the lingering tints of day. Here were the strange floating city, with
its stranger people on all the open porches, quays, and jetties; the
innumerable rafts and boats, canoes and gondolas, junks, and ships; the
pall of black smoke from the steamer, the burly roar of the engine, and
the murmur and the jar; the bewildering cries of men, women, and
children, the shouting of the Chinamen, and the barking of the
dogs,--yet no one seemed troubled but me. I knew it was wisest to hide
my fears. It was the old story. How many of our sisters, how many of our
daughters, how many of our hearts' darlings, are thus, without friend or
guide or guard or asylum, turning into untried paths with untold stories
of trouble and pain!

We dropped anchor in deep water near an island. In a moment the river
was alive with nondescript craft, worked by amphibious creatures, half
naked, swarthy, and grim, who rent the air with shrill, wild jargon as
they scrambled toward us. In the distance were several hulks of Siamese
men-of-war, seemingly as old as the flood; and on the right towered,
tier over tier, the broad roofs of the grand Royal Palace of
Bangkok,--my future "home" and the scene of my future labors.

The circus people are preparing to land; and the dogs, running to and
fro with anxious glances, have an air of leave-taking also. Now the
China coolies, with pigtails braided and coiled round their low,
receding brows, begin their uncouth bustle, and into the small hours of
the morning enliven the time of waiting with frantic shouts and
gestures.

Before long a showy gondola, fashioned like a dragon, with flashing
torches and many paddles, approached; and a Siamese official mounted the
side, swaying himself with an absolute air. The red _langoutee_, or