In a Siamese home, which stood in the midst of most beautiful fruit-gardens, where the rosy-cheeked pomegranate nodded and played hide-and-seek among its leaves with the purple mangosteen, and the fragrant blossoms of the luscious mango pelted and showered themselves down upon the thorny durian, and the tall cocoanut frowned loftily on the graceful waving leaves of the banana,――in such a lovely spot, amidst singing birds and fragrant flowers and most glorious sunshine, about twenty years ago a little baby girl was born. When the dear little stranger first opened her eyes she saw only gloom and smoke. A Siamese infant is not carefully bathed by gentle hands, and dressed in softest, purest linen, and laid in the clean white bed beside the mother, who gathers it close in her arms and thanks God for such a treasure. No; this new-born babe was first well rubbed with a red and yellow powder, and strings with a silver coin attached were tied around her wrists and ankles; then, being wrapped in some pieces of their dirty, worn-out waist-cloths, she was put on a cotton pillow under a round framework, something the shape of a bird-cage, covered with dark muslin. Baby and cage were then set away in a corner of the hot, close room, where the mother, as Siamese custom requires, was lying on a bare board before four or five smoking firebrands, and, as the house had no chimney, of course the room was filled with smoke. The little brown baby was looked at occasionally, and brought to the mother to be nursed, and she was bathed once or twice a day by having tepid water poured over her with the hands, and whilst the skin was still wet rubbed over with the turmeric powder and softened chalk. She was also fed with the fingers, the food being boiled rice mixed with mashed bananas. What would you think to see a baby not a week old put into a smoke-house and fed on rice and scraped apple? Well, as might be expected, many of these little brown babies die. Nevertheless, this little one lived through all, and as the days and months and years went by grew up into a pretty little girl, and, being the youngest of the children, was petted by all the family like many a winsome darling in our own Christian land. I do not know much about the earliest years of Leang, save that she lived most of the day out of doors among the flowers and fruit trees; and I think she must have had the birds for her companions, for her merry laugh always reminded one of their carols. When I first met Leang she was a bright child of six or seven summers, for the year in Siam is one long bright summer. She had soft black eyes, and hair that was black also, but all shaven off except one little place on the top of her head, where it had been allowed to grow long, and was worn twisted into a tight, smooth knot fastened by a long gold pin, the head of which was as large as the end of your thumb and set full of precious stones.