house; the afternoon meetings; and the evening singinglessons with all their opportunities for learning how to serve and glorify God, and looking to future results, in time and eternity. Very grateful and loving words were spoken by the simple-hearted sisters, as they lingered long, reluctant to speak the final farewell.

A heavy rain had fallen a few days previous, over which the people rejoiced-" because it would prolong the teacher's stay "—and yet no storm was so severe as to keep them from the place of prayer. One day, when we did not expect anyone, the women had come in almost the usual number, through the pouring rain, unprotected by the modern "water-proof" or even umbrellas, in most cases!

A PARTING VIEW.

It did my heart good to see the earnest, honest faces of the "brethren," as they gathered for the good-bye. I had been impressed with the strong religious element in their characters, during the weeks of our constant intercourse; I saw how godliness quickened and developed all that was good and noble in their manhood, causing them to realize in some degree the possibilities of their higher nature. They must have felt themselves growing! It was beautiful to see the members of that little church, standing, shoulder to shoulder, mutual burden-bearers and care-takers in their youthful Zion! It was said of them, by outsiders, as of the disciples of old, "See how these brethren love one another!" Their appreciation of the Bible—that, to them, most wonderful Book-was delightful to witness; it was their strength and refreshment by day and comfort by night; a constant companion in all their goings out and comings in.

Their evenings, especially in winter, were spent in "searching the Scriptures; " often meeting in companies for this purpose, and sometimes holding discussions with those who still clung to the traditions of the old Armenian Church.

Flattery is a common commodity among Orientals; and the ease with which the lachrymal fountains overflow-when it suits their purpose-inclines one to be suspicious of any superfluous demonstration. But the childlike simplicity of these hearty mountaineers left no room to doubt their sincerity. They had sought only the best-spiritual gifts and teachings; and their warm-hearted expressions of gratitude, and Christian affection for the labors of the past few weeks were prized as coming from the heart. Surely, the Missionary brother and sister whose lot was cast among them, might have said, with the Psalmist, "We have a goodly heritage." And yet how few of those who dwell in "ceiled houses" at home, would be willing to live in that poor, uncomfortable mud-dwelling,—with the little study and kitchen both next the stable, opening from the dark, damp passage upon the uneven ground; and great cracks in the floors above, revealing all the family life; surrounded by an atmosphere often so impure and stifling at night, that refreshing sleep was sought in vain, and windows must be closed to keep out the offensive and poisonous effluvia. Ah! there are slow martyrdoms in the nineteenth century that cost infinitely more suffering than the short pang, and quick transition to heaven, by the stake or the executioner's block! But who that loves Christ, would not count it all joy to break the bread of life to such a people? and "willingly spend and be spent for them?

Pacing slowly down the mountain side, and over the ver

dant plain to the sea, through thickets of wild rose and shruboak, I turned my horse to look once more upon the place which had become so dear to my heart. A beautiful picture was spread out before me, tinted by the morning sun, in luxuriant vineyards, groves of mulberry, and fields of richest verdure, framed by a range of mountains sweeping around. them, till they met the bright blue waters of the Gulf at their feet. Little villages peeped out from their setting of emerald, here and there among the lofty heights, like infants in the arms of a giant; and high up among them, was Bardezag—the Garden of the Lord.

CHAPTER II.

ADABAZAR.

RAMP, tramp, tramp, all the live-long day. Now passing over old Roman roads and bridges, and

meeting long, narrow carts, with solid, clumsy wheels, drawn by buffaloes, and filled with lumber, or produce, or, perchance, a family, protected by a rude awning, and presenting some curious specimens of humanity; travelers on horseback-the stately Turk, with dagger and pistol in his cashmere girdle, his black attendant clad in loose garments of scarlet cloth; and veiled women riding, not sidewise," but "otherwise," on mules or donkeys-sometimes with a large basket swung on each side of the saddle, from which peeped out the heads of children, like birdlings in a nest.

66

A train of camels in the distance added variety to the moving panorama, as my good steed paced steadily after the prophet's namesake, Ezekial, my Armenian escort. And now our path led us eastward, over the broad plain, away from the tide of life surging to and from the city which was once “a second Rome."* A range of hills swept nearly

* The historian Gibbon says, that Nicomedia was once inferior only to Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch, in magnificence and populous

ness.

2*

(33)

around the horizon, clad in misty robes of violet, with young forests springing up at their feet. The way grew narrower and pleasanter, fringed on either side with tangled wildwood, with little brooks purling through; scarlet berries gleamed amid the glossy green of the foliage, and trailing vines swung gracefully from trees and shrubs; the lazy piping of scattered birds and insects, and the monotonous tread of our horses' feet, alone disturbed the autumnal stillness which lay over the land that warm November day.

Again we emerged into an open space, with another stretch of plain, dotted over with clumps of grand old oaks, beneath whose shade we ate our lunch; and as evening approached, our path wound around the cliffs overhanging the lovely little lake "Savanja," the splashing of whose soft rippling waters upon the pebbly shore sounded like an evening song. The hills on the opposite side were lighted with rosy hues, playing amid the purple tinge, and in the distance lay the ruins of an old Greek town, built by, and named for, Helena, the mother of Constantine. A little later, and "the last faint pulse of quivering light" had faded out. The darkness deepened; a few belated travelers came up behind us, but soon turned off on other paths; camp-fires shone fitfully in the distance, and the tinkling of bells and furious barking of surly dogs, told of shepherds keeping watch over their flocks. A few pale stars looked out from their hazy shroud, but shed no light on the scene, and the last hour seemed very long as we went on, stumbling over unseen paths, rude bridges, and stony roads in the darkness.

Keble's evening song,

"Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear,

It is not night, if Thou art near,"