direction, does not think of paying a visit to Siam and gathering some of the rich harvest that is still there to be reaped. From year to year, as the seasons roll on, the old order is ever changing, yielding place to new. The past years cannot be recalled, nor the present ones stayed in their course, and all we can do is to fix, as best we may, the glimpses we catch of the procession as it moves on in front of us in its never-ceasing march. What modern traveller in Japan has not wished that he could put himself back forty years, and see that still delightful country in the days when European custom had not yet staled her infinite variety, when neither court nor people had yet adopted our graceless Western garb, and advertisements on a European and even American scale did not meet the eye at every turn? No amount of books or reading can take us back those forty years. But here in Siam, a country no doubt of less varied interest than Japan, but hardly second to any other in the East, the opportunity is still offered; though, while the years are gliding by, how many care to take advantage of it? I have accordingly, during my stay in Siam, brief though it was, thought it worth while to note carefully my own impressions, and to gather at the same time what information I could from the Siamese themselves and older European residents for the benefit of the general reader at home and the future visitor to the country. Few things can be more fascinating than to watch

the flowing together of the two streams of Asiatic and Western civilisation, to see old landmarks gradually disappearing and new ones taking their place, and to speculate on what course the current will take in coming years. For Asia, it must be remembered, has its claim equally with Europe to be regarded as a civilised continent. It is no mere savage Africa or Australia. Civilisation in Siam, such as we now see it, or at any rate as it was a short time ago, dates back many centuries, with its roots firm in the past. While in itself it is well worthy of study, it is doubly interesting now that it is being brought in contact with the dominant civilisation of the world, and it is possible to mark what portions of it are sufficiently healthy and robust to survive.

The situation is one indeed which must be especially attractive to the historical and social student. A civilisation and a religious and political structure that have lasted so long and stood the test of time for so many centuries must needs have at least some elements of good and vitality in them. Such a civilisation cannot be wholly broken up; though it is a delicate fabric, and if it be handled roughly, what is good in it may be destroyed more easily than what is bad. For any one who is practically acquainted with the East can hardly fail to see that it cannot be altogether Westernised. Nature has set up physical barriers that are not for man to break down, and the Asiatic will always

remain Asiatic. In our empire of India we have probably been led astray by a false sentiment and gone too far in the attempt to introduce European ideas and institutions; but the error, if such it has been, was a pardonable one and natural in the days when experience had yet to be bought. It is a wiser course to improve and purify such institutions and customs or beliefs as we find in existence, than to attempt a wholesale clearance of them. No doubt sweeping administrative reforms are often necessary, and least of all in Siam would any one deny this to be the case. A firm and strong government is never amiss, but the firmest hand has often the most delicate touch, and strength may be accompanied by a wise discrimination. And if this be true, or even partially true, as regards the political and administrative future of a country, still more does it apply to all those countless elements of customs, manners, ceremonials, and beliefs which go to make up what is known as the civilisation of a people. How often has not the would-be reformer to confess to himself a feeling of despair! How often does he wonder whether it is all vanity, and whether the people whose condition he has devoted himself to raising were not better in the state of ignorance and backwardness in which he found them! Such thoughts indeed must often occur to those who have tried to improve the condition of an Oriental people. With all their vices, with all their ignorance and superstitions, and with

all their sufferings, were they not happier, nay, even if there be an end higher than happiness, were they not perhaps better before they came in contact with the European and his civilisation?

In many points of detail there is no doubt too good reason for such misgivings; but there are few in the present age who are prepared to subscribe to Rousseau's theory that savage is preferable to "civilised" life, and that virtue is to be found only in a state of nature, while there are almost equally few who would not maintain likewise the inferiority of the semi-civilisation of such countries as Siam or India or China. But, whatever our opinions on this point, we have but little option as regards the practical question. The force of circumstances has proved too strong. Laws over which we have no real control, the laws which govern our expansion, have compelled us to interfere first in the trade and afterwards in the political and administrative affairs of tropical countries. We have come for good or for evil, and we cannot now draw back. It only remains for us to define clearly our duty and to act up to it. We came originally and intend to stay in these countries from motives primarily of self-interest, and we are bound in turn to face the responsibilities towards the inhabitants that our presence entails on us.1

See Mr. Benjamin Kidd's "Control of the Tropics." On page 46 he says: "We have to recognise . . . the utter futility of any policy based on the conception that it will be possible in the future

It is, perhaps, in the domain of religious beliefs that the greatest caution and circumspection are needed. As the study of Oriental religions and ethical systems has the strongest attraction for the purely scientific enquirer, so we are beginning to realise that grave practical issues also may be bound up with them.

It was largely a want of sympathy with the religious attitude of our Indian fellow-subjects which led to the Indian Mutiny, and we are told by the most competent observers that the missionary question is at the bottom of the recent trouble in China. In Siam, happily, no such grave consequences are likely to ensue, but even here the position of the missionary must be one of increasing delicacy. There are few other countries, too, where the study of religious beliefs and ceremonials is likely better to repay the enquirer. Buddhism is, indeed, nowhere to be found in anything like the pure form in which its doctrines were first enunciated by the Great Teacher. Speaking roughly, it has everywhere expanded from a philosophical and ethical system, as it originally was, into a religion, and in the course of its expansion has drawn into itself countless forms and superstitions that are more or less separable or inseparable from it. It is, however, in the countries of Ceylon, Burmah, and Siam, where what is known as

to hold our hands and stand aloof from the tropics. There can be no choice in this matter."