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That evening I was again down with fever and found myself unable to take any food whatever. I 
called in the local medico, who fed me on iced champagne, and the next day I was pretty well 
again. Thornton in the meanwhile had gone off to Mandalay. I was very sorry not to be able to go on 
there with him, but my time was too short: I did not know when I might be summoned to join 
Eckenstein to go off to Kashmir. 
On the twelfth of February I went on board the Komilla for Akyab, where Allan was now living. In 
the course of the day the sea air completely restored me to health. On the thirteenth we were off 
Sandaway, which did not appear fascinating. On the next day we put in a Kyakpyu, which I had so 
vainly hoped to reach overland. It has a most delightful bay and beach, its general appearance 
recalling the South Sea Islands; but the place is a den of malaria. We had no time to land, as the 
captain was anxious to get into Akyab the same night. We raced through the straits and cast anchor 
there about eight o'clock --- just in time. 
I went ashore with the second officer and proceeded in my usual casual manner to try to find Allan 
in the dark. The job was easier than I anticipated. The first man I spoke to greeted me as if I had 
been his long-lost brother, and took me off in his own carriage to the monastery (the name of which 
is Lamma Sayadaw Kyoung) where I found Allan, whom I now saw for the first time as a Buddhist 
monk. The effect was to make him appear of gigantic height, as compared to the diminutive 
Burmese, but otherwise there was very little change. The old gentleness was still there. 
I ought to have mentioned (when talking of Ceylon) the delightful story of his adventure with a 
krait. Going out for a solitary walk one day with no better weapon than an umbrella, be met a krait 
sunning himself in the middle of the road. Most men would have either killed the krait with the 
umbrella or avoided its dangerous neighbourhood. Allan did neither; he went up to the deadly little 
reptile and loaded him with reproaches. He showed him how selfish it was to sit in the road where 
someone might pass and accidentally tread on him. "For I am sure," said Allan, "that were anyone 
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to interfere with you, your temper is not sufficiently under control to prevent you striking him. Let 
us see now!" he continued, and deliberately stirred the beast up with his umbrella. The krait raised 
itself and struck several times viciously, but fortunately at the umbrella only. Wounded to the heart 
by this display of passion and anger, and with tears running down his cheeks, at least metaphorically 
speaking, he exhorted the snake to avoid anger, as it would the most deadly pestilence, explained 
the four noble truths, the three characteristics, the five precepts, the ten fetters of the soul; and 
expatiated on the doctrine of Karma and all the paraphernalia of Buddhism for at least ten minutes 
by the clock. When he found the snake was sufficiently impressed he nodded pleasantly and went 
off with a "Good day, brother krait!"  
Some men would take this anecdote as illustrating fearlessness; but the true spring is to be found in 
compassion. Allan was perfectly serious when he preached to the snake, though he was possibly a 
better man of science than a good many of the stuck-up young idiots who nowadays lay claim to the 
title. I have here distinguished between fearlessness and compassion; but in their highest form they 
are surely identical; even pseudo-Christ hit the mark when he observed, "Prefect love casteth out 
fear." 
They managed to give me some sort of a shakedown, and I slept very pleasantly at the monastery. 
The next morning I went off to breakfast on board to say goodbye to the captain, who had shown 
me great kindness, and afterwards took my luggage and went to Dr. Moung Tjha Nu, the resident 
medical officer, who welcomed me heartily and offered me hospitality during my stay in Akyab. 
He was Allan's chief dayaka; and very kindly and wisely did he provide for him. I walked back with 
Allan to the temple and commenced discussion all sorts of things, but continuous conversation was 
quite impossible, for people of all sorts trooped in incessantly to pay their respects to the European 
bhikkhu. They prostrated themselves at his feet and clung to them with reverence and affection. 
They brought him all sorts of presents. He was more like Pasha Bailey Ben than any other character 
in history.