The Kurds, who committed the atrocities under the instigation of the Turks, are a semi-nomad race, living part of the year in tents; a picturesque, wild, ungovernable people, practicing a sort of highway robbery as a trade, and a sort of Mohammedanism as a religion. The Armenians, on the other hand, are farmers and merchants, thrifty, intelligent, peaceful, eager for education, and, as you have read, devoted Christians. It is not strange that two peoples so different in habits and temperament should find it difficult to live together, as neighbors; and the Turks, who are jealous of the intelligence and industry and ability of the Armenians, and hate them also for their Christianity, have not scrupled to stir up the Kurds against them. What is still worse, they have compelled the Armenians to live unarmed among their armed and fierce Kurdish enemies. We sometimes hear the Armenians called cowardly, but if we had to live unarmed among a hostile race who carried good modern rifles, we, too, might be called cowards. No; we need not think of Armenians simply as a down-trodden and feeble folk, who have run away helplessly from danger, and to whom Americans must be compassionate and charitable. They have something to give us, as well. Their diligence is a good gift; they work hard, and they are intelligent in their work. Their faithfulness to God is the best of gifts. And they have a great love of education. This gift, if there were no other, would win for them a place in the Schoolmate Series. In a book called "Travel and Politics in Armenia," by Noel and Harold Buxton, published in 1914, which you may like to read some day, we get a vivid idea of the love of the Armenians for their schools. The authors say: "There is a remarkable contrast between the villages of Armenians and the villages of Kurds. We had traveled for days in a Kurdish district, a waste of bare, sandy hills, with never a tree or any sign of cultivation. Our halting-place for lunch proved to be an Armenian village, and luscious melons were put before us, which the arid soil produces in abundance as soon as a little irrigation is applied to it. While we sat in the Khan (inn), the local schoolmaster appeared--a wonder still more remarkable than the melons, for whoever heard of a school in a Kurdish village? We seemed to be suddenly transported to a center of civilization. This educational activity is beyond all praise. Here was a man of some ability, prepared to live a lonely life in an isolated village, for the sake of his nation and the younger generation."