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Misery of being left alone in Sickness-The Hytas-His History-His Habits and peculiar Cookery-Illusions and Vagaries of DeliriumReception by the Hadji of the truant Servants-Visit of the Armenian Bishop-Mussulman Fast-How the Kavass of Mr. Layard kept it-His exploit at Van-Interior of the Church-The Chapels— Trading in the East-Monks of the Convent-Armenians-Their good and bad Qualities-Opprobrious Terms used by Turks against Christians-Gathering Harvest-Character of the Christians of the East-Return to Van-Turkish Doctors-Their Carousals-Taken by the Pasha to his Country-house-His Opinion on the Affairs of Turkey-Antiquity of Armenia as a Kingdom-Its present Power— Servant beaten by Soldiers-How that Injury was redressed-Leave Van-The Hasnedara of the Pasha-How his Memory of me was to be kept lively-Pass several Villages-The Monastery of Yavik.

It was not without many melancholy forebodings I saw these last Europeans depart. There seemed a safe feeling as long as they were near, some one upon whom I had a claim; and, in spite of caution, I crept to the window to see them ride away. They mount; they move; bob low under the porte cóchère, and I am alone with fever, weakness, and perhaps death. The chill, added to the anxiety, had done me harm; and for the next



two days chaos had come again. I awoke again, sensible, thank God ; but conscious of fever, headache, weakness. My poor skull seemed to bound, to split ; and I gave up quinine to avoid madness. At first, my only wish was to relapse into insensibility ; but as the head became clearer, even though it ached to bursting, one could but be thankful for


My first conscious moments were embittered by the only two servants with me, who came and demanded wages in advance, one plucking my sleeve to arouse me from my trance. This imposition I firmly resisted ; upon which they immediately threatened to quit my service, and I was left alone again in that dreary room.

Not that I took the solitude quietly,—not a bit.

I bawled and yelled, but as nobody answered, I gave it up. The next day, however, a half-crazy Hytas, a legacy of Mr. B.'s, came back from Van, where he had been sent, and putting his horse-cloth in a corner of the room, did nurse me, poor fellow, to the best of his abilities. He was a Mahometan of Egypt, and had passed his life in a species of military wandering. He had served as pipe-boy to a Mamlouk Bey, as a soldier to Ibrahim ; had then

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served Berber Pasha, and now was a species of hanger-on of the Pasha's, who fed him, and as he said, gave him the run of his coffee-pot. Mr. B. had him some time as a kavass, and then handed him over to me.

He smoked bhang perpetually, but it only increased his philanthropic feelings. His method of cooking was simple, consisting of putting all he found into a pot, and boiling it. Thus I regaled one day on maccaroni and tea; another, on rice and chocolate. However, he was always willing to consume the mess himself, observing, that I might pronounce such dishes ridiculous, but it was prejudice, as they were excessively good. For days the old man watched or rather smoked by my side; and his solemn "Min Allah, mackaraaouna, waar Allahhi, marhaouna," (from God he came, to God he must return,) still sounds in my ears. Delirium continued for many days. I seemed


my reverie to be the last man; methought all others but old Hadji Mansour had gone, and that he would go soon. Nor was the thought altogether without pleasure,—at least, so I find by reference

* Hasseeth: the opium of the Turks,




to my note-book, many pages of which were scrawled over during my delirium.

"Why is my sleep disquieted?

Who is he that calls the dead?

Bloodless are these limbs and cold."

Perhaps there is no medicine more dangerous in inexperienced hands than quinine. If taken during fever, and failing of its effect, delirium nearly always ensues, and the pain and headache attendant on fever are most considerably increased. Long, sad, and weary were the hours, yea, days, I thus lay in that dreary room. The windows opened on a court flooded with water; the drone of the Hadji's pipe, the only sound pertaining to me: two servants sick as myself to be cared for. Light was cold, for there were no sashes, and darkness suffocation; my bed was swarming with fleas.

Sadly, sadly my past life rose up before me,years wasted, friends despised, warnings disregarded, talent buried to be accounted for,-it was sad to die; sadder, sadder thus. Past scenes rolled before me-Allah Kerim, God is merciful.

"I strive to number o'er what days,
Remembrance can discover:

Which all that life or earth displays,
Would lure me to live over;

There rose no day, there roll'd no hour,
Of pleasure unembittered."

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Thursday.-Fever has left me,-free from pain, servants returned from Van.' The Hadji was looking out of the window; he retired to his corner, selected a stout leather strap, tried it, descended the stairs,-cries, shrieks, yells. The servants mount the ladder, kiss my hand, cover my feet with embraces. The Hadji follows more slowly, deposits the strap in its place, and resumes his pipe. Their conduct was irreproachable for the next few days,—at least as long as the strapmarks remained. Beautifully as the convent was placed, not

window looked outwards. Carpets and pillows were now carried outside, and placed beneath a small clump of willows where the stream dashed through, and here I lay musing dreamily, looking on the lovely scene beneath ; and thus passed several more days. The Pasha's German doctor bled the servants, which cured them, and prescribed me a jar of wine, but put into it some stuff that considerably abated my desire to consume it.

Spite of their mummeries, spite the broad idolatries of their creed, it is very sweet here as I sit alone, to hear the chanting of the mass. Mellowed

. by distance and obstructions, its nasal twangings


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