earliest infancy, always leave a small circular lock of hair on the top of the head to be untouched by razor or shears till the child is eleven, thirteen, or fifteen years old. Were it to be cut at an earlier day or without the customary ceremonies, the parents would fear their child would become insane or a prey to a kind of demon they call a yak. This lock grows a foot or so long, and is kept oiled and neatly twisted into a knot. Through this a gilt or golden large-headed hairpin three inches long is thrust, and not unfrequently a garland of fragrant white flowers is worn around it, giving young Siamese children quite a pretty appearance.
When the right year has arrived and the lucky day for the hair-cutting has been fixed by the astrologers, the friends of the family are invited, and a band of play-actors engaged and a company of Buddhist priests, and for a day or two there is a constant round of prayer-chanting, play-acting and feasting of priests and friends. The ceremonies begin with the priests chanting in chorus their prayers, seated cross-legged on mats on an elevated platform, a thread of white cotton yarn passing from their hands around the clasped hands of the kneeling child and back to them again, serving as a sort of electric conductor to the child of the benefits their prayers evoke. The next morning, when the auspicious moment arrives, the man of highest rank among the
