“Yes, you have the pull now; this is our cold season—­October to March; but the hot weather is no joke; as for the rains, you might as well live in a steam laundry; we get a hundred inches here in Lower Burma.”

“A hundred inches!” echoed Shafto, “you are not serious?”

“Yes; it pours down as if the sea were overhead, and goes on steadily for days.  Frogs flop round and round your room, and you can almost hear the trees growing.  In the rains the forests are a wonderful sight, such dense masses of foliage and flowers.  Can you imagine great trees entirely covered with exquisite blooms, and garlands of pink and lilac creepers interlacing the jungle?”

“How gorgeous!  Perhaps I may see all this some day,” said Shafto, “after I have explored Rangoon itself.”

“Well, I hope you may,” assented his companion, “and now I want to ask you a strange question.”

“All right—­ask away!”

“You have only been a few hours on shore, and I am curious to know if you have received any impression of the place and people—­you know, first impressions go a long way!”

“Yes.  Although I have only just rattled through the streets and along the Strand, the impression I gathered is that the Burmese appear to be an amazingly happy crew, with no thought for the morrow; they were all laughing and chattering as if life was a splendid joke and they enjoyed it thoroughly.  The joie de vivre simply hits me in the eye!”

“I can explain all that,” said Salter, putting down his cheroot and sitting forward in his long chair.  “The Burman has no fear of death, but proclaims an intense consciousness that it is a mere passing over to another existence—­one of a chain of many future lives—­and I think I may say that this belief is universal.  They also declare that a man’s, present life is absolutely controlled by the influence of past good or bad deeds, and that in the next world they may possibly be better off than they are in this.  Although a Burman gives alms, worships at the pagoda on appointed days, and repeats the doxology he has learnt at school, he governs his life by the nats—­spirits of the air, the forests, streams, and home, who must be propitiated.”

“I never heard of these nats until now,” said Shafto.

“No; but, as I have said before, you will hear a good deal about them here, especially if you mix with the Burmans.”

“I certainly hope I shall see something of the people of the country.”

“You will find them interesting; a full-blooded, pleasure-loving race; they’ve curious, original ideas, drawn from their ancient and sacred books, and an amazingly generous notion of time.  For instance, they talk glibly of worlds a hundred thousand years old, and believe that this very planet has been destroyed no fewer than sixty-five times—­chiefly by fire, on ten occasions by water, and once by wind!  According to them, as in the New Testament, ’a thousand years are but as yesterday.’  And yet they do not acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being—­the highest glory is annihilation.”