Ignorance prevails to an extent scarcely to be imagined among the generality of the Phongyies. I have met with a great number of laymen who were incomparably better informed, and far superior in knowledge to them. Their mind is of the narrowest compass. Though bound by their profession to study with particular care the various tenets of their creed and all that relates to Buddhism, they are sadly deficient in this respect. They have no ardour for study. While they read some book, they do it without attention or effort to make themselves fully acquainted with the contents. There is no vigour in their intellect, no comprehensiveness in their mind, no order or connection in their ideas. Their reading is of a desultory nature, and the notions stored up in their memory are at once incoherent, imperfect, and too often very limited. They possess no general or correct views of Buddhism. I never met with one who could embrace the whole system in his mind and give a tolerably accurate account of it. The only faculty that they cultivate with great care is memory. It is surprising to hear them repeating by heart the contents of a book they have studied. As the number of books is very limited in countries where the art of printing has not been introduced, the pupils of the monasteries are compelled to commit to memory the greatest portion of the books they study. He who has lived in Burmah must have often heard, to his great surprise, laymen repeating, during sometimes a whole hour, formulas in Pali, or religious stories in Burmese, which they had learned in the school, or when they had put on the monkish habit. Phongyies are fond of exhibiting their knowledge of the Pali language, by repeating from memory, and without stammering or stumbling, long formulas and sentences; but I have convinced myself that very few among them understood even imperfectly a small part of what they recited. Those who enjoy popularly a reputation for uncommon knowledge affect to speak very little, show a great reserve, despising as ignorant the person that approaches their abodes or holds conversation with them. But silence, which in a learned man is a sign of modesty, is too often with them a cloak to cover their ignorance, and a cunning device for disguising pride under the garb of humility. The latter virtue, though much recommended in the Wini, is not a favourite one with the Talapoins. It is indeed impossible that they could ever understand or practise it, since they are unacquainted with the two great ways that lead to it, viz., a profound knowledge of God and a thorough knowledge of self. Talapoins, who are distinguished among their brethren for their great austerity of manners and more perfect observance of their regulations, are the most unpleasing beings the writer has ever met with.