The hours at the hospital were daily from early morning, frequently
from six or seven o’clock, till noon. During the latter part of
the afternoon he answered calls in various parts of the city.
By these calls he came into the homes of the people and became
better acquainted with them than he could have done under ordinary
circumstances. He gives what he calls a fair specimen of the
missionary physician’s life in Siam when his hands are full:
“When I awaked in the morning found two sets of servants
waiting for me—one from Prince Chao Fah Noi, who had sent
his boat for me to go up to his palace just as soon as I
could finish my breakfast; another from Chao Arim, the King’s
brother, wishing me to come over and see some one in his
palace very sick. My first duty of course was to attend to
little George, whom I found still living, though much the
same. This occupied the time before breakfast. After a hasty
meal, stepped into the sampan sent for me (the servants still
waiting to take me across the river to Chao Arim’s)—having
dismissed the Prince’s servants with a note requesting to
be excused. On the other shore entered gates of the city
wall.... While I was waiting for the Prince to be notified of
my arrival, servants gathered around; examined my clothing,
one wished me to take off my hat to see if my head was
shaved, another admired my watch—the ticking pleased the
children mightily. Some strong ammonia I had pleased them
very much. A young man with a flaming long jacket of red
silk (no shirt or vest above his waist cloth) came out; all
servants squatted on the ground. This young Prince conducted
me up a rude ladder to the bamboo dwelling of the sick man.
“Returning, invited to see the great man himself. The
audience halls of these great men are after all rather
well-adapted to the climate; immense rooms, lofty ceilings,
furniture of matting, etc. Returning to my place, found a
boatman from the Moorish Madras merchant’s awaiting me.
Accompanied the Hindoo, who had been sent for me, in his
open boat with umbrella over my head; the sun, however, very
hot, though this is our cold season. Some distance down the
river landed at the Nackodah’s commercial establishment, and
found myself in the midst of quite a number of intelligent
looking and polite Mahommedan Hindoo merchants and clerks,
with their picturesque costume; the turban of twisted shawl
and robes of thin white muslin, and sandals. Was received
very courteously, conducted to a bamboo house nearby. The
patient, a fine looking man, swarthy, with aquiline nose and
mustache, lay on a mat bed behind a screen.... And now the
voice of Dit, a servant of Chao Fah Noi, was heard; he had
followed on after me, not finding me at home—the Prince
being very desirous of seeing me. So I stepped into the
handsome boat he had sent, and was soon at the palace. Here
received with a smile of welcome.... Wished me to shew him
how to make chlorine gas. Succeeded well. Gave him a piece of
fluorspar and directions for etching glass. Left several jars
of chlorine. His boat in readiness to take me back.... In the
evening a call from Prince Ammaruk, in his priestly yellow
robes, several priests with him.”
All these interesting scenes and varieties of experience, however,
did not lighten the burden of the heart. When a patient suffered
pain and inflammation after an operation, he cries out:
“How can I go forward in a profession where I may inflict
suffering. If it was only injury to property and not to life
and health and senses! Alas, how hard a destiny, how could I
choose this profession!”
On a Saturday night he sighs:
“And so ends another week during which mercies have been ever
changing, ever new. It has been a week of labors for Christ
... and yet, though my poor head is ready to ache with the
task of deciding, judging, prescribing, I find a sweet kind
of weariness that comes from serving Jesus Christ.”
Such a tender heart and sympathetic nature suffered most where
it could help the least. The obstetrical customs of the country
in particular caused the doctor both distress and irritation on
account of the lamentable ignorance displayed and of the needless
sufferings caused.