At a meeting of the Presbytery shortly before the opening of the year 1888, a committee consisting of Dr. Peoples, Mr. Dodd, and myself, was appointed to organize two churches, one in Chieng Sên and one in Chieng Rāi, if the way were found open to do so. We also arranged that Mrs. McGilvary should accompany our son Norwood as far as Bangkok on his way to the United States. And both expeditions were to start on the same day, Monday, February 7th.

To ease somewhat the strain of such a parting, I took an earlier leave, and went on Saturday with Mr. Dodd to spend Sunday with the church at Mê Dawk Dêng. That evening we performed a marriage ceremony in the church. The next day thirteen adults were received into the church—nine by baptism and four who were children of the church. On Monday Mrs. McGilvary and I exchanged our last good-byes by note, and both parties got off on Tuesday morning. Dr. and Mrs. Peoples, starting from Lakawn, made the first stage of their journey separately from us to a rendezvous at the Christian village of Mê Kawn, twelve miles south of Chieng Rāi.

At our next Christian village another wedding was waiting for us, but the course of true love did not run smooth. The bride belonged to a well-to-do Christian family; but no member of it could read the Scriptures. They, therefore, “redeemed” a Christian family for four hundred rupees, in order to secure the services of the son as a sort of Levite in the family, and to teach the eldest daughter to read. Naturally, the two young people fell in love with each other. That was a contingency the mother had not planned for, and a difficulty arose. She asked, “If I take Nān —— for a son-in-law, where do my four hundred rupees come in?” It was all in vain to tell her that she got her pay in a good son-in-law. She said he was hers already till his debt was paid. At last she so far relented as to allow the ceremony to take place, but she would not see it performed. We invited the father and the rest of the family and the neighbours into our tent, where, to their great joy, the two were made man and wife. The implacable mother lived to see that she had not made a bad bargain, after all.

At Mê Kawn we were joined by Dr. and Mrs. Peoples, and we had a good Sabbath with the little flock there. Our club-footed man had looked after it well, and he became later a good elder and a fine disciplinarian. About this time I was taken with a severe attack of indigestion, from which I did not recover for many months—the only continued sickness from which I have suffered in all my connection with the Lāo mission.

On reaching Chieng Rāi, we found our good friend the governor mourning the death of his wife, the same who, when we last saw her, invited us to worship in her house. It was a pleasure to point the bereaved man to the divine Comforter, and we are fain to believe that our words were not in vain. He was still anxious to have the mission station established, which we, unfortunately, could not yet promise. The Chao Uparāt invited Dr. Peoples to lecture with his magic lantern, and to have worship in his residence, where we had a crowded audience. We did not organize a church in Chieng Rāi, however, partly because the two Christian villages, equidistant from the city north and south, could not agree on the best place of meeting. But we found the way open in Chieng Sên, and did organize a church there, in Nān Suwan’s house, on the very bank of the Mê Kōng, and with one-half of its members living on the other shore.

Dr. Peoples had left a large practice in Lakawn, and was obliged to return. Mr. Dodd returned with them to Lakawn, and thence to Chiengmai. I had come untrammelled, to remain as long as duty called. It seemed very desirable to follow up the impressions already made on that community. But I was not well, and a week’s delay found me no better. Thinking that a change might be beneficial, I crossed the plain to Sên Yā Wichai’s home at the foot of the mountains. It was a hard day’s ride, and I became worse on the way. On reaching my destination I could hardly stand. Resting there on my back a few days without improvement, it seemed my first duty to get to a physician as soon as possible, or, at least, make the effort to do so. Most of the way I could stop at night either with or near Christian families. This I did, and so reached Chiengmai on April 14th.

During my absence the building of the Boys’ High School was completed; and the school was opened under the direction of Mr. Collins on March 19th, with an enrollment of forty-five boys, nearly all children of Christian parents. In June Dr. Wilson reached Chiengmai on his return from the United States; and with him came Miss Fleeson, destined with the Doctor to join the Peoples at Lakawn, and Miss Belle Eakin (now Mrs. Dodd), for the Girls’ School in Chiengmai. Miss Griffin was already gone on her furlough.

The building for the Girls’ School had long been in process of construction. Builders and plans had been several times changed, till at last Dr. Cheek took the contract, and finished it in the summer of 1888. It has served its purpose admirably these many years, and we then thought it would do for all time. But though the lot then seemed amply large, it proves now entirely too small for the needs of the school. Moreover, it is impossible to enlarge it. On its south side runs the most travelled road in the country; while on the east the land is owned by a wealthy official, who would not sell at any price.

Our congregations had grown till a church building became a necessity even more urgent than, a schoolhouse. The first mission dwelling-house was planned in part with reference to such need, its largest room long being used for Sunday worship. Then a small temporary chapel took its place. After that a larger teak double dwelling was bought. That, however, would not hold more than two hundred persons—not more than half of our largest congregations at the present day. Then for a time we worshipped in the unfinished building for the Girls’ School. When, at last, that was finished, it was needed for its original purpose, and we again must move. It was then decided that we must have a church, and one worthy of our cause—such as would attract rather than repel both rulers and people. So one Sunday afternoon we held a meeting of the congregation to take steps for building it. We were delighted to see the interest manifested in the enterprise. Pā Kawng, an aged slave of the Prince, laid down a silver rupee, which was all the money she possessed—and it was the very first money received toward the building. The church was completed by the end of this year.

We had continued evidence of the friendship of Prince Intanon, and even of his growing interest in our work. One Sunday, in answer to an invitation given by Mrs. Cheek, he attended our communion service, conducted that day by Mr. Wilson. Although he arrived an hour and a half too soon, he remained all through the long service, and bowed as he took his leave, just when the communion cups were about to be passed. On the day of our daughter’s marriage in Statesville, North Carolina, he and the High Commissioner attended a reception given in honour of the event. The Prince had known her as a child, and seemed much interested. “Is it this very night that the marriage takes place?” he asked. The reception was a very pleasant affair. Though my wife was still in Bangkok, Miss Fleeson and Miss Eakin entered with all their hearts into the thing, and, with the assistance of Mr. Dodd and Mr. Collins, carried it through in splendid shape. After refreshments we had charades and other games. It was amusing to see the look of surprise on the face of the Prince when the charades were played.—“What are they doing?” “What does that mean?” “I don’t understand.” But the game was quite too recondite to be explained to him. So, after the first charade, His Highness and his party took their leave, assuring us that they had enjoyed the evening very much.

Dr. Wilson and Miss Fleeson presently journeyed on to their post at Lakawn. The governor there gave the mission a very desirable plot of ground for the new buildings which would be required, saying, “I am glad to have you come. It would be a shame, when you come to live in our country, if the government did not do something to make you comfortable.”

Scarcely less important than the opening of the new station in Lakawn, was the opening of permanent work in Lampūn, the largest and most important sub-station of Chiengmai. Lampūn is a little gem of a walled city in the same great plain as Chiengmai, and only eighteen miles distant to the south. From the first settlement of the country, however, it has been a separate state, yet governed by a branch of the same ruling race.

We have seen that the new governor of Lampūn was friendly to the mission and the missionaries. The opening of the work in Bān Pên and other important villages near it, rendered it almost essential to have a footing in Lampūn itself. After some negotiation we secured a suitable lot, the grounds of the second governor recently deceased. We purchased from the family the land with the old residence and the stockade. But presently the family became alarmed lest they had been too hasty in selling it to foreigners, and brought back the money, begging us to restore the land. They brought, also, a message from the governor, saying that he wanted the residence and the stockade himself, but would give us the rest of the land. It was to our interest to keep on good terms with him, and we agreed to the arrangement. We got what we wanted, a good station, and we retained, and probably increased the governor’s friendship.

To make possession sure, I purchased a newly-built house which had come to be regarded as unlucky, because the owner’s wife had suddenly died in it. Having arranged to have the house moved and set up on the lot, I was about to return to Chiengmai, thinking that there was nothing more to do, when I was sent for by the chief executive officer of the Court. He said that the governor, indeed, had given us the place, but the Court wished to make one proviso. He begged that I would sign a paper promising in few words that if the government at any time should need it, we would give it up. The governor was growing old, and they themselves would be held responsible. I saw at once that such a step would put it in the power of any one to oust us. A need might be feigned, and yet we should be powerless to withstand it. I was perfectly dumfounded. My first thought was to go directly to the governor. But presently I bethought me of the terms on which H. R. H. Prince Bijit, the brother of His Majesty, had given to the mission the fine lot for its hospital. The lot was given in perpetuity on condition that it be used for medical and missionary purposes only. As long as it was so used, it was ours. But it could not be sold, or used for other purposes, without forfeiture to the Prince. The thought came to me as an inspiration. I told the officer of that written deed. “Very well,” said he. “If you have such a paper as that, show it to me, and I will give you one like it for this lot.”

The difficulty was solved. A swift footman was despatched to Chiengmai asking Mr. Martin to send me at once a copy of the Prince’s deed of gift. Next morning it came, and I took it immediately to the Court. The officer’s surprise was evident. He took it and read it carefully through. His word was given. After a moment’s thought he said, “That is all right. It will relieve me of all responsibility.” Then he called up his clerk to copy its terms and execute the new deed. The land was ours to use as long as we should use it for the purposes specified; and that I hoped would be until the millennium! With a light heart I was soon aboard my boat and homeward bound.

When the house had been removed and set up on the lot, Mr. Collins and I went down and spent a week there, with interested audiences every night. It at once became an important out-station of the Chiengmai mission. In the meantime Mr. Dodd had already collected some twenty students for his training-class, but without any quarters for them in Chiengmai. Later Mr. and Mrs. Dodd were put in charge of the station, and the Training School was moved over to Lampūn. When the Lampūn church was organized, its charter members numbered nearly two hundred. It is now the mother of two other churches. Scarcity of men in the mission, openings in other places, and other causes have prevented the Lampūn station from being continuously manned. But now, with such efficient workers there as Mr. and Mrs. Freeman, it has an important future before it, as a sub-station of Chiengmai.

Meanwhile my own sickness had continued, with several relapses. A minor surgical operation had so delayed my recovery that Dr. Cary now advised a change and rest in a boat trip to Bangkok. After the departure of our son to the United States, my wife had remained in Bangkok for a visit, and was soon to return. The telegraph line which the Siamese government had recently completed, enabled me to wire to her to wait for me to come and bring her back. Dr. Cary himself, who had never recovered from the shock occasioned by the tragic death of Mrs. Cary, and who was never well during his whole stay in the mission, decided to accompany me as far as Rahêng.

At Pāknam Pō I left my boat, and took passage for Bangkok by river steamer, thus saving seven days. After remaining in Bangkok only three nights, my wife and I took passage in the same steamer on her return trip, and rejoined our boat at the forks. The water was at its best stage, and we passed up some of the rapids without knowing that they were there. But my trouble had not left me. A low diet and long illness had left me thin and weak. The round trip occupied only two months. Our last Sunday was at Pāk Bawng, two days below Chiengmai. There we held a communion service with the Christian families, and a new family was baptized.

Three miles to the east is Bān Pên, the village which has figured in a previous chapter. The Christians there had long been asking for a visit, which my own sickness and want of time on the part of others rendered it impossible to make. On Monday morning I decided to take the risk and visit it. With some misgivings I saw my wife’s boat move off and leave me—burning, so to speak, my bridges behind me. The whole country was flooded. Discarding shoes and stockings, I made my way on foot, weak as I was, through water, across ditches, or along the narrow ridges of rice-fields, and finally reached Bān Pên in safety.

And what a week I spent in that neighbourhood! At Nawng Sīu, a village two miles distant from Bān Pên, there were six families of professed believers whom Dr. Dodd and I had visited the season before—almost swimming at times to reach them in their scattered homes. Their admission was postponed at that time until they should have had further instruction. To these I specially addressed myself. During the week our faithful elder, Nān Tā, came down to assist me in the work. On Friday evening the session met at Nawng Sīu to examine and instruct these new converts, and again on Saturday morning, closing finally at two o’clock in the afternoon with baptism and the Lord’s Supper. On counting up the numbers, it was found that twenty adults and seventeen children had been baptized. Among them was an aged couple with their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. It was a memorable sight. The Sabbath was spent at Bān Pên, where seven more adults and one child were baptized. On Monday I made my way back to the boat as I had come, and reached home on Tuesday. And now for the strange part of the story. I reached home well. My week’s wading in the water, and the hard work, had done what medicine and doctors and a long boat trip had failed to accomplish!

But a new disappointment awaited me. Before I reached home, Dr. Cary had resigned. His short career is one of the mysteries to be explained in the great beyond. A consecrated physician, he had given his life to the Lāo people. Crushed by his tragic bereavement on the way out, and with a constitution never strong, he contended manfully for two years against the debilitating effects of a malarial climate. But at last he had to give up the fight. His work had been successful. “He saved others; himself he could not save!”

His departure threw on me again the oversight of the medical work. But this time most of the dispensing of medicine to the natives fell on Chanta, a protégé of my own, who had had good training under two physicians. Meanwhile Dr. Cheek looked after the mission families, and, as already stated, was always ready to respond to an urgent call in the hospital. My time was largely given, therefore, to the evangelistic work, to instructing Nān Tā and other elders, and to teaching enquirers and others to read in Siamese, first the Shorter Catechism, and then a Gospel.

The growth of the Chiengmai church, though not phenomenal, was very healthy and very uniform throughout the year. There were accessions every month save one, amounting in all to one hundred and sixty souls. At the end of the year Miss I. A. Griffin returned from furlough, and served a very useful term until 1896, when she retired greatly missed. At Lakawn, Rev. Hugh Taylor and his wife began a twenty years’ course of evangelistic work carried on with indefatigable zeal, while Miss Fleeson was no less zealous and successful in laying the foundation of a Girls’ School, destined to be a power in that province.