The next week was one of intense interest to me. One of its days was the thirtieth anniversary of my arrival in Chiengmai, and fraught with memories of the hopes, achievements, and disappointments of all those years. And were we now, perhaps, on the eve of a new opening with wider possibilities than ever? So it seemed. For, one day as I was in the monastery at Mûang Sai, there entered an officer, Sên Suriya by name, who, making the obeisance usually made to priests, explained that, having been absent from home, he had not heard the instruction we had given at our evening worship. His wife, however, had reported that a teacher from a great and distant country was come with Scriptures and an offer of salvation from the great God of all. It was the great desire of his heart to be saved from his sins. His interest was evidently intense, and that roused our interest in him. From three o’clock till nightfall our elders and I explained to him the great truths of revelation, while he listened almost with rapture. In the midst of this earnest conference the “āchān,” or chief officer of the monastery, came in; and Sên Suriya joined us in explaining to this friend the strange news he had heard. The āchān was soon as deeply interested as he. He also desired to know further of this matter. Before we parted that evening, Sên Suriya had accepted the teaching joyfully; and his friend, with more reservation. Soon others had joined these two—notably a family of refugees from persecution for witchcraft. They were ready to accept anything which would deliver them from bondage to the spirits. On Sunday at the public service the instruction was directed to the needs of these enquirers, all of whom were present. The cost was to be counted; the cross was to be taken up; but the reward was great. Sên Suriya’s wife and family all opposed him. He had spent an anxious night, and was under great strain; but was still firm. He was ready at any cost.