Dispensary work is equally unsatisfactory. The friends of the patients come to the dispensary and describe as well as they can the most obvious symptoms, and from the information obtained in this exceedingly unsatisfactory way an opinion as to the nature of the patient’s ailment must be arrived at and a prescription made. The results of such a method could not be otherwise than unsatisfactory even with intelligent nursing and a faithful observance of directions. As to the nursing of the sick among the Laos, it is sufficient to state that it is such as to seriously compromise any favorable tendencies, and the directions given by the physician are usually subject to any amendments that may be suggested by the inclinations of the patient or the opinions of nurses or friends. If supposed to be seriously ill, the patient is visited by a throng of relatives, friends and acquaintances, and is disturbed by a ceaseless hum of voices; elderly ladies entertain one another at the bedside of the patient with the fullest accounts of the nature, course, duration and proper treatment of similar cases which they have witnessed, some of them relating the circumstances of the marvelous cures effected by some skillful doctor while others dwell upon the melancholy import of the symptoms.
Having concluded his daily routine of dispensary work, the foreign doctor makes his second visit to his patient. Arrived at the house, he probably finds it filled with the relatives and friends of the patient, all devoutly attending a reading from the Buddhist scriptures by a priest or a number of priests, according to the means of the patient; long prayers and chants are rehearsed, sacred water is sprinkled over the patient, offerings of flowers and wax tapers are made to the household spirits. After this ceremony, which lasts for several hours, the patient passes into the hands of a native doctor.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A TOUR IN THE LAOS COUNTRY.
This journey was made by G. W. Vrooman, M. D., and the Rev. Mr. McGilvary in 1872, to ascertain, in a portion of the East but little known to us, the size and comparative importance of the Laos chief cities and villages in reference to missionary work, to preach the gospel, and to observe the disposition of the authorities and people toward foreigners, especially toward teachers of the Christian religion.
During the early part of the dry season our time had been so occupied that it was not till after the first heavy showers of the rainy season had fallen that we decided to go. Our journey, in consequence, was hurriedly made, and the time we remained in different cities was barely sufficient to allow us opportunity to accomplish our objects satisfactorily to ourselves. At our stopping-places the gospel was preached and a few books were distributed—few, because we had no more. We visited the authorities, made known the object of our journey through their country, and endeavored to ascertain the leading features relative to their provinces, their population, extent, etc., and to judge whether sufficient encouragement was offered to repeat the visit at some future time.
After deciding upon the expediency of the tour we were for some time in doubt whether it would be wise to go at that season of the year. Foreign residents of this country consider it unsafe to travel during the rainy season, and even the natives fear long journeys through the forests. The jungle is the home of a multitude of savage beasts, but these are not more dreadful than its malaria.
After engaging our elephants we went to the king for a passport. Had this been refused us we could not have gone. He, however, very cordially furnished us with one, and wished us a prosperous journey. This passport was so worded that we were to travel as his guests, and yet to go for the purpose of teaching the Christian religion, healing the sick, etc. It was so worded, I believe, out of deference to our request, and not from any special interest in our work. We were furnished with the kind of passport given to certain Siamese officers who are here occasionally, or to their own princes when required to visit a neighboring province; and because it is customary to state the object of their journey in a passport there occurred the anomaly of a Buddhist king sending men forth to preach the Christian religion under his protection. I may add here that after we had gone an officer of the Siamese government here at the time, reproved the king sharply for having allowed us to go. I think the Siamese are jealous of the visits of foreigners to their distant provinces. A few years ago Cambodia was won from its allegiance by the French. By many of the natives we are believed to be political agents acting in behalf of England or of some foreign power.
Our preparations for the journey were soon completed. Perhaps the most important articles in our outfit were medicines. With our letter we need not have taken money in our purses, but no script from any earthly potentate can give such security against malaria as a few grains of quinine, and no person is safe in this country during the rainy season without it. Besides medicines and money to pay our way, we took a small supply of canned provisions—only enough, however, for use in case of sickness, as our food was to be procured on the way. It was necessary to take as little baggage as possible. A tent, blankets and a few extra articles of clothing, books, cooking utensils, guns and ammunition, about completed our outfit. We had four elephants, two of which were reserved for baggage. We had also an escort of six natives, besides those who accompanied the elephants—fourteen in all.
After commending ourselves and those we left to the care of God, we set out at noon, April 15th, on our journey. Elephant-traveling is slow, scarcely averaging two miles per hour. Our course for the first hundred miles lay toward the north-east. The level country over which we first passed is occupied by a rural population. Our road, for the first ten or twelve miles, was through rice-fields. Here and there we could see small hamlets, whose sites were marked by graceful palm trees. Narrow strips of forest, extending in irregular curves, joined the different villages and formed the near boundary of our horizon. They marked the course of small streams and irrigating canals. After six hours’ travel we left the plain for the mountain-country, but two hours before doing so we had entered the forest. Thenceforth, till we reached Muang-Pau, a small village eight days’ journey distant, we saw no houses, save in a small hamlet of thirty or forty inhabitants at “Boiling Springs.” Our route, a main road traveled over betwixt Cheung Mai, Cheung Rai and Cheung Toong, was merely an elephant-path through a dense forest. On Sabbath, while encamped near a small stream in this forest, we met Saan-yawee-Chai, the native Christian whose home is in Muang-Pau. He was on his way to Lampoon. It was our intention to visit him at his home, but Providence directed his steps to us. He excused himself for traveling on Sunday by saying that he was not well instructed in the duties and observances of the Christian religion, and that also he was in company with those who would not stop.