yrian
Patriarch, a few miles distant, which their enemies did not dare to
attack.

In the midst of so much peril, and with so little hope of
usefulness, Mr. Homes, by the advice of brethren at Constantinople
and Smyrna, resolved to return, and Dr. Grant did not withhold his
consent. "Within the ruined walls of an ancient church," he writes,
"in a lonely ravine, overlooked by the town, I exchanged the parting
embrace with my brother and companion in tribulation. On account of
the anarchy around us, we had travelled together barely two days,
but on a bed of sickness, and surrounded by men of blood, I had
learned to prize the company of a Christian friend. Yet, while
Providence called him back to Constantinople, to me it seemed to
cry, 'Onward to the mountains!'"

Dr. Grant resolved to go to Mosul. Disguised in an Oriental dress,
he returned to Mardin to prepare for his journey, and while there,
his safety was insured by the surrender of the town to the Pasha of
Mosul. On his way, he was favored with the company of Captain
Conolly, the bearer of despatches for India, whose sad fate on the
banks of the Oxus afterwards occasioned the journey of Dr. Wolff to
Bokhara. The distance was nearly two hundred miles, and they arrived
at Mosul on the 20th of September.

Fully resolved to penetrate the fastnesses of Koordistan, and
trusting in the protecting power of his gracious Lord, Dr. Grant
left Mosul on the 7th of October, with two Nestorians from Persia, a
Koordish muleteer, and a kavass from the Pasha. Crossing the bridge
of twenty-one boats, which spans the Tigris, he was amid the ruins
of Nineveh, and soon reached a Yezidee village, where he was
hospitably received. On the 15th, as he approached Duree, near the
borders of Tiary, deep Syriac gutturals from stentorian voices in
the rocks above him demanded who he was, where he was going, and
what he wanted. Had he been a Papist, he would have been robbed; as
it was, the frightened kavass lost all courage, and begged
permission to return.

When the people heard him speak their own language, they gathered
around, and welcomed him to their mountain home. His fame as a
physician had preceded him, and they came for medicine from all
directions. The venerable bishop, with a long white beard, took him
into their ancient church, which was a cave high up on the mountain
side, with heavy masonry in front, and dark within. Here the bishop
slept, to be in readiness for early morning