“When told that he could not live through the day, he turned to his eldest child and committed the mother to his care. He gave his hand to each of us first, then to his dear faithful wife and children and grandchildren, and last to the church-members, saying to them, ‘Be patient! be patient! trust in Jesus, all of you.’ To his youngest son he said, ‘I am walking on the way you all must go; only be ready for our Lord. Oh, my son, do not fall from the right path. Trust in the Lord now, and do his work, as I have tried to do. You will suffer many trials, but they will be forgotten when the day of reward comes. You plant the rice-fields in the water and in the rain, but three months from now you will gather the harvest. Learn from your yearly work the lesson of life, and strengthen yourself in Jesus.’ He suffered greatly, but toward the last he lay quietly as if sleeping, then suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me as if he would speak, but he was not looking at me, for his eyes were full of light and joy. A smile passed over his face, and at the same instant he breathed his last. “The children were violent in their grief, but the dear old wife and mother would say, ‘Let us rejoice rather that father is now free from suffering. Jesus saved him from sin, and now has only taken him to himself. God has called him home before us, but we may follow and be with him. Be patient and trust, as your father said.’ She was heartbroken herself, and nearly exhausted with the long, patient nursing, and yet she would only say, ‘Loong Nan never complained in all his two years’ sickness. Let us not complain of what the Lord has done.’ “The men made a teak-wood coffin and Mr. Wilson lined it with fresh white muslin; then the body of our beloved old elder, the first Laos convert, was put in it and carried to the worship-room, where his voice had often been heard in prayer. The whole land was so flooded that it was impossible to dig a grave, so the coffin was placed on the surface of the ground and a brick wall built around it. This could not be done in the public burying-ground, and we laid our dear old Loong Nan in our own garden under the mango trees. Every one said, ‘How different from a heathen burial!’ “Do I believe that Jesus is? Yes, as I believe that I live now. Nan Intah, a poor ignorant Laos, in this remotest corner of the globe, believed the precious story of our Lord and received the promise, ‘I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.’ ‘I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.’ That bright look of surprised joy,――I thank our Lord for permitting me to see it, and it has strengthened my faith in him.” With this story of the peaceful death and Christian burial of a man but a little time ago a believer in witchcraft, a worshiper of spirits and of Buddha, knowing nothing of God or Christ or his own soul, we leave the general subject to look more particularly at the Laos country and people. CHAPTER XXIII. _FROM BANGKOK TO CHEUNG MAI._