had been seized on our side and carried off to Sinbaungwè. At the time the incident seemed to me of international importance. The man who had set his stamp on the subdivision was my friend Mr. Burgess, who spent there the first seven years of his service, greatly to the benefit of himself and of the people. He made roads, kept the peace, and impressed the countryside by his zeal for justice and good order. Even in those dark days, before the light of a Decentralization Commissions had shone, needless transfers seem to have been avoided. The township officer, my old and valued friend and colleague, Maung Tet Py̆o, held his charge for many years. He was an official of the very oldest school, not very learned, with only a working knowledge of codes, but thoroughly acquainted with every inch of his township, and with every man, woman, and child of his people. He had, of course, no English. I doubt if he was ever required to pass a departmental examination. His handwriting was so bad that my Burmese clerks often had to come to me to decipher it. Maung Tet Py̆o was a man of courage and energy, who somewhat shocked the straighter sect of Buddhists by being an ardent sportsman. Burmans told with admiration that he shot birds on the wing. He filled the measure of his days, was decorated, and many years after his retirement died honoured and lamented. Curiously enough, though so nearly illiterate, he will probably be remembered as the compiler of a book on the “Customary Laws of the Chins,” a treatise which attracted the attention of Mr. Jardine,[55] the Judicial Commissioner, and was translated under his direction. The manuscript was beautifully written out by my clerk, Maung Po, afterwards a My̆o-ôk, one of my many Burmese friends, who, I suspect, was responsible for more than the transcription.