Judicial work in Upper Burma, which occupied me for the next two years, was interesting but not exciting. The volume of work was sufficient, not beyond the pursuit of zeal and industry. The forensic part was varied and often entertaining, involving many studies of Buddhist law and indigenous customs. Though not a very litigious people, Burmans hate being treated, as they think, unjustly. I have known a case where only a few pence were at stake carried through all the Courts up to Mandalay. Besides hearing appeals and revisions as a High Court, the Judicial Commissioner had to supervise, and, where necessary, instruct the subordinate judiciary. The judicial system was less elaborate than in other Provinces, and many magistrates and Judges retained characteristics acquired under Burmese rule. They did their best, and administered what was perhaps at times a wild kind of justice. They had the Civil Procedure Code thrust on them, _me judice_, at too early a date, but they bore the infliction with resignation. The Judicial Commissioner’s duties involved a fair amount of administration and a good deal of inspection. With the members of the small but efficient Bar his relations were friendly and cordial. The Judicial Commissioner held sway within the limits of his powers over all Upper Burma save, mercifully for them, the Shan States and the Chin and Kachin Hills. Inspections included many parts of the Province by me before unvisited. Of these brief visits, full of interest at the time, it were tedious to write at length. A sample may be given. Early one morning I landed at a wayside village to inspect the township court. A graceful little pandal[258] had been erected wherein I was invited to witness a pwè before beginning work. Innocently consenting, I took my seat and the performance began. Dancers came, not single spies, but in battalions. Every village in the neighbourhood had sent its troupe, each eager in succession to display its skill and grace. Except one, all the companies consisted of quite young girls, not professionals, but daughters of the village. The last turn was given by a band of small boys delightfully dressed in green jackets and knickerbockers. This was much more amusing than turning over dusty files and registers. But all good things come to an end, and after some pleasant hours I had reluctantly to obey the call of duty. In the end, I breakfasted at 5 o’clock tea. There is a sequel to the story. On my return to Mandalay I received a petition signed by the girls of one of the troupes. It was more clement than the petition of Salome. The memorialists had danced, and I had been pleased to look and express approval. Such poor skill as they had was due to the training of their saya.[259] This worthy man had fallen on evil days. By the craft and subtlety of his enemies, he had been wrongfully prosecuted for embezzlement, unjustly convicted, and barbarously sentenced to imprisonment.