March 17th.—My arrival caused the greatest excitement among the Christian inhabitants of Erzeroum. They are all singing my praises for having come out here by those shocking roads, and they say that I certainly deserve a medal as a reward for my bravery. Was it curiosity to see a European woman, or was it a desire to show devotedness to the Russians? Perhaps both reasons together made visitors overflow our drawing-room. All the big wigs of the town came to pay their respects to me. To-day, for instance, I received the family of George Effendi, one of the richest Greek merchants of Erzeroum. His wife wore a splendid silk dress interwoven with gold and silver, and a small velvet cap adorned with gold spangles and tassels. Her daughter-in-law, a woman of fourteen, of childish stature and appearance, was obliged to keep the most absolute silence in her presence, whilst her own daughter chatted in very bad French all the while. After them came the family of Antoine-Effendi Schabanian, the most noted Armenian inhabitant of the town, who had come to present his respects to me the day before. The native Christian women, being under the dominion of Turkish rule, find themselves here in such a state of degradation, that their husbands consider it unsuitable to appear with them anywhere. Antoine Effendi speaks very good English for a foreigner; he has been a correspondent of the _Times_ during the Russo-Turkish war. Other guests came in quick succession, amongst them the French Consul, M. Gilbert, with his wife, a charming young woman, so bright and winsome. Mme. Gilbert seems very friendly; she has put her books and music at my disposal. We propose to see each other often, and to take long walks together. During the Gilbert’s visit an old Pasha came in. That ancient fanatic, more than eighty years of age, didn’t venture to look into my face, but kept his eyes fixed chastely on the carpet, murmuring _sotto voce_ something I didn’t understand. Mme. Gilbert, who speaks Turkish, explained that the aged mussulman was making oriental compliments to me. Just before dinner an Australian doctor came in, holding a stick and a Scotch cap in his hand. That young physician is summoned away to Constantinople and has come to ask Sergy for a passport. He is the son of a rich cattle-breeder residing in Melbourne. I saw on his arm a white band with a red crescent and the letters S.H.S. on it, indicating that he belonged to the “Stafford House Society.” There is a great number of European doctors attending the Turks in Erzeroum; nearly all the nations have sent their contingents of medical men. These Christians in the Turkish service produce rather a painful impression on me.