"The grandest and most characteristic pagoda is on the right bank, surrounded by a fine and verdant wood. It rises amidst a cluster of small towers which command a central pyramid three hundred feet high. This is at the base in the form of the lower part of a cone, with one hundred and fifty steps; then it becomes a six-sided tower with dormer windows supported by three white elephants' trunks; the graceful spire then rises from a nest of turrets, and shoots upward like a single column rounded off into a cupola at the summit; from thence a bronze gilt arrow extends twenty crooked arms that pierce the clouds. When lighted up by the rays of the sun it all becomes one mass of brilliancy; the enamelled colors of flaming earthenware, the coating of thousands of polished roses standing out in the alabaster, give to this pagoda, with its pure and brilliant architecture unknown under any other sky, the magical effect of a dream with the colossal signs of reality.

"As we approached it, gliding slowly along in a gondola against the impetuous current of the river, the promontory looked like an entire town, a sacred town of irregular towers, crowded kiosques, painted summer-houses, colonnades and statues of pink marble and red porphyry. But on landing we had to pass the ditches and shallows which surround the sacred ramparts, where, walking with measured steps, was a whole population of men, with heads and eyebrows shaved, and whose dress was a long saffron-colored Roman toga. These were the 'talapoins,' or Buddhist priests. In one hand they hold an iron saucepan, and in the other the 'talapat,' a great fan of palm-leaves, the distinguishing sign of their rank. The lanes they live in are horribly dirty, and their houses are huts built of dirty planks and bricks, which are falling to pieces. One could imagine them to be the foul drains of the porcelain palaces which touch them, luckily hidden by bowers of luxuriant trees. More than seven hundred talapoins or 'phras' looked at us as we passed, with an indifference that bordered on contempt. And when we saw the sleepy and besotted priests of Buddha, who looked like lazy beggars, and the twelve or fifteen hundred ragged urchins who surrounded them in the capacity of choristers, and who grow up in the slums together with groups of geese, pigs, chickens, and stray dogs, it seemed a menagerie of mud, dirt, and vermin belonging to the monastery; and we could not help noticing the remarkable contrast which exists between the fairy-like appearance of the temple as seen from the town, and the horrible condition of the hundreds of priests who serve it.

"We only had to go up a few steps to pass from the dirty huts to marble terraces. We scaled the great pyramid as high as we could go; no such easy matter beneath a scorching sun which took away our strength, and blinded by the dazzling whiteness of the stone-work. But a panorama of the whole town was now laid before us, with the windings of the river, the royal palaces, the eleven pagodas in the first enclosure, the two and twenty in the second, and some four hundred porcelain towers and spires, looking as though planted in a mound of verdure formed by the masses of tropical vegetation. In the symmetrical colonnades which we visited there are hundreds of altars, decorated with millions of statuettes of Buddha, in gold, silver, copper, or porphyry. On the left side is a very large temple with a five-storied roof in blue, green, and yellow tiles, and dazzling walls. A double door of gigantic size, all lacker-work inlaid with mother-o'-pearl, opened to us, and we were in the presence of a Buddha of colored stone-work. He was seated on a stool, nearly fifty feet high, his legs crossed, a pointed crown upon his head, great white eyes, and his height was nearly forty feet. This deified mass, altogether attaining to the height of ninety feet, is the only thing that remains unmoved at the sound of more than fifty gongs and tom-toms, which the bonzes beat with all their strength. Incense burns in bronze cups, and a ray of light penetrating the window strikes upon five rows of gilded statuettes which, in a body of two or three hundred, crouch at the feet of the great god, and baskets of splendid fruit are offered to them: you can imagine who eats it. Suits of armor are fixed against the walls, and at certain distances the seven-storied umbrella hangs like a banner. As for the bas-reliefs, their description would take a whole volume; they represent all the tortures of the Buddhist hell. I shuddered as I looked on these wretched creatures, some fainting away, thrusting out their tongues, which serpents devoured, or picking up an eye torn out by the claw of an eagle, twisting round like tee-totums, or eagerly devouring human brains in the split skull of their neighbor. On the other side of these walls there are colored frescoes. The illustrations extend into a whole world of detail of the Buddhist religion, which varies in every part of Asia and is so impossible to separate from tradition, and so contradictory in its laws."

PORTICO OF THE AUDIENCE HALL AT BANGKOK.

Each king in turn seems to wish to rebuild the royal residence, and here is a brief description, from Mr. Bock, of that which King Chulalonkorn has erected for himself: "Adjoining the old building is the new palace, called the Chakr Kri Maha Prasat, the erection of which has long been a favorite scheme of his majesty, who in 1880 took formal possession of the building. The style is a mixture of different schools of European architecture, the picturesque and characteristic Siamese roof, however, being retained. The internal fittings of this palace are on a most elaborate scale, the most costly furniture having been imported from London at an expense of no less than £80,000. One of the features of the palace is a large and well-stocked library, in which the king takes great interest—all the leading European and American periodicals being regularly taken in.

"Here the king transacts all state business, assisted by his brother and private secretary, Prince Devawongsa—usually called Prince Devan. These two are probably the hardest-worked men in the country, nothing being too great or too trivial to escape the king's notice. A friend of mine, who has had many opportunities of observing the king's actions, writes to me: 'Every officer of any importance is compelled to report in person at the palace, and the entire affairs of the kingdom pass in detail before his majesty daily. Although the king is obliged through policy to overlook, or pretend not to see, very many abuses in the administration of his government, yet they do not escape his eye, and in some future time will come up for judgment.'

"Inside the palace gates were a number of soldiers in complete European uniform, minus the boots, which only officers are allowed to wear. At the head of the guard, inside the palace gates, is the king's aunt, who is always 'on duty,' and never allows anyone to pass without a proper permit. Passing through a long succession of courts and courtyards, past a series of two-storied and white-washed buildings—the library, museum, barracks, mint, etc., all of which are conveniently placed within the palace grounds—we were led to an open pavilion, furnished with chairs and tables of European manufacture, in which were two court officers, neatly dressed in the very becoming court suit—snow-white jacket with gold buttons, a 'pa-nung,' or scarf, so folded round the body as to resemble knickerbockers, with white stockings and buckled shoes....

"The ninth child of his father and predecessor on the throne, King Chulalonkorn has profited by the liberal education which that father was careful to give him, and, with a mind fully impressed by the advantages afforded by large and varied stores of knowledge, he has striven to give practical effect to the Western ideas thus early instilled in him. Born on September 22, 1853, he was only fifteen years of age when he came to the throne, and during his minority his Highness the Somdeth Chow Phya Boromaha Sri Suriwongse—an able and upright statesman, the head of the most powerful and noble family in the country, which practically rules the greater portion of Western Siam—acted as regent.... Although the king shows great favor to Europeans, he does not display any undue predilection for them, and only avails himself of their assistance so far as their services are indispensable, and as a means of leavening the mass of native officialdom. The example of the sovereign has not been without its effect on the minds of his native advisers, and the princes and officials by whom he is surrounded are rapidly developing enlightened ideas. This is the more important since many of the highest offices are hereditary, and there is consequently not the same scope for the choice by the king of men after his own heart which he would otherwise have. As one instance out of many, I may mention the case of his Highness Chow Sai, the king's body-physician, one of the last offices that one would suppose to be hereditary! Chow Sai is one of those princes who are favorably disposed toward Europeans; he is well read, and some years ago sent his eldest son to be thoroughly educated for the medical profession in Scotland. Chow Sai's father, by the way, was a great believer in European medicines, especially Holloway's pills, of which he ordered the enormous quantity of ten piculs, or over 1,330 pounds; a large stock still remain, with their qualities, no doubt, unimpaired."