I shall not soon forget the night that followed these changes, a night of the deepest anxiety and distress. In the lower part of the house was a little girl, daughter of the Armenian patriarch of Beirout, put here to board, sick with the ophthalmia; two servants were also ill of fevers, and unable to help themselves; Mrs. N. was just recovering from a long sickness, and durst not expose herself to fatigue. In one corner of the room with me was Mr. M., restless, and in a burning heat, and on an adjoining bed was stretched Mr. N., now in a high fever, and quite delirious. For the others we could find some medicines tolerably appropriate, but the case of the last gentleman baffled our judgment, and there was not a physician to be had in the place. It was sad to be compelled to sit and listen to his ravings, and to see the disease hourly taking stronger hold upon him, and know not what to do. The ruling passion of his life was still prevailing, even in his wildest fancies; and his language was about the mission and its friends, or else he was disputing with the Jewish Rabbis, and quoting Hebrew from their voluminous authors. Thus wore the night away, a long and distressing night; and the day brought no relief, for we had the grief to see our friend sinking fast under his fiery disease. The fever left him towards evening, but as weak as an infant, and now particularly needing assistance which we knew not how to give; for the disease appeared to be of a complicated nature, and the little medicine which we ventured to administer, had done harm rather than good. If I could picture that missionary family as I saw it there, the scene would, I think, be a refutation of the charges of those who seem to think that missionaries go abroad for selfish and unworthy purposes. They had just passed through times of alarm and distress, such as persons seldom, and in our homes are never, called to witness; a city for days rocked and shattered by earthquakes, till the affrighted inhabitants knew not where to fly, and then plundered by fierce and lawless men. Their house had been pierced with cannon balls, and they were compelled to fly from one place to another for shelter; one of their company, whose health had been too feeble for these rude shocks, they had carried to the tomb, and had buried her beside another martyr in the same cause of missions.[72] In the house were now six invalids, some very ill, and one, the head of the family, apparently at the point of death; nor was there a physician to be any where found.--And the grave which we expected to dig for him was soon after this, dug for another of the mission family, Dr. Dodge, whom we met on the way as we were returning to Jaffa. Yet they keep their ground, undismayed by dangers and death; suffering discomforts with cheerfulness; patient amid rebuffs, and with a zeal that tries, even in subjects of disappointment, to find new sources of hope, and that “fainteth not, neither is weary.” Nine months