The accident happened on this wise: The doctor had been walking awhile for exercise behind his riding elephant, and then attempted to pass up beside the creature to the front. The elephant, startled at his unexpected appearance, struck him to the ground with a blow of his trunk, gored him savagely in the abdomen, and was about to trample him under foot, when the driver, not a moment too soon, got the creature again under control. With rare nerve the doctor cleansed the frightful wound, and sewed it up by the help of its reflection in a mirror, as he lay on his back on the ground. He despatched the messenger to us; gave careful instructions to his attendants as to what they should do for him when the inevitable fever and delirium should come on; and resigned himself calmly to await whatever the outcome might be. The situation was, indeed, desperate. We could not possibly hope to reach him before the question of life or death for him would be settled; nor could he be brought to us. The best we could do was to get an order from the Prince for a boat, boatmen, and carriers, and despatch these down the river, committing with earnest prayer the poor sufferer to the all-loving Father’s care. The doctor was carried on a bamboo litter through the jungle to the Mê Ping River, and in due time reached Chiengmai convalescent, to find that the two expected young missionaries had arrived in safety before him. After a month’s rest he was able to return to Bangkok; but not until he had assisted us in organizing the First Presbyterian Church of Chiengmai. In the _Presbyterian Record_ for November, 1868, will be found an interesting report from the doctor’s pen. Naturally he was struck with the predominance of demon-worship over Buddhism among the Lāo. We quote the following: “Not only offerings, but actually prayers are made to demons. I shall never forget the first prayer of the kind I ever heard.... We had just entered a dark defile in the mountains, beyond Mûang Tôn, and had come to a rude, imageless shrine erected to the guardian demon of the pass. The owner of my riding-elephant was seated on the neck of the big beast before me. Putting the palms of his hands together and raising them in the attitude of worship, he prayed: ‘Let no evil happen to us. We are six men and three elephants. Let us not be injured. Let nothing come to frighten us,’ and so on. On my way down the river, at the rapids and gloomy passes in the mountains the boatmen would land, tapers would be lighted, and libations would be poured, and offerings of flowers, food, and betel would be made to the powers of darkness.”