“Such wound, of course, must be sewed up, and at once, and I must do it, for I could trust none of those with me, new men all but good Beo. It was curious business, this sewing up one’s own abdomen; but it must be done, and it was done—four stitches. By this time my men had contrived a very comfortable litter with an awning from the bamboos growing near at hand. Of course climbing upon an elephant and enduring the merciless rocking motion was out of the question. So borne by four men on the litter we slowly journeyed on through the dry, parched woods, over mountains and across the dry water brooks from eleven or twelve to five P. M., when we reached this village on the Maa Li River, on the route from Muang Tern and Muang Li to Lampoon. And I am writing this by candlelight in the Sala Klang of the place lying on my back. It is wearisome work to write and I must stop soon. The people here seem kind. I have engaged a messenger to take this announcement of my misfortune to Chiengmai. “And now, my dear brother and dear sister (and if Brother Wilson and his dear wife have arrived, I include them also), I need not say to you how serious is the injury I have received. The first thought was that the omentum or caul had protruded; it may have been lacerated fat under the skin. It was replaced, of course. But whether the cavity of the peritoneum was pierced or not, (and my symptoms would have been more severe if it had been, I think), still there must have been much contusion of the bowels, and of course great danger of peritonitis, the gravest of all diseases. I must lie perfectly still for days and days to have a chance of getting well. Another day of such jolting as today would be fatal. My only hope is in absolute rest. My bowels are very sore, of course; but God will not forsake His child and I will try to bear all that is appointed me. I write to notify you that you, too, may trust your dear Sophia, and brother W. his dear Kate, in the same ever gracious hands. His angel has laid his hands upon me and stopped me here. “I write also to say that neither of you must think of coming over (from Chiengmai it is three days on elephant) to visit me. You can do me no manner of good and your wives absolutely require you both at home just now. It would be positively wrong for you to leave them. I have good, kind servants, medicines, books, and best of all my Saviour’s presence, and I am resigned to His will. But, Oh, poor Harriette—pray for her. We will pray for each other, and God bless you and yours till we meet. “Affectionately, “S. R. HOUSE. “P. S. If I get well, I—or if not, my four men—will proceed to Chiengmai and deliver to you there six hundred ticals I am bringing to your mission.”