I was much pleased to hear uniform testimony to the uprightness of French officials. My own respect for French rule had greatly increased since we entered their territory. Is it that the Tai race beyond the Mê Kōng is more religious, or is it on account of the French rule, that people there seem more deeply interested in the Gospel message? But such has been the fact. I have never been cheered by brighter visions of hopeful and speedy results of our labours. It seems almost inconceivable that a European nation should forbid missionary work among its people.
From this point on we were warned not to allow our party to be separated on the march. Shortly before this a merchant travelling with his son had been attacked and killed. I heard of two mountain tribes in this neighbourhood new to me, and of a third further to the northwest, which sacrifices at every rice-harvest a human victim captured from some other tribe. Scarcely any one had ever heard of the name of Jesus.
Not far from the town we passed on a ridge a well-marked boundary stone with the letters R. F. (République Française) on one side, and C. R. (Chieng Rung) on the other, in large Roman capitals. Noticing by the roadside a large stack of bricks, we learned that we were near the salt wells, and that the salt was compressed into bricks for easier transportation on mules. The salt industry makes Bān Baw Rê an important place. No one with white clothes, white hair, or white beard is allowed to enter the enclosure about the salt wells; so I did not see them. I could get no reason for the prohibition, save that the spirits would be displeased.
The time of my visit was unfortunate, being the beginning of their New Year festival, which is always a season of carousal. That night we had a scene that defied description. After supper a man came to tell me to get ready; they were going to “saw” me. I did not know what “saw”-ing might be; but I soon learned, to my disgust. Presently a noisy crowd entered the sālā where I was, with drums, fifes, and other musical instruments, and surrounded me with deafening noise and songs. A great personage had come to their place, and they were come to do him honour. He had great riches, and they expected a treat of fifty rupees. Paying no attention to my attempted disclaimer, they went on: “Give us out your money. Give us fifty rupees! Give us twenty-five!” Pushing my way out of the noisy circle, I was followed with more imperative demands. At last the governor’s son came up as a friend and advised me to give them five or six rupees, or they would never depart. Then one of my elders came to me, anxious regarding the outcome, and said that it was only a New Year custom, not a religious one—intimating that I need have no conscientious scruples in the matter. Finally the governor’s son said he could get them off with three rupees. I had only one in my pocket, and did not dare open my box before that mob. At last I handed the young man that one, and, with an emphasis which they understood, told him that I would give no more, appealing to his father for protection, and holding him responsible for the consequences. They went off sullenly enough. Having gone so far, I doubt whether they would have desisted without something “to save their face.” From me they went to the governor’s, and so on, in order, throughout the place, with their hideous noise, which I could hear far on into the night.
At another village further on, the people seemed in doubt how to receive me, till a young man came forward and asked if I were not the man who a few years before travelled through that country with an elephant, and let the Prince of Mûang Pōng have a gun. Then, turning to the head man, he said, “You need not be afraid. He is a teacher of the Jesus-religion.” My standing in that village was assured. One of the listeners at our worship in the monastery that night was much impressed, not with the idea of pardon, as is commonly the case, but with that of the Holy Spirit to purify and cleanse. That was what he needed; and he earnestly enquired how to obtain his aid. This led to the subject of prayer to a living, personal God, who has promised this aid. We left him with the hope that his great need would be supplied.
Mûang Lā was the furthest point reached on this tour. From it we struck westward into our old route of 1893 at Mûang Pōng. The Chao Fā who got my gun had been killed by his people. I was much struck with the judicial aspect of the act as told me. One of the officers said, “He was a bad man, who oppressed the people, fined and executed them unjustly, and, of course, we killed him. That is the way the Lāo do.” A nephew and adopted son of the murdered Prince succeeded him, but the authority was largely in the hands of the Prayā Lūang, though the young Prince’s mother also had great influence. She invited me to a good dinner, and we had a most interesting conversation. Among other things she asked, “How is it that you say Buddhism cannot save?” and she seemed much impressed with the answer: “Because Gautama Buddha is gone, and it is more than twenty-five hundred years before the next Buddha is expected.”
We were now travelling southward, and soon came once more upon the tricolour floating over the French post at Mûang Sing. I felt like saluting it. I was greatly surprised to find an Englishman, Mr. Eva, in charge. He fairly shouted to hear his mother tongue once more. He had scarcely heard a word of it for three years. Seeing that I was spent with my long, hot ride, and that my carriers would not get in till nightfall, he kindly offered to hunt me up some luncheon. This I declined, if only I might have a cup of tea and a piece of dry bread. Holding up both hands, he exclaimed, “You’ve got me there! I’ve almost forgotten how wheat bread tastes.” He insisted on my taking up my quarters in his bungalow, till I said, “If you were on French business, you would wish to stop where you could best accomplish it, would you not? I am here on missionary work, and my business is with the people. The monastery grounds will suit me better.” “Looking at it in that light,” said he, “you’re right. I’ll say no more.” I knew that in the home of a French official I should have no visitors at all.
He was the son of an English Wesleyan minister; but, being a wild lad, he had wandered away and drifted into the French army, where he rose to an official position. But the influences of his early days had not been lost. We had many heart-to-heart talks together. He wanted an English Bible. Having only my “Oxford” along, I could not spare him that, but brought him one on my next tour. On Sunday he attended the service led by the elders, pleased at the evidence they gave of the reality of our missionary work. He had six thousand Kamus in his district.
The opium habit is very common. We found but few monasteries in the Sipsawng Pannā whose abbots and monks did not use opium. One man, when asked whether he used it, made a significant answer: “When I have money, I do. When I have none, I don’t.”
The Chao Fā of Mûang Sing was busy preparing for the marriage of his daughter with a son of the great Chao Fā of Chieng Rung. So I did not see much of him. I had a long talk, however, with the prospective groom. He doubted the possibility of pardon for sin. I had several interviews with Dr. McKean’s patient for calculus, before mentioned. He was not so near Christianity as I hoped to find him, but was profuse in praise of the doctor and the hospital. He had two wives before the operation, and now was utilizing his new lease of life by taking another younger one. I saw here some peaches not quite ripe—which was very tantalizing. But I did get some ripe plums.