A thousand miles on an elephant in the Shan States

by Holt S. Hallett

CHAPTER XXX.

OFFERING TO THE GOOD INFLUENCES—THE SPIRIT IN SLEEP—THE CEREMONY OF TUM KWUN—SPIRIT-WORSHIP OF PING SHANS—ARRANGEMENTS FOR LEAVING—VISIT SIAMESE PRINCE—A GATLING GUN AS AN ORNAMENT—RAILWAY ROUTES—NUMBER OF FIGHTING-MEN—DISMISS LOOGALAY—PRETTY PAGODAS—BOXING AND WRESTLING—THE BRIDGE BREAKS—PRESENTS FROM CHOW OO-BOON—A LOVER’S LUTE—LACE PRIZED—DR CUSHING’S VIEWS ON THE PING SHANS—CONNECTION WITH SIAM—TAXATION—CORVÉE LABOUR—SERFS—SLAVES PURCHASED FROM RED KARENS—DEBT SLAVES IN CHAINS—RELIGION—FIELD FOR MISSIONARIES.

On visiting Mr Wilson, he told me Prince Bigit, the half-brother of the King of Siam, had arrived, and that great preparations had been made for Tumming his Kwun or Kwan. On my inquiring what Tum kwun meant, he said Tum meant “the act of offering,” and kwun the good influences which are supposed to pervade every part of the body, keeping them in good health. Any ailment in any part of the body is put down by the Shans to the departure of the kwun, or good influence, appertaining to that part.

If a person whilst on a journey, or in the fields, or elsewhere, becomes ill and has to return home, the spirit-doctor, when called in, immediately directs the person’s relations or friends to carry offerings to the place where the kwun departed, and, after sacrificing to the kwun, beseech it to return to the sick man’s body, and again perform its good offices.[^[18]]

The Tum kwun that had occurred was an offering to the kwun of the prince to induce them not to afflict him by taking their departure. At the same time, special offerings were made to the demons to keep them in a good temper, so that no harm might come to him.

A description of the ceremony of Tum kwun as performed on Siamese princes when visiting Zimmé in 1859, and seen by him, was given by Sir Robert Schomburgh, formerly her Majesty’s consul at Bangkok, in the Siamese Repository of 1869, which runs as follows:[^[19]]—

“Chao Operat (the second chief of Zimmé) had expressed a wish to present some gifts, according to Lao custom, to the young Princes Ong Teng and Ong Sawat who were with me. The ceremony took place in the large sala adjacent to our residence. The Deputy Viceroy (Chow Ooparat) did not come himself, but sent one of his high nobles accompanied by some other officers of rank.

“Two pyramids of flowers, consisting of three rows, one above the other, but each smaller than the preceding, and the whole about 5 feet high, were carried before the procession. Then came two smaller ones of more intrinsic value, each of the branchlets of the pyramids ending in a kind of network with a rupee in it. There were fifty of these on one tree, and forty-one on the other, the missing one having probably found its way to the fob of one of the attendants, or rather to the corner of his girdle.

“The pyramids having been placed in the middle of the sala, a number of dishes with legs of pork, fish, eggs, fruit, vegetables, &c., were placed around them. Ong Teng and Ong Sawat squatted on the ground near the pyramids. One of the noblemen then stepped forward, and having seated himself near the young princes, he made his salaam and took a book out of his girdle, and read a homily or prayer of ten tedious pages addressed to Buddha, invoking him to protect the young princes during their journey, and to vouchsafe their safe return to their parents and friends.

“The prayer finished, he tore down one of the long cotton threads which were hanging from the branches of the larger pyramids, and taking the end part, about four inches in length, in his hands, he passed the rest from the wrist of Ong Teng to the end of the boy’s forefinger, murmuring all the time some sentence or incantation. He then tore off the short end which he had kept in his hand, and threw it away, for in it, according to their superstition, all the evil was embodied, winding, as already mentioned, the long part of the thread around the wrist as a talisman.

“The same operation was gone through with the left hand. Some of the noblemen who were present followed his example, and the second prince, Ong Sawat, having been performed upon in a similar manner, the ceremony was over. Not the slightest decorum was observed during it, the people present talking, smoking, and making jokes while the exhortation was being read.”

From Mr Wilson I learnt that the Zimmé Shans believe that all evil and good spirits had their origin in human beings, and that the heavens, hells, and earth are peopled with spirits and ruled over by lords or kings. This belief is similar to that in ancient Chaldea, where, 2000 years before our era, Anu was worshipped as the lord of the heavens, Bel as the lord of the visible world, and Hea as the lord of the sea and the infernal regions.

The spirits in the heavens, or abodes of bliss, are governed by two kings, a court, and deputy-governors and officials, as in the Shan States at present. The kings are known as Phya In (in India called Indra, and in Burmah Thugra or Thagya) and Phya Prom (Brahma). The heavens are peopled by the Tay-wa-boot (male Dewahs), or male angels; the Tay-wa-da (female Dewahs), or female angels; and the departed spirits of all whose merit on earth gave them the right, so long as their stock of merit lasts, to enjoy the heavenly realms.

The good spirits, besides those who are in the heavens, include: Firstly, the Tor-ra-nee, or female angels of the earth, the ministering angels to all those whose object on earth is the acquisition of virtue and merit. When Phya Mahn (Dewadat), or the devil, with his evil spirits attacked Gaudama, the Tor-ra-nee came to his rescue, and wringing out their hair, caused such a flood as swept away the attacking force. Images of these angels wringing out their long hair are frequently seen in the temples, and their hair is supposed to receive all the scented water and frankincense that is offered to Buddha. It is to gain their assistance that a cup of water is always poured out whenever an offering is made. Secondly, the deceased spirits of meritorious kings and rulers down to the Kenban, or second officers of a district. Thirdly, the spirits of deceased Buddhist monks. Fourthly, the ancestors to the second generation, male and female, of monks. Fifthly, and lastly, the virtuous and meritorious departed spirits of the rest of society. The deceased rulers are called Pee Soo-a-ban, or guardians of the different districts and villages. The deceased monks are known as Pee Soo-a-wat, or spirits that protect the temples.

Hanuman, king of monkeys.

Prom or Brahma.

The King of the Earth, Phya Wet Sawan (Vishnu), who lives in heaven, has control over the good and evil spirits that reside in the world and its atmosphere, and a system of government similar to that in the heavens. His four Tow Chet-to-loke, or ministers who record acts in his three courts and make reports to him, have under them, as agents of justice, the Pee Hai, the spirits of malaria and cholera; the Pee Sook, who are blind and are the spirits of smallpox; and the Pee Pong, who produce rheumatism.

Phya Lak.

Phya Wet Sawan (Vishnu).

The other evil spirits of the earth are: Firstly, the Pee Mer Mor, which possess sorcerers and soothsayers. These are the spirits of deceased physicians, and people possessed by them are called in in cases of theft or loss. Secondly, the Pee Kah, the wizard-spirits of horse form. Thirdly, the Pee Hong, who are in two classes: the headless, who are the ghosts of decapitated people; and the ones with heads, who are the spirits of those who have been killed by animals. Fourthly, the Pee Pai, who are the spirits of those who die from abortion, miscarriage, or childbirth. If the child dies with the mother, its spirit joins hers in its rambles, endeavouring to harm the living. The first objects of their search are their husband and father, whose death they do all they can to accomplish. Sometimes the man endeavours to escape by becoming a monk in a monastery away from his home. This belief, like most of the superstitions in Indo-China, is also current in China. Only last year I read of a case in Peking where the seven orifices in the head of a woman who had died in childbirth were burnt with a large stick of ignited incense to prevent her spirit from plaguing her husband.[^[20]] Fifthly, the Pee Koom ngeun, the spirits who watch over hidden treasures. These are the spirits of misers who had during their life hid money and precious stones in the earth. On their death, their spirits are not allowed to join the ancestral clan, but have to haunt their buried treasure and watch over it.

Then there are the Pee Pa, or spirits of the jungle, who are the spirits of those who have died when absent from their home. Their numbers are recruited as follows: If a king, prince, or other ruler, dies whilst passing through the forest, his spirit must of necessity wander about the place where he died. No merit-making can accrue from any religious service over his corpse. The disembodied spirit, not allowed to join the ancestral spirits, wanders about in its desperation, and endeavours to cause the death of all who pass its way. If it succeeds, his victim’s spirit has to become its companion and subject—thus a clan with its chief is formed; and passage through the jungle becomes more and more dangerous as time runs on. No one dying in the forest has the privilege of returning home and joining the ancestral spirits; he, or she, is for ever destined to be a Pee Pa, or evil spirit of the jungle.

The late King of Zimmé, the persecutor of the Christians, died on his way back from Bangkok; and therefore, according to the people, has become a Pee Pa. Mr Wilson gave me the following description of his funeral: The day after his death, the king’s body was put in a coffin. The face and limbs were covered with gold-leaf,[^[21]] which fitted so closely as to leave the features perfectly recognisable. The ordinary custom whereby the corpse should have been placed in a sitting posture was not adhered to in his case. Over the body was placed a loose robe of the purest and richest white damask. The inside of the coffin was lined with white, and the outside was covered with a gold cloth of the finest texture.

The corpse not being allowed to enter the city—no corpse is—was conveyed to the king’s river palace by a large procession of soldiers, priests, and people on foot, and of princes on ponies and elephants. Near the front of the procession was an elephant of the second king, wearing its brightly polished silver trappings. Farther back came the coffin borne on a gilded bier, and surrounded by a large number of yellow-robed monks. Behind it was carried the vacant throne, bearing on its seat the royal crown. Next came a groom leading the pony the king used to ride, and after it, without a mahout, the favourite royal elephant—its huge body ornamented with rich trappings of gold. Following these were the members of the royal family and the near relatives. As the corpse came in sight, a number of princesses who were waiting in the public sala began in modulated tones the wailing for the dead. Every evening a company of priests assembled to chant the prayers for the dead, each receiving some gift at the close of the service.

The king of the infernal regions is known as Phya Yomerat, and his ministers, officers, and malefactors as Pee Narok. Pictures of the damned suffering in the Buddhist hells embellished the walls of many of the temples: the ideas are derived from one of the ten Great Zahts, or mystery-plays, in which a pious prince is shown the horrors of the various places of punishment.

Mr Scott (Shwé Yoe), in his book ‘The Burman,’ gives a description of some of the tortures, which he rightly says is sufficient to make one’s flesh creep. Men devoured by five-headed dogs, by famished vultures, by loathsome crows, the flesh being renewed as fast as the foul creatures tore it away; others crushed beneath the weight of vast white-hot mountains; stretched on fiery bars, and cut up with burning knives and flaming saws, flame entering at the mouth and licking up the vitals; fiends all about, hacking, hewing, stabbing, lacerating the body; fiends with fiery hammers crushing the bones at every stroke: all are depicted in the temples—and much more.

The Buddhist hells and the Buddhist heavens have, however, little to do with the real religion of the people. Buddhism has next to no hold upon them; it is merely a veneer covering their old Dravidian and Turanian superstitions, which, as we have seen, are brought into play in their everyday life, and in the times of sickness and death. With the spirit-worshippers in China and Indo-China, as amongst the ancient Finnish (Turanian) tribes in Russia, described by Sir Mackenzie Wallace, the religious ceremonies have no hidden mystical signification, and are for the most part rather magical rites for averting the influence of malicious spirits, or freeing themselves from the unwelcome visits of their departed relatives. Amongst the Finns in Russia, many even of those who are officially Christians proceed like the Shans at stated seasons to the graveyards, and place an abundant supply of cooked food on the graves of their relations who have recently died, requesting the departed to accept this meal, and not to return to their old homes, where their presence is no longer desired. Another strong resemblance between the practices of the Finns and the people of south-eastern Asia lies in the fact that “they do not distinguish religion from magic rites; and they have never been taught that other religions are less true than their own. For them the best religion is the one which contains the most potent spells, but they see no reason why less powerful religions should not be blended therewith.” Thus the Chinese and Indo-Chinese have acquired a thorough folio of religions and religious superstitions.

Phya Mahn, in the Shan pantheon, is very much altered from the Mahn Min of the Burmese, and the Dewadat of the Pali scriptures; he still can roam about in heaven, and earth, and hell. Formerly, before his attack upon Gaudama, he had power over the spirits of all these regions, but could not bring his heavenly attendants with him to earth, nor take his earthly attendants with him to heaven. Since his ill behaviour he has no attendants in heaven, and must gain the consent of Phya Wet Sawan before any of the latter’s evil spirits can join him in his progress upon the earth.

On my telling Mr Wilson that I wished to leave for Bangkok as soon as possible, as I had agreed to meet Mr Colquhoun there at the beginning of June, and that he might already be there, or on his way up the river to meet me, he said that he thought the best plan would be for him to make arrangements for the crews, and to charge me a lump sum for them and for the use of the comfortable house-boats belonging to his Mission. He considered that 500 rupees was a fair bargain, as it would include the return journey and the food of the men. To this I gladly assented, on the understanding that 200 rupees were to be paid down, and the remainder on my reaching Bangkok. He promised to have the boats ready for me to start on May 31st.

Next day I paid visits to the missionaries, and called on Mr Gould to ask him to accompany me to Prince Bigit’s on the following day, and to arrange for the interview, which he promised to do. On reaching the house occupied by the prince, I found the drawing-room furnished with tables and chairs, and ornamented by a Gatling gun that he had brought with him either for defence or to astonish the natives.

After being introduced, and shaking hands with him, and asking him about his journey, and the direction he had taken, he said he was much interested in the subject of railways, and that he intended to visit Burmah at the end of that year or the beginning of the next, to see how they acted in that country. The telegraph was to be carried to Zimmé during the next dry season, and he hoped that would be the forerunner of railways.

He asked me what direction I thought a railway should take through the Shan States into Siam. I told him I had not seen the lower defile of the Meh Ping, but, from what I had heard, I was led to believe that it would be very expensive to carry a line through it to Zimmé, but that one could be carried from Raheng up the Meh Phit and through the defile crossed in 1837 by General M‘Leod, to Muang Li, and thence to Zimmé. From Zimmé a line could easily be constructed viâ the Meh Pam across the low pass into Muang Fang, and perhaps from thence to Kiang Hsen.

A far easier line, and one that would be more convenient for tapping the trade of all the States, could be made from Raheng up the valley of the Meh Wung to Lakon, and thence viâ Muang Ngow, Penyow, Hpan, and Kiang Hai to Kiang Hsen. A branch line could be made from this line, either from Lakon or from near the mouth of the Meh Wung, to connect Zimmé with this main line. From Raheng the main line would proceed down the valley of the Meh Nam to Bangkok; and a branch line could be carried westwards from Raheng to the frontier to meet a British railway proceeding from Maulmain.

He then asked whether it would not be very difficult and expensive to construct a railway across the hills from Maulmain. I said of course it would be more difficult and expensive than the portion through the plains, but from the character of the country I had traversed when coming from Maulmain, I considered the difficulties could be overcome without great expense, and that the traffic which would pass over the line would certainly more than justify a very much heavier outlay than would be required. The traffic that might be expected to pass between Siam and Burmah would be so considerable as of itself to make the construction of the railway highly remunerative, besides being a great boon to both countries.

I then asked the prince whether he could give me an idea of the population of Siam and its Shan States. In reply he said he doubted whether I could even get the population of Siam from the Government in Bangkok, for nothing was accurately known about it. The estimate made by Sir John Bowring was very much too low. As to the population of the Shan States, all he knew was that Zimmé returned 80,000 fighting-men on the list forwarded to Bangkok; Lakon, 80,000; and Nan, 100,000. The Siamese Government doubles these figures, as the Shan chiefs return far too few on their lists, so as to have to provide fewer men in the case of war. I may here mention that the number given by Prince Bigit for Zimmé was 50,000 higher than the number given me previously by Princess Chow Oo-Boon. Slaves are not included amongst the fighting-men.

Whilst we were talking, tea and cigars were handed round. The Siamese commissioner said that he had received instructions from Bangkok a day or two after I left Zimmé for Muang Fang, to do all in his power to help me; that he had made inquiries about the trade and population of the Shan States according to his promise, but could get no reliable information. He was very sorry to disappoint me in the matter, but he had really done his best. I wonder if he thought I believed him—probably not!

After quitting the prince’s abode I returned home, and found my Madras boys in a great state of excitement. They said Loogalay was a thief; that he was stealing my things, and selling them in the bazaar. They had watched him appropriating bottles of medicine from the stock which had been placed in his charge. As the boys had never liked Loogalay from the first, as he constantly tried to ride the high horse over them, I naturally doubted the truth of the accusation, and asked for full particulars.

Jewan said that Loogalay had put the bottles in his private pah (basket), and intended to sell them, as he had already sold others. I told them to fetch the pah, and had it uncorded before me, when I found several unopened ounce-bottles of quinine, bottles of chlorodyne, and pain-killer, and even boxes of Cockle’s pills, besides the medicines which were in use by our party. I then said, “Very well; cord the pah up again, and put it in its place, and keep quite quiet about the matter.”

Fowls, ducks, and other articles of food had been constantly stolen during our journeys by the elephant-men and porters, who glided about at night as noiselessly and cunningly as snakes, and were as expert and as little troubled by conscience as clowns in a pantomime. The boys, under whose charge the culinary live-stock and other provisions lay, were much nettled at finding their vigilance not only evaded but laughed at, and the game made more pleasantly exciting to the light-fingered Shans. They had therefore been brooding over this last iniquity, particularly as it had been perpetrated by Moung Loogalay, one of their fellow-servants, and half sullenly told me that, if the case was proved against him, either he or they would have to leave the party, because it would injure their characters if it were known that they kept company with a thief.

Loogalay was away all that day, and did not return till I had gone to bed. In the morning I called him, and asked where the quinine was. He said in his pah. I told him to bring it, and see what other medicines he had out of stock, as I wished to take count. He then brought me the opened bottles and boxes; and on my asking whether he had any more in his pah, he answered no!

I then told him to bring it. He saw his game was up, and became dumfoundered for a time, and even when he found his voice, could not find excuses. I told him I was very sorry to find him dishonest, particularly as I had expected better things from him; that of course I could hand him over to Mr Gould for trial, but that I would not do so, as I trusted his present uncomfortable plight would be such a warning to him as to ensure his honesty for the future; that of course I could not expect Veyloo and Jewan to consort with a thief; and that he must therefore make arrangements for returning to Maulmain with one of the caravans, and the sooner the better, and should at once see some of the Burmese foresters residing in Zimmé, and settle the matter with them.

Quinine was fetching about 10 rupees an ounce in the bazaar. Loogalay had seen me making presents of it to the chiefs, and parcelling it out amongst fever-stricken villagers. He therefore may have looked upon his misdeed rather in the light of “picking” than of “stealing,” and as appropriating what would have gone to others less deserving, in his own opinion, than himself.

Two days later he returned, saying that he had made the arrangements, and asking for the pay that was owing him for four and a half months’ service. Having previously advanced him 85 rupees, I handed him the 50 rupees then owing, and wished him a safe journey and an honest career for the future.

A little beyond the bridge which crosses the river, a large pagoda near the eastern bank had recently been repaired, and was far more graceful in shape, and more exquisitely finished, than any other in the State. On each corner of its square basement was erected a smaller pagoda, covered with a handsome tartan of yellow-and-green-looking glass tinsel, which glittered in the sunlight; and in each corner, close to the smaller pagodas, was an image of the guardian spirit.

In the grounds I noticed a large stone slab with an inscription on it which might be worth while translating. Many such slabs, giving the date of the foundation of religious buildings, are scattered through the country, and contain the only reliable evidence about events that have happened in the country, recording not only the date, but generally the name and race of the ruler of the State. Some of these inscriptions are said to be inscribed in a writing now obsolete, which cannot be deciphered by the most learned living monk. If rubbings were taken of them, they could be compared with ancient Cambodian and other characters, and the clue found for reading their contents.

Whilst sketching the pagoda, a couple of Shans who had been watching me began sparring with boxing-gloves, joining tripping and wrestling in the sport. A crowd soon gathered round, and I became judge of the contest, tipping the winner of each round. Instead of hitting from the shoulder as English boys do, the blows were more roundabout, and oftener with the open hand than with the closed fist; both the knee and the foot were occasionally used. The wrestling, however, was very fair, and more in the Devonshire than in the Cornish and Cumberland styles.

Siamese wrestlers.

The bridge over the river was in rather a shaky condition, the planks being loose, and only held in position by a wheel-guard on either side. One day during my former stay at the city, some laden cattle being driven across the bridge crowded together in the centre, and a girder and several of the rotten planks above it broke, and eight or ten of the bullocks were precipitated into the river 30 feet below, and some of them were seriously injured, as the river was shallow, being barely 3 feet deep at the spot.

The centre span of the bridge was raised a step higher than the rest to allow the great boats belonging to the chief to pass under, and every time we drove over the bridge our pony-carriage had to be lifted on and off this step; and carts were prevented from crossing. A small expenditure in strengthening and slightly arching the bridge would make it fit for cart traffic, and thus enable carts to cross the river throughout the year.

A day or two before I left Zimmé, Dr and Mrs M‘Gilvary asked me to dinner, together with Princess Chow Oo-Boon and her well-behaved children. The princess brought with her some beautifully embroidered Shan dresses as a present for my youngest sister; and her son presented me with his own lover’s lute. This musical instrument is peculiar. It is formed of a black ebony-like stick resting on a bowl made of half a well-polished cocoa-nut shell. Near each end of the stick is a metal rest for the two brass strings of the lute. The top of the bowl is pressed against the chest, and serves as a sounding-board when the instrument is played. After admiring the presents and expressing my delight, I told the princess that it would give me much pleasure if she would allow me to send some little remembrance from England, and would let me know what she would like. In answer she said that if I could match some lace which she had got from Maulmain, or get some of the same quality, she would be very pleased, and that she would send me the patterns next day.

On showing the patterns to my sister in England, she said they were cheap rubbish, costing a penny for two or three yards; and she therefore purchased a quantity of far better quality, which I forwarded to Bangkok for it to be sent to Zimmé. By the next post I heard that the princess was dead; and a few months later she was joined by the Queen of Zimmé.

Before leaving Zimmé for Bangkok, it will be well to give Dr Cushing’s views concerning the present state of the people. In his account of the journeys made with me, he says that “the Laos principalities are tributary to Siam; but all internal affairs are managed, for the most part, by the native princes. At first their connection with Bangkok was such that the native princes were absolute in everything that pertained to home affairs. Only in matters involving the relation of Siam to foreign powers, the triennial tribute, and the confirmation of princes in their rank and power, was the authority of Siam dominant.

“Of late years the power of Siam has increased gradually, so that now the Siamese commissioners residing at Zimmé exercise a great deal of influence and quiet authority in local matters throughout the principalities. Siam, however, does not treat these tributary States in the way that the Court of Ava treated its dependent Shan States, where extortion, oppression, and the fomenting of intestine feuds have been the policy of the occupants of the Burman throne. Hence the people lead a quieter and more peaceful life.

“The taxation is not heavy. One basket of rice for every fifty or hundred, as the custom of the principality may be, with a small assessment on each house for the tribute paid to the King of Siam, are the principal demands of the Government in the way of taxation, although a small sum may be levied for a special subject on some rare occasion.

“The most oppressive right of the Government grows out of the relation of the people to their rulers, by which they must perform Government work whenever called to do so. The whole of the people are in a condition of serfdom. They are apportioned among the princes and rulers in such a way that each one has his lord, to whom he must render a certain amount of service every year if called upon to do so. Although there are rules determining the frequency of call to service, these rules are easily overridden.

“No person can change his residence permanently, much less go out of the country, without the permission of his feudal lord. While, therefore, the people are a nation of serfs, there are many who are in the worse condition of abject slaves. These persons are the personal property of their master, to whom belongs the full result of their labour. Some of these are captives taken in war, or kidnapped by the Red Karens and sold to the Laos (Zimmé Shans).

“Others are slaves on account of debt. A man borrows twenty or fifty rupees, expecting to repay it. If he cannot do so when the money is demanded, he is summoned to court, where he is adjudged the property of the person who lent him the money. He is then loaded with chains about the neck and ankles, which he must wear in company with the worst fellows. His only alleviation is the privilege of choosing his master, in so far that he may persuade another man to buy him by paying the sum of his debt to his owner. The missionaries have liberated many from time to time by paying their debts, and allowing them to render an equivalent by work at fixed wages for a certain time.

“In religion the Laos are nominally Buddhist, but it is a question whether Buddhism has as much hold on their practical life as nat-worship.[^[22]] They build fine temples, and the youth enter the priesthood; but they have none of the pronounced religious feelings and immovable bigotry of the Shans west of the Salween. They say that the precepts of Gaudama are the right thing to accept, but who can observe them?

“While in the priesthood there is none of that strictness which exists in the more northern Shans. The priests visit the houses of their friends, often remaining over-night at them. They work for wages even, and in each monastery there is a money-box belonging to the priest and one to the monastery.

“In the Kengtung (Kiang Tung) principality, where the people call themselves Kheun, and are the link between the Shans and the Laos, the priests go so far as to ride ponies. As the handling of money and the touching of a pony are two of the seven great sins forbidden to priests by Gaudama, it is needless to say that the Shans (to the west of the Salween) look upon the Laos as very heterodox.

“All this looseness in religious practice makes the Laos more open to missionary work than are the Shans. They do not have that strong belief, that in listening to the tenets of another religion they may bring about a schism in the body of Buddha, and thereby commit a deadly sin. Certainly the outlook of the Laos Mission is very hopeful, not only in the number of converts gained, but in the readiness with which the people listen to the preaching of the truth.

“Missions to the Karens and Moohseus (La-hu or Mu Hseu) in Laos territory, and to the Kamooks in the region east of the Cambodia, would be remunerative, as these people are quiet, docile, and not bound by any strong ancestral religion like Buddhism.”