A day or two afterwards, Garnier and his friends, in returning from a walk in the environs of Lakon, encountered some Laotians carrying vessels of bamboo, filled with a liquid which at first they supposed to be water. On tasting it, however, they discovered that it was the wine of the country; sweet-flavoured, and by no means disagreeable to the palate; not unlike, indeed, the product of some of the Rhenish vineyards. It was palm-wine, freshly made; and to enjoy its bouquet and full flavour it should be drunk in this condition, for it will not keep more than four-and-twenty hours without fermentation. The Laotians offered to conduct the strangers to a neighbouring plantation, where they might observe the different processes of its manufacture. The offer was accepted, and the party soon arrived at a clearing which was thickly planted with great borassus palms. HOW THE WINE IS COLLECTED. To collect the wine,—which is, in fact, the sap of the tree,—nothing more is necessary than to make an incision in the middle of the head of the tree, at the point where the leaves branch off, and suspend beneath a bamboo, into which the sap falls, drop by drop. In order to reach the summit of these huge palms, which are straight and smooth as the main-mast of a ship, the Laotians have invented a simple and ingenious process. They transform the palm into a veritable ladder, by attaching to the trunk, with small strips of flexible ratan, projecting laths of bamboo, which, jutting out to right and left at intervals of twelve to fourteen inches, form so many “rungs,” and enable the ascent of the tree to be rapidly and easily accomplished.

But we must no longer tarry at Lakon. We must once more launch the boats of our adventurous voyagers, and continue our exploration of the great river. It waters a populous country, and large towns are of frequent occurrence on its banks. We pass Hoûten, with its pagodas, its mountains, and green woods; Saniabury, with its rude pottery-manufacture; verdurous islands and shining sandbanks; and the mouths of the many streams which help to swell the abundant volume of the Mekong. From Saniabury the French expedition proceeded to Bouncang, a large and beautiful village at the mouth of the Nam San; thence to Nong Kay, where a Buddhist tat or pyramidal landmark, erected to indicate a sacred spot, or to enshrine a relic, has been washed away from the shore, and now lies half submerged, like a wrecked ship; and thence to Vien Chan, where the river widens into a channel of a thousand yards in width, before it enters the mountain region. Vien Chan, now a heap of ruins, was the former metropolis of the kingdom of Laos; and relics of antiquity spread over a considerable area testify to its ancient prosperity and splendour. The remains of the royal palace are interesting. It does not seem to have been built of very durable materials, the walls and staircases being faced with, and the pavement and flooring composed of, bricks, wood, or a kind of cement; but the entire structure still exhibits a certain elegance of character, and a remarkable wealth of decoration—the columns of wood have been tastefully carved and profusely gilded; and the whole is embellished with mouldings, and arabesques, and fantastic animal-figures.

The absolute silence reigning within the precincts of a city formerly so rich and populous, was, however, much more impressive than any of its monuments; more impressive even than the deserted topes or Buddhist temples which raised their domes in the shadow of the surrounding forest.

These, abandoned by their priests, and constructed of the same materials as the palace, are rapidly decaying. The rapid vegetation of the tropics, which softens happily the pitiful aspect of Desolation with its flowers and verdure, lends to these ruined sanctuaries, at a distance, a delusive air of age; tall grasses grow everywhere about the sacred precincts, creepers and parasites twine round each column, and vigorous trees force their crests through the shattered roofs in search of light.

The most considerable temple is Wat Pha Keo, the royal pagoda. Its timber façade, delicately wrought, and sparkling with those plates of glass which the Laotians and the Siamese cunningly mingle with their gilding in order to produce a greater effect of brilliancy, shines forth in the midst of the forest, gracefully framed with blooming lianas, and profusely garlanded with foliage. Gold has been unsparingly lavished on the sides of the square columns which supported the half-shattered roof; and a Byzantine style of decoration, very remarkable in effect, has at one time covered every inch of space. Though this mode of ornamentation is by no means lasting, it is very charming; and the numerous pagodas in Vien Chan thus embellished produced, at a distance, a wonderful impression of dazzling magnificence.

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.

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.

As the travellers advanced the river grew narrower, and, with a width of three hundred yards and a depth of twenty-five fathoms, flowed through a wild and wooded valley, uninhabited except by the animals of the forest. They passed the mouth of the Nam Thon; after which they came upon a dangerous series of rapids, where the foaming waters, hurled and driven from side to side, and swung round projecting rocks, and driven against the foot of precipitous banks, rushed downwards tumultuously, with all the clang and clash of billows breaking against a reef. To thread this water-labyrinth, it was necessary to obtain the assistance of a pilot from a neighbouring village; and even he was unwilling to promise that the boats of the expedition, light and small as they were, could be carried up to the next Muong, that of Xieng Cang. The boats, however, were unloaded, and the stores transferred to the shoulders of sturdy natives, who bore them along the rocks; while others towed the boats with many a lusty pull through the whirl and foam of the rapids. But so laborious and so difficult was the task, that two whole days were spent in effecting the passage of a few miles.

At length they reached Xieng Cang, or, as it is also called, Muong Mai, the “new Muong,” which is one of the most important centres of population on the left bank of the Mekong. The river here broadens considerably, and its waters are as peaceful as those of a woodland pool. Opposite to the town rises a beautiful chain of green mountains, in a series of gently-sloping terraces; and these are intersected by delightful Eden-valleys, finely wooded, enamelled with flowers, and brightened by the silver thread of a little brook. The village, or town, is well built; the houses are very lofty; and the inhabitants are employed, according to the season, in the manufacture of cotton and the cultivation of rice. The principal pagoda, situated on the threshold of the rice-fields, near a grove of graceful corypha palms, is richly ornamented in the interior, and, among other curiosities, contains an ancient carved porte-cierges of wood. A CENTRE OF TRADE. At the time of Garnier’s visit, some Birman traders had displayed the contents of their packs on the steps of the temple, and were selling to the natives their bright-coloured cotton stuffs and English hardware. A road having been made westward from Hoûten, Muong Mai is only a hundred leagues from Moulmein, which lies in nearly the same latitude, and is, as the reader knows, an English colony, and a busy commercial port, at the mouth of the Saluen. From this point spread over the interior of Laos the Peguans, or Birmans of the British possessions, whose knowledge of the wares most readily purchased by European merchants, and the high price at which they sell to the natives their English goods, enable them to accumulate considerable wealth.

Resuming their northward route, and bent upon tracing the river up to its mountain-source, they passed through a fertile and picturesque country, which has been made known to the Western nations by the enterprise of the traveller Mouhot. Leaving behind them the mouth of the Nam Lim, and diverging somewhat to the west, then again to the north, the voyagers arrived in the neighbourhood of Pak Lay, where they fell in with a M. Duyshart, a Hollander in the service of the king of Siam, and employed by him in a series of geographical researches, who was descending the river to Bangkok. They exchanged scientific notes, and it appeared that Duyshart had surveyed the course of the Cambodia or Mekong for one hundred and twenty miles above Luang Prabang.

A few hours after this interesting rencontre, the French expedition crossed the boundary-line of the kingdom of Luang Prabang, and reached the extremity of the great rapid of Keng Sao. Successfully steering their course through its rocks and islets, they arrived at Pak Lay, a romantically-situated village, buried in the deep shadows of the primeval forest. To the north of the village, and almost hidden by the trees, is situated a small pagoda, entirely deficient in the accessory buildings which usually surround a temple at Laos, but better placed for the purpose of assisting the self-absorption of its priests and votaries.

As the voyagers proceeded up the river, they now began to notice a gradual change in the character alike of the inhabitants and the vegetation. The calcareous mountains which dominated over the river-valley assumed the most irregular and fantastic forms, and forced it into a constant succession of broken curves and sharp angular turns. At times a mass of marble suddenly projected its high precipitous cliffs, which the river bathed with waters sometimes foaming, sometimes tranquil.

The Mekong was not at its full height at the time our voyagers ascended it: a great part of its bed lay bare; and a person, on landing, before he could reach the bank had to traverse wide spans rugged with rocks. Here and there spread immense sandbanks, on which were erected large fishing-stations—veritable towns of bamboo—already abandoned by the fishermen in anticipation of the quick-coming rise of the waters.

For three days the expedition continued its course. Not a single hut was visible anywhere. The only incidents of their voyage were the rapids, which occurred at intervals of three or four miles. These, for the most part, were formed by the shingle and rocks accumulated at their mouth by the numerous streamlets which the river here receives. By dint of vigorous exertions, the native boatmen “poled” their light barks through each swift current. At times the scene was illuminated by the arrowy flashes of a storm-swept sky; and peals of thunder, resounding among the mountains in multitudinous reverberations, mingled with the roar of the waters. Hail frequently fell in heavy showers during these gales, which lasted usually about half an hour, and abruptly lowered the temperature four or five degrees.

The river’s course was remarkably direct, and lay almost due north. At certain points it completely filled its bed; its breadth was then reduced to about one hundred and fifty yards; and the hills which bordered it were of so regular an appearance that the stream assumed all the features of an artificial canal. A series of miniature cascades flashed their silver spray in all directions, as they descended the verdurous slopes.

Luang Prabang, at which our voyagers in due course arrived, is the modern capital of Laos. It is picturesque and pleasant to the view, and enjoys the advantage of a favourable situation. Its houses are very numerous, and are arranged in parallel lines around a small central hillock, which, like a dome of verdure, rises above the mass of gray thatched roofs. On the summit a tat or dagoba elevates its sharp arrowy pinnacle above a belt of trees, so as to form a landmark for all the surrounding country. Upon the terraced declivities of this quasi-sacred eminence are situated several pagodas, the red roofs of which are vividly defined against the sombre green vegetation. A PICTURESQUE SCENE. At the foot of the cliffs, which are about fifty feet high, stretches a row of permanent rafts, on which numerous huts are erected, composing beneath the town a kind of second town or river-suburb, connected with the capital itself by zigzag paths, shining like white ribbons in the distance. Hundreds of boats of all sizes move rapidly along this floating city; while large and heavy rafts, coming down from the upper waters of the river, seek a convenient nook for mooring and unloading their cargoes. At the foot of the cliffs a crowd of boatmen and porters hurry to and fro; and the hum of voices mingles confusedly with the murmur of the stream, and the whisper of the palm-trees which wave their feathery crests upon its smiling and fertile banks.

After a brief sojourn at this interesting and lively city, the French voyagers, animated by their desire to open up a new channel of commercial enterprise, and discover a practicable route from Cambodia to China, resumed their ascent of the Mekong. They found that, above Luang Prabang, it narrowed considerably, and resumed its wild and romantic aspect. The mountains on either hand exhibited a succession of bold, dark, cloven crests; their lowest terraces, impending over the river-banks, being frequently ornamented by a pyramid, the tomb of a pious bonze or the shrine of an imaginary relic, the slender form of which harmonized well with the character of the landscape.

Passing the confluence of the Nam Hou, they came upon the cavern of Pak Hou, which the Buddhist priests have covered with religious decoration, and adorned with the gifts of munificent pilgrims. Thence they proceeded to Ban Tanoun; and from Ban Tanoun to Xieng Khong, the second in importance of the towns of the great province of Muong Nan. There they experienced some difficulty in obtaining permission to enter the Burmese territory; and, moreover, they found that they had nearly reached the limit of the navigable portion of the river. Few are the obstacles, however, which cannot be conquered by resolution and energy; and on the 14th of June the expedition left Xieng Khong in six light boats, drawing but little water, and continued the ascent of the river, which here bends to the westward, and flows across an apparently boundless plain. It is crossed near the town or village by a graceful but slender bridge of bamboo, from which may be obtained a charming view of its graceful sweep through a luxuriance of tropical vegetation.

At Muong Lim the expedition were compelled to abandon their boats. Its members found themselves there in the midst of a population differing in race from any they had previously met with. They seem, these Mou-tsen, to be of Caucasian origin. A CAUCASIAN PEOPLE. Their costume is very complicated, and even tasteful; and the tinsel and embroidery with which they cover their persons gives them a certain resemblance to the inhabitants of some parts of Brittany. The head-gear of the women has, at all events, the merit of originality. It consists of a series of rings of bamboo, covered with plaited straw, and fastened on the top of the head. The brim of this kind of hat is enriched over the forehead with silver balls; above are two rows of pearl-white glass beads; on the left side depends a tuft of white and red cotton thread, from which issues a loop formed of strings of many-coloured pearls. This coiffure, which is capable of infinite modifications, is completed with an abundance of leaves and flowers. The women also wear a tight-fitting bodice, the sleeves and edges of which are trimmed with pearls, and a short petticoat reaching to the knee. The legs are wrapped round with leggings, which begin at the ankle, and cover the whole of the calf. These leggings, too, are ornamented with a row of pearls about half-way up. The toilette is completed by ear-rings of coloured beads or balls of blown silver, bracelets, belts, collars, and shoulder-belts crossed over the bosom. As for the men, they wear the usual turban, loose short pantaloons, and a waistcoat with silver buttons. With both sexes a necessary addition to the attire is a kind of cloak or mantle of leaves, in shape like a book half-open, which is fastened to the neck, and in rainy weather is brought up over the head like a loose cover. The women, when carrying burdens, add to their already complex costume a wooden board across the shoulders, so made as to fit into the neck; and to this is suspended the basket containing the load. In front the board is kept in its place by cords, which are attached to the waist-belt or held in the hand.

Having obtained the necessary authorization to push their researches further, the adventurers set out from Muong Lim on the 1st of July, with an escort of natives carrying their instruments, provisions, and stores. At Puleo, finding the demands of the porters more than their limited funds could afford to meet, they reduced their baggage to the smallest possible proportions, and were thus enabled to dispense with the services of some of their attendants. They found the banks of the Cambodia frequented by numerous caimans, whose eggs are collected and eaten by the inhabitants. By day the journey was rendered pleasant through the constant succession of novel scenes. They made their way over a hilly and richly-wooded country, occasionally coming upon cotton plantations of exceeding richness; at other times upon delicious rills of crystal which spread their silver network over a fresh green expanse of flower-enamelled sward. Then they crossed a stretch of fertile rice-fields; and again they plunged into fresh glades, where a path wound in and out of clumps of palms and tropical trees, and waving ferns and rare flowering shrubs grew in luxuriant masses. But sometimes, at night, their experience was rather painful. They generally constructed a rude shelter of boughs and interwoven leaves; but this was often insufficient to protect them against the heavy rains that fell during passing storms, and was useless, of course, as a defence against the legions of leeches and mosquitoes which haunted the forest-depths.

After leaving a place called Siem-lap, they arrived on the borders of a half-dried torrent, the rocky bed of which was strangely bare of vegetation. The stones, among which a thin thread of water found its way, were a curious appearance; they were white, and covered with saline incrustations. The travellers tasted the water; it was warm. The three or four sources of this singular stream rose, a short distance off, at the foot of a wall of rocks: as they escaped among the shingle they exhaled a cloud of vapour, and their temperature was shown by the thermometer to be not less than 154° F.

Through a beautiful ravine they made their way to the picturesque village of Sop Yong. The richest and most magnificent vegetation imaginable grew close to the very edge of the river, and the travellers were frequently compelled to take to its waters, swollen as they were by the constant rains, and breast as best they could the violence of the current.

The next stage after Sop Yong was Ban Passang, which is described as an agglomeration of villages situated on a fertile table-land, in the heart of a rice-growing district. It is situated in the territory of Muong Yong, the chief town lying further to the westward. For Muong Yong the travellers set out on the 7th of August. They traversed a plain abundantly watered by streams which all flow into the Nam Yong, a branch of the great river. Over the chief of these little tributaries, the Nam Ouang, is thrown a wooden bridge; and this agreeable accommodation, a very great rarity in the land of the Laotians, pleasantly surprised our gallant explorers; they looked upon it as the sign of a more advanced civilization, which before long would exhibit itself more completely. A considerable portion of the plain was laid out in rice-fields; the rest was all swamp and morass. They passed by several villages which wore an unusual aspect of ease and comfort. Pagodas with curved roofs attracted the eye, and bore witness to the influence of Chinese architecture and the vicinity of the Celestial Empire.

At Muong Yong the expedition was delayed until the 8th of September, owing to the difficulty of obtaining the permission of the king of Birmah to cross those Laotian territories which are now included within the borders of his extensive dominions. The interval was occupied in short excursions in the neighbourhood, and in studying the manners and customs of the inhabitants. It was with no small pleasure, however, that the French adventurers took their departure, and continued their bold advance into regions of which European geographers knew but little. Their route led them to the important town of Muong You, where they paid visits of courtesy to the principal mandarins, the Burman representative, and the king of Muong You himself. This prince received them with dignified hospitality, and entertained them at a banquet, which was “served up” in magnificent style, and with a dazzling display of gold and silver plate. He is described as a young man of twenty-six, with a graceful figure and handsome countenance. He was attired in a dress of green satin, embroidered with red flowers; and the fire of the rubies which hung pendent from his ears illuminated the silken reflections of his rich costume. He was seated on cushions glittering with gold tracery. Around him were ranged in respectful attitudes the mandarins of the palace; at his feet, the sword and vessels of gold, finely wrought, which are the symbol of royalty.

From Muong You the expedition struck across a romantic country—as yet provided with but few facilities for travellers—to Xieng Hong, where new impediments were thrown in the way of their further progress. Having obtained admission to the presence of the king, they succeeded, however, in obtaining the royal favour, and made their way along the valley of the Nam Yong, which is bounded on either hand by lofty mountains, to Muong La, or, as it is also called, Se-mao, situated on the frontier of China; that mysterious land which has preserved its own strange civilization intact for upwards of two thousand years, and still offers a sullen resistance to the progressive influences of the West.

Once upon Chinese territory, they found their march comparatively easy. Order reigned everywhere; and in all directions could be seen the evidences of a constant and energetic industry. At Pou-eul, a village of salt-pits, with its smoke, its dusky houses, its hoarse sounds of active life, our travellers felt that they were once more in the midst of a thriving civilization, and could almost have believed that they were located in a small industrial town of Europe. CHANGE OF SCENE. Numerous convoys of asses, mules, oxen, and horses ascended and descended the long sloping street along which were erected the different factories, carrying thither wood and charcoal and cordage, and carrying away salt. Above the village rose a pagoda, crowning the summit of a hill so high that the murmur of the life below could not reach it. Groves of pines stretched far away on either hand; and along the declivities were ranged abundant rice-fields, situated one above the other in symmetrical terraces.

The expedition had now left the valley of the Mekong, and were wholly uncertain whether the route prescribed for them by the Chinese authorities would bring them again in contact with the great Cambodian river. We propose, however, to follow M. Garnier, as his wanderings led him through a country hitherto unknown to Europeans.

In the early part of November our adventurers struck the right bank of the Pa-pien-kiang of the Chinese, which is apparently identical with the Nam-La, an affluent of the Mekong. Thence they ascended into the table-land of Yunnan, rendered familiar to English ears in connection with the enterprise and murder of Mr. Margary; and reached Tong-kuan, or “the Fortress of the East,”—a strongly-built town, with a large garrison, posted on a commanding ridge between two river-valleys. Afterwards they crossed another considerable stream, the Poukou-kiang, and continued their march through valleys and over hills where the industry of man has softened the wilder features of the scenery, and made the wilderness to blossom like a garden. In a few days they made their appearance at Yuen-kiang, where they seem to have been welcomed with almost royal honours. The town is large and populous, with every indication of commercial activity and wealth. It has several handsome pagodas, which have something of the Buddhist type about them. The markets are well supplied with provisions of excellent quality and low price. Oranges are almost “given away;” and potatoes are so cheap and plentiful that an Irish peasant would think himself in an earthly paradise. The country around the town is highly cultivated; cotton being largely grown, and mulberry-trees for the silkworm nurseries. A rich and radiant plain is watered by the stream of the Ho-ti-kiang, which, opposite the town, measures about one-fifth of a mile in breadth.

At Pou-pio M. Garnier hired a light canoe, and, in company with some trading barks, began the descent of the Ho-ti-kiang, which for some distance swirled in a narrow channel between mountain-walls of two thousand five hundred to three thousand feet in height. Each torrent which rent these rocky barriers brought down with it an immense quantity of stones and pebbles, that encumbered the river-bed with shoals and banks, and pent up the waters in foaming rapids. M. Garnier was bound for Lin-ngan, but these numerous obstacles greatly impeded his progress. But by degrees the river-bed broadened, the heights receded on either hand, and the stream flowed with a full and tranquil current through a gently undulating country, well cultivated, and studded with populous villages.

In due time he reached Lin-ngan, where, as the first European who had visited it, he became an object of special attraction. An inspection of the town showed him that it was neatly and regularly built, and of rectangular form, measuring about two thousand yards in length, by one thousand in breadth. In the centre were gardens and pagodas decorated with much taste; and a large and fully-stocked market was a scene of very picturesque animation.