August 28th.—A telegraphic message has just arrived announcing the surrender of Batoum. The official orders of the giving up of that town to the Turks will come to-morrow. Now we shall be able to get away soon; I am wildly, madly happy! I have been awakened this morning by the sounds of a loud conversation under our windows. An Armenian merchant came to complain that a score of Turks had forced themselves into his house last night, and after having bound him up with strong cords, they wanted to carry away his wife, a mere child of fifteen. This incident gave rise to a great commotion among the Armenians; our approaching departure terrifies them. We have not left Erzeroum yet and the Turks have already begun to fulfil their threats. The whole town is in excitement, all the shops are closed. I hear the toll of the alarm-bell chiming for the assembling of the Christian inhabitants. Just before lunch my husband was told that several thousands of Armenians who had gathered before the dwelling of their Metropolitan, were now advancing towards our house and we already heard the ominous sound of treading feet and clamorous voices in the distance. In a second I was on the balcony and the first thing I saw was the figure of the Metropolitan making his way through a tumultuous throng of people, closely followed by all the members of the Town Council, in about two minutes there was a crowd of several hundred people about our house. I heard the roaring voices of an excited mob from below; wherever I looked I saw a sea of anxious faces and gesticulating arms and hands. The confusion became greater with every moment. Notwithstanding my entreaties, Sergy came out on the balcony with the Metropolitan and policemaster, who explained to me that this noisy crowd had come to entreat my husband to permit them to emigrate to Russia. The Armenians, who completely lost their heads and thought that their end was drawing nigh, wanted to follow us to Russia and declared they would not stir from the spot until they got a favourable answer from my husband. I was terrified beyond words when I saw an individual drawing a pistol out of his pocket and pointing it at us exclaiming: “In mercy kill me, I prefer to perish from your hands rather than be left to the mercy of the Turks!” The policemaster, escorted by his agents, went down into the street in order to exhort the mob to disperse, but the infuriated Armenians continued to roar under our balcony; then Sergy addressed the crowd, persuading them to be quiet and promising that he would not leave Erzeroum before the Turkish army arrived, and that order would be maintained in the town till then. These words were greeted with a wild yell of exultation from the crowding masses, and the noise of the multitude gradually decreased. Oh! it was a scene and an experience I shall certainly never forget! My husband ordered the number of patrols in the streets to be increased, and after dinner we rode through the Turkish