After breakfast I rode out to the encampment, only two or three miles away, where the body of the Prince was lying. The family and officers and friends were assembled to look for the last time on that noted face. The last act before placing the body in the coffin was to cover it throughout with gold-leaf, to give it the appearance of being a Buddha. But no gold-leaf could disguise that face. The family remained there a few days, partly for the much-needed rest, but chiefly to await a day of good augury for carrying the remains to the city. The day was well chosen for such a pageant as the country had not seen, to honour alike the departed, and to welcome the succeeding Prince. There was a long and imposing procession of soldiers, monks, and people marching to the wailing of the funeral dirge and to the slow, solemn beat of drums. Near the head of the line, on his elephant, was the son-in-law, Chao Intanon, soon to be Prince of Chiengmai. Not far behind came the body of the dead Prince, borne on a golden bier and accompanied by a large train of yellow-robed priests. Behind this was the vacant throne, and on it the royal crown, both testifying to the emptiness of human pomp and power. Then came one leading the horse His Highness used to ride; and next, his favourite elephant, its huge body covered with trappings of gold. After these came members of the Prince’s family and other near relatives. About ten o’clock the procession approached the city which, by inexorable custom, may never open its gates to receive the dead—not even though the dead were he whose word for so many years had been its law. What a comment on human glory and on the tyranny of superstitious custom! On reaching the South Gate, therefore, the procession turned to the right, and passed on outside the city wall to the East Gate. There, in the Prince’s summer garden, beside the river, his remains lay in state until the great cremation ceremony a year later. Meantime a lamp was kept burning at the head and at the foot night and day. A prince was in constant attendance. Courses of monks chanted the requiem of the Buddhist ceremonial for the dead. At intervals during the whole night the beat of the drum resounded through the air, reminding the city that there lay all that remained of one of its greatest masters.