To the north, in the midst of the forest, is situated a smaller pagoda, which has undergone but little dilapidation,—that of Wat Sisaket. In its interior a number of small statues of Buddha are enshrined in gilded niches, which cover the wall from floor to ceiling, rivalling the terraces of Boro Bodor, the celebrated Buddhist monument of Java. Before the altar was elevated a candelabrum, remarkable for its originality of design and exquisite finish of workmanship. A few paces distant from the pagoda was situated the library, an indispensable appendage of all the temples of Laos; it was partly destroyed. As no native was near, the French explorers clambered up the worm-eaten pillars which supported and isolated from the soil the flooring of this literary tabernacle: in the interior some sacred books were scattered about; they were composed of long narrow strips cut from the leaves of a particular species of palm, gilded on the edges, and stitched together in books. Each contained seven or eight lines of that rounded writing peculiar to the peoples of the Indo-Chinese peninsula; which differs, as is recognized at the first glance, from the writing of India properly so-called, though derived from it. A BUDDHIST MONASTERY. Finally, attached directly to the pagoda, the travellers found a rectangular gallery, opening internally on a court,—its walls covered, like those of the temple itself, with small niches containing Buddha statues. This was the vihara (chon-khon in Laotian), or monastery, which served as the residence of the priests ministering in Wat Sisaket.
MONASTERY OF WAT SISAKET.
A DANGEROUS PASS.
Some miles above Vien Chan, the Mekong enters a narrow valley, which is sharply defined and enclosed by two ranges of high hills. Its waters, hitherto majestic and tranquil, which had peacefully unfolded silver coil after coil over the vast plateau of central Laos, now accelerated their course, and tumbled and eddied among the rocks, ever restless and ever noisy. The noble river, which had previously measured its breadth by thousands of yards, now shut up within two barriers of constantly-increasing elevation, was now contained in a channel which rarely attained to five or six hundred yards in width, and from which it was no more to escape. In dry seasons it occupied only a small portion of this space, and it had presented a rugged and broken surface of rock; a grand mosaic, where fragments mingled of all the metamorphic formations—marbles, schists, serpentines, even jades,—curiously coloured, and sometimes admirably polished.
PASSAGE OF A RAPID.