Great was our joy, therefore, when, in the summer of 1871, we learned that Dr. C. W. Vrooman, from Dr. Cuyler’s church in Brooklyn, had responded to our appeal, and already was under appointment of our Board for Chiengmai. His arrival was delayed somewhat because it was thought unsafe for him to make the river trip during the height of the rainy season. So it was January 22d, 1872, before we welcomed him to Chiengmai. He came with high credentials as a physician and surgeon with experience both in private and in hospital practice. He began work on the day of his arrival. He found Nān Inta at the point of death from acute dysentery; and his first trophy was the saving of that precious life. Had he done nothing else, that alone would have been well worth while. One or two operations for vesical calculus gave him such a reputation that patients came crowding to him for relief. In his first report he writes:
“I was very glad to commence work as soon as I arrived in the field. The number was large of those who came to the brethren here for daily treatment; and such is the reputation which they have established for themselves as physicians, that the demand for our professional services is greater than we can properly meet. I am satisfied that the demand for a medical missionary here was not too strongly urged by the brethren in their earnest appeals to the Board.
“I have already had much professional work to do, and while I am ministering to physical ailments, Brother McGilvary, who is kindly my interpreter, has opportunity to break unto many the bread of life.... Two men have just left who came a long distance, hoping we could bring to life a brother who had died hours before.”
XIII
EXPLORATION
Not long after Dr. Vrooman’s arrival it was decided to undertake our first extended tour. It was important to ascertain the size and population of our whole field; and this could be accomplished only by personal exploration. A journey for this purpose would, of course, afford abundant opportunity for preaching the Gospel; it would, besides, give the doctor a needed change, and would effectually advertise his work. Our objective was Lūang Prabāng, then one of the largest of the provinces of Siam, as it was also the most distant one. A journey to it seemed the most profitable that could be made during the time at our disposal, and the most comfortable as well, since a large stretch of it could be made by boat. It was already too late in the season to accomplish all that we desired; but “half a loaf is better than no bread.” It might be years before a longer trip could be made. As a matter of fact, it was sixteen years before I visited Lūang Prabāng again.
The Prince gave us a passport, sending us as his guests to be entertained without expense; though, of course, we always paid our way. Our letter stated that we went as teachers of religion and as physicians for the sick. It was a virtual proclamation for all the sick to apply to us for treatment. This gave frequent occasion for retort that we did not remain long enough to comply with our letter. We could only reply by pointing to the clouds and the long journey ahead.
The party consisted of Dr. Vrooman, myself, a cook, a body-servant, and eight carriers, with a newly-baptized convert as the only available assistant in the religious work. The elephants required for our transportation over the first stage of our journey—to Chieng Rāi—we had secured, for a wonder, without effort, and very cheaply. Their owner was anxious to get them out of the country to escape an epidemic which then was prevalent. The start was on April 15th, 1872, after a heavy storm which ushered in the rainy season. This was my first trip over the road to Chieng Rāi, afterwards so familiar to me. After leaving the plain of Chiengmai, the road ascends the valley of the Mê Kūang River, fording that stream no less than forty-nine times before it reaches the summit, 3100 feet above sea-level, the watershed between the Mê Ping and the Mê Kōng.[[10]] Thence it descends to the Mê Kok at Chieng Rāi. The owner of our elephants travelled with us, and was unnecessarily tender to his beasts. In consequence we were ten days making this stage of the trip, which afterwards, with my own elephants, I used to make in less than six. On this trip I walked almost the whole distance.
[10]. In standard Siamese the vowel in the name of this great river is undoubtedly long o, and has been so since the days of the earliest Siamese writing. Such also seems to have been the understanding of the early travellers who first brought the name into European use, for Mekong is the uniform spelling of all the standard Atlases and Gazetteers which I have been able to consult. In the Lāo dialect, however, the vowel is that represented by aw in lawn. This is the pronunciation which Mr. J. McCarthy, Director of the Siamese Royal Survey Department, heard in the North, and transferred to the Map of Siam, which he compiled, as Me Kawng. This, however, Mr. R. W. Giblin, Mr. McCarthy’s successor in office, recognized as an error, and assured me that it should be corrected in the new map which he hoped soon to publish. Mr. Giblin, however, has left the service, and the map, I fear, has not yet been issued. But since Siamese speech and the usage of geographical authorities are at one on this point, there can scarcely be question as to the proper form for use here—Ed.
At Chieng Rāi we were cordially received. The governor listened to the Gospel message, and, I believe, received it in faith, as we shall see later. Thence we took boat down the Mê Kok to its junction with the Mê Kōng. The sand-bar where we spent the Sabbath was covered with fresh tracks of large Bengal tigers.