PART I.

NOTES OF

A JOURNEY ON THE UPPER MEKONG, SIAM.

BY

H. WARINGTON SMYTH,

OF THE ROYAL DEPARTMENT OF MINES AND GEOLOGY, BANGKOK.

WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

PUBLISHED FOR

THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY

BY

JOHN MURRAY, 50, ALBEMARLE STREET, LONDON.

1895.

[Illustration: THE RAPIDS AT THE GATES OF CHIENG KONG, MEKONG RIVER.]

PREFACE.

I have put together the following account of a recent journey made for

the Siamese Government to the Mekong valley, chiefly for the reason

that at the present moment, when the French have "rectified" their

boundaries on the north and east of Siam to the extent of some 85,000

square miles, more interest than usual will probably be felt in the

character of the country and the people, of whom there are not too

many reliable accounts to be found. At the same time, I feel very

strongly that there are others whose descriptions will be far more

valuable than my own, owing to their longer residence in the country,

and the greater extent of their explorations. I refer especially to

Messrs. McCarthy, Archer, and Beckett, who have done difficult and

extensive work in all parts of Siam and the Laos states; and there is

certainly no European, and probably no Siamese, that knows so much of

the configuration of the north-east as does Mr. McCarthy, who, carried

on by an apparently deep love of jungle-life, has aroused the

admiration of the Siamese and Laos at Luang Prabang by his hardihood

and energy, and the results of whose work were a constant source of

admiration to me, as I went on and saw the wildness and difficulty of

the country.

The object of my journey was primarily the examination, for the

Siamese Government, of a supposed very rich deposit of gems (rubies

and sapphires), lately discovered on the left bank of the Mekong,

opposite Chieng Kong. My orders were to return by Luang Prabang,

Nongkhai, and Khorat, and to visit and report on all mineral deposits

of which I could get information, gathering all geological data which

were possible. The time allowed was six months, and I was not to leave

the general line of march prescribed by more than 60 miles. I need

hardly say--and every one who knows what jungle-travelling is will

understand--that my programme, to be thoroughly carried through over

the large extent of country marked out, might well occupy six years

instead of months; and that such a hurried exploration in a country

covered densely with forest--which, next perhaps to snow, is the

greatest enemy to the science of geology--could not but be

unsatisfactory to one's self.

H. Warington Smyth.

GLOSSARY.

Pak = mouth of a river; _e.g._ Pak Oo, mouth of river Oo.

Nam = river; _e.g._ Nam Oo, river Oo (_a_ always long, as in

_barn_).

Hoay = mountain torrent.

Keng = rapid; _e.g._ Keng Fapa, Fapa rapid.

Luang = great or chief; _e.g._ Keng Luang, the great rapid.

Doi _or_ puh = Siam word Kao = hill.

Ban _or_ Bang = house or village (used indiscriminately).

Sala = rest-house.

Muang = town or township, often district or province.

Chow Muang = literally, chief of the township = governor.

Klong = stream or canal.

CONTENTS.

PART I.

Bangkok to Muang Nan

PART II.

Muang Nan to Muang Chieng Kong

PART III.

Muang Chieng Kong to Muang Luang Prabang

PART IV.

Luang Prabang (March, 1893)

PART V.

Nongkhai to Khorat and Bangkok (April and May, 1893)

Appendix

MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

The Rapids at the Gates of Chieng Kong, Mekong River

The Meinam below Chainat

Loaded Rice-Boats lying in Bangkok

Rua Pet

Rua Nua

Rua Nua from Fore End

Boat hollowed out of Trunk ready to be soaked in River

Boat opened out over Fire, Ribs and Knees in

Rice-Boats and Floating House, Paknam Pho

A Rice-Boat, flying light

Rice-Raft, Nam Oo

Wat Chinareth (Central Tower from West)

A Sala in the Nan Forests

Khorat Plateau. Entrance to Forest Dong Phya Yen

Gorge Nam Pgoi

The Paddy-Fields, Hin Valley

Wat Ben Yeun, M. Sa

East Gate of Nan

Laos Bag, of Striped Cloth

Kao Neo Wicker Baskets

Axe for hollowing Boats

Dipper for Water

A Hill Monastery, M. Le

View from M. Le, looking north-west across the Nam Nan and Watershed

of Meinam Khong

Map--Route from Muang Ngob on the Nam Nan to Muang Chieng Kong on

the Mekong River

A Gem-Digger's Clearing, Chieng Kong

Camp at the Fa Pa Rapids

One of our Elephants, with Howdah on

The Leading Mule

A Head Man--Stern View

A Head Man--Side View

A Haw--Packs dismounted

Laos Boat

Illustration of Oar and Steering-Gear

Double Boat

Village above Paku, Mekong

Forty-Five Feet Boat, Nam Oo

Map--Part of the Mekong

Khache Hill Clearings; Rapids above Pak Beng, Mekong

Dhâp and Sheath

Jungle Knives

Mouth of Nam Suung, above Luang Prabang

Approach to Luang Prabang from North

Wat Chieng Tong

Pa Chom Si, Luang Prabang

Plan of Luang Prabang and River

Stone Implements

Government Offices, Luang Prabang

Keng Kang, Nam Oo. The Plunge off the Left Bank

Keng Luang

Ascending Keng Luang, Nam Oo

Fishing Stakes and Shelters, Nam Oo

Rudder

Boats Fishing

Last of the Hills above Wieng Chan

The Ruins of Wat Prakaon, Wieng Chan

Niche and Statue

South-West Angle, Wat Susaket, Wieng Chan

Bell

Bell-Clapper and Joint

Bamboo Bell

Four-Sok Kan (1 Inch to Feet)

Two-Sok Kan

Air-Chamber

Kien

The North Gate and Nam Nun, Khoraat

Map--The Central Part of the Kingdom of Siam

NOTES OF A JOURNEY ON THE UPPER MEKONG, SIAM.

PART I.

BANGKOK TO MUANG NAN.

Early in December, 1892, we left Bangkok--myself, three Siamese

assistants, and a sergeant's guard as escort, and coolies. At Muang

Chainat, owing to the rapid fall of the river, I had to send back the

Navy launch, which was drawing 3 feet 6 inches; a month earlier she

might have got nearly up to M.[1] Pechai. At Paknam Pho, where the Nam

Pho and Meiping meet, after a good deal of bargaining I secured a _rua

nua_, or north-land boat, to take me on. Boat-travelling in Siam is

much the same everywhere; and in their boat-life, it may be said, the

Siamese have attained a high degree of civilization. Very often the

boat is the home of the family, and after the rains they moor

alongside the bank and cultivate tobacco, cotton, or melons on the

slope on which the rich loam of the floods has settled down; after the

rice harvest they will set out laden with paddy for Bangkok, returning

later on with salt or other luxuries from the south. The Chinese, who

are the most energetic people in the country, carry on extensive

trading in this way. They use a very large double-ended kind of boat,

known as "rice-boat," which has a long cylindrical roof of closely

plaited work impervious to rain, extending from just before the

helmsman to within 10 feet of the bows, where the two or three oarsmen

toil at the long oars. As in all the Siamese boats, the oar is slung

in a grommet, which is turned round the top of a small pole firmly let

into the gunwale at the lower end. This gives the end of the oar

sufficient height inboard, and the oarsman stands to his work facing

forward, the outer hand on a small handle turned at right angles to

the oar, as in the Chinese sampans one sees in the straits. With a big

heavy boat, the action, with a sharp jerk at the end of the stroke, is

not pretty; but in the small _rua chang_ (or sampan) of the city the

motion is exactly that of the gondolier, and with the swaying motion

of the inside leg, which is often quite free, is extremely pretty. It

must be confessed the grommet principle, which at least keeps the oar

in its place, makes the work much easier than the slippery crutch in

which the gondolier at Venice works his long oar, and which proves a

great source of difficulty to the beginner in the art. This method is

known by the Siamese as "chaw"- (or "chow"-)ing.

[Illustration: THE MEINAM BELOW CHAINAT.]

[Illustration: LOADED RICE-BOATS LYING IN BANGKOK.]

Next in size and usefulness to the "rice-boats" (which are generally

about 40 feet long, 10 feet 4 inches beam, with 6 feet 4 inches

extreme draught when loaded, and carry twenty koyans of rice) comes

the _rua pet_, which is a great favourite with the Siamese. It is

cleaner lined than the rice-boat, the cabin arrangement being the

same; that is, the long roof, the deck at the level of the gunwale

going fore and aft, and the storage-room all below, reached by taking

out the neatly fitting pieces of deck, which are made to fit into the

main cross-beams. The helmsman has a slightly raised attap roof over

his head, and he (or she, for the wife and the children down to six

years old can steer as well as the father) looks out from under this

and over the long low roof in front. The steering is done with a

rudder shipped in the usual way on the stern-post, while in the big

rice-boat it is generally on the quarter (if under sail, on the lee

quarter), kept in position by a rope grommet at the head, and another

lanyard put through an eye bored lower down. In both kinds of craft a

finely peaked calico lugsail is used with a fair wind--the matting, of

which the junks and local coast-luggers make their sails, being never

seen inland. The size of the _rua pet_ is generally 40 feet over all,

8 feet 4 inches beam, and 3 feet 4 inches draught loaded; a new one

will cost 300 to 320 ticals, say £26. Teak is largely used in the

construction, and when finished the whole is covered with a coating of

_chunam_, a mixture of oil from the Mai Yang (a magnificently

proportioned tree common in the forest), with dammar oil, which gives

a beautiful red varnish to the hull.

[Illustration: RUA PET.]

A third distinct type of boat is the _rua nua_ ("nua" meaning north,

and "rua" boat), which seems to be rather a Laos than a Siamese form.

It is hardly accurate to call them distinctively "Laos boats," as is

often done, as the real "Laos boat," used both on the Mekong and in

the Laos states proper on the Meinam, is simply a long dug-out canoe,

60 feet long, with an extreme beam of 4 feet. The _rua nua_ is a much

more highly developed type, and is in construction as elaborate as

those above mentioned. It is generally longer than the _rua pet_. My

boat was 56 feet 10 inches over all, with a beam of 10 feet, and

carried the owner and his crew of four men, with myself and twenty

Siamese. At night a few of us slept on shore, in the Salas or

rest-houses of the monasteries, or on the banks of sand. The stem and

stern posts are made of huge chocks of teak, the bottom flat of three

or four huge planks running the whole length of the boat if possible.

Right aft is a high-roofed and very comfortable house in which the

steersman lives; sitting on his high stool, and looking over the usual

plaited roof along the centre of the boat, he turns his long

steering-oar, which reaches far out astern over the port quarter. The

fore-deck of the boat is outrigged on each side to a considerable

distance, while a gangway runs round the centre roof outside for the

man to pole along. Up the Meiping these boats are generally ornamented

with a long high snout of timber out forward, and a high forked tail

astern.

[Illustration: RUA NUA.]

Of small craft the variety is endless--from the small canoes which

hawk _kanoms_, or cakes of rice, sugar, and coconut, to the small

roughly roofed boats which will just hold the owner and his wife and

child if they balance carefully, or the long snake-like boats which

are favourites with the monks at the monasteries. The people usually

build their own boats, and are very good hands at it; and one may see

them in all states of construction,--hollowed out with laborious

chipping ready for opening out over the fire, or already heated and

opened up, with knees and ribs being put in and pegged with wood (for,

like the Norwegians, they never use nails, and the result is great

durability); or ready with a six-inch "wash-streak" all round, and the

light deck at the gunwale level, which is the feature of the smallest,

if we except the _sampans_ and canoes of the capital.

The fittings of the large species of craft above described are often

elaborate and almost yacht-like. A brass trimming to the gunwale, and

bright red prayer-papers, are generally to be seen on board of John

Chinaman. There will be pretty balustrades round the quarters where

the helmsman is, partly for show, partly to keep the small fry from

falling overboard. Curtains of plaited bamboo are hinged to the attap

roof above the helmsman, and when shut down will keep out rain or sun.

At the fore end the deck will shine with the polish given it by the

constant sitting or reclining of the crew, and inside the long low

roof, if there were only sufficient head-room, the floor would be

declared perfect for a dance. All round are lockers, in which cotton

stuffs are stored to take up-country, or betel-box, teapot, and

crockery are stowed; the comfort and luxury of some of these boats

could not be surpassed.

[Illustration: RUA NUA FROM FORE END.]

[Illustration: BOAT HOLLOWED OUT OF TRUNK READY TO BE SOAKED IN

RIVER.]

[Illustration: BOAT OPENED OUT OVER FIRE, RIBS AND KNEES IN.]

And how they do all enjoy life! There is no hurry; if going down

stream, they take it easy enough; and if going up, why overwork? A

week earlier or a week later makes no difference; and so, why not stop

and have some tea and chat as they pass some friendly village, or a

boat with whom last year perhaps they travelled in company for a

month? If the sun gets hot, they will tie up to the bank, and all

hands bathe, the children diving overboard like the best of them. If

it rains, tie up again, light up the fire and cook the rice and mix

the curry for supper; then out cigarettes all hands, and from the

cloud, to which even the stout five-year-old boy, who is the pet of

the ship, contributes his share, gaze complacently out into the damp

evening, where all the myriad life of jungle is piping shrilly in the

swaying bamboo clumps. No wonder these people are happy and

hospitable, ever ready with a joke.

[Illustration: RICE-BOATS AND FLOATING HOUSE, PAKNAM PHO.]

The journey to Muang Pechai took our _rua nua_ 19 days, and owing to

the falling state of the river, our old skipper had to lighten his

ship by selling off a lot of his salt; and even then she drew 3 feet,

and all hands had frequently to go overboard and haul over shallows.

[Illustration: A RICE-BOAT, FLYING LIGHT.]

Above the junction of the Meinam Yome and the Pechai River, the

villages which had thronged the bank gave way to a wild uninhabited

country--the villages few and poor, the paddy-fields far apart and

small. The river winds tortuously between clay banks 30 feet high and

crowned with the prickly bamboo or long grasses, or in places with

deep forests of fine timber. Here and there on the inside of the bend

would be extensive sandbanks, and on these, as being safer from wild

animals or fever, often three or four boats' crews would be camping at

night. On the concave side of the bend would be evidences of huge

falls of stuff, the result of the recent floods, with large trees or

bamboo clumps sticking out of the water. Of animal life there was

plenty--the apparently sluggish crocodile, which at the crack of a

rifle would leap his own length into the water; the familiar and

friendly long-tailed monkeys; or the white-headed fish-eagle, and

another big dark-coloured eagle with peculiarly hoarse cry.

The order Herodiones is well represented, and I shot specimens of the

common heron (_Ardea cinerea_), and the great white heron or great

egret (_Ardea alba_); and in the low state of one's larder, which is

the normal condition in Siam, they were excellent eating. Of

kingfishers I saw two distinct forms--the smaller one (?), the pied

kingfisher of India; the larger with a stronger bill, black and white,

without the high colouring of the other. All these birds are very

common, and there are many smaller thin-legged birds running along the

sands.

[Illustration: RICE RAFT, NAM OO.]

As in all the rivers of Siam during and just after the rains, the

water is alive with fish, the most remarkable that I saw being the

"pla reum," a creature often over 3 feet long and the same in

depth--very broad-bodied, with a covering of large scales, the fins,

tail, and gills of a pinky red; head large and broad, with wide mouth

lined with fine rows of diminutive teeth, of which there are two lines

in the upper jaw. The tail is enormously powerful in the water, and,

until he is tired out, the drift-net used for catching him has a very

hard time of it.

After reaching Muang Pichit, the villages occur more frequently again,

and are often palisaded; this is necessary for the protection of the

cattle, which are the favourite prey of the dacoits who wander about

in the valley of the Meinam all too freely, often with fine boats,

which in the daytime are peaceful trading craft to the eye, but at

night suddenly bristle with men. At the present time this kind of

business is an actual danger to the traders as well as to the peaceful

villagers; and at the time I went up, though the Minister of the North

(Prince Damrong) had just been on a tour to Pechai, they were

extremely bold all over the country. Once north of lat. 17° 40', and

in the Laos country, property is safer than in Eaton Square.

One word as to the "wats," or monasteries, and the monks who inhabit

them. They are often misnamed "temples" and "priests;" but, as all who

know the customs of the Buddhist countries around will be aware, there

is no "priesthood" proper. These men are really retired from the world

for the purpose of such meditation as shall bring them as near to the

purity of their master and pattern Buddha as possible. Wherever there

are villages there are wats, supported by the contributions of the

inhabitants, who are bent on gaining merit by their good deeds to

these holy men. Like the monks of "merrie England" in years gone by,

there are good, bad, and indifferent; in many cases the prior is a

keen Pâli student and good musician, and a man of some ideas. The

yellow robe and the shaving of head and eyebrows is not exactly

fascinating at a close view, but among the monks I used to see many

very fine thoughtful faces; while I shall, I hope, always remember the

friendly evenings I spent after the day's voyage, sitting perched on

the bamboo flooring of the sala, high above the quiet stream,

listening to a duet played on their simple two-stringed fiddles. The

body is made of half a coconut-shell, over which the sounding-board is

placed. The string of the bow is between the two strings, and the

execution is wonderful. The airs, which are all handed down by ear,

are a very fast weird music, distinctly catchy, and one, "the trotting

pony," is a wonderfully sweet and descriptive air. Another instrument

is the _toka_, a hollow teak sounding-box with two strings stretched

over a number of bridges, on which the fingers of the left hand work

while the right twangs the strings: this joined in very well with the

fiddles. The intervals are not the same as ours, and the European ear

takes some time to get accustomed to the novelty; after a time,

however, one can sufficiently interpret the airs to get them on a

flute, whereon the proper intervals seem to enable one to get a

correct version of what before seemed rather a jargon. Another

favourite pursuit with the youthful monks is _tetakvoa_, a football of

open wicker-work, which is kept going by the dozen or so players

taking "full volleys" with knee or foot, and often "heading" the ball.

This, of course, is common in the villages too, but I did not see it

in the Laos states.

It is the custom to bring up for the night, whenever possible,

alongside one of these wats, both on account of the convenience of

finding a good sala, and the greater security against robbers. There

is always a wide clear space beneath the trees which shade the

buildings of the monastery, and some of these quiet spots, from which,

as one walks up and down in the evening, one sees the long reach of

river reflecting the last light in the west, or, in the chilly

morning, the first streaks of dawn, are almost ideal places for

retirement and meditation. They, and the life which goes on within,

have been admirably described by Shway Yoe, in his book 'The Burman,'

one of the completest pictures which has ever been drawn of any

people; and the monastery life of Siam is almost identical. As the

monotonous but almost weird chant of the monks floated out across the

stream at sunset, we used to tie up for the night beneath: often it

would go far on into the night; and then long before day the great

gong would begin its clanging, and once more the chant rise among the

mists, and for us another day's poling would commence.

In the Laos states there are many points of difference in the wats,

not only in the architecture (and the hill-wats become very simple,

with a few roughly baked bricks for the low walls, and a thatch roof

in place of the red or wood tiled roofs of Siam), but also in the

_régime_. Every boy, for instance, who goes to do his schooling at the

wat wears the yellow robe, which assumes thus almost the character of

the college gown at home, and until he has so worn it he has no title

to the name of "man." As in Siam, besides his letters, he learns the

elementary precepts taught by Buddha; but, as not in Siam, he often

goes out with his superiors into the jungle, with robe tucked up, to

hew wood or do other work for the support of the wat, which the

laymen, being too few or too poor, cannot do.

During this month of December the north-east monsoon was blowing, but

we had curiously cloudy cool days nearly all the time, with, at the

start, slight rain at times. The minimum reading of the thermometer

was 42° Fahr. on the 22nd, just before sunrise. The two following

mornings we had 45° Fahr.; the maxima in the shade of the steersman's

house being 73°, 77°, and 76° on those days. 50°, 52.5°, 49°, 51°,

54°, 57°, 50°, and 57° were the minima for the next eight days, and

the maximum recorded was 85° at 1 p.m. At 9 a.m. the thermometer was

never above 64°.

At Muang Phitsanulok, which stands along a very pretty sweep of water,

hid deep in its areca and banana palms, I spent a morning at wat

Chinareth. This was the nearest approach to a real piece of effective

architecture that I had seen since leaving, and I once more

experienced the feeling of exultation which one used to know at home,

when enjoying the lights and shadows of some old building where the

mind of man had worked with great result. An additional charm was the

colouring. The coloured tiles of the roofs of the wats are remarkable

in Bangkok; but far in the jungle, when the eye has become accustomed

to green for weeks, the wonderful yellow-red, picked off with green

borders, and the light-red lower buildings of the cloisters, were most

striking. The building was once very extensive, cruciform in shape, in

four distinct sections round the great central tower. The western

building is the only one in any sort of preservation, and south of it,

and at its south-western end, still stand the cloisters. Brick and

laterite blocks are the material used, the former in some cases, as in

the wall and the pillars of the cloister, being stuccoed. These little

pillars are only 6 feet high, and the roof is gabled, supported on

simple uprights, which rise from horizontal cross-beams resting on the

pillars; and so a very pretty and simple cloister walk is obtained.

The remains of such walks lie in every direction round the centre. As

for the western building itself, I was much delighted with the

interior. One enters a monk's doorway at the south-east corner from a

cloister, and is at first lost in gloom. At last the great black

columns, with their elaborate gilt ornamentation (the one decoration

they understand in Siam), grow out in the feeble light from the little

narrow windows in the low side walls. The lofty peaked roof, which

rises far into blackness, comes down gradually, sloping less steeply

to the columns, of which there are two rows, and so to the low walls,

thus as it were covering a nave and side aisles. At the eastern end

are placed the usual gilt statues of Buddha, of all shapes and

sizes--of which in one cloister alone I saw over thirty-six over 3

feet high. Until these force themselves upon one's notice with all the

tawdry wreckage with which they are ornamented, the air of retirement

about the place is quite captivating. The central tower is some 60

feet high, covered with niches, in which stand more "prahs," or

statues, and on the eastern side is a staircase up halfway to a

dome-shaped chamber. The entrance to this was in its day very prettily

panelled and gilded; now, alas! cobwebs and bats are legion. But the

whole effect, there almost lost in jungle, is memorable.

[Illustration: WAT CHINARETH (CENTRAL TOWER FROM WEST).]

At a smaller wat to the southward (wat Boria) there is a very fine

Buddha, on whose head and shoulders the light is thrown from a small

window in the roof. The effect is quite impressive, and does great

credit to the architect who designed it. This is by no means the only

place in Siam where the light is dexterously managed.

[Illustration: A SALA IN THE NAN FORESTS.]

[Illustration: KORAT PLATEAU. ENTRANCE TO FOREST DONG PHYA YEN.]

Throughout this country the rivers, streams, and canals (or klongs)

are the highways, and the villages are built on their edge; the banks,

owing to the accumulations, the houses, and the preservative effect of

the palms in which the villages nestle, are often the highest points

in the country round--which in the rains becomes a series of vast

lakes, with islands here and there, and the houses standing out of the

water gaunt upon their long stilt-like piles of teak. In many parts

the buffaloes and oxen have to be driven away for miles to higher

ground; and one may meet whole villages moving with as many as forty

ox-carts in a gang, with spare oxen trotting behind their masters'

carts.

We had met a good deal of teak being rafted down the lower part of the

river. The small rafts come through the innumerable klongs and creeks

from all directions, and then below Pichit and Paknam Pho the big

rafts are made up, and go off downwards with their crew of men, the

cock crowing merrily on the roof of the little bamboo shelter which is

their "deck-house." Passing sandbanks and shallows is often a very

difficult operation. Some three or four men go overboard astern with

long 8-feet stakes, to which the end of a long hawser is fast. The

sharpened ends they drive into the bottom, clinging on to the top end

as the strain comes on, till at last often it is too great, and the

stake is pulled over man and all. However, by degrees they will bring

the great floating mass to a standstill for the night, or, as the case

may be, they succeed in checking the after end sufficiently to keep it

to the current, while three or four more hands are working the long

transverse-set oars at the fore end in the direction required, and two

or three more will be using long poles to keep off the shallows; all

hands shout lustily the whole time. By this process, repeated hour by

hour, they travel slowly to Bangkok with the current.

[Illustration: GORGE NAM PGOI.]

Above Pichit we met but few rafts, and those only consisting of bamboo

and "mai kabao," which is much used for small work, such as tables,

and is brought down in small pieces, generally about 14 feet long.

Muang Pechai is the chief town of a very extensive and important

province, which to the north-east reaches to the Mekong at Chieng Kan.

The Governor, Phya Pechai, is a fine, tall young man, who is (and this

is not too often the case in Siam) extremely popular with the people.

His evident honesty of purpose was apparent the first moment he spoke.

We had to stay here a few days to get the elephants together and buy

rice. Twelve _kanan_ (a coconut-shell) were selling at a _tical_, and

on the average each man consumes one _kanan_ per day. We laid in a

stock of 35 _thang_ (of 20 _kanan_), and were shortly after glad to

get off on our journey towards the distant hills. I should add that

this place is the starting-point for Paklai, on the Mekong, the trail

between these two places being the route generally followed by the

officials going to Luang Prabang. Apart from this it is not of much

importance, and, situated in the uninteresting plain, is subject to

high floods in the rains, as the water-marks on the piles of the

post-office and the school and court houses attest.

Two days, passing through scrub jungle, brings the traveller to Ban

Nam Pi, where there are some iron "mines"--a series of shallow

diggings on an extensive deposit of limonite, which seems to be

"derivative" from surface decomposition. The quartz rock, which

generally underlies it, is probably a quartz sand which has been

metamorphosed under pressure into the hard material we now find. In,

or in close connection with the latter, the iron nodules are not to be

found, but near the surface, where the quartz has softened and looks

almost like a sandstone, the nodules occur in abundance.

The great difficulty was to get any one to do any work, even in

clearing away _débris_, such is the fear of the "Pi," or spirits, who

are said to guard the mineral. Without the offer of a white bullock,

who ought first to be slain for their benefit, it was asserted that

the spirits would certainly interfere with any one attempting to do

any work. I was also told that when the iron ore is removed it brings

bad luck to any house in which it is stored, and that, if hung up on a

tree (certainly an odd place for stowing ores), it invariably causes

the death of the tree. An iron-shod bamboo is the only tool used, but

no work has been done for ages, and the small furnace which once

existed at the village is quite dilapidated. It was quite vain setting

to work myself, and giving out that I had made a permanent arrangement

with all the "Pi," even the most vicious, before leaving Bangkok;

nothing less than a royal proclamation will ever give the people

confidence enough to make the opening up of these places possible.

On January 10 we were fairly under way for the north, high in hope and

spirits, as a party always is when the scenery begins to change, and

weary plains give way to lofty hill-ranges and distant peaks, with

cool clear streams splashing in the rocky watercourses. At Muang Fang

we came down to the Meinam once more, and camped in a very fine wat,

which none of us will ever forget; for we marched in, parched and

dusty, to find ourselves under orange trees loaded with fruit, and

then and there all hands almost bathed in the delicious cool juice. To

the south is a lovely semicircle of hills of schist, which turn the

river away to the west. To the north, the timber-clad heights rose

shoulder upon shoulder, far into the peaks of Kao Luet and Kao Taw,

dim with distance. We were at last fairly in the mountains and in the

Laos country.

I do not wish to give what would perhaps be a wearying account of our

marches day after day, full of pleasure, of changing beauties, and of

memorable incidents as they were, but as succinctly as possible to

speak of the configuration of the country we passed through.

We next day forded the river at Ban Taluat, and were in the province

of Nan. The trail on to Cherim (north-east) crosses a number of small

hills of clay slate, which form the outlying buttresses of the rougher

country to the north; the strike which I observed here and all the way

up on our northerly journey is pretty regularly north and south, the

dip westerly at about 25°, sometimes steeper. Water is scarce here,

and when we stopped for breakfast in the bed of a _hoay_ (or

mountain-stream) at 9, after about three hours' going, even the holes

in the sandy bed only gave us two or three pints of water; but, of

course, in January this is to be expected. To avoid the rough country

northward the trail crosses the Meinam once more, where its direction

is southerly, to Cherim, whence the march to M. Faek is a very long

and hilly one, over high ridges of clay slate, which carry one up over

1000 feet above the river. Some of the glimpses we got in the early

mornings, as we climbed upwards among the tall trunks, were quite

magnificent. These forests, in their winter clothing of reds and

yellows, with the tall grey trunks standing out clear against the deep

shadows behind, are, with the early morning or evening sun upon them,

perfectly gorgeous. As day dawns the rays climb down the heights above

you into the mists, which forthwith whirl and melt; and then, as you

rise above it all, there lies below on all sides a billowy sea of wild

forest, high on jagged ridges in the sunlight, or darkened in shadows

far down in the deep torrent valleys; in the blue distance eastward

the Nam Pat range lies dim, and north and west the eye loses itself

among endless cloud-capped ranges.

The sala at Muang Faek is on the west side of the river, and consists

of a number of separate bamboo shelters; here we had to rest our

elephants, all eighteen of which were tired out by the climb from

Cherim, and we had to engage two more to reduce the weights on our

tired beasts. Elephants in Siam are never idle, and the animals I got

from Pechai, which belonged to the Minister of the Mining Department,

had all been hard at work hauling teak and such things before our

arrival. At Muang Faek there are a good many, and the two which now

joined us were a male and female of magnificent proportions. They had

a swinging gait, with which they travelled much faster than the

others, evidently not being accustomed to dragging heavy timber, but

to light weights and hard climbing. At first they didn't like their

new surroundings at all, and it was most curious to see how, when the

one began to trumpet and back out of the crowd, the other rushed up,

caressing him with her trunk all over, and even pushing it into his

mouth, and stood by him till he was pacified; but if she left his side

for a moment, round he whirled in search of her, and the mahout could

do nothing to stop him. I never saw them separated by more than twenty

yards the whole time they were with us; they had always to be loaded

and unloaded together, as they stood side by side, entwining their

trunks lovingly, and in the evening, after the march, they bathed

together and squirted one another in huge enjoyment. The howdahs are

simply rough saddles like big baskets, and are generally fitted with a

close plaited roof with a long peak before and behind, like those

fitted on the _kiens_, or ox-carts, of the plains.

From M. Faek the trail, which is well trodden, passes along the steep

wooded banks of the Meinam, which, however, is here known as the Nam

Nan. The clay slate dips 65° W., and makes long black ridges in the

river-bed, which can be seen deep down in the clear water, or rising

in sharp crags above it, and forming the rapids, which make the river

a difficult highway at the best, and only navigable by the long narrow

dug-outs.

It is a short march to Hoay Li, where there is a sala kept, as they

all are in Nan, in excellent condition; but there is a stream close

by. The next day's march was a heavy one, over more lofty ridges

without water, and it is, therefore, a good stopping-place. Leaving at

sunrise, the Laos guide and myself reached the small shelter at Hoay

Nai at one o'clock, the rest of my Siamese straggling in well blown an

hour later, and the elephants climbing down the steep watercourse at

three. This is generally the extent of a day's march, and the average

rate of jungle-travelling, allowing for stoppages, is never over 2½

miles an hour, and a six hours' march is as much as the Siamese can

do; in these hills the elephants certainly do not do more than 2 miles

an hour. To the Laos trotting along on foot there is, however, no

limit that I ever discovered, even with the heavy loads which they

carry swung on a pole across the shoulder. With a couple of handfuls

of _kao nëo_, the hill-rice, which they steam over a pot into a

glutinous mass, very handy and portable for the day's march, and with

some dried fish and a banana, and a long pull at the fresh stream

water once in the day, they will go cheerily from morn till night,

swinging when necessary their long _dhâp_ (a sword of Burmese style,

which every man over sixteen carries if he be a man at all), to cut

and lop the branches and jungle which are for ever blocking the

tracks. This stopping-place was one of the wildest we were ever in;

nothing but jungle and mountains all around, the place itself a tiny

clearing in the bottom of a deep narrow ravine, where the monster

trunks climbed far above us, leaving only one little space of open

sky, from which at three o'clock the sun was shut out, and where at

half-past five night had fairly set in. A number of gangs going south

from Nan were camped here with us.

Another, easy, march brought us to Muang Hin, over 1200 feet above

sea-level. Imagine a number of lovely villages clustering among their

coconut and areca palms, in a beautiful wide valley surrounded by

forests and hills, the glistening yellow paddy-stalks bright in the

afternoon sun, with the black backs of the buffalo moving lazily

about; the homely red of the little oxen, and the moving islands the

elephants make whisking the paddy in their trunks; with the village

sounds drifting down the quiet air--the distant drum at the monastery,

whose grey roof stands above the other houses, or the far-off "poot,

poot" of the "nok poot" in the jungle (a black bird, by the way, with

a long pheasant-like tail and light red wings)--and you have an idea

of the lovely scene which spread before us that evening as we emerged

from the hills.

This valley runs parallel to the Nam Nan valley to the eastward, but

drains in exactly the opposite direction, the water running north and

turning into the Nam Nan considerably north of M. Sisaket. Three days

going down this lovely valley brought us through a rough piece of

limestone country to Muang Sa, where I stayed some days visiting

several places in the neighbourhood. This township is important, and

stands by the Nam Nan in a very fine paddy-growing plain, and is

better supplied with inhabitants than the country we had come through;

but even here the tigers are very bold, and often come right into the

villages. Small irrigation canals extend in all directions.

[Illustration: THE PADDY-FIELDS, HIN VALLEY.]

Like the quarrymen in North Wales, whenever there is a cry of "gold"

at Clogan, the Laos take every piece of yellow copper pyrites or iron

pyrites for gold, and we had several very hard days' travelling both

east and west after gold-mines of this description.

The minimum readings for the last five days were 62°, 49°, 46°,

43°, and 45° Fahr., and going on one day's march over the plain to

Muang Nan, the capital of this great province, we had 60° as minimum

for several days.

The salas stand outside the red-brick walls of Nan, and are only a few

hundred yards from the river, and here was every sign of prosperity;

every other family seems to own an elephant or two. The houses are

well built and enclosed in stout palisades; and besides the town

inside the walls, there is a very large number of houses between them

and the river. I saw numbers of dug-outs arriving with cotton, and

many too going away south. There are a few Burmese shopkeepers along

the east wall, their principal stock consisting of check-patterned

_panungs_ and _sarongs_ and small knickknacks, betel boxes, and a

little silver-work. A mule caravan of Haws from the north--as dirty

and ugly as the dirtiest Chinamen--were also anxious to sell Chinese

slippers, sheepskin coats, walnuts and sandals, and shortly after left

for the south, like others we had met at Muang Sa. From M. Sa I

gathered they were going to make westward toward M. Pray. Some of the

Burmese brought me some sapphires from Chieng Kong, and there were

some fine stones, but I was at the time surprised to find they had no

rubies. Coloured quartzes are also found in this neighbourhood, and

are cut for ornament. The rupee is the current coin, and the Burmese

shopkeepers and a Chinaman or two were the only people who would

exchange our money for us--at the rate of three salung to the rupee.

[Illustration: WAT BEN YEUN, M. SA.]

[Illustration: EAST GATE OF NAN.]

The sight of Nan is the early morning market, to which before sunrise

the women are seen coming from all directions, wrapped in their long

plaids--for such, indeed, the Lao cloak is, both in pattern and mode

of wearing. The market is held within the walls in the open space, in

which stands the _sanam_, or court-house; this is surrounded on three

sides by wats, and on the west by the palace, a large house with no

very striking features. The women crouch along the sides in rows with

their baskets in front of them, as at Luang Prabang and at all the

markets one sees in this part of the peninsula. Fruit, biscuits, and

cakes, ready rolled cigarettes and flowers, are for sale, but the

quantities are very small. There is a muffled sound of subdued chatter

and laughter, and the scene is a very pretty one--till at last the

mists are gone, the sun is well up in the heavens, and the crowd melts

away as silently as it came.

Once inside the walls the town may be described as countrified, the

houses standing in their own enclosures among their palms, where the

elephants twirl their trunks among the cocks and hens. Very fair roads

run at right angles to one another, but are always quiet and shady,

like country lanes. The chief business seems to be outside the town,

villages extending on all sides, and especially along the road to the

north, past the "old city," which is about one mile in that direction,

and where there are some very good substantial palisades still

standing, with the remains of a deep ditch and massive wall on the

north-west side, all of course very much grown over. The custom of

shaving the head all round, with the exception of the tuft at the top

which stands bristling straight on end, and gives a good grip to the

light-red or white turban which is often worn, is a cool and cleanly

one, and gives the men a smart appearance; the black tattooing, which

extends from the knee up to the middle of the body, is the other

distinctive feature throughout the province of Nan. They seldom wear

more than the panung and a short blue jacket, except in the early

mornings, when, with the thermometer at 50°, they shiver inside their

long plaids; as the day becomes warmer, the plaid is rolled up and

stowed in the bag, which is as indispensable as the _dhâp_, and goes

over one shoulder, carrying its owner's all--consisting of a small

basket of _kao neo_ for the day, some tobacco, and betel-nut, with

often a long-stemmed pipe and flint and steel.

[Illustration: LAOS BAG, OR STRIPED CLOTH.]

[Illustration: KAO NEO WICKER BASKETS.]

The women tie their long hair up on the top of their heads, and when I

first got among them I was reminded of the same fashion at home, as

also by other points of resemblance one had not seen among the

Siamese--a light springy step, a pleasant-sounding voice, a well-cut

figure, and a rosy cheek. In some of the districts in the hills the

women suffer severely from goitre, and up the Nam Wa, a wild torrent

which joins the Nam Nan from the east, just below Muang Sa, three out

of every four of the women I saw had it. Up that river, too, I noticed

a lack of expression in the faces of the men and lads when in repose;

but they are rare hands at a joke, and then their faces light up

wonderfully. These men all wore short jackets to the waist, of blue

cloth, leaving a strip of tattooing between it and the blue panung. I

was astonished at the number of children I saw there, too, every man

we met in the jungle having some four or five of his sons with him.

Ten or even fifteen children is a number not uncommon for one woman,

while in Siam, as a rule, the number three is not exceeded. I imagine

the population must be now recovering from the effects of the

continual warfare which existed before Siam made its rule felt in the

north, and which no doubt accounts for the meagre population

throughout the entire peninsula.

[Illustration: AXE FOR HOLLOWING BOATS.]

[Illustration: DIPPER FOR WATER.]

Of the joyful, kindly, and hospitable character of the Laos of Nan one

cannot say too much; I never saw a surly face or heard an angry word.

Their honesty is proverbial, and they are singularly temperate:

drinking _lao_ (which is distilled from rice to a large extent in Siam

itself), smoking opium, theft, and malice seem to have no attractions

for them. I believe every one who has travelled with and among them

will say the same, and will ever keep their memory stowed away in a

warm corner of the heart.

The Rachawong was the official I saw most of--an upstanding, refined,

and gentlemanly looking man, with a touch of iron grey in his hair, a

firm step, a strong mouth, and high clear forehead. He gave me the

story of some recent trouble with Chow Sa (the Prince of Sa) without

any of that repetition, detail, or tinge of animosity one expects from

an uneducated or inferior mind when speaking of an enemy.

Preparations were beginning for the cremation of the late "king" who

was just dead, but we left before the ceremony began.

The punishment of death, which was inflicted for opium-smoking,

elephant-killing, or theft, has been replaced during the last few

years by a milder form; but it is noteworthy that in two years only

one man has been put in the prison at Nan.

The music is a great contrast to that of the Siamese. At a dinner to

which I was invited at M. Sa, we had, to an accompaniment of three

bamboo flutes with very sweet low tones, a kind of duet sung by two

girls, each taking a verse in turn. The rather nasal notes would soar

up quite independently of the flutes, and then suddenly return to the

keynote, which was a lovely minor, and was sustained; then would come

a pause, with the delightful subdued refrain on the flutes again, ere

the other began. The subject was a war-song, on which they both

extemporized; but even my Siamese could not follow the words at all.

After a solo from one of the flutists, who, as usual, sang falsetto

(which is especially affected by the Siamese too in love-songs), he

and one of the damsels lighted tapers, and though in no dress but

their ordinary open dark blue jackets of panung, they performed

another kind of duet, accompanied by waving of hands and arms, and a

certain amount of not ungraceful attitudinizing. It seemed to be a

kind of sacred affair, with a slow dignified air, and they quite lost

themselves in it, though some of my Siamese were making running

comments in the usual style of the vulgar all over the world.

As far as music goes, it was far more expressive and peaceful than

anything I had heard in Siam, as the others owned. I had with me as

assistant-surveyor a very accomplished young Siamese, who is an

excellent specimen of the best that Siam produces; he is a capital

musician after the fashion of his country, and used continually to

warble languishing love-airs to our great amusement, and also good

marching airs. He had a good ear, and soon picked up some of the Laos

tunes, and so one had good opportunities of comparing them. It was

curious, too, how he and several of the others took to English airs

they heard from me, even copying the sounds of the English words. The

proficiency of the Siamese "service" bands in Bangkok shows, too, that

they can master and appreciate our music.

I have heard the Laos called "savages," which can only be said in

ignorance. They respect superiors, are devoted to their "chows," to

whom they are united by feudal ties, are obedient to their parents,

extremely hospitable, and perfectly honest. The stranger to them is no

enemy, but a creature that needs kindness, and invariably gets it.

Quarrelling is unknown. They respect their women, and, unlike the

Siamese, walk behind them and bear the heaviest load. They do the

jungle-work, and the women stay at home, weaving their silk panungs or

their horizontally striped petticoats at the loom beneath the house;

while the dogs, no longer vile pariahs, but cared for well, and of a

breed something like a sheepdog, sit by and watch the children play.

Surely there is something besides savagery here.

[Footnote 1: M.= Muang.]