situated in their own grounds. The population is estimated at 24,000, of whom 2000 convicts, 400 Europeans, and 3000 Eurasians. The rest are Burmese, Taliens, Chinese, Shans, Karens, or Burmese mountaineers, Armenians, Jews, Malays, and natives of Hindostan. Some Europeans are married to Burmese women, and some, who are not married, have Burmese ladies at the head of their respective households. Burmese women possess sense and action; they are mistresses in their own homes, and do all the work. They even sometimes trade on their own account. The men are a fine stalwart race, not over-industrious, but delighting, unlike the Indians, in exercising their physical capabilities. They are also gay and careless. The missionaries-more especially the American-toil among them with some effect; but although not pious, the Burmese are not easily converted. A Burman will not work in any menial capacity for a European. There is nothing servile in him, as is too much the case with the Indians.

The bazaar seems, from the description of it, to be like most Oriental bazaars. The dealers in groceries and dry goods are either Madrasees or Telingese. The beef-butchers are invariably Muhammadans, as in India. Sheep are imported from Madras and Bengal, but do not thrive; goat flesh is therefore used instead. Pork is vended solely by Chinese ; pigs thrive wonderfully. The presiding deities over the fish-market are, however, Burmese women. These women are cleanly, well-behaved, cheerful, and, were it not for the abominable ear-appendages, in many cases captivating. The fish-market is, indeed, the most attractive part of the bazaar, notwithstanding that it is at times unsavoury. The greatest Burmese delicacy is ngapee-putrid shrimps, salted, beaten, and dried. No meal that a Burman makes would be complete without this ingredient. Large quantities are sent up the rivers, and the King of Ava admits it as a delicacy within the gilded portals of his palace. It is curious that the Burmese, being believers in transmigration, will not kill animals, but they will greedily partake of them-even of dogs— when they die. The vegetable market is also presided over by Burmese women. Fruits and vegetables abound, and there is an invariable supply of the much-coveted palm-leaf and betel. The supply of ducks and fowls is also plentiful. The shopkeepers are mainly Jews. The bakers are all Chinese, and the merchants-when not Europeans-Mussulmans. There are also courts of law, too often presided over by an ensign of some twenty-five years of age; docks and ship-building yards-the most prosperous institutions of the place; and a district, called Nyabusthee, devoted to ladies of a particular caste.

On the river between Maulmain and Rangoon, we are told, sea and river craft of various descriptions, from majestic European merchant vessels, unsightly "country wallahs" (as the native Indian vessels are called), Burmese katoos, Malay prahus, and Chinese junks, besides smaller river trading-boats, abound. This, at all events, is satisfactory. What an opening must so magnificent a river, in such a climate, and in a well-populated country, present? And yet, how neglected have the Irawady, the May-Nam, and the May-Kiang been, even in times of river steam-navigation.

Between Maulmain and Amherst and Rangoon there is nothing but river communication. The only land communication as yet is a sort of

foot pathway, or jungle track. There are many pretty marine residences at Amherst, which is looked upon as a kind of sanitarium, where refreshing sea-breezes may be enjoyed. "As a river," Mr. Marshall says of the Irawady, "it is universally allowed to be majestic, superb, and those who are competent to give an opinion respecting its various characteristics, state that for many miles up in the interior it is navigable for ships of heavy burden; that the passage upwards is singularly free from impediments usually incidental to river navigation; and that during the rainy season large vessels can safely sail up to the very gates of Ava." Mr. Marshall describes himself as having seen in this fine tropical river an alligator which he deemed could not have been less than five-andforty feet long, and which was swimming against the tide at the rate of at least thirty miles an hour. Allowing for a little exaggeration, it must have been just such a monster reptile as one would expect to meet with in such waters. In such a damp, hot climate, wild beasts and reptiles innumerable infest alike the forests, jungles, plains, and waters, and poisonous insects swarm everywhere. Mosquitoes are of an alarming size as well as numbers. During the war, some of the men were driven raving mad by these winged demons, and one, in despair, jumped overboard and was drowned.

The view of the town of Rangoon from the river is described as anything but imposing. It consisted of a number of miserable huts, erected indiscriminately about the place, without any attempt at order or arrangement. Every vestige of the old city, with the exception of a few pagodas, shrines, and monasteries, had also been utterly destroyed. The great Rangoon pagoda is, however, considered the largest, the most important, and the most magnificent in Burmah, and also one of the oldest. Besides this, there were no buildings of any pretensions. So soon as the government survey should be completed, and the plans for the new city determined on, architects, and masons, and bricklayers were to be set to work. In the mean time, all was huts and hovels, ruts and mire, or dust, alternately. The Burmese themselves are perhaps studied to best advantage in the law and police-courts, where our author, having practised, had some experience. The description of the gamblinghouses, of boat-races, and wrestling-matches, of the ceremonies relating to religious worship, and of the gaol and its melancholy interior, are also replete with local and characteristic information. But the most amusing pages by far are those devoted to a matter which can only be considered as incidental to Burmah, and that is, the history of the French adventurer Girodon, or Orgoni, who organised the Burmese in their hostilities against us, and is now the accredited representative of a "friendly power" at the court of Ava. Much, indeed, is anticipated from the influence of this friendly emissary with the King of Burmah, and the Moniteur, presuming upon grandiose results, has already announced that "l'Inde elle-même touche à l'heure d'une transformation, et la Cochin-Chine voit luire nos baïonnettes. Autour d'Orgoni, autour de ce hardi compagnon, L'HUMANITÉ va faire un GRAND PAS !"

DIARY OF THE DREAMER OF GLOUCESTER.

Saturday, September 23.

I WAS awoke early this morning by a loud burst of music. The bands of the different French regiments had been sent to the top of a commanding hill to celebrate the victory. The music, stirring and warlike, pealed through the darkness and awoke the echoes of the mountains.

The morning was damp and foggy, but in the increasing light we could see the troops getting into order like dark clouds coming out of the ground, and as the fleet was moving slowly along the coast, it was evident we were soon to march. I went, therefore, to see poor Ramon before starting.

I was glad to hear he had passed a good night and was doing well. I remained with him for two hours, during which his spirits so far improved that he began to have hopes of recovery, and asked back the miniatures. I left his tent about noon, heartily glad to get back to the open air, after having witnessed as much surgery as might fall within the cognisance of a medical student in the course of a year. I, too, am getting blunted; agony has become common-place, and in time I would have nerve enough for a surgeon.

I may never see Ramon again, but I hope he will recover, and that he may yet read these pages in company with his mother and Adèle. If so, let them also read what I would have said of him if I had still to execute the commission he gave me, that a more gallant soldier, a more tenderhearted gentleman, does not exist in the French army. So, sweet Adèle, look with a proud eye on your betrothed, and in after years recollect that, when death was staring him in the face, thy image was ever before him, and that if he murmured at all, it was at the thought of thy sufferings. The English army are on their march, and we have got orders to start in a couple of hours.

There is a palpable change in the appearance of the English troops as they march past us. They look faded and tawdry, and nearly all of that neatness which it is the glory of a colonel to exhibit in his regiment, and which seems at home to be regarded as the test of discipline, has now vanished. The soldiers have a poaching look, nor are the officers much better. The contrast between their appearance now and when they landed may be appreciated by any one who, after being at the Italian Opera, will go next night to some provincial theatre, where an occasional band of strollers are miserably starring. The French soldiery look better than the English. They are not so draggled, and have a jauntiness about them which contrasts favourably with the serious, business-looking aspect of the English infantry.

Ten P.M.-We have reached the Katcha river, a stream somewhat larger than the Alma, with banks fully as strong, but unoccupied by the enemy, and we are quietly going to sleep as unconcernedly as if in France. The country, during our march to-day, has been heathy and barren, but the banks of the river are beautiful, adorned with neat cottages and luxuriant vineyards.

Sunday, 24th September. We have not marched far to-day, and are now encamped by the Balbec river. There is a little town about two miles from us, picturesquely situate in a deep ravine. The scenery all around us is beautiful, the hills are lofty, the plain and ravines richly wooded. Villas are numerous, and vineyards, and gardens. All lawful plunder, but we have not been the first, and everything worth taking seems already away. Still, there is an over-abundance of unplucked fruit, and our men are eating cholera voraciously with grapes, and peaches, and nectarines. Apples and pears, too, are abundant; indeed, the country in general resembles Herefordshire, one immense orchard, only here in the Crimea the fruits of our conservatories flourish in the fields.

1

The line of our march to-day was strewed with the débris of the retreating Russians, who seem to have been seized with panic, so that I have no doubt if we had had cavalry we would have compelled them to disperse after the battle. There have been many cases of cholera among us to-day; fully two hundred men fell out during the march, but our old friends the sailors would attend to them, and take them on board our floating hospitals.

Four P.M.-I have made a prize. Entering, of course from curiosity, a handsome villa, and wandering over the devastated rooms, littered with broken furniture, fragments of mirrors and crockery, torn books and pictures, all soaked with wine and malt, from casks stove in and bottles broken in the hurry of the plunderers, I noticed in one room a press which had not been broken into. I acted as a burglar for once in my life, and was rewarded by the discovery of several suits of clothes, of which I selected the best-namely, a plain dress suit, and a handsome pair of Russian boots. I have this to plead in mitigation of the robbery, that I left my own entire dress, shirt and all, in exchange. It might be the worse of wear, but it was not my fault that I had not undressed since I left the bum-boat, or consequently that my clothes were rather disagreeably tenanted.

But I wish I had resisted my burglarious inclinations, for, on coming out of the house, I found that Bosquet's division had marched on, and I only got a glimpse of the rear-guard rounding the shoulder of a hill, so I commenced running to overtake them; but I had not gone far when I heard the gallop of a horse behind me, and heard the rider shouting, "Restez, coquin, ou je tirerai!" Had I really been a Russian, as I was supposed to be, I must have known French to be able to take advantage of the polite warning of my pursuer. As it was, I stopped till he rode up to me. The parley was unpleasant. I could not persuade him I was not a Russian: he was not to be humbugged. He had seen me with his own eyes coming out of my house, and my clothes undeniably had not accompanied the army; and as for my story of changing them, I might try that with his colonel, to whom I must accompany him. I had nothing for it but to submit, so I walked by the side of his horse for about a quarter of a mile down the river to an encampment of French soldiers.

The colonel was sitting in the midst of a group of officers, who all rose on my arrival, surveying me with great curiosity. My captor told his story, and I had to repeat my explanations to the colonel. But he

was still more incredulous. When I told him I was an Englishman, he said I was an insolent rascal, and that undoubtedly I was a spy; and when I further accounted for my Russian costume, his moustache and beard stood on end with disdain and incredulity, and turning his back on me, he gave a curt order to have me searched. I submitted quietly to the operation. I had, fortunately, left my journal and knapsack with a friend in the French commissariat, but the soldier discovered twenty-five sovereigns and my credit on Vienna, all which the colonel quietly put in his pocket. I represented that the result of his search corroborated my story, as the gold was English and the credit granted by a London bank, but the colonel was a great deal too sharp to be taken in so easily. In his mind it only corroborated his impression that I was a spy, the gold and the credit being for the joint purposes of bribery and deception; and when, to my horror, two or three Russian letters and a French one were drawn out of my coat-pocket, I began to think I had got into an awkward dilemma.

The Russian letters were, of course, unintelligible, but the French one was from the wife of the quondam proprietor of my clothes, dated from Odessa, and contained a great many amiable details about sons and daughters, a lucid narrative respecting a servant who had been caught in an intrigue, and had very properly been lashed, and sundry conjugal endearments very gratifying to me in my present position. This decided the question, and to my request that the colonel would postpone his decision until he had confronted me with the officers of the 23rd, the answer was that he had no time to make such useless inquiries, that I must consider myself a prisoner, and march with them to-morrow morning, and that if I attempted to escape I would be immediately shot. I was accordingly dismissed, and delivered over to the custody of two soldiers for the night.

Already it was eight P.M., so, with bum-boat philosophy, I submitted quietly to my fate, consoling myself with the reflection that ultimately I would be able to prove my identity, and, meantime, I might as well march with one regiment as another. The soldiers conducted me to their tent, and, as I was very much fatigued, I took advantage of my supposed character, became apparently sullen in order to be allowed to be silent, and after conjecturing for an hour the probable results of my strange adventure, I fell sound asleep.

Monday, 25th September.

I awoke this morning at nine o'clock. I partook of the soldiers' breakfast, and after in vain attempting to get an interview with the colonel, I entered into conversation with my compulsory comrades, which they encouraged in hopes of getting information. I was half tempted to hoax them by an account of Sebastopol, but I feared it might be dangerous, and therefore carefully kept to the battle of Alma, which was an exhaustless subject.

By four P.M. we struck tents, crossed the Balbec river, and followed the track of my former division. We halted after two hours' march, and rested till eight, when we again proceeded, following the track of the troops before us without much regard to roads. Soon the light failed us, but nevertheless we pressed on over fences and ditches, through clumps of planting, past ruined villages and gentlemen's seats looming June-VOL. CXIX. NO. CCCCLXXIV.

R