pleasant, but squalls and storms came up without warning, and sent movable commodities, books, and newspapers flying about the deck. In these equatorial regions one of the comforts of existence is to sleep on deck, and shortly after the sun goes down your servant pitches your bed in some corner of the deck, near the wheel or against a coil of rope. Mr. Borie was induced to buy an extraordinary machine, made in the Rangoon jail, called a portable bed, which is unlike anything civilization. has ever known in the shape of a bed. It comes together and unfolds, and is so intricate that it must have been made by a Chinaman. I do not think any of us really understand the principles upon which it is constructed. But in the evening Peter and Kassim and other servants parade the bed on deck and chatter over it a little while, and it becomes sleepable. The rest of the party take the floor. The General and Mrs. Grant bivouac on the right of the wheel; the Colonel has his encampment near the gangway; the Doctor lies cosily under the binnacle, and my own quarters are in the stern, where the ropes are coiled. But sleeping on deck in the Gulf of Siam is not as pleasant as we found it in the Bay of Bengal. first night out, being after midnight, Kassim came with the news that it was going to rain! Kassim has a terror of the sea -the Hindoo fear of the black water-and ever since he has been on board ship his bearing is that of one who lives in fear of some overwhelming and immediate peril. So when Kassim woke me up with news of the rain, I was not quite sure from his manner whether we were not running into a cyclone or one of those tremendous gales that so often sweep around the coasts of Asia. The clouds looked black and the stars had gone, and a few drops of rain came over the face, and the sea was in a light, easy, waltzing humor. Some of the party had already left the deck. The Doctor had fled on the first rumor, and Mrs. Grant was in refuge in the cabin. The captain was leaning over the traffrail looking at the skies. We took his counsel, and his assurance was that it was only the wind and there would be no rain. So we resumed our quarters, and Mr. Borie, who was already in retreat, with Peter in the rear, in command

On our

of his wonderful bed, returned. For what could be more grateful than the winds, the cooling winds, that sweep through the rigging and toss your hair, and make you draw the folds of your shawl around you? And there was a disposition to scoff at.

those who at the note of alarm from a frightened Hindoo had left the comfortable deck to. sweat and toss in a stifling cabin. But in an instant, so treacherous. are these southern skies, the rain came in torrents, sweeping over the deck, streaming and pouring a fierce, incessant rain, with lightning. So our retreat became a rout, Mr. Borie abandoning his bed in great disorder; the rest of us. leaving blankets, shawls, and cushions to the mercy of the tempest, and reaching the cabin in a drenched condition. This experience, or variations of it, came every evening of our trip, and the nights, which began with fresh and cooling airs, ended in rain; all of which tended to confirm some of the homesick members of the ex

pedition that the nearest way to California was the most pleasant, and that Providence did not smile on our trip to Siam.

On the morning of the 14th of April land was before us, and there was a calm, smooth sea. At ten we came to the bar, where we were to expect a steamer or a tug. We all doffed our ship garments and came out in ceremonious attire to meet our friends the Siamese. But there was no crossing the bar, and for hours and hours we waited and no steamer came. It seems that we had made so rapid a trip that no one was expect

THE ARRIVAL.

223 ing us, and there we were in the mud, on a bar, within an hour of Paknam. The day passed and the night came, and at ten the tide would be high and we would slip over the mud and be at our anchorage at eleven, and up to Bangkok in the cool of the morning, always so precious an advantage in Eastern travel. At nine we began to move, under the guidance of a pilot, and after moving about for an hour or so, to the disappointment of those of us on deck, who watched the lights on shore and were impatient for Paknam, we heard the engines reverse, we felt the ship turn back with thrilling speed, and in a few minutes heard the grumbling of the cable as the anchor leaped into the water. There was no Paknam, no Siam, for that night. The pilot had lost his way, and instead of a channel we were rapidly going on the shore, when the captain discovered the error and stopped his ship. Well, this was a disappointment, and largely confirmatory of the views shared by some of us that Providence never would smile on our trip to Siam; but the rain came, and the sea became angry and chopping, and rain and sea came into the berths, and all we could do was to cluster into the small cabin. We found then that our foolish pilot had taken us away out of our course, that we were on a mud bank, that it was a mercy we had not gone ashore, and that unless the royal yacht came for us, there we would remain another day.

About nine in the morning the news was passed by the lookout at the mast-head that the royal yacht was coming. About ten o'clock she anchored within a cable's length-a long, stately craft, with the American colors at the fore, and the royal standard of Siam at the main. A boat came to us with our Consul, Mr. Sickels, an aide of the King, representing his Majesty, and the son of the Foreign Minister, who spoke English. The King's aide handed General Grant an autograph letter of welcome from the King, enclosed in an envelope of yellow satin, the text of his Majesty's letter being as follows:

"THE GRAND PALACE, BANGKOK, April 11th, 1879.

"SIR: I have very great pleasure in welcoming you to Siam. It is, I am informed, your pleasure that your reception should be a private one; but you

leagues from the sea. The banks were low, the vegetation dense and green, and running down into the water. The land seemed to overhang the water, and the foliage to droop and trail in it, very much as in the bayous of Louisiana.

We came to Bangkok late in the afternoon. The rain lulled enough to allow us to see at its best this curious city. Our

first view was of the houses of the consuls. The Siamese government provides houses for the foreign consuls, and they all front on the river, with large and pleasant grounds about them, and flagstaffs from which flags are floating. We stopped in front of the American Consulate long enough to allow Miss Struder, who had been a fellow-passenger from Singapore, to go on shore, and the Vice-Consul, Mr. Torrey, to come on board

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