On strolling to the Meh Low, I met two Lolo-Lawa women. One of these would have been taken for a handsome gipsy in England. An artist would have been gladdened by the chance of securing such perfection for his model. The grace of her pose, the faultless symmetry of her person, her fearless aspect, and perfect self-possession, her pleasant voice, and the courteous unconstrained manner in which she answered my questions, bespoke her one of nature’s fairest works. Unluckily I had only the bumptious village elder Portow with me to catechise the woman; and a crowd of village boobies soon gathered round, who looked upon the whole matter as a joke, and jeered at the woman and her friend. She soon became justly and proudly irate, and refusing to impart further information, walked disdainfully away. The few words of her vocabulary that I procured, placed it beyond doubt that she was of the same race of Lawas whose villages I had passed in the upper portion of the valley of the Meh Low after leaving Muang Pa Pow. She said that she resided in one of the five Lawa villages that are situated in the basin of the lower portion of the Meh Low, which together contained about a hundred houses. Leaving the village, we traversed a great rice-plain, and entered a forest of bamboo, in which many teak-trees were scattered. We soon afterwards crossed the Huay Wai, upon which is situated, three hours’ journey up-stream, the ancient city of Viang Wai (the rattan-cane city). Some of our men who made a detour through the city, reported that one of its gateways was still erect, and there were ruins of a temple inside the walls. The forest we now entered was brightened by yellow, orange, and red blossoms, and some of the trees were decked with tender spring foliage. After passing many teak-trees and another village, we crossed the Meh Low, here 300 feet wide and 12 feet deep, with 2 feet of water, and halted for the night at the pretty village of Ban Long Ha. We had travelled 15 miles during the day, and had risen 120 feet since we left Kiang Hai. The next morning we were off by half-past five, and after skirting an old cut-off bend of the Meh Low (the _ow_ in Low is pronounced as in “cow” in English), crossed the saddles of three small hillocks which mark the water-parting between the Meh Low and Meh Ing. The aneroid marked a fall from our camp to the crest of the saddles; but as there must have been a rise, I have assumed it to be 10 feet. The valleys between the hillocks are inundated to the depth of 3 feet in the rainy season. Continuing through the vast plain, which, as near as I could judge, averages between 25 and 30 miles in breadth, we halted for the night not far from Ban Poo-ken, the headquarters of the governor of the district, which is known as Muang Hpan or Muang Phan.