reason, and was so awed and terrified by the sight, that I was in danger of losing mine as well.  No one would come near him, and Mrs. Calhoun had kindly asked me to come and spend the holidays with them, so it fell to my lot to nurse and take care of him.  I used to go to him in the morning as soon as I got up, and sit (or stand) up with him until two or three o’clock at night, dressing his sores; running down only occasionally for my meals, and with my little lantern coming down in the dead of night, all alone, to lay my weary head and aching heart and limbs on my bed for a little rest.  But not to sleep, for whenever I closed my eyes, I had that eternal picture and scene of suffering before me.  I could find no one who was willing for love or for money to help me or relieve me for one night or day.  The disease was so offensive as well as frightful, that no one could stop in the room.  One of the Prussian “Sisters” who went up with me, kindly assisted me sometimes until she came down.  In this state did J. find me on his return from England.  His family was up in Aaleih, and he used to ride over occasionally to see P. and prescribe some new medicine for him, but his skill was baffled with this terrifying disease, and poor P. remained in this agonizing state of suffering for five whole months without leaving his bed.  He was carried down on a litter to Beirut, where he has been since.  He took a little room by himself, and gives lessons in English until something more prosperous turns up for him.  Twenty years’ experience seemed to be added to my life in those three months of anxiety I went through last summer; and what a picture of suffering and grief was I, after this, myself.  No wonder if I feel entirely used up this winter, and feel it a great effort to live.

There is not the slightest prospect of my ever getting back my lost property from that man—­as he has long since left the country, and is said to be a great scoundrel and a very dishonorable man.  If he were not, he would never have risked the earnings of a poor orphan girl by asking for it on the eve of his bankruptcy.  Had I my property I might perhaps have given up teaching for a while, and gone away for a little change and rest, but God has willed it otherwise, no doubt for some wise purpose, and to some wise end, although so difficult and incomprehensible at present.  It is all doubtless for the trial of my faith and trust in Him.  Let me then trust in Him!  Yea, though He slay me, let me yet trust in Him!  Has He ever yet failed me?  Has He not proved Himself in all ages to be the Father and the God of the orphan and the widow?  He must see that I need these troubles and sorrows, or He would not send them, for my Father’s hand would never cause his child a needless tear.  A bruised reed He will not break, but will temper the storm to the shorn lamb; I will then no longer be dejected and cast down, but look upward and trust in my Heavenly Father, feeling sure that He