From Thomas Waters Jr. to his mother Elizabeth Waters (May 5, 1867)

[Thomas Waters to his mother, 5 May 1867]

[from a transcript]

Wealth of Nations

Sunday May 5th 1867

Saigon River   Cambodia

Cochin China [Cochinchina – former name for part of Vietnam]

Dear Mother

I have just been reading over all your old letters to me, they are all such cheerful ones and when I feel used up I generally take a good dose of them and they brighten me up.  We are now at anchor in the river Saigon, nothing to be seen but Mangrove swamps all round and we are so close to the banks that we can hear the monkeys chattering in the thick woods, no dwelling of any description in sight, I wrote to you and also to Ben from Singapore, the letter to you was a real long one.  I do not expect to get many letters now from home as I am not likely to stay in any port long and I cannot tell always where my next port may be.  It is excessively hot here and it was so at Singapore so that I could take but few walks in the country tho’ I had several drives. 

I did walk once or twice but the Malays are so treacherous that I always had to carry a revolver especially at dusk, and in the jungle the tigers were very numerous but now they are seldom seen within 10 miles, however my walk in the jungle was rewarded by my finding a very pretty bush with peculiarly handsome leaves, of which I picked two and when I got on board, being tired I just opened the first book at hand and placed the leaves in and forgot all about them, when about a week or two afterwards I happened to open the book and the two leaves were actually growing, they had thrown out little rootlets all around their edges and here and there small perfectly formed leaves were growing so I have planted one – the best – in my garden and the other I will perhaps enclose to you, but I wish I had more of them, they are so curious, they do not belong to the cactus tribe. 

All hands have been sick with fever and dysentry  I was about the last that got it and was rather bad but now I am all right again and hope to keep so.

Monday May 6th  We arrived in Saigon last night and a dreary monotonous sight the town and country is, nothing but rice swamps level as the smooth ocean and so far as the eye can see as bountless.  

May 8th  I have been on shore several times, but the heat is horrid, tho’ there are many interesting objects to see, some very funny to an Englishman.  I have a native boat (Sampan) to carry me to and from the ship and shore, the crew (who eat, sleep, cook and live entirely day and night in it) consists of an Anamede or native woman, her husband an Anemede and one child, a dirty set but apparently very happy.  My cargo is put on board and stowed by coolies who I do not think trouble themselves about Manchester or the cotton question for they are entirely nude and seem to like it, but it is not pleasant to be too intimate with them as their manners are not gentlemanly.  On shore yesterday I saw 2 elephants male and female and they seemed to have almost human intelligence, when they came to a bridge the Mahout or driver who is seated on their neck wanted the female which was ahead to go over it, but after first feeling the bridge with her trunk and then with her fore feet she refused and backed astern, then the driver tried the male elephant, but he just put one of his huge feet on the first plank and kind of pressed it down a little and he like wise refused so they had to go to some other bridge.  The Chinese gentlemen are very hospitable to englishmen and are very polite after their fashion  they always say “Chinchin” when you meet or leave which means, I think, like our “Good day Sir”, they wear silk trousers and a sort of silk shirt with the tails outside their trousers; the ladies are dressed somewhat similarly with generally the addition of what I suppose is the fashionable dress bonnet but such a shape and size it looks like a neatly constructed half bushel basket squashed down at the sides, as if the family preparatory to going out had all jumped upon it.

May 12th   Went to Market this morning, but bought nothing , if that is possible.  I got mosquito curtains yesterday but still the venomous rascals get at me and give me no peace. I must put in one of dear Ben’s paragraph’s to fill up, that is ‘I have no news to write’, or as Nancy says all the rest are writing the news to you so I have nothing to say.  This last would be well enough, but if Nancy looked over her sisters’ shoulders when they write she would see that they all call or rely on the same excuse.  I wish they would all tell me the news but I certainly ought not to grumble for all my good dear sisters and brother write me much more than I deserve and if they went by me I am afraid I should lose much.  There you see good dear Mother I have filled up a quarter of a sheet trying to throw blame from my shoulders on to others, please do not show this to dear Sarah because the last letter to me from her was a real long one, besides I destroyed her prospects in the mulberry line when she admitted me into the real fine garden. I am not funning for she has a most beautiful place and I have not the least doubt that it will pay well, for Sarah has, I think, two good qualifications – patience and perseverance besides good forethought.  If she had not been my sister I would have liked to have married her, if I could.  How do you think I am, rigged or dressed?  I am barefooted, bareheaded indoors of course, outdoors a pith helmet covered with white silk shaped like a big mushroom, then duck trousers, then shirt every button undone, or I should say no buttons to button, for the washerwomen have a spite against white men so they knock off or smash up all their buttons and it is very provoking when you want to appear nice to have three pins, or perhaps as I have a broken needle for buttons, I have run out of pins.

May 20th  A large species of wasp has built a nest on the back of my swinging barometer quite complete and a bird has built a nest and laid some eggs in it in my main top.  We will be loaded and sail about the 29th May and I will be glad to get away from this muddy river.  The mail only leaves here once a month.

Goodbye – with best love to all.  Hoping your bad cough has gone and hoping Papa is well. 

I remain

Your ever affectionate son 

     Thomas Waters