When the morning sunlight sends us on our way again, fresh revelations of beauty meet our wondering eyes――cliffs whose precipitous sides have been under the frescoing pencil of the sun and rain for a thousand years; castellated rocks with great columns of stalactites pendent on the gray walls; caves, crags and ravines with crystal cascades singing their solemn tune in lonely places. Nor is there destitution of vegetable life. In beautiful relief we find the rich green so peculiar to the tropics spread everywhere amongst this rugged scenery――trees, bushes, flowers, vines, ferns and mosses. At the head of the rapids, and soon after passing out of the mountains, we get our first sight of a Laos village; and cheerful it is to come again amongst the habitations of men. During our two weeks’ transit from this point to Cheung Mai we find a country having the same general features as that below the falls, with the exception of higher banks along the river; but here we have another type of people, entirely different in dress and _address_ from those of the lower Menam. In common with the Siamese, they adhere to the Buddhist faith, adding also spirit-worship. They have the same habit of betel-chewing and the same forms of superstition, yet are a distinct race in customs and modes peculiar to themselves. Many sights of exclusively new character are continuously meeting us too. The first that strikes the attention is the Laos system of waterwheels, used for the irrigation of rice-fields and gardens. They are made of bamboo, and are about twenty feet in diameter, and so adjusted as to be turned by the current of the river, their rims being furnished with small bamboo troughs which dip up the water as the wheel turns down, and is emptied as the wheel turns up into a large trough on the bank, and thence conveyed away by bamboo gutters. We see these wheels at every turn (right and left side) of the river, yet never lose interest in the rude machinery nor in the constant dipping and emptying process. Still proceeding northward, we come amongst the cucumber-gardens which are planted on the broad sandbars. The Laos women, taking advantage of the low water at this season, occupy in free possession every available spot. The morning and evening they give to the cultivation of these sandy gardens, in which they raise cucumbers, beans and sweet potatoes. A fascinating sight it is to see these islands of “living green” scattered up and down the bed of the river.