Chapter X: Appendix (2)

“Do not be afraid; I will get on your back, and will not leave you: we will fasten our tails together, if you like; and thus united we shall run no risk!” The tiger was persuaded by these words, and they both returned to the elephant. The hare seemed still busy at his work: he had chewed a new piece of betel, and had made another stream, red as blood, on the elephant’s back. “You dare to come back!” cried he, in an angry tone, to the tiger. “You knew I had only just enough here for myself, and yet you want to carry away my prey from me; you deserve to be punished.”

At these words the elephant uttered a piercing cry; the hare made an enormous bound on his back; and the tiger, struck with terror, rushed precipitately away at full speed, saying to the chimpanzee, “Now, you see; you laughed at my fears, and we both narrowly escaped death.” But the chimpanzee did not hear; for in the tiger’s precipitate retreat he had fallen off his back, struck himself against a bamboo, and died, cursing his rashness with his last sigh.

THE HARE AND THE SNAIL.

FABLE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

Formerly, according to the Siamese, hares had thick ears; but a certain day one of these animals, having more legs than memory, met a snail dragging himself painfully along the ground, and in a moment of pride sought to humiliate him. “Why, little one, where are you going at this pace?” said he. “To the beautiful rice-fields of the next village.” “But, my poor fellow, you will be a long time reaching them. Why did not Nature furnish you with legs like mine? Confess you envy me. How long, now, do you think it would take me to get there?”

“Perhaps longer than it would take me, though you pity me so much,” replied the snail, coldly.

“You jest, do you not?”

“No.”

“Well, will you bet about it?”

“Willingly.”

“What will you bet?”

“Whatever you like.”

“Well, then, if you win you shall nibble my ears; for you cannot eat me; and if you lose I will eat you: will that suit you?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then set off; for I will give you a start.”

While the hare began to browse the snail set off at his slow pace, and went to his brother, who was a little way off, and to him he communicated a pass-word, which he in turn told to another, and so on along the whole line which the betters had to travel, so that it quickly reached the end.

Soon the hare, having satisfied his hunger, and feeling strong, set off, and flew over the ground, calling to the snail, whom he believed to be close by. “Ohé!” answered he, from a long way off. “Oh, he is already far on the way,” cried the hare, who set off again like an arrow. In a few minutes he stopped and called again: “Ohé,” answered a voice still farther on. “Really, he goes very quickly,” thought the hare, and he set off again. A quarter of an hour after, he stopped, quite out of breath. “Now,” said he, “I may rest; I must be far in advance; but I will call and see.” “Ohé! snail.” “Ohé!” replied a voice a long way on. “Oh! I must be quick; I shall lose my bet,” murmured the hare. He ran, and ran, and at last stopped, quite exhausted, only a few yards from the fields. “Snail,” cried he, faintly: “what! you are returning from the place? Unfortunate that I am, I have lost my bet;” and he made vain efforts to get up and escape, but, alas! his strength failed him, and the snail pitilessly gnawed his ears.

Since that day the hare always avoids damp places, for fear of meeting one of the creatures who punished him for his pride.

TALE.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CHINESE BY M. HENRI MOUHOT.

CHINESE TALE.

There lived formerly in a small town in China a singular couple, of a description still met with, for the Chinese progress very slowly. The husband was noted for his folly, and the wife for her cunning. “Always remember,” she used constantly to say to her husband when he went out, “that all people with long noses, in the form of an eagle’s beak, and bending downwards, are good-for-nothings, beggars, cheats, and, worse still, bad paymasters, coiners of false money, false-swearers, and will go to hell; while people with small turned-up noses are good, and will go straight to heaven. Therefore, that you may not lose, sell only to these last; for, I repeat to you, the others are bad.”

Every day the husband went out, and passed from street to street, examining the passers-by, but never addressing any but those who had their heads raised to look at something, so that he very seldom sold anything.

One day, when he was observing noses as usual, he saw a man reading a placard which was placed very high. “That man will go straight to heaven,” thought he; “his nose is so much turned up. Will you buy some clothes, good man?” said he. “Clothes! you see I have some.” “But you appear to me the most honest man I ever saw” (“I never saw such a nose,” he added to himself); “and I should like to sell you a whole suit; my wife makes them herself.” “Well, what is the price?” “Of my wife?” “No; of the clothes.” “Two kóóu” (about ten francs). “But why do you come into this retired place to sell your clothes, when there are so many people elsewhere?” “Oh! I went to those places; but all the people had long, bent, and eagle-shaped noses, you see! and I only sell to snub-nosed people.” “I do not understand you; why will you not sell to people with long noses?” “My wife, who is a very clever woman, told me that all people with long, eagle-shaped noses are knaves.” “Really, your wife is very sharp, and I understand you now. Well, my friend, I will buy your clothes; but as I have no money with me, I will pay you to-morrow. You have only to come to my house; I live near here. You will see a hurdle covered with eggs, a flag at the end of a mast, and a little plantation of betel.” “Very well; that will do.”

The merchant went home to his wife, and told her he had sold to a man with a snub nose. “Where is the money?” said she. “I have not got it yet, but I shall be sure to have it to-morrow. I am to go where I see a hurdle covered with eggs, a flag on a mast, and a little betel plantation.” The next day the wife said, “Go for your money.” He went, but could not find the house; and after long searching he came home again. “Have you the money?” said the wife. “No, I could not find the house.” “Well, I will go myself to look for it. If I am not back in an hour, you will know that I am drowned.” After an hour, as his wife did not return, the man took the sieve with which he usually sifted his rice, and set off to the river, which he began to try to empty with it. A passer-by asked him what he was doing. “I am emptying the river,” replied he; “for my wife is drowned, and she had on her best yellow bonnet.” “Nonsense!” said the other; “I just met her walking with a man who had a snub nose.”

THE DAMIER, OR CAPE PIGEON.

_Procellaria Capensis._

THE CAPE PIGEON.

During a long voyage, when for months you have seen nothing but water and sky, the smallest novelty which appears and promises variety for the eye and the mind, though only for a few minutes, is joyfully welcome. Sometimes it may be a stormy petrel, flying like a swallow, skimming through the air in a hundred different directions, and seeming to play in that element; sometimes a ring-tail, which, with its piercing cry like that of a hawk, appears a messenger from the sun to bid the bold navigator welcome to the tropics, hovers for a few minutes over the ship, and then flies off with a jerk and disappears.

Sometimes are to be seen numerous blowers, who pass and repass the ship with bounds; or perhaps a whale, which almost stupefies you with the noise he makes as he displaces the water in rising to the surface to breathe: at another time it is some hungry shark, who, following in the wake of the ship, lets himself be caught by the bait thrown out to him, and which, when hoisted with great difficulty on deck, lashes it with his tail and looks formidable even after death; and this is a good take for the sailors, who divide the spoil and feast on it.

But of all the creatures dear and familiar to sailors, none rejoices him more than the faithful companion who, more than 3000 miles before he doubles the Cape of Good Hope or Cape Horn, appears to his sight, swims in the water, grazes a thousand times the hull or the rigging, pleases his eye by its parti-coloured plumage, and announces to him calm and tempest.

This bird, called by the French “_Damier_,” by the English the _Cape Pigeon_, and “_Peintada_” by the Portuguese, is the Cape Petrel, or _Procellaria capensis_ of naturalists.

Gifted with great powers of flight, though less than other petrels, from morn till night, and often even a part of the latter when the moon is full, it is seen in the wake or alongside of the ship, describing in its flight, in which scarcely any movement is apparent, a thousand evolutions, sometimes touching the great waves which seem ready to overwhelm it, the moment after reappearing far above them, always wheeling about and careless of the storm.

The sight of this flight and of all these evolutions is most pleasing, and one involuntarily thinks of a graceful skater flying over the ice at his utmost speed, and seeking to attract admiration.

The whole life of this bird is perpetual movement, a constant chase after a scarce and insignificant prey. Unlike the swallow, who has his hours of pleasure and of amorous warbling, and nights of sleep in his warm nest, the Cape pigeon, pressed by hunger and by his ravenous appetite, only rests for a few minutes at a time at rare intervals during the day, in order to recruit his strength, and at night, rocked by the stormy wave, must find but little sleep.

Neither does the Cape pigeon know the delight of a peaceful retreat in a favourite spot sheltered by thick foliage or long reeds; and while most birds confine themselves to a limited district, where they are almost certain to be found at the same season, and to which they invariably return at the disappearance of the frosts which have chased them away for a time, this one, a sailor by nature, has for its domain an immense empire, namely the greatest part of the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian oceans, and has to brave night and day, at one time an icy wind, and at another the rays of a burning sun.

But in a state of liberty nothing living is often unhappy, and the foreseeing Providence, who knows how to satisfy the wants of his creatures, also knows how to create joys for them, where we see nothing but trouble and misery. In like manner the industrious workman and the hardy traveller experience, perhaps, of all men the most lively joys; to them repose would be the greatest suffering.

Although inseparable companions of the sailor, it is not certainly for the pleasure of his society, nor for that afforded by the sight of the ship, that the petrels follow it, but for the certainty of finding in the scraps thrown overboard, as well as in the number of shells in the wake of the ship, food more abundant than he would discover elsewhere in the water. Nothing can equal their voracity but the quickness and vivacity with which they catch sight of the smallest prey and seize it even amidst a stormy sea. From a great distance, and long before the albatross, and the other descriptions of petrels which are often to be seen with the Cape pigeons, have remarked it, they see and pounce on it, and have generally swallowed it before the jealous rivals who follow them have been able to overtake them. The sense of smell does not here come in aid of that of sight, for they often pounce on a piece of wood or something of that description which falls from a vessel, and only abandon it when convinced by the touch that it is not fit for food. Their greediness is such that they will often let themselves be taken in dozens with hooks; no sooner are they on deck than they disgorge a thick liquid the colour of linseed oil.

When these birds rest on the sea and let themselves be tossed about by the waves, their appearance, dimensions, form, and colour of plumage strongly resemble our domestic pigeons, and hence the English seamen, struck with the similarity, have given them the name of Cape pigeons. Their size varies; the largest measuring more than 18 inches English from the beak to the tip of the tail, and rather more than a foot in circumference.

They are generally seen in great numbers only in stormy weather and in rather high latitudes. In the winter season--that is, during our June, July, and August--they follow the ships constantly between 23° S. lat. and 31° and 103° E. long.

Is it not a wonderful thing and worthy of admiration that the instinct with which this bold little navigator is endowed guides him safely through this vast space, where there is nothing to serve him as a landmark, enables him to rejoin his comrades if accidentally separated from them, and teaches him every year when the warm season returns to recognise and find the island or the solitary rock where he was born, and where in his turn he will bring up his young ones; while man, with his maps, his books, his nautical instruments, and in spite of all his long experience, has such difficulty in finding his way across the ocean? And yet we think that our intelligence raises us above the animals. This is what confounds and overwhelms the scholar when he seeks to fathom the great mysteries of creation.

THE ALBATROSS.

THE ALBATROSS

A wise and bountiful Providence has taken care to people the most distant and desert parts of the globe, whether covered with eternal snow or impenetrable forests. In the waters of the ocean are, as well as in our fields and woods, creatures which rejoice the eyes of man and provide for his wants. Of all these creatures none are more charming and pleasing than the birds; endowed either with melodious voices or brilliant plumage, or with some other charm or quality, such as vivacity, quickness and grace of movement, and power of flight; all have attractions for us; and even in our museums, in spite of their faded plumage and often altered forms, they are still objects of admiration, not only to the learned naturalist, but to men who care little for other beautiful sights.

But if leaving the cabinet we visit Nature herself, penetrate into the heart of the forests, climb the rocks, or visit the shores and the ocean, then our admiration grows stronger and more deep.

Of all birds there is none which exercises a greater influence over the mind of man, or causes greater astonishment, than the albatross, so celebrated by voyagers from the earliest times. The albatross! The word recalls to the navigator a thousand souvenirs; as the name of some bloody battle in which he has taken part, or of some general who has led him to victory, awakens those of the soldier. It recalls to the memory of the sailor the principal incidents of an existence passed between calm and tempest; he feels himself transported in thought to the time when the first albatross was signalled, and passengers and sailors turned their gaze eagerly towards the spot where, like a proud man of war, cradled by the rolling waves, advanced the powerful sailer against whom the storm rages in vain, and who, far from avoiding, seems to court it.

To this first souvenir succeed many others; there is the dead calm, which in the tropics has often detained his vessel inactive for weeks, as though chained under the burning sky, where the eye seeks in vain for a cloud, and the only sound that meets the ear is the heavy flapping of the sails against the masts as the ship rocks; a calm often more to be feared and more dangerous than the most terrible tempest, for it renders the crew inactive, impatient, and bad-tempered. But the first sight of the albatross indicates a coming change and wind to be expected. There is also the memory of painful and too sudden transitions from equatorial heat to the cold of high latitudes; that also of hours of dreadful anxiety when the storm broke out in all its violence, of the contest between winds and waves, and of the albatross hovering over the latter, as though chosen an umpire between these two formidable antagonists. The albatross inhabits the southern hemisphere of the Atlantic Ocean from the 25° or 26° of latitude, also both Pacifics, but is rarely seen farther north, and has never been known beyond the tropics; it is in the seas which bathe the three southern capes that they are seen in the greatest numbers.

It often happens, however, when the winter is mild and the weather fine, that very few are seen until you reach the 40°. They lay their eggs on some deserted southern shore; the female lays only one, and feeds her little one for nine months without leaving it, so much need has it of its mother’s help.

There is much difficulty in the classification of the palmipeds, which exhibit a great number of varieties.

The beak of the albatross is long and very strong; the upper jaw furrowed at the side and much curved; the lower one sharp, smooth, and truncated at the end; the nostrils, formed by two tubes opening outwards, are lateral and placed in a groove. The tarsi are short, but very thick, and ending in three front toes much palmated; the wings are long and narrow.

There are probably four distinct species of albatrosses.

1st. The wandering albatross, _Diomedea exulans_, which measures ten feet with the wings spread; it has a white head, the wings and belly being spotted with white, grey, and chestnut brown; the beak is the colour of horn. This species varies much in size, and still more in colour and plumage, which is more or less mixed with grey or brown, and sometimes even entirely white; this depends doubtless on the season, the sex, and the age.

2nd. The epauletted albatross, _Diomedea epomophera_, which is smaller than the common albatross. His head, neck, body, back, and rump are snowy white, while the feathers of his wings are perfectly black, with the exception of a large white lozenge-shaped spot on each; the beak is yellowish. Some naturalists believe these to be only the young of the ordinary kind.

3rd. The yellow-beaked albatross, _Diomedea chlororhyncos_. This species I have myself taken with a hook; his head, belly, and neck are brilliantly white, his back and the plumage of the wings a deep brown grey, the beak yellow, and the feet bluish grey; the rump is white, and as well as the underpart of the tail is bordered by a wide black line.

4th. The sooty albatross, _Diomedea spadicea_ of Forster, which is the size of the common albatross, and of a uniform deep chestnut-colour.

CAMBODIAN VOCABULARY.

A.

Abandon (to) Lẽng, chol.
Abhor (to) Sââp.
Approach (to) Dâl.
Abstinence }
Abstain (to) }Tam.
Accept (to) Iotuol.
Accompany (to) Iam.
Accomplish (to) Ihúruéch hoì.
Accustom oneself (to) Ihlap.
Accuse (to) Shõdéng.
Acid Ehu.
Admire (to) Ehhugã̆l.
Adore (to) Ihoui bãngeom.
Adultery Bap phit propon Ki.
Afflict (to) Lruey chot chaw chot.
Age Acõ̆schhnam.
Announce (to) Srăp, pram.
Appease (to) On.
Appetite Comléan Klileán.
After Ẽcroí.
Arid Sngnot, comynot.
Arm Crùóng predăp.
Army Iăp.
Arrive (to) Dâl.
Assembly Chumnam.
Assemble (to) Chumnam Kenéa.
Audacity }
Audacious }Ihean.
August Mahu.
Also Dẽl.
Altar Balang, as-prĕn.
Agile Chuery.
Air Acos.
Add (to) Thêm.
Aloes Jadam.
Alum Saĕpchu.
Amuse oneself (to) Ling.
Ancient Chus.
Ass Satliá.
Angel Firĕuda.
Angle Chrung.
Animal Săt.
Avarice Comnaut.
Advocate Sma Kedey.
Abortive (to be) Relutcõn.
Arm Phlu.
Aim Vong.
Ashes Phe.
Ask (to) Som.
Above Lù ê lù.
And Non.
Awake (to) Dăs.
Arrow Prúeup.
Agreeable Totuol.
Appearance Cŏmnăp.
According to Tam.
Always Ruéy (iún ruey reáp darăpton muc).
Anger Conhong.
Amongst Erang.
Across Totùng.
Already Hoi.

B.

Bitter Loving.
Before Mum.
Bathe (to) Ngut tin.
Breath Dâng hina.
Bold Tahéan.
Broom Bombãs.
Bamboo Resey.
Banana Chá.
Banquet Car si.
Beard Puk mŏt.
Boat Iui.
Build (to) Sâhy, thú phtĕn.
Beat (to) Véag.
Beautiful Sââ.
Benediction Prăe pór.
Beast Sat.
Blue Khín.
Beef Cũ.
Bushel Ihang-Iao.
Box Hêp.
Bottle Săr phdŏe.
Button Leu.
Branch Mie.
Brick Ot.
Break (to) Rei.
Burn (to) Dot.
Buffalo Crebey.
Black Khnaun.
Bone Cheóng.
Bread Nam.
Basket Conchir.
Blade Lompeng.
Book Sombot.
Bed Domnéc.
But Pê.
Bad Bap, chomngú.
Breast Dâ̆.
Beg (to) Som teau.
Better Cheang, lus.
Bite (to) Kham.
Be born (to) Cót.
Bee Khmum.
Bark (to) Sru.
Buy (to) Iink.
Business Domnor.
Bow Ehme.
Batatas Eomlong.
Bridge Spreau.
Behind Croi, ê croi.
Back Hhnang.
Be (to) Non-mêan, Chèn.
Big Phom.
Broil (to) Hang.
Bird Sat liar.
Blood Chheàm.
Blow (to) Phlõm.
Betray (to) Kebâ̆t.
Bark Sombok.
Brother (elder) Bâng.
Brother (younger) Phŏôn.

C.

Come (to) Moc Dâ̆l.
Cottage Catôm.
Corpse Khmoch.
Cage Irung.
Case Hêp.
Calk (to) Bàt.
Calm oneself (to) On.
Cambodia Sroch Khmêr.
Cambodian Khmêr.
Country Neal.
Canal Preê.
Comb Suét.
Cask Thâng.
Cardamom Crevanh.
Cause Het dòm.
Cold (a) Câã̆c.
Cup Chan.
Conduce (to) Tôm.
Cloth Souipăt.
Cough Câã̆c.
Commotion Revàl.
Cut (to) Cat.
Conquer (to) Chhnĕa.
Conquered Chănh.
Clothing Ao.
Carriage Retê̆.
Centipede Kaêp.
Circle Vong.
Coffin Mochhus.
Chain Chervăi.
Choir Sach.
Change (to) Prê.
Coal Khîung.
Chastity Sel.
Cat Chhma.
Chief Mechàs, héay.
Chinese Swẽ chèn.
Cholera Rŏmbâl.
Clear Thla.
Clock Condong.
Cocoa-nut Dong.
Combat (to) Chebang.
Commencement Dòm.
Count (to) Răp.
Consent (to) Prom.
Console (to) Tŭo Săo.
Clay Deyót.
Crowd Fông, cânbân.
Crow Khoêi.
Cord Khse.
Coast Khaeng.
Cotton Crebas.
Colour Sombar.
Cut Cap, cat.
Crown Mocõ̆t.
Call (to) Han.
Clean Saat.
Cry (to) Tô̆ui.
Carry (to) Chun, Rĕc sêng.
Clean (to) Nos leáng.
Cloud Sapô̆c.
Chew (to) Bièm.
Cold Rengia.
Cricket Chungret.
Clock Novea.
Custom Chebăp, Tomlăp.
Create (to) Bângeat.
Cry Sâmléng.
Cry (to) Srêc.
Cook (to) Dam.
Copper Spó̆n.
Cymbal Lông, Khmõ̆.
Crab Pomgeong.
Church (temple) Preă-Vihear.
Carry away (to) Roc ton.
Coat (to) Leap.
Child Coming.

D.

Descend (to) Chô.
Desire (to) Sângvat, Châng.
Destroy (to) Pombat.
Debt Bomnàl.
Diviner Achar.
Daybreak Prealum, Preahean.
Delicate Ton.
Different Titey.
Difficult Cra.
Disciple Cŏn Só̆s.
Dearth Âmnât.
Dispute (to) Chhlô̆ prokêe.
Doubt Moutûl.
Dysentery Chomngú mual.
Do (to) Thu.
Dung Ach.
Dress (to) Prăeae.
Damp Som.
Drunk Sreving.
Day Thugay.
Deliver (to) Preeol.
Doctor Cruthnam, pet.
Despise (to) Măcngeáy.
Deride (to) Sôch, châm-ôn.
Die (to) Slăp.
Dwarf Tua.
During Compung.
Dust Ehuli.
Dare (to) Héan.
Dote (to) Trũl.
Dove Rùs.
Dig (to) Hal.
Drum Seôr.
Delay (to) Ângvéng.
Dye (to) Cherlâ̆c.
Darkness Tângcap.
Draw (to) Téanh.
Deceive (to) Bŏn chhăt.
Dear Thlay.
Dew Ânsóm.
Deaf Câ.
Dream Sâp.
Dog Chkê.
Door Shóĕ.
Drink (to) Elinear.
Duck Iea.
Dream (to) Zâ̆l Sãp.

E.

Exchange (to) Dôr.
Efface (to) Lap.
Equal Smó.
Elephant Tamrey.
Endure (to) Â̆t, ôn.
Engage (to) Pobuol.
Enemy Satron-Khmang.
Enter (to) Chôl.
Envy (to) }
Envy }Chernêu.
Example Kébuon.
Exhort (to) Boutun méan.
End Chông.
Evening Lŏngéach.
Easy Ngeáy.
End Long-âs.
Eye Phnée.
Egg Pong-sut.
Ear Erechiéc.
Equal Mytrey.
Eat (to) Si, pisa, chhăn, soi.
Even Smó, dock.
Everywhere Sâ̆p ăulú.
Eagle Antri.
Earth Dey, Preă thorni.

F.

Face Mŭc.
Feeble Comsoi.
Family Crua.
Famine Âmnâ̆t.
Fatigue Nuèy.
Fault Tus.
Female Nhi.
Ferocious Sahan.
Fire Phlâng.
Fever Cran.
Figure Muc.
Flower Phŏm.
Faith Chommia.
Forest Prey.
Fresh Rehoi.
Front Thngos.
Fruit Phle.
Float (to) Ândẽt.
Freeze (to) Câc.
Fat Thop.
Frog Ong Kêp.
Food Ahur Sâbiẽng.
Friend Keló.
Formerly Pidom.
Firewood Os.
Finger Day.
Fast Buos.
Fast (to) Si buos.
Free Neaĕ Cheá.
Far Chhngai.
Falsehood Câhâc.
Frightful Noiai.
Forget (to) Chŭs bât côrna.
Fly Rug.
Fishing Bap.
Fish (to) Stuch trey, Dóc non.
Father A puc.
Few Eech.
Fear Khlach.
Full Peuh.
Feather Slap, mems.
Foot Chung.
Fish Eyey.
Fowl Món.
Fill (to) Bampenh.
Fool Lengong.
Follow (to) Tam, dòr tam.
Firebrand Rengûc.
Fall (to) Duol-thleăc.
Find (to) Roi ban.
Face Mac.
Flesh Sach.
Field Prê.
Figuratively Chó̆t.
Fear (to) Khlàch.
Fly (to) Luèch.
Fly (to) (like a bird) Hòr.

G.

Gold Meas.
Gunpowder Démsón.
Go (to) Tou.
Greedy Luphu.
Good Lââ, chiá, písa.
Grind (to) Boh.
Girdle Crevat.
Garlic Ketym Sá.
Grasshopper Chungret.
Go out (to) Chenh.
Green Khién, baí tong.
Glass (a) Péng Kên, Kên.
Go to bed (to) Dec.
Grow (to) Sbec.
God Prĕa.
Give (to) Oi, chun.
Grief Chhu.
Girl Consrey.
Gun Comphlûng.
Gain (to) Ban chonménch.
Guard (to) Reăesa.
Glove Teăc.
Generous Chôt tuléay.
Ginger Khnhey.
Glutton Luphu.
Gum Chor.
Govern (to) Tac tîng.
Governor Chanfai sroc̆.
Grave Ânisãng.
Grain Crò̆p.
Great Thôm Kepô̆s.
Graft Crechâc.
Guide (to) Nóm.
Grass Smau.
Garden Chomca, chebar.
Gladness Ngeay.

H.

Hunger Comléan.
Hungry (to be) Khléan.
Helm Changcôt.
Hail Prŭl.
Habit Tomlá̆p.
Hatchet Puthae.
Hate (to) Sâ̆âp.
Haricot Sondêe.
Harmonious Pirô̆.
High Kepô̆s.
Hour Mong, Teune.
Hideous Acrâ̆c, asron.
Honour (to) Ró̆p an.
Horror (to have an) of Kepum.
Half Chomhieng conmat, pheac condat.
Hard Rùng.
Hell Morok.
Hear (to) Lú.
House Phtêa.
Husband Phodey.
Honey Tác khmum.
Host Phnhién.
Humble Suphéap réap téap.
Here Nê̆ ênê̆.
Heavy Thngô̆n.
Hundredweight Hap.
Holy Arahán.
His Rônthuc.
Hold (to) Can.
Hole Prŏhong.
Heat Cadau.
Horse Sê.
Hair Sôc.
Heart Bêdông.
How much Ponman.
How Doehmedéch?
Horn Sneng.
Hang (to) Phiuor.
Hair (of animals) Merues.
Heap (to) Bomol.
Have (to) Mean.
Happiness Boran-Lays.
Hide (to) Puvu.
He Veá Cá̂̆t.
Heaven Mie.
Him Châng.

I.

Ignorant Khlan.
Island Câ̆.
Image Comnur.
Imbecile Chicuat.
India Pon, suey.
Impost Srŏc Keling créas.
Indicate (to) Bânghanh.
Inundate (to) Lich.
Inscribe (to) Cat.
Insipid Sap.
Instant Mŏ pŏnlú.
Instruct (to) Predan, Pourieu.
Insult (to) Promat pikhèat.
Intelligence Praehuha.
Intention Chò̂t.
Interdict (to) Khò̆t.
Interest (of money) Lar prăe.
Interpret (to) Prêpasa.
Interrogate (to) Suor, donding.
Introduce (to) Boŭchôlnòm.
Invite (to) Anchùnh.
Ill Chhu.
Illness Chumgŭ.
If Bó.
In order that Oi.
Idle Khchìl.
Idleness Comchil.
In Kenong.
Incense Comnhau.
Is Còt.
Inhabit (to) Non, công.

J.

Join (to) Phehăp.
Joy Âmnâr.
Joyous Ar, sabai, sremŏc sŏc sabai.
Judge Chmrom.
Judge (to) Cat săch Kedey.
Just Tiéng Trâng.
Jump (to) Sut.

K.

Kiss (to) Thŏp, ap.
King Luong, sdăch.
Know (to) Déng, chê.
Kill (to) Sâmlûp.
Knife Combit.
Kneel (to) Lut cháng cong.
Knee Cháng cong.

L.

Labour Phehuor.
Lake Touli Sap.
Leave (to) Lêng, chol.
Layman Crehŏs.
Lamp Chiêng Kién.
Language Pasa.
Language Ândut.
Language (of a country) Pasa.
Large Tuléay.
Lick (to) Lit.
Light Sral.
Leper Chomugu, Khlong.
Leprous Comlong, Khlong.
Letter Âcâr, sombăt.
Leaven Tambê.
Lip Pepir.
Liberty Lâmpey.
Line Poutŏt.
Line (fishing) Sontŭch.
Limpid Thla.
Lion Sóng.
Law Crót, viney.
Long Véng.
Let (to) Chuol.
Lean Siom.
Lead (to) Dóc, nóm.
Lie (to) Câ̆hâ̆c cŏmphŭs.
Leaf Sló̆r.
Left Chhnéng.
Lose (to) Bâng, bât.
Little Eoch.
Ladder Chóndór.
Light (to) Och.
Lead Somnar.
Low Iéap.
Like Suró.
Lend (to) Khchey.
Lawsuit Kedey.
Lower (to) Lontéep.
Learn (to) Lù, rién.
Look at (to) Múl.
Laugh (to) Soch.
Learned Méac, prach.
Lord Âmmechûs, mechăs.
Like Smó, doch.
Love (to) Srelant.
Life Aios.
Live (to) Rô̆s.

M.

Malay Churéa.
Male Chnmul.
Malediction. Bŏndasa.
Misfortune Ândarai, piér, lombac.
Mandarin Maman.
Mango Soai.
Manner Iĕang.
Marsh Bóng, trepang.
Marry (to) Souipĕa apea pipéa.
Mark Sâmcól.
Morning Prû̆c.
Medicine Thnamsangcon.
Meditate (to) Niŭ, rompúng chon chieng.
Mingle (to) Leay.
Member Thnac thang.
Mercury Bârât.
Mother Medai, mê.
Merit Bŏn.
Marvellous Chôm lû.
Measure (to) Vàl.
Midnight Atréat.
Mirror Conchâe.
Model Kebuon.
Month Khe.
Monastery Vât.
Mountain Phnom.
Mount (to) Lòng.
Musquito Mus.
Mutton Chiêm.
Murmur Khsâp, Khsién.
Music Phlêng.
Mat Còntil.
Mad Chimat.
Man Menus.
Milk Tiù dâ̆.
Moon Khê (prĕa-Chăn).
Miser Comnaut.
Much Chrón.
Mouth Môt.
Mud Phoc.
Mills Bôs, tomboa.
Money Srae.
More Lus, Cheang.
Meat Săch.

N.

Net Uon.
Narrow Chang-ièt.
Nail Dêc ail.
Neck Kho.
Now Êlounê̆.
Noon Hmgay trâng.
Not Com.
Nine Thmey.
Nose Chermo.
Nest Somboi.
Name Ehhnaô, neàm.
No Ei.
Nourish Anchein.
New Crá̆p.
Naked Srat.
Night Yap.
Nail Creehâi.
Near Chut.
Needle Mòchul.
Native Priest Meăc, nìng prĕa sâng.

O.

Obey (to) Sdăp, doi Toudap.
Observe (to) Mal.
Obtain (to) Ban.
Offend (to) Ehú tuc̆.
Offer (to) Chun.
Onion Ketym.
Ounce Eomlong.
Opposite Eo-tung.
Orange Croch.
Order (to) Bângcáp.
Open (to) Bòc.
One Muey.
Old man }
Old }Chăs.
Other Sitey-tiĕt, e tiét.
Oil Preńg.
Oar Cheo.
Often Chrondâng, chron créa.
Owl Eitui.
Of Si âmpi.
Overflow Compô̆i.
Oath Sâmbât.

P.

Pride Comnoi.
Pagoda G. vihéar.
Pair Cû.
Palace Vang, Preă-montir.
Palm-tree Dóm tenot.
Peacock Canghoc.
Paper Credas.
Paradise Sthan suor, phimean.
Pardon (to) Ât tus.
Priest Sâng Kreach.
Porringer Chan.
Perceive (to) Khūuh.
Pray (to) Phéavĕanea, sot thor.
Prayer Ehór pheavinia.
Prison Erung.
Price Tomlay.
Profit Chomniuh.
Profound Chron.
Promise (to) Sãmŏt.
Prompt Ranăs.
Prostrate oneself (to) Crap.
Punish (to) Toctus.
Partake (to) Chec.
Pass (to) Huvs.
Poor Pibac.
Pay (to) Sâng.
Paint (to) Cuor.
Pelican Eung.
Pierce (to) Ehlu, thleay.
People Reas.
Perhaps Proman.
Pound (to) Bô̆c.
Pipe Khsier.
Prickly Hór, măt.
Place Dăc, tuò.
Pity (to) Anót, anot.
Please (to) Săp.
Pleasure Âmnâr sôc sabai.
Plank Cadar.
Plant (to) Dam.
Poison Ehnam pal.
Pepper Mŏreih.
Polished Reling.
Pork Chrue.
Pursue (to) Ehuli.
Pomegranate Tetum.
Pupil Crôm Sôs.
Pincers Eăngeap.
Power Amnach.
Preach (to) Eisna.
Prepare (to) Riép.
Plane (to) Chhus.
Perspiration Rhú̂s.
Perspire (to) Bêe nhús.
Perforated Thlu, dăch.
Preserve (to) Eue reaisa.
Pine-apple Monós.
Perceive (to) Klrúuh.
Print (to) Bâ̆ pum.
Play (to) Líng.
Place Tach.
Pound (weight) Neal.
Put (to) Dăc, tuo.
Piece Comnap.

Q.

Queen Khsatrey.
Question (to) Dondeng.
Quit (to) Léng, léa.
Quick Chhăp.

R.

Reason Sack Kedey.
Row (to) Cheo.
Rank Chuor.
Raze (to) Côr.
Rat Condor.
Ray Reăcsemey.
Recently Âmbauh.
Receive (to) Totuol.
Recompense Rongvoú.
Rent Viéch.
Rule (to) Soi réach.
Regret (to) Sdai.
Religion Sassena.
Repent (to) Chhu chá̆t.
Reply (to) Chhlói.
Respect (to) Cat Khlach.
Remain (to) Non.
Restore (to) San̂g viuh.
Rouse (to) Dàs.
Revolt (to) Kebâ̆t.
Rich Cââ̆c.
Riches Sombat tròp.
River Prêe, stùng.
Rice Iron. Ângeâ. Bai.
Roast Thang.
Red Crehâm.
Route Thlon.
Roof Tambâl.
Rain Phliéng.
Run Rã̆t.
Rain (to) Phliéng.
Rotten Laoy.
River Touli.
Ripe Eam.
Read Sot.
Rainbow Anthua.
Ring Anchién.
Relation Bang phoon, sach uheat.

S.

Spit (to) Sdâ Pruvs.
Strengthen (to) Chuol.
Spider Ling peáng.
Sit down (to) Ângmi.
Sharp Sruéch.
Sharpen (to) Sâmbiéng.
Smell Eum Keloń.
Shadow Molâp.
Storm Phiu.
Straw Chambońg.
Speak (to) Sredey--Nieáy.
Sweep (to) Bas.
Stick Iâmbâng.
Shine (to) Phlú.
Seal Ira.
Slander (to) Chombon.
Soul Prea lúng.
Smelling Amnach, p. bâzmey.
Set out (to) Eau.
Stone Ehmâ.
Sweet Saân.
Straight Eran̂g.
Squirrel Comprŏc.
Still Etiér.
Swell (to) Hŏm.
Send (to) Pró, phnô.
Shoulder Sma.
Sword Sâmsér.
Stuff Sompat.
Star Pheai.
Study (to) Rień.
Split (to) Su.
Son Cou Pros.
Strong Khlang.
Strike (to) Meay.
Son-in-law Côu prusa.
Swallow Trechiéc cam.
Shame Khmas.
Swear (to) Sebât.
Shine (to) Phlu.
Slander (to) Sredey dám.
Sea Sremăt.
Sparrow Chap.
Show (to) Bânghanh.
Soft Som.
Swim (to) Hêl.
Snow Ap.
Sing (to) Chrieng.
Seek (to) Roc.
Scissors Contray.
Sew (to) Dér.
Short Keley.
See (to) Sâmléng.
Shore Mót compong.
Stream Stûng.
Sand Khsach.
Sabre Dan.
Sacrifice Buchéa.
Seize (to) Toc, chap.
Season Câughê.
Salary Chhnuol.
Sob (to) Tuéuh.
Satiety Châet.
Sauce Sômlâ.
Savoury Pisa.
Seal Era.
Seal (to) Prelâc âmbêl.
Saw Anar.
Saw (to) Ar.
Scribe Smién.
Sculptor Chhleăc.
Shake (to) Ângruom.
Succour (to) Chuey.
Secretary Smień.
Sow (to) Prô, sap.
Serpent Pôs.
Sieve Chuey.
Sex Ângiochéat.
Silent Sngiém.
Silk Pré.
Soldier Pôl, tahéan.
Sun Ehngay.
Sound (to) Phsâm.
Sulphur Eeá.
Suffer (to) Spoń thor.
Soil (to) Chhú, ât.
Suspicion Montúl.
Statue Rup.
Stimulate Âutóng.
Succession Mârdâ̆c.
Sugar Seâr.
Suffice (to) Lemon.
Supplicate (to) Ângvâr.
Support (to) Â̆t.
Suspend (to) Phiuor.
Stoop (to) Pontēep Khluon Êng.
Soon Chhăp.
Silent (to be) Non sugiém.
Steep (to) Trom.
Sell (to) Lô̆c.
Stomach Khial.
Smooth (to) Smó, reling.
Say Sredey.
Small pox Ot.
Shed (to) Chăk.
Saucepan Chhang, keteă.

T.

Take (to) Yoi.
Tail Cŏntui.
Think (to) Niŭ, rompûng chŏuchúng.
Thus Hêt nê.
Then Eŭp.
To-day Ehngay nê̆.
Thin Siom.
Trade Ehneúh prô.
Thunder Routèa.
Taste (to) Shlõ̆c.
Tear (to) Reliĕr.
To-morrow Sõă.
Tooth Ehmeúh.
Teach (to) Predan.
Together Kenéa.
Thick Crăs.
Thorn Soŭla.
Tin Somnăr Pahang.
Trust (to) Dêc.
Take care (to) Réacsa.
Tipsy Chăêt, srevońg.
Tobacco Ehnăm chõ̆c.
Table Tang.
Try Prońg.
Tax Põ̆n, suey.
Testimony Bŏntál.
Tempest Phin.
Temple Preă viheár.
Time Cal, pileá, vileá.
Thibet Preă, sumér.
Tiger Khla.
Thee Êng, preă, sedêng.
Thunder Phiôr, roŭteă.
Torch Chôulô.
Torrent Stung.
Tortoise Ândoc.
Touch (to) Pó̆l.
Tower Preă-sat.
Turn (to) Vil.
Translate (to) Prê.
Traffic Chomnuénh.
Transcribe (to) Châmlâng.
Tremble (to) Nhór.
Trumpet Erê.
Throne Cõ̆l.
Too much Pic.
Troop Fông, cân-bân.
Tile Kebúońg.
Turbulent Repus.
Town Pŏnteéy.
True Prã̆cã̆t; Arã̆ng.
Thing Rebâs.
Travel (to) Dór.
Toad King cok.
Twin Cŏn Phlô.
There Ênŏ, nŏ.
Tear Eŭć Phneé.

U.

Undergo (to) Mãrdã̆c.
Uproar Vôr.
Ulcer Bõ̆s.
Universe Lu key.
Unite (to) Phsã̆m.
Urine Tuc uõ̆um.
Usage Tomlóp.
Use (to) Pro.
Useful }
Utility }Preioch.
Understand (to) Yŏl.
Useless Ât preíoch.
Upright Chhor.
Untie (to) Srai.
Under Crom, ê crom.
Ungrateful Smŏr.
Ugly Airâc.

V.

Very Năs.
Vague Relõ̆c.
Vessel Sâmpon, capol.
Vaunt (to) Uot.
Vase Chan.
Vein Sesay.
Venom Pŭs.
Virtue Cousâl, bŏn.
Victory Chhneă.
Virgin Prommâ̆châ̆rey.
Village Phum.
Violent Khlang.
Violet Sâmbôr soag.
Violin Chăpey.
Visit (to) Suor.
Vow Bâmmâ̆n.
Vow (to) Bân bâmmâ̆n.
Veil Sounoiéa.
Veil (to) Bang.
Voice Sâmleńg.
Vomit (to) Cunot.
Voracious Lupha.
Vice Bap, tus.
Vegetable Poule pongea.

W.

When Calna.
Who Nana.
What Oy? Sat ay?
Wake (to) Phuheăc.
Wisdom Samphi.
Winding Chhăp.
Work Car.
Work (to) Thú car.
Watch (to) Retrit tetrut.
Wind Khiâl.
Worm Chŏulin dûngeon.
Well (a) Andońg.
Word Peac.
Why Debâtay.
We Túng.
Work Chĕang.
Water (to) Sroch.
Wait (to) Ohâm.
Wash (to) Pongeon.
Water-closet Leáng.
When Căl, calêna, compung.
Wicked Bap, Chomugú.
Walk (to) Dór.
World Long.
Word Peác.
Wall Comphin̂g.
Water Tŭć.
Write (to) Sâ̆cer.
Wife Propôn.
Wake (to) Dăs.
Wave Touli.
Wager Phnŏl.
War Só̆c.
Wine Sra.
Wish (to) Châng.
Warm Cadan.
Warm (to) Prap.
White Sâ.
Wound Rebuos.
Wood Srey.
Where Êna.
Woman Srey.
Widower Pomaí.

Y.

Yes Chŭs, bât, côrna.
Year Chhnam.
Yellow Lúóng.
Young Coming.
Yesterday Mŏsãl.

Z.

Zeal Chhú chaăl.
Zinc Sămnăr pang Krey.

NAMES OF THE NUMBERS.

1 Muey.
2 Pir.
3 Bey.
4 Buon.
5 Prăm.
6 Prămmuey.
7 Prämpil.
8 Prămbey.
9 Prambuon.
10 Dâ̆p.
11 Mõtó̆n Dâ̆p.
12 Pirtó̆n dâ̆p.
13 Beytó̆n dâ̆p.
14 Buontó̆n dá̆p.
15 Prămtó̆n dá̆p.
16 Prămmueytó̆n dá̆p.
17 Prămpiltó̆n dá̆p.
18 Prămbeytó̆n dâ̆p.
19 Prămbuontó̆n dâ̆p.
20 Mŏphey, or Bien Phey.
21 Mŏphey muey, or Phey muey.
22 Mŏphey pir, or Phey pir.
23 Mŏphey bey, or Phey bey. &c.
30 Sumsá̆p.
40 Sêsó̆p.
50 Hosá̆p.
60 Hocsá̆p.
70 Chêtsá̆p.
80 Pêtsó̆p.
90 Cansá̆p.
100 Mŏ roi.
200 Pir roi.
300 Bey roi.
400 Buon roi.
500 Prăm roi.
600 Prămmuey roi. &c.
1,000 Mŏ pŏn.
2,000 Pir pó̆n. &c.
10,000 Mŏ mŭn.
100,000 Mŏ sên.
1,000,000 Mŏ cõt.
10,000,000 Mŏ béan.
100,000,000 Mŏ a Kho.
1,000,000,000 Mŏ puni.

CARDINAL POINTS.

North Ê chûng, Tùs udãr.
South Ê thbong, Tus ê bor.
East Ê cát, Tus ê cát.
West Ê lich, Tus ê chém.

SEASONS.

Rainy Season Cânghê or redon phliéng.
Hot or Dry Season Cânghê or redon cadan.
Winter Cânghê or redon rengèa.

THE DAYS OF THE WEEK.

Sunday Atú̆t.
Monday Chan.
Tuesday Âng Kéar.
Wednesday Pût.
Thursday Prĕa-hó̆s.
Friday Sŏc.
Saturday San.

THE NAMES OF THE MONTHS.

1. March Chêt.
2. April Pisac.
3. May Chis.
4. June Asat.
5. July Srap.
6. August Phetrebot.
7. September Asôch.
8. October Cârdó̆c.
9. November Méac Khsér.
10. December Bõ̆s.
11. January Méac thõ̆m.
12. February Phâ̆l cun.

CYCLE OF TWELVE YEARS.

1. Pig Côr.
2. Rat Chût.
3. Ox Chhlom.
4. Tiger Khal.
5. Hare Thâ.
6. Dragon Rung.
7. Serpent Méa Sanh.
8. Horse Méa mê.
9. Goat Méa mê.
10. Monkey Voê.
11. Cock Roca.
12. Dog Chô.

PRONUNCIATION OF THE CAMBODIAN VOWELS.

a, ă, ã; é, ê; i; o, ó; u, ú.

CAMBODIAN VOWELS.

a. This is pronounced like the English word, “Palm.”

ă. This is pronounced short; as, “Mat.”

ã. This is something between the _a_ and the _o_; it is pronounced like a very open _o_.

é. This is pronounced like our close _e_; as, “Men.”

ê. This is pronounced like our open _e_; as, “He.”

i. This is pronounced also like our _e_.

o. This is pronounced like our _o_; as, “Go.”

ó. This is pronounced like _eu_ in “Liqueur.”

u. Like _ou_, in “You.”

ú. This is pronounced like _u_.

DIPHTHONGS.

Ai, ei, oi, ôi, ói. This is pronounced with a single emission of sound.

Ay, ey, oy, óy, ui, úi. This is pronounced with two emissions of sound, as, a-ï, e-ï, o-ï, u-ï, ú-ï.

Cha, ché, chi, cho, chu. This is pronounced as Tia, tié, tii, tio, tiu; with a single emission of sound.

Chha, chhé, chhi, chho, chhu. This is pronounced as Thcha, thché (etc.), with a strong aspiration.

Kha, khe, khi, kho, khu. This is pronounced as Ka, ke, ki (etc.), with a strong aspiration.

Nha, nhe, nhi, nho, nhu. This is pronounced as Nia, Nie (etc.), with a single emission of sound.

Pha, phe, phi, pho, phu. This is pronounced as pa, pe, pi (etc.), with an aspiration.

Nga, nge, ngi, ngo, ngu. This is pronounced hard.

Tha, thé, thi, tho, thu. Hard, and with an aspiration.

THE LORD’S PRAYER IN CAMBODIAN.

O’ Preă dâ công lu mic, apuc Túng Khnhŏm oi: Túng Khnhŏm ângvâr Preă-âng, som oi ûs neăc phâng têng núng cot sesór preă néam Preă-âng: som oi preă-nocor Preă-âng ban Túng Khnhŏm. Som ai rebal méan non dey thú tam preă hartey Preă-âng dock lú mic. Ahar Túng Khnhŏm sâ̆p thngay som ai Túng Khnhŏm ban thngai nê: hoï som pros bap Túng Khnhŏm dock iung Khnhŏm â̆t tus neăc êna mian tus núng Túng Khnhŏm: hoï som pum ai Túng Khnhŏm doi comnach: tê aî Túng Khnhŏm ban ruéch âmpi ândâ̆rai teăng puâng. Amén!

LETTERS FROM M. MOUHOT.

TO SAMUEL STEVENS, ESQ.

[To be communicated to the Royal Geographical Society.]

Brelum, among the Savage Stiêns, lat. N. 11° 46′ 30″,
long. W. 103° 3′, merid. of Paris, 15th October, 1859.

DEAR MR. STEVENS,

I profit by a favourable opportunity which has just presented itself to write you a few hasty lines to let you know that I am alive. For the last two months I have been living with the savage Stiêns amidst their immense forests, the latitude being precisely as I have stated above, and here I have passed the season most favourable for collecting insects and land shells. In spite of the letter given to me by the King of Cambodia, ordering all the chiefs of the Srok Khmer, or Cambodian villages, to furnish me with the means of transport on my journey, I experienced much difficulty, as frequently neither buffaloes nor carts were to be found in the hamlets through which I passed. My journey took me a month to accomplish, which is about three times as long as it would have taken me on foot.

On the 21st July, after having descended the great arm of the Mekon from Pinhalú, a village about nine miles from the capital, and in lat. 11° 46′ 30″ N. and long. 103° 3 W. merid. of Paris, as far as Penom Peuh, a commercial town filled with Chinese, and situated at the conflux of two streams, I ascended the great Cambodian River, the water of which is still low, as all through the country the rainy season is two months later than usual. The Mekon is studded with islands, of which many are eight or nine miles long and more than a mile broad; such is the large and beautiful island of Ko-Sutin, where I arrived after five days’ journey. I estimate the width of the river to be about three miles. Pelicans are found on its waters, often in flocks of more than fifty, and storks, sea swallows, and other aquatic birds, abound in the shallow parts of the river. The general aspect of this mighty river is, however, rather sombre than gay, although doubtless there is something imposing in the rapidity of its waters, which run like a torrent. Few boats are to be seen on it, and its banks are almost barren (the forests being more than a mile distant), and, being constantly undermined by the water, fall down at the least shock, and this is generally all that you can see or hear. The Menam is much more gay and animated.

The rapids and cataracts commence about thirty or forty leagues north of Ko-Sutin, on the confines of Laos, and it is there necessary to leave the large boats and take to canoes, which as well as the luggage are often obliged to be carried on men’s backs.

The current of the Mekon is so strong that at certain times of the year you can go little more than a league a day, and the rowers often seek for fire in the evening at the very place where they cooked their rice in the morning. I ascended it in a small boat with three rowers, but at every bend of the river we had the greatest trouble to make any progress, and were frequently obliged to hold on by the rushes to prevent our being carried away by the current. Eight days after leaving Pinhalú I reached Pemptiélan, a large Cambodian village, where I found it necessary to take to land travelling.

There still remained 150 miles to travel in carts, all in an easterly direction. I was well received by the mandarin at the head of affairs in this part of the country, and was able to set out again in two days.

The first day our conveyances upset, and I feared that we should be unable to proceed; there were continually dreadful bogs, quagmires, and marshes, in which the carts sank up to the axletrees and the buffaloes to their bellies. Fortunately on the following day the road improved, but for three weeks all that was visible was a few scattered rice-fields round the villages, and we had to make our way through a marshy plain, covered with thick and dark woods, which reminded one of the enchanted forest of Tasso, and it is easy to understand that the imagination of a pagan race peoples these gloomy solitudes with evil spirits. Twenty times in an hour the men who accompanied us were obliged to raise the large branches and cut down the trunks which obstructed our passage, and sometimes we had to make a new path for ourselves.

The Cambodians were all much surprised at seeing us journeying towards the Stiêns at the worst time of the year, for in that country the rainy season had commenced, and even those who live nearest dare not venture there; and had I not brought with me from Siam my two young servants, I could not for any money have found a single individual to accompany me. Even they felt great repugnance to proceed--for in Siam, Cambodia bears a terrible reputation for unhealthiness, and unhappily both for them and for myself they were attacked with fever in the forests, since which, instead of receiving any help from them, I have had two patients to nurse.

Passing through a village peopled by a barbarous race of Annamites, I ran great risk of being taken prisoner by them, and being sent to finish my researches in a dungeon. Last year the carriages belonging to a French missionary were completely rifled, and the men sent with ropes round their necks to Cochin China. I loaded all my guns, and gave one to each of my men: our firm appearance, no doubt, frightened them, for we were not attacked.

In spite of the heat, the fatigue, and privations inseparable from such a journey, I arrived among the Stiêns in perfectly good health as far as I was concerned, and here I found a settlement of Catholic missionaries from Cochin China. It would have been impossible to go further, for I could neither find means of transport nor provisions, for at this time of the year the poor savages have consumed all their rice, and have nothing to live upon but herbs, a little maize, and what they can catch in the chase. I therefore accepted the hospitality offered to me with much kindness by a good priest. In a few weeks the rainy season will be over, the nights will become cold, and for several months insects will be found, and after that will come the turn of the birds, with which I shall exclusively occupy myself.

My departure from here will depend upon circumstances; perhaps I shall myself be the bearer of this letter to Pinhalú, perhaps I may be detained here some months by the bad state of the roads and the impossibility of procuring vehicles during the rice-harvest.

If you ask who are this strange people, living retired on the table-lands and mountains of Cambodia, which they appear never to have quitted, and differing entirely in manners, language, and features from the Annamites, Cambodians, and Laotians, my answer is that I believe them to be the aborigines of the country, and that they have been driven into these districts by the repeated inroads of the Thibetians, from whom they evidently descend, as is proved by the resemblance of features, religion, and character.

The whole country from the eastern side of the mountains of Cochin China as far as 103° long., and from 11° lat. to Laos, is inhabited by savage tribes, all known under one name, which signifies “inhabitants of the heights.” They have no attachment to the soil, and frequently change their abode; most of the villages are in a state of continual hostility with each other, but they do not attack in troops, but seek to surprise each other, and the prisoners are sold as slaves to the Laotians.

Their only weapon is the cross-bow, which they use with extraordinary skill, but rarely at a distance of more than twenty paces. Poisoned arrows are used only for hunting the larger animals, such as elephants, rhinoceros, buffaloes, and wild oxen, and with these the smallest scratch causes death, if the poison is fresh: the strongest animal does not go more than fifty paces before it falls; they then cut out the wounded part, half roast it without skinning or cutting it up, after which they summon the whole village by sound of trumpet to partake of it. The most perfect equality and fraternity reign in these little communities, and the Communists would here find their theories reduced to practice and producing nothing but misery.

The strongest European would find it difficult to bend the bow which the Stiên, weak and frail as he appears, bends without effort, doubtless by long practice.

They are not unacquainted with agriculture, but grow rice and plant gourds, melons, bananas, and other fruit-trees; their rice-fields are kept with the greatest care, but nearly all the hard work is done by the women. They seldom go out in the rainy season on account of the leeches, which abound in the woods to such a degree as to render them almost unapproachable; they remain in their fields, where they construct small huts of bamboo, but as soon as the harvest is over and the dry season returns they are continually out fishing or hunting. They never go out without their baskets on their backs, and carrying their bows and a large knife-blade in a bamboo handle. They forge nearly all their instruments from ore which they procure from Annam and Cambodia. Although they know how to make earthen vessels, they generally cook their rice and herbs in bamboo. Their only clothing is a strip of cloth passed between the thighs and rolled round the waist. The women weave these scarfs, which are long and rather pretty, and which when well made often sell for as much as an ox. They are fond of ornaments, and always have their feet, arms, and fingers covered with rings made of thick brass wire; they wear necklaces of glass beads, and their ears are pierced with an enormous hole, through which they hang the bone of an animal, or a piece of ivory sometimes more than three inches in circumference. They wear their hair long in the Annamite fashion, and knot it up with a comb made of bamboo; some pass through it a kind of arrow made of brass wire, and ornamented by a pheasant’s crest.

Their features are handsome and sometimes regular, and many wear thick mustachios and imperials.

Quite alone and independent amidst their forests, they scarcely recognise any authority but that of the chief of the village, whose dignity is generally hereditary. For the last year or two the King of Cambodia has occasionally sent the mandarin who lives nearest the Stiêns to their first villages, in order to distribute marks of honour to their chiefs, hoping little by little to subdue them, and to get from them slaves and ivory, and already he receives a small tribute every year. His emissaries, however, scarcely dare pass the limits of the kingdom, so fearful are they of the arrows of the savages and of the fevers which reign in their forests.

The Stiên is gentle and hospitable, and possesses neither the stupid pride of the Cambodian, nor the refined cruelty and corruption of the Annamite. He is the “good fellow” of the forest, simple and even generous; his faults are those common to all Asiatics, namely, cunning, an extraordinary power of dissimulation, and idleness; his great passion is hunting, and he leaves work to the women, but, unlike the Cambodians, robbery is very rare among them.

They believe in a supreme being, but only invoke the evil spirit to induce him to leave them in peace. They bury the dead near their dwellings. They do not believe in metempsychosis, but think that animals have also souls which live after their death, and continue to haunt the places they frequented in their lives. Their superstitions are numerous; the cry of an owl, or the sight of a crow, just as they are about to set off on a journey, they consider a bad augury, which is sufficient to turn them from their plans.

When any one is ill they say it is the demon tormenting him, and keep up night and day a frightful uproar round him, which only ceases when one of the bystanders falls as in a fit, crying out, “He has passed into me, he is stifling me.” They then question the new patient as to the remedies which must be employed to cure the sick man, and as to what the demon demands to abandon his prey. Sometimes it is an ox, a pig, too often a human victim; in the latter case they pitilessly seize on some poor slave, and immolate him without remorse.

They imagine that all white people inhabit secluded corners of the earth in the midst of the sea, and often ask if there are any women in our country. When and how I can return to Cambodia and Siam I am ignorant, and I dare not think of the difficulty I shall experience among the rude and stupid Cambodians in transporting my treasures. What heartbreaking jolts my boxes of insects will receive! What palpitations I shall feel each time some rough fellow takes them to place on the oxen, elephants, or his own back! Poor soldiers of science! these are our trophies, and in the eyes of some people find as much merit as a piece of silk fastened to a pole; and what pains, patience, and solicitude is necessary to procure them! therefore I believe my anxiety as to my collections will be understood by the lovers of nature.

Pinhalú, 20th December, 1859.

P.S.--I arrived last evening at Pinhalú, in perfect health, and am now about to go northward to visit the famous ruins of Ongcor and then return to Bangkok, so I have little time to give you any details as to what I despatch from Komput and Singapore. I am not quite satisfied; for birds are scarce here, and I have but a small number; besides, my boxes as I feared have been much knocked about; I sent them off to Komput on men’s backs. On my return to Bangkok I will send you some good maps of this almost unknown country.

TO SAMUEL STEVENS, ESQ.

[To be communicated to the Geographical Society of London.]

Khao Samoune, Province of Pechaburi (Siam).
Lat. N. 13° 4′, long. 100°. 15th June, 1860.