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A considerable portion of the Indo-Chinese peninsula is occupied by the extensive country of Cambodia, or Camboja, known to the natives as Kan-pou-chi. It extends from lat. 8° 47′ to 15° N., along the basin of the Mekong, Makiang, or Cambodia river; and is bounded on the north by Laos; on the south, by the Gulf of Siam and the China Sea; on the east, by Cochin-China; and on the west, by Siam. Formerly it was independent; but since 1809 it has been included within the empire of Annam, except the province of Battabang, which belongs to the kingdom of Siam. But since the French established themselves at Saigon in 1858, and have gradually obtained a controlling power in Annam (or Cochin-China), their influence has also extended to Cambodia.

COURSE OF THE MEKONG.

The largest river of Cambodia, and of the whole Indo-Chinese peninsula, is the Mekong, Makiang, or Cambodia, which, rising in the mountains of China, under the name of the Lan-tsan-kiang, flows in a south-easterly direction across the province of Yunnan; thence, under the name of the Kiou-long, traverses the territory of Laos; and afterwards, as the Mekong, intersects Cambodia, dividing the Annam portion from that which belongs to Siam; separates into several branches, and finally falls into the China Sea, after a fertilizing course of about fifteen hundred miles. Its two principal mouths are those of the Japanese and Oubequum channels. There are several smaller mouths, however, the southernmost of which is situated in lat. 9° 30′ N., and long. 106° 20′ E.

Very little was known of this great river until the French had made themselves masters of Saigon. It has since been explored in parts of its course by M. Mouhot, Lieutenant Garnier, and others. The country which it waters possesses many features of interest; and the scenery through which it flows is often of a romantic and beautiful character. The manners and customs of the people dwelling on its banks are not unworthy of consideration; and we propose, therefore, to carry the reader with us on a voyage up this magnificent stream,—penetrating, under the guidance of Lieutenant Garnier, into hitherto unexplored parts of Cambodia, and even into China itself.

A FRENCH EXPEDITION.

In 1866 the French Government determined on despatching an expedition to explore the upper valley of the great Cambodian river, and placed it in charge of M. de Lagrée, a captain in the French navy. M. Thorel, a surgeon, was attached to it as botanist; M. Delaporte, as artist; Dr. Joubert, as physician and geologist; and among the other members were Lieutenant Garnier, to whose record of the expedition we are about to be indebted, and M. de Carné. After a visit to Ongcor, the capital of the ancient kingdom of the Khmers, with those vast memorials of antiquity described so graphically by M. Mouhot, the expedition proceeded to ascend the great river, passing the busy villages of Compong Luong and Pnom Penh—the latter the residence of the king of Cambodia. Here they abandoned the gun-brigs which had brought them from Saigon, and embarked themselves and their stores on board boats better fitted for river navigation.

BOATING ON THE MEKONG.

These boats or canoes are manned, according to their size, by a crew of six to ten men. Each is armed with a long bamboo, one end of which terminates with an iron hook, the other with a small fork. The men take up their station on a small platform in the fore part of the boat, plant their bamboos against some projection on the river-bank, tree or stone, and then march towards the stern; returning afterwards on the opposite side to repeat the process. This strange kind of circular motion suffices to impel the boat at the rate of a man walking at full speed, when the boatmen are skilful at their work, and the river-bank is straight and well defined. The master’s attention is wholly occupied, meanwhile, in keeping the bow of the canoe in the direction of the current, or rather slightly headed towards the shore. It is obvious that such a mode of navigation is liable to many interruptions, and cannot be commended on the score of swiftness or convenience.

SCENE ON THE MEKONG

FORMIDABLE RAPIDS.

On the 13th of July the canoes took their departure from Cratieh, and soon afterwards arrived at Sombor. They then effected the passage of the rapids of Sombor-Sombor—no great difficulty being experienced, owing to the rise of the waters. Beyond this point the broad bed of the great river was encumbered with a multitude of islands, low and green, while the banks were covered with magnificent forests. The voyagers noticed here some trees of great value—the yao; the ban-courg, the wood of which makes capital oars; and the lam-xe, which should be highly prized by the European cabinet-makers.

A WEARY VOYAGE.

On the 16th of July the voyagers again fell in with a series of formidable rapids. The sharp and clearly-defined shores of the islands which had hitherto enclosed the arm of the river they were navigating were suddenly effaced. The Cambodia was covered with innumerable clumps of trees, half under water; its muddy torrent rolled impetuously through a thousand canals, forming an inextricable labyrinth. Huge blocks of sandstone rose at intervals along the left bank, and indicated that strata of the same rock extended across the river-bed. At a considerable distance from the shore the poles of the boatmen found a depth of fully ten feet; and it was with extreme difficulty the canoes made way against the strong, fierce current, which in some confined channels attained a velocity of five miles an hour.

Storms of wind and rain contributed to render the voyage more wearisome and the progress slower. It was no easy task at night to find a secure haven for the boats; and the sudden floods of the little streams at the mouth of which the voyagers sought shelter, several times subjected them to the risk of being carried away during their sleep, and cast all unexpectedly into the mid-current of the great river. They slept on board their boats, because the roof was some protection from the furious rains; but these soon soaked through the mats and leaves of which it was composed. The weather was warm, and thus these douche-baths were not wholly insupportable; and when the voyagers could not sleep, they found some consolation in admiring the fantastic illumination which the incessant lightnings kindled in the gloomy arcades of the forest, and in listening to the peals of thunder, repeated by a thousand echoes, and mingling with the hoarse continuous growl of the angry waters.

Such are some of the features of the navigation of the lower part of the Cambodia. But our limits compel us to pass over several chapters of Lieutenant Garnier’s narrative, and to take it up after the voyagers had crossed the boundaries of Siam and Cambodia and entered Laos.

THE LAOTIANS DESCRIBED.

Lieutenant Garnier describes the Laotians as generally well made and robust. Their physiognomy, he says, is characterized by a singular combination of cunning and apathy, benevolence and timorousness. Their eyes are less regular, their cheeks less prominent, the nose straighter, than is the case with other peoples of Mongolian origin; and but for their much paler complexion, which closely approaches that of the Chinese, we should be tempted to credit them with a considerable admixture of Hindu blood. The male Laotian shaves his head, and, like the Siamese, preserves only a small tuft of very short hair on the summit. LAOTIAN COSTUME. He dresses himself tastefully, and can wear the finest stuffs with ease and dignity. He chooses always the liveliest colours; and the effect of a group of Laotians, with the brilliant hues of their costume set off by their copper-tinted skin, is very striking. The common people wear an exceedingly simple garb—the langouti, a piece of cotton stuff passed between the legs and around the waist. For those of higher rank the langouti is of silk; and is frequently accompanied by a small vest buttoned over the chest, with very narrow sleeves, and another piece of silk folded round the waist as a girdle, or round the neck as a scarf. Head-gear and foot-gear are things little used in Laos; but the labourers and boatmen, when working or rowing under a burning sun, protect the head with an immense straw hat, almost flat, much like a parasol. Personages of high rank, when they are in “full dress,” wear a kind of slipper, which appears to inconvenience them greatly, and is thrown off at the earliest opportunity.

Most of the Laotians tattoo themselves on the stomach or legs, though the practice is much more prevalent in the north than in the south. The Laotian women do not wear much more clothing than their husbands. The langouti, instead of being brought up between the legs, is fastened round the waist, and allowed to hang down like a short tight petticoat below the knees. Generally, a second piece of stuff is worn over the bosom, and thrown back across either the right or left shoulder. The hair, always of a splendid jetty blackness, is twisted up in a chignon on the top of the head, and kept in its place by a small strip of cotton or plaited straw, frequently embellished with a few flowers. Every woman ornaments her neck, arms, and legs with rings of gold, silver, or copper, sometimes heaped one upon another in considerable quantity. The very poor are content with belts of cotton or silk; to which, in the case of children, are suspended little amulets given by the priests as talismans against witchcraft or remedies against disease.

Strictly speaking, polygamy does not exist in Laos. Only the well-to-do indulge in the embarrassing luxury of more wives than one; and even with these a favoured individual is recognized as the lawful spouse.

SLAVERY IN LAOS.

Unhappily, slavery prevails, as it does in Siam and Cambodia. A debtor may be enslaved, by judicial confiscation; but the “peculiar institution” is chiefly recruited from the wild tribes in the eastern provinces. The slaves are employed in tilling the fields, and in domestic labours; they are treated with great kindness. They often live so intimately and so familiarly with their masters, that, but for their long hair and characteristic physiognomy, it would be difficult to distinguish them in the midst of a Laotian “interior.”

The Laotians are a slothful people, and, when not rich enough to own slaves, leave the best part of the day’s work to be done by the women, who not only perform the household labour, but pound the rice, till the fields, paddle the canoes. Hunting and fishing are almost the only occupations reserved for the stronger sex.

FISH-CATCHING PROCESSES.

We have not space to describe all the engines employed for catching fish, which, next to rice, is the principal food of all the riverine populations of the Mekong valley, and is furnished by the great river in almost inexhaustible quantities. The most common are large tubes of bamboo and ratan, having one or more funnel-shaped necks, the edges of which prevent the fish from escaping after they have once entered. These apparatus are firmly attached, with their openings towards the current, to a tree on the river-bank, or, by means of some heavy stones, are completely submerged. Every second or third day their owner visits them, and empties them of their finny victims. The Laotians also make use of an ingenious system of floats, which support a row of hooks, and realize the European “fishing by line,” without the help of the fisherman. There are various other methods adopted, such as the net and the harpoon; and in the employment of all these the Laotians display considerable activity and address.

Let us now accompany our French voyagers in their further ascent of the river. As we have already hinted, its navigation is not without its inconveniences, and even its dangers.

A SUDDEN STORM.

One evening, for example, they dropped anchor at the mouth of a small stream which, in foam and spray, came tumbling down from the mountains of Cambodia. After supper they lay down to rest on the mats which covered the deck of their vessels. Black was the sky, hot and oppressive the air; all around were visible the portents of a coming storm. The distant roar of the hurricane failed, however, to disturb the sleepers, who were spent and overcome with the fatigues of the day. But at last they were wakened effectually by a “thunder-plump,” which quickly flooded their canoes, and drove them upon deck.

In the midst of the elemental disorder, they became aware of a hoarse growling sound; the waters were violently agitated, and a great crest of foam rapidly advanced towards their feeble barks. In a few moments it was upon them. It swept clean over the voyagers and their canoes, and those of the latter which had been carelessly moored were borne down the rushing tide. At first an indescribable disorder prevailed; cries of distress rose in every direction; the canoes dashed violently against one another, or came into collision with uprooted trunks floating on the surface of the storm-tossed waters. THE FLOOD SUBSIDES. Fortunately, the danger was quickly over; and as every boat had contrived to grapple some branch or rock, the voyagers discovered at daybreak that, whatever injuries these had sustained, no lives had been lost. The furious gale they had heard in the distance had raised the waters some twelve feet during the night; but the inundation subsided as rapidly as it had risen.

Under the shade of wide-branching trees, and closely hugging the shore, the expedition continued its voyage. The neighbouring forests were remarkable for their luxuriant vegetation; troops of apes and squirrels of various species gambolled among the mighty trees, among which rose conspicuous the superb yao, the king of these forests, the trunk of which shoots up, free from knot or bough, to a height of eighty or one hundred feet; and out of which the Laotians hollow their piraguas. In the morning a wild beast now and then came down to the river to drink; and night was rendered hideous by the cries and trumpetings of deer, and tigers, and elephants.

THE KHON CATARACT.

At length the voyagers came within hearing of the tremendous roar of the Khon cataract. Their boatmen, brisker than on ordinary occasions, hauled or propelled their vessels through a very labyrinth of rocks, submerged trees, and prostrate trunks still clinging to earth by their many roots. They knew that their hard labour was nearly at an end, and that at Khon the expedition would dismiss them, as fresh boats would be required above the cataract. As for their homeward voyage, what was it? To ascend the river had been the work of a week; the swift current would bear them back in less than a day.

A PLAGUE OF LEECHES.

The cataract of Khon is really a series of magnificent falls, of which one of the grandest is caused by the confluence of the Papheng. There, in the midst of rocks and grassy islets, an enormous sheet of water leaps headlong from a height of seventy feet, to fall back in floods of foam, again to descend from crag to crag, and finally glide away beneath the dense vegetation of the forest. As the river at this point is about one thousand yards in width, the effect is singularly striking. But still more imposing is the Salaphe fall, which extends over a breadth of a mile and a half, at the very foot of the mountains. In order to examine it at leisure, Lieutenant Garnier engaged a Laotian to conduct him to an island lying just above it. Before starting, the guide made certain preparations, of which Garnier could not understand the necessity, in spite of the Laotian’s efforts to explain them. Rolling up about his waist the light langouti, he plastered his feet and legs with a composition of lime and areca juice. This precaution proved to be far from useless; for, on landing on the island, they found the soil covered with thousands of leeches, some no larger than needles, but others two inches and a half to three inches in length. On the approach of the strangers, they reared themselves erect upon each dead leaf and blade of grass; they leaped, so to speak, upon them from every side. The thick coating which the Laotian guide had so prudently assumed preserved him from their bites; but Garnier, in a few moments, was victimized by dozens of these blood-suckers, which crawled up his legs and bled him in spite of all his efforts. He found it impossible to get rid of his determined antagonists; for one leech which he tore off, two fresh assailants seized upon him. Glad was he when he caught sight of a tall tree. He made towards it, scaled its trunk, and, when out of reach of his foes, set to work to deliver himself from the creatures which were feasting at his expense. Throwing off his clothes, he removed the leeches one by one, though it was not without difficulty that he loosened their hold. Even his waistband had not arrested their march, for he found that one audacious persecutor had actually reached his chest.

A VIEW OF THE CATARACT.

He felt more than repaid, however, for all his sufferings, when he arrived within sight of the cataract. With a breadth of two thousand yards, a prodigious mass of water came down in blinding foam, roaring like a furious sea when it breaks against an iron-bound coast. At another point, the flood was divided into eight or ten different cascades by as many projecting crags, richly clothed in leafage and vegetation. Beyond, nothing could be seen but one immense rapid,—a roaring, tumultuous deluge! The sandstone blocks and boulders which encumbered the river-bed were completely hidden by the whirl and eddy of the waves; and their position could be detected only by the foam on the surface, or the vapour floating wreath-like in the air. Further still, a few black points, a few ridges of rock, and a chain of small islets, stretched across to the opposite bank, which it was impossible to approach, and where, apparently, the cataract seemed to attain its greatest fury. Such was the great fall of Salaphe,—a scene of sublime grandeur, conveying the idea of everlasting strength and power.

VISIT TO BASSAC.

While preparing to continue their ascent of the river, Lieutenant Garnier and his companions visited Bassac, one of the most important towns in Laos. It is situated in the heart of the richest tropical scenery; and the members of the expedition found it impossible to ramble in any direction without coming upon some fresh and beautiful landscape, or some object of the highest interest. The mountains which surround Bassac are clothed to their very summits with vegetation; and down the shadowy glens which furrow their rugged sides sparkle bright, pure streams on their way to the all-absorbing Mekong. The people of Bassac are a mild and peaceable race, and they received the strangers with cordial hospitality. The time was spent most agreeably in paying and receiving visits; in excursions among the beautiful scenery of the neighbourhood, the choicest “bits” of which they transferred to their sketch-books; in studying the manners and customs of the inhabitants; and in essaying their skill as marksmen against the wild denizens of the forest.

IN PURSUIT OF GAME

The larger game are generally caught by the hunters of Bassac in nets or snares. The chase on a grand scale is almost unknown. In the forests, however, the hunters sometimes call in the elephant to their assistance; they are thus able to get close to the wished-for prey, as the latter do not take alarm at the approach of an animal so well known. Lieutenant Garnier tells us that he enjoyed his sport in a modest fashion. Sometimes he spent whole days in traversing the dried-up swamps, in the shade of dense masses of trees bound together inextricably by every kind of liana and parasite. To such places resort numerous companies of peacocks and wild fowl during the hot season; but their pursuit is always difficult, and frequently dangerous. Indeed, the Laotians cherish a belief that the tiger and the peacock are always found in the same localities.

PEACOCK HUNTING.

A MOUNTAIN EXCURSION.

One evening, seated at the foot of a tamarisk-tree, the fruit of which a troop of squirrels was busily crunching among the branches overhead, Garnier and his comrade, Dr. Thorel, took counsel together; with the conclusion that, on the day following, they would undertake a mountain excursion, and boldly attempt to scale one of the most elevated peaks. Accordingly, at dawn they started, attended by their usual escort—a native, christened Luiz.

With swift feet they crossed the rice-plantations and marshes that separated them from the foot of the mountains; and by a narrow winding track reached the bed of a dried-up torrent, where they halted for a brief rest. Thence, plunging into the forest, they slowly climbed the precipitous heights, occasionally confronted by a rugged steep, or an immense mass of rock that seemed likely to baffle all their aspirations, but was eventually conquered by combined skill and resolution. The forest soon changed its character; the rarefaction of the air forced itself upon their notice; the daring adventurers rose above the clouds and vapours of the plain. On arriving at a narrow ledge of table-land they halted for breakfast. The first requisite was fresh water; rare enough at that season of the year, and at such a height! Close beside them, however, was the channel of a spent burn; and a careful search among the rocks revealed to them a pool, sheltered from wind and sun, brimming with crystal water,—and tenanted, moreover, by some mountain-eels, small but delicious. The pool being very shallow, a supply of the eels was soon obtained.

DETAILS OF THE ASCENT.

It did not take long to kindle a fire. The eels were dexterously grilled; and a savoury and substantial repast concluded with a dessert of wild bananas. Refreshed and invigorated, the mountain-climbers resumed their enterprise; and along a narrow crest, so narrow that two persons could not walk abreast, made their way through a labyrinth of vegetation. With watchful eye, and hand on trigger, they advanced. Suddenly a strayed peacock flew in front of them; but as their position was unfavourable for taking aim, they allowed it to pass by. They reached at last a kind of natural staircase, the ascent of which was rendered inconvenient by the showers of pebbles, loosened by their feet, which rolled to right and left over the precipice. All at once further progress apparently was rendered impossible by a mass of withered brushwood; which, on examination, proved to be the den, happily deserted, of a wild boar.

A SPLENDID PANORAMA.

Beyond this point the crest or ridge grew sharper and sharper; the shattered and accumulated rocks were held together only by the lianas which close-clasped them; and the adventurers were forced to crawl on their hands and knees, holding on by plant or crag. At length the brave effort was crowned with success. They gained the mountain-top, and enjoyed a panorama of wonderful beauty, in which peaks and forests blended their various hues, and wide green plains expanded in the golden sunshine, and the pagodas of Bassac rose like island-pinnacles out of a sea of verdure. The glorious picture, in all its variety of form and glow of colouring, was one on which the eye of man had never before rested; it was a picture of abounding fertility as well as of beauty and grandeur, and suggested the idea of almost inexhaustible resources, which in some future time may be developed by the enterprise and civilization of the West.

MOUNTAIN-PEAK NEAR BASSAC.

RETURN TO BASSAC.

In the course of their descent the explorers gained a broken ridge of rock, overshadowed by the branches of a stately tree, the roots of which clung round the weather-worn stones, and seemed to hold them together. At their approach, a swarm—we might almost say a cloud—of green pigeons whirled and fluttered out of the depths of the green foliage; returning to their resting-places after a few aerial evolutions. The ground beneath was strewn with small fruit, to which the pigeons are extremely partial; and showers continually fell about the explorers’ heads, loosened by the movement of the restless birds. With a little patience, they brought down half a dozen of the feathered spoilers; and then, through the forest shadows and down the mountain-declivities, they pursued their homeward march.

The following evening, Garnier and Dr. Thorel were invited to join a young Laotian in his walk. The latter led them across a pleasant breadth of garden-ground to an open space, strewn here and there with ashes and the refuse of wood-fires. Behind a clump of tall bamboos, some fifty spectators, seated in an oval ring, surrounded a couple of wrestlers, and displayed a lively interest in the various phases of their strife. At a few paces distant, three men were engaged in rekindling a fire which had died out for lack of fuel. Some bonzes, or priests, clothed in full long robes of yellow stuff, were viewing the spectacle from afar, or wending their way towards the neighbouring pagoda. Two or three women crouched on the ground, amidst baskets of fruit and large earthen vessels full of rice-wine, intended as refreshment for the spectators or the heated athletes.

LAOTIAN ATHLETES.

Among the bystanders was conspicuous a Laotian, attired in a langouti, and silken vest of dazzling colours, and sheltered by a parasol held over his head by a boy standing in the rear, who warmly encouraged one of the combatants, while a portion of the assembly evidently backed his antagonist. The struggle was protracted. Betting took place vigorously, and considerable sums were wagered on both sides. The white men seated themselves apart, in order to study in all its details a scene so full of animation. It was impossible not to admire the suppleness of the two athletes,—robust young men, trained to the combat from their very infancy; impossible not to take an interest in the skill and agility with which they eluded or endeavoured to surprise one another. Sometimes they paused, face to face, and regarded each other with fixed gaze, slightly curving their loins or shoulders; a moment, and they leaped from end to end of the arena, assuming theatrical attitudes—and, when occasion offered, dealing a vigorous blow of the fist which reddened the sun-bronzed skin.

FUNERAL CEREMONY OF THE LAOTIANS.

A STRANGE FUNERAL CEREMONY.

Their Laotian friend informed our travellers that they were witnessing nothing less than a funeral ceremony! In Laos, cremation is the universal custom; and the mortuary rites of a Laotian of rank generally terminate with a gladiatorial combat, at the conclusion and on the very site of the process of cremation.

The national rule is, that the corpse of a Laotian mandarin shall be preserved for several days in its shroud within the proper mortuary-hut. Friends and kinsmen assemble therein, and console themselves as best they may with abundant eating and drinking; a custom which prevails elsewhere than in Laos! It does not appear that the Laotians regard death with any particular apprehension. Their special anxiety is to prevent the evil spirits from obtaining possession of the souls of the dead, and playing them malignant tricks. During the day these spirits will not attempt anything; but at night they gain courage, and to shelter the deceased from their manœuvres seems to be no easy task. However, by means of numerous prayers, and more particularly by keeping up a tremendous clamour, it is generally possible, the Laotians believe, to avert their disastrous influence.

For this purpose all the bonzes of the neighbourhood are summoned; and taking up positions around the bier, they chant aloud their invocations. By day, and especially by night, the family assist them in keeping watch. The women decorate the coffin with floral offerings, as well as with ornaments of wax intended to facilitate combustion. The men, armed with gongs, tomtoms, and any other instrument they can seize upon, accompany, as noisily as possible, the chants of the bonzes. “Harmony” is not the object aimed at; but to secure the maximum of noise.

When the day appointed for the final ceremony arrives, the uproar is redoubled at early morn, as a signal to the friends and relatives of the departed, who make their appearance in full costume.

THE FUNERAL PROCESSION.

A procession is then arranged for the purpose of carrying the corpse to the place of burning. The bonzes lead the way, the seniors coming last. Then follows the coffin, supported on the shoulders of a dozen young men, and surmounted by a kind of bamboo canopy, embellished with flowers and foliage, and destined, like the coffin, to be consumed on the funeral pyre. The men march next, with the wealthiest and most influential of the kinsmen of the deceased at their head. The rear is brought up by the women and children, carrying long bamboos ornamented with banderoles of various colours, which are planted in the ground during the process of cremation.

THE FUNERAL PYRE.

The pile is reared at one extremity of the burial-ground, where bamboo poles and the trunks of aged palms have been linked together with long lianas to form a kind of aerial barrier against the invasion of the evil spirits. It is composed of pieces of wood of equal length, carefully arranged in intercrossed layers, and it rises to the height of a man’s shoulders, so that the bearers, passing half to one side and half to the other, can deposit the coffin without effort. The men gather round in a circle; the women stand a little in the rear. The bonzes recite their prayers, and receive once more the offerings which the relatives of the deceased never fail to bring for them and their pagoda; after which the chief priest mounts the pile, and standing erect, with hands extended over the coffin, pronounces with a loud voice a concluding prayer.

PROCESS OF CREMATION.

As soon as he has descended, the attendants set fire to the resinous materials placed under the pile. A dazzling jet of flame shoots aloft, and soon envelopes the coffin. The ornaments are consumed in quick succession; the pile breaks down in a mass of flame and smoke; and into the midst falls the corpse, released from the charred and burning coffin. Yet, painful as this spectacle seems, no native exhibits the slightest emotion. The work of combustion is allowed to complete itself, and no one touches the ashes of humanity throughout the day. The women depart, while the men follow the president of the ceremonies to be present at the gladiatorial show in honour of the deceased which we have already described.

CORONATION OF THE KING OF OUBON.

CORONATION OF THE KING.

The voyagers next made their way to Oubon, where they arrived in time to witness the coronation of the king. The chief of every village, and the leading men of every province, and indeed all the inhabitants, had been invited to “assist” in the ceremony. On the morning of the appointed day, the strangers were deafened by an uproar of drums and gongs and other unmusical instruments. The noisy orchestra surrounded the palace; while the royal procession wound through the streets of Oubon, and defiled into its square or market-place. Mounted upon an elephant of great size, which was armed with a pair of formidable tusks, the king made his appearance, encircled by guards on foot and on horseback, and attended by his great dignitaries mounted like himself. A train of smaller elephants followed, carrying the court ladies. The cortége finally directed its course to some spacious pavilions erected for the purpose, where the bonzes of the royal pagoda were offering up their prayers.

A few minutes passed, and another tableau was presented. The king was seen enthroned in the largest pavilion. He arose, and, escorted by his principal officers, advanced into the middle of a wide platform, where the bonzes, still uttering their prayers, gathered about him. He threw off his clothes, replacing them by a mantle of white cloth. Then the bonzes drew apart, so as to open up a passage for him; and he proceeded to place himself, with his body bent into a curve, immediately underneath the sacred dragon. Prayers were recommenced, and the king received the anointing or consecrating douche; while a dignitary who stood at one corner of the dais set free a couple of turtle-doves, as a sign that all creation, down even to the animals, should be happy on so auspicious a day.

When the water which was contained in the dragon’s body had completely douched the royal person, new garments were brought, over which was thrown a large white robe; and he returned to his place in the centre of the hall. A grand banquet of rice, and cucumbers, and eggs, and pork, and delicious bananas, washed down by copious draughts of rice-wine, concluded the day’s proceedings; and in the evening the town was lighted up with fireworks, while bands of singers and musicians traversed the streets.

THE VOYAGE RESUMED.

Lieutenant Garnier, after a brief rest, resumed his exploration of the Mekong, passing through scenery which previously no European had visited. At night he and his companions halted at the most convenient spot, lighted a fire, cooked their meal of rice, and took their rest under the curtain of a starry sky, or beneath such shelter as they could hastily run up. Fatigue assisted them to a speedy slumber; yet their repose was often disturbed by the cries of the wild elephants which, in large numbers, roamed among the hills on the other side of the river, or by the roar of some tiger prowling along the bank. During the day their attention was sometimes diverted from the contemplation of the strange and picturesque scenery which surrounded them, by the necessity of piloting their boat through the rapids and whirlpools that obstruct the navigation of the river.

MOUNTAINS OF LAKON.

In this way they proceeded to Kemarat and Pennom; and, across an immense plain, remarkable for its fertility, followed the course of the river, which runs due north and south, broadening into a lake of such dimensions that its boundaries cannot be detected by the naked eye. One morning, as the mists cleared off, they were surprised at the appearance, on the northern horizon, of dim azure forms, resembling the deception of the mirage, or clouds of fantastic outline, or rather a mass of medieval ruins, with lofty towers and pinnacles, and shattered ramparts. The natives informed them that these were the mountains of Lakon, at the foot of which they would arrive on the following day. They found it difficult to believe in the existence of such mountains, the configuration of which grew stranger and more fantastic as they drew nearer to them; sometimes exhibiting sheer precipitous declivities, sometimes overhanging masses, while sometimes each summit appeared cloven into deep and shadowy chasms. These enormous rocks of marble of different tints have been heaped up in awful confusion by some convulsion of the terrestrial crust; and forced, by an inconceivable subterranean effort, through the sandstone formation which underlies the superficial strata of the country.

ARRIVAL AT LAKON.

Round the projecting angle of the mountain-mass the river lightly sweeps; and then its broad waters reflect the huts and pagodas of the important town of Lakon. The bank was lined with the barks of traders and fishers; ample nets, suspended to rows of bamboos, dried in the open air. Sheds erected for the convenience of voyagers, piles of wood and merchandise, and loaded rafts, gave an air of animation and activity to the approaches to the town. Our voyagers, well pleased to regain the society of their kind, made haste to unload their boats, while native porters carried their luggage to the house set apart for their accommodation: it stood on the margin of the river, overshadowed by the branches of a huge mango-tree. Here, as soon as the work was done, they stretched themselves on the floor, postponing until the morrow their exploration of the town.

A GLANCE AT THE TOWN.

At daybreak they were aroused by the noisy gong of a neighbouring pagoda. Already the river-bank and the town showed signs of life and movement. Curious faces were gathered round the strangers’ hut. A large bag of rice, fruit, fish, and some buffalo-steaks dried in the sun, arrived, sent by the mandarin provisionally intrusted with the charge of supplying their wants. The fresh genial morning tempted them forth, and they went from end to end of the town, which seemed both wealthy and populous. The pagodas were numerous, the huts well-constructed, the gardens green and admirably kept. The inhabitants appeared free and happy. Behind the town, in an open space on the border of the rice-fields, some bands of travellers lay encamped under roofs of interwoven foliage. The principal street, which ran along the river-bank, was shaded everywhere by the trees and creepers of the gay gardens that skirted its entire course. It made a pleasant promenade, as through each opening in the rich glossy foliage could be seen the white sands of the shore, the calm crystal river, the forest thickly crowding the opposite bank, and, beyond, the long line of the marble mountains.

ANNAMITES AT LAKON.

AN ANNAMITE SETTLEMENT.

After this excursion, our voyagers returned to their hut, which they found an object of attraction to all the curiosity-mongers of Lakon. The most distinguished ladies of the town had assembled to see the strangers, and offer in exchange for European ornaments their richest fruits and freshest vegetables. If Garnier and his companions were surprised at their appearance, they were still more surprised to find in the crowd a group of twenty Annamites, who had emigrated from the French colony of Cochin-China, and had been established at Lakon for some years. As Garnier’s escort was also composed of Annamites, the scene between the compatriots thus singularly brought together was one of unbounded ecstasy. Garnier went on a visit to the little Annamite settlement, which repeated in every detail the villages of Cochin-China. In each hut was to be seen the tiny domestic altar, with its lights, and incense, and small statue of Buddha, and broad bands of red paper, inscribed with Chinese characters and symbolical designs. There, too, were the large central table, a mother-of-pearl plateau, a complete “tea-equipage” (to use the late Lord Lytton’s phrase), and a bed surrounded by mosquito-curtains. And no less conspicuous was that want of cleanliness, both in dwelling and person, which characterize the natives of Cochin-China.

THE MARBLE MOUNTAINS.

We cannot describe all the objects of interest at Lakon, or all the excursions which Garnier made in its neighbourhood. The geologist and botanist of the expedition adventured a visit to the Marble Mountains. With a guide and a couple of elephants, they crossed the river, plunged into the forest-depths, and found their way to the quarries, where blocks of marble are excavated for the purpose of being made into lime of a dazzling whiteness. Then they penetrated into the grottoes and caverns with which the mountains abound. As they advanced, the scenery became more and more picturesque, and more and more savage: high rugged peaks rose above the forest trees; bushes and lianas and parasitical plants decked with festoons every rocky projection; here yawned a gloomy chasm, there towered aloft a mighty and awful precipice. But the scene of scenes burst upon them after they had threaded a gloomy maze of trees and intertangled bamboos. Two immense walls of sombre rock, several hundred yards in height, enclosed a broad ravine, which, at the further extremity, opened on a bare and shining plain. On the left, the wall extended to a great distance, forming a long line, decreasing in elevation through the natural effect of the perspective. That on the right towered above a pile of enormous rocks, heaped together in the wildest confusion; it seemed to turn like the enceinte of a strong fortification, and was terminated abruptly by a vertical line, broken by numerous gaps. Between these lofty barriers lay a barren plain; afar, some miniature pools glittered with a magical effect in the “pale moonlight.” The prospect was closed in the distance by the steep declivities of lofty mountains, surrounding and shutting up, as it were, this gigantic “cirque” or amphitheatre. About three hundred yards from the entrance rose two vertical rocks, like a couple of slender spires, or rather like two enormous tapers—rose to a prodigious height, isolated, and emerging from a clump of luxuriant verdure which flourished at their feet. One of these rocks was fully nine hundred feet in elevation. The other was not so lofty, and seemed to have partially fallen, the ground being everywhere strewn with its wreck.