laid himself and his property at the mercy of the
Golden Feet; so he sent his interpreter to
inquire of one of the great lords if the Golden
Feet would graciously receive him, and on the
return of a favourable answer, mounted one of
the beautiful little ponies of the country, and
trotted off to the palace.  Here he found majesty
domiciled in a temporary hut of bamboo
and thatch.  The stars had shown certain
conjunctions which necessitated the vacation of the
royal palace, and made it absolutely necessary
that the royal head would rest beneath a meaner
roof.  The place was very slight and unfinished;
humble indeed, and wholly unornamented; with
a large bunch of straw and the royal emblem of
the gilt umbrella covering the whole. This tee
or gilt umbrella is to the Burmese what our
Queen's standard is to us, and marks the sacred
presence in an appropriate and unmistakable
manner.  No glittering gold-encased majesty,
such as is used to show itself like a half-revealed
divinity to awe-struck envoys, received the white
merchant, but a pleasant, good-humoured, jolly-
looking young man of about thirty, whom he
found in the easiest and least terrifying attitude
possible.  Seated cross-legged on a gilt armchair
of European make, dressed exactly like
any other Burman of condition, save that his
silken girdle was of scarlet check—a colour
appropriated solely to the royal family—he was
chatting familiarly with his court, assembled
round him in the half-kneeling, half-sitting
attitude betokening respect. A long array of
presents, heaped up on gilded trays—among which
an immense cut-glass dish and twelve stands of
muskets and bayonets attracted the most attention—
preceded the white foreigner. They
were his offerings to the Golden Feet, and
pleasantly introduced him to the golden notice.
The donor followed close behind, bending as he
walked, and, when he sat, crouching in the
prescribed attitude in the best manner of imitation
possible to him. After a few words of interpreted
talk, the king turned to one of his suite, and
spoke to him; when a voice said, in a good,
clear, English accent, "Are you, sir, an
Englishman?" to the utmost astonishment of the
new comer, who had no idea of meeting with a
countryman among the courtly officials of the
King of Burmah. The speaker was an elderly
man of the name of Rodgers—called Yadza by
his adopted brethren—who had escaped to
Burmah under the belief of having committed
murder, and who once held the place of collector
of customs there: a post then filled by
another adopted foreigner, M. Lanciego, a
Spaniard. The new man pleased. He "took"
with the sovereign unequivocally, and the court
of course followed suit.  He was suffered to sit
cross-legged like the king and an English tailor;
he might look the king in the face, while the
highest Burman noble must keep his eyes turned
reverently to the ground; he accepted a pawn
or betel-nut from the chief queen's own box,
and instead of putting it in his mouth, as he
was bound by politeness and respect to do, was
allowed to deposit it in his waistcoat-pocket,
with only a peal of laughter for his mistake—
such a mistake would have cost a native his
life; he was clothed in scarlet check like the
royal family, and the royal ladies were made to
pay him honestly for his goods, without an over
amount of royal cheating: majesty condescendingly
clapped his head as a mark of recognition,
and let him eat fried sand crickets from the
royal dish; in a word, he was a prime favourite,
suddenly exalted to the pinnacle of Burmese
favour, and in a position which the greatest
noble of them all might have envied.  The
younger brother of the king, the daring, reckless,
extravagant Prince of Tharawudi, befriended
him as openly as the court; so the sails of his
good fortune were filled with every prosperous
wind blowing, and there seemed to be no
breakers in the halcyon sea ahead.

Things went on smoothly for some time, and
the white merchant could do no wrong. He
might even surreptitiously cut the throats of
sundry sheep and oxen in his yard, contrary to
the express law of the empire, which forbids the
slaughter of any animal, and assigns for public
food only such beasts as have died by natural
causes; and he was in equal favour with the
king and the two rival factions of the chief
queen and the Prince of Tharawudi; he made
about one hundred and sixty per cent by his
venture, and seemed to himself to be set in the
highway of all kinds of success. But when he
wished to turn his eight thousand pounds of gold
and silver into marketable commodities, and so
go on increasing his gains, the law stepped in,
and his fortunes turned pale at the contact.  He
could not send the bullion out of the country :
it was illegal; rice, metals, raw silk, jewels,
marble, horses—it was equally illegal to export
any one of these things; there was only teak
timber which might be shipped off, and of this
the expense of carriage would more than swallow
up the gains. Here, then, was the first adverse
breath, the first check in this hitherto easy sailing
of the foreign ship. But a little judicious
bribery changed all this, and after a residence
of two months at. the court, Mr. Gouger was
allowed to embark his effects and treasures,
and proceed to Calcutta for more goods. In
due season he returned to Rangoon, escaped the
alligators and the custom-house officials, and
once more found himself beneath tie shadow of
the Golden Feet, which now trod the meaner
earth in the ancient city of Ava.

Much congratulation followed the return.
The usual presents were offered and accepted,
and Burmese life and Burmese court-favour
as bright as heretofore; the Prince of
Tharawudi was still the rollicking boon
companion of former days; the ladies still as
fascinated with their Manchester cottons and
Birmingham gewgaws; the noble greyhound,
presented to the king to eclipse the glory of the
mastiff of the prince, was held dearer than gold;
and who could foretel that the little cloud, no
bigger than a man's hand, would so soon become
the tempest that should slay all within its
sphere ? That little cloud was the growing