wn timid
sensitive nature, I was, from time to time for many years, under deep
spiritual terrors, without any saving result. When I was about sixteen,
a revival of religion took place, under whose influence I was also
brought. Mr. Calhoun was my spiritual adviser, and although my mind
groped in darkness, and bordered on despair for many weeks, I hope I was
then led to put my trust in Jesus, and if ever I am saved, my only hope
now is, and ever shall be, in the merits of Jesus' blood and His
promises."

The next letter is from Melita Carabet, daughter of the Armenian Bishop
Dionysius Carabet, who became a Protestant in 1823. She writes as
follows:

"Nothing could give me more pleasure than to comply with your request,
and thereby recall some of the happy days and incidents of my childhood
and youth, spent under the roof of my godly teachers, Mr. and Mrs.
Whiting. I ought to remember them as far back as at the baptismal font,
for I heard afterwards that they were both present on the occasion,
which took place in Malta, where I was born. But as my memory does not
carry me back so far, I must date my recollections from the time I was
five years of age, when I came to live in their family. I can distinctly
recollect the first texts of Scripture and verses of hymns that dear
Mrs. Whiting taught my young lips to repeat, and my little prayer which
I used to say at her knees on going to bed, I still repeat to this day,
"Now I lay me," etc. One incident which happened about a year later, was
so deeply impressed on my memory, and had such an effect upon me at the
time, that I must mention it. It was this. Mrs. Whiting had given us
girls (we were five in number, my sister Salome, and Hannie, Dr.
Wortabet's sister, and Sada and Rufka Gregory) some raisins to pick over
preparatory to making cake. I stole an opportunity after a while, to
slip about a dozen of these raisins into my pocket. No one saw me do it
but from the moment I had done it, I began to feel very unhappy, and
repented the deed. My companions went out to play, but I could not join
in their sports. My heart was too heavy. I sat mourning over my sin, and
could eat no supper, and had no rest until I had made a full confession
to Mrs. Whiting at bed-time. She prayed and wept over me, and somehow I
was comforted and went to my little bed much happier.

"I remember nothing more until a much later period, when I was about the
age of twelve. About this time, there was a gre