We passed the great island of Ko-Sutin, which is distant about 40 miles from Penom-Peuh, after five days’ difficult and laborious travelling. The current was so strong that at every turn in the stream we were obliged, in addition to redoubling our efforts at the oars, to hold on by the reeds to prevent our being carried away. The farther north we went the more rapidly the stream ran; so that when the waters are high two miles a day are the usual rate of progress; and it is a common occurrence for the boatmen to seek fuel for their evening fire in the same spot where they had cooked their rice in the morning. About 25 or 30 leagues north of Ko-Sutin, on the confines of Laos, commence the rapids and cataracts: it is then necessary to leave the boats and take to pirogues, which, as well as the luggage, have often to be carried on men’s backs. I made a halt of only a few hours, in order to see another voluntary exile, M. Cordier, a priest of great worth, from the Cambodian mission, who resides here. M. CORDIER THE MISSIONARY. I felt great compassion for this good man, on entering the chapel which he had built, and seeing the poverty and nakedness around. He came to meet me, and invited me to share his repast. For the last three years the poor missionary has been suffering from a dysentery, which has become chronic. However, he complains neither of his bad health nor of his poverty: the only thing that grieved him was the small number of converts he was called on to baptize, so deeply are the Cambodians attached to their idols. ANTICIPATED PERILS. “But you,” said he to me; “do you know whither you are going? I am astonished that they allowed you to leave Pinhalú. Ask the Cambodians what they think of the forests of the Stiêns, and propose to some of them to accompany you: you would not find one. The rains have begun, and you are going to almost certain death, or will at least catch a fever, which will be followed by years of languor and suffering. I have had the jungle fever, and it is something terrible: even to the tips of my nails I felt a heat which I can only call infernal: sometimes an icy coldness would take its place: generally people sink under it: witness M. Lafitte, a young missionary, who a short time ago took the same journey; M. Comte, who died of exhaustion; and many others.” This account was not reassuring, nevertheless I had determined on my route: I knew that I should find there land and fresh-water shells which I could find nowhere else,[18] and that this tribe of almost unknown savages would afford me a curious and interesting study; and these considerations were sufficient to determine me to proceed. I trusted in God, and went on my way, M. Cordier’s last words being, “May God be with the poor traveller!” [18] Thence come the beautiful Bulimus Cambogiensis, Ptelin Cambogiensis, and Ptelin Mouhoti. [Illustration: Drawn by M. Sabatier, from a Sketch by M. Mouhot. CAMBODIAN HUT AT PEMPTIELAN, ON THE MEKON.]