Dr. Grant resolved to go to Mosul. Disguised in an Oriental dress, he returned to Mardin to prepare for his journey, and while there, his safety was insured by the surrender of the town to the Pasha of Mosul. On his way, he was favored with the company of Captain Conolly, the bearer of despatches for India, whose sad fate on the banks of the Oxus afterwards occasioned the journey of Dr. Wolff to Bokhara. The distance was nearly two hundred miles, and they arrived at Mosul on the 20th of September. Fully resolved to penetrate the fastnesses of Koordistan, and trusting in the protecting power of his gracious Lord, Dr. Grant left Mosul on the 7th of October, with two Nestorians from Persia, a Koordish muleteer, and a kavass from the Pasha. Crossing the bridge of twenty-one boats, which spans the Tigris, he was amid the ruins of Nineveh, and soon reached a Yezidee village, where he was hospitably received. On the 15th, as he approached Duree, near the borders of Tiary, deep Syriac gutturals from stentorian voices in the rocks above him demanded who he was, where he was going, and what he wanted. Had he been a Papist, he would have been robbed; as it was, the frightened kavass lost all courage, and begged permission to return. When the people heard him speak their own language, they gathered around, and welcomed him to their mountain home. His fame as a physician had preceded him, and they came for medicine from all directions. The venerable bishop, with a long white beard, took him into their ancient church, which was a cave high up on the mountain side, with heavy masonry in front, and dark within. Here the bishop slept, to be in readiness for early morning prayers, and he was pleased with the gift of a box of matches to light his lamp.