A Galahad of the Creeks; The Widow Lamport. S. Levett Yeats

whiff of the long green cheroot she sucked, and every puff inspired her with fresh energy for the driving of a bargain. Through all the maze of business, however, madam remained a very woman, and many an astute deal was lost as the joints of her armour were pierced by Ah-Sin's oily tongue or the open admiration in Loo-ga-lay's little eyes. They were now so close to the shore that Jackson could distinctly see the faces of the people and the medals on the breasts of the half company of Sikh police that were formed up on the jetty--a tribute of honour to him, as he found out subsequently. Two Europeans stood amid the crowd; in one, dressed in a police uniform, Peregrine recognised Hawkshawe, the district police officer, who, while nominally his second in command, was really to be Jackson's dry nurse in controlling his charge until he was fit to fly alone. This period of probation would be, of course, just as long or as short as Peregrine chose to make it, for a member of the Indian Civil Service is ordinarily hatched full-fledged--a diplomat, a magistrate, anything you will. In the other, who stood beside the police officer, Jackson, although new to the country, recognised the missionary. His unkempt beard and hair, his long clerical coat of raw silk, and the dejected appearance of his lean face, hall-marked him as such distinctly.

      The steamer had now come almost opposite the jetty. A light line, one end of which was attached to the hawser, was cleverly thrown out and as cleverly caught by a blue-bloused Lascar. The hawser was dragged to the shore to the accompaniment of a "hillee-haulee" chorus, and it surged through the water like an unwilling water boa being pulled to land. At length the end of the huge rope touched the bank, somebody jumped into the ooze and lifted it with both arms, somebody else twisted it deftly round a short stumpy pillar, and then, with a drumming of the donkey engine and an insistent hiss-hiss of the paddles, the steamer sidled slowly alongside the jetty until she almost touched it. In an instant the bridge was placed in position and a crowd that seemed all elbows met an invading army bent upon forcing its way on board, and there was a little trouble. With the aid of a fierce-looking sergeant, who used his cane freely, Hawkshawe made his way on deck, and after a brief greeting with the skipper came up to Peregrine.

      "You're Jackson, I suppose? I'm Hawkshawe."

      The two men shook hands and looked each other straight in the face. Each saw the other's strength. It was later on they noticed the loose rivets in each other's mail. After a few moments spent in desultory conversation, during which Jackson heard and replied to the usual question of how he liked the country, the two prepared to leave the ship, and Peregrine sought the skipper to say adieu.

      "Good-bye, captain."

      "Good-bye. The next time you come with me I'll have the nga-pe all ready for you."

      They were over the bridge, the guard of honour had presented arms, and the Reverend Doctor Habakkuk Smalley, American missionary, was introduced. Dr. Smalley performed the feat of shaking hands, of mopping his face with a red handkerchief, and of asking Jackson if he had "got it" all at once.

      "Got it!" was the reply; "I should think we all did--got it nearly a mile up. It was most horrible!"

      Dr. Smalley groaned aloud, and stretched forth both hands in protest. "Sir," he began, but Hawkshawe interposed.

      "Excuse me for a moment, doctor, but I must introduce these people to the new king," and he led up the portly native treasury officer to the bewildered Jackson, who found himself compelled to make and to answer civil speeches, while he was wondering how he could have given offence. The presentations were rapidly brought to an end, and Hawkshawe urged a move toward breakfast, turning to include Dr. Smalley in the invitation; but the reverend gentleman was nowhere to be seen. He had stalked off in high dudgeon.

      "I've done something to offend Dr. Smalley; let me go after him and explain, if I can, though what it can be I can't guess," said Jackson.

      "I should think you have!" was the answer. "Fancy Smalley asking you his usual question about your certainty of your salvation, and only think of your reply!"

      "But I meant that fearful-smelling compound!"

      Hawkshawe's laugh pealed out loudly. "Well, if a man will speak of religion like the measles, he must expect to be misunderstood. But there is no use in saying anything now. I will square matters for you. Smalley is a very good fellow really, and you will get to like him and---- But you must be very hungry. My men will take your traps over to your own place, and you have to breakfast with me, and can then go on, if you like. Here is the trap. Jump in."

      After the cramped life of the river steamer, however, the traveller wished to stretch his limbs a little, and begged to be permitted to walk. To this Hawkshawe agreed with an inward curse, for walking exercise is hateful to the Anglo-Burmese. He will ride or drive anywhere, but the climate does not contemplate walking. It is not in the programme. An officious peon opened a huge umbrella over Jackson's head notwithstanding his protests, and a small procession was formed. This was increased to a very respectable size by the time they reached their destination, for most of the inhabitants of the place, having nothing better to do, attached themselves in a semiofficial manner to the party, and there was quite a crowd when, after a final leave-taking, Jackson and his host entered the house. It was a great pleasure to find that there were houses far back from the dreary little town on the river bank. It was disheartening to think that one had to live amid the malodorous mud and slime, and it was equally cheering to find instead of this a trim garden and a fantastically pretty little house, with a breakfast table set out in a shady veranda, which overlooked a lawn as green as emerald, upon which two little fox terriers were chasing each other in joyous play, to the detriment of the turf but to their own great good.

      "You may consider yourself fairly installed now," said Hawkshawe, "and after breakfast we will take a run down to the courts. Drage, your predecessor, left only three days ago, but his house, which you have taken, will suit you admirably. You will find yourself very comfortable there, for Drage did himself well."

      After breakfast Hawkshawe's fast-trotting pony took them the one mile to the courthouse "in less than no time," as the policeman said, and, the trifling business of the first day concluded, they drove to the house Jackson was to occupy. He had taken it over as it stood from his predecessor, who had gone home on long furlough, and he was much pleased to find it comfortable beyond his expectations. All his heavy baggage had come on before, and Ah-Geelong, the Chinese servant, whom he had engaged as head man, was evidently a treasure. His books were neatly stacked in their shelves, and not with the titles upside down, for Ah-Geelong was skilled in the English tongue after his kind. Everything was spotlessly clean, from the half-dozen servants, who greeted him respectfully as he arrived, to the shining floor of the rooms, on the dark wood of which a mirrorlike polish had been scrubbed. After a few minutes Hawkshawe drove off, having made Jackson promise to dine with him that evening, and Peregrine was left to himself. He spent about an hour in arranging photographs and a few paintings, and then made a tour of the house and grounds. His ponies--two strong cobby little Shans--had come, and were looking sleek and comfortable in their stalls. He came back and made for the room which Ah-Geelong had arranged as his master's study. The Chinaman had selected this with a natural taste that could not be surpassed. The wide windows of the room opened into a veranda, from which there was an outlook over the river. There was a perfect north light, and the soft sea breeze that had travelled so many miles came in cool puffs past the quis-qualis blossoms that twined and thrust themselves through the trellis work of the veranda. He wheeled out a small table and sat down to write home, for the steamer left early the next morning and the mails went with her. The letter was to his father, and, after describing the events of his journey, he went on to explain the feelings which moved him on his entry into the task of governing his fellow-creatures. He was aware that he ought to have first learned to govern himself; but practical work mostly leaves out that little detail upon which the moralist insists. Beyond a certain amount of book knowledge, he knew little or nothing of the people upon whom he was pitchforked by a gazette notification. He had been told that the Burman was incapable of progress, a sluggard, and a fop, and that the Chinaman was the future of Burma. His work was to collect the revenue, to preserve order, and to administer the law. But Jackson was not satisfied with accepting as an axiom the definition of the Burman given to him, nor did he feel that to carry out the mere routine of his work was sufficient. He had read much of the civilization of the East; but, after