One night on this portion of the trip we were awakened by the cries of our men and the snorting of the ponies, to find that we had a visit from a night prowler, coming so near that we heard the clatter of the loose stones which he dislodged as he sprang away. The tracks we found in the morning showed him to be a large Bengal tiger. On this same stretch of road, as recently as 1910, the mails for Nān were interrupted by a man-eating tiger, which killed several men and women, till, finally, he was despatched by Dr. Peoples within a few hundred yards of the mission compound.
Ten days were spent in journeying northward through the great province of Nān, stopping night by night in its villages and towns, where we always had good audiences at our evening worship. Sunday we spent at Mûang Ngôn, and then turned eastward, striking the Mê Kōng at Tā Dûa, and making our way up its western bank. At Bān Hūi Kûa we found such interest that we were sorry that we must move on. The Prayā—or Pīa, as the name is called throughout this region—spent an afternoon in transcribing in the Lūang Prabāng character the tract entitled “The Way to Happiness.” He had heard something of our religion before this from a former princess-pupil of Miss Cole in the Wang Lang School at Bangkok. As he bade us good-bye he said, pointing upwards, “I hope we shall meet up yonder,” and seemed pleased that we had the same anticipation.
The next Sunday we camped in the monastery grounds at Bān Hūa Ling. The people began to assemble before breakfast, and long before it was time for the morning service the grounds were full. The abbot, with his monks and the officers, sat directly before me as I explained the method of salvation through Jesus Christ. The audience listened most attentively. At the close the abbot and the officers remained for further conversation. The abbot expressed surprise at our errand. He had never known of anybody’s travelling about simply to teach the people. Some expressed fear of encountering the anger of the spirits if they should no longer worship them. To this the doctor gave the scientific answer that fevers and most other diseases were caused and propagated by specific germs, over which the spirits have no control whatever. This was to them a new idea, but they seemed to comprehend it. Next morning, when we left them, the people followed us with expressions of regret.
When we reached Chieng Mên, a town on the western bank of the river and opposite Lūang Prabāng, we found a European with a group of boys, who turned out to be the French schoolmaster. He invited us to dine with him that evening, and the next day aided us in crossing the river. Our first duty in Lūang Prabāng was to report to the French authorities, M. Vackle, the Commandant Supérieur, and M. Grant, the Commissaire. They had been notified from Bangkok of our coming, and received us with genuine French hospitality. We never met two more perfect gentlemen. They even offered us a house; but, as the abbot of the principal monastery was a personal friend of mine, they yielded to our preference to stop with him, but only on the ground that there would be more comfort and room for our men.
That evening we were invited to dine with M. Vackle. M. Grant and his staff were present; and the dinner was a royal one, to which we were prepared to do full justice. We had the embarrassment of not being able to converse save through a native interpreter not well versed either in French or in English. But our host was most considerate, as were also his French guests. And every evening during our stay we dined with one or another of the officials.
Next day we called on the Lāo “King,” as he is still euphemistically called, though possessing only such powers as the French give him. When we made our business call on the French officials to ask permission to proceed on our missionary tour through the French territory, they were very obliging. We freely discussed together alternative routes, and they offered us passports for any of them. When at last with some hesitancy, the question of permanent work and a mission station was broached, M. Vackle replied that for that he had no authority. Application would have to be made to the Governor General at Hanoi, and preferably through Washington and Paris. The prospect still seemed hopeful.
On the evening before our departure, M. Vackle invited us to dine informally and spend the evening with him at his beautiful cottage and garden two miles out in the country. On meeting us, our host said, “The other night I was the Commandant Supérieur. To-night I am simply M. Vackle. I want to have a pleasant informal evening with you.” And surely we did. We talked of the old friendship between France and the United States, of Washington and La Fayette, the Chicago Exposition, the Parliament of Religions, and of M. Vackle’s own work in the new province. He was interested in the Parliament of Religions, and asked if Roman Catholics were equally welcome with Protestants. He had an exaggerated idea of the number of our religious sects. We told him that the great body of Protestants were included in five or six groups somewhat like the orders of the Catholic church, but there were numerous smaller subdivisions. He had heard of one that lived wholly on milk. Of this we had to confess ignorance, unless it were that large group that we call infants.
It was after eleven when we rose to take our leave; and even then he detained us to see by torchlight his beautiful garden, artificially watered, and his bowling alley—insisting that we try a turn on it. This was what I had never done before, but at the first bowl I brought down several pins. This pleased him, and he said that he had never seen a better first play.
On taking our final leave, we spoke a last word for permanent mission work, reminding him that while Catholicism and Protestantism had alike produced great nations, Buddhism never had; and that it was therefore political wisdom to encourage and foster the Christian religion in the provinces. He assented, but said he feared that the “King” might imagine that his subjects would be less loyal if they became Christians. We assured him that the reverse would be true, since it was a fundamental point in our teaching as well as in the Scriptures, that Christians were to be obedient to their rulers.
Among the routes offered we chose the northern one as most nearly meeting Mr. Arthington’s desires. Our passport stated that we were Bāt Lūangs, i.e., Catholic priests. We left Lūang Prabāng on Monday, March 8th, crossed the Nam Ū near its mouth, and spent three weeks on our way to Mûang Sai. At one point there was a theft of a considerable amount of our money, which delayed us a day or two, but annoyed us more. The thieves turned out to be some of our own men, who afterwards confessed, and eventually we recovered the money. From Mûang Sai there is a good route to Nān, and as no man had been left in that station along with the ladies, Dr. Peoples felt that he must return to it, while I should go on northward to the Sipsawng Pannā and finally return to Chiengmai along the route which I took with Mr. Irwin in 1893. His departure was a great loss to me personally, and to the effectiveness of the tour. He left us on March 31st.