A Mohammedan has been with me to-day, who is much alarmed at the state of the city, and wants to fly, but sees not now any opening. He told me, it was not this or that Pasha he cared about; but his property, his life, and the females of his family. Oh, what a relief to know, that my dear Mary is with her Lord; how light this makes my present trials. Yesterday they were fighting from before sun-rise till the afternoon, but could not effect an entrance into the city. The Lord preserves us all in simple dependence on himself. _August 2._ _Wednesday._--Accounts have arrived from the Hajjaj (Mecca and Medina, &c.) stating the mortality from plague and cholera to be most tremendous; many families that left this place on pilgrimage to escape the troubles, in the midst of which we have so long been, have, as we hear, suffered dreadfully. Thus God seems in wrath, making bare his holy arm against this wretched nation in all its length and breadth. My heart sometimes trembles for the dear brethren at Aleppo, lest at the conclusion of the hot season it should break out there. My only resource is God. The poor people here are beginning to sell their little all to buy bread, and in consequence of the badness and scarcity of provisions, dysentery is spreading its ravages in every direction, as well as fever. I have had with me to-day the translator to the late French Bishop, and two or three Roman Catholic merchants, all overwhelmed with fear. They say, the Sultan, on hearing of the death of the Pasha of Mosul, and the Vaivode of Merdin, has written to the Pasha of Aleppo, to spare neither man, woman, nor child in the city; but to let the very name of Bagdad be swept from his dominions. Though this is not altogether unlike the Sultan, I rather think it the report of those within the city, to make the inhabitants dread delivering it up into the hands of those without. How blessed a portion is ours, in the midst of all these perplexities, to stay ourselves on our God, and to confide in the sympathizing love of our Lord, who, worthless and vile as we are, will not overlook us; but for his name's sake, will take care of the very hairs of our heads, either in life or death. Amidst it all, what chiefly troubles me is, that I love my Father and my Lord so little, and that although there is not an object in the world, but his service and glory, for which I would desire to live; yet that, notwithstanding this I live so little for it. Three months have now passed since my dearest Mary has entered into her rest, which I have spent mostly in the sorrowful nursing of my poor dear sinking babe, and though her love and preference repays a hundred-fold all the trial, yet it pierces, while it pleases the heart, to see that connection so soon must cease. I often wonder at my strange indifference to my situation, which, but for my dear children, I think would be greater. I am afraid to think it is the fruit of faith I