been cut away and regular steps chiseled out.
He was received by the Patriarch with great cordiality, without the
extravagant compliments so common with the Persians. "And now," said
the Patriarch, "you will make my house your own, and regard me as
your older brother." Mar Shimon was thirty-eight years old, above
the middle stature, well-proportioned, with a pleasant, expressive,
and rather intelligent countenance; and his large flowing robes, his
Koordish turban, and his long gray beard, gave him a patriarchal and
venerable appearance, that was heightened by a uniformly dignified
demeanor. But for the fire in his eye and his activity, he would
have been thought nearer fifty than thirty-eight. Being the temporal
as well as spiritual head of his people, the difficulties of his
situation were assigned as the cause of his hoary hair and beard.

During the five weeks spent in the patriarchal mansion, Dr. Grant
had an opportunity to see Nestorians of intelligence and influence
from all parts of the mountains, and elicited from them information
such as he could not have gained in any other way. At parting, the
Patriarch presented him one of the ancient manuscripts of his
library. It was the New Testament, written on parchment, in the old
Estrangelo character, seven hundred and forty years before. It was
presented by Dr. Grant to the library of the American Board, and is
now there.

His next sojourn was in the castle of Nurullah Bey, chief of the
independent Hakary Koords, two days from the residence of the
Patriarch. The Bey was very sick; and becoming impatient under the
slow operation of the medicine given him by the doctor, he sent a
messenger for him at midnight. "The sentinels upon the ramparts,"
says Dr. Grant, "were sounding the watch-cry in the rough tones of
their native Koordish. We entered the outer court through wide,
iron-cased folding-doors. A second iron door opened into a long dark
alley, which conducted to the room where the chief was lying. It was
evident that he was becoming impatient; and as I looked upon the
swords, pistols, guns, spears, and daggers--the ordinary furniture
of a Koordish castle--which hung around the walls of the room, I
could not but think of the fate of the unfortunate Schultz, who had
fallen, as it is said, by the orders of this sanguinary chief. He
had the power of life and death in his hands. I knew I was entirely
at his mercy; but I felt that I was under the guardian care of One,