The first and more exclusive part of the ceremony took place in the palace, where I also was privileged to offer my New Year’s greetings with the rest. The great reception hall was crowded with the Prince’s family and with officials of all degrees. The air was heavy with the fragrance of flowers which loaded every table and stand. All were in readiness with their silver vessels filled with water, awaiting His Highness’ appearance. At length an officer with a long silver-handled spear announced his coming. The whole company received him with lowest prostration after the old-time fashion. Seeing me standing, he sent for a chair, saying that the ceremony was long, and I would be tired. The Court Orator, or Scribe, then read a long address of welcome to the Prince on his return from his brilliant expedition, with high-sounding compliments on its success. Then there was a long invocation of all the powers above or beneath, real or imaginary, not to molest, but instead to protect, guide, and bless His Highness’ person, kingdom, and people, with corresponding curses invoked on all his enemies and theirs. Then came the ceremonial bath, administered first by his own family, his relatives, and high officials—he standing while vase after vase of water was poured on his head, drenching him completely and flooding all the floor. It is a ceremony not at all unpleasant in a hot climate, however unendurable it might be in colder regions. This was the beginning. According to immemorial custom, a booth was prepared on a sand-bar in the river. To this, after the ceremony in the palace, the Prince went in full state, riding on an elephant richly caparisoned with trappings of solid gold, to receive a like bath at the hands of his loyal subjects—beginning, as before, with some high nobles, and then passing on to the common people, who might all take part in this closing scene of the strange ceremony. I was not in the concourse at the river, but watched the procession from our sālā, the Prince having said to me that he would call on his return. This he did, making us a nice little visit, taking a cup of tea, and listening to the playing of some selections on the organ. He asked if I had selected a place for a permanent station, and suggested one or two himself. But I was in no hurry, preferring to wait for the judgment of Mr. Wilson on his arrival. Meanwhile I was assured that I might remain in the sālā, and might put up a temporary house to receive the new family. When I requested his consent to the employment of a teacher, he asked whom I thought of employing. I mentioned the name of one, and he said, “He is not good. I will send you a better one,”—and he sent me his own teacher.