One day in March, as I was sitting in my study, I was surprised to see a tall man, a stranger, with the bearing of an officer, enter. He pointed with both fingers to his ears, and asked if the teacher could say “Ephphatha,” and open the ears of a deaf man as Jesus did. It was a strange introduction—to be accosted by a Lāo with a quotation from Scripture in the ancient Aramæan tongue! I judged by his accent that he was from Lakawn. In answer to my enquiry as to who he was, I learned that he was a Prayā, the highest rank among Lāo officials; that he had formerly been first in the Lakawn court, but was not then in office. But where had he received a Bible, and who had taught him?
I learned that some twenty years before this he had accompanied his Prince to Bangkok, and there had met Dr. Bradley, from whom he received a copy of the Old Testament History in Siamese, and the New Testament so far as it was then published. He had learned Siamese in order to be able to read and understand the contents of these books. He often wished that he had lived in the time of Christ. But, having no one to guide him, he had not learned to draw the lessons that the Bible story was designed to teach.
He had come to Chiengmai to get the assistance of the princes there in righting an unjust decision of the Lakawn court against him. He had heard, too, that there were teachers of a new religion; and he wished to know whether we taught as did Dr. Bradley and the books received from him. His position, his manners, his whole history, including his connection with my father-in-law, attracted me to him with uncommon force. Our first interview was long and very satisfactory. His questions were such as he had long wished to put to some one who could explain them. The truth had been securely lodged in his mind. It was most interesting to see how a single new thought would illuminate it all.
But what he had sown he was then reaping. While in power he doubtless had oppressed others. Once he had received “hush money” from murderers whom he should have prosecuted. If he had not taken it, he said they would have murdered him, too. His sins weighed upon his conscience. His most anxious question was whether Jesus could really save all men from all sins. When asked if Buddha could do so, he said that he never had seen any such promise in any of the scriptures. He would search again. He went to an abbot friend from whom he borrowed, as he said, “books by the armful.” He looked them over with this one question in view: Is there hope of pardon offered to sinners? He went a second time for more. At his third coming the abbot, finding out what he was after, refused to lend to him further. But he confessed that his search was in vain. He argued with the monks, refuted them; and they cast him off. Upon his arrival the Chao Uparāt had promised his assistance in the lawsuit. When, however, he found that the Prayā was becoming a Christian, he dropped him. But he had found an intercessor greater than any earthly prince. For Him he was willing to face all opposition and to bear all reproach.
He was baptized on the 8th of May, just before returning home. The rains had already set in, and were likely greatly to impede his journey. Yet he reached Lakawn without encountering a shower. His account of it afterwards was, that whenever he saw the clouds threatening, he would wave his hands and pray that they might be dispersed. Lāo Christians have not become befogged with doubts as to the efficacy of prayer for temporal blessings. After his return to his home, his family all became believers, and others also whom he taught. At his invitation I went over to instruct them and to administer the sacraments. Two years later the number was sufficient to warrant their organization into a church, of which the Prayā was made the first elder.
Dr. Cheek’s return at the end of April, 1878, took from my shoulders the care of the medical work—a very great burden. During his absence I had put up a hospital building of six rooms. This since then has been moved, and now forms the nucleus of the Chiengmai Hospital. The doctor soon found himself overwhelmed with practice. He was a fine surgeon and a good doctor, and had great influence both with princes and with people. Moreover, Mrs. Cheek’s inheritance of the language—like my wife’s—was a great advantage to them both. Only a few days after the doctor’s arrival we lost our valuable hospital assistant, Lung In. One evening he complained of some trouble about the heart. He talked a few moments with his family, then said he felt better and would go to sleep—and in an instant was gone.
In 1878 Chieng Sên, the old abandoned city which I visited in 1872, became the theme of anxious consultation on the part of the government. The Lāo had taken away the inhabitants, but could not take away the land. It had become a rendezvous for robbers and lawless men from all quarters. The Western Shans from Burma were settling upon it. Siam evidently must repopulate the province, or lose it. It was finally agreed that one thousand descendants of the original captives should be drafted from Chiengmai, one thousand from Lakawn, and five hundred from Lampūn, and sent back to reoccupy the province. Chao Noi Inta, the highest in rank of the available descendants of the original captive princes, was commissioned as governor. The special interest this exodus has for our narrative lies in the fact that among these returned captives was the family of Nān Suwan, one of our best men, and already an elder of the church. At first Nān Suwan thought of buying himself off, as many did. But when it was pointed out to him that his going would be the means of starting a church there, he readily consented to go.
INTANON, PRINCE OF CHIENGMAI