Let me take you in imagination to our home in the Laos country. The house is on the banks of the river Maping, and faces the west. As you walk from the front gate up through the yard you will notice orange trees, cocoanut, bamboo, mango and tamarind, with the pomegranate, custard-apple, guava and coffee tree of smaller growth. Some of the flowers will seem familiar, as the rose, tiger-lily and one which bears a resemblance to the beautiful calla. The passion-flower, too, is here, with greater luxuriance of growth than in America, and many tropical flowers with heavy waxen petals having a rich perfume. Seated on the veranda, your eye takes in the view of river, plain and distant mountain, over which the bright sunshine is streaming. No wonder you exclaim, “Beautiful for situation is sunny Cheung Mai!” But now let me take you to the ceremony of _idol-bathing_, which occurs yearly. We will get our hats and umbrellas, for it is afternoon and this is the “hot season,” and join the groups of women who are passing to the nearest temple, about half a mile distant from the mission premises. Look how neat and clean they appear, dressed in white jackets and the Balmoral-patterned Laos skirts, with long muslin scarfs of crimson, purple, yellow or pink thrown over the breast and shoulders, and with flowers to contrast or correspond with the scarfs in their glossy black hair. Each woman bears in her hand a metal basin――in some cases of silver――containing scented water. They have spent part of the morning compounding perfumery from spices or flowers, which, when duly prepared, is thrown into the basin with fresh well-water just before leaving home. If you peep into the basin you will see newly-gathered flowers lying on the top of the water. It looks dainty, but its destiny is to wash off the dusty, musty idols that sit in darkness in their allotted corner from year to year. As the women pass along they talk merrily together. You will see children and bright-eyed girls as well as matrons and aged women. As we approach the temple we get glimpses of its white walls through the foliage of the large trees which overshadow it. It is built of brick and plastered. The outer walls are whitened and have a polished appearance. It is surrounded by a low wall, built also of brick and plastered. We enter through a gate just in front of the temple-door. How neatly the grounds are kept, and how shady and pleasant they seem! In the same enclosure are the little houses where the priests eat and sleep. There are quite a number of these priests, young and old, walking about the grounds, dressed in yellow robes and with closely-shaven heads. As we pass from the bright, warm sunshine into the dark, dreary building a feeling of gloom and sadness strikes the soul. The floor is hard, like stone, being made of some preparation of plaster and cement, and it looks cold and cheerless. The dull, high walls are without even a window to break the dismal outline.