Title: The Loyal Karens of Burma
Author: Donald Mackenzie Smeaton (1846-1910)
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Title: The Loyal Karens of Burma
Author: Donald Mackenzie Smeaton (1846-1910)


THE LOYAL KARENS OF BURMA, BY DONALD MACKENZIE SMEATON, M. A
BENGAL CIVIL SERVICE

SECOND EDITION

LONDON

KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & CO. LTD
1920


CONTENTS

I.    INTRODUCTION
II.   THEIR ORIGIN, LANGUAGE, AND PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS
III.  SOME OF THEIR NATIONAL CUSTOMS
IV.   THEIR AGRICULTURE: PEE BEE YAW, THE GODDESS OF THE HARVEST
V.    THEIR FOLK-LORE: ONE OF THEIR SATIRICAL TRADITIONS
VI.   SOME OF THEIR FIRESIDE STORIES
VII.  SOME OF THEIR NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS
VIII. HISTORICAL TRADITION: TAW-MAI-PAH, THE MYTHICAL ANCESTOR OF THE KARENS
IX.   THEIR NATIONAL RELIGION AND THEIR GOD-TRADITIONS
X.    THE AMERICAN MISSION AMONG THE KARENS
XI.   CHRISTIANIZING A HEATHEN KAREN VILLAGE
XII.  POLICY OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT TOWARD THE KARENS
      APPENDIX


THE LOYAL KARENS OF BURMA



CHAPTER I - INTRODUCTION


PROBABLY few of those who have read the newspaper telegrams and
narratives of the rebellion in Lower Burma, are aware that a neglected
little nation called Karens, inhabiting the mountains and forests of the
province, have been the staunchest and bravest defenders of British rule.
But for the loyalty and courage of the Karens, the rebel Burmese and
Shans would, in all probability, have overrun Lower Burma. Had the Karens
joined in the insurrection, the Queen's Government would, in all
probability--for a time, at least--have ceased to exist; communications
with Mandalay would have been cut off, and the invading force would have
been hemmed in by an armed people fired to fierce resistance by our
reverse in the south. What catastrophe might have occurred it is
impossible to say. But it is not unreasonable to predict that the
disaster would have had its _contre-coup_ on the far-away north-west
frontier, and that the re-conquest of Burma might have been rendered
impossible by the withdrawal of all available troops to repel aggression
elsewhere. Reporters of events in Burma have been careful to avoid using
the ugly word "rebellion" in describing the disturbed condition of the
province, and the term "dacoity"--which means robbery generally
accompanied by murder--has been almost invariably used. It should be
clearly understood that the spirit which is moving the turbulent Burmese
is quite as much a spirit of revolt as a spirit of plundering. Let those
who urged the annexation of Upper Burma take this to heart and look out
for the future. The spectacle of a revolt in the province which we have
ruled for over thirty years is not encouraging to those who have on their
hands the task of reducing Upper Burma to submission. The second Burmese
war, in 1852-53, was a war of annexation. The third Burmese war, in
1885-86, is a war of annexation and of extinction--extinction, in the
people's eyes, both of nationality and of religion. The Mandalay campaign
was undertaken with a light heart, in the belief that the people of Upper
Burma would welcome us with open arms. Events have proved how ill-founded
this belief was. While our army was far away north, on the Irrawaddy, a
real campaign--and a bloody one--was being prepared for us in the low
country. The people do not want us any more than they did thirty years
ago. They rose to throw off our yoke, and they are still carrying on a
guerilla warfare against us. They winced under the pinching and squeezing
of the king's officers, but none the less they loved the king. He was the
head of their nation, the foundation of all the honours they cared for,
and the defender of the Buddhist faith. It has frequently been said that
there is no patriotism, no national sentiment, among the Burmese. Those
who know the country best will, I am convinced, hesitate to admit this.
The inhabitants of Lower Burma have undoubtedly prospered under our
government during the past thirty years. They have had good harvests,
growing markets, and brisk trade. All this they readily allow; but they
never bargained for the overthrow of their ancient monarchy. They were
proud to know that a Burman king somewhere ruled a Burmese people; and
the allegiance of their hearts was given to the king--not to the British
Government. Say nay who may, the Burmese people bitterly resent the
overthrow of their monarchy. It has also been urged that the war has no
religious aspect whatever. This assertion, like many others, is
misleading. The Burman cannot conceive of a religion without a Defender
of the Faith--a king who appoints and rules the Buddhist hierarchy. The
extinction of the monarchy left the nation, according to the people's
notions, without a religion. We have overthrown the king and destroyed
all traces of the kingly rule. Naturally they look upon this as the
destruction of their nationality. Whether we have acted wisely history
will decide. The step has, however, been taken, and we dare not now go
back. We have to govern a turbulent people inhabiting a vast territory of
hills and plains, forests, jungle, and swamp, impassable to troops during
more than half the year. Vigour, tact, and skill are much wanted in the
administration.[1] But vigour, tact, and skill will be of little avail if
we have no source of support in the country itself on which we can rely.
The Karen people are at heart loyal to us, and they have proved their
loyalty by freely shedding their blood in defence of our rule and in the
cause of order. In the face of neglect and discouragement, they have
served us nobly and well. The wave of lawlessness and rebellion which
swept over Lower Burma immediately after the Mandalay campaign, and which
has not yet subsided, was foreseen and foretold by one of the leading
Karen missionaries. He warned the authorities that danger was brewing in
our own province, and offered to raise a Karen contingent which would
keep the rebels in check. The local authorities, however, appear to have
ignored the danger, and refused the offer with something akin to a sneer,
with what results we now know.

{ [Footnote--1] The pacification of Burma will be no easy task, and,
unless gone about in the right way, may be very prolonged and very
costly. We have to deal with an insurrection in which the poongyees, or
Buddhist priesthood, are taking a prominent part. The poongyees have
found willing instruments everywhere. Liquor, opium, and gambling have
placed in every Burmese village a large number of men who will not work
and are a terror to the community. These men are the dare-devils of the
insurrectionary movement. If these wild spirits can be restrained, and if
the poongyees can, by a judicious concession, be conciliated, two very
important factors in the rebellion will be removed. The first of these
two ends will, I venture to suggest, be best attained by (i.) allowing
district officers absolute freedom for a whole year in determining who
are the persons of "bad livelihood" in the villages of their districts;
and then (ii.) compelling every person found by district officers to be
of "bad livelihood" to furnish adequate security from landholders that
they will keep the peace. In other words, tie down the turbulent spirits
to the land.

I venture to think that there is no a district officer of experience in
Burma who could not, within a few months, make out an accurate census of
all the bad characters in his district. He has means at his disposal
which a district officer in India has not. Having once got the list,
compel security. If they cannot find security, send them to jail. It is
cheaper to feed them than to hunt them. Give the landholders of villages
clearly to understand that the bonds will be rigorously enforced: that,
in the event of forfeiture, their lands will be sold up. Make this a
prior lien on their landed property, and every man will be on the alert
lest his bond be forfeited. This plan was tried, in a modified form, with
good results at the close of the last Burmese war. It has infinitely
better chances of success now, because--

(a) There are many more landholders now than there were then.
(b) Land is much more valuable now than it was then.
(c) Every man's trade or profession and every landholder's fields are
known now.

Probably ninety out of every hundred villages--and certainly every
dangerous village--can be thus dealt with.

The second of the two ends--the conciliation of the Buddhist
priesthood--will, I venture to suggest, be best attained by establishing
a Buddhist Pope at Mandalay.

In addition to these measures, I would advise permanent embodiment of a
drilled and armed Karen militia, and distribution of this militia in
colonies all over Burma; each colony to live within stockaded villages,
and to have special privileges in the surrounding lands allotted to them.

Draw the teeth of the big Shan confederacy by sending embassies,
adequately guarded, to the various Tsawbwas. Let these Tsawbwas be
summoned to a durbar, where some intelligible policy regarding the
relation of the Shan States to the British Government shall be
enunciated. Let that policy, whatever it be, once it is clearly stated,
be enforced. }

Until, in sheer despair, the Karens rose to defend their own hearths and
homes, the Burmese rebels and robbers had it all their own way. Troops
could not penetrate the dense jungles; and the Burmese police were
cowardly where they were not disloyal. The Karens are splendid forest
trackers and ruthless pursuers. When they rose vengeance was swift. They
tracked the raiders to their hiding-places, attacked and routed them,
hunted the fugitives from jungle to jungle, and cleared the frontier.
There can be no question that, with the peace of the entire province at
stake, it would have been the boldest and the best policy to array the
loyal Karens, at the very outset, against the rebel bands. A body of five
thousand Karen skirmishers with General Prendergast's invading force
would have cut off the retreat of the Burmese troops, and would have
checked the irruption of armed bands into Lower Burma. Much of the
anarchy which has disgraced our rule would thus have been prevented. The
story of the deeds and sufferings of the Karens in defence of the
Queen-Empress's Government in Burma is a deeply interesting one, and
deserves an honoured place in the records of the empire.

The following letters from Dr. Vinton, one of their foremost missionary
leaders, gives a graphic account of some of the achievements of the
Karens. Like Dr. Vinton, I am an ardent admirer of the plucky little
nation, and would claim for them the recognition which they so well
deserves:

"Rangoon, Feb, 28th, 1886.

"What with dacoits and the Viceroy, we are having lively times. While we
are greatly pleased with the Viceroy's visit, we are heartily glad
viceroys don't grow on every bush, or come once a week, for we are all
tired out. Of course we had our Karen arch, etc., etc., when the Viceroy
came. I proposed to have a gathering of all the Karen clans so the
Viceroy should see them. This met Mr. Bernard's views, and a special
durbar for Karens was promised. I sent out printed notices all over
Burma, and had the dacoits not increased in their depredations, I should
have filled the grounds of Government House. The time of the durbar was
changed several times, and that, of course, prevented the coming of a
great many. At last the clans began to come in. The Burmans were
surprised to find such crowds of Karens, all in national dress. On the
22nd I had over fifteen hundred camped all over my compound, and nearly
all my own fellows.

"Unfortunately, I had to send back three hundred men to villages
threatened by the dacoits.

"The 23rd we got telegrams from Bassein that their delegations thought
they could 'honour the Viceroy best by avenging the death of poor St.
Barbe.' Maulmain, too, failed me, as they, too, had to meet the dacoits
rushing down from their defeat at Papoon. Still, I had twelve hundred in
all, with school-children packed solid.

"I had to laugh when I found they had prepared twenty-five cups of tea
for my brigade! I gave the tea to the school-girls who sang, and after
translating the Viceroy's speech, sent them home highly pleased at their
gracious reception. The vanguard, with their flags, was filing into the
compound here as I left with the rear the eastern gate of Government
House. The reception will do good. The Karens now know the Viceroy
recognizes the service they have done in quelling the insurrection, and
they will be ready for better service.

"You will have read in the _Gazette_ of the new insurrection and poor St.
Barbe's death. This started in the Ma-oo-bin district. They dacoited the
police station at Bo-galay, first killing the sergeant and head
constable; then pushed for Pyin-da-yay, on the seashore, looting the
village and killing the myo-oke's clerk. They then went over to Bassein,
and are now roaring in full cry up the hills ending in Cape Negrais. St.
Barbe was shot dead without a chance for a fight. He foolishly left the
sepoys on board the tug, and went with but one policeman and a guide. All
three were shot.

"I don't repeat newspaper news, but come to the discussion of the signs
of the times. So far from being done with the dacoits, or rebels, the
real harvest is scarcely begun. There are several fresh insurrections
just ready to break out, and one false step will put the torch to all
Burma.

"I don't believe myself a coward or an alarmist, but I am warning Karens
everywhere that the _fight_ has not yet begun. Mr. Bernard told me he
would arm the Karens in any threatened district if they would volunteer.
I can put any number of Karens in the field.

"Every mission has promised me a levy _en masse_ of _all_ the able-bodied
men. They all agree to refuse all pay and to fight from pure loyalty to
the Queen.

"My fellows don't want to join the police--that is social degradation in
Burma--but they are ready to fight for nothing till the ploughing begins.
They say they want no man worth less than a thousand rupees in immovable
property in the fighting line. They want men with something to lose and
something to fight for.

"The utter collapse of the police (Burman) is indescribable. They are
afraid for their lives, and dare not arrest bad characters or answer the
openly treasonable talk of the blackguards.

"Now there is no Upper Burma to retreat to, these fellows are in a tight
fix. It seems hard, but the truth is they must simply be shot down and
hunted to the death. The strangest of all is the presence of the
poongyees [Buddhist priests] on the battle-field. This is unheard of in
history.

"My Karens universally interpret this as God's sign that Buddhism is to
be destroyed for ever. They say the challenge of Theebaw could be
answered by the English Government, but the challenge of the fighting
poongyees can only be taken up fitly by Karens under their own
missionaries. Every village now is full of bows and arrows to keep off
the dacoits between volleys of the fire-arms. It is really curious to see
how the dacoits avoid our Karen Christian villages. They have not tried
it on us. The fighting my men have had has been at a distance. The
dacoits have several times passed among my villages, but with scarcely
any damage, while the Karens have turned out and hunted them well. The
eastern insurrection has had all the fight taken out of it. My fellows
complain that they have to fight with their legs and not their stalwart
right arms. The very day of the reception, eight of my fellows came on
forty dacoits, and hunted them many a mile, capturing four. They
laughingly complained that they had twice too many men, quoting an old
war-song, 'Ten to one is only fair play where the one is a Karen.'

"Though this _is_ so still, no one can safely go to the outlying fields
or orchards except with armed men.

"So far from being daunted, I never saw the Karen so anxious for a
_fight_.

"This is just welding the Karens into a nation, not an aggregation of
clans. The heathen Karens to a man are brigading themselves under the
Christians. This whole thing is doing good for the Karen. This will put
virility into our Christianity."

"Rangoon, May 15, 1886.

"I have been driven to my wits' end to protect my villages. I have been
dacoit-hunting literally all the time, and paying my own expenses.
Discouragement and officialism have just worn my patience thin. The only
comfort I have is that I have succeeded in protecting my villages. You
may judge of the encouragement our Karens have received by the fact that
three Karens have been arrested for murder, and two actually tried. Their
only crime was that they had bravely defended themselves and villages
when attacked. The cowardly and disloyal Burmese police have not pulled a
trigger, but they do their best to discourage the only loyal and brave
men in the province.

"Two separate insurrections burst on us at once. The one at Shway Gyin
was purely Shan. It was headed by the Mayankhyoung and Kyouk-kalat
poongyees. The Buddhist priests have headed everywhere, and actually
fought themselves--a thing unprecedented in history.

"They cut the locks in the Shway Gyin canal, and attacked Shway Gyin in
force. After their defeat they took up a strong position in the hills,
and easily defeated Major Robinson's detachment.

"They were at first far too strong to be attacked by the Karens in their
head-quarters. The Karens, therefore, confined themselves to cutting off
their foraging-parties. They had, of course, few guns, and the Government
would give them none, and so they set to dacoiting the rebels, and arming
themselves with captured guns. At last, the position of the dacoits
became untenable, and they were forced by hunger and the cutting off of
their foragers to move on Papoon. Here they were met by the splendid
Karen police of the Salween hill tracts, and the whole Karen population
of the district. They were soundly beaten everywhere. Quarter was neither
given, received nor expected, for the Karens were furious, and fought
like Malays running amuck. The rebels were evidently trying to get across
into Mineloongyee. The Karen foresters represented to the chiefs in Siam
that the timber revenue must at once cease if the rebels got across, and
so the despairing Mayankhyoung poongyee found the river Salween lined
with fighting men wherever he tried to cross a party. Then he tried to
cross to the northward into Karennee, but was cut up by the Karens on his
flanks. Hunger forced foraging-parties, and the foraging-parties were
invariably attacked.

"Several poongyees' heads were brought in, and all of course claimed as
that of the five-thousand-rupee Mayankhyoung poongyee.

"I got news, however, that he had been seen crossing the hills to
Toungoo. I, of course, warned our missionaries there, and advised that
the poongyee be captured alive, for I knew that unless we had positive
convincing proof the Government would never give the reward to the
Karens.

"The rebels burst like a torrent on our poor Christian villages. The
fighting was hard everywhere. I can note but one case. The village of
Tha-ay-kee was attacked on Sunday, while the people were all assembled at
the service in the chapel.

"The Karens had no arms, but still the dacoits dare not attack them in
the chapel, but merely surrounded them, while a few looted the village.

"The moment the dacoits left, the whole village rushed out and picked up
the few guns they had hidden in the bushes while they went to church, and
pushed off in pursuit, picking up recruits from the neighbouring
villages.

"They fell into an ambush, and their pastor and several of their party
were shot dead. Though outnumbered three to one, the Karens rallied, and
infuriated by the death of their pastor, they flew at the dacoits and
dispersed them with great slaughter. Finally, the whole rebellion was
surrounded in the Kaw-me-kho valley, near the foot of the great range
east of Toungoo.

"The Karens had few guns in their hands, but mostly used spears, shields,
and bows. The next day was Sunday. After a lot of trouble I got fifty
smooth-bores from Mr. Bernard. These were sent up Monday, and Monday
night the guns were handed over to the Karens. In thirty-six hours they
were on the field, and on Friday the Mayankhyoung poongyee was taken.

"The fighting was heavy and bloody on the side of the dacoits. Hunger had
made them desperate, and so they fought for their lives. The Mayankhyoung
was captured by a woman, who clutched him till the nearest picket could
come in.

"The fight there was specially noticeable, because every Karen clan,
except the Pghos, were in arms that day. The Pghos are not found on the
Toungoo hills. Even the Brecs, our most physically insignificant tribe,
sent a detachment from three days' march away, though they lived out of
British territory. The tribes that once were constantly fighting each
other, now stood side by side. From a loose aggregation of clans we shall
weld them into a nation yet.

"There was the greatest reluctance to admit our claim to the five
thousand rupees reward for the Mayankhyoung poongyee. Our proofs were,
however, so overwhelming, that reluctantly the five thousand were awarded
to the despised Karens.

"In no district have the rebels made head among the Karen Christians. The
Burman insurrection that killed St. Barbe started right by my villages. I
could have stamped the whole thing out with fifty Karens, but I had to
watch it all come to a head and burst. All I could do was to pour in guns
into my villages in the vicinity, while the dacoits were being tattooed
and enrolled. The rebels tried every Christian Karen village in the
vicinity, but, finding the Karens armed and alert, marched on. Our
fellows dare not attack, for they would have been tried for murder, and
so the rebels swept on, and armed themselves with police muskets and
ammunition, and poor St. Barbe was sacrificed.

"When they got among the Bassein Karens, they were promptly hunted out.
With the exception of the Shway Gyin insurrection, the rebels seem to be
mostly up-country Burmans, who have been down here (in Lower Burma) for
several years. Of course, they are joined by all the professional bad
characters.

"The dacoits have succeeded in burning but one small outlying village of
mine; but they met with such a fierce attack that that band has not been
heard of since.

"For all that the Karens have done, I unhesitatingly say that when the
danger is over, the Karen will be as soundly hated as ever by the
officials.

"The Karen will not _shiko_ [Make obeisance on his knees] if he can help
it, and will not have anything to do with those who enforce servility.

"The Hanthawaddy is the only district in which the standard of rebellion
has not been raised. There we have the Karens enrolled and many of them
drilled, and make things lively at every alarm.

"There was a horrible mistake in the translation of Mr. Bernard's amnesty
proclamation of the 3rd of March. The English version offered a free
pardon for all crimes committed 'before the issue of this proclamation'
(March 3rd).

"The rebels are allowed till the 30th of June to give themselves up. The
Burmese version reads 'before the above-mentioned date.' The only date
mentioned 'above' is the 30th of June. This gives free licence for every
dacoit to do anything but murder Europeans up to the 30th of June, 1886.

"When I attacked and stormed a dacoit camp, I found a number of these
proclamations and letters to the dacoits' friends, begging them to save
all the copies of the proclamation, so that each dacoit might have a copy
to come in on.

"Much captured and intercepted correspondence shows me that the dacoits
argue that as the pardon is the same on the 3rd of March as on the 30th
of June, they had better take advantage of the extra four months allowed
them.

"I first read the proclamation kneeling in a dacoit camp by the side of
one of my school masters, who had been shot dead in the fight with my
fingers dabbled in the blood I had vainly tried to staunch. As I had not
seen the English copy, can you wonder if I felt savage enough?

"The want of scholarship in Burmese shown above is discreditable. Can it
have been disloyalty in the translator? The mistake has caused much
bloodshed, and much more blood will be shed in the coming six weeks
before the 30th of June."

"Rangoon, July 13.

"God has--to use a Karen expression--hung thousands of lives around my
neck, and I have had hard work trying to keep my people alive.

"Everything has been done to hinder me that the circumlocution office
_could_ do, and, even after eight months' hard work and the spilling of
lots of loyal Karen blood, I am not half armed today, and tomorrow the
Burmese threaten their third insurrection. Loyalty such as the Karens
have shown must be fire-proof to stand what they have borne. Would to God
we could have one half-hour of such a man as Sir Arthur Phayre!

"The sepoy has been 'weighed in the balances and found wanting' in
dacoit-hunting. The Burman professional dacoit is already learning he is
fully able to lick the sepoy by harassing him till he is tired, and then
pitching into him.

"I was lately with a Karen levy tied to the tail of the sepoys. _Seven_
miles a day was the best we could get out of the poor creatures. My
levies have repeatedly marched fifty miles on a forced march.

"Whatever since the Karens have done is not one hundredth of what I can
get out of them. Red tape is choking the life out of us.

"Meanwhile the Burmese are slaughtering each other on the plea of
patriotism, and dare not attack the troops or the Karens. Our levies are
the only men who have not shown their backs meekly to the rebels. The
mere marching of our 'red heads' has kept the Hanthawaddy district clear
of insurrection (all our levies wear a blood-red turban). Your officials
show an insane jealousy of the missionaries, and seem to be ashamed that
they have no influence among the Karens."

"Rangoon, July 24, 1886.

"The rebellion is by no means ended. The Burmans _must_ fight, whether
they will or not. The most dangerous sign of the times is that the Burman
villages have not laid in their usual stocks of paddy for their own use.
The disloyal have expected to supply themselves from the loot of the
hated Karen villages. The vacillating have from cowardice sold off their
stocks, hoping to buy from the Karens. They said they could conceal their
money, but their countrymen would burn their paddy if they kept it.
Thirty years of peace had led them to suppose that if a man had money he
could always buy food.

"From a deficient crop we have exported more than usual, and people are
crowing over the deadliest sign of the times. For months to come we must
feed Upper Burma from our diminished stocks. I seriously apprehend
scarcity will, just before the harvest, force hundreds into crime who
would gladly keep quiet. I have warned the Government, as I have all
along, but with the usual result. My words weigh no more than
Cassandra's.

"Yesterday I was horrified to find an official memorandum preventing the
importation of arms, and ordering gun permits to be largely reduced. This
order will be seized on by the disloyal Burmese officials, and used to
disarm the Karens.

"I am sending in the sternest protest words can frame against such
injustice. The Burmese officials and non-officials alike are all gnashing
their teeth at the Karens, attributing (rightly) the defeat of the
rebellion solely to those 'meddlesome Karens.'

"To enable them to disarm the only friends you have in the province is
worse than folly; it is treachery.

"Were the sight not so piteous from the blood which has stained it, I
should have been heartily amused to watch your 'regulation pattern'
official confronted by the stern spectre of actual war--a spectre that
'will not down' at the exhibition of standard red tape and 'memoranda'
written in full form on regulation office foolscap.

"The high official has been warned, and he comfortably turns in his
chair, and says, 'Bother those meddlesome missionaries!' and reads over
the rose-coloured reports of other officials based on the reports of his
disloyal Burmese under-strappers, and calmly says, 'How can those
impudent fellows know anything about the country?' Suddenly he is waked
from as great a stupor as that of Theebaw when, hourly expecting the
arrival of the captive British army, he is told that Prendergast has
passed the last defences of the capital, and there is not time even for
flight. News comes that the peacock flag is raised and the rebels are
marching on him, leaving blood in their wake, and this dignified British
official calmly writes a memorandum! He can ask and get a dozen regiments
from India at the cost of many lakhs of rupees, but when that bothersome
missionary raves at him for guns to arm men who have proved themselves
universally loyal, he can't spend a pice! A dignified _non possumus_ is
all you can get out of him. The Karens could have put five thousand men
in the field for three months without a pice of pay, and ended the
rebellion in a way that would have knocked the nonsense out of the
Burmans for thirty years to come.

"A telegram to Madras would have sent the arms by next steamer (I wrote
to find out), but _non possumus_ was all the result. Now the Burmese have
been taught the worthlessness of the sepoy in the guerilla fighting. The
sepoy has been 'weighed in the balances and found wanting.' He can't
shoot, and takes three hundred cartridges to kill a man at point-blank
range. He can't march, and, worse than all, he can't get through the
jungle, and he is soon knocked up by jungle fever. At the cost of moving
_one_ of those sepoy regiments from India the whole work would have been
finished and much blood saved.

"These rebellions have been _all_ got up from nuclei sent down from up
country.

"Many a leader--especially the poongyees--have tried to keep their men
from robbery and plunder, but they have found that the natural cowardly
ferocity of the Burman at the first taste of blood could not be
restrained.

"We are sick at heart at the officialism that paralyzes us all in Burma."

"Rangoon, July 26.

"The 'memorandum' of which I wrote has set the Karens in a blaze all over
Burma. I have felt bound to send a protest--a copy of which I enclose. I
expect, as usual, a polite slap in the face, giving me to understand (in
the most gentlemanly manner) that it is none of my business.

"The effect of this paper is simply deadly. One of my best men wrote me
yesterday, 'We must either be killed by the dacoits or join them.'

"We don't want another sepoy from India. We only ask for a MAN. To quote
James Russell Lowell's poem in Yankee dialect, written in the darkest
hours of our civil war,

_'More men! More men is what we want!'_

"Even the wealthy well-to-do Burmese help the rebels, and openly talk
disloyalty. Why? They say it is a war for religion, and patriots must put
up with licence in the soldiers fighting for them. Again, not a wealthy
family but has lots of sons and nephews and relatives who have been
ground through your Government dacoits mills, and who are in the
rebellion, binding their relatives to the peacock flag. The same is true
of even your officials.

"The dacoit atrocities are horrible. The unutterable Turk, with his
'Bulgarian atrocities,' would have no chance in a competition with the
Burman dacoit. Dacoity is reported, you dash off at the double quick for
a dozen miles, Karen levy trotting along abreast, or even ahead of the
police officer and missionary on their ponies; you come in and find that
thousands of rupees have been taken, the women lashed to platforms and
then violated by the dacoits in turn, and kerosene oil poured over their
clothes and set on fire. The men, bruised and slashed, have seen all
this, and are wailing like women around the horrible, blackened lumps of
charred flesh that were once their wives. You are shown where babies have
been beaten to a literal jelly in those rice mortars, before their
mother's eyes.

"Now, wouldn't you expect that these men would be wild to bring the gang
to punishment? Wouldn't you expect to have to restrain their rage? Not a
bit. You can't extort a word to help you to hunt the gang down, and hours
of questioning give you no hint, though the dacoits have been in full
possession of the place for many hours of broad daylight. One old
grey-haired Karen leader once turned away disgusted, saying, 'Christ on
His cross was not so forgiving.'

"Has this apathy no meaning for you? If not, it is in vain for me to
interpret it.

"Burman dacoits have taken the measure of the sepoy, or rather they have
been carefully taught it, and they now know our weakness.

"Your military men cannot be made to see the matter from the Burmese
standpoint.

"What should the dacoit _fight_ the sepoy for, unless strongly stockaded,
or the sepoys worn out by marching? He has no loot to gain from the sepoy
worth the trouble and risk. Dacoits bolt, _of course_, chuckling at their
escape, and grinning at the jaded sepoys. Sepoy officer telegraphs a
victory, etc., etc., casualties all on our side. Dacoit, chuckling, still
thinks _he_ has whipped. Both parties are satisfied, for each has gained
all he wanted. Troops move home, and dacoits re-occupy their old
position, and go on with their career of blood. Newspapers call for
cavalry. What use is cavalry in Burman elephant-grass or on the hills?
Every battle merely educates the Burman in old Hyder Ali's Mysore
tactics--'only to fight when your legs are swelled up to the size of your
bodies,' still hearing the British drums every time they beat.

"Your new Punjabee military police are even a greater failure than the
sepoys.

"You have but one winning card that you _can_ play, and it is the Karen.

"Everything that officialism can do has been done to disaffect the Karen,
and I seriously fear, as do my brother-missionaries, that even our
endeavours will prove fruitless, and even when the right man comes here
he will have hard work to wrest the card back again.

"Our only hope is that the cowardice of the Burman, and his ignorance of
the way in which Karens are being treated, may lead him to quiet down. If
my fears of a fresh outburst next October and November prove true, God
alone can help us.

"My brother-missionaries are calling loudly on me to hold on, and let the
stern logic of events knock a few ideas into the heads of our rulers,
infatuated as they are. I would do so, but--delay means _blood_; we
_must_ have some speedy administration of justice. Your jails are full of
innocent men, and there is no one to try them.

"The Mayankhyoung poongyee, that our Karens sold to the Government for
five thousand rupees--the leader of the entire eastern rebellion--has not
even yet been tried. The Burmese openly and tauntingly say we _dare_ not.

"They openly boast that his supernatural powers are such that he is only
kept in confinement by an iron rod, three inches in diameter, thrust
through the calves of his legs. At the request of my Karens I went down
and examined him in the jail, so as to enable them on my authority to
deny the statement.

"Things could have been quieted in six weeks, with ordinary foresight and
promptitude. It will take six months now for even such as Sir Arthur
Phayre, and longer and longer as matters are delayed."

[Copy of a letter from Dr. Vinton to the Commissioner on special duty.]

"Rangoon, July 23, 1886.

"To the commissioner on Special Duty

"DEAR SIR,

"I have just read your memorandum, of the 8th of July, on the proposed
increased stringency in working the Arms Act.

"While highly approving the general tone of the memorandum, and
recognizing the necessity which prompted it, allow me to make a few
representations.

"I take it for granted that the interest of the Government is to arm
every loyal man who can defend his arms, and to disarm every disloyal
man, or every coward who dare not defend the arms entrusted to him. I
respectfully submit that the Karens have amply demonstrated both their
loyalty and bravery, and should not be disarmed.

"The practical execution of your memorandum will be necessarily committed
to Burmese officials.

"These Burmese officials are mortified at their own failure to accomplish
anything for the suppression of the rebellion, piqued at the trust, shown
by the Government in the once-despised Karen, and jealous of Karen
success.

"They will inevitably use this memorandum to disarm and harass the
loyal Karens. To prove this, I have only to point to the fact that when
the rebellion was only threatened, the Burmese officials at once
commenced to disarm illegally the Karens, knowing that no one else would
pull a trigger against the rebels. The Karens protested, and sent a
delegation to Sir Charles Bernard, and received from him a solemn promise
that the Christian Karens should not be disarmed. This promise I plead.
To call a Karen away from his work at the present ploughing season means
to starve him.

"This memorandum will enable the Burmese officials to harass the Karens
till they 'make it all right.

"I respectfully submit that the universal loyalty of the Karens, heathen
as well as Christian, has earned for them a special exemption by name
from the operation of this memorandum.

"The experience of the past bloody months has shown that the Karen
invariably has fought desperately for his gun, and parted with it only
with his life. The dacoits have been armed from police stations and
disloyal Burmese villages, and not from Karen villages.

"I have done my best to carry out paragraph 3, and issue not less than
five guns to a village, but there have been no guns for sale. Many of the
Karen villages have less than five guns, through no fault of mine or the
villagers, but simply because there were no guns for sale.

"To check the importation of arms before every Karen village is a
fortress bristling with guns held for the Queen by men as loyal and brave
as any who fight for her, would be a suicidal policy.

"To make our Karen districts safe we want at least one thousand guns
more. With two thousand we could send men to attack outside the tracts
where the Karens are numerous.

"Speaking frankly, is it worth your while to harass those who have stood
by you faithfully even in the darkest hours?

"You will need help yet, for it is premature to speak of 'the late
rebellion.' I am ready to give substantial reasons for my belief that a
dangerous crime-wave will sweep over us just before next harvest.

"To put the matter in a nutshell, I ask that the district officers be
directed to prevent any disarming of the Karens.

"If you fear to hurt the feelings of the Burmese by an express exemption
of Karens, a private order would be enough. At least allow me to assure
the Karens that Sir Charles Bernard's promise that they shall not be
disarmed will be held sacred, for they are seriously alarmed at the
threats of the Burmese officials, and are sending their leaders to know
what this new danger means."

"Yours sincerely,

"J. B. VINTON."


"Rangoon, August 2, 1886.

"Government is beginning to push me about Karen levies for the Thongwa
district, and I expect soon to be pushed on the Pegu side; for the
Government and Karens are at loggerheads in Pegu. The Pegu Karens fired
the first shot ever fired by the Karens at the rebels. They offered to
send a levy about the New Year, when Karen levies had never been thought
of, and when, of course, secretariat officials laughed at 'the timid
Karen' offering to _fight_.

"Now they have been vexed at the arrest of two of their number for
shooting dacoits by police too cowardly to imitate Karen courage.

"Now, of course, they say, 'We had better defend our own villages with
our own guns, and let the Government fight the dacoits with their petted
police.'

"They are having heavy fighting around Ningyan. A private letter from
Ningyan, from a British officer, says the dacoits got within thirty yards
of the field-pieces, and were beaten off with difficulty. I only hope the
reinforcements will arrive in time; for they are besieged, in fact;
dacoits trying night attacks, hoping to fire the town.

"The most extraordinary reports are rife of British reverses up country.
Mandalay is almost daily recaptured, in rumour, with the most terrible
slaughter. The Irrawaddy is burdened with British corpses, according to
our disloyal alarmists.

"The limit of Burmese credulity has never yet been measured, and I
despair of ever discovering it, provided the lying is only in the
direction of flattering his inordinate vanity.

"A Government official told me that not thirty miles from Rangoon no one
could be found to believe that Theebaw had been captured. In what I
should call dacoit newspapers, circulated in manuscript all over the
country, he is described still, by those who claims to be eye-witnesses,
as reigning in greater glory than before, having acquired many new titles
of honour for the doughty deeds of war performed in person on those
miserable cowardly _Kullahs_.

"News last night tells me that a rebellion _in posse_, that I've been
watching for months, and kept from bursting several times by marching my
levies, is coming on us. Last night's news is that they are beginning to
assemble, tattoo, and threaten again.

"I fear we shall have to watch this as we watched the rising that killed
St. Barbe, and let it burst, only keeping our villages safe, and letting
the Government sup its own folly to the full, as they did with St.
Barbe's insurrection, started within a mile of one of our chapels, and
which we could have prevented with twenty-five men in an hour.

"We are still hampered to death to get arms to buy. Just on a technical
point the other day I was refused permission to distribute a hundred guns
I had got out for the Karens. I am now one thousand guns short of making
the Karen tracts safe.

"I showed a high official yesterday, by evidence which even _he_ accepted
as correct, that floods of ammunition and arms were pouring across the
Maulmain frontier from Siam for the dacoits. Loyal Karens were the only
men to be harassed. Dacoits could get cheap and abundant rifles of the
most improved American patterns. The Karen alone must pay three times
ordinary prices for guns more dangerous to him than to the dacoits.

"Even this failed to break the spell which the apotheosis of red tape has
cast over all Burma."


"Rangoon, August 17.

"The Pegu rebellion of Burmese burst near the mouth of the Sittang. I was
away on the Toungoo hills; but, though there is scarcely a Karen living
near where the insurrection began, my people joined Colonels Street and
Strover, and fought side by side with the sepoys far away from their
homes. At the time the whole native population was convinced that the
British raj was at an end, and that the only hope of safety was in
joining the rebellion. The Government was simply at an end. Police posts
were meekly handing over their arms, and myo-okes running for their
lives.

"When the Toongyee detachment marched down to join Colonel Strover, they
were taunted that they were going to add their bodies to the heap of
slaughtered sepoys. Not a man quailed, thought taunted with stories of
the dacoit invulnerability. The Toongyee church had been four times in
action before I could be recalled from the Karen-nee frontier. This of
course drew down the wrath of the whole Burman population.

"'What business was it of these officious Karens to go and meddle? They
were not even threatened by the rebellion. Why should _they_ interfere?'

"The fighting of the Bassein mission was splendid. You will find it
noticed in the violent crime report.

"In that report I get special credit for keeping the Hanthawaddy
quiet--the only district where the peacock flag has not been hoisted. The
Hanthawaddy is my practical answer to the question of the advisability of
Karen levies. I am prouder of keeping the insurrection from bursting than
of any action we have _fought_ with the dacoits. 'Prevention is better
than cure.' Here was the trouble. _No one_ believed the Karen could
_fight_.

"On the 7th of November, before the troops crossed the frontier, the
Karens came down from the villagers where St. Barbe's insurrection was
even then starting. I was not at home, but they thought the case was so
urgent that they actually forced an entrance at Government House, and
begged for arms from the Government, or to be allowed to purchase. They
went prepared to offer a battalion one thousand strong to accompany
General Prendergast. Their fears were laughed to scorn. You can scarcely
judge how all Rangoon had lost its head at the time. The only fear
expressed was that there would not be resistance enough to justify
annexation!

"When I reached my post from my sick-bed in Amherst, Mr. Bernard thought
the Karens cowards to be so easily frightened, but said, 'We'll let them
buy their guns just to allay their fears.'

"I don't believe Mr. Bernard _ever_ would have allowed us arms had he
believed one word of my reports. He merely thought to quiet the fears of
the Karen cowards. Even after the Karens had been in action several
times, Government House wouldn't believe Karens could fight.

"Before I got back from the Karen-nee frontier, my Karens went to a
secretariat official in the last days of December, and offered a levy.
The secretariat official was as much astonished as if a rabbit had
appeared to him in full uniform and demanded a Henry-Martini rifle and
offered to _fight_. Their offer was, of course, politely declined, with a
scarcely disguised sneer.

"The key to all this misconception is plain. No one, neither Burmans,
Government officials, nor any one, had gauged the quiet work we have been
doing among the Karens. _You_ know no one knows Karens. They won't talk
to these servility-loving officials. No one visits their villages and
sees for himself what education and Christianity have done. The 'timid
Karen' has become a _man_, but nobody knew it.

"Had that battalion marched due north from Toungoo, with a British force
with them on carts, every Burmese soldier could have been disarmed and
killed or captured. As it was, the arms which Sladen failed to take away
were used against us. The ammunition and rifles were sent down even to
Rangoon for sale. I have _seen_ and _handled_ them myself.

"Thank God! the 'timid Karen' is now a phrase of the past. 'Nous avons
changé tout cela' with a vengeance.

"In the first days of the rebellion I was talking with C--, and he
laughed at me when I told him I would like nothing better than to raise
and command a Karen corps. After spending months with sepoys and these
very levies, and seeing the Karens charge, firing one volley, and
throwing down their guns and going to close quarters with their huge
cleavers, C--came and apologized, saying he was wrong to sneer at men who
could fight like that. _No one_ had gauged the unifying power of
Christianity, or guessed that these loose grains of sand (the clans) had
been welded into a terrible weapon. Men will fight when they know they
are _solid_, and no traitors among them.

"A few weeks' desperate fighting changed everything. Captain Parrott was
the first to act. Long before Karen levies were sanctioned, Captain
Parrott and I had every able-bodied Karen enrolled, and seventy of them
regularly drilled. The men were whirled all over the district, wherever
the dacoits were sticking up their heads; and if 'prevention is better
than cure,' we won more honour than a dozen bloody battles would have
brought us.

"Without encouragement, the Karen fought his way through the sneers of
the Government officials, till at the durbar, when the viceroy was here,
Mr. Bernard said to me, 'I have never been so much astonished as at the
Karens _fighting_ so well.'

"The reticence of the Karen helped to disguise him and foster the
delusion of the 'timid Karen.' Look at old Thah Mway, or Myat Koung, two
of the men who have most distinguished themselves in action. They are
quiet, retiring men, with stolid, mask-like faces that show nothing of
what is going on under the quiet exterior. No one would take _them_ for
heroes, sitting stolidly on my verandah. See those men under fire once,
as I have, and you would hardly recognize them. So their eyes blaze then,
especially when leading a charge, and you will excuse people for not
finding out the work that had been going on behind the stolid exterior of
the 'timid Karen.'

"Well, as I told you, the Karen fought his way into notice, and dispelled
all these illusions. Then the jealousy of the Government officials of the
mission wanted to get matters into their _own_ hands, and get rid of the
missionaries. The only good service the Karens have done has been when
they have been _let alone_. They have served under their pastors and
schoolmasters and hereditary chiefs; but the moment the first coil of red
tape touches a Karen levy, it paralyzes it, and you get no good of it.
The Burmans around the district officer at once try and disgust the
Karens with military service, and send the men off here and there on the
most ridiculous wild-goose chases, where there is not the signs of a
dacoit.

"No commissariat for the Karens, while the Burmans are feasting on the
fat of the land. After thus systematically starving the men and marching
their heels off for nothing, the men get surly, and are then reported
mutinous and disobedient. Karens, marching every day in the rain, can't
get the waterproof cloaks so freely served out to the wretched Burmese
police, who never leave their comfortable barracks. All rough service is
shouldered off by the police on to those 'Karen dogs,' and so you find
the Karens surly, to say the least.

"Whatever the Karen _has_ done--I speak advisedly, and as solemnly as if
on my oath--is not the hundredth part of what he _could_ do, and would
gladly do.

"At the same time, I am asked to get the men to enlist for Thongwa and
Hanthawaddy. Just see how I am treated! My Sniders, which the Karens have
proudly carried all over the Hanthawaddy and the Tharawaddy districts,
are taken away, and wretched muzzle-loaders issued instead. The Karens
felt prouder of those Sniders than words can tell, and the poor fellows
looked like death when they stacked arms for the last time on my
verandah. They were promised in writing other Sniders of a different
pattern; but when the muzzle-loaders came instead, the poor fellows
looked abashed indeed.

"Again, I had ordered _all_ my villages for ball-practice, lest, when I
called them out, they should 'shoot like sepoys'--a phrase that has
become proverbial in Burma the past few months. This exhausted their
ammunition (paid for, like their guns, by themselves). They came down for
more, but by some 'new rules' begotten by the high official already
described they could not buy a kernel of powder for a year.

"I wrote and explained and begged that, as _I_ was to blame, _I_ might be
punished, but not to practically disarm the Karens by refusing
ammunition. I offered to stop all ball-practice, though the order, I
warned them, would be fatal to efficiency; but it did no good. I was
informed by the same high official that 'the rule must be maintained.'
The powder could only be obtained on 'enlistment tickets.' Not _one_ of
the hundreds of brave fellows who have served under my orders in the
Hanthawaddy has ever seen such a thing. What is the result? Hundreds of
Karens have gone home surly, to say the least. The Karen is so terribly
clannish you cannot scratch one of them but the whole clan knows it and
resents it.

"That's the way to get men to serve for nothing, isn't it? At the same
time, I reported to the same high official how the dacoits got their
arms, cheap and good--the best American rifles down to French carbines. I
sent him our missionary to Zuninay to describe the whole trade from
Bangkok to Yahaing and Zuninay, and how the arms and ammunition flowed
without restriction across the frontier, and were openly sold all over
the Amherst district. I offered, if he would give me permission, that I
would go across and buy up the arms and ammunition for my Karens. I sent
a certificate from the Rev. Mr. Bunker that boxes of five hundred
military caps, sold in Rangoon for five rupees, only cost eight annas in
Toungoo--smuggled _via_ Molsyai. I pleaded most earnestly against the
loyal Karens being the only ones to be refused decent arms and
ammunition, while the dacoits were not harassed at all.

"I might as well have pleaded to a post. In the most polite terms, in
language expressing the highest gratitude for the noble service done, I
was firmly told that the rules were inflexible. It is just such polite,
gentlemanly, estimable men by whom empires are lost. Bad men, vicious
men, can be fought. Such fine fellows for peace times are our greatest
danger to-day.

"While I am calling for enlistments, my best men and my brother
missionaries are calling a halt. Can you blame the Karen if he quietly
goes off and buys the smuggled ammunition ('to keep it from dacoits,' one
said to me this morning), and quietly stockades his villages, and settles
down to defence pure and simple, leaving the dacoits to fight it out?

"The Karens are beginning to say to me, 'Let us merely drive the dacoits
out of Karen tracts, fighting on our own hook, and not put ourselves
under the control of the Burmans.' The Burmans now see the mistake they
made in pitching into the Karens, and are beginning to plead with our
villages to promise not to attack them, and induce the Karen to remain
neutral. This is an old dacoit dodge of many decades' standing. I fear it
more than any other. In reply, I am urging it on my people that the
brutes are not to be trusted; and that when they have eaten up the Burman
villages, they will make a meal of the Karen: 'Timeo Danaos et dona
ferentes.'

"If I could be let alone I'd have every village trained at ball-practice
at their own expense till I could always turn out whatever men I wanted,
and at whatever time, and men who wouldn't 'shoot like sepoys,' and known
to be dead shots. This alone would prevent the dacoits ever facing us. I
don't ask for help or money; I only want to be let alone. Tell me the
work to be done, and if I can't get Karens to do it, nobody else need
try.

"At one-half the cost the Karens would gladly do the entire work of
scouring the Lower Burma, and relieve every sepoy out of the city
garrisons for service in Upper Burma. Yesterday morning the first corps
of Karen levies crossed the old frontier, marching for Ningyan, where the
rebels are in strongest force. I would undertake to march them to
Mogoung, far above Bhamo. Under their own officers, and commanded by men
they trust, they will go anywhere, and do what no troops can do. You
could put ten thousand such men in the field for little more than the
cost of a sepoy regiment; but they must be led by _men_.

"_You_ would be pleased to see the change the war has made in the bearing
of the Karen. I've seen him flaunt his national Karen dress, and say
proudly, '_Yes_, I'm a loyal Karen, and what have _you_ to say to that?'
to the proud Burman.

"Near a court-house I saw a Karen chief in full dress. He had brought
down some dead dacoits. A dandy Burman, all in silk, with gold
watch-chain, tried to crowd him off the road as usual. The Karen pushed
him contemptuously out of the way, and sternly said, 'Let _that_ teach
you to make way for the Karen "thin daing" hereafter.'

"Yesterday, I got word that the siege of Ningyan was raised, and the
beleaguering force was streaming down into the Toungoo district. Konee,
with fifty of a Karen levy, alone was left to oppose them. He had cut up
one of their foraging-parties; but, as the Burmese were in overwhelming
force, he was obliged to try the same tactics. I noted about the
Mayankhyoung--decline action, and cut up foraging-parties till he gets
the rebels down to the numbers he can fight at close quarters.

"To-day comes serious news from the Rev. Mr. Bunker, who has fought so
well all through. He writes, 'Shans just in declared last night that all
the Shan people, even Mobyae (heretofore our staunch ally), joined the
Myin-Zainy prince against the English, and that in the recent battles
around Ningyan the soldiers in uniform were Shan forces.' There seems to
be little doubt about this, for I hear from other sources that such
soldiers were seen in the battles about Ningyan. If it is true, it is a
bad outlook for Government. A Karen just arrived from Ningyan tells me
the same story, though he doesn't know that I have the news from other
sources.

"Piteous letters were received from the Mobyae Tsawbwa last December.
They came to our mission, and were forwarded, with translations, to the
secretariat. He said he should be forced to join a league of the Shan
Tsawbwas against us, unless he were supported. Now, it appears, his fears
have proved true. Neglected by us he has been obliged to join our foes.
If we have the Shans on top of the Burmans we shall have a _job_ for Sir
H. Macpherson next cold weather I can assure you. Till we can give up
harassing our friends and petting our foes, we may as well give up hoping
for success.

"Karens laugh at me when I tell them Sir H. Macpherson is going to 'scour
Burma' next year. They say the dacoits will hide their arms, send their
chiefs into the jungle, and meet the troops, and be good boys till the
army passes, and then go ahead again at their normal business of dacoity.
In both previous wars the professional dacoits, the Thugs of Burma,
retreated to what we left them of Upper Burma, and were amply provided
for by the Burmese Government. _Now_ there is _no_ retreat, and there
will be no peace till the last head is sent in. This sounds queer from a
Christian missionary, but it is the truth. You can't attack dacoity
organized into a system for centuries by ordinary process of law. You
must regard it as a system akin to an exaggerated Thuggee, and act
accordingly."

"Rangoon, August 24.

"I am in a perfect duel all the time about that fatal memorandum I told
you of. At the same time that I am praised to the skies, I am simply
slapped in the face every day, and harassed till I am ready to hang
myself.

"The Karen deputation waited on a 'high official' here, and protested as
vigorously as I had done. It did no good whatever. He was full of fulsome
compliments on what the Karens had done, etc., but a magnificent _non
possumus_ was all they, I, or other missionaries could get out of him.

"Meanwhile the work goes on. Karens are ordered all over the country to
hand in their arms to _Burmese_ officials. In ever so many villages,
though they have been months waiting, they have not the requisite number
(five) of guns, simply because _there are no arms for sale_. Guns are
therefore confiscated, unless they 'make it all right' with the Burmese
officials.

"My indictment is--

"1. We warned the Government on the 7th of November, 1885, by Sayáh
Too-Thah, at the secretariat, of the insurrection that killed poor St.
Barbe. I was not even in Rangoon at the time. The urgency was so great
that the old man actually forced his way into Government House, though I
was expected only two days after, and pleaded for Government arms and
ammunition.

"On my return, I, after weeks of hard fighting, got permission to arm my
people. I did so, and so the insurrection, though starting right among my
villages, never did us any damage, but went over to Bassein, and was
crushed by the Bassein mission. Warnings of the other insurrections were
as contemptuously treated, but our missionaries backed me like _men_, and
we saved our Christian Karens. We point with pride to the fact that every
insurrection has been smothered in blood wherever it came into a
Christian tract, while the Government has not quelled _one_.

"2. To do this we armed _ourselves_ at far more than _treble_ price. I
scarcely dare think of what God will say to these firms that have
_coined_ money out of these poor wretched Karens, impoverished by the
dacoits, unable to get a Government gun to fight for their Queen with,
and in danger of their lives every day from the rebels.

"To illustrate the case of _thousands_, I mention one whom I helped
yesterday. After _three months'_ hanging round Government offices,
begging for a permit which the chief commissioner had peremptorily
_ordered_, he got his permit. More than a month has the poor wretch been
hanging around Rangoon to get a 'permission to purchase.' Yesterday I
happened to go into the town magistrate's office, and, of course, a few
words of 'vigorous Yankee dialect' (I was too mad to talk English) got me
the required papers.

"The poor fellow cried like a child, and knelt before me (you know how
much a Karen _must_ feel to do this). He had been a prisoner to the
dacoits, and a cross was made for his crucifixion. The dacoits took pains
to make the cross Christian, and not Burmese pattern, and he only escaped
when the moment had arrived for his crucifixion. He had no idea of
escaping with his life, but hoped to win an easier death than
crucifixion. He had three shots fired at him within six feet, and plunged
through the entire gang, cutting and hacking at him with their swords.
This man had 'served' in the field under my own eye in the most gallant
manner, and yet this was the treatment he had received from your British
idol of red tape!

"3. Though we have served our Queen with our own arms, purchased at rates
that would satisfy a Shylock, we have earned no exemption whatever, and
must be treated like the universally disloyal Burmans. When I got the
permit from the magistrate here, I went over to Scott and Co.'s and
bought a Brummagen fifteen-shilling gun, and paid fifty rupees for it. I
have lately _sold the Government_ two hundred guns far better for fifteen
rupees apiece.

"4. Whatever we _have_ done for which we are so extravagantly praised is
not one-hundredth part what we _can_ do and will gladly do if we can only
be _let alone_.

"5. We can easily garrison all Lower Burma at far less than one-third of
the present cost; that is, with the exception, of course, of the cities.

"6. We can send detachments with troops to Upper Burma if required. Such
detachments would not, of course, be as efficient as in Lower Burma,
where the men are acquainted with the country.

"NOW

"The Karens are surly because the men that have served for months and
months without pay, are told that they are not 'Karen levies' because
they have received no 'enlistment tickets.' They have seen their comrades
shot down by their sides. Some carry dacoit bullets in their bodies, and
others can show ghastly wounds, but they are not 'Karen levies' till they
show their 'enlistment tickets.' Had I waited for these, the Hanthawaddy
district would have been in a blaze like all the other districts.

"I have exhausted my powder practising my villages, lest they 'shoot like
sepoys.' I am to-day refused the privilege of buying powder at Karen
expense, to make my men 'efficient,' till the requisite amount of red
tape has been reeled off.

"Can you wonder hundreds of Karens have gone home _sulky_? You know a
Karen never storms; he goes home sulky, and when you want him--he's like
the Irishman's flea.

"As I wrote you, the country is flooded with incendiary papers. I warned
all of our men that the rebellion would soon be using the printing press.
Some of the last manuscript papers I intercepted told me plainly they
were hoping for a printing-press. I have not seen the papers with my own
eyes, but a friend has seen _three_ issues _printed_ in Rangoon. This
dacoit seed will bear a bloody crop if it is watered by the present
imbecility.

"This is the busiest season of the year, as you well know, when I can
scarcely get a sight of my people in ordinary years. Now they are
swarming to town to beg for arms--never so anxious as at present. I have
officially reported that our mission is _now_ a thousand guns short of
making things _safe_, and two thousand short of being able to give
_efficient_ aid, yet _nothing_ is done but to _harass_ the lives out of
us, when all we want is to arm ourselves at exorbitant expense even to
serve our Queen and country."

"Rangoon, October 1, 1886.

"I have just reached home from an enlisting tour, undertaken to pick
three hundred men from six hundred volunteers.

"There are too many villages of Karens being dacoited in the north of
Sittang for me to be able to distinguish one from another.

"Bunker (the hero of the Mayankhyoung poongyee fights), our man at
Toungoo, had come down to consult me, and had to bolt home because the
dacoit troops now besieging Ningyan had been making forays for provisions
across the old frontier north-east of Toungoo. Several villages had been
dacoited, and Bunker rushed home to do his beset without ammunition to
defend himself (we regard our flocks as ourselves). I have not received
particulars of the raids; but merely find out that the dacoit troops (I
use the words advisedly) now besieging Ningyan are so numerous as to have
eaten up all the food procurable in the valley of the Sittang, and that,
rather than give up the siege, they have sent their foraging-parties out
among our poor half-armed Karens, defenceless for want of ammunition. I
find the following letter from Bunker on my table, dated the 28th of
September:--

"'DEAR VINTON,--Ningyan is truly in a state of siege. The agent of the
B.B.T.C. has just informed me that his steam-launch ran the blockade both
_up_ and _down_, and that in going up one sepoy was killed and seven
wounded seriously. They were fired at with jingals and _rifles_. Steamers
will not run till the blockade is broken. One Bhoda rajah is in command
of two thousand troops, and seems to be well armed, and has plenty of
ammunition.'

"Bunker adds he has no doubt the police give their ammunition to the
dacoits by understanding. He says--

"'At a recent raid on dacoits at Ningyan, the military officer was
obliged to take a civil officer so called, a Burmese myo-oke.

"'When he had his troops ready to charge, or about ready, this myo-oke
discharged his piece twice, and warned the dacoits, and they all got off
scot free. He was arrested, but _not shot_.

"'I have sent up fifty Red Karens, and the B.B.T.C. want twenty more.
They seem to be doing very well.'

"This Bhoda rajah and another Dhamma rajah have full swing in the whole
Sittang valley, and the troops are simply powerless. I scarcely dare
write what I hear about the state of things between the civil and
military departments. No military officer can march on the foe without a
civil officer. This is often a puppy of a Burman, both a coward and
disloyal to the core. Not a shot can be fired till the civil officer
permits it.

"My sincere belief is that more than half of the Burmese officials will
do all they can do for the rebellion. Only one myo-oke has openly joined
the rebellion, for they can be of so much more service to their friends
by sending intelligence and ammunition as at present. This Bhoda rajah to
whom Mr. Bunker alludes is issuing commissions to hold office in Lower
Burma. Five such commissions have been captured by Karens. We shall have
it hot in November. I am stockading my villages and enrolling them. The
worst of all is the want of ammunition. To get a pound of powder, a Karen
must get first at his own deputy-commissioner. This costs time and money
for bribes, without which no Karen can get anything from a
deputy-commissioner, through the ring of Burmese understrappers. Then he
must come to Rangoon and get a second order. This has often taken a week,
for if the slightest ruffle in the red tape can be detected, delay
results. The other day a permit was impounded for about a week, because
the deputy-commissioner had used the wrong printed form, and had
corrected it with the pen!

"The thing is simply intolerable when you even think of the distances the
men must march, the days they must wait, and the money they must spend to
get a single pound of powder. They are allowed no more for a whole year.
Be prepared next to hear of Karen cowardice--giving up their arms as
meekly as police.

"Can you fight for your gun without ammunition? I can't.

"I've warned Government that I have not powder to defend my guns, and
yet, while I am _personally_ responsible for their safety, I can't get
powder without all this circumlocution. The danger to-day is too great to
bring all the able-bodied men to town, after marching a week or two to
find a deputy-commissioner, and then to wait as they do in the Rangoon
office.

"Meanwhile, the dacoits can get plenty of the best American rifles dirt
cheap--a quarter of Rangoon prices--and all the powder and caps they
want, across the Siamese frontier. The authorities think this source has
been blocked, but my Zuninay correspondents tell me of large shipments
arriving, and being promptly sent off to their destination. No one is to
be harassed but loyal Karens.

"At a large meeting held on the 29th, the Karen leaders told me that the
poongyees were tattooing their men, and assuring them of the safe arrival
of plenty of arms and powder.

"If we could be as well treated as the dacoits we could fight; but, while
disloyal men get their arms and ammunition good and cheap, we are
harassed beyond measure.

"The oppression of the punitive tax on Karens seems to be confined at
present to the Tharawaddy district.

"I dare not tell the Karens of the Government letter. They are far too
indignant as it is.

"To boil down my huge Karen correspondence, the Karens all over Burma
that have heard of the action in Tharawaddy all resent it, and many speak
of it as base ingratitude, after all they have done and suffered. All
express the gravest apprehensions of Karen defeat from the sore want of
ammunition, now scarcer than gold. I shall not blame my people if they
supply themselves from the dacoit source of smuggled ammunition. I have
fought this source of supply for twenty-five years. I regard the present
policy of practically disarming the Karens as far more dangerous than any
prince pretender to the throne, and its authors are far more dangerous to
the peace of the country than any body of dacoit troops now threatening
us.

"The minute the troops attack the Bhoda rajah, he will bolt away to the
Toungoo hills among our Karen Christians, like the Mayankhyoung poongyee.

"He has no other course open to him, for he has eaten all clean before
him elsewhere. Then we shall be asked to act as we did with the
Mayankhyoung. We _can't_ do it, for we are not a hundredth part as well
prepared for it now as we were then.

"Bunker has written to the authorities that the Bghais _alone_ are four
hundred guns short of being _safe_, let alone giving efficient help, as
they would gladly do. Worse than all, the few guns they have only invite
attack, because of the want of ammunition! Every one of our American
missionaries is in the same box. Our Karens say it is an organized
attempt to tarnish and snatch away the laurels we earned by last season's
brave resistance all over Burma.

"It is a serious question, gravely raised by old and cool-headed Karens,
whether it is not really best to submit to being disarmed _in toto_,
stockading and fighting with our bows alone. Some argue it were better to
do even this than to pretend to fight and be forced to give up your guns
for want of powder."

The following brief but stirring testimony to the fidelity and valour of
the Karens, given in an official report by the Inspector-General of
Police in Burma, will prove how well-founded is the faith in his people,
which Dr. Vinton so often reiterates in his letters, and how natural and
how just is his indignation at the treatment which they seem to have
received at the hands of the Government:--

"I would also desire to bring to the favourable consideration of
Government the splendid work done by the Rev. Mr. Nichols and his Karens.
Mr. Nichols himself, at the expense of great personal discomfort, joined
one of the pursuing parties while his Karens acted as scouts and advance
guards to them all. They on more than one occasion attacked the rebels
unaided, killing some of them; but I regret having to record that a small
party, in their zeal to overtake the rebels in a country unknown to them,
were surprised and slaughtered. Out of fifty-five Government arms, which
were made over to the Karens who volunteered to assist Government, they
returned fifty at the end of their campaign, the remaining five being
taken from five of them at the expense of their lives."

These letters from Dr. Vinton need no comment. They tell a tale which, to
say the least of it, does not bode well for the future. Let those who are
charged with the government of the country take them to heart. Dr.
Vinton's feelings may possibly have been a little embittered by the
coldness of the authorities towards his people, and hence, perhaps, the
severity of some of his remarks. But his facts are clear and plain. It is
high time that the British people lent their ear to the plaint of the
Karens and redressed the wrong done them by the listlessness and neglect
of our own Government. Notwithstanding their noble services in 1852-53,
when the British troops were hard pressed, they were left altogether out
in the cold, the good work they did was never acknowledged, nothing was
done for them. The missionaries alone stood by them, kept them loyal, and
have been fighting their battles ever since. The fears which Dr. Vinton
expresses in one of the letters which I have quoted above--that what
occurred after the war of 1852-53 will occur again now; that, after
profiting by the loyalty, devotion, and bravery of the Karens, the
British Government will again forget them--are likely to be realized
unless the English people come to their rescue.

It struck me that I might render the Karens a humble service by
describing their origin, customs, and singular character, and by
endeavouring to interest my fellow-countrymen in their behalf. Burma is
popularly supposed to be peopled by Burmese only. Few, save British
officers who have been brought into contact with them, know much about
the sturdy little Karen nation, which lies wedged in between the masses
of Burmese peopling the mountains and forests. The striking contrast
between their high courage and the cowardice of the Burmese in the recent
disturbances, their loyalty and devotion to the Queen whom they have been
taught to revere, would of themselves have been sufficient reasons for
letting their interesting story be widely known. But there is more than
this. The Karens are a peculiar people. They cling to their national
traditions tenaciously. They remember the long and grievous oppression of
their former Burmese rulers. The natural antipathy to the Burmese has
been handed down from father to son; and to this day, despite the solvent
tendency of British rule, the Karen holds himself entirely aloof from his
Burmese fellow-subjects.

But it is in the remarkable religious character and history of the Karens
that the deepest interest must centre. Their traditions of the elders,
telling of a God who had long ages ago confided His Sacred Word to them;
of their faithlessness in losing hold of this Sacred Word; their
aspirations to recover it; their enthusiasm when, more than fifty years
ago, the gospel was first preached to them by the white man, whose advent
had been for generations predicted; their extraordinary aptitude in
discerning and assimilating the doctrines of Christianity; the almost
miraculous success of the American Baptist missionaries both in
Christianizing and in civilizing them; the growth of what may be said to
be a really indigenous Christianity and a high civilization; and the
almost undisturbed harmony between the heathen and Christian Karens,
resulting from community in their religious traditions and the feeling of
partnership in the Christian revelation, are all subjects of profound
interest to the student of social science and religious history.

During a five years' residence in Burma, from 1879 to 1884, I learnt a
great deal about the Karens, both from themselves and from their
missionaries and pastors. I saw them in their mountain homes and in their
secluded dwellings on the plain. My interest in them was early aroused,
and has never ceased. Keen personal sympathy with the race and a desire
to awaken interest in their behalf have prompted me to attempt the
present narrative. It is not often given to witness such a remarkable
development of national character as has taken place among the Karens
under the influence of Christianity and good government. Forty--ay,
thirty--years ago they were a despised, grovelling, timid people, held in
open contempt by the Burmese. At the first sound of the gospel message
they sprang to their feet as a sleeping army springs to the bugle-call.
The dream of hundreds of years was fulfilled; the God who had cast them
off for their faithlessness had come back to them; they felt themselves a
nation once more. Their progress since then has been by leaps and bounds,
all from an impetus within themselves, and with no direct aid of any kind
from their rulers; and they bid fair soon to outstrip their Burmese
conquerors in all the arts of peace.

In writing the story which these chapters contain, I have made no attempt
at literary finish. My leisure is scanty, and I have not been able to do
more than piece together the fragmentary notes taken at odd times and
places during my five years' service in Burma. I claim no literary merit,
therefore, for the book, and trust that readers will find compensation
for defects in style and arrangement in the facts of interest which I
have endeavoured to bring together.



CHAPTER II - THEIR ORIGIN, LANGUAGE, AND PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS


A NUMBER of theories have been put forward regarding the birthplace of
the Karen nation. Some say they are a Thibetan race; others assert that
they came from the north of China; a third supposition is that they are
the aborigines of Burma; and a few enthusiasts, fascinated by their
remarkable God traditions, have been bold enough to declare that they are
one of the lost tribes of Israel. It appears certain that they are not
the aboriginal inhabitants of Burma. Their own traditions tell of a
"river of running sand" which they had to cross, and of the great
tribulations which they endured in crossing it. The Karens regard the
"river of running sand" as an immense quick-sand, where the sands roll
like the waters of a river. Fa Hian, the Chinese pilgrim, who visited
India about the fifth century, describes the great desert north of Burma,
between China and Thibet, as a "river of sand," and in the Chinese map of
India this long tract of desert is marked "quick-sands." The prominence
given in tradition to the crossing of these sands show that the movement
must have been a difficult and important one for the race. The wilderness
of sand was evidently the desert between China and Thibet, which the
Chinese pilgrim describes thus: "There are evil spirits in this river of
sand, and such scorching winds that whose encountereth them dies and none
escape. Neither birds are seen in the air nor quadrupeds on the ground.
On every side as far as the eyes can reach, if you seek for the proper
place to cross, there is no other mark to distinguish it than the
skeletons of those who have perished there." The Karen traditions
describe it as a "fearful trackless region, where the sands rolled before
the wind like the waves of the sea." Malte Brun, on the authority of
Marco Polo, says, "The country of the Caride is the south-east point of
Thibet, and perhaps the country of the nation of the Cariaines, which is
spread over Ava."

It seems very probable, then, that the Karen are a people from the
borders of Thibet, who crossed the great desert of Gobi into China, and
found their way by gradual descents into Burma. They claim a common
descent with the Angami Nagas of Assam, and there is much in common
between them and the Khyens and Kakhyens of Lower and Upper Burma. It
cannot be ascertained what were the causes of their migrations, or when
they appeared for the first time in Burma. In the "Life of Monsignor
Percoto," the first Italian missionary to Burma, we read that Father
Nerini found "wild populations styled Cariani (Karens) living separately
from others, and in full liberty." This was about A.D. 1740. But they had
been then settled for generations in the country, and were looked upon as
savages. It would appear that, after crossing the river of running sand,
the Karens did not march at once into Burma, but settled down on the
borders of Western China, and from the colony of Jews there, in all
probability, learnt the "Traditions of the Elders," the coming back of
the White Book, the return of the long-expected Messiah, and the roll of
parchment or skin to be brought to them by the white foreigners. Their
traditions point to a desperate blood feud which arose between two
branches of their race whilst living in China. The Chghaws [Pronounced
Sgaws] (or male) branch had a great dispute with the Pghos [Pronounced
Pwos] (or female) branch about a fine which the latter were adjudged to
pay for having murdered one of their own chiefs called Pu Tha Get. The
Pghos refused to pay the fine, upon which the Chghaws prohibited social
intercourse and intermarriage between the two branches. This sundering of
two branches of the nation was widened and intensified by periodical
warring and reprisals, till eventually the Pghos had to leave China
altogether, and marched down southward into the plains of Burma. The
third branch of the nation, to which the Karen-nees, or Red Karens,
belong, is called "Bghai." The Red Karens assert that sixteen or
seventeen generations ago they were driven from a region in the kingdom
of Ava, and that they were part of a Chinese army. This account of their
origin seems not improbable; for about A.D. 1400, to which their account
would take us back, the Chinese invaded Burma, and were twice defeated
and driven back.

It would appear, then, that of the three branches of the Karen nation the
Pghos were the first to enter Burma. They had been driven from Western
China by the Chghaws, and in their retreat southwards appear to have
followed the course of the Salween river. Leaving a few scattered bands
behind them near Toungoo, they turned south-eastwards towards Siam, and
then crossed over to Mergui, whence they spread again north and
north-west by the coast-line, finally settling down along the deltas of
the great rivers. The war-songs of the Chghaws relate that they "drove
the Pghos to drink brackish water." Hence it is that we find the Pghos
occupying the great sea-board belt from Mergui and Tavoy to Moulmein, and
thence, with only a single break near Rangoon, along the delta of the
Irrawaddy up to Cape Negrais, on the border of Arakan. Very few Pghos are
to be found inland of the great deltaic regions. Their head-quarters are
still near Moulmein, at a place called Dongyan, where they established
their first stronghold. Here they were attacked again and again by the
invading Siamese, and finally taken in captivity to Siam. They, however,
worked out their freedom, and the majority, leaving a few scattered
colonies in Siam, returned to Dongyan, which is the great Pgho centre to
this day. The Chghaws, having driven the Pghos to the sea, occupied the
great central range of hills called the Pegu Yoma. They still are almost
the sole settlers in these hills, but they have spilt over the plains
immediately below, and now occupy the hills and jungles of the Irrawaddy
district, large parts of the Shwegyin, Prome, and Henzada districts. They
extend from the Arakan Yoma range on the west to the Salween river on the
east. They are replaced by the Khyens on the north-west of the Prome
district. The Khyens are believed to be an offshoot of the Karen nation,
and their social and religious customs are very similar to those of the
Karens. Dr. Mason, the great missionary scholar of Burma, regards Khyens
and Karens as one and the same. It seems not improbable that they and the
Kakhyens also may be the descendants of captives taken during the
perpetual inter-tribal wars before the final descent into Burma. It
seems, in any case, pretty certain that they have a common origin with
the Karens. The territory which the great body of the Khyens inhabit is
the mountain track from the east of Assam to Yunnan. But there is a large
Khyen colony round the head waters of the Chindwin river in Upper Burma,
and traces of a Karen population of considerable size have, it is
believed, been found on the same river. Chghaw and Pgho Karens are also
found in Siam, in the valleys of the Meinam and the Cambodia--descendants
of captives taken by the Siamese during the invasion of Tenasserim.

The Bghai branch seem to have come into Burma along the line of the
Toungoo hills somewhat later than the other two branches of the nation,
but they never passed beyond these hills. They are the boldest and most
warlike of the Karens, and the Karen-nees, or Red Karens, are the blue
blood of the tribe. The Red Karens are the only tribe of the nation which
succeeded by desperate struggles in resisting Burmese aggression and
preserving their independence. They are the typical Bghai Karens, and
occupy a compact little mountain territory on the north-east of British
Burma, which they hold under chiefs of their own in complete
independence, paying an annual small tribute to the British Government
for the guarantee against aggression which has been given to them. They
are proud of their lineage, which they say they trace from the rising
sun. Every Red Karen has a rising sun--the crest of his
nobility--tattooed on his back. In challenging to combat he does not slap
his left folded arm with his right palm, as the rest of the Karens and
the Burmans do, but, coiling his right arm around his left side, strikes
the tattoo on his back. This action is supposed by him to rouse the magic
power of the symbol.

The Bghais are thus, as will be seen, more concentrated than the Pghos
and the Chghaws. They occupy the entire northern part of the Toungoo hill
tracts, and the chieftains of the independent Karen-nees are regarded as
the heads of the tribe. The Bghai of British Burma is an offshoot of the
Karen-nee, or Red Karen. The Red Karen calls one large clan of his
brethren in British Burma the "trouser-wearing Bghai;" while the latter
speaks of his Red Karen brother as the Eastern Bghai.

The division of the Karen nation into these three great tribes--the
Chghaw, Pgho, and Bghai--is a very ancient one and although there is
perfect cordiality and freedom of intercourse between them, intermarriage
is not frequent. This, however, is rather the result of the segregation,
under the force of external circumstances, of the three tribes than of
any customary law. The division, too, although stoutly maintained, never
stands in the way of combination for a common object by the entire
nation. Indeed, as will afterwards appear, the power and willingness to
combine as a nation for a common end is a characteristic which stands out
in the Karens most prominently, and is the main ground of hope for the
stability of their national existence.

The Karen language is monosyllabic, and belongs emphatically to the Tonal
family of languages. The syllables are all open; there is no final
consonant, except a nasal occasionally found in the Bghai and Pgho
dialects. There are no closed syllables at all. Compound words are formed
by agglutination. The case formation and the declension of nouns, as well
as the conjugation of verbs, are all by suffixes and affixes to roots.
Words in pairs are a peculiarity. They are not reduplicatives, but
agglutinatives used to intensify the meaning of the word, or to form a
new idea respecting a group. Every word, as the Karens themselves say,
has its "wife," or its synonyms in the same relation as the wife stands
to the husband in Burma--that of the better and stronger half! The
Burmese language has the same tendency, but not so marked as in the
Karen. In formal, polite address both the "husband" and "wife" words are
used. For example, _kathe-kachaw_ means "elephants," although _kathe_ by
itself means "horses." Again, _khai o kwa o_ means "sword-sticks," or (in
Burmese) _dahs_, although _kwa_ means an "axe." The agglutinatives
together convey a meaning more intense than either of them singly, and
the "wife" word contributes the greater strength of the two.
Reduplication of words in Karen conveys an adverbial signification.

The Karen language has no affinity whatever for the Burmese. It belongs
to the same family as the Chinese, but it must early have separated from
the parent tongue. It has no written character. It was never written till
Dr. Wade, the American missionary, reduced it to writing, using the
Burmese consonants.

The Karens thus have no written literature. But they are the possessors
of a rich bard literature, which has been transmitted from generation to
generation by men whose special business it is to commit to memory the
traditions, legends, songs, and homely folk-lore; commend to the young
their duties to elders and parents; recount the heroic deeds of old and
of the race from memory; and teach students to be their successors as
depositaries of the national traditions and folk-lore.

Supreme importance is attached to the correct transmission--exactly as
originally rendered by the elders--of the story of God's dealings with
the nation. They believed that God, who had cursed the Karen for losing
the written Word, would certainly call upon them some day--near or
distant, they knew not--to say how much they remembered of it; and that
the blessing to each would be apportioned according to the care with
which its words and truths had been treasured up. Hence the jealous care
and extraordinary accuracy with which the God traditions--the Palladium
of the nation--have been handed down from generation to generation. A
literal translation of the more important of these traditions is given in
the Appendix. Most of them could be recited with propriety in any
Christian church in England.

The Karens are small in stature, but broad and muscular. Those who live
in the hills are not so robust in appearance as those of the plains, the
weakly forms of the hill-people being due to the greater hardship of
their lives and the toughness of the struggle they often have to fight
for very existence, even under a British government. The skin is
naturally fair, like that of the Chinese; and the features of those of
pure blood are Caucasian in type--a characteristic which has been deemed
by some to support their claim to have been one of the lost tribes of
Israel. The hair is straight and black. The eyes are black. But in the
north sometimes brownish hair and hazel eyes are found.

The houses of the Karens are of various shapes and sizes. In the plains,
generally each family occupies a permanent dwelling. In the hills, an
entire village community lives in a long barrack of bamboos and
rough-hewn timber.

The heathen Karen may be said to be almost omnivorous. "Every animal from
a rat to an elephant, every reptile from a sand-lizard to a serpent,
ants, grubs, every bird, every fish, and the whole vegetable kingdom
adorn their tables." But, curiously, they will eat none of the monkey
tribe except the white-eyelid monkey.

The dress of the people varies a good deal. Some of the clans wear
tunics, striped and plain; others, chiefly in the north, wear trousers,
often handsomely coloured and embroidered; a few go about almost naked.
The dress of the Red Karens (Karen-nee) is peculiar. The men wear short
red trousers with narrow black or white stripes. Below the knee are black
bands of twisted thread. A wrapper of white, with a few red or black
stripes, is wound round the body. A bright red turban is worn on the
head, and an ornamented bag is hung across the shoulder. The female dress
is very picturesque. "The head-dress is a large red or black turban wound
up to form a small tower on the top of the head. There is no gown, but a
cloth like the Roman toga, tied by two corners on the right shoulder, and
the left arm is sometimes kept covered, but more often it is drawn out
above the garment. A second piece of cloth like the first is kept in the
hand like a loose shawl, or tied around the waist. One of these garments
is usually red, and the other black, though occasionally both are red.
For a petticoat, another rectangular piece of cloth is wrapped two or
three times round the person, and is kept in its place by a wampum belt
some half a dozen inches in diameter. Another enormous band of beads is
worn below the knee, and on the ankles large silver bangles. Ear-drops
are worn both by men and women."

The Karens all sing--they have an inborn love of music--and beautiful
singers they are. Their music is nearly all wild and plaintive, like that
of the Scottish and Welsh highlanders. [Two specimens of national Karen
airs are given in the Appendix.] Their minstrels are both men and women,
and in their bone-feasts each village bard competes with the other--a man
being pitted against a woman. The imagery used in many of their odes is
rich and pleasing. The flowers, the birds, the great cliffs and crags,
the rivers, the stars are all themes of song. It is a rich treat to hear
a whole school of two hundred boys and girls singing one of their own
hymns in parts. The voices are all sweet and the melody charming.



CHAPTER III - SOME OF THEIR NATIONAL CUSTOMS


INFANT betrothals are not uncommon, but they are becoming less frequent
than they used to be. As a rule, a young man chooses for himself the girl
whom he wishes to marry. He begins by obtaining the permission of the
girl's parents to paying his addresses--not, however, to the girl
herself, but through the parents. "He then selects a go-between, who
first consults a chicken's bones. If they give an unfavourable reply, the
matter is allowed to drop; if, on the other hand, the answer is
favourable, the go-between arranges the match, and when this is done a
feast is given by the young man's friends to those of the girl. If a girl
breaks her engagement, she has to pay the expenses of the feast; but she
is at liberty to receive the addresses of another suitor if her betrothed
declares publicly that he desires to forfeit all that has been spent,
which is the recognized way of breaking off the match."

The marriage ceremony is simple. "The bride is conducted to the house of
the bridegroom's parents in a procession with music, and as she ascends
the ladder she is drenched to the skin with water. Before the company
leave, two elders, one on behalf of the bride and one on behalf of the
bridegroom, take each a cup of spirits; the first repeats the duties of
the husband in case of the wife's death, and the latter replies,
acknowledging that such are his duties--one of which is that, should she
be carried into captivity or killed in a foray, he must purchase her
freedom or obtain the price of her blood. Each elder then gives to the
other to drink, and says, 'Be faithful to your covenant.' This concludes
the ceremony."

The Red Karens never betroth their children in infancy, and their
marriage ceremony is a singular one. "The two young people having made up
their minds to marry, and the parents having given their consent, the
bridegroom makes a feast in his house, to which the bride and some female
companions come. During the feast, the bridegroom presents a cup of
spirits to the bride, asking, 'Is it agreeable.' This she takes,
replying, 'It is agreeable.' She and her companions remain all night,
and, returning home next morning, prepare a feast to which the bridegroom
and his friends come, and the ceremony of presenting the cup of spirits
is again gone through, this time the bride being the questioner.
Occasionally the reply, given playfully, is, 'Not agreeable,' when the
spirits must be offered and the question asked till a favourable answer
is received. The feast in the bride's house completes the whole
ceremony."

Polygamy is not permitted, but is occasionally practised by those of the
Karens who are brought much in contact with the Burmese.

They have an odd way of naming their children. The names given are
sometimes those of ancestors, sometimes descriptive of the parents'
feelings, such as "Joy," "Hope;" often those of the seasons in which the
children were born, as "Harvest." In many cases the child owes his name
to some circumstance that occurred about the time of its birth, as
"Father returned;" or to some peculiarity in its appearance, as "White"
or "Black." On other occasions it is named after some bird, beast,
mineral, or tree, as "Heron," "Tiger," "Tin," "Cotton." Those who, on
growing up, develop some peculiarity, receive a kind of nickname, to
which "Father" or "Mother" is attached, such as "Father of Swiftness,"
"Mother of Contrivance." Frequently the parents change their names when a
child is born to them.

Their custom when an infectious disease breaks out in the village is a
stern one. In ordinary illnesses they treat the sick with decent
kindness, but they will not afford any assistance to a person--even one
of their own kith and kin--attacked by an infectious disease. "An
outbreak of cholera or small-pox will temporarily depopulate the villages
in large tracts of country, the inhabitants flying from the disease with
terror, and living in the forests till they think that they can return to
their homes without danger of contagion. The individual who has, or is
supposed to have, imported the disease is held responsible for all the
deaths, and must pay the price of the lives lost. If he dies himself, or
is unable to pay, the debt remains for his children and descendants to
wipe off. Every illness is looked upon as inflicted by the spirits, and
though the Karens have some knowledge of medicine, resort is not had to
it till incantations have been tried and the spirits have declined to be
propitious."

Warfare has, of course, ceased since the country came under British rule.
But an account of their war-customs of the olden time--and which still
prevail in the fierce forays of the Karen-nee--will be of some interest.

War is never declared. A wrong having been committed, the avenging
tribesman never make any declaration of reprisals, nor intimate that war
is to be waged. The great object is to take the enemy completely
unawares. Nor is war waged ostensibly between one village and another.
There is always an individual at the head of every war on whose account
the war is made, and who acts as general, but never goes to the fight
himself. If the season is deemed favourable, the head of the war kills a
hog or a fowl, and, taking a portion of the heart, liver, and entrails,
he mixes them up with salt and rolls the mixture up in a leaf. This
symbolizes typing up the heads of his enemies. Then, after a prayer to
the Lord of heaven and earth, he sends out spies to see how best the
enemy's village may be attacked. If the spies report favourably for the
attack, the head of the war sends out to collect volunteers for the
foray, forty or fifty from each village of the tribe. When all have
assembled, a feast is given, at which spirits are freely drunk. But
before handing round the spirits, the head of the war pours out some
slowly on the ground, and prays, "Lord of the seven heavens and the seven
earths, Lord of the rivers and streams, of the mountains and hills, we
give thee spirits to drink and rice to eat. Help us, we entreat thee. We
have tied the heads of our enemies. Help us. Make their minds forgetful;
make them to forget themselves--that they may sleep heavily, that their
sleep may be unbroken. Let not a dog bark at us, let not a hog grunt at
us. Let them not seize a bow, a sword, or a spear. And may the Lord keep
my children and grand-children that are going to attack our enemies, and
deliver them from all harm. May they, be delivered from the bow, the
sword, and the spear." After this a fowl is killed, and its bones
reverently consulted. If the omens are unfavourable, the tribesmen are
dismissed to their homes to wait for a more auspicious day. If they are
favourable, the head of the war leaps up exultingly and calls for two
volunteers to escalade the first house of the enemy's village. The two
volunteers come forward, and he addresses them thus: "You are a hunting
dog; you are a wild boar. If you succeed you are worthy of a buffalo, and
you shall have it. If you fail, if you are killed, let not those you
leave behind ask a buffalo of me; let them ask a fowl. Let them not ask
of me a silk garment on account of your death. You say you are bold, you
say you are fearless. You go the first, you return the last. If our
enemies follow and you run away, and anything happens to the people, you
are responsible." After this address the tribesmen go off, singing
war-songs:

"We march in order like white ants,
We cross a stream and trample it down;
We arrive at the foot of the house,
We reach the foot of the ladder;
Blood flows like a stream of water,
Blood flows down under the house.

"The mother cries herself to death;
The great hawk flies over the house,
Pounces down on the chief's red cock;
The great hawk swoops around the house,
Carries off its prey at the foot of the house;
The great hawk flies away,
Leaving the chief behind weeping."

When the party reach the house, the first rush is made by the two
volunteers, and the rest follow. The house is stormed. All the men are
killed, whether armed or unarmed. Such women as are thought likely to be
useful or profitable as slaves are taken and bound. All the rest are
killed. Infants are always killed, and children are often barbarously
massacred. Their hands and feet are cut off, and their bodies hacked into
small pieces.

Slavery is common amongst all the tribes, and one of the Bghai clans sell
even their relatives. Defaulting debtors, captives in forays, confirmed
thieves, widows and widowers who cannot pay the price of the deceased,
those who have brought or are supposed to have brought infectious
diseases--are all sold into slavery. Elderly men and women find no
purchases; they cannot work. Men and women of middle age fetch as much as
from two to three hundred rupees. Boys, girls, and children are valued at
from three to four hundred rupees.



CHAPTER IV - THEIR AGRICULTURE: PEE BEE YAW, THE GODDESS OF THE HARVEST


THE Karens are tillers of the soil. They do not engage, as the Burmese
do, in trade. When communities descend into the plains, they take to the
ordinary Burmese paddy-growing, in which they very soon outstrip the
Burmans. Their villages are always the most prosperous-looking. Those in
the hills still follow the primitive and destructive methods of their
forefathers. Their system, briefly, is to cut down and burn the trees on
a hillside, and then sow their crops on the mixed soil and ashes. Next
year they migrate to another hill and repeat the same operation, leaving
the first hill to recover its natural vegetation, till after six or seven
years they return to it. They thus migrate annually to different hills,
and each year finds one hill denuded of its vegetation, cultivated, and
then forsaken for another. The proper cycle of rotation is usually
regarded as seven years. In the seventh year, the people come back to the
hill where they had started, and commence their operations over again. In
January or February, the cultivator goes out to search for a good site,
and, having found one which suits him, he picks up a clod of earth and
puts it under his pillow. If his dreams are favourable, he sticks to the
site which he has chosen; if unfavourable, he must renew his search till
he finds a spot the earth of which brings a good omen to him in his
sleep. He then goes out with his family and cuts down the trees on his
patch, which is called a _toungya_. This is done by commencing at the
bottom of the hillside, and making slight notches in the biggest trees
and leaving the small trees untouched. Ascending gradually, the notches
made in the larger trees increase in length and depth till the top of the
hill is reached, where all the larger trees are completely cut down.
These, falling on those below, push them downwards, and an impetus is
created which increases as it moves steadily down the hill, until with
one great crash the whole forest vegetation is prostrated. The fallen
trees are left as they lie till April, when the mass is dry enough to
burn. A house of bamboos is built in a sequestered spot near the
_toungya_, the dry timber is lighted, and soon the whole of the fallen
forest is reduced to ashes. The heat of the fire splits up the soil, and
the ashes enter the crevices and fertilize the land. In May or June,
after the first downpour of rain, rice is sown, holes being dibbled in
the ground and the seed dropped in. When the rice has come well up,
cotton, capsicum, and maize are sown between the ridges. Near the house
are planted sugar-cane, yams, and betel. A little hut is built up in the
middle of the _toungya_, or cultivated patch, in which a boy or a girl is
placed to frighten away the birds and wild hogs, and, after two or three
weedings, the crop is reaped in October. The grain is threshed out by
beating the ears against a beam of wood, or treading out the grains with
their feet; for they have no cattle like their lowland neighbours. While
the crops are still on the ground, the men and the women fish and hunt to
supply the family with food, and gather all sorts of forest produce, till
harvest-time. When the rice crops have been gathered, the little granary
is stored with paddy, and the head of the family, accompanied by his
wife, goes down to the plain, and sells his betel, fowls, wild honey,
beeswax, and wild cardamoms, and thus obtains money for clothes and
taxes. In some parts--notably the hills of Shway Gyin--tobacco is
extensively grown, and yields a good return in cash. Burmans and even
Chinamen go up to the Karen settlements and make purchases.

The friendly divinity of the harvest, called Pee Bee Yaw, is invoked
annually when the crops are sown. The story of Pee Bee Yaw, the Karen
Ceres, is an amusing and characteristic one:--

There once lived a young pair of orphans, brother and sister, whose
parents had left them only four annas in silver. In accordance with the
ancestral custom of the Karens, they had been driven from the long house
or barrack in which the whole clan lives, lest the misfortune of
orphanhood should prove contagious.

They maintained a precarious existence by the most laborious toil, living
in a little hut at some distance from the clan to which they belonged.

A famine arose in the land, and the clansmen were obliged to go to a
neighbouring country to replenish their slender stock of grain.

When Po Khai's (the orphan boy) paddy was exhausted, his sister brought
out the cherished piece of silver their parents had left them, and asked
him to go and purchase grain with their fellow-clansmen.

In a despairing mood, he said, "What is the use? Four annas' worth of
rice will prolong our miserable lives but a few hours. As starvation is
inevitable, let us meet our fate at once."

His sister pleaded that, unhappy as their lives were, they were still
sweet to them. She showed him that as they had entered the world with
great pain, trouble, and care to their parents, so they should not leave
it till every means to prolong existence had been exhausted. To please
his sister, Po Khai went, following the clan at a distance, as he would
not be allowed to mix with their party. When the party returned, they saw
in the depths of the jungle by the side of the road an old woman her body
up to her neck completely covered with creepers, which had wound
themselves firmly around her body.

As the party approached, the old woman screamed, "Cut me loose, cut me
loose."

The clansmen declined, as the old woman would want to go home with them,
and would eat them out of house and home.

After the whole party had passed, Po Khai came along.

The old woman redoubled her cries, as there was but one left from whom
she could hope for release. Po Khai thought to himself, "I must die, and
even if the old woman goes home with me it can make but a few hours'
difference."

So he cut away the creepers, and the old lady skipped dancing out on the
road, saying, "Hurry up, grandson, for grandmother is perishing with
hunger."

The old woman really was Pee Bee Yaw, which means "Grandmother with the
bound waist."

When the sister saw her brother returning, she thought, "My brother must
be mad to invite guests to dinner when four annas' worth of rice bought
at famine prices are all our store."

Her brother, seeing her frowns, hastily ran up into the house and begged
his sister not to refuse the hospitality universally shown by the Karen.
He reminded her how their parents had never sent any one hungry away, and
begged his sister to keep up the ancestral custom, even though they were
in the very jaws of death.

The old woman at once skipped into the kitchen, and called the young girl
to cook in haste, as she was very hungry.

With a heavy heart the young girl was just pouring all the rice her
brother had brought home into the pot, when the old woman checked her
sharply, "What a wasteful child! Seven grains of rice are quite enough."

"Grandmother," replied the girl, "I know how to cook a pot of rice, but I
don't know how to cook seven grains of rice alone."

The old woman spoke up sharply. "Obey orders when your elders command
you, and ask no questions."

Abashed at the sharp tone of the old woman, the girl counted out seven
kernels, and the old woman approached the pot with mystic passes, and the
pot became full.

At seven grains to a meal, Po Khai saw that the rice he had purchased was
amply sufficient for his wants, and knew that a good power had stepped in
to save him.

When the news of the daily miracle reached the clan, they assembled and
claimed Pee Bee Yaw as their guest on the ground of prior discovery.

Pee Bee Yaw refused to go with them, reminding them that they had
forfeited their right as the first finders by their refusal to cut her
loose from the creepers. Of course this refusal laid the foundation of
much hatred towards Po Khai and his sister.

When it came time to cut the _toungya_(hill garden), Pee Bee Yaw told Po
Khai to clear the jungle from seven hills and prepare them for planting.

"How can I clear seven hills?" asked Po Khai.

"Ask no questions when your elders order you," was the old lady's sharp
reply.

Just as he was leaving the house, Pee Bee Yaw gave him a dah, with orders
to try it.

When he reached the chosen spot, Po Khai raised his dah against a huge
tree. It fell without even waiting for the blow. "Well, that's the
sharpest dah I ever used," blurted out Po Khai, as he watched the crash
of the huge tree.

Of course the seven hills were all cleared off before breakfast.

Po Khai wondered how this huge field was ever to be planted and reaped
and the grain thrashed, but he dared ask no questions, as Pee Bee Yaw
always rebuked so harshly. He went on in blind faith in the old woman's
power. At the sowing season, Pee Bee Yaw danced over the whole field and
a perfect shower of paddy started from her fingers and toes and from
every fold of her clothing, and so the field was well filled with grain.
The crop prospered splendidly, and soon the bending ears, over a foot in
length and filled to the very extremity with golden grain, gave promise
of such a bountiful harvest as had never been known before.

Po Khai wondered how this grain could ever be harvested, but still dared
not ask.

The clansmen, wild with rage at the boundless wealth which they had just
missed, and which had gone to Po Khai, now summoned all the clans within
a day's march to join them in stealing Po Khai's paddy. Men, women, and
even children joined the raid. Some reaped, others carried the bundles.
Some threshed and winnowed, while others carried home the paddy. After a
most laborious night's work of many hundreds, all of Po Khai's grain was
carried off. Fancy the looks of Po Khai when he found nothing but
trampled stubble where he had left waving grains!

Following the trail of the thieves, he picked up seven sheaves dropped by
the way. On reporting to Pee Bee Yaw that these seven bundles were all
that was left of their crop, she coolly told him to build seven huge
paddy bins. Po Khai did so with the unquestioning obedience which had
become a habit with him. When the bins were completed, but not roofed, a
sheaf was put in each, and Pee Bee Yaw commenced dancing among the bins
and singing a call to the grain, wherever it was, to return to its proper
owner. At once the paddy came flying through the air and fell in a
perfect shower, till not a single grain was left with the thieves.

A solemn council of all the clans was then held, and their indignation
knew no bounds. "We thought to ruin Po Khai, and we have been made
nothing but his coolies, and even worse; nothing is left us even for our
wages." So they arranged to steal the paddy again, from the bins this
time.

Po Khai spent the day, by Pee Bee Yaw's orders, in cutting a huge pile of
clubs and making a large number of cords.

When they went home in the evening, Pee Bee Yaw said, "Ropes tie and
sticks beat." When the clansmen came to steal the paddy, the ropes bound
each to a tree and the clubs began to beat a rat-tat-too on their unlucky
backs. To entreat the deaf cords and clubs was, of course, useless. Next
morning Po Khai found his tormentors in his power, and half dead with the
terrible beating they had received.

They readily took the oath, considered by hill men to be inviolable,
never to molest him more.

Pee Bee Yaw then said she must return to her abode in the skies, to wash
down her house there, as the hens had surely filled it with dust. To
enable her to do so, she told Po Khai to raise the two beams by which the
native plough or harrow is dragged, into a perpendicular position. She
then took the form of a cricket, crept up to the yoke, and flew away.

(The custom of raising the yoke in air and placing a cricket on the
perpendicular poles that support it is still followed by the Karens. It
is considered a very good omen if the cricket crawls upwards and takes
flight from the top.)

During Pee Bee Yaw's absence, Po Khai married a young and beautiful wife.
His great wealth obtained from the sale of his crop, made him a great
match. Unfortunately, he did not tell his bride the secret of Pee Bee
Yaw's help in raising so large a quantity of grain, but took the credit
to himself. When Pee Bee Yaw returned with the planting season, she took
up her abode in the _toungya_, so as to watch over the growing grain.

Po Khai's wife was curious to discover the secret of her husband's great
success in paddy cultivation, and so went out one day to the field. Po
Khai was not there. When she saw Pee Bee Yaw she was jealous, supposing
her to be her husband's paramour.

The young bride attacked her rival fiercely with a club, and beat her
over the whole field. Pee Bee Yaw, vainly attempting to escape, jumped
into a crab's hole, and has never been seen since.

This amusing little story keeps the people in good humour at their toil,
and is recited with great gusto at the harvest-home.

The Karens to this day use the sort of well-curb of earth thrown out by a
crab about the mouth of its hole, as the representative of Pee Bee Yaw.
This lump of earth is placed on the threshing-floor at harvest, and
offerings are made to it. During the rest of the year it is kept in the
paddy-bin with the greatest care, while fowls are sacrificed to it, and a
small portion is nibbled off and cast out into the field, just before
certain rhymed incantations are made, which are supposed to be necessary
to the welfare of the grain. To this day the hill Karen will never
cultivate land near his house. Pee Bee Yaw hates women, owing to the
beating she received, and no risk must be run of her meeting a woman and
deserting her post in anger.

The hill Karen always stores his paddy far away from his house, because
it is Pee Bee Yaw's gift and he dares not let her know that he feeds his
women with it. Each day's supply of paddy must be cleaned as soon as
brought home. Pee Bee Yaw is supposed not to recognize in the white rice
the yellow paddy she gave.



CHAPTER V - THEIR FOLK-LORE: ONE OF THEIR SATIRICAL TRADITIONS


STORY OF SAW KAY

AT Mya-yah-doung (about ten miles east of the present station of
Wah-net-khyoung, on the Prome road) there once lived a great Karen chief
called the Yellow Chief. He had a son named Saw Kay (Mr. Crooked). He was
a cunning, idle, and lazy fellow. The Burmese Government seized on the
entire clan, and sent them under guard to cut a huge teak tree into a
war-boat and drag it to the river-bank. Saw Kay was the only male not
seized. He was spared to carry the rice the women were forced to clean
out for the food of the working party. Saw Kay's mother had two large and
very fat hogs, which she had petted so long that she could not bear to
have them killed. Saw Kay's mouth watered every time he looked at their
fat sides, and as his entreaties to be allowed to kill the hogs were in
vain, he laid a plan to induce his mother to gratify his appetite for
pork.

He went to his father, and with a profuse gush of tears told him that his
mother was dead, sobbed out a pitiful tale of how his mother had been
seized by cholera, and had died alone, deserted by all the women of the
clan, and how he alone had buried the body and performed the funeral
rites. Leaving his father under guard, plunged in the depth of woe at
this untimely bereavement, he returned to his home, and told his mother
that his father, while at his work, had been killed by the boat rolling
over on to him. He described the fearful appearance of the corpse,
mangled by the crushing weight that had mutilated it beyond recognition,
and, beating on his breast, exclaimed against the brutality of the Burman
guard, that would not even permit the removal of the corpse to the
ancestral burial-place (a terrible thing to the Karens).

It must be remembered that Saw Kay was the only means of communication
between the working party and their home, and that the lies of Saw Kay ran
no risk of detection.

The mother, bathed in tears, said, "Well, he was a good husband to me,
and the least I can do will be to make the usual funeral feast to his
memory, even if his bones do not lie with those of his fathers."

So one of the hogs was killed, and Saw Kay gorged himself to repletion.
Soon after, he began his plans for a second feast, and went to his father
with proposals for a re-marriage. He said, "Father, we shall need some
one to cook for us and weave our clothes. Now, I lately saw a woman who
looked exactly like mother, talked like her, and acted like her. In fact,
if I had not buried mother with my own hands, I should have claimed her
as my own mother. Now, you had better marry her. Let me act as the
go-between and negotiate a marriage."

The father replied, "If she is like your dead mother, it is all I can
ask," and consented to the match.

Saw Kay then went to his mother, and told her that as soon as the clan
returned from their work they would be driven from the long house in
which the entire clan lived, in accordance with the ancestral Karen
custom, which banished widows and orphans from the house, lest their
misfortune prove contagious. He urged her to a second marriage saying
that he had met a man in the forest so strikingly resembling his dead
father, that if he had not buried his father with his own hands he should
say it was his own father.

The mother said that if the proposed individual was only half as good as
her deceased husband it was enough, and consented to the match.

In this way Saw Kay was the first one to arrange a marriage between his
own parents.

When the clan returned on the completion of the boat, the second hog was
killed for the marriage-feast.

Saw Kay, of course, presided, trusting to the impossibility of his
parents having any private conversation in the crowd of invited guests.
Both, of course, were much struck by the very peculiar resemblance to the
supposed dead partner, but they had been prepared for this by Saw Kay's
previous description. In high feather, Saw Kay performed the marriage
ceremony over his parents, and ushered them to the bridal-chamber.

Judging rightfully that "the ground would be too hot for him to tread on"
on the morrow, Saw Kay shouldered a hind-quarter of the hog slain for the
feast, and marched to the _tai_ (long mountain house) of a neighbouring
clan.

He took care to time his arrival so as to find none of the men at home.
When he entered the _tai_, the women crowded around him, their mouths
watering at the sight of the very fat hind-quarter of pork Saw Kay had
brought with him. He reported that he had speared a wild hog too heavy to
be carried home, and that he was returning for help to bring in the rest
of the carcase.

"If you have a whole carcase, sell us this," spoke up an old woman, and
asked the price.

Saw Kay asked one hundred rupees for it. (Karens then buried all their
money for fear of the Burmese Government.) The woman, never seeing money,
knew nothing of its value.

"Oh, if my husband was only at home, I'd make him buy me this delicious
pork!" groaned the old woman.

"Go and ask him," said Saw Kay; "he is just beyond those bushes across
the ravine."

The old woman ran round the head of the ravine, while Saw Kay whipped
across unknown to her. On reaching the bushes she shouted, "Husband,
husband! may I buy a quarter of very fat pork for a hundred rupees?"

Saw Kay, from the other side of the bushes, called out personating her
husband "Yes; and buy it quickly, lest you lose so good a bargain."

The old woman ran round, while Saw Kay rushed across the ravine, and was
found sitting quietly in his place as if he had never stirred. The old
woman dug up the money, and Saw Kay hastily left with his ill-gotten
gains, rightly judging that the place would be too hot for him when the
men returned from their work.

He then went down to the "Prince's Road," knowing that seven great
Burmese merchants, with five hundred carts laden with up-country silk
_patsoes_ were soon to pass the spot. He carved a staff with peculiar
figures on it, and buried his hundred rupees a few inches under the
ground in little deposits of from two to five rupees each.

When his quick eye detected the merchants riding in advance of their
carts, he pretended to be absorbed in his pursuits, and, flourishing his
staff with mystic passes, he would shout, "Hey for five rupees!" strike
the earth, and dig up the money; "hey for two rupees!" strike the earth,
and dig up the money. The merchants watched his proceedings, saying to
themselves, "Fool, not to wish for a lakh of rupees at once." On their
approach Saw Kay feigned great fright, and tried to escape. The merchants
held him fast, and tried to frighten him into a bargain for the magic
staff. He pleaded hard to be allowed to keep it, and said, "Perhaps the
stick may be destined by fate to me alone."

The merchants threatened, and offered money, until at last he, with
apparent reluctance, sold the staff for a thousand rupees. The merchants
dared not try their staff till they reached Rangoon, lest the possession
of so great a treasure might cause them to be murdered by their own
camp-followers. Of course, the magic staff failed them. They were unable
to search for Saw Kay till all their cargo of silk _patsoes_ was disposed
of, which took all the rains.

In the forest, Saw Kay met a widow, who had been driven from her clan,
and who had a posthumous daughter. Being brought up alone in the forest,
the young girl had never seen a man. The tale waxes eloquent in praises
of the young woman's beauty, and tells how the magic glance of her
melting eye brought a body-guard of the most savage beasts around her;
how, whenever she stepped out into the sunshine, the birds would close
their ranks, flying over her so as to form a canopy over her to prevent
her beautiful complexion from being tanned by the sun; how the carols of
the birds accompanied her steps while waking; and how the birds watched
in deathlike stillness over her siestas. It was a case of love at first
sight, and the happy couple entered the nuptial state amid the wild
enthusiasm of the beasts of the forest enslaved by the marvellous beauty
of the lovely bride. The newly married couple spent the rains in the
seclusion of the forest.

With the opening of the dry weather, the merchants came up in great wrath
to hunt down the dog of a Karen who had dared to cheat royal Burman
merchants.

With hundreds of their camp-followers, they beat every strip of jungle
and scoured every plain, till at last one morning Saw Kay's little hut
was surrounded by men eagerly thirsting for his blood.

Hastily giving his wife and mother-in-law directions what to do, he
sprang out on the verandah and seized a small bow hung there merely to
frighten the crows, and commenced a wild dance with the most extravagant
gestures to divert the attention of the men closing up around him from
the attempt to escape of his wife and her mother. The two women stole
away unperceived, as no one knew of Saw Kay's marriage, and they were
only on the look-out for the audacious Karen.

"Slave of a Karen!" shouted the merchants, as they seized on Saw Kay,
"even your blood will not fully avenge the insult you have inflicted on
us."

Saw Kay reminded them of the extreme reluctance with which he had parted
with the magic staff, and of the threats by which his consent to the sale
had been extorted, and told them the staff was evidently assigned by fate
to him, and that they, unworthy on account of their avarice in grasping
so much at once, were unable to avail themselves of it. He pleaded to
ears deafened by long-nursed rage. He then rose with dignity, and said,
"Since nothing but blood will appease your anger, I refuse not to die. I
only ask to be allowed before my death to give you all a good meal of
fowl-curry that I may die in the odour of serenity, doing good even to my
murders."

"Dog of a Karen!" yelled his foes, "do not think to appease us by so
trifling a gift."

"I hope not to soften your hard heart