“Dear Brother and Sister:
“So near and yet unable to get farther. Is it not a strange Providence? When I started this morning strong and well, refreshed by a Sabbath’s day rest at the little hamlet of Wong Luang I was rejoicing in the thought that I was almost at the end of this tedious and almost endless journey through the sultry wilderness and would soon receive the welcome which such friends as you will give, when about eight or nine A. M. my elephant by whose side I was walking, suddenly and without provocation turned upon me and pushed me over with his trunk and, when lying on the ground, thrust one of those huge tusks at me and into my poor body—how deep I know not, but ripping up my abdomen two and one-half inches just below the umbillicus. It was a strange sensation I assure you. I was expecting another thrust which I could not escape, for I was jammed in by the side of a tree. By this time, however, his driver had got his head turned into the road again.
“And there I was in the far woods with very probably a fatal wound and none but servants and Laos elephant drivers. As my men came up poor Beo, who is most faithful and much attached, burst into tears. And now thoughts of Harriette and home rushed over me. But God my Saviour, God to whom only yesterday I had renewed my consecration of myself as His servant in a sweet retired spot on the beautiful mountain stream where we were camped, has permitted—nay ordered—this unlooked-for calamity; and in God I trust, blessed be His Name for sustaining me through the hours of this sad day.
“Such wound, of course, must be sewed up, and at once, and I must do it, for I could trust none of those with me, new men all but good Beo. It was curious business, this sewing up one’s own abdomen; but it must be done, and it was done—four stitches. By this time my men had contrived a very comfortable litter with an awning from the bamboos growing near at hand. Of course climbing upon an elephant and enduring the merciless rocking motion was out of the question. So borne by four men on the litter we slowly journeyed on through the dry, parched woods, over mountains and across the dry water brooks from eleven or twelve to five P. M., when we reached this village on the Maa Li River, on the route from Muang Tern and Muang Li to Lampoon. And I am writing this by candlelight in the Sala Klang of the place lying on my back. It is wearisome work to write and I must stop soon. The people here seem kind. I have engaged a messenger to take this announcement of my misfortune to Chiengmai.
“And now, my dear brother and dear sister (and if Brother Wilson and his dear wife have arrived, I include them also), I need not say to you how serious is the injury I have received. The first thought was that the omentum or caul had protruded; it may have been lacerated fat under the skin. It was replaced, of course. But whether the cavity of the peritoneum was pierced or not, (and my symptoms would have been more severe if it had been, I think), still there must have been much contusion of the bowels, and of course great danger of peritonitis, the gravest of all diseases. I must lie perfectly still for days and days to have a chance of getting well. Another day of such jolting as today would be fatal. My only hope is in absolute rest. My bowels are very sore, of course; but God will not forsake His child and I will try to bear all that is appointed me. I write to notify you that you, too, may trust your dear Sophia, and brother W. his dear Kate, in the same ever gracious hands. His angel has laid his hands upon me and stopped me here.
“I write also to say that neither of you must think of coming over (from Chiengmai it is three days on elephant) to visit me. You can do me no manner of good and your wives absolutely require you both at home just now. It would be positively wrong for you to leave them. I have good, kind servants, medicines, books, and best of all my Saviour’s presence, and I am resigned to His will. But, Oh, poor Harriette—pray for her. We will pray for each other, and God bless you and yours till we meet.
“Affectionately,
“S. R. House.
“P. S. If I get well, I—or if not, my four men—will proceed to Chiengmai and deliver to you there six hundred ticals I am bringing to your mission.”
This letter records a story of nerve and fortitude seldom equalled in the annals of travel and exploration. One must pause after reading it to take in the whole situation. The note itself was written at the close of the day of shock and pain and suffering. It was written while the sufferer was lying flat on his back, scarcely able to move without agitating the wound; and written then lest a night’s delay might find him unable to write. But as you read the letter you are conscious that he writes not because he is thinking of his own need, but because he knows that his friends will be greatly alarmed by his failure to appear. The trip itself had been undertaken in a spirit of self-abnegation solely for the welfare of his fellow missionaries. And the necessity of the trip casts a vivid light upon the deprivations and hardships of those pioneer missionaries. There are those who will exclaim, “Fools! why did they go so far from contact with civilisation and under such circumstances,—five hundred miles from the nearest physician!” Yes, fools! but fools for the sake of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, “of whom the world was not worthy.”
Further details of this marvellous adventure are given in a letter written two weeks later from the same place, the original of which is still preserved.