First, according to the usual custom, anonymous letters were dropped at the gate, warning the family to flee, or dire would be the consequences. When threats failed, armed with an order from the court, the whole village appeared on the scene and compelled the family to flee for their lives. No sooner were they out of the way than their two large teak dwelling-houses, with rice-bins, outhouses, etc., were torn down and scattered piecemeal over the lot. Not even a tree or shrub was left on the place. To gain a breathing-spell, the family moved into a bamboo shed hastily extemporized on the banks of the Mê Ping, some two miles distant from what had been their home. By some accident they were directed to our mission. They had learned that the King’s edict protected the Christians, and, above all, that the Christian religion protected them from all fear of evil spirits. And so they came to see if it were true, and if there were any refuge for them.
Whatever was to be done for them in the way of earthly succor, must evidently be done quickly. Their neighbours in their temporary refuge would doubtless soon drive them away again. At the earnest entreaty of the man I took one of the elders, and went down to look into the case for myself. It was heart-rending. Whatever they had been able to snatch from the wreck of a well-to-do home—beds, bedding, furniture, kitchen utensils—was heaped up in a pile that covered the whole floor-space of their shack. The great-grandmother, helpless in her dotage, and the little children, were lying here and there wherever a smoother spot could be found. Their case seemed almost hopeless as far as human aid was concerned. Nān Chaiwana had himself appealed for aid both to the court and to the governor, and had been told that there was nothing they could do for him. The court was committed against him. The governor, however, was personally friendly to us, and had shown no ill will towards the man. It was barely possible that something might be accomplished there. We all had worship together amid the confusion of their hut—the first Christian service they had ever attended. They assured us of their joyful acceptance of the Gospel, and pledged obedience to all its teachings. We promised to do whatever we could in their behalf, and returned home.
Next day Mr. Martin and I went down to Lampūn to call on the governor. He was not at home, but in the rice-fields several miles out in the country. We followed him there. He received us kindly, but said, “Were I to make proclamation to protect that family, it would be impossible to enforce it. Nearly everybody in that neighbourhood believes that the bodies or ashes of fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, or children are in that graveyard, sent there by the demon in that family. If you can devise some plan to protect them, you are welcome to try it; but if they return to that village, I cannot be responsible for the results.” When told that they had now renounced the spirits, and put themselves under the Great Spirit, he said, “That is all very well, but how am I to convince the others that they are safe?” We then begged that he would give the place over to us. We wanted a place for preaching. We would put up one of the houses and establish a Christian family in it, with medicine to cure their fevers. I would oversee it, but would ask the family to help in the work. To this he readily consented. We trusted his promise, and we returned encouraged.
A few evenings later I arrived on the scene with our elder and some other Christians, and pitched tent at the edge of the ricefield, a hundred yards from the deserted lot, to engage in a contest with the destroying demon. It was, moreover, a crucial contest as between Christianity and demonism. Our whole future work in that province, and, to a large extent, throughout the land, depended on the result. Soon curiosity brought to our tent the head man and a large number of the villagers. We spent the evening in preaching to them. When asked what we proposed to do with the situation, we explained that we had come to take possession of the house and lot—the governor had given it over to the mission for a station. It was now the property of the Christians, over whom the spirits had no power. It was to be dedicated to the Lord’s work, and we even asked their aid.
Next morning we began work, bringing in some of the men of the outcast family to assist in identifying and reassembling the scattered timbers of the house. With much difficulty bone was joined to bone, and timber to timber. In a few days some of the villagers offered to be hired to help. One or two women of the family came over to cook for the workmen. Before long one house was set up, roofed, and floored; whereupon we moved up into it, and invited the neighbours to attend its dedication that evening. The evening was spent in song and prayer and praise. Many came up into the house. More listened from the ground below. We had given quinine to the fever patients, who were glad to get well by the help of Christian medicine. Meanwhile the epidemic subsided, and the worst fears of the people were allayed.
When it became necessary for me to return to Chiengmai, I left the elder to furnish moral support to the poor outcasts, who, little by little, came back to their home, and became the Christian family which we had promised to establish there. To save the land from being utterly lost to him, Nān Chaiwana had mortgaged it to one of the princes for the trifling sum of one hundred rupees. Not trusting to the prince’s unselfishness, I took Nān Chaiwana’s own money, paid the mortgage, and with some regret the prince released the property to me. Thus was it all restored to the family. Mr. Martin and I visited the station as often as we could. It became an interesting centre for our work, and ultimately grew into the Bethel church.
While I was engaged in this work, a strange thing was doing on the other side of the Mê Ping. One day a man came in from the “Big Tamarind Tree Village” to tell us that his whole village had become Christians, and were building a chapel. When it was finished, he would invite us to come down and indoctrinate the people in the teachings of our religion. This was something new, and, of course, most interesting. In due time the man came to Chiengmai to inform us that the chapel was finished, and we were invited to go down, take possession, dedicate it, and teach the people.
On the following Friday, Mr. Martin and I took boat and went to the village landing, where we separated, he going east to receive and baptize the converts in the “new home of the teachers,” as the house at Bān Pên long was called; and I to dedicate the new chapel at the “Big Tamarind Tree Village.” I found the chapel there all right, and the whole village assembled to welcome the teacher; and, apparently, like the audience that Peter found in the house of Cornelius, ready “to hear words whereby they might be saved.” The chapel was built mostly of bamboo, but so new and neat that I complimented the villagers, and expressed my great delight. After our reception, I invited them up into the chapel for worship, and began by announcing a hymn, and inviting them to join in learning to sing it; expecting, with my assistant and other Christians who had accompanied me, to spend the time in teaching them what Christianity is; presuming that their reception of it was a foregone conclusion.
But somehow things did not seem to run smoothly. I was conscious of being in a wrong atmosphere. The leader of the movement seemed ill at ease. None entered in with the accustomed zeal of new converts. My assistant noticed the same thing, and whispered in my ear that something was wrong. They were whispering to him, “Where is the money?” “What money?” “Why, the fifty or one hundred rupees that we were told would surely be forthcoming to every family that aided in the building, and that entered the new religion. The foreigners are rich, and, of course, will be delighted to distribute money freely.” The leader, of course, expected the lion’s share. It had all been a mere business venture on his part—or, rather, a swindle! This was on Saturday. On Monday morning Mr. Martin and I met at the boat according to agreement, he to report a good day and the baptism of ten adults along with as many children, and the reception of a number of catechumens; and I to confess how I had been sold.