The first recitation was scarcely over when the boys poured into the hall to see if the postman had come. The mail was brought to Aintab only on Fridays, and professors and students, Armenians and Americans, awaited this great day with equal impatience. Twenty times during the day the boys would run to the porter and ask: "Posta geldiné? (Has the mail come?)" "Yok, yok, Effendis." But this time it really had come. A cry rang through all the buildings: "Posta gelmidé! Posta gelmidé! (The mail has come!)" Boys, big and little, came running downstairs. Badvili Melikian opened the bag and distributed the letters scattered over the table, with a word for each: "Nejib, here's a letter from your father in Heidelberg. Is he going to stay much longer in Germany?" "Garabed, the letter from your parents." "Monsieur Bernier, a letter from Switzerland, and a parcel of newspapers." "Professor Piralian, three letters from your friends in America." "Boghos, a letter from your father. Please give him my greetings when you write." "Three more letters for Monsieur Bernier. Is it your birthday, or what?" "Soghomon, the 'Avedaper.' Please lend it to me after you have read it." "Samouil, there is nothing for you this week." "Aram, two letters from Diarbekir." "Archag, one letter from Van, and one from--what, Tabriz? I didn't know you had acquaintances in Adgemistam?" Archag was blushing with pleasure, for he guessed at once from whom the letter came. He stammered out that one of his friends had been in Persia for the last few months; then, making a sign to Aram to follow, he went out of the room and upstairs to the dormitory. The two boys sat down on a trunk and Archag opened the precious letter, and lowering his voice, read as follows: "Siréli paragamner, (My dear friends) "What must you think of me? It is five weeks yesterday since I left Van, and it is only to-day that I am able to keep my promise and tell you that, thanks to the mercy of Astwatz (God, in Armenian), I have arrived at Tabriz; but it was not without difficulty, and my adventures have been little less than miraculous. "But let me not anticipate. When you left me, and I saw you disappearing all too quickly from the shore of Lake Van, I stopped for a moment, to follow in thought those faithful friends whom I shall probably never see again.