Chow Kam Doang—or, to give him his full title, Chow Pee Luang Kam Doang—is the guardian spirit of the district: buffaloes and pigs are yearly sacrificed to him. It is strange to find these genii, who, like the Semitic gods, have wives and children, worshipped by the same people who sacrifice to the Turanian spirits, who have neither wives nor children, are neither male nor female, know not law and kindness, and attend not to prayer and supplication, but have to be humoured like fretful children to keep them in a good temper. Indo-China and China appear to have been the meeting-place of religions, and the people have shown not the slightest objection to try one after the other in case of ill health and distress. Nearly every superstition that has ever existed, and traces of nearly every religion, are to be found in the country. We continued through the rice-plain to Wat Lum Peun at 16¼ miles, where we intended to halt for the night, but, finding it out of repair, we left the route, and turning eastward for a mile and a half, camped for the night, pitching our tent on the bank of the Meh Ping, in which we enjoyed a good bath. In unloading my elephant, the driver carelessly threw my large aneroid barometer, with which I took intermediate heights betwixt my boiling-point stations, to Moung Loogalay, instead of carefully handing it down, as had always previously been done. Loogalay failed to catch it, and it came to grief, throwing me back upon a smaller aneroid which I had frequently tested and found less reliable, and making me doubtful of the succeeding aneroid observations. Next morning Dr M‘Gilvary’s elephant showed temper when it was being mounted, starting off suddenly, and nearly throwing him when he was half-way up the rope-ladder. He therefore selected another animal. At the place where we subsequently halted for breakfast it again got in a passion whilst being bathed by the mahout, and, shrieking loudly, rushed, with him luckily still on its back, into the forest, and it was some time before it was brought under control. When at length we got off, I walked back to the Wat to recommence the survey, whilst my companions made a short cut, striking the route farther north. I left the rice-plain at the Wat, and entered the small-tree forest. This stunted forest was evidently the outcome of a few years, as the land bore signs of being formerly under rice, little ridges dividing it into fields, and small irrigating-canals intersected the path. Near the village of Long Ka-mee-lek I noticed a _ta-lay-ow_ fixed upon a tree, and under it a written order stating that as the elephants of the Zimmé chief were grazing in that direction, no other elephants or oxen were to pass that way. On asking the elephant-drivers the reason of the order, they said that foot-and-mouth disease was raging amongst the cattle in the country, and the order was to prevent the elephants of the chief from incurring infection. [Illustration: