CHAPTER XIII. SICKNESS AND DEATH. "August 19th. H. has gone to the city. As I am slightly ill, I could not go with him, and I have been lying on the sofa all day, doing a little sewing, and a little reading, and finishing a note for dear Mrs. Fitch. Heleni came to tell me as soon as H. went this morning, that 'Chelebee told her to take good care of Cocona,'* and she has been most of the time sitting by me, and while sewing on the coverings for our sofa, she has been teaching me Greek words, and telling me a variety of things. She talks about my father and mother, and wonders how we can be separated; and she says often, 'by and by we will go to America.' Last evening I had many thoughts of absent friends, and of those who have died. I read the hymns in the little book which Mrs. Chester gave me, and which belonged to Mrs. Hovey, particularly those which were marked by her own hand. You remember the morning that I left Hartford, Mrs. K. brought it to me, and put it into my hand at the boat. I thought much of the past; and of the lovely circles of which Mrs. Hooker and Mrs. Hovey were the bright stars. And I thought how broken and dispersed they are now! And so it must be with every dear circle of affectionate friends. And were this world all, what should we do? I pray God we may be prepared for * Father has heard these names before, and he must tell mamma that they mean gentleman and lady, or master and mistress. that heavenly world. Oh, how little will the sorrows and the joys of this life appear when we reach the other world. How much we need faith to bring near eternal things. May God bless us all by his sweet presence, and prepare ⚫ us to enjoy Him forever.” TO MRS. FITCH. August 15th. My dear aunt Susan,-My heart has gone back to this day last year, when I was at your house with H., and we have been speaking to day of commencement exercises, and wondering what now is going on in New Haven. It is now ten o'clock in the evening here, and the exercises in the church must have drawn near the interesting part. I can bring it all before my eyes, but I shall not go to the church and the crowd, but remain with you in your own room, and take my chair beside yours, as in good old times. Oh, how sweetly can our thoughts commune with the dear friends from whom we are separated. Do not for a moment imagine that the things at home, or in your house, which is another home to me, fade upon my memory, now I am so far from them. I cannot bear to be thought a stranger to one thing in New England, among those dear scenes where my youth was passed. But I am sitting to talk with you, and I want you to know just as much about my concerns and my dear friends as you would like to know. To my dear mamma I tell all, and it is a sweet comfort. She may read you my journal, all that she thinks best, and then you will know our pleasures and our troubles, and you will understand about our leaving Smyrna. We are very sorry to be separated from our dear friends there; and although we hold constant and sweet intercourse with them by writing, yet we miss their pleas ant society more than I can tell you. There is a home feeling about Smyrna that there cannot be here." “August 19th. I wanted to finish my note on Thursday evening, but it was too late. To-day I am writing you by my window, where my eye is continually feasted by a most magnificent scene. Distant views in this country surpass those in America, but near views in America are the finest, because the verdure is richer than here. From our windows we enjoy a delightful view of the Marmora, amid whose waters the Princess Islands are sleeping. They are bathed now in golden sunshine, but as the sun descends they give forth the most exquisite violet and rosy hues, which are the charm of these lands. The mountains of Asia rise dimly in the southern horizon, and far beyond, tower the summits of Olympus, white and dazzling as if even now its crests were still frozen. If I had finished my note on Thursday evening I should have told you that notwithstanding our love for Smyrna, we are happy here, for our work with the Armenians interests us more and more. It is delightful to see their inquiring minds, and when H. has spent some hours in conversing with them, he feels very happy, for he says their minds are awake on every subject. The evening I was writing you, three young men sat round our table; but as they talk with H. in Turkish, I could not understand them. There is an excellent translation of Young's Night Thoughts into the Turkish, but with the Armenian letters. This interests the Eastern mind very much, and it was this about which these young men talked with great earnestness and great delight on that evening. I want to have my friends at home regard the people here as real human beings, with feelings like their own. I am striving to learn their language, and I do not find it very hard. H., too, is studying it, but he has the advantage of me, for he speaks Turkish; and though the Armenians prefer their own tongue, yet they all use the Turkish." JOURNAL. "Wednesday evening, 21st. When H. returned from the city, on Monday evening, he brought me the good news of the arrival of my own dear father in Boston. My heart is very grateful to God. Oh, that meeting! I can imagine it all-and we are happy, and rejoice too. I have not been well for a day or two, but I hope I may soon be better. I want to trust myself, and all I love, in the hands of our blessed Saviour. He can bless us with far more than earth can give; but how slow we are to believe it." "Thursday evening, 22d. When we have been only slightly indisposed, and have become well again, how much it makes us value the time which our Father grants to us. And this is the way I feel to-day. For the past three days I have not felt like doing much, and have lain upon the sofa; but to-day I feel like myself again; and I do think it is good to be reminded of my frailty, that I may learn to prize every moment more. How thankful we ought to be, my dear parents, that my health has been so good since I came to these climates. I have not for many years, felt so well as I have during the past year. But the climate of Constantinople is almost too changeable; it is too much like America in this respect. Were it not for this, it would be a fine climate, for it is very far from being oppressively warm. I have luxuriated in the warm weather, and have not suffered at all from it. During our first week in our house at Pera, we went to the Bazars in Constantinople, to get some calico for covering our sofas. The weather was cloudy and warm, and we became much heated in going to the water, but on reaching the cold, damp, dark places near the water's edge, where the sun never shines, an almost death-like chill came over us, which crossing the Horn only increased. These sudden transitions from heat and profuse perspiration, to cold, are very bad for the health. But we have not to suffer them often. And now, my own dear parents, I must close my journal for H. to take to town. My heart comes to you. Think I am talking these very words. May our Heavenly Father bless us, and all whom we love. May he give you joy and comfort. Love to all. My dear parents, I am ever, both now and forever, Your own affectionate daughter." FROM MR. V. L., INFORMING HER PARENTS OF HER ILLNESS. MAKRY KEUY, near CONSTANTINOPLE, August 28th, 1844. } 66 My dear Parents,-Both Mary and myself thought, that as the Vienna post leaves to-day, I had better write by it, and inform you that she is sick. She has a dysentery, which came on about a fortnight since. She has at times improved by the medicine given her, but last night it came on with redoubled violence, and some of the symptoms are alarming. I have sent this morning for Dr. S., and am sorry to be obliged to send this to the post, before he can have seen M., that I might give you his opinion of her case. M. has many apprehensions that it may end badly; but she appears beautifully in it all; no one would suspect that she was at all sick. She appears as calm and quiet as in the happiest moment of her life, and I believe she is happy. I believe I have less fears respecting the issue, yet I con |