The King, who is now the sole reigning Buddhist monarch, takes the greatest interest in the maintenance of his faith and everything belonging to it. He is an ardent Pali scholar, and has established a college for the study of that ancient language. Nearly every State function which takes place within the palace walls is associated with some religious service, and the Buddhist faith seems to be deeply rooted in the heart of the Siamese people. The sacred books used in the temples are of palm-leaf, similar in style to those seen in Burma; a large number of women are employed in a factory for their manufacture, while many men are also there for the purpose of engraving characters on the palm-leaf with a set of special implements.
It had been a perfect afternoon, and the shores of the broad river Menam (meaning "Mother of Waters") were more than usually interesting on account of the novel architectural display, temples alternating with buildings of various descriptions, most of them gleaming white in the sun. We made a detour into the Klong Canal, which led out of the river some miles from our starting-point. Soon we had an entirely different type of scenery, similar to the jungle; dense vegetation came quite to the edge of the canal. In places there would be two, three, or even more Siamese houses built high on piles, with thatched roofs and sides and an open front, the home life of the inmates being distinctly seen through the open front. Of course our launch served to collect all the curious in groups, from infants to grandparents. Ever and anon tiny boats passed us, the rowers singing or twanging some kind of an instrument with that happy unconsciousness of responsibility which seems to characterize the Siamese, reminding one of the days in Rangoon.
We came at last to a point where navigation was impeded because of a large vessel aground, and after skilful manœuvring and some minutes' delay, our launch proceeded on the homeward way. Night was upon us before we left the canal, and as the twilight faded, the gleaming of the lights in the little homes put a finishing touch to the picture. Once on the broad river, the shore effect was more wonderful than by day, and we lost all note of time until we were told at the hotel landing that it was half-past seven o'clock.
The following morning we left, at half-past six, for an excursion by rail and river to the old capital, Ayuthia. The ride of three hours in a car presented no special features. But we then took a steam launch and proceeded some miles farther in order to visit the ruins of the old palace and the elephants' kraal. Skirting in and out, we saw about three miles of houseboats on sampans. This was a most interesting spectacle, all kinds of traffic being carried on, some space aboard being reserved for the family. There were boats for the sale of flowers and vegetables, others for household commodities, and some had crockery and glass and baskets. We then visited two temples. The ruins cover an immense space of ground and are a fine field for archæologists, but we had no means of classifying them and our guide was not scientific. Many of the most interesting relics are surrounded by a dense jungle which makes them difficult of access, but one receives a certain impression of the ancient grandeur of the place.
Tradition states that the custom of wearing the hair short by Siamese women dates from the days when Ayuthia was a capital. It is said that during one of the political invasions by the Burmans most of the men were absent in the harvest fields. The women accordingly cut their hair, took bows and arrows and spears, and manned the city walls. The Burmans, thinking they were men, were astonished at finding such a strong garrison and retired, much discomfited. It is also said that the women then adopted the same dress as the men, the panung, a garment something like the sarong but drawn up in the middle, front and back. The cutting of the hair and the peculiar garb make it difficult to tell the Siamese women from the men. The style is distinctive with the women, as all of the surrounding people—the Burmans, Laos, and Malays—wear the sarong.
A walk of ten minutes from Wang Chang brought us to the famous elephants' kraal, or enclosure, into which the elephants are driven to be captured and tamed. This is a massive structure of teak logs, with a kind of V-shaped passage leading to it. When a hunt is to occur, the places frequented by the elephants are noted weeks beforehand, and they are gradually surrounded by some hundreds of men mounted upon trained elephants and also afoot, the elephants being gradually driven towards the entrance of the kraal. Within, there is an exciting scene, as the ponderous, awkward animals find themselves pressed onwards en masse through the massive gate into the enclosure. Once inside, they are dexterously captured by long leg ropes, whilst their struggles are kept from assuming dangerous proportions by trained elephants which range up alongside of them and aid their masters in every possible way, apparently taking quite a delight in the task. These hunts occur at regular intervals, and are generally attended by a large number of foreign visitors. Accidents, even deaths, sometimes happen, but these are not frequent. We regretted we were not in Siam at the proper season to witness such a scene.
After a picnic luncheon, we proceeded down the river, stopping at different points to visit temples of varying interest; one was particularly noteworthy, as it contained a very large Buddha in the back of the temple and a row of brass Buddhas around three of its sides, some of them in fine repoussé work. At Ban Pa In we left the launch to take the train. Here the King has two palaces.