The Silken East ^
west gate, aracan pagoda
shops jostle each other, growing more numerous, till I reach where the great masonry cats are scarcely visible from the press of their multitude.
From here to the latticed doors, behind which the profile of the Buddha is faintly visible in the interior gloom, there is a long aisle, half-lit, and filled with yet other stalls.
Some of the pillars of the hall are of plain unpainted wood, others are rich with mirror mosaic and gold. The scene is so attractive, so charged with incident and multiplicity of beauty, that I come insensibly to a standstill. The long vista ahead tempts my feet forward ; the shops, the bars of diffused light streaming through the corridors behind, tempt me to stay and look back. One who came here for the first time would need to be