As the newly-arrived missionary for Laos stands in Bangkok and looks “up the river,” the five hundred miles that lie between him and Cheung Mai mean more to him perhaps than any of the same number he has traversed since leaving his native land. It means from sixty to ninety days’ travel in a rocking boat, and when accomplished puts him in one of the most isolated outposts of the Church. The boats for the journey, with a Laos crew are sent down from Cheung Mai, as they are constructed to meet the peculiarities of the upper Menam, its changing channels, its shallows and its rapids. The hull is of light draught, and in the larger boats is about thirty feet long and widens to the breadth of six or seven feet across the deck. At either end it rises from the water in a sharp, narrow curve, that of the stern being broadened and finished with an ornamentation which resembles a fish’s tail. This is the design, and poetical it may be, but in appearance it is clumsy and unsymmetrical in the general contour of the boat. The cabin at the stern, in dimensions about five by seven feet, is used as a sitting- and sleeping-room. The middle deck is appropriated to the storing away of goods, boxes, trunks, etc., and the bow is occupied by the boatmen, where they sit when rowing or walk when poling, and where they eat and sleep. The middle deck is covered over with bamboo wickerwork. It forms an arch, and is so low that one cannot stand up in it. The roof of the cabin is of the same material, but of finer braid, is separate from that of the middle deck, and about two feet higher, so that one can stand comfortably in the centre of it. The bow has an adjustable cover, which the boatmen slide on to the cover of the middle deck during the day and replace over the bow at night. The three sides of the cabin toward the river have the upper parts entirely open. Screens of bamboo matwork are fastened on the outside by strings of ratan, which answer the purpose of hinges. These “shutters” can be raised to any angle, and are propped outward by slender bamboo sticks. Being tied to the screen, they are always at hand. The crew consists of a captain and from six to eight boatmen. It is quite an imposing sight when the Laos king starts out with a fleet of forty or fifty of these boats, each taking place in line according to the rank of the passengers, the king’s boat at the head with the Siamese flag aloft, and gongs sounding the departure. Our missionary fleet seldom exceeds three boats, and is minus the flags and gongs, but instead has the waving of hats and handkerchiefs by the outward bound, which is answered by the watchers on the banks. “Bon voyage!” and “God speed you!” mingle with the farewells of the company on the receding boats until each is lost to the other’s sight.