The Silken Hast ca-
he is in his own country, and yet in a measure an alien ; a judge, but of doubtful honour ; a pro-consul in his way, but a son of the jungle in his innermost heart.
After him, slowly pacing through the forest, comes a man of both worlds, a pothoodaiv. His nondescript garments are neither lay nor clerical ; from their colour one might fancy them to be the cast-off garments of a monk, worn with usage, and soiled by the wayside
verend ; his manner is that of a saint ; and his two companions address him in words suitable to these pretensions. He is in reality a simple-hearted and devout old man, upon whom the conviction of holiness has grown ; he spends his life in pious works, and has put the world behind him ; but he is not a monk. His companions are a pair of old and wrinkled Shan, with faces graven like the face of a sailoraoriginals both. One of them carries an English pipe, which he
THE "POTHOODAW" AND HIS CRONIES
dust. The pole he carries over his shoulders, with a basket slung at each end, is unmistakably lay; the yellowiparasol, with the sunlight pouring through it on his shaven head, is of clerical suggestion. His carriage is grave and re-