PARTIV.

PARTIV.LAOS.CHAPTERXXII.LAOS LAND AND LIFE.Youwill read in the following pages of a people about whom little is known and less published—​a people possessing many qualities of remarkable attractiveness, and yet having not a few strange and semi-barbarous customs and beliefs; a people who seem in some respects to be peculiarly open to the influence of Christian teaching, and upon whose soil the Christian Church is rooted and growing; a people among whom the Lord assuredly has “chosen ones” who are hearing his voice one by one and answering to his call.You will read of their land, their homes, their temples, their worship, their lives and occupations. And of all these you will be told by those who have lived among them, who have learned to know—​yes, and to love them, seeing the precious souls within as the sculptor sees the beautiful statue within the rough block of marble.Character and Government.Some few points are especially to be noticed as general characteristics of the Laos. They are a kind, affectionate people, caring much for their family-life and morally superior to the races around them. By some they are supposed to be the original stock from which came the present Siamese race, but they have mingled their blood with so many tribes, and their country is divided into so many small kingdoms or provinces, that it is difficult to find any marked traces of a distinct nationality among them.CORONATION OF A LAOS KING.CORONATION OF A LAOS KING.There are six Laos states directly tributary to Siam—​viz.Lakon, Lampoon, Cheung Mai, Muang Nan, Hluang Prabang and Muang Prai. All are independent of each other, but there are smaller provinces tributary to these larger states, yet the rulers even of the minor provinces are autocratic in rule within their own territories. Each of the six larger states has a first and second chief, the offices being filled by appointment of the king of Siam, to whom there is a right of appeal on the part of the people, who send notice to Bangkok on the decease of a chief, with a private intimation of their views as to a successor. Tribute is paid triennially to Siam in the form of gold and silver boxes, vases and jeweled necklaces, together with curious gold and silver trees valued at from 15l.to 135l.each.The rulers of these provinces are calledkhiao, and they are invested with their office by the use of a gold dish, betel-box, spittoon and teapot, all of which are sent from Bangkok for the occasion, and returned thither when they die or are deposed from the throne.The picture on the opposite page represents the coronation of thekhiaoof one of the most important of the Laos provinces in the East. The ceremony is thus described:“On the morning of the appointed day there was an uproar of drums and gongs and other unmusical instruments. The noisy orchestra surrounded the palace, while the royal procession wound through the streets and defiled into the 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 cortège 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 consecratingdouche, 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 whole country belongs nominally to these chiefs, who grant certain districts to the numerous princes and nobles. These tax the common people heavily—​one bucket of rice for every bucket planted—​and there are also taxes on pork, fish, betel-nuts, bamboo and—​gambling! The chiefs appoint an officer to gather the taxes in each hamlet, and by fair means or foul the uttermost farthing is squeezed out of the poorer classes.The greatest reverence is paid to these princes and officials by the people, who never venture to name them without their titles in conversation, and when in the presence of a superior show their humility by crouching before them. A noble or wealthy Laos gentleman or lady never makes a call, or goes out for even a short walk, without a full retinue of attendants and slaves bearing the betel-box, umbrella, water-jar, sword, seal and other signs of wealth and rank.Besides captives taken in war and their descendants, there are great numbers of slave-debtors, under obligation to serve their creditor until they can repay the debt incurred, capital and interest. These are usually well treated, and can recover freedom at any time if the debt is discharged by themselves or a friend.Religious Belief and Customs.While the Laos people are Buddhists, devout and faithful to all the requirements of that system, they are also true worshipers of nature, believing in spirits of earth, air and water, making frequent offerings to these and having some beautiful customs of worship connected with them. It would seem as if this phase of their religious life grew out of a sort of longing in their affectionate hearts for something less cold and distant—​something closer and more accessible to them—​than Buddhist teachings could give, and that, moved by this craving, they have turned to the spirit-world with its unseen but possibly near ministrations.A few of their religious customs are interesting, and remarkable enough to deserve here some special mention. Dr. McGilvary gives the following account of one of their ceremonies:“The full moon of the fourth Laos month, which usually occurs in January, witnesses a strange Laos custom. It is called by two names, signifying ‘The Warming of Buddh’ and the ‘Offering of New Kow Lam’ to the priests. About daylight on the morning of the full moon bonfires are kindled in the temple-grounds, at which are assembled a larger number than usual of worshipers. It is the cool season of the year, when the mornings are uncomfortably cold, but no one dares to warm himself by the bonfires on that morning. They are sacred to Buddh, and are kindled for his special benefit, and he, too, is presumed to be cold. When the fires are lighted, incense-tapers are taken by the priests, who go inside of the temple and prostrate themselves before the idols, and invitethemto come out and be warmed by the sacred fires. It is a sham invitation, however, as they are not carried out, and they cannot of course come out themselves.“It shows the inconsistent, incoherent and contradictory notions that a false religion fosters. If Buddh is a god, why should he be cold at all? Or if cold, why can’t he warm himself? Or why cold on that morning? Or does the heat of the little bonfires continue during the whole cool season? And how does it consist with Buddh’s annihilation? According to theory, he has attained Nipan, a state of utter unconsciousness of either happiness or misery. How, then, can he feel the sensation of cold? Or if he does, and can’t warm himself, how can he be a refuge to others?“We presume that the real explanation of the custom, however, may be sought from the second name mentioned above, and that the important part of the ceremony is the Kow Lam that follows. That is glutinous rice, on which the Laos principally live, put in joints of the bamboo and roasted over a fire till it is done. It is very palatable, and on this morning must always be made of the first-fruits of the new rice-crop. They feast on it then for a number of days. Every religious ceremony has its appropriate offerings to the priests, and this one, like the others, fillsthemwith good things, and it matters but little then whether Buddh remains cold or becomes hot.”TheRev.J. Wilson thus tells of an appeal to the gods in time of drought:“Many of the people are almost in a panic from the scarcity of rice. A year ago there was very little rain in the first part of the season, but the latter rain was so abundant as to overflow the fields to such a depth as to drown the rice. Consequently, the main crop of the year proved an entire failure. Rice has been and is now very dear, so that many of the poor have great difficulty in obtaining a sufficiency to support life. From the king down to the owner of the smallest patch of ground, all have been earnestly engaged in trying to call down the rain. The king, with his retinue of princes and servants, has ascended the mountain that lies some three miles west of the city to drench with water the pagoda and the principal idols of a temple that stands upon one of the mountain’s peaks. Only a few days ago a procession of one hundred priests climbed the mountain for a similar service. The temples of Buddh, especially on the sacred days, are vocal with the sound of drums and the incantations of the worshipers who have brought their offerings to the idols to buy rain with merit. The execution of some convicts was hastened as a propitiatory sacrifice to the rain-producing powers.”At another time, when the season had been favorable, the thanksgiving is described by the same hand, as follows:“The rice-crop this year is a bountiful one, and the people are rejoicing over it. The second king came in from the country on Sabbath morning. He had been out in his fields threshing his rice. Returning, he arranged for the yearly procession that is made at the close of the harvest. The first gong had rung for our religious service just as the procession reached the lower compound. The noise of bells on the elephants and the chanting of the riders, together with the music made by the king’s band, made it necessary for us to delay the ringing of the second gong until after the procession had passed. I had not supposed it was to be so great an affair. A large number of elephants had passed before I began to count, but I counted one hundred and ten as they passed along one by one. I was told there were one hundred and seventy in the procession. One of the largest wore trappings of the brightest silver. The howdahs contained rice. All these were decorated with green branches. The procession was in honor of the guardian spirits that preside over the rice-crop. Those that could see the procession in its whole length considered it the most imposing one that has passed for years.A LAOS FUNERAL.A LAOS FUNERAL.“About six weeks—​including parts of March and April—​are annually given up almost wholly to idolatrous worship, much of which consists in efforts to propitiate spirits. The spirit of the river upon which most of their commerce is carried on is propitiated by a floral offering. Tiny boats are filled with the choicest flowers, carried to the river’s edge, and tapers arranged by which to illuminate the little barks. At a certain hour after dark a signal is given, and simultaneously thousands of these little boats are launched and go sailing down the stream. Aside from its being an act of idolatry, it is a most brilliant and beautiful sight and one that excites our highest admiration.”In Laos, when a person dies, a precious stone or coin is sometimes placed in the mouth of the corpse to pay the spirit-fine into the next world. Afterward the body is cremated with ceremonies similar to those of Siam. Men are laid with faces downward, and women on their backs, for cremation. When a chief dies, men are hired to engage in a pugilistic encounter in honor of the event.Merit-Making.It has been frequently stated in the last few years that nonewtemples are built in heathen lands, the old crumbling ones being merely patched up for temporary use, if not allowed to fall into absolute ruin. But the testimony of missionaries, who see much more of these things than do passing travelers, does not bear out this statement. As evidence of the zeal and activity with which an old temple is sometimes restored and a new one planned when merit is to be made thereby, the following is given:“The princes and people of Cheung Mai are all astir in the work of merit-making. Just now it takes the form of rebuilding the finest temple that was erected in Cheung Mai, and in gathering and shaping materials for the replacing, three or four months hence, of the temple on the top of the mountain with a new structure. All the sawyers of the city are on duty. Priests and people are busy with saw and chisel and adze and plane. The large public courtyard is full of timber and workmen. A new king has come upon the throne, and the way to a long and successful reign must be sought in the building of these new memorials to Buddha. How strange and how sad it all seems! But thepeopleare not sad. For while their hands are busy their tongues are busy too, and the frequent merry laugh tells of the joyous heart. They boast themselves in their work. The chief priests of the temples are there—​one time passing among the workmen giving directions, then seated in groups upon their mats, spread sometimes in the largesala, and sometimes on the green sward, under the shelter of the bamboo matting and the leaf-awnings that have been stretched above the workmen. They are treated by all with the greatest reverence. The day is theirs, for in every honor shown to Buddha they have a share. Every day does the king come from his palace to inspect the work and to testify his interest in it. His highest noblemen, and even princes, consider it a privilege and an honor to help to frame the timbers for these temples. And so the work goes on, and Buddha is remembered.“Yesterday I passed through the temple that is so soon to be refitted. The walls of the old building had been taken down and removed. The foundation of the floor still remained. The principal idols were occupying their old places. The smaller ones were sitting in groups under the shade of the trees. The larger ones cannot be removed, but have been covered with split bamboo to prevent injury while the building is going up. The smaller ones are waiting patiently until the temple is completed and they are carried back to their places.“The building just removed was put up nearly a hundred years ago, and with occasional patching has lasted until now. And what will be the history of the new one? Will Buddhists worship their idols there a hundred years to come? Will the darkness abide so long in the Laos land? Or shall it have crumbled into ruins and temples for the worship of the living God have risen up around it?”Another of their innumerable ways of making merit is mentioned by Dr. McGilvary:“We visited a great cave at Cheung Dow that forms the subject of one of their sacred books. It had never been examined beyond a certain stream of water believed to be impassable. But if any one had merit enough to cross, there would be found an idol ten feet high of solid gold with golden vestments in which to visit the city of the Yaks, which was still farther in. There, too, was the seat of Chow Kam Daang, one of their greatest spirits. As it was not so convenient for me to cross the water—​which was not a deep stream, however—​I had Nan Intah cross it, and still another little pond of water, with no signs, of course, of the golden idol or the city of Yak, which was our main object in visiting the cave. The cave is nevertheless a fine one, and in itself worthy of a visit.”Language.Although the Laos understand the Siamese spoken languages, and many of them can read the written characters also, the mass of the people are unable to do the latter. Hence it is a matter of great interest and importance to give them the Bible and other books in the Laos tongue. Funds were collected in America some years ago, by the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society of the Presbyterian Church, for the purpose of making the type and having the Laos Bible printed. There has been delay in the full accomplishment of this object, owing to the absence from the country of some of the few missionaries who could superintend it, and because also of some unexpected difficulties in the way; but it is believed now that the work will very soon be done, and the people be supplied with the Bible in their own tongue. They are themselves eager to read and quick to learn.Cheung Mai.The Laos capital is a walled city a mile square and surrounded by a moat, situated on the Maping River, one of the chief branches of the Menam. Little hamlets of bamboo houses usually make up the towns of the Laos country, but Cheung Mai has a brick wall around it, and is much more of a city in size and appearance. The following description of the view from the mission-house near by will give an idea of the city and surrounding objects:“From the veranda or through the open door we can see the stream gliding by in graceful silence, the native boats passing up and down; the farther bank with its smiling groves and houses half hidden between; farther out, on the plain, a widespreading forest of palm and other trees, whose towering tops tell us the site and limits of Cheung Mai surrounded by its high and massive wall of brick. Beyond and over the top of this city arose that grand old mountain, Doi Su Tape, ever beautiful, ever changing in its beauty.“Were I an expert at the pencil, I might send you some time a landscape of river, plain and mountain superior to many that are esteemed by the true artist as gems of the beautiful and picturesque. It is our privilege to look upon this landscape of varied beauty every day. For a week or more we were shut in, native style, at every point of the compass by a luxuriant growth of tamarind, bamboo, and garden shrubbery. It is thus that the native houses, which generally stand back a distance from the river-pathway, are sometimes entirely concealed by the dark-green foliage of the gardens. In front of our premises a number of tamarind trees stand in all the carelessness of the primeval forest. Some of them clutch the bank with their great roots, a part of which have been washed bare by the stream when at its height. Their widespread branches intercepted our view of the river and mountain and kept out the cooling breeze. But the axe, by lopping and pruning, soon gave scope to the eye and ingress to the healing wind.”This principal mission-station is on the right bank of the river. On the left bank, near the bridge, is Dr. Cheek’s compound, on the city side—​the gift of the chief of Cheung Mai to the missionary-physician, who is consulted by the royal family in sickness.Through the gate that leads from the public road to Dr. Cheek’s dispensary a steady stream of Laos men, women and children, rich and poor, passes to and fro. “His name is a synonym,” says a traveler[3]who recently visited Cheung Mai, “of all that is good and kind throughout the district, he having relieved the sufferings and saved the lives of hundreds of natives, and thereby earned their warm gratitude. Adjoining his house he has erected a long bamboo shed, subdivided into a number of small apartments, which serve as the wards of a hospital. Here he has performed hundreds of operations with such skill and such success that even the superstitious Laotians come from long distances to be cured by him when suffering from painful diseases or severe wounds. The chiefs and princes often send for him when their reliance upon the superstitious rites of the native ‘faculty’ begins to fail them, though, in such cases, his advice has often been only asked when the patients have beenin extremis. Two or three years ago he saved the life of the chief’s wife when all the drugs and incantations of several native medicos had been called into requisition in vain.“Dr. Cheek has also established a boat-building yard, where he gives employment to a large number of men, and where he has introduced improved models of boats and better modes of construction. American tools have been introduced, and are gradually superseding the primitive adzes and saws of the natives.”The same traveler describes the palace of the chief of Cheung Mai as “a mixture of Chinese and Laos architecture. Along the whole front extended a long, open room, partially furnished with European furniture, the only article of native workmanship a large gilt state-chair or throne reserved for the use of the head-priest when he came to visit the chief.”The palace itself and the court-life within are characterized by great simplicity, the king, “an old man, tall of stature, but slightly stooping beneath his load of sixty-four years,” usually spending much of his time in mechanical work, of which he is fond, and the queen sharing with him in the transaction of state business. The present queen is a woman of remarkable intelligence, and exercises a predominant influence in the government, “by virtue,” says a missionary, “of her exceptional feminine tact.”Cheung Mai has a large market, which is very neat and orderly. It is kept by women, who seat themselves on the ground, with vegetables, fruits and confectionery deposited on plantain-leaves or in little baskets made by themselves. While not trading they work on embroidery used in ornamentation. Formerly, salt was the market currency, and so seldom was money used that the owners of the articles often did not know the value of them in money, but could readily tell if asked how much salt they would take. The occasion of this was that all their salt came from a great distance and was very precious in Cheung Mai. Within a few years the Siamese government has sent small coin to take the place of salt as a currency. The people were much confused for a while by the change, and circulated them reluctantly. Some were even imprisoned for persisting in taking salt to market to make their purchases.The principal articles for sale are provisions, fruits, tobacco, betel-nut, fish, mushrooms, wax, cotton, earthenware and flowers. The pork-stalls are kept by men, and there are some Chinese sheds where cotton goods, brass and wooden trays and Burmese lacquer-ware are sold. There are a large number of temples in the city, among others the new Wat Hluang, or royal temple, recently built on the site of a very old one.Homes and Daily Life.There are no fine houses or palaces for the most part in Laos, princes and peasants building on much the same general plan; the size and quality of material and workmanship are the main difference. The thatched roofs are cheap and easily replaced, and those of teak tiles, though more durable, afford no better protection from sun and rain. One-story high and raised on posts from six to eight feet above the ground, a short flight of rude steps leads to the balcony which runs around the dwelling. The flooring is usually of bamboo or teak, and on one side of the veranda, protected by a covered shed, stand the large water-jars, with a cocoanut dipper near. This entrance-platform is generally ornamented by pots of orchids and other flowering plants. Here in dirty weather, before entering the house, the polite guest pauses to pour water over his feet. Here too the princes and other inmates, too indolent to walk down to the river, are accustomed to take a morning and evening bath by pouring water over themselves with the dipper.Underneath the dwellings is a general receptacle for howdahs, gardening utensils, etc., which at night is often used as a cattle-shed.The furniture is very simple. Mats and cushions are piled in a corner ready for use, the best cushions being three-sided with embroidered ends. Home-made mattresses stuffed with cotton; mosquito curtains; generally a native cradle swinging from the beam overhead; a few pots, pans, baskets, cocoanut-shell dippers and spoons; a flat vessel or saucer for the porkfat or oil which, with a bit of cotton wick, furnishes the only artificial light,—​would probably nearly exhaust the list. At meal-times, about seven in the morning and toward sunset, the family-circle gathers around a lacquer or brass tray on which are placed small bowls of fish or pork, bamboo-shoots, vegetables and curry, the steamed rice being served separately to each person in a small basket. They sit upon the floor or mats; plates, forks and knives are for the most part unknown. Among the very poor the plantain-leaf takes even the place of bowls and saves all dish-washing.Every house has its native loom, and the garments are for the most part homespun. Cotton is very plentiful and cheap in Laos, and native dyes are used. The women, rich and poor alike, spend much time in making garments for the priests. Some of the well-to-do and the slaves of the nobility are skilled in embroidery. The native silk fabrics are also woven on the loom, cocoons of the wild silkworm being collected. The favorite colors are dark-blue, orange, maroon and a reddish-brown. Princesses use this silk interwoven with gold thread.Each district seems to have its own local headcovering, the most common being a large flat of palm-leaves sewn together. A straight, scant, horizontally-striped petticoat in blue and yellow, with a body-scarf or shawl worn in various ways, or a tight-fitting jacket, constitutes the not ungraceful costume of a Laos woman; her hair, being drawn back, is fastened in a neat knot by a gold pin and is almost invariably ornamented with flowers.The body of the men of Western Laos is usually covered with tattoo-marks of different animals and emblematic monsters. These figures are usually first sketched by the professional tattooer from the waist to the knees—​monkeys, bats, rats, birds and so-forth; then the skin is punctured with a sharp-pointed steel instrument, and an indelible black pigment is well rubbed in. The dress of the ordinary man consists of little more than the waist-cloth, but the young noblemen are adopting the Siamese court-costume. Formerly, all went bare-footed, but buffalo-hide sandals are now much used. Both men and women are passionately fond of flowers. The ear-lobes are bored when very young and stretched with pieces of wood, ivory and metal, and the men almost invariably carry a flower in this hole; cigars and other articles are fastened behind the ear. Large ears are regarded with favor as a sign of longevity.Laos Workmanship.Scattered over Laos-land are brick-fields and pottery-works, where the native earthenware, water-jars and other household utensils are made. The earthenware oven used by the Laos is in the shape of a boot, the opening at the top holding the pot, while the upper part of the shoe is cut away for the grate. Wood is burned within. These ovens are very cheap, but break easily.Wood-carving is also much practiced in Laos, and much technical artistic skill is displayed in the carved scroll-work for doors, posts and household utensils.The valuable native varnish calledrackis resin collected from the trunk of a special tree in Laos. This black lacquer is a monopoly and little exported, being used in preparing the temples and idols for their covering of paint and gold-leaf. It dries slowly in spite of the hot climate, but gives in the end a perfectly smooth, hard surface unaffected by dampness. The manufacture of lacquer-ware is carried on in all parts of the country. First-class workers are found in almost every hamlet. The foundation is made of woven bamboo strips coated thickly withrack. This is polished with the common Laos substitute for sand-paper—​rice-husks and water. Then a pattern is drawn with a style and the article finished with coats of red and brown paint. Many household utensils are lacquer-ware, and some of the designs are really well executed. The price varies with the quality of the workmanship.The Laos are also skilled in the manufacture of silver-ware. Each village has usually one or more native artists engaged in executing orders for the princes and wealthy classes. Themodus operandiis primitive, and the work lacks finish, but the general effect is bold and pleasing. A thin plate of the right shape is filled with a composition of wax and resin. The patterns are from memory, usually a medley of mythical birds and beasts, and the design is hammered out with a style and sort of blunt chisel, the plastic filling yielding readily to each blow; the figures and scroll-work stand out in high relief. The value of articles is determined by the weight, with fifty per cent. added for labor.Occupations.Life in Laos is exceedingly monotonous. The women do much of the hard work in the field as well as in the household. During the dry, cool season, from November to May, even the trees and grass seem dried up and lifeless, only the orchids showing any signs of vitality. Heavy thunder- and hail-storms in May often herald the opening of the rainy season. Then all nature takes a fresh start: the rice is planted; new leaves shoot out; the heat becomes intense; vegetation is almost spontaneous. After planting, only a very little labor is needed to secure a good harvest in a favorable season. Both buffaloes and oxen are used for ploughing, and are guided by reins attached to the noses of the animals. Elephants abound, and are also employed as beasts of burden, especially in the wood-yards. Carts are few, and the rude native ones sometimes used to transport rice are drawn by men. The paddy-granaries are simple, huge barrel-shaped bamboo baskets, plastered to keep out mice and insects.There are few amusements. Men, women and children are adepts in fishing, and thus provide food for the household. The chase is sport little indulged in by the lower classes, with the exception of professional tiger-hunters. Two or three times a year grand hunting-expeditions are organized by the principal chiefs and cause much excitement.The habits of social and domestic life among the Laos present some striking contrasts to those of most heathen nations. Women are kindly treated, and even honored by special favor and consideration in cases of litigation with men. The baby-daughter is cared for as tenderly as the little son, and child-marriage is unknown, while old age is respected and watched over. Marriage is not as much a matter of trade as it usually is among heathen people, and divorce is less common and more governed by just and humane laws. Their treatment of the sick is absurd in the extreme, so far as true care and healing are concerned (as will appear in the chapter on that subject), but their intention seems to be to do for their suffering ones all that their limited knowledge and superstitious beliefs allow.Traveling.The great need of Laos is a better outlet for trade. At present these little kingdoms are practically shut in from the outside nations. There are parts of this country which can only be reached by elephant-traveling, so dense are the jungles and so difficult the passage. Missionaries laboring here are more isolated from the rest of the world than at most stations, as will appear from the following statements: There is no established line of boats going and coming, as upon our own waters, but all transporting is done by private individuals, and is only an occasional or incidental occurrence. For this reason our inland missionaries have to wait sometimes from three to five months before receiving any mail-matter from Bangkok, and in one instance Cheung Mai had no mail for eight months. At Rahang gentlemen may leave the river and complete the journey to Cheung Mai by elephant, but ladies could not endure the ride, it is such a very tiresome mode of travel. The elephant is a faithful and indispensable servant in that land of mountains. All overland transportation throughout Laos is carried on by means of elephants and oxen. Large droves of oxen are frequently seen traveling single file behind a leader decked with a mask fancifully made out of shells covering his whole face, while from between his horns a large peacock tail rises and sweeps gracefully, though comically, over his back. Each ox is laden with an immense pair of baskets thrown over saddle-bag fashion, and in these are placed the articles for transportation. Sometimes every ox is covered nearly all over with strings of little bells, which add some life to the scene. The peddlers from the north do a large trade with Siam and Laos, and the Shan caravans are almost entirely composed of these oxen, which give warning of their approach by a musical sound of tinkling bells echoing through the forest glades and from the steep mountainsides. The object of the mask upon the leader is to protect the caravan from the assaults of evil spirits. The Yunnan caravans are composed of small ponies and mules. To prevent delay from grazing along the road, a ratan muzzle is provided. Elephants also are decorated with bells to give notice of their approach to caravans coming from an opposite direction. As they tramp steadily along they regale themselves with the tender shoots of overhanging trees. When crossing a stream they generally take a trunkful of water whether thirsty or not.Official passports are curious documents, consisting of long narrow strips of palm-leaf coiled into a ring, and at each end is an embossed stamp. This stamp determines the real weight of the document, and is the first point examined before reading the order. These leaves are almost imperishable, being tough and entirely unaffected by water, and for such a purpose are superior to paper. When the writing grows indistinct it is easily made legible by wetting the finger and rubbing it over the leaf, thus cleansing the smooth surface and filling the scratches with a thin film of dirt. Such a passport frequently includes an order to inferior officials to furnish the traveler with the necessary elephants for his journey. Throughout Laos written official documents are almost invariably thus scratched with a style on a strip of palm-leaf.The enormous number of wild elephants in the forests and domesticated elephants in the towns strikes one with amazement. Tigers, deer, wild hogs, pea-fowls and jungle-chickens also abound in the forests; while dogs, cats, crows and lizards are among the domesticated pets. The country is rich, not only in valuable timber, but in minerals. The opening up of the market by railroad would result in immediate profit, bringing down the Laos products and taking back in exchange English and American manufactures, for which a large and increasing demand would be readily created.Laos Oil and Wine.Cocoa and betel-nut trees abound in Cheung Mai. Oil is made from the former, and the latter produces an article of commerce.Laotians have their wine as well as more civilized nations, but they get it from a tree instead of a vine. A party of friends who were traveling near Lakon in returning from a walk in the environs encountered some Laotians carrying vessels of bamboo filled with a liquid which at first they supposed to be water. On tasting it, however, they discovered that it was the wine of the country, sweet-flavored and by no means disagreeable to the palate—​not unlike, indeed, the product of some of the Rhenish vineyards. It was palm wine, freshly made. It will not keep more than four-and-twenty hours without fermentation. The Laotians offered to conduct the strangers to a neighboring plantation, where they might observe the different processes of its manufacture. The offer was accepted, and the party soon arrived at a clearing which was thickly planted with great borassus palms. To collect the wine—​which is, in fact, the sap of the tree—​nothing more is necessary than to make an incision in the middle of the head of the tree at the point where the leaves branch off, and suspend beneath a bamboo, into which the sap falls drop by drop. In order to reach the summit of these huge palms, which are straight and smooth as the mainmast of a ship, the Laotians have invented a simple and ingenious process. They transform the palm into a veritable ladder by attaching to the trunk, with small strips of flexible ratan, projecting laths of bamboo, which, jutting out to right and left at intervals of twelve to fourteen inches, form so many “rungs” and enable the ascent of the tree to be rapidly and easily accomplished.TAPPING THE BORASSUS PALM.TAPPING THE BORASSUS PALM.Incidents of Mission-Life.There are bright gleams ever and anon revealing themselves in the pictures given us of the life of our missionaries in this lonely corner of the world, showing that God does not leave his servants here to sadness and discouragement. A young missionary thus describes a visit to the wife of the king of the province, by courtesy called a queen:“I want to tell you of a novel entertainment Mrs. Cheek and myself enjoyed last week. The queen has long been wishing for a dress made like ours, and at last she prevailed on Mrs. Cheek to make it. The material was black summer silk, and Mrs. Cheek made a pretty, shortprincesse, white lace at neck and sleeves and lavender bows—​very pretty indeed. While it was being made we laughed over visions of bare feet beneath a black silk awkwardly adjusted and a yellow cotton scarf. When the dress was finished Mrs. Cheek invited me to go with her to the queen’s and try to persuade her to let us show her how to wear it. I was only too willing. The queen received us very kindly, and was delighted with the dress. Mrs. Cheek suggested that she put it on while we were there, and she laughed and said she was ashamed, but soon invited us into her bedroom to help her dress. Mrs. Cheek had provided the necessary underclothes, and after much instruction they were properly adjusted. How we were to get the dress over her sacred head was a question, but she answered it by putting it on herself. I buttoned it, pinned the neck, and put on her diamond pin and necklace, and then we stood off to get the effect. The transformation was as pleasing as it had been sudden, and we were delighted. The queen seemed to know that the dress was suitable, and instead of being awkward she was at perfect ease. Our fears were not at all realized; even the bare feet seemed dignified. The queen in the native costume looks tall and spare, but this costume rounded her form out and made her look quite queenly. When the king came in to see her he was very much pleased, and told her she must have another dress just like it. We had a very pleasant visit, and returned home well pleased. Mrs. Cheek is now suffering for her generosity, for Chow O’Boon has sent cloth to have dresses made for herself and daughter, and other princesses are wishing to have the whole costume.”Another enlivening incident is told in these words:“I must tell you of the latest great excitement we have created. Many years ago our mission-compound was a temple-ground, but the temple was all in ruins when the mission took this land, and the débris was used for leveling the ground, and in this débris an old idol was buried. This has always been considered a very sacred spot, and many people have brought offerings of fruit and flowers to be placed near the spot where the idol was supposed to be. We have always refused them admission to our grounds, but they often come at night unknown to us and bring their offerings. Last week we were having our bank of the river diked, and the workmen found the idol. Mr. Wilson had them disinter it. As soon as the people heard what was done they came in great numbers to see the god they had been so long worshiping—​an image of Buddha, of sandstone, about five feet high, sitting in Oriental fashion on a large stone pillar. It had doubtless once been gilded, but not a ray of glory remained, and it was both headless and crippled in one arm. The next day Mr. Wilson took an axe and demolished the god. Then you should have seen the people, and especially the children, come and peep through the fence, and, half frightened at the sacrilegious deed that was being done, hurry away again. We intend to utilize this old relic by making a garden-seat of the pedestal and a mound for ferns of the broken pieces.”Another lady describes a picnic given to some newly-arrived missionaries by a Cheung Mai princess:“At fourA. M.my clock struck the alarm, and we opened our eyes to find it still dark. It did not take us long to dress. Lighting the oil-stove, we soon had boiling water, and coffee, which, with mango sauce and bread and butter, gave us a light breakfast before the long trip began. Just before six I ran down to the gate and saw the four elephants crossing the river; to my astonishment, the young prince, Chow Kope, was driving one of them. Like most boys, he thought it would be fun to throw aside the dignity of the princeship for a while. He is a bright, intelligent and winning boy. He drove his elephant up to the front veranda, raised the floor of the howdah (a little house placed on the back of the elephant, and in which we ride), stored our baskets, shawls, etc. in a sort of catch-all, and then, putting down the floor, spread my boat-mattress over it, and placed the pillows at one end that I might lie down if I wished to. Our drivers sit upon the heads of the elephants, climbing up by means of the chain which holds the howdah on, and using the knee of the fore leg of the elephant for a stirrup, or rather a step-up. The elephant, when punched on the knee, holds up his foot; the driver placeshisfoot on the broad step made by the elephant’s knee, and, catching hold of the chain, swings himself up to the monster’s head, where he sits—​monarch of all he surveys. Taking Chow’s hand, I reached the elephant’s head, and then perched myself, as comfortably as you can imagine, in my little house. Others of the party mounted elephants, and some rode on horseback.“We started off, moving slowly but surely. Crossing at the elephant ford, we soon reached the road at the east gate of the city-wall; following the road till we reached the north-west gate, we struck out across the rice-fields—​great plains, with only now and then a little cluster of trees. We could command a fine view of the plains, and the atmosphere was so clear that, for the first time, I saw the belt of mountains which encircles the valley wherein Cheung Mai is nestled. The mountain to which we were going seemed to be only about two miles away, but was in reality four miles. The rice-field road took us across some little brooks, which the elephants must have enjoyed, for they filled their trunks with water, and every few minutes amused us by throwing it over themselves, till one would almost have supposed that that long proboscis was an unfathomable reservoir. Before reaching the mountain proper we came into the woods, composed of bamboo and a multitude of other trees and shrubs of which I did not know the names, and a dense undergrowth. The path from this place up the mountain was narrow, rough and steep, but not once did the clumsy-looking creatures stumble. They frequently came to places so steep that it seemed as though it were folly to attempt to climb up, but up they went, carefully, slowly, placing the knees of their fore legs on the high step, then drawing up the other feet, never missing their footing. At the foot of the mountain we saw the stream Hoa Kao, which we followed in the already beaten pathway. Up, up we went, over rocks and shrubs, and so close to the edge of precipices from one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet high that it seemed as if we must fall over. Oh, it was grand! At one place on the mountain-side we had a very fine view of the country for miles.“You may wonder how the drivers guide the elephants. A knock on the right side of the head means turn to the left, a knock on the left means go to the right, one on the forehead means go slowly. They use, in thus guiding these beasts, a bamboo stick two feet long with a prong on the end of it. It did seem wonderful that they were so easily managed. When we came to a steep place Chow would say ‘Coy’ (carefully).“At last, after a two hours’ ride, we saw the princess Chow O’Boon, with her train of servants, waiting for us on a large flat rock by the stream. With their many-colored skirts and scarfs, dark skins, black hair and shining eyes they looked like a band of gypsies. Here my elephant carefully knelt down, and, stepping on to its head, a man helped me, and once more I was onterra firma. This spot was as far as the elephants could go, but Chow’s slaves picked up our luggage, and we walked to where the stream was quite narrow. By its banks were great flat rocks, and projecting over these and at a height of thirty feet was a very large umbrella-like rock. It must have projected twenty-five feet, and was about seventy feet long. Under its shelter we had our dinner, and after this a nice resting-time. Having brought our bathing-suits, we went up the stream later in the day and had a delightful bath. At four o’clock we started for home. The ride back was delightful, though it was quite exciting coming down the mountain. The sky was beautiful: low in the horizon were dark clouds threatening rain; above them the lighter clouds changed from golden to scarlet, then gradually back to golden. A pleasant breeze was blowing, and had not the fact that I was riding an elephant kept me awake I should have gone to sleep. We reached home about seven o’clock, and all pronounced Hoa Kao a beautiful stream. We felt very grateful to Chow O’Boon for giving us the use of her elephants and thus affording us so much pleasure.”* * * * *But better perhaps than all else of reward or comfort in a missionary’s experience are the consistent life and triumphant death of one rescued from the darkness and superstition of his people and brought into the kingdom of God. The man mentioned in the following account, the first Laos convert, had for a number of years been walking with God in humble faith:“Dear old Nan Intah is at rest—​gone to be with Jesus whom he loved. I wish that many of those who talk so much about the failure of mission-work could have been at his bedside and seen his resigned and peaceful death.“When told that he could not live through the day, he turned to his eldest child and committed the mother to his care. He gave his hand to each of us first, then to his dear faithful wife and children and grandchildren, and last to the church-members, saying to them, ‘Be patient! be patient! trust in Jesus, all of you.’ To his youngest son he said, ‘I am walking on the way you all must go; only be ready for our Lord. Oh, my son, do not fall from the right path. Trust in the Lord now, and do his work, as I have tried to do. You will suffer many trials, but they will be forgotten when the day of reward comes. You plant the rice-fields in the water and in the rain, but three months from now you will gather the harvest. Learn from your yearly work the lesson of life, and strengthen yourself in Jesus.’ He suffered greatly, but toward the last he lay quietly as if sleeping, then suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me as if he would speak, but he was not looking at me, for his eyes were full of light and joy. A smile passed over his face, and at the same instant he breathed his last.“The children were violent in their grief, but the dear old wife and mother would say, ‘Let us rejoice rather that father is now free from suffering. Jesus saved him from sin, and now has only taken him to himself. God has called him home before us, but we may follow and be with him. Be patient and trust, as your father said.’ She was heartbroken herself, and nearly exhausted with the long, patient nursing, and yet she would only say, ‘Loong Nan never complained in all his two years’ sickness. Let us not complain of what the Lord has done.’“The men made a teak-wood coffin and Mr. Wilson lined it with fresh white muslin; then the body of our beloved old elder, the first Laos convert, was put in it and carried to the worship-room, where his voice had often been heard in prayer. The whole land was so flooded that it was impossible to dig a grave, so the coffin was placed on the surface of the ground and a brick wall built around it. This could not be done in the public burying-ground, and we laid our dear old Loong Nan in our own garden under the mango trees. Every one said, ‘How different from a heathen burial!’“Do I believe that Jesus is? Yes, as I believe that I live now. Nan Intah, a poor ignorant Laos, in this remotest corner of the globe, believed the precious story of our Lord and received the promise, ‘I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.’ ‘I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.’ That bright look of surprised joy,—​I thank our Lord for permitting me to see it, and it has strengthened my faith in him.”With this story of the peaceful death and Christian burial of a man but a little time ago a believer in witchcraft, a worshiper of spirits and of Buddha, knowing nothing of God or Christ or his own soul, we leave the general subject to look more particularly at the Laos country and people.

LAOS.

Youwill read in the following pages of a people about whom little is known and less published—​a people possessing many qualities of remarkable attractiveness, and yet having not a few strange and semi-barbarous customs and beliefs; a people who seem in some respects to be peculiarly open to the influence of Christian teaching, and upon whose soil the Christian Church is rooted and growing; a people among whom the Lord assuredly has “chosen ones” who are hearing his voice one by one and answering to his call.

You will read of their land, their homes, their temples, their worship, their lives and occupations. And of all these you will be told by those who have lived among them, who have learned to know—​yes, and to love them, seeing the precious souls within as the sculptor sees the beautiful statue within the rough block of marble.

Character and Government.

Some few points are especially to be noticed as general characteristics of the Laos. They are a kind, affectionate people, caring much for their family-life and morally superior to the races around them. By some they are supposed to be the original stock from which came the present Siamese race, but they have mingled their blood with so many tribes, and their country is divided into so many small kingdoms or provinces, that it is difficult to find any marked traces of a distinct nationality among them.

CORONATION OF A LAOS KING.CORONATION OF A LAOS KING.

CORONATION OF A LAOS KING.

There are six Laos states directly tributary to Siam—​viz.Lakon, Lampoon, Cheung Mai, Muang Nan, Hluang Prabang and Muang Prai. All are independent of each other, but there are smaller provinces tributary to these larger states, yet the rulers even of the minor provinces are autocratic in rule within their own territories. Each of the six larger states has a first and second chief, the offices being filled by appointment of the king of Siam, to whom there is a right of appeal on the part of the people, who send notice to Bangkok on the decease of a chief, with a private intimation of their views as to a successor. Tribute is paid triennially to Siam in the form of gold and silver boxes, vases and jeweled necklaces, together with curious gold and silver trees valued at from 15l.to 135l.each.

The rulers of these provinces are calledkhiao, and they are invested with their office by the use of a gold dish, betel-box, spittoon and teapot, all of which are sent from Bangkok for the occasion, and returned thither when they die or are deposed from the throne.

The picture on the opposite page represents the coronation of thekhiaoof one of the most important of the Laos provinces in the East. The ceremony is thus described:

“On the morning of the appointed day there was an uproar of drums and gongs and other unmusical instruments. The noisy orchestra surrounded the palace, while the royal procession wound through the streets and defiled into the 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 cortège 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 consecratingdouche, 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 whole country belongs nominally to these chiefs, who grant certain districts to the numerous princes and nobles. These tax the common people heavily—​one bucket of rice for every bucket planted—​and there are also taxes on pork, fish, betel-nuts, bamboo and—​gambling! The chiefs appoint an officer to gather the taxes in each hamlet, and by fair means or foul the uttermost farthing is squeezed out of the poorer classes.

The greatest reverence is paid to these princes and officials by the people, who never venture to name them without their titles in conversation, and when in the presence of a superior show their humility by crouching before them. A noble or wealthy Laos gentleman or lady never makes a call, or goes out for even a short walk, without a full retinue of attendants and slaves bearing the betel-box, umbrella, water-jar, sword, seal and other signs of wealth and rank.

Besides captives taken in war and their descendants, there are great numbers of slave-debtors, under obligation to serve their creditor until they can repay the debt incurred, capital and interest. These are usually well treated, and can recover freedom at any time if the debt is discharged by themselves or a friend.

Religious Belief and Customs.

While the Laos people are Buddhists, devout and faithful to all the requirements of that system, they are also true worshipers of nature, believing in spirits of earth, air and water, making frequent offerings to these and having some beautiful customs of worship connected with them. It would seem as if this phase of their religious life grew out of a sort of longing in their affectionate hearts for something less cold and distant—​something closer and more accessible to them—​than Buddhist teachings could give, and that, moved by this craving, they have turned to the spirit-world with its unseen but possibly near ministrations.

A few of their religious customs are interesting, and remarkable enough to deserve here some special mention. Dr. McGilvary gives the following account of one of their ceremonies:

“The full moon of the fourth Laos month, which usually occurs in January, witnesses a strange Laos custom. It is called by two names, signifying ‘The Warming of Buddh’ and the ‘Offering of New Kow Lam’ to the priests. About daylight on the morning of the full moon bonfires are kindled in the temple-grounds, at which are assembled a larger number than usual of worshipers. It is the cool season of the year, when the mornings are uncomfortably cold, but no one dares to warm himself by the bonfires on that morning. They are sacred to Buddh, and are kindled for his special benefit, and he, too, is presumed to be cold. When the fires are lighted, incense-tapers are taken by the priests, who go inside of the temple and prostrate themselves before the idols, and invitethemto come out and be warmed by the sacred fires. It is a sham invitation, however, as they are not carried out, and they cannot of course come out themselves.

“It shows the inconsistent, incoherent and contradictory notions that a false religion fosters. If Buddh is a god, why should he be cold at all? Or if cold, why can’t he warm himself? Or why cold on that morning? Or does the heat of the little bonfires continue during the whole cool season? And how does it consist with Buddh’s annihilation? According to theory, he has attained Nipan, a state of utter unconsciousness of either happiness or misery. How, then, can he feel the sensation of cold? Or if he does, and can’t warm himself, how can he be a refuge to others?

“We presume that the real explanation of the custom, however, may be sought from the second name mentioned above, and that the important part of the ceremony is the Kow Lam that follows. That is glutinous rice, on which the Laos principally live, put in joints of the bamboo and roasted over a fire till it is done. It is very palatable, and on this morning must always be made of the first-fruits of the new rice-crop. They feast on it then for a number of days. Every religious ceremony has its appropriate offerings to the priests, and this one, like the others, fillsthemwith good things, and it matters but little then whether Buddh remains cold or becomes hot.”

TheRev.J. Wilson thus tells of an appeal to the gods in time of drought:

“Many of the people are almost in a panic from the scarcity of rice. A year ago there was very little rain in the first part of the season, but the latter rain was so abundant as to overflow the fields to such a depth as to drown the rice. Consequently, the main crop of the year proved an entire failure. Rice has been and is now very dear, so that many of the poor have great difficulty in obtaining a sufficiency to support life. From the king down to the owner of the smallest patch of ground, all have been earnestly engaged in trying to call down the rain. The king, with his retinue of princes and servants, has ascended the mountain that lies some three miles west of the city to drench with water the pagoda and the principal idols of a temple that stands upon one of the mountain’s peaks. Only a few days ago a procession of one hundred priests climbed the mountain for a similar service. The temples of Buddh, especially on the sacred days, are vocal with the sound of drums and the incantations of the worshipers who have brought their offerings to the idols to buy rain with merit. The execution of some convicts was hastened as a propitiatory sacrifice to the rain-producing powers.”

At another time, when the season had been favorable, the thanksgiving is described by the same hand, as follows:

“The rice-crop this year is a bountiful one, and the people are rejoicing over it. The second king came in from the country on Sabbath morning. He had been out in his fields threshing his rice. Returning, he arranged for the yearly procession that is made at the close of the harvest. The first gong had rung for our religious service just as the procession reached the lower compound. The noise of bells on the elephants and the chanting of the riders, together with the music made by the king’s band, made it necessary for us to delay the ringing of the second gong until after the procession had passed. I had not supposed it was to be so great an affair. A large number of elephants had passed before I began to count, but I counted one hundred and ten as they passed along one by one. I was told there were one hundred and seventy in the procession. One of the largest wore trappings of the brightest silver. The howdahs contained rice. All these were decorated with green branches. The procession was in honor of the guardian spirits that preside over the rice-crop. Those that could see the procession in its whole length considered it the most imposing one that has passed for years.

A LAOS FUNERAL.A LAOS FUNERAL.

A LAOS FUNERAL.

“About six weeks—​including parts of March and April—​are annually given up almost wholly to idolatrous worship, much of which consists in efforts to propitiate spirits. The spirit of the river upon which most of their commerce is carried on is propitiated by a floral offering. Tiny boats are filled with the choicest flowers, carried to the river’s edge, and tapers arranged by which to illuminate the little barks. At a certain hour after dark a signal is given, and simultaneously thousands of these little boats are launched and go sailing down the stream. Aside from its being an act of idolatry, it is a most brilliant and beautiful sight and one that excites our highest admiration.”

In Laos, when a person dies, a precious stone or coin is sometimes placed in the mouth of the corpse to pay the spirit-fine into the next world. Afterward the body is cremated with ceremonies similar to those of Siam. Men are laid with faces downward, and women on their backs, for cremation. When a chief dies, men are hired to engage in a pugilistic encounter in honor of the event.

Merit-Making.

It has been frequently stated in the last few years that nonewtemples are built in heathen lands, the old crumbling ones being merely patched up for temporary use, if not allowed to fall into absolute ruin. But the testimony of missionaries, who see much more of these things than do passing travelers, does not bear out this statement. As evidence of the zeal and activity with which an old temple is sometimes restored and a new one planned when merit is to be made thereby, the following is given:

“The princes and people of Cheung Mai are all astir in the work of merit-making. Just now it takes the form of rebuilding the finest temple that was erected in Cheung Mai, and in gathering and shaping materials for the replacing, three or four months hence, of the temple on the top of the mountain with a new structure. All the sawyers of the city are on duty. Priests and people are busy with saw and chisel and adze and plane. The large public courtyard is full of timber and workmen. A new king has come upon the throne, and the way to a long and successful reign must be sought in the building of these new memorials to Buddha. How strange and how sad it all seems! But thepeopleare not sad. For while their hands are busy their tongues are busy too, and the frequent merry laugh tells of the joyous heart. They boast themselves in their work. The chief priests of the temples are there—​one time passing among the workmen giving directions, then seated in groups upon their mats, spread sometimes in the largesala, and sometimes on the green sward, under the shelter of the bamboo matting and the leaf-awnings that have been stretched above the workmen. They are treated by all with the greatest reverence. The day is theirs, for in every honor shown to Buddha they have a share. Every day does the king come from his palace to inspect the work and to testify his interest in it. His highest noblemen, and even princes, consider it a privilege and an honor to help to frame the timbers for these temples. And so the work goes on, and Buddha is remembered.

“Yesterday I passed through the temple that is so soon to be refitted. The walls of the old building had been taken down and removed. The foundation of the floor still remained. The principal idols were occupying their old places. The smaller ones were sitting in groups under the shade of the trees. The larger ones cannot be removed, but have been covered with split bamboo to prevent injury while the building is going up. The smaller ones are waiting patiently until the temple is completed and they are carried back to their places.

“The building just removed was put up nearly a hundred years ago, and with occasional patching has lasted until now. And what will be the history of the new one? Will Buddhists worship their idols there a hundred years to come? Will the darkness abide so long in the Laos land? Or shall it have crumbled into ruins and temples for the worship of the living God have risen up around it?”

Another of their innumerable ways of making merit is mentioned by Dr. McGilvary:

“We visited a great cave at Cheung Dow that forms the subject of one of their sacred books. It had never been examined beyond a certain stream of water believed to be impassable. But if any one had merit enough to cross, there would be found an idol ten feet high of solid gold with golden vestments in which to visit the city of the Yaks, which was still farther in. There, too, was the seat of Chow Kam Daang, one of their greatest spirits. As it was not so convenient for me to cross the water—​which was not a deep stream, however—​I had Nan Intah cross it, and still another little pond of water, with no signs, of course, of the golden idol or the city of Yak, which was our main object in visiting the cave. The cave is nevertheless a fine one, and in itself worthy of a visit.”

Language.

Although the Laos understand the Siamese spoken languages, and many of them can read the written characters also, the mass of the people are unable to do the latter. Hence it is a matter of great interest and importance to give them the Bible and other books in the Laos tongue. Funds were collected in America some years ago, by the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society of the Presbyterian Church, for the purpose of making the type and having the Laos Bible printed. There has been delay in the full accomplishment of this object, owing to the absence from the country of some of the few missionaries who could superintend it, and because also of some unexpected difficulties in the way; but it is believed now that the work will very soon be done, and the people be supplied with the Bible in their own tongue. They are themselves eager to read and quick to learn.

Cheung Mai.

The Laos capital is a walled city a mile square and surrounded by a moat, situated on the Maping River, one of the chief branches of the Menam. Little hamlets of bamboo houses usually make up the towns of the Laos country, but Cheung Mai has a brick wall around it, and is much more of a city in size and appearance. The following description of the view from the mission-house near by will give an idea of the city and surrounding objects:

“From the veranda or through the open door we can see the stream gliding by in graceful silence, the native boats passing up and down; the farther bank with its smiling groves and houses half hidden between; farther out, on the plain, a widespreading forest of palm and other trees, whose towering tops tell us the site and limits of Cheung Mai surrounded by its high and massive wall of brick. Beyond and over the top of this city arose that grand old mountain, Doi Su Tape, ever beautiful, ever changing in its beauty.

“Were I an expert at the pencil, I might send you some time a landscape of river, plain and mountain superior to many that are esteemed by the true artist as gems of the beautiful and picturesque. It is our privilege to look upon this landscape of varied beauty every day. For a week or more we were shut in, native style, at every point of the compass by a luxuriant growth of tamarind, bamboo, and garden shrubbery. It is thus that the native houses, which generally stand back a distance from the river-pathway, are sometimes entirely concealed by the dark-green foliage of the gardens. In front of our premises a number of tamarind trees stand in all the carelessness of the primeval forest. Some of them clutch the bank with their great roots, a part of which have been washed bare by the stream when at its height. Their widespread branches intercepted our view of the river and mountain and kept out the cooling breeze. But the axe, by lopping and pruning, soon gave scope to the eye and ingress to the healing wind.”

This principal mission-station is on the right bank of the river. On the left bank, near the bridge, is Dr. Cheek’s compound, on the city side—​the gift of the chief of Cheung Mai to the missionary-physician, who is consulted by the royal family in sickness.

Through the gate that leads from the public road to Dr. Cheek’s dispensary a steady stream of Laos men, women and children, rich and poor, passes to and fro. “His name is a synonym,” says a traveler[3]who recently visited Cheung Mai, “of all that is good and kind throughout the district, he having relieved the sufferings and saved the lives of hundreds of natives, and thereby earned their warm gratitude. Adjoining his house he has erected a long bamboo shed, subdivided into a number of small apartments, which serve as the wards of a hospital. Here he has performed hundreds of operations with such skill and such success that even the superstitious Laotians come from long distances to be cured by him when suffering from painful diseases or severe wounds. The chiefs and princes often send for him when their reliance upon the superstitious rites of the native ‘faculty’ begins to fail them, though, in such cases, his advice has often been only asked when the patients have beenin extremis. Two or three years ago he saved the life of the chief’s wife when all the drugs and incantations of several native medicos had been called into requisition in vain.

“Dr. Cheek has also established a boat-building yard, where he gives employment to a large number of men, and where he has introduced improved models of boats and better modes of construction. American tools have been introduced, and are gradually superseding the primitive adzes and saws of the natives.”

The same traveler describes the palace of the chief of Cheung Mai as “a mixture of Chinese and Laos architecture. Along the whole front extended a long, open room, partially furnished with European furniture, the only article of native workmanship a large gilt state-chair or throne reserved for the use of the head-priest when he came to visit the chief.”

The palace itself and the court-life within are characterized by great simplicity, the king, “an old man, tall of stature, but slightly stooping beneath his load of sixty-four years,” usually spending much of his time in mechanical work, of which he is fond, and the queen sharing with him in the transaction of state business. The present queen is a woman of remarkable intelligence, and exercises a predominant influence in the government, “by virtue,” says a missionary, “of her exceptional feminine tact.”

Cheung Mai has a large market, which is very neat and orderly. It is kept by women, who seat themselves on the ground, with vegetables, fruits and confectionery deposited on plantain-leaves or in little baskets made by themselves. While not trading they work on embroidery used in ornamentation. Formerly, salt was the market currency, and so seldom was money used that the owners of the articles often did not know the value of them in money, but could readily tell if asked how much salt they would take. The occasion of this was that all their salt came from a great distance and was very precious in Cheung Mai. Within a few years the Siamese government has sent small coin to take the place of salt as a currency. The people were much confused for a while by the change, and circulated them reluctantly. Some were even imprisoned for persisting in taking salt to market to make their purchases.

The principal articles for sale are provisions, fruits, tobacco, betel-nut, fish, mushrooms, wax, cotton, earthenware and flowers. The pork-stalls are kept by men, and there are some Chinese sheds where cotton goods, brass and wooden trays and Burmese lacquer-ware are sold. There are a large number of temples in the city, among others the new Wat Hluang, or royal temple, recently built on the site of a very old one.

Homes and Daily Life.

There are no fine houses or palaces for the most part in Laos, princes and peasants building on much the same general plan; the size and quality of material and workmanship are the main difference. The thatched roofs are cheap and easily replaced, and those of teak tiles, though more durable, afford no better protection from sun and rain. One-story high and raised on posts from six to eight feet above the ground, a short flight of rude steps leads to the balcony which runs around the dwelling. The flooring is usually of bamboo or teak, and on one side of the veranda, protected by a covered shed, stand the large water-jars, with a cocoanut dipper near. This entrance-platform is generally ornamented by pots of orchids and other flowering plants. Here in dirty weather, before entering the house, the polite guest pauses to pour water over his feet. Here too the princes and other inmates, too indolent to walk down to the river, are accustomed to take a morning and evening bath by pouring water over themselves with the dipper.

Underneath the dwellings is a general receptacle for howdahs, gardening utensils, etc., which at night is often used as a cattle-shed.

The furniture is very simple. Mats and cushions are piled in a corner ready for use, the best cushions being three-sided with embroidered ends. Home-made mattresses stuffed with cotton; mosquito curtains; generally a native cradle swinging from the beam overhead; a few pots, pans, baskets, cocoanut-shell dippers and spoons; a flat vessel or saucer for the porkfat or oil which, with a bit of cotton wick, furnishes the only artificial light,—​would probably nearly exhaust the list. At meal-times, about seven in the morning and toward sunset, the family-circle gathers around a lacquer or brass tray on which are placed small bowls of fish or pork, bamboo-shoots, vegetables and curry, the steamed rice being served separately to each person in a small basket. They sit upon the floor or mats; plates, forks and knives are for the most part unknown. Among the very poor the plantain-leaf takes even the place of bowls and saves all dish-washing.

Every house has its native loom, and the garments are for the most part homespun. Cotton is very plentiful and cheap in Laos, and native dyes are used. The women, rich and poor alike, spend much time in making garments for the priests. Some of the well-to-do and the slaves of the nobility are skilled in embroidery. The native silk fabrics are also woven on the loom, cocoons of the wild silkworm being collected. The favorite colors are dark-blue, orange, maroon and a reddish-brown. Princesses use this silk interwoven with gold thread.

Each district seems to have its own local headcovering, the most common being a large flat of palm-leaves sewn together. A straight, scant, horizontally-striped petticoat in blue and yellow, with a body-scarf or shawl worn in various ways, or a tight-fitting jacket, constitutes the not ungraceful costume of a Laos woman; her hair, being drawn back, is fastened in a neat knot by a gold pin and is almost invariably ornamented with flowers.

The body of the men of Western Laos is usually covered with tattoo-marks of different animals and emblematic monsters. These figures are usually first sketched by the professional tattooer from the waist to the knees—​monkeys, bats, rats, birds and so-forth; then the skin is punctured with a sharp-pointed steel instrument, and an indelible black pigment is well rubbed in. The dress of the ordinary man consists of little more than the waist-cloth, but the young noblemen are adopting the Siamese court-costume. Formerly, all went bare-footed, but buffalo-hide sandals are now much used. Both men and women are passionately fond of flowers. The ear-lobes are bored when very young and stretched with pieces of wood, ivory and metal, and the men almost invariably carry a flower in this hole; cigars and other articles are fastened behind the ear. Large ears are regarded with favor as a sign of longevity.

Laos Workmanship.

Scattered over Laos-land are brick-fields and pottery-works, where the native earthenware, water-jars and other household utensils are made. The earthenware oven used by the Laos is in the shape of a boot, the opening at the top holding the pot, while the upper part of the shoe is cut away for the grate. Wood is burned within. These ovens are very cheap, but break easily.

Wood-carving is also much practiced in Laos, and much technical artistic skill is displayed in the carved scroll-work for doors, posts and household utensils.

The valuable native varnish calledrackis resin collected from the trunk of a special tree in Laos. This black lacquer is a monopoly and little exported, being used in preparing the temples and idols for their covering of paint and gold-leaf. It dries slowly in spite of the hot climate, but gives in the end a perfectly smooth, hard surface unaffected by dampness. The manufacture of lacquer-ware is carried on in all parts of the country. First-class workers are found in almost every hamlet. The foundation is made of woven bamboo strips coated thickly withrack. This is polished with the common Laos substitute for sand-paper—​rice-husks and water. Then a pattern is drawn with a style and the article finished with coats of red and brown paint. Many household utensils are lacquer-ware, and some of the designs are really well executed. The price varies with the quality of the workmanship.

The Laos are also skilled in the manufacture of silver-ware. Each village has usually one or more native artists engaged in executing orders for the princes and wealthy classes. Themodus operandiis primitive, and the work lacks finish, but the general effect is bold and pleasing. A thin plate of the right shape is filled with a composition of wax and resin. The patterns are from memory, usually a medley of mythical birds and beasts, and the design is hammered out with a style and sort of blunt chisel, the plastic filling yielding readily to each blow; the figures and scroll-work stand out in high relief. The value of articles is determined by the weight, with fifty per cent. added for labor.

Occupations.

Life in Laos is exceedingly monotonous. The women do much of the hard work in the field as well as in the household. During the dry, cool season, from November to May, even the trees and grass seem dried up and lifeless, only the orchids showing any signs of vitality. Heavy thunder- and hail-storms in May often herald the opening of the rainy season. Then all nature takes a fresh start: the rice is planted; new leaves shoot out; the heat becomes intense; vegetation is almost spontaneous. After planting, only a very little labor is needed to secure a good harvest in a favorable season. Both buffaloes and oxen are used for ploughing, and are guided by reins attached to the noses of the animals. Elephants abound, and are also employed as beasts of burden, especially in the wood-yards. Carts are few, and the rude native ones sometimes used to transport rice are drawn by men. The paddy-granaries are simple, huge barrel-shaped bamboo baskets, plastered to keep out mice and insects.

There are few amusements. Men, women and children are adepts in fishing, and thus provide food for the household. The chase is sport little indulged in by the lower classes, with the exception of professional tiger-hunters. Two or three times a year grand hunting-expeditions are organized by the principal chiefs and cause much excitement.

The habits of social and domestic life among the Laos present some striking contrasts to those of most heathen nations. Women are kindly treated, and even honored by special favor and consideration in cases of litigation with men. The baby-daughter is cared for as tenderly as the little son, and child-marriage is unknown, while old age is respected and watched over. Marriage is not as much a matter of trade as it usually is among heathen people, and divorce is less common and more governed by just and humane laws. Their treatment of the sick is absurd in the extreme, so far as true care and healing are concerned (as will appear in the chapter on that subject), but their intention seems to be to do for their suffering ones all that their limited knowledge and superstitious beliefs allow.

Traveling.

The great need of Laos is a better outlet for trade. At present these little kingdoms are practically shut in from the outside nations. There are parts of this country which can only be reached by elephant-traveling, so dense are the jungles and so difficult the passage. Missionaries laboring here are more isolated from the rest of the world than at most stations, as will appear from the following statements: There is no established line of boats going and coming, as upon our own waters, but all transporting is done by private individuals, and is only an occasional or incidental occurrence. For this reason our inland missionaries have to wait sometimes from three to five months before receiving any mail-matter from Bangkok, and in one instance Cheung Mai had no mail for eight months. At Rahang gentlemen may leave the river and complete the journey to Cheung Mai by elephant, but ladies could not endure the ride, it is such a very tiresome mode of travel. The elephant is a faithful and indispensable servant in that land of mountains. All overland transportation throughout Laos is carried on by means of elephants and oxen. Large droves of oxen are frequently seen traveling single file behind a leader decked with a mask fancifully made out of shells covering his whole face, while from between his horns a large peacock tail rises and sweeps gracefully, though comically, over his back. Each ox is laden with an immense pair of baskets thrown over saddle-bag fashion, and in these are placed the articles for transportation. Sometimes every ox is covered nearly all over with strings of little bells, which add some life to the scene. The peddlers from the north do a large trade with Siam and Laos, and the Shan caravans are almost entirely composed of these oxen, which give warning of their approach by a musical sound of tinkling bells echoing through the forest glades and from the steep mountainsides. The object of the mask upon the leader is to protect the caravan from the assaults of evil spirits. The Yunnan caravans are composed of small ponies and mules. To prevent delay from grazing along the road, a ratan muzzle is provided. Elephants also are decorated with bells to give notice of their approach to caravans coming from an opposite direction. As they tramp steadily along they regale themselves with the tender shoots of overhanging trees. When crossing a stream they generally take a trunkful of water whether thirsty or not.

Official passports are curious documents, consisting of long narrow strips of palm-leaf coiled into a ring, and at each end is an embossed stamp. This stamp determines the real weight of the document, and is the first point examined before reading the order. These leaves are almost imperishable, being tough and entirely unaffected by water, and for such a purpose are superior to paper. When the writing grows indistinct it is easily made legible by wetting the finger and rubbing it over the leaf, thus cleansing the smooth surface and filling the scratches with a thin film of dirt. Such a passport frequently includes an order to inferior officials to furnish the traveler with the necessary elephants for his journey. Throughout Laos written official documents are almost invariably thus scratched with a style on a strip of palm-leaf.

The enormous number of wild elephants in the forests and domesticated elephants in the towns strikes one with amazement. Tigers, deer, wild hogs, pea-fowls and jungle-chickens also abound in the forests; while dogs, cats, crows and lizards are among the domesticated pets. The country is rich, not only in valuable timber, but in minerals. The opening up of the market by railroad would result in immediate profit, bringing down the Laos products and taking back in exchange English and American manufactures, for which a large and increasing demand would be readily created.

Laos Oil and Wine.

Cocoa and betel-nut trees abound in Cheung Mai. Oil is made from the former, and the latter produces an article of commerce.

Laotians have their wine as well as more civilized nations, but they get it from a tree instead of a vine. A party of friends who were traveling near Lakon in returning from a walk in the environs encountered some Laotians carrying vessels of bamboo filled with a liquid which at first they supposed to be water. On tasting it, however, they discovered that it was the wine of the country, sweet-flavored and by no means disagreeable to the palate—​not unlike, indeed, the product of some of the Rhenish vineyards. It was palm wine, freshly made. It will not keep more than four-and-twenty hours without fermentation. The Laotians offered to conduct the strangers to a neighboring plantation, where they might observe the different processes of its manufacture. The offer was accepted, and the party soon arrived at a clearing which was thickly planted with great borassus palms. To collect the wine—​which is, in fact, the sap of the tree—​nothing more is necessary than to make an incision in the middle of the head of the tree at the point where the leaves branch off, and suspend beneath a bamboo, into which the sap falls drop by drop. In order to reach the summit of these huge palms, which are straight and smooth as the mainmast of a ship, the Laotians have invented a simple and ingenious process. They transform the palm into a veritable ladder by attaching to the trunk, with small strips of flexible ratan, projecting laths of bamboo, which, jutting out to right and left at intervals of twelve to fourteen inches, form so many “rungs” and enable the ascent of the tree to be rapidly and easily accomplished.

TAPPING THE BORASSUS PALM.TAPPING THE BORASSUS PALM.

TAPPING THE BORASSUS PALM.

Incidents of Mission-Life.

There are bright gleams ever and anon revealing themselves in the pictures given us of the life of our missionaries in this lonely corner of the world, showing that God does not leave his servants here to sadness and discouragement. A young missionary thus describes a visit to the wife of the king of the province, by courtesy called a queen:

“I want to tell you of a novel entertainment Mrs. Cheek and myself enjoyed last week. The queen has long been wishing for a dress made like ours, and at last she prevailed on Mrs. Cheek to make it. The material was black summer silk, and Mrs. Cheek made a pretty, shortprincesse, white lace at neck and sleeves and lavender bows—​very pretty indeed. While it was being made we laughed over visions of bare feet beneath a black silk awkwardly adjusted and a yellow cotton scarf. When the dress was finished Mrs. Cheek invited me to go with her to the queen’s and try to persuade her to let us show her how to wear it. I was only too willing. The queen received us very kindly, and was delighted with the dress. Mrs. Cheek suggested that she put it on while we were there, and she laughed and said she was ashamed, but soon invited us into her bedroom to help her dress. Mrs. Cheek had provided the necessary underclothes, and after much instruction they were properly adjusted. How we were to get the dress over her sacred head was a question, but she answered it by putting it on herself. I buttoned it, pinned the neck, and put on her diamond pin and necklace, and then we stood off to get the effect. The transformation was as pleasing as it had been sudden, and we were delighted. The queen seemed to know that the dress was suitable, and instead of being awkward she was at perfect ease. Our fears were not at all realized; even the bare feet seemed dignified. The queen in the native costume looks tall and spare, but this costume rounded her form out and made her look quite queenly. When the king came in to see her he was very much pleased, and told her she must have another dress just like it. We had a very pleasant visit, and returned home well pleased. Mrs. Cheek is now suffering for her generosity, for Chow O’Boon has sent cloth to have dresses made for herself and daughter, and other princesses are wishing to have the whole costume.”

Another enlivening incident is told in these words:

“I must tell you of the latest great excitement we have created. Many years ago our mission-compound was a temple-ground, but the temple was all in ruins when the mission took this land, and the débris was used for leveling the ground, and in this débris an old idol was buried. This has always been considered a very sacred spot, and many people have brought offerings of fruit and flowers to be placed near the spot where the idol was supposed to be. We have always refused them admission to our grounds, but they often come at night unknown to us and bring their offerings. Last week we were having our bank of the river diked, and the workmen found the idol. Mr. Wilson had them disinter it. As soon as the people heard what was done they came in great numbers to see the god they had been so long worshiping—​an image of Buddha, of sandstone, about five feet high, sitting in Oriental fashion on a large stone pillar. It had doubtless once been gilded, but not a ray of glory remained, and it was both headless and crippled in one arm. The next day Mr. Wilson took an axe and demolished the god. Then you should have seen the people, and especially the children, come and peep through the fence, and, half frightened at the sacrilegious deed that was being done, hurry away again. We intend to utilize this old relic by making a garden-seat of the pedestal and a mound for ferns of the broken pieces.”

Another lady describes a picnic given to some newly-arrived missionaries by a Cheung Mai princess:

“At fourA. M.my clock struck the alarm, and we opened our eyes to find it still dark. It did not take us long to dress. Lighting the oil-stove, we soon had boiling water, and coffee, which, with mango sauce and bread and butter, gave us a light breakfast before the long trip began. Just before six I ran down to the gate and saw the four elephants crossing the river; to my astonishment, the young prince, Chow Kope, was driving one of them. Like most boys, he thought it would be fun to throw aside the dignity of the princeship for a while. He is a bright, intelligent and winning boy. He drove his elephant up to the front veranda, raised the floor of the howdah (a little house placed on the back of the elephant, and in which we ride), stored our baskets, shawls, etc. in a sort of catch-all, and then, putting down the floor, spread my boat-mattress over it, and placed the pillows at one end that I might lie down if I wished to. Our drivers sit upon the heads of the elephants, climbing up by means of the chain which holds the howdah on, and using the knee of the fore leg of the elephant for a stirrup, or rather a step-up. The elephant, when punched on the knee, holds up his foot; the driver placeshisfoot on the broad step made by the elephant’s knee, and, catching hold of the chain, swings himself up to the monster’s head, where he sits—​monarch of all he surveys. Taking Chow’s hand, I reached the elephant’s head, and then perched myself, as comfortably as you can imagine, in my little house. Others of the party mounted elephants, and some rode on horseback.

“We started off, moving slowly but surely. Crossing at the elephant ford, we soon reached the road at the east gate of the city-wall; following the road till we reached the north-west gate, we struck out across the rice-fields—​great plains, with only now and then a little cluster of trees. We could command a fine view of the plains, and the atmosphere was so clear that, for the first time, I saw the belt of mountains which encircles the valley wherein Cheung Mai is nestled. The mountain to which we were going seemed to be only about two miles away, but was in reality four miles. The rice-field road took us across some little brooks, which the elephants must have enjoyed, for they filled their trunks with water, and every few minutes amused us by throwing it over themselves, till one would almost have supposed that that long proboscis was an unfathomable reservoir. Before reaching the mountain proper we came into the woods, composed of bamboo and a multitude of other trees and shrubs of which I did not know the names, and a dense undergrowth. The path from this place up the mountain was narrow, rough and steep, but not once did the clumsy-looking creatures stumble. They frequently came to places so steep that it seemed as though it were folly to attempt to climb up, but up they went, carefully, slowly, placing the knees of their fore legs on the high step, then drawing up the other feet, never missing their footing. At the foot of the mountain we saw the stream Hoa Kao, which we followed in the already beaten pathway. Up, up we went, over rocks and shrubs, and so close to the edge of precipices from one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet high that it seemed as if we must fall over. Oh, it was grand! At one place on the mountain-side we had a very fine view of the country for miles.

“You may wonder how the drivers guide the elephants. A knock on the right side of the head means turn to the left, a knock on the left means go to the right, one on the forehead means go slowly. They use, in thus guiding these beasts, a bamboo stick two feet long with a prong on the end of it. It did seem wonderful that they were so easily managed. When we came to a steep place Chow would say ‘Coy’ (carefully).

“At last, after a two hours’ ride, we saw the princess Chow O’Boon, with her train of servants, waiting for us on a large flat rock by the stream. With their many-colored skirts and scarfs, dark skins, black hair and shining eyes they looked like a band of gypsies. Here my elephant carefully knelt down, and, stepping on to its head, a man helped me, and once more I was onterra firma. This spot was as far as the elephants could go, but Chow’s slaves picked up our luggage, and we walked to where the stream was quite narrow. By its banks were great flat rocks, and projecting over these and at a height of thirty feet was a very large umbrella-like rock. It must have projected twenty-five feet, and was about seventy feet long. Under its shelter we had our dinner, and after this a nice resting-time. Having brought our bathing-suits, we went up the stream later in the day and had a delightful bath. At four o’clock we started for home. The ride back was delightful, though it was quite exciting coming down the mountain. The sky was beautiful: low in the horizon were dark clouds threatening rain; above them the lighter clouds changed from golden to scarlet, then gradually back to golden. A pleasant breeze was blowing, and had not the fact that I was riding an elephant kept me awake I should have gone to sleep. We reached home about seven o’clock, and all pronounced Hoa Kao a beautiful stream. We felt very grateful to Chow O’Boon for giving us the use of her elephants and thus affording us so much pleasure.”

* * * * *

But better perhaps than all else of reward or comfort in a missionary’s experience are the consistent life and triumphant death of one rescued from the darkness and superstition of his people and brought into the kingdom of God. The man mentioned in the following account, the first Laos convert, had for a number of years been walking with God in humble faith:

“Dear old Nan Intah is at rest—​gone to be with Jesus whom he loved. I wish that many of those who talk so much about the failure of mission-work could have been at his bedside and seen his resigned and peaceful death.

“When told that he could not live through the day, he turned to his eldest child and committed the mother to his care. He gave his hand to each of us first, then to his dear faithful wife and children and grandchildren, and last to the church-members, saying to them, ‘Be patient! be patient! trust in Jesus, all of you.’ To his youngest son he said, ‘I am walking on the way you all must go; only be ready for our Lord. Oh, my son, do not fall from the right path. Trust in the Lord now, and do his work, as I have tried to do. You will suffer many trials, but they will be forgotten when the day of reward comes. You plant the rice-fields in the water and in the rain, but three months from now you will gather the harvest. Learn from your yearly work the lesson of life, and strengthen yourself in Jesus.’ He suffered greatly, but toward the last he lay quietly as if sleeping, then suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me as if he would speak, but he was not looking at me, for his eyes were full of light and joy. A smile passed over his face, and at the same instant he breathed his last.

“The children were violent in their grief, but the dear old wife and mother would say, ‘Let us rejoice rather that father is now free from suffering. Jesus saved him from sin, and now has only taken him to himself. God has called him home before us, but we may follow and be with him. Be patient and trust, as your father said.’ She was heartbroken herself, and nearly exhausted with the long, patient nursing, and yet she would only say, ‘Loong Nan never complained in all his two years’ sickness. Let us not complain of what the Lord has done.’

“The men made a teak-wood coffin and Mr. Wilson lined it with fresh white muslin; then the body of our beloved old elder, the first Laos convert, was put in it and carried to the worship-room, where his voice had often been heard in prayer. The whole land was so flooded that it was impossible to dig a grave, so the coffin was placed on the surface of the ground and a brick wall built around it. This could not be done in the public burying-ground, and we laid our dear old Loong Nan in our own garden under the mango trees. Every one said, ‘How different from a heathen burial!’

“Do I believe that Jesus is? Yes, as I believe that I live now. Nan Intah, a poor ignorant Laos, in this remotest corner of the globe, believed the precious story of our Lord and received the promise, ‘I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.’ ‘I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.’ That bright look of surprised joy,—​I thank our Lord for permitting me to see it, and it has strengthened my faith in him.”

With this story of the peaceful death and Christian burial of a man but a little time ago a believer in witchcraft, a worshiper of spirits and of Buddha, knowing nothing of God or Christ or his own soul, we leave the general subject to look more particularly at the Laos country and people.

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