Rounding the lighthouse, our course lay to the southward, parallel to the land, which I do not think we ever lost sight of. Verdure-clad hills skirted the shore, while here and there a pagoda glistening in the sun betokened the proximity of an isolated village. The country was known to be sparsely populated, and in such places only where a river debouched on the sea. Of actual life we saw none; no boats, nor man, nor beast. The changing scene was delightful, and I did not for a moment regret having accepted the invitation on the spur of the moment. Years of experience have shown me that such decisions turn out, as a rule, better than those arrived at after the process we are pleased to call deliberation. We are told to “look before we leap.” _Cui bono?_ when none of us can see a hair’s breadth into the future. Moreover, thinking over anything generally confuses nine men out of every ten, and the judgment of man, in whatsoever direction he may exercise it, almost invariably arrives at an erroneous decision. No; as far as my individual experience goes, instinct, viewed in the light of subsequent events, has throughout been safer than reasoning, while I regret not having acted on first impressions on several memorable and critical occasions. We continued our southward course for a time, when the ship’s head was suddenly turned due east, and we were evidently making for a river. For some time I could distinguish no opening, having but a landsman’s powers of observation; but at length a fissure appeared in the otherwise unbroken line of mangrove forest which marks this coast, and ere long we were in the river that flows past Tavoy. I at once noticed that it was very much narrower than the Salween, more muddy, and also more rapid, cutting its way through the web of mangroves, that alone prevented the earth silting up the river and forming the usual bar at its mouth. I may, _en passant_, mention a peculiarity of the seeds of this plant; and that is, they enjoy the power of germinating while still attached to the tree; the radicle, bursting through the covering, imbeds itself in the mud, and is followed in due course by the seed. Some species of mangroves are sweet and palatable, and the wood of some of them is hard enough to be in demand for a variety of purposes, while others are rich in an inferior quality of tannin. The generality of rivers are characterized by the graceful curves described by their winding course; but this one formed an exception, indulging in an eccentric abruptness, depending, of course, on the lay of the land.