looking saddles and some broken bridle reins, and the only course open to us was to continue our journey on foot.
Some people, I believe, pretend to see humour in such situations, but we were not amused. The heat was awful, the road almost knee deep in dust, and as we plodded along for several miles, losing our way in short cuts, scrambling down precipitous ravines and dry water courses, and exchanging no single word, but keeping all our breath for the exertion of clambering out again, I became, by comparison, almost reconciled to the previous day's experiences.
When at last we reached the foot of the hills, and found a "gharry" waiting to convey us to Mandalay, we resembled pillars of dust, and were as thirsty as the desert. I was so tired that I forgot to be sentimental over the last glimpse of the hills; and as we approached Mandalay, beautiful in her bower of green, with the sun shining as ever on the "dreaming spires," the white pagodas, and the golden domes, my one and only desire was "Drink."
I had delayed my departure from Remyo as late as possible in the hopes of witnessing a "hpoongyi burning," one of the most characteristic Burmese festivals. The holy man had died some time previously, and in order to do his memory due honour, his body had been preserved many months, and the burning, with the many strange rites and festivities which invariably accompany such ceremonies, was announced to take place the week before my departure. But from some unknown cause (perhaps they discovered he had been more virtuous than they at first imagined) the authorities suddenly decided to preserve the body until a more imposing pageant could be prepared, so I missed the sight; and having delayed my departure, I had time only to spend a few hours in Mandalay and Rangoon before embarking on the homeward bound steamer.
It was very sad, that departure from Rangoon, where so many friends were left behind, as the last beauties of this bewitching country faded slowly from sight. The glaring noonday sunshine shed no illusory haze over the scene. The muddy brown water of the river and the ugly shores lined with factories and mills, seemed a foretaste of the matter-of-fact land to which we were returning; but behind rose the distant palm trees, and the golden dome; and the soft music of the tinkling bells of the pagoda, bidding us a last farewell, was wafted to us by the perfume laden eastern breeze.