On our return from the surveying expedition in the summer of 1884, we found F. B. Gould, Esq., our first British Vice-Consul, already established in Chiengmai. It was an important event for the country; since a British official in any place is a guarantee that at least the outward forms of law and justice will be observed. In one important sense, too, it marked a new era for the mission, or, at least, for the missionaries.

Those who have not tried can hardly imagine the privation of living eighteen years without a mail system of any kind. Our only dependence so far was on catching chance trading boats to and from Bangkok. These were always an uncertain quantity; in very low water they almost ceased to travel. Some boatmen preferred not to be responsible for the mail, not knowing what it might contain. In the great city of Bangkok, and even in Chiengmai, it required a constant effort to keep ourselves informed of the departures of boats. The consequence was that an absence of news from children, friends, and the outside world generally, for three or four months at a time, was very common. Sometimes the interval was as much as eight months. Add to this the time of the long river trip, and our news sometimes would be nearly a year old when it reached us. Mr. Wilson’s family and mine had schooled ourselves to these conditions; but to those who had been accustomed to a daily mail, they must have been almost unendurable.

The new Vice-Consul came, determined by all means to get some regular communication established, if it were only a monthly one. We were only too glad to do whatever we could to that end. It was a matter of pride to both parties that we arranged at once for a regular and most successful semi-monthly mail overland to Maulmein. I furnished a reliable Christian man for chief contractor, and good men for carriers. Since Mr. Gould had as yet no authority from his government to incur any expense, the arrangement was wholly a private affair, with the understanding that all who availed themselves of it should pay a quarterly assessment for the maintenance of the line. But in a short time the British government assumed the whole expense. Mr. Gould promised to get the staff exempt from corvée, or compulsory government service. He had to use his official authority for that.

The Lāo government had absolutely no interest in a mail, whether weekly or yearly; but the Siamese looked rather askance at having in their own country a mail service over which they had no control. It seemed to be in some way a reflection on their national pride. There is little doubt that our private enterprise hastened the weekly government mail from Bangkok, which was started the next year. And since the Maulmein route is quicker by two weeks than the one by Bangkok, the Siamese government has of late maintained both, the two meeting at Rahêng, and giving us a very creditable and regular mail service.

In the spring of 1884 the mission sustained a great loss in the death of Princess Tipa Kēsawn, Prince Intanon’s consort, whom we were in the habit of calling “the Queen.” Placed as she was, she could not well have avoided the making of priests’ garments, and the going through with the form of making offerings to the spirits. But I seriously doubt whether she had any expectation of laying up thereby a store of merit for the future. One thing we do know, that in her last sickness she turned no anxious look to any of these things, at a time when thoughtful Buddhists are always most diligent in their efforts. Dr. Peoples of our mission attended her in her last illness, and the case was submitted entirely to him. Mrs. McGilvary and I were both with her the day before she died. Mrs. McGilvary was with her at her death, and remained to see the body dressed for the coffin. We missed her very much as a friend, and the whole country missed her as a balance-wheel for her husband.

On the arrival of the reinforcement in 1883, a Presbytery was organized of the four ministers, Wilson, Peoples, Hearst, and McGilvary. I was then full of the idea of a theological training-class. My experience of the accumulated power added to the missionary’s efforts by having such assistants as Nān Inta, Nān Suwan, and Noi Intachak, raised in my mind the question, Why not increase the number? Having had no schools, we had, of course, no body of young men educated on Christian lines whom we might train for the ministry; and we could not have such for years to come. But we had in our churches mature men of deeply religious nature, earnest students of Buddhism, and carefully educated in all the learning of their race. And a man so trained has many compensations for his lack of training in our elementary schools. He knows the sacred books of his own people, their strength and their weakness. He understands the thoughts, the needs, and the difficulties of a Buddhist enquirer, and the mode of argument by which these difficulties are to be met, as no young man of his own race, and as no foreign teacher can do. The training needed to make such a man an efficient preacher of the Gospel, is training in the Christian Scriptures, together with practical experience in evangelistic work under efficient direction.

I was at that time giving regular instruction to Noi Intachak, one of the finest young men I have ever known in that country, and very anxious to become a minister.^[13] To Nān Tā, afterwards our efficient minister, I was giving instruction less regularly, as it was possible for him to take it. But it would have been both easier and more profitable to teach a class of six or eight. By qualifying such a group of young men to work, and then working with them and through them, I believed that my own efficiency could be quadrupled, or even sextupled, as it was doubled when I had Nān Inta to work with.

With these thoughts and this experience impressed on my mind, and in order that my plan, if adopted, might have the ecclesiastical sanction of the Presbytery as well as the corporate sanction of the mission, I had urged the organization of the Presbytery just as soon as we had the minimum quorum required. In order to give the discussion its proper outlook and perspective, I noticed, also, in the paper which I read before the Presbytery, the necessity of a general education for all our Christians, and of High Schools for both sexes; while I sketched more in detail the nature and the methods of special instruction intended for those in training to become evangelists and ministers.

The training proposed for this last group was intended primarily to equip the most capable and most promising individuals among the converts for filling well their places as lay officers and leaders in the churches, and for engaging intelligently in evangelistic work. But beyond this it was thought that it would ultimately furnish a body of picked men from whom again the best might be chosen as candidates for further instruction leading up to the ministerial office. The course was to be flexible enough to permit occasional attendance with profit on the part of men whose household duties or whose business would not permit them to attend regularly. Its special feature was actual and constant practice in evangelistic work under the direction and supervision of the Principal, and with him as his assistants on his tours.

In view of the poverty of the Lāo generally, and in order to make it possible for these men to maintain their families while occupied with this training, it was further proposed that they should receive a moderate allowance of, perhaps, eight rupees per month of actual service, or about three dollars of our money. This seemed not unreasonable, since in Christian lands it is thought a wise provision to assist students in their preparation for the ministry; and since what is required to support one European missionary family, would support half a dozen fairly educated native ministers or ten good native evangelists.

The Presbytery took hold of the scheme with much ardour, and at once began to organize it into shape, but on far too large a scale, and with far too formidable and too foreign apparatus. A regular “Board of Education” was created, with rules and regulations better suited to American conditions than to those of the Lāo churches. A committee was further appointed to examine all applicants for the course, much after the manner of receiving candidates for the ministry under the care of a Presbytery. Their “motives for seeking the ministry” were to be enquired into, while as yet it was not at all known whether they would desire to become ministers. The allowance in each case was to be the absolute minimum which it was supposed would suffice for the maintenance of the student after he had provided all that he could himself. Noi Intachak, for example, was allowed the maximum of eight rupees a month, while Noi Chai—one of the best Buddhist scholars in the country, a young man with a family, living ten miles away in the country—was allowed five rupees, on the ground that he was not very poor; while yet another was allowed but three.

After this ordeal—which was thought to be a good test of their sincerity—the rest of the six or eight candidates for instruction declined to commit themselves. None of them understood exactly what the Board of Education was about. I myself was greatly disappointed at the outcome. After a week of listless study, Noi Chai begged to be allowed to withdraw, and the whole thing was disbanded. My hopeful private class was killed by too much “red tape,” and with it all possibility of a training-class for four years to come. I was again set free for long tours and my favourite evangelistic work.

I continued to teach Noi Intachak till his lamented death, and I devoted what spare time I could to teaching the long-time wanderer, Nān Tā, who had become our best evangelist. There seems to have been some fatality connected with all our efforts to establish a theological training school. When the next attempt was made, under Mr. Dodd’s direction, with a large and interesting class enthusiastically taught, through some cause or combination of causes—for it would be difficult to specify any single one as alone determinative—it was allowed to slip out of our hands. Possibly a leading cause in this case was the same that was operative in the other. At a time when the mission was pressing the idea of self-support to its breaking point, an allowance probably too scanty was offered in the evangelistic work to the men who had been trained for it. The whole question in the Lāo field, as it doubtless is in others, is a difficult one. As wages in other departments rise, and the demand for competent men becomes more pressing both in governmental and in private business, the question will become more difficult still. While on the one hand there is the danger of making a mercenary ministry, on the other hand we must remember that, the world over, educated labour now costs more, but is not, therefore, necessarily dearer. The same penny-wise and pound-foolish policy has lost us the strength of some of the best men in our church, our schools, our hospitals, and our printing-press, because more lucrative positions are offered elsewhere. But we must remember first of all that theological schools, like all others, are not made, but grow; and, second, that the law of competition prevails here, too, as well as elsewhere. It is easy to say that it ought not to do so, as between the ministry and other professions, or between the missionary work and other more lucrative callings. But to a certain extent the same law does hold, and it is a fact to be reckoned with.

In May, 1884, H. R. H. Prince Krommamûn Bijit, a brother of the King of Siam, arrived and took up his residence in Chiengmai—probably to give prestige to the High Commissioner, and possibly to smooth the road of the new British Consul. It was an open secret that the Prince of Chiengmai could see no need whatever for a British Resident, and at times he was not slow to make his views known. For a while the relations between the two were somewhat strained. Yet it was of the utmost importance that the relations between England and Siam should remain cordial. At the same time it was a part of the plan of Siam, since fully carried out, to assume complete control of the government in the northern states. What was of more special interest to us was, as we shall see, not only that Prince Bijit was personally friendly, but that he brought with him substantial evidence of the good will of His Majesty and of the Siamese government toward our work.

It was in this year that our first attempt at establishing a mountain sanitarium was made. It was designed to furnish a refuge from the great heat of the plain, to be a retreat for invalids, and a place where new missionaries might more safely become acclimatized, and still be studying the language. But as a matter of fact, new missionaries are put to work so promptly that it is about as hard for them to withdraw from the battle as it is for the older ones. Since we kept no watchman on the premises, the sanitarium was afterwards burned down—possibly by forest fires. Later a better and more convenient situation was found nearer the city, so near that a man can ride up in the evening, spend the night there with his family, and return in the morning to his work for the day. It is in a delightful situation beside a cool brook, but is too low for the best results as a health resort.

At the Annual Meeting in December, the importance of opening a new station in Lakawn was discussed. The baptism of the officer from that city, and the organization of a church there, have already been mentioned. The officer was constant in his appeals for the establishment of a station there, with a missionary in residence. Although Mr. Wilson was soon to start with his family for the United States on a furlough, there would still be left in Chiengmai—if I were sent to Lakawn—two ministers and two physicians, even if these were but three men in all. Besides, there were beginning to be some good native assistants in Chiengmai. No one had expressed a desire to open a new station, and no one had been sounded in regard to the matter. So I determined to make now the visit to Lakawn which I had planned for the previous fall, but had been unable to accomplish. My wife and our little son Norwood were to accompany me. When our preparations were well advanced, what was our delight to find that Dr. and Mrs. Peoples wished to accompany us, if they could obtain elephants. When this was mentioned to Prince Bijit, he not only volunteered the elephants, but informed us that he had authority from His Majesty to see that we had a lot for our station there, and, furthermore, that, in passing through Lakawn, he had already secured for us one of the most desirable lots in the place. In addition to this, His Majesty had sent by him two thousand rupees as a contribution toward the new station and a hospital. Who could fail to see that the guiding hand of the Lord was in it! Before this I had written to our United States Consul to get permission to secure a lot there, but had never once thought of a contribution, much less of one so liberal. Mrs. McGilvary thus reports our trip in a letter to our daughter:

“Lakawn, January 30th, 1885. We reached Lampūn on Friday. I curtained off one end of the sālā just north of the city, and Mrs. Peoples did the same at the other end, leaving the space between and the veranda for callers. There we spent the Sabbath. Your father preached twice to very attentive audiences. We were impressed with the favourable prospect for mission work, and hope to make a longer visit to the place soon. We left on Monday, and reached this place on Thursday noon, and lodged in a public sālā just opposite the beautiful lot which the Prince has given us for a station. It is in a fine site, one of the best in the city. We called on the Chief this morning, and all seemed pleased at the prospect of having a mission station here. It is not yet settled who is to open it. We are willing to come, and so are Dr. and Mrs. Peoples.”

As may well be imagined, we returned to Chiengmai with grateful hearts for the many providences that had favoured us. The new station was assured. We had not then thought of keeping two physicians for Chiengmai. Dr. Cheek had charge of the medical work. Dr. Peoples, naturally, preferred a field where he would have ample scope both for his medical profession and for the itinerating work of which he was equally fond. His double profession and other qualifications fitted him as no one else could be fitted for opening the new station. On my wife’s account I was very willing to yield him the pleasure—for such to me it has always been—of breaking new ground. Mrs. McGilvary had already had the labour and self-denial of opening two stations, one of which was a new mission. The importance of Lakawn as the next station could not be challenged. Dr. and Mrs. Peoples themselves were pleased with the place and the prospect of the new field. So they were unanimously appointed and set apart to the new and important work.