These Mūsôs had all come, expecting to join the church. They had been taught that public baptism—confessing Christ before men—was the consummating act, the external seal of their initiation into the privileges of the church. Although we impressed upon them that they were not saved by the mere ceremony of baptism, yet somehow they felt that without it they were not quite in the church, and hence probably not quite safe from the spirits. Since it would be nearly a year before they would have another opportunity, it seemed unwise not to receive some of them at this time. The greatest doubt was about Cha Waw. Yet he felt that more than any other he needed whatever protection and assistance the church could afford him. He had begun with his whole strength to break the chains of his opium habit, to seek pardon and be saved. He felt confident that with God’s help he would succeed. The final decision was that, in order to bind them to the service of Christ, they were all to appear before the session and make their profession; but that only the two old men should be received into full communion, and that one grandson from each family be baptized as non-communing members. It was thought best to let the others wait till our next visit; though I have never been satisfied that they should not all have been admitted that day. Three of these Mūsô boys accompanied me to Chiengmai on my return, and entered the Boys’ School. It is not at all surprising that, in surroundings so different from those of their mountain homes, they presently grew lonesome and homesick. But they were satisfactory pupils, and remained in school long enough to get a good start in reading and singing. Cha Waw, after a manful struggle, finally succeeded in breaking away entirely from his opium—by the help of prayer and of quinine, as he always believed and affirmed. When the non-Christian tribesmen with their opium pipes visited his village, he was accustomed to go down to the elders at Mê Kawn, to be away from temptation, and under Christian influence. He lived a number of years after this to attest the reality of his victory—the only case I have ever known where the victory was surely won. That year there was a famine among all the hill tribes. The upland rice was almost entirely cut off by a plague of rats. I do not believe in “rice Christians”; but when people are famishing with hunger, I believe in feeding them, whether they are Christians or not. These did not ask either for money or for any other aid. But when I left them, I made arrangement with the Lāo elders to furnish them with sixty buckets of rice, for which I paid ten rupees in advance. They were very grateful for the aid.