Chapter 5: The Little Doctor

(The Doutorsinho).
LEAVING Goyaz city early one Monday morning in July I covered some thirty miles on mule-back, the first day in a northerly direction through a region never before touched by the Gospel.
The first night was spent at a large and well-established farm, hidden away some three miles from the main track. I was received with the usual kindheartedness of the country people of Brazil, and that same evening I had a very attentive audience of about six persons, who listened with evident appreciation to the hymns and Gospel message. I spent the night in relative comfort, stretched out on an ox hide, and very early next morning, having succeeded in catching my mule, I continued my journey after making careful inquiries about the road. Alas! I followed the instructions far too literally, and many by-paths had not been accounted for. The path through the forest dwindled and dwindled, until at last I found myself lying along the mule’s neck to escape some overhanging branches, or literally forcing my animal through thick and thorny undergrowth, which sometimes entangled us completely in its rope-like coils. At last I emerged at an old, long-abandoned farm, and there the path ended, so we had to double on our tracks until another path was found, leading in the required direction, for fortunately I had a compass with me. The second path proved no improvement, and vanished completely in the forest, giving me some trouble in retracing my steps. Finally, after several failures of this kind, to my relief I emerged into the open campo, and leaving the troublesome track I struck across country, trusting to my compass to bring us through. But meanwhile I and all my belongings had become smothered with myriads of spiky seeds, which soon made themselves felt, and, worse still, I began to feel all over my body the unmistakable bite of the carapato, the worst plague of inland Brazil at this time of the year. I was clearly in for it. To stop and rid myself would be a long job and a pretty useless one, as my clothes and blankets, too, were fairly full of them, so I pushed on and delayed the operation until more sure of my whereabouts.
At last, to my huge satisfaction, I struck a well-beaten path, and soon after a little cluster of houses came in sight. There I rested for two hours, visiting these cottages and distributing tracts and Gospels to the people, who had evidently heard of the Protestant as a specially Satanic and monstrous kind of being. They eyed me with suspicion and fear, which, I trust, I succeeded in somewhat dispelling ere I pushed on my way. Certainly they gave me a good dinner, and would not hear of my paying for it either.
As soon as I was well out of the way, and the first stream gladdened my eyes, I pulled up to balance accounts with the fiery little carapatos. With the aid of a small pair of tweezers I pulled off from my suffering carcass no less than 150 of them, taking a real satisfaction in the enumeration and death of my enemies, though the venom of their poisonous bites lasted for long after.
I spent the night in a little wayside hut, restless and tossing with inflammation, and consumed by hungry carapatos in my blanket. I longed for day, and ere the sun reappeared I was well on my way again, reaching the little decadent town of Santa Rita before midday.
Some miles before entering this place, the objective point of my journey, I stopped at one of the numerous and delightful little streams which every few miles delight the Traveler’s eye. There I carefully removed as many of my enemies as I could reach, had a cooling bathe, donned a clean shirt, collar, etc., and then rode into Santa Rita as if had just stepped out of Goyaz.
I drew up at the first house, which proved to be that of the chief man of the place, so chief that he seemed an embodiment of all the local institutions, being the local magistrate, notary, protector of orphans, political director, and village schoolmaster. I found him busy teaching some eight boys, and girls of a more or less mahogany color, for the rudimentary teaching of whom our friend received the sum of $20 a month, and of course considers himself very badly treated.
By his opening remarks I saw he had sized me up as something in the gold mining way, and as that had been originally my profession, I did not at once undeceive him, but waited until I had created a fairly favorable impression and we were a little more at home. He was a small-sized, pale-faced man, well on in years; intelligent looking, but with a very grave and sad demeanor. He lives quite alone, and finds his only excitement in Goyaz politics, about which the less said the better.
When finally I mentioned the object of my visit he looked graver and paler still, nor did my feeler concerning a room for my meeting that night procure any reply more encouraging than, “O Senhor e quern sabe” (“You know best, sir”); so I at once relieved him of further anxiety on that score by declaring that the gathering had best be held in the open air, as the weather was hot, and there was a beautiful full moon that night.
I had no sooner announced my intention than the second celebrity of the place suddenly appeared, and a most interesting and useful person he proved to be. He introduced himself as Senhor Antonio Santos, otherwise known as “Doutorsinho,” or little doctor. He was a native of the Southern State of Rio Grande, and had been very much involved in the various revolutions there and in the south of Matto Grosso. These revolutions were the outstanding feature of Brazilian history in the early nineties. As one of the defeated commanders he had never reconciled himself to the surrender of his convictions and ideals, and, disgusted with the course of events, he had sought voluntary exile in this remote region, where he supported himself by attempting to heal the local ailments, though not a qualified practitioner. His appearance, however, was not nearly so romantic as his history. He was the nearest approach in life to Sancho Panza in “Don Quixote” I have ever seen, in the most friendly and sympathetic sense of the word. The short and stout but active figure, rubicund round face and merry eye, the little fringing beard, and negligée dress made the picture complete. He was, however, clean and neat in person, and when he opened his mouth the aforesaid comparison ended. On entering he made me a formal bow, and in the very finest Portuguese expressed both satisfaction end surprise at my visit to so remote a region. He spoke as if under a deep sense of responsibility, with veil-balanced and nicely turned phrases, in rather a grandiloquent manner, which was quite natural to thee but which contrasted very oddly with his appearance. He was a man of good birth and education, and in his presence the schoolmaster seemed to shrink into himself, never venturing to mingle a word with our long conversation.
After discussing various topics, the war being the principle item, on which subject he expressed himself with a calm and reserve worthy of Sir Edward Gray, he stopped abruptly, and, addressing me directly, said, “And may I ask your Excellency a question? What is the need and object of your — er — Protestant sects carrying on their propaganda in such regions as these?”
“Senhor,” I replied, “we do so because we are convinced that it is time that these people reverted to the Apostolic religion of their fathers, and gave up the foolish and idolatrous innovations so much in vogue in the Roman Church.”
On his bowing his head in sympathetic approval, I went on to give him a more general view of the Evangelical faith and the urgent need of its propagation, and finished by telling him of my proposed meeting. At once he showed the greatest interest and offered to take me on a personally conducted tour, so to speak, round the town.
All that remains of a once flourishing center, when the gold was forthcoming, are some thirty houses, about half of which are in a state of ruin, and being rapidly swallowed up by the encircling forest.
True to his word, the Doutorsinho took me from house to house, and he himself gave the invitation to the meeting to be held.
“Ah, Senhor M —, and how is the little boy? Has he taken those pills I sent? Good, I am glad to hear it. And how we are honored by having this Cavalheiro with us, who, without payment, has come a long way to teach us things we ought to know, and we must not fail to give him a hearing.”
Then followed an almost imperative invitation to the whole household to be present at sundown on the big rocks in the center of the village.
At first he was hesitant in describing me and explaining what I was to talk about, and spoke of “ideas” and “doctrines,” but as we progressed he warmed up and by the time we visited the last house I was quite an Apostolic messenger. In view of such forceful invitations I had nothing to do but bow my head and hand out my Gospels and tracts at each house.
That night about thirty odd people turned up on the rocks in the bright moonlight and seated themselves round me, with Doutorsinho on my right and the schoolmaster on my left.
The meeting was wonderfully inspiring, and the Spirit of God was manifestly at work in many hearts during that solemn hour. Oh! what a grand, glorious, irresistible Gospel we have to proclaim, and what a joy and pride it is to do so, especially under such circumstances!
At the close the little doctor permitted me to announce a meeting in his house next morning, which was duly held, the pale-faced schoolmaster again being present.
The meeting ended, up jumped my good friend and, embracing me before all those present, declared that he fully believed all he had heard, and desired to identify himself with the same, and in the name of all the rest he thanked me for my visit. Such words cannot always be taken at their face value; never­, there can be no doubt that God’s Word had found some place in his as in other hearts in that poverty-stricken little town.
And so the seed was sown and the way prepared for some, future harvest; and that same day I set out on my homeward journey, leaving the schoolmaster immersed in a copy of the new Portuguese version of “The Traveler’s Guide;” while the Doutorsinho accompanied me about five miles on the way ere we finally parted. A few days later he rode into Goyaz to obtain a Bible, The rest of the journey was not marked by any special incident, except a quite unexpected and, at first, undesired meeting in a hut by the way, the hour being advanced and the road uncertain; but as my story is already drawn out, I will only say that I felt the same power present as on the occasion of the open-air meeting referred to. As I concluded one man said to another, “We never expected to hear this.”
After five sleepless nights and several dinnerless and pest-tormented days, yet full of holy joy for the privileges I had been granted, I rode into Goyaz safe and well, and — how I did sleep that night!