The dead weight about a missionary's neck in the first years of his labour is the language. So difficult is it to hear so as to understand, or to speak so as to be understood; for not only is it necessary to use right words, but with right accents, or you may often convey the very reverse of what you mean. Certainly, if I were quite alone, the plan I should pursue, would be to go into some family or place where the language I wish to learn alone is spoken, as brother King did in Syria to learn Arabic:--this being attained, a missionary is certainly not without the most interesting opportunities of usefulness. _July 2._ _Saturday._--Dear baby has suffered so much from her eyes to-day, that it tried my heart to the very bottom. And in addition to all this, the state of things here is assuming an alarming aspect. Without the city walls, the numbers of those who wish to plunder the city are increasing; and within, the same tendency is manifested among those who are intended for its protection, so that my heart has been at times very much pressed down; yet the Lord has sustained me. In the evening, as I was looking out, I saw the man come into the court yard, who brings and collects letters for Aleppo, and in his hand a letter for me. With what eagerness did I seize it, and anticipate its contents. Yet though good tidings, because tidings of the Lord's blessing them, and being in the midst of them, it contained tidings peculiarly heavy for me to receive at this moment, as it not only led me to anticipate no present prospect of seeing my dear brethren from Aleppo, but that it seemed very doubtful if it would be their path to come at all; at least if they did, it would be purely to join me, and this surely would not be the path of duty. I, however, receive this last trying providence at my loving Father's hands, adoring his love whilst I know not the modes of his going forth. It has not weighed me down so much as I thought it would; and the Lord allows me to feel assured he will yet do something for me. They seem to wish me to join them, but I do not yet see my way clear to leave this place to which the Lord has brought me. I feel daily more and more that my place in the church is very low, and it matters very little where I am for any good that is in me: yet by remaining, I keep the way open for those who are more able, and whose establishment is more important. I know my Lord will not cut me off from personal improvement by all his darkly gracious dealing, and perhaps I am now learning another part of that hard lesson, neither to glory in or trust in man. But still I bless God he is giving my dear brethren a door of utterance and prospects of usefulness where they are, and may my joy ever be in proportion to the glory that is brought to his blessed name, and the prosperity of his kingdom. Until the Lord, therefore, raises his fiery cloudy pillar, and bids me forth, I shall pursue my plan of