Making a double march the third day, I arrived at the Almora Sanitarium of the Methodist Mission, and was welcomed by Dr. and Mrs. Badley, who were there, the last of those who had gone up for rest that year. The doctor was fast breathing out his life. He was dying of consumption, but working until the last. He was busy revising his Indian Mission Directory. His voice was gone to a whisper, and yet he worked. I helped him as I could, and looked into his face and tried to realize the thoughts of a man who loves work, and in the midst of a most successful career he is cut down, and knows in every moment of waking thought that he can live but a few days. Ten days I staid there, and then came down the mountain road to Katgodam. On this journey I did my last service for the sick and dying man. At Katgodam I carried him in my arms and laid him on his bed in the car. The gentle caress from his wasted hand, and his whispered blessing for the help I had been to him on the hard journey, linger as a precious memory. He died three weeks later.
From Katgodam I returned to the hills, but this time only to Naini Tal, one day’s march up the mountains. In this wonderful hill station I remained ten days, the guest of Rev. and Mrs. Homer Stuntz. November had come, and by this season it was getting cool in these mountains, frosting some at night. I here received a great encouragement in the matter of health, as I found while living in this cool atmosphere that my head began to clear up, and that I could read with pleasure again. Had I been able to remain there, it is possible that I would have made a rapid recovery; but duty seemed to call me again to Rangoon. Dr. George Petecost was then engaged in a series of “missions” in India, and I had secured the agreement of several Rangoon ministers and missionaries to invite him to hold a mission in Rangoon. He was due there in December, and it was nearing the end of November; and as I felt better, and as I was obligated to be in Rangoon, and as the worst heat of the latter place had gone, I hoped to continue to improve, even if I returned. But I was quickly undeceived. No sooner was I in the plains than all the distressing symptoms again appeared. This condition was relieved a little when I crossed the Bay of Bengal, but increased on landing in Rangoon. Meantime, my wife had broken down under the strain of her work, and was seriously ill. So ended our first year in Burma—much hard work, trying conditions, and breaking health. Had this been all the outlook, it would have been disappointing indeed. But the people of Rangoon had been responsive and kind. The work in the English Church had gone forward and some conversions had resulted, which had been of permanent worth to the Church. The lady missionaries had completed a successful year in the school and Orphanage. The other branches of the mission were faithfully cared for, so far as the limited supervision given would warrant.
At this time, and indeed for the whole period of which I write, Burma had been a district of the Bengal Conference, and as the sessions of Conference were held almost uniformly in Calcutta or some Indian station, we Burma missionaries usually made the trip to India to attend the annual session. This took me, including health trips, thirty times over the Bay of Bengal in the ten years of my missionary service. The Indian Conferences have for many years been held as near the beginning of the new year as may be. I left my wife very sick, and started for Conference about the middle of January, being far from well myself, but still at work. The Annual Conference was of great interest, and the Central Conference, which followed immediately, even more so. I was a member of the Central Conference also. The Central Conference of India and Malaysia had been well organized for several years. This body, to all intents and purposes, is a General Conference. It is an increasing power for good. It must exist to keep Methodism in this wide area in some organic unity. It has served this purpose admirably. At this session of the Central Conference, held at Calcutta, in January, 1892, two great questions had a clearly-defined statement that has become of wide-reaching importance.
The question of territorial divisions came up early, and had the right of way for full discussion and settlement. Our people at home can not understand the great areas, as well as the many millions of people in Southern Asiatic mission lands. It is all so much bigger than the notion given by a map. At the time of which I write we had three Conferences and the far-away mission of Malaysia. The most extensive area was included in the Bengal Conference. One end of this Conference included the province of Burma, and the other end reached up to and included almost all the Northwest Indian part of our mission. Thus it curved all around the southern and western sides of the North India Conference, as far as Mussoorie. In length it could not be less than two thousand miles. South India Conference included territory equally incongruous with its name. It became apparent that we must divide up this territory, and make more Conferences. We planned five Annual Conferences, and raised Malaysia to a Mission Conference.
The other great question that had the earnest consideration of the Central Conference was the indorsement of the Missionary Episcopacy. Some of the Annual Conferences had already taken action, and the Central Conference approved the resolutions of the Bengal Conference indorsing and approving the Missionary Episcopacy, and asking its continuance as contrasted with the General Superintendency. Bishop Thoburn’s administration received, after careful debate, the first of that series of indorsements that has lifted the Missionary Episcopacy into a new and conspicuous place in the organism called Methodism.
These two transactions made that, my first, Central Conference of India and Malaysia, memorable.
CHAPTER III
A Year of Changes
While still at Conference at Calcutta, I received a telegram to hasten home, as my wife was seriously ill. Some of the brethren and I spent a season in sympathetic counsel over this distressing situation of my own impaired health, and the serious condition of my wife. I took a steamer the next day, and started for Rangoon. Of course, we wished for a rapid passage; but as often happens when we are eager for the most rapid advance, there proves to be the greatest delay. We were delayed in the Calcutta River forty-eight hours, owing to fogs settling down on the water just as the tide was favorable for sailing. We had to tie up for such time as the fog lasted, as no steamer will move on that dangerous river in a fog. When the fog did lift, the tide had gone down, and we had to remain at anchor till the next tide. In all my journeying up and down the river, I have never had so much delay as on this voyage, when I wanted to get forward the most urgently. The journey across the bay was after the usual sort. I felt much distressed about my wife’s state, but had great comfort in the sympathy and counsel of Dr. and Mrs. Parker, who were fellow-passengers going home on furlough. They were going via Rangoon, and it proved a kindly providence as they did good service in advising us in our time of need.
As our ship approached the Rangoon River, we were again just too late for the incoming tide, causing another long delay. So near home, and yet we had to lie there for twelve hours! When we finally arrived in the Rangoon Harbor, it was after the longest voyage that I have known upon the bay. But I was immensely relieved to find that my wife was slightly better. This was offset somewhat by the fact that I was certainly in a much less satisfactory condition than I had been for some weeks preceding. It was now early in February, and the heat was becoming severe. As the heat was, or appeared to be, my greatest drawback, and would hinder the recovery of my wife, it was decided that the only solution of the difficulty was to make another flight to the Indian Hills immediately for a long rest. This time the whole family was to go. Here also Dr. Parker’s presence and counsel were of great value. He knew India, having had long experience and the best judgment, so we felt safe in following his advice. He had selected two of the Indian hill sanitariums, and knew that that kind of a retreat was my only hope. But he, and every one else at this time, supposed that my work in Burma was ended. It was decided to ask for some one from home to relieve me as soon as possible.
But there was the immediate difficulty of looking after the work, and especially the English congregation. The Conference that had closed so recently had appointed a young man, J. T. Robertson, to be my assistant in the Rangoon English Church, so that I could give more time to the affairs of the district. He was only a probationer in the Conference, having been admitted to Conference at its recent session, and he had had no experience as a pastor. More, he had come to a strange city; but, as the case often is in our mission work, we had to take all the risks to the work and to the man, and appoint him to the untried responsibility of the pastorate of the English Church. That he would have run away if he could have gotten out of the province he has often declared; but this being impossible, he went to work with a will, and for the next five months did very acceptable service as pastor.