At daybreak about a hundred strokes of the oar brought us past a new bend in the river, and we found ourselves before Khao-Khoc. This place has, in my humble opinion, been badly chosen by the kings of Siam for their stronghold and retreat in case of an European invasion of the south. In the event of this occurring, they would abandon Bangkok; and, certainly, as whoever possesses that town is master of the whole country, no one would be likely to come and molest the kings in their solitude.
Two or three miles below Khao-Khoc I observed a kind of landing-place, and a house of mediocre appearance, bearing the pretentious appellation of palace, although built only of leaves and bamboo. This is Rabat Moi. At Khao-Khoc, although the second king often visits it, there is no landing-place, nor even steps cut in the steep banks to aid the ascent.
Immediately after landing I set off to look for a lodging, having been informed that I should find numerous vacant houses belonging to mandarins, amongst which I might make my choice. My men and I hunted amid the brushwood, often sinking up to our knees in mud, but could discover only seven or eight Laotian huts, the inhabitants of which form the nucleus of the population of this future stronghold, now peaceful and hospitable agriculturists, who would be deeply afflicted, and still more terrified, if ever their echoes should repeat the roar of cannon and varied sounds of war. As for the royal habitations, I could not reach them, for the whole ground, excepting a strip about fifty feet broad next the river, is a swamp; and the narrow paths are obstructed by bushes and tall grass, which had had time to grow during the six or eight months that have elapsed since the King has visited the place.
Not being able to find a lodging, some men from the village joined us, and we all set to work to cut down bamboos, with which to construct one, which was soon accomplished; and in this hut, open to every wind, we took up our abode.
I was told that a white elephant had just been taken in Laos, and had been sent off to Bangkok under the care of a mandarin.
All the inhabitants of the village, amounting perhaps to about fifty, have brought their children to me, begging for remedies; some for fevers, others for dysentery or rheumatism. I have not heard of any cases of leprosy here, as at Khao-Tchioulaü, but the children are repulsively dirty; they are covered with a coating of filth, which makes them resemble little negroes, and the greater number of them are shaking with fever.
The site of my hut is in a valley, formed by a belt of mountain-chains, running from Nephaburi and Phrabat, and connected with those of the peninsula and of Birmah. Mount Khoc is distant a kilometre from the left bank of the river, and stretches out in the form of a semicircle, afterwards joining the mountains which run eastward towards Korat, and M’Lôm, and Thibet. Facing Mount Khoc, other mountains rise abruptly from the right bank, and then extend in an easterly direction.
As soon as my dwelling was finished, which was neither a long nor a costly job, we slung up three hammocks, and then betook ourselves to prepare a place for insect-catching, the end of the rainy season being the best time for this work. We accordingly cut down a great number of trees, a hard and painful task in this climate, where the sun, drawing up the humidity from all the surrounding marshes, makes one feel as if in a stove or hothouse; but our labours have been abundantly repaid by a rich harvest of specimens. Beetles of the longicorn tribe abound here; and to-day I have filled a box with more than a thousand new or rare insects. I have even been fortunate enough to replace some of the more valuable kinds which were destroyed or injured by sea-water on board the ‘Sir James Brooke.’ The villagers come every day to bring me “beasts,” as they call them, grasshoppers, scorpions, serpents, tortoises, &c., all presented to me at the end of a stick.
