Siam has only one great river that is entirely her own. It is marked on English maps as the "Menam," but its real name is the "Menam Chow Phya." The word "Menam" is made up of two words, maa and nam, and means the "mother of the waters." It is the name of every river and stream in the country, and corresponds to our word "river." The Menam is not merely the mother of the waters, but of the land also, for all the lower part of Siam is one extensive plain, which has been built up by the mud, gravel, and sand brought down from the mountains by the river.

Suppose we get on board a steamer and sail from Bangkok down to the mouth of the Menam. The distance from Bangkok to the mouth of the river, measured as the crow flies, is only twelve miles, but so much does the river twist and turn that we shall be three hours before we reach the sea. But there is much to be seen in those three hours, and the time passes away merrily enough.

THE GULF OF SIAM—MOONLIGHT. Page 10.

Everywhere there are boats—boats of all sizes and shapes, and without number. Many of these belong to the Chinese, and bear upon the prow a very realistic representation of an eye; for, says John Chinaman, "If boat no got eye, how can him see?" Siamese boats are chiefly canoes, or long, narrow, heavy rua-changs. Both classes of boats are built of teak, a wood which is plentiful and cheap, and which is not attacked by the so-called "white ant." The canoes are paddled in the ordinary way, but they are very upsettable. Many of these will not even sit upright in the water unless someone gets inside. Yet great fat men, whose weight sinks the boat to the very edge of the water, and tiny children, whose weight looks little more than nothing, can be seen at all hours of the day darting here and there, like so many flies, on the surface of the water.

The rua-changs are larger, and are used for carrying people about from one part of the river to another. They serve the same purpose as our omnibuses. The boatman, who is naked except for a cloth round the loins, stands to his work like a Venetian gondolier. He has only one oar, which works in a groove cut in the side of a short pole that is fixed on the edge of the boat. With long graceful sweeps of the heavy oar the boatman both steers and propels his craft at the same time. The passengers are squatting under paper umbrellas, which keep off a little of the heat of the sun, and blinking behind the blue spectacles that guard their eyes from the powerful and painful reflection of the sun upon the shining waters.

As the capital is left behind the houses get fewer and fewer along the banks, and the trees come right down to the edge of the river. On either side of us, as the mouth is neared, there are dreary salt marshes, which are often flooded by the sea when the tides are high. On the banks, the fern-like attap-palm, that lover of the mud, bends over in graceful curves to dip the ends of its long fronds in the dirty water. Just behind, on firmer ground, rise the stately coco-nut and areca-nut palms. An eastern saying states: "The coco-nut will not thrive far from the sound of the human voice." Whether the coco-nut loves the sound of the Siamese voice or not it is, perhaps, not possible to say, but certain it is that the Siamese loves the coco-nut palm, on account of the many useful things that he can get from it. The young coco-nut is quite a different thing from that seen in our shops about Christmas-time. In its early stages it resembles a huge, unripe green plum. Outside there is a smooth green skin, like that on the outside of the plum. Under the skin is a layer of thick white woody fibres, that corresponds to the unripe part of the plum; and inside all there is a kernel, corresponding to the kernel of the plum. At this stage there is very little flesh in the nut, but a large supply of cool, sweet milk, which makes a very delicious drink. If you want a coco-nut, you just climb up a tree and take one. The owner of the tree will not mind, and he would be neither surprised nor angry if you were even to go and ask him for the loan of a knife wherewith to cut down his own coco-nuts. When the fruit is ripe, the woody mass changes to a tangle of brown fibres, that are stripped off to make coco-nut matting and other articles, and the kernel ripens into the nut as we know it in the English market.

By this time we are at the mouth of the river. Here the current of the river meets the sea. That current is bearing with it tons of fine sand and soil. But the sea seems to say to the river, "Thus far, and no farther." And so here all the muddy stuff in the river water is deposited. In this way a bar has been formed, which blocks the river mouth. At low tide there are only three feet of water over it, and even during the highest tides there is never more than fifteen feet of water on the bar. Hence very big steamers can never enter the Chow Phya, but have to load and unload their cargoes by means of smaller boats, called "lighters." About fifty years ago, when the Siamese were fighting the people of Cambodia, they filled four large junks with stones, and sank them in the river mouth to prevent the ships of their enemy from reaching the capital. The junks have long since decayed, but the stones have become welded together into such a heavy, solid mass that it would take several charges of dynamite to remove the obstruction.

The first steamer ever seen on the Menam belonged to a Scotchman, who imported it from England because the King wanted to see one of the "fire-ships" that he had heard so much about. When it arrived, the Scotchman and the King quarrelled about the price, and the boat was sent away again. But the next year the King's brother built a "steamer" without the help of any European at all, just to show how clever he was, and how they could do quite well without the Scotchman's boat. The new vessel was forty-two feet long, and she had a funnel like a steamer; but this was all a sham, for there were no fires or boilers. Instead, there were paddle-wheels hidden inside the boat, and these were turned round by Siamese serfs, who worked them after the fashion of a treadmill. Everybody was hugely delighted, and the people were quite sure that the boat was far superior to that which any European could possibly have made.

However, in 1855 the Siamese did really build a steamboat, though they obtained the engines from New York. When the vessel was launched they had a grand ceremony. The stern was decorated with the crown and the royal umbrellas, and the deck-house was set apart for His Majesty's use. The paddle-wheels were decorated with gold, and on the main mast flew the royal standard. The builder was appointed captain, and so pleased was the King with his new ship that he ordered three more vessels to be built, one of which carried guns and was used for hunting pirates.

The chief attraction at the mouth of the river is a magnificent pagoda, known as "the Shrine in the Middle of the Waters." It stands on a little island, is built of whitewashed stone and bricks, and is surrounded by the buildings of the temple of which it forms a part. Here every year boat-races are held, which provide a great deal of amusement, for by the rules of the game you are allowed to upset your opponent if you can. Hence the main idea is first to ram your rival's boat, and then, while the crew are struggling in the water, to scuttle off as fast as you can go.