I have had, whilst governor of the district of Bourgas, a sack brought to me by a Bulgarian peasant, which contained the head of his own child, murdered by brigands before his eyes; yet that peasant, who was mayor of his own village, and had ample means of at least making an effort to save it, had never lifted a finger in its behalf, but now came to me for assistance towards payment of the ransom he had promised to save another child he had at home. I ask, what laws could regenerate the conduct of that man? Parental love could not even arouse him to his duty towards his own flesh and blood! What chance would foreign devices have to move him? I do not cite this as a solitary case, but as one of many similar examples of degradation which weigh upon a large portion of the population in Turkey. I have more than once seen a Turk maltreating a Christian. I have had the instrument taken out of the hand of the offender and placed in the hands of the stricken, then, standing over both, have insisted upon retaliation. But this was too abstruse a method for the perception of a Bulgarian. If, thought he, no doubt, I could really help him, why not let him _murder_ the Turk? As for beating, that would still leave his foe alive, and after my departure the Turk would thrash him worse than ever. What the Bulgarian told me in 1854 is applicable now--“Leave the Christian alone in the hands of the Turk, and he will be more despised and ill-governed than ever.” The clergy in the East, as might be readily supposed, offer no fixed standard of morality to guide the masses, as the following, among many other cases brought to my knowledge, will readily prove. When the Emperor Nicholas of Russia died, I was then in command of Western Roumelia; and the clergy of the district, headed by the Metropolitan of Adrianople, came officially to ask of me, as a Christian Pasha, to be allowed to celebrate a Mass for the repose of the Emperors soul. The ostensible reason given for this act of public gratitude was the many acts of solicitude the dead Emperor had shown for their Church: scarcely an ornament on their altars, even to the very canonical costumes which they then had on their backs, but they were indebted to him for. This outward demonstration imposed so much upon me that I told the Metropolitan, and the other bishops with him, that if they were so much indebted, why did they not, by some overt act beyond spiritual regard, show their acknowledgments? The successor of him whom they so deeply deplored had ascended the throne. France, England, and Turkey were in the field against him, and he had not a friend in the world--not even Austria, who owed her very existence to his father--that would say a word or lift a finger in his behalf. Now, at this solemn moment for the orthodox Church, a universal display in favour of Alexander might so impress the Allies as to eventually bring about a close of the war without too much sorrow and suffering on the part of Russia.