And airy tongues, that syllable men’s names
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses.”[[2]]
Another device that one notices at the cattle-camps is an array of pegs rising about eighteen inches from the ground, joined together by a creeper, or a cane if it be handy, and enclosing the space within which the cattle are tethered. The people believe that tigers, trying to steal into the camp, come with their breasts against the cane, and finding it yield, retreat for fear that it may be a trap. Travellers shun camps that have been used for cattle, as they are generally infested with gadflies and other disagreeable insects.
The Zimmé Shans, unlike the British Shans, do not wear a chignon, nor twine a silk handkerchief round their head, but have their hair dressed either in the ancient or modern Siamese styles. The modern style much resembles the European fashion; the ancient style consists in shaving the sides and back of the head, and merely leaving a tuft like a clothes-brush at the crown. Their bodies are tattooed from the waist downwards, sometimes as far as the ankle. This custom does not now extend either to the Siamese or to the Lao Shans, who occupy Luang Prabang and the portion of the Meh Kong valley that lies to the south of it, although tattooing is known to have been general among their ancestors in the country to the north and south of the Yangtsze Kiang long before our era commenced. It is not unlikely that the Burmese acquired the habit from the Shans. The tattooing generally consists of figures of birds and beasts and mythical monsters, including dragons and ogres. Men who prize the reputation of being dare-devils have charms in the form of cabalistic signs, arrangements of numbers and words, contained in squares tattooed in red on their chest, back, and arms.
The tattooing instrument is a single split needle set in a heavy brass socket. Having filled the needle with a preparation of indigo, the operator pricks the pattern by a series of small punctures into the skin. Vermilion is used when tattooing the upper part of the body.
Some dacoits let in talismans under the flesh, and precious stones are carried about in the same manner. The talismans are mystical incantations inscribed on gold, silver, lead, pebbles, pieces of tortoise-shell, or even horn. It is not at all uncommon to meet a Shan with several knobs on his chest, concealing the talismans that he has inserted as charms to render him proof against bullet and sword. There is perhaps not a man in the country who does not carry about with him one or more charms; some string them like beads and wear them as necklaces.
As a rule, the Zimmé Shans are a very quiet and tractable people, and have a strong sense of what is just and right. Very few crimes occur among them: this may be partly due to the people not being allowed to leave their neighbourhood without the permission of their local head-men, and to villagers being held responsible for any loss or crime that may occur in their district, unless they can prove that the loss was accidental, or can trace the crime to the culprit.
Having enjoyed our Sunday’s rest, we left early the next morning, and continued skirting, and frequently crossing, the stream. The deep forest through which we passed was scented by the fragrance of bauhinea-blossoms, and decked with the flowers of the pinleh kathyt and poukbin. The covering of my howdah was soon nearly destroyed by the bamboo-bushes, which in places had partly overgrown the path. The mahouts were lopping off the overhanging branches and sprays that were likely to interfere with the howdahs; the elephants were tugging down saplings and crushing them under foot; and I had to be constantly on the alert to guard against the spear-points of the lopped bamboos that pierced through the roof and threatened to poke out my eyes. Surveying the constant twists of the path under such circumstances is both difficult and dangerous.
The valley became wider as we proceeded, and little plains from 400 to 800 feet across were of frequent occurrence. The procession of elephants frequently closed up, owing to our having to cut our way, and I was able to see the pranks the little elephant accompanying the prince played with the men: he was making little rushes and hustling them over, and at times giving a sudden lurch as he trotted by them, which, unless they were ready and nimble, had the same effect. Every one was laughing at each other’s discomfiture, and Ramasawmy, Dr Cushing’s boy, was crowning Portow’s great straw hat, unbeknown to him, with a garland of leaves.
The granite boulders ceased near the 288th mile, where pine-trees still crowned the low spurs on either side of us. Shortly afterwards we passed a caravan of thirty-one laden cattle. Soon great glades appeared in the forest, which gradually assumed a park-like appearance, and it became apparent that we were on a great rolling and formerly cultivated plain which extended as far as the eye could reach. Through the vast plateau now spread before us, the Meh Low, flowing north, passes on its way to the Meh Kong, and to the east of it the Meh Wung, flowing south, proceeds to join the Meh Ping. The dip to the Meh Low was not perceptible, and the rise in the plateau dividing that river from the Meh Wung seemed one with that which we were descending. Loi Mun Moo, the range to the east of the Meh Wung, was 18 miles distant, and not perceptible, being hidden by the haze. The water-parting between the two rivers, I found on a subsequent journey, was only 2148 feet above the sea, or 181 feet lower than the camp we had breakfasted at.