VeryNăs.VagueRelõ̆c.VesselSâmpon, capol.Vaunt (to)Uot.VaseChan.VeinSesay.VenomPŭs.VirtueCousâl, bŏn.VictoryChhneă.VirginPrommâ̆châ̆rey.VillagePhum.ViolentKhlang.VioletSâmbôr soag.ViolinChăpey.Visit (to)Suor.VowBâmmâ̆n.Vow (to)Bân bâmmâ̆n.VeilSounoiéa.Veil (to)Bang.VoiceSâmleńg.Vomit (to)Cunot.VoraciousLupha.ViceBap, tus.VegetablePoule pongea.
W.
WhenCalna.WhoNana.WhatOy? Sat ay?Wake (to)Phuheăc.WisdomSamphi.WindingChhăp.WorkCar.Work (to)Thú car.Watch (to)Retrit tetrut.WindKhiâl.WormChŏulin dûngeon.Well (a)Andońg.WordPeac.WhyDebâtay.WeTúng.WorkChĕang.Water (to)Sroch.Wait (to)Ohâm.Wash (to)Pongeon.Water-closetLeáng.WhenCăl, calêna, compung.WickedBap, Chomugú.Walk (to)Dór.WorldLong.WordPeác.WallComphin̂g.WaterTŭć.Write (to)Sâ̆cer.WifePropôn.Wake (to)Dăs.WaveTouli.WagerPhnŏl.WarSó̆c.WineSra.Wish (to)Châng.WarmCadan.Warm (to)Prap.WhiteSâ.WoundRebuos.WoodSrey.WhereÊna.WomanSrey.WidowerPomaí.
Y.
YesChŭs, bât, côrna.YearChhnam.YellowLúóng.YoungComing.YesterdayMŏsãl.
Z.
ZealChhú chaăl.ZincSămnăr pang Krey.
NAMES OF THE NUMBERS.
1Muey.2Pir.3Bey.4Buon.5Prăm.6Prămmuey.7Prämpil.8Prămbey.9Prambuon.10Dâ̆p.11Mõtó̆n Dâ̆p.12Pirtó̆n dâ̆p.13Beytó̆n dâ̆p.14Buontó̆n dá̆p.15Prămtó̆n dá̆p.16Prămmueytó̆n dá̆p.17Prămpiltó̆n dá̆p.18Prămbeytó̆n dâ̆p.19Prămbuontó̆n dâ̆p.20Mŏphey, or Bien Phey.21Mŏphey muey, or Phey muey.22Mŏphey pir, or Phey pir.23Mŏphey bey, or Phey bey. &c.30Sumsá̆p.40Sêsó̆p.50Hosá̆p.60Hocsá̆p.70Chêtsá̆p.80Pêtsó̆p.90Cansá̆p.100Mŏ roi.200Pir roi.300Bey roi.400Buon roi.500Prăm roi.600Prămmuey roi. &c.1,000Mŏ pŏn.2,000Pir pó̆n. &c.10,000Mŏ mŭn.100,000Mŏ sên.1,000,000Mŏ cõt.10,000,000Mŏ béan.100,000,000Mŏ a Kho.1,000,000,000Mŏ puni.
CARDINAL POINTS.
NorthÊ chûng, Tùs udãr.SouthÊ thbong, Tus ê bor.EastÊ cát, Tus ê cát.WestÊ lich, Tus ê chém.
SEASONS.
Rainy SeasonCânghê or redon phliéng.Hot or Dry SeasonCânghê or redon cadan.WinterCânghê or redon rengèa.
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.
SundayAtú̆t.MondayChan.TuesdayÂng Kéar.WednesdayPût.ThursdayPrĕa-hó̆s.FridaySŏc.SaturdaySan.
THE NAMES OF THE MONTHS.
1. MarchChêt.2. AprilPisac.3. MayChis.4. JuneAsat.5. JulySrap.6. AugustPhetrebot.7. SeptemberAsôch.8. OctoberCârdó̆c.9. NovemberMéac Khsér.10. DecemberBõ̆s.11. JanuaryMéac thõ̆m.12. FebruaryPhâ̆l cun.
CYCLE OF TWELVE YEARS.
1. PigCôr.2. RatChût.3. OxChhlom.4. TigerKhal.5. HareThâ.6. DragonRung.7. SerpentMéa Sanh.8. HorseMéa mê.9. GoatMéa mê.10. MonkeyVoê.11. CockRoca.12. DogChô.
PRONUNCIATION OF THE CAMBODIAN VOWELS.
a, ă, ã; é, ê; i; o, ó; u, ú.
CAMBODIAN VOWELS.
a. This is pronounced like the English word, “Palm.”
ă. This is pronounced short; as, “Mat.”
ã. This is something between theaand theo; it is pronounced like a very openo.
é. This is pronounced like our closee; as, “Men.”
ê. This is pronounced like our opene; as, “He.”
i. This is pronounced also like oure.
o. This is pronounced like ouro; as, “Go.”
ó. This is pronounced likeeuin “Liqueur.”
u. Likeou, in “You.”
ú. This is pronounced likeu.
DIPHTHONGS.
Ai, ei, oi, ôi, ói. This is pronounced with a single emission of sound.
Ay, ey, oy, óy, ui, úi. This is pronounced with two emissions of sound, as, a-ï, e-ï, o-ï, u-ï, ú-ï.
Cha, ché, chi, cho, chu. This is pronounced as Tia, tié, tii, tio, tiu; with a single emission of sound.
Chha, chhé, chhi, chho, chhu. This is pronounced as Thcha, thché (etc.), with a strong aspiration.
Kha, khe, khi, kho, khu. This is pronounced as Ka, ke, ki (etc.), with a strong aspiration.
Nha, nhe, nhi, nho, nhu. This is pronounced as Nia, Nie (etc.), with a single emission of sound.
Pha, phe, phi, pho, phu. This is pronounced as pa, pe, pi (etc.), with an aspiration.
Nga, nge, ngi, ngo, ngu. This is pronounced hard.
Tha, thé, thi, tho, thu. Hard, and with an aspiration.
THE LORD’S PRAYER IN CAMBODIAN.
O’ Preă dâ công lu mic, apuc Túng Khnhŏm oi: Túng Khnhŏm ângvâr Preă-âng, som oi ûs neăc phâng têng núng cot sesór preă néam Preă-âng: som oi preă-nocor Preă-âng ban Túng Khnhŏm. Som ai rebal méan non dey thú tam preă hartey Preă-âng dock lú mic. Ahar Túng Khnhŏm sâ̆p thngay som ai Túng Khnhŏm ban thngai nê: hoï som pros bap Túng Khnhŏm dock iung Khnhŏm â̆t tus neăc êna mian tus núng Túng Khnhŏm: hoï som pum ai Túng Khnhŏm doi comnach: tê aî Túng Khnhŏm ban ruéch âmpi ândâ̆rai teăng puâng. Amén!
[To be communicated to the Royal Geographical Society.]
Brelum, among the Savage Stiêns, lat. N. 11° 46′ 30″, long. W. 103° 3′, merid. of Paris, 15th October, 1859.
Dear Mr. Stevens,
I profit by a favourable opportunity which has just presented itself to write you a few hasty lines to let you know that I am alive. For the last two months I have been living with the savage Stiêns amidst their immense forests, the latitude being precisely as I have stated above, and here I have passed the season most favourable for collecting insects and land shells. In spite of the letter given to me by the King of Cambodia, ordering all the chiefs of the Srok Khmer, or Cambodian villages, to furnish me with the means of transport on my journey, I experienced much difficulty, as frequently neither buffaloes nor carts were to be found in the hamlets through which I passed. My journey took me a month to accomplish, which is about three times as long as it would have taken me on foot.
On the 21st July, after having descended the great arm of the Mekon from Pinhalú, a village about nine miles from the capital, and in lat. 11° 46′ 30″ N. and long. 103° 3 W. merid. of Paris, as far as Penom Peuh, a commercial town filled with Chinese, and situated at the conflux of two streams, I ascendedthe great Cambodian River, the water of which is still low, as all through the country the rainy season is two months later than usual. The Mekon is studded with islands, of which many are eight or nine miles long and more than a mile broad; such is the large and beautiful island of Ko-Sutin, where I arrived after five days’ journey. I estimate the width of the river to be about three miles. Pelicans are found on its waters, often in flocks of more than fifty, and storks, sea swallows, and other aquatic birds, abound in the shallow parts of the river. The general aspect of this mighty river is, however, rather sombre than gay, although doubtless there is something imposing in the rapidity of its waters, which run like a torrent. Few boats are to be seen on it, and its banks are almost barren (the forests being more than a mile distant), and, being constantly undermined by the water, fall down at the least shock, and this is generally all that you can see or hear. The Menam is much more gay and animated.
The rapids and cataracts commence about thirty or forty leagues north of Ko-Sutin, on the confines of Laos, and it is there necessary to leave the large boats and take to canoes, which as well as the luggage are often obliged to be carried on men’s backs.
The current of the Mekon is so strong that at certain times of the year you can go little more than a league a day, and the rowers often seek for fire in the evening at the very place where they cooked their rice in the morning. I ascended it in a small boat with three rowers, but at every bend of the river we had the greatest trouble to make any progress, and were frequently obliged to hold on by the rushes to prevent our being carried away by the current. Eight days after leaving Pinhalú I reached Pemptiélan, a large Cambodian village, where I found it necessary to take to land travelling.
There still remained 150 miles to travel in carts, all in an easterly direction. I was well received by the mandarinat the head of affairs in this part of the country, and was able to set out again in two days.
The first day our conveyances upset, and I feared that we should be unable to proceed; there were continually dreadful bogs, quagmires, and marshes, in which the carts sank up to the axletrees and the buffaloes to their bellies. Fortunately on the following day the road improved, but for three weeks all that was visible was a few scattered rice-fields round the villages, and we had to make our way through a marshy plain, covered with thick and dark woods, which reminded one of the enchanted forest of Tasso, and it is easy to understand that the imagination of a pagan race peoples these gloomy solitudes with evil spirits. Twenty times in an hour the men who accompanied us were obliged to raise the large branches and cut down the trunks which obstructed our passage, and sometimes we had to make a new path for ourselves.
The Cambodians were all much surprised at seeing us journeying towards the Stiêns at the worst time of the year, for in that country the rainy season had commenced, and even those who live nearest dare not venture there; and had I not brought with me from Siam my two young servants, I could not for any money have found a single individual to accompany me. Even they felt great repugnance to proceed—for in Siam, Cambodia bears a terrible reputation for unhealthiness, and unhappily both for them and for myself they were attacked with fever in the forests, since which, instead of receiving any help from them, I have had two patients to nurse.
Passing through a village peopled by a barbarous race of Annamites, I ran great risk of being taken prisoner by them, and being sent to finish my researches in a dungeon. Last year the carriages belonging to a French missionary were completely rifled, and the men sent with ropes round their necks to Cochin China. I loaded all my guns, and gave one to each of my men:our firm appearance, no doubt, frightened them, for we were not attacked.
In spite of the heat, the fatigue, and privations inseparable from such a journey, I arrived among the Stiêns in perfectly good health as far as I was concerned, and here I found a settlement of Catholic missionaries from Cochin China. It would have been impossible to go further, for I could neither find means of transport nor provisions, for at this time of the year the poor savages have consumed all their rice, and have nothing to live upon but herbs, a little maize, and what they can catch in the chase. I therefore accepted the hospitality offered to me with much kindness by a good priest. In a few weeks the rainy season will be over, the nights will become cold, and for several months insects will be found, and after that will come the turn of the birds, with which I shall exclusively occupy myself.
My departure from here will depend upon circumstances; perhaps I shall myself be the bearer of this letter to Pinhalú, perhaps I may be detained here some months by the bad state of the roads and the impossibility of procuring vehicles during the rice-harvest.
If you ask who are this strange people, living retired on the table-lands and mountains of Cambodia, which they appear never to have quitted, and differing entirely in manners, language, and features from the Annamites, Cambodians, and Laotians, my answer is that I believe them to be the aborigines of the country, and that they have been driven into these districts by the repeated inroads of the Thibetians, from whom they evidently descend, as is proved by the resemblance of features, religion, and character.
The whole country from the eastern side of the mountains of Cochin China as far as 103° long., and from 11° lat. to Laos, is inhabited by savage tribes, all known under one name, whichsignifies “inhabitants of the heights.” They have no attachment to the soil, and frequently change their abode; most of the villages are in a state of continual hostility with each other, but they do not attack in troops, but seek to surprise each other, and the prisoners are sold as slaves to the Laotians.
Their only weapon is the cross-bow, which they use with extraordinary skill, but rarely at a distance of more than twenty paces. Poisoned arrows are used only for hunting the larger animals, such as elephants, rhinoceros, buffaloes, and wild oxen, and with these the smallest scratch causes death, if the poison is fresh: the strongest animal does not go more than fifty paces before it falls; they then cut out the wounded part, half roast it without skinning or cutting it up, after which they summon the whole village by sound of trumpet to partake of it. The most perfect equality and fraternity reign in these little communities, and the Communists would here find their theories reduced to practice and producing nothing but misery.
The strongest European would find it difficult to bend the bow which the Stiên, weak and frail as he appears, bends without effort, doubtless by long practice.
They are not unacquainted with agriculture, but grow rice and plant gourds, melons, bananas, and other fruit-trees; their rice-fields are kept with the greatest care, but nearly all the hard work is done by the women. They seldom go out in the rainy season on account of the leeches, which abound in the woods to such a degree as to render them almost unapproachable; they remain in their fields, where they construct small huts of bamboo, but as soon as the harvest is over and the dry season returns they are continually out fishing or hunting. They never go out without their baskets on their backs, and carrying their bows and a large knife-blade in a bamboo handle. They forge nearly all their instruments from ore which they procure from Annam and Cambodia. Although they know how to make earthen vessels, they generally cooktheir rice and herbs in bamboo. Their only clothing is a strip of cloth passed between the thighs and rolled round the waist. The women weave these scarfs, which are long and rather pretty, and which when well made often sell for as much as an ox. They are fond of ornaments, and always have their feet, arms, and fingers covered with rings made of thick brass wire; they wear necklaces of glass beads, and their ears are pierced with an enormous hole, through which they hang the bone of an animal, or a piece of ivory sometimes more than three inches in circumference. They wear their hair long in the Annamite fashion, and knot it up with a comb made of bamboo; some pass through it a kind of arrow made of brass wire, and ornamented by a pheasant’s crest.
Their features are handsome and sometimes regular, and many wear thick mustachios and imperials.
Quite alone and independent amidst their forests, they scarcely recognise any authority but that of the chief of the village, whose dignity is generally hereditary. For the last year or two the King of Cambodia has occasionally sent the mandarin who lives nearest the Stiêns to their first villages, in order to distribute marks of honour to their chiefs, hoping little by little to subdue them, and to get from them slaves and ivory, and already he receives a small tribute every year. His emissaries, however, scarcely dare pass the limits of the kingdom, so fearful are they of the arrows of the savages and of the fevers which reign in their forests.
The Stiên is gentle and hospitable, and possesses neither the stupid pride of the Cambodian, nor the refined cruelty and corruption of the Annamite. He is the “good fellow” of the forest, simple and even generous; his faults are those common to all Asiatics, namely, cunning, an extraordinary power of dissimulation, and idleness; his great passion is hunting, and he leaves work to the women, but, unlike the Cambodians, robbery is very rare among them.
They believe in a supreme being, but only invoke the evil spirit to induce him to leave them in peace. They bury the dead near their dwellings. They do not believe in metempsychosis, but think that animals have also souls which live after their death, and continue to haunt the places they frequented in their lives. Their superstitions are numerous; the cry of an owl, or the sight of a crow, just as they are about to set off on a journey, they consider a bad augury, which is sufficient to turn them from their plans.
When any one is ill they say it is the demon tormenting him, and keep up night and day a frightful uproar round him, which only ceases when one of the bystanders falls as in a fit, crying out, “He has passed into me, he is stifling me.” They then question the new patient as to the remedies which must be employed to cure the sick man, and as to what the demon demands to abandon his prey. Sometimes it is an ox, a pig, too often a human victim; in the latter case they pitilessly seize on some poor slave, and immolate him without remorse.
They imagine that all white people inhabit secluded corners of the earth in the midst of the sea, and often ask if there are any women in our country. When and how I can return to Cambodia and Siam I am ignorant, and I dare not think of the difficulty I shall experience among the rude and stupid Cambodians in transporting my treasures. What heartbreaking jolts my boxes of insects will receive! What palpitations I shall feel each time some rough fellow takes them to place on the oxen, elephants, or his own back! Poor soldiers of science! these are our trophies, and in the eyes of some people find as much merit as a piece of silk fastened to a pole; and what pains, patience, and solicitude is necessary to procure them! therefore I believe my anxiety as to my collections will be understood by the lovers of nature.
Pinhalú, 20th December, 1859.
P.S.—I arrived last evening at Pinhalú, in perfect health, and am now about to go northward to visit the famous ruins of Ongcor and then return to Bangkok, so I have little time to give you any details as to what I despatch from Komput and Singapore. I am not quite satisfied; for birds are scarce here, and I have but a small number; besides, my boxes as I feared have been much knocked about; I sent them off to Komput on men’s backs. On my return to Bangkok I will send you some good maps of this almost unknown country.
[To be communicated to the Geographical Society of London.]
Khao Samoune, Province of Pechaburi (Siam). Lat. N. 13° 4′, long. 100°. 15th June, 1860.
In my last letter, of March, 1859, I told you about two active volcanoes that I discovered in the Gulf of Siam, one in the little isle of Koman, lat. 12° 30′ 29″ N., and long. 101° 50′ 2″ W., mer. of Greenwich, and of the probable existence of others whose workings were latent and slow. Since then I have travelled through Cambodia, from north to south and from east to west, gone up the Mekon as far as the frontier of Laos, visited one of the savage tribes which live between these two countries and Cochin China, then crossed the great lake Touli Sap, explored the provinces of Ongcor and Battambong, which are full of splendid ruins, one of which in particular, the temple of Ongcor, is almost perfect, and, perhaps, unequalled in the world. I then passed from the Mekon to the Menam, and returned to Bangkok.
A low table-land, of which the gradual slope takes a week to ascend, separates the two rivers.
A chain of mountains, of which the highest peak is 6274 English feet above the level of the sea, extends to the S.W., joins the ranges of Chantaboun, Pursak, and Thung Yai, which are from 4000 to 5000 feet high, and reaches nearly to Komput and Hatienne; while to the north another small chain, joining the greater one of Korat, runs eastward, throws some ramifications into the provinces of Battambong and Ongcor Borege, which is 40 miles farther north, and bears the name of the mountains of Somrai.
Not being in direct communication with the Archæological Society, I wish to call your attention to the marvellous remains at Ongcor of the civilization of a great people.
The country is rich in woods and mines, and although thinly populated, produces enough cotton for the use of Cochin China, while the great lake, which abounds in fish, furnishes an immense quantity of this article also to China. Iron of a superior quality is also abundant, and the Kouis, an ancient tribe of a primitive race, living east of the Mekon, who speak the same language as the Stiêns, work it very industriously. There are also many other mines, rich in gold, lead, and copper, in the chains to the east and west; that of Pursak produces the beautiful cardamom, which, when transplanted, gives fine stems but no fruit.
Unluckily most of these mountains are frightfully unhealthy, and no one but those who have lived there from infancy can remain long among them with impunity.
In the island of Phu-Quor or Koh Trou, which belongs to Cochin China, and which is very near to Komput, there are rich mines of cannel coal. I was not able to get there, the war having rendered the people hostile and cruel to all white men; but my attention having been drawn to it by some ornaments worked in this mineral by the islanders, I procured two specimens, which I send you.
There are several extinct volcanoes in Pechaburi, four ofwhich I have ascertained to form part of the numerous detached and conical hills which are probably all ancient craters belonging to the great chain Khao Deng, which occupies all the northern part of the centre of the Malayan peninsula, and is inhabited by the Kariens, a primitive and independent people, who, like the Stiêns and other tribes, have doubtless been driven back to the mountains by the encroachments of the Siamese, and where the inclemency of the climate protects them against all attacks from their neighbours. The mountains are known in the country as the Na-Khou, Khao, Panom Knot, Khao Tamonne, and Khao Samroum. The last two are 1700 and 1900 feet above the level of the sea, and only a few leagues distant from each other. All these craters appear to have been originally upheaved (“craters of elevation” M. de Buch styles them) from the bottom of the water, at a period when all this part of the country, as far as the great chain, which I have not yet been able to visit, was under the sea.
Besides an immense volcanic cone, in part fallen in, and where the ground resounds under one’s feet, each of the mounts has several lateral mouths and a number of fissures and chimneys, or passages, which bear evident traces of subterranean fires. They are entirely composed of trachytic rocks, scoria, lava, felspar, &c.
The Siamese have made temples of the largest of these caverns, which are of great depth and breadth, and extremely picturesque. One of the caverns of Samroum is quite inaccessible. Having descended to the depth of 20 feet by a chimney 2 feet wide at its mouth, and shut in between rocks, I found myself at the entrance of a deep cavern, but there all my efforts to proceed farther were defeated; a few steps from the entrance my torch suddenly went out, my breathing was checked, and I in vain fired my gun several times in order to disperse the foul air.
Bangkok, 13th October, 1860.
To you, my dear brother, I address my last letter before quitting Bangkok for my long journey to Laos. I have waited till the last moment for the steamer which ought to bring me letters from Europe, but unfortunately I am obliged to set out without receiving any answers to those which I sent in May, on my return from Cambodia. I fear that, once in the interior of the country, I shall have no means of sending letters; arm yourself, therefore, with patience, dear brother, and do not think me neglectful if you do not receive any; but be sure that I, alone in those profound solitudes, shall suffer more than you, from my ignorance of everything concerning those dear to me; and during the eighteen or twenty months which the journey will probably occupy I shall not see a European face nor hear a word which can recall to me my beloved country.
I have done everything in my power to obtain letters and passports from the French and Siamese authorities here, but all have been nearly useless. I have obtained nothing but a letter from the King’s brother, who has the superintendence of the provinces north of Laos, and with that I trust to be able to get on. The good Dr. Campbell has supplied me with medicines of all kinds, and as I am nearly acclimatized, and have with me devoted followers—one particularly, Phrai, who would die for me—you may be easy on my account. Besides, and I really know not why, I have hitherto been much liked by the missionaries and natives, and I am sure it will be the same there. Fever does not kill all travellers. I have traversed many dangerous districts in my journey to Cambodia, and I am safe. Let us trust in God, my brother, that I shall be as fortunate in this expedition, and that we shall meet again. Nothing is requisite but courage, hope, and patience. I am sober, and drink nothing but tea. My food is the same as that of thenatives, dried fish and rice, and sometimes a little game which I shoot, and roast on a spit after the fashion of the natives, that is, by two bamboos stuck into the ground and another laid horizontally on them, which is turned from time to time. My amusements are hunting, arranging my collections, my drawings, to which I devote a great deal of time, and of which some are not bad, as you may judge by those sent to the Geographical Society of London, and my journal; with those I pass many pleasant hours. Besides, you know how I love nature, and am only really happy in the woods with my gun, and that when there, if I know you all to be happy, I have nothing to wish for. I often think of our good old father, but as long as you are with him I feel easy about him; you will make him bear my absence patiently, repeat often to him how I love him, and how happy I shall be when I can tell him about my long journeys. And you, my brother, love and cherish your two dear children, my little nephews; inculcate in them the love of nature, and teach them to think that virtue is recompensed even here, and a good conscience ennobles more than patents of nobility, or orders in the button-hole; bring up your little ones in the love of God, and of all that is good and great. Think and talk sometimes with Jenny of the poor traveller. Adieu, my brother!
Khao Khoc, 21st December, 1861.
An unexpected opportunity presents itself, my dear Jenny, to send you a few words before proceeding farther. A new year is about to commence: may you, my dear little sister, experience in its course only joy and satisfaction; may your interesting little family cause you unmixed happiness; in aword, I desire every possible good for you. As for myself, I ask nothing but the happiness of seeing you all again. Think occasionally of the poor traveller whom every day removes farther and farther from civilization, and who for eighteen months or perhaps two years is about to live alone in a strange place, where I shall not have even the consolation of meeting those good missionaries as at Brelum and in Cambodia.
You know my manner of life, so I shall not repeat it. The heat and the musquitoes make a real hell of this place. Those who praise it must have hard heads and skins, or else must be comfortably lodged, and surrounded by an army of slaves. They know nothing but its enjoyments. If there is one pleasant hour in the morning and another in the evening, one must think oneself lucky, for often there is no peace night or day. My pleasures are, first, liberty, that precious thing without which man cannot be happy, and for which so many have fought and will fight still; then, seeing so much that is beautiful, grand, and new, and which no one has seen before me. From these I draw my contentment. Thank God! my health is as good as when I left you, although three years have passed over me.
Soon I shall be in Laos, and then, what strange things I shall see daily! what curious beings I shall meet, to whom I shall be equally an object of curiosity! I shall have delightful days, then, perhaps, sad ones, if my servants have the fever, which happens at intervals. If only to enliven these solitudes, I could have you here, my dear Jenny, or if I could sing like you, or even like a nightingale! Sometimes I do make use of my falsetto voice, and hum the beautiful airs of Béranger, and feel strengthened by the sublime odes of that great man of genius.
Two or three thin volumes—I say thin, for the white ants have eaten the greater part of them—and a few old newspapers (new to me) compose my library; but I have blank paper, which I fill as I best can; it is an amusement, at least; and if itturn out of no other use than to serve to amuse you all, I shall be satisfied, for I am not ambitious. I dream as I smoke my pipe, for I must confess that I smoke more than ever.
Well! the musquitoes and thorns will still be my companions for a long time. It is my own choice, and I shall never complain as long as God grants to all of you the joy and happiness I wish for you.
How I shall accomplish the long journey before me I know not; probably with oxen and elephants; but if even I have to go on foot I care not, so that I reach there, for I have determined to drive away even the devil, should I meet him here.
Khao Khoc, near Pakprian (Siam), 23rd Dec. 1860.
My dear Brother,
This is the sixth letter I have written, and written on my knees; and in this heat, and tormented by musquitoes, it is an affair of as many days. Do not complain, therefore, if this is short. Khao-Khoc is a mountain nine or ten leagues north of Pakpriau, which I visited two years ago, and where I have been waiting two months for the roads to become passable, in order to reach Korat, and then Laos. I have made a fine collection of coleoptera, particularly some remarkable longicorns. I have but few shells or birds; nevertheless, the collection is precious, and, although less numerous than the one at Pechaburi, it is quite equal to it. I have been lucky enough to replace a great part of the insects that were lost in theSir J. Brooke.
I remain perfectly well, but my two poor lads suffer from time to time with intermittent fever; quinine, however, generally stops it, and I hope the change of air will do them good.The brave fellows do their work none the less cheerfully, and they love me, and are quite devoted to me.
I am only waiting for the arrival of my letters, through the medium of my good friend Dr. Campbell, to set out, because when I have once started I fear none of your letters will reach me.
I think I shall explore the Mekon, and go up as far as China, if circumstances are favourable, and trust to bring back from this journey many rare and precious things. I bought at Bangkok many articles to give to those who shall aid me, such as red and white cloth, brass wire, glass beads, needles, spectacles, &c.
28th Dec.—The night before my departure for Korat. All the good news I have received from Europe and from Bangkok has made me joyful. I have just received with your letters a mass of papers. Every one is kind to me, and that is very pleasant. My friend Malherbe has sent me somecaporal, which I had not enjoyed for a long time; he had just received some from France, along with some pipes, and a precious extract of sarsaparilla, invaluable for cooling the blood heated by the climate, the food, and the troublesome musquitoes of which I have spoken so often. I shall require another elephant to carry all the red cloth sent to me by Mr. Adamson, and which will be invaluable in Laos, as the people delight in it. I was moved even to tears at so many marks of kindness from people who hardly know me.
Korat, 26th January, 1861.
I have been three days at Korat, which is about 140 miles east-north-east of Pakpriau,—that is, nearly in the same longitude as Battambong.
The journey, which I performed on foot, in company with a caravan of 400 oxen carrying merchandise, lasted ten days, from four in the morning to sunset, deducting only a few hours in the middle of the day. My feet are in a bad state from crossing the mountains, but, nevertheless, I enjoyed my journey.
On these uplands, which are more than 4000 feet high, the air is pure and pleasant, the nights are fresh, and the early morning almost cold.
During these ten days I have collected but little, and my expenses have been greater than I calculated on. Within the last two years everything has doubled in price; but the governor appears honest; he paid me a visit, which cost me a pair of spectacles, some engravings, and other little things, but he has promised me conveyances, and a letter to the chief of another province, who will provide me with elephants.
My health is excellent, and I hope it will remain so; my servants are better. I am surrounded by a crowd of curious gazers, who fill up my hut.
Saraburi (Siam), 24th February, 1861.
You will be astonished, my dear friend, to see my letter dated from Saraburi, instead of from Laos. When I reached Chaiapume, I went to the governor with my letters, and asked him to lend me elephants to enable me to continue my journey, that being the only method of travelling among these mountains; but he refused me decidedly, and consequently I have been forced to retrace my steps. Here one can do nothing without the help of the people in power.
I therefore returned to Korat, and established Phrai in ahut which I hired of a Chinese; and went myself to Bangkok, to procure from the authorities orders to the different governors of provinces to aid me instead of throwing obstacles in my way.
From Korat I had the pleasure of travelling with an amiable mandarin of Bangkok, who had been to fetch a white elephant from Laos, and who had conceived a great friendship for me. He travelled in great style; the caravan was magnificent; we had more than sixty elephants, two of which were placed at my disposal, one for my own use, and one for my servants.
Finding myself in the good graces of this mandarin, I told him why I was going to Bangkok, and he promised to obtain for me all I wanted.
When I reached Saraburi I found all the governors of Laos and the first mandarins of Bangkok assembled there to take care of the white elephant. The Siamese, being very superstitious, and believing in metempsychosis, think that the soul of some prince or king has passed into the white elephant; they have the same belief as to white apes and albinoes, consequently they hold them all in great respect. They do not worship them, for the Siamese recognise no God, not even Buddha, but they believe that a white elephant brings luck to the country.
During the whole journey the men were busy cutting down branches to make his passage easy; two mandarins fed him with different kinds of cakes in golden dishes, and the King came out to meet him.
I owe, therefore, to the white elephant the most satisfactory letters which I have obtained, and which have cost me my best gun and nearly 300 francs in presents; but I might have had to give much more, and, as I am going to Bangkok, I can replenish my stock. As for the poor elephant, he was so much cared for and so well fed, that he died of indigestion.
It is a terrible affliction, and all the mandarins and other dignitaries collected here are in great grief about it.
Saraburi, 24th February, 1861.
My dear Annette,
You will be much surprised on receiving this letter to see it dated from Saraburi, for if you have received the one I wrote in January, you must believe me to be already in Laos. But man proposes, and God disposes. However, to reassure you, I must begin by saying that I am in perfect health, and full of strength and hope. All goes well with me.
I had in fact reached Laos. I arrived at Korat after a tedious and troublesome journey, for I had only a few oxen for my baggage, and was forced to walk myself. From there I went to Chaiapume, and here an animal of the mandarin species made himself great, and under the pretext of having no elephants refused me the means of going further, and was so rude and impolite to me that I determined at once to return and protest against the very insufficient protection which had been granted to me. Indeed, I could do nothing else, not being able to go on. The elephant which had brought me to Chaiapume took me back to Korat, and there I found a mandarin from Bangkok, who had been sent to fetch a white elephant which had been taken in Laos. I begged him to let me join his party, and he lent me two elephants, one for my servant and luggage, and one for myself. I left Phrai at Korat, with the greater part of my possessions, having hired a room for him in the house of a Chinese, and a week afterwards found myself back at Saraburi, in company with this strange divinity (who, by the way, had more black than white about him), and of the grand personage who had been sent to escort him, and who had showered on him every kind of attention during the journey. He had an escort of fifty foot soldiers and several on horseback. As for me, I wanted for nothing; at every halt the mandarin sent me ducks, fish, fruit, sweetmeats, &c., and he wasalso kind enough to allow me eight men as night-guards to watch round my fire. In return, I discovered for him in the mountains large quantities of copper, and even gold, which delighted him.
The whole province of Saraburi was in motion to do honour to the white elephant; the King and all his court are coming here; the ministers are here already to watch over him. I decided, therefore, to apply to the Siamese, hoping to obtain more from them than from the Europeans; and yesterday, hearing of the arrival of Khrom Luang, the King’s brother, I hastened to address myself to him. He, however, had only passed through, and was gone to Prabat, to join the King. However, I found here the man I wanted, the mandarin who has most interest in Laos, and without a letter from whom it would have been difficult to proceed. I did not know him, but I went to him to ask about the Prince, and told him what I wanted. “I am your man,” said he; “the Prince can only give an order for me to write a letter, such as I will give you, if you like.” I accepted gladly, and promised him in return my double-barrelled gun, which I could easily replace, “if he would only furnish me with the means of travelling through Laos without expense, and would bring the Chaiapume mandarin to reason.” The poor governor of Saraburi was with us, and had to remain more than an hour amidst a number of others kneeling on the bare ground, while I was seated on the mat of the mandarin, by his side, eating sweetmeats and drinking tea, while he dictated a letter in which he called the governor of Chaiapume a fool, and threatened to deprive him of his office, and of this letter I was to be the bearer; and he promised me another general one on the morrow, in which he stated that if I did not receive efficient aid it might bring on a war; and this he also repeated to all the chiefs present. My cause was gained, and I could plainly see that our affairs must be going on well in Cochin China; the echo of the cannon had its effect in Siam. However, I had promised him my gun, and evidently he wished to have it before he gave me the letters. This morning, therefore, I took it to him all cleaned and furbished up. He was delighted with it, and gave me at once the letter for Korat and Chaiapume, and to-morrow I am to have one which will carry me all through Laos without any expense but a few ticals to the cornacs. Without this, judging by what I had to pay for an elephant from Korat to Chaiapume, my purse would have been exhausted by the time I reached the north of Laos, and I should not have had the means of returning without sending to Bangkok to ask for help, which would have been a work of difficulty, and, what is worse, I should have been exposed all along the route to the insolence of these arrogant mandarins. Now, they will all humble themselves before me, taking me for some important personage sent by the Emperor Napoleon or Queen Victoria to collect butterflies, insects, and birds for them. I shall no longer travel on foot, but on elephants, and shall want for nothing. Agree, then, with me, that out of evil comes good, or rather, that God does all for the best. When at Chaiapume I found myself obliged to retrace my steps, after so many fatigues, and so great a waste of money, I was only downcast for a few minutes; God almost immediately inspired me with the idea that all would turn to my advantage, and this persuasion never left me again. Unaccountably to myself, I was gayer on my return than I had been in coming, although then I was everywhere well received and kindly treated by the people. Even after my discourteous reception at Chaiapume, all the inhabitants came to see me, to bring me little presents, and to express their regret that they could not aid me from fear of their chief. The head of the monastery took me to see some ruins similar to those in Cambodia, and gave me a tiger-skin; and all along the road I experienced the same kindness, and numbers came to me to ask for advice and various remedies.
The Chinese are all my friends. When I returned to thistown, you should have seen them all run out to see me, and those at whose houses I had stopped were full of inquiries as to my affairs, and crying out “Ah! here is the gentleman back again.” The next day would be their New Year’s Day, which they keep as a feast as we do Christmas. “I have come back to feast with you to-morrow,” replied I; and the next day I was so loaded with cakes and other good things that I have not finished them yet.
You must arm yourself with patience, dear Annette, for I have not yet finished. I learned this morning that a French ship of war is at Paknam, I presume for the purpose of taking back the Siamese Ambassador who has been so long expected in France. The king must be delighted, for he has a great dread of any quarrel with France or England now that he has seen their power. They may very probably come here, and at the risk of losing three days I shall wait and see, for, doubtless, the officer would receive me well, and do more for me than the Consul did. After that, I shall go to Bangkok, where I shall remain only a day, in order to buy a few necessaries in which I was beginning to run short, such as camphor, shoes, cloth, and a gun, and to get a little money, 50 or 100 ticals, from M. Adamson, who will willingly advance it to me, as he promised; and above all, to receive all the dear letters from home, of which a number must be lying at Dr. Campbell’s.
My useless voyage to Chaiapume diminished my resources, and it would be great pity that the want of a few hundred francs should force me to return before I have completed my journey, and before I have finished collecting what will amply repay all my expenses.
In a few days I will add a line to this letter to tell you the result of my interview with the officer, and of my journey to Bangkok. I shall hear news also from your letters; let them only be good, and I shall be happy. I must now close my letter for to-day, my dear Annette; some day you will see my journal,and read all my adventures in detail. I can write no more to-day, but only repeat my assurance that I am perfectly well, in spite of all trials, thanks to my prudence and sobriety. Show this letter or anything that is interesting in it to all friends. I speak only of my own affairs, but you know I am not changed. And yet a few words of love would doubtless be more prized by you, but were I to write a thousand I could not express half the love with which my heart is filled for you all; indeed I fear to begin, for that would have no end. I write all this on my knees; my back aches, and now I must go and seek some repose. Au revoir! I trust soon to send you still better news than this. I embrace you a thousand times from the bottom of my heart, as well as all those dear to us, and am ever
Your devoted husband,H. Mouhot.
Saraburi, 25th February, 1861.
My very dear Annette,
I reached Korat two days ago, and in four more I hope to be able to proceed northward. I have been obliged to travel on foot, not having been able to procure elephants at Saraburi; my baggage was carried by oxen. I feel perfectly well, and experience so little fatigue that on the day of my arrival here I walked about till evening.
I write you these few lines only to set your mind at ease, for—surrounded from morning till night by curious gazers who have never before seen a European—it would be difficult to enter into details, but, in truth, my journey furnished but few. I travelled with Laotians, and found them very kind; in a few days I shall be in the heart of their country, and think Ishall find them superior to the Siamese. I regret that this letter will be short, but I have little to tell since I wrote last; when I am quietly settled in some little hut in the midst of a village, I can write at my ease if an opportunity presents itself.
Be easy on my account, dear Annie, and feel sure that God will not abandon me; all my confidence is in Him, and this will never deceive me. He will sustain and protect you also, and this assurance gives me strength.
Adieu, my good Annette; take great care of yourself. I embrace you tenderly, and am ever your devoted and affectionate husband,
H. Mouhot.
P.S.—I shall set off to-morrow. Yesterday I visited an old pagoda; there is another, but to which I shall not be able to go, as it would cost me 9 ticals, and take several days, and I shall be obliged to be excessively economical. Yesterday I had a visit from a mandarin, the viceroy of the province. He was very amiable, and promised me a letter, but the people are so kind that I have really no need of it, and even the disagreeable ones I manage to gain over.
Adieu, my love. Do not forget me, but do not be uneasy. May God grant to you the same tranquillity and confidence that I feel and make you as happy as I am. Do not complain of the shortness of this letter; you cannot imagine how I am pestered by gazers and idlers.
Embrace your dear mamma for me, to whom I wish good health; say everything kind to Kate, &c. Once more, adieu, and au revoir! Your devotedHenri. I shall write whenever I find an opportunity.
Louang Prabang (Laos), 23rd July, 1861.
Now, my dear Jenny, let us converse together. Do you know of what I often think when every one around me is asleep, and I, lying wrapped in my mosquito-curtains, let my thoughts wander back to all the members of my family? Then I seem to hear again the charming voice of my little Jenny, and to be listening once more to ‘La Traviata,’ ‘The Death of Nelson,’ or some other of the airs that I loved so much to hear you sing. I then feel regret, mingled with joy, at the souvenirs of the happy—oh, how happy!—past. Then I open the gauze curtains, light my pipe, and gaze out upon the stars, humming softly the ‘Pâtre’ of Béranger, or the ‘Old Sergeant,’ and thinking that one day I may return Corporal or Sergeant of the battalion of Naturalists.
Perhaps all this does not interest you, but you may feel sure that I do not forget you nor your children; so let me, my dear child, talk to you as we used to talk in the old times as we sat by the fire. When shall we do so again?
In another year, or perhaps two, dear Jenny, I shall think of returning to you all for some time. Shall you be very angry, my dear little sister, when I say that it will be with regret?—for I should wish to visit the whole of the mountains that I can see from my window. I say “window,” but here such a luxury is unknown: I live in a shed without either doors or windows—a room open to every wind.
I would wish, I repeat, to cross the whole network of mountains which extend northward, see what lies beyond them, visit China or Thibet, and see the Calmucks or the Irkoutsk. But, alas! I cannot trust my dear insects. I say “my dear insects” as you would say “my dear children” to the king of Louang Prabang.
How does all go on at Jersey?—for I hope that you are stillthere. Your children form your happiness, and you can dispense easily with travelling, or with those people commonly called “friends”—nothing is so general as the name, or so rare as the reality—and you are right; yet I consider a true friend as a real treasure. I may be wrong, for man is so constituted as always to long for what he has not, but I wish I had friends around me here; these places, now often gloomy, would please me more.
I hoped that at the king’s return I should have the happiness of hearing from you; but I am told that his journey will occupy a year, and before that time I shall be away from here.
I hope, my little friend, that all is well with you. Embrace your dear children for me, and talk to them sometimes about their uncle “Barberousse,” who often thinks of them in this distant land, and is collecting stories for their amusement on his return. AskC——what I shall bring him—a monkey, a sabre to cut offM——’sdolls’ heads—no, that would give him warlike ideas, and I do not like our modern soldiers—or a tiger-skin for a carpet. I have several. And your pretty littleM——, will she have an ape, a fan, some Chinese slippers (for she must have feet which would be small even in China), some marabout feathers, or a cane to keep her brothers in order?
Adieu, adieu! Au revoir! Do not forget me.
Laos, Louang Prabang, 27th July, 1861.
During my journey through the forests I enjoyed in anticipation the pleasure I should enjoy on reaching Louang Prabang, the capital of the province of Laos, in writing you good long letters containing all details of my journey; butI reckoned without my host, and it will be several weeks before I can enjoy any repose, or carry my wishes into execution.
In the villages through which I passed no great degree of curiosity was manifested; but here, where the population is greater, I am surrounded by a compact and curious crowd, which extends even to the walls of a pagoda adjoining the caravanserai where I am lodged by the favour of his Majesty the King. Besides, I, in my turn, see people of various nations and tribes who excite my curiosity. Judge, therefore, if it be easy to collect my ideas. However, I profit by the occasion of the king’s departure for Bangkok in a few days to pay his tribute, and who has offered to take charge of any letters for me, to give some signs of life to you.
You will be happy to hear that I have accomplished this troublesome journey satisfactorily, without the loss of a single man, and without any personal illness. Indeed, my health has been very good, which is more than I can say for my servants, who are so kind and devoted to me. I am even astonished at myself, having gone through the mountainous district which separates the basin of the Menam from that of the Mekon, a place much dreaded by the Siamese, and covered with virgin-forests like those of Dong Phya Phia, without having had a single touch of fever, or, indeed, any indisposition, with the exception ofmigraine, caused by the heat of the sun, and having my feet in a very bad state.
I bless God for the favour granted to me of having accomplished these perilous journeys, and trust wholly to His goodness for the future.
I am now more than 250 leagues north of the place where two years ago I first drank the waters of the Mekon. This immense stream, which is larger here than the Menam at Bangkok or the Thames below London Bridge, flows between high mountains with the rapidity of a torrent, tearing up in therainy season the trees along the banks, and breaking with a noise like that of a stormy sea against the rocks, which form a number of frightful rapids.
I arrived here only the day before yesterday, after a journey of four months and ten days; but I stopped in several places, for I often found fields ready to cut in the rice-grounds that the mountaineers cultivate on the slopes of the mountains, and when the crops are cut down insects abound.
My collections made during the journey are very valuable and beautiful, and I have a great number of new species, both entomological and conchological, with which, if they only reach London in safety, our friends will be delighted. All the beautiful kinds that I was asked for, but which elsewhere are so rare that with great trouble I was only able to procure one or two specimens, I have now in great abundance, and also many new sorts. Here I hope to do still better.
They are all savages in this province, and I have just received a visit from two young princes remarkable for their stupidity.
I have suffered little from the heat, in spite of the season, which is easy to understand, as I have been always amidst thick forests or on mountains. In the valleys the air is heavy, and the heat overwhelming; but everywhere the nights were so fresh that my wraps were useful and almost indispensable. In a few months we shall probably want fire. I prefer this climate to that of the South; there are few mosquitoes (that plague of the tropics and especially of Siam) in comparison with other places—indeed, in some of these parts I have not found any.
Thanks to the Governor of Korat, who gave me an excellent letter to the mandarins, I have travelled at little expense; without it, I should have paid much more, and have suffered every kind of inconvenience. Everywhere I have been furnishedwith elephants (as many as seven in some provinces), an escort, guard, and plenty of provisions.
I had this morning an audience of the great body of State Mandarins, like the House of Peers with us. Twenty of them were assembled in a vast caravanserai, and presided over by the eldest prince. You may form some idea of the dignity of these gentlemen by the drawing which I will send to you.
My plan is to pass six or eight months of the good season in the neighbouring villages, in order to complete my collection, and next January or March I will try to go north or east, where I shall pass a few more months amidst the Laotian tribes. Probably I shall go no farther, for China would be a barrier to me on the north, and Cochin China on the east. I shall then return here, and go down the Mekon in July or August, 1862, the time when the waters are high, and shall thus reach Korat in a few weeks. I am yet uncertain whether I shall stop there, whether I shall explore the eastern part of the river, or whether I shall go to Cambodia. All my movements depend upon circumstances that may arise. I shall try to profit by all that are favourable, and that will contribute to give interest to my journey.
Do not be anxious when you think of your poor friend the traveller, for you know that up to the present time everything has prospered with him: and truly I experience a degree of contentment, strength of soul, and internal peace, which I have never known before.
[Same Letter.]
Louang Prabang, 8th August, 1861.
No event could have caused more sensation here than the arrival of “the long-bearded stranger.” From the humblest to the greatest—for even here are distinctions of rank—every onelooks on a “white” as a natural curiosity, and they are not yet satisfied with looking—nothing is talked of but the stranger. When I pass through the town in my white dress, to go to the market or to visit the pagodas or other interesting places, the people crowd round me, and look after me as long as they can catch a glimpse of me. Everywhere I go complete silence reigns, and I am treated as though I were a sovereign or prince, and the council, by order of the king, have given to me as to them power of life or death over his subjects. Poor people! why can I not raise you from the abasement into which you have fallen—I am overwhelmed with presents of all kinds in return for the slightest favour shown to these unfortunate people. They seem to me some of the most to be pitied that I have seen; even the women and children are opium-eaters: they might really be called a nation of cretins.
The heat is greater here than any I have felt; when the sun shines, and there has been no rain for several days, I find it worse than at Bangkok; still the nights are generally pleasant, and from the month of December to the end of March I am told that it is really cold.
Louang Prabang, West Laos, 27th July, 1861.
As you will have the opportunity, my dear brother, of reading my other letters, I shall not write to you at length; but, nevertheless, I must give you some details as to my journey to Laos, although I cannot tell whether the crowd of curious gazers around me will permit me to write as I would wish; if not, you must blame them and not me.
On the 10th April I wrote you from Korat, and I think you must also have received a message which I sent to you by a good and honest Chinese, who has been very useful to me, andfrom whom I have received more help and kindness than from any other of the mandarins.
I was not then in good spirits, for I doubted whether I should be able to accomplish the journey for which I had already suffered so many annoyances, one of which was having to return to Korat to procure more useful letters than those which I had taken with me on starting. At last I obtained one from the Viceroy of Korat, which was the only one of service to me, and which sufficed to secure me aid and protection during my whole journey to Laos.
From Korat to Bangkok you know that I travelled in company with an animal who has a title equal to that of the greatest Siamese mandarin, and who was served by two inferior mandarins, who gave him his meals composed of cakes, biscuits, and sweetmeats out of golden dishes; and who had slaves sent before him to clear the way and cut down the brushwood and branches, for this elephant, according to the Siamese superstition and ignorance, possesses the soul of some deceased prince or king. They called him a white elephant, but in reality he had only a few spots of that colour on his body. Alas! The king and all his mandarins are now in mourning, for the object of their worship died of indigestion. Poor beast and poor king!
I have travelled a long way since I last wrote, and God has protected me. I crossed the mountains and went through the most dreaded jungles in the rainy season without losing a man, and without having suffered myself. My travelling expenses were comparatively small to what they might have been; everywhere I was furnished gratis with elephants, escorts, guards, and provisions (rice and fowls), as though I were an envoy from the king, and all this owing solely to a letter from the Viceroy of Korat.
I have made a good collection of coleoptera, and have procured a number of excessively rare and beautiful species.I have also obtained some very rare and interesting conchological specimens. As for animals, I have but few; some monkeys and a good many serpents.
In a week I shall be settled in a new place, where I intend to spend four or five months, and by the end of the year I trust to have 4000 insects.
The Mekon is a large and beautiful stream, full of rocks, which form frightful rapids in the rainy season. I shall descend it at the season when the waters are high, and when the navigation though dangerous is easy and rapid. I can then reach Cambodia in a month if I like, but I am undecided whether or not I shall go eastward towards the 15th degree of latitude.
It seems to me, my dear brother, that my happiness would be complete if I could have good news of you all; but, alas! more than a year must elapse before I shall hear. The last letters I received were in January; yet I am resigned, since I willingly embraced this career, which has been the dream of my whole life, for you remember how in our young days, when we still had the happiness of a tender mother to guide us, and impress on us, by her example, virtuous principles, religion, and the love of mankind, we delighted to roam the woods of our dear native place, to draw from nature, and how I stuffed the birds that we took in snares or nets.
That time is long passed, my friend, but I trust in God, who will I hope watch over you. I think of you every day in my solitude, and in the long nights when we bivouac beside the fires lighted to keep off the wild beasts, a scene of which I will send you a drawing before long.
What are your dear children doing—I picture to myself all the happiness they give you and your dear Jenny; she is well I hope. Ah! my friend, protect them all with a tender affection, and endeavour by your love, your care, and your example, to render them all happy and good.
There is one subject on which I can hardly write, that of our dear old father; it would make me too sad to think he was not happy; console him for my absence, write to him often, repeat to him how much I love him, that he is always associated in my thoughts with the memory of our good and worthy mother. But I have no need to recommend all this to you: have you not ever been good to him, a worthy son? therefore I am without anxiety on this point.
I do not speak to you of any of my physical sufferings, for I hold mental ones to be the only ones worth thinking of; but you may imagine that one cannot make a four months’ journey on elephants, who toss and shake one like a stormy sea, without fatigue, and that the heat, the long bad nights generally passed at the foot of some tree, and the wretched food, are all painful. But what matters all this? I am used to it, and my patience is inexhaustible. In truth, this life is happiness to me; how joyful I am when I find a new insect, or see a monkey fall from a tree! I do not therefore complain. The nights here are pleasant, and the mosquitoes not numerous.