His friend the āchān had received his appointment in the monastery from the Pīa, or head-officer. For honesty’s sake he felt he must notify the Pīa and resign his position. It was, therefore, arranged that our elders and I should go with the two friends on that errand that very afternoon. We went, and were kindly received. Sên Suriya, as spokesman, witnessed a good confession. They had been men, he said, who all their lives had sought merit and followed the teachings of the Buddha, but with great anxiety, on account of their failures. Now they had learned of the great refuge of the God who could pardon and save both in this and in the coming world. Their motive was strictly religious. They would be as loyal as ever, and would perform faithfully their government duties. The āchān said that his friend had fully expressed his views, but he wished further to resign his position in the monastery. The Pīa listened with evident interest, but with some surprise. When he spoke, he said: “All that I know of religion I have learned from these two men. They know manifold more than I do. If they see it right, how can I oppose? I will still take them as my religious teachers, and will learn Christianity of them.” I added a word, emphasizing their assurance that being good Christians would only strengthen their loyalty. Thanking the Pīa for his kindness, I retired. How much of his liberality was due to my presence—if it were so due at all—I do not know. But next morning Sên Suriya came to say that he could not withstand the opposition of his wife and family. While his faith was firm as ever, he could do no more this year. By another year he hoped their opposition might be relaxed. Meantime the family of refugees had weakened. I supplied all these with medicine, and urged them to remain steadfast in the faith, reminding them that baptism was not essential to salvation. I had made further stay in Mûang Sai dependent upon the outcome in the case of these two men. So now it seemed best to continue my journey northward. I went out to a retired wooded hillock, and there spent a quiet season in prayer, commending those in whom I had become so intensely interested to the care of the Divine Teacher, and seeking direction for my further course.