The weather improved, and Byron was able to take long rides, which had an excellent effect on his health and spirits. Artillery recruits came in faster than was expected, and were regularly trained for efficient service. It seemed as though the tide had turned. At about this time Byron received a letter from Mr. Barff, strongly urging his return to Zante for the purpose of regaining his usual health, which it was feared he would not attain at Missolonghi. Byron was touched by this mark of friendship, but would not grasp the hand that might have saved his life. 'I am extremely obliged by your offer of your country house (as for all other kindness), in case that my health should require any removal; but I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of (even _supposed_) utility. There is a stake worth millions such as I am, and while I can stand at all, I must stand by the cause. While I say this, I am aware of the difficulties, dissensions, and defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowances must be made for them by all reasonable people.' It may seem strange, but it is nevertheless certain, that Byron found more pleasure in the society of Parry, that 'rough, burly fellow,' than he did in the companionship of anyone else at Missolonghi. He thoroughly trusted the man, and even confided in him without reserve. Parry appreciated the honour of Byron's intimacy, and his evidence of what passed during the last few weeks of Byron's life is, so far as we are able to judge, quite reliable. He tells us that Byron had taken a small body of Suliotes into his own pay, and kept them about his person as a bodyguard. They consisted altogether of fifty-six men, and of these a certain number were always on duty. A large outer room in Byron's house was used by them, and their carbines were hung upon its walls. 'In this room,' says Parry, 'and among these rude soldiers, Lord Byron was accustomed to walk a great deal, especially in wet weather. On these occasions he was almost always accompanied by his favourite dog, Lion, who was perhaps his dearest and most affectionate friend. They were, indeed, very seldom separated. Riding or walking, sitting or standing, Lion was his constant attendant. He can scarcely be said to have forsaken him even in sleep. Every evening Lion went to see that his master was safe before he lay down himself, and then he took his station close to his door, a guard certainly as faithful as Lord Byron's Suliotes.