﻿HUNTING 
  THE 
  CHAULMOOGRA 
  TREE 
  

  

  255 
  

  

  abode 
  is 
  in 
  the 
  mighty 
  fronded 
  canopy 
  

   surrounding 
  this 
  hallowed 
  spot. 
  

  

  Doi 
  Chom 
  Cheng 
  is 
  the 
  summit 
  of 
  this 
  

   mountain 
  range 
  where 
  I 
  camped 
  under 
  

   pines, 
  oaks, 
  and 
  chestnuts. 
  The 
  chest- 
  

   nuts 
  reach 
  a 
  height 
  of 
  seventy 
  feet 
  and 
  

   their 
  fruit 
  is 
  excellent. 
  So 
  far 
  as 
  I 
  could 
  

   determine, 
  the 
  trees 
  have 
  not 
  been 
  at- 
  

   tacked 
  by 
  the 
  chestnut 
  blight, 
  which 
  has 
  

   wrought 
  so 
  much 
  havoc 
  in 
  the 
  forests 
  of 
  

   our 
  Eastern 
  States. 
  I 
  had 
  all 
  the 
  oaks 
  

   collected, 
  especially 
  those 
  of 
  economic 
  

   importance, 
  and 
  of 
  course, 
  all 
  the 
  chest- 
  

   nuts 
  which 
  I 
  could 
  possibly 
  gather, 
  for 
  

   introduction 
  into 
  the 
  United 
  States. 
  

  

  I 
  explored 
  this 
  mountain 
  region 
  as 
  

   thoroughly 
  as 
  time 
  permitted, 
  but 
  was 
  

   handicapped 
  by 
  rain, 
  which 
  brought 
  the 
  

   leeches 
  out 
  and 
  made 
  walking 
  through 
  the 
  

   forest 
  very 
  disagreeable. 
  

  

  As 
  a 
  result 
  of 
  my 
  stay 
  in 
  Chiengmai 
  

   and 
  Doi 
  Sootep, 
  we 
  have 
  now 
  growing 
  in 
  

   America 
  several 
  species 
  of 
  edible 
  oaks 
  and 
  

   thousands 
  of 
  chestnut 
  trees 
  which 
  will 
  

   undoubtedly 
  prove 
  hardy 
  in 
  Florida 
  and 
  

   perhaps 
  as 
  far 
  north 
  as 
  South 
  Carolina. 
  

  

  THE 
  SEARCH 
  FOR 
  THE 
  CHAUEM00GRA 
  TREE 
  

   BEGINS 
  

  

  After 
  a 
  quick 
  trip 
  to 
  Korat, 
  where 
  the 
  

   Siamese 
  Maikrabao 
  tree 
  (Hydnocarpus 
  

   anthelmintic 
  a) 
  was 
  obtained, 
  I 
  returned 
  

   to 
  Chiengmai 
  and 
  chartered 
  a 
  house-boat 
  

   for 
  a 
  journey 
  down 
  the 
  tortuous 
  Meh 
  Ping 
  

   River 
  to 
  Raheng, 
  and 
  thence 
  overland 
  to 
  

   Moulmein, 
  Burma 
  (see 
  map, 
  page 
  242). 
  

  

  I 
  left 
  Chiengmai 
  December 
  2, 
  on 
  a 
  com- 
  

   modious 
  house-boat 
  manned 
  by 
  a 
  Lao 
  

   crew, 
  an 
  interpreter, 
  a 
  would-be 
  cook 
  and 
  

   boy. 
  Dr. 
  McKean, 
  superintendent 
  of 
  the 
  

   leper 
  settlement, 
  who 
  is 
  doing 
  a 
  noble 
  

   work, 
  waved 
  a 
  last 
  good-bye, 
  and 
  slowly 
  

   we 
  glided 
  down 
  placid 
  waters, 
  avoiding 
  

   many 
  river-boats 
  anchored 
  midstream 
  

   near 
  sand 
  banks. 
  

  

  We 
  spent 
  the 
  first 
  of 
  ten 
  nights 
  on 
  this 
  

   glorious 
  river 
  at 
  Ta 
  Sala. 
  

  

  The 
  night 
  was 
  cold 
  and 
  the 
  dew 
  heavy, 
  

   but 
  the 
  sky 
  was 
  starlit, 
  although 
  in 
  the 
  

   morning 
  a 
  heavy 
  fog 
  settled 
  over 
  the 
  

   river, 
  delaying 
  our 
  departure. 
  At 
  this 
  

   point 
  the 
  river 
  is 
  wide 
  and 
  the 
  flat 
  banks 
  

   are 
  fringed 
  with 
  mighty 
  bamboos 
  and 
  

   silk-cotton 
  trees. 
  

  

  After 
  several 
  days' 
  journey 
  the 
  scenery 
  

   changed, 
  and 
  we 
  entered 
  mighty 
  gorges, 
  

   defiles, 
  and 
  forested 
  mountains, 
  which 
  

  

  were 
  here 
  and 
  there 
  crowned 
  by 
  a 
  wat 
  or 
  

   small 
  Buddhist 
  shrine 
  glistening 
  in 
  the 
  

   sunlight. 
  

  

  Many 
  times 
  during 
  the 
  day 
  I 
  would 
  

   stop 
  the 
  boat 
  (see 
  page 
  266) 
  and 
  climb 
  

   the 
  mountains 
  to 
  explore 
  the 
  forests 
  and 
  

   collect 
  plants. 
  Legends 
  are 
  connected 
  

   with 
  many 
  places 
  along 
  this 
  river 
  and 
  one 
  

   spot 
  on 
  a 
  semi-barren 
  mountain 
  slope 
  is 
  

   pointed 
  out 
  to 
  the 
  traveler 
  as 
  the 
  place 
  

   where 
  Buddha 
  crossed 
  this 
  hill 
  with 
  a 
  

   fighting 
  cock, 
  which 
  scratched 
  the 
  sur- 
  

   face 
  of 
  the 
  ground 
  to 
  such 
  an 
  extent 
  as 
  

   to 
  leave 
  these 
  places 
  bare 
  today. 
  

  

  Before 
  reaching 
  Muang 
  Hawt, 
  the 
  

   largest 
  village 
  between 
  Chiengmai 
  and 
  

   Ban 
  Nar, 
  we 
  passed 
  steep 
  cliffs 
  known 
  

   as 
  Pa 
  Wing 
  Choo. 
  Here 
  legend 
  says 
  

   that 
  Princess 
  Rata, 
  escaping 
  with 
  her 
  

   lover 
  from 
  her 
  father, 
  leaped 
  over 
  the 
  

   mighty 
  precipice 
  on 
  horseback. 
  Their 
  

   bodies 
  were 
  recovered 
  at 
  Muang 
  En, 
  and 
  

   farther 
  down 
  various 
  articles 
  of 
  the 
  

   horse's 
  equipment 
  were 
  found 
  at 
  the 
  dif- 
  

   ferent 
  rapids 
  which 
  have 
  been 
  named 
  ac- 
  

   cordingly, 
  as 
  Pa 
  Morn 
  (Saddle 
  found), 
  

   etc. 
  

  

  The 
  village 
  of 
  Muang 
  Hawt 
  consists 
  of 
  

   a 
  single 
  street 
  with 
  mud 
  and 
  bamboo 
  

   houses, 
  the 
  inhabitants 
  of 
  which 
  were 
  

   lined 
  up 
  by 
  the 
  headman 
  of 
  the 
  village 
  to 
  

   be 
  photographed. 
  

  

  The 
  river 
  at 
  this 
  season 
  being 
  low, 
  it 
  

   was 
  difficult 
  to 
  make 
  a 
  landing. 
  W 
  r 
  e 
  tar- 
  

   ried 
  only 
  long 
  enough 
  to 
  dispose 
  of 
  many 
  

   bags 
  of 
  rice, 
  the 
  cause 
  of 
  our 
  constant 
  

   grounding 
  on 
  sand 
  banks. 
  Once 
  I 
  lost 
  

   patience 
  and, 
  being 
  in 
  negligee, 
  I 
  quietly 
  

   jumped 
  overboard 
  and 
  swam 
  ahead 
  of 
  

   the 
  boat, 
  expecting 
  it 
  to 
  follow 
  soon. 
  

   Anxious 
  calls 
  from 
  the 
  captain 
  urged 
  me 
  

   to 
  return 
  to 
  the 
  boat, 
  quite 
  a 
  difficult 
  

   matter 
  against 
  the 
  current. 
  The 
  waters, 
  

   I 
  learned 
  afterward, 
  are 
  said 
  to 
  be 
  in- 
  

   fested 
  with 
  crocodiles. 
  

  

  QUEER 
  APPETITES 
  OE 
  A 
  LAO 
  CREW 
  

  

  After 
  passing 
  through 
  the 
  beautiful 
  

   defile 
  of 
  Fa 
  Man, 
  with 
  its 
  wall 
  of 
  red 
  

   rock, 
  we 
  approached 
  the 
  rapids 
  (see 
  page 
  

   265). 
  Here 
  we 
  found 
  a 
  number 
  of 
  teak 
  

   logs 
  high 
  and 
  dry 
  on 
  a 
  huge 
  boulder 
  in 
  

   the 
  middle 
  of 
  the 
  stream, 
  where 
  they 
  had 
  

   been 
  deposited 
  by 
  the 
  receding 
  waters. 
  

   The 
  scenery 
  now 
  became 
  gorgeous. 
  Steep 
  

   walls 
  covered 
  with 
  verdure 
  and 
  densely 
  

   forested 
  banks, 
  on 
  which 
  bamboos 
  of 
  

  

  