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  TRAVELS

  IN THE

  CENTRAL PARTS OF INDO-CHINA

  (SIAM),

  CAMBODIA, AND LAOS.

  VOL. II.




  [Illustration:

  Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

  BIVOUAC OF M. MOUHOT IN THE FORESTS OF LAOS.]




  TRAVELS

  IN THE

  CENTRAL PARTS OF INDO-CHINA

  (SIAM),

  CAMBODIA, AND LAOS,

  DURING THE YEARS 1858, 1859, AND 1860.

  BY THE LATE

  M. HENRI MOUHOT,

  FRENCH NATURALIST.

  IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.

  WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

  LONDON:
  JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.

  1864.




  LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET,
  AND CHARING CROSS.




CONTENTS OF VOL. II.


  CHAPTER XIII.

  PAGE

  ONGCOR THÔM (ONGCOR THE GREAT)--SURROUNDING WALL--TRIUMPHAL ARCH   1


  CHAPTER XIV.

  REMARKS ON CAMBODIA AND ITS RUINS                                 20


  CHAPTER XV.

  KHAO SAMROUM--PROVINCE OF PECHABURI OR PHETXABURI                 38


  CHAPTER XVI.

  RETURN TO BANGKOK--PREPARATIONS FOR A NEW EXPEDITION TO THE
          NORTH-EAST OF LAOS--PHRABAT--PAKPRIAU--SAOHAÏE            61


  CHAPTER XVII.

  TOWN OF CHAIAPUME--JOURNEY TO THE TOWN OF KORAT--THE PROVINCE
          OF KORAT--TEMPLE OF PENOM-WAT--RETURN TO CHAIAPUME--
          POUKIÉAU--MONANG-MOUNE-WA--NAM-KANE--LOUANG PRABANG,
          CAPITAL OF WEST LAOS                                     105


  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE EAST OF LOUANG PRABANG--NOTES OF TRAVELS--OBSERVATIONS
          FROM BANGKOK TO LAOS--END OF THE JOURNAL--DEATH OF
          THE TRAVELLER                                            144


APPENDIX.

  NEW SPECIES OF MAMMALS, REPTILES, FRESH-WATER FISHES, INSECTS,
          AND SHELLS, DISCOVERED BY M. MOUHOT                        165

  ATMOSPHERICAL OBSERVATIONS                                         187

  TRANSLATIONS OF CHINESE TALES AND FABLES                           190

  THE DAMIER, OR CAPE PIGEON                                         200

  THE ALBATROSS                                                      204

  CAMBODIAN VOCABULARY                                               207

  LETTERS FROM M. MOUHOT                                             241

  LETTERS ADDRESSED TO M. MOUHOT                                     278

  LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THE FAMILY OF M. MOUHOT                       290

  PAPER READ AT THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY                       296




ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II.


  PAGE

  VIEW IN THE GULF OF SIAM                                            42

  CEREMONY, ON A YOUNG SIAMESE COMING OF AGE, OF THE REMOVAL
          OF THE TUFT                                       _To face_ 44

  VIEW OF THE PORT AND DOCKS OF BANGKOK                               47

  PORTRAIT OF KHROM LUANG, BROTHER OF THE KING OF SIAM                49

  HALL OF AUDIENCE, PALACE OF BANGKOK                                 52

  GROTTO AT PECHABURI                                                 55

  VIEW OF THE MOUNTAINS OF PECHABURI                                  59

  PAVILION CONTAINING THE ASHES OF THE LATE KING OF SIAM IN
          THE GARDENS ATTACHED TO THE PALACE AT BANGKOK     _To face_ 61

  THE BAR OF THE RIVER MENAM                                          63

  CLOCK TOWER AT BANGKOK                                              65

  SCENE ON THE RIVER MENAM, NEAR BANGKOK                              67

  A PRIEST IN HIS BOAT                                                69

  THE NEW PALACE OF THE KING OF SIAM, BANGKOK                         71

  KUN MOTTE, A SIAMESE NOBLE AND SAVANT                               74

  BUILDING FOR THE INCREMATION OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM                   76

  SAYA VISAT, HEAD OF CHRISTIANS AT BANGKOK                           78

  PORTICO OF THE AUDIENCE-HALL AT BANGKOK                             81

  LAOTIAN HOUSE                                                       92

  M. MOUHOT AND HIS SERVANTS SURPRISED BY A LEOPARD                   98

  CEMETERY AT BANGKOK                                                103

  BUILDING ERECTED AT THE FUNERAL OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM               107

  BIVOUAC OF M. MOUHOT IN THE FORESTS OF LAOS              _To face_ 112

  RUINS AT PAN BRANG, CHAIAPUME                                      117

  ELEPHANTS BATHING                                                  124

  CARAVAN OF ELEPHANTS CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS OF LAOS                127

  “PARK” OF ELEPHANTS, EXTERNAL VIEW                                 131

  LAOTIAN GIRLS                                            _To face_ 134

  RECEPTION OF M. MOUHOT BY THE KINGS OF LAOS              _To face_ 143

  LAOTIAN WOMAN                                                      145

  A CHIEF ATTACKING A RHINOCEROS IN THE FOREST OF LAOS               149

  SIAMESE MONEY                                                      161

  NEW CARABUS (_Mouhotia gloriosa_)                                  183

  LAND SHELL (_Helix cambojiensis_)                                  184

  UNDESCRIBED LAND SHELLS                                  _To face_ 186

  MAP                                                      _At the end._




TRAVELS IN INDO-CHINA,

ETC.




CHAPTER XIII.

  ONGCOR THÔM (ONGCOR THE GREAT)--SURROUNDING WALL--TRIUMPHAL ARCH.


ONGCOR THÔM.

Half-a-mile beyond Bakhêng are the ruins of Ongcor-Thôm. A
partly-destroyed road, hidden by thick layers of sand and dust, and
crossing a large ditch, half filled with blocks of stone, portions of
columns, and fragments of sculptured lions and elephants, leads to the
gateway of the town, which is built in the style of a triumphal arch.

These remains are in a tolerable state of preservation, and are
composed of a central tower, 18 metres high, surrounded by four
turrets, and flanked by two other towers connected together by
galleries. At the top are four immense heads in the Egyptian style;
and every available space is filled with sculpture. At the foot of the
great tower is a passage for carriages; and on each side of it are
doors and staircases communicating with the walls, the whole building
being constructed of sandstone. The outer wall is composed of blocks
of ferruginous stone, and extends right and left from the entrance. It
is about 24 miles square, 3 met. 80 centimet. thick, and 7 met. high,
and serves as a support to a glacis which rises almost from the top. At
the four cardinal points are doors, there being two on the east side.
Within this vast enclosure, now covered with an almost impenetrable
forest, are a vast number of buildings, more or less in ruin, which
testify to the ancient splendour of the town. In some places, where the
heavy rains have washed away the soil, or where the natives have dug in
search for treasure, may be seen immense quantities of porcelain and
pottery.


PREA SAT LING POUN.

Within the enclosure of Ongcor Thôm, and two miles from the west gate,
are to be seen through the trees the tops of the high towers of a
building called by the Cambodians “Prea sat Ling poun,” that is to
say, “The Pagoda where they play hide and seek.” It is a collection
of 37 towers of unequal size, connected by galleries which cross each
other perpetually, and form a labyrinth through which it is not easy to
find one’s way. A long shallow ditch, crossed by four roads leading to
the principal entrances, surrounds it on all sides. Beyond the ditch
rises the wall of a gallery, of which the exterior colonnades and the
roof are only a mass of ruins, over which you must climb to reach the
interior. This wall is still intact: it is about 120 metres long,
and forms a square round the pagoda. About 1 metre from the ground
are visible, in places where the blocks fallen from the roof have not
hidden everything, various bas-reliefs carved in the thickness of the
wall: they are not surmounted by cornices as at Ongcor-Wat, by which it
would seem as if they had never been finished.

Besides the four principal entrances there were other doors at unequal
distances in this gallery, but singularly enough many of them have been
walled up. The gallery was connected with the main body of the building
by four smaller ones opposite each of the great doors, and forming a
covered way to the interior; but all these galleries are destroyed.

The second enclosure is 65 metres square, and each front is composed of
five towers, connected by galleries. The central and corner towers are
the largest: they are about 13 metres high. High galleries connect the
centre tower with the intermediate ones, which again are connected with
those at the corners by galleries of a less elevation.

On each side are seven staircases, of six steps each, and leading
either to towers or galleries: these galleries are covered by a triple
roof: a central one 7 metres high, resting on an outer wall, and
on columns 2 metres in height; an exterior roof on a double row of
columns; and a third resting on a very low wall, pierced with numerous
large windows looking on to a narrow interior court.

On the exterior of the wall, which on one side sustains the high
roof, are a series of bas-reliefs, surrounding the whole gallery. They
are sculptured in the thickness of the wall, and are curious from the
scenes and costumes they represent. These scenes are drawn more from
the sacred books of the people than from their history; for men with
ten heads and twenty arms, fantastic animals, griffins and dragons, are
favourite subjects. The men all wear the langouti, and often nothing
beside, and have the ears pierced and hanging on their shoulders: many
have long beards.

In the vestibules of the towers, and in the high galleries near them,
are kings and queens seated on a rich dais, with a numerous court, and
surrounded by persons carrying parasols, fans, standards, and caskets:
there are likewise many musicians with drums, flutes, and harps.

In the galleries are represented several boats’ crews fighting; while
underneath are fishes disputing for the bodies of the slain. There are
also in the same galleries persons in attitudes of adoration, with
clasped hands, before a figure of Samonakodom.

In another part is a long procession: the king is in a large open
carriage, divided into three compartments, he being in the centre
one, and his wives in the two others. This carriage has six wheels
and two shafts, which rest on the shoulders of eight men. The chiefs
are mounted on elephants or horses, or seated in carriages drawn by
four led horses, and by their side march a numerous company bearing
standards, parasols, and caskets.

The bas-reliefs at the east and north sides represent similar scenes,
as well as many of the fabulous men and animals which are to be seen in
those at Ongcor-Wat. In numerous places the water, trickling through
holes in the roof, has so obliterated the carving that the subjects
can no longer be recognised. This gallery, with its sixteen towers, is
connected with another only 3 metres distant; and this last has five
towers on each side, of which the three in the middle face the exterior
towers. The interior of the gallery with its three roofs receives no
light but by the doors, and is so dark that torches are necessary when
it is visited. The gallery, sustained by two rows of columns and by an
exterior wall, has no bas-reliefs. The towers, which are built at equal
distances, are thus disposed: the largest at the angles, two smaller
ones next to them, and one of medium size in the centre.

The middle of the terrace is occupied by a large tower connected with
the gallery by two others, only about a metre distant. The central
tower is circular at the base, is 20 metres in diameter, and nearly 40
metres high, and has on each side a turret. A colonnade supporting a
roof, now in ruins, surrounds it: the columns, each of which is hewn
out of a single block of stone more than 40 metres high, are still
standing. Four doors lead to the interior. Outside this tower, between
each two doors, are three chapels, constructed out of the thickness
of the wall, and having no communication with each other, nor with
the exterior. In nearly every one of them is a full-length statue of
Samanokodom seated on a pedestal.

On visiting this place you behold on every side the tops of these
numerous towers, and the roofs of the galleries, intermingled with
large trees, creepers, and thistles, which invade the courts, the
terraces, and other parts; and you have at first some difficulty in
comprehending the arrangements of the different buildings. It is only
after a long examination that you perceive the symmetry of them as a
whole, and that these thirty-seven towers and numerous galleries are
all in regular order. Some parts are in good preservation; others have
been dealt hardly with by time, in spite of the immense size of the
blocks of stone, and the skill with which they are united; and the
condition of this stone, ready to crumble to powder, seems to prove
that this structure was anterior to Ongcor-Wat.

Like it, it is built of sandstone, and the roofs are very similar,
only that, in place of the pointed stones ranged in courses at Ongcor,
these are embellished, at about two-thirds of their height, with four
gigantic sculptured heads.

The roof is terminated by a very elegant embrasure, a feature not
belonging to the other temple. Every door in the building is sunk,
and many of them are admirably carved, displaying scenes full of
expression, skilfully arranged, and exquisitely delicate in detail.
They represent various subjects: worshippers prostrated before their
idols, musicians and comedians performing pantomimes, chariots filled
with warriors standing up, and drawn by horses galloping: in some
instances they appear to be running races.

Not far from this labyrinth are three platforms close together, each
occupied by a colossal idol of stone, and gilt. These idols appear to
be of modern date; but at their feet are assembled a number of others,
some uninjured, some broken, collected from among the ruins. On one of
the platforms are several stones fixed in the ground; on one of which
is a long undecipherable inscription.


PHIMÉNAN ACA. THE PALACE OF THE ANCIENT KINGS.

ANCIENT PALACE.

Three walls at some distance from each other, and each bounded by a
moat, surround what remains of the palace of the ancient kings. Within
the first enclosure are two towers connected by galleries, which form
four sides, like a triumphal arch. The walls are of ferruginous stone,
and the length of each block forms the thickness of the wall. The
towers and galleries are of sandstone.

A hundred metres from the angle of the square formed on the north side
by the wall, is a singular building, consisting of two high terraces,
and communicating with the outer wall by another terrace half in ruins.

In a cavity recently made by excavations, are visible large sculptured
blocks, which seem to have fallen from the top. The walls, still
intact, are covered with bas-reliefs, disposed in four rows, one above
another, each representing a king seated in the Oriental fashion, with
his hands resting on a broken poignard, and by his side a number of
women. All these figures are covered with ornaments, such as very long
earrings, necklaces, and bracelets. Their costume is the langouti, and
all wear high head-dresses terminating in a point, and apparently
composed of precious stones, pearls, and gold and silver ornaments.

On another side the bas-reliefs represent combats; and here are
children with long hair tied up like the savages of the East.
Everything here, however, yields in beauty to the statue of the leprous
king, which is at the end of the terrace. The head, admirable in its
nobility, regularity of feature, and gentle yet proud expression, must
have been the work of the most skilful sculptor of the country, in
an age when many, doubtless, evinced great talent. A small moustache
covers his upper lip, and his hair falls in long curls over his
shoulders; but the whole body is naked, and without ornament. One foot
and one hand are broken.


PREA SAT SOUR PRÔT.

RUINED PAGODAS.

About 1200 metres in front of the building just described is one
called “Prea sat sour prôt,” and said to have been the royal treasury.
It is square, and consists of sixteen towers connected by galleries,
but nearly all in ruins: the doorways and walls are ornamented
with sculpture, as in the other remains. It served, they say, as a
depository for the crown jewels. The Cambodians also believe that ropes
were stretched from one tower to another, on which dancers exercised
their skill in the presence of the king, who, seated on one of the
neighbouring terraces, enjoyed their performances. All traditions being
lost, the natives invent new ones, according to the measure of their
capacity.

The centre of the interior of the third enclosure is occupied by an
immense esplanade, supported by walls formed of magnificent blocks of
stone, sculptured and surrounded by staircases. The ground is level;
but in the excavations that had been made I remarked large masses of
carved stone.

Not far from this esplanade is a square building in tolerable
preservation, the basement composed of great blocks of ferruginous
stone, as are the staircases, of which there are four, one on each
side; but they are so steep, narrow, and worn away that it is difficult
to climb them. The base supports small galleries, very narrow, and
having windows with carved bars. The stones and every doorway are
covered with inscriptions.

In the centre of the gallery rises a ruined tower, approached by four
staircases, as awkward to ascend as the others just mentioned. Near the
doors are some figures of women, standing with flowers in their hands.
This building appears very old: the stone is crumbling away like rotten
wood.


PREA SAT FIAO SAÏE.

On the banks of the river which skirts the eastern side of Ongcor Thôm
are several remains. The first you come to is Fiao Saïe, two or three
hundred metres from the water’s edge. Large and deep ditches surround
it on all sides; and when these have been crossed you arrive in front
of a terrace 45 metres long, and 2 metres 50 centimetres in width. Four
rows of columns 1 metre high are all that is left standing. Those in
the middle rows are square, the others are fluted, with capitals. This
terrace leads to a square formed by four galleries, each 20 metres
long: the one facing the terrace has three porticoes with doors and
staircases, while in the centre, and at each corner of the gallery, are
towers.

Another gallery, 40 metres long, leads from the central tower to
another larger one, where, on a high pedestal, is placed the principal
idol. On each side of this tower are three staircases, with porticoes
projecting four or five metres, and supported by six high columns.
All the windows have been ornamented with twisted bars, many of which
still remain. By the side of each door are carved columns, every block
being cut and polished with infinite patience and art. There are some
bas-reliefs portraying a lion devouring a stag, dances, pantomimes,
worshippers before idols, &c. As at Ongcor-Wat, the building is
entirely composed of great blocks of sandstone.


PREA SAT IHEUR MANONE TIREADA, OR THE TEMPLE OF THE ANGELS.

This little pagoda is only about 150 metres from the preceding, and,
according to tradition, was formerly a celebrated school for Buddhist
theology. At the east is the principal entrance, which consists of a
gallery 18 metres long, with a portico in the centre, and staircases.
A second gallery, 30 metres long, terminated by a tower, extends from
the centre of the other, and at about two-thirds of its length open
out on either side porticoes and staircases. There are two other small
buildings north and south, and a third behind the tower. That on the
south is in good preservation, but receives no light except through a
single door. This pagoda has been built with smaller stones than the
other temples: in its architecture and details it much resembles Fiao
Saïe.


THE BRIDGE.

Near Iheur Manone Tireada is a bridge of very ancient date, in a fair
state of preservation, excepting the parapet and a portion of the
roadway, which are a mass of ruins; but the piers and arches still
remain. The piers are formed of sandstone, some of the blocks being
long, others square, and placed irregularly; a few only are carved.

This bridge, with its fourteen narrow arches, may be about 42 or 43
metres in length, and 45 metres wide.

The river, instead of flowing under its arches, runs now along the
side, its bed having been altered by the shifting of the sand, which
has so accumulated around the piers and fallen stones, that a great
portion of the former is concealed.

This bridge must have served as a communication between Ongcor the
Great and the high road, which, traversing the province from east to
west, took afterwards a southerly direction.


PREA SAT KÉO.

Two hundred metres from the bridge rise, amidst the forest, the
imposing ruins of Prea sat Kéo, to reach which you have to cross a
deep moat. This done, you arrive at the exterior wall, which has four
entrances formed by elegant pavilions, with staircases of eight steps
leading to a terrace raised nearly 2 metres from the ground; from this
you pass into a low narrow gallery with numerous interior windows
ornamented with twisted bars. This gallery surrounds the building, and
you ascend to it by a staircase leading to a second terrace. Three
other terraces, each more than 3 metres 50 centimetres wide, rise one
above another, supported on blocks of well-cut sandstone.

Each terrace forms a perfect square, the sides of the first measuring
each 30 metres in length. A staircase, 15 metres high and 3-1/2 metres
wide, leads to the top; and a wide parapet to the staircase serves as a
pedestal for four statues of lions, more or less injured. In the centre
of the upper terrace is a lofty tower, and there are four smaller
ones at the corners. Each tower has four porticoes with staircases,
which rest on a base 7 metres high, and these towers are reached
by staircases of twenty-two steps. From them a magnificent view is
obtained over the surrounding forest. They, as well as their bases and
staircases, are built of great blocks of granite arranged in regular
tiers, and joined together in the most perfect manner. There is little
sculpture, and the doorways have been left unfinished. The towers are
without roofs, and perhaps never had any. The whole building appears
very ancient, judging by the condition of the stone, which in many
places is falling to pieces.


PONTÉEY TA PROUM.--TOWN OF TA PROUM.

RUINED TOWNS.

On the road before mentioned are two towns containing some remarkable
buildings. These towns, each of which is enclosed by walls forming a
square, almost touch each other, being only about 20 metres apart.
The walls are of ferruginous stone, surmounted by a coping of carved
sandstone resembling a cornice, above which are serrated stones, giving
a very finished appearance to the wall.

The smallest of these towns is called Pontéey Kedey (Town of Kedey);
the other, Pontéey ta Proum.

The town of Ta Proum has seven gateways in the style of triumphal
arches, formed by a central tower at the entrance and by lateral
galleries. As at Ongcor the Great, a deep track is worn in the roadway
beneath by the passage of vehicles. The interior of the town is
completely deserted; no one enters it except the Cambodians from a
hamlet outside the enclosure, who cultivate a few rice-plantations. In
the centre are the ruins of a large and splendid monument, which has
suffered greatly by the hand of time, and perhaps also from barbarous
invasions. The ruins are surrounded by a double wall of ferruginous
stone and by deep moats; and at every entrance are galleries with
porticoes. A long gallery, 120 metres on each side, and with porticoes
at the middle and at each end, goes quite round the building.
Exteriorly, on each side, are two detached towers about 10 or 15
metres from the ruins. This gallery is formed by an interior wall and
colonnades supporting a vaulted roof, which in many places has fallen
in, and most of the columns are overthrown.

On the opposite wall are large bas-reliefs, forming series of subjects,
set in a magnificent framework, which is in so good a state of
preservation that the delicacy of the execution can be appreciated. As
for the bas-reliefs themselves, they are much injured, not so much by
time as by some barbarous hand, for everywhere are marks of the hammer
or pickaxe. Leaving this gallery on the western side, you enter a long
court, in which are three detached towers, and on the opposite side are
similar towers.

Several of these, which are from 8 to 10 metres high, and well
preserved, are real works of art. The mandarins of the provinces of
Ongcor and Battambong are at present occupied in taking two of them to
pieces, in order to transport them to Bangkok, the king having issued
orders to that effect, and appointed one of the mandarins to carry them
out.[1]

[1] In a letter from M. Silvestre, missionary at Battambong, to M.
Mouhot, but which he never received, the murder of this mandarin is
mentioned.

Beyond, extends a second rectangular gallery, connected with the first
by three parallel galleries and two transverse ones. At the points
where they intersect are ten towers, placed, like the galleries, in
an odd and unsymmetrical fashion. The perfect preservation of several
parts of these last, and the ruinous state of others, seem to mark
different ages.

One of the towers and several of the galleries are constructed of
ferruginous stone, the others of sandstone. The architecture of the
galleries is the same as that of Ongcor-Wat, a double roof with
colonnades. All the building is on one floor. This temple, which, after
Ongcor-Wat, is the largest of all, is situated in a desert place, and
lost amidst a forest; an exuberant vegetation has overgrown everything,
galleries and towers, so that it is difficult to force a passage.


RUINS IN THE PROVINCE OF BATTAMBONG.

The principal ruins of this province are those of Bassette, Banone,
and Watêk. I visited Bassette twice, before going to Ongcor and after;
but all I could bring away was the design of a bas-relief in perfect
preservation, carved on a block of sandstone 1 metre 50 centimetres
long, forming the top of a doorway in a brick tower. The whole place is
so ruinous, that one might suppose some enemy had done his utmost to
demolish it, or that one gazed at the results of an earthquake. A thick
vegetation, the haunt of fierce animals, has sprung up, and we found
it quite impossible to discover the plan of the buildings. Galleries
have disappeared under the ground, and the bases of doorways are to be
seen 2 metres above.

The only portion which remains at all perfect is an erection 25 metres
long and 6 metres wide, divided in two parts by an interior wall, the
ends of which are in the form of a tower. It is built entirely of
stone, and the exterior bears traces of fine carving on the tops of the
doors and on the cornices; inside, the walls are bare, and almost all
the stones chipped and injured. The windows have been ornamented with
twisted bars, of which only a few traces remain.

On the ground inside lies a large broken stone, 5 decimetres wide and 2
thick, having on each side inscriptions apparently similar; this, and
two small fractured idols are the sole remains of Buddhism at Bassette.
The subjects, most frequently occurring over the doors, represent men
with long beards, seated, and wearing high conical head-dresses, the
hands either resting on the hilt of a poignard or crossed one over
another, elephants with four heads, and other fanciful creatures.

A little beyond this enclosure is another, bounded by a wall of
sandstone, a single block forming the thickness; it appears to have
been only 75 centimetres high, and to have served as a kind of
terrace. Within this enclosure are some magnificent columns, some
still standing, others overthrown; doorways, the upper portions of
which alone are visible above the ground; here and there fragments of
sculptured stone, towers and walls nearly destroyed, and a beautiful
dry basin, 18 metres square and above 2 metres deep, to which you
descend by flights of steps extending the entire length of each side.

BASSETTE--BANONE.

Bassette is believed to have been the occasional residence of the
ancient sovereigns. Battambong is comparatively modern. It is scarcely
a century since Bassette was the centre of a numerous Cambodian
population, which has entirely disappeared in consequence of the
frequent hostilities between Cambodia and Siam, the inhabitants being
led away captive by the conquerors, who often employed this method of
peopling the desert parts of their country. It is thus that, in Siam
and Laos, entire provinces are to be found, of which the great mass of
the population are of Cambodian origin.

The river which formerly flowed near Bassette has been banked up, and
a new settlement, peopled from Penom-Peuh, Udong, and other places,
formed in the place now called Battambong. Bassette is nine miles from
this place, and about as far from the mountains.

_Banone._--Ascending the river again for about forty miles from
Battambong in a southerly direction, you arrive at a mountain standing
somewhat isolated, but forming part of the ramifications of the great
chain of Pursat. At the foot is a miserable pagoda of recent origin,
and in the environs a few hamlets, while on the summit are the ruins of
Banone.

BANONE--WAT-EK.

Eight towers are connected with galleries, and communicate on two
sides by a wall with a central tower nearly 8 metres in diameter. The
buildings are all on one floor, and built of sandstone, and appear
of the same date as Bassette. Although there is nothing about them
especially remarkable, what remains of the galleries displays fine
workmanship, and great taste and skill in construction.

Banone must have been a temple, for there are still in the central
tower, and in two smaller ones connected by a gallery, a great number
of enormous Buddhist idols, probably as ancient as the building itself,
and surrounded by many divinities of less size. At the foot of the
neighbouring mountains is a deep cavern in the limestone rock, from
the roof of which hang some beautiful stalactites. The water dropping
from these is considered sacred by the Cambodians, who attribute to
it, amongst other virtues, that of imparting a knowledge of the past,
present, and future. Devotees consequently resort hither in pilgrimage,
from time to time, to gain information as to their own fate or that
of their country, and address their prayers to the numerous idols
scattered about on the ground or placed in the cavities of the rocks.

WAT-EK.

_Wat-Ek._--This temple is about six miles on the other side of
Battambong, and is in tolerably good preservation. The architecture of
the galleries is full of beauty, and that of the tower very imposing;
but neither here nor at Banone are you met by the singular grandeur
and magnificence which make so great an impression on you in visiting
Ongcor and most of the other ruins.

Wat-Ek is situated in an immense plain, bounded north and east by the
beautiful mountains of Pursat and ramifications of those of Chantaboun.




CHAPTER XIV.

  REMARKS ON CAMBODIA AND ITS RUINS.


REMARKS ON CAMBODIA.

A knowledge of Sanscrit, of “Pali,” and of some modern languages of
Hindostan and Indo-China, would be the only means of arriving at the
origin of the ancient people of Cambodia who have left all these traces
of their civilization, and that of their successors, who appear only
to have known how to destroy, never to reconstruct. Until some learned
archæologist shall devote himself to this subject, it is not probable
that aught but contradictory speculations will be promulgated. Some
day, however, the truth will surely appear and put them all to flight.
I myself, having nothing but conjecture to rest upon, advance my own
theory with diffidence.

Nokhor has been the centre and capital of a wealthy, powerful, and
civilized state, and in this assertion I do not fear contradiction from
those who have any knowledge of its gigantic ruins. Now, for a country
to be rich and powerful, a produce relatively great and an extended
commerce must be presumed. Doubtless, Cambodia was formerly thus
favoured, and would be so at the present day under a wise government,
if labour and agriculture were encouraged instead of despised, if the
ruling powers exercised a less absolute despotism, and, above all, if
slavery were abolished--that miserable institution which is a bar to
all progress, reduces man to the level of the brute, and prevents him
from cultivating more than sufficient for his own actual wants.[2]

[2] This is equally true of Cambodia and of Siam, the former country
being tributary to the latter.

The greater part of the land is surprisingly fertile, and the rice
of Battambong is superior to that of Cochin China. The forests yield
precious gums, gum-lac, gamboge, cardamoms, and many others, as well as
some useful resins. They likewise produce most valuable timber, both
for home use and for exportation, and dye-woods in great variety. The
mines afford gold, iron, and copper.

Fruits and vegetables of all kinds abound, and game is in great
profusion. Above all, the great lake is a source of wealth to the
whole nation; the fish in it are so incredibly abundant that when the
water is high they are actually crushed under the boats, and the play
of the oars is frequently impeded by them. The quantities taken there
every year by a number of enterprising Cochin Chinese are literally
miraculous. The river of Battambong is not less plentifully stocked,
and I have seen a couple of thousand taken in one net.

Neither must I omit to mention the various productions which form so
important a part of the riches of a nation, and which might be here
cultivated in the greatest perfection. I would especially instance
cotton, coffee, indigo, tobacco, and the mulberry, and such spices as
nutmegs, cloves, and ginger. Even now all these are grown to a certain
limited extent, and are allowed to be of superior quality. Sufficient
cotton is raised to supply all Cochin China, and to allow of some
being exported to China itself. From the little island of Ko-Sutin
alone, leased to the planters by the King of Cambodia, the transport
of the cotton produce employs a hundred vessels. What might not be
accomplished if these were colonies belonging to a country such, for
example, as England, and were governed as are the dependencies of that
great and generous nation?

Battambong and Korat are renowned for their silken “langoutis” of
brilliant and varied colours, both the material and the dyes being the
produce of the country.

A glance at the map of Cambodia suffices to show that it communicates
with the sea by the numerous mouths of the Mekong and the numberless
canals of Lower Cochin China, which was formerly subject to it; with
Laos and with China, by the great river.

INHABITANTS OF CAMBODIA.

These facts being established, whence came the original inhabitants of
this country? Was it from India, the cradle of civilization, or was
it from China? The language of the present natives is that of the old
Cambodians or Khendome, as they call the people who live retired at the
foot of the mountains and on the table-lands, and it is too distinct
from Chinese to render the latter supposition possible. But whether
this people originally came from the north or from the west, by sea,
and gradually making their way up the rivers, or from the land, and
descending them, it seems certain that there must have been here other
ancient settlers, who introduced Buddhism and civilization. It would
appear as though these had been succeeded by some barbarous race, who
drove the original inhabitants far into the interior, and destroyed
many of their buildings. At all events, it is my belief that, without
exaggeration, the date of some of the oldest parts of Ongcor the Great
may be fixed at more than 2000 years ago, and the more recent portions
not much later. The state of decay of many of these structures would
indicate even a greater age; but they probably date from the dispersion
of the Indian Buddhists, which took place several centuries before
the Christian era, and which led to the expatriation of thousands of
individuals.

All that can be said respecting the present Cambodians is, that they
are an agricultural people, among whom a certain taste for art still
shows itself in the carved work of the boats belonging to the better
classes, and their chief characteristic is unbounded conceit.

SAVAGES OF THE EAST.

It is not so among the savages of the east, called by the Cambodians
their elder brothers. I passed four months among them, and, arriving
direct from Cambodia, it seemed like entering a country comparatively
civilized. Great gentleness, politeness, and even sociability--which,
to my fancy, bore evidence of a past refinement--struck me in these
poor children of nature, buried for centuries in their deep forests,
which they believe to be the largest portion of the world, and to which
they are so strongly attached that no inducement would tempt them to
move. At the risk, then, of this portion of my notes being passed
over by many readers, I shall enlarge a little upon these people, my
own observations being aided by the information afforded me by the
missionaries who have for years resided among their different tribes.

When looking at the figures in the bas-reliefs at Ongcor, I could not
avoid remarking the strong resemblance of the faces to those of these
savages. And besides the similar regularity of feature, there are the
same long beards, straight langoutis, and even the same weapons and
musical instruments.

Almost all the fruit-trees of the neighbouring countries are found,
though in small numbers, among them; and they have some good species of
bananas, which are unknown beyond the limits of their forests.

Having a great taste for music, and being gifted with ears excessively
fine, with them originated the tam-tam, so prized among the
neighbouring nations; and by uniting its sounds to those of a large
drum, they obtain music tolerably harmonious. The art of writing
is unknown to them; and as they necessarily lead a wandering life,
they seem to have lost nearly all traditions of the past. The only
information I could extract from their oldest chiefs was, that far
beyond the chain of mountains which crosses the country from north to
south are other “people of the high country”--such is the name they
give themselves; that of _savage_ wounds them greatly--that they have
many relations there, and they even cite names of villages or hamlets
as far as the provinces occupied by the Annamite invaders. Their
practice is to bury their dead.

THE BANNAVS.

I extract the following account of the Bannavs--which applies to
most of the tribes inhabiting the mountains and table-lands between
Tonquin and Laos, Cochin China and Cambodia--from a letter of M. Comte,
missionary in Cochin China, who recently died amongst them after a
residence of several years:--

“To what race do the Bannavs belong? That is the first question I asked
myself on arriving here, and I must confess that I cannot yet answer
it; all I can say is, that in all points they differ from the Annamites
and Chinese; neither do they resemble the Laotians or Cambodians, but
appear to have a common origin with the Cédans, Halangs, Reungao, and
Giaraïe, their neighbours. Their countenances, costumes, and belief
are nearly the same; and the language, although it differs in each
tribe, has yet many words common to all; the construction, moreover,
is perfectly identical. I have not visited the various tribes of the
south, but from all I have heard I conclude that these observations
apply to them also, and that all the savages inhabiting the vast
country lying between Cochin China, Laos, and Cambodia belong to the
same great branch of the human family.

“The language spoken by the Bannavs has nothing in common with that of
the Annamites. Very simple in its construction, it is soft, flowing,
and easy.

“These people manufacture the saucepans in which they cook their rice
and wild herbs, the hatchets, pickaxes, and pruning-bills, which
comprise all their agricultural instruments, the sabres which serve
them as weapons, and the long-handled knives used for various kinds of
work in which they excel. Their clay calumets, tastefully ornamented
with leaves or other devices, are the production of the most skilful
among the tribe. The women weave pieces of white or black cloth,
which they use for coverings, and which, coarse as they are, form the
principal article of commerce between the Bannavs and the Cédans.

“The villagers who live on the banks of the river Bla make light
canoes, which are both solid and graceful, out of the trunks of trees.
Such are the principal articles produced by the Bannavs, who are more
backward than any of the other tribes, having little inventive genius.

“The Giaraïe, their neighbours on the south, show much taste and
aptness in all they do; their clothes are of a finer texture than those
spun by the Bannavs, and are sometimes embellished with designs which
would be admired even in Europe. The iron which they forge is also
wrought into more elegant forms, and is more finely tempered; and they
manufacture some articles in copper. Very superior to the Reungao, they
do not perhaps surpass the Halangs.

“The Cédans are a tribe of iron-workers, their country abounding in
mines of this metal. The inhabitants of more than seventy villages,
when their agricultural labours are over, busy themselves in extracting
and working the ore, which they afterwards dispose of in the shape of
hatchets, pickaxes, lances, and sabres.

“Amongst all the dwellers in a Bannav village, even more than among the
other natives, there exists a very decided spirit of community. Thus,
no family will drink wine without inviting others to join them, as long
as the quantity will hold out; and on killing a pig, goat, or buffalo,
the possessor divides it into as many portions as there are families,
reserving for himself a share very little larger than the others. No
one is forgotten in this distribution, from the youngest child to the
oldest man. The deer and wild boar taken in the chase are divided in
the same way, the hunters retaining only a rather larger portion in
consideration of their labour and fatigue. I have actually seen a
fowl divided into forty or fifty parts. Even if the children catch a
serpent, a lizard, or a mouse in their little expeditions, you will see
the oldest of them, on returning, portion it with strict impartiality
amongst the party. These customs might have been borrowed from the
early Christians had these savages ever heard of them. The other tribes
also observe them, but less scrupulously.

“Not only does general censure follow any criminal act, but severe
penalties, such as slavery or exile, are imposed for lying. Even
suicide--instances of which you occasionally find among them--has a
stigma affixed to it in their penal code; any one who perishes by his
own hand is buried in a corner of the forest far from the graves of
his brethren, and all who have assisted in the sepulture are required
afterwards to purify themselves in a special manner.

“This legislation is far from being deficient in morality and wisdom,
but unfortunately on certain points it is tainted with superstition,
and has opened a large door to numberless injustices, and sometimes
provoked cruel strife. On the subject of witchcraft they are
particularly credulous: nearly every misfortune is attributed by them
to the malice of certain persons whom they believe gifted with the
power of influencing their fate; superstition serves as a guide to seek
out the guilty individual, and when he is supposed to be discovered, he
is usually sold for a slave, or a heavy ransom is exacted.

“The Bannavs believe in the existence of a multitude of spirits, some
mischievous to man, others beneficent. According to their creed, every
large tree, every mountain, every river, every rock, almost everything,
has its particular genius; but they seem to have no idea of a superior
being, sovereign and Creator of all things.

“If you ask them respecting the origin of mankind, all they tell
you is, that the father of the human race was saved from an immense
inundation by means of a large chest in which he shut himself up;
but of the origin or creator of this father they know nothing. Their
traditions do not reach beyond the Deluge; but they will tell you that
in the beginning one grain of rice sufficed to fill a saucepan and
furnish a repast for a whole family. This is a souvenir of the first
age of the world, that fugitive period of innocence and happiness which
poets have called the golden age.

“They have no very fixed ideas on the subject of rewards and
punishments in a future life. They believe in the immortality of the
soul, which, after leaving the body, they imagine wanders about the
tombs and adjacent mountains, often terrifying the living by nocturnal
appearances, and finally loses itself for ever in the shadowy depths of
the regions of the south.

“All their religion consists of sacrifices and vows, vain and
endless observances performed in the hope of warding off misfortune,
alleviating suffering, and retarding the hour of death; for, as with
all Pagans, the foundation of their religion is terror and egotism.”

DIALECTS OF THE SAVAGE TRIBES.

On my return from my excursion amongst the Stiêns, M. Fontaine, whom
I met at Pinhalú, was so kind as to present me with his journal, kept
during a residence of twenty years among various savage races, and
which I hope some day will see the light; and he likewise favoured me
with the following remarks on the dialects of several of these tribes:--

“The language of the Giaraïe and that of the Redais bear a strong
resemblance to each other: the two tribes are only separated from
each other by the river Bong, which flows between them in a westerly
direction, after running for some distance from south to north and
watering the lands of the Candians or Bihcandians, whose language also
resembles in some degree that of the tribes just mentioned. The dialect
of the Bonnavs or Menons does not appear to me to have any similitude
to the others, nor even to those of the tribes farther north.

“After a sojourn of several years among these tribes, I was forced,
on account of my health, to go to Singapore. I was astonished, after
a little study of Malayan, to find in that language a number of
Giaraïe words, and many more bearing a strong resemblance to words in
that dialect; and I doubt not this similarity would be found still
more remarkable by any one who thoroughly studied both languages.
The resemblance also of the language of the Thiâmes, the ancient
inhabitants of Isiampa, now in the province of Annam, to that of these
tribes, leads me to believe that they must all have sprung from the
same root.”

The information I obtained from the Stiêns accords perfectly with these
remarks of M. Fontaine:--“The Thiâmes,” they said, “understand our
language very well, but the Kouïs, who live beyond the great river,
speak exactly the same language as ourselves.” M. Arnoux, another
missionary in Cochin China, who has long resided amongst these savage
tribes, speaks in the same way respecting the language. To M. Arnoux
also I owe the exact latitude of many places on the map, and a great
deal of topographical information about the whole country; and it
affords me great pleasure here to express my gratitude and my esteem
for his character.

“The languages of the Sedans,” says he, “of the Reungaos, and of the
Italhans are almost identical, although often varying slightly even
in the same tribe: the dialect of the northern Sedans is somewhat
different from that of the southerns, and the Stiengs of Brelum speak
differently from those farther to the east.

“The Bannav and the Bannam are nearly the same; the Bannav and Sedan
much alike; generally only the terminations differ, but there are
words in each not to be found in the other. M. Fontaine found that
the Ieboune and Braon strongly resemble the Bannav. I cannot speak
personally about the Giaraïe, Nedais, Bonous, and Bih; but doubtless
others can.”

I myself remarked many Stiên words like the Cambodian, especially in
the western districts, where there exists some commerce between the two
countries. To all this must be added that the Siamese, Laotian,[3] and
Cambodian seem to be sister languages: more than a fourth part of the
words, especially those expressing intellectual things, are exactly the
same in each.

[3] Lao means ancient.

In the course of this work I have cited several passages from the Life
of the Abbé Gagelin, who died a martyr in Cochin China, and which was
published by Abbé Jacquenet: in it mention is made of savage races
on the coast of Siam and in the environs of Kompat (Cambodia). I
have sought in vain for them, and no one has ever heard them spoken
of. Probably the missionary was deceived by his servants, who were
Annamites, and they always call the Cambodians and Siamese savages
(Noye Uhen, inhabitants of the woods), while they give themselves the
appellation of citizens.

Notwithstanding all my efforts to discover the traces of the probable
migrations of the Jewish people through Siam and Cambodia, I have
met with nothing satisfactory excepting a record of the judgment of
Solomon, which, as I before stated, was found by M. Miche, Bishop of
Laos and Cambodia, to be preserved _verbatim_ in one of the Cambodian
sacred books. To all my questions on this subject I received the same
answer, “There are no Jews in the country.” Nevertheless, among the
Stiêns, I could not but be struck by the Hebrew character of many of
the faces.

LIMITS OF CAMBODIA.

In 1670 Cambodia extended as far as Isiampa; but the provinces of
Lower Cochin China, as Bien-hoa, Digne-Theun, Vigue Laon, Ann Djiann,
and Ita-Tienne--all at one time conquered and annexed--have, for more
than a century, shaken off their dependence on Cambodia; and the
language and ancient Cambodian race have entirely disappeared in those
districts. The different states have now their limits and sovereigns
entirely independent of each other. Cambodia is, however, to a certain
extent tributary to Siam, but in no degree to Annam; and I cannot
understand how, at the present day, the French newspapers, even the
‘Moniteur de la Flotte,’ still less how our admiral in those seas,
should habitually confound these two countries.

RELIGION OF THE THIÂMES.

The suppositions of the Abbé Jacquenet, which I have already quoted and
to which I was disposed to give credence, seem to fall before the more
accurate information which I have obtained concerning the religion of
the Thiâmes or Isiampois. It must be allowed that the only vestiges of
Judaism found among them are equally met with amongst Mahometans. They
have priests, temples, practise circumcision, abstain from pork, and
frequently pronounce, with the greatest veneration, the words Allah
and Mahomet. They themselves declare that their present religion was
brought to them from Malaisia--that priests still come to them from
thence and visit them from time to time. I had this information from
some Cambodians of Battambong, who, having been taken prisoners in the
wars with the Cochin Chinese, passed eight years in Isiampa. One of
them, a blind man, who appeared to me to be remarkable for good sense
and judgment--an exceptional case in this country--seemed especially to
merit confidence. These facts, and others which I collected regarding
the religion of the Thiâmes, who until 1859, the time of their flight,
inhabited Cambodia, lead me to infer that the Abbé Gagelin was in
error. I was certainly told of two sects into which the tribe was
divided; but the only distinguishing point between them was that one
ate pork and the other did not.

The Thiâmes must formerly have occupied several important districts
in Cambodia, principally on the banks of the tributary of the
Me-kong. Thus, on the shores of Touli Sap, or the great lake, not
far from Battambong, is a place called Campong Thiâme (shore of the
Thiâmes). More to the south, near Campong Tchnam, the village where
the custom-house of Cambodia is erected, is an island called Isle of
Thiâmes. According to tradition, the whole banks of the river, as far
as Penom-Peuh, were formerly inhabited by these people; and to this
cause is to be attributed the complete absence of remains in these
localities.

MOUNTAIN AND LOWLAND RACES.

The mountains of Dom-rêe, situated a little way to the north of Ongcor,
are inhabited by the Khmer-dôme, a gentle and inoffensive race,
although looked upon as savages by their brethren of the plain. These
latter are the Somrais: they speak the Cambodian language, but with a
different pronunciation. Beyond are the provinces, formerly belonging
to Cambodia, but now Siamese, of Souréne, Song Kac, Con Khan, Nan Kong,
and Ongcor-Eith or Korat.

According to popular belief, the king, if he should cross the great
lake, is sure to die in the course of the year.

Whilst the present sovereign was prince he paid a visit to Ongcor, and
seeing some of the Somrais, said, “These are my true subjects, and the
stock from which my family sprang.” It seems that, in fact, the present
dynasty did so.

The Cambodians give the following account of the introduction of
Buddhism among them. Samanokodom left Ceylon and went to Thibet, where
he was very well received; from thence he went among the savages, but,
not meeting with encouragement from them, he took refuge in Cambodia,
where he was welcomed by the people.

A circumstance worthy of remark is that the name of Rome is familiar to
nearly all the Cambodians: they pronounce it Rouma, and place it at the
western end of the world.

THE KINGS OF FIRE AND WATER.

There are among the Giaraïe two great nominal chiefs, called by the
Annamites Hoa-Sa and Thorei-Sa, the king of fire and the king of water.
The kings of Cambodia and Cochin China send to the former chief, every
four or five years, a small tribute as a token of respectful homage,
in consideration of the ancient power of which their ancestors have
despoiled him. The king of fire, who appears to be the more important
of the two, is called Eni (grandfather) by the savages, and the village
where he resides bears the same name. When this “grandfather” dies,
another is chosen, sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a stranger, the
dignity not being hereditary. His extraordinary power is attributed,
according to M. Fontaine, to Beurdao, an old sabre wrapped in rags, and
having no other sheath. This sabre, say the Giaraïe, is centuries old,
and contains a famous spirit (Giang), who must certainly have a good
digestion to consume all the pigs, fowls, and other offerings brought
to him. It is kept in a certain house, and whoever ventures to look at
it dies suddenly, the sole exception being Eni himself, who has the
privilege of seeing and handling it unharmed. Every inhabitant of the
village has to act as sentinel in turn at this house.

Eni wages war on no one, and is assailed by none; consequently his
attendants carry no arms when they go round to collect offerings.
Most of the people give something, cloth, wax, pickaxes; anything is
accepted.

I have written these few notes on Cambodia, after returning from a long
hunting expedition, by the light of a torch, seated on my tiger-skin.
On one side of me is the skin of an ape just stripped off; on the
other, a box of insects waiting to be arranged and packed; and my
employment has not been rendered easier by the sanguinary attacks of
mosquitoes and leeches. My desire is, not to impose my opinions on any
one, especially with regard to the wonderful architectural remains
which I have visited, but simply to disclose the existence of these
monuments, which are certainly the most gigantic, and also to my mind
display a more perfect taste than any left to us by the ancients; and,
moreover, to collect all the facts and traditions possible about these
countries, hoping they may be useful to explorers of greater talent
and fortune. For, I doubt not, others will follow in my steps, and,
aided by their own government and by that of Siam, advantages denied to
myself, will gather an abundant harvest where I have but cleared the
ground.

LOVE OF NATURAL HISTORY.

But, after all, my principal object is natural history, and with that
study I chiefly occupy myself. I have written, as I said before, in
leisure hours, when resting from my fatigues, with a desire to implant
in the breasts of others a love for the great works of Nature, and to
benefit those who, in the quiet of their homes, delight to follow the
poor traveller; who, often with the sole object of being useful to his
fellow-men, or of discovering some insect, plant, or unknown animal,
or verifying some point of latitude, crosses the ocean, and sacrifices
family, comfort, health, and, too often, life itself.

THE AUTHOR’S OCCUPATIONS.

But it is pleasant to the man devoted to our good and beautiful mother,
Nature, to think that his work, his fatigues, his troubles and dangers,
are useful to others, if not to himself. Nature has her lovers, and
those alone who have tasted them know the joys she gives. I candidly
confess that I have never been more happy than when amidst this grand
and beautiful tropical scenery, in the profound solitude of these dense
forests, the stillness only broken by the song of birds and the cries
of wild animals; and even if destined here to meet my death, I would
not change my lot for all the joys and pleasures of the civilised
world.




CHAPTER XV.

  KHAO SAMROUM--PROVINCE OF PECHABURI OR PHETXABURI.


JOURNEY TO BANGKOK.

After a sojourn of three weeks within the walls of Ongcor-Wat in order
to make drawings and plans, I returned to Battambong. There I inquired
for some means of transport to Bangkok, but, on different pretexts, I
was detained more than two months before I could get away, in spite
of the assistance of the viceroy. At last, on the 5th March, I set
off with two waggons and two pair of powerful buffaloes, which had
been taken wild, and trained up to the yoke, and were strong enough to
sustain the fatigues of a journey at this season.

This time I carried along with me a complete menagerie; but of all my
prisoners a pretty young chimpanzee, which, after slightly wounding
it, we had succeeded in taking alive, was the most amusing. As long as
I kept him in my room, and he could amuse himself with the numerous
children and other visitors whom curiosity brought to look at him, he
was very gentle; but as I was obliged on the journey to fasten him at
the back of one of the waggons, he became frightened, and used every
effort to break his chain, continually screaming, and trying to hide
himself. After a time, however, he got accustomed to his position, and
was quiet and docile as before.

Our guns on our shoulders, I and my young Chinese Phrai followed or
walked before the waggons, occasionally finding some sport as we
skirted the forest. As for my other servant, when we reached Pinhalú he
begged to be allowed to return to Bangkok by our former route; so, not
wishing to retain him against his will, I paid his expenses home, and
wished him happiness.

Scarcely had we proceeded a mile when our drivers asked my permission
to stop for supper, saying that afterwards we could set out again,
and travel part of the night. I at once consented, knowing it to be a
custom with the Cambodians, before departing on a long journey, to make
their first halt not far from their village, that they may return home
to shed a last tear, and partake of a farewell glass.

Before the oxen were even unyoked, the families of our drivers were all
collected round me, the whole party talking at once, and begging me
to take care of their relations, to save them from robbers, and give
them medicine if they had a headache. They all then took their evening
meal together, washing it down with some glasses of arrack which I gave
them; after which we resumed our journey by a magnificent moonlight,
but treading in a bed of dust which reached to our ankles, and raised a
thick cloud round our waggons.

We encamped part of the night near a small piece of water, where some
custom-house officers are stationed--three poor wretches--whose duty
it is to arrest the depredators who lie in wait for the buffaloes and
elephants coming down here from the lake and neighbouring districts.
Those among us who had mats, spread them on the ground, and lay down;
those who had none, piled up grass and leaves for beds.

For three days we travelled northward until we reached Ongcor-Borige,
chief town of a province of the same name; but, surprised by darkness
and a heavy storm, we were compelled to halt at the outskirts. The
next morning, as we were leaving the place, we fell in with a caravan
of thirty waggons conveying rice to Muang-Kabine, whither we were
ourselves going; so my Cambodians fraternised with the party, all
breakfasting together, and two hours afterwards we set off again at the
head of this line of waggons.

There is here an immense plain, almost a desert, which in the best
season takes six days to cross with elephants, and twelve with waggons.
As for us, we set out on the 5th March, and only reached Muang-Kabine
on the 28th; and oh! what we suffered from ennui, from heat, from
attacks of mosquitoes, and want of water. In addition to these miseries
my feet became like a jelly; and, when we arrived at our destination, I
could scarcely drag myself along, or keep up with the slow but regular
step of the buffaloes.

Some days before reaching Muang-Kabine we had to ford a small river,
the Bang-Chang, and here we obtained some good water; but all the rest
of the journey we had nothing but the water from the muddy pools,
serving for baths and drinking-places to all the buffaloes of the
caravan. When I drank it, or used it for cooking or tea, I purified
it with a little alum, a better method than filtering. Every day some
accident happened to our waggons, which was one cause of our being so
long on the road.

On our arrival at Muang-Kabine we found great excitement prevailing
on account of a recent discovery of gold-mines, which had attracted
to the place a number of Laotians, Chinese, and Siamese. The mines
of Battambong, being less rich, are not so much frequented. From
Muang-Kabine I continued my route to Paknam, where I hired a boat to
take me to Bangkok.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW IN THE GULF OF SIAM.]

The first day’s navigation was very tedious, the water being shallow,
and the sand-banks in many places bare, but the day following we were
able to lay aside our poles, and take to the oars. The stream takes a
bend towards the south, and empties itself into the gulf a little above
Petrin, a district which produces all the sugar of Siam, which is sold
at Bangkok.

This canal connects the Menam and the Bang-Chang, which afterwards
takes the name of Bang-Pakong; it is nearly sixty miles in length, and
was the work of a clever Siamese general, the same who, twenty years
ago, retook Battambong from the Cochin-Chinese. He is also noted for
having constructed a fine road from Paknam to Ongcor-Borige, the place
where the great inundations have their limit. This road I could not
make use of, for at this season I should have found neither water nor
grass for my oxen.

On the banks of the Bang-Pakong are several Cambodian villages, peopled
by prisoners from Battambong; and along the canal, on either side, is
a mixed, and for this country numerous population, of Malays, Laotians
from the peninsula, and Laotians from Vien-Chan, a district on the
banks of the Mekong, north-east of Korat, and now depopulated by
frequent revolts.

Although overburdened with taxes, yet, to judge from their clean and
comfortable dwellings, and a certain air of well-doing which reigns in
these villages, the inhabitants must enjoy some degree of prosperity,
especially since the impulse given to commerce by the Europeans settled
in the capital.

The water was so thickly covered with weeds that our progress was much
impeded, and we were three days in the canal; while, after May, it only
takes the same time to go from Paknam to Bangkok.

ARRIVAL AT BANGKOK.

On the 4th April I returned to the capital, after fifteen months’
absence. During the greater part of this time I had never known the
comfort of sleeping in a bed; and throughout my wanderings my only food
had been rice or dried fish, and I had not once tasted good water. I
was astonished at having preserved my health so well, particularly
in the forests, where, often wet to the skin, and without a change
of clothes, I have had to pass whole nights by a fire at the foot
of a tree; yet I have not had a single attack of fever, and been
always happy and in good spirits, especially when lucky enough to
light upon some novelty. A new shell or insect filled me with a joy
which ardent naturalists alone can understand; but they know well how
little fatigues and privations of all kinds are cared for when set
against the delight experienced in making one discovery after another,
and in feeling that one is of some slight assistance to the votaries
of science. It pleases me to think that my investigations into the
archæology, entomology, and conchology of these lands may be of use
to certain members of the great and generous English nation, who
kindly encouraged the poor naturalist; whilst France, his own country,
remained deaf to his voice.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch taken by M. Mouhot in the residence
of the Prime Minister.

CEREMONY, ON A YOUNG SIAMESE COMING OF AGE, OF THE REMOVAL OF THE TUFT.]

NEWS FROM EUROPE.

It was another great pleasure to me, after these fifteen months of
travelling, during which very few letters from home had reached me, to
find, on arriving at Bangkok, an enormous packet, telling me all the
news of my distant family and country. It is indeed happiness, after
so long a period of solitude, to read the lines traced by the beloved
hands of an aged father, of a wife, of a brother. These joys are to be
reckoned among the sweetest and purest of life.

We stopped in the centre of the town, at the entrance of a canal,
whence there is a view over the busiest part of the Menam. It was
almost night, and silence reigned around us; but when at daybreak I
rose and saw the ships lying at anchor in the middle of the stream,
while the roofs of the palaces and pagodas reflected the first rays of
the sun, I thought that Bangkok had never looked so beautiful. However,
life here would never suit me, and the mode of locomotion is wearisome
after an active existence among the woods and in the chase.

PORT AND TOWN OF BANGKOK.

The river is constantly covered with thousands of boats of different
sizes and forms, and the port of Bangkok is certainly one of the finest
in the world, without excepting even the justly-renowned harbour of New
York. Thousands of vessels can find safe anchorage here.

The town of Bangkok increases in population and extent every day, and
there is no doubt but that it will become a very important capital: if
France succeeds in taking possession of Annam, the commerce between
the two countries will increase. It is scarcely a century old, and yet
contains nearly half a million of inhabitants, amongst whom are many
Christians. The flag of France floating in Cochin China would improve
the position of the missions in all the surrounding countries; and I
have reason to hope that Christianity will increase more rapidly than
it has hitherto done.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW OF THE PORT AND DOCKS OF BANGKOK.]

I had intended to visit the north-east of the country of Laos, crossing
Dong Phya Phai (the forest of the King of Fire), and going on to Hieng
Naie, on the frontiers of Cochin China; thence to the confines of
Tonquin. I had planned to return afterwards by the Nékong to Cambodia,
and then to pass through Cochin China, should the arms of France have
been victorious there. However, the rainy season having commenced,
the whole country was inundated, and the forests impassable; so it
was necessary to wait four months before I could put my project
in execution. I therefore packed up and sent off all my collections,
and after remaining a few weeks in Bangkok I departed for Pechaburi,
situated about 13° north lat., and to the north of the Malayan
peninsula.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

PORTRAIT OF KHROM LUANG, ONE OF THE BROTHERS OF THE KING OF SIAM.]

DEPARTURE FOR PECHABURI.

On the 8th May, at five o’clock in the evening, I sailed from Bangkok
in a magnificent vessel ornamented with rich gilding and carved-work,
belonging to Khrom Luang, one of the king’s brothers, who had kindly
lent it to a valued friend of mine. There is no reason for concealing
the name of this gentleman, who has proved himself a real friend in the
truest meaning of the word; but I rather embrace the opportunity of
testifying my affection and gratitude to M. Malherbes, who is a French
merchant settled at Bangkok. He insisted on accompanying me for some
distance, and the few days he passed with me were most agreeable ones.

The current was favourable, and, with our fifteen rowers, we proceeded
rapidly up the stream. Our boat, adorned with all sorts of flags, red
streamers, and peacocks’ tails, attracted the attention of all the
European residents, whose houses are built along the banks of the
stream, and who, from their verandahs, saluted us by cheering and
waving their hands. Three days after leaving Bangkok we arrived at
Pechaburi.

THE KING’S BROTHER.

The king was expected there the same day, to visit a palace which he
has had built on the summit of a hill near the town. Khrom Luang,
Kalahom (prime minister), and a large number of mandarins had already
assembled. Seeing us arrive, the prince called to us from his pretty
little house; and as soon as we had put on more suitable dresses
we waited on him, and he entered into conversation with us till
breakfast-time. He is an excellent man, and, of all the dignitaries of
the country, the one who manifests least reserve and hauteur towards
Europeans. In education, both this prince and the king are much
advanced, considering the state of the country; but in their manners
they have little more refinement than the people generally.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.

HALL OF AUDIENCE, PALACE OF BANGKOK.]

PECHABURI.

Our first walk was to the hill on which the palace stands. Seen from a
little distance, this building, of European construction, presents a
very striking appearance; and the winding path which leads up to it has
been admirably contrived amidst the volcanic rocks, basalt, and scoria
which cover the surface of this ancient crater.

About twenty-five miles off, stretches from north to south a chain of
mountains called Deng, and inhabited by the independent tribes of the
primitive Kariens. Beyond these rise a number of still higher peaks. On
the low ground are forests, palm-trees, and rice-fields, the whole rich
and varied in colour. Lastly, to the south and east, and beyond another
plain, lies the gulf, on whose waters, fading away into the horizon, a
few scattered sails are just distinguishable.

It was one of those sights not to be soon forgotten, and the king has
evinced his taste in the selection of such a spot for his palace. No
beings can be less poetical or imaginative than the Indo-Chinese; their
hearts never appear to expand to the genial rays of the sun; yet they
must have some appreciation of this beautiful scenery, as they always
fix upon the finest sites for their pagodas and palaces.

GROTTOES.

Quitting this hill, we proceeded to another, like it an extinct volcano
or upheaved crater. Here are four or five grottoes, two of which are
of surprising extent, and extremely picturesque. A painting which
represented them faithfully would be supposed the offspring of a
fertile imagination; no one would believe it to be natural. The rocks,
long in a state of fusion, have taken, in cooling, those singular forms
peculiar to scoria and basalt. Then, after the sea had retreated--for
all these rocks have risen from the bottom of the water--owing to the
moisture continually dripping through the damp soil, they have taken
the richest and most harmonious colours. These grottoes, moreover,
are adorned by such splendid stalactites, which, like columns, seem
to sustain the walls and roofs, that one might fancy oneself present
at one of the beautiful fairy scenes represented at Christmas in the
London theatres.

If the taste of the architect of the king’s palace has failed in the
design of its interior, here, at least, he has made the best of all the
advantages offered to him by nature. A hammer touching the walls would
have disfigured them; he had only to level the ground, and to make
staircases to aid the descent into the grottoes, and enable the visitor
to see them in all their beauty.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

GROTTO AT PECHABURI.]

The largest and most picturesque of the caverns has been made into a
temple. All along the sides are rows of idols, one of superior size,
representing Buddha asleep, being gilt.

We came down from the mountain just at the moment of the king’s
arrival. Although his stay was not intended to exceed two days, he was
preceded by a hundred slaves carrying an immense number of coffers,
boxes, baskets, &c. A disorderly troop of soldiers marched both in
front and behind, dressed in the most singular and ridiculous costumes
imaginable. The emperor Soulouque himself would have laughed, for
certainly his old guard must have made a better appearance than that of
his East Indian brother. Nothing could give a better idea of this
set of tatterdemalions than the dressed-up monkeys which dance upon the
organs of the little Savoyards. Their apparel of coarse red cloth upper
garments, which left a part of the body exposed, in every case either
too large or too small, too long or too short, with white shakos, and
pantaloons of various colours; as for shoes, they were a luxury enjoyed
by few.

A few chiefs, whose appearance was quite in keeping with that of their
men, were on horseback, leading this band of warriors, whilst the king,
attended by slaves, slowly advanced in a little open carriage drawn by
a pony.

PLAGUE OF MOSQUITOES.

I visited several hills detached from the great chain Khao Deng, which
is only a few miles off. During my stay here it has rained continually,
and I have had to wage war with savage foes, from whom I never before
suffered so much. Nothing avails against them; they let themselves
be massacred, with a courage worthy of nobler beings. I speak of
mosquitoes. Thousands of these cruel insects suck our blood night and
day. My body, face, and hands are covered with wounds and blisters. I
would rather have to deal with the wild beasts of the forest. At times
I howl with pain and exasperation. No one can imagine the frightful
plague of these little demons, to whom Dante has omitted to assign a
place in his infernal regions. I scarcely dare to bathe, for my body
is covered before I can get into the water. The natural philosopher
who held up these little animals as examples of parental love was
certainly not tormented as I have been.

THE LAOTIANS.

About ten miles from Pechaburi I found several villages inhabited by
Laotians, who have been settled there for two or three generations.
Their costume consists of a long shirt and black pantaloons, like
those of the Cochin Chinese, and they have the Siamese tuft of hair.
The women wear the same head-dress as the Cambodians. Their songs,
and their way of drinking through bamboo pipes, from large jars, a
fermented liquor made from rice and herbs, recalled to my mind what
I had seen among the savage Stiêns. I also found among them the same
baskets and instruments used by those tribes.

The young girls are fair compared with the Siamese, and their features
are pretty; but they soon grow coarse, and lose all their charms.
Isolated in their villages, these Laotians have preserved their
language and customs, and they never mingle with the Siamese.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

VIEW OF THE MOUNTAINS OF PECHABURI.]




CHAPTER XVI.

  RETURN TO BANGKOK--PREPARATIONS FOR A NEW EXPEDITION TO THE
  NORTH-EAST OF LAOS--PHRABAT--PAKPRIAU--SAOHAÏE.


After a sojourn of four months among the mountains of Pechaburi,
known by the names of Makaon Khao, Panam Knot, Khao Tamoune, and Khao
Samroun, the last two of which are 1700 and 1900 feet above the level
of the sea, I returned to Bangkok to make the necessary preparations
for my new expedition to the north-east of Laos, my intended route
being to the basin of the Mekong, towards the frontier of China. I
had an additional motive for coming here again, namely, to get cured
of that annoying complaint the itch, which I caught at Pechaburi;
how, I really cannot guess, for, in spite of the mosquitoes, I bathed
regularly two or three times a day; but I hope that a short course of
rubbing with sulphur ointment, and proper baths, will effect a cure.
This, one of the ills of a traveller’s life, is, however, trifling in
comparison with the misfortune of which I have just heard. The steamer
‘Sir James Brooke,’ in which Messrs. Gray, Hamilton, and Co., of
Singapore, had sent off all my last boxes of collections, has foundered
at the entrance of that port. And so all my poor insects, which have
cost me so much care and pains for many months, are lost for ever--some
of them rare and valuable specimens, which, alas! I shall probably
never be able to replace.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

PAVILION CONTAINING THE ASHES OF THE LATE KING OF SIAM IN THE GARDENS
ATTACHED TO THE PALACE AT BANGKOK.]

Two years ago, about this same season, I was nearly in the same place
where I now am, on the Menam, some leagues north of Bangkok. The last
floating shops, with their almost exclusively Chinese population, are
beginning to disappear, and the banks of the river are assuming a
monotonous aspect, although from time to time, through the brushwood
and foliage of the bananas, the roof of some hut is visible, or the
white walls of a pagoda, prettily situated, and surrounded by the
modest dwellings of the priests.

FÊTES AT BANGKOK.

It is the season of fêtes; the stream is covered with large and
handsome boats, decorated with gilding and carved work, with true
oriental gorgeousness; and among them the heavy barges of the
rice-merchants, or the small craft of poor women going to the market
with bananas and betel-nuts. It is only on festivals, and a few other
occasions, that the king, princes, and mandarins display their riches
and importance. The king was on his way to a pagoda to offer presents,
followed by his whole court. Each of the mandarins was in a splendid
barge, the rowers being dressed in the most brilliant colours. A number
of pirogues were filled with soldiers in red coats. The royal barge
was easily to be distinguished from the rest, by the throne surmounted
by a canopy terminating in a pinnacle, and by the immense quantity of
carving and gilding about it. At the king’s feet were some of his
children, and he waved his hand to every European whom he saw.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

CLOCK TOWER AT BANGKOK.]

All the ships at anchor were adorned with flags, and every floating
house had an altar covered with various objects, and with odoriferous
woods burning on them. Amidst all these fine barges, one was remarkable
for its simplicity, and the good taste with which the rowers were
dressed,--a uniform of white cloth, with red cuffs and collar. It
belonged to Khrom Luang, the king’s brother, a good, courteous, and
intelligent prince, ever ready to protect Europeans to the utmost of
his power; in a word, a gentleman.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

THE BAR OF THE RIVER MENAM.]

Most of the dignitaries, generally fat men, were lying lazily on
triangular embroidered cushions, in their splendid boats, upon a kind
of dais, surrounded by officials, women, and children, kneeling, or
lying flat, in readiness to hold out the golden urns which serve them
for spittoons, or their betel-boxes or teapots, all made of the same
precious metals by the goldsmiths of Laos and Ligor. The boats have
generally from eighty to a hundred rowers, with the head and greater
part of the body bare, but wearing a large white scarf round the
loins, and a brilliant red _langouti_; they all raise their paddles
simultaneously, and strike the water in regular time, while at the prow
and stern are stationed two other slaves, one dexterously managing a
long oar which serves as a rudder, the other on the watch to prevent
a collision with any other boat. The rowers continually raise a wild,
exulting cry, “Ouah! ouah!” while the steersman utters a louder and
more prolonged one, which rises above the voices of the rest. Many
boats also are to be seen crowded with women, musicians, or parties
carrying presents. The _coup d’œil_ is certainly charming.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

SCENE ON THE RIVER MENAM, NEAR BANGKOK.]

From time to time appears, amidst the picturesque assemblage, the boat
of some European, always to be recognised by his “chimney-pot” or silk
hat.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

A PRIEST IN HIS BOAT.]

All these scenes passed rapidly away, and, before long, I could
only hear the distant sounds of the music, and see a few scattered
boats adorned with streamers, passing up or down the river, being
often skilfully managed by girls and very young children, who amused
themselves by racing. It is evident, from the careless gaiety of these
people, that they do not suffer the frightful poverty but too often
met with in our large cities. When his appetite is satisfied--and, for
that, all that is necessary is a bowl of rice, and some fish seasoned
with capsicum--the Siamese is lively and happy, and sleeps without care
for the morrow; he is, in fact, a kind of Lazzaroni.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.

THE NEW PALACE OF THE KING OF SIAM, BANGKOK.]

PAIN OF SEPARATION.

My friend M. Malherbes accompanied me for a few hours’ sail from
Bangkok, and then we parted with a warm clasp of the hand, and, I
confess, not without tears in both our eyes, trusting that destiny
might reunite us here or elsewhere. My friend’s light boat glided
rapidly down the stream; in a few minutes he was out of sight, and I
was again left alone--for how long a period being quite uncertain.
I rarely allow myself to dwell on the subject; but separations are
painful to the traveller who has left behind him all he holds most
dear in the world,--family, country, home, and friends,--to visit
countries inhospitable, and in many ways dangerous, without comfort or
companionship. It is equally painful to think that, during long months,
his impatient family are living in anxiety, and forming a thousand
conjectures as to his fate. I know what awaits me, having been warned
both by the missionaries and the natives. During the last twenty-five
years, only one man, as far as I know, a French priest, has penetrated
to the heart of Laos, and he only returned to die in the arms of
the good and venerable prelate, Mgr. Pallegoix. I know the discomfort,
fatigue, and tribulations of all sorts to which I am again about to
expose myself; the want of roads, the difficulty of finding means of
conveyance, and the risk of paying for the slightest imprudence by
a dangerous or even fatal illness. And how can one be prudent when
compelled to submit to the hardest life of the forest, to suffer many
privations, and to brave all inclemencies of the weather? Nevertheless,
my destiny urges me on, and I trust in the kind Providence which has
watched over me until now.

NEWS FROM EUROPE.

Only a few hours before my departure from Bangkok, the mail arrived,
and I received news of my dearly loved family, which consoled me for
the misfortune I sustained in the loss of my collections. Thanks,
thanks, my good friends, for the pleasure you gave me before starting,
by the expression of your warm and constant affection; I shall not
forget you in my solitude.

I shall continue during my journey to take notes of all my little
adventures, very rare, alas! for I am not one of those travellers who
kill a tiger and an elephant at one shot; the smallest unknown shell or
insect is more interesting to me; however, on occasion, I do not object
to a meeting with the terrible inhabitants of the forest, and more than
one have known the range of my rifle and the calibre of my balls.

Every evening, enclosed in my mosquito curtains, either in some cabin
or at the foot of a tree, in the jungle or by the river bank, I shall
talk to you, my friends; you shall be the companions of my journey, and
it will be my greatest pleasure to confide to you my impressions and
thoughts.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Rousseau, from a Photograph.

KUN MOTTE, A SIAMESE NOBLE AND SAVANT.]

KINDNESS OF M. MALHERBES.

Scarcely had my friend M. Malherbes left me, when I discovered, in the
bottom of my boat, a box, which he had contrived to place, unknown
to me, among my packages; a fresh proof of his kindness, for he had
already sent me three cases when I was at Pechaburi. I found it to
contain some dozens of Bordeaux, as much cognac, boxes of sardines,
biscuits, and a number of other things, which would recall to me, were
I ever likely to forget it, the true and considerate friendship of
my countrymen, so valuable to one far from home.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Photograph.

BUILDING FOR THE INCREMATION OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM.]

I also carry with me most agreeable _souvenirs_ of another excellent
friend, Dr. Campbell, of the Royal Navy, attached to the British
Consulate; and am very grateful to Sir R. Schomberg, the English
Consul, who has shown me much attention and sympathy. Here let me,
likewise, express my obligations to Mgr. Pallegoix, to the American
Protestant missionaries, and, indeed, to most of the Consuls and
resident strangers, who have all shown me kindness; and I would
particularly mention the name of M. D’Istria, the new French Consul.

Let me say, in passing, that I am cured of the itch, which I suspect
my servants had caught in wandering about the villages, and had
communicated to me, in spite of my scrupulous cleanliness.

THE TRAVELLER’S SERVANTS.

THE CHINESE “DENG.”

The banks of the Menam are covered with splendid crops, the periodical
inundations rendering them as fertile as those of the Nile. I have
four Laotian rowers; one of them was in my service for a month two
years ago, and he now begged to be allowed to attend me throughout
my journey, telling me I should find him very useful. After a little
hesitation I have engaged him, so now I shall have three servants.
My good and faithful Phrai has never left me, luckily for me, for I
should find it difficult to replace him; and, besides, I am attached
to the lad, who is active, intelligent, industrious, and devoted to
me. Deng--which means “The Red”--his companion, is another Chinese
whom I brought from Pechaburi. He knows English pretty well; not that
incomprehensible jargon of Canton, “You savee one piccey boy, lartel
pigeon,” &c. (You know a clever boy, &c.) He is very useful to me as
interpreter, especially when I wish to comprehend persons who speak
with a great piece of betel between their teeth. He is likewise my
cook, and shows his skill when we want to add an additional dish to
our ordinary fare, which occasionally happens when some unfortunate
stag comes within range of my gun, or I bring down a pigeon, or even a
monkey, a kind of game not much to my taste, though highly esteemed by
my Chinese, as well as wild dog and rat. Every one to his taste.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

SAYA VISAT, HEAD OF THE CHRISTIANS AT BANGKOK.]

DENG’S DRAUGHT.

This attendant of mine has one little defect, but who has not in this
world? He now and then takes a drop too much, and I have often found
him sucking, through a bamboo cane, the spirit of wine from one of the
bottles in which I preserve my reptiles, or laying under contribution
the cognac presented to me by my friend Malherbes. A few days ago he
was seized with this devouring thirst, and, profiting by my absence
for only a few minutes, he opened my chest, and hastily laid hands on
the first bottle which presented itself, great part of the contents of
which he swallowed at one gulp. I came back just as he was wiping his
mouth with his shirt-sleeve, and it would be impossible to describe his
contortions and grimaces as he screamed out that he was poisoned.

He had had the bad luck to get hold of my bottle of ink; his face was
smeared with it, and his shirt pretty well sprinkled. It was a famous
lesson for him, and I think it will be some time before he tries my
stores again.

The wages I give at present are ten ticals each per month, which,
allowing for exchange, amounts to nearly forty francs per month. This
in any other country would be good pay; but here I should find great
difficulty in finding any other men to accompany me, were I to offer
them a tical a day.

I soon reached the mountains of Nephaburi and Phrabat, with their
pure clear atmosphere, the weather being pleasant and a fresh wind
blowing. All nature looks smiling, and I feel exhilarated and happy.
At Bangkok I felt stifled and oppressed. That town does not awaken my
sympathies. Here my heart dilates, and I could fancy I had grown ever
so much taller since I arrived. Here I can breathe, I live, amid these
beautiful hills and woods; in cities I seem to suffocate, and the sight
of so great a number of human beings annoys me.

COMMENCEMENT OF RICE-HARVEST.

I stopped yesterday at Ayuthia to see Father Larmandy, and, after a
night passed beneath his hospitable roof, proceeded on my way towards
Pakpriau. The whole day after our departure we passed by fields and
rice-plantations on both sides of the river. All the country, till
within two miles of Ayuthia, is inundated; there, only, the ground
begins to rise a foot above the waters. Already, in several places they
are beginning to cut the rice, and in a fortnight the whole population,
male and female, will be busy with the harvest.

At present most of them are availing themselves of the short time left
them to enjoy the “far niente,” or visit the pagodas with offerings
to the priests, which consist principally of fruit and yellow cloth;
the latter intended to afford a supply of raiment for them while they
are travelling; as, during several months of the dry season, they are
allowed to quit their monasteries and go where they like.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Clerget, from a Photograph.

PORTICO OF THE AUDIENCE HALL AT BANGKOK.]

VISIT TO KHUN PAKDY.

October 20.--Having reached Thama Triestard at night, we slept at the
entrance of the village, and early this morning I stopped my boat
before the house of Khun Pakdy, the kind chief who, two years ago,
accompanied me to Phrabat. The worthy man was not a little surprised to
see me, and could scarcely believe his eyes, for he had heard that I
had died at Muang-Kabuic. We soon renewed our acquaintance, and I was
pleased to find that his regard for me, especially when stimulated by
a glass of cognac, had survived the lapse of time. Poor Khun Pakdy! if
I were King of Siam--which Heaven forbid!--I would name you Prince of
Phrabat, or rather resign my throne to you.

He gave immediate orders to prepare breakfast for me; then, on finding
that I was going to Korat, he remembered that he had promised again
to be my companion if I brought him a gun from Bangkok. “If it were
only worth three ticals it would do,” said he; but seeing only the
same percussion guns, “You have not brought me one,” he observed; “but
never mind, I will go with you all the same.” It was only when I told
him that I should make but a very short stay at Korat, and intended
to proceed farther on into places where he would doubtless have to
“tighten his belt,” and that I did not wish him to lose his comfortable
mandarin’s _embonpoint_, that I succeeded in checking his enthusiastic
devotion. But when he heard that we should be obliged to sleep among
the woods by the light of the stars, he turned the conversation.

As soon as we had breakfasted I returned to my boat to escape his
rather too demonstrative conversation, and the noisy eulogiums he
continued to pour upon me.

From hence are visible the beautiful chain of hills which extend from
Nephaburi, and which, I conjecture, join those of Birmanie and the
Deng mountains, which do not appear more than fifteen miles off, and
awaken a host of agreeable recollections. I feel sure the fine season
has arrived; the air is pure, the sky serene, and the sun shines almost
constantly.

SAOHAIE.

Saohaïe, October 22.--I have not yet reached Pakpriau, and already I
have met with, and begun to suffer from, the annoyances inevitable in
a country like this, inundated during a great part of the year, and in
which the means of travelling are so difficult to obtain, particularly
when one is burdened with an extra, though indispensable, quantity of
luggage.

During the two days I have been here I have lodged in the boat of a
Chinese who was at first afraid to receive me; and I may consider
myself fortunate in meeting with any resting-place. Yesterday I paid a
visit to the governor, who resides in an old hut, repulsively dirty,
about two miles from the spot where I landed. Although this is the
most important place in Saraburi, this wretched dwelling, and a few
scattered huts belonging to agriculturists, are all the houses I have
seen; there is no bazaar, and no floating shops. From time to time
petty merchants come to sell or exchange salt and other articles of
absolute necessity; or a few Chinese with small stocks of _langoutis_,
arrack, cloth, Siamese dresses, and bowls, which they barter for skins,
horns, or rice. These dealers sometimes go as far as Boatioume.

The current was so strong, that in a quarter of an hour we reached
the residence of the mandarin whose acquaintance I had made on my
former journey, and who, in return for a present I had given him, had
promised me, in the event of my going to Korat, to furnish me with
even a hundred attendants, if I needed as many. I announced to him my
intention of visiting Khao-Khoc, fixed upon two years ago by the King
of Siam as a desirable place for a fortress to which he might retire,
in case the too active Europeans should seize upon his capital--which,
let me whisper, would be very easy to do, and would only require a
handful of our brave Zouaves accustomed to an African sun.

I was all the better received by the mandarin, that I asked for
nothing; for I had already engaged a boat, the owner of which wished
to return to Khao-Khoc in two days. I had projected a trip to Patawi,
but at this season the roads are impassable, so that I was forced to
abandon the idea.

A great number of the inhabitants of this province are natives of
Laos, and are principally captives brought from Vien Chang after the
insurrection there. The provinces of Boatioume and Petchaboune are
peopled by Siamese, for Laos proper only commences at M’Lôm. Boatioume,
Petchaboune, Sôm, and some other provinces in the north and east, are
governed by Siamese mandarins of rank more or less elevated; that is to
say, several of them have the power of life and death, and are then
considered as viceroys. The most distant provinces belong to the empire
of Siam, and form a part of it.

Petchaboune is particularly noted for its tobacco, which is reckoned
the best in Siam; and a commerce in this article is carried on with
Bangkok in spite of the extreme difficulty of communication; for in the
time of the inundations, when boats of some size are able to come up
here, the contending against a very strong current is the labour of a
month; while in the dry season only very small boats can be used, as,
frequently, they have to be dragged over the sand, or carried past the
rocks, which in many places cause rapids and obstruct the navigation.
This commerce is chiefly in the hands of the Siamese of Petchaboune,
who arrive at Pakpriau towards the end of the rainy season, to exchange
their tobacco for betel and other articles.

The province of Saraburi is very populous, and in the southern
districts a great quantity of rice is produced, but the quality of it
is inferior to that of Pechaburi, which is considered very good, and
is regularly bought by the Siamese dealers, who afterwards carry it to
Bangkok. As is the case all over the country, there is great difficulty
in arriving at a correct estimate of the population, which is scattered
along the banks of the stream.

Saohaïe is the starting-point for all the caravans going to Korat.
Another road, from Muang-Kabuic, also leads to this ancient Cambodian
town; but it is little frequented, except by the Laotians of the
locality.

VISIT FROM THE GOVERNOR.

Whilst writing I was interrupted by the unexpected visit of the
governor, who was on his way to a pagoda to make an offering of dried
fruits, and passed an hour in my cabin. He was in a large and elegant
pirogue more than 30 metres long, for which I would have given his
house and all its appurtenances. He sent for the owner of the boat
which was to take me to Khao-Khoc, and gave him some instructions for
the chief of that place, adding, “I have sent no letter, because I
know that M. Mouhot made himself respected when here two years ago,
and will doubtless do the same there.” I could not but offer him some
small presents in acknowledgment of this slight service, which might or
might not be of use to me. I therefore gave him a pair of spectacles
mounted in tortoiseshell, a bottle of scent, and one of brandy; and I
prepared for him a sedative mixture, as he begged for some medicine
for his rheumatism. Happy Raspail! who, with his “system,” can assuage
suffering even in these distant lands.

In return, he promised to give me a pony when I wanted to go to Korat,
besides other useless things; but he will probably forget these
promises, for here it is the custom of the rich to accept everything
even from the poorest, but very rarely to give away. However, were it
not for peculation and presents, how could these mandarins live? Their
salary--when they have one--would condemn them to a state of leanness
which would not only drive them to despair, but cause them to be looked
upon as unsuitable for their places.


VOYAGE TO KHAO-KHOC.--DONG PHYA PHAI (FOREST OF THE KING OF FIRE).

VOYAGE TO KHAO-KHOC.

I am now en route for Khao-Khoc, in the boat of a Chinese merchant, a
worthy person, who, luckily for me, does not intoxicate himself with
opium or arrack. He intends going as far as Boatioume, but the current
is so strong that I doubt if he will be able to proceed higher up the
river than Khao-Khoc; for, in spite of his four rowers, and the aid of
my two men--(I sent away my Laotian, who found it too great fatigue to
row, and preferred sleeping and smoking)--we have been nearly carried
away at every bend of the river and at the frequent rapids.

The weather, which I trusted was settled, has changed during the
last three days, and every afternoon, about four or five o’clock, we
have a violent shower. Last evening I was seized with a more severe
headache than any I have had since I entered the country, and my first
impression was that I had been attacked by fever, which, in the rainy
season, there is so much cause to dread in the neighbourhood of Dong
Phya Phai. It proceeded, however, only from the heat of the sun, to
which I had been all day exposed, and was dissipated by the freshness
of the night air at the prow of the boat. In the morning I felt as well
as usual.

They tell me that to-morrow I shall see Khao-Khoc, and I shall not
be at all sorry. The little boat is so encumbered with our united
baggage, that the fraction of space left for me forces me to all sorts
of constrained and uncomfortable positions; and these twelve days of
tedious navigation have fatigued me much. And what a place this is! The
air is damp, unwholesome, and dreadfully heavy; one’s head burns, while
one’s body is at one time covered with perspiration, and at another a
cold shivering comes on.

After four days of excessive toil we entered a gorge through which the
river passes, which, even at this season, is here not more than 90
metres wide. Torrents of rain, bursting suddenly upon us, forced us to
stop rowing, and take refuge under our roof of leaves. The rain lasted
all night, and a wretched night it was for the poor men, who, having
yielded to me the front of the boat, were all crammed together in the
cabin, and, after all their fatigues under a burning sun, were unable
to obtain a moment’s sleep, but lay groaning under the suffocating
atmosphere and the attacks of legions of mosquitoes.

KHAO-KHOC.

At daybreak about a hundred strokes of the oar brought us past a new
bend in the river, and we found ourselves before Khao-Khoc. This place
has, in my humble opinion, been badly chosen by the kings of Siam for
their stronghold and retreat in case of an European invasion of the
south. In the event of this occurring, they would abandon Bangkok;
and, certainly, as whoever possesses that town is master of the whole
country, no one would be likely to come and molest the kings in their
solitude.

Two or three miles below Khao-Khoc I observed a kind of landing-place,
and a house of mediocre appearance, bearing the pretentious appellation
of palace, although built only of leaves and bamboo. This is Rabat
Moi. At Khao-Khoc, although the second king often visits it, there is
no landing-place, nor even steps cut in the steep banks to aid the
ascent.

Immediately after landing I set off to look for a lodging, having
been informed that I should find numerous vacant houses belonging to
mandarins, amongst which I might make my choice. My men and I hunted
amid the brushwood, often sinking up to our knees in mud, but could
discover only seven or eight Laotian huts, the inhabitants of which
form the nucleus of the population of this future stronghold, now
peaceful and hospitable agriculturists, who would be deeply afflicted,
and still more terrified, if ever their echoes should repeat the roar
of cannon and varied sounds of war. As for the royal habitations, I
could not reach them, for the whole ground, excepting a strip about
fifty feet broad next the river, is a swamp; and the narrow paths are
obstructed by bushes and tall grass, which had had time to grow during
the six or eight months that have elapsed since the King has visited
the place.

Not being able to find a lodging, some men from the village joined us,
and we all set to work to cut down bamboos, with which to construct
one, which was soon accomplished; and in this hut, open to every wind,
we took up our abode.

I was told that a white elephant had just been taken in Laos, and had
been sent off to Bangkok under the care of a mandarin.

All the inhabitants of the village, amounting perhaps to about fifty,
have brought their children to me, begging for remedies; some for
fevers, others for dysentery or rheumatism. I have not heard of any
cases of leprosy here, as at Khao-Tchioulaü, but the children are
repulsively dirty; they are covered with a coating of filth, which
makes them resemble little negroes, and the greater number of them are
shaking with fever.

The site of my hut is in a valley, formed by a belt of mountain-chains,
running from Nephaburi and Phrabat, and connected with those of the
peninsula and of Birmah. Mount Khoc is distant a kilometre from the
left bank of the river, and stretches out in the form of a semicircle,
afterwards joining the mountains which run eastward towards Korat, and
M’Lôm, and Thibet. Facing Mount Khoc, other mountains rise abruptly
from the right bank, and then extend in an easterly direction.

As soon as my dwelling was finished, which was neither a long nor a
costly job, we slung up three hammocks, and then betook ourselves to
prepare a place for insect-catching, the end of the rainy season being
the best time for this work. We accordingly cut down a great number of
trees, a hard and painful task in this climate, where the sun, drawing
up the humidity from all the surrounding marshes, makes one feel as if
in a stove or hothouse; but our labours have been abundantly repaid
by a rich harvest of specimens. Beetles of the longicorn tribe abound
here; and to-day I have filled a box with more than a thousand new or
rare insects. I have even been fortunate enough to replace some of
the more valuable kinds which were destroyed or injured by sea-water
on board the ‘Sir James Brooke.’ The villagers come every day to bring
me “beasts,” as they call them, grasshoppers, scorpions, serpents,
tortoises, &c., all presented to me at the end of a stick.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

LAOTIAN HOUSE.]

The sanitary condition of the place is dreadful. The rains are now
less abundant, and the river has fallen more than twenty feet. They
tell me that at Boatioume it is so narrow that the branches of the
trees on the two banks touch and form an arch overhead. The mountains
are of calcareous rock, and are covered with a fertile vegetation, but
everywhere bear the traces of the water which anciently covered them.
From the top you can imagine the former limits of the ocean, and see
that the plain to the south was then submerged, and that all these
heights formed capes or islands. I found close to their base, under a
stratum of soil, banks of fossil coral and sea-shells in a good state
of preservation.

THE HEAT DIMINISHED.

The north wind now makes itself frequently felt, although the
south-east and south-west winds resume their sway at times, and bring
back the rain; but the heat of the nights gradually diminishes, and
now, after three o’clock in the morning, I can bear a covering, and
am glad to wrap myself in my burnous. My two men suffer occasionally
from attacks of intermittent fever, and often complain of cold in the
stomach; indeed, death lays so many snares for us here, that he who
escapes may think himself lucky.

At last we breathe a pure and delicious air. It is now mid winter;
since the day before yesterday a fresh north wind has blown, and at
night the thermometer has gone back to 18° centigrade. All the evening
I have been walking by the river, wrapped in a warm burnous, with
the hood up; and this is a pleasure I have not enjoyed since I was at
Phrabat, two years ago.

PHRAI AND DENG.

One must have passed sleepless nights, suffocating with the extreme
heat, in order to appreciate the comfort of sleeping under a woollen
covering, and, above all, without the necessity of waging incessant war
on the dreadful mosquitoes. Phrai and Deng wear their whole wardrobe
both night and day, and I have seen them dressed in red flannel and
with felt hats, when you might take them for Garibaldians, as far,
that is to say, as their costume is concerned, for their appearance
otherwise is far from warlike; however, they are not wanting in a kind
of courage which has its own merit. They dance and sing round a good
fire, and open their eyes with astonishment when I tell them that I
have seen rivers larger than the Menam frozen over so hard that the
heaviest vehicles could go upon them with safety,[4] and others on
which whole oxen have been roasted;[5] and that men and animals often
die of cold.

[4] In Russia, on the Neva.

[5] On the Thames at London.

My little “Tine-Tine” says nothing, but creeps under my counterpane and
sleeps at his ease; only if Phrai torments him by lifting the cover, he
shows his teeth. Ungrateful being that I am, I have not yet spoken of
this little companion who is so faithful and attached to me--of this
pretty “King Charles,” whom I brought from home. All the Siamese, and
especially those who have no children, are very fond of the little
creature, notwithstanding their general aversion for dogs. Theirs,
however, are usually half savage. I much fear that my poor dog will
come to an untimely end, and be trampled under foot by some elephant,
or devoured at a mouthful by a tiger.

For the last few days we have feasted; our provisions were beginning
to fail, but the fish are now coming up the river, and we take them by
hundreds. Certainly they are not much larger than sardines, but in an
hour we took six or eight basketfuls, and my two boys have enough to do
to cut off their heads and salt them.

All the children of the neighbourhood, most of whom are still kept
at the breast, come frequently to bring me insects, in exchange for
a button or cigarette, for it is a common thing for them to leave
their mother’s breast to smoke. Were they not so dirty, they would be
nice-looking; but I am afraid of touching them, lest I should again
catch the itch.

LAOTIAN SUPERSTITIONS.

The Laotian is as superstitious as the Cambodian, and perhaps more so
than the Siamese. If a person falls ill of a fever, or, indeed, is ever
so slightly indisposed, they believe it to be owing to a demon who has
entered his body. If any matter in which they are engaged goes wrong,
or an accident happens when hunting, fishing, or cutting wood, it is
the fault of the demon. In their houses they carefully preserve some
object, generally a simple piece of wood, or some parasitic plant,
whose form they fancy bears a resemblance to some part of the human
body; and this is constituted their household god, and prevents evil
spirits from entering, or, at least, causes them speedily to depart.

Every day we go out on our collecting expeditions; but while we are
seeking insects or birds, the sound of our voices, or the report of our
guns, repeated by the mountain echoes, brings forth the wild beasts
from their dens. Yesterday, after a long and fatiguing excursion,
during which we had killed some birds and one or two monkeys, we were
returning home quite worn out, when we reached a small clearing in the
forest, and here I told my two boys[6] to take a little repose at the
foot of a tree, while I went to hunt for insects.

[6] The word “boy” is generally used by me to denote a male servant.

ENCOUNTER WITH A TIGER.

Suddenly I heard a sound as of some animal gliding through the thick
underwood. I looked round, at the same time loading my gun, and then
crept quietly back to the tree where my servants lay asleep, when I
perceived a large and beautiful leopard taking his spring to clear
the brushwood, and pounce upon one of them as he lay all unconscious.
I fired, the shot striking the animal in the right shoulder. He gave
a tremendous leap, and rolled over among the bushes, which much
embarrassed his movements. However, he was but wounded, and still
dangerous, if my second ball did not kill, or at least cripple him. I
fired again, and hit him between the shoulders; the ball lodged in the
heart, and he fell dead almost instantaneously. The terror of my two
poor followers, suddenly awakened by the report of my gun so close
to their ears, was only equalled by their pleasure when they saw the
creature extended lifeless before them.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

M. MOUHOT AND HIS SERVANTS SURPRISED BY A LEOPARD.]

THOUGHTS OF HOME.

Another year has flown, a year chequered for me, as for others, with
joy, anxiety, and trouble; and to-day my thoughts turn especially to
the few who are dear to me. From more than one loving heart arise, I
feel sure, on this day, good wishes for the poor traveller, and from
no one more warmly than from you, my dear father. You long for my
return; so writes my brother in his last letter, forwarded to me from
Bangkok. But I am only commencing my new campaign; would it be like a
good soldier to leave on the eve of the engagement? I am at the gates
of the infernal regions, for so the Laotians and Siamese designate
this forest, and I have no spell to terrify the demons which inhabit
it, neither tiger’s teeth nor stunted stag-horn; nothing but my faith
in and love for God. If I must die here, where so many other wanderers
have left their bones, I shall be ready when my hour comes.

The profound stillness of this forest, and its luxuriant tropical
vegetation, are indescribable, and at this midnight hour impress me
deeply. The sky is serene, the air fresh, and the moon’s rays only
penetrate here and there, through the foliage, in patches, which appear
on the ground like pieces of white paper dispersed by the wind. Nothing
breaks the silence but a few dead leaves rustling to the earth, the
murmur of a brook which flows over its pebbly bed at my feet, and
the frogs answering each other on either side, and whose croaking
resembles the hoarse barking of a dog. Now and then I can distinguish
the flapping of the bats, attracted by the flame of the torch which is
fastened to a branch of the tree under which my tiger-skin is spread;
or, at longer intervals, the cry of some panther calling to its mate,
and responded to from the tree-tops by the growling of the chimpanzees,
whose rest the sound has disturbed.

With a sabre in one hand and a torch in the other, Phrai pursues the
fishes in the stream, and he and his shadow reflected on the rocks and
water, as he stands there making sudden darts, and crying out “hit” or
“missed,” might easily be mistaken by the natives for demons.

FOREBODINGS.

I cannot shake off a feeling of sadness which a few hours of sleep and
a long chase to-morrow will probably dissipate; yet, at the moment, I
cannot forbear asking myself, how will this year end for me? Shall I
accomplish all I have in view? shall I preserve that health without
which I can do nothing? and can I surmount all the difficulties which
oppose themselves to me, and of which not the least is the difficulty
of finding any means of conveyance?

And you, my dear father, be not too anxious as to my fate, but preserve
that tranquillity, hope, and love of God, which alone can make men
strong and great: with this help and support, our reunion will not be
long delayed. Courage then, and hope! our perseverance and efforts
will be recompensed. And thou, invisible link, which, in spite of
distance, unites hearts, bear to all those dear to me a thousand
embraces, and fill them with all those thoughts which at all times give
me strength, and supply joy and consolation in my saddest and most
dreary hours. To all, then, a happy new year! and may I bring back safe
and sound my poor young followers, who have been such faithful and
devoted companions; and who, although already rather weakened by fever
and incipient dysentery, are still full of gaiety and energy, and as
much attached to me as ever.

NATURE OF THE COUNTRY.

Five or six leagues north of Khao-Khoc is Mount Sake, and two miles
farther all habitations cease, and there is complete solitude as far
as Boatioume. The banks become more and more picturesque; here are
calcareous rocks, covered in places with a ferruginous crust, and
whence flow streams endowed with petrifying properties, while hills,
rising abruptly to a great height, contain grottoes ornamented by
stalactites; there, are beds of sand, islands on which sport in the sun
a crowd of iguanas; everywhere, a rich vegetation, mingled with tufts
of bamboo, in which fight and squabble the chimpanzees, on whom Phrai
exercises his skill, and which afford him a delicious repast.

We embarked in a very light pirogue, and, during the first day, passed
the boats from Petchaboune, which had left Khao-Khoc the night before;
for the current is still rapid, even though the water is so low that in
many places you have to drag the boat over the sand, and poles have to
be used instead of oars.

TIGERS NEAR BOATIOUME.

Tigers, which are rare at Khao-Khoc, are more common in the environs of
Boatioume, where they destroy many of the cattle.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Photograph.

CEMETERY AT BANGKOK.]




CHAPTER XVII.

  TOWN OF CHAIAPUME--JOURNEY TO THE TOWN OF KORAT--THE
  PROVINCE OF KORAT--TEMPLE OF PENOM-WAT--RETURN TO
  CHAIAPUME--POUKIÉAU--MONANG-MOUNE-WA--NAM-KANE--LOUANG PRABANG,
  CAPITAL OF WEST LAOS.


On the 28th February, 1863, I arrived at the town of Chaiapume, and
presented myself before the governor to request his permission to hire
some elephants or oxen to enable me to continue my journey. I showed
him my French passport, and also gave him the letter from Khrom Luang,
and another from the Governor of Korat; but all in vain. He replied
that, if I wanted oxen or elephants, there were plenty in the forest.
I might easily have done without the assistance of this functionary,
and procured animals from people in the village; but they would have
made me pay two or three times the ordinary price, and my purse was too
slenderly filled to allow of my submitting to this extortion, which
would probably be repeated at every station.

RETURN TO BANGKOK.

The only thing left me to do, therefore, was to retrace my steps,
and, leaving one of my servants at Korat with my baggage, to return
to Bangkok and claim aid from the consul, the ministers, or the king
himself; for there is a treaty between the Governments of Siam and
France, concluded by M. de Montigny, which obliges the king to afford
assistance and protection to the French, and especially to missionaries
and naturalists. It was a sad loss of time for me, and might occasion
me serious inconvenience; for, if I were delayed, the rainy season
might surprise me in the midst of the forests before I could reach a
healthier region, and the consequences might be fatal. However, I was
forced to submit, and I returned to Bangkok.

It cost me some time and trouble, and I found it needful to make
some valuable presents before I succeeded in my object; but at last
I obtained more stringent letters to the governors of the provinces
of Laos, and left Bangkok once more, after having experienced for a
fortnight the kind hospitality of my friend Dr. Campbell, one of the
best men I ever met with: his goodness, friendliness, and British
frankness, won my heart and my esteem.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Photograph.

BUILDING ERECTED AT THE FUNERAL OF THE QUEEN OF SIAM.]

After all this loss of time and great expense I went again to Korat,
where I was well received by the governor; and he gave me, in addition
to my other letters, one for the mandarins of all provinces under his
jurisdiction, commanding them to furnish me with as many oxen and
elephants as I might require. The greater part of the inhabitants,
with Phrai at their head, came out to meet me, and several gave me
presents--sacks of rice, fish, fruits, or tobacco, all in abundance.

Speaking to me of his journey to Korat, Dr. House, the most
enterprising of the American missionaries at Bangkok, and the only
white man who has penetrated so far for many years, told me that he
found everything disappointing. I could have said the same, if, like
him, I had started with any illusions; but I had a good idea of the
forest, which I had already passed at several points, as at Phrabat,
Khao Khoc, and Kenne Khoé, and amidst whose deleterious shades I had
already spent one night. Nor did I expect to find towns amidst its
thick and almost impenetrable masses of foliage, through which one can
distinguish nothing beyond a distance of a few feet.

JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST.

I have lately again passed ten successive nights in this forest. During
our journey through it, all the Chinese in the caravan, happy to find
themselves still among the living, at every halting-place hastened
to draw from their baskets an abundance of provisions wherewith to
make a comfortable repast: then choosing, for want of an altar, some
large tree, they laid out their dishes, lighted their matches, burned
a quantity of gilt paper, and, kneeling down, murmured their prayers.
Both on entering and leaving the forest they erected a shed of leaves
and sticks interwoven, and raised upon four bamboo stakes, intended as
a sort of chapel, in which they placed a number of offerings, in order,
as they said, to drive away demons and save them from death.

As for the Laotians, I have found them, although superstitious, very
courageous, especially those who traverse this forest eight or ten
times a year. Some of them even venture to awake the “King of Fire”
by bringing down game or shooting at robbers: yet death, even in the
best season, carries off one or two out of every ten who travel here.
I think the number of those who fall victims to this terrible journey
must be considerable in the rainy season, when every torrent overflows
its bounds; the whole soil is soaked, the pathways nothing but bogs,
and the rice-grounds covered with several feet of water. After five or
six days’ walking through all this, with feet in the mud, the body in a
profuse perspiration, and breathing a fetid atmosphere, hot as a stove
and reeking with putrid miasma, what wonder that many sink and die?

ARRIVAL AT KORAT.

Two Chinese in our caravan arrived at Korat in a frightful state of
fever. One I was able to save by administering quinine in good time,
but the other, who appeared the strongest, was dead almost as soon as I
heard of his being ill.

We halted at five o’clock in the evening and encamped on a little hill,
where, in the absence of grass, our poor oxen could only appease their
hunger with leaves from the shrubs. The river, which flows down from
these hills, is the same which runs near Korat, and on the opposite
bank was encamped another caravan with more than 200 oxen.

TRIBE OF KARIANS.

In a gorge of the mountain, and on the almost inaccessible heights, I
found a small tribe of Karians who formerly inhabited the environs of
Patawi, and who, for the sake of preserving their independence, live
here in seclusion; for the dread of fever prevents the Siamese from
penetrating to their haunts. They have neither temples nor priests;
they raise magnificent crops of rice, and cultivate several kinds of
bananas, which are only found among tribes of the same origin. Many of
the inhabitants of the neighbouring districts appear to be ignorant of
their very existence. It is true they are of migratory habits; others
say that they pay a tribute in gum-lac, but the Governor of Korat and
several chiefs of the province of Saraburi, seemed to me profoundly
ignorant on the subject.

The following morning, an hour before sunrise, after having counted the
oxen dead from fatigue and exhaustion, which would serve for food to
the wild beasts, and repacked our goods, we resumed our march. Towards
eleven o’clock, having quitted Dong Phya Phai, we entered a long tract
of ground filled with brushwood and tall grass and swarming with deer,
and here, before long, we halted near a stream.

The next day, after making a détour of some miles to the north to
find a pass, we ascended a new chain of hills running parallel to the
last, and covered with blocks of sandstone; and here the vegetation
was extremely luxuriant. The air was fresh and pure, and, thanks to
repeated ablutions in the running streams, those of the party whose
feet had suffered most at the beginning of the journey found them
greatly improved.

The monkeys and hornbills began to be heard again, and I killed several
pheasants and peacocks, and an eagle, on which our guides feasted.
Beyond these mountains the soil becomes sandy again and vegetation
scanty. We encamped once more on the banks of the river of Korat,
300 metres from a village dignified by the name of chief town of the
district.

The last range of hills which we crossed still displays itself like a
sombre rampart, above which tower the dome-like and pyramidal summits
of others farther in the distance.

Our guides are all Laotians from the neighbourhood of Korat, and their
leader is unremitting in his care and attention towards me. Every
evening he prepares my place for the night, levelling the ground and
cutting down branches which he covers with leaves, and I am thus
raised from the earth and protected from the dew. These guides lead a
hard life, tramping in all seasons along these wretched roads, having
scarcely time, morning and evening, to swallow a little rice, and
having but little sleep at nights, tormented by ants, and exposed to
the attacks of robbers, against whom they have constantly to be on
their guard.

PROVINCE OF KORAT.

Every day we met one or two caravans of from eighty to a hundred oxen,
laden with stag and panther skins, raw silk from Laos, _langoutis_ of
cotton and silk, peacocks’ tails, ivory, elephants’ bones, and sugar;
but this latter article is scarce.

The country presented much the same kind of aspect for four days after
leaving the forest. We passed through several considerable villages,
in one of which, Sikiéou, are kept six hundred oxen belonging to the
king. The journey from Keng-Koë to Korat occupied ten days. The Chinese
quarter of this latter town contains sixty or seventy houses, built
with bricks dried in the sun, and surrounded by palisades nine feet
high, and as strong as those of a rampart.

TOWN OF KORAT.

These precautions are very necessary, for Korat is a nest of robbers
and assassins, the resort of all the scum of the Laotian and Siamese
races. Bandits and vagrants, escaped from slavery or from prison,
gather here like the vultures and wolves which follow armies and
caravans. It is not that they enjoy complete immunity, for the
governor, son of Bodine, the general who conquered Battambong and the
revolted provinces, is viceroy of the state, has absolute power of
life and death, and is, they say, very severe, cutting off a head or
a hand with little compunction. But still it is Siamese justice, “non
inviola:” there are neither gendarmes nor police; the person robbed
must himself arrest the offender and bring him before the judge. Even
his neighbour will give no assistance in the capture.

It was necessary to look out for a dwelling, and I applied to the
Chinese, hoping to find a house rather larger than the one where Phrai
had settled himself with my luggage, and I had not much difficulty in
doing so.

At the end of the Chinese quarter, which is the bazaar, commences the
town properly so called, which is enclosed by a wall of ferruginous
stone and sandstone, brought from the distant mountain--a work which
I at once recognised as that of the Khmerdôm. Within is the residence
of the governor and those of the other authorities, several pagodas, a
caravanserai, and a number of other houses. A stream of water, eight
metres wide, crosses the town and is bordered by little plantations of
betel and cocoa-nut trees.

The real town of Korat does not contain more than five or six thousand
inhabitants, including six hundred Chinese. The Siamese I found
impertinent and disagreeable, the Chinese friendly and kind. It was
the contrast between civilization and barbarism--between the mass of
vices engendered by idleness, and the good qualities cultivated by
habits of industry. Unfortunately, however, the money acquired by these
indefatigable merchants furnishes the means of gratifying their baneful
propensities, gambling and opium-smoking.

Stretched on a carpet in some shed they lie, thin and
emaciated-looking, playing at cards, or else, plunged in a kind of
lethargy, they surrender themselves to the influence of the seductive
drug in their dark and filthy hovels, lighted only by a single lamp.
Yet, in spite of their gambling, most of them grow rich, though they
generally begin poor, and with goods lent to them by some countryman
from his shop, and a few voyages frequently suffice to make their
fortunes.

The merchants who bring silk, which, though of inferior quality, is
an important article of commerce, come from Laos, Oubone, Bassac, and
Jasoutone.

CONDITION OF THE PROVINCE.

The entire province of Korat comprises a number of villages, and more
than eleven towns, some containing as many as fifty or sixty thousand
inhabitants. This little state is simply tributary, but on condition of
furnishing the first and most considerable levy of men in case of war.

The tribute consists of gold or silver, and in several districts,
amongst others those of Chaiapume and Poukiéan, amounts to eight ticals
a head. Some pay in silk, which is weighed by the mandarins, who, as
with the cardamom at Pursat, and the _langoutis_ at Battambong, buy a
further quantity on their own account, and at their own price.

Elephants are numerous, and a great many are brought from the north
of Laos as far as Muang-Lang. I should think there must be more than
a thousand of these animals in each province. Oxen and buffaloes were
formerly exceedingly cheap, but the distemper, which has for some years
committed great ravages among the herds, has doubled or tripled the
price. They are brought southward from the extreme north of East Laos,
and even from the frontiers of Tonquin.

PENOM-WAT.

I went to see a temple nine miles east of Korat, called Penom-Wat. It
is very remarkable, although much inferior in grandeur and beauty
to those of Ongcor. The second governor lent me a pony and guide,
and, after crossing extensive rice plantations, under a vertical and
fiery sun, we reached the spot to which my curiosity had attracted me,
and which, like an oasis, could be recognised a long way off by the
freshness of its cocoa-trees and its rich verdure. I did not arrive
there, however, without having taken an involuntary bath. In crossing
the Tekon, which is nearly four feet deep, I, in order to escape a
wetting, tried to imitate Franconi, by standing on my saddle; but,
unluckily, according to the custom of the country, this was fastened
on by two pieces of string, and in the middle of the stream it turned
and sent me head foremost into the water. But there was no worse result
from the accident than my having to remain for half an hour afterwards
dressed in Siamese fashion.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Catenacci, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

RUINS AT PAN BRANG, CHAIAPUME.]

Penom-Wat is an interesting temple 36 metres long by 40 wide, and the
plan resembles a cross with tolerable exactness. It is composed of two
pavilions, with vaulted stone roofs and elegant porticoes. The roofs
are from seven to eight metres in height, the gallery three metres wide
in the interior, and the walls a metre thick. At each façade of the
gallery are two windows with twisted bars.

This temple is built of red and grey sandstone, coarse in the grain,
and in some places beginning to decay. On one of the doors is a long
inscription, and above are sculptures representing nearly the same
subjects as those at Ongcor and Bassette.

In one of the pavilions are several Buddhist idols in stone, the
largest of which is 2 metres 50 centimetres high, and actually covered
with rags.

You might here easily imagine yourself among the ruins of Ongcor.
There is the same style of architecture, the same taste displayed, the
same immense blocks polished like marble, and so beautifully fitted
together, that I can only compare it to the joining and planing of so
many planks.

The whole building is, without doubt, the work of the Khmerdôm, and not
an imitation, and must be as old as the illustrious reigns which have
left the traces of their grandeur in different parts of the empire.
The exterior is not equal to the interior. Penom was the temple of the
Queen, so say the Siamese; that of the King, her husband, is at Pimaïe,
a district about 30 miles east of Korat.

To consult any existing maps of Indo-China for my guidance in the
interior of Laos would have been a folly, no traveller, at least to my
knowledge, having penetrated into east Laos, or published any authentic
information respecting it. To question the natives about places more
than a degree distant would have been useless. My desire was to reach
Louang-Prabang by land, to visit the northern tribes dependent on
that state, and then again to descend the Mekong to Cambodia. Setting
out from Korat, I had but to proceed northwards as long as I found
practicable roads and inhabited places; and if I could not go by a
direct route to Louang-Prabang, I should only have to diverge to the
east when I judged it necessary.

RETURN TO CHAIAPUME.

I was again delayed a few days at Korat before I could obtain
elephants, in consequence of the absence of the viceroy; but on his
return he received me in a friendly manner, and gave me a letter of
introduction to the governors of the provinces under his jurisdiction.
He likewise furnished me with two elephants for myself and servants,
and two others for my baggage; so at last I was able to set out for
Chaiapume. Before I started, the Chinese with whom I lodged gave me
the following advice:--“Buy a tam-tam, and, wherever you halt, sound
it. They will say, ‘Here is an officer of the king;’ robbers will keep
aloof, and the authorities will respect you. If this does not answer,
the only plan to get rid of all the difficulties which the Laotian
officials will be sure to throw in your way is to have a good stick,
the longer the better. Try it on the back of any mandarin who makes the
least resistance and will not do what you wish. Put all delicacy aside.
Laos is not like a country of the whites. Follow my advice, and you
will find it good.”

I was, however, much better received on my second visit to Chaiapume,
and required neither tam-tam nor cane. The sight of the elephants and
the order from the viceroy of Korat made the mandarin as supple as a
glove, and he provided me with other elephants for a visit to some
ruins existing about 3 leagues north of the town, at the foot of a
mountain. The superstitious Laotians say that these ruins contain
gold, but that every one who has sought for it has been struck with
madness.

JOURNEY TO POUKIEAN.

Two roads lead from Chaiapume to Poukiéan; the first, across the
mountains, is so excessively difficult, that I decided on taking
the other, which, however, is much longer. The first day we started
at 1 o’clock, and reached a village named Non Jasiea, where we were
overtaken by a fearful storm. We sheltered ourselves as well as we
could, and arrived before night at the entrance of a forest where we
slept.

For five days we were compelled to remain in the forest on account of
the weather; it rained great part of the day, and throughout the night;
the torrents overflowed, and the earth was nothing but a sea of mud. I
never in my life passed such wretched nights, as all the time we had to
remain with our wet clothes on our backs, and I cannot describe what we
suffered. The snow hurricanes, so frequent in Russia, and which nearly
killed me when in that country, seemed trifling miseries in comparison.
My poor Phrai was seized with a dreadful fever two days before reaching
Poukiéan, and I myself felt very ill.

The passage of the mountains was easy, and the ascent very gradual;
blocks of stone obstruct the road in various parts, but our oxen and
elephants made their way without much difficulty. I had bought a horse
for myself at Korat.

The vegetation, though not thick, is beautiful: the trees, many of
which are resinous, are slender, the stems being seldom more than
a foot or two in diameter, and often 25, 30, and even 40 metres in
height. Under their shade are to be seen great numbers of deer, and
tigers are not uncommonly met with. In the mountains are many elephants
and rhinoceros. We found immense beds of stone, and in some places saw
small brick buildings containing idols. During the journey one of my
chests was thrown to the ground by the movements of the elephant, and
broken to pieces, as, unfortunately, were all the contents, consisting
of instruments, and bottles of spirit of wine containing serpents and
fishes.

POUKIEAN.

Poukiéan is a smaller village than Chaiapume. I met with a friendly
reception from the governor, who had just returned from Korat, and had
heard of my intended journey. Poverty and misery reign here; we cannot
find even a fish to purchase; nothing but rice; and as soon as my
faithful Phrai is on his legs again we shall leave the place.

Tine-Tine attracts the most attention. The people do not, as we pass,
cry out first, “Look at the white stranger,” but “A little dog!” and
every one runs to see this curiosity. My turn comes afterwards.

In these mountains the Laotians make offerings to the local genii of
sticks and stones.

The same chain of hills which, from the banks of the Menam, in the
province of Saraburi, extends on one side to the southern extremity
of the peninsula, on the other encircles Cambodia like a belt, runs
along the shores of the gulf, and forms a hundred islands; stretches
directly northwards, continually increasing in size, and spreading
its ramifications towards the east, where they form a hundred narrow
valleys, the streams flowing through which empty themselves into the
Mekong.

The rains had commenced on my second entrance into Dong Phya Phai, and
I was greeted by a perfect deluge, which continued with intervals of
two or three days; but this did not stop me, although I had to pass
through a country still more to be dreaded than this forest, and where
no one goes willingly.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot

ELEPHANTS BATHING.]

THE ELEPHANT.

In all this mountainous region elephants are the only means of
transport. Every village possesses some, several as many as fifty or
a hundred. Without this intelligent animal no communication would be
possible during seven months of the year, while, with his assistance,
there is scarcely a place to which you cannot penetrate.

The elephant ought to be seen on these roads, which I can only call
devil’s pathways, and are nothing but ravines, ruts two or three feet
deep, full of mud; sometimes sliding with his feet close together on
the wet clay of the steep slopes, sometimes half buried in mire, an
instant afterwards mounted on sharp rocks, where one would think a
Blondin alone could stand; striding across enormous trunks of fallen
trees, crushing down the smaller trees and bamboos which oppose his
progress, or lying down flat on his stomach that the cornacs (drivers)
may the easier place the saddle on his back; a hundred times a day
making his way, without injuring them, between trees where there
is barely room to pass; sounding with his trunk the depth of the
water in the streams or marshes; constantly kneeling down and rising
again, and never making a false step. It is necessary, I repeat, to
see him at work like this in his own country, to form any idea of
his intelligence, docility, and strength, or how all those wonderful
joints of his are adapted to their work--fully to understand that this
colossus is no rough specimen of nature’s handiwork, but a creature of
especial amiability and sagacity, designed for the service of man.

We must not, however, exaggerate his merits. Probably the saddles used
by the Laotians are capable of great improvement; but I must admit that
the load of three small oxen, that is to say, about 250 or 300 pounds,
is all that I ever saw the largest elephants carry easily, and 18 miles
is the longest distance they can accomplish with an ordinary load. Ten
or twelve miles are the usual day’s work. With four, five, or sometimes
seven elephants, I travelled over all the mountain country from the
borders of Laos to Louang-Prabang, a distance of nearly 500 miles.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

CARAVAN OF ELEPHANTS CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS OF LAOS.]

All this eastern portion, with the exception of a few villages filled
with “black-bellied savages”--so called from the manner in which they
tattoo themselves--is inhabited by the same race, the “white-bellied
Laotians,” who call themselves Laos, and are known by this name to all
the Siamese, Chinese, and surrounding nations.

WESTERN LAOTIANS.

The black-bellied or western Laotians are called by their eastern
brethren by the same name which, in Siam and Cambodia, is bestowed on
the Annamites, Zuène, Lao-Zuène. The only thing that distinguishes
them is, that they tattoo the under part of the body, principally the
thighs, and frequently wear the hair long and knotted on the top of
their heads. Their language is nearly the same, and differs little
from the Siamese and Eastern Laos, except in the pronunciation, and in
certain expressions no longer in use among the former.

I soon found that, but for the letter from the governor of Korat, I
should have met everywhere with the same reception as at Chaiapume;
however, this missive was very positively worded. Wherever I went, the
authorities were ordered to furnish me with elephants, and supply me
with all necessary provisions, as if I were a king’s envoy. I was much
amused to see these petty provincial chiefs executing the orders of my
servants, and evidently in dread lest, following the Siamese custom, I
should use the stick.

One of my men, to give himself importance, had tied one of these
bugbears to the arms which he carried, and the sight of it alone
sufficed, with the sound of the tam-tam, to inspire fear, whilst small
presents judiciously distributed, and a little money to the cornacs,
procured me the sympathy of the people.

SUFFERINGS OF TRAVELLERS.

Most of the villages are situated about a day’s journey from one
another, but frequently you have to travel for three or four days
without seeing a single habitation, and then you have no alternative
but to sleep in the jungle. This might be pleasant in the dry season,
but, during the rains, nothing can give an idea of the sufferings
of travellers at night, under a miserable shelter of leaves hastily
spread over a rough framework of branches, assaulted by myriads of
mosquitoes attracted by the light of the fires and torches, by legions
of ox-flies, which, after sunset, attack human beings as well as
elephants, and by fleas so minute as to be almost invisible, which
assemble about you in swarms, and whose bites are excessively painful,
and raise enormous blisters.

To these enemies add the leeches, which, after the least rain, come
out of the ground, scent a man twenty feet off, and hasten to suck his
blood with wonderful avidity. To coat your legs with a layer of lime
when travelling is the only way to prevent them covering your whole
body.

I had left Bangkok on the 12th of April, and on the 16th of May I
reached Leuye, the chief town of a district belonging to two provinces,
Petchaboune and Lôme. It is situated in a narrow valley, like all the
towns and villages through which I have passed since I left Chaiapume.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Thérond, from a Photograph.

“PARK” OF ELEPHANTS, EXTERNAL VIEW.]

MINERALS.

This is the district of Siam richest in minerals; one of its mountains
contains immense beds of magnetic iron of a remarkably good quality.
Others yield antimony, argentiferous copper, and tin. The iron only
is worked, and this population, half agriculturists, half artisans,
furnish spades and cutlasses to all the surrounding provinces, even
beyond Korat. Yet they have neither foundries nor steam-engines, and
it is curious to see how little it costs an iron-worker to establish
himself in a hole about a yard and a half square hollowed out close to
the mountain.

They pile up and smelt the mineral with charcoal: the liquified iron
deposits itself in the bottom of the cavity, and there hollows out a
bed, whence they withdraw it when the operation is completed, and carry
it home. There, in another cavity they make a fire, which a child keeps
alive by means of a couple of bellows, which are simply two trunks of
hollow trees buried in the ground, and upon which play alternately two
stopples surrounded by cotton. These are fixed to a small board, and
have long sticks for handles, to which are attached two bamboo hollow
canes which conduct the air into the cavity.

In several localities I discovered auriferous sand, but only in small
quantity. In some of the villages the inhabitants employ their leisure
time in searching for gold, but they told me that they hardly gained by
this work sufficient to pay for the rice they ate.

In this journey I have passed through sixty villages, numbering from
twenty to fifty houses each; and six small towns, with a population of
from four to six hundred inhabitants. I have made a map of all this
part of the country.

RIVERS.

Since leaving Korat I have crossed five large rivers which fall into
the Mekon, the bed of which is more or less full according to the
season. The first of these, 35 metres wide, is called the Menam Chie,
lat. 15° 45′; second, the Menam Leuye, 90 metres wide, lat. 18° 3′;
third, the Menam Ouan, at Kenne-Tao, 100 metres in width, lat. 18° 35′;
fourth, the Nam Pouye, 60 metres, lat. 19°; fifth, the Nam-Houn, 80 or
100 metres wide, lat. 20°.

The Chie is navigable, as far up as the latitude of Korat, from May
to December; the Leuye, the Ouan, and the Houn are only navigable for
a very short distance on account of their numerous rapids; neither is
there any water-communication between the Menam and the Mekon in Laos
or Cambodia, the mountains which separate them forming insurmountable
obstacles to cutting canals.

The Laotians much resemble the Siamese: a different pronunciation and
slow manner of speech being all that distinguishes their language. The
women wear petticoats, and keep their hair long, which, when combed,
gives the younger ones a more interesting appearance than those have
who live on the banks of the Menam; but, at an advanced age, with their
unkempt locks thrown negligently over one temple, and their immense
goîtres, which they admire, they are repulsively ugly.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Bocourt, from a Photograph.

LAOTIAN GIRLS.]

Little commerce is carried on in this part of Laos. The Chinese
inhabiting Siam do not come as far, owing to the enormous expense of
transporting all their merchandise on elephants. Nearly every year
a caravan arrives from Yunnan and Quangsee, composed of about a
hundred persons and several hundred mules. Some go to Kenne Thao,
others to M. Nâne and Chieng Maï. They arrive in February, and leave in
March or April.

The mulberry does not thrive in these mountains; but in some localities
this tree is cultivated for the sake of furnishing food to a particular
insect which lives upon its leaves, and from which is obtained the
lague or Chinese varnish.

All the gum-benzoin which is sold at Bangkok comes from the northern
extremity of the state of Louang Prabang, and from a district tributary
both to Cochin China and Siam, and peopled rather by Tonquinites than
Laotians.

PAKLAIE--THE MEKON.

On the 24th of June I arrived at Paklaïe, lat. 19° 16′ 58″, the first
small town on my northward route. It is situated on the Mekon, and is a
charming place; the inhabitants seem well off; the houses elegant and
spacious,--larger, indeed, than I have seen before in this country;
and everything betokens a degree of prosperity which I have also
remarked wherever I have stopped since. The Mekon at this place is
much larger than the Menam at Bangkok, and forces its way between the
lofty mountains with a noise resembling the roaring of the sea and the
impetuosity of a torrent, seeming scarcely able to keep within its bed.
There are many rapids between Paklaïe and Louang Prabang, which is ten
or fifteen days’ painful travelling.

I was tired of my long journey on elephants, and was anxious to hire
a boat here, but the chief and some of the inhabitants, fearing that I
might meet with some accident, advised me to continue my route by land.
I therefore proceeded as far as Thadua, ninety miles farther north,
and during eight days passed through much the same style of country as
before, changing one valley for another, and crossing mountains which
became more and more elevated, and being more than ever annoyed by the
leeches. We were, however, no longer compelled to sleep in the jungle,
for every evening we reached some hamlet or village, where we found
shelter either in a pagoda or caravanserai.

PREVALENCE OF GOÎTRE.

As among the Grisons or the mountains of the Valais, the whole
population, from Dong Phya Phai to this district, who drink the water
of the mountain rivulets, are disfigured by immense goîtres; but the
men are not so subject to them as the women, who rarely escape.

I have only passed through one village where any serious ravages are
committed by the tigers. There is one danger, which may be serious,
incident to travelling with elephants in a region like this. Usually,
among the caravan there are one or two females, followed by their
young, who run about from one side to another, playing or browsing. Now
and then one of them stumbles and falls into a ravine, and immediately
the whole troop jump down after him to draw him out.

In a letter which I wrote from Cambodia I described the Mekon river as
imposing, but monotonous and unpicturesque; but in this part of the
country it presents a very different appearance. Where it is narrowest
the width is above 1000 metres, and it everywhere runs between lofty
mountains, down whose sides flow torrents, all bringing their tribute.
There is almost an excess of grandeur. The eye rests constantly on
these mountain slopes, clothed in the richest and thickest verdure.

LOUANG PRABANG.

On the 25th of July I reached Louang Prabang, a delightful little town,
covering a square mile of ground, and containing a population, not, as
Mgr. Pallegoix says in his work on Siam, of 80,000, but of 7000 or 8000
only. The situation is very pleasant. The mountains which, above and
below this town, enclose the Mekon, form here a kind of circular valley
or amphitheatre, nine miles in diameter, and which, there can be no
doubt, was anciently a lake. It was a charming picture, reminding one
of the beautiful lakes of Como and Geneva. Were it not for the constant
blaze of a tropical sun, or if the mid-day heat were tempered by a
gentle breeze, the place would be a little paradise.

The town is built on both banks of the stream, though the greater
number of the houses are built on the left bank. The most considerable
part of the town surrounds an isolated mount, more than a hundred
metres in height, at the top of which is a pagoda.

Were they not restrained by fear of the Siamese, and their horror of
the jungles so prolific of death, this principality would soon fall
into the hands of the Annamites, who now dare not advance nearer than
seven days’ journey off. A beautiful stream, 100 metres wide, unites
with the great river to the north-east of the town, and leads to some
Laotian and savage villages bearing the name of _Fie_. These are no
other than the tribes called _Penoms_ by the Cambodians, _Khu_ by the
Siamese, and _Moï_ by the Annamites,--all words simply signifying
“savages.”

MOUNTAIN TRIBES.

The whole chain of mountains which extends from the north of Tonquin
to the south of Cochin China, about 100 miles north of Saigon, is
inhabited by this primitive people, divided into tribes speaking
different dialects, but whose manners and customs are the same. All the
villages in the immediate neighbourhood are tributary; those nearest to
the town supply workmen for buildings erected for the king and princes,
and these are heavily taxed. Others pay their tribute in rice.

Their habitations are in the thickest parts of the forests, where they
only can find a path. Their cultivated grounds are to be seen on the
tops and sides of the mountains; in fact, they employ the same means as
wild animals to escape from their enemies, and to preserve that liberty
and independence which are to them, as to all God’s creatures, their
supreme good.

Yesterday, and the day previous, I was presented to the princes who
govern this little state, and who bear the title of kings. I know not
why, but they displayed for my benefit all they could devise of pomp
and splendour.

The Laotians of Leuye appear to me more industrious than the Siamese,
and, above all, possess a much more adventurous and mercantile spirit;
and although, both physically and morally, there are great points of
resemblance, yet there exist shades of difference which distinguish
them at once, and are apparent in their dialect, or rather patois,
and in their manners, which are more simple and affable. They are all
much alike in features; the women have round faces, small noses, large
almond-shaped eyes, thick hair, the mouth large and strongly-marked;
but the men do not exhibit so great a diversity of race as they do in
Siam.

Alas! what a journey my fragile collection of specimens, so difficult
to gather together, has still to take, and what various accidents may
befall them! Those who in museums contemplate the works of Nature do
not think of all the perseverance, trouble, and anxiety required before
they are safely brought home.

THE LAOTIANS.

The Laotians have not the curiosity of the Siamese, and ask me fewer
questions. I find them more intelligent than either the latter race or
the Cambodians, and among the villagers especially there is a curious
mixture of cunning and simplicity. They do not as yet seem to me to
merit their reputation for hospitality,--a virtue which appeared to be
much more practised in Siam. I should never have obtained any means
of conveyance without the letter from the Viceroy of Korat, and my
experience has been that they are less respectful, but at the same time
less importunate, than the Siamese.

The ground between Leuye and Kenne Thao is hilly, but traversed without
difficulty. The formations are calcareous rocks, sandstone, slaty
sandstone, and lime mixed with clay; the sandstone in long beds, not
in blocks. In the streams I found stones, not boulders, but with sharp
angles.

The Chinese and Indians alone traffic here; it requires a day’s journey
to conclude the smallest bargain, and a whole village is assembled to
make sure that the money is not spurious. On my route here I have not
met a single Siamese, but in every village have seen Birmans, Kariens,
and people from Western Laos. I have found men in Lao-Pouene moulded
like athletes and of herculean strength, and thought that the King of
Siam might raise in this province a fine regiment of grenadiers. In
all the villages I have visited, the inhabitants, including even the
priests, set to work to collect insects for me, glad to receive in
return a few copper buttons, glass beads, or a little red cloth.

At Paklaïe, which I have already mentioned as a pretty town, I had
the pleasure of again seeing the beautiful stream, which now seems to
me like an old friend: I have so long drunk of its waters, it has so
long either cradled me on its bosom or tried my patience, at one time
flowing majestically among the mountains, at another muddy and yellow
as the Arno at Florence.

ROAD FROM KENNE THAO TO PAKLAÏE.

The road between Kenne Thao and Paklaïe is dreadful. You have to force
your way along a narrow path, through a thick jungle, and sometimes
there is no path at all, or else it is obstructed by bamboos and
branches which interlace and often catch hold of your saddle. Every
moment you are in danger of being hurt by them; our hands and faces
were covered with scratches, and my clothes torn to pieces.

Muang-Moune-Wa.--This place is surrounded by mountains. I am very
feverish and tremble with cold, although the thermometer shows 80
degrees of heat. I am getting tired of these people, a race of
children, heartless and unenergetic. I sigh and look everywhere for
a man, and cannot find one; here all tremble at the stick, and the
enervating climate makes them incredibly apathetic.

15th August, 1861.--Nam Kane. A splendid night; the moon shines with
extraordinary brilliancy, silvering the surface of this lovely river,
bordered by high mountains, looking like a grand and gloomy rampart.
The chirp of the crickets alone breaks the stillness. In my little
cottage all is calm and tranquil; the view from my window is charming,
but I cannot appreciate or enjoy it. I am sad and anxious; I long for
my native land, for a little life; to be always alone weighs on my
spirits.

LOUANG PRABANG.

Louang Prabang, 29th August, 1861.--My third servant, Song, whom I
had engaged at Pakpriau, begged me to allow him to return to Bangkok
in the suite of the Prince of Louang Prabang, who was going there to
pay tribute. I did all I could to induce him to remain with me, but he
seemed to have made up his mind to go; so I paid him his wages, and
gave him a letter authorising him to receive a further sum at Bangkok
for the time occupied by his return journey.

DEPARTURE OF SONG.

Same date. Song is gone. How changeable we are! He was always
complaining of cold or had some other grievance, and I cared less
for him than for my other servants--but then I had not had him long.
Yesterday, however, when he asked permission to go, I was vexed. Either
he has really suffered much here from illness, or has not been happy
with me; perhaps both. I hired a boat to take him to the town, and my
good Phrai accompanied him there this morning, and recommended him from
me to a mandarin whom I knew. I gave him all that was necessary for his
journey, even if it lasts three months, and on his arrival at Bangkok
he will receive his money. On taking leave he prostrated himself before
me; I took hold of his hands and raised him up, and then he burst into
tears. And I, in my turn, when I had bid him farewell, felt my eyes
fill, nor do I know when I shall be quite calm, for I have before me,
day and night, the poor lad, ill in the woods, among indifferent or
cruel people. He has a great dread of fever, and, if he had been taken
ill here and died, I should have reproached myself for keeping him; and
yet, if it were to come over again, I almost fancy I would not yield
to his desire to leave me. He was confided to me by the good Father
Larmandy. May God protect the poor boy, and preserve him from all
sickness and accidents during his journey!

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Janet Lange, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

RECEPTION OF M. MOUHOT BY THE KINGS OF LAOS.]

I reached Louang Prabang on the 25th of July. On the 3rd of August I
was presented to the King and to his cousin. On the 9th of August I
left Louang Prabang and travelled eastwards.

THE TEMPERATURE.

26th.--The thermometer rose to 92° Fahr. This is the maximum I have
noted this month, 71° being the minimum.




CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE EAST OF LOUANG PRABANG--NOTES OF TRAVELS--OBSERVATIONS FROM
  BANGKOK TO LAOS--END OF THE JOURNAL--DEATH OF THE TRAVELLER.


The dress of the Laotians differs little from that of the Siamese. The
people wear the _langouti_ and a little red cotton waistcoat, or often
nothing at all. Both men and women go barefoot: their head-dresses are
like the Siamese. The women are generally better-looking than those of
the latter nation: they wear a single short petticoat of cotton, and
sometimes a piece of silk over the breast. Their hair, which is black,
they twist into a knot at the back of the head. The houses are built of
bamboos and leaves interwoven and raised upon stakes, and underneath is
a shelter for domestic animals, such as oxen, pigs, fowls, &c.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Janet Lange, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot

LAOTIAN WOMAN.]

The dwellings are, in the strictest sense, unfurnished, having neither
tables nor beds, nor, with few exceptions, even vessels of earth or
porcelain. They eat their rice made into balls out of their hands,
or from little baskets plaited with cane, some of which are far from
unartistic.

The crossbow and _sarbacane_ are the arms used in hunting, as well as
a kind of lance made of bamboo, and sometimes, but more rarely, the
gun, with which they are very skilful.

A RHINOCEROS-HUNT.

In the hamlet of Na-Lê, where I had the pleasure of killing a female
tiger, which with its partner was committing great ravages in the
neighbourhood, the chief hunter of the village got up a rhinoceros-hunt
in my honour. I had not met with this animal in all my wanderings
through the forests. The manner in which he is hunted by the Laotians
is curious on account of its simplicity and the skill they display.
Our party consisted of eight, including myself. I and my servants
were armed with guns, and at the end of mine was a sharp bayonet. The
Laotians had bamboos with iron blades something between a bayonet and a
poignard. The weapon of the chief was the horn of a sword-fish, long,
sharp, strong, and supple, and not likely to break.

Thus armed, we set off into the thickest part of the forest, with all
the windings of which our leader was well acquainted, and could tell
with tolerable certainty where we should find our expected prey. After
penetrating nearly two miles into the forest, we suddenly heard the
crackling of branches and rustling of the dry leaves. The chief went on
in advance, signing to us to keep a little way behind, but to have our
arms in readiness. Soon our leader uttered a shrill cry as a token that
the animal was near; he then commenced striking against each other two
bamboo canes, and the men set up wild yells to provoke the animal to
quit his retreat.

A few minutes only elapsed before he rushed towards us, furious at
having been disturbed. He was a rhinoceros of the largest size, and
opened a most enormous mouth. Without any signs of fear, but, on the
contrary, of great exultation, as though sure of his prey, the intrepid
hunter advanced, lance in hand, and then stood still, waiting for the
creature’s assault. I must say I trembled for him, and I loaded my gun
with two balls; but when the rhinoceros came within reach and opened
his immense jaws to seize his enemy, the hunter thrust the lance into
him to a depth of some feet, and calmly retired to where we were posted.

The animal uttered fearful cries and rolled over on his back in
dreadful convulsions, while all the men shouted with delight. In a
few minutes more we drew nearer to him; he was vomiting pools of
blood. I shook the chief’s hand in testimony of my satisfaction at his
courage and skill. He told me that to myself was reserved the honour
of finishing the animal, which I did by piercing his throat with my
bayonet, and he almost immediately yielded up his last sigh. The hunter
then drew out his lance and presented it to me as a souvenir; and in
return I gave him a magnificent European poignard.

[Illustration:

Drawn by M. Janet Lange, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.

A CHIEF ATTACKING A RHINOCEROS IN THE FOREST OF LAOS.]

DIRECTIONS AND DISTANCES.

Oubon and Bassac lie W.N.W. from M. Pimaï. It takes eight days in the
rainy season to travel from this last town to Oubon, two more to reach
Bassac. To return occupies at least double that period, the current
being excessively strong.

The Ménam-Moune at Pimaï is 75 metres wide in the dry season; in the
rainy season it is from 6 to 7 metres in depth. There are in this
district iron, lignites, and trunks of petrified trees lying on the
ground, which even from a very short distance look like fallen trees in
a natural state.

Mgi-Poukham, inhabited by the Soués, is six days’ journey from Korat in
a south-easterly direction.

In the dry season the navigation of the river is impeded by sandbanks:
at some points the stream is tolerably wide, but in others choked with
sand.

From Korat to Pimaï, on an elephant, occupies two days: from Korat to
Thaison, two; to Sisapoune, two; to Josoutone, two days; to Oubon, four
days; to Bassac, four.

Direction E.N.E. from Korat; Poukiéau, N. of Chaiapume; Pouvienne, ten
degrees E. of Chaiapume; Dong-kaïe, N.E. by E. of Chaiapume; M. Louang
Prabang, N. of Chaiapume.

From Chaiapume to Vien-Tiane is fifteen days’ journey on foot towards
the N. and nine degrees E. M. Lôm, N.W. of Chaiapume; Petchaboune,
W.N.W. of Chaiapume; Bassac, E.S.E.

Bane Prom, a mountain situated in a valley nine miles across, is nearly
300 metres high. Bane Prom, a town. Menam Prom, a river nearly 2 metres
deep and 40 wide, rises in M’Lôm, and empties itself in the Menam Chie,
in the province of Koukhine. Bane-Rike, between Poukiéau and Kone-Sane,
four geographical leagues from each place. Menam-Rike is a torrent
which empties itself into the Prom.

The vegetation is monotonous--everywhere resinous trees, chiefly of
small size. There is a complete absence of birds; insects are in great
number and variety, musquitoes and ox-flies in myriads. I suffer
dreadfully from them, and am covered with swellings and blisters from
their bites; and they torment our beasts so much that we sometimes fear
it will drive them mad. The sensibility of the skin of the elephant is
extraordinary, but these creatures are very skilful in brushing off
their tormentors by means of a branch held in their trunks. I do not
know what would become of me without these good and docile animals, and
I cannot tell which to admire most, their patience or intelligence.

From Kone-Sane to Vien-Tiane is eight good days’ journey in a
north-easterly direction.

To M’Lôm, four days W.N.W.

To Petchaboune, four days W.S.W.

To Kôrat, four days E.S.E.

To Chaiapume, four days E.S.E.

To Poukiéau, four days E.S.E.

To Leuye, three days’ rapid travelling N.N.E. over mountains.

From Kone-Sane to Koukhène, two days’ rapid journey E.S.E.

From Koukhène to Chenobote, one day’s journey S.E.

On the road from Kone-Sane to Leuye, near the former place, is a stream
called Oué-Mouan, and a torrent, Oué-Kha.

Bane-Nayaan, a village, five geographical leagues off, two days’
journey, with high mountains to cross, difficult of ascent for the
elephants. On the first day your course is over peaked mountains,
volcanic, and like those of the Khao Khoc. The next day you meet with
calcareous and volcanic hills; in the valleys sandstone, jungle, and
fertile ground.

Mgi-Lôm, four days’ journey west of Bane-Nayaan. From this last place
to Bane-Napitone runs the stream Oué-Yan.

Menam-Fon-Khau, passed over twice, a geographical league.

In the provinces of Kone-Sane and of Leuye a great number of the
inhabitants are affected with goître. Is this caused by the water from
the mountains and the mineral substances with which it is impregnated?
I suppose so.

From Bane-Napitone to B. Proune you have to cross high mountains. Half
way up one of these is a fine view extending over a wooded plain to the
north-west in the direction of Nong Khaï, and bounded at a distance of
twenty-five or thirty miles by a chain of mountains; whilst in every
other direction you are surrounded by hills varying in height from 300
to 900 feet. The sandstone and chalky rocks of these heights have taken
most picturesque forms.

From B. Proune to B. Thiassène runs a stream five leagues long, in a
north-westerly direction, and which is navigable for boats. It flows on
towards Leuye, and empties itself in the Mekon at M. Sione-Kane, which
is ten degrees N.N.E. of N. Thiassène. From B. Thienne to Leuye are
hills easy to climb, with vegetation similar to those of Chantaboune
and Brelum, forests of bamboo: the rocks are calcareous, with a small
mixture of sandstone.

The Menam-Rope and Menam-Ouaie are two large rivers, deep in the
rainy season, which empty themselves into the Menam-Leuye: also
several torrents. Villages: Bane-Kataname, Bane-Poune, Bane-Nahane,
Bane-Pathiou.

From Bane-Thienne to Nong Khane you go in an easterly direction.
Bane-Poua is the first village in a four days’ journey: here are
forests, jungles, and a small hill. The plain is barren and desolate in
appearance.

Towns and provinces of Louang Prabang in coming down: Thienne-Khane,
Nong-Kaïe, Saïabouri, Outène, Lakhone-Penome, Mouke-Dahane, Emarate,
and Bassac.

I am literally pillaged by these petty mandarins and chiefs of
villages, and have to give away guns, sabres, lead, powder, colours,
pencils, and even my paper; and then, after having received their
presents, they will not put themselves out of their way to do me the
smallest service. I would not wish my most deadly foe, if I had one,
to undergo all the trouble and persecution of this kind which I have
encountered.

The Laotian priests are continually praying in their pagodas; they make
a frightful noise, chanting from morning to night. Assuredly they ought
to go direct to Paradise.

Between Oué-Saïe and Thienne-Khane the villages are: Bane-Tate, B.
Oué-Sake, B. Na-Saor, B. Poun, B. Na-Poué, Nam-Khane, near B. Nmïen;
near Kenne Thao, between Bane Nam-Khane and Bane-Noke, is a torrent
called Nam-Kheme.

Observations taken at Kéte-Tao: Vienne-Thiane, eastward; Mg. Nane,
N.N.W.; Tchieng-Maïe, N.W.; Louang Prabang, N. of Kenne Thao.

Mg. Dane-Saie, four days’ journey W.S.W. of Bane-Mien; Lôme, four days’
journey W.S.W. of Bane-Mien.

Villages: Bane Thène, Nha-Khâ--two roads; Nâ-Thon--two roads; Nâ-Di,
Nâ-Moumone, Nâ-Ho, Bane Maïe, B. Khok.

The river Menam-Ouan runs in a north-westerly direction to within a
day’s journey of the Menam-Sake. A high mountain lies between them.

In Lôme the villages are: Bane Tali, B. Yao, B. Khame, B. Pouksiéau,
B. Name-Bongdiéau, B. Nong-Boa, B. Na-Sane-Jenne, B. Nam-Soke, B.
Ine-Uun, Dong-Saïe, Bane Vang-Bane, B. Nang-Krang, Mg. Lôme-Kao, Bane
Koué-Nioune. Between M. Lôme-Maïe and Thiene-Khame are Bane Oué-Saïe,
B. Rate, B. Na-Shî, B. Oué-Pote, B. Na-Sao, B. Loke, B. Na-Niaô,
Thiene-Khame.

Between Kenne Thao and Bane Mien are B. Kone Khêne, B. Pake-Oué, B.
Khène-Toune.

The Mekon is ten leagues east of Kenne Thao.

M. Phitchaïe eight days’ journey west from Bane-Nmien.

At Bane-Nmien I found the Laotians even more ungrateful and egotistical
than elsewhere; they not only will give you nothing--one has no right
to expect it--but after taking presents from you, they will make you no
return whatever.

The Menam-Ouan rises at Dane-Saïe, S.S.W. from Kenne Thao, and joins
the Mekon E.N.E. from that town.

From Kenne Thao to Louang Prabang is a distance of seven geographical
or ten ordinary leagues, and a journey of ten or eleven days, quick
travelling.

Mg. Pakhaie is north of Kenne Thao. From this place to Bane-Na-Ine is
one day’s journey; to Bane-Moun-Tioum two days.

Near this latter place, where I have found a greater number of insects
than anywhere else in my travels here, is the river Nam-Shan. It is a
continual ascent to this part.

Near Bane-Na-Ine auriferous quartz occurs. The jungle here is thick.

Villages in the neighbourhood of Moun-Tioume, consisting of from
fifteen to thirty huts: Bane-Hape, a league to the north; Rape-Jâ, the
same distance southwards; Tate-Dine, one league to the north-east;
Nam-Poune, half a league south-east.

In Bane Moun-Tioume are twenty-six houses.

Route from B. Moun-Tioume to B. Kouke-Niéou:--This last village is
composed of eighty houses. There is in it an abandoned pagoda, and it
is environed by woods and hills. A stream, called the Nam-Peniou, flows
past it and joins the Nam-Shan. There is plenty of rice on the hills,
but not in the plains.

From Bane-Kouke-Niéou[7] there are continual hills. We are tormented
by immense numbers of leeches and ox-flies. The jungle is as thick as
in Dong Phya Phai. We passed the night on the banks of a stream, the
Nam-Koïe, which we had several times crossed, but could get no sleep on
account of the leeches; and the following night, by the same river, we
were equally pestered.

[7] At Kouke-Niéou I sold my horse for 13 ticals, as he could no longer
climb the hills, which became more and more difficult.

Bane-Oué-Eu is a small hamlet in the immediate vicinity of
Kouke-Niéou-Paklaïe, a very pleasant town, apparently prosperous. The
houses are clean and elegant.

Paklaïe is two geographical leagues distant from Muang-Moune-Wâ. The
district is very mountainous, with rice-grounds on some of the slopes.
We several times had to cross the Laïe, which is 35 metres wide, and
rushes along like a torrent, with a great noise. There are, about here,
many precipices. It was wonderful to see the elephants climb, descend,
and hang on by their trunks to the rocks without ever making a false
step.

I have quite an admiration and regard for these noble animals. How
remarkable are their strength and intelligence! What should we have
done without them amidst these vast forests and rugged mountains?

Mgi-Roun, district of M. Louang, a day’s journey W.N.W. of
Mgi-Moune-Wâ; there are seventy houses in it.

The villages near to Moune-Wâ are Bane-Bia, 2 miles westward;
Bane-Name-Pi, two days’ journey; Thiême-Khâne, one day; B. Nam-Kang,
one day. These villages are all on the road from Mgi-Moune-Wâ to
Phixaïe. This place lies W.S.W. from Muang-Moune-Wâ, and five days’
journey off, and three days’ journey from Nam-Pate. The country between
Mgi-Moune-Wâ and Nam-Pate is mountainous; from the latter place to
Phixaïe is also hilly ground, and is part of the direct line from
Bangkok to Mgi-Louang.[8]

[8] These particulars were received by me at Moune-Wâ from inhabitants
of Nam-Pate.

From Mgi-Moune-Wâ to Bane-Nakhau is a good day’s journey over a
mountain country, through woods of resinous trees and high grass; but
the jungle predominates. Auriferous sand occurs in the Nam-Poune; also,
though less rich, in the Nam-Ouhan and other streams.

Bane-Phêke and B. Nalane lie between B. Nakhan and Mgi-Nam-Poune.

Mgi-Nane is six days’ journey W.N.W. of Moune-Wâ. The first day, to
Mgi-Roun; second day, through woods and crossing streams, to Nan-Pi
(here are black-bellied Laotians); third day, Bane-Khune; fourth day,
Bane-Dhare; fifth day, B. Done; sixth day, Tuke.

3rd September.--We left Bane-Nakhau, and arrived about midday at a
rice-field, where we passed the night. All the women here have goîtres,
often enormous and most repulsive. Even young girls of nine or ten are
to be seen with them, but rarely the men.

About Tourair there are woods and thick jungles, and the river
Nam-Poune, 60 metres broad, runs near. The hills here are of moderate
height. I saw some pretty young girls with intelligent faces; but
before the females attain the age of eighteen or twenty their features
become coarse, and they grow fat. At five-and-thirty they look like old
witches.

Two rivers unite here, the Nam-Poune from the west, and the Nam-Jame
from the north.

On my route from B. Nakhau to B. Na-Lê, I spent the night of the 4th of
September in a hut at B. Nakone. On the 5th I reached B. Na-Lê, passing
through several hamlets, Na-Moune, Na-Koua, and Na-Dua. Bane-Na-Lê
contains only seven houses.

The streams are, first, the Nam-Jame, crossed and recrossed several
times; the Nam-Quême, Nam-Itou, Nam-Pâne; the Nam-Khou, near
Bane-Nakone.

The road lies across high mountains, with jungles full of monkeys
uttering their plaintive cries. I was told of a royal tiger at Na-Lê,
which, in the space of four months, had killed two men and ten
buffaloes. I had the satisfaction of killing the tigress.

5th September, 1861.--From this date M. Mouhot’s observations cease;
but until the 25th of October he continued to keep his meteorological
register.

The last dates inscribed in his journal are the following:--

20th September.--Left B......p.

28th.--An order was sent to B...., from the council of Louang Prabang,
commanding the authorities to prevent my proceeding farther.

15th October. 58 degrees Fahr.--Set off for Louang Prabang.

16th.--....

17th.--....

18th.--Halted at H....

19th.--Attacked by fever.[9]

[9] The handwriting of this entry is evidently much affected by his
state of weakness.

29th.--Have pity on me, oh my God....!

DEATH OF THE AUTHOR.

These words, written with a trembling and uncertain hand, were the last
found in M. Mouhot’s journal. His faithful Phrai asked him several
times if he did not wish to write anything to his family, but his
invariable answer was, “Wait, wait; are you afraid?” The intrepid
traveller never for one moment thought that death was near; he had been
spared so far, and he doubtless thought he should recover, or he might
have made an effort to write again. He died November 10th, 1861, at 7
o’clock in the evening, having been previously insensible for three
days, before which time, however, he had complained of great pains
in his head. All the words which he uttered during the delirium of
the last three days were in English, and were incomprehensible to his
servants.

He was buried in the European fashion, in the presence of his two
servants, who never left him. It is the custom of the country to hang
up the dead bodies to the trees, and there leave them.

This account of the last illness of my dear brother I received from
his friends at Bangkok, particularly Dr. Campbell, to whom his two
faithful servants hastened at once to give all details. His collections
and other property they took to M. d’Istria, the French consul. Dr.
Campbell kindly took charge of the manuscripts, and transmitted them to
his widow in London.

CONCLUSION.

The family of M. Mouhot have already expressed their gratitude to those
who were useful and kind to the traveller. The two good servants who
remained with him to the last also merit their thanks; and, if these
lines should fall into the hands of Phrai, I wish him to know how much
gratitude and esteem we feel for him, and for his companion Deng. We
wish them every happiness in return for their devotion to my dear
brother.

  C. MOUHOT.

[Illustration: SIAMESE MONEY.]




APPENDIX.




LIST OF THE NEW SPECIES OF MAMMALS DISCOVERED BY THE LATE M. MOUHOT IN
CAMBODIA AND SIAM.

BY DR. ALBERT GÜNTHER.


_a._ MONKEYS.


1. _Hylobates pileatus._

MAMMALS.

_Male._--BLACK: back of the head, back of the body, and front hind legs
greyish; forehead and circumference of the black spot on the crown
paler grey: hands and tuft of long hair round the organ of generation
white.

The three specimens in this state are all nearly of the same size, and
appear to be adult. They only vary slightly in the size of the coronal
spot, and in the extent of the white colour on the hands.

_Female._--White: back brownish white, slightly waved; a large ovate
spot on the crown, and a very large ovate blotch on the chest, black.

These specimens are all of one size, and appear to be adult; three
have the teats well developed. They vary in the size of the black
chest-spot, and in the colour of the whiskers, thus:--

a, b. White: spot on the chest moderate, reaching only half-way down
the abdomen: whiskers on side of face white.

c. Brownish: spot on chest larger, reaching further down the abdomen:
sides of the face black: a few black hairs on the throat.

d. Brownish: side of the face, under the chin, and the whole of the
throat, chest, and belly black: teats well developed.

_Young._--Uniform dirty white, without any black spot on chest or head.

All those varieties were found by M. Mouhot on a small island near
Cambodia. (Described by Dr. J. E. Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 135.)


_b._ CARNIVORES.


2. _Herpestes rutilus._

Grizzled chestnut-brown, variegated with black and white rings on the
hairs: the head and limbs darker chestnut, with scarcely any hair, and
very narrow white rings: lips and throat, and under part of the body,
uniform duller brown; the nape with longer hairs, forming a broad short
crest.

Cambodia. (Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 136.)


c. SQUIRRELS.


3. _Sciurus Mouhotii._

Grizzled grey brown, with pale rings: lips, chin, throat, and under
side of body and inside of limbs white: the upper part of the sides
with a longitudinal black streak, edged above and below with a narrow
white line: tail blackish, whitish washed, hairs elongate, brown, with
two broad black rings and a white tip: ears simple, rounded.

The species differs from most of the squirrels of the size, in the
three streaks being on the upper part of the back, and in the dark
colour between the two colours of the upper and under surface.

Cambodia. (Named by Dr. J. E. Gray, after M. Mouhot, and described in
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 137.)


4. _Sciurus splendens._

All the specimens are bright red bay.

_Var._ 1.--All over dark, and very intense red bay, with a white spot
on each side of the base of the tail.

_Var._ 2.--Top of the head and tail, like var. 1, dark and very intense
red bay: side of the back, under sides of the body, and tip of the tail
paler red bay, without any white spot at the base of the tail.

_Var._ 3.--Uniform pale bay, like the side of var. 2: tail and middle
of the back rather darker and brighter: tail without pale tip or white
basal spot.

_Var._ 4.--Crown, middle of the back, and tail dark intense red bay:
throat, chest, and under side paler red bay, like var. 2, 3: cheeks,
shoulders, and thighs, and outsides of the fore and hind legs brown,
grizzled, with yellow rings on the hairs: side of the body rather
greyish red.

Cambodia. (Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 137.)


5. _Sciurus siamensis._

Bright red-brown, grizzled, with elongate black tips to the longer
hairs, each of which is marked with a broad subterminal yellow band.
These black hairs are more abundant and have broad pale rings on the
rump, outside of the thighs, and especially on the lower part of the
tail, where they nearly hide the general red colour. The terminal half
of the tail bright chestnut-brown, without any black hairs or pale
rings. The throat, breast, belly, lower part of sides, inner side and
edge of the legs, uniform bright red-brown: ears rounded: whiskers
black: feet covered with short close-pressed hairs.

(Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1859, p. 478.)


_d._ RUMINANTS.


6. _Tragulus affinis._

Similar to T. javanicus in colour, but rather smaller and much paler,
and the side of the neck similar in colour to the side of the body: the
belly is white, with a brown streak on each side of the central line:
the head is smaller. It is larger than _T. kanchil_; very much paler;
and the neck is not blacker and grizzled. A specimen of the species has
been in the British Museum, as above named, for many years: it is said
to have come from Singapore; but that probably was only the port of
transit. It may be only a small pale local variety of _T. kanchil_.

Six specimens, adult, all exactly similar, and one young, have been
collected by M. Mouhot. (Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 138.)


7. _Cervulus cambojensis._

There are the forehead covered with hair and the horns of a Muntjack in
the collection sent by M. Mouhot from Cambodia: it is very much larger
than any specimen of that genus in the British Museum collection, and
is probably a distinct species.

The horns are thick, nearly straight, with a short, thick recurved
branch on the outer part of the front side, near the base, and one of
them has a somewhat similar callosity on the hinder side on the same
level. Hair of forehead very rigid, close pressed, dark brown, with
narrow yellow rings. (Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, p. 138.)


LIST OF THE NEW SPECIES OF REPTILES DISCOVERED BY THE LATE M. MOUHOT IN
SIAM AND CAMBODIA.

BY DR. ALBERT GÜNTHER.


_a._ TORTOISES.


1. _Geoclemys macrocephala._

REPTILES.

The shell oblong, rather depressed, entirely three-keeled, olive-brown:
the keels subcontinued, nearly parallel; the middle one higher and
more distinct behind; the lateral ones, near the upper edge of the
shields, continued, ending abruptly on the hinder edge of the third
lateral discal shield: the hinder lateral and central shield only
marked with a slight convexity: the margin entire, yellow edged: the
under side yellow, with black triangular spots: the sternum flat, very
indistinctly keeled on the side.

Animal black olive, head large; crown flat, covered with a single
smooth plate, purplish-brown, with two streaks from middle of the nose;
the upper edging the crown, the other the upper part of the beak, and
with two streaks from the hinder edge of the orbit; the lower short and
interrupted, extended on the temple; the upper broader and continued
over the ear, along the side of the neck; two close streaks under the
nostrils to the middle of the upper jaw, and two broad streaks dilated
behind, down the front of the lower jaw, and continued on the edge
of the lower jaw behind: the nape and hinder part of the side of the
lower jaw covered with large flat scales: the rest of the neck and legs
covered with minute granular scales: the front of the forelegs covered
with broad band-like scales: the toes of the fore and hind feet rather
short and thick, covered above with broad band-like scales. (Gray,
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1859, p. 479, pl. 21.)


2. _Cyclemys Mouhotii._

Shell oblong, pale yellow; back flattened above, with a dark-edged keel
on each side: the vertebral plates continuously keeled, and rather
tubercular in front: the margin strongly dentated: nuchal shield
distinct. (Gray, Ann. and Mag. Nat. Hist., 1862, x. p. 157; Günth.,
Rept. Brit. Ind., pl. 4, fig. D.)


3. _Trionyx ornatus._

Back of the young animal, in spirits, brown, with large, unequal-sized,
irregularly disposed black circular spots: head olive, with symmetrical
small black spots on the chin, forehead, and nose: throat and sides
of neck with large, unequal-sized, irregular-shaped, and nearly
symmetrically disposed yellow spots: legs olive, yellow spotted in
front: sternum and under side of margin yellow: sternal callosities not
developed.

A single specimen has been found by M. Mouhot in Cambodia, which is now
in the British Museum. (Described by Dr. J. E. Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc.,
1861, p. 41, pl. 5.)


_b._ LIZARDS.


1. _Draco tæniopterus._

Tympanum not scaly: nostrils above the face-ridge directed upwards: a
low longitudinal fold on the neck: scales on the back of equal size,
obscurely keeled: gular sac covered with large smooth scales, uniformly
coloured: wings dark-greenish olive, with five arched black bands, not
extending to the margin of the wing, some being forked at the base.
(Günth., Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, April 23, and Ind. Rept., p. 126, pl.
13, fig. E.)


2. _Acanthosaura coronata._

The upper orbital edge serrated, without elongate spine posteriorly; a
short spine on each side of the neck; a yellowish-olive band edged with
black across the crown, from one orbital edge to the other; an oblique,
short, yellowish band, broadly edged with brown, from below the orbit
to the angle of the mouth.

This and the following species belong to the genus _Acanthosaura_,
as defined by Gray (Catal. Liz. p. 240). The tympanum is distinct; a
short spine between it and the dorsal crest, which is rather low; no
femoral or præanal pores: a short spine behind the orbital edge, and
separated from it by a deep notch: back and sides covered with small
smooth scales, slightly turned towards the dorsal line, and intermixed
with scattered larger ones which are keeled: belly and legs with larger
keeled scales: tail slightly compressed at the base, the rest being
round, and without crest; all its scales are keeled; those on the lower
side being oblong, and provided with more prominent keels: throat
without cross-fold, and without distinct longitudinal pouch: a slight
oblique fold before the shoulder. (Günth., Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861,
April 23, and Ind. Rept., p. 149, pl. 14, fig. E.)


3. _Acanthosaura capra._

The upper orbital edge not serrated, terminating posteriorly in a long
moveable horn: no spine above the tympanum or on the side of the neck:
nuchal crest high, not continuous with the dorsal crest, which is
rather elevated anteriorly: crown and cheek without markings.

The tympanum is distinct: no femoral or præanal pores: back and sides
covered with small smooth scales, which become gradually larger and
more distinctly keeled towards the belly: no large scales intermixed
with the small ones; only a few appear to be a little larger than the
rest: tail slightly compressed at the base, surrounded by rings of
oblong, keeled scales: throat expansible; a very slight fold before the
shoulder. (Günth., Ind. Rept., p. 148, pl. 14, fig. F.)


4. _Physignathus mentager._

Dorsal crest not interrupted above the shoulder; interrupted above the
hip: caudal crest as high as that on the back: no large scales on the
side of the neck: sides of the throat with large convex or tubercular
scales.

A high crest, composed of sabre-shaped shields, extends from the nape
of the neck to the second fifth of the length of the tail, being
interrupted above the hip: scales on the back and the sides of equal
size, very small, with an obscure keel obliquely directed upwards;
those on the belly smooth, on the lower side of the tail rather
elongate; strongly keeled: tympanum distinct: throat with a cross-fold:
orbital edges and sides of the neck without spines: tail transversely
banded with black.

One stuffed specimen is 30 inches long, the tail taking 21. (Günth.,
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, April 23, and Ind. Rept., p. 153, pl. 15.)


5. _Tropidophorus microlepis._

Snout rather narrow and produced: scales on the back strongly keeled,
the keels not terminating in elevated spines: back of the tail with two
series of moderately elevated spines, the series not being continuous
with those on the back of the trunk: scales of the throat smooth, or
very indistinctly keeled: tail with a series of plates below, which
are much larger and broader than the scales of the belly: three large
præanal scales: a single anterior frontal shield (internasal). (Günth.,
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, April 23, and Ind. Rept., p. 76, pl. 10, fig.
A.)


_c._ SNAKES.


_Simotes tæniatus._

Scales in nineteen rows. Brownish-olive, with a brown longitudinal
dorsal band enclosing an olive-coloured line running along the
vertebral series of scales; another brownish band along the side of the
body; belly whitish, chequered with black.

One loreal shield, one anterior and two posterior oculars; eight upper
labials, the third, fourth, and fifth of which enter the orbit; 155
ventral plates; anal entire; 44 pairs of subcaudals. Head with the
markings characteristic of the genus: each half of the dorsal band
occupies one series of scales and two halves; the lateral band runs
along the fourth outer series, touching the third and fifth. (Günth.,
Proc. Zool. Soc., 1861, April 23, and Ind. Rept., p. 216, pl. 20, fig.
A.)


_d._ NEWTS.


_Plethodon persimilis._

Black, white-speckled, the specks closer and more abundant on the
sides; the hind-toes elongate, unequal. Tail compressed.

This is the first species of Newts which has been discovered in
Continental India; it is exceedingly like the _Pl. glutinosus_ from
North America, but the hind toes are rather longer and more slender.
(Gray, Proc. Zool. Soc., 1859, p. 230, c. tab.)


LIST OF THE NEW SPECIES OF FRESH-WATER FISHES DISCOVERED BY THE LATE M.
MOUHOT IN SIAM AND CAMBODIA.

BY DR. ALBERT GÜNTHER.


1. _Toxotes microlepis._

D. 5/13. A. 3/17. L. lat. 42. L. transv. 6/14.

FRESH-WATER FISHES.

In the general habit and in all the generic characters the present
species completely agrees with _T. jaculator_; the snout, however,
is much shorter, its length being scarcely more than the diameter of
the eye, and considerably less than the width between the orbits. The
diameter of the eye is one-fourth of the length of the head. The length
of the base of the anal equals exactly that of the dorsal. One of the
largest scales covers two-thirds of the eye.

The colour may prove to be subject to as much variation as in the other
species. The specimens described are yellowish, with greenish back and
yellowish caudal. There is a series of four black blotches on each
side: the anterior is the smallest, and situated on the upper extremity
of the præoperculum; the third is the largest, and placed opposite the
dorsal spines; a narrow blackish band round the base of the caudal; a
round black spot on the posterior angle of the dorsal; the anal and the
ventrals are black.

(Günth., Fishes, ii. p. 68.)


2. _Eleotris siamensis._

D. 6 | 10. A. 9. L. lat. 90.

Twenty-two longitudinal series of scales between the origin of the
posterior dorsal and the anal, forty transverse ones between the
anterior dorsal and the snout. The height of the body is contained
six times and two-thirds in the total length, the length of the head
four times. Head broad, depressed, with the snout obtuse; the lower
jaw is prominent, and the maxillary extends to behind the vertical
from the centre of the eye. Teeth in villiform bands. The diameter of
the eye is one-seventh of the length of the head, one-half of that of
the snout, and of the width of the interorbital space. A small barbel
on each side of the upper jaw; the head is covered with small scales;
there are about ten between the posterior angle of the orbits; the
snout is naked. Dorsal and anal fins much lower than the body: one-half
of the caudal is covered with thin scales; its length is contained
five times and a half in the total. Brown: the lower parts whitish,
minutely punctulated with brown: two oblique dark stripes on the cheek,
radiating from the eye. Dorsal fins variegated with blackish, the other
fins uniform blackish; a black ocellus, edged with whitish, on the
upper part of the root of the caudal fin.

                            Lines.
  Total length                60
  Height of the body           9
  Length of the head          15
  Diameter of the eye          2
  Length of the caudal fin    11

(Günth., Fish., iii. p. 129.)


3. _Osphromenus siamensis._

D. 7/8. A. 11/33-12/35. L. lat. 42. L. transv. 12/16.

When we take the origin of the dorsal fin as the highest point of the
upper profile, and the base of the last anal spine as the lowest of
the abdomen, the depth between these two points is one-half of the
total length (the caudal not included). The length of the head is
three times and two-thirds in the same length. The snout is broader
than long, equal to the diameter of the eye, which is one-fourth of
the length of the head. The interorbital space is convex, wider than
the orbit. Mouth very small, rather protractile; præorbital, with its
extremity truncated and serrated: angle of the præoperculum serrated;
there are two or three series of scales between the eye and the angle
of the præoperculum. The dorsal fin commences nearer to the root of the
caudal than to the end of the snout; it has six strong spines, which
increase in length posteriorly, the last being longer than one-half
the length of the head. Caudal emarginate; the anal is nearly entirely
scaly, and terminates immediately before the caudal. The longest
ventral ray extends beyond the extremity of the caudal, and has three
or four rudimentary rays in its axil.

The colour is greenish on the back, silvery on the sides and on the
belly. A black spot on the middle of the body in the vertical from the
origin of the dorsal, below the lateral line; a second on the middle
of the root of the caudal. The soft dorsal and caudal with brown dots;
anal yellowish, with lighter spots, and sometimes with brownish dots.

This description is taken from specimens which are from three to four
inches long.

(Günth., Fishes, iii. p. 385.)


4. _Osphromenus microlepis._

D. 3/10. A. 10/39. L. lat. 60. L. transv. 12/22.

The height of the body is one-half of the total length (without
caudal), the length of the head two-sevenths; the profile of the nape
is convex, that of the head rather concave. The snout is somewhat
depressed, broader than long, with the lower jaw prominent; the
interorbital space is convex, nearly twice as wide as the orbit, the
diameter of which is one-fifth of the length of the head, and less
than that of the snout. Præorbital triangular, with the lower margin
serrated; there are five series of scales between the orbit and the
angle of the præoperculum. The entire lower margin of the præoperculum
and a part of the sub- and inter-operculum are serrated. The dorsal
fin commences on the middle of the distance between the snout and the
root of the caudal; its spines are moderately strong, the length of the
third being more than one-half of that of the head. Caudal emarginate;
more than one-half of the anal fin is scaly; it terminates immediately
before the caudal. The longest ventral ray extends beyond the extremity
of the caudal, and has three rudimentary rays in its axil. Immaculate:
back greenish, sides and belly silvery; the soft dorsal and caudal with
brownish dots.

Total length six inches.

(Günth., Fishes, iii., p. 385.)


5. _Catopra siamensis._

D. 13/15. A. 3/9. L. lat. 27. L. transv. 5-1/2/13.

The height of the body is contained twice and a third in the total
length, the length of the head thrice and a third; head as high as
long. Snout rather shorter than the eye, the diameter of which is
one-fourth of the length of the head, and equal to the width of the
interorbital space. The lower jaw is scarcely longer than the upper,
and the maxillary extends slightly beyond the anterior margin of the
orbit. Two nostrils remote from each other, both very small. Præorbital
and angle of the præoperculum slightly serrated; opercles, throat,
and isthmus, entirely scaly. The dorsal fin commences above the end
of the operculum, and terminates close by the caudal; its spines are
very strong, and can be received in a groove; the fifth, sixth, and
seventh are the longest, not quite half as long as the head; the last
spine is shorter than the penultimate; the soft dorsal is elevated and
scaly at the base. The second anal spine is exceedingly strong, rather
stronger and longer than the third, and not quite half as long as the
head; the soft anal is similar to the soft dorsal. Caudal fin rounded,
slightly produced, one-fourth of the total length; its basal half is
scaly. Pectoral rather narrow, as long as the head without snout. The
ventral is inserted immediately behind the base of the pectoral; it has
a strong spine, and extends to the vent.

Scales minutely ciliated: the upper part of the lateral line terminates
below the last dorsal rays, the lower commences above the third anal
spine.

Gill-membranes united below the throat, not attached to the isthmus,
scaly. Four gills, a slit behind the fourth; pseudobranchiæ none.

The jaws, vomer, palatines, and upper and lower pharyngeals are armed
with bands of small villiform teeth. Very remarkable are two large,
ovate, dentigerous plates, one at the roof, the other at the bottom
of the mouth, in front of the pharyngeals; these plates are slightly
concave in the middle, pavimentated with molar-like teeth, and have
evidently the same function as the pharyngeal dentigerous plates of the
true Pharyngognathi.

Total length 52 lines.

(Günth., Proc. Zool. Soc., 1862, June 24.)


6. _Ophiocephalus siamensis._

D. 42. A. 27. L. lat. 65. L. transv. 5/11.

Large teeth in the lower jaw, on the vomer and the palatine bones.
The height of the body is contained six times and four-fifths in the
total length; the length of the head three times and two-fifths; the
length of the caudal six times. The width of the interorbital space
is more than the extent of the snout, and two-ninths of the length of
the head. Cleft of the mouth wide the maxillary not extending to the
vertical from the posterior margin of the eye (in old specimens it
probably reaches to below that margin). There are eleven series of
scales between the eye and the angle of the præoperculum; scales on
the upper surface of the head of moderate size. The pectoral extends
to the origin of the anal fin, and its length is less than one-half of
that of the head: the ventral is not much shorter than the pectoral;
greenish-olive, with darker streaks along the series of scales; a light
longitudinal band from the eye to the middle of the caudal fin; two
series of alternate darker blotches, one above the light band, the
other below; side of the head with three oblique brown bands; dorsal
and anal fins with oblique blackish stripes; caudal with blackish
spots: the lower side of the head blackish, with white spots. (Günth.,
Fishes, iii., p. 476.)


7. _Mastacembelus argus._

D. 32/60. A. 3/56.

Præoperculum with two or three spines. The maxillary does not extend
to the vertical from the anterior margin of the eye. Vertical fins
continuous: brownish-black, with white bands and round white spots:
a band from the occiput, along the middle of the back, passing into
the white margin of the vertical fins: a second band above the eye,
interrupted and lost on the side of the back: a third from the angle of
the mouth, passing into a series of spots, which is continued to the
caudal: another series of spots along the side of the belly; the soft
dorsal with a series of six spots: pectoral black at the base and near
the margin. (Günth., Fishes, iii. p. 542.)


8. _Cynoglossus xiphoideus._

D. 120. A. 98. V. 4. L. lat. 135.

Three lateral lines on the left side, the upper and lower separated
from the middle by twenty or twenty-one longitudinal series of scales:
a single line on the right side. Two nostrils: one between the
posterior parts of the eyes, the other in front of the lower eye. Eyes
separated by a concave space, the width of which is more than that of
the orbit; the upper eye considerably in advance of the lower: lips not
fringed. The length of the snout is contained twice and a third in that
of the head, the angle of the mouth being behind the vertical from the
posterior margin of the eye, and nearer to the gill-opening than to the
end of the snout. The rostral hook terminates below the front margin of
the eye. The height of the body is contained four times and two-thirds
in the total length, the length of the head five times and a half. The
height of the dorsal and anal fins is two-sevenths of that of the body.
Uniform brownish-grey. (Günth., Fish., iv. p. 495.)


ON AN APPARENTLY UNDESCRIBED SPIDER FROM COCHIN CHINA.

BY DR. ALBERT GÜNTHER.


_Cyphagogus Mouhotii._

UNDESCRIBED SPIDER.

Cephalothorax subovate, covered with fine, short, dense hairs, with a
transverse groove between cephalic and thoracic portion, and with a
deep impression in the middle of the upper surface of the latter.

Eyes eight, unequal in size, disposed thus ·.::.·; the four middle
occupy a slight protuberance in front of the cephalothorax, whilst the
lateral are the smallest, and situated on the side of its anterior part.

Falces articulated vertically, rather compressed, with a
non-denticulated claw of moderate size at their extremity; the claw is
received in a sheath at the lower end of the falces, the edges of the
sheath being provided with some horny spines of unequal size. Maxillæ
flat; the outer margins of both together form a card-like figure; their
lower extremity is hairy; sternal lip between the maxillæ, elongate
elliptical. Sternum ovate, covered with rather coarse hairs. Palpi
of moderate length: the terminal joint is rather longer than the two
preceding together, and armed with a minute non-pectinated claw.

Legs rather robust, tapering, very unequal in length, the two anterior
being nearly equally long, but much longer than the two posterior: the
fourth is longer than the third: each is armed with a pair of minute
claws.

Abdomen club-shaped, anteriorly produced into a very long, thin,
cylindrical process, which is twice bent, so that its basal half is
leaning backwards on the back of the abdomen, whilst its terminal half
is directed upwards and forwards, terminating in a slight cuneiform
swelling: this singular appendage is covered with a leathery, fine
hairy skin, like the lower parts of the abdomen. The cephalothorax
being united with the abdomen at no great distance from the spinners,
the anterior portion of the abdomen, with its appendage, is situated
vertically above the thorax. The abdomen is nearly smooth above, and
covered with very fine hairs below; it terminates in an obtuse point
directed upwards.

Six spinners in a quadrangular group immediately before the vent: the
anterior and posterior pair are of moderate size: the third pair is
very short, and situated between the posterior spinners.

Two branchial opercula: tracheal opercula absent.

_Dimensions._

                                                        Lines.
  Length of cephalothorax                                 4
    „       abdomen to the first bend of the appendage   12
    „       appendage from its first bend                10
    „       falces                                        1-1/3
    „       palpus                                        4-1/3
    „       terminal joint of palpus                      1-2/3
    „       first leg                                    16
    „       second leg                                   16- /3
    „       third leg                                     9
    „       fourth leg                                   10-1/2

Colour brownish yellow: extremities of the legs and of abdominal
appendage and sternum blackish brown: upper parts of the abdomen
yellow: two black bands round the femur of the first leg.

A single female specimen of this spider was obtained by the late
M. Mouhot in the Lao Mountains of Cochin China. Its form is so
extraordinary that we have not hesitated to refer it to a new genus,
_Cyphagogus_.


DESCRIPTION BY M. LE COMTE DE CASTELNAU OF A NEW AND GIGANTIC
CARABIDEOUS INSECT DISCOVERED BY M. MOUHOT IN LAOS.

(Communicated by the Count to the ‘Revue et Magasin de Zoologie.’ 1862.
No. 8. Paris.)

GIGANTIC CARABUS.

Among the magnificent insects that M. Mouhot collected during the few
months of his stay in Laos, the first place is claimed by the beautiful
Carabus which forms the subject of this paper, and which I have named
_Mouhotia gloriosa_ after my unfortunate countryman.

This splendid insect is black, with a large border of flame-colour
at the sides of the thorax and of the elytra; this is covered with
longitudinal striæ, formed by a double row of punctures. The thorax is
hollowed behind, smooth on the top, with the lateral border a brilliant
coppery-red; it presents a small longitudinal stria in the middle of
its disk, and the anterior angles are very prominent.

It much resembles Pasimachus and Emydopterus, but is distinguished
from them; firstly, by the maxillary palpi, of which the last joint is
broad, flat, angular on the inner side, and rounded at the end, this
joint being a little longer than the one before it; secondly, by the
labrum, which is wide, short, and indented on the exterior side; and
thirdly, by the labial palpi, which have their last joint in the same
form as the maxillary, but longer and hatchet-shaped. The mandibles
are very strong, moderately arched, striated transversely, and with a
strong tooth on the inner side; the jaws are also striated and obtuse
at the ends. The head is similar to that of Pasimachus, the thorax
is heart-shaped, the elytra oval, with angles towards the joints not
strongly marked, convex, and a little serrated behind; the claws are
powerful, with a strong tooth on the outer side of the middle of the
tibiæ of the centre pair.

[Illustration]

This insect is one of the most magnificent Carabidæ known, and is
nearly two inches in length. The collection in the British Museum
contains a fine specimen of it.


DESCRIPTIONS OF TWO NEW SPECIES OF LAND-SHELLS DISCOVERED BY M. MOUHOT
IN THE INTERIOR OF CAMBODIA.


_Helix cambojiensis._

LAND-SHELLS.

Shell sinistral, deeply umbilicated, conoidly globose, rather inflated;
upper portion of the whorls of a rich-toned transparent chestnut
colour, edged at the satural margin with purple black; lower portion
of the whorls white, turning to a delicate straw-colour by the
overlying of a shining, transparent, horny epidermis, encircled below
the periphery and around the umbilicus with two very decided, broad,
rich purple black bands; whorls six, corrugately puckered throughout
at the satural margin, the first four whorls very densely granosely
wrinkle-striated in the direction of the lines of growth, the striæ
gradually disappearing on the fifth whorl; aperture lunar-orbicular;
lips simple, reflected partly round the umbilicus.

[Illustration]

Out of two thousand species of _Helix_ at present known, the only
one of the same type as _H. Mouhoti_ is the large _H. Brookei_,
collected by Mr. Arthur Adams, in company with Sir Edward Belcher, on
the mountains of Borneo, during the voyage of the ‘Samarang,’ and
described by Mr. Arthur Adams in the ‘Zoology’ of that expedition.
_H. Mouhoti_, of which Mr. Stevens has received a few specimens in
various stages of growth, is even larger and more inflated than _H.
Brookei_. In adult specimens the last whorl measures 6-1/2 inches in
circumference, 3 inches in diameter, and the shell is about 2 inches
high. It differs from _H. Brookei_ in being conspicuously, but not
broadly, umbilicated, and in the mature lip not being in the least
degree reflected at the margin. The lip itself (not the margin) is
reflected at its junction with the body-whorl, partly round the
umbilicus, as in the _Nanina_ form of the genus. But the most striking
feature of the species is the colouring. In _H. Brookei_ the lower half
of the whorls is of a uniform dark chestnut-colour; in _H. Mouhoti_
it is pure white, turned to a bright straw colour by the overlying of
a shining horny epidermis, encircled immediately below the periphery
by a broad, rich, purple-black band, somewhat like the bands of the
large Philippine _Bulimus Reevei_, but even broader and more defined
on the white ground. The region of the umbilicus is also deeply and
as definitely stained with the same purple-black colour. As in _H.
Brookei_, all the specimens of _H. Mouhoti_ are sinistral, or what is
more commonly called reversed.


_Bulimus cambojiensis._

This shell is either sinistral or dextral, cylindrically ovate, thick,
stout and pupoid in the spire, bluish-white, tinged with a watery
fawn-colour, and clouded throughout with oblique zigzag flames of
the same colour, darker, but very undefined and washy; whorls seven,
smooth, rather bulbous, faintly impressed concavely below the suture;
aperture ovate, of rather moderate dimensions, overlaid in a very
conspicuous manner across the body-whorl, and over a very thickly
reflected lip, with a callous, opaque, milk-white deposit, which in the
interior is stained with a beautifully iridescent violet-rose. This
fine species, of which Mr. Stevens has received several specimens,
measuring nearly 3 inches in length by 1-1/2 inch in width, is a
most characteristic example of a type of the Malayan province of the
genus, represented by the old _Bulimus citrinus_ of Brugnière; and
it has been named after its well-authenticated place of habitation,
because the species is, in all probability, confined to that locality.
The islands adjacent to Cambodia have been pretty well ransacked;
and we have nothing like it in species either from them or from the
contiguous mainland of Siam on the west, or Cochin China on the east.
This particular type of the genus appears, however, abundantly at the
Moluccas, in _B. citrinus_; and at Mindanao, the southernmost of the
Philippine Islands, in _B. maculiferus_. Like these two species, _B.
cambojiensis_ occurs with the shell convoluted either to the right or
to the left. The shell is both larger and stouter than that of _B.
citrinus_, differently painted, and especially characterized by its
mouth of iridescent violet-rose, or what is now fashionably termed
“Solferino” colour.

These descriptions are from the pen of Lovell Reeve, Esq., F.L.S., &c.,
and were communicated by him to ‘The Annals and Magazine of Natural
History.’ See vol. vi. p. 203.

The annexed plate contains representations of several other new and
interesting species of land shells discovered by M. Mouhot, and named
by Dr. Pfeiffer, but which have yet to be described.

[Illustration: New Land Shells discovered by M. Mouhot.

G. B. Sowerby lith. W. West imp.

_1. 2. Alycæus Mouhoti, Pf^r._

_3. Helix deliciosa, Pf^r._

_4. Bulisnus Römeri, Pf^r._

_5. Clausilia Mouhoti, Pf^r._

_6. Streplaxis pellucens, Pf^r._

_7. Pupina Mouhoti, Pf^r._

_8. Helix illustris, Pf^r._

_9. 10. Helix Laomontana, Pf^r._

_11. 12. Helix beligna, Pf^r._

_13. Hybocistis Mouhoti, Pf^r._

_14. Trochatella Mouhoti, Pf^r._

_15. Helix horrida, Pf^r._]




ATMOSPHERICAL OBSERVATIONS.


ATMOSPHERICAL OBSERVATIONS.

_January._--The month of January at Bangkok is generally the coolest in
the whole year. The thermometer generally ranges from 58° to 60° Fahr.
in the morning. The wind is sometimes N. or N.E., and at others S.S.W.
or S. The rainy season ends in the latter part of October; the water
has fallen in the rivers, which have not overflowed since the middle
of December; therefore at this time of the year one can walk along the
banks, which are pleasant. The paths are visible and in a good state
for travellers, and there is less danger, even in the interior of the
country, of being attacked by jungle fever. There is often fog in the
morning, but yet it is not unhealthy. The weather has been fine all the
month, excepting one or two rainy days towards the middle.

_February._--During this month the wind frequently blows from the N.E.
or E., though sometimes from S.S.W. The weather is fresh, agreeable,
and healthy. It is the month which the Buddhist pilgrims choose to
visit Phrabat, where they imagine they can trace the prints of Buddha’s
feet. It is the best time for crossing the jungles and the plains,
for the banks are all raised high above the water and the earth is
perfectly dry. If the wind blows from the S. for a few days, as it
sometimes does, the heat becomes overwhelming for the time. There are
also occasionally, as in January, two or three rainy days towards the
middle of the month.

_March._--This month is hotter and drier than the two preceding ones;
there is less freshness. The wind blows generally from the E.N.E., S.,
or S.S.W., and often with great violence during the day: the Siamese
call it Som Won (wind of the shuttlecock), of which game they are
very fond, and one hears everywhere their noise mingled with cries of
admiration from the people. Violent storms, accompanied by rain and
thunder, generally mark the equinox; after that the weather becomes hot
and dry. The thermometer sometimes rises as high as 93 in the middle of
the day, but the nights are still pleasant.

_April._--April is the hottest month of the year. The first part is
generally dry, with E. or S. winds, but changes about the middle to
N.E. and S.W. In the latter part of the month the excessive heat is
tempered by some refreshing rains. Although the sun is very powerful
during the day, the nights at Bangkok are cool. This month is not so
healthy for Europeans as the three which precede it, and dysentery
makes great ravages.

_May._--This month is considered one of the most rainy of the year,
though sometimes July and September are more so. The rain rarely lasts
all day, and there are sometimes intervals of two or three fine days.
In this month the people prepare their ground and sow their rice.

_June._--During the whole of this month the wind blows constantly
either from the S., W., or S.W. The jungles at this season are fatal
to travellers, especially to Europeans, who would do wisely to avoid
them and to pass this the rainy season at Bangkok, which is one of the
healthiest of the tropical towns.

_July._--In July sweet and refreshing breezes blow from the W. and S.,
but more rain falls than in June. There are sometimes very hot days,
when the thermometer rises very high, but still in Siam this month is
considered tolerably healthy.

_August._--The same as July.

_September._--This is a month of almost incessant rain, and it is very
rare to have two or three consecutive fine days.

_October._--Everything is inundated, some of the streets of Bangkok
are transformed into canals, and the rivers everywhere overflow their
banks. The first part of this month is as rainy as the preceding one.

_November._--The Siamese now complain of the cold, but the Europeans
rejoice in it, for the N.E. wind begins to blow. There are still some
rainy days at the beginning of the month, and some hot ones. These
transitions of temperature give rise to colds and catarrhs. At the end
of the month the wind changes to the S.W.

_December._--This is the best month to commence travelling on the
rivers. Occasionally there is thunder and rain, but altogether it is
considered a healthy month.


METEOROLOGICAL REGISTER.

  METEOROLOGICAL REGISTER kept during the month of October 1861, and up
  to the sixth day after M. MOUHOT was attacked by fever.

  Louang Prabang (Laos).

 ------+------------+--------+------------+--------+------------+--------
 Dates.|Fahr. 8 A.M.|Reaumur.|Fahr. 3 P.M.|Reaumur.|Fahr. 8 P.M.|Reaumur.
 ------+------------+--------+------------+--------+------------+--------
    1  |     73     |   18   |      84    |   ..   |      80    |   ..
    2  |     72     |   ..   |      85    |   ..   |      78    |   ..
    3  |     73     |   18   |      81    | 22-1/3 |      76    |   20
    4  |     75     |   ..   |      80    |   22   |    75-1/4  |   20
    5  |     73     |   18   |      81    | 24-3/4 |    75-1/4  | 20-1/4
    6  |    75-1/2  |   20   |      79    |   20   |      75    |   20
    7  |     73     |   19   |      77    | 20-1/2 |      74    |   ..
    8  |     72     | 18-1/2 |      83    | 23-1/4 |    72-1/4  | 18-1/2
    9  |     73     |   19   |      79    |   20   |      74    |   19
   10  |     74     | 19-1/2 |      83    |   23   |      74    |   19
   11  |     72     |   18   |    83-1/2  | 23-1/4 |      74    |   19
   12  |     72     | 18-1/4 |    79-1/2  | 21-1/2 |      72    |   18
   13  |     70     | 15-1/2 |      78    |   21   |      70    | 17-1/2
   14  |     63     | 14-1/2 |      79    | 21-1/2 |      65    |   15
   15  |     60     |   13   |      72    |   18   |      60    |   15
   16  |     60     |   13   |    83-1/2  | 23-1/2 |      70    |   17
   17  |     64     | 14-1/2 |    83-1/2  |   22   |      70    |   15
   18  |     64     | 14-1/2 |      86    | 23-1/2 |      70    |   18
   19  |     69     |   17   |      85    |   24   |    71-1/2  | 17-1/2
   20  |     70     | 15-1/2 |      89    |   25   |      74    | 19-1/2
   21  |     73     |   19   |      90    |   26   |      74    |   19
   22  |     71     |   18   |      86    | 23-1/2 |      71    |   18
   23  |     73     |   19   |      87    |   25   |      70    |   18
   24  |     68     | 16-1/2 |      88    |   25   |      ..    |   ..
 ------+------------+--------+------------+--------+------------+--------




TALE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.


CHINESE TALES.

In a Chinese village lived two cousins, both orphans: the eldest,
who was called Moû, was cunning and egotistical; the other, on the
contrary, was goodness and simplicity itself; he was called A-lo-Sine.
The time for ploughing the fields arrived: A-lo-Sine possessed a
buffalo, while Moû had only a dog. An idea struck him, and he went to
his cousin and said, “I bring you my dog; give me your buffalo: my dog
will plough your field, which is not very large, and you will see that
you will have very fine rice.”

A-lo-Sine consented, and worked so well with the dog that his rice was
first-rate, while the field ploughed by the buffalo produced hardly
anything.

Moû, then, full of spite, went by night into his cousin’s field, and
set fire to it: A-lo-Sine saw the flames, and, unable to repress his
despair, uttered piercing cries, and rolled in the field.

Some apes, who were marauding in a neighbouring field, witnessed this
spectacle, and said to each other, “That must be a god, since the fire
does not hurt him.” They accordingly drew near him, took him by the
feet and arms, and carried him to the top of a mountain, where they
laid him down, plunged in a deep sleep. The monkeys then piled up rice
and delicious fruits, and bowls of gold and silver of extraordinary
beauty and value, and then left him to return to the fields.

At last he awoke, and thought no more of his misfortune, seeing around
him so many treasures: he gathered them all up, and returned to his
hut, full of joy.

Moû, seeing him so happy, followed him, and, at the sight of the gold,
“Heavens!” cried he; “my cousin as rich as a prince: give me something.”

“No,” replied A-lo-Sine, “I will not; for you are wicked, and you set
fire to my field.”

Moû then went to his own field, and set fire to that also, and imitated
all that his cousin had done: he wept, cried, and, like him, threw
himself into the flames. Five monkeys, one of them a young one, who
were feasting close by, drew near him, curious to see what he was
about. “He is a god,” said they, also; “the flames have spared him. Let
us carry him away.” No sooner said than done. Each monkey seized one an
arm, the other a leg, and they set off.

They reached a neighbouring wood; but there the little monkey began to
cry out, “I want to help to carry him also.” “But there is nothing of
him to hold by,” said the mother. The little monkey, however, continued
to cry, and at last seized Moû’s long tress of hair, and put himself at
the head of the procession.

But this hurt Moû, and he tried to disengage his hair. The young monkey
began to cry again. “Ah, you are angry; stay there, then,” said all the
others, and they threw him into a prickly bush.

Moû had great trouble in extricating himself from his disagreeable
position; and it was nearly evening when he reached home, all covered
with blood.

“Well, cousin, have you also some gold and silver?” said A-lo-Sine,
on seeing him. “Ah! I am thoroughly punished for the harm I did you,”
replied Moû. “I bring back nothing but needles: call the women to take
them out of me.”


TALE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

There lived formerly in a Chinese village an old couple who had no
children; and one day the husband put himself in a violent passion with
his wife for never having had any, and even beat her. The poor old
woman rushed out of the house, crying, and ran a long way. A priest of
Buddha met her accidentally, and asked her what had happened to her.
“My husband was angry to-day, and beat me, because we had no children,”
replied she. “Listen,” said the priest; “I will make you happy! Dig
in this earth and knead it” (it was clay). The woman obeyed, and the
priest then sat down, and with his fingers moulded nine little figures.
“The first,” said he, “will have long ears and very quick hearing; the
second, a piercing sight; the third, a skin so hard that he will not
feel any blow; the fourth will stand fire without hurt; the fifth will
have an enormous head, as hard as iron; the sixth, legs long enough to
cross the deepest stream; the seventh, feet as large as those of an
elephant, for walking in mire; the eighth, an immense stomach; and the
ninth, a nose as long as a pipe, from which jets of water will issue
at command. Now,” continued the priest, “go home, and every year eat
one of these children.” The old woman bowed several times, professing
her gratitude and happiness; then she returned home; but in her joy,
instead of contenting herself with one child, she eat up all nine at
once. Her stomach, which had begun to swell at once, grew every month
bigger and bigger, and became frightful. The husband was beside himself
with joy, and was very kind to his wife.

At last the day of delivery arrived: the father received the first
child, and ran to wash him in the stream; but there came a second.
“Another!” cried the father, and ran again to the river. Returning, he
found a third, then a fourth. He opened his eyes and cried, “Really
this is quite enough: what can we give them to eat?” But the whole nine
made their appearance on the same day.

All were prodigies: they grew rapidly; never cried; eat enormously, and
began to run about in two months. But the old man did not know what to
call them all; and one day he complained to his wife that he could not
distinguish them one from another, got in another passion, and struck
her again. The old woman ran away, crying, again, and went to find
the priest who had helped her before. “Why do you cry now?” said he.
“My husband has so many children now that he does not know what names
to give them.” “You are very foolish,” replied he, “not to be able
to distinguish them by the gifts they possess. Call one ‘Quick-ear,’
another ‘Hard-head,’ and so on for the others.”

The old man had calmed down when his wife returned; but debts
accumulated as the children grew up. At last they became strong and
fearless.

One day a creditor came and asked for money. “I have none,” replied the
old man. He persisted in this reply, and at last turned the creditor
out of the house. A few days after, this man collected several of
his friends, and went again to the old man, declaring he would seize
one of the children, and whip him. “Quick-ear” had heard all, and
“Piercing-eye” had mounted to the top of a tree and seen all that was
going on. They decided that “Hard-skin” would be the best to go, and
the creditor succeeded in binding him and taking him away. But every
cane broke on his back, without hurting him: at last they took an
immense cudgel, but this broke in the same way; and seeing that it was
lost time to beat him, they let him go home.

But a few days after, the creditor came back, determined to kill one
of the children with boiling water. “Quick-ear” heard the project,
and “Invulnerable” was left at home, and consequently carried off.
They threw him into a boiler full of water; and in about an hour,
when they opened it, the child raised his head. “What, not yet dead!”
cried the creditor, in a fury, and he made up a larger fire, but
“Invulnerable” was still alive. They made it still hotter, but the
next day their wood was exhausted, and they let him go free, saying
that Buddha protected him. “This is very sad,” said the creditor; “I
cannot get my money; I cannot get my money: I will write a letter to
Heaven, to beg that fire may be sent down to burn the house of my
debtor.” He did so accordingly; but “Quick-ear,” who heard the plot,
warned “Fountain-nose,” who thereupon took care to water the roof.
The thunderbolt fell, but glided from the roof to the ground. All the
children joined their strength, and lifted it, chained it up, and
placed it in the house.

“Is it possible,” cried the creditor, “that they are not all dead? I
must throw one of them into the sea.” This time it was “Stilt-bird’s”
turn. The boat in which they placed him had not gone far from the shore
when a storm arose and upset it, and all the men were drowned, with
the exception of “Stilt-bird,” who escaped, thanks to his long legs.
However, his brothers feared for him, and sent “Big-head” to the shore,
where he found him fishing, and having already caught so many fish that
he did not know where to put them. Luckily “Big-head” had his hat,
which they filled, and returned home with an immense load. “Large-feet”
went to cut wood to fry it with; but “Great-stomach” eat it all up
before his brothers had hardly had time to begin. “Weeping-eyes” began
to cry, and an inundation ensued, in which many of the neighbours
perished.

Meanwhile, all the children were out searching for food, and the mother
was left at home alone. She, seeing the thunderbolt chained in a
corner, unfastened it. Immediately it rose in the air, then, falling
again, struck the poor woman, and killed her.


FABLE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

CHINESE FABLES.

Firmness and presence of mind often make heroes of cowards, and rescue
them from great dangers, while rashness is generally fatal.

In the midst of a thick and virgin forest, where everything seemed
to slumber, an elephant began to utter doleful howlings, and a tiger
replied by others still more dreadful, which froze all the other
animals with terror. Monkeys, stags, and all the inhabitants of the
neighbourhood, ran groaning to seek refuge at the tops of the trees, or
in the depth of the woods, or in their dens. The elephant himself ran
with all his speed, when on his way he met a hare, who stopped him, and
said, “Why do you run thus, without aim and without reason?” “What! did
you not hear the frightful roaring of the tiger? Would you advise me to
stay here and be devoured?” “Stay here, and have no fear; I will answer
for it that no harm happens to you,” said the hare; “only sit down,
that I may jump on your back.” The elephant goodnaturedly approached
and extended his four legs; then the hare jumped up, having first put
into his mouth a piece of betel.

“Now, get up again,” said he, “and you will see that all will go well.”
He then proceeded to give the elephant further counsel, and afterwards
let out along his back a long stream of saliva, reddened by betel.
Soon the tiger came up. “What are you coming to seek here?” said the
hare, as the tiger stopped to look at them. “Do you not see that this
elephant is not too much for me alone; and do you think I will share
with you?” The tiger drew aside, behind a tree, to watch what passed.
The hare then seized hold of the elephant’s ear, made him roar, and
seemed perfectly master of his prey, and busy at his work. “Heavens!
how strong he is!” said the tiger; but still he drew near. “Wait a
minute, and I will come to you,” cried the hare, looking as though
preparing to spring, and the tiger, struck with terror, turned and ran
away. A chimpanzee, seeing him running away in such terror, burst out
laughing. “What! you laugh at my misfortune?” cried the tiger. “I have
just escaped from death, and you do not pity me.” “How so? I should
like to see the beast who frightened you; take me to him.”

“What! to be devoured? no.”

“Do not be afraid; I will get on your back, and will not leave you: we
will fasten our tails together, if you like; and thus united we shall
run no risk!” The tiger was persuaded by these words, and they both
returned to the elephant. The hare seemed still busy at his work: he
had chewed a new piece of betel, and had made another stream, red as
blood, on the elephant’s back. “You dare to come back!” cried he, in
an angry tone, to the tiger. “You knew I had only just enough here for
myself, and yet you want to carry away my prey from me; you deserve to
be punished.”

At these words the elephant uttered a piercing cry; the hare made an
enormous bound on his back; and the tiger, struck with terror, rushed
precipitately away at full speed, saying to the chimpanzee, “Now, you
see; you laughed at my fears, and we both narrowly escaped death.” But
the chimpanzee did not hear; for in the tiger’s precipitate retreat he
had fallen off his back, struck himself against a bamboo, and died,
cursing his rashness with his last sigh.


THE HARE AND THE SNAIL.

FABLE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

Formerly, according to the Siamese, hares had thick ears; but a certain
day one of these animals, having more legs than memory, met a snail
dragging himself painfully along the ground, and in a moment of pride
sought to humiliate him. “Why, little one, where are you going at this
pace?” said he. “To the beautiful rice-fields of the next village.”
“But, my poor fellow, you will be a long time reaching them. Why did
not Nature furnish you with legs like mine? Confess you envy me. How
long, now, do you think it would take me to get there?”

“Perhaps longer than it would take me, though you pity me so much,”
replied the snail, coldly.

“You jest, do you not?”

“No.”

“Well, will you bet about it?”

“Willingly.”

“What will you bet?”

“Whatever you like.”

“Well, then, if you win you shall nibble my ears; for you cannot eat
me; and if you lose I will eat you: will that suit you?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then set off; for I will give you a start.”

While the hare began to browse the snail set off at his slow pace,
and went to his brother, who was a little way off, and to him he
communicated a pass-word, which he in turn told to another, and so
on along the whole line which the betters had to travel, so that it
quickly reached the end.

Soon the hare, having satisfied his hunger, and feeling strong, set
off, and flew over the ground, calling to the snail, whom he believed
to be close by. “Ohé!” answered he, from a long way off. “Oh, he is
already far on the way,” cried the hare, who set off again like an
arrow. In a few minutes he stopped and called again: “Ohé,” answered
a voice still farther on. “Really, he goes very quickly,” thought the
hare, and he set off again. A quarter of an hour after, he stopped,
quite out of breath. “Now,” said he, “I may rest; I must be far in
advance; but I will call and see.” “Ohé! snail.” “Ohé!” replied a voice
a long way on. “Oh! I must be quick; I shall lose my bet,” murmured the
hare. He ran, and ran, and at last stopped, quite exhausted, only a
few yards from the fields. “Snail,” cried he, faintly: “what! you are
returning from the place? Unfortunate that I am, I have lost my bet;”
and he made vain efforts to get up and escape, but, alas! his strength
failed him, and the snail pitilessly gnawed his ears.

Since that day the hare always avoids damp places, for fear of meeting
one of the creatures who punished him for his pride.


TALE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

CHINESE TALE.

There lived formerly in a small town in China a singular couple, of a
description still met with, for the Chinese progress very slowly. The
husband was noted for his folly, and the wife for her cunning. “Always
remember,” she used constantly to say to her husband when he went out,
“that all people with long noses, in the form of an eagle’s beak, and
bending downwards, are good-for-nothings, beggars, cheats, and, worse
still, bad paymasters, coiners of false money, false-swearers, and will
go to hell; while people with small turned-up noses are good, and will
go straight to heaven. Therefore, that you may not lose, sell only to
these last; for, I repeat to you, the others are bad.”

Every day the husband went out, and passed from street to street,
examining the passers-by, but never addressing any but those who had
their heads raised to look at something, so that he very seldom sold
anything.

One day, when he was observing noses as usual, he saw a man reading
a placard which was placed very high. “That man will go straight to
heaven,” thought he; “his nose is so much turned up. Will you buy some
clothes, good man?” said he. “Clothes! you see I have some.” “But you
appear to me the most honest man I ever saw” (“I never saw such a
nose,” he added to himself); “and I should like to sell you a whole
suit; my wife makes them herself.” “Well, what is the price?” “Of my
wife?” “No; of the clothes.” “Two kóóu” (about ten francs). “But why
do you come into this retired place to sell your clothes, when there
are so many people elsewhere?” “Oh! I went to those places; but all the
people had long, bent, and eagle-shaped noses, you see! and I only sell
to snub-nosed people.” “I do not understand you; why will you not sell
to people with long noses?” “My wife, who is a very clever woman, told
me that all people with long, eagle-shaped noses are knaves.” “Really,
your wife is very sharp, and I understand you now. Well, my friend, I
will buy your clothes; but as I have no money with me, I will pay you
to-morrow. You have only to come to my house; I live near here. You
will see a hurdle covered with eggs, a flag at the end of a mast, and a
little plantation of betel.” “Very well; that will do.”

The merchant went home to his wife, and told her he had sold to a man
with a snub nose. “Where is the money?” said she. “I have not got it
yet, but I shall be sure to have it to-morrow. I am to go where I see
a hurdle covered with eggs, a flag on a mast, and a little betel
plantation.” The next day the wife said, “Go for your money.” He went,
but could not find the house; and after long searching he came home
again. “Have you the money?” said the wife. “No, I could not find the
house.” “Well, I will go myself to look for it. If I am not back in an
hour, you will know that I am drowned.” After an hour, as his wife did
not return, the man took the sieve with which he usually sifted his
rice, and set off to the river, which he began to try to empty with it.
A passer-by asked him what he was doing. “I am emptying the river,”
replied he; “for my wife is drowned, and she had on her best yellow
bonnet.” “Nonsense!” said the other; “I just met her walking with a man
who had a snub nose.”




THE DAMIER, OR CAPE PIGEON.

_Procellaria Capensis._


THE CAPE PIGEON.

During a long voyage, when for months you have seen nothing but water
and sky, the smallest novelty which appears and promises variety for
the eye and the mind, though only for a few minutes, is joyfully
welcome. Sometimes it may be a stormy petrel, flying like a swallow,
skimming through the air in a hundred different directions, and seeming
to play in that element; sometimes a ring-tail, which, with its
piercing cry like that of a hawk, appears a messenger from the sun to
bid the bold navigator welcome to the tropics, hovers for a few minutes
over the ship, and then flies off with a jerk and disappears.

Sometimes are to be seen numerous blowers, who pass and repass the ship
with bounds; or perhaps a whale, which almost stupefies you with the
noise he makes as he displaces the water in rising to the surface to
breathe: at another time it is some hungry shark, who, following in the
wake of the ship, lets himself be caught by the bait thrown out to him,
and which, when hoisted with great difficulty on deck, lashes it with
his tail and looks formidable even after death; and this is a good take
for the sailors, who divide the spoil and feast on it.

But of all the creatures dear and familiar to sailors, none rejoices
him more than the faithful companion who, more than 3000 miles before
he doubles the Cape of Good Hope or Cape Horn, appears to his sight,
swims in the water, grazes a thousand times the hull or the rigging,
pleases his eye by its parti-coloured plumage, and announces to him
calm and tempest.

This bird, called by the French “_Damier_,” by the English the _Cape
Pigeon_, and “_Peintada_” by the Portuguese, is the Cape Petrel, or
_Procellaria capensis_ of naturalists.

Gifted with great powers of flight, though less than other petrels,
from morn till night, and often even a part of the latter when the moon
is full, it is seen in the wake or alongside of the ship, describing
in its flight, in which scarcely any movement is apparent, a thousand
evolutions, sometimes touching the great waves which seem ready to
overwhelm it, the moment after reappearing far above them, always
wheeling about and careless of the storm.

The sight of this flight and of all these evolutions is most pleasing,
and one involuntarily thinks of a graceful skater flying over the ice
at his utmost speed, and seeking to attract admiration.

The whole life of this bird is perpetual movement, a constant chase
after a scarce and insignificant prey. Unlike the swallow, who has
his hours of pleasure and of amorous warbling, and nights of sleep in
his warm nest, the Cape pigeon, pressed by hunger and by his ravenous
appetite, only rests for a few minutes at a time at rare intervals
during the day, in order to recruit his strength, and at night, rocked
by the stormy wave, must find but little sleep.

Neither does the Cape pigeon know the delight of a peaceful retreat
in a favourite spot sheltered by thick foliage or long reeds; and
while most birds confine themselves to a limited district, where they
are almost certain to be found at the same season, and to which they
invariably return at the disappearance of the frosts which have chased
them away for a time, this one, a sailor by nature, has for its domain
an immense empire, namely the greatest part of the Atlantic, Pacific,
and Indian oceans, and has to brave night and day, at one time an icy
wind, and at another the rays of a burning sun.

But in a state of liberty nothing living is often unhappy, and the
foreseeing Providence, who knows how to satisfy the wants of his
creatures, also knows how to create joys for them, where we see nothing
but trouble and misery. In like manner the industrious workman and the
hardy traveller experience, perhaps, of all men the most lively joys;
to them repose would be the greatest suffering.

Although inseparable companions of the sailor, it is not certainly for
the pleasure of his society, nor for that afforded by the sight of the
ship, that the petrels follow it, but for the certainty of finding in
the scraps thrown overboard, as well as in the number of shells in the
wake of the ship, food more abundant than he would discover elsewhere
in the water. Nothing can equal their voracity but the quickness and
vivacity with which they catch sight of the smallest prey and seize it
even amidst a stormy sea. From a great distance, and long before the
albatross, and the other descriptions of petrels which are often to
be seen with the Cape pigeons, have remarked it, they see and pounce
on it, and have generally swallowed it before the jealous rivals who
follow them have been able to overtake them. The sense of smell does
not here come in aid of that of sight, for they often pounce on a
piece of wood or something of that description which falls from a
vessel, and only abandon it when convinced by the touch that it is
not fit for food. Their greediness is such that they will often let
themselves be taken in dozens with hooks; no sooner are they on deck
than they disgorge a thick liquid the colour of linseed oil.

When these birds rest on the sea and let themselves be tossed about by
the waves, their appearance, dimensions, form, and colour of plumage
strongly resemble our domestic pigeons, and hence the English seamen,
struck with the similarity, have given them the name of Cape pigeons.
Their size varies; the largest measuring more than 18 inches English
from the beak to the tip of the tail, and rather more than a foot in
circumference.

They are generally seen in great numbers only in stormy weather and in
rather high latitudes. In the winter season--that is, during our June,
July, and August--they follow the ships constantly between 23° S. lat.
and 31° and 103° E. long.

Is it not a wonderful thing and worthy of admiration that the instinct
with which this bold little navigator is endowed guides him safely
through this vast space, where there is nothing to serve him as a
landmark, enables him to rejoin his comrades if accidentally separated
from them, and teaches him every year when the warm season returns to
recognise and find the island or the solitary rock where he was born,
and where in his turn he will bring up his young ones; while man, with
his maps, his books, his nautical instruments, and in spite of all
his long experience, has such difficulty in finding his way across
the ocean? And yet we think that our intelligence raises us above the
animals. This is what confounds and overwhelms the scholar when he
seeks to fathom the great mysteries of creation.




THE ALBATROSS.


THE ALBATROSS

A wise and bountiful Providence has taken care to people the most
distant and desert parts of the globe, whether covered with eternal
snow or impenetrable forests. In the waters of the ocean are, as
well as in our fields and woods, creatures which rejoice the eyes of
man and provide for his wants. Of all these creatures none are more
charming and pleasing than the birds; endowed either with melodious
voices or brilliant plumage, or with some other charm or quality, such
as vivacity, quickness and grace of movement, and power of flight;
all have attractions for us; and even in our museums, in spite of
their faded plumage and often altered forms, they are still objects of
admiration, not only to the learned naturalist, but to men who care
little for other beautiful sights.

But if leaving the cabinet we visit Nature herself, penetrate into the
heart of the forests, climb the rocks, or visit the shores and the
ocean, then our admiration grows stronger and more deep.

Of all birds there is none which exercises a greater influence over
the mind of man, or causes greater astonishment, than the albatross,
so celebrated by voyagers from the earliest times. The albatross! The
word recalls to the navigator a thousand souvenirs; as the name of some
bloody battle in which he has taken part, or of some general who has
led him to victory, awakens those of the soldier. It recalls to the
memory of the sailor the principal incidents of an existence passed
between calm and tempest; he feels himself transported in thought to
the time when the first albatross was signalled, and passengers and
sailors turned their gaze eagerly towards the spot where, like a proud
man of war, cradled by the rolling waves, advanced the powerful sailer
against whom the storm rages in vain, and who, far from avoiding, seems
to court it.

To this first souvenir succeed many others; there is the dead calm,
which in the tropics has often detained his vessel inactive for weeks,
as though chained under the burning sky, where the eye seeks in vain
for a cloud, and the only sound that meets the ear is the heavy
flapping of the sails against the masts as the ship rocks; a calm often
more to be feared and more dangerous than the most terrible tempest,
for it renders the crew inactive, impatient, and bad-tempered. But
the first sight of the albatross indicates a coming change and wind
to be expected. There is also the memory of painful and too sudden
transitions from equatorial heat to the cold of high latitudes; that
also of hours of dreadful anxiety when the storm broke out in all its
violence, of the contest between winds and waves, and of the albatross
hovering over the latter, as though chosen an umpire between these two
formidable antagonists. The albatross inhabits the southern hemisphere
of the Atlantic Ocean from the 25° or 26° of latitude, also both
Pacifics, but is rarely seen farther north, and has never been known
beyond the tropics; it is in the seas which bathe the three southern
capes that they are seen in the greatest numbers.

It often happens, however, when the winter is mild and the weather
fine, that very few are seen until you reach the 40°. They lay their
eggs on some deserted southern shore; the female lays only one, and
feeds her little one for nine months without leaving it, so much need
has it of its mother’s help.

There is much difficulty in the classification of the palmipeds, which
exhibit a great number of varieties.

The beak of the albatross is long and very strong; the upper jaw
furrowed at the side and much curved; the lower one sharp, smooth,
and truncated at the end; the nostrils, formed by two tubes opening
outwards, are lateral and placed in a groove. The tarsi are short, but
very thick, and ending in three front toes much palmated; the wings are
long and narrow.

There are probably four distinct species of albatrosses.

1st. The wandering albatross, _Diomedea exulans_, which measures ten
feet with the wings spread; it has a white head, the wings and belly
being spotted with white, grey, and chestnut brown; the beak is the
colour of horn. This species varies much in size, and still more in
colour and plumage, which is more or less mixed with grey or brown, and
sometimes even entirely white; this depends doubtless on the season,
the sex, and the age.

2nd. The epauletted albatross, _Diomedea epomophera_, which is smaller
than the common albatross. His head, neck, body, back, and rump are
snowy white, while the feathers of his wings are perfectly black, with
the exception of a large white lozenge-shaped spot on each; the beak is
yellowish. Some naturalists believe these to be only the young of the
ordinary kind.

3rd. The yellow-beaked albatross, _Diomedea chlororhyncos_. This
species I have myself taken with a hook; his head, belly, and neck are
brilliantly white, his back and the plumage of the wings a deep brown
grey, the beak yellow, and the feet bluish grey; the rump is white, and
as well as the underpart of the tail is bordered by a wide black line.

4th. The sooty albatross, _Diomedea spadicea_ of Forster, which is the
size of the common albatross, and of a uniform deep chestnut-colour.




CAMBODIAN VOCABULARY.


A.

  Abandon (to)                 Lẽng, chol.
  Abhor (to)                   Sââp.
  Approach (to)                Dâl.
  Abstinence                  }
  Abstain (to)                }Tam.
  Accept (to)                  Iotuol.
  Accompany (to)               Iam.
  Accomplish (to)              Ihúruéch hoì.
  Accustom oneself (to)        Ihlap.
  Accuse (to)                  Shõdéng.
  Acid                         Ehu.
  Admire (to)                  Ehhugã̆l.
  Adore (to)                   Ihoui bãngeom.
  Adultery                     Bap phit propon Ki.
  Afflict (to)                 Lruey chot chaw chot.
  Age                          Acõ̆schhnam.
  Announce (to)                Srăp, pram.
  Appease (to)                 On.
  Appetite                     Comléan Klileán.
  After                        Ẽcroí.
  Arid                         Sngnot, comynot.
  Arm                          Crùóng predăp.
  Army                         Iăp.
  Arrive (to)                  Dâl.
  Assembly                     Chumnam.
  Assemble (to)                Chumnam Kenéa.
  Audacity                    }
  Audacious                   }Ihean.
  August                       Mahu.
  Also                         Dẽl.
  Altar                        Balang, as-prĕn.
  Agile                        Chuery.
  Air                          Acos.
  Add (to)                     Thêm.
  Aloes                        Jadam.
  Alum                         Saĕpchu.
  Amuse oneself (to)           Ling.
  Ancient                      Chus.
  Ass                          Satliá.
  Angel                        Firĕuda.
  Angle                        Chrung.
  Animal                       Săt.
  Avarice                      Comnaut.
  Advocate                     Sma Kedey.
  Abortive (to be)             Relutcõn.
  Arm                          Phlu.
  Aim                          Vong.
  Ashes                        Phe.
  Ask (to)                     Som.
  Above                        Lù ê lù.
  And                          Non.
  Awake (to)                   Dăs.
  Arrow                        Prúeup.
  Agreeable                    Totuol.
  Appearance                   Cŏmnăp.
  According to                 Tam.
  Always                       Ruéy (iún ruey reáp darăpton muc).
  Anger                        Conhong.
  Amongst                      Erang.
  Across                       Totùng.
  Already                      Hoi.


B.

  Bitter                       Loving.
  Before                       Mum.
  Bathe (to)                   Ngut tin.
  Breath                       Dâng hina.
  Bold                         Tahéan.
  Broom                        Bombãs.
  Bamboo                       Resey.
  Banana                       Chá.
  Banquet                      Car si.
  Beard                        Puk mŏt.
  Boat                         Iui.
  Build (to)                   Sâhy, thú phtĕn.
  Beat (to)                    Véag.
  Beautiful                    Sââ.
  Benediction                  Prăe pór.
  Beast                        Sat.
  Blue                         Khín.
  Beef                         Cũ.
  Bushel                       Ihang-Iao.
  Box                          Hêp.
  Bottle                       Săr phdŏe.
  Button                       Leu.
  Branch                       Mie.
  Brick                        Ot.
  Break (to)                   Rei.
  Burn (to)                    Dot.
  Buffalo                      Crebey.
  Black                        Khnaun.
  Bone                         Cheóng.
  Bread                        Nam.
  Basket                       Conchir.
  Blade                        Lompeng.
  Book                         Sombot.
  Bed                          Domnéc.
  But                          Pê.
  Bad                          Bap, chomngú.
  Breast                       Dâ̆.
  Beg (to)                     Som teau.
  Better                       Cheang, lus.
  Bite (to)                    Kham.
  Be born (to)                 Cót.
  Bee                          Khmum.
  Bark (to)                    Sru.
  Buy (to)                     Iink.
  Business                     Domnor.
  Bow                          Ehme.
  Batatas                      Eomlong.
  Bridge                       Spreau.
  Behind                       Croi, ê croi.
  Back                         Hhnang.
  Be (to)                      Non-mêan, Chèn.
  Big                          Phom.
  Broil (to)                   Hang.
  Bird                         Sat liar.
  Blood                        Chheàm.
  Blow (to)                    Phlõm.
  Betray (to)                  Kebâ̆t.
  Bark                         Sombok.
  Brother (elder)              Bâng.
  Brother (younger)            Phŏôn.


C.

  Come (to)                    Moc Dâ̆l.
  Cottage                      Catôm.
  Corpse                       Khmoch.
  Cage                         Irung.
  Case                         Hêp.
  Calk (to)                    Bàt.
  Calm oneself (to)            On.
  Cambodia                     Sroch Khmêr.
  Cambodian                    Khmêr.
  Country                      Neal.
  Canal                        Preê.
  Comb                         Suét.
  Cask                         Thâng.
  Cardamom                     Crevanh.
  Cause                        Het dòm.
  Cold (a)                     Câã̆c.
  Cup                          Chan.
  Conduce (to)                 Tôm.
  Cloth                        Souipăt.
  Cough                        Câã̆c.
  Commotion                    Revàl.
  Cut (to)                     Cat.
  Conquer (to)                 Chhnĕa.
  Conquered                    Chănh.
  Clothing                     Ao.
  Carriage                     Retê̆.
  Centipede                    Kaêp.
  Circle                       Vong.
  Coffin                       Mochhus.
  Chain                        Chervăi.
  Choir                        Sach.
  Change (to)                  Prê.
  Coal                         Khîung.
  Chastity                     Sel.
  Cat                          Chhma.
  Chief                        Mechàs, héay.
  Chinese                      Swẽ chèn.
  Cholera                      Rŏmbâl.
  Clear                        Thla.
  Clock                        Condong.
  Cocoa-nut                    Dong.
  Combat (to)                  Chebang.
  Commencement                 Dòm.
  Count (to)                   Răp.
  Consent (to)                 Prom.
  Console (to)                 Tŭo Săo.
  Clay                         Deyót.
  Crowd                        Fông, cânbân.
  Crow                         Khoêi.
  Cord                         Khse.
  Coast                        Khaeng.
  Cotton                       Crebas.
  Colour                       Sombar.
  Cut                          Cap, cat.
  Crown                        Mocõ̆t.
  Call (to)                    Han.
  Clean                        Saat.
  Cry (to)                     Tô̆ui.
  Carry (to)                   Chun, Rĕc sêng.
  Clean (to)                   Nos leáng.
  Cloud                        Sapô̆c.
  Chew (to)                    Bièm.
  Cold                         Rengia.
  Cricket                      Chungret.
  Clock                        Novea.
  Custom                       Chebăp, Tomlăp.
  Create (to)                  Bângeat.
  Cry                          Sâmléng.
  Cry (to)                     Srêc.
  Cook (to)                    Dam.
  Copper                       Spó̆n.
  Cymbal                       Lông, Khmõ̆.
  Crab                         Pomgeong.
  Church (temple)              Preă-Vihear.
  Carry away (to)              Roc ton.
  Coat (to)                    Leap.
  Child                        Coming.


D.

  Descend (to)                 Chô.
  Desire (to)                  Sângvat, Châng.
  Destroy (to)                 Pombat.
  Debt                         Bomnàl.
  Diviner                      Achar.
  Daybreak                     Prealum, Preahean.
  Delicate                     Ton.
  Different                    Titey.
  Difficult                    Cra.
  Disciple                     Cŏn Só̆s.
  Dearth                       Âmnât.
  Dispute (to)                 Chhlô̆ prokêe.
  Doubt                        Moutûl.
  Dysentery                    Chomngú mual.
  Do (to)                      Thu.
  Dung                         Ach.
  Dress (to)                   Prăeae.
  Damp                         Som.
  Drunk                        Sreving.
  Day                          Thugay.
  Deliver (to)                 Preeol.
  Doctor                       Cruthnam, pet.
  Despise (to)                 Măcngeáy.
  Deride (to)                  Sôch, châm-ôn.
  Die (to)                     Slăp.
  Dwarf                        Tua.
  During                       Compung.
  Dust                         Ehuli.
  Dare (to)                    Héan.
  Dote (to)                    Trũl.
  Dove                         Rùs.
  Dig (to)                     Hal.
  Drum                         Seôr.
  Delay (to)                   Ângvéng.
  Dye (to)                     Cherlâ̆c.
  Darkness                     Tângcap.
  Draw (to)                    Téanh.
  Deceive (to)                 Bŏn chhăt.
  Dear                         Thlay.
  Dew                          Ânsóm.
  Deaf                         Câ.
  Dream                        Sâp.
  Dog                          Chkê.
  Door                         Shóĕ.
  Drink (to)                   Elinear.
  Duck                         Iea.
  Dream (to)                   Zâ̆l Sãp.


E.

  Exchange (to)                Dôr.
  Efface (to)                  Lap.
  Equal                        Smó.
  Elephant                     Tamrey.
  Endure (to)                  Â̆t, ôn.
  Engage (to)                  Pobuol.
  Enemy                        Satron-Khmang.
  Enter (to)                   Chôl.
  Envy (to)                   }
  Envy                        }Chernêu.
  Example                      Kébuon.
  Exhort (to)                  Boutun méan.
  End                          Chông.
  Evening                      Lŏngéach.
  Easy                         Ngeáy.
  End                          Long-âs.
  Eye                          Phnée.
  Egg                          Pong-sut.
  Ear                          Erechiéc.
  Equal                        Mytrey.
  Eat (to)                     Si, pisa, chhăn, soi.
  Even                         Smó, dock.
  Everywhere                   Sâ̆p ăulú.
  Eagle                        Antri.
  Earth                        Dey, Preă thorni.


F.

  Face                         Mŭc.
  Feeble                       Comsoi.
  Family                       Crua.
  Famine                       Âmnâ̆t.
  Fatigue                      Nuèy.
  Fault                        Tus.
  Female                       Nhi.
  Ferocious                    Sahan.
  Fire                         Phlâng.
  Fever                        Cran.
  Figure                       Muc.
  Flower                       Phŏm.
  Faith                        Chommia.
  Forest                       Prey.
  Fresh                        Rehoi.
  Front                        Thngos.
  Fruit                        Phle.
  Float (to)                   Ândẽt.
  Freeze (to)                  Câc.
  Fat                          Thop.
  Frog                         Ong Kêp.
  Food                         Ahur Sâbiẽng.
  Friend                       Keló.
  Formerly                     Pidom.
  Firewood                     Os.
  Finger                       Day.
  Fast                         Buos.
  Fast (to)                    Si buos.
  Free                         Neaĕ Cheá.
  Far                          Chhngai.
  Falsehood                    Câhâc.
  Frightful                    Noiai.
  Forget (to)                  Chŭs bât côrna.
  Fly                          Rug.
  Fishing                      Bap.
  Fish (to)                    Stuch trey, Dóc non.
  Father                       A puc.
  Few                          Eech.
  Fear                         Khlach.
  Full                         Peuh.
  Feather                      Slap, mems.
  Foot                         Chung.
  Fish                         Eyey.
  Fowl                         Món.
  Fill (to)                    Bampenh.
  Fool                         Lengong.
  Follow (to)                  Tam, dòr tam.
  Firebrand                    Rengûc.
  Fall (to)                    Duol-thleăc.
  Find (to)                    Roi ban.
  Face                         Mac.
  Flesh                        Sach.
  Field                        Prê.
  Figuratively                 Chó̆t.
  Fear (to)                    Khlàch.
  Fly (to)                     Luèch.
  Fly (to) (like a bird)       Hòr.


G.

  Gold                         Meas.
  Gunpowder                    Démsón.
  Go (to)                      Tou.
  Greedy                       Luphu.
  Good                         Lââ, chiá, písa.
  Grind (to)                   Boh.
  Girdle                       Crevat.
  Garlic                       Ketym Sá.
  Grasshopper                  Chungret.
  Go out (to)                  Chenh.
  Green                        Khién, baí tong.
  Glass (a)                    Péng Kên, Kên.
  Go to bed (to)               Dec.
  Grow (to)                    Sbec.
  God                          Prĕa.
  Give (to)                    Oi, chun.
  Grief                        Chhu.
  Girl                         Consrey.
  Gun                          Comphlûng.
  Gain (to)                    Ban chonménch.
  Guard (to)                   Reăesa.
  Glove                        Teăc.
  Generous                     Chôt tuléay.
  Ginger                       Khnhey.
  Glutton                      Luphu.
  Gum                          Chor.
  Govern (to)                  Tac tîng.
  Governor                     Chanfai sroc̆.
  Grave                        Ânisãng.
  Grain                        Crò̆p.
  Great                        Thôm Kepô̆s.
  Graft                        Crechâc.
  Guide (to)                   Nóm.
  Grass                        Smau.
  Garden                       Chomca, chebar.
  Gladness                     Ngeay.


H.

  Hunger                       Comléan.
  Hungry (to be)               Khléan.
  Helm                         Changcôt.
  Hail                         Prŭl.
  Habit                        Tomlá̆p.
  Hatchet                      Puthae.
  Hate (to)                    Sâ̆âp.
  Haricot                      Sondêe.
  Harmonious                   Pirô̆.
  High                         Kepô̆s.
  Hour                         Mong, Teune.
  Hideous                      Acrâ̆c, asron.
  Honour (to)                  Ró̆p an.
  Horror (to have an) of       Kepum.
  Half                         Chomhieng conmat, pheac condat.
  Hard                         Rùng.
  Hell                         Morok.
  Hear (to)                    Lú.
  House                        Phtêa.
  Husband                      Phodey.
  Honey                        Tác khmum.
  Host                         Phnhién.
  Humble                       Suphéap réap téap.
  Here                         Nê̆ ênê̆.
  Heavy                        Thngô̆n.
  Hundredweight                Hap.
  Holy                         Arahán.
  His                          Rônthuc.
  Hold (to)                    Can.
  Hole                         Prŏhong.
  Heat                         Cadau.
  Horse                        Sê.
  Hair                         Sôc.
  Heart                        Bêdông.
  How much                     Ponman.
  How                          Doehmedéch?
  Horn                         Sneng.
  Hang (to)                    Phiuor.
  Hair (of animals)            Merues.
  Heap (to)                    Bomol.
  Have (to)                    Mean.
  Happiness                    Boran-Lays.
  Hide (to)                    Puvu.
  He                           Veá Cá̂̆t.
  Heaven                       Mie.
  Him                          Châng.


I.

  Ignorant                     Khlan.
  Island                       Câ̆.
  Image                        Comnur.
  Imbecile                     Chicuat.
  India                        Pon, suey.
  Impost Srŏc                  Keling créas.
  Indicate (to)                Bânghanh.
  Inundate (to)                Lich.
  Inscribe (to)                Cat.
  Insipid                      Sap.
  Instant                      Mŏ pŏnlú.
  Instruct (to)                Predan, Pourieu.
  Insult (to)                  Promat pikhèat.
  Intelligence                 Praehuha.
  Intention                    Chò̂t.
  Interdict (to)               Khò̆t.
  Interest (of money)          Lar prăe.
  Interpret (to)               Prêpasa.
  Interrogate (to)             Suor, donding.
  Introduce (to)               Boŭchôlnòm.
  Invite (to)                  Anchùnh.
  Ill                          Chhu.
  Illness                      Chumgŭ.
  If                           Bó.
  In order that                Oi.
  Idle                         Khchìl.
  Idleness                     Comchil.
  In                           Kenong.
  Incense                      Comnhau.
  Is                           Còt.
  Inhabit (to)                 Non, công.


J.

  Join (to)                    Phehăp.
  Joy                          Âmnâr.
  Joyous                       Ar, sabai, sremŏc sŏc sabai.
  Judge                        Chmrom.
  Judge (to)                   Cat săch Kedey.
  Just                         Tiéng Trâng.
  Jump (to)                    Sut.


K.

  Kiss (to)                    Thŏp, ap.
  King                         Luong, sdăch.
  Know (to)                    Déng, chê.
  Kill (to)                    Sâmlûp.
  Knife                        Combit.
  Kneel (to)                   Lut cháng cong.
  Knee                         Cháng cong.


L.

  Labour                       Phehuor.
  Lake                         Touli Sap.
  Leave (to)                   Lêng, chol.
  Layman                       Crehŏs.
  Lamp                         Chiêng Kién.
  Language                     Pasa.
  Language                     Ândut.
  Language (of a country)      Pasa.
  Large                        Tuléay.
  Lick (to)                    Lit.
  Light                        Sral.
  Leper                        Chomugu, Khlong.
  Leprous                      Comlong, Khlong.
  Letter                       Âcâr, sombăt.
  Leaven                       Tambê.
  Lip                          Pepir.
  Liberty                      Lâmpey.
  Line                         Poutŏt.
  Line (fishing)               Sontŭch.
  Limpid                       Thla.
  Lion                         Sóng.
  Law                          Crót, viney.
  Long                         Véng.
  Let (to)                     Chuol.
  Lean                         Siom.
  Lead (to)                    Dóc, nóm.
  Lie (to)                     Câ̆hâ̆c cŏmphŭs.
  Leaf                         Sló̆r.
  Left                         Chhnéng.
  Lose (to)                    Bâng, bât.
  Little                       Eoch.
  Ladder                       Chóndór.
  Light (to)                   Och.
  Lead                         Somnar.
  Low                          Iéap.
  Like                         Suró.
  Lend (to)                    Khchey.
  Lawsuit                      Kedey.
  Lower (to)                   Lontéep.
  Learn (to)                   Lù, rién.
  Look at (to)                 Múl.
  Laugh (to)                   Soch.
  Learned                      Méac, prach.
  Lord                         Âmmechûs, mechăs.
  Like                         Smó, doch.
  Love (to)                    Srelant.
  Life                         Aios.
  Live (to)                    Rô̆s.


M.

  Malay                        Churéa.
  Male                         Chnmul.
  Malediction.                 Bŏndasa.
  Misfortune                   Ândarai, piér, lombac.
  Mandarin                     Maman.
  Mango                        Soai.
  Manner                       Iĕang.
  Marsh                        Bóng, trepang.
  Marry (to)                   Souipĕa apea pipéa.
  Mark                         Sâmcól.
  Morning                      Prû̆c.
  Medicine                     Thnamsangcon.
  Meditate (to)                Niŭ, rompúng chon chieng.
  Mingle (to)                  Leay.
  Member                       Thnac thang.
  Mercury                      Bârât.
  Mother                       Medai, mê.
  Merit                        Bŏn.
  Marvellous                   Chôm lû.
  Measure (to)                 Vàl.
  Midnight                     Atréat.
  Mirror                       Conchâe.
  Model                        Kebuon.
  Month                        Khe.
  Monastery                    Vât.
  Mountain                     Phnom.
  Mount (to)                   Lòng.
  Musquito                     Mus.
  Mutton                       Chiêm.
  Murmur                       Khsâp, Khsién.
  Music                        Phlêng.
  Mat                          Còntil.
  Mad                          Chimat.
  Man                          Menus.
  Milk                         Tiù dâ̆.
  Moon                         Khê (prĕa-Chăn).
  Miser                        Comnaut.
  Much                         Chrón.
  Mouth                        Môt.
  Mud                          Phoc.
  Mills                        Bôs, tomboa.
  Money                        Srae.
  More                         Lus, Cheang.
  Meat                         Săch.


N.

  Net                          Uon.
  Narrow                       Chang-ièt.
  Nail                         Dêc ail.
  Neck                         Kho.
  Now                          Êlounê̆.
  Noon                         Hmgay trâng.
  Not                          Com.
  Nine                         Thmey.
  Nose                         Chermo.
  Nest                         Somboi.
  Name                         Ehhnaô, neàm.
  No                           Ei.
  Nourish                      Anchein.
  New                          Crá̆p.
  Naked                        Srat.
  Night                        Yap.
  Nail                         Creehâi.
  Near                         Chut.
  Needle                       Mòchul.
  Native Priest                Meăc, nìng prĕa sâng.


O.

  Obey (to)                    Sdăp, doi Toudap.
  Observe (to)                 Mal.
  Obtain (to)                  Ban.
  Offend (to)                  Ehú tuc̆.
  Offer (to)                   Chun.
  Onion                        Ketym.
  Ounce                        Eomlong.
  Opposite                     Eo-tung.
  Orange                       Croch.
  Order (to)                   Bângcáp.
  Open (to)                    Bòc.
  One                          Muey.
  Old man                     }
  Old                         }Chăs.
  Other                        Sitey-tiĕt, e tiét.
  Oil                          Preńg.
  Oar                          Cheo.
  Often                        Chrondâng, chron créa.
  Owl                          Eitui.
  Of                           Si âmpi.
  Overflow                     Compô̆i.
  Oath                         Sâmbât.


P.

  Pride                        Comnoi.
  Pagoda                       G. vihéar.
  Pair                         Cû.
  Palace                       Vang, Preă-montir.
  Palm-tree                    Dóm tenot.
  Peacock                      Canghoc.
  Paper                        Credas.
  Paradise                     Sthan suor, phimean.
  Pardon (to)                  Ât tus.
  Priest                       Sâng Kreach.
  Porringer                    Chan.
  Perceive (to)                Khūuh.
  Pray (to)                    Phéavĕanea, sot thor.
  Prayer                       Ehór pheavinia.
  Prison                       Erung.
  Price                        Tomlay.
  Profit                       Chomniuh.
  Profound                     Chron.
  Promise (to)                 Sãmŏt.
  Prompt                       Ranăs.
  Prostrate oneself (to)       Crap.
  Punish (to)                  Toctus.
  Partake (to)                 Chec.
  Pass (to)                    Huvs.
  Poor                         Pibac.
  Pay (to)                     Sâng.
  Paint (to)                   Cuor.
  Pelican                      Eung.
  Pierce (to)                  Ehlu, thleay.
  People                       Reas.
  Perhaps                      Proman.
  Pound (to)                   Bô̆c.
  Pipe                         Khsier.
  Prickly                      Hór, măt.
  Place                        Dăc, tuò.
  Pity (to)                    Anót, anot.
  Please (to)                  Săp.
  Pleasure                     Âmnâr sôc sabai.
  Plank                        Cadar.
  Plant (to)                   Dam.
  Poison                       Ehnam pal.
  Pepper                       Mŏreih.
  Polished                     Reling.
  Pork                         Chrue.
  Pursue (to)                  Ehuli.
  Pomegranate                  Tetum.
  Pupil                        Crôm Sôs.
  Pincers                      Eăngeap.
  Power                        Amnach.
  Preach (to)                  Eisna.
  Prepare (to)                 Riép.
  Plane (to)                   Chhus.
  Perspiration                 Rhú̂s.
  Perspire (to)                Bêe nhús.
  Perforated                   Thlu, dăch.
  Preserve (to)                Eue reaisa.
  Pine-apple                   Monós.
  Perceive (to)                Klrúuh.
  Print (to)                   Bâ̆ pum.
  Play (to)                    Líng.
  Place                        Tach.
  Pound (weight)               Neal.
  Put (to)                     Dăc, tuo.
  Piece                        Comnap.


Q.

  Queen                        Khsatrey.
  Question (to)                Dondeng.
  Quit (to)                    Léng, léa.
  Quick                        Chhăp.


R.

  Reason                       Sack Kedey.
  Row (to)                     Cheo.
  Rank                         Chuor.
  Raze (to)                    Côr.
  Rat                          Condor.
  Ray                          Reăcsemey.
  Recently                     Âmbauh.
  Receive (to)                 Totuol.
  Recompense                   Rongvoú.
  Rent                         Viéch.
  Rule (to)                    Soi réach.
  Regret (to)                  Sdai.
  Religion                     Sassena.
  Repent (to)                  Chhu chá̆t.
  Reply (to)                   Chhlói.
  Respect (to)                 Cat Khlach.
  Remain (to)                  Non.
  Restore (to)                 San̂g viuh.
  Rouse (to)                   Dàs.
  Revolt (to)                  Kebâ̆t.
  Rich                         Cââ̆c.
  Riches                       Sombat tròp.
  River                        Prêe, stùng.
  Rice                         Iron. Ângeâ. Bai.
  Roast                        Thang.
  Red                          Crehâm.
  Route                        Thlon.
  Roof                         Tambâl.
  Rain                         Phliéng.
  Run                          Rã̆t.
  Rain (to)                    Phliéng.
  Rotten                       Laoy.
  River                        Touli.
  Ripe                         Eam.
  Read                         Sot.
  Rainbow                      Anthua.
  Ring                         Anchién.
  Relation                     Bang phoon, sach uheat.


S.

  Spit (to)                    Sdâ Pruvs.
  Strengthen (to)              Chuol.
  Spider                       Ling peáng.
  Sit down (to)                Ângmi.
  Sharp                        Sruéch.
  Sharpen (to)                 Sâmbiéng.
  Smell                        Eum Keloń.
  Shadow                       Molâp.
  Storm                        Phiu.
  Straw                        Chambońg.
  Speak (to)                   Sredey--Nieáy.
  Sweep (to)                   Bas.
  Stick                        Iâmbâng.
  Shine (to)                   Phlú.
  Seal                         Ira.
  Slander (to)                 Chombon.
  Soul                         Prea lúng.
  Smelling                     Amnach, p. bâzmey.
  Set out (to)                 Eau.
  Stone                        Ehmâ.
  Sweet                        Saân.
  Straight                     Eran̂g.
  Squirrel                     Comprŏc.
  Still                        Etiér.
  Swell (to)                   Hŏm.
  Send (to)                    Pró, phnô.
  Shoulder                     Sma.
  Sword                        Sâmsér.
  Stuff                        Sompat.
  Star                         Pheai.
  Study (to)                   Rień.
  Split (to)                   Su.
  Son Cou                      Pros.
  Strong                       Khlang.
  Strike (to)                  Meay.
  Son-in-law                   Côu prusa.
  Swallow                      Trechiéc cam.
  Shame                        Khmas.
  Swear (to)                   Sebât.
  Shine (to)                   Phlu.
  Slander (to)                 Sredey dám.
  Sea                          Sremăt.
  Sparrow                      Chap.
  Show (to)                    Bânghanh.
  Soft                         Som.
  Swim (to)                    Hêl.
  Snow                         Ap.
  Sing (to)                    Chrieng.
  Seek (to)                    Roc.
  Scissors                     Contray.
  Sew (to)                     Dér.
  Short                        Keley.
  See (to)                     Sâmléng.
  Shore                        Mót compong.
  Stream                       Stûng.
  Sand                         Khsach.
  Sabre                        Dan.
  Sacrifice                    Buchéa.
  Seize (to)                   Toc, chap.
  Season                       Câughê.
  Salary                       Chhnuol.
  Sob (to)                     Tuéuh.
  Satiety                      Châet.
  Sauce                        Sômlâ.
  Savoury                      Pisa.
  Seal                         Era.
  Seal (to)                    Prelâc âmbêl.
  Saw                          Anar.
  Saw (to)                     Ar.
  Scribe                       Smién.
  Sculptor                     Chhleăc.
  Shake (to)                   Ângruom.
  Succour (to)                 Chuey.
  Secretary                    Smień.
  Sow (to)                     Prô, sap.
  Serpent                      Pôs.
  Sieve                        Chuey.
  Sex                          Ângiochéat.
  Silent                       Sngiém.
  Silk                         Pré.
  Soldier                      Pôl, tahéan.
  Sun                          Ehngay.
  Sound (to)                   Phsâm.
  Sulphur                      Eeá.
  Suffer (to)                  Spoń thor.
  Soil (to)                    Chhú, ât.
  Suspicion                    Montúl.
  Statue                       Rup.
  Stimulate                    Âutóng.
  Succession                   Mârdâ̆c.
  Sugar                        Seâr.
  Suffice (to)                 Lemon.
  Supplicate (to)              Ângvâr.
  Support (to)                 Â̆t.
  Suspend (to)                 Phiuor.
  Stoop (to)                   Pontēep Khluon Êng.
  Soon                         Chhăp.
  Silent (to be)               Non sugiém.
  Steep (to)                   Trom.
  Sell (to)                    Lô̆c.
  Stomach                      Khial.
  Smooth (to)                  Smó, reling.
  Say                          Sredey.
  Small pox                    Ot.
  Shed (to)                    Chăk.
  Saucepan                     Chhang, keteă.


T.

  Take (to)                    Yoi.
  Tail                         Cŏntui.
  Think (to)                   Niŭ, rompûng chŏuchúng.
  Thus                         Hêt nê.
  Then                         Eŭp.
  To-day                       Ehngay nê̆.
  Thin                         Siom.
  Trade                        Ehneúh prô.
  Thunder                      Routèa.
  Taste (to)                   Shlõ̆c.
  Tear (to)                    Reliĕr.
  To-morrow                    Sõă.
  Tooth                        Ehmeúh.
  Teach (to)                   Predan.
  Together                     Kenéa.
  Thick                        Crăs.
  Thorn                        Soŭla.
  Tin                          Somnăr Pahang.
  Trust (to)                   Dêc.
  Take care (to)               Réacsa.
  Tipsy                        Chăêt, srevońg.
  Tobacco                      Ehnăm chõ̆c.
  Table                        Tang.
  Try                          Prońg.
  Tax                          Põ̆n, suey.
  Testimony                    Bŏntál.
  Tempest                      Phin.
  Temple                       Preă viheár.
  Time                         Cal, pileá, vileá.
  Thibet                       Preă, sumér.
  Tiger                        Khla.
  Thee                         Êng, preă, sedêng.
  Thunder                      Phiôr, roŭteă.
  Torch                        Chôulô.
  Torrent                      Stung.
  Tortoise                     Ândoc.
  Touch (to)                   Pó̆l.
  Tower                        Preă-sat.
  Turn (to)                    Vil.
  Translate (to)               Prê.
  Traffic                      Chomnuénh.
  Transcribe (to)              Châmlâng.
  Tremble (to)                 Nhór.
  Trumpet                      Erê.
  Throne                       Cõ̆l.
  Too much                     Pic.
  Troop                        Fông, cân-bân.
  Tile                         Kebúońg.
  Turbulent                    Repus.
  Town                         Pŏnteéy.
  True                         Prã̆cã̆t; Arã̆ng.
  Thing                        Rebâs.
  Travel (to)                  Dór.
  Toad                         King cok.
  Twin                         Cŏn Phlô.
  There                        Ênŏ, nŏ.
  Tear                         Eŭć Phneé.


U.

  Undergo (to)                 Mãrdã̆c.
  Uproar                       Vôr.
  Ulcer                        Bõ̆s.
  Universe                     Lu key.
  Unite (to)                   Phsã̆m.
  Urine                        Tuc uõ̆um.
  Usage                        Tomlóp.
  Use (to)                     Pro.
  Useful                      }
  Utility                     }Preioch.
  Understand (to)              Yŏl.
  Useless                      Ât preíoch.
  Upright                      Chhor.
  Untie (to)                   Srai.
  Under                        Crom, ê crom.
  Ungrateful                   Smŏr.
  Ugly                         Airâc.


V.

  Very                         Năs.
  Vague                        Relõ̆c.
  Vessel                       Sâmpon, capol.
  Vaunt (to)                   Uot.
  Vase                         Chan.
  Vein                         Sesay.
  Venom                        Pŭs.
  Virtue                       Cousâl, bŏn.
  Victory                      Chhneă.
  Virgin                       Prommâ̆châ̆rey.
  Village                      Phum.
  Violent                      Khlang.
  Violet                       Sâmbôr soag.
  Violin                       Chăpey.
  Visit (to)                   Suor.
  Vow                          Bâmmâ̆n.
  Vow (to)                     Bân bâmmâ̆n.
  Veil                         Sounoiéa.
  Veil (to)                    Bang.
  Voice                        Sâmleńg.
  Vomit (to)                   Cunot.
  Voracious                    Lupha.
  Vice                         Bap, tus.
  Vegetable                    Poule pongea.


W.

  When                         Calna.
  Who                          Nana.
  What                         Oy? Sat ay?
  Wake (to)                    Phuheăc.
  Wisdom                       Samphi.
  Winding                      Chhăp.
  Work                         Car.
  Work (to)                    Thú car.
  Watch (to)                   Retrit tetrut.
  Wind                         Khiâl.
  Worm                         Chŏulin dûngeon.
  Well (a)                     Andońg.
  Word                         Peac.
  Why                          Debâtay.
  We                           Túng.
  Work                         Chĕang.
  Water (to)                   Sroch.
  Wait (to)                    Ohâm.
  Wash (to)                    Pongeon.
  Water-closet                 Leáng.
  When                         Căl, calêna, compung.
  Wicked                       Bap, Chomugú.
  Walk (to)                    Dór.
  World                        Long.
  Word                         Peác.
  Wall                         Comphin̂g.
  Water                        Tŭć.
  Write (to)                   Sâ̆cer.
  Wife                         Propôn.
  Wake (to)                    Dăs.
  Wave                         Touli.
  Wager                        Phnŏl.
  War                          Só̆c.
  Wine                         Sra.
  Wish (to)                    Châng.
  Warm                         Cadan.
  Warm (to)                    Prap.
  White                        Sâ.
  Wound                        Rebuos.
  Wood                         Srey.
  Where                        Êna.
  Woman                        Srey.
  Widower                      Pomaí.


Y.

  Yes                          Chŭs, bât, côrna.
  Year                         Chhnam.
  Yellow                       Lúóng.
  Young                        Coming.
  Yesterday                    Mŏsãl.


Z.

  Zeal                         Chhú chaăl.
  Zinc                         Sămnăr pang Krey.


NAMES OF THE NUMBERS.

  1                  Muey.
  2                  Pir.
  3                  Bey.
  4                  Buon.
  5                  Prăm.
  6                  Prămmuey.
  7                  Prämpil.
  8                  Prămbey.
  9                  Prambuon.
  10                 Dâ̆p.
  11                 Mõtó̆n Dâ̆p.
  12                 Pirtó̆n dâ̆p.
  13                 Beytó̆n dâ̆p.
  14                 Buontó̆n dá̆p.
  15                 Prămtó̆n dá̆p.
  16                 Prămmueytó̆n dá̆p.
  17                 Prămpiltó̆n dá̆p.
  18                 Prămbeytó̆n dâ̆p.
  19                 Prămbuontó̆n dâ̆p.
  20                 Mŏphey, or Bien Phey.
  21                 Mŏphey muey, or Phey muey.
  22                 Mŏphey pir, or Phey pir.
  23                 Mŏphey bey, or Phey bey. &c.
  30                 Sumsá̆p.
  40                 Sêsó̆p.
  50                 Hosá̆p.
  60                 Hocsá̆p.
  70                 Chêtsá̆p.
  80                 Pêtsó̆p.
  90                 Cansá̆p.
  100                Mŏ roi.
  200                Pir roi.
  300                Bey roi.
  400                Buon roi.
  500                Prăm roi.
  600                Prămmuey roi. &c.
  1,000              Mŏ pŏn.
  2,000              Pir pó̆n. &c.
  10,000             Mŏ mŭn.
  100,000            Mŏ sên.
  1,000,000          Mŏ cõt.
  10,000,000         Mŏ béan.
  100,000,000        Mŏ a Kho.
  1,000,000,000      Mŏ puni.


CARDINAL POINTS.

  North       Ê chûng, Tùs udãr.
  South       Ê thbong, Tus ê bor.
  East        Ê cát, Tus ê cát.
  West        Ê lich, Tus ê chém.


SEASONS.

  Rainy Season           Cânghê or redon phliéng.
  Hot or Dry Season      Cânghê or redon cadan.
  Winter                 Cânghê or redon rengèa.


THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.

  Sunday         Atú̆t.
  Monday         Chan.
  Tuesday        Âng Kéar.
  Wednesday      Pût.
  Thursday       Prĕa-hó̆s.
  Friday         Sŏc.
  Saturday       San.


THE NAMES OF THE MONTHS.

  1. March          Chêt.
  2. April          Pisac.
  3. May            Chis.
  4. June           Asat.
  5. July           Srap.
  6. August         Phetrebot.
  7. September      Asôch.
  8. October        Cârdó̆c.
  9. November       Méac Khsér.
  10. December      Bõ̆s.
  11. January       Méac thõ̆m.
  12. February      Phâ̆l cun.


CYCLE OF TWELVE YEARS.

  1. Pig          Côr.
  2. Rat          Chût.
  3. Ox           Chhlom.
  4. Tiger        Khal.
  5. Hare         Thâ.
  6. Dragon       Rung.
  7. Serpent      Méa Sanh.
  8. Horse        Méa mê.
  9. Goat         Méa mê.
  10. Monkey      Voê.
  11. Cock        Roca.
  12. Dog         Chô.


PRONUNCIATION OF THE CAMBODIAN VOWELS.

a, ă, ã; é, ê; i; o, ó; u, ú.


CAMBODIAN VOWELS.

a. This is pronounced like the English word, “Palm.”

ă. This is pronounced short; as, “Mat.”

ã. This is something between the _a_ and the _o_; it is pronounced like
a very open _o_.

é. This is pronounced like our close _e_; as, “Men.”

ê. This is pronounced like our open _e_; as, “He.”

i. This is pronounced also like our _e_.

o. This is pronounced like our _o_; as, “Go.”

ó. This is pronounced like _eu_ in “Liqueur.”

u. Like _ou_, in “You.”

ú. This is pronounced like _u_.


DIPHTHONGS.

Ai, ei, oi, ôi, ói. This is pronounced with a single emission of sound.

Ay, ey, oy, óy, ui, úi. This is pronounced with two emissions of sound,
as, a-ï, e-ï, o-ï, u-ï, ú-ï.

Cha, ché, chi, cho, chu. This is pronounced as Tia, tié, tii, tio, tiu;
with a single emission of sound.

Chha, chhé, chhi, chho, chhu. This is pronounced as Thcha, thché
(etc.), with a strong aspiration.

Kha, khe, khi, kho, khu. This is pronounced as Ka, ke, ki (etc.), with
a strong aspiration.

Nha, nhe, nhi, nho, nhu. This is pronounced as Nia, Nie (etc.), with a
single emission of sound.

Pha, phe, phi, pho, phu. This is pronounced as pa, pe, pi (etc.), with
an aspiration.

Nga, nge, ngi, ngo, ngu. This is pronounced hard.

Tha, thé, thi, tho, thu. Hard, and with an aspiration.


THE LORD’S PRAYER IN CAMBODIAN.

O’ Preă dâ công lu mic, apuc Túng Khnhŏm oi: Túng Khnhŏm ângvâr
Preă-âng, som oi ûs neăc phâng têng núng cot sesór preă néam Preă-âng:
som oi preă-nocor Preă-âng ban Túng Khnhŏm. Som ai rebal méan non dey
thú tam preă hartey Preă-âng dock lú mic. Ahar Túng Khnhŏm sâ̆p thngay
som ai Túng Khnhŏm ban thngai nê: hoï som pros bap Túng Khnhŏm dock
iung Khnhŏm â̆t tus neăc êna mian tus núng Túng Khnhŏm: hoï som pum
ai Túng Khnhŏm doi comnach: tê aî Túng Khnhŏm ban ruéch âmpi ândâ̆rai
teăng puâng. Amén!




LETTERS FROM M. MOUHOT.


TO SAMUEL STEVENS, ESQ.

[To be communicated to the Royal Geographical Society.]

  Brelum, among the Savage Stiêns, lat. N. 11° 46′ 30″,
  long. W. 103° 3′, merid. of Paris, 15th October, 1859.

DEAR MR. STEVENS,

I profit by a favourable opportunity which has just presented itself
to write you a few hasty lines to let you know that I am alive. For
the last two months I have been living with the savage Stiêns amidst
their immense forests, the latitude being precisely as I have stated
above, and here I have passed the season most favourable for collecting
insects and land shells. In spite of the letter given to me by the King
of Cambodia, ordering all the chiefs of the Srok Khmer, or Cambodian
villages, to furnish me with the means of transport on my journey, I
experienced much difficulty, as frequently neither buffaloes nor carts
were to be found in the hamlets through which I passed. My journey took
me a month to accomplish, which is about three times as long as it
would have taken me on foot.

On the 21st July, after having descended the great arm of the Mekon
from Pinhalú, a village about nine miles from the capital, and in
lat. 11° 46′ 30″ N. and long. 103° 3 W. merid. of Paris, as far as
Penom Peuh, a commercial town filled with Chinese, and situated at
the conflux of two streams, I ascended the great Cambodian River,
the water of which is still low, as all through the country the rainy
season is two months later than usual. The Mekon is studded with
islands, of which many are eight or nine miles long and more than a
mile broad; such is the large and beautiful island of Ko-Sutin, where I
arrived after five days’ journey. I estimate the width of the river to
be about three miles. Pelicans are found on its waters, often in flocks
of more than fifty, and storks, sea swallows, and other aquatic birds,
abound in the shallow parts of the river. The general aspect of this
mighty river is, however, rather sombre than gay, although doubtless
there is something imposing in the rapidity of its waters, which run
like a torrent. Few boats are to be seen on it, and its banks are
almost barren (the forests being more than a mile distant), and, being
constantly undermined by the water, fall down at the least shock, and
this is generally all that you can see or hear. The Menam is much more
gay and animated.

The rapids and cataracts commence about thirty or forty leagues north
of Ko-Sutin, on the confines of Laos, and it is there necessary to
leave the large boats and take to canoes, which as well as the luggage
are often obliged to be carried on men’s backs.

The current of the Mekon is so strong that at certain times of the
year you can go little more than a league a day, and the rowers often
seek for fire in the evening at the very place where they cooked their
rice in the morning. I ascended it in a small boat with three rowers,
but at every bend of the river we had the greatest trouble to make
any progress, and were frequently obliged to hold on by the rushes to
prevent our being carried away by the current. Eight days after leaving
Pinhalú I reached Pemptiélan, a large Cambodian village, where I found
it necessary to take to land travelling.

There still remained 150 miles to travel in carts, all in an easterly
direction. I was well received by the mandarin at the head of affairs
in this part of the country, and was able to set out again in two days.

The first day our conveyances upset, and I feared that we should be
unable to proceed; there were continually dreadful bogs, quagmires,
and marshes, in which the carts sank up to the axletrees and the
buffaloes to their bellies. Fortunately on the following day the road
improved, but for three weeks all that was visible was a few scattered
rice-fields round the villages, and we had to make our way through a
marshy plain, covered with thick and dark woods, which reminded one
of the enchanted forest of Tasso, and it is easy to understand that
the imagination of a pagan race peoples these gloomy solitudes with
evil spirits. Twenty times in an hour the men who accompanied us were
obliged to raise the large branches and cut down the trunks which
obstructed our passage, and sometimes we had to make a new path for
ourselves.

The Cambodians were all much surprised at seeing us journeying towards
the Stiêns at the worst time of the year, for in that country the rainy
season had commenced, and even those who live nearest dare not venture
there; and had I not brought with me from Siam my two young servants,
I could not for any money have found a single individual to accompany
me. Even they felt great repugnance to proceed--for in Siam, Cambodia
bears a terrible reputation for unhealthiness, and unhappily both for
them and for myself they were attacked with fever in the forests, since
which, instead of receiving any help from them, I have had two patients
to nurse.

Passing through a village peopled by a barbarous race of Annamites,
I ran great risk of being taken prisoner by them, and being sent to
finish my researches in a dungeon. Last year the carriages belonging to
a French missionary were completely rifled, and the men sent with ropes
round their necks to Cochin China. I loaded all my guns, and gave one
to each of my men: our firm appearance, no doubt, frightened them, for
we were not attacked.

In spite of the heat, the fatigue, and privations inseparable from
such a journey, I arrived among the Stiêns in perfectly good health
as far as I was concerned, and here I found a settlement of Catholic
missionaries from Cochin China. It would have been impossible to go
further, for I could neither find means of transport nor provisions,
for at this time of the year the poor savages have consumed all their
rice, and have nothing to live upon but herbs, a little maize, and
what they can catch in the chase. I therefore accepted the hospitality
offered to me with much kindness by a good priest. In a few weeks the
rainy season will be over, the nights will become cold, and for several
months insects will be found, and after that will come the turn of the
birds, with which I shall exclusively occupy myself.

My departure from here will depend upon circumstances; perhaps I
shall myself be the bearer of this letter to Pinhalú, perhaps I may
be detained here some months by the bad state of the roads and the
impossibility of procuring vehicles during the rice-harvest.

If you ask who are this strange people, living retired on the
table-lands and mountains of Cambodia, which they appear never to have
quitted, and differing entirely in manners, language, and features from
the Annamites, Cambodians, and Laotians, my answer is that I believe
them to be the aborigines of the country, and that they have been
driven into these districts by the repeated inroads of the Thibetians,
from whom they evidently descend, as is proved by the resemblance of
features, religion, and character.

The whole country from the eastern side of the mountains of Cochin
China as far as 103° long., and from 11° lat. to Laos, is inhabited by
savage tribes, all known under one name, which signifies “inhabitants
of the heights.” They have no attachment to the soil, and frequently
change their abode; most of the villages are in a state of continual
hostility with each other, but they do not attack in troops, but seek
to surprise each other, and the prisoners are sold as slaves to the
Laotians.

Their only weapon is the cross-bow, which they use with extraordinary
skill, but rarely at a distance of more than twenty paces. Poisoned
arrows are used only for hunting the larger animals, such as elephants,
rhinoceros, buffaloes, and wild oxen, and with these the smallest
scratch causes death, if the poison is fresh: the strongest animal does
not go more than fifty paces before it falls; they then cut out the
wounded part, half roast it without skinning or cutting it up, after
which they summon the whole village by sound of trumpet to partake of
it. The most perfect equality and fraternity reign in these little
communities, and the Communists would here find their theories reduced
to practice and producing nothing but misery.

The strongest European would find it difficult to bend the bow which
the Stiên, weak and frail as he appears, bends without effort,
doubtless by long practice.

They are not unacquainted with agriculture, but grow rice and plant
gourds, melons, bananas, and other fruit-trees; their rice-fields are
kept with the greatest care, but nearly all the hard work is done
by the women. They seldom go out in the rainy season on account of
the leeches, which abound in the woods to such a degree as to render
them almost unapproachable; they remain in their fields, where they
construct small huts of bamboo, but as soon as the harvest is over and
the dry season returns they are continually out fishing or hunting.
They never go out without their baskets on their backs, and carrying
their bows and a large knife-blade in a bamboo handle. They forge
nearly all their instruments from ore which they procure from Annam
and Cambodia. Although they know how to make earthen vessels, they
generally cook their rice and herbs in bamboo. Their only clothing is
a strip of cloth passed between the thighs and rolled round the waist.
The women weave these scarfs, which are long and rather pretty, and
which when well made often sell for as much as an ox. They are fond of
ornaments, and always have their feet, arms, and fingers covered with
rings made of thick brass wire; they wear necklaces of glass beads, and
their ears are pierced with an enormous hole, through which they hang
the bone of an animal, or a piece of ivory sometimes more than three
inches in circumference. They wear their hair long in the Annamite
fashion, and knot it up with a comb made of bamboo; some pass through
it a kind of arrow made of brass wire, and ornamented by a pheasant’s
crest.

Their features are handsome and sometimes regular, and many wear thick
mustachios and imperials.

Quite alone and independent amidst their forests, they scarcely
recognise any authority but that of the chief of the village, whose
dignity is generally hereditary. For the last year or two the King
of Cambodia has occasionally sent the mandarin who lives nearest the
Stiêns to their first villages, in order to distribute marks of honour
to their chiefs, hoping little by little to subdue them, and to get
from them slaves and ivory, and already he receives a small tribute
every year. His emissaries, however, scarcely dare pass the limits of
the kingdom, so fearful are they of the arrows of the savages and of
the fevers which reign in their forests.

The Stiên is gentle and hospitable, and possesses neither the stupid
pride of the Cambodian, nor the refined cruelty and corruption of
the Annamite. He is the “good fellow” of the forest, simple and even
generous; his faults are those common to all Asiatics, namely, cunning,
an extraordinary power of dissimulation, and idleness; his great
passion is hunting, and he leaves work to the women, but, unlike the
Cambodians, robbery is very rare among them.

They believe in a supreme being, but only invoke the evil spirit to
induce him to leave them in peace. They bury the dead near their
dwellings. They do not believe in metempsychosis, but think that
animals have also souls which live after their death, and continue to
haunt the places they frequented in their lives. Their superstitions
are numerous; the cry of an owl, or the sight of a crow, just as they
are about to set off on a journey, they consider a bad augury, which is
sufficient to turn them from their plans.

When any one is ill they say it is the demon tormenting him, and keep
up night and day a frightful uproar round him, which only ceases when
one of the bystanders falls as in a fit, crying out, “He has passed
into me, he is stifling me.” They then question the new patient as to
the remedies which must be employed to cure the sick man, and as to
what the demon demands to abandon his prey. Sometimes it is an ox, a
pig, too often a human victim; in the latter case they pitilessly seize
on some poor slave, and immolate him without remorse.

They imagine that all white people inhabit secluded corners of the
earth in the midst of the sea, and often ask if there are any women
in our country. When and how I can return to Cambodia and Siam I am
ignorant, and I dare not think of the difficulty I shall experience
among the rude and stupid Cambodians in transporting my treasures. What
heartbreaking jolts my boxes of insects will receive! What palpitations
I shall feel each time some rough fellow takes them to place on the
oxen, elephants, or his own back! Poor soldiers of science! these
are our trophies, and in the eyes of some people find as much merit
as a piece of silk fastened to a pole; and what pains, patience, and
solicitude is necessary to procure them! therefore I believe my anxiety
as to my collections will be understood by the lovers of nature.

  Pinhalú, 20th December, 1859.

P.S.--I arrived last evening at Pinhalú, in perfect health, and am now
about to go northward to visit the famous ruins of Ongcor and then
return to Bangkok, so I have little time to give you any details as to
what I despatch from Komput and Singapore. I am not quite satisfied;
for birds are scarce here, and I have but a small number; besides, my
boxes as I feared have been much knocked about; I sent them off to
Komput on men’s backs. On my return to Bangkok I will send you some
good maps of this almost unknown country.


TO SAMUEL STEVENS, ESQ.

[To be communicated to the Geographical Society of London.]

  Khao Samoune, Province of Pechaburi (Siam).
  Lat. N. 13° 4′, long. 100°. 15th June, 1860.

In my last letter, of March, 1859, I told you about two active
volcanoes that I discovered in the Gulf of Siam, one in the little
isle of Koman, lat. 12° 30′ 29″ N., and long. 101° 50′ 2″ W., mer. of
Greenwich, and of the probable existence of others whose workings were
latent and slow. Since then I have travelled through Cambodia, from
north to south and from east to west, gone up the Mekon as far as the
frontier of Laos, visited one of the savage tribes which live between
these two countries and Cochin China, then crossed the great lake Touli
Sap, explored the provinces of Ongcor and Battambong, which are full of
splendid ruins, one of which in particular, the temple of Ongcor, is
almost perfect, and, perhaps, unequalled in the world. I then passed
from the Mekon to the Menam, and returned to Bangkok.

A low table-land, of which the gradual slope takes a week to ascend,
separates the two rivers.

A chain of mountains, of which the highest peak is 6274 English feet
above the level of the sea, extends to the S.W., joins the ranges of
Chantaboun, Pursak, and Thung Yai, which are from 4000 to 5000 feet
high, and reaches nearly to Komput and Hatienne; while to the north
another small chain, joining the greater one of Korat, runs eastward,
throws some ramifications into the provinces of Battambong and Ongcor
Borege, which is 40 miles farther north, and bears the name of the
mountains of Somrai.

Not being in direct communication with the Archæological Society, I
wish to call your attention to the marvellous remains at Ongcor of the
civilization of a great people.

The country is rich in woods and mines, and although thinly populated,
produces enough cotton for the use of Cochin China, while the great
lake, which abounds in fish, furnishes an immense quantity of this
article also to China. Iron of a superior quality is also abundant,
and the Kouis, an ancient tribe of a primitive race, living east of
the Mekon, who speak the same language as the Stiêns, work it very
industriously. There are also many other mines, rich in gold, lead, and
copper, in the chains to the east and west; that of Pursak produces the
beautiful cardamom, which, when transplanted, gives fine stems but no
fruit.

Unluckily most of these mountains are frightfully unhealthy, and no one
but those who have lived there from infancy can remain long among them
with impunity.

In the island of Phu-Quor or Koh Trou, which belongs to Cochin China,
and which is very near to Komput, there are rich mines of cannel coal.
I was not able to get there, the war having rendered the people hostile
and cruel to all white men; but my attention having been drawn to it by
some ornaments worked in this mineral by the islanders, I procured two
specimens, which I send you.

There are several extinct volcanoes in Pechaburi, four of which I
have ascertained to form part of the numerous detached and conical
hills which are probably all ancient craters belonging to the great
chain Khao Deng, which occupies all the northern part of the centre of
the Malayan peninsula, and is inhabited by the Kariens, a primitive
and independent people, who, like the Stiêns and other tribes, have
doubtless been driven back to the mountains by the encroachments of
the Siamese, and where the inclemency of the climate protects them
against all attacks from their neighbours. The mountains are known in
the country as the Na-Khou, Khao, Panom Knot, Khao Tamonne, and Khao
Samroum. The last two are 1700 and 1900 feet above the level of the
sea, and only a few leagues distant from each other. All these craters
appear to have been originally upheaved (“craters of elevation” M. de
Buch styles them) from the bottom of the water, at a period when all
this part of the country, as far as the great chain, which I have not
yet been able to visit, was under the sea.

Besides an immense volcanic cone, in part fallen in, and where the
ground resounds under one’s feet, each of the mounts has several
lateral mouths and a number of fissures and chimneys, or passages,
which bear evident traces of subterranean fires. They are entirely
composed of trachytic rocks, scoria, lava, felspar, &c.

The Siamese have made temples of the largest of these caverns, which
are of great depth and breadth, and extremely picturesque. One of the
caverns of Samroum is quite inaccessible. Having descended to the depth
of 20 feet by a chimney 2 feet wide at its mouth, and shut in between
rocks, I found myself at the entrance of a deep cavern, but there all
my efforts to proceed farther were defeated; a few steps from the
entrance my torch suddenly went out, my breathing was checked, and I in
vain fired my gun several times in order to disperse the foul air.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT (HIS BROTHER).

  Bangkok, 13th October, 1860.

To you, my dear brother, I address my last letter before quitting
Bangkok for my long journey to Laos. I have waited till the last moment
for the steamer which ought to bring me letters from Europe, but
unfortunately I am obliged to set out without receiving any answers to
those which I sent in May, on my return from Cambodia. I fear that,
once in the interior of the country, I shall have no means of sending
letters; arm yourself, therefore, with patience, dear brother, and do
not think me neglectful if you do not receive any; but be sure that I,
alone in those profound solitudes, shall suffer more than you, from my
ignorance of everything concerning those dear to me; and during the
eighteen or twenty months which the journey will probably occupy I
shall not see a European face nor hear a word which can recall to me my
beloved country.

I have done everything in my power to obtain letters and passports
from the French and Siamese authorities here, but all have been nearly
useless. I have obtained nothing but a letter from the King’s brother,
who has the superintendence of the provinces north of Laos, and with
that I trust to be able to get on. The good Dr. Campbell has supplied
me with medicines of all kinds, and as I am nearly acclimatized, and
have with me devoted followers--one particularly, Phrai, who would die
for me--you may be easy on my account. Besides, and I really know not
why, I have hitherto been much liked by the missionaries and natives,
and I am sure it will be the same there. Fever does not kill all
travellers. I have traversed many dangerous districts in my journey
to Cambodia, and I am safe. Let us trust in God, my brother, that I
shall be as fortunate in this expedition, and that we shall meet again.
Nothing is requisite but courage, hope, and patience. I am sober, and
drink nothing but tea. My food is the same as that of the natives,
dried fish and rice, and sometimes a little game which I shoot, and
roast on a spit after the fashion of the natives, that is, by two
bamboos stuck into the ground and another laid horizontally on them,
which is turned from time to time. My amusements are hunting, arranging
my collections, my drawings, to which I devote a great deal of time,
and of which some are not bad, as you may judge by those sent to the
Geographical Society of London, and my journal; with those I pass many
pleasant hours. Besides, you know how I love nature, and am only really
happy in the woods with my gun, and that when there, if I know you all
to be happy, I have nothing to wish for. I often think of our good old
father, but as long as you are with him I feel easy about him; you will
make him bear my absence patiently, repeat often to him how I love him,
and how happy I shall be when I can tell him about my long journeys.
And you, my brother, love and cherish your two dear children, my little
nephews; inculcate in them the love of nature, and teach them to think
that virtue is recompensed even here, and a good conscience ennobles
more than patents of nobility, or orders in the button-hole; bring up
your little ones in the love of God, and of all that is good and great.
Think and talk sometimes with Jenny of the poor traveller. Adieu, my
brother!


TO MADAME CHARLES MOUHOT (HIS SISTER-IN-LAW).

  Khao Khoc, 21st December, 1861.

An unexpected opportunity presents itself, my dear Jenny, to send you a
few words before proceeding farther. A new year is about to commence:
may you, my dear little sister, experience in its course only joy and
satisfaction; may your interesting little family cause you unmixed
happiness; in a word, I desire every possible good for you. As for
myself, I ask nothing but the happiness of seeing you all again. Think
occasionally of the poor traveller whom every day removes farther and
farther from civilization, and who for eighteen months or perhaps two
years is about to live alone in a strange place, where I shall not have
even the consolation of meeting those good missionaries as at Brelum
and in Cambodia.

You know my manner of life, so I shall not repeat it. The heat and
the musquitoes make a real hell of this place. Those who praise it
must have hard heads and skins, or else must be comfortably lodged,
and surrounded by an army of slaves. They know nothing but its
enjoyments. If there is one pleasant hour in the morning and another
in the evening, one must think oneself lucky, for often there is no
peace night or day. My pleasures are, first, liberty, that precious
thing without which man cannot be happy, and for which so many have
fought and will fight still; then, seeing so much that is beautiful,
grand, and new, and which no one has seen before me. From these I draw
my contentment. Thank God! my health is as good as when I left you,
although three years have passed over me.

Soon I shall be in Laos, and then, what strange things I shall see
daily! what curious beings I shall meet, to whom I shall be equally an
object of curiosity! I shall have delightful days, then, perhaps, sad
ones, if my servants have the fever, which happens at intervals. If
only to enliven these solitudes, I could have you here, my dear Jenny,
or if I could sing like you, or even like a nightingale! Sometimes I do
make use of my falsetto voice, and hum the beautiful airs of Béranger,
and feel strengthened by the sublime odes of that great man of genius.

Two or three thin volumes--I say thin, for the white ants have eaten
the greater part of them--and a few old newspapers (new to me) compose
my library; but I have blank paper, which I fill as I best can; it is
an amusement, at least; and if it turn out of no other use than to
serve to amuse you all, I shall be satisfied, for I am not ambitious.
I dream as I smoke my pipe, for I must confess that I smoke more than
ever.

Well! the musquitoes and thorns will still be my companions for a long
time. It is my own choice, and I shall never complain as long as God
grants to all of you the joy and happiness I wish for you.

How I shall accomplish the long journey before me I know not; probably
with oxen and elephants; but if even I have to go on foot I care not,
so that I reach there, for I have determined to drive away even the
devil, should I meet him here.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Khao Khoc, near Pakprian (Siam), 23rd Dec. 1860.

  MY DEAR BROTHER,

This is the sixth letter I have written, and written on my knees; and
in this heat, and tormented by musquitoes, it is an affair of as many
days. Do not complain, therefore, if this is short. Khao-Khoc is a
mountain nine or ten leagues north of Pakpriau, which I visited two
years ago, and where I have been waiting two months for the roads to
become passable, in order to reach Korat, and then Laos. I have made a
fine collection of coleoptera, particularly some remarkable longicorns.
I have but few shells or birds; nevertheless, the collection is
precious, and, although less numerous than the one at Pechaburi, it is
quite equal to it. I have been lucky enough to replace a great part of
the insects that were lost in the _Sir J. Brooke_.

I remain perfectly well, but my two poor lads suffer from time to time
with intermittent fever; quinine, however, generally stops it, and I
hope the change of air will do them good. The brave fellows do their
work none the less cheerfully, and they love me, and are quite devoted
to me.

I am only waiting for the arrival of my letters, through the medium
of my good friend Dr. Campbell, to set out, because when I have once
started I fear none of your letters will reach me.

I think I shall explore the Mekon, and go up as far as China, if
circumstances are favourable, and trust to bring back from this journey
many rare and precious things. I bought at Bangkok many articles to
give to those who shall aid me, such as red and white cloth, brass
wire, glass beads, needles, spectacles, &c.

_28th Dec._--The night before my departure for Korat. All the good
news I have received from Europe and from Bangkok has made me joyful.
I have just received with your letters a mass of papers. Every one is
kind to me, and that is very pleasant. My friend Malherbe has sent
me some _caporal_, which I had not enjoyed for a long time; he had
just received some from France, along with some pipes, and a precious
extract of sarsaparilla, invaluable for cooling the blood heated by
the climate, the food, and the troublesome musquitoes of which I have
spoken so often. I shall require another elephant to carry all the red
cloth sent to me by Mr. Adamson, and which will be invaluable in Laos,
as the people delight in it. I was moved even to tears at so many marks
of kindness from people who hardly know me.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Korat, 26th January, 1861.

I have been three days at Korat, which is about 140 miles
east-north-east of Pakpriau,--that is, nearly in the same longitude as
Battambong.

The journey, which I performed on foot, in company with a caravan
of 400 oxen carrying merchandise, lasted ten days, from four in the
morning to sunset, deducting only a few hours in the middle of the
day. My feet are in a bad state from crossing the mountains, but,
nevertheless, I enjoyed my journey.

On these uplands, which are more than 4000 feet high, the air is pure
and pleasant, the nights are fresh, and the early morning almost cold.

During these ten days I have collected but little, and my expenses have
been greater than I calculated on. Within the last two years everything
has doubled in price; but the governor appears honest; he paid me a
visit, which cost me a pair of spectacles, some engravings, and other
little things, but he has promised me conveyances, and a letter to the
chief of another province, who will provide me with elephants.

My health is excellent, and I hope it will remain so; my servants are
better. I am surrounded by a crowd of curious gazers, who fill up my
hut.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Saraburi (Siam), 24th February, 1861.

You will be astonished, my dear friend, to see my letter dated from
Saraburi, instead of from Laos. When I reached Chaiapume, I went to the
governor with my letters, and asked him to lend me elephants to enable
me to continue my journey, that being the only method of travelling
among these mountains; but he refused me decidedly, and consequently I
have been forced to retrace my steps. Here one can do nothing without
the help of the people in power.

I therefore returned to Korat, and established Phrai in a hut which
I hired of a Chinese; and went myself to Bangkok, to procure from the
authorities orders to the different governors of provinces to aid me
instead of throwing obstacles in my way.

From Korat I had the pleasure of travelling with an amiable mandarin of
Bangkok, who had been to fetch a white elephant from Laos, and who had
conceived a great friendship for me. He travelled in great style; the
caravan was magnificent; we had more than sixty elephants, two of which
were placed at my disposal, one for my own use, and one for my servants.

Finding myself in the good graces of this mandarin, I told him why I
was going to Bangkok, and he promised to obtain for me all I wanted.

When I reached Saraburi I found all the governors of Laos and the
first mandarins of Bangkok assembled there to take care of the white
elephant. The Siamese, being very superstitious, and believing in
metempsychosis, think that the soul of some prince or king has passed
into the white elephant; they have the same belief as to white apes and
albinoes, consequently they hold them all in great respect. They do not
worship them, for the Siamese recognise no God, not even Buddha, but
they believe that a white elephant brings luck to the country.

During the whole journey the men were busy cutting down branches to
make his passage easy; two mandarins fed him with different kinds of
cakes in golden dishes, and the King came out to meet him.

I owe, therefore, to the white elephant the most satisfactory letters
which I have obtained, and which have cost me my best gun and nearly
300 francs in presents; but I might have had to give much more, and,
as I am going to Bangkok, I can replenish my stock. As for the poor
elephant, he was so much cared for and so well fed, that he died of
indigestion.

It is a terrible affliction, and all the mandarins and other
dignitaries collected here are in great grief about it.


TO MADAME MOUHOT (HIS WIFE).

  Saraburi, 24th February, 1861.

MY DEAR ANNETTE,

You will be much surprised on receiving this letter to see it dated
from Saraburi, for if you have received the one I wrote in January,
you must believe me to be already in Laos. But man proposes, and God
disposes. However, to reassure you, I must begin by saying that I am in
perfect health, and full of strength and hope. All goes well with me.

I had in fact reached Laos. I arrived at Korat after a tedious and
troublesome journey, for I had only a few oxen for my baggage, and
was forced to walk myself. From there I went to Chaiapume, and here
an animal of the mandarin species made himself great, and under the
pretext of having no elephants refused me the means of going further,
and was so rude and impolite to me that I determined at once to return
and protest against the very insufficient protection which had been
granted to me. Indeed, I could do nothing else, not being able to go
on. The elephant which had brought me to Chaiapume took me back to
Korat, and there I found a mandarin from Bangkok, who had been sent
to fetch a white elephant which had been taken in Laos. I begged him
to let me join his party, and he lent me two elephants, one for my
servant and luggage, and one for myself. I left Phrai at Korat, with
the greater part of my possessions, having hired a room for him in
the house of a Chinese, and a week afterwards found myself back at
Saraburi, in company with this strange divinity (who, by the way, had
more black than white about him), and of the grand personage who had
been sent to escort him, and who had showered on him every kind of
attention during the journey. He had an escort of fifty foot soldiers
and several on horseback. As for me, I wanted for nothing; at every
halt the mandarin sent me ducks, fish, fruit, sweetmeats, &c., and he
was also kind enough to allow me eight men as night-guards to watch
round my fire. In return, I discovered for him in the mountains large
quantities of copper, and even gold, which delighted him.

The whole province of Saraburi was in motion to do honour to the white
elephant; the King and all his court are coming here; the ministers
are here already to watch over him. I decided, therefore, to apply to
the Siamese, hoping to obtain more from them than from the Europeans;
and yesterday, hearing of the arrival of Khrom Luang, the King’s
brother, I hastened to address myself to him. He, however, had only
passed through, and was gone to Prabat, to join the King. However, I
found here the man I wanted, the mandarin who has most interest in
Laos, and without a letter from whom it would have been difficult to
proceed. I did not know him, but I went to him to ask about the Prince,
and told him what I wanted. “I am your man,” said he; “the Prince
can only give an order for me to write a letter, such as I will give
you, if you like.” I accepted gladly, and promised him in return my
double-barrelled gun, which I could easily replace, “if he would only
furnish me with the means of travelling through Laos without expense,
and would bring the Chaiapume mandarin to reason.” The poor governor
of Saraburi was with us, and had to remain more than an hour amidst a
number of others kneeling on the bare ground, while I was seated on
the mat of the mandarin, by his side, eating sweetmeats and drinking
tea, while he dictated a letter in which he called the governor of
Chaiapume a fool, and threatened to deprive him of his office, and
of this letter I was to be the bearer; and he promised me another
general one on the morrow, in which he stated that if I did not receive
efficient aid it might bring on a war; and this he also repeated to
all the chiefs present. My cause was gained, and I could plainly see
that our affairs must be going on well in Cochin China; the echo of
the cannon had its effect in Siam. However, I had promised him my
gun, and evidently he wished to have it before he gave me the letters.
This morning, therefore, I took it to him all cleaned and furbished
up. He was delighted with it, and gave me at once the letter for Korat
and Chaiapume, and to-morrow I am to have one which will carry me all
through Laos without any expense but a few ticals to the cornacs.
Without this, judging by what I had to pay for an elephant from Korat
to Chaiapume, my purse would have been exhausted by the time I reached
the north of Laos, and I should not have had the means of returning
without sending to Bangkok to ask for help, which would have been a
work of difficulty, and, what is worse, I should have been exposed
all along the route to the insolence of these arrogant mandarins.
Now, they will all humble themselves before me, taking me for some
important personage sent by the Emperor Napoleon or Queen Victoria to
collect butterflies, insects, and birds for them. I shall no longer
travel on foot, but on elephants, and shall want for nothing. Agree,
then, with me, that out of evil comes good, or rather, that God does
all for the best. When at Chaiapume I found myself obliged to retrace
my steps, after so many fatigues, and so great a waste of money, I was
only downcast for a few minutes; God almost immediately inspired me
with the idea that all would turn to my advantage, and this persuasion
never left me again. Unaccountably to myself, I was gayer on my return
than I had been in coming, although then I was everywhere well received
and kindly treated by the people. Even after my discourteous reception
at Chaiapume, all the inhabitants came to see me, to bring me little
presents, and to express their regret that they could not aid me from
fear of their chief. The head of the monastery took me to see some
ruins similar to those in Cambodia, and gave me a tiger-skin; and all
along the road I experienced the same kindness, and numbers came to me
to ask for advice and various remedies.

The Chinese are all my friends. When I returned to this town, you
should have seen them all run out to see me, and those at whose houses
I had stopped were full of inquiries as to my affairs, and crying out
“Ah! here is the gentleman back again.” The next day would be their New
Year’s Day, which they keep as a feast as we do Christmas. “I have come
back to feast with you to-morrow,” replied I; and the next day I was so
loaded with cakes and other good things that I have not finished them
yet.

You must arm yourself with patience, dear Annette, for I have not
yet finished. I learned this morning that a French ship of war is at
Paknam, I presume for the purpose of taking back the Siamese Ambassador
who has been so long expected in France. The king must be delighted,
for he has a great dread of any quarrel with France or England now that
he has seen their power. They may very probably come here, and at the
risk of losing three days I shall wait and see, for, doubtless, the
officer would receive me well, and do more for me than the Consul did.
After that, I shall go to Bangkok, where I shall remain only a day, in
order to buy a few necessaries in which I was beginning to run short,
such as camphor, shoes, cloth, and a gun, and to get a little money, 50
or 100 ticals, from M. Adamson, who will willingly advance it to me, as
he promised; and above all, to receive all the dear letters from home,
of which a number must be lying at Dr. Campbell’s.

My useless voyage to Chaiapume diminished my resources, and it would
be great pity that the want of a few hundred francs should force me to
return before I have completed my journey, and before I have finished
collecting what will amply repay all my expenses.

In a few days I will add a line to this letter to tell you the result
of my interview with the officer, and of my journey to Bangkok. I shall
hear news also from your letters; let them only be good, and I shall be
happy. I must now close my letter for to-day, my dear Annette; some day
you will see my journal, and read all my adventures in detail. I can
write no more to-day, but only repeat my assurance that I am perfectly
well, in spite of all trials, thanks to my prudence and sobriety. Show
this letter or anything that is interesting in it to all friends. I
speak only of my own affairs, but you know I am not changed. And yet a
few words of love would doubtless be more prized by you, but were I to
write a thousand I could not express half the love with which my heart
is filled for you all; indeed I fear to begin, for that would have no
end. I write all this on my knees; my back aches, and now I must go and
seek some repose. Au revoir! I trust soon to send you still better news
than this. I embrace you a thousand times from the bottom of my heart,
as well as all those dear to us, and am ever

  Your devoted husband,

  H. MOUHOT.


TO MADAME MOUHOT.

  Saraburi, 25th February, 1861.

MY VERY DEAR ANNETTE,

I reached Korat two days ago, and in four more I hope to be able to
proceed northward. I have been obliged to travel on foot, not having
been able to procure elephants at Saraburi; my baggage was carried by
oxen. I feel perfectly well, and experience so little fatigue that on
the day of my arrival here I walked about till evening.

I write you these few lines only to set your mind at ease,
for--surrounded from morning till night by curious gazers who have
never before seen a European--it would be difficult to enter into
details, but, in truth, my journey furnished but few. I travelled with
Laotians, and found them very kind; in a few days I shall be in the
heart of their country, and think I shall find them superior to the
Siamese. I regret that this letter will be short, but I have little to
tell since I wrote last; when I am quietly settled in some little hut
in the midst of a village, I can write at my ease if an opportunity
presents itself.

Be easy on my account, dear Annie, and feel sure that God will not
abandon me; all my confidence is in Him, and this will never deceive
me. He will sustain and protect you also, and this assurance gives me
strength.

Adieu, my good Annette; take great care of yourself. I embrace you
tenderly, and am ever your devoted and affectionate husband,

  H. MOUHOT.

P.S.--I shall set off to-morrow. Yesterday I visited an old pagoda;
there is another, but to which I shall not be able to go, as it would
cost me 9 ticals, and take several days, and I shall be obliged to be
excessively economical. Yesterday I had a visit from a mandarin, the
viceroy of the province. He was very amiable, and promised me a letter,
but the people are so kind that I have really no need of it, and even
the disagreeable ones I manage to gain over.

Adieu, my love. Do not forget me, but do not be uneasy. May God grant
to you the same tranquillity and confidence that I feel and make you
as happy as I am. Do not complain of the shortness of this letter; you
cannot imagine how I am pestered by gazers and idlers.

Embrace your dear mamma for me, to whom I wish good health; say
everything kind to Kate, &c. Once more, adieu, and au revoir! Your
devoted HENRI. I shall write whenever I find an opportunity.


TO MADAME CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Louang Prabang (Laos), 23rd July, 1861.

Now, my dear Jenny, let us converse together. Do you know of what I
often think when every one around me is asleep, and I, lying wrapped in
my mosquito-curtains, let my thoughts wander back to all the members of
my family? Then I seem to hear again the charming voice of my little
Jenny, and to be listening once more to ‘La Traviata,’ ‘The Death of
Nelson,’ or some other of the airs that I loved so much to hear you
sing. I then feel regret, mingled with joy, at the souvenirs of the
happy--oh, how happy!--past. Then I open the gauze curtains, light
my pipe, and gaze out upon the stars, humming softly the ‘Pâtre’ of
Béranger, or the ‘Old Sergeant,’ and thinking that one day I may return
Corporal or Sergeant of the battalion of Naturalists.

Perhaps all this does not interest you, but you may feel sure that I do
not forget you nor your children; so let me, my dear child, talk to you
as we used to talk in the old times as we sat by the fire. When shall
we do so again?

In another year, or perhaps two, dear Jenny, I shall think of returning
to you all for some time. Shall you be very angry, my dear little
sister, when I say that it will be with regret?--for I should wish to
visit the whole of the mountains that I can see from my window. I say
“window,” but here such a luxury is unknown: I live in a shed without
either doors or windows--a room open to every wind.

I would wish, I repeat, to cross the whole network of mountains which
extend northward, see what lies beyond them, visit China or Thibet, and
see the Calmucks or the Irkoutsk. But, alas! I cannot trust my dear
insects. I say “my dear insects” as you would say “my dear children” to
the king of Louang Prabang.

How does all go on at Jersey?--for I hope that you are still there.
Your children form your happiness, and you can dispense easily with
travelling, or with those people commonly called “friends”--nothing is
so general as the name, or so rare as the reality--and you are right;
yet I consider a true friend as a real treasure. I may be wrong, for
man is so constituted as always to long for what he has not, but I wish
I had friends around me here; these places, now often gloomy, would
please me more.

I hoped that at the king’s return I should have the happiness of
hearing from you; but I am told that his journey will occupy a year,
and before that time I shall be away from here.

I hope, my little friend, that all is well with you. Embrace your
dear children for me, and talk to them sometimes about their uncle
“Barberousse,” who often thinks of them in this distant land, and is
collecting stories for their amusement on his return. Ask C---- what I
shall bring him--a monkey, a sabre to cut off M----’s dolls’ heads--no,
that would give him warlike ideas, and I do not like our modern
soldiers--or a tiger-skin for a carpet. I have several. And your pretty
little M----, will she have an ape, a fan, some Chinese slippers (for
she must have feet which would be small even in China), some marabout
feathers, or a cane to keep her brothers in order?

Adieu, adieu! Au revoir! Do not forget me.


TO MADAME MOUHOT.

  Laos, Louang Prabang, 27th July, 1861.

During my journey through the forests I enjoyed in anticipation the
pleasure I should enjoy on reaching Louang Prabang, the capital of
the province of Laos, in writing you good long letters containing all
details of my journey; but I reckoned without my host, and it will be
several weeks before I can enjoy any repose, or carry my wishes into
execution.

In the villages through which I passed no great degree of curiosity was
manifested; but here, where the population is greater, I am surrounded
by a compact and curious crowd, which extends even to the walls of a
pagoda adjoining the caravanserai where I am lodged by the favour of
his Majesty the King. Besides, I, in my turn, see people of various
nations and tribes who excite my curiosity. Judge, therefore, if it
be easy to collect my ideas. However, I profit by the occasion of the
king’s departure for Bangkok in a few days to pay his tribute, and who
has offered to take charge of any letters for me, to give some signs of
life to you.

You will be happy to hear that I have accomplished this troublesome
journey satisfactorily, without the loss of a single man, and without
any personal illness. Indeed, my health has been very good, which is
more than I can say for my servants, who are so kind and devoted to me.
I am even astonished at myself, having gone through the mountainous
district which separates the basin of the Menam from that of the Mekon,
a place much dreaded by the Siamese, and covered with virgin-forests
like those of Dong Phya Phia, without having had a single touch of
fever, or, indeed, any indisposition, with the exception of _migraine_,
caused by the heat of the sun, and having my feet in a very bad state.

I bless God for the favour granted to me of having accomplished these
perilous journeys, and trust wholly to His goodness for the future.

I am now more than 250 leagues north of the place where two years ago
I first drank the waters of the Mekon. This immense stream, which
is larger here than the Menam at Bangkok or the Thames below London
Bridge, flows between high mountains with the rapidity of a torrent,
tearing up in the rainy season the trees along the banks, and breaking
with a noise like that of a stormy sea against the rocks, which form a
number of frightful rapids.

I arrived here only the day before yesterday, after a journey of four
months and ten days; but I stopped in several places, for I often found
fields ready to cut in the rice-grounds that the mountaineers cultivate
on the slopes of the mountains, and when the crops are cut down insects
abound.

My collections made during the journey are very valuable and beautiful,
and I have a great number of new species, both entomological and
conchological, with which, if they only reach London in safety, our
friends will be delighted. All the beautiful kinds that I was asked
for, but which elsewhere are so rare that with great trouble I was only
able to procure one or two specimens, I have now in great abundance,
and also many new sorts. Here I hope to do still better.

They are all savages in this province, and I have just received a visit
from two young princes remarkable for their stupidity.

I have suffered little from the heat, in spite of the season, which is
easy to understand, as I have been always amidst thick forests or on
mountains. In the valleys the air is heavy, and the heat overwhelming;
but everywhere the nights were so fresh that my wraps were useful and
almost indispensable. In a few months we shall probably want fire. I
prefer this climate to that of the South; there are few mosquitoes
(that plague of the tropics and especially of Siam) in comparison with
other places--indeed, in some of these parts I have not found any.

Thanks to the Governor of Korat, who gave me an excellent letter to the
mandarins, I have travelled at little expense; without it, I should
have paid much more, and have suffered every kind of inconvenience.
Everywhere I have been furnished with elephants (as many as seven in
some provinces), an escort, guard, and plenty of provisions.

I had this morning an audience of the great body of State Mandarins,
like the House of Peers with us. Twenty of them were assembled in a
vast caravanserai, and presided over by the eldest prince. You may form
some idea of the dignity of these gentlemen by the drawing which I will
send to you.

My plan is to pass six or eight months of the good season in the
neighbouring villages, in order to complete my collection, and next
January or March I will try to go north or east, where I shall pass
a few more months amidst the Laotian tribes. Probably I shall go no
farther, for China would be a barrier to me on the north, and Cochin
China on the east. I shall then return here, and go down the Mekon in
July or August, 1862, the time when the waters are high, and shall
thus reach Korat in a few weeks. I am yet uncertain whether I shall
stop there, whether I shall explore the eastern part of the river,
or whether I shall go to Cambodia. All my movements depend upon
circumstances that may arise. I shall try to profit by all that are
favourable, and that will contribute to give interest to my journey.

Do not be anxious when you think of your poor friend the traveller, for
you know that up to the present time everything has prospered with him:
and truly I experience a degree of contentment, strength of soul, and
internal peace, which I have never known before.

[_Same Letter._]

  Louang Prabang, 8th August, 1861.

No event could have caused more sensation here than the arrival of
“the long-bearded stranger.” From the humblest to the greatest--for
even here are distinctions of rank--every one looks on a “white” as a
natural curiosity, and they are not yet satisfied with looking--nothing
is talked of but the stranger. When I pass through the town in my white
dress, to go to the market or to visit the pagodas or other interesting
places, the people crowd round me, and look after me as long as they
can catch a glimpse of me. Everywhere I go complete silence reigns, and
I am treated as though I were a sovereign or prince, and the council,
by order of the king, have given to me as to them power of life or
death over his subjects. Poor people! why can I not raise you from the
abasement into which you have fallen--I am overwhelmed with presents of
all kinds in return for the slightest favour shown to these unfortunate
people. They seem to me some of the most to be pitied that I have seen;
even the women and children are opium-eaters: they might really be
called a nation of cretins.

The heat is greater here than any I have felt; when the sun shines,
and there has been no rain for several days, I find it worse than at
Bangkok; still the nights are generally pleasant, and from the month of
December to the end of March I am told that it is really cold.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Louang Prabang, West Laos, 27th July, 1861.

As you will have the opportunity, my dear brother, of reading my other
letters, I shall not write to you at length; but, nevertheless, I must
give you some details as to my journey to Laos, although I cannot tell
whether the crowd of curious gazers around me will permit me to write
as I would wish; if not, you must blame them and not me.

On the 10th April I wrote you from Korat, and I think you must also
have received a message which I sent to you by a good and honest
Chinese, who has been very useful to me, and from whom I have received
more help and kindness than from any other of the mandarins.

I was not then in good spirits, for I doubted whether I should be able
to accomplish the journey for which I had already suffered so many
annoyances, one of which was having to return to Korat to procure more
useful letters than those which I had taken with me on starting. At
last I obtained one from the Viceroy of Korat, which was the only one
of service to me, and which sufficed to secure me aid and protection
during my whole journey to Laos.

From Korat to Bangkok you know that I travelled in company with an
animal who has a title equal to that of the greatest Siamese mandarin,
and who was served by two inferior mandarins, who gave him his meals
composed of cakes, biscuits, and sweetmeats out of golden dishes;
and who had slaves sent before him to clear the way and cut down the
brushwood and branches, for this elephant, according to the Siamese
superstition and ignorance, possesses the soul of some deceased prince
or king. They called him a white elephant, but in reality he had only
a few spots of that colour on his body. Alas! The king and all his
mandarins are now in mourning, for the object of their worship died of
indigestion. Poor beast and poor king!

I have travelled a long way since I last wrote, and God has protected
me. I crossed the mountains and went through the most dreaded jungles
in the rainy season without losing a man, and without having suffered
myself. My travelling expenses were comparatively small to what they
might have been; everywhere I was furnished gratis with elephants,
escorts, guards, and provisions (rice and fowls), as though I were an
envoy from the king, and all this owing solely to a letter from the
Viceroy of Korat.

I have made a good collection of coleoptera, and have procured a number
of excessively rare and beautiful species. I have also obtained some
very rare and interesting conchological specimens. As for animals, I
have but few; some monkeys and a good many serpents.

In a week I shall be settled in a new place, where I intend to spend
four or five months, and by the end of the year I trust to have 4000
insects.

The Mekon is a large and beautiful stream, full of rocks, which form
frightful rapids in the rainy season. I shall descend it at the season
when the waters are high, and when the navigation though dangerous is
easy and rapid. I can then reach Cambodia in a month if I like, but I
am undecided whether or not I shall go eastward towards the 15th degree
of latitude.

It seems to me, my dear brother, that my happiness would be complete
if I could have good news of you all; but, alas! more than a year
must elapse before I shall hear. The last letters I received were in
January; yet I am resigned, since I willingly embraced this career,
which has been the dream of my whole life, for you remember how in our
young days, when we still had the happiness of a tender mother to guide
us, and impress on us, by her example, virtuous principles, religion,
and the love of mankind, we delighted to roam the woods of our dear
native place, to draw from nature, and how I stuffed the birds that we
took in snares or nets.

That time is long passed, my friend, but I trust in God, who will I
hope watch over you. I think of you every day in my solitude, and in
the long nights when we bivouac beside the fires lighted to keep off
the wild beasts, a scene of which I will send you a drawing before long.

What are your dear children doing--I picture to myself all the
happiness they give you and your dear Jenny; she is well I hope. Ah! my
friend, protect them all with a tender affection, and endeavour by your
love, your care, and your example, to render them all happy and good.

There is one subject on which I can hardly write, that of our dear old
father; it would make me too sad to think he was not happy; console
him for my absence, write to him often, repeat to him how much I love
him, that he is always associated in my thoughts with the memory of our
good and worthy mother. But I have no need to recommend all this to
you: have you not ever been good to him, a worthy son? therefore I am
without anxiety on this point.

I do not speak to you of any of my physical sufferings, for I hold
mental ones to be the only ones worth thinking of; but you may imagine
that one cannot make a four months’ journey on elephants, who toss and
shake one like a stormy sea, without fatigue, and that the heat, the
long bad nights generally passed at the foot of some tree, and the
wretched food, are all painful. But what matters all this? I am used to
it, and my patience is inexhaustible. In truth, this life is happiness
to me; how joyful I am when I find a new insect, or see a monkey fall
from a tree! I do not therefore complain. The nights here are pleasant,
and the mosquitoes not numerous.

The men of this nation are dull and apathetic and full of small vices.
The women are generally better, and some of them are even pretty in
spite of their yellow skins, but they have little idea of modesty. The
men and women all bathe together without any clothing. But for the
people, Louang Prabang would be one of the most charming places in the
world: the lake of Geneva does not present scenes more beautiful than
many here by the river.

After waiting for ten days I have at length been presented to the king
with great pomp. The reception room was a shed such as they build in
our villages on fête-days, but larger and hung with every possible
colour. His Majesty was enthroned at one end of the hall, lazily
reclining on a divan, having on his right hand four guards squatting
down, and each holding a sabre: behind were the princes all prostrated,
and farther off the senators, with their backs to the public and their
faces in the dust; then in front of his Majesty was your poor brother,
dressed all in white, and seated on a carpet, with teacups, basins, and
spittoons in silver placed by his side, contemplating this grotesque
scene, and having some trouble to preserve his gravity as he smoked
his pipe. This visit cost me a gun for the king and various small
presents for the princes, for one cannot travel here without being well
furnished with presents for the kings, princes, and mandarins. Luckily
it is not here as in Siam; the natives are willing to help me, and for
a few inches of brass wire I get a beautiful longicorn or some other
insect, and these are brought to me on all sides: thus I have succeeded
in largely increasing my collection, but five pieces of red cloth have
disappeared already.

The day after my first audience I had another from the second king,
who wished also for a present. I sought among my stock, which anywhere
else would cause me to be taken for a dealer in old stores, and found
a magnifying glass and a pair of old-fashioned spectacles with round
glasses, which make him look like a gorilla without hair, a little
cake of soap (he had great need of it), a bottle of eau-de-cologne,
and a bottle of brandy. This last was opened on the spot and duly
appreciated. You see all this is expensive, but I am obliged to pay
these good people, and the king has been kind to me, and is going
to carry my letters for me. It is lucky that he does not understand
French; for if at Bangkok the same system of postal curiosity was
carried on as was established in Europe by the great king who betrayed
La Vallière, I should be hung from the highest tree they could find,
without even a warning. I afterwards distributed among the princes some
engravings which I had bought at Bangkok--fine Cossack cavalry, lance
in rest; some Napoleons (the First), for which I gave a penny; and some
battles of Magenta, portraits of Victor Emmanuel and of Garibaldi, very
white, blue, and red, and some Zouaves; also some brass-headed nails
and some brandy; and it was quite pleasing to see how delighted they
were, regretting only that I should go away before I had given them my
whole stock.


TO SAMUEL STEVENS, ESQ.

[To be communicated to the Royal Geographical Society.]

  Louang Prabang, 1st August, 1861.
  Lat. 20° 50′, long. 102° 35′ 3″, merid. Greenwich.

  DEAR MR. STEVENS,

Being entirely cut off from all communication with Bangkok, from which
I am nearly 700 miles distant, is the only reason why you have not
heard from me for so long a time.

In January last I quitted the Siamese province of Saraburi, where
during four months I had been making active exertions in order to
enable me to penetrate into Western Laos, and to explore the basin
of the Mekon. Unluckily in March I was forced, after having at great
expense proceeded 350 miles, to return to Bangkok, in order to claim
more assistance and protection than had hitherto been accorded to me,
and a passport to counteract the difficulties continually thrown in my
way by the mandarins, a class not less jealous and greedy here than
in China. A letter of recommendation which had been voluntarily given
to me (on my departure in October, 1860) by the Khrôme Louang Wougsâ,
who is considered to be the prince best disposed towards Europeans in
all Siam, and who has the superintendence of all the country which I
intended to visit, turned out after all to be only a kind of letter of
Bellerophon’s. In spite of all my entreaties and valuable presents I
obtained nothing better; still I set off again.

I have passed three times through the forest of the Dong Phya Phia,
which separates Korat from the ancient Siamese provinces of the
south and east. This thick jungle covers a space of thirty miles in
breadth,--that is to say, the chain of mountains which separates the
basin of the Mekon from that of the Menam.

After passing the mountains you reach a sandy and generally arid plain,
where nothing is to be seen but resinous trees of stunted growth,
bamboos, underwood, and sometimes only grass; but in some places a
richer soil permits cultivation, and there fields of rice and bananas
have been established. I found in this district both oligist and
magnetic iron.

In the bed of a torrent I also discovered gold and copper in two
different places. This district is rich and abundant in precious
minerals, neglected or unknown until now, except by a small tribe of
400 or 500 Kariens, without doubt a remnant of the aborigines, who a
short time ago, in order to preserve their independence, retired into
almost inaccessible places, thirty or forty miles eastward of the
tracts traversed by the caravans. Monkeys, panthers, elephants, and
other wild beasts are the only inhabitants of this mountain, which the
natives regard as the abode of death on account of its insalubrity.

Korat Ongcor Aithe of the Cambodians was formerly the bulwark of
Cambodia on the north and west: a solid rampart supported by a large
épaulement, the work of Khmer Dôme (the ancient Cambodians), still
surrounds the town. It is at present governed by a Siamese mandarin of
the first class, a kind of viceroy, but the ancient inhabitants have
nearly disappeared, and it contains only about 300 Chinese or their
descendants, small resident merchants, 300 other individuals who go
about the country trading, and 1500 or 2000 Laotians, Cambodians, and
Siamese, who, like wolves or jackals which follow an army or caravan,
have come there from all parts of the kingdom, or have remained there
after the wars of Laos and Cambodia, in order to lead a life in
harmony with their inclinations, attacking travellers and Chinese
merchants, in fact a hand of miscreants, with few exceptions destitute
of all good qualities.

In the environs are two temples, which would do honour to the founders
of the Cambodian edifices: one of them is in good preservation, and of
this I have made a drawing. The style, architecture, and workmanship
are all alike; one would say that the same artists and workmen had
drawn the plans and executed them. Again you see those immense blocks,
beautifully cut, joined without cement, and covered with carving and
bas-reliefs.

One of these temples is situated about thirty miles from the town, and
is said to have been founded by a Queen; the other, nine miles to the
east, is supposed to have been built by the King her husband. Much
farther east it is said that there are others containing beautiful
sculptures, but I have not been able to visit them, as they are out of
my route.

Want of means for the easy and advantageous removal of merchandise,
causes Korat to be the central market for all the eastern part of the
country. There they bring all the silk of Laos, langoutis, skins,
horns, ivory, peacocks’ tails, &c., which the active Chinese merchants
sell again at a good profit at Bangkok, notwithstanding all the taxes
they have to pay, having brought from thence cotton and other useful
articles of Chinese and European manufacture for the use of the
natives. Thus there passes daily through the forest of Dong Phya Phia,
on the average, a caravan of from 100 to 150 oxen. With protective
instead of restrictive laws, and an enlightened and civilized
government, this commerce would increase threefold in a very short time.

Notwithstanding the small population of Korat, it is the chief town of
a province, or rather an extensive state, containing eleven towns or
boroughs, chief towns of districts, and a great number of villages,
more or less populated. Fifteen days’ journey brings you from Korat to
Bassac on the banks of the Mekon, and in the same latitude.

My intention was to proceed northwards, only stopping in the province
of Louang Prabang, and then to descend the river as far as Cambodia.
I hired elephants, and five days after, having passed through several
villages inhabited by the descendants of ancient Siamese colonists who
had taken refuge there in time of war, passing continually through
forests of resin trees thinly scattered, I arrived at Ban Prang,
a village where I discovered a ruined tower, and also the remains
of an ancient temple. The next place I arrived at was Chaiapoune,
the principal Laotian town in the north, and the chief town of the
district. Here also I found ruins; but they were inconsiderable, and
seemed more like a Laotian imitation than the work of Khmer Dôme. The
inscriptions on the other temples in the province of Korat resemble
those of Ongcor: here I found upon a block of broken slate-stone an
inscription in Laotian characters, but which is unintelligible even
to the inhabitants of the country. These, with some remains of idols
and towers at the foot of a mountain in the district, were the only
vestiges of that ancient civilization which I discovered in the north.
Everything leads me to suppose that here also were the limits which
separated the kingdom of Cambodia from that of Vieng Thiane, destroyed
during the last war which the Siamese raised against the Western
Laotians or _white-bellies_. It was in this district that I was stopped
in my travels by the authorities of the country, who treated me with
great rudeness, and who forbade the people to let me have any means of
transport, even after seeing my passport. I was therefore obliged to
retrace my steps, deploring the expense and loss of time in the best
part of the year, and which will cause me serious inconvenience.




LETTERS ADDRESSED TO M. MOUHOT.[10]

[10] Several of these letters were never received by M. Mouhot.


FROM M. GUILLOUX.

  Brelum, among the Stiêns, 12th August, 1859.

DEAR M. MOUHOT,

It must be allowed that you have plenty of courage; and before knowing
you, I feel a strong interest in you; indeed, I feel as though I loved
you already. You will be very welcome, and must share pot-luck with me,
like a brother, will you not? I trust you will not be scandalized at
any of our ways; for among the savages we live in rather an uncivilized
fashion. But with good hearts all will go well.

Your servant Nhu arrived yesterday among the Stiêns at Brelum, quite
tired with the journey, and with his feet in a sad state. A few days’
rest, however, will restore him. He looks to me like a good fellow.
You may be sure we shall take care of him, as well as of your little
Chinese when he arrives.

You must never trust to the word of a Cambodian, dear M. Mouhot; they
are terrible boasters.

You are two long days’ journey from us, and will have to pass one night
in the forest. We will try to send you one or two vehicles. These,
with a good covering and a fire, will preserve you from injury from
the night air. You say, too, that you are accustomed to sleep on the
ground; it is well to be able to do everything.

Unluckily, my feet are very bad just now, or I should have
been delighted to come and meet you. I will send the three
carriages--carriages! wretched carts rather! There will be an Annamite
seminarist to lead the caravan; he is a good fellow, and clever at that
kind of work. You can talk to him in Latin. Two of the carts are drawn
by oxen, and one by buffaloes; but if they are not enough to bring your
luggage, ask the Cambodians boldly for more, and show them your letter
from the king.

Our carts will arrive one day after the return of the Cambodians; when
you arrive I will explain why. I trust that will be soon. I wish you a
good journey. Keep your gun loaded, for animals of all kinds abound.
But you will find here warm hearts, patriotism, and, above all, no
ceremony.


FROM M. CHAS. FONTAINE.

  Pinhalú, Cambodia.

DEAR M. MOUHOT,

I think of you in your peregrinations, and I feel sure that you
must meet with many obstacles and difficulties; but with patience,
perseverance, and help from on high, a great deal may be done.

As for myself, I have not got rid of my atony--for such is my illness.
At first I obtained some relief by means of opium as an astringent
and quinine as a tonic, and by great attention to diet, living almost
wholly on broth; a piece of meat, or even an egg, throws me back for a
week.

M. Guilloux set off in good health on the 9th January. He tells me that
you have promised to go and see his relations when you return to France.

I shall never forget, dear M. Mouhot, the pleasure that I experienced
in the few days that I passed in your society; such days are so rare in
our missionary life.

All is quiet just now in Cambodia; the forts or redoubts are guarded
only by a few men. Mgr. Miche is expected to return from Komput about
the end of March. Shall I be so happy as to receive news of you? It
would give me great pleasure, and recall that which I have already
experienced in our meeting in this life. Let us hope to be re-united,
no more to part, in a happier one.

Pray receive my kindest remembrances, and believe me, dear M. Mouhot,

  Your true friend in the Lord,

  MARIE CHS. FONTAINE.


FROM M. CHAS. FONTAINE.

  Singapore, 29th May, 1860.

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND, M. MOUHOT,

Your two kind and welcome letters, one from Battambong on the 7th
March, and the other from Bangkok on the 3rd May, reached me when I
was about three days’ distance from Singapore, where I had gone for my
health, and which I reached in April, after having passed the whole
month of March in Bangkok.

I must tell you that MM. Arnoux and Guilloux have been able to buy
five or six little savage children, and that they now meet with a
little more kindness from the natives than they did. When France shall
reign in Cochin China, and the natives can shake off the yoke of
the Cambodians, it is to be hoped that they will be better disposed
towards religion. The king has already discovered the mistake he made
in attacking the Annamites, who may fall upon him without dread of
the French. Mgr. Miche thinks that the daily flight of the Cambodian
soldiers will avoid new provocation, and that the war may not take
place; but every one is on the _qui vive_. The king has sent a letter
to ask for silence on the part of M. Miche. They are fawning curs now;
but on the slightest return of good fortune, their arrogance will be
redoubled.

You gave me much pleasure, dear M. Mouhot, by your promise to visit my
family at Laval. If you go near there, I shall expect no less from your
kindness.

I hope to see you again, either at Singapore or at Saigon, before your
return to Europe. May the good God guide your steps and preserve your
life in this country, where death finds so many victims! I beg it
through the intercession of our common mother.

Believe in my cordial friendship.

  Yours most truly, in Jesus and Mary,

  M. CH. FONTAINE.


FROM M. GUILLOUX.

  Among the Stiêns at Brelum, 1st October, 1860.

DEAR M. MOUHOT,

I received your welcome letter of the 4th May, and it is impossible to
tell you the pleasure it gave me. I was much pleased to hear that you
were still in good health. May the good God aid and bless your efforts,
and send you home safe and well to your family and country!

I sympathize sincerely with you in your disappointment at not meeting
at Bangkok with more kindness among those from whom you had a right
to expect aid and protection, and who are paid well for that purpose.
Alas! how weak we all are when we rely for aid only on men like
ourselves. But you, dear M. Mouhot, do not do so; you know how to seek
support from a higher source; and while you remain the submissive child
of God, be sure He will not abandon you.

I went to Pinhalú last month, and brought back a young Annamite with
me, but the poor fellow died.

You see I can travel; but I am not strong. I have been often ill since
your departure; and M. Arnoux is going this time to undertake the
journey to Cambodia. May God bring him back safe and well!

The affairs of Cochin China are very bad; debauchery and infamy are
rife at Saigon. So many crimes cannot bring a blessing on the colony.

No news from China.

Adieu, dear M. Mouhot. Believe me ever one of your most faithful
friends,

GUILLOUX.


FROM DR. CAMPBELL, R.N.

  Bangkok, 15th Dec. 1860.

MY DEAR M. MOUHOT,

Your letters of the 30th October and 20th November were duly delivered
to me on the 12th instant. I was naturally rejoiced to find you
continue in good health and spirits; and I sincerely trust you will be
able, on each occasion you write, to give me a like favourable account.

Since you left there has been little or no change in Bangkok, the only
domestic item I have to communicate being the recent marriage of Dr.
Brady’s eldest daughter to one of the missionaries named M’Gilvary, who
used to stay with Dr. House.

Only one European letter has arrived for you, but I enclose others
from Mr. Wilson and Mr. Adamson, and, by the way, some newspapers
from him and M. Malherbe. The latter will probably write to you; if
so, I shall enclose his letter. The box from Europe also accompanies
this letter. Luckily it has arrived in time; but I only received it
yesterday. I forward you the evening mails just arrived by last vessel.
I could send you all that have come to hand since you left; but as it
is a voluminous paper, it would take up much space, and you might not
care to wade through all of them, in spite of the stirring events in
Europe. Garibaldi, you will perceive, has liberated Sicily, and all
but done likewise for the Neapolitan kingdom. The King of Naples left
his capital without firing a shot; but made a stand at Capua, where
his Neapolitans and mercenaries made a determined though ineffectual
resistance. The King of Sardinia in the mean time has invaded the
Marches, and now it is believed the states of the Pope are wrested from
him, Rome and the suburban villages alone being retained for him by
the French army stationed at Rome. It is not believed that an attempt
will be made to take Rome or Venice, as that would be encountering the
two great military Continental Powers, Austria and France. And it is
supposed that the aim of the King of Sardinia, in invading the states
of the Church and Naples, is to prevent the too ardent Garibaldi from
fulfilling his threat of no peace till the Quirinal and the palace of
the Doges be emancipated. However, all this you will see by the papers
herewith.

The China war is over. The combined forces advanced and took Pekin.
The emperor fled; but a treaty has been signed, and a large sum as
indemnity--though, I believe, not equal to the outlay--is to be given
to the European belligerents.

A Dutch ship is now here with an ambassador to make a treaty.

At Bangkok we have had higher tides this season than there have been
for several years. The place continues healthy.

I forward you some calomel as requested. Calomel is a good purgative,
and it might be well occasionally to take one such in preference to
others; but castor oil is the safest where there is any irritation of
the bowels. In such cases it should alone be used; though, if you
fancy there be derangement of the liver, it would be well to use the
mineral.

M. Malherbe has made up his mind to stay in Bangkok. As soon as his
successor comes out, he (M. M.) will live near Santa Cruz, at the house
owned by Mr. Hunter.

There is a chance of the second king going to Saraburi shortly in a
steamer; so, if I think newspapers would reach you before the Chinaman,
I may send you some, if a mail arrives by that time. However, I shall
not, you may depend upon it, forget to attend to your wishes; but I
really fear, after leaving Korat, it will be difficult to send you
letters. Even to Korat it will not be easy; but though you did not tell
me to send thither, I will do so, if possible, within two or three
months; after that date it would be precarious, and I shall not do
so. However, you can often, by the governors, have an opportunity of
writing to me; and if you have altered any of your plans, or think of
doing so, let me know, so that I may forward news if an opportunity
offers for doing so.

The articles sent are: one large box from Mr. Adamson, one small ditto
from Malherbe, one ditto from England, one parcel of papers from Mr.
Swainson, one ditto from myself; three letters (besides this one) are
enclosed in the box from M. Malherbe, which I will seal after enclosing
this. The calomel is also in the same box.

And now, wishing you a prosperous, pleasant journey, believe me,

  Yours very sincerely,

  JAS. CAMPBELL.

P.S.--Remember, whenever you return, I shall expect you to come direct
to my house, and make it your own.


FROM M. E. SILVESTRE.

  Battambong, 26th Nov. 1860.

DEAR M. MOUHOT,

I had the honour of writing to you in September last; did you receive
my letter? As I did not know the courier, and am ignorant whether his
fidelity was to be depended upon, I do not wish to lose a sure occasion
which presents itself of recalling myself to your remembrance.

It is now the end of the rainy season, and I think that you must have
returned from your expedition. I trust it has been successful, and that
you have not left your courage and good health behind you on the banks
of the Mekon or in the forests of Laos.

I had promised to collect for you some “sinsei;” but the ants, true
Garibaldians, have annexed them during my journey to Pinhalú, and all
that I have been able to collect since are as nothing compared to what
the first rains brought with them. Such as they are, I send them to
you; they are few in number, but for that you must blame the ants.

I have just had a visit from M. Miche and M. Arnoux. They only remained
a few days; and in spite of his wish to see Ongcor, M. Arnoux was
unable to go there.

They are raising troops here, preparing arms, and getting ready to
assist the Cambodians against the Annamites. The death of the King of
Cambodia will perhaps put an end to these fine projects.

The mandarin who was sent by the King of Siam to carry away the stones
from Ongcor, and bring them to Bangkok, has been assassinated in the
“Pra Sat Ea proum,” and the mandarins of Ongcor are accused of the
murder; but they say that those of Battambong had a hand in it. They
have, therefore, all been sent for to Bangkok for judgment, and among
them the son of our late governor. You see we are not over tranquil
here. The war particularly terrifies my poor Battambongians.

Mgr. Miche is going to Bangkok in January or February; perhaps you may
be there.

  Receive the assurance, &c.,

  E. SILVESTRE.


FROM M. LARNAUDIE.[11]

[11] M. Larnaudie accompanied the Siamese Ambassador to Paris, as
interpreter, in 1860.

  Pakprio, 25th January, 1861.

MY DEAR FRIEND, M. MOUHOT,

I have just received the two letters which you were kind enough to
write to me from Kong Khoc, containing enclosures for MM. Arnoux and
Silvestre. I much regretted not finding you here, that I might have had
the pleasure of seeing you once more, and of conversing with you again
before your departure for Laos. I am glad to hear that you have been
able to do something at Khao-Khoc in spite of the advanced season.

I wish you much success in your new sphere of action. Do you know that
I sometimes envy you? Do not forget to procure some skins of the argus
pheasant; I think it differs from those of the Malayan peninsula. Take
great care of your health; and if you are in want of anything which can
be sent to you by way of Korat, write to me for it.

The young man who will give you this is a Christian and an associate
of Cheek-Ke; he is a worthy lad, and you may trust him with your
collections, if you have been able to make any in going through Don
Phya Phia. All the Laotians declare that in that forest there is a kind
of orang-outang which they call Bua, and which they say is only to be
distinguished from an old man by its having no joints in its knees.
Among all their fables there is probably some truth; try to find out.

Excuse this scrawl; I write on my knees.

  Your sincere friend,

  LARNAUDIE.


FROM M. E. SILVESTRE.

  Battambong, 4th January, 1862.[12]

[12] This date is after M. Mouhot’s death.

DEAR M. MOUHOT,

Imagine my surprise and joy when, a week ago, a worthy Chinese from
Korat entered my house, bringing me your letter of the 8th April.
Blessed be God for granting you good health and courage. With these you
can go far, even to the source of the Mekon; and if you return through
Cambodia, with what pleasure I shall see you again! But your letter is
dated more than eight months ago, and where are you now--I trust that
the rainy season induced you to descend the Menam instead of the Mekon.
Should you ever return to Battambong, you will find something new
there. A pretty little church now replaces the old one; it is not yet
quite finished, but I trust will be so very shortly.

Since I last wrote to you, grave events have taken place in Cambodia;
the mandarins and people have risen against the young king in favour
of his brother. It has been less a revolt than a universal pillage;
nothing has been spared. Mgr. Miche had great trouble to guard his
house, with the help of a young missionary and M. Aussoleil, for
all the Christians fled. For a fortnight he was subject to constant
attacks, and more than once saw sabres uplifted over his head; but his
firmness and bravery awed the mob, and he was lucky enough to preserve
his house.

Some damage was done to the Annamite church at the end of the village.
M. Miche wrote letter after letter to the French commander in Cochin
China, but his messengers were all murdered, or else robbed, and their
boats taken away from them.

At last, out of six letters, one reached its destination, and two
days after the French flag appeared in the rivers of Cambodia; and at
Pinhalú, six or seven cannon-shots spread terror among the rebels for
twenty-five leagues round.

The mandarins who had pillaged the village were fined, and since then
the Christians in Cambodia have been respected; and a letter sealed by
M. Miche is the best possible passport. All this is well, you will say,
and our countrymen did their duty.

You must excuse my lengthiness; at least, it will show that you are not
forgotten at Battambong, but that we preserve here a happy remembrance
of your too short stay. May you return in a few months, and recruit
after your fatigues.

I must conclude with offering you my good wishes on the new year, and
praying God to have you always and everywhere in his holy keeping.

  I am yours very sincerely,

  E. SILVESTRE.


FROM M. MALHERBE.

  Bangkok, 25th May, 1861.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

On my return from Singapore I was much astonished to hear that you had
been forced to go back again, and was much pained to think of all the
troubles and discomforts you must have had to endure. How much I regret
not having been with you! perhaps I might have succeeded in persuading
you against making a new attempt, and have induced you rather to pass
some years here with me. Your task is a glorious one; but when life is
at stake, one must take care and not risk it rashly. In any case do not
attempt the impossible; and if your troubles recommence, return here;
you will always find a friend ready to receive you.

Your letter from Korat reached me a few days ago. I thank you for it;
it gave me great pleasure. In a few days I shall set out for Europe;
but I have given my orders, and you will find my house ready for you at
any time of the day or night. If you do not make use of it, I shall be
really angry.

Every one here is interested for you, and asks for news of you. Where
are you now? Doubtless much fatigued and _ennuyé_ wherever you are; yet
you must be travelling through a fine country. If you want anything
which it is possible to send you, have no scruples; I have given my
clerks all necessary instructions, if by chance or any unforeseen
circumstance--such as may easily occur on a journey--you find yourself
in want of what they call here “ticals.” We are friends,--dispose
freely of my purse; we will divide like brothers. Do not be offended at
this offer, it comes from a heart devoted to you; therefore, have no
false pride. Ask, and I will help you.

The heat is dreadful just now, and every one is ill of dysentery.

Au revoir, dear M. Mouhot. Take care of yourself, and do not be
discouraged by the dreadful climate. That we may have, please God, many
pleasant days together yet, is the earnest wish of your real friend,

  L. MALHERBE.




LETTERS ADDRESSED TO THE FAMILY OF THE LATE M. MOUHOT.


FROM DR. CAMPBELL TO MADAME MOUHOT.

  Bangkok, April 7th, 1862.

MY DEAR MADAME MOUHOT,

About three weeks ago I had the pleasure of forwarding a letter
from your husband, and I mentioned the probability of a second one,
written before the one sent, reaching me in time for this mail.
This has been realized, and I enclose the letter referred to. News
from Luang Prabang, up to the middle of November, have also reached
Bangkok, and oh! my dear madam, what a sad duty devolves upon me in
narrating certainties that have transpired since my last communication.
Would that I had some relation in London to whom I could write and
request him to call upon you, to divulge the painful truth that your
husband--my valued friend--is, alas! now no more. It may perhaps in
a measure tend to soothe your sorrow under this severe trial, to say
that I never knew a person who was so universally esteemed as he was by
the foreign community of this city; and that all who had the pleasure
of his acquaintance deeply regret his sudden and premature loss. The
last letter he wrote me was dated from Louang Prabang, on the 30th
August; in it he was satisfied with his success, and altogether buoyant
in spirits. He continued in the neighbourhood of the above-named
city, which is the capital of north-east Laos, till the middle of
October, when he returned to the city. On the 19th he has written in
his journal, “Attacked with fever;” but his servant and the Laos
official account of his illness make it the 18th. On the 29th he made
an entry, but nothing subsequently, and departed this life on Sunday
the 10th November, at 7 P.M., being twenty-eight days subsequent to
the attack. His servants, after seeing him interred, commenced their
journey hither, taking with them his baggage and everything he had
collected. M. D’Istria, the present French Consul, has to officiate as
administrator to the late M. Mouhot’s estate, but has assigned to me
the care of all your late husband’s manuscripts and collections. These
I thought of forwarding forthwith for Singapore, and thence, by the
kindness of Mr. Pady, to Europe; but as I expect to leave for England
on a short leave of absence by the middle of next month, I think it
better to retain them till then, and convey them home myself.

On your late husband arriving here, he brought me a small parcel
from Dr. Norton Shaw, Secretary to the Royal Geographical Society,
Whitehall-place; and as it is only proper that the Society should be
made aware of this martyr to science, I enclose two letters--the last
he wrote me--for your perusal, and that they may be handed to the
above-named gentleman for his information, forwarding, at the same
time, the announcement of M. Mouhot’s untimely death. On looking over
the charts he has left behind him, I find Louang Prabang placed 3° to
the north and about 1° to the east of that denoted in the map given
by Bishop Pallegoix; but as it would be improper to write about his
discoveries till you have received the documents, and given them to
some person for publication, I shall not dilate further on that topic.

And now, my dear madam, I beg to tender you my sincere condolence under
the heavy bereavement which it has pleased the Almighty to inflict upon
you,

  And remain yours very sincerely,

  JAMES CAMPBELL.


FROM M. CH. FONTAINE, MISSIONARY AT COCHIN CHINA, TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Foreign Missions, Paris, 128, Rue du Bac,
  15th August, 1862.

DEAR FRIEND,

Permit me to give you this title; all the sentiments expressed in your
letter authorise it. What a worthy brother you weep for! and I, what an
honoured friend!

I had the pleasure of knowing M. H. Mouhot. I saw him first at Bangkok,
and six or eight months after at Pinhalú, in Cambodia, where he
remained with us ten days, sharing with us our house and our table,
which is always open to any worthy fellow-countryman whom chance may
lead to those parts. In both places all our brotherhood were charmed to
make the acquaintance of so devoted a scion of learning, so polished a
Frenchman, and so exemplary a Christian. All these qualities rendered
him dear to the whole of the missionaries who had the pleasure of his
acquaintance; and it was a real happiness to us to render him any
little service possible in the performance of the troublesome task
which he had imposed upon himself, of exploring countries so wild and
destitute of comfort.

On his return from among the Stiêns, where he met MM. Guilloux and
Arnoux, this dear friend lavished on me the greatest care, and
expended for me all his medical science; for I had then been several
months suffering from the malady which afterwards obliged me to return
to France to recruit.

He left us to go to Battambong to M. Silvestre, and at the parting we
experienced the deepest regret at losing the society of a friend who
had so much cheered our solitude. From Battambong he was to return to
Siam, and thence to Birmah, Bengal, and Europe. I wrote to him several
times, both from Bangkok, from Pinhalú, and from Singapore, where my
illness had induced me to go to consult an English physician; but M.
Mouhot had changed his plans; he wished to explore Laos, a country
whose climate is always so fatal to foreigners. There God saw fit
to summon him to a better world. This I read with great sorrow in a
Parisian newspaper; it was an extract from a London journal.

When I was abroad I heard of the death of my father, then of that of
my mother, and I declare that these two announcements did not make
more impression upon me than did the news of the death of a man whose
equal I had not met with for twenty years; and the thought of his
death, without any help but that of his servants during his illness
and in his last moments, was more than enough to bring tears to my
eyes as I remembered this good and benevolent friend. Be assured, dear
Sir, that my feelings are shared by all the brothers who knew him. The
natives themselves must have felt regret at his death; for all who knew
him had only praises to repeat of his conduct towards them; and all
acknowledged his gentleness and generosity--both qualities invaluable
in the eyes of those people.

Permit me, then, dear Sir, to unite my regrets to your grief, and to
present my respects to Madame Mouhot, together with my warmest sympathy
with her in her affliction; also with your father and your wife.
Receive my thanks for your having honoured me with your friendship; and
be assured of my desire to be useful to you if ever it should lie in my
power.

  MARIE CH. FONTAINE,
  Missionary at Saigon, Cochin China.

P.S.--Twelve of us are about to set out for Indo-China, and I will not
fail to express to Mgr. Miche and his companions the kind feelings
which you express with regard to them. On the 20th we shall sail from
Marseilles in the _Hydaspe_. Write to the Seminary of Foreign Missions,
whence our correspondence will be forwarded to us. My family live at
Laval, and you will be always welcome there.


FROM MR. SAMUEL STEVENS TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

MR. STEVENS has the honour to inform M. C. Mouhot that the collection
made by his late brother in the mountains of Laos is very fine,
particularly the insects and shells. Among the former are a great
number of beautiful and new species, one of which, a splendid Carabus,
has been described in the ‘Zoological Review’ at Paris, under the name
of Mouhotia gloriosa, in compliment to the late lamented M. Mouhot.
This name is very appropriate, as it is one of the most beautiful
and remarkable beetles which has been seen for years. There is also
a beautiful set of Longicorns, and other insects of the order of
Coleoptera, of which a great number are new to science.

The land and fresh-water shells are also very beautiful. Among the
former there are twenty-five different genera; eight or ten are quite
new, and some of them very remarkable. They will shortly be described
by Dr. Pfeiffer and others.

I can truly say that the insects and shells equal, if they do not
surpass, the most beautiful collections I have ever received; and
clearly demonstrate how rich a country for the naturalist lies between
Siam and Cochin China.

There is also a small collection of birds and some monkeys, small
animals, reptiles, and serpents in spirits, of which some are quite new.

The collection of insects and shells made in Cambodia was also very
beautiful, and contained the large and fine _Helix Cambojiensis_, one
of the best and most beautiful specimens known; also, the _Bulimus
Cambojiensis_, and a splendid _Buprestida_, new and unique, besides a
great number of others, new to science.[13]

[13] M. Mouhot, in his letters to his family, always spoke with the
highest esteem of Mr. Stevens, to whom they now beg to offer their
thanks for the honourable manner in which he has conducted everything
connected with their unfortunate relative.


FROM M. MALHERBE TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Bangkok, Nov. 1862.

DEAR SIR,

On my return from Java a few days ago, I found waiting for me your kind
letter, for which I thank you, although I should have wished to make
your acquaintance under happier circumstances. All consolation from me,
I know, would be ineffectual. The friendship I felt for your brother
was not that of a stranger, but rather as though he were a member of my
family; and I felt most painfully the news which met me on my return,
of his death so far away: for I had been pleasing myself with the idea
of his return, and long before my arrival here had given orders for his
reception, and that he should be welcomed as though I were present.

One great consolation to the survivors is the feeling of how much he
is regretted; here he had not a single enemy, but every one spoke of
him as the best of men. I vainly tried to dissuade him from undertaking
this dangerous expedition, for I had already lost a dear friend in that
country. He was treacherously assassinated there by his boatmen.

I am much pleased with the frank manner in which you offer me your
friendship. I thank you, and accept it with all my heart.




PAPER READ AT THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY,

10TH MARCH, 1862.

LORD ASHBURTON, PRESIDENT.


M. Mouhot traversed Cambodia from east to west, and also ascended
the Mekon river to the frontier of Laos. He returned to the coast by
crossing the water-parting between it and the basin of the Menam river,
and descending to Bangkok.

The Mekon is a vast melancholy-looking river, three miles broad,
covered with islands, and flowing with the rapidity of a torrent.
Its shores are covered with aquatic birds, but its waters are almost
deserted by canoes.[14] A plain covered with coarse herbage separates
it from the forest by which Cambodia is overspread, and which can
rarely be traversed except by cutting a way. That forest is exceedingly
unhealthy.

[14] The war in Cochin China has prevented many of the Annamite
fishermen from coming down the Mekon to fish in the great lake, which
is one cause of its desertion.

M. Mouhot reached Brelum, a village in lat. 11° 58′, long. 107° 12′,
inhabited by a secluded race of wild people, whose customs are minutely
described, differing in features from the Cambodian and Laos tribes,
and forming one of a series of similar groups widely distributed in the
less accessible parts of Cochin China, Cambodia, and Burmah. They are
believed by M. Mouhot to be the aborigines of the land. Two Catholic
missionaries were resident at Brelum.

Subsequently the author visited the large Buddhist ruins of Ongcor, of
which he has brought back numerous sketches. He speaks of the mineral
wealth of Cambodia--its iron, gold, lead, and copper. In the islands
of Phu-Quoc or Koh Tron, belonging to Cochin China and near to Komput,
there are rich mines of coal, similar to our Cannel coal, from which
ornaments are made. Several extinct volcanoes exist in Pechaburi, of
heights not exceeding 2000 feet above the sea-level, and there are two
active ones in an island called Ko-man, lat. 12° 30′, long. 101° 50′,
in the Gulf of Siam.

Dr. Hodgkin stated that, besides the two letters, portions of which had
been read, and the drawings and charts, M. Mouhot had likewise sent an
elaborate description of the ruins which he found at Ongcor and in its
vicinity. The plans on the table would give some idea of the magnitude
of these ruins. A great part of the manuscript which accompanied them
described their structure and workmanship. They were constructed
chiefly of granite, and many of the stones were not only of very large
size, but were elaborately carved. The workmanship of some of them was
described as exquisite, and the designs not so deficient in artistic
taste as one might suppose. Many of them represented imaginary animals,
such as serpents with many heads; others, beasts of burden--horses,
elephants, and bullocks. These temples were situated in a district
which was now completely imbedded in a forest very difficult of access,
and were so much in ruins that trees were growing on the roofs, and
many of the galleries were in a state of great decay. The base and a
large portion of the elevation were constructed of a ferruginous rock,
but for the upper part blocks of granite were used--so exquisitely
cut as to require no mortar to fill the interstices, and carved with
relievos relating to mythological subjects indicative of Buddhism. M.
Mouhot had copied some of the inscriptions, which from their antiquity
the natives who accompanied him were unable to read. The characters so
nearly resembled the Siamese that Dr. H. had no doubt that a skilful
archæologist would have very little difficulty in deciphering them. He
believed that the remains in question would be found equal in value to
those which had recently been explored in Central America; and he felt
convinced that when the descriptions were published, M. Mouhot would be
thought deserving of great respect.

Mr. Crawfurd said it was about forty years since he visited the
country, but his recollection of it continued vivid to this day.
Most people knew very little about Cambodia; its very name was only
familiar to us in that of its product, gamboge, which word was nothing
else than a corruption of Cambodia. It was one of five or six states
lying between India and China, whose inhabitants had lived under a
second or third-rate civilisation at all times--never equal, whether
physically, morally, or intellectually, to the Chinese, or even the
Hindoos. At the present time Cambodia was a poor little state, having
been encroached upon by the Siamese to the north, and by Cochin China
to the south. M. Mouhot had given us an account of a country that no
European had ever visited before. With respect to that gentleman’s
belief that certain wild tribes whom he described had descended from
Thibet, he (Mr. Crawfurd) believed that his ethnology was at fault. For
his part, he believed these wild people to be no other than natives
of the country--mere mountaineers, who had escaped from the bondage,
and hence from the civilisation, of the plain. Such people existed in
Hindoostan, in Siam, in the Burmese empire, in Cochin China, and in
China itself--in fact, they were of no distinct origin, but simply the
natives in a rude, savage, uncivilised state.

With respect to the French, he did not know on what grounds they had
gone to Cambodia. They had obtained possession of one spot which was
eminently fitted for a settlement. The finest river in all India,
as far as European shipping was concerned, was the river at Saigon,
which he had himself ascended about 14 miles, and found it navigable
even for an old “seventy-four.” He believed it was the intention of
the French to attempt the conquest of the whole of Cochin China. If
they effected it, and occupied it, they would find it a monstrous
difficulty. It would prove another Algeria, with the additional
disadvantage of being 15,000 miles off instead of 500, and within the
torrid instead of the temperate zone. The climate was very hot, the
country was covered with forests, the malaria and the heat rendered it
unsuitable for the European constitution. If they made an advance upon
the Cochin Chinese capital, they would find the enterprise one of great
difficulty. From Saigon to the northern confines of Cochin China the
distance is 1500 miles, and the capital itself could not be less than
700 or 800 miles from Saigon, situated on a small river navigable only
for large boats, with a narrow mouth, and two considerable fortresses,
one on each side, at its mouth. When they arrived, they would find
one of the largest and most regular fortifications in the East. He
believed it was the most regular, after Fort William in Bengal, and a
great deal larger than Fort William. It was constructed by the French,
and now they will have considerable difficulty in conquering their own
work. The French had a perfect right to be in Cochin China, and their
being there would do no harm, but rather good, however questionable the
benefit to themselves; for their presence amounted to the substitution
of a friendly and civilised power for a rude and inhospitable one.

The drawings on the table were exceedingly curious and interesting;
they were admirably done, and exhibited representations of some
remarkable monuments, evidently of Buddhist origin. They reminded him
very much, though inferior in quality and beauty, of the monuments
of the island of Java. He never heard of volcanoes when he was in
Cambodia, but he had no doubt M. Mouhot’s information was correct,
though it appeared he did not describe them from his own personal
experience. He would add a word upon the alphabets which were on the
table. The Cambodians had invented a written phonetic character, which
they used at the present time; therefore there could be no difficulty
in understanding a Cambodian manuscript. But there were several of
those now exhibited which were of more or less antiquity. One of them
seemed to be the alphabet which was used by the Cambodians in their
religious rites. The figure of Buddha showed that the Cambodians were
worshippers of Buddha.


TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

  Montbéliard,[15] 13th June, 1862.

[15] Montbéliard is the birthplace of Cuvier and of Laurillard.

LETTER TO M. CHARLES MOUHOT.

The members of the “Société d’Émulation” at Montbéliard desire to
express the deep regret which they have experienced at the premature
death of their fellow-townsman M. Henri Mouhot. After a three years’
journey in Cambodia and Siam, during which he devoted himself to
researches which have been highly appreciated by the Geographical and
Zoological Societies of London, he fell a victim at the early age of
thirty-five to his love of science. His work remained unfinished, but
it was gloriously commenced, and his name will not perish. The regret
experienced by his friends is the greater from their conviction that
had he lived he would have been still more an honour to his native
town, and that the name of Mouhot would have ranked side by side with
those illustrious ones which have already rendered Montbéliard famous
in the department of Natural Science.


THE END.


LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, AND
CHARING CROSS.


[Illustration:

  Map of
  CAMBODIA, THE LAO COUNTRY &c.
  _to illustrate the_
  Route and Notes of
  M. Henri Mouhot.
  1859-61.

  _Pub^d for the Journal of the Royal Geographical Soc^y. by J. Murray,
        Albemarle Str^t. London, 1862._

_NB. This Map is used by Permission of the R. G. Soc^y. to illustrate
M. Mouhot’s Travels in Cambodia, &c.]




       *       *       *       *       *




Transcriber's Note


Page headers have been converted to headings.

The following apparent errors have been corrected:

p. 38 "ever" changed to "every"

(Illustration facing p. 60) "Therond" changed to "Thérond"

p. 71 "Therond" changed to "Thérond"

p. 92 "enoguh" changed to "enough"

p. 110 "oxen," changed to "oxen."

p. 113 "caravans" changed to "caravans."

p. 116 "thos" changed to "those"

p. 198 "call and see." changed to "call and see.”"

p. 199 "wife who" changed to "wife, who"


Other variant spellings and inconsistent punctuation have been left as
printed.

p. 181 The fraction "16- /3" is incomplete in the printed book.

p. 239 The translations for "horse" and "goat" are identical.