Another visitor to [_Ch_]ihríq during the closing months of the life of the Báb was His uncle, Ḥájí Mírzá Siyyid `Alí. His life too was nearing its end, to be laid down in the path of his Nephew. Two years had passed since the day his Nephew bade him farewell in [_Sh_]íráz, and Ḥájí Mírzá Siyyid `Alí could no longer bear the pangs of separation. He settled his accounts, closed his books and took the road to Á[_dh_]arbáyján. Having attained his heart's desire, he wrote to his brother, Ḥájí Mírzá Siyyid Muḥammad, to help him see the truth of their Nephew's mission. His letter was written on the fifth day of Jamádíu'l-Úlá--the anniversary of the Declaration of the Báb. 'On such a day,' he told his brother, 'the resplendent Light of God shone forth.... This is the day of Resurrection ... the day to behold the Visage of God.'[2] The One promised, expected and awaited had indeed come, he asserted, and come with verses constituting the primal proof of all the Manifestations of God. He desired all the members of his family to see his letter. One cannot but marvel at the quality of devotion and certainty that this letter reveals. To meet, after such a long interval, the uncle who had stood _in loco parentis_ to Him when He was orphaned, must have given the Báb intense joy. But within a few months[DZ] of His uncle's visit, news came that brought Him unbearable sorrow. At [_Sh_]ay[_kh_] Ṭabarsí in Mázindarán a large number of His followers had been massacred, including nine of His first disciples, the Letters of the Living; amongst them were the Bábu'l-Báb who had first believed in Him, and Quddús, His companion on the journey to Ḥijáz, the beloved disciple whose primacy was unquestioned. [Footnote DZ: Towards the end of June 1849.] According to His amanuensis: The Báb was heart-broken at the receipt of this unexpected intelligence. He was crushed with grief, a grief that stilled His voice and silenced His pen. For nine days He refused to meet any of His friends. I myself, though His close and constant attendant, was refused admittance. Whatever meat or drink we offered Him, He was disinclined to touch. Tears rained continually from His eyes, and expressions of anguish dropped unceasingly from His lips. I could hear Him, from behind the curtain, give vent to His feelings of sadness as He communed, in the privacy of His cell, with His Beloved. I attempted to jot down the effusions of His sorrow as they poured forth from His wounded heart. Suspecting that I was attempting to preserve the lamentations He uttered, He bade me destroy whatever I had recorded. Nothing remains of the moans and cries with which that heavy-laden heart sought to relieve itself of the pangs that had seized it. For a period of five months He languished, immersed in an ocean of despondency and sorrow.[3]