Four men ascend the mound in which these trees are planted to pluck the fruit by handfuls and cast them to crowds of men who stand as compacted as it would seem possible for them to live. Every throw is instantly followed by a universal shout from the multitude and a rush for the prize. And then they surge hither and thither like a forest swayed by a mighty wind. The writer thinks he has seen ten thousand men engaged at one time in this kind of sport. It takes but about fifteen minutes to pluck all the fruit from these trees, and then the game is over. It is a rare thing for a man to catch more than two or three limes. Still another mode of dispensing the royal gifts on such occasions is to divide them into lots, with a slip of palm-leaf attached to each lot and a copy of each on another slip, which, being rolled up or put into the wooden ball or lime, is thrown out by the king to his favored audience. He sometimes adopts a similar mode in dispensing his favors to companies of the chief priests, taking care, of course, that only such things as are suitable for priests are put into such lots. Sundry Chinese, Malay and Siamese dramas and shadow-scenes are played, and at early candlelight the _P’ramene_ is most brilliantly illuminated within and without. About eight or nine o’clock in the evening the fireworks are sent off, being occasionally ignited by the king himself. You first hear the crackling of the matches, then you see the sulphuric fire and smoke running up tall bamboo poles and extending out into branches. Presently a dozen tall trees of fire throw an intense light over all the premises. These quickly burn out, and another flash brings into view beautiful fire-shrubbery. In a minute or two they blossom roses, dahlias, oleanders and other flowers of all hues, and the most beautiful, continually changing their colors like the chameleon until they all fade out into darkness. You are startled by the report of rockets sent up from various places in rapid succession, a hundred or more, showing that the Siamese are not far behind the times in this art. Immediately after this you will hear a terrible roaring like the bellowing of a dozen elephants, with an occasional crash like the bursting of a small engine-boiler. They are the fireworks called _Chang rawng_, which means “bellowing elephants.” Suddenly innumerable fire-birds begin chirping, buzzing, hopping and flying in all directions. Some ascend high in the air and burst with a small spluttering report. Mimic volcanic eruptions, attended with jets of ignited sulphur and iron, ascending like waterspouts and falling in showers of red-hot lava, are kept going until fifty or more have been fired.