A very interesting church!--Now let us visit the remaining churches. That building close by is the principal church of the Gregorian Armenians; it is withal a very poor place. The door is open; we have been expected; not a soul is present. Pursuing our way, we meet an Armenian priest--a young, broad-shouldered, open-faced man. He seems inclined to speak, so we ask him how many churches there may be in Mush. He answers, seven; but the commissary had said four. A soldier addresses him in Kurdish; the poor fellow turns pale, and remarks that he was mistaken in saying seven; there cannot be more than four. I turn to the commissary and ask him to take us to the teacher in the school of the United Armenians--a philanthropic institution with some schools in the provinces and headquarters in the capital. The reply comes that he is absent from town. The school is enjoying a holiday. There can be no doubt that they have all received orders to close their schools; but it is not probable that many schools remain in such a place. The Protestants have closed theirs. Such are a few of our experiences during our short sojourn at Mush. We were not merely shadowed by the police, but prevented from enjoying any of the profit and pleasure which a traveller seeks in return for all his trouble and expense. To protest to the Mutesarrif would have been worse than useless; and the policy of the British Foreign Office is so weak in these countries that we lose the advantages of our Consular system. When I called upon the chief official to take farewell, I congratulated him upon the possession of such an energetic commissary, and begged that he would recommend him in the despatch which no doubt he was preparing for a suitable reward. His efforts had, indeed, been completely successful; we had scarcely communicated with a single soul in Mush. I thanked him for the politeness with which our seclusion had been effected; and the old man rose, and accompanied me to the door.... What iniquities had they been committing and were desirous of screening? Terror, the most abject terror, was in the air. We drank it in from the very atmosphere about us--a consuming passion, like that of jealousy--a haunting, exhausting spectre, which sits like a blight upon life. Such a settled state of terror is one of the most awful of human phenomena. The air holds ghosts, all joy is dead; the sun is black, the mouth parched, the mind rent and in tatters. Mush is the most mis-governed town in the Ottoman Empire. Ever since the inauguration of closer relations between Europe and these countries, the testimony of the few Europeans who have realised and noted such facts bears out this judgment almost to the letter. It is less easy to assign any definite cause. The disease has become chronic; and its symptoms are so familiar that the inhabitants have grown callous to their condition. It is only Damadeans, and such imported members of the community, that such deeply-rooted evils impress.