Geographical Journal (Journal of the Royal Geographical Society): Volume VIII, No. 5 [‎21r] (44/154)

JOURNEY ROUND SIAM.
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were prostrated with malarial fever. My cook—a Chinaman—had
suffered a great deal during the journey, and I had only kept him
alive, on the way from Nan to Pre, by repeated brandy cocktails and
spoonfuls of bovril. I had, to my surprise, entirely escaped fever
myself, and I attribute this chiefly to the strict precautions I took
with water, which I never touched unless both boiled and filtered.
Even at native banquets, which it was my fate to attend in ceremony
in all parts of the country, I invariably smuggled in, more or less
surreptitiously, a bottle or two of my own precious water. The un
interrupted use of a mosquito-net, too, even when there were no
mosquitoes, probably assisted greatly in keeping off an attack of
malarial fever. I also took five grains of quinine every three or four
days, and in particularly malarious regions, two grains night and
morning.
At Pre I remember, as one of the many curious experiences of this
journey, that I attempted to join in the Lao hymns which the worthy
missionary and his household sang at family worship. Dr. Briggs is a
Canadian, and his favourite tune was “ God save the Queen.” To
sing Lao hymns to the tune of the National Anthem whilst a bevy of
merry brown native girls chimed in with their sweet voices is an ex
perience, I am sure, which is given to few men.
Chiengmai, which I reached on June 20, is the capital of Northern
Siam, and a very flourishing, busy, and cheerful town it is. It contains
a population, I should think, of twelve thousand, and is prettily situated
on the Meping 1000 feet above sea-level, with the lofty and forest-clad
peak of Doi Suthep towering up behind to a height of 5500 feet. The
European population here numbers about twenty, and they are all
missionary or teak-timher men, with the exception of Her Britannic
Majesty’s Consul.
The latter part of my journey was by boat from Chiengmai to
Bangkok, a distance of 537 miles, and that was accomplished with the
rising floods in eighteen days, including stoppages for official purposes
of four days. The rapids on the Meping, which are not nearly so
dangerous or impressive as those on the Mekong, were all passed in a
day and a half, and I found it much more exhilarating t6 shoot swiftly
down such watery inclines like an arrow, than slowly fight our way up
them. The gorges are quite narrow, lofty, and covered with dense
masses of green vegetation, and every sweep of the river brings to view
new and exquisite panoramas of rugged landscape. On the way down
I called in at Lopburi, one of the ancient capitals of Siam, and there I
took a photograph of the ruined palace of Constance Phaulkon, a Greek
adventurer, a man apparently of great genius, who attained the post of
prime minister in Siam towards the end of the seventeenth century.
He was ultimately assassinated in a court intrigue, and his memory is
still preserved in Lophuri.
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