Siam is no exception to the general rule. For centuries the Buddhist temples have been the only “temples of learning,” and the men who shave their heads, dress in yellow robes and beg their food have performed the double office of pedagogue and priest. It would seem as if Siam ought to be a highly-educated country when these mendicant teachers form one-thirtieth part of the entire population, and when the custom of the country is such that parents usually require their sons to spend all the years of boyhood and youth under the care of these teachers in the temples. So universal is this custom that work for boys is something that has not yet been invented in this country. As soon as a little boy is out of his babyhood his parents at once begin to look around for a desirable teacher for him. A priest is selected: usually he is a friend or relative of the parents, and one whom they think they can trust to care for and educate their boy. The child is then taken to the temple, or _wat_, as it is called, and given to the priest. In doing this the parent gives up all claim, authority and oversight of the boy to the priest, often closing a long speech on the subject by begging the priest to “whip him a great deal; do not break his back or put out his eyes; anything less than that you can do: I won’t say a word.” While the child is in the wat the parent is expected to clothe him and also to contribute liberally to the _lunch-basket_ that this man of holy orders carries around daily to have filled by pious Buddhists. The child’s most important duty now is to wait on his teacher, follow him on his morning tramps, paddle his boat, serve his food and be ready at all times to obey his wishes. The priest, on his part, is expected to teach the boy to read and write; and if he is a very extraordinary “man of letters” he may possibly teach the first principles of arithmetic; this, however, is a rare accomplishment, gained only by the favored few. But whatever else these Buddhist schoolmasters fail in teaching, there is one lesson that they succeed in imparting better than most college professors of other countries, and that is a feeling of respect on the part of their pupils for their teachers, no matter how indifferently the work may have been done. No matter if ten years have been spent in doing what should have been done in as many months, still, any Siamese man would be branded as a wretched ingrate if he did not through all his life honor and respect the man who taught him to read. This is at least one good thing to be found in the old-fashioned wat education; but just how it is gained, and where the secret of success lies, are somewhat of a mystery.