After having sailed up the pretty river for about a mile, we came in sight of a house covered with creepers, and surmounted by a cross, which indicated the residence of the Abbé Hestrest, the head of the foreign mission here. Reader, have you journeyed in foreign lands? Have you ever for a time, more or less long, been separated from your friends and relatives--shut out from civilized society? Have you been tossed about by tempests or buffeted by your fellow-men? Have you narrowly escaped some great danger? Have you been unhappy? Have you lost some one very dear to you? In one word, have you _suffered_? If you have, you will appreciate the feelings with which the solitary wanderer welcomes the divine cross, the heart-stirring emblem of his religion. It is to him a friend, a consoler, a father, a brother; at sight of it the soul expands, and the more you have suffered the better you will love it. You kneel down, you pray, you forget your griefs, and you feel that God is with you. This is what I did. THE ABBÉ HESTREST. I had letters to the Abbé Hestrest from several of the missionaries in Siam. We therefore anchored, and I landed; but the nine days’ inactivity to which I had been forced to submit had so cramped my limbs, that for a time I had almost lost the use of them, and could scarcely walk. The abbé received me like a brother, and offered me accommodation in his humble abode until I could find lodgings elsewhere. The first piece of news which he imparted to me was, that France was at war with Austria. I did not even know that there had been a difference between the two Governments. INTRODUCED TO THE KING. Scarcely had I landed when the return of the king from his aquatic excursion was announced. The Abbé Hestrest conducted me to the banks of the river; and as soon as his Majesty perceived a stranger by the side of the priest, he gave orders to his rowers to approach the shore, and, when within hail, addressed the abbé: “Who is the stranger with you?” “Sire, a Frenchman,” replied my companion. “A Frenchman?” repeated the king, quickly. Then turning to me, “You are French?” “Yes, sire,” I answered, in Siamese. “Monsieur comes from Paris,” said the abbé; “but he has recently visited Siam.” “And what does he come to my kingdom for?” “He has a particular mission, which has nothing to do with politics; it is merely to see the country. M. Mouhot will soon wait upon your majesty.” After a few minutes’ silence, the king, waving his hand, and saying “_Au revoir_,” passed on. I was at first afraid that the abbé had made me pass for a less humble and modest individual than I really was, and I should be forbidden the kingdom. The very name of France is full of dread to these poor monarchs; and this present one lived in daily fear of seeing the French flag waving in the roads. He is about sixty years of age, short and stout. He wears his hair cut rather close, and his countenance is good-natured, mild, and intelligent.[13]