the Burmese were told contemptuously that, if they could recover it, they might keep it. So they took a bit of bamboo and fished up the bell and replaced it on the pagoda platform where it still hangs. If you take the deer's horn which lies handy for the purpose, first strike the earth, then strike the bell three times, your wish shall be granted. Approached by a long flight of steps, fringed on either side by rows of stalls where cheroots, toys, candles, and many varieties of miscellaneous goods, are offered for sale, the Pagoda attracts pilgrims and worshippers from all parts of the Province and sigh-seers from distant lands. Any day, one may see pious men and women telling their beads and murmuring their aspirations, acknowledging the misery of this transitory life, burning candles before holy images. As in Fitch's time, on sabbaths and feast days, the platform is crowded with Burmans of all ages, clad in gay silks of many colours, in the best possible temper. The Pagoda is in the custody of trustees who receive the offerings of the faithful and ensure the maintenance in good order of the shrine and its precincts. In too close proximity is an arsenal.
On the border of the city, approximately on the site of King Tharrawaddy's myo, lies the cantonment, a wide expanse, including the pagoda, where there are barracks, parade grounds, residences of military and civil officers. Formerly open and picturesque, it is gradually becoming crowded with houses. Presently it will be removed to a distance and the space will be given up to the expansion of the town. On its outskirts, in a well-wooded park, stands Government House, a building of some pretension. Beyond the cantonment lie the Royal Lakes, surrounded by Dalhousie Park, a worthy memorial of the great Governor-General who dedicated it to public use for ever. Nature, skilfully aided by art, has made of its sloping lawns, fairy glades, and winding paths, adorned with flowers in gay and gallant profusion, a scene of almost incomparable beauty.
