_May 17._--To-day the fever has almost entirely left me, so that I feel a very little, except weakness, but never can I sufficiently praise God for the experience of yesterday. I certainly never expected again to have written in this journal, and few circumstances could have apparently presented themselves more trying to the heart, to have the prospect of soon leaving in a city like Bagdad, at this time, three helpless children, and the impossibility of making those provisions for them, which at another time might have been comparatively easy, seemed altogether more than the heart could support; yet so abundantly did the Lord allow his love to pass before me, so fully did he assure me of his loving care, that I felt no doubt for them--and, for myself, the prospect of soon joining him was specially exhilarating. He allowed me to see my free and full forgiveness and acceptance, and I never felt more the preciousness of such a salvation as the Gospel of Jesus provides for the sinner, than when I was as I thought, just entering eternity, to plead it as the ground of my hope before God. There seemed such simplicity in having only to believe you were redeemed by his love, and should be eternally preserved by the same, instead of having to do with weighing the sum of your beggarly services, all of which one hates now, and oh, how shall we hate them when we see him face to face. May our dear Lord make the promise he made to his disciples, good to my poor bereaved heart, and come himself and fill it with his fulness, that having him I may indeed feel I have all things. _May 18._--Our poor servant died last night, notwithstanding our hopes of her recovery, and has left one little orphan boy of seven years old with us. Oh that I could think of her transition from hence to eternity, and contemplate her, as the Lord to my unspeakable comfort allows me to contemplate my dear, dear wife, dwelling in the light of her Lord's countenance, where there is fulness of joy for evermore. The schoolmaster has just told me, that out of forty relations, he has now only four--the rest have all been swept away. The accounts we have of the misery, in which many of these died who endeavoured to fly, is truly heart-rending; with the water nearly half a yard high in their tents, without victuals or the means of seeking or buying any, they suffered every privation and misery that can be imagined, and one poor family which has returned, described the intense desire they had to return and die quietly in their houses. But return they could not, for the waters had so risen that there was no road, and no boats could be obtained, but at an immense price, which a few only could pay, and very few obtain even at any price. Oh! how many alleviations to the trials of parting with those we loved, the Lord allowed us in permitting us to see them surrounded by every comfort they could want, and with every attendance that could alleviate a moment's uneasiness.