As it is now toward the close of the dry season, we frequently meet men and women fording the river, who in passing near our boat give the salutation of Pi n’i tua?—i. e. “Going where? coming from where?” It is a customary greeting, and carries no impertinence in it. We have answered this question from prince and peasant many a time during our journey, and it is rather a suggestive one, as in our reply we add why we come.
And here, walking about in the river, are the fishermen, busy by night and by day in their eager pursuits. At any hour of the night when we awaken we see their torchlights flashing hither and thither up and down the river.
So onward we go, seeing strange new sights and customs, passing village after village, exchanging greetings with the people; then through long miles of loneliness, where we are hedged in by trees and thickets of perennial green; yet with prow ever to the north (Cheung Mai the lodestone) we are steadily and surely nearing our goal.
And now, as we round this bend, the plain of Cheung Mai and the grand old mountains in the north-west come into full view. (The walled city, a mile distant to the westward, is not in the line of vision.)
As we move slowly up the river we see on the left bank an old temple overshadowed by old trees heavy with foliage. On the bank stand a number of Buddhist priests dressed in their yellow robes, who have come out of their little houses near the temple to look at the passing boats. The plain on both sides of the river and to the very banks abound in bamboo trees, as well as palm, cocoanut and an occasional banyan tree, which makes a large circumference of shade. In amongst the trees toward the river are the low bamboo huts of the natives, with here and there a more pretentious house built of teak-wood and roofed with tiles; a bridge spans the river. Just beyond the bridge (north) and on the west side we catch a view of Dr. Cheek’s compound, and below it on the east side are the mission premises. Ah! how long we are in going over that last half mile!
Getting nearer, we see the waiting company on the bank and can feel the welcome that is all about us. Drawing up to the steps at the landing, how gladly we leave the boats to meet the cordial reception of the missionaries and native friends who stand with outstretched hands to receive us! Then, entering our new home, it is with thanksgiving and joy that the Master has appointed our service for him amongst the Laos.
CHAPTER XXIV.
RECOLLECTIONS OF CHEUNG MAI.
My friends often say to me, “Tell us something about Laos, where you lived when a child.” Listen, then, to a few of the things I remember about Cheung Mai, the people who live in it and some of their customs.
The province of Cheung Mai is the largest of the six Laos kingdoms, and is tributary to Siam. As no census is taken amongst this people, the population cannot be accurately stated, but it is supposed by some of the missionaries to be about eighty thousand. On the map which accompanies this book you will see that the capital city, Cheung Mai, is in latitude 18° 48′ north, and on the west branch of the Menam River; but the map will not tell you that its suburbs extend for some distance up and down each side of the river. In America the cities have no walls around them, but, like most Eastern cities, Cheung Mai is surrounded by high and thick brick walls, which in many places, however, have gone to ruin. When there is a rumor of war the king issues a decree that every man shall bring a teak log to repair the breaches in the wall. It was on the pretext that our two Laos Christians had disobeyed this command that they were arrested and so cruelly put to death.