{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_48111/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_48111","id":"gutenberg_48111","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48111","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Archaeology & Anthropology","Category: History - Other","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","Thailand -- Religious life and customs","Thailand -- Social life and customs"],"text":"THE KINGDOM OF THE YELLOW ROBE\n\n\n[Illustration: \"THE SHRINE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WATERS.\"--PAKNAM.\n\n_Page 30._]\n\n\n\n\nTHE KINGDOM OF THE\nYELLOW ROBE\n\n\nBEING SKETCHES OF THE DOMESTIC AND\nRELIGIOUS RITES AND CEREMONIES\nOF THE SIAMESE\n\n\nBY\n\nERNEST YOUNG\n\nLate of the Education Department, Siam.\n\n\nWITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY E. A. NORBURY, R.C.A.\n\n(Late Director of the Royal School of Art,\nBangkok, Siam)\n\nAnd from Photographs by the Author.\n\n\nWESTMINSTER\nARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & Co\n1898\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe following pages are intended to present to the reader an account\nof the domestic and religious rites and ceremonies of the Siamese.\nThey are the outcome of several years' residence in the Capital of\nSiam. In order to verify some of my own observations or to amplify\nsome points with regard to which my own knowledge was rather scanty,\nI have consulted most of the books which in recent years have been\npublished concerning the country of Siam. I am particularly indebted\nto the works of two writers whose knowledge was both wide and deep;\nviz., H. Alabaster, whose \"Wheel of the Law\" deals with Siamese\nBuddhism; and Captain Gerini, whose various monographs on domestic\nor religious customs are full of valuable and reliable information\nconcerning their misty origin and meaning. I must also acknowledge\nmy indebtedness to \"The Siam Repository\" (a weekly paper long since\nextinct, but whose pages are a treasure-house of information to\nthe enquirer), and to my friend Mr. R. L. Morant for much helpful\ncriticism and advice.\n\nThe illustration \"Planting out young Rice\" is from a sketch in the\npossession of Mrs. Smith, of Tarrawatta, Beckenham, who has kindly\nlent it for the purpose of illustrating this book.\n\nThe following five illustrations are also from sketches, kindly lent\nby E. Lloyd Williams, Esq., of James St., Buckingham Gate.\n\n \"Offering Rice to the Priests.\"\n \"Making Curry.\"\n \"Ploughing a Rice-field.\"\n \"Collecting ripe Grain.\"\n \"Rice Boats coming down the Menam.\"\n\n E. Y.\n\n_Chingford_, 1898.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n _Page_\n\n _Preface_ ix\n\nCHAPTER I. STREET SCENES IN THE VENICE OF THE EAST 1\n\n \" II. BY KHLONG AND RIVER 25\n\n \" III. THE CHILDREN 44\n\n \" IV. THE SHAVING OF THE TOP-KNOT 64\n\n \" V. COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE 85\n\n \" VI. DOMESTIC LIFE AND CUSTOMS 103\n\n \" VII. DOMESTIC LIFE AND CUSTOMS (_continued_) 125\n\n \" VIII. POPULAR AMUSEMENTS 147\n\n \" IX. OUTSIDE THE CAPITAL 171\n\n \" X. THE CULTIVATION OF RICE 196\n\n \" XI. LAWS AND LEGISLATION 218\n\n \" XII. CEREMONIES FOR THE DYING AND THE DEAD 235\n\n \" XIII. THE ORDER OF THE YELLOW ROBE 251\n\n \" XIV. AMONG THE TEMPLES 272\n\n \" XV. AMONG THE TEMPLES (_continued_) 297\n\n \" XVI. RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES 316\n\n \" XVII. RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES (_continued_) 338\n\n \" XVIII. RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES (_continued_) 358\n\n \" XIX. A PILGRIMAGE TO PRABAT 375\n\n \" XX. THE ELEPHANTS 388\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n _Page_\n\nTHE SHRINE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WATERS. (_Frontispiece._) vi\n\nA SCAVENGER 3\n\nTHE CURRY VENDOR 6\n\nTHE KEROSINE DEALER 10\n\nTHE THREE HEADED GATE. (_Full page._) 15\n\nA GHARRY 23\n\nRICE BOATS COMING DOWN THE MENAM 27\n\nA LIGHTER 31\n\nSIAMESE CANOES 33\n\nCHINESE TRADING JUNK 36\n\n\"CAN I GIVE YOU A LIFT, REVEREND FATHERS?\" 40\n\nMOTHER AND CHILD 58\n\nMOUNT KAILASA AS ERECTED FOR THE HAIR CUTTING CEREMONIES\n OF H.R.H. THE CROWN PRINCE OF SIAM. (_Full page._) 81\n\nA CHINESE MERCHANT 97\n\nA SIAMESE TEAKWOOD HOUSE. (_Full page._) 106\n\nMAKING CURRY 119\n\nSTEAMING RICE 123\n\nA RICKSHAW 135\n\nLAYING WAGERS ON FIGHTING FISH. (_Full page._) 151\n\nA WRITER OF LOTTERY TICKETS 155\n\nFACES FROM A SIAMESE THEATRE 165\n\nPREPARING RATTAN FOR CHAIR-MAKING 172\n\nFISHING LUGGER 174\n\nFISHING BOATS AT THE BAR 177\n\nKHLONG NEAR PETCHABOORREE. (_Full page._) 181\n\nA BUFFALO CART. (_Full page._) 185\n\nA SIAMESE BULLOCK CART 189\n\nTHE SWINGING FESTIVAL. (_Full page._) 197\n\nCOLLECTING RIPE GRAIN. (_Full page._) 199\n\nA SIAMESE RICE PLOUGH. (_Full page._) 203\n\nPLANTING OUT YOUNG RICE--FOOT OF KORAT HILLS 206\n\nPLOUGHING A RICE FIELD 208\n\nBUFFALOES RETURNING FROM THE RICE FIELDS. (_Full page._) 215\n\nA ROYAL FUNERAL PROCESSION. (_Full page._) 237\n\nTHE POOR MAN'S FUNERAL 245\n\nPRIEST AND ATTENDANT 255\n\nOFFERING RICE TO THE PRIEST 264\n\nA VILLAGE TEMPLE. (_Full page._) 275\n\nSALA IN A JUNGLE CLEARING. (_Full page._) 279\n\nTEMPLE BELL TOWER. (_Full page._) 291\n\nWAT CHANG, BANGKOK. (_Full page._) 299\n\nTHE SLEEPING BUDDHA. (_Full page._) 309\n\nTHE FESTIVAL OF KAW PRASAI. (_Full page._) 319\n\nWAT CHANG AT SUNSET. (_Full page._) 345\n\nPRABAT HILLS FROM NEAR AYUTHIA. (_Full page._) 379\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nMY WIFE\n\n\n\n\nTHE KINGDOM\n\nOF THE YELLOW ROBE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nSTREET SCENES IN THE VENICE OF THE EAST.\n\n\nBangkok, the Venice of the East, was not the Capital of Siam during\nthe earlier period of that country's history. Formerly the seat of\ngovernment was at Ayuthia; but the ancient capital is now a heap of\nruined temples and dwellings, an attraction for travellers, but of\nlittle importance to the people themselves. At the time when this\nmouldering city was the home of the Sovereign, a man of Chinese origin\nwas sent to govern one of the northern provinces of the country.\nHe is known in Siamese history as Phya Tak, and was a man of great\nadministrative ability. When the invading armies of Burmah, in their\ntriumphant march through Siam, reached the neighbourhood of the\nancient capital, Phya Tak was sent for by the king, to aid him with\nhis counsel and strength. His reputation as a brave and powerful\nwarrior secured for him his appointment as Commander-in-Chief of the\nSiamese army. Mustering all the available forces of the kingdom, he\nset out to do battle with the enemy. It was hoped that he would\nutterly rout the invading army, and so free the land from its powerful\nenemies. But when the valiant Tak came in sight of the foe, he was\nnot long in realising that any attack that might be made by his small\narmy against the much greater numbers of the Burmese, could only end\nin his utter defeat. He promptly fled with all his own retainers,\nand with as many of the soldiers as cared to follow him, to the port\nof Chantaboon. Here he leagued himself with all the fighting men and\nchiefs of the neighbouring provinces, and finally collected an army\nof about ten thousand men. He supported himself and his soldiers by\nrobbing and pillaging all the villages along the coast.\n\n[Illustration: A SCAVENGER.]\n\nThe Burmese, carrying with them many captives, and much treasure\nof gold and silver gained at the sack of Ayuthia in 1767, at last\nreturned once more to their own land. Then Phya Tak came north again,\nand on the spot where the Regent's palace now stands, built himself\na home and proceeded to found the walled city of Bangkok. Having\naccomplished this work, he several times defeated the Burmese, then\nre-organised some form of administration and caused himself to be\nacknowledged as king of the land. Associated with him in all his\nadventures and successes was a close personal friend and confidential\nadviser. This man was of noble birth and vigorous character, and it\nwas to his counsel and assistance that the new sovereign owed much\nof his success. Soon after the king had completed his great work of\nre-organisation he unfortunately became insane. The priests brought\nagainst him accusations of sacrilege and impiety, and tried to stir\nthe people to revolt. He was extremely unpopular on account of the\nheavy taxes he had levied on the wealthier classes, as also for the\nextreme cruelty with which he had treated all ranks of his subjects.\nStimulated both by the exhortations of the priests, and by the\noppressive treatment to which they were daily subjected, the citizens\nof the new capital at length rose in rebellion. Their sovereign fled\nfrom his angry subjects and took refuge in a neighbouring monastery,\nwhere he donned the yellow robe and declared himself a priest. This\ndeclaration saved his life for a short time, but soon after his flight\nhe was put to death by his favourite friend and general, who then\nfollowed the promptings of his ambition and the suggestions of his\nfellow-noblemen, in assuming the royal robes and crown. He called\nhimself Somdetch Pra Boroma Rahcha Pra Putta Yaut Fah, and became the\nfirst king of the present dynasty. It is with the fall of Ayuthia,\nthe rise of these two usurpers, and the founding of Bangkok that the\nauthentic history of Siam commences. A period of about one hundred\nand forty years comprises the limits within which the chief facts\nof Siamese history can be substantiated. Bishop Pallegoix, compiled\nfrom native annals an account of Siam and its people, extending back\nto a very remote period; but His Majesty the late King has somewhat\nlessened one's confidence in these annals by declaring that they are\n\"all full of fable, and are not in satisfaction for believe.\"\n\nThe city which was thus founded by Phya Tak, has ever since remained\nthe chief home of the sovereign, and the seat of government. It is now\none of the most interesting of Oriental towns. From the break of day\ntill scorching noon, from scorching noon till the first cool breeze\nof evening, from sunset until midnight, and from then on through the\nsmall hours of the morning, the busy streets of Siam's capital present\na never ending procession of curious and picturesque scenes. With the\nfirst faint glimmer of light in the east, the life of the city begins.\nThe approach of day is heralded with the sonorous voices of the huge\ngongs that are being vigorously beaten by the official welcomer of the\ndawn, in a turret within the walls of the Royal Palace. The cocks,\nwho have crowed the whole night through with troublesome persistency,\ngreet the rising of the sun in notes both long and shrill, as if they\nwere trying to impress upon their hearers the belief that they have\nbut just awakened from the profoundest of slumbers. The bull-frog\ncroaks his surly good morning. The pariah dogs howl or bark with an\namount of vigour and determination, that shows that they too are\nanxious to contribute their share to the combination of discordant\nsounds, that forms a fitting prelude to the noise and bustle of the\ncoming day.\n\nIt is not to be supposed that the wealthier members of Siamese society\nrise at this early hour. As a matter of fact, they have but recently\nretired to rest, and will not appear again either for business or\npleasure until the sun has crossed the meridian. All the business\nof the State, and all the pleasures of Society are conducted in the\ncool hours of evening, night, or early morning, while during the\nbroiling heat that comes and goes with the daylight, officialdom\nsleeps and rests. It is an excellent arrangement. The lower classes,\nhowever, are soon awake and astir. First to arise are the Chinese\ninhabitants. Here, as everywhere in the East, the subjects of the\nCelestial Empire have found their way, and, by their untiring energy\nand their wonderful adaptability to all changes of custom, life, and\ngovernment, have managed to establish themselves so securely that any\nattempt to dislodge them would, if successful, be fatal to the best\ninterests of the country. They live and die in the same atmosphere of\nsuperstition that surrounded them at their birth. No matter to what\ncountry their industry and enterprise may lead them, they never forget\nduring their daily toil to give frequent evidence of their keen faith\nin the supernatural. Their first act on rising in the morning is to\nexplode a number of noisy fire-crackers in every doorway, to dispel\nthe crowds of evil spirits, who, during the dark hours of the night\nmay have congregated round their thresholds with intent to do them\nharm. In the swarms of buzzing flies and stinging mosquitoes there are\ninnumerable emissaries of the powers of ill, and these the noise and\nsmoke effectually disperse for a brief interval. So that the daily\npractice of one superstitious custom is not without its immediate if\ntemporary effect upon the well-being of its devout observers.\n\n[Illustration: THE CURRY VENDOR.]\n\nThe shops and workshops are open in front to the street on account of\nthe intense tropical heat. There is no difficulty whatever in seeing\nand hearing every native dealer or craftsman as he pursues his daily\nemployment. The foot-lathe of the woodturner, rude but efficient,\nwhirls busily round, scattering its chips into the street; the barber\nsharpens his razors, sets his pans and chairs at the edge of the\nroadway in view of every passer-by, and prepares to shave a head\nor trim a pig-tail; and the idol-maker spreads his gold and silver\nleaf upon representations of Buddha made in wood or plaster after a\nstrictly orthodox and ancient pattern.\n\nNumerous Buddhist priests in robes of yellow, saffron or orange,\npace slowly along with alms-bowls of wood or brass, receiving their\ndaily food from the believers in their ancient faith. Their garments\nborrow new hues from the lately risen sun, and stand out in vivid\nand picturesque relief against the more sober tints of the roads and\ndwellings. The itinerant curry-vendor wastes no time in preparing his\nunsavoury messes, and is soon busy trying to dispose of them to the\npassers-by. A pole slung over his shoulder, bears at one end a small\nearthenware stove with a supply of charcoal and water. At this end\nhe cooks, to order, the various delicacies suspended from the other\nend of the pole. The water in the pot is drawn from the nearest canal\nor stagnant pool and is almost a meal in itself. For a farthing you\nmay purchase a bowl of rice, which is warmed in the boiling water\nwhile you wait. Another farthing will provide you with a number of\nattendant luxuries in the form of very fiery pepper or very strong\nand unhealthy smelling vinegar. The basis of the curry may be frog\nor chicken, stale meat, fermented fish, decayed prawn, or one of a\nthousand articles of equally evil taste and pungent odour. Most things\nare either cooked or re-warmed for the purchaser by the simple plan\nof suspending them in a sieve inside the pot of boiling water. The\nsame pot and the same water serve for all customers alike, so that the\nhundredth hungry individual gets for his farthing, not only all that\nhe bargains for, but various tastes of the other delicacies that his\npredecessors at the counter have elected to buy. No charge is made\nfor the use of the china basin which has not been washed since the\nlast man used it, or for the loan of the leaden or earthenware spoons,\nor a couple of chopsticks. Neither the proprietor of this strolling\nrestaurant nor the force of public opinion demand that these articles\nbe used, and for many, fingers take the place of either chopsticks or\nspoons.\n\n\"Isa-kee! Isa-kee!\" It is a queer sound when you hear it for the first\ntime. A Chinaman comes staggering along the road, carrying two heavy\npails at the ends of the usual bamboo pole. He bawls in long, loud,\nnasal tones, \"Isa-kee! Isa-kee!\" The man is wet with the perspiration\nthat streams down his bare yellow body and soaks the cloth round his\nloins, that forms his only clothing. Presently, crowds of little boys,\ndressed in even less than the noisy vendor, collect round him and\npurchase with avidity the strange-looking mess denominated \"isa-kee.\"\nHe collects the coppers, and places them in a small leather purse,\ntied round his waist with a bit of string, there to lie in company\nwith a little rank, black tobacco, or opium, until time will permit\nhim to lose them in the maddening excitement of the gambling\ndens. \"Isa-kee\" is the vendor's reproduction of the English word\n\"ice-cream\", though there is little resemblance between the commodity\nhe disposes of with such extraordinary rapidity, and the fashionable\nEuropean delicacy whose name it has borrowed. A more truthful name and\ndescription of the article sold in the streets of Bangkok, would be\n\"ice-mud.\" It is apparently a concoction of dirty water, half-frozen\nslush, and sugar. Being cold and sweet it is a favourite sweetmeat\nwith the native children, and the ice-cream merchant may generally\nbe found doing a roaring trade outside the different schools during\nplaytime. When ice itself was first introduced to the Siamese by\nthe European residents, they promptly coined for it the short and\nexpressive name of \"hard-water.\" It is amusing to hear the little ones\nexclaim as they swallow the frozen fluid, \"Golly! How it _burns_!\"\n\nAs far as the casual observer can judge, in this capital of Siam\nthere are no Siamese engaged in any hard manual labour at all. There\nare of course, many Siamese employed in various kinds of domestic or\nofficial work, but in the streets nearly every workman is Chinese.\nThere are nearly as many Chinese in the country as there are Siamese.\nThey marry Siamese women, and their children make excellent subjects,\nas they possess both the natural brightness of the mother and the\nindustry of the father. Unless they renounce their own nationality\nthey are subject to a poll-tax of about five or six shillings, payable\nonce every four years. At a date made known by proclamation, each\nChinaman must present himself at the police-station and pay the tax.\nThe receipt given is a small piece of bee's-wax about the size of a\nthree-penny piece. This bears a seal, and is worn on the wrist for a\ncertain time, fastened by a piece of string. The police are very busy\nat this time, as there is nothing the Siamese policeman so much enjoys\nas leading some unfortunate Chinaman to pay the tax. Should the seal\nbe lost, the alien is bound to buy another as soon as he is requested\nby some officer of the law.\n\n[Illustration: THE KEROSINE DEALER.]\n\nCarpenters, blacksmiths, butchers, bakers and scavengers are all\nChinese. It is a Chinaman who sits all through the heat of the day,\nunder a tent made of an old sheet supported by a central bamboo pole,\ndisplaying an array of strange-looking liquids, placed in thick\nglass tumblers in a long row. Great lumps of vermicelli float in the\nblue, green, red, or yellow liquids, presenting the appearance of\ncurious anatomical specimens preserved in coloured spirits. It is a\nChinaman who hawks about great pails of slimy, black jelly having the\nconsistency and colour of blacking, but said to be extremely palatable\nwith coarse brown sugar. The men who are watering the roads with\nwooden buckets fitted with long bamboo spouts; the men who sweep the\nroads, and mend them; the coolies in the wharves; the clerks in the\noffices; the servants in the hotels and houses: are all subjects of\n\"The Lord of the Vermilion Pencil.\"\n\nNo Siamese pulls a rickshaw, though he frequently rides in one. The\nChinese are the beasts of burden as far as the Bangkok rickshaw is\nconcerned. This vehicle, as seen in Siam is a very sorry-looking\nobject, bearing only a distant resemblance to those met with in every\nEastern port from Colombo to Yokohama. Nowhere do you ever find such\ndilapidated rickety structures as those that the coolies pull through\nthe streets of this city. A new one would be a veritable curiosity.\nWhen the rickshaws of Singapore and Hong-kong have reached a condition\nof extreme old age, and are so broken down that the authorities in\nthose ports refuse to grant them licences any longer, they are sent on\nto Bangkok, where no licences are required. There the poorer classes\nuse them freely, and there too are they as often used for the removal\nof household furniture, or the transportation of pigs, as they are\nfor the carriage of passengers. The coolies tear through the streets,\nregardless of anyone's comfort or safety except their own; though, be\nit said, that they never resent the cut of a driver's whip when some\ncoachman thus forcibly reminds them which is the right side of the\nroad.\n\nPigs are not always allowed the luxury of riding in rickshaws. They\nare more usually transported in a far less comfortable fashion.\nTheir two front feet are tied together, and then their hind feet are\nsimilarly fastened. A stout piece of wood is passed under the two\nloops thus formed, and the pig is carried by two men, each bearing one\nend of the pole. The animals generally object very strongly to this\nform of motion, and signify their disgust, and perhaps their pain,\nby the most heart-rending, ear-piercing shrieks. Thus another set of\ndiscordant sounds is added to the medley that roars from morning to\nnight.\n\nThe rickshaw was borrowed from Japan; the \"gharry\" has been imported\nfrom India. It is a square box-like structure, the upper half being\nfitted with sliding windows similar to those in the door of a London\nfour-wheeler. These windows, when open, admit of a free circulation\nof air, and they can easily be closed to keep out either rain, dust,\nor sun, at the will of the passenger. The sliding window-frames are\nalways badly fitted, and they rattle and shake with such a terribly\ndeafening noise, that two people sitting side by side, are compelled\nto shout when they wish to address each other. Riding in these\ncoaches gives one the sensation of being a kind of marble inside a\ngigantic rattle-box that is being vigorously shaken for the driver's\namusement. The majority of the gharries are not in a very much better\ncondition than the rickshaws. The harness is generally made of rope\nor string, instead of leather, and even if a leather strap or trace\nis visible, it is nearly always in two or three pieces temporarily\nconnected with string. At very short intervals of time and space, the\ndriver is compelled to descend and repair as best he can the broken\nconnections. These drivers are chiefly Siamese or Malays, and so many\nof them have adopted the red Turkish fez as a head-dress, that it can\nsafely be taken as the badge of coachmen. In fine weather both Malay\nand Siamese drivers wear their own national costumes, but should it\nrain, they promptly divest themselves of every stitch of clothing\nexcept a cloth round the loins. They place their garments in a box\nunder the seat, and drive about in a state of almost perfect nudity\nuntil the sun reappears and dries them with his rays, when they once\nmore clothe themselves in their native apparel.\n\nThe \"omnibus\" is a variation of the English one, with extensive and\nimportant modifications. It is of local construction, and without\nsprings. It consists of a long shallow box on four wheels. A rickety\nroof is supported by equally rickety pillars, and serves to keep out\nthe sun and rain. Omnibuses are very popular amongst the poor, on\naccount of their exceedingly low fares, several miles being travelled\nfor a few cents. Every kind of vehicle is crowded to its fullest\ncapacity. A rickshaw will ordinarily hold two; you may often see four\nor five in one. A gharry should carry four, but by crowding inside and\npiling one person on top of the other, with the addition of a couple\nhanging on behind, one on each door-step, and one on each hub of the\nwheels, a whole family manages to get conveyed to its destination by\nmeans of a single conveyance. Omnibuses are similarly crowded and\npacked, to an extent which is only possible on account, first, of\nthe absence of any law to prevent it, and secondly, of the genial\ngood-temper of the natives themselves.\n\nKlings and Tamils from Southern India have introduced the bullock\ncart as a convenient method of carrying heavy goods. These Indian\nsettlers are the bullock drivers, the dairymen, and the owners of\ncattle. They export a large number of lean bullocks to Singapore and\nthe Malay Archipelago, where they are subsequently fattened to feed\nthe residents. The value of the animals thus exported, is about two\nhundred and forty thousand Mexican dollars annually.\n\nAn electric tramway, and bicycles of the most modern construction,\ntell their own tale of the way in which European influences are making\nthemselves felt in this land. The only real Siamese land carriage is a\ncurious buffalo cart. It is rarely seen in the streets of the capital,\nas its peculiar form and construction fit it more particularly for\ntraffic through the jungle.\n\n[Illustration: THE THREE-HEADED GATE.\n\n_Page 22._]\n\nThe varied colours of the different costumes worn by the members of\nmany nationalities, form a strikingly bright and cheerful picture.\nBlue being the colour of every Chinaman's work-a-day clothing, is at\nonce a conspicuous and pleasant tint. It is only during the three\ndays' festivities that usher in the Celestial New Year, that the\nwearers of the pig-tail disport themselves in any other colour.\nDuring those three days, however, they are adorned with the richest\nof heliotrope, lavender, pale blue, green or yellow silks. In the\nintervals between successive New Years these gorgeous garments are\nsafely deposited in the pawnshops. The various shades of yellow and\nbrown that predominate in every crowd, are not the result of the\ndyer's art, but the effect of the hot bright sunlight upon the bare\nbodies of those who go uncovered. The same bright light intensifies\nthe whiteness of the European linen jackets, now adopted by so many\nSiamese in lieu of the gaily coloured scarf that formerly was the\nonly clothing worn on the upper part of the body. Even now most of\nthe women wind a long sash of some vivid hue round the breast, thus\nforming a cheerful band of colour against the whiteness of the jacket.\nIn every crowd may be seen not only Siamese and Chinese, but Sikhs in\nscarlet turbans, Burmese in yellow and pink, Malays in gaudy sarongs,\nLaos in dark striped petticoats; as well as Annamese, Klings, Tamils\nand Japanese, each of whom is ever dressed in the garb that centuries\nof custom have defined as his own particular method of clothing his\nnakedness. When to the effect of all these pleasing colours, is\nadded the happy merriment of thousands of faces that have never yet\nexperienced the fierce struggle for existence that characterises the\nlife of the poor of the West, a scene is realised which is nowhere to\nbe met with except in the sun-kissed lands of the East.\n\nIn the licensed gambling-houses there is always a little crowd of\nexcited men and women, who, when they have lost their trifling\nearnings, speedily proceed to the pawnshops with any article of\nclothing or furniture that is not absolutely indispensable to their\nexistence. When their own property has all been squandered they take\nthat belonging to other people, thus producing an endless succession\nof daily thefts. The city is full of pawnshops, some streets\ncontaining scarcely any other form of business. It is in these places\nthat the Europeans hunt for their frequently stolen property, or\nsearch for the curios that are afterwards presented to friends or sold\nto museums at home.\n\nThe numbers of civil, genial postmen in their yellow kharki uniforms\nfaced with red, and carrying big Japanese umbrellas under their arms,\nare sufficiently numerous and busy to testify to the efficiency of\nthis branch of the Civil Service. Most of the policemen are Siamese,\nbut their appearance is always a decided contrast to that of the\nneatly clad postmen. Their uniforms, made of blue cloth, are intended\nto be reproductions of those worn by their London brethren. But as\nthey are made of a cloth that rapidly shrinks and fades, a caricature\nrather than an imitation is the result. They are partial to umbrellas,\nroll their trousers above their knees, wear no shoes, and seem to\nrevel in the possession of battered helmets. There is nothing whatever\nin their bearing that is characteristic of authority, neither are they\nmen of great stature or commanding strength. Yet they seldom meet with\nany resistance in the exercise of their duties, and it is a common\nsight to see a puny-looking policeman leading three or four natives to\nthe police-station, each prisoner being merely fastened by the arm to\nthe one behind, with his own scarf or pocket-handkerchief.\n\nSo many of the native houses with their quaint gables and double or\ntriple roofs have been pulled down, and brick ones of European pattern\nerected instead, that scarcely any purely native street remains. The\none truly native quarter is a long narrow bazaar known as Sampeng. It\nis about a mile and a quarter in length, and contains a very mixed\npopulation of Indians, Siamese, and Chinese. It resembles somewhat\na street in Canton, but lacks the wealth of elaborately carved and\ngilded sign-boards, that gives such a decidedly local atmosphere to\na purely Chinese street. Stretched overhead, from side to side, are\npieces of torn cloth and matting, that act quite as effectively in\nkeeping out the sun as in imprisoning that awful combination of foul\nodours that seems to be the possession of all Oriental thoroughfares.\nThe small gutter which runs in front of each house is full of stagnant\nwater or of the accumulated domestic rubbish of the people who dwell\nby its side. This long narrow bazaar, however, is not without its own\nattractions. Here are gathered together specimens of all the native\nproduce, and here too work a few exponents of each of the native\ncrafts. Blacksmiths and weavers are plying their several trades;\nworkers in gold and silver are fashioning boxes and ornaments for the\nrich, and the lapidaries are polishing stones for the jewellers to\nset. Peep-shows and open-air theatres tempt the idle to linger, and\nnumbers of busy toilers jostle each other as they make their way to\nand fro over the uneven, roughly paved foot-path. At night, the shops\nare closed, but the gambling-houses, opium dens, and brothels are\nthronged by the lowest of the low. At one end of the bazaar is the\nchief idol manufactory of the country. The thousands of temples that\nare scattered all over Siam, require a large stock of images; and the\ndevout are frequent donors of representations of Buddha, of values\nproportionate to their means. Most of the idols are made according to\none or other of the following methods.\n\nA wooden model of the desired image is first made. It is next covered\nwith very thin silver-leaf, after which the wooden model is removed\nand the interior filled up with pitch. This is perhaps the most common\nmethod of making small cheap idols. The larger ones are first modelled\nin wax, and then covered with a cement made of fine sand and clay.\nThis is dried in the sun and finally heated in a furnace, when the\nwax melts and is collected for use another time. Melted brass is then\npoured over the image and evenly spread until the whole surface is\ncovered with a thin coating of metal. A great many gilded images are\nmade, the gold-leaf being laid over a covering of black pitch. Until\nthe outer layer of gold, silver, or brass has been deposited on the\ncarved or moulded figure, and until the eyes have been placed therein,\nit is not considered in any way sacred. The two last operations are\nfrequently attended with great ceremony at the home of the owner, in\nthe presence of many priests.\n\nIn every temple there are \"printed gods\". These are very small idols,\nabout an inch or two in length, made of clay and having a flat surface\nat the back. They are stuck in rows, on a piece of board painted with\nsome bright colour, and are then gilded and placed in the temple.\n\nIn the remotest alley, the most secluded corner, the broadest highway,\nor the most open of public spaces, roam the most disreputable and\ndegraded members of the canine family--the pariah dogs. Black, brown,\nwhite, and spotted dogs with skeleton frames and sunken eyes, many of\nthem in the last stages of disease and decay, snap at the dirtiest\nbone, or feast upon the filthiest rubbish they can find. They own no\nmaster, and no man owns them. They may be counted till one is weary\nof counting, and yet the eye will still discover many that remain\nunnumbered. Often it would be a kindness to the poor starved and\ncrippled creatures to put them speedily out of pain, but the Buddhist\nlaw, \"Thou shalt not kill\", is all powerful here, and so the pariahs\nbreed and multiply, giving in return for the permission to live, their\neffective services as vigilant and industrious scavengers.\n\nIn the markets, the natives squat cross-legged upon their stalls,\noffering for sale vegetables and fruit, betel nut and cigars, salted\nfish and queer-looking sweetmeats; or busying themselves, in the\nabsence of customers, by vigorously waving a big palm or banana leaf\nto drive away the clouds of flies that would otherwise immediately\nsettle upon their perishable wares. The dealers are chiefly Siamese\nwomen, and are amongst the most polite and obliging saleswomen in the\nworld.\n\nThe original city of Bangkok is surrounded by a high thick wall\npierced with many gates that are never closed. The principal entrance\nis the one known as \"The Three-Headed Gate\", so called on account of\nthe three tapering spires that surmount the three openings. By far\nthe larger portion of the population lives outside the wall, but as\nthe Royal Palace and nearly all the Government buildings are within\nits circumference, it encloses everything that is of importance to\nthe native as far as government is concerned. The roads in the city\nare excellent, and in the neighbourhood of the palace itself there\nare a number of wide open green spaces that would not discredit any\ncity of Europe. The palace is enclosed by several rows of departmental\noffices, outside of which is a high white wall.\n\nDay closes with a rapidity equal to that with which it dawns, there\nbeing no long spell of twilight either in the morning or the evening.\nIn the principal streets, the electric light has displaced the small\nold oil lamps that at one time formed the only evening illumination\nknown to the people, but on the outskirts of the city the lamplighter\nstill wends his evening round, carrying the small ladder, boxes of\nmatches, and bottles of oil, that mark the nature of his occupation.\nThe oil lamps are placed at more or less irregular intervals, and\nare soon blown out by any wind of moderate strength. Little cholera\nlamps swung aloft at the ends of long slender poles, sway backwards\nand forwards, telling where the grim fiend has entered in his work of\ndestruction. The Chinese light their smoky tallow candles and place\nthem in large quaint lanterns bearing mystic signs and symbols; while\nround the city wall itself, the cocoa-nut oil lamps burn with a lurid\nglare, sending forth at the same time dense clouds of yellow pungent\nsmoke.\n\n[Illustration: A GHARRY.]\n\nIn the absence of drunken men and women and the scarcity of women of\nill-fame, the streets of Bangkok might well serve as a model for some\nof the wealthier and more handsome towns of Europe. There is one thing\nto be regretted in connection with the improvements that are daily\nbeing made in the capital, and that is the gradual effacement of all\ntraces of native design or workmanship. Bridges, houses and railway\nstations are mostly of a distinctly European type, and that type one\nof uncompromising ugliness. The new streets of Bangkok, if cleaner\nand sweeter than the old, have nothing of the curious charm of those\nthey have replaced, and are merely excellent examples of unadulterated\nbrick and mortar unrelieved by the faintest trace of anything that\ncould possibly be described as artistic.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBY \"KHLONG\" AND RIVER.\n\n\nIn a walk through any Siamese street the traveller cannot fail to\nremark the total absence of any carriage or other wheeled vehicle of\nnative design. There are conveyances of many descriptions borrowed\nfrom India, China, Japan, and Europe, but none whatever that can be\npointed out as being designed by the Siamese themselves. Any enquiry\nas to the cause of this apparently strange lack of originality in a\nmatter which so directly concerns the daily life of the community,\nis readily answered. Until a comparatively recent date there were\npractically no roads in the country, and even at the present time,\nthe roads in any part of the kingdom outside Bangkok scarcely deserve\nthe name. There are scarcely any means of communication between one\nvillage and another, and very often only defective communication\nbetween two parts of the same village, except by water. The water is\nthe true home of the Siamese, and it is on this, their native element,\nthat their real character and genius are best exhibited. It is true\nthat, in the capital, they now ride ponies and bicycles, for a few\nroads suitable to such forms of exercise exist, but the boat, not the\nhorse, the paddle, not the whip, are the property of the nation at\nlarge.\n\nIn earlier times, when they erected houses upon land, they chose\nas the most convenient sites for their dwellings, the banks of\nthe rivers or the shores of the sea. When agricultural enterprise\nled to the formation of inland settlements, no roads were made to\nconnect the new settlement with those already existing, but canals\nor \"khlongs\" were cut instead. The connections between rivers were\nmade in a similar fashion; and for purposes of pleasure or business,\nreligious processions or state ceremonies, a thousand different\nforms of boat were planned and constructed. The numberless canals\nthat thread their way across the plains in every possible direction,\nhave turned the lower portion of Siam into a veritable labyrinth of\nwinding water-ways. The khlongs differ in age, appearance and size,\nas do the roads of more densely populated countries. The ancient\nhighways of Europe here find their parallel in canals whose age and\norigin it would be difficult to determine, though none of them possess\nany history extending to periods that Western historians would call\nremote. Even as the municipalities and corporations of our land\nconstruct year by year new roads for the facilitation of traffic,\nso, for the same purpose new water-ways are being continually cut\nin the land of Siam. The broad deep khlongs with their double lines\nof house-boats, and their continual traffic of lumbering barges,\ncumbersome rafts, comfortable house-boats and tiny canoes, are the\ngreat streets of the cities, and the highways of the plains. The\nfoul-smelling, silted-up water alleys, with their rotten disreputable\nhouses, and their heaps of decaying refuse, are the slums and blind\nalleys; while the green lanes and country by-paths of more temperate\nlands are here represented by delightful little canals that twine\ntheir way through the thick jungle. The palms meet overhead and form\na sheltering canopy; birds of many brilliant hues flit lazily from\nbranch to branch, consoling themselves for their loss of song in the\ncontemplation of their gorgeous plumage. There are lonely canals in\ncomparatively unfrequented places, where only occasional travellers\ndisturb the silence. Here the alligator stretches his long ungainly\nform in the grey and slimy mud; the monkeys chatter to one another\namongst the branches of the trees upon the banks; and the squirrels\ngambol in the tree-tops up aloft, in conscious enjoyment of perfect\nfreedom and everlasting sunshine.\n\n[Illustration: RICE BOATS COMING DOWN THE MENAM.]\n\nThe great river upon which Bangkok stands, flows almost directly\nfrom north to south, through mountain valleys and deep ravines, then\ntumbles, boils, and roars through a series of dangerous rapids until\nit reaches the wide and fertile plains, to whose inhabitants it means\nboth life and wealth. In most European maps it is called the river\nMenam, but as \"menam\" itself means \"river\", the name as thus written\npossesses no meaning. Every river in the country is called \"menam,\"\nthe first syllable of the word meaning \"mother\", and the second one\n\"water.\" The real name of the Bangkok river is \"Menam Chow Phya\",\nwhich may be freely rendered as the \"River Duke\", for \"Chow Phya\" is\nthe highest title of nobility that can be held by anyone not of royal\ndescent. Every traveller enters Siam by this river, and in passing\nfrom its mouth to the capital, he may easily observe many excellent\nexamples of true Siamese life and customs. At the entrance there is a\nbar of sand and mud, which at low tide is visible in certain places,\nand which even at high tide is never covered by more than fifteen\nfeet of water. As a consequence, no deeply laden vessels can enter\nthe river, and they have to load or discharge the greater part of\ntheir cargo by means of small sailing vessels called \"lighters\", at an\nisland in the gulf. There is only one narrow passage through the bar,\nand the unwary mariner frequently runs aground. It is said that when\nthe Siamese Minister for Foreign Affairs was asked why no attempt was\nmade to remove this bar, that thereby the river might be rendered more\nnavigable, and commerce facilitated, he replied, \"For the same reasons\nthat you English don't relish the idea of a Channel Tunnel.\" Similar\nbanks of mud or sand, or both, render unnavigable every river that\nflows through the country. They are decisive evidence of the way in\nwhich the whole of the gulf is being gradually filled up. The coast is\neverywhere shallow, and at low tide long stretches of mud may be seen\nat any point on the northern shores of the inlet. The whole of lower\nSiam is one vast alluvial deposit. In several places in the interior,\nborings for wells have passed through thick strata of sea-shells and\nother marine deposits, thus showing that in earlier days the northern\nlimit of the gulf extended far north of the site of the present\ncapital.\n\nHaving crossed the bar, the general character of the river becomes at\nonce apparent. The appearances presented are characteristic of all\nthe rivers in this part of the world. On either bank the thick jungle\ncomes down to the water's edge, forming a dense green mass of lowly\nattap or stately palm, interlaced with lianes and gigantic creepers,\nfull of thorny bushes and different species of the cactus family,\nwith the lordly palm towering high above the living undergrowth,\ndemanding and obtaining instant admiration from every beholder, and\nmajestically waving his verdant crown in condescending acknowledgment\nof the homage paid to his unquestioned sovereignty by the myriad forms\nof vegetable life that cluster round his feet. In the centre of the\nriver lies a little island, on which stands Prachadee Glang Nam--\"The\nShrine in the Middle of the Waters.\" It is a snow-white spire-crowned\nedifice, round whose base are a number of small quaint structures, the\nwhole forming a conspicuous and typical example of the ecclesiastical\narchitecture of Siam. A broad band of scarlet cloth wrapped round the\nspire, about half-way between the summit and the base, by some devout\nmember of the Buddhist faith, serves a double purpose in increasing\nthe pictorial aspect of the scene, and at the same time in indicating\nthat the teachings of the wise and noble Gautama, in whose honour the\nbuilding was erected, have here retained some of their power over the\nlives of the inhabitants. The King of Siam is the last of the various\nindependent sovereigns who have professed their belief in the words of\nthe great teacher whose outward symbol of humility was the beggar's\nyellow robe. The neighbouring countries of Annam, Cochin-China,\nCambodia and Burmah, now owe allegiance to a foreign government, and\ntheir sovereigns, who once bent the knee before the altars of Buddhism\nare dead or deposed. The only remaining independent Buddhist monarch\nis H. M. King Chulalongkorn, and here in the centre of the great\nhighway of his country, at the very gate of his kingdom, stands this\nfair white temple to the honour of the ancient sage.\n\n[Illustration: A LIGHTER.]\n\nBoats of many shapes and sizes cross and re-cross the path of the\nsteamer as it makes its way along the winding course, but not\nuntil the vessel is anchored amid stream is it possible to fully\nappreciate the unique appearance of the scene. Along each bank are\nthe floating houses made of teak and plaited bamboo, and thatched\nwith the long spear-like leaves of the attap palm. Their gabled ends,\nbest understood from the illustrations, are of a form peculiar to\nthis land alone, and are repeated monotonously on every dwelling.\nThe houses stand upon pontoons, or else upon rafts which are made of\nnumerous stems of the bamboo tree or the areca-palm, tightly bound\ntogether in bundles. Each bundle is more or less free from the others,\nso that as the floating foundation gradually rots away, the raft can\neasily be removed and then replaced piece by piece without disturbing\nthe equilibrium of the dwelling itself. The rafts are loosely moored\nto several stakes driven deep in the bed of the river, and rise and\nfall with the tide. The house is closed in front by a number of planks\nof wood, which are removed in the day-time for the admittance of\nlight and air. It bears in front a little platform or verandah, often\nrailed in to prevent the younger members of the family from falling\ninto the swiftly flowing stream beneath. This uncovered platform\nserves many purposes. It is here in the early morning, and again in\nthe evening, that the family may most often be seen enjoying the\nluxury of a bath. Men, women, and children come to the edge of the\nplatform, take up water from the river with brass basins or wooden\nbuckets, and then pour it over head and shoulders, thus drenching\nboth themselves and clothes at the same time. Here, too, the dealers\ndisplay their wares--the giant fruit of the durien plant, which\nis described by Alfred Russell Wallace as being a combination of\nstrawberries and cream, nectar and ambrosia, ripe pears and ice cream,\nbut which to the uninitiated suggests more truthfully the presence of\nexceedingly defective sanitation; the mangosteen, a pearl amongst\nfruits, delightful to eat and to behold, a snow-ball in a casket\nof crimson; mangoes; fresh green cocoa-nuts filled with delicious,\nrefreshing milk; bananas of countless varieties; sugar-cane ready\nskinned and cut in small pieces for the youngsters, who think it the\nsweetest of sweetmeats; young bamboo stems, rivalling asparagus when\nproperly cooked; cheap tin and trumpery from Birmingham, Manchester,\nor Germany; silks from China and Bombay; occasionally buffalo-horns;\ntiger-skins; black monkeys with white beards; green parrots; lamp-oil,\nand joss sticks; and a host of small and inexpensive articles (being\nthe produce of many countries of the globe) that are likely to find\nready purchasers amongst a people of simple tastes and small means.\nVery often in the evening when the sun is getting low, the family take\ntheir evening meal out of doors on the same verandah. When the meal is\nover they still squat upon the floor, smoking huge cigarettes of rank\ntobacco wrapped in the leaf of the banana, and exchanging occasional\nwords or greetings with some friend or acquaintance passing homewards\nin his boat. These floating structures are comparatively clean,\ncool, and comfortable, and possess one great advantage over a fixed\ndwelling upon land, in the fact that, provided the house is the\nproperty of the tenant, he may remove to a new locality without any\nof the inconvenience of an ordinary removal, by the simple process\nof shifting at the same time both his habitation and all that it\ncontains. It is an amusing and not uncommon sight to see a father and\nhis family, aided by a few muscular friends or relatives, tugging away\nat ponderous shovel-shaped oars, fastened fore and aft, as they pilot\ntheir house through a crowd of smaller craft on their way to settle in\nsome more desirable or convenient locality.\n\n[Illustration: SIAMESE CANOES.]\n\nBehind the floating houses, either situated on the banks or\noverhanging the water, are houses built on piles. They are raised\nsufficiently high to escape the floods that come with the rainy\nseason. Their general construction is the same as that of the floating\ndwellings, but as their inhabitants throw most of their rubbish into\nthe space between the ground and floor instead of into the river, they\nare by no means such healthy habitations as those that float in the\nriver below.\n\nIn the river are moored the coasting steamers that carry the rice of\nSiam to Singapore or Hong-kong, that transport lean cattle to the\nMalay States and Archipelago, and bring back goods of European or\nAsiatic manufacture, as well as thousands of Chinese coolies for the\nlabour market. There are great Norwegian sailing vessels taking in\nteak, and tank steamers discharging kerosine oil.\n\nChinese junks and \"lighters\" pass slowly by with heavy, yellow,\nmat-like sails, bearing cargo to the island in the gulf, where it will\nbe transferred to the larger steamers. On the prow of every junk is\npainted a big wide-open eye, whose powerful optical properties are\nsupposed to aid the vessel in steering a safe and speedy course. Says\nthe Chinese maritime philosopher, \"No have got eye; how can see?\"\nThere are no Siamese junks or steamers, for the trade of the country\nis in the hand of foreigners, who, for commercial purposes, use\neither the steamers that owe their design and construction to modern\ninvention, or else the huge unwieldy junks that the conservative\nChinese crews would be exceedingly loth to relinquish.\n\nThe teak that is exported, is sent down to the capital from the\nnorthern forests in the Shan uplands around Chiengmai, bound together\nin cumbersome rafts. After passing through the perilous rapids of\nthe Meping, they are stopped at the Customs station at Raheng, and\nduties are there levied upon them. They are then allowed to drift with\nthe current and are steered with a number of perforated, rudder-like\noars fastened at both ends of the raft. In the centre there is always\na little temporary hut rudely fashioned out of a few branches and\nleaves. Some member of the crew will generally be found taking a\ncomfortable nap therein.\n\n[Illustration: CHINESE TRADING JUNK.]\n\nFiery little steam-launches tear across the river, whistling,\nshrieking, rushing like so many water fiends, half swamping or\nupsetting many of the smaller boats in their swell. Tiny mites of\nchildren paddle freely and easily along in tiny cockle-shell canoes,\nwithout any signs of fear or hesitation. They easily avoid the big\n\"fire-boat,\" and guide their craft into the swell in order that\nthey may enjoy the fun of riding upon the miniature waves. The most\ncommon form of boat to be seen on the river is the native gondola,\nor \"rua-chang\". It is used for purposes of business or pleasure, but\nit is rapidly losing its popularity as a ferry boat owing to the\nintroduction of the more rapid little steam-launches. Both sexes are\nemployed as gondoliers. They stand to their work with one foot upon\nthe edge of the boat. Their oars are fastened loosely to a small\npiece of wood near one end, and the boat is propelled with long\ngraceful sweeps of the oar, by a method that no European has ever\nyet been able to acquire. They turn about with amazing rapidity,\nor preserve a straight course from point to point, with but little\napparent effort on the part of the boatman, and with no seeming\nvariation in the movement of the oar. As a matter of fact, the whole\nwork of steering or of turning is done by a peculiar twist given to\nthe oar at the end of the stroke, but so deftly is the motion made\nthat in the smaller boats it is practically invisible. The ease and\ngracefulness with which the Siamese gondolas skim across the waters,\nis in pleasing contrast to the ugly jerky motion of the boats that\nserve the same purpose in the rivers and harbours of China, and\nrepresents a degree of skill on the part of the oarsmen, probably\nunattained by any other boatmen in the world. Long \"dug-outs\", mere\nhollowed-out trunks of trees, sunk to the water's edge with a heavy\nfreight of rice, fruit or vegetables, are paddled along by two men,\none at each end. They squat on their haunches on flat projecting ends\nwhose superficial area is about eighteen square inches. In the early\nmorning, the priests paddle themselves from house to house in long\nnarrow canoes, with their alms-bowls deposited on the floor in front\nof them, for when they put on the yellow robe, they do not put off\ntheir aquatic attainments.\n\nMoored in every available inch of space are the house-boats in which\nthousands of the inhabitants spend the whole of their lives. They are\nborn in the boat, are reared aboard, and are only taken permanently\nashore when life is ended. Generally speaking, these house-boats are\nwide in the beam, and possess a deck whose planks are removable in\norder that cargo, clothes, and provisions may be stored underneath. In\nthe centre is the house, consisting of the deck for a floor, and an\nelliptical plaited rattan shell for walls and roof. A small sliding\nframework of light wood or matting projects from one end of the\nhouse to the stern end of the boat, and bears a number of removable\ncurtain-like frames around the sides, so that the steersman is well\nprotected from wind and rain. In these boats a whole family may be\ngathered together, from grandfather to grandchild. There is but little\nroom for exercise, and they sleep close together, side by side, like\nsardines in a box, yet they always seem happy and contented. Every\nhome contains a small altar to Buddha, with a seated image of the\nsaint himself placed thereon. This they delight to decorate with\nflowers and bundles of incense sticks placed in blue and white china\nvases. The poorest always manage to spare a few coppers on festive\noccasions to re-decorate and adorn their domestic idol. If there are\nany Chinese on board, their presence is indicated by a number of red\nprayer-papers bearing mystic symbols in black and gold, stuck here and\nthere upon the roof and walls of the cabin.\n\nRice is brought from many places inland, in a boat of very similar\nappearance and construction, but in this case, there is practically\nno room for anyone but the crew, as the central house-like portion\nis filled to the roof with the valuable grain. Round the edge of the\nboat, through its entire length on both sides, runs a projecting\nledge about a foot wide, along which the men walk when they find\nit necessary to pole their way through shallow water. The external\nappearance of the boat is materially improved by varnishing it with a\ncommon native compound that gives to the wood a bright reddish-brown\nhue. All such vessels are made in the country from woods found in the\nnative forests, for the people are as clever in building boats as they\nare in propelling them. A great part of the amphibious population is\nnot resident in the capital. The people live in the country where\nthey till the fields that lie on the banks of the rivers or canals,\nin those places where the jungle has been cleared. There they anchor\ntheir homes until the time of harvest, when they gather in the fruits\nof their labour and then proceed leisurely south. On arriving at\nBangkok, they dispose of their cargo, take a short holiday, visit\ntheir friends, see the sights of the city, and finally return to\ntheir fields, gardens, orchards again, taking with them quantities\nof kerosine oil, cheap prints, matches, and many small articles of\ndomestic use.\n\nThe water population is complete in itself, and is perfectly\nindependent of its terrestrial neighbours in every way. It has not\nonly its own houses and shops, its water omnibuses and hansoms, but\neven its floating restaurants and pedlars. The restaurant is contained\nin a fairly small canoe, but it is surprising what a quantity of\ncooking apparatus and what a varied assortment of food the _chef_\nmanages to carry. He passes from house to house, from boat to boat,\nboiling and cooking as he goes, and easily disposes of his curries and\nboiled rice.\n\n[Illustration: \"CAN I GIVE YOU A LIFT, REVEREND FATHERS?\"]\n\nThe river has its own police, with duties corresponding to those of\ntheir brethren ashore, but they wear, instead of a battered helmet,\na neat white or blue cap, on whose black ribbon is printed in gold\nletters the words that describe their particular functions. Both\nthe water and the land policemen are called \"polit\", the word being\na modification of our own word \"police\" according to a rule of\npronunciation in the native language, according to which all final\nconsonants of the nature of 's' are pronounced as 't'.\n\nThere is a water market, but unlike the land market which remains open\nall day, this one opens and closes before the sun has risen very high.\nScores of boats are massed together in one compact crowd. Each boat is\nsunk to the gunwale with piles of fruit or fish. The occupants barter\nand bargain with the same incessant deafening noise of shouting,\nlaughing, and swearing that is characteristic of all markets the world\nover. The women wear flat-topped hats made of leaves, which slope\noutwards from the crown, and are stuck on their heads by a circular\nframe-work of cane placed inside. Boats pass in and out of the crowd\nwithout accident or trouble, and though not an inch of water is to\nbe seen from the edge of the throng, the market gardeners, fishermen\nand florists never lose any of their merchandise as they move in some\nmysterious fashion from one spot to another.\n\nEven if a boat were upset, nothing more serious than the loss of its\nfreight would be likely to occur. The owner would never be drowned.\nHe would simply turn his vessel over again, climb over the side, and\npaddle off home. Yet many of these canoes are so light and small, and\nfloat in such a condition of unstable equilibrium, that no European\ncould either get into one of them, or, if the boat were held until\nhe were seated, take a couple of strokes in one without falling\noverboard. There is, however, only the remotest possibility of any\nnative being drowned as the result of being capsized, for the whole\nnation may be described as a nation of swimmers. Whether in the water\nor on the water they are in perfect safety. Little children, long\nbefore they can walk, are thrown into the water by their mothers, who\nfasten under their arms a tin float that always keeps the head above\nwater. The wee brown dots splash and splutter about in the lukewarm\ncurrent of the river, involuntarily learning the correct action of\nthe limbs in swimming, and gaining an acquaintance with this element\nthat ever afterwards prevents any feeling of fear. In this way many\nchildren learn to swim almost as soon as, if not before, they can walk.\n\nThe boys early learn to paddle their own canoes, and they have\ninvented a number of water games that are possible only among children\neducated in this fashion. Occasionally a party of them will get into\na long narrow boat, and crowd together until the water is just on the\npoint of entering. Then with a few gentle strokes with a paddle, they\nurge it forward, the water flowing in with every stroke. As soon as\nthey feel it sinking beneath them, they roll out into the canal or\nriver, turn the canoe up again, slowly but deftly climb in one by one,\nand then off once more to repeat the fun.\n\nAt certain seasons of the year boat races are held at the little\nisland at the mouth of the river, on which stands the temple\npreviously described. In these races no consideration is paid to\n\"fouls.\" The object of each crew is to reach the winning-post first,\nand any crew is allowed to prevent its opponents attaining that\ndesirable end, by any means they care to employ. The consequence is\nthat the first part of the race resolves itself into a series of\n\"ramming\" manoeuvres. There is a fierce struggle between the rival\ncrews who try to upset each other. The intensest excitement prevails\namongst the spectators as two boats near each other, and they watch\nthe manoeuvring with breathless interest until one of them is upset,\nwhen cheers break out in encouragement of the winners, who strain\nevery nerve to reach the goal before their opponents can once more get\naboard their craft and so continue the contest. Women as well as men\ntake part in the sports, both sexes being equally skilful in any sport\nor amusement of an aquatic nature.\n\nSoon after sunset the river clears considerably, for these water-folk\nrise and retire with the sun. They shut up the front of their houses,\nand then lie down to sleep through the long hot night as peacefully\nand securely in their floating cradles as any of those who live upon\nland.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE CHILDREN.\n\n\nThe lives of the children of the East are surrounded by a number of\ntime-honoured rites and ceremonies of an imposing but superstitious\ncharacter. The infant is a priceless gift from the beneficent\ngods, and its life must be ordered in accordance with the curious\nsuperstitions invented of old by the legendary deities of its\nforefathers. The infant is at once a source of pride, for it is a\nmark of heavenly favour, and of hope, for it shall, if good luck\nbefall it, hand down its father's name unto another and a later\ngeneration. Whatever ritual has been devised aforetime as tending to\nbring long life and prosperity unto the new-born child, must therefore\nbe observed with great pomp and careful attention to minute but\nimportant details. And lastly, the Oriental child causes its parent\nto reveal certain features in his character that otherwise lie hidden\nand unobserved. The fiercest Hindoo is the most tender-hearted of men\nwhen his little loved one lies sick; the fat, stolid, wooden-headed\nChinaman becomes a lively youngster himself as he tosses his crowing\nchuckling babe aloft; and the genial, gentle Siamese is never so\nwinning as when caressing the hope of his house. Siamese children\nexhibit in their earlier days the best qualities of their race to a\nvery high degree.\n\nThe Hindoos instituted ten \"samsk\u00e2ras\" or rites, the due performance\nof which, was supposed to ensure to the child freedom from all\nevil influences. Now the original Siamese as they travelled south\nfrom the slopes of the Tibetan mountains, came into contact with\nthe Hindoo civilisation and religion, and adopted therefrom their\nreligious beliefs and many of their social customs. Owing to the\nabsence of reliable written historic records in Siam itself, the mass\nof the people have long since forgotten where and how most of their\nceremonial practices originated, but the learned amongst them have\nlittle difficulty in pointing out both their primary source and their\nlatter-day modifications. The ten auspicious rites that encompassed\nthe life of the Hindoo child, began with its birth, and ended with\none imposing pageant more important and far-reaching in its effects\nthan any of the nine that had preceded it, and marking very definitely\nthe end of the period of childhood. One month after birth occurred\nthe ceremony of shaving the first few hairs of the new-born, and\nabout the same time, a rite somewhat similar to that of christening\nwas observed, when the child received its first but temporary name.\nThese two ceremonies still exist in Siam, but six of the original ones\nhave disappeared. Amongst those that have thus been lost are the rite\nof ear-boring, which occurred about the third year and which still\nsurvives amongst the Laos and the Burmese; the rite of training the\nchild to eat rice; the rite of teaching the first footsteps; the\nrite of speaking the first words; the rite of first putting on the\nloin-cloth; the rite of taking the first lessons in swimming, which\nwas reserved for princesses; and lastly, the rites of shaving the\ntop-knot and the subsequent investiture of the sacred thread, which\nform the final links in the chain of ceremonial practices devoted to\nthe little ones.\n\nIt is obviously impossible therefore to pretend to give any adequate\naccount of the people of this land, without first treating of the\nlife and character of her children, on whose behalf the favour of the\nspirits of good are so frequently and carefully besought by their\nanxious parents. Considering the number of ritualistic observances\nthat have occurred through successive generations, with the object\nof obtaining for the young the good-will of the angels, it might\nreasonably be supposed that if the numerous prayers had been in any\nway effective, by this time the present generation of children should\nbe enjoying untold benefits, and should be leading lives far superior\nin their freedom from ordinary mishap or pain, to those of children\nnot similarly descended. It would puzzle any observer, however, to\ndiscover in what way they are more tenderly cared for by the celestial\ndispensers of desirable things, than are other children. They cannot\nbe described as differing in any very essential particulars from their\nlittle brothers and sisters in other lands. It is true that they have\nnot the keen perception of truth, the chivalrous sentiment of honour,\nor the dogged industry which are common to some extent to most\nEuropean children; but they have a respect for the aged, for their\nparents, and for all those set in authority over them that might well\nbe copied by the democratic children of the West. In their behaviour\ntowards their parents and their priests they stand as excellent\nexemplars of reverence and obedience.\n\nThe respectful manner they adopt in their dealings with all who may\nbe presumed to control them, renders the work of any teacher in Siam\na moderately light one. Insubordination or impertinence is unheard\nof. The oft-debated question of corporal punishment is here solved\nby the character of the children themselves. Schools can be managed\nwithout canes, hard words, or severe punishment of any description.\nDiscipline, the first and chief goal that the European teacher strives\nto obtain, is here produced by merely wishing for it. The term\n\"kroo\" or \"teacher\" is a title that commands respect from parents\nand scholars alike, and they invariably use it in addressing him\non all occasions and in all places whether public or private. The\nonly teachers for years were the priests, even as the majority are\nto-day, and it seems as though in transferring the office of pedagogue\nfrom priest to layman, they have transferred also a portion of that\natmosphere of reverence that is ever associated with the priesthood.\nThe Siamese in this respect may be said to have reached a higher level\nthan their whiter brethren, inasmuch as they recognise in an outward\nand visible manner, that the teacher of religion and the instructor of\nthe young are both engaged in the same grand work of mental and moral\nprogress.\n\nSiamese children, especially the little girls, are exceedingly pretty,\nrivalling, if not excelling, all the other beauties of the East, Japan\nincluded. They are very merry, continually contented, easily pleased\nand most unselfish in their dealings with one another. Their almost\nabsolute lack of selfishness is one of the most pleasing features in\ntheir very lovable characters. The boys at school lend their property\nto their fellow-scholars with the greatest readiness. Watches, knives,\npencils, and other schoolboy treasures circulate sometimes to such an\nextent that one is inclined to fancy they must be common property;\nand, greatest test of pure good-nature, they even lend their bicycles\nto each other.\n\nThey are, however, early tainted with the national vices, vices that\nflourish more particularly in hot climates and luxurious soils. It\nwill be wise, however, to make no attempt to describe these more\nmature characters until some one can lay down a code of moral virtue\nwhich shall be absolutely applicable to all people at all times. It\nwill be safer to consider only the younger children at a time of life\npreceding the period when sensual enjoyments begin to enchain both\nmind and body.\n\nUpon the birth of the child, a big fire is made by the side of the\nmother, who at this time forsakes her bed and lies on a long narrow\nflat board. A fruit supposed to possess protective properties is\nscattered round or under the house, and a cord is twined round the\nexterior of the dwelling, which has been blessed by the priests and\nwhich also serves the same purpose of keeping off those evil spirits\nwho would otherwise enter and carry away the life of the child. The\ninterior of the room is like a furnace, and it is to be feared that\nunder these conditions, the evil spirits that haunt the sites of\ndefective ventilation do only too often accomplish their fatal object.\nFor three days, several old women attend the mother and make offerings\nto the powers whose influence is beneficial. This they do by making\nthree balls of rice and then throwing them in three lucky directions.\nIt is said that every new-born babe bears as its first name the word\n\"Dang\", which means \"red\". If this be so, then the mother or nurse\nspeedily turns her attention to the best means of rendering the term\nsingularly inaccurate, for instead of allowing the child to retain\nits original and natural colour, she immediately rubs it all over\nwith a yellow paste whose chief constituent is turmeric powder. The\nbaby presently appears as if it were suffering from a very severe\nand expansive attack of jaundice. This process of 'yellowing' is\npopularly supposed to keep away mosquitoes. It is not confined to red\nbabies, but cats and dogs may often be seen who have received the same\ntreatment. It is a common sight to see a couple of toddling yellow\nchildren engaged in teasing or amusing an equally yellow specimen of\nthe canine or feline family.\n\nFor several years no clothes are worn, so that their health is never\ninjured or their comfort marred by unsanitary garments. They are\nfrequently adorned with massive gold or silver bracelets and anklets,\nand wear a little silver shield fastened in front of the body by a\nstring of beads passed round the loins. The shield is merely an\nornament and plays no indispensable part in their metallic apparel,\nfor when it is once lost, it is seldom replaced, though the string of\nbeads may persist for some months afterwards. The amount of wealth\npossessed by the poor in the shape of ornaments must be enormous, for\nalmost every child bears somewhere on its body a heavy piece of gold\nor silver.\n\nUntil the child can walk it passes its life under the same system of\ntreatment usually accorded to human beings at this tender age. It is\nnursed and petted by its mother, talked to, made a fuss of, presented\nto uninterested visitors, and generally tormented by the same excess\nof demonstrative affection which mothers of every colour lavish upon\ntheir own offspring. At a very early stage in its existence it is\ntransferred with solemn ceremony from the wicker basket in which it\nhas lain since its birth to a cradle peculiar to Siam. The cradle\nconsists of a strong oblong rectangular frame-work at the top and a\nflat narrow board at the bottom. The two are connected round the four\nsides by a network made of strong twine. It is suspended from the\nrafters of the roof by four strong cords. It is swung, not rocked,\nand the mother or sister of the babe will sit tailor-fashion on the\nfloor for hours at a time contentedly chewing betel-nut, or chanting\nmonotonous Siamese Gregorians in a low plaintive tone, at the same\ntime swinging the cradle gently to and fro by a long rope. When the\nbaby is taken for an airing it is carried by some female member of the\nhousehold, who places it on her hip and supports it with one arm.\nThis method of carrying the child is said to be a healthy one for the\nbaby, but it must be a fairly unhealthy one for the nurse, who has\nalways to walk at an angle with the ground, suggesting the appearance\nof the Tower of Pisa, while the baby is wedged, cross-legged, between\nthe firm pressure of the supporting arm and the bended body.\n\nPassing over the period which elapses between lying in the cradle\nand learning to walk, we next find these little Eastern street-arabs\nfollowing their own sweet wills in the roads and alleys or on the\ncanals of their native town or village. They are perfectly free\nand independent, and are given up to the educative influence of\nNature in a way that would have satisfied Rousseau himself. The boys\nstill remain unclothed; they scamper along the roads, driving young\nbullocks; sit on the backs of tame buffaloes as they plough the rice\nfields; steal bananas; climb trees for cocoa-nuts; smoke enormous\ncigarettes; paddle their own canoes; never bother their heads about\ngetting home in time for meals; lie down in shady places to rest;\nnever read books; do not know the inside of a school, and spend the\nwhole day according to their own ideas of amusement. If they want to\nplay, they play; if they desire to sleep, they have but to lie down\nin the first convenient spot, when they attain the desired condition\nwith a rapidity that is to be greatly envied. Gloves, ties, collars,\nneat pockets, untorn coats, unsplit boots and other abominations never\ncause the Siamese boy a moment's anxiety. If he wears any hat at all,\nit is a nice light roomy sort of structure discarded by its original\nowner several years before, and in such a condition of decay, that an\noccasional fall into the water or mud does not affect either its value\nor its usefulness.\n\nAt a later date he begins to wear clothes. He dresses like his sister,\nwearing a cool airy garment consisting of a single long strip of cloth\nof some bright colour, fastened round the waist and draped about\nthe legs. It hangs loosely about the knees and resembles a pair of\nknickerbockers. There are no buttons, tapes, pins, or suspenders, and\nhe requires little training in the art of fixing his single garment so\nthat it will remain permanently in the required position. He wears no\nshoes or stockings, the use of such luxuries being restricted to the\nupper classes. The upper half of the body is left bare, except when,\nin accordance with a fashion of very recent date, a white linen jacket\nis worn. All girls wear either this jacket or else a coloured scarf\nwrapped tightly round the breast. The smarter ones wear both scarf and\njacket, but amongst the lower classes, the majority of the women leave\ntheir bodies uncovered above the waist after the birth of the first\nchild. All ranks of society are passionately fond of finery, and adorn\nthemselves as well as they can possibly afford. The native rings are\nset with native stones, but the workmanship is very rude. When money\nis not available for the purchase of jewellery, flowers are obtained.\nAs their clothes possess no collars with button-holes in which the\nfloral decorations can be placed, they stick them behind the ear.\n\nA day's life with one of these children is spent after the following\nfashion. He rises at early dawn and goes at once to the nearest water\nto bathe. He has no acquaintance with soap, but pours abundant water\nover himself with basin or bucket. The refreshing operation finishes\nwith a plunge in the stream, after which he either lies down, or runs\nabout till he is dry. A breakfast of rice, salt fish, and fruit, eaten\nfrom brass or earthenware dishes, with his fingers, is the prelude\nto the day's enjoyment. He next devotes all his energies to getting\nthrough the day. He accomplishes the task set before him by alternate\nintervals of sleep or play. He is a faithful disciple of Isaac Walton.\nA bit of stick and a fibre of rattan are sufficient tackle with which\nto capture a few fish out of the thousands that swarm in the waters.\nAt low tide, when many of the canals are mere valleys of mud, a whole\ntribe of children descend into the slimy deposit, and push coarse\nsieves into the mud in the attempt to catch prawns. The captured\ncreatures are placed in stone jars. When weary of the sport, or when\nthe jar is filled with prawns, they vary the nature of their amusement\nby pelting each other with mud. It is simply snow-balling transformed.\nThey stand about in the slippery mess, and make little pellets of soft\nmud. These they fling at each other with an aim remarkable for its\ninvariable accuracy. When sufficiently tired and dirty they get away\nto the nearest water, take a turn or two, and then come up to dry.\n\nThey delight in witnessing extreme activity in other creatures. A\ncock fight or a general battle amongst the pariah dogs is a source of\ngreat amusement. At night they search for crickets. When they have\ncollected a large number they place them, two at a time, in small jars\nmade of mud and baked hard in the sun; the two crickets are urged to\nengage in warfare by the skilful application of small pointed pieces\nof wood. The battle which ensues evokes their hearty appreciation.\nThey catch fighting fish, feed them with mosquito larv\u00e6, and then\ntrain them to fight. After a proper course of training the fish become\nextremely pugnacious, and will even make fierce attacks upon their own\nimages as seen in a looking-glass placed by the side of the bottle\nin which they are imprisoned. As a general rule, Siamese youths are\nkeen spectators of anything of a combative character. And yet amongst\nthemselves they are extremely peaceful and unquarrelsome. Supposing\nthem all to be sent to school, it may be safely predicted that there\nwould be fewer fights in a whole generation of scholars than an\nEnglish school knows in a year.\n\nUncoloured pictures have no charm for them, for an ordinary drawing\nin black and white is utterly incomprehensible to them. All native\ndrawings, with their strange disregard of the laws of perspective,\nare executed in colours. They do not instantly recognise photographs\nof the streets and buildings with whose appearance they are\nperfectly familiar, and they will as often as not view them upside\ndown. The power to appreciate black and white is, however, merely\ndormant, as is shown by the fact that the few children who attend\nthe Anglo-Vernacular schools speedily learn to take an intelligent\ninterest in the drawings and reproductions of photographs published in\nthe English illustrated papers.\n\nThey are very clever in the art of making bouquets and weaving\ngarlands of flowers. On festive occasions, the houses are festooned\nfrom end to end with long rope-like strands of small blossoms fastened\ntogether with wonderful skill.\n\nOn every head a little tuft of hair is allowed to grow in the centre\nof a shaven crown. This is removed at a certain period, with an\nimposing and important ritual.\n\nThey make excellent scholars, for they are very bright and\nintelligent. Only a mere handful of the population attend any\nschool regularly, but all those who hope to obtain any Government\nemployment must at least learn to read and write. Those that do\nattend the schools learn to draw accurately and neatly after very\nlittle practice. They need no teaching with regard to modelling in\nclay, their representations of elephants in particular being beyond\ncriticism. All ordinary school subjects are rapidly acquired by\nthem, and they are adepts in the acquisition of a foreign language.\nThey learn to read, write, and speak English in the Anglo-Vernacular\nschools in about three years, with great ease and fluency. Many boys\nwill speak in English concerning the common events of their daily\nlives after a few months' tuition. They are helped in this matter by\ntheir wonderfully retentive memories which enable them to remember a\nlarge number of words and idioms.\n\nThere is no \"esprit de corps\" in any school, unless it is cultivated\nby the master in charge. It can be easily developed up to a certain\npoint for just the same reason that the adoption can be ensured of\ncertain rules and maxims in the schoolboy's code of honour, not so\nmuch on account of the intrinsic value of the maxim or the rule\nitself, as because it has been put before them as a European custom.\nIt is therefore to be imitated if they wish to appear \"up to date.\"\nIn speaking to their teachers, no matter what their relative ranks\nin life may be, they invariably use that form of the pronoun \"I\"\nwhich signifies that they consider themselves as occupying a lower\nposition than the person spoken to. They abhor long holidays, but like\nto take odd days by fits and starts whenever they feel so inclined.\nUnpunctuality is a common fault unless firmly opposed. Cricket and\nfootball have been introduced at one of the schools and have become\nfairly popular, but the climate is really too hot for such vigorous\nforms of athletic activity ever to flourish except amongst a few\nenthusiasts.\n\nInquisitiveness is politeness, and it is rather bewildering to the\nEnglish teacher new to his work, especially when he is constantly\nquestioned as to his age, the price of his watch, the amount of\nhis salary, or the date when he last had his hair cut. The school\nsatchel does not seem to have become popular, most scholars carrying\ntheir belongings tied up in a Manchester-made handkerchief. Boys\nof the higher classes are attended by their servants, who carry\nthese articles for them, and at times, even carry the owners also.\nIn the intervals of playtime they smoke. Each boy carries his own\ntobacco-pouch, matches, and tobacco, and is an adept at rolling\ncigarettes. They are thoroughly unselfish as regards the disposal of\ntheir smoking material, and a cigarette will be circulated amongst a\ngroup of friends, each one taking a whiff or two and then handing it\non to his neighbour. If the weed is unfinished when the school bell\nrings, they calmly extinguish it, stick it behind the ear, penholder\nfashion, and return to class.\n\nThey are affectionate, cheerful, respectful, delightful fellows to\nplay with or work with, and offering to the observant master many\ninteresting examples of the gradual development of mind and character\nunder a rational system of teaching.\n\n[Illustration: MOTHER AND CHILD.]\n\nIn a land where superstitious practices abound, the children are\nsure to have more than an ordinary belief in goblins and ghosts.\nThe belief in divers supernatural beings of evil or good intent is\npowerfully implanted in every adult mind. In the case of the children\nevery natural phenomenon, every event of their lives is to them under\nthe control of some invisible spirit. They have a profound belief in\ntheir marvellous fairy tales, and many of them never grow out of this\nextreme condition of credibility during the whole of their existence.\nThey cling to their mystic interpretations of natural phenomena, with\nsuch force, that in the schools that have been recently founded, the\nattempts to teach the elements of natural science have been made\nunder rather disheartening circumstances. The children are perfectly\ncertain that thunder is exactly what their name for it denotes, \"the\nsky crying.\" There is a horrible giant of great strength and furious\ntemper who leads a very quarrelsome life with a cantankerous wife, and\nwhen he grumbles and growls at her various iniquities, the echo of\nhis voice comes in cries from the sky. When in fits of violent anger\nhe hurls his ponderous hatchet at his spouse, it strikes the floor of\nheaven, and a thunderbolt falls. When the broad flashes of lightning\nplay at hide-and-seek amongst the dense black masses of cloud during\nthe wet months of the rainy season, they say a woman is flashing a\nmirror in the air, or according to another interpretation, the angels\nare amusing themselves by striking fire with bricks. The falling stars\nare produced when frolicsome spirits in their sportive moods pitch\ntorches at each other. When the giant crab comes up out of his hole in\nthe deep parts of the sea, he bears up the waters on his back, and the\ntide flows; when he retires again, it ebbs. Sometimes the angels in\nheaven all take it into their heads to have a bath at the same time,\nand as a consequence they splash the water over the sides of the bath,\nand the rain falls. Another theory states, however, that the rain is\ncaused by a huge fish a thousand miles long, who with his mighty tail\nfuriously lashes the waters of the deep. The most poetical of all\nthese superstitions is that which ascribes the origin of the winds to\nthe voices of the babies who have departed this life.\n\nNot only children, but thousands of the grown-up men and women hold\nfirmly to these beliefs in spite of all the scientific explanations\nthat are given to them. Quite recently a debate was held at the\nBangkok Literary Institute on \"What is the shape of the world?\" The\necclesiastical portion of the audience, who were mostly natives,\nfought tooth and nail for the flatness of our planet, and though\none or two of their own countrymen argued very forcibly against\ntheir notions, when the final vote was taken there was quite a large\nmajority opposed to the theory of \"round like an orange.\" One of\nthe teachers was giving a lesson to his class one day on this very\nsubject. His scholars promptly informed him that the world was flat.\nHe further learned that it would take two hundred years to travel\nround it at the rate of two hundred miles a day, and that somewhere\nwithin the circumference of this pancake-shaped planet there is a\nmountain called Mount Meru, which is eight hundred and forty thousand\nmiles high, bearing upon its summit the realms of heaven. He explained\nthat the world was round, and was greeted by the remark, \"Why, that\ncan't possibly be, for if the world were round the water would all\nroll off.\" As there are no scientific terms in the language, and as\nall attempts to explain why the water did not roll off would have been\nutterly beyond the comprehension of the young minds of his scholars,\nhe was rather non-plussed. He did his best, however, and believed\nthat, by his earnestness in pressing home his point, he had at last\nmade them accept, even if they did not understand, the fact. By way\nof recapitulation at the close of his lesson he asked one who had\nshown intense incredulity, \"What shape is the world?\" The boy stolidly\nreplied, \"The teacher says it is round.\"\n\nIn their fairy tales they demand episodes of the most marvellous\ncharacter. An Englishman once read to some Siamese boys the story\nof \"Jack the Giant Killer,\" thinking it might interest them. To his\ngreat surprise they listened with the greatest indifference to his\nnarrative. On being questioned as to whether they liked the story\nor not, one boy replied, \"It isn't fierce enough;\" and further, by\nway of illustrating what he considered satisfactory in this class of\nfiction, he related how a Siamese hero met the whole of his enemies\nbanded together against him in a deep ravine. The hero went towards\nthem single-handed, and just when the assembled foes were calculating\nupon a triumphant victory, he quietly took up the mountains to the\nright and left of him, in the hollows of his hands, brought them\nrapidly together, annihilated the multitude with one stroke, and then\nunfatigued, replaced the mountains upon their bases once more.\n\nIn some cases their superstitions exert a very real influence upon\ntheir actions. There are many people who would never dare to utter the\nwords \"tiger\" or \"crocodile\" in a spot where these terrible creatures\nmight possibly be in hiding, for fear of directing the attention of\nthe beasts towards themselves. Another illustration may also here\nbe given. One of the students in training at the Normal College for\nteachers, was absent for some time. On his return, the principal\nspoke to him, calling him by the name he had previously been known\nby. He at once requested that his old name should not again be used,\nand gave a new one. On enquiring the reason, it was found he had\nbeen absent through illness. While lying sick at home, an angel had\nappeared to his mother in a dream and had warned her that if her son's\nname were not changed, he would die, as the name he then possessed\nwas an unlucky one for him. His name was immediately changed, and he\nrecovered. At the same time, his cousin lay ill in the same house,\nand the angel gave a similar warning with regard to this boy's name,\nbut the prophetic voice was in this case unheeded, and the child\ndied. As there is no registry of births or deaths there is practically\nno trouble in altering a name, and in fact, such alterations are of\nfrequent occurrence.\n\nA few years ago the Siamese Government organised an Education\nDepartment, with the intention of establishing an adequate system\nof Primary Education, which was to be followed in due time by a\nsystem of Secondary Education. Up to that time the only schools were\nthose in connection with the monasteries. In these schools reading\nand writing were taught by the priests. Though their methods were\nillogical and their curriculum narrow, it must never be forgotten\nthat most Siamese men can read and write their own language, and that\nthe country owes a deep debt of gratitude to these monks who did\ntheir best according to their own theories. These schools must in the\nfuture be the starting-points for any system of education that would\npretend to exercise any influence throughout the country. The work of\nthe Education Department, as far as progress or reform is concerned,\nhas been, so far, in connection with the establishment of a Training\nCollege for Teachers, the founding of four Anglo-Vernacular Schools\nfor boys, one of which is a boarding-school, and a boarding-school for\ngirls. These have been organised and controlled by Europeans and are\nfairly satisfactory. Attached to the Training College is a Practising\nSchool, which is the only good Vernacular school in Siam. It owes its\npresent excellent condition to the three Englishmen who have had it\nsuccessively under their charge. But undoubtedly the most successful\neducational institution is the school for girls. It has been more\nthan usually fortunate in possessing a staff of teachers possessing\nbrilliant intellectual attainments, great professional skill, and a\ndeep living interest in everything that tends towards social progress.\nUnfortunately, the Vernacular schools have not yet come under European\ninfluence, and they still preserve their antiquated methods. Only\nabout seven or eight of them are directly under the control of the\nEducation Department. They possess no furniture, and the children\nsit on the floor. In one school, the head master has provided a\nnumber of old soap and biscuit boxes to act as desks. There are no\nregisters or other records. There is a \"code\" which contains two\nstandards. It takes a boy from three to four years to pass the first,\nand comparatively few ever attempt to pass the second. The teachers\nin these Government Vernacular Schools are not priests, though the\nschools themselves are usually in some part of the temple grounds.\n\nIt is to be hoped that in the near future the Government will decide\nupon a thorough re-organisation of these schools, for, when they are\nproperly taught and controlled, they will be very powerful for good,\nthe bright and intelligent character of the scholars rendering all\nschool work eminently successful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE SHAVING OF THE TOP-KNOT.\n\n\nOf all the ceremonies that attend the lives of Siamese children none\nare so important as those connected with the shaving of the top-knot.\nFrom their earliest days the whole of the hair is shaved off the\ntop of the head, with the exception of one small tuft that is never\ntouched until it is finally removed with great pomp and ritual. This\nsingle lock is daily combed, twisted, oiled, and tied in a little\nknot. A jewelled pin stuck through it, or a small wreath of tiny\nflowers encircling it, are its usual adornments. The head, as being\nthe crown and summit of the human body is held in extreme reverence,\nand it is considered the height of impertinence for one person to\ntouch another's head except when necessity demands. Under the tuft\nthere lies, according to the Hindoo legend, a microscopic aperture\nthrough which the human spirit finds a means of entrance at birth and\ndeparture at death, and when Ravana, one of the giant kings of Ceylon,\nonce carelessly or caressingly laid the tip of his finger upon the\nhair of the beautiful Vedavatti, she turned to him in direst anger,\ndeclaring that after such an unwarrantable insult, life was no longer\npossible to her, and that she would speedily cut off her abundant and\noutraged locks and then perish in flames before his eyes.\n\nThe ceremony of tonsure is a very ancient one, and is found existing\nin many countries separated from each other not only by miles of land\nand sea, but far more widely divided by different religious and social\ncustoms. The priests of Isis, the Hindoo Siva, the Roman Catholic\nmonks, the candidates for admission to the religious brotherhood of\nPeru--are all examples of the extent to which this ceremony has been\npractised in many lands, through many years. It figures as a religious\nobservance symbolical of a change of life and purpose; it occurred\namongst the Chinese originally as a sign of subjection consequent upon\na change of masters; and it exists in Siam as a civil rite terminating\nthe period of childhood. In all cases it typifies a complete change\nof condition or purpose--it marks a re-birth. In the case of Siamese\nboys, who must shave the whole of the head before entering the\npriesthood, the ceremony takes place a year or so before the time when\nthey must each, according to their national custom, don the yellow\nrobe. Girls lose their top-knot when they are about eleven or thirteen\nyears of age. In any case it must be removed before they reach the age\nof puberty, and as many of them reach this condition before or near\nthe thirteenth year, their parents generally keep on the safe side by\nperforming the operation when they are eleven years old. The twelfth\nyear is inadmissible, as twelve, being an even number, is unlucky.\n\nWhen the year has arrived in which it is deemed expedient to cut off\nthe carefully tended lock, the astrologers are consulted as to the\nappointment of a propitious day. Now this is an extremely difficult\ntask, for the day chosen must be one free from any of the numerous\nevil influences that affect the lives of men. These evil influences\nhave been duly studied and catalogued, and include the powers of\ninnumerable demons and of death. The day must not be one on which\nsickness is liable to appear; in the heavens above, no constellation\nbearing a female name must be visible; it must not be a day marked\nin the calendar as being likely to be visited by thunderbolts,\nconflagrations, wrecks or loss of life by drowning. Then also it must\nbe free from dangers from enemies or wild beasts; or yet again, it\nmust not be a day on which a man may expect severe punishment from his\nearthly rulers, or death by falling off a tree.\n\nEven when the auspicious day has been decided after long and laborious\ncalculations, and earnest consultations of old calendars, there yet\nremains the necessity of choosing a particularly lucky moment on the\nparticularly lucky day.\n\nWhen all these preliminary details have been satisfactorily settled,\nthe date is announced and preparations are made for the celebration\nof the event with an elaborate and mystic ritual. The house of the\nparents of the child is cleaned and adorned, a process it never\nundergoes except on those occasions when it is the scene of the\nperformance of religious ceremonies. A table is placed to receive the\nnumerous offerings which will be freely made on the auspicious day,\nand a gilded image of Buddha is placed reverentially on an altar and\nsurrounded with candelabra bearing waxen tapers, with incense sticks\nin china vases, with wax flowers and the sacred vessels used during\nthe celebration. Around this decorated altar a hallowed circle is\nformed with certain utensils deemed especially important and holy.\nIt includes within its circumference, a bench or table on which are\nplaced several vessels of gold and silver, and the bowls of water\nwhich will be afterwards consecrated by means of a number of formul\u00e6\nrecited by the priests from the sacred Buddhist or Brahminical texts.\nThe mystic conch-shell, and the shears and razors complete the holy\nring. There are three pairs of scissors, the handles of one pair being\nof gold, of another of silver, and of the third of an alloy of copper\nand gold. On another stand about as high as the level of the eye of a\nman of average height, are placed several offerings of dainty food in\nsmall saucers made of plaited leaves. These are for the refreshment\nand propitiation of the tutelary deities of the place, to whom, and\nto the shades of the dead, the Brahminical astrologers make oblations\nand prayers at the rate of about two shillings and four pence per day.\nA curiously-shaped throne is next erected. It is a raised square dais\nwith four slender posts, one at each corner, which lean towards each\nother at the top, and support a frail canopy. The whole structure\nis first covered with white cloth, and then draped with curtains of\nwhite gauze and cloth of gold. It is on this throne that the candidate\nsits to be bathed with consecrated water when the top-knot has been\nremoved. During the initial stages of the proceedings it bears a\nnine-storied pagoda. The pagoda tapers towards the summit and is of\nvery frail material. The corner stays are made of the mid-ribs of the\nplantain leaves, and each story is formed of strong fibrous leaves. On\neach stage there are nine square dishes also constructed of leaves.\nThey hold a number of sweetmeats and foods that are supposed to be\nparticularly palatable to the god Ketu. This deity is of a kindly\nand beneficent disposition, and, if properly worshipped, rewards his\ndevotees by endowing them with long life and prosperity. Hence all\nthese preliminary preparations in order to entreat his presence on\nthis important occasion. Along the corner stays are stuck incense\nsticks, tapers, and flags of a peculiar pattern. The preparations\nare completed by surrounding the whole house with a protective cord\nor thread made of unspun cotton. The thread is attached at one end\nto the dais erected for the monks, passes over the altar, is twined\nround the bowls containing the water to be consecrated, is carried\nround the exterior of the house, and is then brought back to the hall,\nwhere it ends in a small ball, ready to be tied to the top-knot of\nthe child. It is supposed to be efficacious in keeping out all evil\nspirits or other influences that would in the absence of any such\nconsecrated barrier, force an entrance to the hall of ceremonies and\nrender nugatory the performance of the various rites. A similar cord\nmay be seen at times round the palace or city walls, serving a similar\npurpose.\n\nOn the appointed day, the floor of the house is covered with mats or\ncarpets, and a dais is prepared for the monks who are to be present.\nIt is raised above the level on which all ordinary mortals will\nsit, and is covered with fine white cloth. Pillows with embroidered\ntriangular ends are prepared for the monks to lean against, and\nspittoons, bowls of water, and trays of tea-cups and betel-nut are\nplaced before each pillow. There are usually seven or nine monks, but\neven when their number is more or less than this, it is never by any\nchance an even one. At the side of the platform a gong is hung from\na tripod stand. This gong plays an important part in the subsequent\nproceedings, for it is used to mark the end of each successive stage\nof the ritual. Every relative and friend is invited, and each of\nthe guests is expected to bring a present either of food or money.\nThe more people are invited, the more profitable does the ceremony\nbecome to the candidate and his parents. If the people are poor, they\ncan always borrow the gold and silver utensils that are required\nfrom some wealthy friend or relative, for it is the custom on these\noccasions for help to be freely requested and as freely rendered.\nAbout three or four in the afternoon of the first day the monks and\nfriends arrive. As the first monk enters the house, one stroke is\ngiven to the gong. The arrival of the second monk is announced by two\nstrokes, the third by three, and so on. It is customary amongst the\nlower classes to wash the feet of each priest on his entrance into the\nhouse. A basin of water is thrown over his feet, after which they are\ndried with a towel. When the priests are all seated, tea is poured\nout for each of them. While they are refreshing themselves the band\nin attendance strikes up a lively tune, the visitors at the same time\nseating themselves upon the floor in readiness for the first item\non the official programme. In the meantime the child is being robed\nand otherwise adorned. He wears a full gala dress and is loaded with\ncostly ornaments. The skirt is of rich brocade, and the cape round the\nshoulders is of gold filigree set with precious stones. Heavy gold and\njewelled bangles are placed upon the wrists and ankles, and armlets of\nsimilar value encircle the arms. In certain cases a triple gold chain\nis placed over the left shoulder and under the right arm. Sometimes\nthe child is so heavily weighted with these valuable ornaments that he\nis unable to walk without support. A coronet or wreath surrounds the\ntop-knot. He bears in his hands a charm on which are written several\nsentences of protective import. In this way a further precaution\nis taken against the intrusions of undesirable visitors from the\nsupernatural world.\n\nTwo household priests of the Brahmin faith precede the child as he\ncomes forth from the inner apartments to meet the assembled guests.\nThey scatter in front of them flowers and parched rice as an offering\nto those celestial beings whose favours and influence they desire.\nBehind these, comes another couple, one blowing the conch trumpet and\nthe other vigorously agitating the hour-glass-shaped tabor. A musical\noutburst greets their appearance, while the smiling faces of every one\npresent afford encouragement and sympathy to the nervous subject of\nthe trying ordeal. The child proceeds to the dais, raises his hands,\npalm to palm, to his forehead and bows his head to the ground in\nobeisance to the monks. He repeats his salutations three times; at the\nthird time, placing his head on a cushion on the floor of the dais. He\nremains in this prostrate condition until the end of that portion of\nthe ritual which is celebrated on the first day. The priests now take\nthe protective cord in their hands, and the monk of highest rank ties\nthe loose end of the thread to the top-knot.\n\nThen a member of the family crawls on hands and knees to the raised\nplatform, and with bent head and uplifted hands, beseeches the monks\nto recite the five daily precepts of abstinence. In a monotonous\nGregorian kind of chant, the assembled priests then intone these five\nprecepts, asking Buddha to keep them that day from all destruction of\nlife, from thieving, from impurity, from lying, and from intoxicating\nliquors. The guests repeat them solemnly after the priests, and by so\ndoing bind themselves to a faithful observance of them for that day\nat least. A number of texts are next recited by the priests in the\nsame monotonous kind of chant. At the end of each text, three strokes\nare given to the gong. When the recital is finished, the candidate\nrises from his prostrate position and leaves the room in the same\nway that he entered it, the Brahmins scattering offerings in front of\nhim, the gongs, conch trumpets and band combining in one deafening\nburst of sound to indicate that that day's portion of the ceremonial\nis over. The texts that are recited are regarded by the people as so\nmany exorcisms against malignant influences, but their real purpose,\nwhich has long been forgotten, is more of an instructive character, as\nthey were intended by Buddha to teach the people what were the evils\nagainst which they were to strive.\n\nThe day closes with great merriment. Old friends tell their own\nexperiences or those of their children on similar occasions;\ninvitations to forthcoming ceremonies are given and accepted; every\none feasts and smokes, and then a theatrical performance takes place\nthat lasts long into the small hours of the morning.\n\nThe whole ceremony is now a complex mixture of both Buddhist and\nBrahminical rites, but there is very little difference between\nthe parts enacted by the priests of Buddha and those of Brahma.\nThe Brahminical priests, however, have a special set of chants of\ntheir own, and these they repeat during the first day's ceremonies.\nThe object of their prayers is to entreat a number of their own\nsupernatural beings to grant their approval of all that is being done.\nThey appeal to the Devas, and to Siva sitting on his porpoise. They\ncry to Vishnu as he rides on the back of the serpent king in an ocean\nof milk; to the four-armed Brahma on his golden swan; to the god of\nthe winds riding swiftly in his chariot of clouds; and to Indra on\nhis wonderful elephant with the three and thirty heads. They recall\nto the minds of these deities the past existences of the tonsorial\ncandidate. They remind them of the good actions he has previously\nperformed, and wind up with a powerful and poetic appeal that they\nwill combine to endow the subject of their prayers with a long and\nprosperous existence.\n\nOn the morning of the third day, when the actual cutting will take\nplace, the monks arrive at a very early hour, before the sun has\nrisen, but no gong tells of their arrival, nor is any noise of any\ndescription permitted, as the spirits of ill must not be awakened\nor allowed to know that this is the day of the great event. The\npriests take their breakfast in silence, no band accompanying their\nrepast, with its joyful strains. As the hour of dawn approaches,\nthe Brahmins lead in the child. As the particular moment, foretold\nby the astrologers, draws near, the Buddhist priests sing songs to\nBuddha, using the Pali, a language which is not understood by the\npeople, relating his many triumphs, and by judicious praise securing\nhis approval. These songs are thought to be extremely efficacious\nin procuring for the child an abundance of good luck in the future.\nWhile the singing is taking place, the top-knot is divided into three\nlocks, each lock being then fastened at the ends. Amulets are placed\nin them, and every precaution is taken to carry out the final act\nof this, the most important, stage of this important rite, with the\nstrict observance of the minutest detail. Any deviation from the\nprescribed mode of procedure would be fatal to its success. The\nchanting continues until the actual moment has arrived when the hair\nmust be severed from the head. At the very moment the chants end,\nthe gongs are beaten, and the guest of highest rank takes up the\ngold-encrusted scissors and quickly snips off one of the three locks.\nThen the two most aged relatives of the child present, take the other\nscissors, and cut off the remaining tufts. Each of the three in turn\npretends to shave off the short hairs that are left, after which a\nskilled barber, with a genuine razor, speedily removes the last trace\nof the long-cherished appendage, leaving the head perfectly bald. The\nlong hairs are placed in one basin, and the short hairs in another.\nThey are afterwards dealt with in a manner to be presently described.\nMore chanting and gong-beating announce that the performance has been\nsuccessfully accomplished.\n\nThere are still other forms to be gone through, the first of which\nimmediately follows the operation of shaving. The offering to Ketu is\nremoved from the throne that it has occupied up to the present time,\nand the shaven-headed child is seated under the canopy on the exact\nspot previously occupied by the offering to the god. In his hand he\nholds a powerful charm, which he presses tightly to his breast. The\neldest monk, or else the one of the highest rank, takes a portion of\nthe consecrated water and pours it over the head of the child. All\nthe other priests follow suit, and then comes the turn, first, of the\nrelatives, and lastly, of the most distinguished visitors. As the\nbathing takes place in early morning, the air is generally rather\ncold, and the candidate is doubtless very much relieved when the last\ndrop of holy water has been thrown over him.\n\nWhen the bathing is over, he retires and changes his costume for the\nmost gorgeous apparel that his friends possess or can borrow. He is\ndressed in the brightest of colours, adorned with jewels, and then\nreturns to his friends. His first duty is to feed the officiating\npriests. This he does by first taking to each of them a silver bowl\nfilled with rice, from which he helps each monk to a liberal portion,\nwith a carved wooden ladle inlaid with mother of pearl. Having served\nout the rice, he takes trays of sweetmeats and fruit, going and\nreturning on his knees, and prostrating himself before each monk in\nturn. Music again accompanies the feast, and at its conclusion the\npriests chant a song of thanksgiving, and give their blessing to the\nchild.\n\nIn the afternoon another feast is held, followed by a purely\nBrahminical ceremony of peculiar interest. Each person, so say these\npriests, possesses a \"kwun.\" It is difficult to translate this word\ninto English, and it has been variously rendered as \"soul,\" \"spirit,\"\n\"good-luck,\" and \"guardian-angel.\" It is supposed to enter and leave\nthe body at different times, and its absence is always indicated\nby the troubles that immediately visit the person whose corporeal\nframe it has vacated. Now at the time of the tonsure ceremony, great\nanxiety is felt, as at this time there is great probability that the\n\"kwun\" may depart, and so leave the unfortunate child a hopeless\nwreck in after life. The purpose of the subsequent ceremonies is to\nrecall this mysterious being, should he by any chance have departed,\nand then to fix him so securely in the body of the child that ever\nafterwards he may be sure of possessing the subtle, fickle phantom.\nNo time is wasted before making the attempt to induce the \"kwun\" to\ntake up a permanent abode. A pagoda is erected, and on it are placed\nseveral kinds of food known to be favoured by the spirit. This pagoda,\nseveral mystic candle-holders, boxes of perfumed unguents, offerings\nof cocoa-nuts, and an auspicious torch are arranged in a holy circle.\nIn the afternoon, after the \"kwun\" has had time to enter the charmed\nring and satisfy his spiritual appetite with the perfumes of the\nunguents and the foods, the candidate is led into the centre of the\nhall and placed near the pagoda. A cloth is thrown over the food in\norder to confine the spirit and prevent him getting away. All the\npeople present, sit down on the floor, forming a circle, with the\nchild, the captured \"kwun\" and the priests in the middle. The Brahmins\nnow address the spirit, and in a very earnest fashion ask him to come\ninto the child. They tell tales to him, and so try to amuse him, and\nthey entreat him with flattery, joke, and song. The gongs ring out\ntheir loudest notes, the people cheer, and the priests pray, and only\na \"kwun\" of the most unamiable disposition could resist the combined\nappeal. The last sentences of the formal invocation run thus:--\n\n \"Benignant Kwun![A] Thou fickle being who art wont to\n wander and dally about! From the moment that the child wast\n conceived in the womb, thou hast enjoyed every pleasure,\n until ten (lunar) months having elapsed and the time of\n delivery arrived, thou hast suffered and run the risk of\n perishing by being born alive into the world. Gracious\n Kwun, thou wast at that time so tender, delicate, and\n wavering as to cause great anxiety regarding thy fate;\n thou wast exactly like a child, youthful, innocent, and\n inexperienced. The least trifle frightened thee and made\n thee shudder. In thy infantile playfulness thou wast wont\n to frolic and wander to no purpose. As thou didst commence\n to learn to sit, and, unassisted, to crawl totteringly on\n all fours, thou wast ever falling flat on thy face or on\n thy back. As thou didst grow up in years and couldest move\n thy steps firmly, thou didst then begin to run and sport\n thoughtlessly and rashly all round the rooms, the terrace,\n and bridging planks of travelling boat or floating house,\n and at times thou didst fall into the stream, creek, or\n pond, among the floating water-weeds, to the utter dismay\n of those to whom thy existence was most dear. O gentle\n Kwun, come into thy corporeal abode; do not delay this\n auspicious rite. Thou art now full-grown and dost form\n everybody's delight and admiration.\n\n \"Let all the tiny particles of Kwun that have fallen on\n land or water, assemble and take permanent abode in this\n darling little child. Let them all hurry to the site of\n this auspicious ceremony and admire the magnificent\n preparations made for them in this hall.\"\n\nThe brocaded cloth from the central pagoda is now removed, rolled up\ntightly and handed to the child, who is told to clasp it firmly to his\nbreast and not to let the \"kwun\" escape. Everyone stands up, still\nforming a ring round the candidate. The mystical torch in the centre\nis lit; the Brahmin takes three candlesticks, each containing three\ntapers, and lights them at the central fire. With his palms together\nhe raises the nine lights above his head, describes with them a circle\nin the air, and then with the back of his right hand, wafts the smoke\ninto the child's face. Each person in the surrounding group repeats\nthe same actions in turn, and when the last person has finished, the\nofficiating priest takes one betel leaf from the pagoda. A second and\na third time is the waving of fire performed, and each time a betel\nleaf is removed from the stand. After the third time of waving, the\npriest replaces the candlesticks, and daubs the three leaves with a\npaste made of the sweet smelling oils and other substances on the\ndifferent stories of the pagoda. He extinguishes the nine candles\nby pinching the wicks between the smeared leaves, after which he\ntakes them all in his hands, relights them, once more puts out the\nflame and blows the smoke in the child's face. He repeats the same\nmystical operations twice, and at last replaces all the candlesticks.\nHe now dips one finger into the dirty leaves, and with the paste\ndraws a scroll between the child's eyebrows. Milk is taken from the\ncocoa-nuts in a small spoon, and the spoon is presented to each\nsuccessive layer of the pagoda, as though it were taking a portion\nof each of the articles placed thereon. The child drinks the milk,\nand having thus imbibed the food of the \"kwun,\" ensures ultimately\nthe \"kwun's\" permanent residence in his body. Around his wrist is\nfastened a charmed and magic cord to protect him from those infernal\nspirits whose vocation it is to tempt the \"kwun\" to forsake its home.\nFor three nights he sleeps with the embroidered cloth that was taken\nfrom the pagoda, fast clasped in his arms. If after three days nothing\nunfortunate occurs to trouble him, his future welfare is definitely\nestablished.\n\nIt now only remains to dispose of the hairs that were taken from the\nhead on the removal of the top-knot. The short hairs are put into a\nlittle vessel made of plantain leaves, and sent adrift on the ebb tide\nin the nearest canal or river. As they float away, there goes with\nthem also, all that was harmful or wrong in the previous disposition\nof the owner. The long hairs are kept until such time as the child\nshall make a pilgrimage to the holy Footprint of Buddha on the sacred\nhill at Prabat. They will then be presented to the priests, who are\nsupposed to use them for the manufacture of brushes for the sweeping\nof the Footprint; but in reality, so much hair is presented to the\npriests each year, that they are unable to use it all, so they wait\ntill the pilgrims have departed, when they consume with fire all that\nthey do not require.\n\nSo important to the individual is this ceremony of shaving the\ntop-knot, that were it omitted in the case of any single person, the\nunlucky one would believe himself ruled by evil influences for the\nrest of his life, and would unfailingly attribute every disaster in\nafter-life to the fatal omission of the ceremony. Yet there are many\npeople who have neither money themselves, nor friends or relatives\nfrom whom they can borrow it. Were it not for the kindness of the\nGovernment, their unfortunate offspring would never be able to enjoy\nthe advantages conveyed to them by the celebration of the tonsorial\nritual. The Government, however, holds a public ceremony which is\nless impressive and expensive than the private one, at which all\nwho are too poor to afford the cost of the ceremony at home, may\nhave their heads shaved by Brahmin priests gratuitously. Each child\nreceives also a present of a small silver coin worth about two-pence.\nThis public function is held immediately after the close of the\n\"Swinging Festival,\"[B] and three or four hundred people annually\navail themselves of the opportunity thus afforded them to get their\nchildren's top-knots removed.\n\n[Illustration: MOUNT KAILASA, AS ERECTED FOR THE HAIR-CUTTING\nCEREMONIES OF H. R. H. THE CROWN PRINCE OF SIAM.]\n\nIn the case of children of royal birth, the celebrations are of a\nstill more imposing character. The essential details are similar,\nbut various modifications are introduced in order to emphasise the\nextra importance of the rite to those belonging to the royal family.\nOn these occasions the shaven candidate is not bathed upon a mere\ncanopied dais. In the courtyard in front of the Royal Palace, a\nhillock is erected in imitation of Mount Kailasa, the abode\nof Siva. It is a hollow structure, built up of plaited bamboo,\nsupported on poles, and covered with tinsel. Upon the summit of this\nartificial hill is a central pavilion beautifully gilt, elaborately\ndecorated, and adorned with tapestry and cloth of gold. A fence of\nprescribed pattern encloses the pavilion. It is an open framework with\nsmall rhomboidal openings, in each of which is hung a small gilded\nheart-shaped lozenge. Conical umbrellas with seven tiers occur at\nevery two or three yards. There are four pavilions, also lavishly\ndecorated, one at each corner of the hill. At one side, an artificial\ngrotto is constructed in which the bathing takes place. In the walls\nof the grotto are representations of the heads of the horse, the\nelephant, the lion and the bull. Over the entrance appears the head\nof the hooded snake. These heads are connected with the water-main,\nand are so placed that the five streams of water from the five mouths\nall converge to the central spot which the candidate occupies when\nhe takes the bath. The floor of the grotto is a miniature lake in\nwhich are placed golden models of water-beetles, fishes and other\naquatic creatures. Rare flowering plants and ferns complete the\ninternal decorations of the place. A little passage leads thence to\nthe pavilion where the young prince or princess will change his or\nher attire on the completion of the ceremony. On the ground, four\nlath and plaster elephants covered with tinsel of different colours,\nface the four points of the compass. Here and there about the hill\nis a multitude of mechanical toys, plaster casts, waxen flowers,\nreal plants and models of animals. The candidate is carried round the\nPalace each day, with an imposing procession of priests, members of\nthe amazon guard, soldiers and attendants.\n\nNo other event in the life of any Siamese is celebrated with anything\nlike the expense that attends the top-knot cutting, except perhaps a\nfuneral.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nCOURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.\n\n\nAlthough marriage does not follow immediately after the shaving of the\ntop-knot, yet after the important event has taken place, both boys\nand girls are legally entitled to marry. In the case of the girls,\nmarriage takes place about fourteen, but the men defer their entrance\ninto the matrimonial condition until they are about twenty. Every girl\ngets married sooner or later, so that old maids do not exist.\n\nThere are about as many ways of attaining the state of matrimony in\nSiam as there are in England. Two people may fall in love with each\nother with the consent of their parents; they may elope without the\nconsent of their parents; or a wife may be bought out and out without\nany real affection existing on either side. In the methods adopted to\nsecure this most desirable consummation of human happiness, there are\nseveral dissimilarities of procedure between the East and the West.\nIf a Siamese wishes to go through the ceremony of a strictly regular\nmarriage, he must be prepared to observe a great deal of formality and\nto experience a great deal of trouble. Should he attempt to pay his\naddresses to the object of his affections in any but the recognised\nway, he will, if discovered, be suspected of improper motives, and\nwill be liable to suffer personal chastisement at the hands of the\nyoung lady's male relatives.\n\nA young Siamese who is anxious to join the ranks of the Benedicts,\nfirst chooses amongst the maidens of his acquaintance the particular\none to whom he wishes to be allied. If he allowed himself to be guided\nin this matter by the counsels given in one of the native books,\nhe would consider the reputed character of the lady he desires for\nhis wife, and try to discover to which of seven distinct classes of\nwives his beloved belonged. There is nothing very remarkable in the\nremarks of the philosopher who has thus catalogued the several classes\nof women who are mated with men, but as his classification throws\nconsiderable light upon the power, position, and character of Siamese\nwomen, it is here given in full.\n\n1.--Some wives are to their husbands as a younger sister. They look\nto their husbands for approving smiles as the reward of their kind\nand affectionate forethought. They confide in him and feel tenderly\ntowards him. And when they have once discovered the wish, the taste,\nand the ideas of him whose approval they respect, they devote\nthemselves thoughtfully and assiduously to the realisation of his\ndesires. Their own impulsive passions and temper are kept under strict\ncontrol lest some hasty word should mar the harmony of their union.\n\n2.--Some wives are to their husbands as an elder sister. They watch\nsedulously their husband's outgoings and incomings so as to prevent\nall occasion for scandal. They are careful as to the condition of\nhis wardrobe and keep it always in order for every occasion. They\nare diligent in preserving from the public gaze anything that might\nimpair the dignity of their family. When their lord and master is\nfound wanting in any particular they neither fret nor scold, but wait\npatiently for the time when they can best effect a reformation in his\nmorals and lead him towards the goal of upright manly conduct.\n\n3.--Some wives are to their husbands like a mother. They are ever\nseeking for some good thing that may bring gladness to the heart of\nthe man for whom they live. They desire him to be excellent in every\nparticular, and will themselves make any sacrifice to secure their\nobject. When sorrow or trouble overtakes them, they hide it away from\nthe eyes of him they love. All their thoughts centre round him, and\nthey so order their conversation and actions that in themselves he may\nfind a worthy model for imitation. Should he fall sick, they tend him\nwith unfailing care and patience.\n\n4.--Some wives are to their husbands as a common friend. They desire\nto stand on an exactly equal footing with him. If ill-nature is a\nfeature in the character of their husbands, they cultivate the same\nfault in themselves. They will quarrel with him on the slightest\nprovocation. They meet all his suggestions with an excess of carping\ncriticism. They are always on the look-out for any infringement of\nwhat they deem their rights, and should the husband desire them to\nperform any little service for him, he must approach the subject with\nbecoming deference or their refusal is instant and absolute.\n\n5.--Some wives wish to rule their husbands. Their language and manners\nare of a domineering nature. They treat the man as if he were a slave,\nscolding, commanding, and forbidding with unbecoming asperity. The\nhusbands of such women are a miserable cringing set of men.\n\n6.--Some wives are of the robber kind. Their only idea in getting\nmarried is the possession of a slave and the command of a purse. If\nthere is money in the purse they are never satisfied until they have\nit in their own grasp. Such wives generally take to gambling and\nstaking money in the lottery, or purchasing useless articles. They\nhave no care as to where the money comes from or by whose labours\nit is earned, so long as they can gratify their own extravagant and\nruinous fancies.\n\n7.--Some wives are of the murderess kind and possess revengeful\ntempers. Being malicious and fault-finding, they never appreciate\ntheir own homes and families, and are always seeking for sympathisers\nfrom outside. They share their secrets with other men, using their\npretended domestic discomfort as a cloak for their own vice and an\nexcuse for their greatest misdeeds.\n\nNo young man ever imagines that his beloved will fall into any of\nthe undesirable classes, but, deeming her worthy in every respect,\nhe seeks her hand. What the young lady may think concerning his\nintentions towards herself counts for little or nothing, as the\nwould-be bridegroom never consults her; though if he were desirous\nthat she should return his affections he could attain his desire by\npurchasing from a fortune-teller or quack, a love-potion, which when\ntaken by the maiden would arouse in her the most passionate longing to\nbecome his wife. He does not dare to outrage his national etiquette by\nasking for her hand direct from her parents, but, with all avoidance\nof secrecy concerning the state of his affections, he communicates\nthe matter to his friends and to the elders of his own household.\nThey select a rather elderly woman, who must be acquainted with and\nrespected by the girl's parents. She pays a visit to their home, and\nwhile engaged in sipping her tea, gently insinuates the purpose of\nher call. She does this with an art only perfected by long practice,\ngained in many similar missions. The mother rolls up her reply in a\ngreat many vague expressions, the general tone of which can, however,\nbe easily judged by the ambassadress to be favourable or otherwise.\nNothing very decisive is uttered on either side, but the old lady on\nher return presents a report upon which after developments arise. If\nthe indications are considered favourable, the parents of the young\nman choose from amongst their friends a few elderly persons of both\nsexes, who are respectable and who are also intimate friends of both\nfamilies. They issue invitations to the selected friends to pay them a\nvisit on a given day. Then in a protracted conversation they discuss\nthe match, and decide amongst themselves as to whether it is desirable\nto enter into definite negotiations with the other parties or not.\nHaving pronounced for the match, they choose a lucky day, and then\nthe committee of counsellors repairs to the home of the young lady's\nparents.\n\nThese at once understand the object of the visit, and receive the\nvisitors with great politeness, setting before them trays of tea,\nbetel-nut and tobacco. When a sufficient amount of drinking and\nchewing has been accomplished, the elderly people open up the subject\nof their mission. They speak with due respect to the parents, and\nnever fail to use exactly the right pronoun that describes their\nrelative positions. The slightest hitch in the extremely delicate\nnegotiations would be fatal to success. The conversation that ensues\nis of a formal and deliberate character. Says one of the visitors,\n\"The parents of ---- having ascertained that this is a propitious day,\nhave commissioned us to come and confer with you concerning their son\nwho at present has no wife. His parents have asked him if he had any\none in his mind that he would like to take for his wife, and to whom\nhe could trust his life in sickness and his obsequies after death. The\nyoung man replied that the only person he had in his mind was your\ndaughter of the name of ----. Therefore at the request of the parents\nof this young man, we are here to visit you, the highly respected\nparents of this young lady, that we may confer with you in reference\nto this matter. What do the parents say?\"\n\nThen the parents reply after this wise. \"Our daughter stands high in\nour affections, and the young man is also much beloved by his parents.\nWe have an ancient proverb which says, 'Move slowly, and you will gain\nyour object; a prolonged effort is usually attended with favourable\nresults.' We will consult our relatives on the right hand and on the\nleft hand and take their counsel and opinion upon the matter. Please\ncall again.\"\n\nIt often happens that some youthful beauty is sought in marriage by\nmore than one of her love-sick acquaintances, and a choice has to be\nmade. But Phyllis is voiceless in this most important matter which so\ndeeply concerns her future welfare. Her parents, with due regard to\nthe interests of all concerned, settle the point for her after long\nand careful consideration.\n\nThe \"go-betweens\" wait for what they consider a reasonable time, and\nthen on a lucky day they once more visit the lady. The parents of\nthe maiden have by this time made up their minds, and if they are\nfavourably inclined to the match, they say to their visitors, \"We have\nconsulted our relatives, and they are unanimously of the opinion that\nif the young man sincerely loves our daughter, and if he can place\nimplicit confidence in her as a proper person to tend him in sickness,\nand direct his funeral ceremonies after death, then we will no longer\nplace any barrier to the attainment of his wishes. But how is it with\nregard to the ages and the birthdays of the parties? Are they such as\nare suitable to each other?\"\n\nIt takes a little while to answer this question. The Siamese have a\ncycle of twelve years, bearing respectively the names of the Rat,\nCow, Tiger, Rabbit, Major Dragon, Minor Dragon, Horse, Goat, Monkey,\nCock, Dog and Hog. One of their prevalent superstitions asserts that\npersons born in certain years should not marry each other, as any\nunion between them would only be fruitful of endless discord. Thus\na person born in the \"year of the Dog\" might lead a life of never\nending discord with one born in the \"year of the Rat.\" When a marriage\nbetween two persons is contemplated, this important question of the\nyear of birth must be referred to a fortune-teller, who, being of an\nobliging disposition, and having a keen eye to business, will, for\na small fee, generally pronounce that, so far as the conditions of\nbirth are concerned, there is \"no just cause or impediment why the two\npersons should not be joined in holy matrimony.\"\n\nThis difficulty having been satisfactorily settled, another visit\nfollows, when the elders announce the result of their visit to the\nastrologer. \"Since birthdays need cause no further delay, what shall\nbe said about the money to be provided for the young couple to\ncommence business on, and the money for building a house for their\nhabitation?\"\n\nIt must here be explained that every intending bridegroom must either\npossess a house or signify his willingness to erect one. In most\ncases the new houses are erected if possible upon the premises of the\nbride's parents, so that, provided a man has many daughters and plenty\nof land, he may ultimately gather round him quite a small village of\ndescendants.\n\nThe girl's parents reply, \"We are not in any way rich, so that we\nshall be quite unable to afford much money for the purpose you\nmention. But we should like to enquire how much the young man is\nlikely to receive from his parents.\"\n\n\"That,\" answer the ambassadors, \"depends almost entirely upon the\nparents of the young lady.\" They next suggest sums of money which\nof course vary in amount according to the wealth of the contracting\nparties. So much is put down as being for use in trade, and so much\nfor building a house. The number of dishes is also specified, that the\nyoung man's friends will be expected to contribute towards the wedding\nfestivities. As a rule, they discuss at the same time, the plan of the\nproposed house, the number of rooms it should contain and the quantity\nof furniture that should be provided. When all these details have been\nfinally settled, the committee return and report the results of their\nnegotiations.\n\nThe last preliminary detail is settled by the acceptation of the\nterms of the contract by the young man's parents. The fortunate\nlady is now informed that she is about to be married, and the young\nman is similarly told that he may soon call the desired one his\nown. He is not allowed to go near her, or to indulge in any form of\ncourtship, but the obliging parents, with every desire to save the\npair any unnecessary trouble or excitement, themselves convey all\ngifts and messages. During the whole time that elapses between the\nfirst mention of the marriage until the ceremony itself is actually\naccomplished, the betrothed pair are supposed never to meet. They have\nno opportunity of indulging in any of those little marks of affection\nwhich are supposed to be the especial weaknesses of young lovers.\nThey are not allowed to be demonstrative after this fashion. Kissing\nis never at any time common, and even when it occurs it seems a very\nstrange operation, for it consists of a vigorous sniff made when the\nnose is pressed against the cheek of the one so saluted. The mothers\nat this time guard their daughters with great vigilance, and any\napproach of the lover to his lass would put an end to all his schemes\nfor future bliss.\n\nThe erection of the new house is rapidly proceeded with, and owing\nto the frail character of the structure, the work occupies but a\nvery short time. All arrangements for the wedding are made, and many\ninvitations issued to friends and relatives. The money mentioned in\nthe agreement is paid over to the parents of the bride. It is called\n\"Ka nom,\" or \"the price of the mother's milk\" with which the bride was\nnourished in her infancy. A number of gifts are exchanged between the\nparents, and then the astrologers fix the day for the wedding ceremony.\n\nThe wedding partakes of the nature of a feast. On the happy day,\nfruits and sweetmeats are prepared and laid out for the guests.\nMusicians and priests are summoned to the festival. The groom heads a\nprocession to the bride's home, taking with him presents for his bride\nand for her father and mother. His most intimate friends and a band\nof musicians accompany him. Everyone is in his gayest attire, and the\ncrowd is a medley of orange, yellow, saffron, blue, pink, scarlet and\ngreen. When the bridegroom reaches the house he goes to his own new\nquarters, where he is met by a boy, who brings him a tray of betel-nut\nsent by his future wife. At the commencement of the wedding ceremony\na screen separates him from the lady, and he is not yet allowed to\nlook upon her face. After a certain time spent in feeding, the money\nprovided by both parties is laid upon the ground. The amount is\nexamined in order to test the accuracy and genuineness of the sums\ndeposited. If all is in order, they are sprinkled with rice, scented\noil and flowers. The priests offer up a prayer, the screen is removed,\nand then the couple kneel down to be bathed with holy water. The chief\nelder pours it first over the head of the bridegroom, and then over\nthe head of the bride, at the same time pronouncing a blessing upon\nthem both. Very often the bowing and bathing are dispensed with, and\nthe couple are considered as married as soon as the money is paid\nover. No registers are signed, and no official record of the event is\nmade. The bride retires to remove her wet clothes, but the bridegroom\nwaits till he receives her gift of a new suit, in which he speedily\nattires himself. The priests again engage in chanting, and the guests\nreturn to their feasting until evening, when they all return to their\nhomes, with the exception of the bridegroom, who hires a band with\nwhich to serenade his lady-love until the small hours of the next\nmorning. As yet he has had no conversation with her whatever.\n\nOn the morning of the next day, the priests and visitors arrive once\nmore, when all busy themselves in waiting upon the monks as they\nmake a hearty and luxurious meal. Should this day be a propitious\none according to the wisdom of the astrologers, the ceremonies close\nin the evening. A respectable old couple who are intimate friends of\nthe bride, and are themselves the parents of numerous offspring, go\nto the new house to make all ready for the homecoming of the newly\nmarried ones. The young man goes next, attended by his friends bearing\ntorches. About nine o'clock, a crowd of elderly people escort the\nbride to her husband's dwelling, where they soon begin to drink tea\nand chew betel-nut, not forgetting at frequent intervals to give to\nthe young people many wise yet unnecessary counsels. If anything\nshould happen of doubtful omen, the bride is once more taken home\nagain, for she may not take up her residence with her husband except\nunder the most propitious circumstances. The end is reached at last,\nand the kind and benevolent friends retire to their homes, and leave\nthe newly married couple to make each other's acquaintance. Then for\nthe first time do they enjoy the pleasure of each other's company, and\nthere can be no doubt, that no friends were ever so willingly parted\nwith as those whose footsteps are heard last descending the bamboo\nladder as they take themselves away into the darkness.\n\nAfter a few days the groom takes his wife to visit his parents.\nShe carries with her several presents, and on reaching the house,\nprostrates herself to the ground before her new relatives. In a few\nminutes she is raised by her mother-in-law, who embraces her and\ntreats her with becoming respect and attention. The bride also takes\nher husband to visit her parents, where the same forms of etiquette\nare again observed.\n\n[Illustration: A CHINESE MERCHANT.]\n\nAt every wedding feast there are always three metallic plates or\ndishes containing respectively, Chinese cakes, a very highly seasoned\nkind of mincemeat, and a tray of betel-nut. These three dishes were\nformerly known collectively, under the name of \"the betel-nut tray,\"\nand so universal is the custom of providing them, that the wedding\nceremony itself is now frequently spoken of by the same name.\n\nAfter the birth of the first child the joint stock is produced and the\nyoung couple are set up in business. Up to this time their household\nexpenses have been defrayed by the bride's parents.\n\nSiamese law gives the husband the right to administer a little\nwholesome chastisement to his wife, should he think she requires it;\nbut such occasions must be of rare occurrence where the women are so\ngood-tempered, and so gentle in their manners.\n\nThe whole ceremony above described is only observed in the case\nof the first or chief wife, who always remains the legal head of\nher husband's household. Other wives are merely bought as so much\nmerchandise, all formality being omitted except such as attends the\npayment of the purchase money. Polygamy is extensively practised\namongst the higher classes, but it is controlled in the case of the\npoor by the fact that a man must not have more wives than he can keep.\nChastity is highly commended by the Buddhist religion, but although\nBuddha censured polygamy he did not absolutely forbid it. He did not\nsee his way clear to a thorough prohibition of the practice, and even\nadmits that if a man's wives are properly acquired, he is unable to\npronounce it wrong. The practice of only having one wife he strongly\ncommends, and looks upon it as a form of celibacy. No disgrace of any\nkind is attached to the condition of a subordinate wife, but she does\nnot hold a high social position. Very often she inhabits a house\nseparated from that in which the head wife resides. Upon the death\nof the husband, her children are legally entitled to a share of the\nproperty, but they do not share on equal terms with the children of\nthe first wife. Then too, a bought wife can be sold or given away,\nwhile the head wife can only be divorced. It sometimes happens that a\nman sells one of his concubines, and she takes her children with her\nif she has any, so that her sons and daughters possess a father and a\nstep-father both living at the same time.\n\nThere is a very elastic divorce law, and marriages can practically be\nannulled by mutual consent. In such cases the wife takes away with\nher all the property she brought to the husband on her marriage, and\nall she may have since acquired either by trade or purchase. She also\nretains possession of the first, third, and fifth children. Great\nrespect is shown to the condition of motherhood, a wife of low rank\nwith children being of far more importance in the family than even the\nchief wife should she be childless.\n\nThe king, the princes, and most--of the noblemen have fairly large\nharems. The late king had eighty-four children who were the offspring\nof thirty-five mothers. The possession of a large harem appears to be\nregarded as an honour to the owner, who glories in his property much\nafter the same fashion as Western noblemen take great pride in their\nprivate art galleries or libraries. The king has generally one wife\nwho is called the Queen. At the present time there are two queens--the\nFirst Queen and the Second Queen, both of them being half-sisters of\nthe reigning sovereign. The women of the royal harem, unlike all other\nSiamese women, are under great restrictions as regards their personal\nliberty. They are known under the name of \"forbidden women\", that is,\nwomen forbidden to leave the palace. They are not permitted to pass\nbeyond their prison walls except with special permission, which is\nrarely, and only on occasions of extraordinary importance, granted to\nthem. Their quarters are called \"The Inside,\" and it is not considered\npolite in Siamese society to hold conversation concerning the place\nor its inmates. Into this region no man but the king ever enters. It\nis a city of women, complete in itself, with its own shops, markets,\ngaol and policemen. Those noblemen or princes who possess handsome\ndaughters are only too glad to present them to their sovereign, for\nshould their children become favourites with their royal husband,\nhonours and promotion will most likely fall to them as a natural\nconsequence. The late king once remarked that he was not particularly\nanxious to acquire all the youth and beauty of Siam himself, but, as\nso many of her fairest daughters had already been presented to him, he\ncould not possibly refuse similar gifts in future, as he did not wish\nto offend any of his subjects.\n\nThe Siamese have several amusing reasons for permitting a man to\nhave as many wives as he pleases, while they refuse to grant a like\nprivilege to women folk. Woman, they say, is man's inferior, is under\nhis control, and may not be allowed the luxury of possessing two\nmasters. Besides, if a woman had several husbands, she would never\nknow who was the father of her children, and the children, not knowing\ntheir own father, might possibly at some time or other injure him, or\neven commit parricide without knowing it. And moreover, there is a\nremarkable difference in the several dispositions of men and women;\nmen, however many wives they have, and whatever their feelings towards\nthem, would never desire to kill them, but if women had more husbands\nthan one, they would wish to put to death all except the one they\nliked best, for such is their nature.\n\n \"There was once on a time a priest, who daily blessed a\n great king, saying, 'May Your Majesty have the firmness\n of a crow, the audacity of a woman, the endurance of\n a vulture, and the strength of an ant.' And the king,\n doubting his meaning, said, 'What do you mean by the\n endurance of a vulture?' And he replied, 'If a vulture and\n all other kinds of animals be caged up without food, the\n vulture will outlive them all.' And the king tried, and it\n was so. Then the priest said, 'I spoke of the strength of\n an ant, for the ant is stronger than a man or anything that\n lives. No other animal can lift a lump of iron or copper as\n large as itself, but an ant will carry off its own bulk of\n either metal if only it be smeared with sugar. Also I spoke\n of the firmness of a crow, for none can subdue the boldness\n and energy of the crow, however long it may be caged. It\n can never be tamed. And if the king would see the audacity\n of a woman, I beg him to send for a couple who have been\n married but one or two months, and who are as yet, deeply\n in love with each other. First call the husband and tell\n him to take this knife and cut off his wife's head and\n bring it to you, when, as a reward, you will give him half\n your kingdom and make him viceroy. And if he will not do\n it, then send for the woman and tell her that if she will\n cut off her husband's head and bring it to you, you will\n make her your chief queen and ruler of all the ladies in\n the palace.' And the king did so. He found a newly married\n couple who had never quarrelled and were deeply enamoured\n of one another, and sending for the husband, he spoke to\n him as the priest suggested. The man took the knife, hid\n it in his dress, and that same night he rose when his wife\n slept, thinking to kill her, but he could not, because he\n was kind-hearted and reflected that she had done no wrong.\n And the next day he returned the knife to the king, saying\n that he could not use it against his wife. Then the king\n sent messengers to the wife secretly, and they brought her\n to him, and he flattered her and enticed her with promises,\n as the priest had told him. She took the knife, and as\n soon as her husband slept, stabbed him, cut off his head,\n and took it to the king. This story shows not only that\n women are more audacious than men, but also that, if anyone\n entices or pleases them, they will plot the death of their\n husbands, which is good reason for not letting them have\n more than one husband.\"[C]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nDOMESTIC LIFE AND CUSTOMS.\n\n\nIt is an easy matter to obtain some idea of the daily life and\nsurroundings of the poorer inhabitants of Siam, for their houses are\nsuch open structures that every enquiring eye may gaze therein without\nany interruption. They spend so much of their time, and pursue so\nmany of their employments in the open air, that even the most casual\nobserver could not fail to rapidly acquire much information concerning\ntheir domestic life and customs. In the case of the wealthier classes\nthere is much more privacy. They may be described as living also a\nkind of double life. Their houses are divided into two parts; in\none quarter they live their own native life after their own native\nfashion; in the other portion an attempt is made to reproduce the\nEuropean style of living. This latter part is the only one shown to\nthe European visitor. He is received in a drawing-room with tables and\nchairs, piano and pictures; he dines in a room where the dishes are of\nEuropean pattern, the servants have the habits of European waiters,\nand the menu contains only such dishes as are known to be palatable\nto the white man. All the surroundings are of such an unmistakably\nforeign origin, that the visitor looks in vain for any trace of the\nlife and manners of the native in the house of his wealthy host.\nWere he permitted to pass beyond the bounds set by modern fashion,\nhe would possibly find much to interest and amuse in the real house\nof the native prince or nobleman. As this is more or less unusual or\nimpossible, he is forced to seek for his information in those poorer\ndwellings, which the forward march of so-called civilisation has, as\nyet, left completely untouched.\n\nThe house-boats which represent the original dwellings of the people\nhave been already described. The land houses are of a very frail and\nrude character, though not without their own charm and picturesqueness\nwhen seen embedded in bowers of tropical foliage. Each house\nrepresents very strikingly the social grade of its owner, whether it\nbe the low hut of the labourer in which a man of average height may\nscarcely stand upright, or the brick and stone palace with carpets\nand electric lights of the prince or nobleman. Most of the houses\nare of wood, and are made of either bamboo or teak. They stand upon\nwooden platforms about six feet from the ground, being supported in\nthat position by strong teak pillars. Teak is used for this purpose\nnot only on account of its strength, but because it is also one of\nthe few woods which are so hard that the destructive little \"white\nant\" leaves it alone. The walls are of teak boards, or else of plaited\nbamboo. In the latter case the dwelling is light and airy, for the\nnumerous interstices between the strands of wood are left unclosed,\nthus admitting a plentiful supply of air and light. The roof is always\ncovered with some form of thatch, never with slates or tiles. Along\nthe river banks and near water generally, the attap palm grows in\nabundance, and its long fibrous leaves make an excellent thatch. The\nleaves are stitched together, forming rectangular layers about two\nfeet long and one foot wide. When these leafy mats are placed on the\nroof in an inclined position they form a water-tight covering. In\nplaces remote from water, where the leaves cannot be easily obtained,\nan equally serviceable thatch is made from the long broad leaves of\ncertain kinds of jungle grass. These leafy roofs last about three\nyears. In the summer they get so completely dried by the sun that they\nbecome brittle, and every strong gust of wind carries away tiny bits\nof the thatch. In this condition they are extremely inflammable, and\nfires are of frequent occurrence. As the houses are usually very close\ntogether, a fire is a very serious calamity; for not only are numerous\ndwellings consumed in the rapidly spreading conflagration itself, but\nit is always necessary to destroy every house in the neighbourhood on\nwhich sparks would be likely to fall, in order to prevent a wholesale\nbonfire. There is no fire-brigade either amateur or professional, and\nthe soldiers are always employed to put out the flames. One of these\nhouses could be easily smashed to bits by a hatchet, especially in the\ndry season, when they are about as substantial as a match-box.\n\nThe houses are built on poles for two reasons; first, to avoid the\nfloods during the rainy season, and secondly, to prevent the intrusion\nof the wild beasts who roam about at nights in the more remote parts\nof the country. There is no second storey, but a platform or verandah\nruns along the front or even round the whole of the house. The ascent\nto this verandah, or to the front door in the absence of one, is made\nby means of a rickety ladder constructed of the indispensable bamboo.\n\n[Illustration: A SIAMESE TEAK-WOOD HOUSE.]\n\nThe house is divided into at least three rooms, a kitchen, a\ndrawing-room and a bedroom. So powerful is the superstition that\neven numbers are unlucky, that the number of rooms is always an odd\none. The same fancy regulates also the number of windows and doors,\nand even the rungs of the ladder. Of these rooms the least dirty is\nthe one we have designated the drawing-room. The kitchen is always\nremarkable for its accumulation of dirt and rubbish. A properly\nconstructed fireplace is of course impossible in a wooden house. A\nsubstitute for grate and oven is obtained in one of two ways. A wooden\nbox is filled with earth, and a couple of bricks are placed thereon.\nThe fire, which is of wood or charcoal, is laid between the bricks,\nand the pot, pan, or kettle is supported by them. A more civilised\nform of stove is an earthenware furnace. It resembles in shape a short\nnarrow pail, containing a shelf midway, pierced by a number of round\nholes. Below the shelf an oblong aperture is cut in the side of the\npail. The pot stands on the rim of the bucket, the charcoal is placed\non the sieve-like shelf, and a current of air is caused to pass\nupwards by rapidly waving a fan to and fro in front of the lateral\nopening. No chimney or other method of exit is provided in the kitchen\nby which the smoke of the fire can escape. It finds its way to the\nexterior or into the other rooms of the house, through the holes in\nthe walls or through the light frame-work screens and partitions that\nrepresent walls. Grime and soot accumulate year after year, and form\na very complete if inartistic covering to the sides and roof of this\nOriental kitchen. The place is never cleaned out or disinfected.\nSpiders spin their webs in undisturbed possession of every nook; tiny\nlizards crawl over the walls, open-mouthed, looking for flies and\nmosquitoes; multitudes of insects of the \"crawly creepy\" kind find\ncomfortable breeding-places amidst the shreds of smoke-stained attap.\n\nEvery member of the household knows how to cook. If the mother is not\nat home, the father can easily take her place, for he knows quite\nwell how long rice should be boiled or bananas stewed. The little\nchildren can fry the fish or make the curry, and so are independent\nof their parents in this respect. Whenever the voice of hunger makes\nitself heard, its appeal is promptly responded to, and consequently\ngreat irregularity prevails in the times of meals. But as a general\nrule there are two fixed meals each day, one at about seven o'clock\nin the morning and the other about half-past five in the afternoon.\nThe chief article of food is rice. In the cooking of this grain the\npeople have no rivals. They wash it four or five times, and then soak\nit for a little while. They put it next into boiling water for three\nor four minutes, and then pour off the water. The pot is left over\nthe fire for some time longer so that it is well steamed, care being\ntaken, however, to remove the pot before the rice is burned. When it\nis turned out into the basin, the grains are all considerably swollen,\nand are separate from each other. They are as white as snow and not\nat all sticky. Rice is cooked in many other ways; made into cakes,\nfermented to make an intoxicating drink, taken internally as medicine,\nand used externally as a poultice. Fruits and sweetmeats are eaten\nbetween meals. The rice is often served up cold.\n\nWhen making a meal, the natives either follow the custom of the\nChinese and poke their food into their mouths with chopsticks, or\nthey attempt to imitate the European, and use spoons made of tin,\nlead, or china; or finally, they use their own fingers. A large bowl\nof rice is placed in the centre of the floor and the hungry ones sit\nround it in a circle, either squatting upon their haunches or sitting\ntailor-fashion with their legs crossed under them. Various curries and\nother foods are eaten with the rice, and these are placed in small\nchina basins arranged round the central one. Each person has in front\nof him a small basin, and helps himself, so that the quickest eater\nnaturally gets the biggest share.\n\nRice is sold in the markets and at many little shops, ready cooked,\nand wrapped up in small quantities in a banana leaf. Workmen and\nothers engaged in outdoor occupations find it just as easy to get a\nmeal outside as at home, for they never suffer from lack of plates,\ntables, or chairs. They just sit down by the side of the road and\nwait for the first itinerant dealer in eatable wares to appear, when\nthey dip into his pots or baskets, and for a few cents get a fairly\nsubstantial meal.\n\nAs a relish with the rice, fish is generally eaten. This may be fresh\nor stale, fried or fermented. The stale fish eaten by the natives may\nbe recognised from afar owing to its powerful perfume. Such forms\nof food, especially when they have the additional attraction of a\nparticularly pungent flavour, are held in high esteem. Decaying prawn\nwell covered with fiery pepper is a delicacy keenly appreciated. Eggs\nthat have been salted and preserved are also considered palatable.\nAmongst the other dainties that figure on the menu may be mentioned\nthe seeds and stalks of the sacred lotus, the stem of the young\nbamboo, peas, beans, sugar-cane, several kinds of weeds and blossoms,\nevery kind of fruit obtainable, chilies, mango-chutney, cocoa-nut\nmilk, and fat pork. The favourite sauce is called \"Nam-prik\" or\n\"pepper-water.\" Red pepper is bruised in a mortar and then made into\na paste with shrimps or prawns in a condition politely described as\n\"high.\" To this is added black pepper, garlic and onions. Brine and\ncitron juice give to the compound the necessary liquidity. A little\nginger is also considered a desirable ingredient. This sauce is said\nto be decidedly efficacious in stimulating a jaded appetite. Being\naccustomed to this highly seasoned kind of diet, the Siamese fail as\na rule to appreciate the more delicate flavours of the European table,\nwhich they describe as being perfectly insipid.\n\nThey excel in the art of preparing fruit, and they can remove the hard\nkernels from all stone fruit, with such skill that when placed upon\nthe table, the eye fails to discover from its external appearance,\nthat the natural condition of the fruit has been in any way altered.\nThe meal is washed down with a draught of canal water. There are no\nwater-works, and as the poor cannot afford to buy receptacles in which\nto store up rain water, they are forced during the dry season to drink\nthe filthy sewage-water of the canals. Needless to state, cholera\nepidemics are by no means infrequent.\n\nThe floor of the kitchen is of plaited bamboo, like most of the\nwalls. Through the cracks are thrown all the scraps that remain when\nbreakfast or dinner is finished. The cooking water, the old bits of\nmeat, bone, and fish, the skins of fruits, and most other domestic\nrefuse are similarly disposed of. There is always a crowd of bony,\nhungry pariahs lying in wait beneath the kitchen floor, ready to snap\nup the bits as they fall. It is well for the inhabitants that these\ncanine waifs and strays do thus frequent their habitations, for in\nthe absence of any salaried scavengers, they would otherwise become\nveritable pest-houses. The little furniture that the kitchen boasts,\nis not of any great value. There is the fireplace,--a wooden box, or\nearthen stove; a few earthenware pots; a few china and brass basins;\nsome old kerosine tins, which are used for carrying water; a few\nbaskets; a kettle and a small table; an old stool or up-turned box.\n\nJust as there are no cleaning days, so there are no washing days. When\nthe people go to bathe, they go into the water in the garment they\nhappen to be wearing at the time. When they come out again; they very\ndexterously wrap a clean dry one round the body, at the same time\nslipping off the wet one, which is then wrung out, and left to dry\nin the sun. The professional washermen or \"dhobies\" are all Chinese\nand are chiefly employed by the Europeans. Their methods of washing\nimmediately destroy flannels, and ultimately ruin every article of\nwhatever texture that is handed over to their tender mercies. They\nwash clothes on the banks of the canal in the dirty water. They first\nsoak them till thoroughly wet, then rub them well over with soap, and\nthen bang them against the stones till they have succeeded in knocking\nsome of the dirt out, and many holes in. A rinse in water follows, and\nthen the articles are dried in the sun. They understand the mysteries\nof \"ironing and starching\", but the \"ironing\" process is productive of\nnumerous patches of \"mould\", and the \"starching\" results in an uncanny\nlimpidity. Any man in want of a dress-shirt, or a clean pair of white\ndrill trousers, can always borrow those belonging to someone else on\napplication at the \"laundry\", and the payment of a small fee.\n\nThe drawing-room, sitting-room, parlour, or whatever other name it\nmay be known by, is not luxuriously furnished. The visitor sits upon\nthe floor, with only a skin or mat between himself and the boards. In\nmany instances even this form of couch is absent. A few low stools\nmay occasionally be found. The walls are commonly adorned with\nphotographs, cheap lithographs, and prints. Every caller is offered a\ntray of betel-nut and its accompanying condiments; a cup of tea, and\ncigarettes. The betel-nut is not eaten alone, but with a mixture of\ntobacco, seri-leaf, turmeric and lime, and no host ever forgets to\noffer these things to his guest. In time, as a result of continual\nchewing, the gums and lips become a vivid red, and the teeth an\nintense shiny black, and in extreme old age the teeth also protrude\nin a repulsive fashion. The first effect of the nut upon a beginner\nis rather of an intoxicating or stupefying nature. But after having\nonce contracted a strong liking for its bitter flavour, many people\nfind themselves absolutely unable to do without it. Every man carries\nin his pocket a small box containing the nut, the tobacco etc., or is\nfollowed wherever he goes by his servant who bears it after him. When\nthe master sits down, the servant deposits it by his side so that it\nis easily within reach of the owner. These boxes are often of valuable\nmaterial and beautiful workmanship. The commonest material used in\ntheir construction is silver, but the wealthier classes have their\nbetel-boxes made of rich, ruddy gold and set with jewels. The black\nteeth that are obtained by the constant use of the nut are considered\nbeautiful. The natives express their contempt for white teeth in the\nremark, \"Any dog can have white teeth.\" The local dentists keep in\nstock complete sets of black false teeth, so that when a naturally\nblack tooth is removed, an artificially coloured one can at once\ntake its place and so prevent any break in the uniform coal-like\naspect of the mouth. Saliva is produced in copious quantities during\nmastication, and is of a blood red colour. As it is never swallowed,\nspittoons must always accompany the betel-box. If the saliva is\nallowed to fall upon wood or stone it produces brick-red stains which\nare not easily removable. Such stains are exceedingly common in the\nstreets and houses. The black deposit formed upon the teeth is said to\nexercise a preserving influence upon them.\n\nSmoking is to some extent gradually replacing betel-nut chewing,\nespecially with the children, who now take to the weed when they\nare about five or six years old. The native tobacco is very strong,\nand when smoked as a cigarette wrapped in dried banana-leaf, it is\ndecidedly unpalatable to the European. Light cigarette tobaccos of\nforeign manufacture are now much in vogue. Those who can afford it,\nroll up the tobacco in lotus leaf. For this purpose the petals of the\nlotus flowers are taken, dried in the sun, flattened with a hot iron,\nand then cut into rectangular pieces of the same size as ordinary\ncigarette paper. Pipes are rarely seen.\n\nThe natives are not addicted either to strong drink or to opium. Those\nwho drink beer and spirits have learnt the habit from their Western\nfriends. The opium monopoly is farmed, and is at present in the hands\nof a Chinaman who is the king's head cook. The late king feared that\nhis subjects might take to the drug, and he issued a decree forbidding\nall of them under heavy penalties to buy or smoke it, but the law has\nbecome inoperative.\n\nThe bedroom, the third necessary room of every Siamese dwelling,\ncannot be held up as a model of cleanliness. Frequently it is the\nlumber-room where everything old and unnecessary is stowed away.\nThe altar and the idols are placed therein, especially if the sick\nor dying are lying there. On retiring for the night, the doors and\nwindows are closed, and the atmosphere soon becomes hot and unhealthy.\nOwing to the presence of innumerable mosquitoes whose buzzing and\nstinging are effective preventatives of somnolescence, every one must\nsleep inside a mosquito net. In the majority of cases the net is so\ndirty, and its meshes are so clogged with deposits of dust accumulated\nthrough many days, that neither air nor mosquitoes can penetrate\nits folds. People sleep on the bare boards, on mats or skins, and\non mattresses stuffed with tree cotton. Pillows are not in common\nuse, except amongst those who have borrowed the Chinese form of this\nluxury--namely, a hard, hollow, semi-cylindrical frame of bamboo.\n\nWhen sleeping, the head must not be pointing to the West, as that\npoint of the compass where the sun finishes his daily round, is\nsynonymous with death. The favourable position is with the head to the\nNorth and the feet to the South. Other superstitions with regard to\nthe points of the compass prevail, certain directions being considered\nauspicious according to the days of the week. Thus on Sunday, the East\nis the lucky situation; on Monday, the West; on Tuesday, the South;\non Wednesday, the South West; on Thursday, the North; on Friday, the\nSouth East; and on Saturday, the North West. It is very important that\non any given day a person should not set out to travel in any other\ndirection, or place his face towards any other point of the compass\nshould he be taking part in any ceremony of importance.\n\nIf the tenant of the house owns any cattle, they are stabled\nunderneath, so that any thieves who may visit his premises during the\nnight may readily be detected. Pigs and cows directly under one's\nbedroom are not usually considered as being conducive to healthy,\nrestful sleep, but the Siamese do not seem to mind their presence in\nthe least.\n\nFrequent mention has been made of the bright colours of the clothes\nworn by the people. Most of the cotton or silk goods are manufactured\nin England, Germany, or Switzerland, but the brighter and more\nartistic colours are produced by the natives themselves, by means of\na number of dyes made from various roots, fruits, and seeds. Some of\nthe colours thus obtained are never to be found in any of the cloths\nimported from abroad, especially the many beautiful shades of yellow\nand orange, so conspicuous in the ecclesiastical vestments. To be\nthoroughly fashionable one must put on a differently coloured garment\nevery day, and wear rings and other jewelled ornaments with stones\nof corresponding hue. This custom is not simply a fashionable one. It\nowes its origin to an old superstition. Sunday is under the rule of\nthe sun, therefore on that day bright red silks and rubies should be\nworn; Monday, the day of the moon, can only be properly respected by\nwearing silver or white coloured garments and moonstones; Tuesday, the\nday of ruddy Mars, requires light red clothes with coral ornaments;\nWednesday, devoted to the greenish tinted Mercury, is the day when\ngreen garments and emeralds are correct; the variegated appearance\nof Jupiter dominates the fashion for Thursday and prescribes the\ncat's-eye as the proper jewel; Venus rules on Friday, and requires\nfrom her worshippers silver-blue apparel and diamonds; while Saturday\nis under the influence of Saturn, who demands sapphires and dark-blue\ncostumes.\n\n[Illustration: MAKING CURRY.]\n\nThe Siamese wear their hair cut short and brushed straight up from the\nforehead. This method of dressing the hair is of comparatively late\norigin. The king's crown, the actor's head-dress, and the hats worn in\nmany processions are all of a conical shape. They owe their design to\nthat period when the hair was knotted and piled up on the head in such\na way as to require a conical hat or crown. Before the first century,\nthe hair is said to have been worn in a long flowing plait, resembling\nthe pig-tail of the Chinese. From the second to the eighth centuries,\nwhen Siam was tributary to Cambodia, a Hindoo style of dressing the\nhair was adopted from the sovereign state. At this time a central\nlock of hair adorned the head. At a later date when the country\ngained its independence, the hair was allowed to grow uniformly all\nover the head, but cut short. The change was made in order that\nsome visible sign could be shown that freedom had been gained. This\nfashion remained in vogue till about the thirteenth century when the\ntop-knot was introduced as a relic of Sivaitic worship, together with\nother Hindoo manners, by immigrants from India. Other forms were at\ndifferent times adopted. For instance, from 1002 A.D. to 1768 A.D. the\nhair of the men was frequently cut in a cup-shaped fashion. The king\nwho reigned at that time is popularly supposed to be responsible for\nthis style, which could be most satisfactorily produced by placing\nhalf a cocoa-nut upon the head, and shaving or cutting away all the\nhair then visible. Women, however, allowed their locks to grow until\nthey flowed over the shoulders. Again, from 1698 A.D. to 1798 A.D.\nmany people adopted the \"Great Freemen\" pattern, in which the hair\nappeared in the form of a reversed brush in the centre of the head.\n\nThere are certain days of the week when it is unwise to visit the\nbarber, others on which it is highly desirable that any alteration\nin the condition of the hair should be made. If it is cut on Sunday,\nlasting happiness and long life are ensured to him who then loses his\nlocks; the unfortunate individual who undergoes the same operation\non a Monday may expect fatal diseases, sorrows, and many unpleasant\nsurprises; Tuesday hair-cuttings bring peacefulness and prosperity,\nand victory in war, while those of a Wednesday are attended with\nmanifold evils, great anxieties, and troubles from enemies. If a\nman desires the powerful protection of those angels who inhabit the\nheavenly spheres, he must get his hair cut on a Thursday; if he\nwould have the satisfaction of finding all kinds of food savoury and\npalatable, he must visit the barber on Friday; and lastly, if he would\nbe certain of the successful accomplishment of every rite and deed\nperformed on the Saturday, he should submit his locks to the shears on\nthat day.\n\nIn a country where so many insanitary conditions surround the life of\nthe people, sickness is common. Hence doctors and quacks abound. A\nfew Siamese have been educated for the medical profession in foreign\ncountries, and are skilful practitioners. A few others have learnt\nthe principles of European medicine and surgery in the Medical School\nat Bangkok, but the vast majority of the native professors of the\nhealing art have no other knowledge than that handed down to them by\ntradition. There are royal \"doctors\" attached to the court, quacks who\nprofess to cure anything and everything under the sun, and magicians\nwho both cure and kill for a moderate consideration. If a person\nhas an enemy whose death he wishes to encompass, there are certain\nwizards who will give effect to his wishes by bewitching a buffalo.\nThe animal then dwindles to the size of a pea. This highly condensed\npill is given to the enemy, and when swallowed begins to expand to\nits original size, with a result that is best left undescribed. Other\nmagicians make clay images to represent sick persons. Over these\nimages they perform curious incantations, and then bury them in the\njungle, where they absorb and so remove the sickness of the person\nwhom they represent. There is, however, a distinct school and science\nof medicine which is not simply a matter of magic. In the treatment of\nfevers and other local ailments, the native doctors are as good as the\nEuropean. They are clever practisers of the operation of massage; they\nunderstand the nature and use of many of the herbs and roots that grow\nin their jungles; and they are great believers in shower-baths, and\nin the healing properties of earth when applied to wounds and boils.\nTheir physiological and scientific knowledge is summed up briefly in\nthe following paragraphs.\n\nAll nature is composed of four elements, earth, fire, wind and water.\nThe bodies of men and animals are made up of the same constituents,\nthe earth and water being visible in the bones, flesh and blood,\nwhile the fire and wind, though invisible, are clearly present in the\nbreath and heat. The earth of which all solid bodies are composed is\nof twenty-six varieties; the different forms of water are divided\ninto twelve classes, those of wind into six classes, and those of\nfire into four. Now in the body of man all the six kinds of wind are\nknown to exist. The first flows from his head to his feet, the second\nfrom his feet to his head. The third wind circulates in the region\nof the diaphragm; the fourth forms the pulse; the fifth enters the\nlungs; and the sixth is present in the abdominal viscera. Of the\nfour kinds of fire that exercise any influence upon the health of\nhumanity, two varieties of this subtle element are beneficial, and\nproduce respectively the natural temperature of the body, and an easy\ndigestion. The other two kinds are of an undesirable character, as one\nis the cause of fevers, and the other consumes the body in old age.\n\nThe body is divided into thirty-two parts subject to ninety-six\ndiseases, all of which are the inevitable result of any excess in the\namount of any one of the primary elements. An excess in the quantity\nof fire produces all kinds of fevers; any superabundance of water\ncreates dropsy and kindred ailments. All sicknesses that cannot be\neasily accounted for, are attributed to an accumulation of wind, and\nthe natives commonly reply when asked what is the matter with them,\n\"ben lom\", that is, \"it is wind.\"\n\n[Illustration: STEAMING RICE.]\n\nIll health and good health are dispensed by numerous spirits, and it\nbehoves all men so to order their lives and actions that they may not\nincur the displeasure of those spirits who have sickness at their\ndisposal, but that they may win the favour of those who dispense the\nblessing of perfect health.\n\nIn the days when Buddha walked and talked amongst men, there lived a\nman of remarkable wisdom who is the father of medicine. To him the\nplants and flowers of the forest spoke, revealing their many virtues.\nThe knowledge thus revealed to him he wrote down in books, and also\ntaught by word of mouth to his fellow-men. The remedies he prescribed\nare sacred and infallible. If they apparently fail to cure, the\nfailure is not to be attributed to the method of treatment he laid\ndown, but to the want of sufficient goodness of life and character in\nthe doctor or his patient. Every native physician has in his house\nan image of this legendary founder of his profession. Upon his face\nis a beneficent smile. One of his hands is held outstretched. In the\nhollow of this outstretched hand, every drug is placed to receive his\nblessing before it is administered to the ailing one. After having\nreceived the blessing, the drug is taken to the house of the patient\nand there boiled in an earthenware pot. The solution thus obtained,\nvery often has to be drunk in quarts before any effect is produced. If\nthe sick man dies the doctor gets no remuneration for his services.\nThe following recipe for a mixture that will cure snake-bites should\nbe noticed by all those who intend to hunt or work in jungles where\npoisonous reptiles abound.\n\nA piece of the jaw of a wild hog.\nA piece of the jaw of a tame hog.\nA piece of the bone of a goose.\nA piece of the bone of a peacock.\nThe tail of a fish.\nThe head of a venomous snake.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nDOMESTIC LIFE AND CUSTOMS (_continued_).\n\n\nSlavery or serfdom is one of the most interesting features in the\nsocial life of the Siamese. It is another of those customs which\nthey have borrowed from a neighbouring nation. The Shan ancestors of\nthe Siamese were \"free\" men, and the name \"Thai\", which was the name\nthey called themselves, signified that fact. It is, moreover, the\nname of the nation to-day, though the condition of slavery is a very\nwide-spread one. For many years the inhabitants of the plains were\ntributary to Cambodia, whose princes and nobles treated all servants\nand aliens as slaves. When the foreign yoke was thrown off, this\ndomestic custom was instituted amongst the \"free\" men, and all the\nsubjects of the king became theoretically his slaves. But as he was\nunable to find employment for this large body of serfs, he delegated\na portion of his ownership to persons of lower rank. These in turn\nhanded on their powers to other people, and so arose a condition of\nuniversal serfdom, which, however, was only strictly enforced in\nthe case of the poorer classes. The system thus organised divided\nthe whole nation into a series of social strata, but the limits\nbetween the different grades of society have never been so rigid and\nimpassable as the adamantine boundaries that separate the castes of\nIndia. In fact, the serf in Siam to-day may be a nobleman of high rank\nin the future, should he possess ability of sufficient distinction\nto warrant so great a promotion. Until the present reign there were\ntheoretically no \"free\" men in the kingdom at all, for everybody owed\nhomage to some one of higher degree; but one of the first acts of H.\nM. King Chulalongkorn after he came to the throne, was to issue a\ndecree by which all children born of slaves were thereafter declared\nfree. As freedom could be purchased there were also many people in the\nland who had obtained their independence. Though the king's decree\nstruck a very decisive blow at the condition of domestic slavery, a\nsystem of state slavery still prevails inasmuch as the laws relating\nto _corv\u00e9e_ and conscription are still enforced. Chinese, priests,\nand foreigners are all exempt from enforced labour of any kind, but\nthe first-named of these classes has to pay a triennial tax as the\nprice of its exemption. The people who are now in bondage are in that\ncondition chiefly as the result of financial indebtedness.\n\nWhen a native borrows money he either promises to pay a certain amount\nof interest for the loan, or he promises and actually allows the\nlender to have his services for a specified time in lieu of interest.\nShould the borrower under the first agreement here mentioned, fail to\npay the interest he has promised, he then offers his personal services\nin payment of both interest and capital. If the total sum is large,\na lifetime may not be long enough to work off the debt at the native\nrate of wages, and he so becomes a slave for life. Many people, too,\nwhen heavily in debt, sell themselves bodily to someone who will\ndischarge their numerous debts for them. The man who has lost his\nfreedom as the result of financial misfortunes can always re-obtain\nit if he can in any way obtain sufficient money to pay off his debts.\nThere is nothing cruel or revolting in the treatment of the serfs,\nand many of them are sincerely attached to their masters, and have\nbeen known voluntarily to afford them any assistance they could when\nmisfortunes have overtaken them. They are fed, clothed, and housed at\nthe expense of their owners, and rarely experience in their dependent\ncondition any real hardship. Away in the country the majority of the\npeople prefer to live as the bondservants of some powerful person, who\nin return for their labour provides both them and their families with\nprotection and support.\n\nThe _corv\u00e9e_ laws are also responsible for a certain number of those\nwho are in bondage. When the central authorities claim the services\nof someone resident in a remote quarter of the country, the order is\nmade through the governor of the province in which the person whose\ntime and labour are required, resides. If this person desires to\navoid the requisition, he is often allowed by the local officials to\npay a certain sum of money sufficient for the hire or purchase of a\nsubstitute. A mark is then tattooed on the wrist of the substitute,\nand he becomes definitely the property of the government. Now if the\n\"marked\" man should die at an early date, an illegal claim is often\nmade for the provision of another proxy, on his wife and children.\nThis claim is in opposition to the law, but has often been made by\nofficials of cruel, arbitrary dispositions. In most cases he who so\nbreaks the law is also the administrator of the law for that district,\nand if the woman and her children are unable to satisfy the demand for\nmoney thus unjustly made, they must become themselves the slaves of\nthe official till they work off the amount required from them. When\nthe boys have grown to such a height that they too may be called upon\nby the government for _corv\u00e9e_ or conscription, their master also\nmarks them upon the wrist, and in this way the condition of serfdom\nis perpetuated from generation to generation. When at a later date\nthe government does actually requisition their services, their owner\nprofesses that they are really his own personal property, and he pays\nto the central authorities a tax of ninety cents per annum for each\nmale, and so retains them as his dependants. In these cases also,\nthe bond-man becomes free when he is prepared to pay a certain fixed\nsum, but it is rarely possible for a serf to obtain the necessary\nfunds, as he is daily employed in the service of his master and so\nprevented from earning wages elsewhere. No slaves can be sold to\nanother person without their own consent. If a slave is sold, and if\nhe afterwards absconds, the seller is bound to repay to the buyer\nthe sum originally paid, less a reasonable amount reckoned for loss\nof service during the time he has been absent from his old master,\nunless it is directly specified to the contrary in the agreement made\nat the time of purchase. Before the king's decree freed the children\nof all slaves, they too became the property of the owners of their\nparents, but they could be set at liberty by paying a sum of money\nwhich was fixed by law. They could not be sold to anyone else without\nthe consent both of themselves and their parents.\n\nEach slave has a paper on which is stated the amount to be paid for\nhis or her redemption. The paper is kept by the owner, but it must be\ngiven up whenever the amount specified therein is forthcoming. The\nslave who attempts to gain freedom by running away, and so avoiding\nwhat is often a perfectly just and legal debt, is punished by being\nput in chains, but the fetters are of no great weight and are simply\nput on the ankles to prevent any further attempt at escape. In any\ncase they are preferable to an indefinite period of imprisonment in\nthe native goal.\n\nIf a man buys a new servant, and afterwards sees reason to regret\nhis bargain, he may demand the return of the purchase money, and\nthe cancelling of the agreement, provided he makes his claim before\nthe expiration of three months from the date of purchase. If any\nbond-servant neglects the due performance of any of the duties\nprescribed by the master, the losses that are thereby incurred are\nadded to the amount of the redemption money, and must be paid before\nfreedom can be claimed. If any female slave is married against her\nwill to any favourite of her owner, or maybe to the owner himself,\nthe price of her freedom must forthwith be reduced by one half. When\nwars took place, the man who fought in lieu of his master, thereby\nregained his freedom. Should any serf sustain injury in any way while\ncarrying out work demanded from him by his owner, he is entitled\nto receive compensation according to the nature and extent of his\ninjuries. When a slave is killed in defending either his master or\nhis master's property, no claim can be made against the person who\nwas security for the slave. But if any slave absconds, then any money\nspent in his apprehension is added to the price of his redemption. It\nwill be seen that the laws of the kingdom which govern the system of\ndomestic bondage, are on the whole of a just and equitable nature. And\nit must not be forgotten that these laws were made long before Western\ninfluence had in any way exercised any effect in the land. They are\nsufficient in themselves to demonstrate the essentially broad-minded\nand humanitarian character of the present and previous sovereigns. It\nis true that they are often broken by powerful officials in remote\ndistricts, but under the new system of administration now being\nrapidly organised, there will perhaps arise a more rigorous and\njudicial application of the principles of the legislative code.\n\nThe national etiquette is the logical result of the national condition\nof society. Briefly put, it consists of a certain number of laws\nrelating to the amount of deference to be paid by persons of one\nsocial grade to those of a higher one. Most of the old forms of\netiquette are strictly observed by all ranks, though of late years a\nfew have disappeared under the pressure of progressive social reforms\nstimulated and often initiated by the king himself. As the head is\nthe most sacred part of the body, the chief rules that concern the\nbehaviour of an inferior person in the presence of his superior,\nrelate to the position of the body. Formerly no person dared raise his\nhead to the level of that of one of higher rank. He might not cross a\nbridge while his superior passed beneath, nor could he walk in a room\nsituated above that in which his superior might be lying or sitting.\nAt the present time, bridges and floors are trodden indiscriminately.\nUntil the year 1874 A.D., all persons approached the sovereign\non hands and knees, crawling with the head upon a level with the\nmonarch's feet. The crawling in public has been abolished, but nearly\nevery person crouches in the streets when he speaks to, or passes,\none whom he knows to be of higher rank than himself. The abolition\nof public crawling was made by the present king in the presence of\nhis assembled courtiers a few years after he ascended the throne.\nThe occasion will ever remain a memorable one in the annals of the\ncountry. All the chief members of the different government services\nwere in their accustomed positions on hands and knees, with heads bent\nto the ground, when a decree was read to them of which the following\nparagraphs formed a portion.\n\n \"Since His Majesty ascended the throne, it has been the\n Royal purpose to cherish the State and augment the\n happiness of the greater and lesser princes, ministers and\n nobles, the clergy, the Brahmins, and the masses of the\n people all over the kingdom. Whatever is oppressive and\n burdensome, it has been the Royal purpose to remove from\n the people, and abolish from the State. His Majesty has\n noticed that the great countries and powers in Eastern and\n Western Asia, that is to say to the East of our country,\n China, Cochin China and Japan, and to the West, India\n and the regions where oppression existed, compelling the\n inferiors to prostrate and worship their masters and\n persons of rank, similar to the custom prevailing in Siam,\n have at present ceased these customs and instituted new\n ones.\n\n \"They have universally changed and ceased the custom of\n prostration and worship, to make manifest the good purpose\n that there shall be no more oppression in their countries.\n The countries that have abolished these rigorous exactions,\n have manifestly greatly increased in their prosperity.\n\n \"In this kingdom of Siam there are some national customs\n that are rigorous, hostile to good usage, and ought to be\n modified; but the changing and modifying of customs cannot\n be effected at once; such changes must be the subject of\n much thought and gradual modification, adapted to times and\n circumstances. It is in this way that states will augment\n their susceptible prosperity.\n\n \"The custom of prostration and human worship in Siam, is\n manifestly an oppressive exaction which an inferior must\n perform to a superior, causing him embarrassing fatigue in\n order to honour a superior. These acts of showing honour\n by such prostration and worship, His Majesty perceives are\n of no benefit whatever to the country. Inferiors who are\n obliged to perform them, to honour their superiors, must\n endure and suffer much till the time when they leave the\n presence of their superior and thus escape the requisition.\n This custom His Majesty perceives is a primary cause of\n many existing oppressive exactions, therefore, this ancient\n national custom, which made prostration the prescribed\n method of demonstrating respect in Siam, must be abolished;\n for His Majesty is graciously disposed to confer happiness\n upon all, and to this end, will relieve them from the\n burden of prostration as practised heretofore. His Majesty\n proposes to substitute in the place of crouching and\n crawling, standing and walking; and instead of prostration\n on all-fours and bowing with palm-joined hands to the\n ground, a graceful bow of the head.\n\n \"Standing, walking, bowing the head, are equal\n demonstrations of respect with crouching and crawling.\n\n \"Perhaps some persons of rank who may favour the custom of\n crouching and crawling as heretofore, thinking it good, may\n have their doubts as to the wisdom or advisability of the\n new regulations, and may wish to know why the change from\n prostration to standing will be advantageous to the State.\n These may rest assured that the proposed change is ordered\n to impress upon the people the intention to remove from\n them all oppressive exactions. States that do not oppress\n the inferior ranks will assuredly have great prosperity.\n\n \"Henceforth, the princes and nobles according to their\n rank, when in solemn audience before the throne, or\n wherever His Majesty may be present, will please observe\n this Royal Edict, which is hereby promulgated to regulate\n henceforth the conduct of noblemen in every particular in\n in this matter.\"[D]\n\nThe decree proceeded to detail and explain the new social rules, after\nwhich the whole crowd rose from the ground, and for the first time in\nthe history of the country, the subject stood upright in the presence\nof the sovereign. The people to whom this wise edict was addressed are\nof a conservative nature, and believe in precedent as an infallible\nguide in all matters. They have no love for innovations, and have\nbeen slow to follow their king in his forward march towards a pure\nand enlightened form of government. There are many noblemen who still\ninsist upon their servants approaching them in the ancient way, in\nspite of the proclamation and the king's own wishes. But on court days\nno such demonstrations are now ever seen within the precincts of the\nAudience Chamber.\n\nThe place of honour is on the right hand of the chief guest. Places\nnear the wall on the right hand are of greater honour than those on\nthe left, while the position of greatest distinction in any room is\nopposite the door.\n\nCivil and religious holidays follow each other in rapid succession\nthe whole year round. The King's birthday is celebrated for three\ndays by the entire nation. Ships are wreathed in flowers and bunting,\nbanquets are given, receptions are held, and salutes are fired. At\nnight, the palaces in the city, the vessels in the river, every house\nby the side of a road or on the bank of a stream, are ablaze with\nlight. Night is turned to day, and earth becomes a fairy land.\n\n[Illustration: A RICKSHAW.]\n\nThe New Year holidays also last three days. They commence on the First\nof April, a day which is scarcely auspicious from the European point\nof view. For the usual feasting that accompanies this and all other\nholidays, a special kind of cake is made, which is as much in demand\nas our own Shrove-Tuesday pancakes or our Good-Friday hot cross-buns.\nThe temples are thronged with women and children making offerings to\nBuddha and his priests.\n\nThe people inaugurate their New Year with numerous charitable and\nreligious deeds. The rich entertain the monks, who recite appropriate\nprayers and chants. Every departed soul returns to the bosom of his\nfamily during these three days, freed from any fetters that may have\nbound him in regions of indefinable locality. On the third day the\nreligious observances terminate, and the remaining hours are devoted\nto \"the world, the flesh, and the devil.\" Gambling is not confined\nto the licensed houses, but may be indulged in anywhere. Games of\nchance hold powerful sway in every house as long as the license to\nparticipate in them lasts.\n\nPriests in small companies occupy posts at regular intervals round the\ncity wall, and spend their time in chanting away the evil spirits. On\nthe evening of the second day, the ghostly visitors from the lower\nrealms lose the luxury of being exorcised with psalms. Every person\nwho has a gun may fire it as often as he pleases, and the noise thus\nmade is undoubtedly fearful enough in its intensity to cause any\nwandering traveller from the far-off fiery land to retrace his steps\nwith speed. The bang and rattle of pistols, muskets, shot-guns, and\nrifles cease not till the break of day, by which time the city is\neffectually cleared of all its infernal visitors.\n\nTwice each year another important holiday occurs, in connection with\nthe taking of the oath of allegiance. Every person who is a prince,\na nobleman, or a paid servant of the Government, is required to\npresent himself at the temple in the grounds of the Royal Palace, or\nat other places appointed in other parts of the country, to swear\nhis allegiance to the king. Each person signifies his acceptance of\nthe oath read to him, by drinking, and sprinkling upon his forehead,\na few drops of specially prepared water. Some ordinary rain-water is\nfirst placed in a bowl, and then stirred with swords, pistols, spears\nand other weapons such as are likely to be used in the punishment of\nthose who are guilty of treasonable practices. Priests are excused,\nas it is considered that their professions of holiness are sufficient\nguarantees of their loyalty.\n\nPortions of the symbolical water are afterwards sent to the distant\nprovinces. The local governors then assemble those people who are in\nany way connected with the local administration, and require them also\nto take the oath and drink the water of allegiance. The formula of the\noath is somewhat lengthy, but the following translation of a portion\nof it will serve to show its general character.\n\n \"We beseech the powers of the deities to plague with\n poisonous boils that will rapidly prove fatal, and with all\n manner of terrible diseases, the dishonourable, perverse,\n and treacherous. May we be visited with untimely wretched\n and appalling deaths that our disloyalty may be made\n manifest in the eyes of the whole world. When we shall have\n departed from this life upon earth, cause us to be sent\n to, and all to be born again in, that great hell where\n we shall burn with unquenchable fire through limitless\n transmigrations. And when we have expiated our penalties\n there, and are born again into any other world, we pray\n that we may fail to find the least happiness in any\n pleasurable enjoyments that may there abound. Let us not\n meet the god Buddha; let us not hear the sacred teachings;\n let us not come into contact with the sacred priests whose\n mission it is to be gracious to men and animals, and to\n help them to escape from misery, to attain a progressive\n succession of births and deaths, and finally to reach\n heaven itself. Should we by any chance meet with holy men\n or priests, let us receive therefrom no gracious helpful\n assistance.\"[E]\n\nAlthough the oath is rather a terrible one to take, very very little\nsolemnity prevails on these occasions, and every one performs his part\nof the ceremony in a most casual manner.\n\nThose natives who have had little or no communication with Europeans\nare the best exemplars of the true character of the nation. They are\nvery gentle in their manners; timid, especially in the dark or with\nstrangers; gay and cheerful, and fond of cheerful persons. They rarely\nquarrel amongst themselves, as they dislike worry and trouble of\nevery description. They are lazy when ordinary work has to be done,\nbut busy enough when preparations have to be made for amusements or\nholiday processions. Their idea of the millenium is that the tide will\nflow up one side of the river and down the other, so that everyone\nmay go whithersoever he pleases without the trouble of rowing. There\nwill be no work of any description, and men will lie in the sunshine,\nas happy as birds. The country people never beg, and even in the\ncapital it is only the leprous and the blind who ask for alms. There\nis no clamouring for backsheesh as in other Oriental countries. The\npeople are sharp and witty, and delight in jokes and sharp sayings.\nThey are not nearly so imitative as the Chinese, but they absorb new\nideas, and adapt themselves to changes of custom with great rapidity,\nwhen they have once overcome their initial prejudice against the\ninnovation. When the electric tramway was first opened in Bangkok, the\nabsence of any visible locomotive machinery caused them the greatest\nbewilderment, and for several days they half worshipped the cars as\nthey passed them in the streets, murmuring to themselves the while,\n\"It is the Devil's carriage.\" In less than a week, the cars were\npacked on every journey with a crowd who distinctly appreciated the\nspeed and ease with which they were being carried along.\n\nThey are not greater liars than other men, except when they have come\ninto close contact with civilisation. There are old residents living\nin Bangkok who remember the day when the word of a native was as good\nas his bond. Today the dwellers in the city are never to be trusted.\nSome of them carefully avoid speaking the truth on all occasions, even\nwhen it would be quite as serviceable as an untruth.\n\nThe money formerly used consisted of sea-shells of small value,\neight hundred to a thousand being equal to about two pence. It was\neasy in those days for a man however poor to get something to eat,\nfor there was always something on sale that could be bought for the\nthousandth part of two-pence. In imitation of foreign ways, a flat\ncoin was introduced made of lead, and the old sea-shell was abolished\nas legal currency. The Government made a huge profit out of the\ntransaction, for they refused to buy up any of the worthless little\ncowries, and they sold the leaden coins for more than they were worth.\nCounterfeiting naturally followed, and the coins were re-called, but\nas soon as the treasury-boxes were filled with a mixture of good and\nfalse money the Government refused to receive any more. All those who\nstill had any of the leaden money in their possession experienced a\nserious loss. An alloy of lead and copper was issued at a reduced\nvalue; but the profit to be made by coining was still so great that\ncounterfeit coins speedily found their way into circulation. Small\nbullets of gold and silver next came into use, and one of them still\nremains in circulation. None of these coins were stamped with the\nimage of the king, for at that time there was a strong prejudice\nagainst the making of portraits in any medium. Europeans who travel\ninto the jungle, have even at the present time, only to point a camera\nat a crowd in order to procure its instant dispersion. When a copy of\nthe face of a person is made and taken away from him, a portion of\nhis life goes with the picture. Unless the sovereign had been blessed\nwith the years of a Methuselah he could scarcely have permitted his\nlife to be distributed in small pieces together with the coins of the\nrealm. But not many years ago the present king ordered a new issue of\nthe coinage. Flat, round copper and silver pieces were made at the\nmint in the palace, and on every disc appeared the shapely profile of\nthe reigning monarch. Postage stamps followed, with the same profile\nprinted on them; then the king was painted and photographed; and so\nthe old superstition has lost its power; while modern fashion requires\nthat all who can afford it shall be photographed. It is perhaps\nscarcely necessary to add here, that with the exception of two or\nthree Europeans, all the professional photographers are Chinamen.\n\nThe flat, gold coins were hoarded by the people, turned into ornaments\nor used in the making of jewelry. They are no longer used as money,\nbut are bought as curios for four times their original value.\n\nWeights and scales have not as yet displaced the old methods of\nmeasurement. The table of Siamese Dry Measure is a good illustration\nof the devices adopted by uncivilised people to facilitate their\nbuying and selling in the absence of any fixed legal standard.\n\n880 Tamarind seeds make one cocoa-nut shell (kanahn)\n 25 Cocoa-nut shells make one bamboo basket (sat)\n 80 Bamboo baskets make one cart (kwien)\n or\n830 Tamarind seeds make one cocoa-nut shell\n 20 Cocoa-nut shells make one bucket (tung)\n100 buckets make one cart.\n\nIn calculating time two calendars are used. One is a religious one\nand is only used for ecclesiastical purposes. It commences with the\ndeath of Buddha, about 543 B.C. The civil calendar is the one in\ngeneral use. It dates from the founding of Bangkok in 1784 A.D.\nThe idea of eternity is expressed in concrete form in the following\nmanner. Eternity is divided into long periods of time, called \"kops\".\nEach \"kop\" is represented by a stone measuring ten miles each way.\nOnce in every hundred years, an angel descends to one of these stones\nand wipes its surface with a gossamer web. When by these successive\ncentury wipings, one stone shall have been thoroughly worn away, one\n\"kop\" will have been completed, and a second period of eternity will\nbegin.\n\nThe human race is gradually dwindling away. In the misty ages of\nthe past all men were giants. The present race of Siamese is well\nproportioned, but small. Their descendants will be smaller. Some of\nthem will diminish till they are as small as dogs; a few centuries\nlater, all will be no bigger than rats; the stature of a butterfly and\nthen of a flea will measure the height of men, and ultimately they\nwill disappear altogether from the face of the earth.\n\nThe Siamese speak a language of their own. It possesses its own\nnouns, verbs and other parts of speech, a sprinkling of slang, and\npractically no \"swear\" words. These are only used by those whose\nknowledge of English is colloquial. There is a special language\ndevoted to the sacred person and attributes of the king, which must be\nused by all who speak to or of him. The special vocabulary required is\na difficult one to learn even to the natives themselves. The hairs of\nthe monarch's head, the soles of his feet, the breath of his body--in\nfact every single detail of his person both internal and external, has\na particular name. When he eats or drinks, sleeps or walks, a special\nword indicates that these acts are being performed by the sovereign\nhimself, and such words cannot possibly be applied to any other person\nwhatever. There is no word in the language by which any creature of\nhigher rank or greater dignity than a monarch can be described; and\nthe missionaries in speaking of \"God\" are forced to use the native\nword for \"king\". Each person in speaking to another uses a pronoun\nwhich at once expresses whether the speaker is of superior, equal,\nor inferior rank to the person spoken to. In this way superiority of\nsocial position is asserted, or corresponding inferiority confessed,\nin every conversation between two persons.\n\nThe language spoken by the pure Siamese is monosyllabic and toned. The\napparently longer words are really a collection of monosyllables. For\ninstance:\n\n\"mi-keet-fi\" \"a match\" is made up of three words,\n \"mi\" ... \"wood\"\n \"keet\" ... \"a line\"\n \"fi\" ... \"a fire\"\n\nThe word for \"ice\" is a combination of two words meaning \"hard water\",\nand that for \"cheese\" a combination of two words meaning \"hard butter\".\n\nThe toned words are a great trouble to foreigners who are not\naccustomed to a \"sing-song\" form of speech. Some syllables have three\ndifferent sounds, others as many as five, and each different tone\nexpresses a different meaning. In many cases the mistakes that are\nmade by the foreigner cause little difficulty, as his meaning is\nclear, though his speech is mysterious. The word for \"horse\" is a\ndifferently sounded form of the word for \"dog,\" but any such mistake\nin speech, as \"Chain that horse to his kennel,\" or \"Order me a two-dog\ncarriage,\" would be readily understood by a servant, who would\nmerely receive the order with a smile and then proceed to execute it\naccording to the wish of his master. There are many words between\nwhich the difference in sound is important, as the smallest mistake\nwould make all the difference between an ordinary and an obscene word.\nThere are others too where it behoves the white man to be careful of\nhis inflections, or he may, when intending to say to some village\nfarmer, \"I am going to dance upon your _field_,\" unfortunately remark,\n\"I am going to dance upon your _aunt_,\" or even \"I am going to dance\nupon your _face_,\" either of which errors might be productive of\nresults not foreseen by the imperfect linguist.\n\nNames in Siam often indicate precise relationships. On pointing out\none person to another and asking \"Who is that?\"--the person spoken to\nmay reply, if any such relationship exist, \"That is my elder brother,\"\nor \"That is my younger brother\" as the case may be, never simply \"That\nis my brother.\" Nearly all such words as \"grandfather,\" \"grandmother,\"\n\"uncle,\" and \"aunt\" when spoken by anyone indicate whether the\nrelationship is on the paternal or maternal side. Names of children\noften relate to their appearance, or circumstances connected with\ntheir birth. One is \"little,\" another \"large,\" while even a particular\ndeformity may be perpetually called attention to by such a name as\n\"hunch-back.\" There are no names specially set aside as belonging to\nmale and female, so that both a boy or girl may be called \"lotus,\" or\n\"black,\" or any other name fancied by the parents. There are also no\nsurnames.\n\n\"Nai\" is a general term comparable to \"Mr.\" and applied to males of\nall ages who possess no higher title. \"Maa\" is similarly used in\nthe case of females. The absence of surnames, and also of numbered\nhouses in most of the streets, causes some difficulty when it becomes\nnecessary to send letters through the post. An envelope has often to\nbe addressed something like the following:\n\nTO MR. LEK,\n Student of the Normal College,\n Son of Mr. Yai, Soldier,\n Near the foot of the Black Bridge\n at the back of the Lotus Temple,\n New Road, Bangkok.\n\nThe alphabet is derived from Pali. There is no distinction between the\nwritten and printed characters, nor are there any capital letters.\nLetters and books are written from left to right as in the European\nlanguages, but no spaces are left between the words. Printing has\nonly been in use in the country for about forty years, and all the\nold religious texts are written with a style, on long thin strips of\npalm leaf about eighteen inches long and two inches broad. The edges\nof the leaves are covered with gold leaf, and the \"pages\" of any book\nare fastened together with silk cords. Every monastery possesses\na good collection of these leafy documents. They are kept in the\ntemples in cases which are often elaborately gilded or inlaid with\nmother-of-pearl.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nPOPULAR AMUSEMENTS.\n\n\nThe Siamese are fond of being amused and of amusing themselves, but\nthey do not usually indulge in active sports with the exception\nof rowing and a species of football. Games that involve any great\nphysical exertion are played chiefly by persons who make a business\nof the performance. The professional acrobats that are met with on\nfestive occasions are fearless and skilful. Amongst the many feats\nthey perform for the amusement of their fellow-countrymen, there are\nfew that do not require both strength of nerve as well as agility of\nlimb. The \"acrobat poles\" are stout bamboo rods fastened firmly to\nthe ground. Each pole terminates, about twenty feet from the ground,\nin a lotus-shaped capital. The acrobats climb to the top and perform\nvarious feats on the small space afforded them by the flattened\nsurface of this small platform. No nets or mattresses are provided\nto break their fall in case of accident. There are other men who\nfix pikes and sword-blades in a row and then lie with their bare\nbacks upon the sharpened points. Juggling with keen-edged daggers is\ncertainly a less dangerous amusement. \"Throwing the hammer\" here\ntakes a new form as \"swinging the hammer\". A heavy sledge-hammer is\nlifted by a rope held between the teeth, and then swung deftly over\nthe shoulder so as to fall well to the rear of the athlete. These\ndangerous acrobatic exhibitions are not at all frequent, probably\nowing to the fact that there are only a few men in the whole country\nwho are able to take part in them.\n\nOn national holidays an open air play known as \"Kra, ooa,\" or\n\"spearing the buffalo,\" is enacted. It is a mixture of dumb show and\ngrotesque dancing, and is based on an old Burmese story. The legend\nrelates that once upon a time there was an old woman who had a husband\nnamed Ta So. One night she dreamt that she was enjoying a dish of\nbuffalo's liver. Her enjoyment of the luxury was so great that she\npresently awoke. She was unable to sleep, so she awakened her husband\nand told him of her dream, and of the wonderful flavour of the meat.\nThe more she dwelt upon the delicious character of her phantom repast,\nthe stronger grew her desire to taste the real article. She urged Ta\nSo to go out into the jungle and spear a buffalo. He for some time\ndeclined to rise from his couch, alleging that he was a bad hunter\nand dared not track so formidable a creature. He attempted to seek\nrepose once more, but the hungry lady grew more and more importunate,\nand he was forced at last to set out on a hunting excursion. His\nwife accompanied him to see that he did not shirk the task she had\nset him. After a long time they managed to track a wild buffalo.\nThey skirmished and scouted, and finally succeeded in killing it.\nThey opened the animal, extracted the desired delicacy, and then\nreturned home to enjoy it.--The representation of this story has\nbeen repeated times without number, but it never fails to meet with\npopular approval. An actor first appears dressed as a Burmese woman.\nShe next proceeds in very colloquial vernacular to bully her husband\nin accordance with the tradition. The buffalo used is a sham one. Four\nor five people throw a dark-coloured cloth over themselves, and the\nforemost of these holds in his hands a huge mask, supposed to be a\nbuffalo's head. It would serve equally well for the head of any other\ncreature known to natural history, for it is unlike anything but the\nfabulous creation of some man's mad imaginings. As the husband and\nwife chase the ungainly brute, it gambols to the music of a native\nband, in a circle about twenty feet in diameter. The dodging and\nrunning, the pretended attack, the sham wounds, and the awful groans\nare always received with the same loud bursts of hearty appreciative\nlaughter.\n\nThe game of \"takraw\" is popular with boys and youths, and is similar\nto the game of football as exhibited by the Burmese in recent years in\nLondon. The players, who may be of any number, stand in a ring. One\nof them tosses into the ring a light wicker ball. As it falls another\nplayer catches it on his foot, head, or shoulder. He at once passes it\nto someone else, without touching it with his hands. The ball passes\nswiftly from one spot to another, and it is often kept up for quite a\nlong time. If it falls to the earth, it is picked up and again tossed\nto the skilful players. And so the game proceeds until every one is\ntired. There is no scoring of points or winning of games. New-comers\njoin in the fun and weary ones leave without in any way interfering\nwith the amusement of the rest. The \"fancy kicking\" that is exhibited\nby expert players excites great admiration in natives and foreigners.\n\n[Illustration: LAYING WAGERS ON FIGHTING FISH.]\n\nGames in which the element of chance enters are the greatest\nfavourites. The people are born gamblers, and to make a bet is the\ndelight of everyone, from prince to peasant. They bet on the results\nof a cock-fight, a boxing match, a fight between crickets, or a combat\nbetween their pugilistic fishes. Even kite-flying is accompanied by\nunlimited \"book-making.\" The Siamese are not to be compared with the\nJapanese in the art of constructing curious or beautiful kites, but\nthey are certainly their equals in flying them. The most common form\nof kite is a five-pointed one--a pentagonal star. On none of the\nkites, whatever may be their shape or size, is \"tailing\" ever used,\nand rarely does a native run in order to get the kite to rise. By a\npeculiar rapid jerking of the string, the kite is made to create its\nown wind when a natural one is not blowing. Men may often be seen on\ncalm still days flying their kites from boats as they pass up and down\nthe river. Kite contests are of frequent occurrence during the windy\nmonths. One kite is called the male and the other the female. The\nobject of the contest is the capturing of the female by the male.\nWhen they are both at a considerable height from the ground, one\nflyer so jerks the string of the male kite as to cause it to swoop\ndownwards with great velocity. If the apex of the falling star strikes\nthe body of the soaring female, it effectually wounds her and brings\nher to earth. But it is perhaps oftener luck than skill that ends\nthe contest so suddenly. As a rule the string of the descending kite\npasses over the string of the steady one. Then the owner of the male\ntoy checks its downward motion, and with a rapid pull of the string\ntowards him, causes it to pass under the string that is attached to\nthe female, and then to rise again. In this way one string is wound\nround the other. The operation is repeated a second and even a third\ntime, after which the players each pull their kites towards them,\nlet them go again, pull in again and so on, so that each string is\nsawing the other one. Excitement takes possession of the spectators\nand they begin to speculate as to which string will first break. They\nfrequently stake large sums of money on the result of the aerial\ncombat. In many instances the owner of the entangled female, manages\nby a skilful manipulation of the string to free her from the toils\nof her antagonist, who then once more pursues her, and manoeuvres to\ncompass her destruction.\n\n[Illustration: A WRITER OF LOTTERY TICKETS.]\n\nIn every street there will always be found a Chinaman, wearing big\ngoggles, sitting at a table in the front of an open house or shop,\nwearing upon his wooden countenance a quiet and meditative smile.\nBy his side is a small pile of thin sheets of yellow paper, and a\nquantity of writing material. He is an agent of the gambling farmer\nand deals in lottery tickets. The Government farms out the monopoly\nand derives a considerable revenue from it, as in some years as much\nas thirty thousand pounds sterling has been paid for the privilege\nof being allowed to gently ease other people of their superfluous\ncash. The lottery farmer chooses, every day, one out of thirty-four\ncharacters of the alphabet as the lucky one for that day. He keeps\nthe secret of his choice to himself, and leaves those people who are\nof a speculative turn of mind to guess the particular letter he has\nchosen. Everyone is at liberty to try his luck. The gambler goes to\none of the numerous writers of lottery tickets and names a letter. The\nwriter slowly inscribes the letter upon one of the sheets of paper.\nHe then folds it up, and on the back states his own name and address,\nthe name and address of the purchaser of the ticket, and the amount\npaid for the same. He keeps possession of the paper till the close\nof the day. The city is divided into districts, over each of which\nthe lottery farmer places a trustworthy overseer. Towards evening the\noverseer visits every ticket writer in his locality, collects all the\npapers, and the money paid for them. These he afterwards takes to the\noffice of his chief. At a given hour the farmer declares the winning\nletter and the papers are opened. All those papers that do not bear\nthe chosen character are thrown away and the money appropriated.\nThose who have been fortunate enough to guess correctly the letter\nfor the day, receive back twenty-nine times their stake, so that\nthe man who staked one pound receives twenty-nine as his reward. The\nchances in favour of the proprietor of the lottery are so great, and\nso many thousands of people patronise him every day that he can easily\nafford to award a prize of high value to the few winners. Some people\nendeavour to calculate their chances beforehand. In every writer's\nhouse is placed a board divided into squares. Every day from the\nbeginning to the end of the month, the letter chosen is written in one\nof these squares. The board is consulted by those about to try their\nluck, and they try to work out a system which shall guide them in\ntheir choice. Many gamblers, especially if they are Chinese, consult\ntheir gods about the matter. They go to the temples and stand in front\nof the altar. There they find a bamboo box containing thirty-four\nstrips of bamboo, on each of which is printed one of the letters used\nby the lottery farmers. They address the presiding deity of the place\nand promise him abundance of fat pork and chickens if only he will\nbe so kind as to help them in their venture. After having made this\ntempting offer, one stick is chosen from the bundle. The gambler\nlooks at it, and then wonders if the gods are going to make sport of\nhim. He proceeds to test the sincerity of the deity. He takes two\npieces of bamboo root, which have been flattened on the one side and\nrounded on the other. He throws them into the air, exclaiming as he\ndoes so, \"If I have chosen the right letter, let these two roots fall\nwith the flat sides up.\" Suppose they fall as he desires, he repeats\nthe experiment, saying, \"If I have chosen the right letter, let these\ntwo roots fall with the round side up.\" Even if success again crowns\nhis experiment, he still feels inclined to doubt the playful deity\nto whom he is appealing for counsel. So he throws the roots yet once\nagain--\"If I have chosen the right letter let these two roots fall,\none with the flat side up, and one with the round side up.\" If they\nshould fall in this way, he is practically certain the gods are with\nhim. He pawns everything he possesses and stakes every farthing he can\nobtain on the letter of his choice. Thirty-three chances to one that\nhe loses, and he may spend the rest of his life in extreme poverty,\nbewailing the fickleness of the god he supplicated.\n\nAnyone who can write can set up a stand, for it is the policy of the\nfarmer to have his agents scattered all over the city. The overseers\nare not directly paid for their services, but on the contrary,\nactually pay to be allowed to hold the office. The writers of the\ntickets receive a commission of one shilling for every forty-four\nshillings they hand to the overseers. The overseer receives from the\nfarmer the same proportion of the total amount he collects each day.\nThirty times the sum actually staked is handed to the writer of a\ncorrect letter. He then hands over to the winner twenty-nine times\nthe sum, so that he gets a further profit of one-thirtieth of all the\nwinning money that passes through his hands.\n\nA few years ago, the gambling farmer lost a considerable sum of\nmoney through his own indiscretion. He had obtained a new wife of\ngreat beauty, of whom he was passionately fond. One day she asked\nhim what letter he had chosen for the winning one. \"Why do you wish\nto know?\" said he. Woman-like, she replied, \"Oh, I merely asked you\nout of curiosity.\" \"Well,\" said the infatuated adorer, \"promise me\nthat you will on no account reveal it to any single person you may\nmeet. Remember, if people were to know what letter I had chosen, I\nshould lose a tremendous sum of money.\" The new favourite answered,\n\"I promise not to tell.\" He gave her the letter, and faithful to her\npromise, she kept the secret. But she went to one of the writers and\nstaked all the money she had on what she knew was to be the lucky\ncharacter. The writer knew who she was, and jokingly asked her why she\nhad chosen that particular letter. She answered that she had simply\nselected it as any one else might have done in order try her luck.\nSeveral people standing by heard the conversation, and learning that\nthe chief had been to see her the day before in her own quarters,\nthey thought it extremely probable that she was in possession of that\ndays winning number. They promptly followed her example, with the\nresult that her confiding spouse lost several thousand dollars on the\nday's transactions. He at once accused her of betraying his trust, and\nalthough she pleaded her innocence, he sold her within a few days to\ngratify his want of revenge, or perhaps, to recoup himself in part for\nthe losses he had sustained as the result of his own folly.\n\nIn the small gambling houses that abound, various games of chance are\nplayed all day. They are open to the road, and are always fairly well\nfilled. Idlers strolling by with an odd cent in their waistband, step\nin and lose it, and then pass on their way to give place to others\nwho seek easily-made fortunes. The games played require no skill on\nthe part of those who play. It is all pure chance, as the following\ndescriptions will show.\n\n[Illustration: (the mat game)]\n\nTHE MAT GAME. On the floor is spread a mat with two lines\ndrawn across it at right angles to each other, as shown in the\ndiagram. The banker sits in the position marked A, and the numbers 1,\n2, 3, 4 are placed as here indicated. In front of the banker is a big\npile of cowrie shells. He takes up as many as he can hold in his two\nhands and places them in front of him. The crowd then place any amount\nthey like on any one of the four numbers. Suppose, for example, that\nthere are four playing and that each places a shilling on a different\nnumber. When all those who wish to play have put down their money, the\nproprietor begins to count out the shells he has taken from a large\nheap, and to place them in small piles of four each, and notes the\nremainder when all the shells have been disposed of. If there is a\nremainder of two, then the man whose money is on two gets his stake\ndoubled. Number four loses, and numbers one and three neither lose nor\ngain. If there is a remainder of three, the money on three is doubled,\nnumber one loses, and numbers two and four remain unaltered. If there\nare twenty or thirty people playing, the principle is the same. All\nthose who have guessed the right remainder get their money doubled,\nthe opposite numbers lose, and the others neither win nor lose. If\nthere is no remainder then the winning number is four. One variation\nin the method of staking is allowed. The money may be placed on any\none of the four diagonal lines. Suppose the stake is laid on the line\nbetween three and two, then if either three or two be the remainder\nthe money is doubled, but if one or four wins, then the money is lost.\nPorcelain counters of very small value are used at these places, and\nso common is the gambling habit, that these counters are used in the\nmarkets for the purchase of goods, for both buyers and sellers know\nthat the gambler's coins can easily be disposed of again. If a banker\nfails, he is unable to redeem his porcelain coinage and the holders\nare then liable to lose the value of the counters in their possession.\n\nBRASS CUP GAME. The necessary apparatus for this form of\nspeculation is a small brass cup and a wooden cube. The upper face\nof the cube is divided by a line into two halves, one of which is\npainted red and the other white. The banker puts the cube on the table\nin any position he chooses, without letting the people see how it is\nplaced. He covers it with the brass cup. The players put down their\nstakes in various positions round the cup. The banker raises the cup.\nAll money opposite the white edge is returned at the rate of three to\none, while all opposite the other three sides passes into the banker's\npocket.\n\nTHE ANIMAL GAME. This is a very favourite amusement at fairs.\nA board is provided which measures about eighteen inches by twenty.\nIt is divided by lines into a number of equal oblongs. In each space\nis painted some animal. The owner has three large wooden dice with\nfigures painted on the sides corresponding to those in the squares on\nthe board. Those who wish to try their luck choose a picture and place\ntheir money thereon. The three dice are placed in a cocoa-nut shell,\nand rattled about, and then thrown on a table. The winning pictures\nare those that appear on the topmost faces of the three cubes.\n\nGambling with cards is very common. The cards are all of Chinese\npattern, and measure three inches by one. On them are printed kings,\ngovernors, soldiers, officials, and other important personages. There\nare one hundred and sixteen cards in a pack, but what are the rules\nthat govern their complicated manipulation the writer has failed to\nfathom, even as he has also failed to find any other European who\ncould furnish the requisite explanation.\n\nChess is one of the few pastimes that is not used for betting\npurposes. The game is substantially the same as that played in\nEngland, but a boat replaces the castle, the bishop is represented\nby a nobleman, and the knight's moves are made by a horse. There are\nmany skilful players, and the present Minister for Foreign Affairs,\nPrince Devawongse, can checkmate most of the foreigners who have had\nthe opportunity of playing with him. The real Siamese chessmen are\ndifficult to obtain as they are made only for private use and not for\nsale. The poorer classes readily make up a full set when they want a\ngame, by using buttons or cowries for the pawns and modelling the rest\nof the pieces out of bits of soft clay.\n\nBut the most popular of all amusements is the theatre. It is the\ndelight of old and young alike, and is intensely interesting to\nthe foreigner, as probably representing to a very large degree,\nthe primitive way in which the dramas that were presented to his\nforefathers, were staged and enacted. It possesses an additional\nattraction inasmuch as it is yet a purely native institution,\nunaffected by those Western influences that are so rapidly destroying\nin the East the many Oriental manners and customs that were once the\ndelight of the traveller. Yokohama is a European seaport. There are\nEnglish policemen in Shanghai, and caf\u00e9s in Saigon. In Bangkok itself\nelectric lights and tram-cars have appeared, and one of the latest\norders of the Court requires that at all future state ceremonies the\nnative shall discard his own picturesque costume for frock-coat,\nEuropean trousers, and top-hat. So far, however, the Siamese theatre\nhas remained unaffected by these modern fashions.\n\nThe theatre of the capital may differ from that of the province, but\nthe differences are those demanded by native taste alone. It is in\nall cases admirably suited to a people of fertile imagination and\nsimple habits. Spectacular displays and gorgeous transformation scenes\nare neither expected nor given. Realism is not demanded in any form.\nExcept in the matter of dress, simplicity characterises the whole\nperformance. Great attention is paid to the pattern and the material\nof the costumes. They are of a regulation type--heroes, angels,\nsoldiers, and monarchs being arrayed according to fashions that\nhave descended from generation to generation. Cloth of gold, richly\nembroidered cloaks, and expensive jewels, make up the wardrobe of the\nricher companies.\n\nThere is only one theatre in the capital to which any admission fee is\ncharged and where regular performances are held. On dark nights when\nthe moon is hidden the theatre is closed, for there would be no light\nto go home by, but as soon as the new moon appears again, the doors\nare opened and the people flock to the only place of amusement that\ncan successfully compete with the rival attractions of the gambling\nhells and opium dens. All other theatrical performances take place as\na rule at private houses on the occasion of a wedding, a cremation, or\nany other public or private ceremony at which large crowds of people\ncongregate.\n\nThe various troupes of performers are the private property of certain\nnoblemen, who greatly pride themselves on the skill and beauty of\ntheir \"prima-donnas\". There are also bands of players who stroll from\nplace to place and depend for their living on the voluntary offerings\nof the spectators. Occasionally they find their services required\nfor some domestic celebration. At other times they perform in the\nopen air, or in any odd empty shed they may happen to discover in the\ncourse of their wanderings.\n\nThere are two kinds of theatre--the \"lakhon\" and the \"yeegai\". The\nformer, which stands highest in public estimation is probably derived\nfrom the Nautch dances of India. At one time there was a large Brahmin\nsettlement in the town of Ligore, which is situated to the north-east\nof the Malay Peninsula. These emigrants from India brought with them\na number of nautch girls whose dances were highly appreciated by the\npeople of the land in which they had newly settled. The native name\nfor Ligore is Lakhon, and when the dancers went from place to place,\nthey were known as \"The actors from Lakhon,\" and later on simply as\nthe \"lakhons\". The word passed into the common speech and is now used\nas the name for \"theatre\". The members of the \"lakhon\" companies are\nall women with the exception of a few clowns. They seldom produce\nany new or original plays. Those that they act over and over again\nare chiefly translations of Hindoo myths, and are intolerably long.\nSeveral hours a night for a fortnight would be required for the\ncomplete performance of some of these lengthy dramas. This is no\nbarrier to the enjoyment of the audience, for the stories of the\nplays are the only literature that they constantly read. They are\ntherefore thoroughly familiar with the plot, the characters, and all\nthe incidents of the dramas performed before them. It follows that\nthey never need to attend the theatre from night to night in order to\nfollow the development of the story. In fact, the better they know the\nplay, and the oftener they see it performed, the more they enjoy it.\n\n[Illustration: FACES FROM A SIAMESE THEATRE.]\n\nThere is no acting in our sense of the word. The words of the\nplay are dolefully chanted by a chorus of women, whose screeching\nvoices produce sounds that are painfully unmusical when judged from\nthe European standpoint. The only words uttered by the actresses\nthemselves are similarly chanted at times when they feel that the\nsituation has reached a climax, and consequently needs an extra amount\nof noise to make it thoroughly effective. The orchestra employed\nis called the \"Mahoree\", and contains twenty-one instruments when\ncomplete. The instruments used are chiefly of the percussion type\nand are powerful sound producers. Amongst them are drums, cymbals,\ntom-toms, gongs and bamboo dulcimers. Stringed instruments are\nrepresented by a few squeaky one-stringed fiddles and an instrument\nthat resembles a zither. A terrible wind instrument is sometimes\nemployed when it is desirable to produce a sound that can be\ncalculated to rival that of the bagpipes when played by a zealous but\nunmusical amateur. The use of the band is chiefly to mark the rhythm\nof the chorus and to produce effective noisy bursts of sound in\nimportant scenes. Any embrace between a pair of lovers is emphasised\nby a forcible hammering of drums and clashing of cymbals. They know\nnothing of harmony, but musical experts with well-trained ears, say\nthat they play in unison.\n\nThere is nothing natural in the actions of the performers except as\nregards those of the clowns. The funny men are the only ones who ever\nsay anything in their natural voices or who ever move their limbs in\na common everyday manner. The ladies go through a series of posturing\nevolutions euphemistically called dances. They are nothing more than\nextraordinary contortions of the body accompanied by equally strange\nmotions of the limbs. The fingers are bent backwards from the joints,\nand the arms backwards from the elbows in a way no untrained person\ncould ever possibly imitate. From early childhood the fingers and arms\nare daily bent out of place until finally they become, as it were,\ndouble jointed. The actresses whiten their faces with powder and do\nnot relieve their ghostly appearance with any touch of colour. They\nfasten on the finger-tips artificial gold finger-nails of abnormal\nlength. The audience either stands or sits on the floor, and smokes\nincessantly. The stage is simply a portion of the floor marked out by\nmats, round the sides of which sit those members of the audience who\nare nearest the performers. There is a raised seat or small platform\nat the back of the stage for the use of those who represent kings and\nqueens in the different scenes. At the back of the seat is the common\ndressing-room of the whole company. It is partially or completely open\nto the public gaze, and a small crowd always gathers there to see the\nfair ones powder and adorn themselves. The strolling troupes dispense\nwith even this imitation of a dressing-room, and prepare themselves\nfor their parts in full view of the audience. They carry their\nbelongings in old kerosine tins, which they arrange along one side of\nthe shed in which they are performing.\n\nIf a horse is required, an actress comes on the stage, wearing a piece\nof head-gear shaped like a horse's head. It is not worn as a mask to\ncover the face, but as a hat on the top of the head. The rider does\nnot mount her steed, but places her hand on its shoulder and walks\nby its side. Monkeys and elephants play important parts in the old\nlegends, and they are represented in the same simple fashion; though\none private company in Bangkok boasts a real elephant that has been\ntrained for theatrical performances.\n\nA voyage at sea is undertaken without ships. One of the players\ncrosses the stage, having a pole in imitation of a mast fastened to\nhis chest. From the top floats the national flag, while pieces of thin\ncord are fastened from the same point to the neck and shoulders of the\nplayer to represent rigging. The passengers then embark by arranging\nthemselves in two long lines behind the man with the pole. When they\nare all safely aboard, the stern of the vessel arrives and forms\nthe tail end of the procession. He also bears a pole, a flag, and a\nquantity of string rigging, and attached to his back is a wooden\nrudder, the cords of which are held by the passenger immediately in\nfront of him. They then sail away, rolling their supple bodies in time\nto the music, in imitation of the rolling motion of a vessel at sea.\nThey cross the stage, pass out at one side, and re-enter at the other,\ntime after time, as though they were trying to impress the audience\nwith the tedious and protracted nature of their journey.\n\nThe possession of a tin sword is a sufficient indication of a warrior;\nwhile a tall tapering crown is the symbol of monarchial authority.\n\nOccasionally there is a villain in the piece, who after some wicked\ndeed, finds it necessary to conceal his whereabouts. This appears\nat first sight to be a very difficult matter, for the stage is\nabsolutely bare of everything that could possibly afford the slightest\nconcealment. The difficulty is soon surmounted. If he needs a wall\nbehind which to hide himself, a bamboo screen with a hole in the\nmiddle is at once pushed on the stage in full view of the audience.\nHe retires behind it, and the spectators then enjoy the comical sight\nof a hero seeking and finding not, while the villain amuses himself\nby watching through the hole in the screen the fruitless efforts made\nto discover his hiding-place. If he is supposed to be concealed in\na wood, a banana leaf or a branch of a tree is handed to him, and\nhe holds it with his hands in front of his face. Again the hero is\ndisappointed in his search, and when tired out with his long and\nunrewarded exertions, he plucks fruit from off the branch behind\nwhich the villain is in safe retirement, the audience roars with\ndelight.\n\nThe eagerness and keen enthusiasm with which the spectators receive\nall these primitive methods of dramatic representation, are conclusive\nproof that they are endowed with strong imaginations.\n\nThe \"yeegai\" is of a different character entirely. It is Malay in\norigin. The performers are all men or boys, and belong generally\nto the lower classes. Chorus and orchestra are not considered\nindispensable, the former being always absent, and the latter\ngenerally consisting of seven large drums. There is no posturing and\nfantastic dancing, but genuine acting. The old legends give way to\nmore modern and original works of a strictly farcical character. The\nbuffoonery is excellent, but the language is nearly always coarse.\nCurrent events are burlesqued, and foreign residents with pronounced\nmannerisms get caricatured.\n\nWhatever be the play or wherever it be performed, luxuriously\nupholstered boxes and special incidental music are not required, for\nthe story itself is of sufficient interest to the people to capture\ntheir hearts and minds without the assistance of any expensive and\nelaborate furniture.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nOUTSIDE THE CAPITAL.\n\n\nWithin the limits of the crowded capital one can easily study closely\nthe superstitions, the customs, and the ceremonies of the people. But\nif any idea is to be gained of the industries of the country, it is\nnecessary to pass from the busy canals and the crowded highways into\nthe wide plains beyond. In the busy city the Siamese are shopkeepers,\npolicemen, postmen, soldiers and government officials. The mechanics\nand artisans are Chinese. There is no sign of any native industry,\nno weaving of cloth, tanning of leather or manufacture of anything\nbeautiful or useful. The city is the mart; the goods that are sold\ntherein are made or grown in other localities. Travel into the jungle\nor the field, and then you may find the native at work, earning his\nliving, and spending his life in the most primitive manner. It may\nhere be stated that it is not an easy matter to travel even a short\ndistance in Siam, and very few of the foreign residents ever make a\ntrip except for business purposes.\n\nThe journey to every place must be commenced by water, either in a\nhouse-boat or in a steamer. The house-boat is about eighteen feet\nlong and four feet beam, and is rowed by a number of strong skilful\nboatmen. The number of men varies from two to eight according to the\nsize of the boat. The man at the stern manages the rudder with his\nfoot while he rows with his hands. All the men stand to their work,\nand row after the native fashion. In the centre of the boat is a small\nhut or cabin, which is about three feet high, so that its occupant\ncan only lie therein. Standing or sitting is impossible, and the\noperations of dressing, washing and eating are performed under trying\nconditions. The deck planks are all removable, and under these must be\nstowed away sufficient clothing and provisions to last the traveller\nduring the whole of his trip, for no matter where he travels, he can\nnever replenish his larder or his wardrobe. The Chinese cook, who is\nan indispensable part of every expedition, sleeps and cooks at the\nback of the boat, in a space about three feet square. He shelters\nhimself during the heat of the day with a big paper umbrella, and\nsleeps at night on the floor of his kitchen. He prepares his master's\nmeals just as though he were surrounded with all the ordinary utensils\nsupposed necessary in the practice of culinary art, and when they\nare ready, he acts as waiter and hands them into the cabin through a\nsmall window in the back. The traveller's limbs get very sore with\nconstantly lying on a hard mattress; but he has little opportunity\nof taking exercise, for the jungle comes down to the water's edge in\nmost places that are uninhabited. These house-boats are only used for\ninland journeys as they would soon be capsized in a rough sea.\n\n[Illustration: PREPARING RATTAN FOR CHAIR-MAKING.]\n\nOne thing that soon strikes the wanderer is the presence of the\nChinese. In the most secluded hamlet, and in the deepest jungle,\nwherever men are gathered together, there are the Celestials in the\nmidst of them, doing the chief share of the work, and taking the\nlargest share of the profits. The wealth of the country consists in\nits agricultural produce. Rice is the chief food article cultivated,\nand will be dealt with in the succeeding chapter. But at Chantaboon,\nnow in the hands of the French, excellent pepper is grown. Coffee\nhas only recently been introduced, and it too flourishes in the\nneighbourhood of the same port. Sugar-cane is very plentiful, but\nis little used for the making of sugar. Where the refineries do\nexist they belong to the Chinese. The tobacco plant that is grown is\nvery rank, and too powerful in its effects to become popular with\nEuropeans. If it were properly cured and prepared, it might be more\npalatable. Amongst the other agricultural products may be mentioned\nhemp, cotton, cocoa-nut, areca-nut, maize, teak, bamboo, cloves,\ncinnamon, nutmeg, indigo, a little tea in the far north, and fruit of\nmany varieties.\n\n[Illustration: FISHING LUGGER.]\n\nPetchabooree is a typical Siamese agricultural village. It is easily\nreached by house-boat from Bangkok in two or three days. Through the\nvillage runs a clear silvery stream with a white sandy bed. On each\nside of the stream extends a double row of wooden houses, under which\nlie innumerable pariahs. Between the double line is a narrow passage\nforming the street, market, and pleasure-ground of the inhabitants.\nBuffaloes come down to the river for water at regular hours twice\neach day. On the broad plains in the neighbourhood rice is grown. A\nfew miles away is a Laos settlement, occupied by the descendants of\nprisoners of war who were once placed here to till the soil for those\nwho captured them. They still preserve their dark striped petticoats,\nand are never seen without their long knives at their waists. They\nspend most of their time at this particular place in manufacturing\nsugar from the sugar palm. When the fruit appears upon the tree, a\nman climbs to the top, and cuts it off. To the cut stalk he fastens\nthe hollow stem of a bamboo, about eighteen inches long. As the juice\noozes from the cut surface it drops into the wooden cylinder. When\nthis is filled it is removed, and replaced by another. The juice is\ncollected and boiled in iron pans under an attap-thatched shed. The\nfurnace is of very simple construction. A trough is dug in the earth,\nand the hole thus made filled with wood. A light is applied, and then\nthe pan is placed on the ground, with its centre over the hollow\ndug-out fireplace. Fresh wood is pushed into the hole when required.\nAs the wood costs nothing and the iron pan is cheap, the manufacture\nof sugar in this primitive fashion is not at all costly. The thick\nsyrupy liquid is put into big wooden barrels, and sent to Bangkok to\nbe further boiled and converted into sugar. The fresh juice of the\nsugar palm is sweet and refreshing, but when it begins to ferment it\nis a powerful intoxicant.\n\nThere are many pretty places on the shores of the Gulf of Siam, but\nthese can only be visited by steamer. They are charmingly picturesque,\nthe bathing is excellent, and the fish are delicious. No steamers call\nat these desirable spots, there are no hotels, and except for fish\nthey have no food for sale. Only one of them--Anghin, has any house in\nwhich a foreigner would care to reside. The village of Anghin (\"stone\nbasins\") is so called because there are several large hollows in the\ngranite rocks, where rain water collects in the wet season. Public\nattention was first drawn to the place in 1868, when a notice appeared\nin the local papers in these words:--\n\n \"H. E. Ahon Phya Bhibakrwongs Maha Kosa Dhipude, the Pra\n Klang, Minister for Foreign Affairs, has built a sanitarium\n at Anghin for the benefit of the public. It is for the\n benefit of Siamese, Europeans, or Americans, who may go\n and occupy it when unwell, to restore their health. All\n are cordially invited to go there for a suitable length of\n time and be happy, but are requested not to remain month\n after month, and year after year, and regard it as a place\n without an owner. To regard it in this way cannot be\n allowed, for it is public property, and others should go\n and stop there also.\"\n\n[Illustration: FISHING BOATS AT THE BAR.]\n\nFor a time a few people went, but the sanitarium is now in ruins,\nand is only habitable in dry weather when holes in roofs and walls\nare no inconvenience to the visitor. It is necessary when visiting\nthis lovely little spot to take with one all the provisions required\nduring the stay, a plentiful supply of pure water, and every article\nof furniture, such as beds, tables, chairs, and wardrobes. Having\ncollected all these things, a small steamer is next required to convey\nthem and their owner to his destination. An English resident in\nBangkok who wished to take a holiday there, bargained with a native\nmerchant for the loan of a vessel. The native promised faithfully that\nthe steamer should be at a certain landing near the Englishman's house\nby one o'clock in the afternoon of the day mentioned. Early in the\nmorning he removed all his baggage to the riverside. He was surrounded\nby baskets of ducks, baskets of chickens, hams in canvas bags, jars of\nrain water, boxes of soda water, pans, pots, furnaces, chairs, tables,\nmattresses books, camera, and sketching material. A few friends who\nwere going to accompany him helped to keep guard over this motley\ncollection. At one o'clock no steamer was visible, but there was\nnothing very surprising in that fact, as the Oriental does not know\nthe meaning of punctuality. But when two o'clock passed, then three\no'clock, and then four, he felt that something had gone wrong. One of\nthe party went to make enquiries. He returned after dark to say that\nthe propeller of the steamer was broken, and that the steamer was in\ndock, but that she would be at the landing by seven the next morning.\nAll the boxes and furniture were sadly and slowly conveyed back to\nthe house again. One of the boxes was opened, and a dinner made of\nsoda water and corned beef. The host and his guests slept as best they\ncould, on the floors of the dining-room and the drawing-room.\n\nAt seven the next morning all the holiday traps were carried out and\nplaced on the landing, where they were speedily surrounded by a crowd\nof jeering natives who scoffingly enquired when the party proposed to\nstart. They endured this until four o'clock in the afternoon, when\nthe vessel did at last put in an appearance. They embarked as rapidly\nas possible, and began their journey at night. There was only one\ncabin, which was dirty beyond description, and swarming with spiders\nand cockroaches. In the middle of the night it began to rain, so they\nwrapped themselves up in cloaks and waterproofs and slept on deck\nunder the tables. One of them asked the Malay skipper why the vessel\nwas going so slowly. Said he, with an amused smile, \"This boat go\nhalf-speed. This boiler got many holes. Go full-speed--burst!\" Then\nhe chuckled. When about two miles from Anghin the recently mended\npropeller broke and sank. Everything was landed by means of one small\nboat. The sanitarium had been untenanted for many months by human\nbeings, but thousands of ants, spiders, cockroaches, and lizards had\nmade themselves at home there. The men opened some tins of kerosine\nand flooded the place with it. All the creatures that were not\ndestroyed by it were driven away by its obnoxious smell, and in a\nshort time the place was rendered habitable. Perhaps the reader will\nnow understand why it is that European residents in Siam seldom go to\nthe sea-side.\n\nThere is not much difference between a fishing and an agricultural\nvillage. There is the same double row of houses with the street\nbetween, and the back doors of each of the houses nearest the sea or\nriver, facing the water.\n\nAlong the beach small heaps of sea-shells are found at intervals of a\nfew yards. They have been collected by the villagers, who send them in\nsmall sailing boats to Bangkok where they are used for making lime.\nThe lime-kilns are made of bricks in the shape of a shallow box. The\nfloor has a number of apertures, and some fire is placed beneath. In\nthe box a layer of shells lies upon a layer of straw and charcoal.\nThen comes another layer of fuel and another layer of shells, and so\non until the box is full. A blast of air is driven into it by a fan\nconnected to treadles. There is no covering to the kiln, and the fumes\nthat rise have several times been fatal to the workmen.\n\n[Illustration: KHLONG NEAR PETCHABOOREE.\n\n_Page 174._]\n\nFrom the beach can be seen, at low tide, long lines of poles radiating\nin all directions. These form the fishing traps that are used chiefly\nfor catching a fish called \"plah-tu.\" It is about the size of a\nherring, tastes like trout when fresh, and like kippers when smoked.\nDuring the north-east monsoon these fish are driven in great shoals\nto the northern end of the gulf, and while this wind continues to\nblow the fishermen are kept busily employed. The fishing stakes are\nlong slender poles. They are fixed in the bed of the sea about forty\ninches apart from each other, in double rows, forming a funnel-shaped\npassage with a very wide entrance or mouth. Several funnels converge\nupon a central circular or rectangular structure also made of thin\npoles, which we may for convenience call the trap. Nets are fixed\nin it by cords so as to be ready for use when the fishermen pay it\na visit. The radiating lines are often half a mile long, and\nas they move to and fro in the restless sea they form an impassable\nbarrier to the timid fish, who are driven by the currents into the\ntrap, from which they seem unable to find their way out. The boats\nusually go out at sunset, and they form a very pretty picture as they\nskim lightly over the buoyant waves, their yellow porous mat-sails\ncatching rosy or orange hues from the setting sun, which are again\nmirrored in deeper shades in the purple waters below. On reaching\nthe trap the men let down their nets, only to haul them up again a\nfew minutes later, laden with silvery fish. The boats return about\ndaybreak. Their coming is eagerly awaited by the whole population, who\nturn out to receive them. Buffalo carts are also ready to carry the\nfish from the boats to the village. In the village the night's booty\nis sorted and examined. The fish are cleaned and the gills removed,\nall the refuse being thrown into strong brine. The briny solution of\nfishy odds and ends is afterwards sold as \"fish sauce\". The best fish\nare very lightly steamed and then packed in flat circular baskets,\nput on board the swiftest sailing boats, and sent off to Bangkok. A\ncertain amount is sold to people near at hand, or used for food by the\nvillagers themselves. The remainder are either smoked, or packed with\nbrine in deep pits in the ground. When well salted the fish is dried\nand exported. The value of the fish exported is about one and a half\nmillion dollars. It finds great favour with the Chinese. The Javanese\ntoo buy large quantities of the salted fish, chiefly on account of\nthe salt that they purchase at the same time, for pure salt is a\nvery dear luxury in that island. The decaying rotten refuse is used\nas manure in the kitchen gardens of the Chinese. If its properties as\na manure are half as powerful as its odour, it should be extremely\nvaluable.\n\nBut \"plah-tu\" are not the only fish caught in this out of the way\ncorner of the earth. Prawns are plentiful, and they are caught in nets\nof very small mesh. Two boats go out together from the shore for a\nlittle distance and then separate. From boat to boat is suspended a\nnet heavily weighted to make it sink. When the net is fully extended\nthe boats move towards the shore, dragging it with them. In this way\nthousands of prawns and small fish are easily caught. Prawns are\npounded into a paste with salt. The mixture is not unlike anchovy\nsauce.\n\nMussels and many other shell-fish are obtained in an easy manner. Long\npoles are driven into the sand in water where these creatures are\nknown to abound, and left there for some time. After a while they are\ncovered with the shell-fish, which have fastened on the poles. To pull\nup the pole and scrape off the deposit is but the work of a few hours.\n\n[Illustration: A BUFFALO CART.]\n\nThe buffalo carts used in the villages in this part of Siam, are\npeculiar-looking conveyances. But they are admirably fitted for\nthe rough work for which they are built. They are used between\nvillages on the coast at times when boats cannot pass from place to\nplace, and also between places inland where no canals exist. Their\nconstruction will be better understood from the accompanying\nillustration than from any written description, but a few points may\nbe noticed. The hood over the top is not for protection from sun or\nrain. There are no roads in the jungle, though here and there, there\nare a few tracks. The buffaloes literally force their way through the\ndense undergrowth, the eye of the experienced driver always telling\nhim where the most passable spots are to be found. The hood protects\nthe head of the driver or his passengers from the branches of the\ntrees that obstruct the way. Without it they would be unable to travel\nat all in any place where the vegetative growth was at all thick. The\nprojecting side pieces in a similar way keep the wheels from getting\nentangled in the undergrowth. The bottom of the cart is at a good\ndistance from the ground, for very often the way lies through swamps\nor flooded marshes so deep that only the heads of the buffaloes can be\nseen above the mud and water. In such places the animals frequently\nlie down to cool themselves. This in no way endangers the cart, as the\nbeasts are not harnessed to it in any way. The yoke is simply laid\nacross their necks, and prevented from slipping by straight pieces of\nwood on each side. When passengers travel, a plank is placed at about\nthe level of the driver's elbow in the picture. The reins are of rope,\nand the bell round the neck is a hollowed piece of wood with two or\nthree wooden tongues inside it. Owing to the uneven character of the\nground the cart sways from side to side, and produces in most people\nwho experience the motion for the first time, a feeling akin to\nsea-sickness. As the plank, on which the traveller sits cross-legged,\nis near the top of the vehicle, his head is dangerously near the roof.\nEvery time the cart gives a sudden lurch to one side, he receives a\nsmart rap on the side or top of his head. As a rule he recoils from\nthe blow only to receive another on the other side as the vehicle\nrecovers its equilibrium. The huge wheels, unsupplied with metal\nbearings, creak and groan with awful ceaseless regularity.\n\n[Illustration: A SIAMESE BULLOCK CART.]\n\nIn many places valuable minerals are said to exist. Gold, rubies,\nsapphires, and diamonds have been found, but so far have not been\nobtained in very large quantities. In the Siamese provinces in the\nMalay Peninsula, tin is exceedingly abundant and is mined by the\nChinese.\n\nIn the northern provinces there are numerous valuable teak forests,\nfrom which the Government derives a very large revenue. Nearly the\nwhole of the teak that is used in building the ships of the different\nnations of the world, comes from the extensive forests of Upper Burmah\nand Northern Siam. Much of the teak that is exported from Moulmein and\nsold as Burmese or Indian, is really obtained from Siamese forests\nlying between the River Meping and the River Salween. The forests of\nBurmah have been worked for a much longer period than those of Siam,\nand the logs obtained therefrom are of inferior quality and smaller\ngirth. The teak forests of Siam are worked with British capital alone,\nno French or Germans being engaged in the trade. The agents of\nthe British firms live at the scene of the lumbering operations,\nand are personally responsible for the hiring of the forests, the\ncutting of the wood, and its subsequent exportation to Bangkok. The\ndifferent firms have saw-mills of their own in the city, and they\ntrim and cut the logs before they are finally sent abroad. The leases\nfor the forests are obtained from the Lao chiefs in whose districts\nthey stand, but the terms of the leases are often subject to revision\nby the Siamese Commissioners. The trees are killed before they are\nfelled, by having a ring cut in the bark, about two or three feet from\nthe ground. The \"girdled\" stem is left for nearly three years before\nit is cut down, as it is not properly dead before that time. The only\nmethod of transport possible in places where there is no water, is\nby elephants, and this form of transportation is so very expensive\nthat the workings are mostly confined to the banks or the immediate\nvicinity of the streams. Teak trees unfortunately do not grow in\nclusters or groves, but only in isolated spots, often separated from\neach other by considerable distances, so that the question of carriage\nis financially a very important one.\n\nFelling takes place during the rainy season when the ground is soft\nand wet, so that the trees as they fall are not likely to sustain any\nserious damage. Three labourers working together are able to fell\nthree trees in one day. The rough logs are piled side by side until\nthey are removed by the elephants. One of these strong sagacious\ncreatures is harnessed to the log by ropes. He drags it over the\nground to the nearest water, his work being considerably lightened\nby the aid of rude rollers placed along the track. The elephants on\nreaching the water, pile up the logs on the bank, until the buyer or\nthe agent has examined them. The owner places his own mark on them\nfor purposes of identification, and then the elephants roll them\ninto the water, and place them in positions that render their being\nbound into rafts a comparatively easy matter. Thieves make themselves\nbusy at such times, breaking up rafts, stealing logs from which they\nobliterate the owner's mark, and disposing of them as rapidly as\npossible at nominal values to the first customer they can find. They\nkeep on the look-out for stray elephants too, and occasionally manage\nto get safely away with their valuable spoil. No replanting goes on,\nand great waste of timber is caused by the servants of the lessees.\nThe forests will ultimately be destroyed unless some regulations\nare made with regard to the girth of the trees cut down, and the\nreplanting of fresh ones in the places of those that have been felled.\nThe loss that the world will experience from the loss of the wood,\nwill be infinitesimal compared with the injury that is likely to\nfall upon the country itself in the changed climatic conditions that\ninvariably attend such wholesale deforestation.\n\nVery fine trees are allowed to stand because the natives are afraid\nto cut them down. Within any giant of the forest they suppose\npowerful spirits to be embodied, and they are afraid to call down\nupon themselves unforeseen and terrible visitations of anger from the\nspirits who inhabit them.\n\nThe villagers in all parts of the country are very hospitable and\nkindly disposed towards travellers. They show their politeness in\ntheir extreme inquisitiveness. They poke their noses into everything,\nand beg old bottles and sardine tins from the cook, at the same time\nmaking little presents of eggs and fish. In very remote places the\nwhite skin of the European is a great curiosity, but they never molest\nany traveller whatever his colour, nor do they interfere with his\npersonal liberty. On the other hand, every one, from the governor of\nthe district down to the lowest slave, will do all they can to help\nthe wanderer, provided he treats them with that courtesy and respect\nwhich they are prepared to show to him. Sometimes a native with a\nlittle mischief in his nature will attempt a practical joke, but it\nis usually of such a harmless character that only a very disagreeable\nperson would be likely to experience any great annoyance. A fisherman\none day visited a small party of Europeans who were encamped in his\nneighbourhood, and offered to sell them an animal for food. The\ncreature had neither head, feet, nor tail, but their absence was\nexplained by the vendor, who said he had removed them in order to\nsave the white men trouble. He further stated that the animal was a\nhare that he had trapped in the jungle. None of the party knew very\nmuch about anatomy, but they felt rather dubious as to the truth of\nthe man's statements. One of them, quite thoughtlessly and casually,\nobserved, \"Perhaps it is a dog.\" A broad grin spread over the wily\nfisherman's face, for the stray shot had hit the mark. He retired\nroaring with laughter, and exclaimed in the vernacular, \"Master very\nclever, very clever!\"\n\nThey are generally frightened by a camera, but it is a strange thing\nthat no where do the priests object to having their photographs\ntaken and printed. In fact, as soon as they learn the nature of\nthe apparatus they become a perfect nuisance by the eagerness they\nexpress to be photographed. They will come every morning to the tent\nor hut where the photographer is encamped, dressed in their best\nSunday robes, and wait about all day, in the hope of being \"taken.\"\nThey express considerable astonishment at the coloured and inverted\npicture seen on the ground-glass screen at the back of the camera, and\nthey are unable to understand why prints cannot be instantaneously\nproduced. A very picturesque old Peguan was once entreated to sit for\nhis portrait by a man who was travelling. The ancient one hesitated,\nand thought, and consulted his family. He was allowed to look through\nthe ground glass and see the faces of a few of his friends thereon.\nThat decided the point. He threw his fears and scruples to the winds,\nand posed himself in a graceful attitude astride a water-jar. The\nphotographer focussed and adjusted his machine, snapped the shutter,\nshut up the slide, and exclaimed, \"It is finished.\" Then the old man\ncame up to have a look. When he found that his picture was not ready\nat once, he felt that he had been grossly deceived, and his remarks\nwere such that the photographer deemed it wise to seek for the company\nof his friends.\n\nThe sight of the coloured picture on the ground-glass screen of the\ncamera, led a few villagers to commit an amusing error. After looking\nat it for some time, they went to another spot to watch an artist who\nwas at work there at the same time. They decided amongst themselves\nthat his work was a superior form of photography, and that as he drew\nhis brushes across the canvas they made the coloured picture come up\nthrough the back. Their theory worked excellently for a while, but\nwhen the artist began to put in boats in places in the picture which\ndid not correspond to those in the landscape, they felt that the\nmachine had gone wrong, and departed, murmuring that it wasn't a very\ngood \"picture-box\" after all.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nTHE CULTIVATION OF RICE.\n\n\nThe natives of Siam depend absolutely on rice for their very\nexistence. It is the only necessary article of food. Should the supply\nfail, there is nothing to take its place. All other forms of food\nare, comparatively speaking, luxuries. Abundance of rice means life;\nscarcity of rice brings famine and death. The failure of the crops in\nSiam would produce a famine as far-reaching and as disastrous in its\nresults as those of India, which have at different times evoked to\nsuch a large degree, the practical sympathies of the English people.\nAnd yet, despite the terrible nature of the disaster which would\nattend any sensible diminution in the supply of this all-necessary\nand all-sufficient article of food, the methods of cultivation are\nprimitive to the last degree, and are carried on with agricultural\nimplements of the rudest possible character.\n\n[Illustration: THE SWINGING FESTIVAL.\n\n_Page 212._]\n\nWhen a farmer increases the area of the land under cultivation, by\nbuying or stealing a new piece of wooded ground or jungle for the\npurpose of cultivating rice, he commences his farming operations by\nburning down the whole of the timber in order to save himself the\ntrouble of cutting it. In this way, with the maximum of waste and\nthe minimum of labour, the ground is cleared.\n\n[Illustration: COLLECTING RIPE GRAIN.]\n\nIt is next ploughed with an instrument the total cost of which is\nabout three shillings. Roughly speaking, the plough is merely a\ncrooked stick with one handle. If a piece of wood or cane be bent\ninto two portions, one longer than the other, and if the shorter\nportion of the cane be fastened into a heavy block of wood pointed\nat one end, while the longer arm is held in the hand, a rough model\nof a Siamese plough will be obtained. Occasionally, but by no means\nalways, a triangular piece of iron is fitted on to the wooden foot.\nThis, however, is never permanently fastened to the block. The plough\ncuts a shallow furrow about two inches deep and five or six inches\nwide. It is usually drawn by buffaloes, which are the chief beasts of\nburden in this country. The \"t\u00e1me\" buffalo, as it is called, seems\nvery docile with its native owners, and little children are often\nseen driving them about, running behind them, belabouring them with\nsticks, or sitting on their broad hard backs, guiding them in the\ndesired direction by whacking them over the nose. They have, however,\na strong dislike to Europeans, and will attack a white man without any\nprovocation whatever. The natives give as the reason for his dislike,\nthat the \"smell\" of the white man is offensive to the beasts. They\nare yoked to the plough in a manner as simple as it is inexpensive. A\nslightly curved wooden yoke is laid across their powerful necks. On\neither side of the neck a straight piece of wood passes through a hole\nin the yoke, hangs downwards, and so keeps the heads of the animals\nin the right position. From the yoke to the shorter portion of the\nplough, there passes a long heavy wooden beam. This is fastened into\na socket in the plough, just below the handle. It is tied to the yoke\nwith a thong of hide, or a long strip of rattan cane, and ends in a\ngraceful curve a foot or two above the heads of the animals. The free\nend of the beam is often decorated with flowers, feathers, or brightly\ncoloured ribbons. Pieces of rope passed through holes in the nostrils\nare the native substitute for the European bridle, harness, and\nreins. Thus the whole weight of the plough, the beam, and the yoke\nrests upon the necks of the animals. With one hand on the plough, and\nthe other loosely grasping the reins, the field labourer toils through\nthe broiling heat of the day, guiding the great clumsy-looking animals\nby an occasional tug at the reins, or urging them to greater speed\nwith long low groan-like exclamations.\n\nThe harrow is square in shape, is made of bamboo, and bears a number\nof straight wooden teeth. It is drawn by buffaloes, yoked and\nharnessed as in the case of the plough.\n\nAs rice only grows where there is an excess of moisture, an abundant\nsupply of water must be produced either by natural or artificial\nmeans. There is scarcely any artificial irrigation in Siam, for the\npeasants depend upon the chance rise of the rivers to flood the fields\nafter the heavy rains are over. These floods not only inundate the\nlow-lying plains, and so save the peasant the trouble of watering his\nfields himself, but when they subside they leave behind a deposit of\nmud so rich and fertile that manuring is rendered unnecessary. And as\nthese floods are of annual occurrence, any system of rotation of crops\nhas never been considered. Occasionally some farmer deems it advisable\nto adopt some artificial method of inundating his fields, and various\nmethods of doing this are in use. In none of them, however, are pumps\never used, though considering the number of canals that thread the\ncountry from end to end, one would think that the easiest and most\nnatural way of getting the water from the canal into the fields would\nbe by means of pumps connected to a series of troughs that would carry\nthe water to any point where it was required. Instead of a pump,\nvarious arrangements of baskets and buckets are employed. The baskets,\nwhich are made of cane and pitched inside and out to prevent leakage,\nwill hold about seven or eight gallons. They are so suspended by a\nsystem of ropes, that a couple of children can easily scoop up water\nfrom the canal and pour it on to the adjacent rice-patch. When the\nfields in the immediate neighbourhood of the water-supply have been\ndeluged, the water is passed over into the fields further away by\nmeans of a large wooden scoop, which takes up a few gallons at a time.\nThis process is repeated for each successive field, and eventually the\nwhole of the farm receives the requisite amount of water.\n\nWhen buckets are used, the system of irrigation is called \"watering\nwith the foot.\" The buckets are small, and are linked together about\ntwelve inches apart. They revolve on a rude wooden windlass, which\nis worked by two men, who place their feet on treadles fastened to\nthe shaft round which the buckets revolve, at the same time grasping\na horizontal bar for support. They run from the canal or pool, up an\ninclined trough, fall over the shaft, and tilt their contents into the\nfield, pass back again under the shaft, and so return to the canal\nagain.\n\n[Illustration: A SIAMESE RICE-PLOUGH.\n\n_Page 199._]\n\nOf the forty different kinds of rice known to agriculturists, about\nsix varieties are grown in Siam. The natives divide these roughly into\ntwo classes, which they name respectively \"Garden rice,\" and\n\"Field rice.\" The latter kind is inferior in quality, and is scattered\nbroadcast in the fields, where it is left to grow without any further\ncare or attention being bestowed upon its cultivation. \"Garden rice,\"\non the other hand, is carefully sown and tended. The seeds are first\nsown as thickly as they can grow, in well-watered patches. They\nsoon sprout, and the beautiful green blades grow rapidly in the hot\nsunshine. When they are a few inches high, they are pulled up by the\nroots, and bound into small bundles. These bundles are taken to the\nfields by men, women, and children, to be there transplanted in long\nstraight rows. The fields have by this time been covered with water,\nand trampled into a thick black mud under the hoofs of the buffaloes.\nEveryone, to use a native expression, now \"dives into the field.\" They\npush the roots of the young shoots deep down into the soft mud, with\ntheir nimble hands and feet, with amazing rapidity. A good worker will\nnot take more than three days to plant an acre. Planting lasts from\nabout June to October, and during that time the farm hands receive in\nwages from eight to twelve shillings a month.\n\nThe way in which the rice is reaped when the time for harvest has\narrived, depends largely on the state of the fields. If the waters\nhave subsided, it is reaped with the sickle, and bound into sheaves,\nwhich are first allowed to dry in the sun, and are then removed by\nbuffalo carts or bullock waggons. But if the fields are still under\nwater, this method is obviously impossible, and besides, there\nis always a sufficiently large number of leeches, land-crabs and\nwater-snakes moving about in the slimy mud to make the labourer\ncautious as to where he treads. In this case the people go to the\nfields in their long narrow canoes. They cut off the ripe heads with a\nsickle, and drop them into small baskets placed in the bottom of the\nboat. Great carelessness is often shown by the laughing, gossiping\nreapers, who drop handful after handful of ripe grain into the water.\n\n[Illustration: PLANTING OUT YOUNG RICE--FOOT OF KORAT HILLS.]\n\nWhen the threshing commences, the services of the ever useful buffalo\nare once more demanded. A threshing floor is first prepared. A piece\nof ground is cleared, and then covered with a plaster made of soil,\ncow-dung, and water. After a few days this pasty mixture sets into a\nhard, firm coating. A tall, straight bamboo is erected in the centre\nof the floor, and a few good heads of rice are fastened at the top\nfor the birds to eat. A roughly carved figure of a man, jokingly\nchristened \"the grandfather,\" is added by way of decoration. Two\nbuffaloes are used, which are yoked side by side. The inner one is\nloosely fastened on the inside to the central pole, and on the outside\nto his fellow-worker, while both are guided by a half-naked man or\nboy, who runs round and round behind the animals, holding on to the\ntail of the outer one. The threshing takes place on moonlight nights,\nand rarely does the moon shine on a more interesting or curious\nscene. The buffaloes pace on in their monotonous round, regardless of\ntheir screaming driver or of his vigorous jerking of their hindmost\nappendages. In the heaps of straw tumble all the merry, laughing\nurchins of the neighbourhood. The air resounds with the sounds of\nmusic, fiddles and tom-toms, dulcimers and drums. Joke and song pass\nfrom mouth to mouth. Here glows the red end of a cigarette; there a\nshiny brown back glistens in the moonlight. The large meek eyes of\nthe animals stare through the gloom. Cocoa-nut oil lanterns vie with\nthe ruddy flames of the fitful bonfires in lending more light to the\nscene, but rarely do more than tinge their own dark smoke a tawny hue.\nFire-flies light up the deep shadows under the long drooping leaves of\nthe palms, or mirror their own pale light in the bits of shiny straw\nthat flutter in the evening breeze. Through all these varied shades\nof semi-darkness come laughter and song, the cry of the driver, the\ncreaking of the pole, the firm, steady footfall of the patient beasts,\nthe chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, and a million other\nsounds that tell of life and motion in the late hours of a tropical\nnight.\n\n[Illustration: PLOUGHING A RICE-FIELD.]\n\nThe rice is winnowed by the wind as it is poured from one wide shallow\nbasket to another, and as the chaff flies about in the sunlight its\ngilded hues mingle with the vivid green of the surrounding landscape,\nto form behind the well-proportioned forms of the girls and women,\na background which is unique in its brilliant combinations of light\nand colour. The grain is stored in large baskets made of cane and\nplastered outside with mud. These stand on a raised platform, and\nare covered by a roof made of leaves. The eye of the farmer grows\nbright as he regards his well-filled rice-bins, for by their number\nand contents does he measure his wealth. The farmers live together\nin small villages for mutual protection; but in spite of all their\nprecautions, those who inhabit the more remote portions of the country\nsuffer severely from the depredations of bands of dacoits. During the\nnight, too, the herds of cattle often break out and wander over the\nfields, doing irreparable damage as they wander from one plantation\nto another, the absence of all hedges or fences rendering their\nwanderings merely a matter of choice to themselves.\n\nThe rice-mills of Bangkok are constructed after European models, and\ncontain modern machinery; but outside the capital, the primitive\nmill of earlier days still survives. This is simply a short, broad\nstump of a tree with a conical hollow inside, the apex of the cone\nbeing near the ground. A long lever carries at one end a heavy wooden\nhammer-head, which falls into the hollow of the stem. It is raised by\nplacing the foot on the other end of the lever, and then jumping up\nso as to press upon the lever with the whole weight of the body. The\nwomen are generally employed in this work, and in any small village\nyou can hear the steady thump, thump of the hammers from morning to\nnight, and see the girls and young women jumping on and off the short\nend of the lever, with an almost painful regularity and precision.\n\nA great deal of the rice grown in some of the northern provinces is\nsent to Luang Prabang, the local supply there being insufficient for\nthe wants of the inhabitants. It is sent down the River Mekong on huge\nrice-rafts made of bamboo. It takes a fairly large crew to manage one\nof these rafts, and as several members of the party are sure to have\na wife or child with them, the whole structure somewhat resembles a\nfloating village. The most usual measurements of these rafts are one\nhundred and twenty feet long and about thirty feet beam. They are very\ndifficult to manage, but so skilful are the native boatmen, that by\nmeans of a number of oars rigged fore and aft, they generally succeed\nin taking their cumbersome craft through the numerous rapids and\neddies, with only occasional or trifling loss of their valuable cargo.\n\nTwo curious ceremonies take place each year in connection with\nthe agricultural operations. One is held in connection with the\nopening of the field season, while the other is an Oriental form\nof \"harvest-thanksgiving.\" The first ceremony is known as \"Raakna\"\nand is generally held about the middle of May. Until the \"Ploughing\nFestival\" is over, no one is supposed to plough or sow. On a certain\nday foretold by the Brahmin astrologers of the court, the Minister\nfor Agriculture, who is always a prince, or a nobleman of high rank,\ngoes in procession to a piece of ground some distance from the city\nwalls. He is for the time being the King's proxy, and on that day\nmany shopkeepers, and holders of stalls in the markets, pay their\ntaxes to him as the representative of their sovereign. Formerly his\nfollowers were in the habit of seizing the goods of any shopkeeper\nwhich were exposed for sale along the route of the procession, but\nthis arbitrary manner of collecting dues has, like many other harmful\ncustoms, completely disappeared during the reign of the present\nenlightened monarch.\n\nOn reaching the scene of the festival ceremonies, the Minister finds\nthere a new plough with a pair of exceptionally fine buffaloes yoked\nto it. Both plough and buffaloes are gaily decorated with flowers\nand leaves. The Minister takes the plough, and for about an hour he\nguides it over the field, closely watched by the assembled spectators.\nThey do not, however, concentrate their attention upon his skill\nas a ploughman, but on the length of the piece of silk which forms\nhis lower garment. If, in the course of his amateur agricultural\noperations, the Minister should pull this garment above his knee, it\nis believed that excessive and therefore disastrous rains will occur\nduring the wet season. On the other hand, should he allow it to fall\nto the ankle a great scarcity of rain is anticipated. A prosperous\nseason is foretold when the folds of the garment reach midway between\nknee and ankle.\n\nWhen a certain portion of the field has been ploughed, several old\nwomen in the King's service, strew grain of different kinds over the\nrecently ploughed land. The animals are unyoked and led up to the\nscattered grain and allowed to feed upon it. Once more the crowd are\non the alert, as they seek for yet other omens. That kind of grain\nof which the buffaloes most freely partake, will, it is expected, be\nscarce at the next harvest; the kind they disdain will be reaped in\nabundance. The ceremony over, the minister returns in procession,\naccompanied by soldiers and military bands; while the brightly\ndressed, chattering crowds return to their homes to prepare for the\nploughing and the sowing, hoping for abundant rain and sunshine, and\nlooking for a fruitful harvest, that thereby they may escape the\nterrible and remorseless hand of famine.\n\nThe harvest-festival ceremonies are of Brahminical origin and are\nknown to the people under the name of \"Lo Ching Cha\". The first word\n\"Lo\" means \"to pull\"--\"ching cha\" is \"a swing\". The place where the\n\"Swinging Festival\" is held is inside the city walls. It is a small\ngreen lawn situated opposite to a very large temple, and on the edge\nof a very busy thoroughfare. For three hundred and sixty three days\nin each year, there is nothing, except the huge pillars of the swing,\nto draw one's attention to the spot. A few boys playing football or\nflying kites, a few old women squatting down for a little gossip, or\na few Malay grooms with their masters' ponies are the usual everyday\noccupants of the spot. On the other two days of the year, when the\nharvest festival is held, every inch of available space is occupied.\nThe native children, unable to see over the heads of the men and\nwomen when they are upon the ground, quickly mount the neighbouring\nwalls, and perch themselves in the branches of the trees, or cling,\nlike monkeys, to every lamp-post and telegraph pole within sight\nof the proceedings. The thoroughfares leading to the place are\nblocked with innumerable carriages and rickshaws. The crowd is an\nexceedingly good-tempered one, and brawling of any kind is very\nunusual. The distant sound of a military band heralds the approach\nof another of those processions so dear to the heart of the Siamese.\nThe procession passes through the dense crowd without any trouble,\nfor the people willingly fall back so as not to impede its progress.\nStrangely coloured banners bearing quaint devices, flutter above the\nheads of the crowd. A modern military band plays \"Marching through\nGeorgia,\" while an ancient band in tattered vermilion garments with\nyellow trimmings, bangs curious drums, and pierces the air with the\npenetrating shrieks of long brass trumpets. The tom-tom and the gong\njoin in the general uproar. The crowd sways to and fro, striving\nto catch a glimpse of the barefooted soldiers in their brilliant\nuniforms, or of the numerous articles borne in the procession to\nindicate the nature and meaning of the festivities. Decorated\nbuffaloes dragging decorated carts, bundles of rice, offerings of\nfruit and flowers, are all evidences of the thankfulness of the people\nfor the safe ingathering of their harvests.\n\n[Illustration: BUFFALOES RETURNING FROM THE RICE-FIELDS.]\n\nIn the centre of the procession, carried in a chair of state on the\nshoulders of a number of strong well-built men, and shielded from\nthe sun by a huge state umbrella, sits the Master of the Ceremonies\nresplendent in cloth of gold and jewelled ornaments. At one time\nthe Minister for Agriculture officiated on these occasions, but now\na different nobleman is selected each year, whose business it is\nto organise and superintend all the arrangements for the festival.\nAll eyes turn towards the seated figure in his tall conical hat and\njewelled robes. He is carried to a small brick platform, which is\ndraped with the national flag and covered with flowers. He takes his\nseat, with two Brahmin priests on his right hand and two on his left.\nHe places his right foot on his left knee, the left foot resting upon\nthe ground. After having once seated himself in this position he is\nnot allowed to remove his foot off his knee until the whole ceremony\nis finished. As this lasts about two hours, the presiding nobleman\nmust be fairly uncomfortable by the time it is over. The penalty for\nmoving the foot was, formerly, the confiscation of the culprit's\nproperty and the loss of his rank, in addition to any immediate\nill-usage the attendant priests might think fit to bestow upon him;\nbut this is now all done away with, and the only deterrent influence\nbrought to bear upon the temporary sufferer is the opinion of the\npeople, who would feel deeply hurt and disappointed should any detail\nof their well-beloved ceremony be omitted.\n\nThe attention of the crowd is next directed to the performance of\nthe swinging games. The swing itself is like any ordinary child's\nswing except for its enormous size. The side pillars are about ninety\nfeet high, and the seat of the swing is about half-way between the\nornamented cross-bar and the ground. A few feet in front of the seat,\non the side towards the Palace, a long bamboo-stem is fixed in the\nground, and from the top is suspended a small bag of silver coins. The\nmen who take part in the games are usually Brahmins. They are dressed\nin white, and wear conical hats. They swing towards the bag of\nmoney and endeavour to catch it with their teeth. There are generally\nthree competitors; the prizes for the first being worth about fifteen\nshillings, while for the second and third they are worth about ten\nand five shillings respectively. When the winners have received their\nrewards they pass amongst the crowd, sprinkling the spectators with\nconsecrated water contained in bullocks' horns. Soon afterwards the\nMinister returns to his home, the crowd disperses, and thus this very\nancient ceremony is brought to a close.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nLAWS AND LEGISLATION.\n\n\nRecent years have witnessed great changes in the methods of governing\nand judging the people. In nothing is the distinction between Old and\nYoung Siam so definitely marked. But it is the old order of things\nthat will chiefly concern us in this chapter, for the new order,\nthough indicative of great progress, has been carried out by Western\nminds in imitation of Western methods, and it therefore presents\nlittle which is of intrinsic interest to the student of foreign\ncustoms. But as any account of the country's laws and legislation\nwould be incomplete without some mention of modern reforms, a brief\naccount of some of the most important of them is here given.\n\nThe King is theoretically an absolute monarch with power to control\nthe life and property of every one of his subjects. But he appointed\na Cabinet to assist him in carrying on the government of his country,\nand it is very doubtful whether he would now care to exercise his\ndespotic authority to the full, should he by so doing incur the\ncombined opposition of the Cabinet he has created. There are twelve\nministers in this Cabinet, who hold portfolios and seats. They are\n\n1. The Minister for Foreign Affairs.\n\n2. The Minister for Finance, who is also Minister of Customs and\ncontrols the various monopolies, gambling and opium farms.\n\n3. The Minister for War, who controls both Army and Navy.\n\n4. The Minister of Justice.\n\n5. The Minister of the North, who has under his control the\nadministration of nearly all the provinces north of Bangkok.\n\n6. The Minister of the South and West, who also directs the civil and\nmilitary _corv\u00e9e_.\n\n7. The Minister of the Royal Household.\n\n8. The Minister of Public Works, including the railways, posts and\ntelegraphs, and all public buildings.\n\n9. The Minister of Local Government, with control of prisons, police,\nand police-courts in Bangkok. He combines the functions of a Lord\nMayor and a Home Secretary.\n\n10. The Minister for Agriculture, who grants mining concessions,\nsuperintends surveys, and looks after the land revenues.\n\n11. The Minister of Public Instruction. Under him are placed the\nhospitals, the museums, and a number of ecclesiastical establishments.\n\n12. Privy Seal.\n\nThe Cabinet holds its business meetings at night. They begin about\neight o'clock and sit on through the cool dark hours of the night and\nearly morning. The king may or may not be present.\n\nLast year an additional legislative body was established, under the\nname of \"The Legislative Council\". The members of the Cabinet are\nall members of the Legislative Council, but many others have been\nadded. They do not hold their meetings in secret, like the older\nbody, and they also call in outsiders, both foreign and native, when\nthey want professional advice on any matter. They have appointed a\nnumber of sub-committees, of each of which some European servant of\nthe Government is a member. They are concerned with the reform of\nold laws and the devising of new ones. One article in the decree\nthat appointed this Assembly is sufficient to show how the king has\ngradually but voluntarily resigned the position of a pure despot.\nUntil the formation of this Council no law could pass into action,\nand no reform or new law could even be initiated without the express\nwritten sanction of the king. During recent years he has been at times\nseriously ill for many weeks together. Naturally everything came to a\nstand-still.\n\nNow the new body of councillors has been specially requested to\nintroduce and discuss new laws and regulations, and it has been\nfurther empowered to put into operation any law that it may pass,\nwithout the authority of the king, provided he is not at the time\nsufficiently well in health to attend to business. He, however,\nreserves to himself the right to amend the law should he afterwards\nthink fit. Those who know anything of the present king will recognise\nthe wisdom of this arrangement, for he can always be depended upon not\nto destroy but to stimulate everything which makes for the happiness\nof his people.\n\nEach province has at its head a Royal Commissioner who has extensive\npowers, but who holds office at the pleasure of the king, though in\nthe first instance his appointment is generally for some definite\nperiod. The Commissioners are not simply responsible for the good\ngovernment, or for the collection of the taxes in the district under\ntheir charge, but they are intended to form connecting links between\nthe central and the outlying portions of the kingdom. For in faraway\nprovinces, powerful and enterprising chiefs occasionally find it\nconvenient to forget the fact that they are not independent monarchs.\nThe appointment of Royal Commissioners was very much resented by some\nof the chiefs, especially by those who had previously reigned with\nthe title and dignity of sovereigns. Amongst these was the \"King of\nLuang Prabang,\" who had for many years governed the province of Luang\nPrabang under the above title. It has been stated that this man is\nthe only man in the country, except the king, who can boast a purely\nSiamese descent. Everyone else has some foreign blood in his veins. At\nany rate, this so-called king belonged to one of the oldest families\nin the land. When the new Commissioners were appointed, a very young\nman was sent to take over the government of this province. On nearing\nthe scene of his new labours, he sent word to the old chief to tell\nhim of his arrival, and to demand a formal and elaborate reception\nto be made for him, as a mark of respect to the sovereign whose\norders he had come to execute. The old man went himself to meet the\nnew arrival, indulging in a good deal of grumbling by the way, and\nwondering why there was any necessity to make such a fuss. When he\nfound to what extent he was to be superseded in the government of\nhis ancient domain, his grief and anger knew no bounds, but as he\nwas powerless to resent he had to content himself with grumbling and\nmoaning. He rather pertinently asked why the young king had sent\na young man to control an old chief who had so long done his duty\nfaithfully and well. One day the Commissioner heard the deposed\ngovernor addressed by the people, with the title of \"king.\" He at once\nforbade the repetition of the word, saying, \"There is but one king\nin Siam.\" The old man smarted not a little under what he considered\nwas a new insult, but he restrained any outward expression of his\nfeelings. Not long after this occurrence the Commissioner found that\nthe chief had in his possession a state umbrella with the number of\ntiers used by royalty. He ordered two of these to be at once removed,\nand his order was obeyed. The insulted chief got his revenge at last,\nwhen the French took the province of Luang Prabang. M. Pavie, the\nFrench Commissioner, and formerly French Minister in Bangkok, sent the\nSiamese representative about his business, and invited the old chief\nto an interview. When the chief arrived, M. Pavie asked him if there\nwas anything he wanted either for himself or his people. The old man\nrelated his loss of dignity and title, and begged that he might be\nallowed to repair his umbrella, and call himself \"king\" once more.\n\"Certainly,\" said M. Pavie, with diplomatic condescension, \"call\nyourself 'king' if you like, and as to the umbrella, add two tiers\nor twenty, just as you please.\" The remade king was delighted, and\nreturned home exceedingly glad at heart at the complete restoration\nof his royal name and furniture. The majority of the Commissioners,\nas well as the chief members of the Cabinet and of the Legislative\nCouncil are relatives of the king.\n\nSiam possesses an excellent code of laws. They are, in the main, just\nand well suited to the people for whom they were intended. There are\nfaulty laws amongst them, and there are a few that are barbarous or\ncruel, but these, be it said to the credit of the present government,\nare never enforced. The faults of Siam's legislative system do not lie\nin the laws themselves, but in the administration of them. Bribery has\nbeen the curse of every court throughout the country. Bribed judges\nand perjured witnesses have hindered the operations of laws that would\nhave been powerful for good, and have converted what should have been\nhalls of justice into houses of oppression. The venial judge could be\npublicly flogged, but when the other judges and the witnesses were\nall also venial, no righteous accuser could be found. The system has\nexisted for so many years that the people have got accustomed to it,\nand look upon bribery as a necessary and natural part of any legal\nproceedings. The prolongation of the different lawsuits meant more\nand more profit to the judge, and so adjournments were indulged in\n_ad infinitum_. In this way thousands of cases have accumulated;\nand up to a few months ago the condition of affairs was so bad that\nthe most just of judges might have been forgiven for preferring to\nleave alone the legal dust and uncleanliness accumulated by his\npredecessors. One of the most beneficial results that has followed\nthe appointment of the Legislative Council, has been an enquiry into\nthe character and causes of the defective administration of justice.\nA party of Belgian lawyers, assisted by a few Siamese lawyers trained\nfor their profession in foreign countries, set to work to overhaul\nthe courts and cases. They cleared off the legal arrears at the rate\nof scores each week. They found men who had been lying in gaol for\nyears, without trial, for some trivial offence. In many instances\nthe plaintiff who had originally entered the case was dead, or could\nnot be found. These unfortunate sufferers they released at once.\nThey discovered numerous examples of cruel or excessive sentences,\nwhich they reduced or annulled. To prevent further accumulations they\nassisted the native judges in trying all new cases as they came up day\nby day, giving them in this way, many a valuable object lesson in the\nadministration of justice, though not without occasional hindrances\nfrom the judges, and even from the litigants themselves. One day an\nold woman went to one of the new foreign judges, crouched at his\nfeet, and sobbed out a bitter tale of cruel wrong. She was engaged\nin some trivial lawsuit with a relative, and she alleged that she\ncould not get her rights because the judge was receiving bribes. \"My\ncousin,\" said she, \"sends the judge presents of flowers and fruit, and\nI know what is hidden in the basket.\" She dwelt on the enormity of\nthe offence and the suffering she endured thereby, and the foreigner\nlistened with great interest. At last he remarked, \"Well, what do you\nwant me to do for you?\" The woman, her eyes bright with hope, answered\nhim, \"Next week the case is coming before you, and if you will only\npronounce a verdict in my favour, I too will make you a present of\nfruit and flowers.\"\n\nThe laws of the country do not admit of being catalogued or described\nin any brief manner, as they occupy seventy volumes of closely printed\nSiamese, a mass of legal literature which it is obviously impossible\nto condense for the purposes of this chapter.\n\nThere are two courts for the trial of criminal cases, and a number of\nminor courts for the trial of civil cases in Bangkok. There is also an\nInternational Court where the subjects of different nations attempt\nto settle their differences with the natives. As far as Englishmen\nare concerned, this court is practically useless; for owing to the\nlackadaisical manner in which the affairs of Englishmen are dealt with\nby the members of the British consulate, the native judges know full\nwell that they can always give their own countrymen every possible\nbenefit of the slightest doubt. A remark once made by a Siamese to\nan English resident is only too true--\"What good are your Consuls\nand Ministers to you? If I bring a case against you in your court,\nI shall win it, and if you bring a case against me in my court, I am\nequally certain you will lose it.\"\n\nThere are provincial courts for dealing with minor offences in the\noutlying districts, but the judges in these courts have no power to\nsentence a man to death unless such power is directly given them by\nthe king himself.\n\nThe course of procedure in any court is simple but slow. The plaintiff\npresents his case in writing. This is neatly copied by the clerks,\nand then read to the complainant in order to see that no inaccuracy\noccurs. If he signifies that the document so read, is a faithful\nreproduction of the original, it is folded up and fastened with a\nbit of wax or soft mud, on which he impresses his private seal, that\nis, the mark of his thumb-nail. A synopsis of the plaint is sent to\nthe defendant, who makes his answer in writing, which is similarly\ncopied and sealed. A day for hearing the case is appointed, but the\nlitigants are called together before the day of trial, with a view\nto settling the matter privately. If these efforts at conciliation\nprove unfruitful, the depositions are read before subordinate judges,\nwho, after considering the case, make their award in writing. Their\nwritten judgment is forwarded to the chief judge and he pronounces\nthe sentence. The chief judge has full powers, but an appeal to the\nking is allowable. This privilege is more or less a dead letter, as\nit would be practically impossible for a poor man to get his appeal\nbrought before the notice of his sovereign.\n\nVery few of the courts have a legal aspect. The judge reclines at\none end of the room, on a mat placed on the floor. Under his arm is\na three-cornered pillow. He smokes, drinks tea, chews betel-nut,\nand spits during the whole course of the trial, and his example is\nfollowed by the policemen, witnesses, lawyers and spectators.\n\nA long and terrible oath is administered to each witness. It runs\nas follows: \"I, ----, who have been brought here as an evidence in\nthis matter, do now in presence of the divine Buddha declare that I\nam wholly unprejudiced against either party, and uninfluenced in any\nway by the opinions or advice of others, and that no prospects of\npecuniary advantages or of advancement to office have been held out\nto me. I also declare that I have not received any bribes on this\noccasion. If what I have now spoken be false, or if in my further\naverments I should colour or pervert the truth so as to lead the\njudgment of others astray, may the three holy existences before whom\nI now stand, together with the glorious Devattas of the twenty-two\nfirmaments, punish me.\n\n\"If I have not seen, yet shall say that I have seen--if I shall say\nthat I know that which I do not know, then may I be thus punished.\nShould innumerable descents of the Deity happen for the salvation and\nregeneration of mankind, may my erring and migrating soul be found\nbeyond the pale of their mercy. Wherever I go, may I be encompassed\nby dangers and not escape from them, whether arising from murderers,\nspirits of the ground, robbers, spirits of the forest, of the water,\nof the air, or from all the angels, or from the gods of the four\nelements and all other spirits. May blood flow out of every pore of\nmy body, that my crime may be made manifest to the world. May all\nor any of these evils overtake me three days hence. Or may I never\nstir from the place on which I now stand; or may the 'lash of the\nsky'[F] cut me in twain, so that I may be exposed to the derision of\nthe people; or if I should be walking abroad, may I be torn in pieces\nby either of the four preternaturally endowed lions, or destroyed by\npoisonous herbs or venomous snakes. When in the waters of the river\nor ocean may alligators and large fishes devour me; or may the winds\nor waves overwhelm me; or may the dread of such evils keep me during\nmy life a prisoner at home, estranged from every pleasure; or may I\nbe afflicted by the intolerable oppressions of my superiors; or may\ncholera cause my death, after which may I be precipitated into hell,\nthere to go through innumerable stages of torture; amongst which, may\nI be condemned to carry water over the flaming regions, in open wicker\nbaskets, to assuage the heat felt by the judge of hell when he enters\nthe infernal courts of justice, and thereafter may I fall into the\nlowest pit of hell. Or if these miseries should not ensue, may I after\ndeath migrate into the body of a slave, and suffer all the hardships\nand pain attending the worst state of such a being, during a period\nof years measured by the sands of the four seas; or may I animate the\nbody of an animal or beast during five hundred generations; or endure\nin the body of a deaf, blind, dumb, homeless beggar, every species of\nloathsome disease during the same number of generations, and then may\nI be hurried to the bottomless pit, there to be crucified by the king\nof hell.\"[G]\n\nThe old code contains a list of persons who are not to be allowed\nto give evidence. So many people must have been excluded from the\nwitness-box by the old regulations, that one wonders how they\never could have obtained any evidence at all had they obeyed the\nregulations completely. For instance, none of the following persons\ncould be called to give evidence:--Drunkards, opium-smokers, gamblers,\nnotorious vagabonds, goldsmiths, braziers, blacksmiths, shoe-makers,\nexecutioners, beggars, potters, dancing women, women who had been\nmarried three times, adulterers, clerks, orphans, players, jugglers,\nacrobats, undutiful children, atheists, slaves, friends of either\nparty, enemies of either party, quacks, liars, and sorcerers. Physical\ndefects excluded unmarried or pregnant women, the blind, halt, deaf,\npeople above seventy years old and children under seven, dying people,\nand persons suffering from any loathsome disease. Intellectual defects\nprohibited the giving of evidence by those who could not read, could\nnot count up to ten, and who did not know the names of the eight\ncardinal sins. On the other hand, this curious old code directed that\nspecial attention should be given to the testimony of men of good\nlearning and of known good character.\n\nIt was sometimes considered necessary to make a supposed criminal\nconfess. To that end, provided he could not be persuaded by gentler\nmeans, the prisoner received ninety lashes on his bare back, with\na rattan rod. Time was given for the cuts to heal, and then the\nexperiment was repeated. A time for healing again intervened and then\na third flogging settled the matter, for if the man did not confess\nunder the third application of the rod, he was considered innocent.\nThe fear of the punishment that awaited those who did not confess,\nmust often have caused many innocent persons to declare themselves\nguilty. Flogging was not the only aid to confession. A modification of\nthe thumb-screw in the form of a split bamboo, was held to possess a\nstrong persuasive influence.\n\nOne or two very ancient customs still linger. Thus both plaintiff and\ndefendant are expected to provide bail when bail is demanded. And in\nserious cases where bail is not given, the plaintiff has to go to\nprison with the defendant until the case is tried. This regulation\ndoubtless often prevents false accusations being made, but it has its\nsevere side, as shown by the fact that a woman who had been plaintiff\nin a case, was recently released from prison by the new judges, after\nlying in confinement for over three years. The defendant, moreover,\nhad been allowed to go scot-free many months before.\n\nAgain, the relatives of a man are held security for his good\nbehaviour, and the inhabitants of any neighbourhood are liable to\nfines and taxes if murders or suicides take place amongst them. These\nlaws if strictly enforced in a country where people rarely leave their\nown neighbourhood, would render the detection of criminals a fairly\neasy matter. They are sometimes enforced when it suits the authorities\nto carry them out.\n\nAn incident that came under the personal knowledge of the writer will\nperhaps illustrate in a general way some of the merits and demerits of\nthe native method of apprehending offenders. During the Franco-Siamese\ntrouble, the natives naturally felt rather unfriendly towards their\nenemies, and not being able to distinguish between the subjects of one\nforeign nation and another, they exhibited their displeasure towards\nall white men alike. An Englishman who was in the Siamese Government\nService, was one afternoon taking a walk in the outskirts of the\ncity, accompanied by two ladies. Suddenly he felt a hard blow on the\near, and at the same instant a brick went whizzing past with great\nvelocity. He turned round to see from where the missile came, only to\nfind a barefooted, half-naked native going down the road as fast as\nhe could run. He mentioned the matter the next day to the Minister\nin charge of the department in which he was employed. His chief very\nkindly reported the matter to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, who\npromised that some attempt should be made to arrest the offender. A\npoliceman was sent to the place where the offence occurred, to make\nenquiries. He promptly arrested the first loafer he saw, and accused\nhim of the offence. The man denied the charge, but said he could give\ninformation as to the name and residence of the man who was wanted.\nHe then took the policeman to the house where the culprit lived. The\nofficial went into the place and asked for the man. His relatives\nprofessed complete ignorance as to his whereabouts. The policeman\nthen gave them a week in which to find him, and reminded them that if\nthe man were not found by that time he should be compelled to arrest\nthe whole family. Within a week they handed over the culprit. He was\ntaken before the judge and charged with assault. He confessed, and\nwas sentenced to imprisonment for a definite time. All this time the\ncomplainant was not summoned to appear; he was not asked to identify\nthe man, or to prosecute in any way. In fact, he knew nothing at all\nabout it until he received a letter from the officials telling him\nthat his assailant was in jail, and that if he wanted to interview the\nprisoner he would be permitted to do so.\n\nMany minor offences are punished with flogging. The man's hands and\nfeet are loosely fastened to a bamboo framework, and he is then\nthrashed on the bare back, with a rattan rod. Deserters from the army\nare thus punished. But in all cases a timely bribe will lighten the\nweight of the descending rod, the guilty man meanwhile not forgetting\nto howl and groan his loudest, so that the official who superintends\nthe execution of the punishment may not discover the fraud. The late\nking is reported to have been very fond of this method of punishment,\nand to have ordered frequent chastisement of his chief officials in\nhis own presence whenever he had cause, or thought he had cause, to\nbe seriously offended with them.\n\nThe punishment for murder is death by decapitation. Those who are\nreprieved through the mercy of the king, lose their titles, rank and\nproperty, and are branded on the arm. They are then condemned to the\ndegrading office of cutting grass for the king's elephants. They are\nnot allowed to hire anyone to perform their duties for them, but are\nobliged to do the work set them until death puts an end to their tasks.\n\nThe execution of the death penalty is an impressive if barbarous\nceremony. Such occasions are very rare, and constitute about the\nonly events that are not attended with merry-making. The laughing,\njoking, merry-hearted native forgets for once to chatter and be glad.\nThe interior of a court, a palace, a gaol, or a temple exercises no\nrestraining influence upon the voluble tongues of the people. But in\nthe presence of the executioners a deathly silence falls upon the\nwhole of the spectators, which is all the more intense and real by\nreason of its rare occurrence. At the break of day, near a lonely\ntemple on the banks of a lonely canal, some distance from the city\nwalls, the prisoner is led to the spot where he must pay for life with\nlife. His feet and wrists are firmly manacled, and the clink-clank,\nclink-clank of the chains in the still morning air is the only sound\nheard as the vermilion-robed executioners bring their victim forth.\nPresently the sound of chanting arises, and the brethren of the yellow\nrobe intone the prayers for the dead. The man's neck is fastened to\na bundle of bamboos, but he realises very little of what is taking\nplace, for the executioners, with a merciful consideration worthy of\nmuch imitation in other walks of life, have thrown their victim into a\nstate of stupor by means of a powerful drug. Into his ears they have\nrammed plugs of soft clay or mud, so that in case the drug should\nfail, the wretched creature shall not hear their steps when they come\nbehind him to deliver the fatal blow. The executioners next plead to\nBuddha for forgiveness, for they are about to break the well-observed\nlaw, \"Thou shalt not kill.\" They plead the command of the king and\nthe requirements of justice, and prostrate themselves on the ground.\nTheir prayers over, a silent signal is given, the red-robed figure\ncomes silently and slowly along with a quaint dancing gait; he raises\nhis keen-edged blade on high, and with one sweep of the weapon severs\nthe head from the trunk. The head is set up on a pole as a warning to\nthose present; the feet and hands of the victim are hacked off; the\nfetters collected, and the crowd disperses silently, with the ominous\ncroaking of many birds of prey impressing the meaning of the lesson\nupon their mournful hearts.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nCEREMONIES FOR THE DYING AND THE DEAD.\n\n\nDeath is essentially awe-inspiring and mysterious, and in the case\nof a people whose lives, from the cradle upwards, are lived in an\natmosphere of superstition, it is only to be expected that the\nceremonies for the dead should be duly and respectfully performed.\n\n[Illustration: A ROYAL FUNERAL PROCESSION.\n\n_Page 245._]\n\nWhen a person is at the point of death, those by the bedside endeavour\nto fix the thoughts of the dying one upon the \"Great Teacher,\" whose\nwords are their hope and guide at such a time. Loudly and rapidly, at\nleast eight or ten times a minute, the watchers exclaim, \"Pra Arahang,\nPra Arahang,\" this being one of the many names of the last Buddha.\nWith the mind dwelling upon the precepts of the ancient sage, the sick\none passes from this world of men, and the body lies stiff in death.\nStill the cry goes forth, louder and more rapidly than before, \"Pra\nArahang, Pra Arahang,\" so that the departed soul may not forget the\nteacher as it takes its flight into another world. The cry ceases not\nuntil the spirit has passed so far away that all hope of it hearing\nthe voices of earthly relatives must be abandoned. Then loud wailing,\nthe natural world-wide expression of uncontrollable grief, is heard\nall over the house. Even the visitors, the domestics, the slaves and\nothers who might not be supposed to be so deeply affected by the loss\nof the one who has passed away, join in the mournful chorus, as a\nfitting way of showing their respect for the dead. If the person is\nof high rank the body is bathed with great ceremony. The king himself\ncomes to the bedside to pour water over the corpse. Other princes\nfollow his example, after whom come the nobles present, according to\ntheir rank. The corpse is dressed in pantaloons and a tight-fitting\njacket, wrapped in a winding-sheet and placed in a sitting posture\nin a copper urn. A tube is placed in the mouth, and a mixture of\nquicksilver and honey poured into the body. The copper urn, which has\na grating at the bottom, is next placed inside a golden urn richly\nstudded with precious stones. At the bottom of this urn there is a\nstop-cock through which the products of decomposition are drained away\nday by day, in the interval that elapses between the death and the\ncremation of the body. As the urn is placed on a high pedestal a loud\nblast is blown upon the trumpets, the ancient conch shell is sounded,\nthe wailing of relatives and friends bursts out afresh, and the band\nplays sorrowfully a weird funeral dirge. This noisy demonstration is\nknown as \"the invitation to the corpse to sit upon the platform.\"\nAll the insignia of office belonging to the deceased are arranged at\nthe foot of the urn, together with those articles he has continually\nused in his daily life, such as his cigar case, his golden\nbetel-nut box, his spittoon, his jewellery, and his writing materials.\nAt dawn, at noon, and again at early evening, the women relatives and\ndomestics gather round the base of the pedestal to indulge in loud\nand tearful moans. In the intervals between these demonstrations of\nsorrow, the priests occupy the room, chanting the prayers for the\ndead and other stanzas from their religious texts appropriate to the\noccasion. The remains are kept for a long time, sometimes for several\nyears before they are burned.\n\nAll people are not cremated. If a man has committed suicide, or died a\nsudden death, as by lightning, cholera, or small-pox, he is held to be\ndeficient in \"merit\" and not worth burning. Such people are buried. It\nmay here be noticed how little wood is really required to burn a body.\nAbout two armfuls of fuel will reduce a corpse to ashes.\n\nUpon the death of a king, it is the duty of his successor to make\npreparations for the cremation. The royal burnings take place on an\nopen piece of ground in front of the Royal Palace in Bangkok, called\nthe \"Pramane Ground.\" The word \"Pramane\" is the name of the structure\nerected for the ceremony. A square is marked out on the ground, with\nits sides about forty feet long. At the angles of the square are\nplaced four huge pillars of teak about two hundred feet long. These\npillars must be straight, of the finest timber to be found in the\nkingdom, and must never have been used in any previous ceremony. They\nlean towards each other at the top, forming a truncated pyramid, and\nsupport a pyramidal structure which ends in a tall tapering spire\nand is profusely decorated with gold-leaf and tinsel. A large fence\nof newly cut bamboo is erected to enclose the central erection--the\npramane. In three sides of the fence, gates are placed midway. Inside\nthe fence there are a number of temporary buildings, one for the\npriests, one for the king and royal family, and another for specially\ninvited visitors. The king's pavilion is easily distinguishable from\nthe rest by its wealth of crimson drapery and cloth of gold. The floor\nof the enclosure is covered with a carpet of split bamboos, which has\nbeen specially made for the occasion and may never again be used for\na similar purpose. At many points in the fence, royal seven-tiered\numbrellas of cloth of gold reflect the powerful sunlight with dazzling\nbrilliancy. Outside the enclosure another set of buildings is provided\nfor the use of the officials, while over the rest of the ground are\nscattered theatres, puppet-shows, shadow plays and other forms of\namusement. Under the central pagoda is a royal throne richly draped,\nand an eight-sided pyramid which rests upon a firm platform. From the\ncentre of the roof hangs a circular awning, from which long strips of\ncrape, white silk, and cloth of gold are carried to the four corners\nof the pramane. The eight-sided pyramid is the resting-place of the\nurn, and has a special canopy of cloth of gold. Floral wreaths and\nother decorations, made with marvellous skill and taste, are displayed\nin every available spot, while bits of glass and porcelain adorn the\npillars and reflect the light of the sun by day, and of the torches\nand lamps by night. After sunset a general illumination of the whole\nplace occurs. It is produced by thousands of torches, oil lamps and\nChinese lanterns.\n\nAt dawn, on the first day of the celebration of the funeral rites,\nthe corpse is taken in a car to the scene of the ceremonies. The\nfirst carriage in the sad procession is occupied by the high priest.\nAs it moves slowly along, he reads from the Buddhist scriptures the\npassages on death, and fixes his thoughts upon the fleeting nature of\nthis earthly life. The second carriage contains the favourite children\nof the deceased monarch, while the third is the funeral car. The\nhigh priest holds in his hands, pressed closely against the sacred\nbook, one end of a long strip of silver ribbon. The ribbon is carried\nbackwards, passes through the hands of the children, and is fastened\nat the other end to the golden urn which contains the remains. As\nthe priest reads, holy influences pass from the sacred words through\nthe ribbon to the living bodies of the children and the dead body of\ntheir royal father. Other carriages follow the funeral car, one of\nwhich contains sticks of fragrant wood, with gilded ends--the fuel\nfor the burning. Another is filled with representations of fabulous\nanimals made in bamboo and covered with tinsel. The head and tail of\nthe funeral procession are formed by the white-robed Brahmins in their\nusual conical hats. The throbbing of the death-drums falls upon the\near with a dull regular boom, boom, boom.\n\nOn arriving at the Pramane, the urn is placed upon the pagoda, there\nto remain for seven days. The silver ribbon is fastened in the middle\nto the urn, and at the ends to the east and west sides of the room,\nthus indicating the path traversed by the sun in his daily round,\nand symbolising the life of man in its passage from the cradle to\nthe grave. The priests assemble in great numbers to recite stanzas\nbearing upon life and death, and upon the mysteries of Nirvana and the\nhereafter. When their recitations are finished, they sit for a little\nwhile, with bent heads, in silent meditation upon the things they have\nspoken. They retire for a time, but return a few hours later to repeat\ntheir solemn chants.\n\nThe mourning colour is white, and every subject must wear it when the\nsovereign dies. Unfortunately black is being gradually substituted for\nwhite. It is a very hot and ugly colour to wear in a tropical land.\nEvery subject must also shave completely the hair of his head, and\nkeep his head in this condition of baldness as long as the Court may\ncommand.\n\nThousands of priests are on such occasions fed, and presented with\nnew robes, and books, and a crowd of miscellaneous articles, such as\nclocks, boxes of cigars, trays of betel-nut, and umbrellas.\n\nHere and there on the Pramane Ground are placed the \"trees that\ngratify the desires of men.\" They have no likeness to any tree at\nall, but are hollow wicker baskets on the ends of long poles. Tied to\nthe \"branches\" are a number of fresh limes, each of which contains\neither a small silver coin or a lottery ticket. They are supposed to\nrepresent the four trees that will blossom at the four corners of the\ncity in which the next Buddha will be born. They will then produce all\nkinds of delicious fruit in fabulous quantities. In the evening men go\nup the wicker 'tree,' pluck off the limes and throw them to the crowd.\nThe greatest excitement prevails, and the people shriek and shout,\nand tumble over each other in their endeavours to obtain one of the\ncoveted souvenirs.\n\nA display of fireworks follows the distribution of limes. Birds,\nwater-spouts, \"bellowing elephants,\" and many other fantastic forms\nblaze, fizz, and explode. When the last spark has disappeared the\nfirst sound of orchestral music is heard, and free open-air theatres,\npuppet-shows, and shadow plays offer their several attractions for the\namusement of the people.\n\nOn the seventh day the urn of gold is taken from under the canopy,\nand the copper one removed from it. All the inflammable drapery, and\nall articles of any value are carried away to be beyond reach of\nflame. A pile of fragrant wood and spices is neatly arranged, and\nthen the urn is placed thereon. A quick-burning fuse or train of\ngunpowder is laid from the funeral pyre to the king's pavilion. At the\nproper time, about sunset usually, he ignites the fuse with sacred\nfire from the royal temple. Everyone who is permitted, goes at once\nto the pramane, lights a candle, and lays it in the fire, thereby\nincreasing the brilliancy and intensity of the fire. Great care\nhas to be taken to prevent the whole structure and the surrounding\nbuildings being consumed in a general conflagration. Many people are\nengaged in extinguishing the fire at places where it threatens to\nexceed its proper limits. In about an hour the cremation of the body\nis complete, and the fire is everywhere carefully extinguished. The\ncharred bones are placed in the golden urn once more, the original\npyramid rebuilt, and the draperies replaced as before. The ashes of\nthe fire are collected, wrapped up in muslin, placed on a golden dish,\ntaken in a procession of state barges some distance down the river,\nand there thrown into the waters. For three days after the burning the\nfestivities are kept up, and general rejoicing prevails amongst the\ncrowd. The charred remains are kept in a room in the palace, specially\nset aside for the reception of the royal remains. The timber used in\nthe construction of the pramane or of any of the attendant buildings,\ncan never be used again for funeral purposes. It is distributed to\nthe priests to be used by them in the erection or repairing of their\ndwellings.\n\nSuch then is the ceremony that attends the death of a king. Other\nmembers of the royal family and all princes and nobles of high rank\nare also cremated with great pomp and with a lavish expenditure of\nmoney. As the king's household is a very large one, and as a few\ndeaths occur every year, it would involve a fearful waste of time and\nmoney if a separate funeral service were held for each of them in\nturn. One by one as deaths occur, the dead bodies are placed in the\ncopper urn, and this again in the golden one, until a fairly large\nnumber await their cremation. In 1895 a royal funeral ceremony was\nheld that lasted for a week, several bodies being burnt every day. The\nillustration, \"A Royal Funeral Procession\", was made in connection\nwith this particular ceremony. The boxes seen passing through one of\nthe city gates were the coffins of the least honoured or distinguished\nof the dead. Such a cremation, though performed with great state, is\nnot nearly so imposing as that connected with the death of a king.\n\n[Illustration: THE POOR MAN'S FUNERAL.]\n\nThe poorer classes cannot afford the money to pay for fireworks,\ntheatres, and processions, but they do all that they possibly can to\nshow their respect for the dead, with becoming ritual. When a man is\nthought to be nearing his end, the priests are called to his bedside.\nThey read to the dying man of his future births, of the blessed\nNirvana, and endeavour to drive all fear from his mind. When life is\nextinct they sprinkle the body with water, and join the relatives\nin the chorus \"Pra Arahang, Pra Arahang\". The body is washed, and\nwrapped in a clean cloth, and money is placed in the mouth. It is then\nput into an urn, if the friends can afford to buy one; but if not,\nit rests simply in the coffin. The coffin is an oblong wooden box,\ncovered outside with wall-paper and tinsel, and has no lid. Food is\nplaced inside, and very often the body lies face downwards so that the\nspirit shall not find its way back again. The coffin is removed from\nthe house through a hole in the wall, and not through the door, for if\nthe spirit of the deceased should be lingering near, it might refuse\nto pass through the doorway into the outer world, and would then\nremain to haunt the house and disturb its inhabitants. The coffin is\ncarried round and round the house three or four times, so as to baffle\nthe spirit that it may not be able to return to its former home. For\nit must be remembered that these people believe that it takes the soul\nseven days to reach its final destination, and there is always the\npossibility of its being re-called from its onward flight by earthly\nattractions, or by non-observance of the ceremonies that should be\nperformed.\n\nThe bearers next proceed to one of the temples which possesses a\npublic \"Pramane\" or crematorium. After the burning has taken place the\nbones, or charred objects that look like bones, are collected from\nthe ashes, to be reverentially preserved by the relatives. As they\nhave no gold urns in which to store these relics, they keep them in\ncommon thick glass tumblers of foreign manufacture, over which they\nplace a pagoda-like covering made of red lacquer and gilded by some\nnative artisan. On very particular occasions these remains are brought\nout and distributed about the rooms, perhaps as a reminder to the\npleasure-seekers that death is ever with them.\n\nThose who have died of cholera or by lightning, and who have\nconsequently been buried, are dug up a few months later, and what is\nleft of them committed to the flames.\n\nPaupers and criminals are disposed of in a barbarous and revolting\nmanner. At one of the city temples a flock of vultures, numbering over\na hundred, is kept. The vultures are repulsive, dirty-looking birds\nwho sit stolidly hour by hour upon the roof or walls of the temple,\napparently without life or motion except when a body is brought for\ntheir repast. Then they become keenly excited at the prospect of the\ncoming feast, for which, however, they must first do battle with the\ncrowd of pariahs that also haunt the vicinity of the same temple. They\nflock down with noisy croaking and great flapping of wings, but are\nbeaten off by the attendants, who first prepare the body for the feast\nby cutting it open in different places with large sharp knives. They\ncast a few pieces of flesh to the dogs and then retire. In a second\nthe body is hidden by the birds, who settle upon it from head to foot.\nNothing is to be seen but a compact mass of quivering feathers. The\nvultures gorge themselves with the flesh, never ceasing as long as\nanything remains to be consumed, unless it be to make a vicious grab\nat the head of some venturesome pariah who dares to interfere with\ntheir enjoyment of the feast. It is a sickening spectacle, and its\nonly merit is that it is safer from a sanitary point of view to allow\nthe flesh to be eaten in this way than to bury it beneath the damp\nsoil near some human dwelling.\n\nThe meal over, the feathered cannibals return to their perches upon\nroof and wall. The relatives gather up the clean white bones, put them\nloosely in a wooden coffin, light wax tapers, and bearing the coffin\nwith them, march three times round the funeral pyre. They then light\nthe fire, place the coffin on the burning fuel, and scatter sweetly\nsmelling incense in the leaping flames.\n\nThere are two spirits who watch over and take charge of all\nburning-places. They are familiarly spoken of as the \"Grandfather\ncocoa-nut shell,\" and the \"Grandmother cocoa-nut shell.\"\n\nTo neglect the cremation ceremony would be as fatal to the happiness\nof the departed soul in its future existence, as to neglect the\nshaving of the top-knot would be to the success of a child in this.\nThe soul of the man whose body has not been consumed with fire passes\ninto everlasting and fearful servitude. It becomes the bond-slave\nof a horrid master whose distinguishing personal characteristics are\na dog's head on a human body and a ferocious temper. He sits for\nall time with his feet in the fires of hell, enjoying the infernal\nheat, but as his enjoyment would cease were his extremities to be\nconsumed, he requires a body of servants to cool them. The souls of\nthe uncremated are his slaves, and it is their duty to carry through\nthe long years of eternity, water in open wicker baskets. Their way\nto the wells lies across a long and perilous bridge, but over it they\nmust pass day by day without end as they perform their thankless task.\nWhen the body is burned the soul is liberated from this terrible\nbondage. There have been times when some frightful epidemic has\nravaged the city, and when the attendants in fear and trembling have\nleft the sick to die alone. Then the soldiers have been sent to gather\nup the dead and cast them into the public graves. When the scourge\nhas spent itself and the minds of the living have become calm again,\nthe relatives of those who have not been burned begin to reflect upon\nthe awful fate that has overtaken the departed souls. Were they to go\nto the public grave and dig up a body and burn it, it might not be\nthat of him they seek, and their efforts would be of no avail. But\nthey free the fettered soul in another manner. They believe that the\nhorrid monster of the nether regions knows all the names both of the\nliving and the dead, so that if they endeavour to perform any act\nof propitiation he will know by whom and for whom the deed is done.\nThey obtain the release of the soul by promising to call themselves\nin this life the relatives of the demon. It is merely a nominal\nrelationship, but it pleases the fiend with the burning feet, and in\nreturn for the homage thus paid to his power he allows the captured\nsoul to go its way.\n\nThe worldly relations of the infernal spirit acknowledge their\nrelationship by getting from the priests several red and yellow\nstrings and binding them upon their necks, wrists and ankles. They\nalso make a little cart, and model two clay oxen which they harness\nto the tiny shafts. In this they put clay images, one for each member\nof the family. Round the chief joints of these toy images, red and\nyellow strings are fastened by their owners. Offerings of flowers and\nfruit are put in the cart and then it is taken to the rice-fields and\ndeposited in some convenient spot. The cart and its contents are soon\ndestroyed by the birds, the wind, and the little field-mice, but they\nare never restored.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nTHE ORDER OF THE YELLOW ROBE.\n\n \"Lord Buddha sat the scorching summer through,\n The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves;\n Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe,\n Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal\n Chance gathered from the charitable.\"\n\n \"_Light of Asia_,\" Book V.--ARNOLD.\n\n\nAmong the crowd of brightly dressed people who throng the streets\nand alleys, the canals and rivers of Eastern Venice, there are none\nwho so soon command the attention of the new arrival, or who appeal\nmore strongly to the eye of the oldest inhabitant of the city, than\nthe yellow-robed priests of the Buddhist faith. In the capital of\nSiam there are over ten thousand of them, while in the whole kingdom\nthere are more than one hundred thousand. No ancient order of Grey\nor White Friars ever exhibited their individuality either with such\nfrequency, persistency, or picturesqueness as these representatives\nof a far more ancient if less noble worship. It is scarcely necessary\nin these days when Oriental creeds and faiths have been so fully\nand widely discussed, to point out that the primal elements of that\nphilosophy which announced the necessity of the Buddhist priesthood\nare entirely different to those which caused the creation of similar\ninstitutions in the West. The monk of the Western orders claims to\nbe an intercessor between God and man. The Buddhists have no God,\nand therefore they do not make intercession for their brethren. The\nWestern monk is a teacher and a preacher, the Buddhist priest may\nbe, but is by no means necessarily so. The order rests upon a basis\nsomething like this:--The evil in the world is the result of past evil\nand will be productive of future evil. The only way to eradicate the\ngeneral wickedness of the world is by casting it separately out of\neach individual in the world. This can only be accomplished by the\nindividual himself, and as long as he remains in contact with the\nworld he is under constant temptation to indulge in its pleasures,\nto gratify his passions, and to add in a thousand ways to the sum of\nhuman misery. By retirement he no longer craves for fine food and\nraiment, but has every opportunity for long and careful meditation\nupon his own evil doings and desires, and upon the way to get rid of\nthem. The monastic institution finds its parallel in the life of a\nlayman, when such a one, with a large amount of work to be performed,\nshuts himself up in his own room and denies himself friends and rest\nthat his labours may be properly accomplished.\n\nThere is no real division between priest and layman; either may become\nthe other at will. In Siam the monastic vow is not binding for life,\nbut is cancelled by the superior of the monastery whenever a request\nto that effect is made. Every man in Siam enters the priesthood for\nat least three months of his life, during which time he is supported\nby the voluntary offerings of the people. The original purity and\nsimplicity of the mendicant order has long been lost. The Society has\noften been endowed by kings and chiefs with gold and silver; idleness\nand worthlessness are too often the characteristics of the temporary\npriests. Still, there are a few who desire to live the noble life of\ntheir Founder and to follow faithfully in his paths of wisdom and\nvirtue. For years they have been the schoolmasters and the doctors,\nand the copiers and makers of books. They are known in Siamese as\n\"Pra,\" a word which means both \"sacred\" and \"great.\"\n\nEach monk has eight requisite and lawful possessions; namely, three\nrobes of yellow cloth which are all worn at the same time; a bowl for\nthe collection of the daily food; a razor with which to shave the\nhead and eyebrows; a case of needles for the repairing of clothes; a\ngirdle; and a filtering cloth. But the Siamese monks often have many\npossessions besides these. There is a rule that all other property\nexcept the above shall be given up to the common use of the monastery,\nbut the rule is not obeyed. The three patched yellow robes are often\nrepresented by seven or more; and in the wealthier monasteries they\nare not of common cloth, but of rich and beautiful silk. The term\n\"yellow\" as applied to the priest's vestments is apt to convey a\nwrong impression to the minds of those not acquainted with Buddhist\ncountries. In these degenerate times the monks desire that ornament\nin dress which their religion forbids, and they render themselves\nvery artistic in appearance by a combination of colours not strictly\nyellow, but ranging from a rich chocolate through shades of saffron,\ngold and orange to the palest tints of the orthodox colour. The\nfollowing note from Alabaster's \"Wheel of the Law\" is an interesting\ncomment upon the priestly robes:\n\n \"I cannot state with any certainty the reason yellow robes\n were adopted by the Buddhists. There is a story that\n thieves wore yellow dresses, and that the poor ascetics,\n in the depth of their humility, imitated the thieves. It\n is far more probable that the people of the lowest caste,\n or outcasts, were compelled to wear yellow, and that\n the Buddhists, voluntarily making themselves outcasts,\n proudly adopted the colour which marked their act. We find\n them boasting of the yellow robe as the flag of victory\n of the saints. In the early days of Buddhism the monks\n wore whatever they could get. Some picked up and patched\n together the rags strewn about the cemeteries, whilst\n others are mentioned as magnificently attired in glittering\n royal vestments, and in the precious dresses procured\n by kings for the ladies of the harems, which the ladies\n piously gave away.\"\n\nEach priest also possesses a large fan. It is intended to assist him\nin keeping his eyes from the things of the world, and so to keep\nhis thoughts from straying as he walks along the streets. A priest\nis forbidden to look more than a plough's length in front of him,\nand must keep his eyes fixed upon the ground; but the Siamese monk\nwho obeys this rule must be diligently sought for in out of the way\ncorners. The fan is generally carried by a boy attendant, who holds it\nso as to screen the priest's head from the sun, while his eyes roam at\nwill, seeking for novelty and amusement.\n\n[Illustration: PRIEST AND ATTENDANT.]\n\nAll those who wear the yellow robe are not men. Many children can\ndaily be seen with shaven heads and eyebrows, dressed in the priestly\ngarments. These are novices or \"nanes,\" not fully ordained monks.\nThey are not admitted before they are eight years old, and, unless\ntheir parents intend them to remain in the monasteries for life, they\nwait until the top-knot has been shaved off before entering into the\nservice of the temple, so that their average age is about thirteen.\nAfter a time they leave the temple, return to the world, and get\nmarried. But about the age of twenty or twenty-one they must re-enter\nthe priesthood, for in early manhood every male, including the king\nhimself, must seek full ordination. The \"nane\" during his noviciate\nhas only about ten rules to observe, whereas the fully ordained priest\nhas to obey over two hundred.\n\nThe ceremony of ordination if respectfully and devoutly performed\nwould be a very impressive one, but as at present carried out,\nthe only persons in the temple who are at all reverent are the\npriests themselves. The behaviour of the congregation is marked by\nindifference and often by extreme levity. When an applicant desires\nadmission to the priesthood he signifies his request sometime\nbeforehand to the president of the chapter, who then appoints a day\nfor him to be formally received. The applicant arrives at the temple\nwith a host of relatives and friends dressed as for a holiday. He is\nclothed in white, and over his ordinary garments he wears a mantle of\ngauze decorated with gold and silver spangles. A procession is formed,\nand to the sound of a band that plays in the open air, he and his male\nfriends march three times round the outside of the temple. He next\nenters the building and sits down on the floor in a place reserved for\nhim. The women of the party sit on one side of the temple and the\nmen on the other. They all chew betel-nut, and the men smoke, while\nall refresh their thirst from the numerous tea-pots that circulate\nround and round the congregation. At the far end of the building the\npriests are arranged in two or more rows, facing each other, with the\npresident at their head.\n\nOne of the friends of the candidate who has already been ordained,\nleads him to the superior, saying, \"I present this person who wishes\nto become a priest.\" The applicant prostrates himself before the\npresident three times, with his hands pressed against his forehead,\npalm to palm, and says, \"Venerable president, I own you as my\nordainer.\" The president fastens the bundle of robes round his neck,\nand he goes to the entrance of the temple, where two friends who are\nmembers of the chapter, fasten the begging bowl round his neck. The\nthree men then return to the altar and bow. The candidate retires\na little way, and kneels in reverential attitude while he answers\nseveral questions. A private examination has previously taken place.\nThe president now reminds him that he is expected to give truthful\nreplies to the questions put to him, and then puts him publicly\nthrough the following catechism.\n\n \"Are you free from consumption, fits, leprosy, or any\n contagious disease?\"\n\n \"I am free.\"\n\n \"Have you ever been bewitched or in the power of the\n magicians?\"\n\n \"Never.\"\n\n \"Are you in the full possession of all your mental\n faculties?\"\n\n \"I am.\"\n\n \"Are you of the male sex?\"\n\n \"I am.\"\n\n \"Are you in debt?\"\n\n \"I am not.\" (Many people endeavour to enter the priesthood\n in order to avoid payment of their debts.)\n\n \"Are you a slave or a fugitive?\"\n\n \"I am not.\" (Those drawn for conscription often seek\n admission, as the forced military service is very\n unpopular.)\n\n \"Do your parents give their consent to the step you are now\n about to take?\"\n\n \"They consent.\"\n\n \"Are you over twenty years of age?\"\n\n \"I am.\"\n\n \"Have you the requisite utensils and garments?\"\n\n \"I have.\"\n\n \"Then come forward.\"\n\nThe candidate goes forward on hands and knees, and with palm-joined\nhands salutes the president three times, saying, \"O father benefactor,\nI pray to be admitted to the sacred dignity of the priesthood. Take\npity on me and raise me from the lowly condition of the laity to the\nperfect condition of the priesthood.\"\n\nThe presiding priest next asks the monks of the chapter whether any\nof them know any just or lawful reason why the candidate should not\nhave his request granted. If none of them state any objection, the\npresident signifies his willingness to admit the candidate to full\nordination. The name, age, and address of the applicant are now\nwritten down in the records of the monastery, after which he goes to\none side of the temple to be robed. He takes off the clothes he has\nbeen wearing and puts on his new garments in full view of the whole\ncongregation. This is not at all an easy matter, and he is always\nassisted by some friend who has previously gone through the same\nordeal. If the friend gets the robes entangled, as he frequently does,\nthe congregation laughs immoderately at the uncomfortable dilemma\nin which the candidate is placed. The difficulty is solved by some\nkindly-disposed priest, who leaves his place and comes to assist\nin the robing. With fan in hand and the alms-bowl slung over the\nshoulder, the wearer of the yellow robe kneels once more before the\nsuperior, saying:--\n\n\n \"I go for refuge to the Buddha.\"\n\n \"I go for refuge to the Law.\"\n\n \"I go for refuge to the Order.\"\n\n He follows this by taking ten vows:--\n\n 1 \"I take the vow not to destroy life.\"\n\n 2 \"I take the vow not to steal.\"\n\n 3 \"I take the vow to abstain from impurity.\"\n\n 4 \"I take the vow not to lie.\"\n\n 5 \"I take the vow to abstain from intoxicating drinks,\n which hinder progress and virtue.\"\n\n 6 \"I take the vow not to eat at forbidden times.\"\n\n 7 \"I take the vow to abstain from dancing, singing, music,\n and stage-plays.\"\n\n 8 \"I take the vow not to use garlands, scents, unguents, or\n ornaments.\"\n\n 9 \"I take the vow not to use a broad or high bed.\"\n\n 10 \"I take the vow not to receive gold or silver.\"\n\nThen the president says to him, \"You are now received into the\nbrotherhood. I will therefore instruct you what duties you are to\nperform and what sins you are to avoid. You will daily collect alms\nand will never put off your yellow robes. You must dwell continually\nin a monastery and never with the laity, and you must forsake all\ncarnal pleasures,\" and so on.\n\nThe ceremony concludes with the paying of homage to the newly made\npriest. He sits on the floor, and then all present who are acquainted\nwith him come, one by one, and prostrate themselves to the ground\nbefore him, at the same time giving him some present. If he has many\nfriends, the floor of the temple round him is soon covered with about\nas motley an assortment of articles as it is possible to gather. There\nare robes, incense sticks, books, pens and ink, pencils, cigars,\ntobacco, betel-nut, clocks, vases of wax flowers, umbrellas, fans,\nflowers, fruit and cakes. When all the presents have been given and\nthe congregation have paid their respects to the new monk, they go\nto their homes, and he at once takes up his residence in the cell\nallotted him. As long as he remains at the monastery he must obey\norders and regard the superior as a second father.\n\nThe monks are not allowed to take food after noon. They may drink\ntea, chew betel-nut, or smoke tobacco, but they must not partake of\nsolid food of any description. This rule is certainly far more rigidly\nobserved than most of those that are laid down to regulate the conduct\nof the order. One of the commonest sights in any part of Siam is the\nprocession of priests, soon after sunrise, seeking their daily bread.\nThey carry a bowl, basin or bag, and go straight on from house to\nhouse, each in the district appointed him. They stand outside the\nhouses, but make no request for alms. If anything is given to them\nthey bless the giver; if they receive nothing they pass silently on\ntheir way. Having collected their food, they return to the monastery\nto eat, and to meditate meanwhile upon the perishableness of the body.\nOn such occasions as weddings, hair-cuttings, and funerals, wealthy\nlaymen entertain the priests at their own houses, and send them away\nafterwards with further gifts of food.\n\nBuddha's early life as a mendicant was passed in the forest, and he\nheld that the solitude and quiet of such a place was conducive to that\nlong process of self-examination and renunciation which constitutes\nthe distinguishing feature of the order. But as he afterwards found\nthat he could be more useful to men by living amongst them, he\npermitted his disciples to live in companies in different places. The\ncharity of the pious soon provided them with temples and monasteries,\nsome of which were built even in his own time.\n\nDuring the whole of the dry weather the monks travel from place to\nplace, but in the rainy season, which is the Buddhist Lent, they\nsettle down in some particular monastery. They are not allowed to\nsleep outside the temple they have chosen for their habitation during\nthis period of retirement, except for some very important reason, and\nthen only with the direct sanction of the superior. As at this time\nthe jungle is flooded, and malaria common, there is much wisdom in the\nrule that forbids travelling about until the dry weather comes again.\nThe priests, during Lent, preach to the people, who come in large\nnumbers to listen, and to bring offerings. It is a very busy religious\nseason as far as outward appearances are concerned, but the apparent\nindifference of the majority of the worshippers raises a doubt as to\nwhether these observances possess any moral influence upon their lives.\n\nThe catalogue of the sins which the priests may not commit is a\nlengthy one and is religiously neglected. For instance, it is a sin\nto inhale flowers, to sit or sleep more than twelve inches above\nthe ground, to break up the soil, to listen to music, to sing, to\ndance, to use perfumes, to sit or sleep in a higher position than\nthe superior, to use gold or silver, to hold conversation on any but\nreligious topics, to take gifts from or give gifts to a woman, to\nborrow, to ask for alms, to possess warlike weapons, to eat too much,\nto sleep too long, to take part in any sports or games, to judge\none's neighbours, to swing the arms when walking, to bake bricks, to\nburn wood, to wink, to stretch out the legs when sitting, to look\ncontemptuously at any one or anything, to buy, to sell, to slobber\nor make a noise when eating, to have any hair anywhere about the\nhead or face, to keep the leavings of meals, to have many robes, to\nmeddle with royal affairs except in so far as they concern religion,\nto cook rice, to ride on an elephant, to put flowers in the ears, to\nwear shoes, to love one man more than another, to eat seeds, to sleep\nafter meals, to make remarks about the alms given to them, to wear any\ncolour but yellow, to pander to popular taste when preaching sermons,\nto wash in the dark, to destroy either animal or vegetable life, and\nto whistle.\n\nThere are five sins that will certainly lead to everlasting\npunishment, whether committed by a priest or layman, viz., to murder\none's father, to murder one's mother, to murder a priest, to treat\nthe words or temples of Buddha with contempt, expressed as \"to wound\nBuddha's foot so as to make it bleed,\" and to persuade priests to act\nfalsely.\n\nMembers are expelled from the order on commission of the following\nsins:--Sexual intercourse, theft, and murder. After such expulsions\nthey can never be re-admitted. Confessions of sin are made twice a\nmonth, at full and new moon, when the chapter meets to listen to\nthe reading of the rules of the order. There is no inquisition;\nconfession is purely voluntary. Slight punishments, such as sweeping\nthe courtyard, or sprinkling dust round the holy Bo-tree follow the\nacknowledgment of slight breaches of duty. Serious offences are tried\nin the ecclesiastical courts, for the priestly body is not amenable to\nthe ordinary laws of the land. In these courts, presided over by the\nchief priest, no oath is taken. An ordinary affirmation or negative\nanswer to any question is given in silence by the raising and lowering\nof a fan. If the defendant is found guilty he is unfrocked, publicly\nflogged, and then expelled from the order.\n\n[Illustration: OFFERING RICE TO THE PRIESTS.]\n\nThe priest must rise before daylight, wash himself, sweep the room in\nwhich he lives, sweep round the Bo-tree, fetch the drinking water for\nthe day, filter it to prevent killing any creatures it may contain\nwhen drinking it. These practical offices concluded, he is supposed to\nretire to a solitary place and there fix his mind in pious meditation\nupon the rules that regulate his daily life. He rises to place\nofferings of flowers before the sacred image, the sacred dome-shaped\nshrine or the Bo-tree, thinking the whole time of the great contrast\nbetween his own weaknesses and Buddha's virtues. The next portion of\nthe daily routine is strictly and regularly followed. He takes the\nbegging-bowl, follows his superior, collects his food, returns, eats\nhis meal, asks a blessing for the donor, performs little duties for\nhis superior, and washes the alms-bowls. For the next hour he should\nagain meditate upon the kindness of Buddha, and then study the sacred\nbooks. At sunset he sweeps the holy place, lights the lamps, and\nlistens to the teaching of the superior. As the novices do all the\nmanual work, the superior is expected to devote himself more fully\nto study and meditation. Many of the chief priests of the different\ntemples are profound Sanscrit and Pali scholars. The minute routine\nset forth in the ecclesiastical books is rarely followed in Siam.\nPriests walk about after sunset, and return late to the temples,\ntheir attendants lighting the way with torches. The time they give to\nmeditation and worship is far short of that prescribed in the rules,\nand they are always ready to turn out for a chat with any visitor to\ntheir temple.\n\nMeditation is the Buddhist substitute for prayer. There are five\ndistinct classes of meditation.[H]\n\n1.--Meditation on love. The priest must think of the future happiness\nwhich awaits him when he has rid himself of all evil desires. This\nleads him to desire the same happiness for all his friends; and\nfinally for his foes. He meditates upon the good actions of his\nenemies, forgets their evil deeds, and endeavours to arouse in himself\na wide-spreading, all-embracing, overshadowing love for all the world,\nwhich shall enable him to look with tenderness and affection upon all\nwith whom he comes into contact.\n\n2.--Meditation on Pity. He concentrates his thoughts upon the miseries\nand sorrows of the world, and awakens the sentiment of pity in his own\nbreast for all the distressed ones among his fellow-men.\n\n3.--Meditation on Joy. He is to change the attitude of his mind to one\nof contemplation of the joys of all men, and therein to find cause for\nrejoicing himself.\n\n4.--Meditation on Impurity. He must try to realise the evils of\nsickness, death, and corruption, to become horrified at the endless\nmisery entailed by the continual recurrence of birth and death, and to\ndesire its final extinction.\n\n5.--Meditation on Serenity. The priest contemplates the worldly\nopinions of men as to the badness and goodness of things; the desire\nfor wealth and power; the hatred of injustice and oppression; he\ncontrasts youth and disease, love and treachery, honour and disgrace,\nand endeavours so to rise above them all, that without haughtiness or\npride he may be indifferent to all the evils and joys which accompany\nthem, and free from all desires to partake of the same.\n\nThis is not the place to discuss the philosophy of Buddha, as we are\nhere concerned only with the mendicant order in Siam. But in order to\ngain a more complete idea of the duties and character of the monastic\nbody as contemplated by their founder, the following facts taken from\nProfessor Rhys Davids's work on \"Buddhism\" are here given.\n\nBuddha before his death told his disciples that they were to propagate\nhis Laws, viz., (1) The four earnest meditations. (2) The four great\nEfforts. (3) The four roads to Iddhi. (4) The five moral Powers. (5)\nThe seven kinds of Wisdom; and (6) The Noble Eightfold Path.\n\nThe four earnest Meditations are: (1) On the impurity of the body; (2)\non the evils which arise from sensation; (3) on the impermanence of\nideas; (4) on the conditions of existence.\n\nThe four great Efforts are--the exertion (1) to prevent bad qualities\nfrom arising; (2) to put away bad qualities which have arisen; (3) to\nproduce goodness not previously existing; (4) to increase goodness\nwhere it does exist.\n\nThe four roads to Iddhi are the four bases of Saintship by which\nit is obtained. They are: (1) the will to acquire it; (2) the\nnecessary exertion; (3) the necessary preparation of the heart; (4)\ninvestigation.\n\nThe five moral Powers are--Faith, Energy, Recollection, Contemplation,\nIntuition.\n\nThe seven kinds of Wisdom are--Energy, Recollection, Contemplation,\nInvestigation of Scripture, Joy, Repose and Serenity.\n\nThe noble Eightfold Path which leads to Nirvana comprises: (1) Right\nbelief; (2) Right aims; (3) Right words; (4) Right behaviour; (5)\nRight mode of livelihood; (6) Right exertion; (7) Right mindfulness;\n(8) Right meditation and tranquillity.\n\nAll these different Powers, Laws, etc., are again subdivided and\nre-subdivided; but the above lines will be sufficient to outline the\nmoral philosophy of that system which not only the priests should bear\nout in their lives, but to which every true believer in Buddhism is\nexpected to conform. Practically, however, these counsels are so many\nobsolete laws, long since dead and forgotten. Outside the permanent\npriests and a few students, the vast majority of the people know\nnothing whatever about the system, and if some of the learned writers\nupon Buddhism in Europe were to preach their Buddhist sermons to the\nsubjects of the only independent Buddhist king remaining, the people\nwould stare in wonder at their new teachers and ask one another what\nstrange doctrines were these that were being preached unto them.\n\nBuddha's own sermons as to the duties of the priesthood are worth a\nmoment's notice, though the priests as a rule have never heard them,\nor heard them with indifferent ears. The following passages are quoted\nfrom the book mentioned above, and are translations of passages in\nthose sermons whose authenticity is established.\n\n \"He who, himself not stainless,\n Would wrap the yellow-stained robe around him,\n He, devoid of self-control and honesty\n Is unworthy of the yellow robe.\"\n\n \"But he who, cleansed from stains,\n Is well grounded in the Precepts,\n And full of honesty and self-restraint\n 'Tis he who's worthy of the yellow robe.\"\n\n \"The restrained in hand, restrained in foot,\n Restrained in speech, the best of self-controlled;\n He whose delight is inward, who is tranquil\n And happy when alone--him they call _mendicant_.\"\n\n \"The mendicant who controls his tongue, speaking\n Wisely, and is not puffed up,\n Who throws light on worldly and on Heavenly things,\n His word is sweet.\"\n\n \"Let his livelihood be kindliness,\n His conduct righteousness,\n Then, in the fulness of gladness,\n He will make an end of grief.\"\n\n \"As the Vassika plant casts down its withered blossoms\n So cast out utterly, O mendicants, ill-will and lust.\"\n\n \"Do no violence to a Brahman,\n But neither let _him_ fly at his aggressor.\n Woe to him who strikes a Brahman;\n More woe to him who strikes the striker.\"\n\n \"What is the use of plaited hair, O fool!\n What of a garment of skins?\n Your low yearnings are within you,\n And the outside thou makest clean.\"\n\n \"A mendicant, who is fond of disputes, is walled in by\n ignorance, and understands neither religion nor the law of\n Gautama.\"\n\n \"A mendicant having received in right time, his meal,\n returning alone, should sit in private, reflecting within\n himself; he should not spread out his mind; his mind should\n be well controlled. Should he speak with a follower of\n the Buddha or another mendicant, he should speak of the\n excellent Law, and not backbite or speak ill of another.\n Some fortify themselves for controversy. We praise not\n those small-minded persons. Temptations from this source\n and that are made to cling to them, and they certainly send\n their minds very far away when they engage in controversy.\"\n\nThe mendicant that Gautama had in his mind when he uttered the above\npassages, may be as easily discovered amongst the thousands that wear\nthe yellow robe to-day, as a needle in a mountain of hay.\n\nAfter a short interval the priests put off their robes and return\nto the world. If they are wanted for _corv\u00e9e_ or conscription they\nstay an indefinite period in their safe retreat. The yellow robes are\nnever taken away, but are given by him who is leaving them, to one\nof the inmates of the same monastery. If a priest is thought to be\ndying the robes are taken from him, for they must not be contaminated\nwith death. They are afterwards hung on the sacred Bo-tree, but never\nburned. Anyone who has once been a priest, but has returned to a\nsecular life, may re-enter the priesthood whenever he chooses, but he\nmust be again formally presented and ordained.\n\nIn the vicinity of several temples women with shaven heads and white\ndresses are sometimes seen. They are not always mourners for the\ndead, but belong to an order of nuns. The first nun was Buddha's\nfoster-mother, who after the death of his father, wished to be\nordained. Buddha at first refused to comply with her wishes, but on\nthe intercession of his favourite disciple, Ananda, he granted the\nrequest. Ananda's wife, a half-sister of Buddha, was also subsequently\nordained as a nun. The order of nuns does not appear to have been\nat any time half as flourishing as that of the monks. Nuns in Siam\nare very old widows. They do no teaching, sewing, or work of any\ndescription. To them the temple is a form of alms-house where they\nwill be lodged and fed as long as they live.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nAMONG THE TEMPLES.\n\n\nEvery single town and village of Siam is crowded with temples, or\n\"wats,\" as they are locally called. Compared with similar religious\ninstitutions in England, their number seems to be out of all\nproportion to the number of the population. Their variety of size\nand method of decoration, as well as their number, is sufficiently\nconspicuous to make even the most casual observer enquire why they\nabound to such an extent. And the reason for this superabundance of\nreligious edifices is not to be found in the immense number of people\nwho are popularly supposed to believe in the teachings of Buddha, but\nrather in a very prevalent, but degraded form of one of the tenets\nof an originally pure doctrine. For though it is usually stated that\nfive hundred millions of people are believers in, and followers of\n\"The Light of Asia,\" no one who has lived in a Buddhist country will\nventure to assert that half that number are regular attendants at\nthe temple on the Buddhist Sunday, or that the vast majority of the\npeople do anything more than passively accept the superstitions of\ntheir forefathers without ever enquiring or even caring whether they\nare the true teachings of Buddha or not. Ask any person you meet a\nfew questions about the sage who propounded the faith that they are\nsupposed to hold, and it will be speedily discovered that even those\nwho are most assiduous in their attendance at the temple, and who\nare most charitable in the offerings they give to their priests,\nknow little of the life and less of the teachings of him whom they\napparently worship. It will be at once evident to the readers of the\nforegoing chapters of this book, that the people whose customs are\nhere treated of, though nominally Buddhists, and classed _en masse_\nas such in Western calculations of the number of those who worship\nthe great Indian teacher of old, are guided in their daily lives, not\nby the principles of an old world faith, but rather by a number of\npowerful superstitions gathered at different times from the different\nnations by whom they are surrounded, or with whom they have come into\nclose contact, which superstitions have little if anything to do with\nBuddhism. It is not possible to call them Buddhists at all, if the\nterm is to be used as comparable to the term Christian as applied to\nthe believers in Christ in Western lands. The great moral precepts of\ntheir religion are not taught to them, are unknown to them, and it is\nvery questionable if the Sanskrit words for benevolence, gratitude,\ncharity, and kindred virtues have any parallel in the ordinary\neveryday vocabulary of the people. Even if such words do exist, they\nare only understood by the learned few, and would be as utterly\nincomprehensible to the great mass of the people as Greek and Latin.\n\n[Illustration: A VILLAGE TEMPLE.\n\n_Page 281._]\n\nTemples then, not being required as houses of continual or devout\nworship, why do they abound, not only in the capital, but in every\nvillage, and on the banks of every river and canal throughout the\nlength and breadth of the whole kingdom? The explanation is found in\nthe fact that the people believe that in order to make merit during\nthis life to save themselves from misery in some future existence,\nthey must among other things follow \"the religion which teaches\nalms-giving.\" \"Make merit.\" That is the sum and substance of their\nreligious faith and worship. As every reader of Buddhism knows, the\nsoul is said to pass through many stages of existence before it\nreaches the mysterious region of Nirvana, and that it is possible for\nany soul to pass even beyond the shadowy confines of this debatable\nterritory and finally attain the perfect condition of Buddhahood. At\ndeath, the merit and demerit of the soul are balanced, and the next\ncondition of the wandering soul determined according to a system of\ndebit and credit. The wicked king may be re-born as a slave or even\npass into the body of a toad. The soul of a slave may be re-born\nin one of royal degree or may even ascend to an habitation in the\ncelestial spheres. Hence it behoves every living being during this\nlife upon earth to make as much merit as it possibly can, and as\nthe custom of alms-giving is held to be a very profitable method\nof investment for the future, it is widely practised by king\nand peasant alike, each giving to the priests or to those of his\nfellow-men who may be in distress, according to the abundance of his\npossession of this world's goods. That portion of Buddha's teaching\nwhich deals with the law of cause and effect in its relation to the\nprogression or retrogression of migrating souls, has been lost to all\nexcept the few, and a mere superstition reigns in its stead.\n\nAn English resident in Siam had a servant who frequently absented\nhimself from his duties. On each occasion, when questioned by his\nmaster as to the cause of his absence, he replied, \"Please, sir,\nI went to make merit.\" Said the Englishman, perhaps a little too\nirreverently, \"At the rate you are making merit, I should think you\nwould be an archangel when you die.\"--\"Ah no,\" replied the servant, \"I\ndon't want to be an angel. I don't want to get to Nirvana. I shouldn't\nlike to make enough merit to get to Nirvana; I only want to make just\nenough merit to be born back again into this world as a royal prince,\nwith lots of money, plenty of wives and heaps of fun.\"\n\n\"Merit\" is made in many other ways besides alms-giving and feeding\nthe priests. A woman who was robbed devoted the lost money to\nmerit-making, and gave it charitably away. Even the scattering of\nlimes containing lottery tickets at important cremations and public\nceremonies is considered merit-making. Tradition relates that when\nBuddha was being sorely tempted by the evil Mara, he appealed to the\nfiend to answer whether or not, he, the tempted one, had not in his\nlifetime on earth been conspicuous for generous alms-giving, and the\nworld made affirmative answer for him by a gigantic earthquake. And so\nthe modern Buddhist believes that his merit-making and his alms-giving\nwill cry out on his behalf when he passes from this earthly life into\nsome other condition at present unrevealed to him.\n\nEven their reluctance to kill any living thing is merely another form\nof the same belief. That it is wrong to destroy the life of anything,\nbe it that of a seed or that of a snake, for the reasons taught by\nBuddha, they do not seem to know. But they have it firmly established\namongst their current superstitions that to take life would be an act\nof demerit that would be reckoned against them in the future, and so\nthey abstain from killing, though they will readily eat what others\nhave destroyed. They justify their fishing operations by saying that\nthey do not kill the fish, but that they only pull them out of the\nwater, after which they die a natural death.\n\n[Illustration: \"SALA\" IN A JUNGLE CLEARING.\n\n_Page 286._]\n\nNow one of the most ostentatious ways of purchasing future happiness\nis the building of a \"wat.\" There the priests will find a home; there\nthe people may adorn the images, make frequent offerings to Buddha,\nand engage in other meritorious works; there the children may be\ntaught to read and write; and there all men may see a lasting evidence\nof the wealth and devotion of the builders. And so temples were built\nyear by year without ceasing, until there are hundreds more than would\nbe wanted even if every man, woman, and child in the land were regular\nworshippers. Time lays its heavy hand upon these perishable\nstructures and works their ruin. Seeds sprout in nooks and crevices\nand their growing roots burst open the walls and roofs. The torrent\nrains lend their powerful aid in the work of destruction, and in the\ncourse of the builder's lifetime the sacred building may become a\nruin. But until quite lately, these \"wats\" were never repaired; they\nwere built and left to crumble. The continued erection of temples has\nbeen suspended during late years, partly owing to the influence of the\nking, who has wisely urged that the repairing of an old and falling\n\"wat\" is a more useful and equally effective way of making merit than\nthe building of a new one.\n\nThe word \"wat,\" or temple, includes many structures. They frequently\nstand in extensive grounds, shaded by giant banyans, and surrounded\nby strong, well-built walls or fences. They are refuges for destitute\nanimals as well as for men seeking retirement. The litter of pariah\npuppies that must not be destroyed, although not wanted, is deposited\ninside the temple grounds, there to be fed on the scraps that remain\nwhen the monks have finished their midday meal. The central building\nor church where the idols are kept, the prayers recited, and the\npriests ordained, is called the \"bote.\" Round about it are the houses\nor cells inhabited by the monks. These may be of wood or stone, of\nan orthodox cell-like pattern, or they may be ordinary native houses\nspecially erected in the precincts of the \"bote\" for the accommodation\nof the priests. They should possess no furniture, and rarely do so.\n\nAll temples may be divided into two classes, called respectively\nWat Luang and Wat Ratsadon. The first are endowed and dedicated by\nroyalty, while the second class comprises all others. The land on\nwhich these buildings are erected becomes for ever the property of\nthe chapter, and cannot be taken away by law, or sold, or in any way\ndisposed of for secular purposes. The central buildings are chiefly\nof a uniform oblong shape, and are built of wood, brick, or stone,\nthe outer walls being washed or painted white. A colonnade runs\nround the outside, supported by strong, square pillars of teak-wood,\nthat lean inwards from the base to the roof. The roof may be built\nin one, two or three tiers, but is always covered with differently\ncoloured tiles arranged in symmetrical patterns. Gold-leaf is lavishly\nused in the ornamentation of the gabled ends of the roof, and a new\ntemple, with the mid-day sun shining full upon it, presents a very\nbrilliant appearance, especially when seen through the bright green\nfoliage around it. The walls are pierced by a number of windows which\nare closed by strong teak shutters. The doors of the poorer temples\nare of plain, unvarnished, undecorated teak, and though solid, are\nnot handsome. In the wealthier \"wats\" the decoration of doors and\nwindows is often very beautiful. The doors are either ornamented with\nvery intricate designs worked in gold upon a black background, or\nwith scenes in the life of Buddha worked in mother-of-pearl upon a\nfoundation of shining black lacquer. The interiors of the numerous\n\"botes\" are variously adorned. There may be only dirty walls, or\nbrilliant mosaics, elaborate designs or painted pictures. Some of the\npictures are extremely funny. In one of the temples in the capital,\nthe artist who has been entrusted with the internal decorations has\nmixed together in ludicrous confusion, scenes from the life of Buddha,\nevents in Hindoo mythology, and rough reproductions of old European\ndrawings. He has placed a number of European ladies and gentlemen of\nthe time of Louis XIV, on the side of a hill, where they are enjoying\nthemselves with dance and song. It is a rural picnic. Under the hill\nis a railway tunnel with a train about to enter, and on the summit is\nBuddha in a contemplative attitude brooding over the whole, but owing\nto the faulty perspective of the drawing, it is impossible to state\nwhether Buddha is contemplating the scene of merriment, or brooding\nover the curious handiwork of the designer.\n\nOne image of Buddha in a sitting posture occupies the place of honour\nat the far end of the temple, facing the door. The number of smaller\nimages varies considerably from half a dozen to several hundreds.\nIn one of the temples in the old capital of Ayuthia there are over\ntwenty thousand. They are covered all over with gold-leaf, and the\neyes of the larger ones are made of mother-of-pearl. Some of the most\nbarbarous laws in the Siamese civil code relate to the profanation of\nidols. They are never enforced now, and any need for them must at any\ntime have been very small.\n\nSection 48 of the above code is: \"If a thief steal an image of Buddha,\nand use various devices for removing its ornaments, such as washing or\nsmelting, let him be put into a furnace and be treated in exactly the\nsame way as he treated the image, and thus pay for his wickedness.\"\n\nSection 49 says, \"If any thief strip a Buddha image of its gold or\ngilding, let him be taken to a public square and a red-hot iron rubbed\nover him till he is stripped of his skin, as he stripped the image of\nits gold, and thus pay for his crime. If a thief scratch the gold from\na Buddha image, pagoda, or temple, or sacred tree, let his fingers be\ncut off.\"\n\nHeaped round the altar are the offerings of the merit-makers,--old\nbottles, Birmingham-made vases, clocks, china, saucers, joss-sticks,\nlooking-glasses, bits of coloured glass, and many other articles of\nequally trivial value. In addition to these things for the adornment\nof the altar or the use of the temple, the priests also receive food,\nclothes, money, mosquito netting, boats and small pieces of native\nfurniture. After a big alms-giving day the interior of the sacred pile\nlooks something like an auction room awaiting the commencement of a\nsale.\n\nThe \"Prachadee\" is a conspicuous feature of all ecclesiastical\narchitecture. It is a brick or stone monument, round at the base,\nbut tapering to a long thin spire at the top, as shown in several of\nthe illustrations in this book. It represents the primitive tope or\nrelic mound, and covers either a relic or an image of Buddha. When a\ngenuine relic cannot be obtained, an imitation of one answers the same\npurpose. Around the \"bote\", the most holy of all the buildings, are\nplaced eight stones, one at each of the eight chief points of the\ncompass. They are called \"bai sema,\" and are cut in the shape of the\nleaf of the _ficus religiosa_ or Bo-tree. They mark out the boundaries\nof the consecrated part of the \"wat.\" They are erected when the temple\nis first consecrated. Eight round smooth stones are first buried a\nlittle way below the ground, together with the relic or image. Holy\nwater is sprinkled over them, and across the boundary thus formed the\nspirits of evil intent have not the courage to intrude. Small, solid,\ncubical platforms of brick are built over the stones, and on the\nplatforms are placed the gilded or painted stone representations of\nthe sacred leaf. These again are covered with a canopy of stone cut in\na similar shape, and often elaborately carved or inlaid with mosaics.\n\nEvery monastery has its bell-tower, whose chimes call the priests to\nprayers, tell when the sun has crossed its mid-day path, and \"toll the\nknell of parting day\". The towers are of wood and have three stories,\nin each of which is placed one bell. The bells are painted pale blue,\nand ornamented with broad plain bands of gold-leaf, which run round\nthe rim, and also divide the surface into four equal segments. They\nare remarkable for their purity of tone, and are not to be equalled\nby the bells usually found in Western churches. The tone is soft and\nsweet, and at the same time so penetrating that it can be heard for\nlong distances. The bells are not rung, but are beaten. The first few\nstrokes are given slowly and gently, then they gradually increase in\nrapidity and force, till the bell resounds under a torrent of blows,\nthe tone becoming louder and louder, but never jarring or discordant.\n\nNot only at every temple, but in many secluded spots at the entrances\nto lonely canals, and on the edges of the distant jungle, rest-houses\nare built for the use of wanderers. They are called \"salas\", and to\nbuild a \"sala\" is a work of merit. As the erection of one of these\nrest-houses involves less expense than the building of a temple,\nthey are therefore even more abundant than the temples. They consist\nsimply of a wooden platform raised a few feet above the ground by\nstrong posts. Several pillars round the sides of the platform support\na thatched or tiled roof. There are no walls and no rooms. Here the\ntraveller, be he native or foreigner, may hold a picnic, may eat,\nrest, and sleep without expense or interruption. Madmen and lunatics\nchoose the rest-houses near the temples as places where they can live\nquietly without fear of molestation.\n\nThe description given above would apply to the majority of Siamese\ntemples. But it is worth our while to look in detail at a few of the\nmore noted temples in the capital.\n\nThe royal temple, Wat Prakow, stands within the circumference of the\nouter wall that surrounds the palace and the government offices,\nand on account of the part it plays in important State ceremonies,\nand because it is the king's own place of worship, it is far more\nelaborate than any of the other temples of the country. At this\ntemple the water of allegiance is taken and the oath of allegiance\nis sworn, and in the same building was held the requiem service for\nthe late Crown Prince. A central \"prachadee\" stands in the courtyard\nof the temple, surrounded by many similar structures of lesser height\nand beauty. The large one in the centre towers high above all the\nsurrounding buildings, and is said to be covered with plates of gold.\nIt certainly looks like a solid mass of that precious metal, and at\nsunrise and sunset when it catches the roseate hues of the rising or\nthe setting sun, its golden surface can be seen from afar, shining\nand glittering like a second sun itself, above the coloured roofs of\nthe temples and the white or many-tinted spires that are associated\nwith it. The smaller relic mounds are covered with mosaics of glass\nand enamel roughly set in plaster. The bits of glass and enamel are\nnot laid in the plaster so as to form a level surface, but here and\nthere they stand out in tiny rosettes, branches and flowers, and fruit\nand animals. At a distance the rude character of the workmanship is\ntotally hidden, the tawdry appearance of the material is completely\nlost, and as the uneven surfaces reflect the brilliant light of the\nsun, the spire-capped shrines form a series of glittering satellites\naround the central spire of gold.\n\nFrom the temple courtyard the roof of the large and imposing\nmodern palace can be seen. In the centre, and at either end of the\ntriple-coloured roof, is one of those crown-shaped spires so common\nin all state and ecclesiastical buildings in Siam. It has been\nstated that \"upon a nearer approach to the magnificent spectacle of\nWat Prakow, so dazzling is the effect that it is hard to convince\nyourself that you are not actually standing before buildings set with\nprecious stones.\" Now this is not by any means true. The temples\nof Buddha in Siam are like Buddhism itself, seen to the greatest\nadvantage when distance has lent its proverbial enchantment. Even as\nthe moral teaching of the great philosopher when viewed through the\nspectacles of Western professors, is a very different creed to that\nfollowed by the people, so the temples when seen through the golden\nmist of early morning from a distant point of view, are brilliant and\nbeautiful beyond description, though on a nearer view, the perishable\nand paltry character of the material of which they are constructed\ndestroys the appearance of magnificence, leaving, however, in the\nplace of earlier impressions, a feeling of wonder at the marvellous\nskill of the people who can produce such striking effects from such\ntawdry material. Near to the gilded \"prachadee\" is the actual \"bote\"\nused by the king, surmounted by a similar spire, which is overlaid\nwith sapphire-coloured plates of glass and porcelain; while a little\ndistance away stands the larger temple, set in parts with mosaics of\nemerald green upon a gilt background. There are several smaller spires\nof ruby red, bright yellow, or snowy white, standing amongst this\nmass, whose tapering summits are exceedingly slender and graceful in\nform, though the raised flowers and decorations that surround their\nbases are made of nothing but common porcelain and glass. One really\nvaluable \"prachadee\" is constructed of pure white marble, and stands\nupon a heavy base supported by seven elephants cast in bronze. In\nvarious places near the doors of the temple, or the gates in the walls\nsurrounding the courtyard, there are a number of enormous, grotesque\nfigures, some in helmets, and some in old-fashioned chimney-pot hats.\nThey are evidently of foreign origin, and the sculptor has produced\nan extremely comical effect by so cutting the eyes as to give them an\nunmistakable leer or wink. They represent demons, and are supposed\nto guard the entrance to the sacred edifice. Each figure leans upon\na gigantic staff, and gazes into the faces of all those who enter\nthe courtyard or buildings. There are also griffins in stone, the\nrepresentations of powerful kings who keep the world from being\nentirely captured by the spirits of evil. The stone lions are the\nemblems of Shakyamuni in his character as king of men and beasts. A\nlarge, bronze figure of the sitting Buddha rests opposite a row of\nthese quaintly carved images of men and animals. It is seated upon a\npedestal of marble under a canopy fashioned in imitation of a lotus\nleaf. The lotus leaf is the Buddhist lily, even as the Bo-tree is\nthe Buddhist cross, and the forms of both these plant structures\nappear again and again in temple decorations. The lotus is especially\nnoticeable in the lotus-shaped capitals of the huge teak pillars that\nsupport the roofs and colonnades of the holy \"bote.\"\n\nThe courtyard which contains all these vari-coloured and fantastic\nshrines and images, is paved with slabs of white stone and marble,\nwhich reflect the heat and light of the sun with oppressive intensity.\nOther creations in marble, bronze, stone, and wood, set with the same\nmosaics of cheap china and common glass, and representing Europeans,\nfishes, dolphins, and fabulous monsters are scattered profusely but\nirregularly amongst the larger and more conspicuous monuments. The\nroofs are covered with coloured tiles. There is a central rectangle in\norange, yellow or red, with its edges set parallel to the roof, while\nround it run several borders in red, blue, and green. Owing to the\nheight of the buildings these coloured roofs are always so far removed\nfrom the eye of the spectator that they never lose their artistic\nappearance. The gables are of wood or metal, and curve upwards at the\nends into a peculiar ornament, which is so common in civil as well as\nreligious architecture as to cause much speculation as to its meaning.\nIt has been described as being symbolical of many things, but it most\nprobably represents the head of the Naga or king of snakes. Round the\nedges of the roofs of several of the constituent buildings of this\nroyal \"wat,\" are hung many small sweetly toned bells, whose silvery\nvoices may be heard in the farthest corners of the enclosure as they\nswing to and fro with every gentle breeze. The windows and doors\nare deeply sunk in the extremely thick walls. They are covered with\nblack lacquer and look as though they were made of ebony. Designs in\nmother-of-pearl have been worked into the lacquer, while the hinges\nand fastenings of the separate shutters have been richly gilt.\n\n[Illustration: TEMPLE BELL-TOWER.\n\n_Page 285._]\n\nThe floor of the chief building is covered with matting made\nentirely of woven silver wire. The roof is lofty, and is made of\nteak. The room is of the usual oblong shape, but at the further end\na magnificent altar-like shrine stretches from side to side. The\nsides of this valuable altar are covered with gold-leaf and gilded\nglass, which lose a little of their dazzling brilliancy, though they\ngain in depth of colour, in the subdued light of the interior. Small\nprachadees in clusters stand at the same end of the temple, all\nheavily gilt. This Buddhist temple is unique amongst Siamese temples\nin containing objects of real value. Inside there is nothing tawdry\nand cheap. Everything is genuine as becomes the gift of a king. On a\nsquare table at the back, supported on the tall conical hats of twelve\nlarge figures, are seated seven figures of Buddha, in pure solid gold.\nOne hand of each of the figures is raised and pointing upwards. On\nevery finger and thumb of the uplifted hand glitters a king's ransom\nin rings of emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, while in the centre of\neach palm shines and flashes a rosette of diamonds. Away up in a\ndim recess towards which the seven hands are pointing, there is an\nimage of Buddha, often said to be cut out of one enormous emerald. In\nreality, it is made of jade. This stone is reported to be of priceless\nvalue. It cannot easily be examined by visitors as it is partly hidden\nin shadow, but with a pair of opera-glasses the features are easily\ndistinguishable. The idol is said to have fallen from heaven into one\nof the Laos states. It was captured from these Northern people by its\npresent owners. It possesses three diamond eyes of great value, the\nthird of which is set in the centre of the forehead. It has several\ntimes been lost or stolen, but has always been recovered.\n\nThere are many rare and precious vessels for the temple services,\nsuch as cups, incense burners, and candlesticks made of gold and\nstudded with jewels, but unfortunately the workmanship is in some\ncases very defective, and the stones have lost a great deal of their\nvalue by being badly set and cut. One or two museum cases are to be\nseen, containing offerings made by royalty or wealthy noblemen. Round\nthe base of the altar are a number of ebony tables holding the usual\nvases, wax flowers, and clocks, but in this temple they are all of\nreal value.\n\nThe walls and ceiling are painted in native style and colour, with\nscenes from the life of Buddha, and from the Hindoo myth of Ramayana.\nThey are executed with that curious absence of perspective common to\nOriental pictures, but nevertheless many of the figures are full of\nlife and action. In particular, the elephants are usually accurately\ndrawn, though strangely coloured.\n\nWe may fitly close this chapter with an account of one of the country\ntemples given by H. Warington Smyth in his \"Notes of a Journey on the\nUpper Mekong.\"\n\n \"At Wieng Chan, on the north bank (of the Mekong), the\n remains of the great Wat Prakaon are very fine; the latter\n rises from a series of terraces, up which broad flights\n of steps lead, and is of large proportions. The effect of\n height is increased by the perpendicular lines of the tall\n columns which support the great east and west porticos, and\n which line the walls along the north and south; the windows\n between the latter being small, and narrower at the top\n than at the bottom, also lead the eye up. A second row of\n columns once existed, and the effect must have been very\n fine. Now the roof is gone, and the whole structure crowned\n by a dense mass of foliage, as is the case with all the\n remains of smaller buildings not yet destroyed. One very\n beautiful little pagoda at the west end is now encased in\n a magnificent peepul tree which has grown in and around\n it, and has preserved it in its embrace. There are remains\n of several deep water-tanks; and the grounds, which were\n surrounded by a brick wall, must once have been beautiful.\n But the best thing at Wieng Chan, or the old city, as they\n call it, is the gem of a monastery known as Wat Susaket. It\n is a small building, the Wat itself, of the usual style,\n with a small lantern rising from the central roof. The\n walls are very massive, and, with the height inside, the\n place was delightfully cool; all round the interior, from\n floor to roof, the walls are honeycombed with small niches\n in rows, in which stand the little gilt images, looking out\n imperturbably, generally about eight inches in height.\n\n \"Round this building, outside, runs a rectangular cloister\n which faces inwards, and here, at one time, the monks were\n living amongst the statues which stand round the walls,\n many of these three and more feet high, while the walls\n too are ornamented with niches similar to those inside\n the main building. In the centre of each side there is a\n gateway surmounted by a gable, there being also similar\n ornaments at each corner. The beauty and retired air of the\n court inside could not be surpassed, and the effect of the\n green grass, the white walls, the low-reaching, red-tiled\n roofs, and the deep shadows is charming; there is nothing\n flat, nothing vulgarly gaudy, and very little that is out\n of repair. And here, as is most noticeable in the remains\n of the other buildings about, the proportions are perfect.\n In this the ruined remains of Wieng Chan surpass all other\n buildings I have seen in Siam, and bear witness to a true\n artistic sense in the builders.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nAMONG THE TEMPLES (_continued_).\n\n\nSeveral of the larger \"wats\" in the capital are deserving of further\nnotice. The largest temple in the country is Wat Poh. It has often\nbeen said that \"he who has seen Wat Poh has seen every Buddhist temple\nin Siam.\" It covers an immense extent of ground in the very heart of\nthe great city, and inside its high brick walls are gathered together\nexamples in wood and stone, in bronze and porcelain, of everything\nconnected with ecclesiastical architecture in the country. Its chief\nattraction is an immense idol. In one of the lofty buildings lies a\nsleeping Buddha of gigantic proportions. It is probably the largest\nimage of its kind in the world. The room containing it is over two\nhundred feet long. The idol itself is one hundred and seventy-five\nfeet long, so that it practically occupies the whole of the building,\nwith the exception of a narrow passage all round the base of the\nrectangular brick platform on which it reclines. The heavy shutters\nand ponderous doors are always locked, except when some inquisitive\nforeigner desires to view. His wish can be gratified by the payment\nto the man in charge of a fee varying from eighteen-pence to two\nshillings. After payment has been made, the gigantic doors are flung\nopen and the visitor enters, only to find himself in almost total\ndarkness. One by one a few of the heavy shutters are slowly opened and\na little daylight gradually admitted. The light falls upon the dull\nred walls or elaborate frescoes, and upon the sides of the sleeping\nfigure, but loses itself at last in the dim recesses of the lofty\nroof. When the eye has become accustomed to the gloom, the peculiar\nwonder of the spectacle begins to be appreciated. The whole of the\nbuilding or the image cannot be seen from any one point of view. The\ngigantic idol is made of brick, which has been covered over with\ncement. Upon the cement a smooth layer of lacquer has been deposited,\nand then the whole coated with gold-leaf. The figure measures eighteen\nfeet across the chest; the feet are fifteen feet in length; and the\ntoes are each three feet long. The soles of the feet are inlaid with\nsymbols in mother-of-pearl, according to the legend which states that\nBuddha had upon his feet at birth a number of signs that proclaimed\nhis true character. The head is covered with a conical cluster of\nspiral curls, the apex of the cone being far away from human eye in\nthe shadows of the rafted roof.\n\n[Illustration: WAT CHANG, BANGKOK.\n\n_Page 301._]\n\nThe sketch of the figure given in this book is the only drawing of\nthe idol in existence, and no photo has ever been taken by any of\nthe local photographers owing to the darkness of the interior. It\nwas only on payment of a heavy bribe that the caretaker allowed the\nartist to put up his easel. After further debate, followed by a\nfee, he condescended to open a few more windows so as to admit\nsufficient light to render any sketching possible. While the sketch\nwas being made, a small piece of the gilded lacquer fell from the\nchest of the recumbent idol. In less time almost than it takes to\nwrite of the occurrence, the windows were closed, the place veiled in\nutter darkness, and the artist unceremoniously requested to leave the\nbuilding. The man evidently expected the whole structure to fall upon\nhis unlucky head as a punishment for allowing the sacred place to be\nso desecrated by the white man. Doubtless by this time the caretaker\nhas worked off the demerit he earned that day, by devoting some of the\nmoney he then received to purchasing merit in one of the many ways\nknown to him.\n\nIn the grounds of Wat Poh there are several ponds, shaded by\nmagnificent trees, and surrounded by grotesque figures in stone. These\nponds are the homes of a few alligators, which are kept and fed by the\npriests and servants of the temple.\n\nAlmost opposite to Wat Poh, on the other bank of the river, is\nWat Chang, a marvel to every one who has ever seen it. The actual\n\"bote,\" the priests' houses, and the relic mounds are in no respect\nextraordinary, but on the bank of the river is a huge monument\nconsisting of a series of pagodas resting on a square base. It is this\ncollection of pinnacles that attracts and charms the eye. Their form\nis not that of the slender-spired \"prachadee,\" but that of a bluntly\npointed pyramid, and they are known as \"praprang.\" Viewed from a\nlittle distance, they look, as any photo shows, like a collection of\nbeautifully carved stone pinnacles, but a closer view reveals the fact\nthat they are only made of brick and plaster and covered with divers\nfigures made of broken plates and saucers. Thousands upon thousands\nof pieces of cheap china must have been smashed to bits in order to\nfurnish sufficient material to decorate this curious structure. It\nmust be admitted that though the material is tawdry, the effect is\nindescribably wonderful. It is not until one stands close to the work\nitself that it is possible to realise that the elaborate designs and\nthe quaint figures are merely so many pieces of common china. The\ntallest of the pagodas, the one in the centre, can be seen from many\npoints in the city, and by ascending the steps that lead half way up\nto the summit, a magnificent view of the capital itself is gained. The\nwinding river and the broad canals shine like ribbons of burnished\nsilver; the houses are hidden beneath masses of foliage, from amongst\nwhose leafy crowns the prettily coloured roofs and the graceful white\nspires of many temples stand out in bold and picturesque relief. At\nsunset the details of the structure of the pagodas of Wat Chang are\nlost, but the mass of spires and pinnacles takes on a purple tint\nwhich changes to one of dusky hue as the light fades slowly from the\nsky. The whole edifice is in its way a triumph of decorative skill of\nwhich the people are reasonably proud.\n\nThe Golden Hill is the name given to an artificial mound about\ntwo hundred feet high, which faces the public crematorium where\nthe vultures congregate. At first it is difficult to believe that\nit is not a genuine hillock, for though later investigation shows\nit to be constructed of bricks and mortar, trees have been planted\non it and creepers trained over it, till it looks as though Nature\nin some sportive mood had raised an isolated hill amidst the broad\nextent of low-lying plain by which it is surrounded. On the summit\nof this leaf-clad brick and plaster mound is a snow-white prachadee\nwith a very large base. The interior of the round basal portion is\nan open room, in the middle of which, guarded by iron railings,\nstands a gilded shrine containing an imitation in glass of the famous\ntooth of Buddha which is preserved in Ceylon. From the size of the\noriginal it is evidently spurious, for it is impossible to conceive\nthat the ancient philosopher and teacher possessed the benign and\ndignified aspect that is attributed to him, if the tooth shown is\nreally genuine. The scoffing sceptic has even hinted that it is of\nequine origin. The Bangkok relic is not shown to the worshippers. It\nis hidden in its gilt case, and many of the natives who bow before\nthe shrine really believe that the object it contains is not an\nimitation, but an actual tooth of Buddha. Steep stone staircases lead\nfrom the smooth lawn at the base to the shrine upon the summit. In\nclear weather the view extends far away to the jungle-clad interior\nin one direction, and in the other, to the distant blue hills upon\nthe eastern shores of the gulf. At one time foreigners frequently\nascended The Golden Hill for the sake of the view, but since the time\nof the Franco-Siamese trouble it has been guarded by soldiers, and no\none is allowed to pass the sentries on duty without a special permit\nsigned by the Minister for Foreign Affairs.\n\nOn three days of the year, however, when a special holiday occurs\nin connection with the worship of the relic, the hill is open to\nevery one. Around the base are set up numerous stalls, booths, and\nside-shows, and a native fair with all its varied attractions draws\nthousands of people to the spot. Side by side are the booths where\nthe missionaries sell their school books and their translations of\ncertain portions of the Bible, and the stalls where the wonderful\nwicker-work made by the prisoners in the jails is offered for sale.\nGambling tents, shadow pantomimes, and Chinese theatres are in full\nswing. There is but very little direct purchasing. Nearly every booth\nhas a lottery. You may pay sixpence for the privilege of rolling three\nwooden balls along a bagatelle table. You will then be allowed to\nchoose an article whose value varies according to the numbers in the\nholes into which the little spheres have rolled. At another place a\nman stands behind a board in which a square hole has been cut on a\nlevel with his face. He moves his head quickly backwards and forwards\nin front of the hole, poking out his tongue and rolling his eyes\nwith marvellous rapidity. At the quickly appearing and disappearing\ncountenance you are permitted to throw three tennis balls, and if\nyou are successful in hitting the distorted features, you receive a\nprize of little value. It is an Oriental form of Aunt Sally, with a\nliving Aunt of male extraction, willing to be a target at the rate of\nthree shots for sixpence. On another stall every article has a thread\nfastened to it. The loose ends of the cotton strands are collected and\npassed through a bit of hollow bamboo about six inches long. You pay\nyour money and you choose your thread. Then the proprietor traces it\nout, and you get what is fastened to the other end of it. The prizes\nrange from a common piece of slate pencil, to a penny exercise book,\nand a German concertina.\n\nAll the merit-makers before indulging in the fun of the fair, first\nbuy a bit of gold-leaf, a few wax flowers, or a tiny candle, then\nmount the steep and broken steps, kneel in front of the shrine, stick\ntheir gold-leaf on the iron railings, light their candles and fix\nthem on iron spikes, and throw their waxen blossoms into a blazing\nbonfire. The visitor to the summit looks down upon a ring of twinkling\nlights, beyond which lies the deep darkness. The air is full of many\nsounds. A native band discourses native airs with customary vigour in\nfront of the shrine itself; a military band plays operatic selections\nin a band-stand half way up the hill; and the devotees bang the big\ndeep-toned bells with more force than is demanded by purely religious\nfeeling. Up from the crowd below comes the roar of hundreds of\nhuman voices, the cries of the cheap jacks and lottery owners, and\nthe shouts of the men with the shows, all telling of the animation\nand excitement that exists amongst the dark-looking figures that\never move, but never leave a vacant spot in the brilliant torch-lit\navenues and passages. The priests sit in long pavilions, their yellow\nrobes and shaven heads set off by the red and white draperies of\ntheir temporary resting-places. They drink tea and chew betel-nut\nincessantly, chatter and laugh with animation, and evidently enjoy the\nfun quite as much as any of their lay brethren who have come to the\nplace for the double purpose of making merry and making merit.\n\nAnother temple, Wat Samplum, boasts a copy of Buddha's famous\nfootprint, which is also worshipped amidst much jollity for three\ndays each year. This footprint is sunk in the centre of the floor of\na small spire-crowned room on the top of a low artificial hillock. It\nhas no toes and also no heel. It is shaped like an infant's bath, and\nis about three feet long, two feet wide, and eighteen inches deep,\nand has been cut or moulded with strict mathematical regularity. It\npasses the wit of any European to imagine by what process of logical\nor illogical reasoning any person could bring himself to look upon\nthis curious object as having the slightest resemblance to a human\nfootprint. The usual fair accompanies the worship, and the believers\nhave no sooner plastered their bit of gold-leaf on the sides or sole\nof the footprint than they descend the little elevation to take their\npart in the fun that rages fast and furiously at the bottom.\n\nThere are in several of the northern mountain ranges or isolated hills\nlarge limestone or granite caves which have been utilised at various\ntimes for religious purposes. Near to the walled city of Karnbooree\non the River Meklong, there is one large cave which was used as a\nstore-house for idols and offerings during the last war between the\nSiamese and Burmese. Here the discoloured images and the withered\nofferings remain to this day, rarely visited by any one; the entrances\nto the cavern being nearly blocked up by the jungle growth which has\nflourished undisturbed for many years.\n\nIn the town of Petchabooree there are several caves occupying the\nwhole interior of a hill which is open at the summit and bears all the\nappearances of an extinct volcano. These caves are still distinctly\nused as temples. Steps have been cut in the solid rock to form an easy\nmeans of descent to their open mouths. One of them receives its light\nthrough a crater-like opening in the hill-side; some of them are too\ndark to be visited without the aid of torches or lanterns. The floors\nhave in all cases been nicely levelled and sanded, while one has been\nneatly tiled. Idols are arranged in rows round the sides, and Buddhas\nin standing, sleeping, or sitting postures occupy every jutting crag\nand hollow corner. Tiny holes, often hidden behind a gigantic image,\nlead into little, dark, dirty, damp recesses with plank beds and\ntorch smoked altars, where hermits live, or years ago have lived,\nin retirement. There is something almost grotesque in these cavern\ninteriors. Huge stalactites and stalagmites shine in the light of the\nentering sun, or look gloomy and solemn in the fitful spluttering of\nthe smoky torches There is a grandeur of natural power and strength\nin the great pillars and deep recesses, all tending to make the\ngilded figures of the benevolent Gautama and his chief disciples\nlook more tawdry and worthless than when seen in their more suitable\nsurroundings in the brick and wooden temples of his living followers.\n\nOne very noticeable feature in the interiors of many temple buildings\nis the management of the light to increase their solemnity and their\nimpressiveness. For instance, in the case of the sleeping Buddha in\nWat Poh, even when many of the windows round it have been opened, the\nhead is still partly hidden in darkness, so that the effect of the\nheight is increased and the wonder of the spectator intensified. And\nagain, Mr. Smyth mentions in the book quoted above, a small \"wat\"\ncalled Wat Boria, where \"there is a very fine Buddha, on whose head\nand shoulders the light is thrown from a small window in the roof. The\neffect is quite impressive, and does great credit to the architect\nwho designed it. This is by no means the only place in Siam where the\nlight is dexterously managed.\" He also mentions that at Wat Chinareth,\n\"one enters a monk's doorway at the south-eastern corner from a\ncloister, and is at first lost in the gloom. At last the great black\ncolumns with their elaborate gilt ornamentation (the one decoration\nthey understand in Siam) grow out in the feeble light from the little\nnarrow windows in the low side walls. The lofty peaked roof rises far\ninto blackness.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE SLEEPING BUDDHA.\n\n_Page 297._]\n\nMention has frequently been made of the extensive use of\ngold-leaf in the decoration of shrines and images. The import of this\ncommodity is of the annual value of about one hundred and sixty to two\nhundred thousand Mexican dollars. And in addition to what is imported,\na large quantity is manufactured in Bangkok by Chinese goldsmiths.\nNear to one of the temples inside the city walls there is a small\nsettlement whose chief employment is the beating of gold-leaf. They\nget thin pieces of gold about a quarter of an inch square, and put\nthem between thick pieces of white oily paper. Sheets of gold-leaf and\nsheets of paper are arranged alternately in a pile about two inches\nthick. This packet of paper and gold is put inside a stout leathern\ncovering which is left open at two sides, and is then placed on a hard\nstone slab some three or four inches thick. The gold-beater takes a\nlarge, heavy hammer with an iron head, and pounds the little parcel\nin front of him with all his strength. He continues his hammering\nuntil the bits of gold have been considerably flattened out. He next\ntakes the thin gold sheets and puts them between finer pieces of white\nChinese paper, and then continues his pounding until the sheets have\nbecome sufficiently attenuated to be used for the gilding of images\nand ornaments. Gold-leaf is sold in sheets about three inches square\nat the rate of fifteen to eighteen shillings per thousand sheets.\n\nNot only is gold-leaf used for covering idols and shrines, but it is\nalso used by native artists in the decorations of the walls. Earth\ncolours are used for painting figures and scenery; but whenever a\nfigure requires a golden crown or ornament, or the representation of\na shrine or temple requires a golden decoration, then gold-leaf is\nalways used, and the contrast between the bright reflecting surface of\nthe metal and the dull appearance of the washes of the earth colours\nis very striking.\n\nA favourite subject for religious pictures is the representation of\nthe different hells, of which there are eight. Though the account of\nthe infernal regions as given below may seem very gruesome, there\nis nothing repulsive in their pictorial presentation by the native\nartist, owing to utter lack of any effect of realism. In fact, most\nEuropeans require an interpreter in order to understand their meaning.\nThe eight major hells are all places of fearful torment. In the first\nof the series the condemned creature is cut into infinitesimal pieces,\nevery cut producing its own agonies, as the sense of feeling is never\ndestroyed. When the body has thus been mutilated, a wind possessing\nlife-restoring properties, blows over the torn remains and renovates\nthem once more into a perfect human being, which is again mutilated\nby the attendants. The torment is repeated indefinitely; but a time\narrives at last when the restored body is cast into another portion of\nthe same hell to be the sport of cruel monsters. In this first hell\none day is equal in length to nine hundred thousand years.\n\nIn the second hell the floor is of molten iron, and as the lost ones\ntread the liquid metal they sink into it and die in frightful pain.\nA new life follows the recent death, and again and again is the\nterrible punishment inflicted through long periods of time, where one\nday is measured by thirty-six million years upon earth.\n\nThe inhabitants of the third hell have lost a portion of their human\nform. Either they have human heads, and animals' bodies, or their\nhuman bodies possess animals' heads. They are the playthings of\ninnumerable fiends who drive them with thongs from one mountain to\nanother, and ever as they run, great masses of rock fall upon them,\nwounding and killing them. But as in all the other regions inhabited\nby the guilty, a new life springs from the dead bodies, that the cruel\ntorment may be re-inflicted.\n\nThe fourth hell is beautiful to look upon. Its floor is covered with\nthe sacred lotus, but hidden amongst its rosy petals are sharp-pointed\niron spikes. And as the damned come to the edges of hell, they are\nseized by the powerful arms of diabolical monsters, who fling them\nwith Titanic force upon the treacherous flowers below. They are flung\ntimes without number, their wailing and moaning echoing and re-echoing\nthrough the corridors of hell for a space of four thousand years whose\nevery day is equal to seventy-six million years upon earth.\n\nThe fifth of the series resembles the fourth inasmuch as its floor is\ncovered with iron-spiked blossoms. But the erring souls continually\nattempt to escape. With much anxiety of mind and weariness of body,\nthey raise themselves from their spiny bed only to be met by fiends\narmed with gigantic sledge-hammers. Fierce blows of their ponderous\nweapons send them reeling back to their torment, amidst the horrible\nlaughter of their fierce captors.\n\nThe sixth hell is that of everlasting fire, but of even a more\nrevolting character than that preached by so many Christian teachers.\nFor amidst the roaring flames of the blazing pit scamper the giant\ndogs of hell, whose teeth are of sharpened iron. They seize their\nprey, and devour it with insatiable appetite. After being eaten the\nwicked are re-born, again roasted in the infernal fire, again devoured\nby iron fangs and so on and on for sixteen thousand weary years.\n\nIn the seventh hell the sides are steep hills, but they apparently\npresent a means of escape. Up the precipitous incline the lost ones\ntoil and clamber, but terrific gusts of wind ever hurl them headlong\nto the bottom on to a floor of iron spikes.\n\nThe last of the series is another of unquenchable fire. Here the lost\nare so crowded together that they have no room to move. This is the\ndeepest and widest hell of all, and here the throng of sufferers must\nendure their torments until that day when a great cloud shall appear\nin the heavens, announcing the end of the world.\n\nAs if these eight diabolical creations of some fiendish mortal's brain\ndid not contain sufficient terrors to frighten the wicked, all the\neight major hells have each been subdivided into sixteen minor ones\nequally revolting. They are all of cubical shape, and measure thirty\nleagues each way; but not wishing to weary the reader by detailing\ntheir several characters, only one is here mentioned in illustration\nof their general nature. In one of these minor hells every one suffers\nfrom intolerable thirst. Through its gloomy confines flows a river\nwhose waters are saturated with salt. The wretches, maddened by the\nthirst which none may relieve, fling themselves into the briny flood.\nAlong the banks stand devils with long iron poles with burning hooks,\nwho fish them out again, mutilate their bodies with the red-hot iron,\nand when they cry aloud in their madness for water, pour molten iron\ndown their scorching throats.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nRELIGIOUS CEREMONIES.\n\n\nReligious ceremonies follow one another with incredible rapidity in\nthe \"Kingdom of the Yellow Robe.\" They are observed by every one, not\non account of their religious value, but because they afford excellent\nreasons for indulging in general holidays. A few of the more important\nones will be dealt with in this and the two succeeding chapters.\n\nTHET MAHA CHAT. The first one to be noticed here is the\n\"Thet maha chat\" or \"The Preaching of the Story of the Great Birth.\"\nIt does not, like the other ceremonies we shall describe, occur on\ndefinitely stated days, and in many instances, does not give rise\nto a general national holiday. It often occurs as a semi-private or\ndomestic religious observance, performed by those and for those whom\nit immediately concerns. Before describing the manner in which the\npublic and private celebrations of this ceremony are held, it will\nbe advisable to relate the story of the Great Birth according to the\naccount given in the Siamese text, for it is said that this account\nof the Great Birth does not exist in the Buddhist literature of the\nsurrounding countries.\n\nBuddhist legends, now rejected by many Oriental scholars themselves,\nrelate that the Hindoo philosopher once taught and enlightened his\nfriends and disciples by relating to them at considerable length, five\nhundred and fifty stories, called \"jatakas\", about himself. These\nnarratives give a complete account of the various transmigrations\nof his soul, which he, having attained to Buddhahood, was enabled\nto vividly recall. Of these five hundred and fifty Birth Stories,\nthe Vessantara Jataka relates how he lived upon earth as a noble and\nvirtuous prince called Vessantara. As this was his last existence\nprevious to his re-birth upon earth as Buddha, it is held in high\nestimation by those who believe in its authenticity. In previous\nexistences he had traversed the whole social scale from king to slave.\nHe had been monarch, courtier, Brahmin ascetic, teacher, prince,\nnobleman, merchant, slave, potter, and outcast. He had inhabited the\nbodies of the elephant, tiger, monkey, snake, fish, and frog. In the\nsupernatural worlds he had been a tree-god and a fairy.\n\nThe last ten of the Birth Stories are of the greatest interest, as\nthey relate how he successfully attained absolute perfection in all\nthings essential to Buddhahood; and the first nine of them may be\nfitly summarised as a preface to the story of the tenth or Great Birth.\n\nThe first story tells how he was born as a prince, the heir to a\nthrone and a crown. Now, whenever, in previous existences, he had\nreigned as a king, he had invariably suffered and fallen in the\nsucceeding life. He was therefore very anxious to escape the cares\nand perils of sovereignty, and so he feigned dumbness. His relatives\ndoubted the reality of his affliction and tried in many ways to make\nhim speak, but all in vain. At last they proposed to bury him alive,\nand the prospect of this cruel death caused him at last to speak, that\nhe might save his life.\n\nIn the second story he is again represented as being the son of a\ngreat monarch. His father's younger brother turned traitor, usurped\nthe throne, and put to death him whose crown he had taken. The prince\nwas born in exile, but when he arrived at man's estate he was informed\nof his real rank and title, and he determined to attempt to regain\nthem. He set sail for his native land, but during the voyage a great\nstorm arose, the vessel was wrecked, and he only managed to save his\nlife by swimming to the distant shore.\n\nThe next Birth Story relates that he was the son of blind, ascetic\nparents, to whom he acted as a faithful servant. He trained a pet deer\nto carry his bowl for him, and wherever he went the timid creature\naccompanied him. He was killed in the forest by a stray arrow that a\nking had shot while hunting.\n\nHe was re-born as a king of wonderful power. His dominions included\nboth heaven and hell, and during the period of his sovereignty he\nmanaged to visit both these distant portions of his wide domain.\nHistory, however, does not relate what he saw or what he did in either\nof these regions.\n\n[Illustration: THE FESTIVAL OF KAW PRASAI.\n\n_Page 356._]\n\nHe next became the servant of a warrior king, for whom he acted in the\ncapacity of counsellor and judge, winning for himself great renown for\nhis wisdom and strength of character. On one occasion he is credited\nwith engineering a tunnel through a mighty mountain, that his royal\nmaster might fall unawares upon a powerful enemy. The tunnel was\nconstructed, and the attack made with complete success.\n\nThe sixth of this set of Birth Stories narrates his career as the\nNaga king, the monarch of the snake world. His two chief relatives\nwere a human brother, and a sister who inhabited the body of a frog.\nHe himself was a cobra, and one day a skilful snake-charmer captured\nhim, and took him about from place to place on exhibition. He was\nfreed from this humiliating condition by his brother and sister, who\ningeniously tricked the wandering showman.\n\nThen again he becomes the son of a king, and holds the position of a\njudge. Owing to his severity in putting down bribery and corruption,\nhe incurred the displeasure of the Lord Chief Justice, who resented\nthe loss of his valuable perquisites. One night the king dreamt that\nhe had paid a visit to the heavenly regions. When he awoke he sent\nfor the chief judge, and asked him if he could suggest any way of\nrealising the journey, as he would very much like to visit those\nrealms at his leisure. The judge suggested that the trip might be\naccomplished if the favour of the deities was first obtained by making\nthem an offering commensurate with his desires. He suggested the\nsacrifice of the prince and all the members of his household. The\nking accepted the idea, and the sacrifice was planned. But several\ncourtiers who had reasons for disliking the chief judge of the\nkingdom, revealed to their sovereign the enmity that existed between\njudge and prince. The king, furious at the trick that had been played\nupon him, instantly ordered the death of the wicked official, but the\nson, acting with his usual gentleness and mercy, pleaded for his enemy\nand obtained the remission of his sentence.\n\nIn the eighth story he is again a king; but this time devotes his\nlife entirely to the noble practice of alms-giving. So great was his\ngenerosity that he soon beggared himself, and was forced to become\na hermit. Having nothing left to distribute to those who sought to\nprofit by his benevolence, he conceived the idea of finally giving his\nown body away in pieces. But the Devas, wishing to save him from the\nresults of such a noble deed, brought him presents of nuggets of gold\nwith which to satisfy the demands of those who daily asked him for\nalms.\n\nThe ninth story presents him to us as a wise man teaching and\ncounselling a king. His fame was noised abroad even unto the uttermost\nends of the earth. Amongst those who heard of his wisdom and purity\nwas the Queen of the Nagas. She was so deeply impressed by the\nstories that reached her, that she fell madly in love with the famous\ncounsellor, and wished, not figuratively, but literally, to possess\nhis heart. From amongst her numerous attendants she chose one who was\nnoted for his cunning, and sent him as her ambassador to the far-off\nland, with orders to bring back that which she so much desired. He\nmet with a certain amount of success, for he won the body of the sage\nby gambling with the king, but all his efforts to put to death the\nwise old man were ineffectual. And when he was meditating as to the\nreason of the failure of his murderous attempts, the old man came to\nhim, and spoke to him with words of such tenderness and truth that the\nemissary returned to the Naga Queen without his prize, but a better\nand a wiser man.\n\nThe tenth Birth Story is the last and the greatest, and bears the\ndistinctive title of \"The Great Birth.\" It is the story of his last\nexistence upon earth as an ordinary human being, and marks the summit\nof his upward career, the final stage of his successive earthly\ntransmigrations. This story, which we shall presently relate at\nlength, was told by him, after he had become a Buddha, to a great\ngathering of his friends and relatives, in the famous banyan grove\nof his native city. Showers of rain fell from heaven, miraculously\nbathing his holy body, but leaving untouched the throng of people\naround him. Seven times he appealed to heaven and earth to bear him\nwitness as to the truth of his narrative, and seven times was an\nanswer given in the voice of the thunder and the quaking of the earth.\n\nSiamese tradition goes on to say that after Buddha's death, a holy\nascetic ascended to one of the heavens, where he met the Buddha who is\nnext to descend and bless this earth with his teachings. The future\nBuddha held a long conversation with the earthly visitor in which he\ntold him, that if the people wished for happiness and prosperity, they\nmust unceasingly perform all the prescribed ceremonies according to\nthe orthodox ritual, and, above all, they must not forget to annually\nrecite the story of \"The Great Birth.\"\n\nAt one time, in Siam, Pegu, and Cambodia, it was the universal custom\nat the end of the rainy season, to gather in private dwellings or\ntemple halls to listen to the reading or recital of the thousand\nstanzas of the poem which tells the story. The annual celebration is\nnow chiefly a state ceremony performed in special places. In the olden\ndays, offerings were made for the decoration of the halls in which the\nrecital was to be held, and this custom still continues in a smaller\ndegree. The general celebration that formerly took place degenerated\nat last into a kind of theatrical performance, and was accompanied\nby pantomime and song. New versions were given; the rhythm of the\noriginal poem was altered; and temple vied with temple, and house\nwith house, in the introduction of novelties that would attract large\naudiences. The late king was a profound scholar and a devout believer\nin the pure truths and ritual of his religion, and not a nominal\nBuddhist like the majority of his subjects, and he looked upon these\ntheatrical recitals with their accompanying buffoonery and merriment\nas being nothing less than a desecration of the famous story, and\na burlesque of the life of him whose career they were intended to\nhonour. When he left the cloister for the throne he sternly denounced\nthe exhibition in a decree that is remarkable for its reasonableness\nand its forceful expressions. He even went so far as to tell a story,\nevidently of his own composition, the moral of which was that, as far\nas any religious merit was concerned, the money spent in preparing for\nthe recitals would be better spent in burning dead dogs' carcasses.\nHis strong expressions of disfavour and disgust have had the desired\neffect, and the story is now recited in a decent and becoming manner.\n\nThe poem, as now recited, contains thirteen cantos and one thousand\nstanzas, and was written by one of the Siamese kings. It had been\nprophesied that the holy Buddhist scriptures would ultimately all be\nlost, and that the Vessantara Jataka, being the most valuable, would\nbe the first to disappear. When the scriptures have all been lost,\nand man has forgotten the meaning of righteousness, a new Buddha will\nbe born upon earth to teach once more the principles of morality and\ntruth. The \"Pious\" king who reigned in Siam from 1602 to 1628, is\nknown as a priest celebrated alike for his piety and his learning, and\nas a king famous for his justice and mercy. He left the temple for\nthe throne, but resigned in favour of his nephew and again returned\nto the seclusion of the hermit's cell. The prophecy as to the loss of\nthe Jataka deeply affected him, and in order to prevent so great a\ncalamity befalling his people he decided to write it in the form of\na poem that it might be handed down from generation to generation.\nThis poem is the gem of Siamese classics, a model of literary style\nand treatment. King \"Pious\" was the first of the royal poets of Siam,\nbut since his day it has been the fashion for the sovereign to write\npoetical compositions. Both the present king and his father are well\nknown in the country as poets and scholars. The late king was probably\nthe greatest scholar Siam ever had, so that he enjoyed a double\ndistinction never possessed by any of the monarchs of more civilised\nlands.\n\nAnd now for the old king's rendering of the Vessantara Jataka.\n\nIn ages long since past, the god Indra called into his presence the\nbeautiful daughter of one of the Devas. He asked her to consent to\nbe re-born into the world of wicked, warring men that she might\nenjoy the supreme honour and happiness of becoming the mother of\nthe future Buddha. The beautiful spirit maiden was not altogether\nunwilling to become the recipient of the honour offered her, but\nbefore finally consenting, she knelt before the throne of Indra to\nbeg of him ten boons, of such a character that they should preserve\nher from unhappiness or trouble when she left the regions of heavenly\nbliss to descend to the realms of earthly woe. She requested that she\nshould be born as one of the highest caste, and that when she was\nold enough she should be wedded to the powerful monarch Sivi. Not\nforgetting the personal attractions so desirable in an Oriental queen\nwho wishes for long to retain her husband's affections, she asked for\neyes that should be soft and mild like those of the gazelle, and\nfor lashes whose graceful velvety fringe should be the envy of her\nrivals and the delight of her husband. Her name was not to be changed\nfrom that she had borne, in the gardens of heaven where her graceful\nfigure and handsome face had earned for her the name of \"blossom.\"\nShe also stipulated that she should not experience any of the pains\nof child-birth, nor at any time suffer any deformation of her slender\nform. Her youthful appearance was to be preserved for ever from the\nruthless hand of time, her complexion and skin to be soft and delicate\nbeyond comparison with those of any earthly rival, and while her\nbeauty enchained the minds of men, she was to win the hearts of all\nby being allowed to liberate all the prisoners in the land. Her final\nrequest included all she had already asked for, and many more besides;\nfor, in a spirit that is delightfully feminine, she asked that when\non earth, all her wishes should ever be promptly and completely\nsatisfied. Indra with god-like benevolence granted all her boons, even\nthe last.\n\nIn due time she was born on earth, and afterwards wedded to King Sivi.\nShe gave birth to an infant son, the future Buddha in earthly form,\nwho was named by his parents Vessantara. The child gave evidences of\nhis wonderful character by speaking immediately after he was born,\nand later by his indifference to all earthly pleasures. Neither toys\nnor jewels were valued by him, and he lived the life of a retired\nascetic until he was twenty years old. His father then desired him\nto marry, and persuaded him to seek for his wife, a princess called\nMaddi, who was famed for her great beauty. An embassy was sent to the\nmaiden's father to ask for her hand, and as he willingly assented to\nthe alliance, the princess returned with the ambassadors to be married\nwithout any delay to the hermit-like prince, Vessantara.\n\nHis married life was one of great happiness. He was sincerely attached\nto his wife and to his son and daughter, but he never forsook his\nascetic manner of living. His benevolence was a household word,\nand gained for him troops of friends, until he made a gift of more\nthan ordinary value to a neighbouring state, and caused thereby a\ngreat popular uproar. His father possessed an elephant whose chief\nvalue lay in its miraculous power of calling down rain from the\nskies in times of drought. Now, the people of a province near to his\nfather's country, were suffering from want of water, and they sent to\nVessantara to ask if he would lend them the rain-producing elephant,\nknowing quite well that he never refused to give to anyone what was\nasked of him. He granted their request without any hesitation, and\ntold them that they might keep the animal as a present from himself.\nThe ambassadors returned, taking home the beast in triumph; but when\nthe inhabitants of Vijaya knew what had happened they burst into angry\naccusations against their benevolent prince. They complained also that\nthe animal was not his to give, but was the property of the nation.\nThe king was not less angry than his subjects, and ordered his son to\nleave the capital at once, and live for the rest of his life in exile.\nThe prince, in defending his action, said that the elephant was his\nand had been given to him by its mother at the time of his birth, as a\nbirthday present. To the father, who was unacquainted with his son's\ndestiny and character, this seemed the most intolerable rubbish, and\nmade him exceedingly angry.\n\nMaddi, like a faithful wife, sought to mollify the anger of her\nfather-in-law, and implored forgiveness for her husband, but the\nking's wrath was too great to be appeased by her tearful entreaties.\nThen Vessantara gave away the greater part of his property,\npreparatory to his departing into banishment. He distributed one\nhundred elephants, one hundred ponies, one hundred vehicles of\ndifferent kinds, one hundred male slaves, one hundred female slaves,\none hundred catties[I] of gold and one hundred catties of silver. He\nentreated his wife to remain behind and take care of his two children,\nbut she resolutely refused to leave him in his trouble, and taking the\nchildren with them, they departed in his chariot. As they drove out of\nthe city they scattered all the money they had, amongst the crowds of\npeople who had collected to see the banished prince leaving his native\ncity.\n\nOn their journey they met two Brahmins, who recognised the prince and\nasked for his horses. He at once granted their request, and prepared\nto proceed on foot; but two Devas descended from heaven in the form of\ngolden stags and harnessed themselves to the chariot. A little later\nthey were met by another Brahmin, who asked for both chariot and\nsteeds. Vessantara and Maddi dismounted and left the carriage to the\nstranger. The stags immediately disappeared, to the great astonishment\nof him who had begged for them. The wedded pair, carrying their\nchildren with them, pursued their way on foot, going in the direction\nof a distant and lonely mountain, where they proposed living the life\nof the hermits.\n\nThe road to the mountain passed through the country where Maddi's\nfather reigned. He heard of their arrival in his territory and at once\nset out to meet them. He besought them to stay in his kingdom, offered\nthem a residence near his own palace, and did all he could to persuade\nthem to change their purpose. But they refused all his offers, saying\nthat they were fully determined to live as hermits in the lonely\njungle. At his earnest request they stayed with him seven days, but\nleft him at the end of that time to continue their journey to the\nfar-off mountain.\n\nThey had to pass through perilous places, and were exposed to many\ndangers from men and beasts. A hunter was sent to guard them during\nthis part of the journey. Indra, ever watchful, saw all that was\nhappening, and commissioned one of his celestial architects to go at\nonce to the mountain and prepare two bowers for the reception of the\nwandering exiles.\n\nAt this time there was living in another part of the country, an aged\nBrahmin who was wedded to a young but ambitious wife. She had heard of\nVessantara's gifts, the story of the elephants and the chariot, and of\nhis numerous acts of benevolence, and felt that it would be an easy\nmatter to trade upon his good nature and obtain some valuable gift for\nherself. So she asked her aged husband to go and ask Vessantara for\nhis two children. He refused for a long time, but finally yielded to\nher entreaties, and set off to find the whereabouts of the generous\nprince that he might make known his wife's request. The guardian\nhunter saw him approaching, and levelled his bow at him, but the\nBrahmin said that he was a favourite of the prince, and had often\nreceived wise counsel from him, and that he only sought the exile in\norder to befriend him, and carry to him the messages of old friends.\nThe hunter was deceived, and allowed the Brahmin to pass on his way.\n\nThen the Brahmin arrived at a hut where lived a holy ascetic, to\nwhom he addressed himself, enquiring for the way to Vessantara's\nresidence. The hermit believing the man to be some greedy creature\nabout to prefer a vexatious request, expressed his disgust and anger\nin very strong language. But the Brahmin, unaffected by the scornful\ndenunciations he had listened to, again professed a desire to befriend\nthe exiled prince. So sincere did his protestations appear, that the\nhermit gave him the required directions.\n\nFollowing the path pointed out to him, he at length reached\nVessantara's bower, and presenting himself in the disguise of a\nmendicant, asked the prince to give him his two children. Their mother\nwas absent at the time, as she had not returned from gathering fruit\nand herbs in the jungle. The prince was grieved when he heard the\nrequest, but he was fully aware that it was only by acts of great\nself-sacrifice that he could perfect his nature and attain the goal\nfor which he was striving, so without much hesitation, he handed over\nhis little son and daughter to the care of the beggar. His temper\nwas sorely tried when he saw the mendicant tie their tiny hands fast\nbehind their backs as though they were common slaves, and drag them\nroughly over the rough and thorny pathway. The tender-hearted parent\nsuffered agonies of pain as he witnessed this cruel treatment of his\nloved ones, but by keeping his mind fixed on his future he managed to\ncontrol any outward expressions of grief and anger. At some little\ndistance from the bower, the Brahmin stumbled and fell to the ground.\nThe children seeing an opportunity to escape from their brutal\nmaster, promptly fled and hid themselves in a lotus pond. The Brahmin\nreturned to Vessantara, and angrily complained of the behaviour of the\nrunaways, and upbraided the father with having deceived and tricked\nhim. The prince, making no answer to the false rebukes, silently\nwent out to look for his little ones. He saw their footprints in the\nground, followed the direction they indicated, and soon discovered\nhis son. In answer to his voice, the daughter also came out of her\nhiding-place, and there, by the side of the pond, the two children\nknelt down and embraced the feet of their father. Tears that sparkled\nlike gems in the sunlight, fell from the eyes of the sorrowful three.\nThe father spoke tenderly to his weeping children and told them of his\ngreat grief for their suffering, but that it was necessary for his\nand their future happiness. He tried to show them that if their love\nfor him was sincere, they would go away with the mendicant cheerfully\nand willingly, for by so doing they would ultimately help in his\nattainment of perfect bliss. The boy acquiesced, but the little girl's\nheart was full of anger, and the burning tears ran heavily down her\nsorrow-stricken face. Once more they were delivered to the beggar, and\nagain was their father's temper sorely tried, for their new master at\nonce gave them both a sound thrashing before his eyes, as a punishment\nfor what he termed their bad behaviour.\n\nWhile all this was happening, an event had occurred in the forest to\nprevent the return of Maddi before the children had gone away. For\nIndra foresaw that she might possibly by her tears and entreaties,\nhinder her husband's progress towards that goal of perfect benevolence\nwhich was to crown and complete his earthly career. So he arranged\nthat on her homeward way, she should meet three animals, a lion, a\ntiger, and a leopard. They did her no harm, but simply prevented her\nfrom going forward. After many attempts to escape, she fell upon her\nknees and implored them to allow her to pass. Her husband's great\nact of renunciation having by this time been fully accomplished, the\nthree beasts, who were three Devas in disguise, no longer hindered her\nprogress, but departed into the jungle. It was long after midnight\nwhen she returned to her home, and the first thing her motherly\neyes detected was the absence of her little ones. She turned to her\nhusband, in whose face shone a heavenly glow of happiness not unmixed\nwith sadness, and enquired of him what had become of the children. But\nto all her questions he answered nothing. Then, knowing the generous\nnature of his heart, and seeing the sadly kind expression on his face,\nshe guessed what had happened, and, overcome with the weight of her\ngreat misfortune, she burst into tears and fell in a swoon upon the\nground. Her husband tended her gently, and when she had recovered\nconsciousness, he told her all that had happened, and besought her\nwith pleading and argument to agree to the act in which she had as\nyet had no part. Deeply impressed with his earnestness and dimly\nconscious that there was more in the matter than she could realise,\nshe acquiesced in what he had done.\n\nNow Indra saw that there was but one thing left to Vessantara which he\ncould give away, and that was his wife Maddi. And the god remembered\nthat if the prince should give away his wife, there would be no one\nleft to tend and care for him in that solitary place. To prevent\nVessantara being left absolutely alone, Indra himself descended to\nearth in the form of an old Brahmin and stood before the bower.\nThe prince saw him there, and at once realised that he had now an\nopportunity of completing his many acts of self-sacrifice by bestowing\nhis wife upon the stranger. He asked the Brahmin again and again if\nthere was anything he desired, and the Brahmin at length asked for\nthe princess Maddi. With mingled joy and grief he parted with his\nlong-loved and faithful help-meet, who had suffered much for his sake.\nThe sorrow he felt at parting with the last earthly possession he\ndearly loved, was almost drowned in the thought that this was the last\nact in the long drama he had played through many generations. Great\nwas his surprise and delight when the disguised Indra returned his\nwife to him, telling him to keep her in trust. The apparent Brahmin\npromised to return for her at some future time, and departed, leaving\nthe loving pair to wonder as to his identity.\n\nThe old mendicant who had obtained possession of the children,\nintended to take them home to become the slaves of his greedy wife.\nBut he lost his way in the trackless forests, and by mistake wandered\ninto the city of Vessantara's father. The king was seated in a\npavilion on the palace wall, and as the mendicant slowly wended his\nway past the royal residence, the observant monarch saw and recognised\nhis two grandchildren. He sent for them, and from the boy's lips\nlearned their story. The boy also told him the amounts that had been\nfixed by their father as the price of their redemption, and these\namounts the king at once paid over to the Brahmin, and so liberated\nhis grandchildren. The money that the Brahmin received was of little\nuse to him, for he died shortly afterwards, leaving no heirs to\ninherit his wealth. When the children had told their grandfather\nthe story of their father's life and his lonely wanderings in the\ndangerous jungle, some feeling of pity and remorse took possession\nof the king, and he determined to have his son back again. He went\nto the distant forest, accompanied by the queen, his two newly found\ngrandchildren and many soldiers.\n\nGreat rejoicing attended the meeting of the father and son who had\nbeen so long separated. Vessantara in answer to the queen's entreaties\npromised to return home. On his return to his native city a great\nfestival was held, the people thronged to see their long-lost prince\nonce more, alms were distributed in great quantities, and the period\nof self denial and renunciation was brought to a close. All those to\nwhom Vessantara had previously given his valuable property returned it\nto him, asking for his blessing and forgiveness.\n\nThose who are interested in the after histories of these people may\ncare to know that Vessantara appeared upon earth as Gautama Buddha,\nthat Maddi was re-born as his wife Yashodra, and that his son was\ngiven to him again as Rahula. His daughter, however, did not become\na member of his family in the next life upon earth, for when she was\nforced to follow the cruel old Brahmin, she swore in her heart that\nshe would never again be re-born as the daughter of such an unjust and\nunloving father.\n\nThus ends the story of \"The Great Birth\" according to the version\nof the \"pious\" king of Siam. With the exception of the public state\nrecital of the poem, it is now only recited in connection with the\nnovitiate of the eldest sons of rich parents. The poor no longer ask\ntheir friends to visit their houses to listen to the thousand stanzas.\nThe rich endeavour to reproduce as far as possible the circumstances\nof the original recital. The novice who has retired to the temple and\nresigned for the time being all his earthly possessions, represents\nVessantara. And as Buddha told the tale to a multitude of friends and\nrelations in his native city, so the novice returns from the temple\nto his own home to chant the numerous stanzas in the midst of his\nacquaintances. The honour of thus repeating the old story belongs now\nto the eldest son, except in the case of children of royal birth, for\neach of whom a public recital is held. As the novice has not had time\nto learn the whole poem, he only delivers the first few lines, the\nrest being repeated by monks of longer standing, who have it all by\nheart. At the conclusion of the ceremony, offerings of food and robes\nare ostentatiously distributed to those priests who have given their\nservices.\n\nThe preaching of the story of the Great Birth during the novitiate\nof the late Crown Prince of Siam, was the occasion of great public\nrejoicing. The offerings were more numerous and varied than usual,\nand were arranged in a novel manner in front of the palace. A huge\njunk was erected on the grass, and its sides were totally covered\nwith boxes of cigars, boxes of sardines, and tinned provisions. The\ncabins and hold were filled with eatables, and when the \"preaching\"\nfestivities were ended, the whole vessel was broken up, and its\ncontents distributed amongst the poor and the hospitals.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nRELIGIOUS CEREMONIES (_continued_).\n\n\nTHE THOT KATIN. The Thot Katin ceremonies are not nearly so\nold as those described in the preceding chapter. They are said to\nhave been first established as purely state ceremonies by one of the\nSiamese kings, called Somdet Pra Luang, who reigned over Northern Siam\nabout seven hundred years ago. He was a very popular monarch, and as\npowerful as he was popular. Whatever he ordered to be done in his own\nprovinces in the north of the country, was always carried out to the\nletter, and the ceremonies he instituted have extended and developed\ntill they are now universally celebrated all over the kingdom.\n\nIn the days when the Buddhist priesthood lived a purely ascetic life,\naccording to the ideal of their great teacher, long before the days\neven of Pra Luang himself, there was one branch of the monastic order\nwhich was far more given to practising self-denial and mortification\nthan any of the rest of the brotherhood. And this sect of holy monks\nvowed a solemn vow that they would never wear any clothes that were\ndirectly or indirectly presented to them. They vowed that their\nrobes should only be made of cloth that had no owners, such as\nthe winding-sheets that had enshrouded the bodies of the dead, the\nclothes that had been cast away because they had been worn by persons\nsuffering from infectious diseases, or the garments that had been\ndiscarded by their owners as being too ragged or filthy to be used any\nlonger. Garments of this description were the only ones they would\nwear, and all presents were steadily refused. At the end of the rainy\nseason, when the period of the forced retirement in the monasteries\nwas finished, they went in little parties of three and four to the\ncemeteries, to the places where the bodies of the dead were burned,\nand to all the spots where dust, dirt, refuse, and rubbish had been\ndeposited. There they gathered up every scrap and remnant of cloth,\nto patch them carefully together to make their garments for the\ncoming year. Many people saw them frequently groping about in these\nunhealthy, unfrequented localities, and asked them wonderingly, \"What\nare you doing there? What are you looking for?\" And to all enquiries\nthe priests made none other answer save \"We seek for ownerless\nclothes.\" Then the people, partly out of a feeling of pity and partly\nout of a desire to make merit, went to their homes and brought all\nthe pieces of cotton, linen, or woollen cloth they could spare, and\ngenerously offered them as gifts to the ragged priests. But the gifts\nwere always firmly refused, and the people returned to their homes,\nwondering why this one particular order of mendicant brethren would\nnot accept their voluntary offerings.\n\nSome of the more inquisitive of those whose gifts had been refused,\nstealthily followed the priests from place to place, and, unseen\nthemselves, observed all they did. And they saw the worthy monks\ngroping in heaps of refuse and gathering fragments of cloth, taking\nsoiled torn rags from the branches of trees, and collecting the\nscraps of linen that were blown hither and thither by the wind in the\ngrave-yards, where were buried the uncremated, those who had died of\nsmall-pox, cholera, and other dangerous and infectious diseases. When\nthey had seen all this, they returned home and told their brethren,\nand all wondered greatly, but no one understood. Then those people\nwho reverenced the priests, but whose minds held many superstitious\nnotions, invented a theory which seemed to explain all the facts that\nhad been observed, and which afterwards found wide acceptation amongst\nthe people. They said that these wandering, self-denying, rag-hunting\nmonks were of the holiest of the holy, that they had power to see into\nthe realms of heaven and of hell, and that their chief aim and purpose\nin this life was to promote the future happiness of men and animals.\nWhen these priests clad themselves in the garments of one who had\ndied, the deceased ascended into heaven. Therefore, the monks, ever\nliving according to the faith they held, and in pursuance of their\ngreat desire to give future bliss to those who had departed, wore not\nthe valuable gifts of the living, but the cast-off garments of the\ndead.\n\nWhen this theory had been heard and accepted by devout or\nsuperstitious people, the custom arose of wrapping many extra cloths\nround the body of a dead person, and requesting the priests to remove\nthem from the corpse and carry them away to the temples. This custom\nstill prevails in many parts of the country amongst people who hope\nin this way to secure the safe and speedy entrance of their deceased\nfriends and relatives into the realms of indescribable felicity. The\nlate king, in his sincere desire to purify the religious beliefs of\nhis credulous subjects, endeavoured to point out to them that there\nwas nothing whatever in the original scriptural texts to warrant this\nwide-spread faith, and that it was purely a superstition invented\nand taught by the laity. He also pointed out the true interpretation\nof the priests' actions--namely, their desire to live a thoroughly\nascetic life that they might purify their minds and be worthy of their\nmaster. But the people have refused to accept this simple explanation\neither from their ruler or from their more enlightened ecclesiastical\nteachers, and even accuse those priests who exhibit any reluctance to\ncomply with their requests, of being wanting in pity and gentleness.\nSo they continue to wrap unnecessary cloths round the bodies of the\ndead, that the priests may remove them and wear them, and so ensure\nthe happiness of the dead. There have been also many priests of\nworldly disposition who have secretly encouraged the custom, as it is\na source of considerable worldly profit to themselves.\n\nA more reasonable but still unorthodox creed has found many followers.\nAccording to some, the priests sought for the clothes that had\nshrouded people who had died of infectious diseases, not out of pity\nfor the dead, but out of consideration for the living. For by removing\nthese cloths they effectually prevented them from being blown amongst\nthe homes of men, and so spreading the disease. They thus removed\na possible disaster. This idea degenerated into the belief that by\npresenting the priests with robes, impending dangers would be rendered\nineffectual to the giver, and led to the custom of throwing garments\nfor the use of the priests in front of the temples. This was usually\ndone at the end of the rainy season, which, according to the old\ncustom of counting time, was the end of the year. The donors thought\nthey would in this way certainly secure prosperity for themselves and\nfamilies during the ensuing months.\n\nAs a result of this latter belief it became the custom to present\nrobes to the priests in October and November, when the wet months\nwere drawing to a close. King Pra Luang in his palace at Ayuthia,\nconsidered the custom, pronounced it good, and established it as part\nof the ordinary worship of the devout. When the proper season arrived,\nhe set out himself to distribute robes to the inmates of the royal\ntemple. Each temple provided a quantity of fireworks, and appointed\nresponsible officers to superintend their pyrotechnical displays. In\nfront of the landing of the king's palace, were gathered together\nnumerous boats laden with baskets of food and yellow cloth. In the\ncentre of each basket a stout branch was fixed, and from the branches\nlighted lanterns were suspended. At the bottom of every lantern\ntrailed a strip of yellow silk, symbolical of the scraps that the old\nmonks sought in desolate places. The boats also contained presents of\nmany descriptions given by the king, the government officials, and the\ncommon people according to their wealth or their faith.\n\nIn the evening, as soon as it was dark, the king came down to the bank\nof the river to examine the boats and their contents. He descended\ninto his state barge, attended by his chief officers, and headed a\nlong procession, accompanied by the chief ladies of the palace, and\nby crowds of people who had been drawn to the place by the prospect\nof seeing the fireworks. The boats, crowded by natives, drew after\nthem the other boats containing the baskets of food and the piles of\nrobes. Wherever the king stopped, presents of eatables and priestly\ngarments were distributed to the brethren who resided in the temple,\nand fireworks were let off in honour of the sovereign's arrival, and\nas a mark of gratitude for his benevolence. At a later date, when\ntemples became multiplied to such an extent that the king was unable\nto personally visit them all, he entrusted the distribution of the\npresents to his relatives, and officials of high rank.\n\nThe custom of presenting robes at the end of the rainy season is now\nuniversally observed throughout the whole kingdom, and is looked upon\nas an excellent way of making merit, though, in common with all the\nother religious observances of the country, its primary meaning and\norigin are unknown to most of the worshippers.\n\nThe festival is known as the \"Thot Katin\", and is celebrated with\ngreat rejoicing and merriment. \"Katin\", or \"Kratin\", is derived from\nthe Pali word, \"Katina\", and means \"severe\" or \"difficult\". The term\nis applied to three separate things. It means a pattern of a priest's\nrobe made of patchwork; it is the name of the robe itself, which must\nbe made of raw cotton and completed in a single day and night--a\ndifficult task; and it also denotes the merit which the maker will\nreceive as a reward for his meritorious exertions. The other word,\n\"Thot\", means \"to lay down\", so that the whole expression used as the\nname of the ceremony of the presentation of the priestly vestments,\nmeans \"Laying down robes made after the Katina pattern\", on the floor\nor on a table, for the priests to take up.\n\nThe holidays last during the month of October, and are celebrated with\nprocessions on land and water. The water processions in Bangkok are\nsingularly attractive on account of the number of people who take part\nin them, and the variety of costume, and display of oarmanship which\nthey then exhibit. All day long, lines of canoes, gondolas, and gilded\nbarges carry the worshippers and their offerings to the many temples\nin the city. The holiday attire is unusually brilliant, and as the\nnumerous colours flash by in the swiftly gliding boats, one begins\nto wonder if there are any tints or shades of colour that may not be\nseen on the Menam. After prostrating themselves before the idol, and\npresenting their gifts to the priests, the people hold a great aquatic\ncarnival.\n\n[Illustration: WAT CHANG AT SUNSET.\n\n_Page 302._]\n\nThe following account of this ancient ceremony is quoted from\n\"The Bangkok Directory\" and is presumably a translation of a native\ncomposition.\n\n \"All the temples in Bangkok and its suburbs, which have\n been made by or dedicated to the king, expect a splendid\n visit from him annually, between the middle of the eleventh\n and twelfth moons. This is the season appointed by the\n most ancient and sacred custom for the priests to seek\n their apparel for the year ensuing. In conformity with this\n custom, the King, taking a princely offering of priests'\n robes with him, visits these temples.\n\n \"The ceremony is called 'Thot Katin', which means to lay\n down the robes sewed up in patches according to a given\n pattern, for the priests to take up. The pattern is the\n 'Katin', which in ancient times the priests of Buddha used\n in cutting their cloth into patches to be sewed together to\n make their outer and inner robes. The cloth was cut with\n a knife because it would be wicked to tear it. In olden\n time, in Buddha's day, the custom was for the priests to\n go out themselves to seek old cast-off clothing, and the\n best of these they would patch together to form the three\n kinds of priestly robes required. This was one conspicuous\n mode of self-mortification. But that mendicant custom has\n gradually given place to the present one of making the\n garments of new cloth dyed yellow; and prepared by the\n princely donations of thousands of the affluent, and the\n more humble contributions of the multitudes of the poor.\n They begin to make preparations for this season months\n before the time, until in Bangkok alone, there are many\n thousands of priests' suits in readiness by the middle of\n October for distribution at the temples. The cloth is dyed\n yellow for the purpose, as tradition says, of imitating\n somewhat the custom of Buddha and his early followers, who\n preferred a dingy yellow colour for their robes, for the\n express purpose of making themselves odious in the eyes\n of the world, that there might be no door of temptation\n open to them to be conformed to the world. In those days\n it was the custom of robbers and murderers in Hindustan,\n where Buddhism began its course, to wear red and yellow\n clothing as an appropriate badge of their profession. The\n better classes of the world regarded them with horror, and\n fled from them. Now, Gautama Buddha, when a prince, had a\n host of ardent friends who urged him not to abdicate his\n throne. But he was full set to do it; and this was the mode\n he took to cut himself off from their sympathy. By assuming\n the robber's garb, he would rid himself of such ruinous\n tempters, and yet secure another class of admirers, who\n would delight to walk with him in the road to Nirvana, to\n which his whole heart and soul was devoted.\n\n \"Although there are so many hundreds of Buddhist temples\n in Siam, none are omitted from this annual visitation. The\n royal temples are visited by the king, or by some prince or\n nobleman of high rank, who goes in the king's name. Outside\n the capital, these royal temples are always visited by\n deputies of His Majesty, bearing priests' robes and other\n things provided by the king.\n\n \"When His Majesty goes in person, he does so with great\n pomp and splendour, whether by land or water. If by water\n the finest state barges are displayed. There are some ten\n or more of these splendid boats, each with some august name\n attached, to distinguish it from the others. These barges\n are called 'royal throne boats'. Only one appears in the\n royal procession at a time. They are from one hundred and\n fifty to one hundred and eighty feet in length, and from\n six to eight feet wide. They gradually become narrower\n fore and aft, and taper upwards. Hanging from the stem and\n stern are two large white tassels made of the hair of the\n Cashmere goat, and between them floats a royal banner. A\n little abaft of midships there is a splendid canopy about\n twelve feet long, having the ridge curving downward at\n each end, and covered with cloth of gold, and the sides\n tastefully hung with curtains of the same costly material.\n Within is a throne, suited to this little floating palace.\n The bows of the barges to convey the priestly robes and\n other gifts, are formed into heads of hideous dragons, or\n imaginary sea-monsters, with glaring eyes and horrid teeth\n and horns. The whole boat is richly carved and gilded\n to represent scales, often inlaid with pearl and other\n precious things, while the stern forms an immense tail,\n curving upwards to the height of twelve or fifteen feet. It\n is in this kind of barge that the king always rides. When\n he would appear in his greatest glory, he is seen seated\n on this, his floating throne, wearing a gold-embroidered\n coat, and golden shoes. He has generally the Crown Prince\n with him, and sometimes other royal children follow him in\n a barge of second rank, being all beautifully attired. We\n must not forget to mention the huge jewelled fan, the royal\n umbrellas, white and yellow, which have their appropriate\n places in the dragon barge, and help to distinguish it\n from all there in the imposing pageant. The dragon barges\n are propelled by sixty or seventy paddlers, who have been\n trained daily for a full month for that express service.\n They have been taught to paddle in unison, all striking\n the water at the same moment, and all raising the blades\n of their paddles above their heads, at an equal height.\n These royal boatmen, by their public training on the river,\n become a pattern for all others in the procession.\n\n \"Preceding the King's personal barge, there are usually\n from forty to sixty royal guard-boats, over one hundred\n feet long, and from five to six feet wide, going in pairs.\n They are modelled after the King's own boat, but smaller,\n and the canopy is made of whitish leaves resembling the\n palm leaf, sewed together, and ornamented with crimson\n cloth bordered with yellow. Under the bow and stern of\n these boats, float a pair of long grey tassels, made of\n the fibres of pine-apple leaves, and between each of these\n hangs a golden banner. They have fifty or more paddlers,\n and two men in each boat beat time with a long pole\n decorated with white tassels, which they lift up and strike\n down end-wise on the deck of the boat.\n\n \"In the rear of the King's barge come princes, nobles,\n officers, and multitudes of still lower grades, who all\n follow the King to the temple in boats of various fashions,\n down to the simple one-oared skiff with its single\n half-naked occupant. Each prince and nobleman sits proudly\n under his own canopy, attired in his best court robes,\n having duly arranged about him gold or silver water-pot\n and tea-pot, and betel and cigar boxes, all of which have\n been given to him by the King, as insignia of his rank and\n office.\n\n \"The boatmen have various coloured liveries. Those of the\n King's dragon barge and its mate usually wear red jackets\n and caps. On the guard-boats we see many colours; some\n have red jackets and leather caps of ancient style; in\n others the men have only short pants, and narrow fillets\n of palm-leaf about their heads. Brass bands follow in the\n procession, and companies of native men-o'-war's men, who\n close up the moving panorama.\n\n \"The floating and other houses along the line of the King's\n advance have each prepared a little table or altar, upon\n which they display the choicest fruits and flowers, wax\n candles, pictures, and other ornaments, as marks of respect\n to their sovereign. The native and foreign shipping display\n their colours. The small craft on the river and canals\n where he is to come, clear out for the time, to make a wide\n and open passage for him. Formerly none were allowed to\n watch the royal procession, except from behind closed doors\n or windows, but now all such restrictions are withdrawn,\n and the people enjoy the sight of their beloved King, and\n take part in the general rejoicings.\n\n \"The priests' garments being neatly folded and put up into\n bundles of a suit each, are borne with the King in the\n royal throne barge. When he arrives at the landing of a\n temple, he remains seated until several suits of the yellow\n robes have been carried up to the door and put in care of\n an official, to await the approach of His Majesty, and\n until other officers of state and a company of infantry,\n together with the musicians, have had time to leave their\n boats and place themselves in position for receiving him.\n The handrails of the steps which the King ascends are\n wound with white cotton cloth, and the flagged path from\n the landing to the temple is covered with grass matting\n exclusively for him to walk upon. When the King is in the\n act of ascending the steps of the landing, 'Old Siam'\n blows her pipes and conch shells, and beats her drums; the\n military form in double line and present arms, and the\n brass band plays the national anthem.\n\n \"Having reached the door of the 'bote', the King takes\n one suit of the priests' robes, and bearing it in both\n hands, walks in and lays it on a table prepared for that\n purpose. On this table are five golden vases of flowers,\n five golden dishes of parched rice, tastefully arranged in\n the form of bouquets, five golden candlesticks with their\n candles, and five incense sticks. His Majesty first lights\n the candles and incense sticks. He then worships before\n the sacred shrine of Buddha, the sacred books, and the\n assembled priests. He next makes a request to the chief\n priest to renew his covenant to observe the five rules\n of the Buddhist religion. These are, first, that he will\n not take the life of any man or other sentient creature;\n second, that he will not oppress any man; third, that he\n will not take to wife any woman belonging to another,\n while there is the least unwillingness on the part of\n the woman, or of her parents or of her guardians, to the\n transaction; fourth, that he will not lie, nor deal falsely\n with mankind, nor use abusive language; fifth, that he\n will not use intoxicating liquors as a beverage. When the\n King visits the temple, if it happens to be one of their\n four sacred days, their custom makes it necessary for him\n to promise to observe three other rules in addition to the\n above five; first, that he will not partake of any food\n after midday on any sacred day until the next morning after\n light has appeared; second, that he will not on sacred days\n indulge in any theatrical or musical performances, nor in\n any way allow or cause his person to be perfumed; third,\n that he will not on such days sleep on a bed that is more\n than ten and a half inches high, nor use any mattress, and\n that he will deny himself as becometh a devout Buddhist. If\n the King is conscious of having transgressed any of these\n rules since he last renewed his obligations, he is supposed\n to confess his sins mentally before Buddha, and promise\n solemnly that he will earnestly endeavour to avoid such\n sins in the future.\n\n \"His Majesty having renewed his obligations, then proceeds\n to make a formal presentation of his offerings to the\n priests of that temple, whereupon they respond in the Pali\n tongue, 's\u00e2dhu, s\u00e2dhu' ('well, well'). The chief priest\n then addresses the fraternity as follows: 'This \"Katin\"\n robe has been given to us by his most illustrious majesty,\n the King, who, being endued with exceedingly great goodness\n and righteousness, has condescended to come hither himself\n and present these garments to us, a company of Buddhist\n priests, without designating any particular person by\n whom they shall be worn.' They then distribute the gifts\n amongst themselves, after which they bow down and worship\n Buddha, reciting a few Pali sentences. This distribution of\n garments is not always done in the presence of the King,\n but sometimes after he has left the temple. The late King\n Maha Mongkut made an innovation on this old custom, by\n bringing with him extra suits of yellow robes and giving\n them to certain priests who had distinguished themselves as\n Pali scholars. It is also usual to make a few other gifts\n to the priests, of such things as they are apt to need,\n as bedding, boats, and table furniture, but these are not\n considered any part of the real 'Katin.'\n\n \"As the King is about to leave the temple, the priests\n pronounce a Pali blessing upon him, and he again worships\n Buddha, the sacred books, and the priests. Then rising, he\n walks out of the 'bote,' and descends to the royal barge,\n with the same ceremonies as when he ascended. He visits\n several temples during each day, and spends some time in\n each one. The value of each priest's suit which the King\n offers, is supposed to be about ten Mexican dollars, and\n the aggregate value of the offerings he makes on these\n successive days is probably not less than ten thousand\n Mexican dollars.\"\n\nSONG KRAN. Song Kran is an angel who rises with the sun when\nhe enters the sign Aries. The date of the holidays held and ceremonies\nperformed under this title is ruled by the sun, and is not definitely\nfixed. But each successive year the court astrologers announce the\nevent, and then for four days the celebrations take place. The King\ntakes a state shower-bath, and invites the priests to assemble at the\npalace for prayers and breakfast. The laity have their own special\nreligious services and their own amusements. They gamble and pray, go\nto the theatres and temples, feed the priests and feed themselves as\nthey do at New Year. Buddha's image is bathed by the old women, who\nalso sprinkle water over the elderly people and priests present, with\nthe idea of calling down blessings on those who are bathed, as well\nas on themselves. As a general rule the ceremonies begin about the\neleventh or twelfth day of April.\n\nKAN WISAKHA BUCHA. This is the name of the holidays connected\nwith a very important day in the Buddhist calendar--namely, the day\non which Buddha was born. According to the tradition, it is also the\nday on which he died, and the day on which he attained Nirvana. This\nanniversary day has developed into a three days' celebration, of which\nthe most noticeable feature is the extensive alms-giving that is\nthen practised in imitation of Buddha's benevolent deeds. At night,\nilluminations on a small scale take place, but there is no great state\nfunction.\n\nKHAUWASA is derived from the Sanskrit \"Varasha\", meaning\n\"rain\" or \"year.\" The Wasa season lasts from July 8th to October 4th,\nand has already been mentioned as the period of Buddhist Lent or\nconfinement. The priests only, fast and do penance, and even for them\nthere are no fixed rules, except that which forbids them to remain\noutside the temple enclosure between midnight and dawn. Several forms\nof self-mortification have been invented, such as spending the night\nin a cemetery, thinking of death; sleeping in uncomfortable postures,\nand only eating once in twenty-four hours. But if the penitent gets\ntired of doing penance, he may give it up. He will still retain all\nthe merit he has made by what he has already done, though of course\nthe quantity to his credit is less than it would have been had he\npersevered to the end.\n\nThe general ceremonies for the people begin at the end of the period\nof confinement. The food given to the priests at this time is a\nfirst-class investment, as it purchases one hundredfold its value in\nheavenly entertainments in the very next existence. Everyone therefore\nis very anxious to secure a hungry priest for his guest.\n\nKAW PRASAI. The ground surrounding the different monasteries\nis always covered with sand, so that in wet weather the feet of the\npriests may not get covered with mud as they walk from their cells\nto the temple. Once each year fresh sand is brought and built up\ninto little hills in the temple grounds; hence the above name, \"Kaw\"\nmeaning \"to build,\" \"pra\" meaning \"holy\" and \"sai\" \"sand.\" The\nbuilding of these holy sand-hills is a substitute, amongst the poorer\nclasses, for the more laborious and expensive way of making merit,\ninvolved in the erection of a prachadee. The sand is moulded as nearly\nas possible in the form of the spiral relic mounds, and is ornamented\nwith small flags. The sand is bought from the monastery, which thus\nobtains money for building purposes, or for the purchase of more sand\nfor the courtyard. Small coins are placed in the holy hillocks, and\nthese become the property of those who find them when the hillocks are\ndemolished.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nRELIGIOUS CEREMONIES (_continued_).\n\n\nLOY KRATHONG. The Loy Krathong festivals were established by\nKing Pra Luang, the founder of the Thot Katin ceremonies, and they\noriginally occurred in connection with them; but they have gradually\nbecome separated from them, and have now an independent existence\nof their own. Whereas the Katin ceremonies owe their origin to a\nsuperstition propagated by worshippers of the Buddhist faith, the Loy\nKrathong festivities are an outgrowth of Brahminical worship. The old\n\"wat\" visitations, with the presentation of robes to the priests,\noriginated, as we have seen, in a peculiar belief as to the actions\nof an ascetic priesthood, and were afterwards definitely established\nas annual occurrences by the king. Their connection with the ceremony\nabout to be described, was due to accidental circumstances that\ndid not arise for several years after the initiation of the older\nfestival. The later ceremonies which were connected primarily with\nthe Katin, and which have now become a separate function, originated,\naccording to the late king's account, in the following manner.\n\nIn the reign of Somdet Pra Luang there lived a famous Brahmin who\nwas noted in the capital, and in all the surrounding country, for his\ngreat wisdom. There was no branch of knowledge whose depths he had not\nfathomed. He could read the stars, cast horoscopes, foretell eclipses,\nand fulfil the duties of a weather prophet. He was well versed in\nthe mysteries of the theory and practice of medicine, and knew the\nnames, habitats, and virtuous properties of all plants that grew. As\na theologian he could explain the origin of all things, and discourse\nupon the subtle doctrines of all the religions then known. He was\nan authority upon law, could tell what had been the customs of many\npeople, and devise plans for firm and wise government. As a scholar\nof ancient practices he was unrivalled, and knew all the details of\nthe growth and development of all religious and social usages. Such a\nman found great favour in the eyes of the sovereign, who made use of\nthe Brahmin's great wisdom in the management of his subjects. He gave\nhim many honours and appointed him to fill many important positions.\nAmongst many offices that he held, two were given him on account of\nhis unrivalled knowledge, namely, those of chief physician, and chief\njudge.\n\nThis encyclop\u00e6dic philosopher had a young and graceful daughter whom\nhe called Nobamas. And as became the child of so wise a father, she\nalso was well skilled in many arts and sciences. Her beauty was the\nsubject of every song, and her name was in everyone's mouth. The whole\nnation were enthusiastic in their praise of her, and so great were\nher charms and abilities that even her own sex regarded her not with\nenvy, but were proud that one of their number should be distinguished.\nShe was almost as learned as her father and was wont to discourse\nupon all subjects with great intelligence. She was a clever poetess,\na skilful musician, and an artist of great power. And when the poets\nof the country had exhausted all their vocabulary in describing her\nbeauty and her talents, they began to sing of the honours she ought to\nreceive, and greatest of all these was the honour of becoming the wife\nof the king. One day the king listened to a group of musicians who\nwere merrily singing, and the subject of their song was the wondrous\nNobamas, fit only for the wife of the sovereign. The song scorned the\nidea of her wedding any one of less degree, and eulogised her to such\nan extent that the listening monarch's curiosity became very great. He\nreturned to his palace, and sought for the ladies of his household. He\ntold them all he had heard, and enquired if any of them knew anything\nof this peerless creature. To the king's eager enquiries they returned\nanswer that the song was true, but that no words could adequately\ndescribe the charms of the Brahmin maiden. The king could no longer\nrestrain his desire to possess so fair a creature, and he sent the\nmost elderly ladies of his retinue, according to the custom of the\ncountry, to ask her father for her hand.\n\nThe ladies went, and their mission was entirely successful. The old\ncounsellor who had received so many favours from his sovereign was\nglad to have an opportunity of showing his gratitude in this way, so\nhe willingly presented his renowned daughter to his royal master.\nHe sent her to the king, who ever afterwards treated her with great\ntenderness and affection, and soon made her chief of the ladies in the\npalace. They both of them enjoyed the greatest happiness when in each\nother's company, and whenever Nobamas was not engaged in fulfilling\nher duties in her department of the palace, she held converse with the\nking, delighting him with her great wisdom and knowledge, and charming\nhim with her compositions in music and poetry.\n\nSoon after their marriage there occurred a celebration of the Katin\nceremonies, and the king desired the fair Nobamas to accompany him on\nhis water procession. Now, although this beautiful wife had married\na Buddhist king, she still remained true to her Brahmin faith, and\nworshipped her own idols and spirits according to the precepts her\nfather had taught her in her early childhood. It was a Brahminical\ncustom that, at the end of the year, all people should prepare\nsuitable offerings to present to the genii of the river, in order\nto obtain pardon and the absolution of their sins. Towards the end\nof the year, when the people were getting ready to celebrate the\nKatin, Nobamas secretly prepared to perform her own religious rites,\nand for this purpose she made a small boat-like structure, called\na \"Krathong.\" This she formed out of plantain leaves, and loaded\nit with paddy husks to make it float in stable equilibrium. She\nstitched strips of plantain leaves together, and pinned them round\nthe edge of the little boat by way of ornament. Over the ballast she\nspread smooth clean plantain leaves, and on this green leafy deck\nshe placed a little cargo of betel-nut, sirih leaf, parched rice,\nand sweet-scented flowers. She took several fresh fruits of a fleshy\ncharacter, such as the papaya and the pumpkin, and deftly carved them\ninto representations of fruits, flowers, and animals, and piled them\nup in a conical arrangement in the centre. The artificial flowers\nshe stained with the juices of other plants to make them resemble\nreal blossoms. Here and there she fastened one of her own sketches or\npaintings, and finally finished the work by adorning it with storied\numbrellas of paper, tiny flags, toy implements, tapers, and scented\nincense sticks.\n\nOn the first evening of the Katin ceremony the boats were arranged\nin front of the palace landing, as usual, and the state barge with\nthe glass throne was moored there, pending the arrival of the king.\nSuddenly everyone's attention was attracted by a strange-looking\nobject that was being floated to the royal landing. It was the\nKrathong that Nobamas had made. She intended to light the tapers and\nthe incense sticks, and send the float adrift to bear her message to\nthe spirits, at the same time that the royal party should set out\nto visit the temples. But as soon as the Krathong was come to the\nlanding, all the ladies, and the members of the royal family, who\nwere assembled there to wait for the coming of the king, crowded\nround it, and begged to be allowed to examine it, so Nobamas had to\nexplain the design and the meaning of this, her handiwork. So great\nwas the interest exhibited by everyone in the pretty toy, that no\none noticed the arrival of the king, and he seeing the crowd so noisy\nand so attracted, enquired what was the cause of their merriment and\namusement. Someone told him that everyone was busily admiring a float\nthat his beautiful consort had made. He then ordered the object to be\nbrought to him that he might also see and hear about it. When he saw\nit he could not find sufficient words to express his admiration of the\nskill that had designed and constructed it. He requested to be allowed\nto keep it, and Nobamas knelt before him and presented him with the\ndecorated krathong. He again praised the work, but more still did\nhe praise her who had made it. But when he had examined it a little\nlonger, he discovered its purpose, and said, \"This is the offering\nof a lady of the Brahmin faith.\" And Nobamas answered him, saying,\n\"That is so, for I am a Brahmin, and hitherto Your Majesty has not\ninterfered with my religious belief, so at this season of the year, I\nhave made this little krathong with the intention of floating it down\nthe river as an offering to the spirits of the water, as is right and\nproper for a maiden of the Brahmin faith to do.\"\n\nPra Luang was a good Buddhist and a devout believer in the teachings\nof his own religion. Still, the krathong looked very pretty, and he\nhad a great desire to light the incense sticks and the tapers and\nsend it adrift as Nobamas had intended. But he was afraid of the\nopinions of the people. For if he should make this offering to the\nspirits and not to Buddha, he was afraid the people might upbraid\nhim and accuse him of having abandoned his religion for that of his\nwife. But he could not resist the temptation to see what the krathong\nwould look like when it was illuminated, so, not without some little\nmisgiving, he lit the lights upon the leafy boat. And still he was not\nsatisfied, for he wanted to see it drifting away into the darkness,\nwith the tapers reflecting their glittering light in the flowing\nwaters. Therefore he cast about in his mind for some excuse to explain\nhis actions, and presently he spoke in a loud voice that all around\nhim, whether upon the landing-stage, the banks of the river, or in the\nboats before him, might hear, and said, \"To all the property, such\nas temples, pagodas, and spires that are dedicated to Buddha on the\nbanks of this river; to all his sacred relics, such as his bones and\nhair, wherever they may be in the subterranean regions concealed from\nthe eye, under the river, or in places which Buddha has pressed with\nhis feet, when moving in his might or in his natural state; to his\nfootprints in this river, or in the ocean which receives the stream of\nthis river,--to them I offer this krathong and its contents as worthy\nof the great Buddha. To him and to the relics and to his property I\nreverently dedicate this krathong. And whatever merit I may obtain by\nthis deed, that merit I do not appropriate for myself, but give to the\ngenii, in whose honour the krathong was first made by Nobamas, for I\ntoo reverence the spirits she intended to honour.\" Having finished\nthis speech in defence of his actions, and having satisfied his own\nconscience, he placed the brilliantly illuminated little float in the\nwater, for the stream to carry away to the sea.\n\nBut all these proceedings, though very complimentary to Nobamas\nherself, did not in any way realise her idea as to what was due to the\nwater-spirits from one who was a Brahmin. As she had now no offering,\nshe at once set to work to make one. She hastily gathered fresh leaves\nand bound them together into a square, shallow box. She cut bits of\nbanana stem to fasten to it, and in the middle she quickly stuck a\nfew tapers and joss sticks, borrowed from the people round about her.\nInto the boat she cast anything she could find, lit the tapers, made\nher vows and resolves mentally, and cast the toy adrift to follow the\none the king had already launched. The monarch saw it, and knew who\nhad made it so quickly, for there was but one woman in the land who\nhad the knowledge and the skill to construct a new krathong so easily.\nHe was loud in his praise, and the people stirred by the example thus\nset them, took everything that they could find that would float, stuck\nlighted tapers and incense sticks in them, and put them in the water,\ntill presently the river was all ablaze with twinkling lights, and the\nair was full of the joyful sound of merry laughter.\n\nThe king was highly delighted with the sight, and ordered that it\nshould occur annually in honour of the wise and beautiful Nobamas. And\nhe entreated the genii of the river to take possession of the hearts\nand minds of all his subjects at this season of the year, for ever\nand ever, and compel them to hold a great festival, which he named\n\"Khan Loi Phra Prathip Krathong.\" \"Krathong,\" as previously explained,\nmeans \"a little basket-like boat containing small flowers and other\nofferings suitable for the water-spirits;\" \"loi\" means \"to send\nadrift\" or \"to float,\" and \"prathip\" is derived from the Pali word\n\"padipo\", meaning \"a lamp\" or \"taper.\" There are those in the country\nwho say that all the descendants of those who witnessed the first\nceremony, are slaves of Pra Luang, and that at the proper season their\nminds are forced to obey his wishes, and send adrift the taper-bearing\nfloats.\n\nFor seven hundred years the ceremony has existed, but its details\nhave changed with each succeeding generation. A few years after its\ninitiation, the king ceased his visitation to all temples that were\nnot near at hand, and all the fireworks that used to be let off on his\narrival were brought together to make a gorgeous display at the palace\nlanding. The king sat on a throne to watch the general amusement, and\nthen sent adrift one or more krathongs.\n\nSince the foundation of Bangkok the ceremonies of Thot Katin and Loy\nKrathong have branched off from each other. The late king introduced\nseveral changes; for, whereas previously, all the floats were provided\nby his own officials at their private expense, those sent off by the\nking himself were made at his expense, and greatly reduced in number.\nThe common people, of course, please themselves as to the number and\nvalue of the krathongs they send adrift.\n\nAt present the festival occurs twice each year; first on the third,\nfourth, and fifth day of October, and again on the first, second and\nthird of November. The people have various theories as to why they\nmake offerings to the spirits of the water by means of illuminated\nkrathongs and floating fireworks, though they all agree that it is a\ngood way of making merit. About midnight or early morning the king\ncomes down to the royal landing in front of the palace, and pushes\noff a big krathong, whose tapers he has lit with his own hand. The\nroyal children and princes follow suit. As they float away into the\ndarkness, they give the signal to the thousands of people who are\nwaiting to do the same thing. Night is soon turned into day. Fireworks\nare thrown into the water, the bright little lights sail over the\ndancing waves, and the river is soon dotted all over as far as the\neye can reach, with lights of many colours, that twinkle, fizz, or\nsplutter for a long, long time. The krathongs take many shapes,\nand illuminated palaces, ships, rafts, lotuses, and boats ride on\nthe river, carrying their little offerings of food and tobacco as\na gracious gift to the \"mother of the waters\", amidst the blare of\ntrumpets and the shouts of many voices. Away by the sea shore, the\ncrested billows bear the same offerings out to sea, to be soon lost\nand drowned in the deep dark ocean.\n\nECLIPSES. Whenever an eclipse occurs, the natives turn out\nof their houses and indulge in a very noisy demonstration. Though\ntheir actions on these occasions cannot be described as strictly\nof a religious character, yet as most of the so-called religious\nceremonies have been developed from superstitions, the superstition\nthat forms the basis of the popular theory of eclipses may here be\nfitly given. The native astrologers are able to calculate the time of\nthese astronomical phenomena, with considerable accuracy; but as they\ndo not understand the use of logarithms, their methods are tedious\nand lengthy. When an eclipse occurs, the people beat drums and gongs,\nshout their loudest, let off fire-arms, and in fact make any and every\nnoise they can think of. Some people say that a demon is eating up\nthe moon, or the sun, as the case may be, and that only in this way\ncan they frighten the monster away, and so prevent the loss of these\nbrilliant luminaries. But there is another story quite as fantastic,\nwhich also attempts to account for a lunar eclipse.\n\nIn times long ago, so long ago that no man knows any one who can\nremember them, it was the custom of the Sun to descend to earth and\nhold daily conversation with his younger brothers, the Emperor of\nChina and the King of Siam. These two potentates held long and weighty\nconsultations with the renowned and brilliant king Sol, taking his\nadvice on all matters of importance, discussing with him all the\ndetails of state management and intrigue, and seeking his aid when\nforeign powers attacked their thrones. The stars and planets formed\nthe retinue of the solar monarch, and were employed as ambassadors\nboth in times or war and of peace.\n\nAt that time the King of Siam dwelt at Ayuthia, then the capital of\nall the kingdom. Owing to the constant visits of the sun, life was\nlonger and less liable to disease. Such was the vitality imparted by\nthe warmth and cheerfulness of his rays, that no man began to talk of\ngrowing old until he had lived for about two thousand years.\n\nThe King having reigned peacefully and with great success for over\ntwo hundred years, decided to abdicate in favour of his son, who was\na mere youth of not more than one hundred and sixty or seventy years\nof age. Now after this young boy had ascended the throne, old King\nSol made up his mind to do his best to assist the youthful sovereign\nin the difficult art of right government. To this end he kept his\nwatchful eye ever fixed upon the young king and his doings. He never\nslept, or took a holiday, but hour by hour, and day by day, poured\nforth his shining light in loving guardianship of his royal nephew.\nThe services of the stars were no longer required. When they found\nthemselves of no importance in the administration of government, they\nbecame suspicious and angry. They met together and formed a league,\nvowed to revolt against their liege lord, and to proclaim a republic\nat the earliest opportunity. Like all true conspirators they hid\ntheir deep designs, and while pretending sleep, they only blinked and\nsnoozed, ever on the alert for anything which they might use for the\ndisadvantage of their powerful monarch. As they lay in wait, they said\none to another, \"Why does our king never go to sleep now? Aforetime he\ntook his nightly rest as all respectable monarchs should. Why these\nsleepless hours?\"\n\nIt happened that the old King, who had abdicated the throne, had a\ndaughter of the most lovable disposition, who was also exceedingly\nfair to look upon. She was called Rosy Morn. Whenever she came to her\nfather, he lost any lingering desires for regal pomp and splendour,\nfor her presence was refreshing to him above all things on earth. No\none except his own family had ever looked upon her. Beautiful and\ngood, chaste and simple, she was beloved by all her relatives, with a\nlove that was half worship.\n\nHer days were spent in rural pursuits of charming simplicity. She\ngathered flowers and made wreaths of them to deck her own fair head;\nshe talked to the birds who never hid their gorgeous plumage when she\napproached them; and she listened to the voices of the spirits that\nfrolic in the rain-drops and the dew, as they chattered and laughed\nin every floral cup. One day, having sung her father to rest, she\nwandered forth to stroll in the still green woods around her home.\n\nIn these woods there was a cavern, whose entrance, hidden by a mass\nof tropical foliage, had never been discovered by any one except Rosy\nMorn, who, keen lover of nature as she was, knew every secret nook and\ncorner of the whole forest. Through this secluded cavern there ran\na brook, clear as crystal and pure beyond description. Whenever the\nmaiden was tired of wandering through the woods, she made her way to\nthis safe retreat and bathed her tiny feet in the clear cool water.\nThus happiness and peace attended her day by day, and her mind, pure\nand tender, knew no other excitements except those of simple wonder\nand delight.\n\nBut one day a butterfly of unusually brilliant appearance flittered\nacross her path. It was larger than any she had ever seen before,\nand the colours of its wings were of the most resplendent tints. She\nchased this wonderful little creature, and tried to catch it, but\nwithout success. It flew from palm to palm, and from fern to fern, now\nhiding itself behind some radiant blossom, now poising itself high\nout of reach upon some feathery branch. Suddenly a light appeared, in\nwhose brilliancy the hues of the butterfly were lost, and the eyes\nof the maiden dazzled so that she could not see. It was the chariot\nof old Sol coming over a neighbouring hill. She turned and fled, and\nretiring to the cave, quite unconscious that she had been observed by\nanyone, she sought to cool her heated body and refresh her weary limbs\nby bathing in the sparkling waters that ran through her retreat.\n\nBut old Sol had seen her, and being struck by her wondrous beauty,\nthe like of which in all his rambles he had never beheld before, he\ndrove after her with furious speed, and discovered the place where\nshe had concealed herself. He entered into the cavern, but as she was\nlying down asleep after her bath, he did not disturb her, but sat\ndown quietly by her side, and waited patiently for her to open her\neyes. When she awoke, she was startled by his dazzling presence. He\ncalmed her fears, revealed to her all his majesty and power, and then\ncast himself before her in the humble suppliant attitude of a devout\nlover. The maiden, unable to resist either the glory of his station,\nor the sincerity of his submission to herself, accepted him as her\nlover, with great shyness and trembling. They plighted their troth,\nand wandered arm in arm about the cavern. They agreed to keep their\nengagement secret, and to meet regularly at noon every day in that\nplace, until such time as it should be convenient to disclose their\nintention to their friends. For about two thousand years they kept\ntheir betrothal a secret, but at last, through some mischance, the\nstars, eager for revolt, got an inkling of their monarch's misconduct.\nThey set a watch, and one day when he was paying his accustomed day\nvisit to his sweetheart, they seized his chariot, and driving with\nfurious speed, they rushed home to spread the news. Elated with their\ndiscovery they proclaimed aloud all they knew of Sol's behaviour, and\ndeclared a republic.\n\nWhen the glorious monarch had said farewell to Rosy Morn for that day,\nhe found that his carriage had been stolen, and that his conduct was\nknown. He wept bitterly, shedding tears of pure gold. The mountains,\non whose majestic forms he had so often cast his cheery, warming\nrays, now took pity on the distressed king, and opened a passage in\nthe earth by means of which he could return to his home in safety.\nEvery day he came to visit his sweetheart, driving in a new chariot\nthrough the mountain caverns. Ever as he drove along he cried aloud\nin sorrow for his misfortunes, and ever as he wept his tears fell down\nto earth in streams of purest gold. These precious tears hidden away\nin the ground are now the gold mines of Siam. It took him twelve hours\nto get home. Then he turned, and rode back during the night, taking\nanother twelve hours' journey just to get a momentary glimpse at the\nfaithful maiden. All this time Rosy Morn wandered about in caverns\nand mountains also. Her heart was heavy with her grief, and she wept\nbitterly. Her tears fell wherever she walked, in streams of purest\nsilver, giving rise to the silver mines of the country.\n\nAfter a long time the revolted stars made a compact with their lawful\nking. For two weeks each month the maiden was to live with King Sol in\nsome distant home, but during the other half of the month the stars\nwere to be permitted to gaze upon her lovely face and call her moon.\nOne other stipulation was made--namely, that Sol should never kiss\nRosy Morn whenever there was any one looking on. But this latter part\nof the agreement he occasionally breaks, for during the eclipse of the\nmoon he is seen by many thousands of people, impudently kissing her\nsilver face before the public gaze. Then the dwellers upon earth make\na great noise to remind him of his promise, and to let him know how\nvery shocked they are.\n\nThough this story exists in the native legends, it is not generally\naccepted as giving the true theory of the eclipse; the idea of sun- or\nmoon-eating demons being far more popular. But this latter story also\ngives an account of the origin of the gold and silver mines of Siam.\nThe cave in which Rosy Morn and Old Sol held their daily meetings, is\nsaid to be near Ayuthia. Until a few years ago, pilgrimages were made\nto this cave, and into a bottomless pit, every one according to his\nrank, cast in gold and silver as a memorial of the day when silver and\nprecious metals were first discovered in the kingdom of Siam.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nTHE PILGRIMAGE TO PRABAT.\n\n\nAbout one hundred miles to the north-north-east of the city of\nBangkok there stands an isolated hill, whose sides are greatly scored\nwith \"rays\" that plainly indicate its volcanic origin. As all the\nsurrounding land is but a wide stretch of low level plain, flooded in\nthe rainy season, the jagged peak is a conspicuous object for many\nmiles away from its base. The hill is known as Mount Prabat. The name\n\"Pra-bat\" is a compound of two words, meaning \"the holy foot,\" and\nis given to the hill because popular superstition asserts that in a\nhollow in its rocky sides there is a footprint of the holy Buddha.\n\nThousands of people every year make their way to the spot to worship\nthis memento of their Master's presence on this earth. From Bangkok\nthe pilgrims ascend the Menam Chow Phya in boats, until they reach\nthe old ruined capital of Ayuthia, from which point, the rest of the\njourney, some fourteen or fifteen miles, is made by land. Some people\ntrudge the whole way on foot; some ride in the picturesque buffalo\ncarts, or in the cumbersome bullock waggons; while others travel by\nmeans of elephants. The howdah of the elephant is no gorgeously\ncaparisoned seat, like those so often seen in Indian pictures, but\nis merely a plain wooden saddle, covered over with a light canopy\nof basket-work which shields the head from the heat of the sun, and\nthe thorns of the long spiny creepers that hang from the branches\noverhead. The Siamese elephant does not kneel in order to allow the\npassenger to mount, but he lifts one of his front legs, and bends it\nat the knee so as to form a kind of step. A sharp iron spike, stuck\nin the end of a long rod or pole, is the weapon used by the mahout or\nelephant driver to guide the beast and to urge it to greater speed. It\nfunctions both as whip and reins.\n\nThe road, in the height of the pilgrim season, is thronged throughout\nits whole length with crowds of people going and returning, and\nthere are plenty of enterprising Chinese and Siamese at convenient\nintervals along the track, anxious to make a little honest profit by\nsupplying the devotees with food. Rice is the chief article offered\nfor sale, and is cooked in bamboo shoots, which here take the place\nof the ordinary iron pot. Sugar obtained from the palm tree, and wild\nhoney in the comb, from the trees in the neighbouring forest, are also\nlargely disposed of as palatable forms of light refreshment.\n\nOn the hill, and round about it, there are many temple-like buildings\nand houses for the attendant priests. Salas, rooms for preaching,\nhalls filled with hundreds of idols, and huts made of bamboo for the\nuse of the pilgrims abound at the base of the hill, and testify to\nthe large number of worshippers who annually frequent the place. On\ntrees and temples, on shrines and shanties, are hung innumerable\nbells, which when light are swung by every breeze, and when heavy\nare banged by the worshippers. A native band performs hour by hour,\nand endeavours, unsuccessfully, to drown the clear sweet melody of\nthe bells in its harsh discord of gongs and drums. The mountain is\ndotted all over with the usual white spire-crowned pagodas, and, over\nthe footprint, a particularly beautiful shrine has been erected. Its\nroof is built in seven stories which overlap each other, and upon\nthe summit rests a very tall prachadee with a snow-white spire and\na richly gilded base, which indicates with dazzling brilliancy, the\nwhole day through, the exact locality of the sacred spot. The whole\nstructure is placed on a small projecting platform in the rock, and\nthe ascent is made by a series of about fifty or sixty steps cut in\nthe solid rock. Up these steps all truly devout Buddhists crawl on\ntheir hands and knees, and as the result of the visits to the shrine\nof thousands of worshippers who year by year have come to bow before\nthe footprint of their ancient teacher, the steps are distinctly worn\nand polished.\n\nThe external walls of the building are covered with brightly coloured\nmosaics; the outer surfaces of the heavy doors and windows are\nbeautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl, and the whole of the interior\nis decorated with a series of perspectiveless frescoes, illustrating\nvarious scenes from the life of Buddha. The platform of rock is\nabout thirty feet square; and inside the building the floor is laid\nwith plates of solid silver covered over with a carpet of pure silver\nnet-work, which is polished intensely bright by the knees of the\ndevotees. Two copies of the sacred footprint are hung on the walls.\nBoth are made of pure gold, and one of them has all the mystic symbols\ninlaid with precious stones. The footprint itself is about four feet\nlong and one foot and a half broad, and both in size and shape bears\nno resemblance whatever to the footprint of anything either human\nor divine. It is in a dark hole, and cannot be distinctly seen. The\ngolden copies on the wall are apparently purely imaginative. Railings\nof solid bars of silver enclose the depression in the rock, and render\nminute examination perfectly impossible. A gilt canopy with flowing\ncurtains of cloth of gold is suspended from the roof immediately above\nthe object of the people's veneration.\n\nThe numerous worshippers enter on their knees. They carry wax candles\nin their hands, and crawl up to the depression, prostrate themselves\ndevoutly at its edge, fasten a bit of gold-leaf on the sides of the\nhole, sprinkle holy water on their heads, and then crawl out again on\nhands and knees. Offerings of bottles, looking-glasses, wax and paper\nflowers, and other tawdry objects are heaped in piles on the floor.\nThe more valuable gifts are carefully preserved elsewhere. Those who\ncannot afford to give anything at all, satisfy their consciences by\ncarefully fanning the footprint itself.\n\n[Illustration: PRABAT HILLS FROM NEAR AYUTHIA.\n\n_Page 375._]\n\nThe Siamese are not the only people in the world who have been known\nto reverence a supposed footprint, nor is Prabat the only place\nwhere the impress of the feet of the holy of old is pointed out.\nThe footprint superstition is world-wide. There is the well-known\nfootprint on Adam's Peak in Ceylon, which is claimed by the Buddhists\nas marking the place where Buddha once stood. It is worshipped by the\nBrahmins as being that of Siva, while the Mahomedans assert that it\nwas made by Adam, and Christians have been known who have stated that\nthey believe it to be the footprint of St. Thomas. On the Kodam Rasul\nHill near Hyderabad, the Mahomedans have found a footprint of Mahomed.\nAt Thanet, St. Augustine left the marks of his feet upon a rock upon\nwhich he pressed heavily when he landed upon our heathen shores. In a\ncircular chapel over a foot-like depression in the rocky sides of the\nMount of Olives, the footprint of Christ is pointed out to travellers.\nOn the other side of the world the inhabitants of the island of Samoa\nexhibit a similar memorial of Tiitii; while the ancient Mexicans\nclaimed to possess an equally authentic relic of Tezcatlipoa.\n\nIn a \"Life of Buddha\", written in Sanskrit, it is said that when\nGautama was born he bore in his person a number of signs or personal\npeculiarities that at once foretold that his ultimate destiny was\nthat of a powerful emperor or of a widely renowned and worshipped\nteacher. There are thirty-two chief and eighty minor signs given, and\nthey mostly refer to personal characteristics considered handsome or\nbeautiful in men or women according to the Oriental idea of beauty.\nSome of them do not appear to the mind of the European to be at all\nconducive to an impressive or handsome presence. For instance, the\nwonderful being who is born with the thirty-two major distinguishing\nmarks of future greatness or holiness, has amongst other things, a\nskin of the colour of gold, arms so long that they reach far below the\nknees when he stands upright, and a thin butterfly kind of tongue long\nenough to reach round and enter his ears when fully produced. Upon his\nfingers and toes there should be a network of lines described with\nmathematical regularity.\n\nThe worship of the footprint in the Far East extends back for many\nyears, and in many of the oldest sculptures that have been brought\nfrom India, there are to be seen distinct representations of the sole\nof a foot with the mark of a wheel in the centre. At first, all other\nmarks, except this universal one of the wheel, varied considerably\nin character, and were few in number. But the imaginations of the\nEastern worshippers gradually added further ornamentations until the\nsole of the foot was covered entirely by a collection of symbols. The\nelaboration of these signs reached its greatest height in Siam and\nBurmah.\n\nThere is nothing in the earliest scriptures to warrant the present\nwidely-spread superstition, and, in fact, it is not until many years\nafter Buddha's death that any mention of such a belief is to be found\nin the Sanskrit writings.\n\nThe Prabat relic in Siam was discovered in 1602 A.D., by a hunter\nnamed Boon. It is very probable that he had at some time or other\nbeen a pilgrim to Ceylon, for such pilgrimages to Adam's peak were\nnot uncommon in those days. One day when hunting in the forest he\nnoticed a depression in the rock, which he thought resembled the relic\nin Ceylon. He proclaimed his discovery to many people, and the king,\nhearing the report, sent a body of learned monks to the place to\nexamine the footprint and report upon its authenticity. They examined\nand compared it with the copies they possessed of the one in Ceylon,\nand returned to the king, declaring that it was perfectly genuine.\nThereupon, the sovereign, being only too willing to accept the\nconclusions of the monks, made no further enquiry as to the character\nof the discovery, but built a shrine over it, and ordered his people\nto worship it annually. This they gladly did, for their national pride\nwas intensely gratified by the belief that they had in their country\nso unmistakable a proof that the holy Buddha had once resided amongst\nthem.\n\nIn all the well-known Buddhist footprints the figure of a wheel\nor disc occupies the centre. It probably first represented speed,\nand was therefore symbolical of fleetness of foot, an attribute\nof greatness in early days. In later times it lost the form of an\nordinary chariot wheel, and became the Chakkra or quoit of Vishnu and\nIndra. Its form is well seen in the watermark on Siamese stamps, and\non the old Siamese coins. In the hands of Vishnu and Indra it was a\npowerful weapon of destruction, as it always annihilated all those\nenemies against whom, in their wrath, they hurled it. In the Buddhist\nmythology it has lost its material character, and taken on a new\nsignificance, as representing the pure moral teachings of Gautama,\nwhich when cast by holy men against the ignorance and sin of the world\nwill effectually destroy them.\n\nThe other marks on the footprints in Siam and Burmah are later designs\nadded by credulous and imaginative worshippers. They are grouped\nsymmetrically round the central Chakkra, and represent various\nattributes of royal power, and holiness, or else are symbolical of\ndifferent natural and supernatural ideas. The principal of them are\nmentioned below. There are the sixteen heavens of the formed Brahmas,\nand the six heavens inhabited by the inferior angels or Devas. Another\nsign represents Mount Meru, the centre of each system of the universe.\nThere are also depicted on the sole of the foot, the seven mountains\nwhich form a ring round Mount Meru, and the seven belts of deep dark\nocean that lie in the valleys between them, and in whose waters\nmonstrous fishes and water-elephants gambol and amuse themselves.\nThen there is another ocean, the eighth, in which float four worlds\ninhabited by human beings. In the first of these worlds, the men have\nfaces such as are familiar to the dwellers upon our own particular\nplanet. In the second, the faces of the inhabitants are square in\nshape, while those of the third have a round moon-like visage, and\nthose of the fourth have countenances bounded by semi-circles. Another\ncompartment of the footprint holds Mount Chakrawan, the great\nmountain of crystal which encircles the world and forms a wall around\nit. The heavens are represented by a group of stars. The Himalaya\nMountains, that appear so often in Hindoo legends, are not forgotten,\nnor are their seven lakes in which bloom lotuses of many different\ncolours, ever omitted. Five rivers flow from the Himalaya Mountains,\nand on their banks are the great forests inhabited by fabulous beasts\nand birds. The Naga king, the seven-headed cobra who shielded Buddha,\nwith his seven hoods, during a time of danger, finds a place in\nanother compartment. But amidst all these curious and mystic symbols\nthere is no animal of evil disposition, for upon the foot of the\nholy man there was nothing of bad omen. Figures representing royal\nauthority occur in the form of a palace, a flag, a throne, a royal\nsword, a white seven-storied state umbrella, a spiral crown, and a\ngolden ship.\n\nIt is rather surprising that the late king, who was very hostile to\nmany popular superstitions, encouraged the worship at the shrine on\nthe hill at Prabat. Perhaps he half believed in it himself, or perhaps\nhe thought it good for his people to be reminded as often and as\nforcibly as possible of the life of the founder of the national faith.\nThe reader need scarcely be told that not only is the whole footprint\npurely fabulous, but that also there is nothing in the authentic\nhistory of ancient times to warrant the notion that Buddha ever set\nfoot in Siam at all.\n\nThe two following stories referring to Buddha's feet are given by\nAlabaster, as being translated from the Burmese \"Life of Buddha\" by\nBishop Bigandet.\n\n \"During all the time that elapsed after the rain, Buddha\n travelled through the country, engaged in his usual\n benevolent errand, and converting many amongst men and\n angels. In the country of Gaurint, in a village of Pounhas,\n called Magoulia, the head man, one of the richest in the\n place, had a daughter whose beauty equalled that of a\n daughter of the angels. She had been in vain asked in\n marriage by princes, nobles, and Pounhas. The proud damsel\n had rejected every offer. On the day that her father saw\n Gautama he was struck with his manly beauty and deportment.\n He said within himself, 'This man shall be a proper match\n for my daughter.' On his return home he communicated his\n views to his wife. On the following day, the daughter\n having put on her choicest dress and richest apparel,\n they all three went with a large retinue to the Dzetawon\n monastery. Admitted to the presence of Buddha, the father\n asked for his daughter the favour of being allowed to\n attend on him. Without returning a word or reply, or giving\n the least sign of acceptance or refusal, Buddha rose up and\n withdrew to a small distance, leaving behind him on the\n floor the print of one of his feet. The Pounha's wife, well\n skilled in the science of interpreting wonderful signs,\n saw at a glance that the marks on the print indicated a\n man no longer under the control of passions, but a sage\n emancipated from the thraldom of concupiscence.\"\n\nThe story goes on to relate how the father made a further offer of\nhis daughter to Buddha, and how the saint preached to the parents a\nsermon that stilled their longings to possess him for a son-in-law.\nThey returned home with their still unmarried daughter. She never\nforgave the man who had refused her love, and cherished for him a\nlively and life-long hatred.\n\nThe other story tells of a visit paid by the saint Kathaba to the pile\nupon which Buddha was laid for his cremation.\n\n \"Standing opposite to the feet, he made the following\n prayer, 'I wish to see the feet of Buddha whereupon are\n imprinted the marks that formerly prognosticated his future\n glorious destiny. May the cloth and cotton they are wrapt\n with be unloosened, and the coffin as well as the pile be\n laid open, and the sacred feet appear out, and extend so\n far as to lie on my head.' He had scarcely uttered this\n prayer when the whole suddenly opened, and there came out\n the beautiful feet, like the full moon emerging from the\n bosom of a dark cloud.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nTHE ELEPHANTS.\n\n\nThe Siamese Twins and the Siamese White Elephants are the two objects\nround which many an Englishman grouped all his knowledge of \"The\nKingdom of the Yellow Robe\" until the political troubles of the past\nfew years drew public attention to this hitherto little known country.\nThe elephants have given rise to a proverbial expression in England,\nwhich is a little misleading when viewed in the light of Siamese\nopinion. To give to a European a useless and troublesome present\nis known as giving him a \"white elephant,\" but to give a Buddhist\na present of a white elephant would be to give him possession of a\ncreature which, kindly treated, would cause blessings and good fortune\nto fall in showers around him in this and all future existences.\n\nThe white elephant has been held in great respect in many countries,\nand has played a great part in many legends. In Enarea, in Central\nAfrica, elephants of this colour are reverenced.\n\nWhen Shahab ud-Din, in 1194, attacked and defeated Jaya Chandra of\nBenares, he captured from his conquered foes a white elephant which\nrefused to make obeisance to its new master, and made a furious\nassault upon its driver when he attempted to coerce it into respectful\nbehaviour.\n\nIn the time of the grandfather of Mahomed, when the Christian king of\nHimyar advanced against Kenanah in Hijaz, to revenge the pollution of\na Christian church at Sennaa, he secured his victory beforehand by\ngoing to the scene of battle upon an elephant whose skin was of the\ncolour of milk.\n\nIn Siam the representation of the white elephant is everywhere\nconspicuous. The national flag is \"a white elephant on a scarlet\nground.\" The mercantile flag is \"a white elephant on a blue\nground.\" On every temple and official building in the land there\nis a representation in stone, plaster, or colour of this wonderful\ncreature. But the _body_ of a real white elephant has never yet been\nseen. The creature who bears the name is simply an elephant which is\na little lighter in colour than the ordinary elephant. For the sake\nof convenience we shall refer to it as the \"white elephant,\" though\nthere is no such name for it in the native language, and though its\ncolour is very much more like that of a dirty bath-brick. Even this\ndistant approach to whiteness is not distributed generally all over\nthe body, but is usually confined to a few solitary patches near the\nextremities. These blotches of lighter colour are not natural or\nhereditary. They are often the result of an eruptive affection. The\nirritation that accompanies the disease causes the animal to rub the\naffected part against the trunks of trees or other hard material, and\nso to destroy the epidermal surface. All so-called white elephants\nhave, however, a few really white hairs which are not to be accounted\nfor in this manner.\n\nThe white elephant has at times been worshipped with a veneration\nwhich, though we may consider it misdirected, may charitably be\nregarded as laudable in intention. It has been believed that this\nparticular animal contains the soul of some very distinguished person,\npossibly that of a Buddha, who in some future age will appear in human\nform to enlighten and bless the world by his counsel and example. This\nbeing the belief, the adoration that is offered to such an animal is\nreasonable.\n\nThe white elephants in the stables at Bangkok have chiefly been\ncaptured in the Laos territories in the north. When one of them is\ncaught, the finder is handsomely rewarded, and there is general\nrejoicing throughout the land. It is immediately handed over to the\nking, who provides for its earthly comforts ever after. It is of\npriceless value, and cannot be bought or sold.\n\nAbout twenty years ago a body of Brahmin astrologers who are\npermanently attached to the court, declared that the present reign\nwould be an especially happy one, and that several white elephants\nwould be caught. Both their forecasts have proved correct. Their\nprophetic utterances were conveyed from one end of the country to the\nother, and large rewards were offered to the men who would discover a\nwhite elephant. For a long time a most diligent search in forest and\njungle was made by the native hunters. Every place where elephants\nhad ever been seen or heard of was examined with great care and\nperseverance, but without success. One day, however, a number of men\ncaught sight of an elephant of excellent shape, but his colour gave\nno evidence that he was one of the kind they were searching for. On\nlooking closer at the mud-bespattered animal, they were attracted by\nsome peculiarity in the skin, and also by the pale Neapolitan yellow\ncolour of the iris of the eye. This latter mark being considered as\none of the chief beauties of a white elephant, they determined to\ncapture the animal. This was a matter speedily accomplished. They then\ntook the animal home and gave it a good bath, patiently scrubbing\nand scraping away until all the accumulated mud and dirt upon it was\nremoved, when to their almost infinite joy and astonishment they\nbeheld a most beautiful specimen of the white elephant family. It was\nof pale bath-brick colour, and on its back there were actually a few\nhairs that could, without any flattery, be truly called white. This\nelephant is said to be the finest example of the kind ever captured.\n\nThe excitement which prevailed in the whole land to its furthest\nboundaries, and affected the whole population from king to coolie, is\nsaid to have been unrealisable to the English mind. It was more than a\nmere national rejoicing, for in many thousands of homes it was mingled\nwith that deep superstitious veneration in which the Oriental mind\nsatisfies its longings and its imagination. Gorgeous preparations\nwere made for the elephant's reception. The king travelled up the\nriver as far as Ayuthia to meet it; Bangkok was decorated and\nilluminated; every nobleman was arrayed in his richly embroidered\ncloth of gold, and was followed by his retinue of servants. People\nfrom outlying districts poured into the city to swell the enormous\ncrowd of spectators; every available ornament for personal use was\ndisplayed; the brightest colours were donned; flags and bunting were\nhoisted; and when the noble animal appeared, surrounded by gaily\ngilded state barges, a group of Brahmin priests descended to the\nriver's edge to receive the living cause of all this rejoicing. To it\nthey read an address, of which the following translation is a part:\n\n \"With holy reverence we now come to worship the angels who\n preside over the destiny of all elephants. Most powerful\n angels, we entreat you to assemble now, in order that you\n may prevent all evil to His Majesty the King of Siam, and\n also to this magnificent elephant, which has recently\n arrived. We appeal to you all, whom we now worship, and\n beg that you will use your power in restraining the heart\n of this animal from all anger and unhappiness. We also beg\n that you will incline this elephant to listen to the words\n of instruction and comfort, that we now deliver.\n\n \"Most Royal Elephant! We beg that you will not think too\n much of your father and mother, your relatives and friends.\n We beg that you will not regret leaving your native\n mountains and forests, because there are evil spirits\n there that are very dangerous; and wild beasts are there\n that howl, making a fearful noise; and there too is the\n big bird which hovers round and often picks up elephants\n and eats them; and there are bands of cruel hunters who\n kill elephants for their ivory. We trust that you will not\n return to the forest, for you would be in constant danger.\n And that is not all: in the forest you have no servants,\n and it is very unpleasant to sleep with the dust and filth\n adhering to your body, and where the flies and mosquitoes\n are troublesome.\n\n \"Brave and noble elephant! We entreat you to banish every\n wish to stay in the forest. Look at this delightful place,\n this heavenly city! It abounds in wealth and in everything\n your eyes could wish to see or your heart desire to\n possess. It is of your own merit that you have come to\n behold this beautiful city, to enjoy its wealth, and to\n be the favourite guest of His Most Exalted Majesty the\n King.\"[J]\n\nThen the Brahmin priests baptised the sacred beast with holy water,\nand, after its purification, bestowed upon it the highest of the\ntitles which the king can confer upon his subjects. The title was\nwritten on a piece of sugar-cane. Upon this cane there were also a\nnumber of sentences describing the virtues, qualities, and perfections\nof the new nobleman. When the baptismal ceremonies were over, the\nsugar-cane was handed to the beast, that he might eat it, a part\nof the ceremony which the elephant understood, and performed with\nnoteworthy despatch. It was then lodged in the royal stables, with a\nfew other brethren who had previously experienced the same f\u00eating and\nreverence.\n\nOld accounts tell us that the white elephants were treated, during\ntheir lives, with the greatest respect and care. Their stables were\ncomfortable, and their food consisted of such dainties as were thought\nmost likely to be appreciated by them. Their food was presented to\nthem upon silver salvers, by servants who knelt as they offered the\ndish. Their eyes were reverently wiped; they received cool sponge\nbaths at frequent intervals; and it might fairly be supposed that they\nled about as lazy and luxurious a life as any creature could desire.\nIf they were ill the wisest of the court physicians were sent to them,\nand their ailments received as much weighty consideration as those of\na king. At death they were deeply mourned for, their departure from\nthis life being attended with the usual eastern pomp and ceremony.\n\nThey do not live in this condition now. As Henry Norman says in his\nbook on \"The Far East\"--\"they are in a plight that would shame the\nbear-cage of a wandering circus; tended by slouching ruffians who\nlie about in rags and tatters, eking out a scanty livelihood by\nweaving baskets, and begging a copper from every visitor in return\nfor throwing a bunch of seedy grass or rotting bananas to the swaying\nbeasts, which raise their trunks in anticipation of the much needed\naddition to their scanty diet.\"\n\nElephant stories are prevalent in the myths which cloud and hide\nthe purer ideas of the Buddhist faith. Shortly before the birth of\nBuddha, his mother Queen Maia had a vision. The four kings of the\nworld removed her to the Himalayan Forest, and there seated her on\nan immense rock. She was bathed, robed, and adorned by a number of\nqueens, and was then led to a golden palace standing on a silver\nmountain, and requested to rest on a couch, with her face turned\nto the west. She did so, and beheld a golden mountain on which the\nfuture Buddha marched in the form of a white elephant. It descended\nthe golden mountain, and bearing a white lotus flower in its trunk,\nand trumpeting loudly as it came, made its way to the couch of the\nastonished Queen Maia.\n\nThe birth of Buddha was attended by a number of portents which\nbetokened that a most distinguished person had appeared on earth.\nEither he was a Buddha or a universal emperor--\n\n \"A Chakravartin, such as rise to rule\n Once in each thousand years.\"[K]\n\nIf he were the latter, he would possess \"seven gifts\", tokens of his\nfuture universal power. One of them was\n\n \"... a snow white elephant,\n The Hasti-Katna, born to bear his King.\"[L]\n\nBy the signs on his foot, which we have already described, he was\nknown to be a Buddha. One of these signs is an elephant, named\nChatthan. This is the three-headed elephant on which Indra rides, and\nis represented in many Siamese decorations, and in the royal coat of\narms, but in all the sculptures which represent the sole of Buddha's\nfoot, the elephant possesses only one head.\n\nThere is also in Siamese story a king of elephants, Chatthan or\nChaddanta, who lives on the shores of the lake Chatthan in the\nHimalayas. Here he resides in a golden palace, attended by eighty\nthousand ordinary elephants. The elephant Chatthan is sometimes known\nas \"the elephant of six defences,\" an allusion to his possession of\nsix tusks.\n\nWhen the great king Mara (who reigns over all the Mara angels, and\ncorresponds in the Buddhist scriptures to the Satan of the Bible) came\nto tempt the Buddha as he sat under the Bo-tree, in the time when\nhe attained the wisdom and holiness of Buddhahood, it is said that\nhe came on an elephant. He assumed an immense size, and brandishing\nnumerous weapons in his thousand arms, advanced to the tree, riding\non his elephant Girimaga, which was no less than a thousand miles in\nheight.\n\nA number of similar elephant stories could easily be compiled, for\nthey are plentifully distributed in the legends of the East. Probably\nthe great size and strength of the beast are the bases upon which the\nstories rest.\n\nHow important the elephant was in former times may be gathered from\na letter written to Sir John Bowring by the late king, when that\nnobleman visited Siam in March 1855, on a diplomatic mission. Sir\nJohn's steamer had scarcely anchored at the bar at the mouth of the\nriver, when a letter was handed to him from the sovereign, welcoming\nhim to the country in very flattering terms. The letter was signed\nwhen the king suddenly added a postscript, saying, \"I have just\nreturned from the old city Ayudia, of Siam, fifteen days ago, with the\nbeautiful she-elephant which Your Excellency will witness here on Your\nExcellency's arrival.\"\n\nEvery few years there is a great elephant \"hunt\" at Ayuthia,\nto procure elephants for government service. A large kraal of\nquadrangular shape is erected. Its walls are six feet thick, and there\nis but one entrance. Inside the walls there is a fence of thick stakes\nset a few inches apart from each other. A herd of wild elephants is\ndriven by tame ones into the enclosure, and the best of those thus\nobtained are noted. A good elephant should be of a light colour,\nhave black nails on his toes, and his tail intact. As many of the\nstronger elephants often lose their tails in fights, it is not always\npossible to obtain an animal which is both powerful and handsome. The\nchosen elephants are lassoed, and their feet bound together. The tame\nelephants render great assistance in the work, and vigorously prod\nwith their tusks any captives who become obstreperous. After a few\ndays' dieting and training the captured animals are ready to be taught\ntheir several duties.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWriters upon foreign countries generally consider it a portion of\ntheir task to make mental if not outspoken comparisons between\ntheir mother land and the land they have been discussing, and they\ngenerally make their comparisons in favour of the former. Yet it is\nnot easy for any man to hold the balance fairly, and to say in what\nway a nation is wanting; for whether the comparison be of things\nmoral or social, there arises the difficulty of fixing a standard of\nmeasurement. Morality cannot be weighed in a balance or measured with\na foot-rule. What is reprehensible in one country may be at least\nexcusable in another. Take, for instance, the effect of climate upon\nnational morality. In a cold country a man who is not born to wealth\nmust either work or starve. Hence arise the pushing, prosperous,\npractical, so-called civilised nations of the world. But in a warm\nand fertile country where the fruit grows to your hand, and the earth\nbrings forth her abundance for your maintenance, where the sun and\nthe rain perform nearly all the agricultural labour that is needed,\nit is scarcely to be wondered at that the people do not hanker\nafter work. It is therefore scarcely permissible to call them lazy\naccording to the general acceptation of the meaning of the term. They\nhave no particular liking for long and vigorous toil in the blazing\nheat of the sun, and their apparent indolence is the result of their\nenvironment. It will never be otherwise until humanity has lost its\nhuman nature.\n\nThe progress of any Oriental nation towards civilisation, such as we\nunderstand it, must of necessity be slow. Their intense conservatism\nis not easily to be abolished.\n\nTo the country of Siam these remarks are particularly applicable.\nThose who describe the habit of chewing betel-nut as disgusting,\nforget that there can be no one universal standard to judge by, and\nthat many European habits appear equally revolting to the Eastern.\nWhen speaking of the dirtiness of their dwellings it would be as well\nto remember the slums of the great European cities, and the defective\nsanitation of the majority of their dwelling-places. And when\npronouncing judgment upon the slowness with which educational reforms\nare being undertaken, it should not be forgotten that we ourselves, in\nspite of our long educational history and our modern reforms, number\nour illiterate voters by hundreds.\n\nThe climatic, racial, and social differences between the nations of\nthe East and of the West are too great to render it easily possible\nfor a member of either to sum up for or against the general moral\ncondition of the other. The present writer, while believing that the\nevolutionary laws of growth and development apply as well to nations\nas to animals and plants, is well content to leave to others the task\nof estimating the intrinsic value of Siam's present moral and social\ncondition; hoping only that his attempts to portray briefly some of\nthe manners and customs, the ideas and interests of her people, as\nhe has actually seen them in daily life and intercourse, may help to\ngive a truer notion of their condition and prospects, than would more\nlengthy criticisms founded on general observations of those merely\npolitical matters which necessarily bound the horizon of the casual\nand passing traveller.\n\n\nFINIS.\n\n\n\n\nAndr\u00e9e and his Balloon Expedition\n\nBy HENRI LACHAMBRE and ALEXIS MACHURON\n\nWith coloured Frontispiece and 40 full-page Illustrations. Cr. 8vo. 6s.\n\n This volume contains an accurate account of the making\n and equipping of Mr. Andr\u00e9e's balloon, and a detailed\n account of the first attempt made in 1896, when, owing to\n the bad weather, Andr\u00e9e and his two companions could not\n start, and a detailed and authoritative account of the\n final preparation and start for the famous flight into the\n Unknown.\n\n The volume is fully illustrated, and contains a short\n biography of Andr\u00e9e.\n\n The two authors accompanied the Expedition to Spitsbergen,\n the one author in 1896, and the other in July, 1897.\n\n This work is being published simultaneously in four\n different languages.\n\n\nA Northern Highway of the Czar\n\nBy AUBYN TREVOR-BATTYE\n\n_Author of \"Ice-bound on Kolguev.\"_\n\nIllustrated. Crown 8vo. 6s.\n\nThe dedication of this volume has been graciously accepted by His\nMajesty the Czar of Russia.\n\n\nTravels and Life in Ashantee\n\nBy R. AUSTIN FREEMAN\n\nFully Illustrated from drawings by the Author and from Photographs.\nTwo Maps. Demy 8vo. 15s.\n\n\nThrough China with a Camera\n\nBy JOHN THOMSON, F.R.G.S.\n\nWith about 100 Illustrations. Foolscap 4to. _One Guinea net._\n\nThis work contains probably the finest series of pictures of China\never published.\n\n\nIce-Bound on Kolguev\n\nA CHAPTER IN THE EXPLORATION OF ARCTIC EUROPE. TO WHICH IS ADDED A\nRECORD OF THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE ISLAND.\n\nBy AUBYN TREVOR-BATTYE, B.A., F.L.S., F.Z.S., etc.,\n\nWith numerous Illustrations by J. T. NETTLESHIP, CHARLES WHYMPER, and\nTHE AUTHOR.\n\n_Second Edition._\n\nDemy 8vo. \u00a31. 1s. net.\n\n\nThe Alps from End to End\n\nBy Sir WILLIAM MARTIN CONWAY\n\nWith 100 full-page Illustrations by A. D. M'Cormick.\n\n_Second Edition._\n\nLarge 8vo, half buckram, gilt top. 21s. net.\n\n\nARCHIBALD CONSTABLE and COMPANY, Westminster.\n\n\n\n\nFarthest North\n\nBy FRIDTJOF NANSEN\n\nTwo Vols. Large Demy 8vo. \u00a32 2s. net.\n\n\n_Dedicated by special permission to Her Majesty the Queen._\n\nBernier's Travels in the Mogul Empire\n\nAn entirely New Edition, with Illustrations, and reproductions of Maps\nfrom early editions.\n\nBy ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE\n\n_Mem. As. Soc. Bengal, F.S.A. Scot._\n\nCrown 8vo. 6s. net.\n\n\nBurma a Hundred Years Ago, as described by Father Sangermano\n\nEdited with Notes and Introduction\n\nBy the Hon. Mr. JUSTICE JARDINE\n\nWith a Map. Demy 8vo. 10s. 6d.\n\n\nColonisation of Indo-China\n\nBy J. CHAILLEY-BERT\n\nAuthorised English translation by ARTHUR BARING BRABANT.\n\nWith an Introduction, Maps, Notes, and an Index. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.\n\n\nProblems of the Far East\n\n_JAPAN--KOREA--CHINA_\n\nBy the Rt. Hon. GEORGE N. CURZON, M.P.\n\n_Author of \"Russia in Central Asia\" and \"Persia.\"_\n\nWith numerous Illustrations and Maps. Extra Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.\n\n \"A valuable addition to the literature dealing with the\n problems of the Far East.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n\nThe Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India\n\nBy WILLIAM CROOKE\n\nWith numerous full-page Plates. Two vols, demy 8vo. 21s. net.\n\n \"The book is in every respect an admirable one, full of\n insight and knowledge at first hand.\"--_The Times._\n\n\nARCHIBALD CONSTABLE and COMPANY, Westminster.\n\n\n\n\nArchibald Constable & Co.'s Quarterly List\n\n\nThe Pupils of Peter the Great\n\nA History of the Russian Court and Empire from 1697 to 1740\n\nBy R. NISBET BAIN\n\nAuthor of \"Gustavus III. and His Contemporaries,\" \"Charles XII.\" \"Hans\nChristian Andersen: A Biography\"\n\nWITH PHOTOGRAVURE FRONTISPIECE AND PORTRAITS _Demy 8vo, 318 pp. Price\n15s. net._\n\n\n_OPINIONS OF THE PRESS_:\n\n \"LIGHT ON A LYCEUM PLAY.\"\n\n \"Mr. Nisbet Bain's new volume about the makers of Russia\n could not have appeared at a time more opportune for the\n attraction of popular interest than the moment when Sir\n Henry Irving has taken it upon him to interpret for us,\n on the stage of the Lyceum, the character of Peter the\n Great. His familiarity with the history and politics of\n Northern Europe in the last century renders him peculiarly\n fitted for the task of presenting us with a picture of the\n Russian Court and Empire up to the death of the Empress\n Anne.\"--_Daily Chronicle._\n\n \"Mr. Bain has here put together from authentic sources\n an interesting and useful book. Without attempting the\n picturesque, he has written a book that attracts the\n reader; his judgment is sound, he is unprejudiced and\n tolerant, and he understands the strange world that he is\n depicting. His portraits have the great merit of fidelity,\n and he has a good knowledge of contemporary European\n politics.\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n \"An excellent piece of historical study, founded entirely\n on original research, sober, broad, and sympathetic in\n treatment, with a fine sense of historical proportion, and\n most illuminating as respects the light it throws on a dark\n and ill-known time and country.\"--_Spectator._\n\n \"A lucid and masterly sketch of the slow development\n of the modern Russian State between the year 1697 and\n 1740.\"--_Daily News._\n\n \"Mr. Nisbet Bain is, without question, the best informed\n student of Northern history who now writes for the\n British Public, and the volume before us will add to his\n reputation.\"--_Manchester Courier._\n\n\nWESTMINSTER\n\nArchibald Constable and Co.\n\n2 WHITEHALL GARDENS\n\n1898\n\n\n\n\nANNOUNCEMENTS\n\n\nThe Life of Sir Charles Tilston Bright\n\nBy EDWARD BRAILSTON BRIGHT, C.E., and CHARLES BRIGHT, C.E.,\nF.R.S.E.\n\nWith many Illustrations, Portraits, and Maps. 2 vols.\n\n_Demy 8vo, \u00a33 3s. net._ (_\u00a32 2s. net to subscribers before\npublication._)\n\n\nDebateable Claims\n\nA Series of Essays on Secondary Education\n\nBy JOHN CHARLES TARVER,\n\nAUTHOR OF \"SOME OBSERVATIONS OF A FOSTER PARENT.\" _Crown 8vo,\n6s._\n\n\nDante's Ten Heavens\n\nA Study in the Paradiso\n\nBy EDMUND GARDNER.\n\n_Demy 8vo._\n\n\nA French View of English Contemporary Art\n\nBy E. DE LA SIZERANNE. Translated by H. M. POYNTER.\n\n_Crown 8vo._\n\n\nHighland Dress and Ornament\n\nBy LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n_Demy 8vo._\n\n\nAndr\u00e9e and his Balloon\n\nBy HENRI LACHAMBRE and ALEXIS MACHURON\n\nWith coloured Frontispiece and 40 full-page plates.\n\n_Crown 8vo. 6s._\n\n This volume contains an accurate account of the making\n and equipping of Mr. Andr\u00e9e's balloon, and a detailed\n account of the first attempt made in 1896, when, owing to\n the bad weather, Andr\u00e9e and his two companions could not\n start, and a detailed and authoritative account of the\n final preparation and start for the famous flight into the\n Unknown.\n\n The volume is fully illustrated, and contains a short\n biography of Andr\u00e9e.\n\n The two authors accompanied the Expedition to Spitzbergen,\n the one author in 1896, and the other in July, 1897.\n\n The volume is of very great general interest, containing as\n it does the only authoritative account of the expedition\n up to date, and is of special value to all interested in\n ballooning, as the authors are acknowledged experts.\n\n This work is being published simultaneously in four\n different languages.\n\n\nThe Kingdom of the Yellow Robe\n\nBy ERNEST YOUNG.\n\nFully Illustrated by E. A. NORBURY, R.C.A., and from\nPhotographs.\n\n_Demy 8vo._\n\n\nConstable's \"Hand Gazetteer of India\"\n\nUniform with Constable's \"Hand Atlas of India.\"\n\n\nA BOOK OF\n\nTravels and Life in Ashantee\n\nBy R. AUSTIN FREEMAN, F.R.G.S.\n\nFully Illustrated, from drawings by the Author, and from Photographs.\n2 Maps.\n\n_Demy 8vo._\n\n\nA Northern Highway of the Czar\n\nBy AUBYN TREVOR BATTYE, Author of \"Ice-bound on Kolguev.\"\n\n_Illustrated. Crown 8vo. 6s._\n\n The dedication of this volume has been graciously accepted\n by His Majesty the Czar of Russia.\n\n\nOur Troubles in Poona and the Deccan\n\nBy ARTHUR TRAVERS CRAWFORD, C.M.G., late Commissioner of Poona.\n\n_Fully Illustrated. Demy 8vo, 14s._\n\nFew of the troubles we have had in India from time to time have\nassumed so serious an aspect as the recent disturbances in Poona;\nbut the extreme alarmist view taken by the press at home and the\npublic utterances of certain ill-informed \"globe-trotters\" have had a\nmischievous effect in confusing the mind of the British Public as to\nthe rights and wrongs of the case. The Author of this book, having a\nlarge experience of the districts affected, has written this work in\norder to make the situation clear.\n\n\nTwo Native Narratives of the Mutiny in Delhi\n\nTranslated from the Originals by the late\n\nCHARLES THEOPHILUS METCALFE, C.S.I. (Bengal Civil Service).\n\n_Demy 8vo, with large Map. Just Ready._\n\nThese two narratives are a unique and interesting contribution to the\nliterature of the Indian Mutiny--inasmuch as they are the only ones\nfrom a purely native source.\n\nOne is the diary, kept daily throughout the Siege of Delhi in 1857\nby Munshi Jeewan Lall. This man, who was an official in the employ\nof the Governor General's Agent in Delhi, was all along loyal to us,\nand remained, till his death, an honoured servant of the British\nGovernment. He gave the original diary to the translator on the\noccasion of the Imperial Assemblage at Delhi in 1877. The other\nnarrative is by an educated native nobleman--Nawab Mainodin Hassan\nKhan. He threw in his lot with the rebels, and had eventually to fly,\nwith a price on his head. After some years of exile he returned to\nIndia, stood his trial, and was acquitted of complicity in murder, and\npardoned for his share in the fighting. This result was brought about\nmainly through the influence of Sir T. Metcalfe, whose life he had\nsaved during the Siege. The Nawab subsequently drew up the narrative\nfrom materials in his possession, and gave it in the original to the\ntranslator. Mr. Metcalfe having died before the papers were ready for\npublication, they are now edited and brought out by his widow.\n\n\nConstable's Hand Atlas of India\n\nA NEW SERIES OF SIXTY MAPS AND PLANS PREPARED FROM ORDNANCE AND OTHER\nSURVEYS UNDER THE DIRECTION OF\n\nJ. G. BARTHOLOMEW, F.R.G.S., F.R.S.E., &c.\n\n_In half-morocco, or full-bound cloth, gilt top, 14s._\n\n \"It is tolerably safe to predict that no sensible traveller\n will go to India in future without providing himself with\n 'Constable's Hand Atlas of India.' Nothing half so useful\n has been done for many years to help both the traveller in\n India and the student at home. 'Constable's Hand Atlas' is\n a pleasure to hold and to turn over.\"--_Athen\u00e6um._\n\n\nNOW READY AT ALL LIBRARIES\n\nThrough China with a Camera\n\nBy JOHN THOMSON, F.R.G.S.\n\nWith about 100 Illustrations. Foolscap 4to. _One Guinea net._ This\nwork contains probably the finest series of pictures of China ever\npublished.\n\n_CONTENTS._\n\nCHAPTER I. A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE CONDITION OF CHINA, PAST AND PRESENT.\n\n \" II. THE CHINAMAN ABROAD AND AT HOME.\n\n Chinese Guilds--Hong-kong--Native\n Boats--Shopkeepers--Artists--Music Halls.\n\n \" III. THE CHINAMAN ABROAD AND AT HOME (_continued_).\n\n Gambling--Typhoons--The floating population of\n Hong-kong--North branch of the Pearl River.\n\n \" IV. CANTON AND KWANG-TUNG PROVINCE.\n\n Tea--Foreign Hongs and Houses--Schroffing.\n\n \" V. CANTON (_continued_).\n\n Its general appearance--Its population--Streets--Mode of\n transacting business--Signboards--Work and Wages--The\n willow-pattern bridge--Juilin, Governor-General of the two\n Kwang--Clan fights--Hak-kas--The mystic pills--Dwellings of\n the poor--The Lohang-tang--Buddhist monastic life--On board\n a junk.\n\n \" VI. CANTON (_continued_). MACAO. SWATOW. CHAO-CHOW-FU--AMOY.\n\n The charitable institutions of China--Macao--Description\n of the town--Its inhabitants--Swatow--Foreign\n settlement--Chao-chow-fu--Swatow\n fan-painters--Modellers--Chinese art--Village\n warfare--Amoy--The native quarter--Abodes of the\n poor--Infanticide--Manure-pits--Human remains in\n jars--Lekin--Romantic scenery--Ku-lang-su--The foreign\n settlement.\n\n \" VII. FORMOSA.\n\n Takow harbour, Formosa--La-mah-kai--Difficulties\n of navigation--Tai-wan-fu--The Taotai--His\n yamen--How to cancel a state debt--The Dutch in\n 1661--Sylvan lanes--Medical Missions--A journey to\n the interior--Old watercourses--Broken land--Hak-ka\n settlers--Poahbe--Pepohoan village--Baksa valley--The name\n \"Isla Formosa\"--A long march--The central mountains--Bamboo\n Bridges--\"Pau-ah-liau\" village--The physician at\n work--Ka-san-po village--A wine-feast--Interior of\n a hut--Pepohoan dwellings--A savage dance--Savage\n hunting-grounds--La-lung village--Return journey.\n\n \" VIII. FOOCHOW AND THE RIVER MIN.\n\n The Japanese in Formosa--Cause of the invasion--The\n River Min--Foochow Arsenal--Chinese gunboats--Foochow\n city and great bridge--A City of the dead--Its\n inhabitants--Beggars--Thieves--Lepers--Ku-shan\n Monastery--The hermit--Tea plantation on Paeling\n hills--Voyage up the Min--Shui-kow--An up-country\n farm--Captain Sheng and his spouse--Yen-ping\n city--Sacrificing to the dead--Shooting the Yen-ping rapids\n A Native passenger-boat.\n\n \" IX. SHANGHAI. NINGPO. HANKOW. THE YANGTSZE.\n\n Steam traffic in the China Sea--In the wake of a\n typhoon--Shanghai--Notes of its early history--Japanese\n raids--Shanghai foreign settlement--Paul Sii,\n or \"Su-kwang-ki\"--Shanghai city--Ningpo--Native\n soldiers--Snowy valley--The Mountains--Azaleas--The\n monastery of the Snowy Crevice--The thousand-fathom\n precipice--Buddhist Monks--The Yangtsze, Kiang--Hankow--The\n Upper Yangtsze, Ichang--The Gorges--The great\n Tsing-tan rapid--Mystic fountain lights--A dangerous\n disaster--Kwei-fu--Our return--Kiukiang--Nanking; its\n arsenal--The death of Tsing-kwo-fan--Chinese superstition.\n\n \" X. CHEFOO. PEKIN. TIENTSIN. THE GREAT WALL.\n\n The foreign settlement--The Yellow River--Silk--Its\n production--Taku forts--The Peiho River--Chinese\n progress--Floods in Pei-chil-li--Their\n effects--Tientsin--The Sisters' chapel--Condition of the\n people--A midnight storm--Tung-Chow--Peking--The Tartar\n and Chinese divisions of the metropolis--Its roads,\n shops and people--The foreign hotel--Temple and domestic\n architecture--The Tsungli Yamen--Prince Kung and the\n high officers of the empire--Literary championship--The\n Confucian Temple--The Observatory--Ancient Chinese\n instruments--Yang's house--Habits of the ladies--Peking\n enamelling--Yuen-Ming-Yuen--Remarkable cenotaph--A Chinese\n army--Li-Hung-Chang--The inn of \"Patriotic Perfection\"--The\n Great Wall--The Ming tombs.\n\n\nProblems of the Far East\n\nJAPAN--COREA--CHINA\n\nBy the RT. HON. GEORGE N. CURZON, M.P.\n\nWith numerous Illustrations and Maps. _Extra crown 8vo, 7s. 6d._\n\nThis volume, written by the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign\nAffairs, is of unusual value at present, in view of the various\nquestions which will arise in connection with the position of the\ngreat Powers and China and Japan in the Far East.\n\n \"Certainly the influence of Mr. Curzon's thoughtful\n generalizations, based as they are upon wide knowledge,\n and expressed in clear and picturesque language, cannot\n fail to assist in solving the problems of the Far\n East.\"--_Manchester Courier._\n\n\nThe Popular Religion and Folk-lore of Northern India\n\nBy WILLIAM CROOKE\n\n_With numerous Full-page Plates. 2 Vols. Demy 8vo, 21s. net._\n\n \"The book is in every respect an admirable one, full of\n insight and knowledge at first hand.\"--_The Times._\n\n\nThe Household of the Lafayettes\n\nBy EDITH SICHEL. _Demy 8vo. 15s. net._\n\n \"May be warmly commended to every student of social\n history.\"--_Globe._ \"A work of notable ability and\n strength.\"--_World._\n\n \"... A volume of deep and pathetic interest.... We scarcely\n know any book which presents a more vivid picture of the\n French Revolution.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n \"Every one who takes any interest in the France of the\n last quarter of the eighteenth century should read this\n well-written book.\"--_Publishers' Circular._\n\n\nMedals and Decorations of the British Army and Navy\n\nBy JOHN HORSLEY MAYO (_Late Assistant Military Secretary to the India\nOffice_).\n\nDedicated by Permission to Her Most Gracious Majesty VICTORIA,\nQUEEN AND EMPRESS. With Fifty-five Plates Printed in Colours and\nmany Illustrations in the text.\n\n_2 vols. Super-Royal 8vo. Over 600 pp. \u00a33 3s. net._\n\n \"Of the manner in which the work has been carried out it\n is impossible to speak except in terms of warm praise. The\n medals and ribbons are beautifully reproduced. To produce\n such a work, so beautifully illustrated, has necessitated\n much expense and a corresponding price; but we can scarcely\n imagine a barracks or a Queen's ship that will be long\n without it.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n \"An exhaustive record, and it will be strange if the\n inquirer searches its pages for information on a particular\n medal or decoration and is disappointed.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n \"For beauty and fidelity the coloured reproductions of Army\n and Navy medals and decorations surpass anything of the\n kind we have ever seen.\"--_Daily News._\n\n \"One cannot too highly praise the numerous illustrations.\n The letterpress, too, is extraordinarily full and\n elaborate. Altogether the work is a mine of authoritative\n information on its subject, and should abundantly satisfy\n at once the military enthusiast and the specialist in\n numismatics.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n \"These two volumes appeal powerfully to all who cherish\n the great patriotic traditions of the English race,\n and their value for official reference is, moreover,\n incontestable.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n\nThe Principles of Local Government\n\nBy GEORGE LAURENCE GOMME, F.S.A., Statistical Officer of the London\nCounty Council. _Demy 8vo, 284 pages, price 12s._\n\n This volume is of very great value to all interested in\n various questions of Local Government, especially in view\n of the forthcoming County Council elections. Mr. Gomme is\n acknowledged as one of the greatest living authorities on\n the subject.\n\n \"The Statistical Office of the County Council has\n produced a work of great value in the Principles of Local\n Government.\"--_London._\n\n \"There is much to be learned from Mr. Laurence Gomme's\n historical and analytical lectures.\"--_Daily Mail._\n\n \"His criticisms on the existing system show a thorough\n mastery of a complicated subject.\"--_Daily Chronicle._\n\n\nProblems of Modern Democracy\n\nBy EDWIN LAURENCE GODKIN. _Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d._\n\n \"The most noteworthy book on Democracy since Mr.\n Lecky's.\"--_Glasgow Evening News._\n\n\nReflections and Comments\n\nBy EDWIN LAURENCE GODKIN. _Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d._\n\n \"Mr. Godkin's book forms an excellent example of the best\n periodical literature of his country and time.\"--_The Daily\n News._\n\n\n\n\nCONSTABLE'S LIBRARY OF Historical Novels and Romances\n\nEdited by LAURENCE GOMME.\n\n_Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d., cloth._\n\nAfter a Design by A. A. TURBAYNE.\n\n With Illustrations of all the principal features, which\n include reproductions of royal and historical signatures,\n coins, seals, and heraldic devices.\n\n _Just Published._\n\n\nWestward Ho! By CHARLES KINGSLEY.\n\nWith numerous Illustrations.\n\n_To be followed by_\n\nReading Abbey CHARLES MACFARLANE.\n\n_Already Published._\n\nHarold: The Last of the Saxons\n\nBy LORD LYTTON.\n\nThe Camp of Refuge CHARLES MACFARLANE.\n\n \"Now we are to have for the first time a fairly complete\n edition of the best historical novels and romances in our\n language. Messrs. Archibald Constable & Co. have had a\n happy idea in planning such a scheme, which is likely to\n have an enthusiastic reception.\"--_National Observer._\n\n\nFarthest North\n\nBy FRIDTJOF NANSEN\n\nA Few Copies of the\n\nLibrary Edition of Farthest North\n\nBy FRIDTJOF NANSEN\n\n2 Vols. Royal 8vo, \u00a32 2_s._ net, are still for sale.\n\nThe Library Edition contains:\n\nOVER ONE HUNDRED FULL-PAGE AND A LARGE NUMBER OF TEXT ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\nTHREE PHOTOGRAVURE PLATES.\n\nSIXTEEN COLOURED PLATES IN FACSIMILE OF DR. NANSEN'S OWN WATER-COLOUR,\nPASTEL, AND PENCIL SKETCHES.\n\nAN ETCHED PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.\n\nTHREE MAPS.\n\n \"A masterpiece of story telling.\"--_Times._\n\n \"A book for everybody who loves a story of romance and\n adventure.\"--_Westminster Gazette._\n\n \"The genius of Defoe could scarcely contrive a more\n absorbing story than we have in the second volume of the\n book.\"--_Spectator._\n\nDr. Nansen's Great Book contains over 100 Full-page Illustrations,\na large number of Text Illustrations, sixteen Coloured Plates, four\nLarge Maps, two Photogravure Plates, and an Etched Portrait.\n\n\nSir Henry Wotton: A Biographical Sketch\n\nBy ADOLPHUS WILLIAM WARD, Litt.D., LL.D,\n\nPrincipal of the Owens College, Manchester; Hon. Fellow of Peterhouse,\nCambridge.\n\n_Fcap. 8vo. 3s. 6d._\n\n \"A delightful monograph entirely worthy of its admirable\n subject.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n\nEnglish Schools. 1546-1548\n\nBy A. F. LEACH, M.A., F.S.A.,\n\nLate Fellow of All Souls', Oxford; Assistant Charity Commissioner.\n\n_Demy 8vo. 12s._\n\n \"A very remarkable contribution to the history of secondary\n education in England, not less novel in its conclusions\n than important in the documentary evidence adduced to\n sustain them.\"--_The Times._\n\n \"This is the most valuable book on the history of English\n Education that has seen the light for many a long\n year.\"--_The Journal of Education._\n\n\nSpenser's Faerie Queene\n\n_Complete in Six Volumes. Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 9s. net._\n\nEdited by KATE M. WARREN.\n\nVolumes I., II., and III. now ready, 1_s._ 6_d._ net each.\n\n_Also cloth gilt extra, with Photogravure Frontispiece, 2s. 6d. each\nnet._\n\n \"For school use especially and as a pocket edition\n this reprint is just what the general reader\n requires.\"--_Liverpool Daily Post._\n\n \"Miss Warren, however, really explains all that is\n necessary to an intelligent understanding of the\n text.\"--_Leeds Mercury._\n\n \"The text is good, there is a full and accurate glossary,\n and the notes are clear and to the point. The introduction,\n too, is neatly written.\"--_Catholic Times._\n\n\nSome Observations of a Foster Parent\n\nBy JOHN CHARLES TARVER.\n\n_Crown 8vo. 6s._\n\n \"A very excellent book on the education of the English\n boy. The book is one which all parents should diligently\n read.\"--DAILY MAIL.\n\n\nThe Chronicle of Villani\n\nTRANSLATED BY ROSE E. SELFE.\n\nEdited by the Rev. P. H. WICKSTEED.\n\n_Crown 8vo. 6s._\n\n \"The book, picturesque and instructive reading as it is, is\n not less interesting and still more valuable for readers of\n Italy's greatest poet.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n \"Perhaps no one book is so important to the student\n of Dante as the chronicle of his contemporary\n Villani.\"--_Athen\u00e6um._\n\n\n_At all Libraries and Booksellers._\n\n\nAdventures in Legend\n\nTales of the West Highlands.\n\nBy the MARQUIS OF LORNE, K.T., M.P.\n\nFully Illustrated. _Crown 8vo, 6s._\n\n\n_Just Ready._\n\nThe Dark Way of Love\n\nBy CHARLES A. GOFFIC. Translated by E. WINGATE RINDER.\n\n_Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d._\n\n\nBy the Roaring Reuss: Idylls and Stories of the Alps\n\nBy W. BRIDGES BIRTT.\n\nWith four Full-page Illustrations. _Crown 8vo, 5s._\n\n\nOdd Stories\n\nBy FRANCES FORBES ROBERTSON.\n\n_Crown 8vo, 6s._\n\n \"Written for the most part in graceful and vigorous\n English, veined with a pretty sentiment, and not seldom\n rising to dramatic power.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n \"Charming are the short sketches Miss Frances\n Forbes-Robertson has reprinted.\"--_Illustrated London News._\n\n \"Bright and artistic, some of them original, none\n commonplace.\"--_Sketch._\n\n \"The book is steeped in an atmosphere of fantasy, which\n makes us feel as if we had been to the edge of the world\n and smelt the flowers which grow there.\"--_Literature._\n\n\nDracula\n\nBy BRAM STOKER. _Crown 8vo, 6s._\n\n \"One of the most enthralling and unique romances ever\n written.\"--_The Christian World._\n\n \"The very weirdest of weird tales.\"--_Punch._\n\n \"Its fascination is so great that it is impossible to lay\n it aside.\"--_The Lady._\n\n \"The idea is so novel that one gasps, as it were, at\n its originality. A romance far above the ordinary\n production.\"--_St. Paul's._\n\n \"Much loving and happy human nature, much heroism,\n much faithfulness, much dauntless hope, so that as one\n phantasmal ghastliness follows another in horrid swift\n succession the reader is always accompanied by images of\n devotion and friendliness.\"--_Liverpool Daily Post._\n\n \"A most fascinating narrative.\"--_Dublin Evening Herald._\n\n\nIn the Tideway\n\nBy FLORA ANNIE STEEL (Author of \"Miss Stuart's Legacy,\" \"On the Face\nof the Waters,\" etc.). _Crown 8vo, 6s._\n\n \"It is too late in the day to speak of Mrs. Steel's\n position. This is assured, but this book adds greatly to an\n established position. It is profoundly impressive.\"--_St.\n James's Budget._\n\n \"Wonderfully bright and lively both in dialogue and\n incidents.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n\n\n\nNEW BOOKS FOR CHILDREN\n\n\nThe King's Story Book\n\nEdited by G. LAURENCE GOMME. With numerous full-page\n\nIllustrations by C. HARRISON MILLER.\n\n_Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s._\n\n \"Mr. Gomme has hit upon a happy idea for a 'story-book,'\n and has carried it out with signal success.\"--_Publisher's\n Circular._\n\n \"Mr. Gomme's selection is of great interest.\"--_St. James'\n Gazette._\n\n \"The book is most informative, as well as full of\n interest.\"--_Vanity Fair._\n\n \"We give honourable mention to 'The King's Story Book.'\n It is a book of stories collected out of English romantic\n literature. This is a book that will thrill more than\n any modern effort of the imagination; a more striking\n collection of stories of daring and valour was never got\n between two book covers.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette_, Nov. 23,\n 1897.\n\n\nThe Laughter of Peterkin\n\n_Crown 8vo, 6s._\n\nA Re-telling of Old Stories of the Celtic Wonder-world. A book for\nyoung and old.\n\nBy FIONA MACLEOD.\n\n \"This latest and most excellent piece of work of Miss\n Macleod's.\"--_Spectator._\n\n \"To no more skilful hands than those of Fiona Macleod could\n the re-telling of these old tales of the Celtic Wonderland\n have been confided.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n \"The writing is full of beauty and passion.\"--_St. James'\n Gazette._\n\n \"The book is a charming fairy tale.\"--_Athen\u00e6um._\n\n \"This book has so much charm of style and good writing that\n it will be eagerly read by many other than the young folk\n for whom it is intended.\"--_Black and White._\n\n\nA Houseful of Rebels\n\nA Fairy Tale.\n\nBy WALTER C. RHOADES. Illustrated by PATTEN WILSON.\n\n_Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 4s. 6d._\n\n \"It is exactly the sort of story which will\n interest.\"--_Weekly Sun._\n\n \"A charming story, well told, and is beautifully\n illustrated by Patten Wilson.\"--_Manchester Courier._\n\n \"Readers will laugh till they cry over the first fifty\n pages of a 'Houseful of Rebels.'\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n\nSongs for Little People\n\nBy NORMAN GALE.\n\n_Profusely Illustrated by_ HELEN STRATTON. _Large Crown 8vo,\n6s._\n\n \"Miss Stratton has headed, and tailed, and bordered\n the verses with a series of exquisitely pictured\n fancies.\"--_Bookseller._\n\n \"Simple, charming little verses they are of fairies,\n animals, and children, and the illustrations are strikingly\n original.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n\nLondon Riverside Churches\n\nBy A. E. DANIELL\n\nProfusely illustrated by\n\nALEXANDER ANSTED\n\n_Imperial 16mo, 6s._\n\n \"A little time ago Mr. Daniell gave us a book on the\n churches of the City of London. He has now turned his\n attention to 'London Riverside Churches.' He takes the\n Thames from Greenwich to Kingston, and tells the stories\n of the various notable churches touched by this line.\n The book is fully illustrated from sketches by Alexander\n Ansted.\"--_Daily Chronicle._\n\n\nBY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\nLondon City Churches\n\nWith Numerous Illustrations and a Map showing the position of each\nChurch.\n\n_Imperial 16mo, 6s._\n\n \"Mr. Daniell's work will prove very interesting reading,\n as he has evidently taken great care in obtaining all the\n facts concerning the City churches, their history and\n associations.\"--_London._\n\n \"The illustrations to this book are good, and it deserves\n to be widely read.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n\nThe Books of the Bible\n\nIN SEPARATE VOLUMES\n\n_Printed in Red and Black. Cloth, paper label, uncut edges, 1s. net;\ncloth gilt, 1s. 6d. net; whole leather, 2s. 6d. net._\n\nTHE BOOK OF THE PSALMS\n\nST. MATTHEW\nST. MARK\nST. LUKE\nST. JOHN\n\nTHE FOUR GOSPELS\n\nIn One Volume\n\n_Cloth, paper label, 2s. 6d. net; purple cloth gilt, 3s. net; white\ncloth gilt, 3s. net; whole leather, 4s. net._\n\nOthers to follow.\n\n \"Very tasteful in appearance.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n \"Exquisite volumes.\"--_The Globe._\n\n \"The edition is very attractive.\"--_Westminster Gazette._\n\n \"The idea is excellent.\"--_The Record._\n\n\nCONSTABLE, WESTMINSTER\n\n\n\n\nTHREE NOTABLE REPRINTS\n\n\nBoswell's Life of Johnson\n\nEdited by AUGUSTINE BIRRELL\n\nWith Frontispieces by ALEX. ANSTED, a Reproduction of Sir JOSHUA\nREYNOLDS' Portrait.\n\n_Six Volumes. Foolscap 8vo. Cloth, paper label, or gilt extra, 2s. net\nper Volume. Also half morocco, 3s. net per Volume. Sold in Sets only._\n\n \"Far and away the best Boswell, I should say, for the\n ordinary book-lover, now on the market.\"--_Illustrated\n London News._\n\n \"The volumes, which are light, and so well bound that they\n open easily anywhere, are exceedingly pleasant to handle\n and read.\"--_St. James's Budget._\n\n \"Constable's edition will long remain the best both for the\n general reader and the scholar.\"--_Review of Reviews._\n\n\nCONSTABLE'S REPRINT\n\nOF\n\nThe Waverley Novels\n\nThe Favourite Edition of SIR WALTER SCOTT\n\nWith all the original Plates and Vignettes (Re-engraved). In 48 Vols.\nFcap. 8vo.\n\n_Cloth, paper label title, 1s. 6d. net per Volume, or \u00a33 12s. net the\nSet. Also cloth gilt, gilt top, 2s. net per Volume, or \u00a34 16s. net the\nSet; and half-leather gilt, 2s. 6d. net per Volume, or \u00a36 net the Set._\n\n \"This is one of the most charming editions of the Waverley\n Novels that we know, as well as one of the cheapest in the\n market.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n\nThe Paston Letters, 1492-1590\n\nEdited by JAMES GAIRDNER, of the Public Record Office\n\n_3 vols. Fcap. 8vo. With 3 Photogravure Frontispieces, cloth gilt\nextra, or paper label uncut, 16s. net._\n\n \"This edition, which was first published some twenty years\n ago, is the standard edition of these remarkable historical\n documents, and contains upwards of four hundred letters in\n addition to those published by Frere in 1823. The reprint\n is in three small and compact volumes, and should be\n welcome to students of history as giving an important work\n in a convenient form.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n \"One of the monuments of English historical scholarship\n that needs no commendation.\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n\n\n\nPOETRY\n\n\nSelected Poems\n\nBy GEORGE MEREDITH\n\n_Crown 8vo. 6s._\n\n \"A volume which abounds in imaginative vision as well as\n intellectual strength.\"--_Standard._\n\n \"His poems are achievements of the intellect ... there is\n wit in them and genius.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n \"We hope that a large public will wake up to the high and\n serious beauties and the real genius of Mr. Meredith's\n finest poetry.\"--_St. James's Gazette._\n\n \"These Selected Poems are a literary store.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n\nSongs of Love and Empire\n\nBy E. NESBIT\n\n_Now Ready. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt._\n\n\nNew Poems\n\nBy FRANCIS THOMPSON\n\n_Fcap. 8vo, 6s. net._\n\n \"There is in these new Poems a wider outlook, a greater\n breadth of sympathy than were discovered in their\n predecessors.\"--_Globe._\n\n \"A true poet.... At any rate here unquestionably is a new\n poet, a wielder of beautiful words, a lover of beautiful\n things.\"--I. ZANGWILL, in the _Cosmopolitan_,\n Sept., 1895.\n\n \"At least one book of poetry has been published this year\n that we can hand on confidently to other generations. It\n is not incautious to prophesy that Mr. Francis Thompson's\n poems will last.\"--_Sketch._\n\n \"Mr. Thompson's new volume will be welcomed by all\n students and lovers of the more ambitious forms of\n poetry.\"--_Glasgow Herald._\n\n\nWhitman. A Study By JOHN BURROUGHS\n\n_12mo. Cloth gilt, 6s. net._\n\n \"Altogether the most complete, the most sympathetic, and\n the most penetrating estimate of Walt Whitman that has yet\n been written.\"--_Daily Mail._\n\n\nFidelis and Other Poems\n\nBy C. M. GEMMER\n\n_Foolscap 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. net._\n\n \"It has undeniable beauty, and it would have been a pity\n if this and some of the shorter poems included in the same\n collection had not seen the light. Distinction of tone,\n careful craftsmanship, and a rich vocabulary characterise\n most of them.\"--_Manchester Guardian._\n\n \"Touched with a dainty grace is 'Baby-Land.'... 'A\n Reverie' in whose tender pathos and stately movement we\n find an abiding charm.\"--_Literature._\n\n\nA Tale of Boccaccio and Other Poems\n\nBy ARTHUR COLES ARMSTRONG.\n\n_Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s. net._\n\n\nThe Cyclists' Pocket Book\n\nFor the year 1898.\n\nFULL OF INFORMATION\n\n_Cloth boards, 1s. Leather, 1s. 6d._\n\nA special feature of the 1898 edition of \"THE CYCLISTS' POCKET BOOK\"\nis a list of Hotels offering advantages to Cyclists in town and\ncountry, also the \"CYCLISTS' TELEGRAPH CODE\" (enlarged and improved).\n\n \"A very handy little volume ... in size and shape most\n convenient ... an excellent little work. Can highly\n recommend it to our readers.\"--_The Irish Cyclist._\n\n \"The most useful pocket book for cyclists we have yet\n seen.\"--_Westminster Gazette._\n\n \"Should be read and digested by all riders ... very useful,\n a valuable handbook, and one long wanted.\"--_Land and\n Water._\n\n \"Cyclists will pronounce it to be in its way a gem ...\n appears complete in every respect.\"--_Scotsman._\n\n \"A wonderfully compact and handy volume--a mass of useful\n information ... quite a novelty.\"--_Daily Mail._\n\n \"Neatly arranged ... a handy little volume.\"--_The Field._\n\n \"The telegraphic code ... a very valuable\n feature.\"--_England._\n\n\nThe Art and Pastime of Cycling\n\nBy R. J. MECREDY and A. J. WILSON\n\nWith Numerous Illustrations. _Paper, 1s.; cloth, 1s. 6d._\n\n \"A very useful and well-compiled guide to\n cycling.\"--_Wheeling._\n\n \"The treatise is written in simple language, and its\n directions are clearly expressed.\"--_Sporting Life._\n\n \"Will be of great value both to beginners and devotees of\n the wheel.\"--_Whitehall Review._\n\n\n\"The Game of Polo\"\n\nBy T. F. DALE (_\"Stoneclink\" of \"The Field\"_)\n\n_Demy 8vo_ Fully Illustrated _One Guinea net_\n\n \"A handsome volume.... The author, 'Stoneclink,' of\n _The Field_, is one of the recognised authorities of\n the sport, and what he does not know about it is not\n knowledge.\"--_Pall Mall Gazette._\n\n \"A book which is likely to rank as the standard work on the\n subject.\"--_Morning Post._\n\n \"The author writes in a pleasant, spirited style, and may\n be taken as an admirable guide.... A really charming\n addition to the library of those who are devoted to the\n game.\"--_The Globe._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNew Popular Edition\nOF THE\nWorks of\nGeorge Meredith\n\n_Crown 8vo_, 6/- each\n\nWith Frontispieces by BERNARD PARTRIDGE, HARRISON\nMILLER and Others.\n\nThe Ordeal of Richard Feverel [_Ready._\nRhoda Fleming [_Ready._\nSandra Belloni [_Ready._\nVittoria [_Ready._\nDiana of the Crossways [_Ready._\nThe Egoist [_Just Ready._\nEvan Harrington\nThe Adventures of Harry Richmond\nBeauchamp's Career\nOne of Our Conquerors\nLord Ormont and His Aminta\nThe Amazing Marriage\nThe Shaving of Shagpat\nThe Tragic Comedians\nShort Stories\nPoems\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote A: \"Chulakantamangala.\" Captain Gerini.]\n\n[Footnote B: See Chapter X.]\n\n[Footnote C: \"The Wheel of the Law\". Alabaster.]\n\n[Footnote D: \"Siam Repository.\"]\n\n[Footnote E: \"Siam.\" Miss Cort.]\n\n[Footnote F: Lightning.]\n\n[Footnote G: \"Siam\", Bowring.]\n\n[Footnote H: See \"Buddhism\", Rhys Davids.]\n\n[Footnote I: A Siamese \"chang\" or \"catty\" is equal to about 2-2/3 lbs.\navoirdupois.]\n\n[Footnote J: \"Siam\". Miss Cort.]\n\n[Footnote K: \"Light of Asia\". Arnold.]\n\n[Footnote L: \"Light of Asia\". Arnold.]\n\n\n\n * * * * *\n\nTranscriber's Notes\n\nMinor punctuation errors have been silently corrected. Some\nhyphenation inconsistencies have been standardized.\n\nThe two pages of ads at the beginning of the book have been moved to\nthe ads section at the end of the book.\n\nLoI: Added Fishing Lugger, page 174.\n\nLoI: Changed \"Klong\" to \"Khlong\" to match illustration caption.\n (Orig: Klong near Petchaboorree.)\n\nPage 2: Changed \"suceess\" to \"success.\"\n (Orig: new sovereign owed much of his suceess.)\n\nPage 18: \"kharki\" may be a typo for \"khaki.\"\n (Orig: postmen in their yellow kharki uniforms)\n\nPage 115: Deleted duplicate \"of.\"\n (Orig: cut into rectangular pieces of of the same size)\n\nPage 261: Changed \"foo\" to \"food.\"\n (Orig: they must not partake of solid foo of any description.)\n\nPage 268: Changed \"obselete\" to \"obsolete.\"\n (Orig: these counsels are so many obselete laws,)\n\nPage 270: Changed \"he\" to \"be.\"\n (Orig: his mind should he well controlled.)\n\nPage 325: Changed \"carcases\" to \"carcasses.\"\n (Orig: better spent in burning dead dogs' carcases.)\n\nPage 335: Changed \"the\" to \"he.\"\n (Orig: With mingled joy and grief the parted with his long-loved)\n\nPage 338: Changed \"he\" to \"be.\"\n (Orig: Whatever he ordered to he done in his own provinces)\n\nPage 358: Changed \"estabished\" to \"established.\"\n (Orig: afterwards definitely estabished as annual occurrences)\n\nPage 395: Changed \"on\" to \"one.\"\n (Orig: On of them was)","title":"The Kingdom of the Yellow Robe: Being Sketches of the Domestic and Religious Rites and Ceremonies of the Siamese","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":97412}