"On awaking the next morning, I find that we are lying at anchor opposite Paknam, where the mother and sisters of our noble friend are to disembark. It is truly affecting to witness the kind attentions of Luang Nai Sit, and to observe how ready he is to anticipate our wants, and prepare to meet them. Last evening, while we were singing, a company of native singers removed their seats at the forecastle, and sitting down near to us, began to bawl out in the native style. Luang Nai Sit soon came to us and requested that we should go to the upper deck, and take seats which he had prepared for us, saying, 'There is too much confusion for you to stay here; go up yonder, and bless God undisturbed.'
"These native singers, I am informed, are now practising with a view to sing to the white elephant at Chantaboun. They sang many times a day, of which I have become heartily sick.
"We weighed anchor very early in the morning of the 14th, and sailed with the tide in our favor for the bar. We were interested in witnessing the outgushings of maternal and filial affection of the noble relatives just before we sailed from Paknam. Luang Nai Sit exhibited much of it on parting with his mother, and she was tenderly moved on taking leave of her son and grandchildren. [One of the latter was a little boy, who afterward became prime minister and minister of war.] We noticed that their tears were allowed to flow only in the cabin, out of sight of their slaves. On deck, and when in the act of parting, they were solemn and perfectly composed. A little after sunrise we came in sight of the mountains of Keo, which to me was a peculiarly gratifying sight. I had for months sighed after something of the kind to interrupt the dead monotony of Bangkok. There, do what you may by the means of telescopes and towers, you will discover nothing but one unbroken plain."
We condense Dr. Bradley's journal from this point, omitting unnecessary details of the voyage:
"Arose at four in the morning of the 15th, and found that we were at anchor a little south of the Keo Mountains, having Koh Chang or See Chang on the west, eight miles distant, and the coast of See Maha Racha on the east, five miles distant. I know not when I have been so delighted with natural scenery as at this time. Not a cloud was seen in the heavens. The moon walked in brightness amid myriads of twinkling suns and shining worlds. A balmy and gentle breeze just ruffled the bosom of the deep. The wonted confusion of the deck was perfectly hushed. Lofty mountains and a rugged and romantic coast darkened the eastern horizon. At five o'clock Luang Nai Sit invited us to go ashore with him. We readily accepted the invitation and accompanied our friend to the village of See Maha Racha, attended by his bodyguard, armed with guns, swords, and lances. The scenery, as the dawn brightened, was most exhilarating. The mountains, hills, and plains were covered with vegetation in the liveliest green, with here and there a cultivated spot. As we approached the settlement from the west, at our right was a rock-bound coast. Just in the background of this, and parallel with it, was an admirably undulated ridge, which seemed to be composed of hill rolled close upon hill. At our left were islands of lofty white-capped rocks. Further removed, at the east, were mountains towering behind mountains. Before us was an extensive plain bounded with mountains far in the distance. We reached the village a little after sunrise, which we found to contain three hundred or four hundred souls, chiefly Siamese. It was a matter of not a little regret that we had no tracts to give them. The people seemed to live in somewhat of a tidy manner, not very unlike a poor villager in our own country. Still their houses were built of bamboo, and elevated, according to the Siamese custom, as on stilts. We called at several houses, and found the females engaged in eating their rice. We attempted to penetrate the jungle behind the settlement, but did not go far, as there seemed to be but little prospect that we should descry other settlements.