View of hills west of Kiang Hsen Plain from pagoda on hill.
On calling to say good-bye, before leaving on March 24th, I asked the chief about the floods that occasionally happened in the plain to the south of the Meh Khum. These, he said, were chiefly caused by the flood-waters of the Meh Kong backing up the water of the Meh Khum. When the Meh Kong was at its highest, the inundation sometimes rose two and a half feet over the bank, but the flood never extended north of the Meh Khum, nor farther inland than Loi Champa and Hong Seu-a Teng (the fishery where the tiger leapt); and even in this strip of plain there was a space between the Meh Chun and the Meh Khum, extending to Ban Kan Hta, which was never overflowed. The land near the mouth of the Meh Khoke, and for some distance up-stream, was also subject to inundation, the flow of the water in that river being impeded by waterweeds. Having finished my calls, and made presents to the chief and officials, and thanked them for their hospitality, we had the elephants loaded, and a little after one o’clock in the afternoon left the city.
The first night we halted at Pang Mau Pong, where we had stayed on our way to Kiang Hsen. I chose a different elephant for the return journey, much against the wish of the Chow Phya, who was accompanying us; it being considered infra dig. for a gentleman to ride any but a male beast. But I preferred ease to dignity; my former long-legged elephant having jolted me with its jerking pace, and the one I chose, although a female, moving with an exceptionally easy gait. The elephant-driver, on my noticing that its head was salmon-coloured speckled with darker spots, assured me that if it had been a male, it would have been honoured as a white elephant, and presented to the King of Siam. My eyes had become so inflamed with the constant glare from the white paths, and from peering at the small figures on the silver rim of the prismatic compass, that I was obliged to give up night-work as far as possible, and on my return to England I had to commence wearing spectacles.
City enclosure. Sketch of an entrance to Kiang Hsen.
The next morning we started at 6 A.M., all feeling much better for our long halt at Kiang Hsen. The boys were quite rejuvenated, and walked along briskly under their umbrellas in the fresh morning air, singing scraps of songs as they went, joking with each other, and with all whom they met. When tired by a long journey they become jaded, and walk as if they have tar on their feet. After passing two caravans of laden cattle conveying the goods of some immigrants from Zimmé, we halted at a village to purchase fresh vegetables, but could only procure a few onions. Some of the trees had sprouted after the rain on the 21st, and everything was looking fresher than before.
Starting again, we passed some men carrying eel-spears, and stopped for breakfast at Kyoo Pow on the banks of the Meh Chun, where we bought some bringals and mustard-leaves. Many doves were cooing in the trees, and did not go into a pie, as I refused to let the boys have the gun to shoot them. We likewise saw a few green paroquets.
After breakfast we were off again, the elephant-men carrying leafy branches to shelter their eyes, as we were proceeding due west. We passed another caravan of laden cattle, and halted for the night at Ban Meh Kee. I had thoroughly enjoyed the journey—being mounted on an easier beast, and having a complete holiday, as I had previously surveyed the route.
Next day we woke up with the thermometer marking 57°, and were off before 6 A.M. An hour later we met a caravan of sixty-three laden oxen conducted by Burmese Shans on their way to Kiang Tung. The leading oxen had masks, embroidered with beads, on their faces, surmounted by peacocks’ tails. We then entered the evergreen forest—where the gibbons were wailing, and doing wondrous feats of agility, outleaping Leotard at every spring—and halted for breakfast amongst some gigantic kanyin and thyngan trees.
In the afternoon we made a short march to our former halting-place at Meh Khow Tone. The gadflies in the forest were nearly an insupportable nuisance. These vampires were so intent upon drawing blood, that they never moved as my hand slowly approached to crunch them. They are noiseless on the wing, and painless in their surgery. One is unaware of their presence until a ruddy streak appears on one’s clothing. The elephants constantly scraped up the dust with their trunks to blow at the flies, where they could not reach them with the leafy branches that they carried. Our boys hurried along, armed like the elephants, slashing at the flies on their shoulders and backs. We were all glad to reach the camp.