I tried to learn from him then, and I have tried from others since, whether these charms have any connection with Buddhism. I cannot find that they have. They are never in the form of images of the Buddha, or of extracts from the sacred writings. There is not, so far as I can make out, any religious significance in these charms; mostly they are simply mysterious. I never heard that the people connect them with their religion. Indeed, all forms of enchantment and of charms are most strictly prohibited. One of the vows that monks take is never to have any dealings with charms or with the supernatural, and so Buddhism cannot even give such little assistance to its believers as to furnish them with charms. If they have charms, it is against their faith; it is a falling away from the purity of their teachings; it is simply the innate yearning of man to the supernatural, to the mysterious. Man's passions are very strong, and if he must fight, he must also have a charm to protect him in fight. If his religion cannot give it him, he must find it elsewhere. You see that, as the teachings of the Buddha have never been able to be twisted so as to permit war directly, neither have they been able to assist indirectly by furnishing charms, by making the fighter bullet-proof. And I thought then of the little prayer and the cross that were so certain a defence against hurt. We talked for a long time in the waning moonlight by the ruddy fire, and at last we broke up to go to bed. As we rose a voice called to us across the water from the little promontory. In the still night every word was as clear as the note of a gong. 'Sleep well,' it cried--'sleep well--sle-e-ep we-l-l.' We all stood astonished--those who did not know Burmese wondering at the voice; those who did, wondering at the meaning. The sentries peered keenly towards the sound. 'Sleep well,' the voice cried again; 'eat well. It will not be for long. Sleep well while you may.' And then, after a pause, it called the governor's son's name, and 'Traitor, traitor!' till the hills were full of sound. The Burman turned away. 'You see,' he said, 'how they hate me. What would be the good of charms?' The voice was quiet, and the camp sank into stillness, and ere long the moon set, and it was quite dark.