April 30.—The report of the flight of the Pasha, it appears was not true, and arose from the two circumstances I have mentioned, of his horses having been seen running about the streets, and his supplies being open to the people. He has been for several days endeavouring to get away, and had drawn up for that purpose some boats under the Seroy. All his stables were levelled to the ground, and the place flooded with water. When the distress of the people was mentioned to him, he ordered one of his corn stores to be opened to them. However, to-day, blessed be God’s Holy Name, the waters have sunk more than a yard, so we trust the great danger is over.

To-day, one more was brought out dead from the eight opposite houses, making twenty-five, and we know there are four more lying ill there. Our poor schoolmaster, who went in the caravan, is dead, and was buried in his tent.

May 1.—The Lord has brought us all in safety to the beginning of another month, through the most trying period of my life; yet the Lord has every day filled our mouth with praise, and enabled us to see his preserving hand.

To-day, as I passed along the street, I saw numbers of dead bodies lying unburied, and the dogs eating with avidity the loathsome food. Oh! it made my very heart sink. The numbers of the dead can now be no longer ascertained, for most of the bodies are buried either in the houses or in the roads; yet amidst all this, the Lord suffers not the destroying angel to enter our dwelling; but we feel the Lord has commanded the man with the ink-horn to write us down to be spared, as this is one of the vials of God’s wrath on his enemies.

May 2.—We have heard nothing to-day to vary the general scene of our calamities; the intensity of this most desolating disease surpasses all thought. Numbers of families are altogether swept away; in numerous others, out of ten or twelve, only one, two, or three remain; but I hear of none, save our own, where death has not entered. Yet, while I bless and praise the Holy Name of our Lord, under whose wing alone we came here, and under whose wing alone we have trusted, the things my eyes have seen, and my ears heard, press upon my heart, and make me at times very sad; neither can I chase them from my mind. I can only look forward for comfort to that day, when the Lord himself will come to put an end to this dispensation of desolation, and introduce his own peace. Yea, come Lord Jesus, come quickly.

We have just heard melancholy tidings of another caravan, which endeavoured to escape into Persia from the plague, but has been forced back again by the Arabs, the floods, and the scarcity of provisions, and besides numbers among them have died daily of the plague, so still we can bless God we did not leave our present position by this last opportunity. Let us then again bless him for not allowing us to make haste.

May 3.—To-day we trust the Lord has a little alleviated the virulence of the plague; many attacked yesterday, and the day before, have been rapidly recovering, and fewer deaths have taken place to-day—a great deal so far as we can ascertain. May God’s holy name be praised, who is a hiding place from every storm. We had our water jars filled again to-day, when many, even of the rich, who have connections in every direction, find the greatest difficulty. “Your water shall be sure.” We who are alone, and without a friend within hundreds of miles in any direction, have been supplied by our Lord’s gracious ordering; thus he puts a new song into our mouths, even a song of thanksgiving. To-day all are well, even our dear little baby is quite recovered.

May 4.—The weather has for these two or three days past been beautifully fine, and clear, and hot, by which our God seems to have mitigated the symptoms of the plague. All accounts to-day are encouraging; the number of new cases few, and the number of those recovering many. Our eyes have also been rejoiced by the sight of three or four water-carriers passing again, after an interval of ten days; many more people have also been passing and repassing than before; so we trust the Lord is now taking away this desolating judgment, which, in less than two months, has carried away more than half the population of this city; for, allowing that it had been silently making its deadly course three weeks before it was discovered, it does not exceed eight weeks, and by far the greatest portion of deaths have been within the last four weeks.

May 5.—In my journal yesterday, I mention more than half the population as having been swept away in the inconceivably short space of two months, but every account I have received, convinces me that this is within the number; certainly not less than two thirds have been swept away, and this seems to have arisen from a complication of causes. At the time when the great mass of the population would have fled, and thus have thinned the city, the waters rose so high, that they could move only with great difficulty; they waited in the hopes of the water subsiding, instead of which, it so increased, that those who had left the town and could get back, were compelled to return; those who could not, were driven to seek some high ground where they might remain safe from the water, but in all cases they were crowded together without the power of moving their position.—Again, in the city, when by the death of immense multitudes the population became greatly thinned, the inundation of the water laid more than half the town level with the ground, and drove the remaining people to congregate together wherever they could find a dry place or an open house, so that often twenty or thirty came to reside together in the same house, as was the case next door to us; thus again the deaths became awfully great. Inquire where you will, the answer is, The city is desolate: around the Pasha four Georgians alone remain alive out of more than one hundred. The son of our Moolah, who is dead, told me to-day, that in the quarter where he lives, not one human being is left—they are all dead. Out of about eighteen servants and seapoys that Major T. left, fourteen are dead, two have now the plague,[29] and two remain well. Among the Armenians, more than half are dead. An Armenian who was with us to-day, tells us, there are not more than twenty-seven men left in one hundred and thirty houses. I, however, think that this is exaggerated.

At Hillah, the modern Babylon, (population 10,000), there is, Seyd Ibrahim told me to-day, scarce a soul left, and the dogs and the wild beasts alone are there feeding on the dead bodies. This Seyd Ibrahim is one of the surviving servants of Major T.; and is the only one of a family of fourteen who remains alive.—His four brothers, their wives, his own wife, their children, and his own, are all dead. If mystical Babylon is suffering, as the seat of this Archbishopric of the literal Babylon, the times are not far off when the river Euphrates shall be dried up for the kings of the east to pass over.

For digging a grave they ask a sum that equals in England three pounds, in consequence of which numbers have remained unburied about the streets, so that the Pasha has been obliged to engage men, paying them at the same rate for each body they will throw into the river.

In all the villages the desolation seems as complete as it is here. When day by day I rise and see our numbers complete, and all in health, my soul is indeed made to feel what cannot the Lord do? though ten thousand shall fall at thy right hand it shall not come nigh thee.—I do not yet see what effect all this is likely to have on our labours here—whether it will break down or build up barriers; yet we expect it will break down, for the Lord seems thus breaking to pieces the power if not the pride of this haughty people. I have been struck two or three times lately, in going out, with the intense hatred that lurks at the bottom of the hearts of this people against Christians; my dress manifested me to be one, and some Arabs I met, particularly the women, cursed me with the most savage ferocity as I passed, two or three calling out at me as though I were the cause of all their calamities; and the people who are come to live next door to us, are bitter against us, especially one man among them, who seems to have his heart quite corroded, because they are dying and we are preserved by our Lord’s love; he sits and talks under our window, saying, “These Christians and Jews alone remain, but in the whole of Bagdad you will hardly find one hundred Mohammedans.” This is altogether false, for though in proportion as many Christians may not have died as Mohammedans and Jews, yet the deaths among them have been enormous, as the preceding accounts will have shewn.

Medicine I have found of no use. If you attack the fever, they die of prostration of strength; if you endeavour to support the constitution, they die of oppression on the brain. Those cases which first affected the head with delirium, have been the most fatal; next those with carbuncles, which did not appear, however, for a fortnight after the commencement of the disease. Among those who have recovered, almost the whole have had large glandular swellings, speedily separating and thus relieving the constitution.

This night, the first time for three weeks, I have heard again the Muezzin’s call to prayers, from the minarets of the Mosques.

May 6.—The water to-day is much decreased. I saw a man also with fresh meat in his hand. I likewise saw many recovering from the plague walking about, leaning on sticks, and sitting by the way-side. The number of deaths, among the Armenians, to-day, amounted to 11, which, considering that their whole remaining numbers cannot exceed 300 at present, is an enormous mortality, and has a little damped our hopes of a speedy conclusion to this awful visitation.

May 7.—Of the plague nothing satisfactory to-day. Thieves are multiplying in every direction; and news has come from Mosul that a new Pasha has arrived there, who only waited for the cessation of the plague to advance against Bagdad. Great part of his work of destruction is already done for him, as hardly a Georgian is left, and he will find money enough left without owners, to supply his own utmost rapacity, or the demands of the Sultan. The Lord is our only secure resting place, and we know that he who delivers us out of six troubles, can and will deliver us out of seven.

The water is decreasing most rapidly, so that rice is beginning to be brought from the other side of the river; and as all those who monopolized the sale of wood, and not only asked enormous prices, but cheated in the weight, are all dead, every one now that needs wood takes it, so that the situation of the poor seems in this respect a little improved.

There has not been among all the circumstances of this scene of complicated suffering, any one that has more painfully affected my own mind than the increasing number of infants and little children that have been left exposed in the streets, and the absolute impossibility of meeting such a state of things. We greatly desired to take one or two; but our own little baby was ill, so that by night Mary had hardly any rest, and at best, not being strong in such a climate, we came reluctantly to the decision that we were not able to undertake such an additional charge.

This is an anxious evening. Dear Mary is taken ill—nothing that would at any other time alarm me, but now very little creates anxiety; yet her heart is reposing on her Lord with perfect peace, and waiting his will. A few hours, perhaps, may show us that it is but a little trial of our faith to draw us nearer the fountain of our life. To nature it seems fearful to think of the plague entering our dwelling; in our present situation, nothing but the Lord’s especial love could sustain the soul in the contemplation of a young family, left in such a land, at such a time, and in such circumstances; but we feel we came out under the shadow of the Almighty’s wing, and we know that his pavilion will be our sanctuary, let his gracious providence prescribe what it may. On his love, therefore, we cast ourselves with all our personal interests.

May 8.—The Lord has this day manifested that the attack of my dear dear wife, is the plague, and of a very dangerous and malignant kind, so that our hearts are prostrate in the Lord’s hand. As I think the infection can have only come through me, I have little hope of escaping, unless by the Lord’s special intervention. It is indeed an awful moment, the prospect of having a little family in such a country at such a time. Yet, my dearest wife’s faith triumphs over these circumstances, and as she sweetly said to me to day, “The difference between a child of God and the worldling is not in death, but in the hope the one has in Jesus, while the other is without hope and without God in the world.” She says, “I marvel at the Lord’s dealings, but not more than at my own peace in such circumstances.” She is now continually sleeping, and when roused feels it difficult to keep her dear mind fixed on any subject for a minute. These are indeed the floods of deep waters, but in the midst of them the Lord is working his mysterious way, yet that way, however bitter to nature, is for the everlasting consolation of his chosen ones. She said to me, a few minutes since, “What does the Lord say concerning me.” I said, that you are a dear child of his. “Yes,” she said, “of that I have no doubt.” May the Lord of his infinite mercy sustain my poor weak soul amidst these heavy visitations, that at least we may magnify him, whether by life or by death; what a relief it is now to my mind to think that her’s was so much set against moving, whenever I proposed it, and she often said in reply, “The Lord has given me no desire nor sense of the desirableness of moving, which I feel assured he would have done had he seen it best.”

May 9.—My dearest, dearest wife still alive, and not apparently worse than yesterday. Oh! if it were the Lord’s holy blessed will to spare her, it would indeed rejoice my poor foolish heart, but the Lord has enabled me to cast my wife, myself, and my dear dear children on his holy love, and to await the issue. Oh! what wrath there must be against these lands, if not only the inhabitants are swept away, but the Lord transplants also his own, who would teach them, to his own garden of peace. My soul has just been refreshed by these two verses of Psalm 116. “Return unto thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. He has taken one of thy olive branches to glory, and is now perhaps about to take another, for precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints, for he only takes them from the evil to come.” Oh, but for Jesus, the never setting star of our heavenly way, amidst the wilderness what would our situation now be. Jesus is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, and our heavenly Father’s love we have too often proved to doubt it now. But, poor nature is bowed very very low, when I look at my dear boys and little babe, and see only poor little Kitto to be left for their care for hundreds of miles around; it needs all those consolations of God’s spirit to keep the soul from sinking also with the body; but the Lord has said, “Leave your fatherless children unto me,” and to him we desire to leave them.

We did feel assured that the Lord would spare our dear little united happy family; but his ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts. Dear little Kitto, I feel for his situation also from my heart.

All the conversation of my dear dying wife, for these twelve months past, but especially as our difficulties and trials increased, was on the peace she enjoyed in the Lord. Often and often she has said to me, notwithstanding the disparity of every thing external, I never in England enjoyed that sweet sense of my Lord’s loving care that I have enjoyed in Bagdad. And her assurance of her Lord’s love never forsook her, even after she felt herself attacked by the plague. While contemplating the mysteriousness of the Providence, her mind was overwhelmed; but when she thought on her Lord’s love, she was confident in his graciousness. From almost the first, her brain has been so oppressed, that with difficulty she opens her eyes, and though she can answer a question of two or three words, Yes, or No; yet, if it involves the slightest exercise of thought, she always replies, “I do not know what you say.” When I consider all I and the dear children lose, should we survive her, it is almost more than my heart can contemplate. On any essential point, for some years, we have never had divided judgment on any material point; in every work of faith, or labour of love, her desire was to animate, not to hinder. Such simple truth of purpose, and unaffected love, and confidence in her Lord, as dwelt in her dear departing spirit, I have seldom seen, and those who knew her intimately will not think I say too much. She has been to me in the relation of Christian wife, and Missionary wife, just what I felt I so much, so very much needed. And yet the Lord sees fit to take her to himself, and add one more from my little family to the chosen, faithful, and true company that surrounds his throne. Lord, then, though it cuts nature to the quick, makes me feel its deepest suffering, and meets me under the most complicated forms of trial, yet if it be for thy glory, and her glory, do, dear Lord, thine Almighty will, and we know thou wilt to thy chosen, make light spring up out of darkness.

May 10.—Last evening my dearest wife was more herself than she had been, till within a few hours of her being taken ill, which was manifested by her asking to see dear little baby, the first thing she had voluntarily asked for, since her illness, without being spoken to. She again mentioned the subject of her confidence in her Lord, and acquiescence in his will. She asked me what I thought of her situation. I said I had committed her to the Lord, who, I knew, would deal graciously by her. She replied, “Yes, that he will.” She continued in this state of improvement till to-day at about nine o’clock, when her mind again began to wander. When I quoted to her, that to the Lord’s servants light should spring up in darkness, she said, “Yes, that it shall.” She said, “I feel much better than yesterday—don’t you see that I am.” In fact, my hopes of her being really improving would have been complete, but from that peculiar look of the eyes, which authors who have written on this subject, all denote as most fatal; from this, therefore, my hopes never were very high, yet though I had yesterday been enabled, through the Lord’s grace, to lie in his hands like a weaned child, to-day the disappointment of the dear hope, slight as it was, of having her restored to us, has brought my soul again into very deep waters. She also this morning expressed her anxiety about the dear children, and her fear, least in attending her, I should take the plague, and they be left orphans here.

In every respect, certainly the Lord has been most gracious to her. She is about to be transplanted to her native soil, where tears and sorrows shall never enter, and in the way of her removal, since the Lord’s time is come, nothing can be more compassionate to her peculiar weakness of heart than not allowing her anxiety to dwell on the dear children, and their probable situation here. To have been happy in quitting them, amidst such a scene as now surrounds us, and in such a country, perhaps no mortal faith could have been equal to; the Lord, therefore, suffered not her mind to possess its usual sensibilities; but took them from her, and left her only to return to his bosom in peace.

I feel the Holy Ghost again sustaining my poor weak heart in the prospect of losing such a wife, and remaining solitary here with three dear motherless children; but I know the Lord in whom I have believed, and he will not fail his chosen in one of all those good things he has promised. Our trials are indeed very very great; but the Lord, the comforter, is greater even than they. My dearest wife now (two o’clock,) is quite delirious. Dear spirit! I have attended her night and day since the evening of the 7th, on which she was taken ill, and I allow no one else to approach her. The Lord is my only stay, my only support, and he is a support indeed.

May 11.—This night has been the most trying of my life. How hard for the soul to see the object of its longest and best grounded earthly affections suffering without the power of affording relief, knowing too that a heavenly Father who has sent it, can relieve it, and yet seems to turn a deaf ear to one’s cries; at the same time, I felt, in the depths of my soul’s affections, that notwithstanding all, he is a God of infinite love. Satan has sorely tried me, but the Lord has shewn me, in the 22d Psalm, a more wonderful cry apparently unheeded, and the Holy Ghost has given me the victory, and enabled me to acquiesce in my Father’s will, though I now see not the end of his holy and blessed ways. Dear, dear spirit! she will soon wing her way to where her heart has long been; and, if I am spared, I shall perhaps have reason to bless God for having removed her thus early.

The plague has attacked two more of our household—the schoolmaster’s wife and our maid-servant, and how far it will go now, no one knows but he who guides it by his sovereign will. My dearest Mary’s sufferings for four or five hours last night were great; she was quite delirious, and her dear voice was so affected, that I could not make out two words connectedly. How mysterious are God’s ways! Oh my soul, learn the lesson of patient submission to his holy will. I have cast myself upon him and he will guide me. Dear Mary, to-day has been quite insensible. It has indeed been a very painful day, but it is the condition of this world. Dear spirit! her heart has been so set on her Lord’s coming of late, that it seemed quite to absorb her thoughts and heart. And now she will quickly join the holy assembly that are waiting to come with him. Surely such times as these, when the Lord is taking a ripe shock of corn from your field, are seasons to rejoice that your prayer for the quick accomplishment of the number of God’s elect has been heard, and yet how hard it is for nature not to feel deep sorrow that a message has come for one of yours.

Poor dear Kitto and the little boys are now become the sole nurses of the dear baby by night and by day. Oh, may the Lord watch over them and bless them. My last night’s attendance on my dear wife, leaves me little hope of escaping the plague, unless it be our Father’s special will to preserve me, for in her delirium she required so many times to be lifted from place to place, and to have all her clothes changed, that I can now only cry to the Lord to preserve me, if it may be a little while, for the dear children’s sake.

The Lord has most graciously provided us with a servant of Mrs. T’s. to come and attend my dear Mary.[30] Oh may my soul bless him for this timely help, just when our own servant was taken ill. This woman has been in the midst of all the contagion, and has never taken it; so it may be the Lord’s will to shew how he can work even in the midst of the darkest trials. She sits down beside the dear sufferer, keeps the flies from her face, and does every thing for her the fondest heart could desire. She came out with us from England, having gone there with Mrs. T.; is a native of these countries, knows all that is required in sickness, and how to perform the duties of a nurse, with the most unwearied patience, tenderness, and watchfulness. She also knows something of English, and having been with dear Mrs. T. in England, is acquainted with English customs. Surely the Lord heard my cry in the day of my deep distress, for such a person perhaps could not be got again within a thousand miles. That she should have been left too when all the rest went away. She has made dear Mary look so comfortable; she washes her and changes her, who though insensible, lies so quiet, and looks so composed. She said she knew the Lord would be very gracious, and he has been so indeed—he sees it right to take his sheep home to his fold; but he has so overwhelmed me by this proof of his loving kindness, this ray of light arising in the midst of my darkness, that it seems to have led my heart yet more and more to love him and to confide in him, that he may yet stay his rough wind in the day of his east wind. This kind friend, Mrs. T.’s servant, proposes to remain with us until all our family are either well or dead.

May 12.—Up to this day I am well, thank God, but seeing the ways of the Lord are so marvellous, I have arranged all my little concerns, and put them into the hands of dear Kitto, for the little boys and our dear little baby, till they arrive at some of those places where there may be some one to take care of them, and carry them to their guardians or my trustees. But as poor Kitto is so little able to provide even for himself, much less for the little boys, I shall now endeavour, the Lord enabling me, to arrange with this woman, Mariam by name, to undertake every thing for them till she can give them over to Major T., to whose family she is going, unless they return here. This woman was an old servant of dear Mrs. R. She has consented to undertake this charge, and is to remain with the dear, dear children. She knows enough of English to make herself understood by the dear children, and she thoroughly understands the language, manners, and habits of this people.—Whether it may ever be the Lord’s will to call into exercise the arrangements of this plan or not, I trust I never shall forget the Lord’s unspeakable mercy in shewing me, that when I saw no earthly protector for my poor children, his holy, loving, and fatherly hand could provide one if it were necessary. Oh, may my faith in him in the darkest day never fail, for it is a light that springeth up in darkness.

Dearest Mary is gradually sinking into the bosom of the Lord, and to join in the society her soul has so long and so truly loved, of the lovers of the Lamb of God. Though the Lord has taken away the desire of my eyes, as it were with a stroke, and left me a few hours to cry unto him in the midst of my deep, deep waters; yet these visions of his love have so revived my soul, that my whole soul is brought to acquiesce in his holy and fatherly arrangements, with respect to her who was once the joy, the help, and companion of all in which I was engaged. I sit down now to wait, and see the salvation of my God, for doubtless he will reveal, in his own good time, the reason why he has acted so contrary, not only to mine, but especially my dear wife’s strongest convictions, which were, that he would preserve us all safe through this calamity.

When I now contemplate the spiritual state of dear Mary’s mind for the last twelve months, I am not at all surprised that the Lord has taken her as a ripe shock of corn, but my expectation while watching her spiritual progress was so different. I saw her daily growing in the simple assurance of her Lord’s love, and desiring under heaven neither to know nor serve any other than him. Her heart was panting for the Lord’s coming, that the mystery of iniquity might be finished, and the mystery of godliness be fully established; but I thought not of all this being preparatory to her joining her Lord, but for the strengthening of my poor weak hands here. It never entered my heart that I was to be left alone, as far as earth is concerned, most alone. Those friends for whom this journal is alone designed, know how much she was to me, and how deservedly so: this, however, the Lord saw had its great, great dangers too, and may in his infinite mercy to us both have ripened her so rapidly for glory, and left me here to serve and praise; for I have felt it was very, very hard to be as the Apostle says, having a wife as though I had none. Now, when I go and look upon her having reached within one short step, the habitation of all her hopes; I have not a spiritual affection within my soul that would call her back; but poor nature bows reluctantly its head.

The dear little baby also is but poorly. Her dear little cry of mamma, mamma, cuts my poor heart like a knife, to think, that from to-day or probably to-morrow, she must cease to know that endearing name, and such a mother too! However, the Lord tells his children to leave their fatherless, and doubtless motherless ones to him. Lord, I desire so to do; for he is a dear and kind father, though nature cannot always see it, and indeed how could this be? for that which is natural in us is, not only in its will opposed to God, but even in its best affections tainted from the fall. Were it not that the Lord whom we love and serve, is as infinite in his compassions, as he is mysterious in his ways, the days that must come when the excitement of present suffering will be past, and my soul begins to look round and see the extent of its desolations, in a country, too, where there is nothing to comfort or cheer me, would appear to me too dark to be borne, did I not know the Lord hath said, I will not leave you orphans, but I will come unto you; so if he does come and dwell more sensibly within me, even my poor dull and slow-growing spirit may soon be ripened and gathered into his kingdom, there to join my dear departing spirit in the realms of light.

May 13.—My dearest wife has reached the light of another day, still quietly sinking without a sigh and without a groan. This my prayer for her in the night of my darkness the Lord has mercifully heard. At present all the remaining ones of the family are well. I have separated the dear little boys and Kitto, and allow them to hold intercourse with none. The dear baby, and myself, and the maid, and the little boy of our sick servant, are also much separated, and this nurse, whom the Lord sent us, alone attends the sick; but yet so contagious is this fearful disease, that when it has once entered your dwelling, you can know no other safety than in your Lord’s preserving care. These are indeed days of trial, but doubtless they will have their precious fruit in all God’s children; for the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears are open unto their cry—for the Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants, therefore none of them that trust in him shall be desolate—no, not even I, poor and worthless as I am, I shall yet praise him who is the Lord of my life, and my God.

The dear boys also keep up their spirits much better than the first two or three days after their dear mamma was taken ill. The magnitude of present danger to themselves, and to all, in some measure divides their thoughts, and prevents them from resting alone on that deeply affecting prospect before them, for they loved her most truly, and, Oh! how much reason had they to love her.

I have just heard that the streets begin again to be crowded, shops here and there to be opened, and the gardeners are bringing things from without into the city. To think that so near the end we should have been thus visited, how mysterious! Yet my soul says, What thou seest not, thou shalt see. If it does but lead to my Lord’s glory, I am sure it will lead to my dear sufferer’s; then why should I repine?

Water is also reduced to 1s. 3d. the skin, the price it was at before. For these proofs of mercy to the people, we will bless God in the midst of our own personal sorrows.

May 14.—This day dearest Mary’s ransomed spirit took its seat among those dressed in white, and her body was consigned to the earth that gave it birth—a dark, heavy day to poor nature, but still the Lord was the light and stay of it.

I cannot help exceedingly blessing my heavenly Father, however these calamities (for to nature they are such, though not to the heirs of glory) may end that he has allowed me to continue in health so long as to see every thing done I could have desired, and so infinitely more than I could have expected, for her whom I have so much reason to love.

May 15, 16.—I have heard to-day that the French Roman Catholic Archbishop of Babylon has been dead a long time, and two of his priests, and the remaining two fled. The poor schoolmaster’s wife is dying, and our servant I trust, recovering: the rest of our household within and without, thank God, all continue in good health—even dear little baby, though rather cross from want of amusement, and from her teeth.

They say new cases of plague have almost entirely disappeared; may the Lord grant its speedy disappearance altogether. We have had no intelligence from the Taylors since their departure, which makes us very anxious. As the waters are decreasing, the relics of those families which fled are returning; and, in numberless cases, out of eighteen in a family who left, only one or two return. The others died in the greatest misery and destitution of all things, distressed by the plague, the water, and scarcity, and the air in all the roads was tainted from the immense number of dead bodies lying by the way.

I feel to-day many symptoms similar to those with which my dearest Mary’s illness commenced—pains in the head and heaviness, pains in the back, and shooting pains through the glands and the arms. At another time I should think only of them as the result of a common cold; but now I know not how to discriminate, the beginnings are so similar. Should these be my last lines in this journal, I desire to ascribe all praise to the sovereign grace and unspeakable love of my heavenly Father, who, from before the foundation of the world, set his eye of redeeming love on me in the person of his dear and well-beloved Son. I bless God for all the way he has led me; and vile and wretched sinner as I feel I am, unworthily as I have in all my life served him, yet I feel he has translated the affections of my inmost soul from earth to heaven, from the creature to himself. As to the dear, dear helpless children, I have committed them to his love, with the full assurance that if he transplants me from hence to himself, to join the partner of my earthly history, he will provide them much, yea, very much better than I, or ten thousand fathers could do. To his love and promises, then, in Christ Jesus, I leave them; and strange and wonderful as his dealings appear, he has made my soul to acquiesce in them. To all the family of the redeemed of the Lord, especially those I know, I entreat you let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ; always abound in his most holy work, for you know your labour is not in vain in the Lord. Be as those who wait for their Lord with your lamp trimmed, for shortly he who shall come will come, and will not tarry. My soul embraces those I especially knew with all its powers, and desires for them that Christ may exceedingly be glorified in them, and by them, amen, and amen.

May 17.—To-day the fever has almost entirely left me, so that I feel a very little, except weakness, but never can I sufficiently praise God for the experience of yesterday. I certainly never expected again to have written in this journal, and few circumstances could have apparently presented themselves more trying to the heart, to have the prospect of soon leaving in a city like Bagdad, at this time, three helpless children, and the impossibility of making those provisions for them, which at another time might have been comparatively easy, seemed altogether more than the heart could support; yet so abundantly did the Lord allow his love to pass before me, so fully did he assure me of his loving care, that I felt no doubt for them—and, for myself, the prospect of soon joining him was specially exhilarating. He allowed me to see my free and full forgiveness and acceptance, and I never felt more the preciousness of such a salvation as the Gospel of Jesus provides for the sinner, than when I was as I thought, just entering eternity, to plead it as the ground of my hope before God. There seemed such simplicity in having only to believe you were redeemed by his love, and should be eternally preserved by the same, instead of having to do with weighing the sum of your beggarly services, all of which one hates now, and oh, how shall we hate them when we see him face to face. May our dear Lord make the promise he made to his disciples, good to my poor bereaved heart, and come himself and fill it with his fulness, that having him I may indeed feel I have all things.

May 18.—Our poor servant died last night, notwithstanding our hopes of her recovery, and has left one little orphan boy of seven years old with us. Oh that I could think of her transition from hence to eternity, and contemplate her, as the Lord to my unspeakable comfort allows me to contemplate my dear, dear wife, dwelling in the light of her Lord’s countenance, where there is fulness of joy for evermore.

The schoolmaster has just told me, that out of forty relations, he has now only four—the rest have all been swept away. The accounts we have of the misery, in which many of these died who endeavoured to fly, is truly heart-rending; with the water nearly half a yard high in their tents, without victuals or the means of seeking or buying any, they suffered every privation and misery that can be imagined, and one poor family which has returned, described the intense desire they had to return and die quietly in their houses. But return they could not, for the waters had so risen that there was no road, and no boats could be obtained, but at an immense price, which a few only could pay, and very few obtain even at any price.

Oh! how many alleviations to the trials of parting with those we loved, the Lord allowed us in permitting us to see them surrounded by every comfort they could want, and with every attendance that could alleviate a moment’s uneasiness.

From the Taylors at Bussorah we have yet heard no accounts, and are therefore most anxious to know how the Lord has been moving among them. I have just heard that orders have come from Stamboul,[31] to the Pashas marching against this Pasha, to desire them to return, and that another messenger is on the way from Stamboul to bring his annual dress of investiture. Should it be really thus, our dear friends may soon be here from Aleppo; it would indeed be a great comfort; but the Lord regards, in this dispensation, our real advantage more than our sensible comfort, we therefore desire to leave all to his Holy, gracious ordering, who, though he orders all things after the counsel of his own free will, has no will towards us, but that we should be filled with the fulness of Christ, and be conformed to his image.

May 19.—The water to-day has again fallen considerably in price, and as far as we can judge, God has mercifully nearly extinguished this desolating plague. I now feel quite satisfied the attack I had the other day was an attack of the plague, though very slight. The schoolmaster, yesterday, was attacked in the same way with a pain in his back and head, and a pain in his glands, one of which is decidedly enlarged, but still it is very slight, and I trust to-morrow, with the Lord’s blessing, to see him, with the exception of weakness, well again. We are, thank God, all well; the only thing I now suffer from is weakness and pain in the glands and under the arm, but there is no enlargement, and I trust in a day or two it will go entirely away. I heard, to-day, the Pasha had been ill of the plague this week; it is now reported he is dead; but we know nothing certain. One of his sons is also dead.

This has been a heavy day with my poor heart, so slow a scholar am I under my dear Master’s teaching. Yet I feel he will fill me with his own most blessed presence, and then I shall be able to bear easily all other bereavements. How strange it is that feeling should rule with so much more power than principle, over the happiness of the soul, even when the spirit still imparts strength to direct the conduct aright. The feelings seize on the slightest recollection; and oh, what fuel have they when every thing in the minutest daily occurrences, every thing in the events passing around us, at once come directly on the heart and press upon it; and when there is not a soul near, not only not to supply all that is lost, but not even a portion of it, and yet notwithstanding all this, that now weighs on me, I feel the Lord himself will be yet more to me than all I have lost. I feel I have been skimming too much on the surface of Christianity instead of being clothed with Christ. Oh! what a child am I in the life of faith, but I feel the Lord has my poor soul in his training, and though the discipline may seem severe, it is only the severity of uncompromising love.

May 20.—This has been a day of mercies at the hand of the Most High. For a day or two past, I had observed a little dust falling through a creak in the wall, and although on any other occasion, it would have excited no anxiety; yet, knowing the cellars were full of water, I thought it better this morning early to take out all our things from this room; it was our own, mine and dear Mary’s, and therefore contained all we had of clothing, &c.; the dear little boys and the servant were helping me, and we had not finished taking out the last things above ten minutes, when the whole arch on which the room was built gave way—our little stock of things and ourselves being all safe. Oh! my soul, bless the Lord who watcheth over the ways of his children.

Oh! how easy it is to kiss our dear and loving Father’s hand when he turns bright providences towards us. How easy, then, it is to praise! but I feel my dearest teacher is teaching me the hardest lesson to kiss the hand that wounds, to bless the hand that pours out sorrow, and to submit, with all my soul, though I see not a ray of light. Oh, thou holy and blessed Spirit, come and help thy poor wayward scholar, who indeed would not entertain a hard thought of his dear and loving Father. Through much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom; therefore, blessed Lord, prepare me for thy service. I am a poor inexperienced soldier; clothe me with the whole armour of God, that my soul may praise in the darkest day. All but myself are quite well, and my indisposition seems only at present a little weakness, which perhaps the exertions of removing the things from our room to-day, and all the painful associations connected with it, has this evening a little increased: but the Lord is very pitiful, and says, Ask what you will of my Father, and he will give it you. Dear Lord, fill me with thyself, that there may be no more room for the grief of any creature. Thou, and thy Father, and the blessed Spirit, one eternal God alone, are eternally a satisfying portion.

I am very anxious about the poor schoolmaster: should he die, he will be the last of our teachers; three are already dead, and he alone remains.—Oh, my Lord, my soul desires to wait on thee for light, and to remember Mizar and Hermon—days when the sun shone upon our path; but the frost may be as necessary to bring the cover to full perfection as the genial sun and showers. Dear Husbandman, do thine own will, only make us bear much fruit, that thou mayest be glorified.

May 21.—Last night thieves endeavoured three times to force an outer door, but did not succeed—the whole city is swarming with them.

To-day the Pasha of Mosul is come to Bagdad; what it portends we know not; but the Lord reigneth, therefore let the Saints rejoice; they can only accomplish his will who is our Father and our God.

I have to-day sent off a messenger to Major T. to Bussorah, may he quickly return with good tidings of them all. To-day I have also heard of a caravan proposing to go to Aleppo. Every account we have of the plague confirms its almost entire disappearance. Our walking now is altogether by faith: we see not a ray of light for the future, but the Lord will let light spring out of darkness, so that his servants who wait upon him shall not always mourn. Oh how different a thing faith is in a cloudy and dark day, and when all things smile around. I had intentionally renounced the world, yet the Lord saw that I held more of it than I knew in the dear object he has removed. In England, where I had many dear Christian friends, she was my constant companion; but here she was on earth all I had left—my sorrows, my hopes, my fears, she shared and bore them all. I feel Christ my Lord has in store for me in himself some great and special good in exchange for all this, but my poor weak faithless heart does not yet see the way of his going forth.

Miriam is most kind to my sweet little helpless babe.

May 22.—Our dear Lord said to his sorrowing disciples, You have heard how I said unto you, I go away and come again unto you. If ye loved me ye would rejoice because I said I go unto the Father, that is, if you loved me above the enjoyment of my society and help, ye would rejoice; how hard this is: as it was true of the departing head, so it is true of every member, and yet I feel my selfish heart constantly forgetting that true love which under the crucifixion of all one’s own feelings can truly rejoice at the happiness of an object beloved, even at this expense.

This has again been an anxious day. Dear Henry complained this morning of a swelling under his ear, or rather under the angle of the jaw, where there was on feeling it, an evidently enlarged gland; however, to the praise of the Lord’s great grace, it is evidently passing away without any general attack on the constitution. I really believe the Holy Ghost is making these events instrumental in working a deep sense on the minds of the dearest boys of the importance of their souls; there is a concern about religion, a willingness to talk about it I have not before observed. Oh, may the Lord’s blessed spirit water these seeds till they become plants of renown, to the glory of our own Lord’s great name.

May 23.—Oh my poor heart flutters like a bird when it contemplates the extent of its bereavement as a husband, a father, a missionary. Oh, what have I not lost! Dear Lord sustain my poor weak faith. Thy gracious visits sometimes comfort my soul; yet my days move heavily on; but the Lord who redeemeth the souls of his servants has declared, that none of those who trust in him shall be desolate. Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief. I do indeed desire with my whole soul to cast myself into the ocean of thy love, and never to let Satan have one advantage over me, by instilling into my heart hard thoughts of thy ways. Surely we expect trials, and if so, and thou sendest one other than we expected, should it surprise us when we see but a point in the circle of thy providence, and thou seest the end from the beginning.

May 24.—To-day Kitto has been very unwell.

May 25.—To-day the dear baby is very unwell, but Kitto better. Thus the Lord interchanges his merciful trials and merciful reliefs. I feel one great want, “To be filled with all the fulness of Christ,” that there may be no room for those fluctuations, which from short intervals of sweet peace, plunge me into depths of sorrow and astonishment: yet I know the Lord will heal, he will bind up what he has broken. O my soul, wait patiently on him to learn all, I know he would teach thee: let patience have her perfect work, for the trial of our faith is much more precious than of gold that perisheth. My eyes are daily, hourly looking unto the Lord for a little ray of light, but as yet I see none: yet we know that they that trust on the Lord shall not walk in darkness, but mercies shall encompass them about.

May 26.—To-day, thank God, all our household are tolerably well.—All accounts from without say the plague is ended. May the Lord grant it!

May 27.—My dear baby still very poorly. Dear Lord, I commit this tender delicate flower to thy loving gracious keeping. Oh my God, my soul has been much cast down within me; but thou hast enabled me to remember thee from the land of Jordan, and the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar. O Lord, only let thy love appear shining through the clouds that surround me, and my soul will rejoice; it is only when the adversary prevails so far as to say, He loves thee not, that my soul is overwhelmed within me; for if I have not the Lord, whom have I? for vile and worthless as all my manifestations of love have been, cold and dead as all my worship, low and doubting as all my confidence has been, yet Lord, all my desire is to love thee better and serve thee more singally, who art infinitely worthy of all love and all service. How strong our tower seems till the Lord blow upon its foundations, and then much that looked so fair, flies like the chaff of the summer threshing floor, and meet it is, if the immoveable parts of Christ’s own building be found to connect the poor fluttering soul with the Rock of Ages. Oh may my soul drink daily more and more deeply into that spirit of adoption and love, and assurance of the Lord’s favour, that gilded the last year of my dear, dear Mary’s life.—Lord, I feel I am a very child; but Lord, lead thou me by thine own right hand. Oh my heart longs for Christian communion—some one to whom I can talk of Jesus and his ways, and with whom I may take counsel; yet it now seems as though many months must elapse before our dear friends can come from Aleppo, but the Lord knows what is best, and to him we leave all our cares, and the providing for all our necessities. I pray the Lord to pour down his Holy Spirit upon my poor heart, and strengthen it for trials. It was one of my dearest Mary’s greatest comforts, as it has been mine, to know so many of those who were dear to the Lord, and had purposed wholly to follow him, were praying for our guidance and welfare;—this used to be in our evening walks, on the roof of our house, a theme of thanksgiving, and used daily to draw out our hearts to the Lord for the continual dew of his blessing upon them. Oh when they hear of all the Lord’s dealing, may their spirits be stirred up within them to pray that I may be filled with him who filleth all in all. I long to love my Eternal God—Father, Son, and Spirit, more with all my undivided heart; the coldness of my love—the lowness of my desires is my abiding sorrow.

May 28.—To-day came letters from England, but Oh, how strangely altered; those very letters which would have animated anew all our endeavours, and led us to praise God together, had dearest Mary been here to share them, came winged with passages that wrung my heart. But still the love of the saints of God, of those we love, has much sweetness in it; and then again to hear of our dear sister’s thoughtful love towards our tender little babe in providing her clothes, which, while they are doing, my heart heaves with the prospect of losing the sweet little flower—so tender—so needing more than a mother’s care. But the Lord is most compassionately gracious, and what he does not reveal, he will hereafter.

I have also had intelligence to-day that my dear brothers and sisters had been two months ago on the point of setting off for Aleppo; but whether they received news of the plague and returned, or are waiting at Anah, I know not, but I greatly need them—yet still the Lord knows best how much I need them, and when.

When I think of my lowness in the attainments of the divine life, my little knowledge, and less love of my dear Lord, I wonder how he has so graciously allowed me a place in the hearts of his chosen, and that he should allow our weak, tottering, and faithless walk, to encourage the young and lusty eagles to take their higher flight is wonderful; but it is that the glory might be his.

In concluding this portion of my journal, I shall just take a little view of the last two years, as it is now within a few days of two years since I left my dear, dear friends and native shore.

From the day my dearest Mary and myself deliberately prepared to set out on the work in which we finally embarked, the Lord never allowed us to doubt that it was his work, and that the result on the church of God would be greater than our remaining quietly at home. All our subsequent intercourse with his dear children in England, and in our journey, had a confirmatory tendency, and all the communications from the dear circle to whom we were known, insignificant as we were, convinced us that the cause of the Lord had suffered no detriment—that many had been led to act with more decision, and some to pursue measures which possibly might not otherwise have been undertaken.

Again, the Lord’s great care over us in his abundant provision for all our necessities, although every one of those sources failed we had calculated upon naturally when we left England, enabled us yet further to sing of his goodness.

Then, as to our work; when we left England, schools entered not into our plan; but when we arrived here, the Lord so completely put the school of the Armenians into our hands, that on consultation both my dearest Mary, myself, and Mr. Pfander thought that the Lord’s children and saints must take the work the Lord gives, particularly as there appeared no immediate prospect of other work. We entered on it, and by dear Mr. Pfander’s most efficient help, the children were soon brought to translate God’s word with understanding, and the school increased from 35 to near 80. My dearest Mary had long desired to undertake the girl’s school exclusively; but previous to her confinement she did not feel able; but as soon as she got about, she undertook it heartily, and the dear little children were so attached to their employments, that they used to come on their holidays. She had got so far on in Armenian, as to be able to prepare for them, in large characters, some little pieces of Carus Wilson’s, which I got translated into the Armenian of this place, and the dear little children were so interested by them, that they exceedingly desired to take them home, and read them to their mothers, which in two or three days they were to have done. For our own instruction in Arabic and Armenian, and for the school, we had five most competent teachers. Thus things went on up to the end of March, when the appearance of the plague obliged us to break up the school. But now two months have passed, and Oh! how changed. Half the children, or more, are dead; many have left the place; the five teachers are dead, and my dear, dear Mary. When I think on this, my heart is overwhelmed within me, and I remain in absolute darkness as to the meaning of my Lord and Father; but shall I therefore doubt him now, after so many proofs of love, because he acts inscrutably to me? God forbid! That the Lord made the coming of my dearest wife, and her multiplied trials and blessings, the instruments of her soul’s rapid preparation for his presence, I have no doubt. I never heard a soul breathe a more simple, firm, and unostentatious faith in God. She never had a doubt but that it was for the Lord she left all that was naturally dear to her to expose herself to dangers from which, with a constitutional timidity, she shrunk. Her soul was most especially drawn out towards her Lord’s coming, and this spread a gilded halo round every trial. She constantly exclaimed, as we walked on the roof of our house[32] of an evening, “When will he come?” Often she would say to me, I never enjoyed such spiritual peace as since I have been in Bagdad—such an unvarying sense of nearness to Christ, and assurance of his love and care; we came out trusting only under his wing, and he will never forsake us. Her strongest assurance was certainly that the Lord would not allow the plague to enter our dwelling; but when she saw that the Lord mysteriously accepted not this confidence, but let it rest even on her, it never disturbed her peace, as I have mentioned before. She said to me, “I know not which is to me most mysterious, that the Lord should have laid his hand upon me, or, having laid it, that I should enjoy such peace as I do.” And in this peace and confidence, every subsequent moment of sensibility was passed. Her constant exclamation was, “I know he will do most graciously by me.” Yet notwithstanding all the happiness I have in contemplating her among the redeemed, thus clothed in white; and notwithstanding the triumphing conviction I have in spite of the temptations of Satan, and the darkness that envelopes my present position, that all is the offspring of infinite love; yet at times the overwhelming loss I have sustained, in every possible way that a husband, a father, a missionary, and even a man, can know, so affects me that but for my Lord’s loving presence, I should be overwhelmed.

I now wait till the arrival of my dear friends to consult with them as to our future plans. May the Lord, if it be his pleasure, quickly send them hither, and direct us in all our plans and purposes, so that we may be led to fulfil his will.

May 30.—A messenger has arrived from Bussorah, bringing intelligence of the kind Taylors; but the letters he brought were all taken from him, and he stripped to his shirt, a few miles from Bagdad. However, by word of mouth, he brings, on the whole, good accounts. All their immediate family are well; some have died, among those that accompanied them, and nearly all the Arab sailors, but as the letters are lost, we know not the particulars.

May 31.—I have had another proof of my heavenly Father’s care. An Armenian merchant has sent his servant to me to say, he proposes sending him every day to buy for me what I want from the bazaar, and also to offer me any money I may want. The latter I had no occasion to accept, for when the Jew left the city who was to supply me, and the man died who was to obtain it for me, and I seemed left without remedy, an Armenian offered to supply whatever I might want, without any application on my part, and from him I have had what I needed.

Whether or not the affairs of the Pasha are likely to be quietly settled, I know not; but I think there are some indications that the present Pasha will remain. So intensely ruined does the city appear, that the Pasha of Aleppo, who was to have come and dispossessed him, seems to have no desire for the exchange; and besides, the present Pasha has offered so large a sum of money, that there appears little doubt it will be accepted. Dispatches have arrived for him, the contents of which are not yet known; but the Pasha says, he has received the most satisfactory letters. He is, I believe, recovering daily his strength.

Thus I finish this melancholy portion of my journal—one of those dark pages in the history of one’s life, that whenever the thoughts stray towards it, chills to the very centre of one’s being; and when we trace all its sources, and see they terminate in sin, Oh! how hateful must that thing be, which is fraught with such deadly consequences. Oh! what a blessedness it is, amidst all these lights and shades of life, to know that the Rock on which we rest is the same, and does not vary; and that whether he administers to us the bitter portion or the sweet, his banner over us is love.

June 5.—Reports are again spreading that the Pasha of Aleppo is within a few days of this place. But we sit down and patiently wait the event.

June 7.—To-day a letter has reached me from Major Taylor, being the first I have received since he removed his family from this place to Bussorah, on the breaking out of the plague here. In every one of the boats going down the river deaths occurred, but especially in theirs, they losing seven of their party. The plague broke out among the Arab sailors, who secreted a corpse in the boat several days, and from them it spread among his African servants, and seized Mrs. Taylor’s brother-in-law, so that I cannot see my early conclusions were wrong as to not moving at that time. And, moreover, the Pasha, or rather Motezellim of Bussorah, has been driven out by a party of Arabs, and he is now come against the town with another large body of Turks, to endeavour to recover it; so that even this evil of the sword we should not have escaped. The Lord, therefore, leaves me nothing to regret, unless it be that I ought perhaps to have kept myself quite apart from the rest of the family, after I had been obliged by a sense of duty to go out during the time the plague was raging. It is easy to be wise after the events are past. The more I contemplate the circumstances in which I have of late been placed, the more I see of the trials and anxieties of the missionary life, and of the mysteriousness of God’s dealings; I feel the more overwhelmed with the importance of the soul having a deep sense of the love of God in Christ, before it ventures upon such an undertaking. Our dear Father very often, in love, explains to us his reasons; at other times, he gives no account of his matters; in the one case to excite love and confidence, in the other, to exercise faith. It does seem to me, that no doctrines but those of the sovereign grace of God, and his love entertained towards the soul, before the foundation of the world, and the revelation by the Holy Ghost of the love and fellowship with Christ, and through him with the Father, so that we have thereby our life hid with him where no evil can reach us, can happily sustain the soul. There is something so filthy, so worthless in all our services, when events render it probable to the soul that soon it will appear before God, that the new creature cannot endure the deformity and defilement, and turns away its distressed sight to the love of the Lord, and the garment he has provided without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. The experience of my dear dear Mary on this head was most striking. She often said to me, “They often talked to me, and I often read of the happiness of religion—but I can truly say I never knew what misery was till I was concerned about religion, and endeavoured to frame my life according to its rules—the manifest powerless inadequacy of my efforts to attain my standard, left me always further removed from hope and peace than when I never knew or thought of the likeness of Christ, as a thing to be aimed after; and it was not till the Holy Ghost was pleased of his infinite mercy to reveal the love of my Heavenly Father in Christ, as existing in himself before all ages, contemplating me with pity, and purposing to save me by his grace, and to conform me to the image of Him whom my soul loves, that I really had peace, or confidence, or strength. And if in any measure I have been able to walk on with joy in the ways of the Lord, it has been from the manifestation of his love, and not from the abstract sense of what is right, nor from the fear of punishment.” This was the theme of her daily praise—the love and graciousness of her Lord; and I can set my seal, though with a comparatively feeble impression, to the same truths, that the sense of the love of Christ is the high road to walk in according to the law of Christ.

June 9.—I have heard from a German merchant, Mr. Swoboda, that above 15,000 persons, many sick with the plague, and others, were buried under the ruins of the houses that fell in the night the water burst into the city. Nothing can give a more awful impression of the mass of misery then in the city, than that such an event, which at another time, would have called forth every exertion to remove the sufferers, and have been the universal conversation and lamentation of the city, passed by without any effort to relieve them, and almost without a word of remark, but from those immediately connected with the sufferers. I hear that those who have closed their houses intend opening them on the 18th inst. I bless God for the intelligence; and trust the plague has quite left us. Mr. Swoboda tells me he does not expect to open his khan again for 12 months;—this, however, does not arise simply from the plague, but because the rich merchants have all left the city, and the principal Jews, from the apprehension of the coming of Ali Pasha from Aleppo, and that in consequence trade is at a stand.

June 10.—Last evening the guns of the citadel fired as for some good news, and we find, on enquiring, that a messenger has come from the Sultan, confirming the Pasha in his Pashalic.[33] The Tartars, who are the bearers of this intelligence, are expected to enter to-morrow or next day. This arrangement, it is reported, has been brought about by our Ambassador at Constantinople.—Should it be the Lord’s pleasure that we now have a little peace and quietness here, it will be a great mercy, and an inconceivable relief from the disquietude of the last 18 months; however, the Lord knows what is best for us. These difficulties have led my heart many times to him, when, perhaps, but for them, it would have rested on some lower object. This prospect of peace seems to bring nearer the possibility of our dear friends joining us from Aleppo, and this would indeed be a great comfort.

June 11.—This day has made manifest that more judgments are coming upon the city, and instead of a Firman in favour Daoud Pasha, bringing peace, we can hear the sound of the cannon of the new Pasha. He will little regard the Firman that has come from the Sultan, if it has really come, and which being here universally believed to have been procured through the instrumentality of our Ambassador, places the English in no very acceptable position; but the Lord is our tower, yea, our high tower, and into him we run. The enemy is now about six miles off, and the whole city is in a state of commotion that cannot be described, every one armed with swords, pistols, and guns, preparing for the expected contest. O Lord, we commend ourselves to thy holy keeping, for thou neither slumberest nor sleepest. When all the difficulties of these countries follow upon one another as rapidly as they have of late done here, it seems very difficult to see how the word of life is to go forth as a testimony. Yet it will; for the Lord hath said it; therefore let not our hearts fail, or our hands hang down, for the Lord of all circumstances, who governs the most disastrous as well as the most prosperous, is our own Lord, the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. All the bazaars are closed, and we are taking in water again at an advanced price. Oh! Lord, when will thy holy and blessed kingdom of peace come, when the nations shall learn war no more, but love and light shall flourish in the Lord! Wherever the blasting influence of Mohammedanism extends, how iron bound all appears against the truth: yet even this the Lord will soften by his love, or break by his power. May my soul be daily more and more sensible of their misery and pride. Poor Mr. Goodell says, in a letter, that after all the labours the American missionaries have bestowed in Syria, they scarcely know an individual to whom their message has been peace, saving in the case of two or three Armenians of whom they hoped well. No one can imagine the disheartening feelings that often try the missionary’s heart in the countries where Mohammedanism is professed and dominant, and where your mouth is sealed. Among heathens, and especially in India, you can publish your testimony, and this is a great comfort to the heart that knows what a testimony it is, and what promises are connected with its publication.

Shortly after we ascended to the roof for our evening walk, we heard the cannon and small arms begin to fire, which informed us that the contest was begun within the city. About eight o’clock we heard multitudes crying out and shouting before the seroy, or palace, and the account was soon brought us that the inhabitants had broken in and seized the Pasha. After this all became quiet, except the firing of guns from the tops of the houses, to frighten off the thieves, and the cry of the watchmen, whom all, who can afford it in these trying occasions, keep to protect them. The Lord has hitherto extended his sheltering wing over us, though without sword, pistol, gun, or powder in the house; and the only men besides myself, are Kitto, who is deaf, and the schoolmaster’s father, who is blind: but the Lord is our hope and our exceeding great reward.

June 12. Lord’s day.—The wretched Pasha has just passed our house under a guard to the residence of Saleh Beg, almost the only male relation he suffered to live of the family he supplanted. The Lord is now visiting on him his cruelty and blood; so that what with the plague and now the sword, there will hardly be one of the apostate Georgians left.

The day dawned quietly; but our house has just been attacked by a band of lawless depredators, asking for powder and offensive weapons. I told them I had none; but seeing a carpenter whom I knew, I told him I would let him and three others in, if they would promise me that no more should come in, which they did. So they entered, and were very civil, though they searched the house: I gave them some money, and they went away, promising that nothing more should be done to my house; but my only confidence is in the Lord. They wanted to go from the roof of my house to that of a rich neighbour’s of mine, but I told them I could not allow that they should make my house a passage to his, and they were very civil and did not press it.

A Frenchman who was teaching the Pasha’s soldiers European discipline, has had his house stripped, and when they were on the point of killing him he turned Mohammedan. Before he was professedly a Roman Catholic, but really an infidel.

Oh, my dear Mary, what a contrast to your kingdom of peace and love! Lord Jesus come quickly. For this I can now truly bless God that she is freed from this season of trouble and anxiety. The dear children bear it better than I could have hoped; but the Lord sustains and comforts us in the hope that as the new Pasha is near, this state of inquietude may not continue long. The Pasha of Mosul and an Arab chief have entered the city, and are now at the palace, so thank God, the state of anarchy is likely to be immediately put an end to. The crier has been publishing the determination of those now acting for the new Pasha, till he enters to punish all who commit any depredations, and desiring that the bazaars may be opened, and every one go about his own work. Should this be the end, we cannot but bless God that so great a storm has passed over so lightly. But the fact was, that the plague had destroyed all the powers of resistance. All Daoud Pasha’s soldiers were dead—all his public servants were dead—and he, though recovering from the plague, unable to take any active part for himself. When he passed our house this morning, he was supported on his horse by six men. He is not yet killed, and on his expressing a wish to have his son brought to him, he was sent for immediately. Should they spare his life, it may augur that even the Turks are coming to a sense of their barbarism. It has been a great comfort to me to-day, to think on Noah’s case, that God did not forget him amidst a condemned world.