A Shan queen.
Lapoon is of irregular shape, and between 2½ and 3 miles in circumference. It is surrounded on the three sides not facing the river by a wet ditch from 40 to 65 feet broad, and is enclosed by a brick wall, varying outside from 15 to 23 feet in height, and on the inside from 13 to 18 feet. The parapet of the surrounding wall is 4½ feet high and 2½ feet thick, and is loopholed for musketry. The city, which is neatly laid out and beautifully wooded, lies 3½ miles inland to the east of the Meh Ping. From A.D. 1558, when the Zimmé States became tributary to Burmah, till 1774, when they accepted the protection of Siam, Lapoon remained, except during short periods of rebellion, under the Burmese. From 1779 to 1820 the city was deserted, owing to frequent raids of the Burmese and Burmese Shans. It was re-established in the latter year by Chow Boon Neh, the youngest of the seven brothers who ruled in Zimmé, Lakon, and Lapoon, and whose descendants still govern these States.
In the evening I called on the chief, who holds the title of Chow Hluang. His palace consists of four buildings—one separate, and the others forming three sides of a hollow square. The buildings were of the ordinary type of the residences of the nobility, and had tiled roofs, and appeared to be substantial structures. On ascending to the verandah, I found the chief squatting on a carpet spread on a dais, or raised portion of the floor, giving audience to several of his chiefs and retainers, and surrounded by his wives. Around him were his emblems of rank, consisting of gold spittoons, betel utensils, trays, water-goblets, &c. He was lounging with his elbow on a three-cornered cushion, enjoying a large cigarette, and being cooled by two pretty women, who were seated 12 feet behind, wafting the air towards him with long-handled fans.
He was an elderly, iron-grey-haired man, courteous in his manner, and far more intelligent-looking than the supreme chief of Zimmé; but he had enjoyed a good dinner, and evidently did not desire to enter into a long discussion upon trade. After ordering mats and pillows to be brought for us, he said that doubtless the projected railway would be an excellent thing for the country, and would bring many pilgrims to the pagoda. He was a great advocate for improved communications, and asked me what I thought of the new bridged cart-road which I had followed from Loi Tee. Of course he would do what he could to help forward the railway, but he hoped that it would soon be commenced; for if not, he was so old that it would not enrich him. Seeing that it was hopeless to get information from him, as he was trying not to yawn between each sentence, we shook hands and returned home.
As soon as it was light on the morning of April 20th, I left Lapoon; Drs M‘Gilvary and Cushing having started some time before, so as to reach Zimmé in the cool of the day. The road to Zimmé leads for the whole twelve miles through villages with barely a break in the houses between them; and the fine fruit-trees, and beautiful bamboo clumps in the gardens bordering the road, form a magnificent and shady avenue.
It is pleasant journeying amongst human beings and their habitations after a tour in the forest. Here a temple resplendent with gold like a herald’s coat, shone out from the trees; and long, thin, red and white prayer-streamers, suspended from the tops of bamboo poles, waving in the air, called the attention of the passers-by to the place of prayer. There a gang of peasants were at work furbishing up the road, and making everything neat for the approaching visit of the prince. A little farther on, close to an ancient temple and pagoda, was a great avenue of thyt-si trees, with the lowest branches 50 feet from the ground, and great notches in their trunks for collecting the varnish. Even the bamboos were in fresh leaf. Parrots, doves, woodpeckers, black mocking-birds with their long tail feathers, mynahs, and myriads of butterflies, as well as crows and sparrows, enlivened the scene and gave a zest to the journey. Here a light-coloured buffalo stretched out its neck, and sniffing the air, would approach and cast a surly glance at me, as much as to say, “You’re an intruder, and have no business here.” There a group of wayfarers had spread their morning’s meal in the centre of the road, and had to be avoided, as they made no pretence of getting out of our way, but merely continued squatting and gazing at us. Just beyond, an offering to the spirits is spread on a small tray, consisting of a clay elephant, rice, and seri-leaves. The whole way was alive with objects of interest, and several fine monasteries and temples were noticed at some distance from the road.
It was nearly 4 P.M. when I reached Dr M‘Gilvary’s house, as I had halted for nearly three hours on the way for breakfast, and for the pleasure of watching village life, and enjoying myself under a beautiful grove of shady trees.
My circular journey to Kiang Hai and back, not counting the detour to Kiang Hsen, was 299½ miles in length. The cartographer of the Royal Geographical Society who plotted the survey found that its commencement and conclusion were only 1⅕ mile apart, and reported as follows: “I must confess that during my long experience I have never met with any survey executed with only a prismatic compass and watch which has given such highly satisfactory results.”