Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot.
LAOTIAN HOUSE.
The sanitary condition of the place is dreadful. The rains are now less abundant, and the river has fallen more than twenty feet. They tell me that at Boatioume it is so narrow that the branches of the trees on the two banks touch and form an arch overhead. The mountains are of calcareous rock, and are covered with a fertile vegetation, but everywhere bear the traces of the water which anciently covered them. From the top you can imagine the former limits of the ocean, and see that the plain to the south was then submerged, and that all these heights formed capes or islands. I found close to their base, under a stratum of soil, banks of fossil coral and sea-shells in a good state of preservation.
THE HEAT DIMINISHED.
The north wind now makes itself frequently felt, although the south-east and south-west winds resume their sway at times, and bring back the rain; but the heat of the nights gradually diminishes, and now, after three o’clock in the morning, I can bear a covering, and am glad to wrap myself in my burnous. My two men suffer occasionally from attacks of intermittent fever, and often complain of cold in the stomach; indeed, death lays so many snares for us here, that he who escapes may think himself lucky.
At last we breathe a pure and delicious air. It is now mid winter; since the day before yesterday a fresh north wind has blown, and at night the thermometer has gone back to 18° centigrade. All the evening I have been walking by the river, wrapped in a warm burnous, with the hood up; and this is a pleasure I have not enjoyed since I was at Phrabat, two years ago.
PHRAI AND DENG.
One must have passed sleepless nights, suffocating with the extreme heat, in order to appreciate the comfort of sleeping under a woollen covering, and, above all, without the necessity of waging incessant war on the dreadful mosquitoes. Phrai and Deng wear their whole wardrobe both night and day, and I have seen them dressed in red flannel and with felt hats, when you might take them for Garibaldians, as far, that is to say, as their costume is concerned, for their appearance otherwise is far from warlike; however, they are not wanting in a kind of courage which has its own merit. They dance and sing round a good fire, and open their eyes with astonishment when I tell them that I have seen rivers larger than the Menam frozen over so hard that the heaviest vehicles could go upon them with safety,[4] and others on which whole oxen have been roasted;[5] and that men and animals often die of cold.
My little “Tine-Tine” says nothing, but creeps under my counterpane and sleeps at his ease; only if Phrai torments him by lifting the cover, he shows his teeth. Ungrateful being that I am, I have not yet spoken of this little companion who is so faithful and attached to me—of this pretty “King Charles,” whom I brought from home. All the Siamese, and especially those who have no children, are very fond of the little creature, notwithstanding their general aversion for dogs. Theirs, however, are usually half savage. I much fear that my poor dog will come to an untimely end, and be trampled under foot by some elephant, or devoured at a mouthful by a tiger.