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 furnished with 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 one looks 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.