The Silken East
Cathedral Street, thus bravely started, ends abruptly, as many things in Mandalay used to, in a ditch. At its bottom women wash clothes, pigs rout for food, and the blue hills of Sagaing and the Shan highlands flank the vista east and west. A crazy bridge a little way off takes me to the other side, where the shops are nearer to each other, and tinmen, and the makers of gold and
in 82, cathedral street
silver umbrellas, display their wares. All along the way the painted acacias make vivid patches of green, most vivid in Mandalay, when all else is dry and withered in the sun. White and gold pagodas line the road ; there is a clanging of great bells, the tinkle of little ones on lofty spires. Chinese eating houses tempt the passers-by ; silken skirts flash in the sunlight, and dustwhirls drive along the beaten track.
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