He had always appeared to me a singular being, this same Moldavian clerk.  A person of fewer words could scarcely be conceived:  provided his master were at home, he would, on my inquiring, nod his head; and, provided he were not, he would invariably reply with the monosyllable No, delivered in a strange guttural tone.  On the present occasion, being full of eagerness and impatience, I was about to pass by him to the apartment above, without my usual inquiry, when he lifted his head from the ledger in which he was writing, and, laying down his pen, motioned to me with his forefinger, as if to arrest my progress; whereupon I stopped, and, with a palpitating heart, demanded whether the master of the house was at home.  The Moldavian clerk replied with his usual guttural, and, opening his desk, ensconced his head therein.

‘It does not much matter,’ said I; ’I suppose I shall find him at home after ‘Change; it does not much matter, I can return.’

I was turning away with the intention of leaving the room; at this moment, however, the head of the Moldavian clerk became visible, and I observed a letter in his hand, which he had inserted in the desk at the same time with his head; this he extended towards me, making at the same time a sidelong motion with his head, as much as to say that it contained something which interested me.

I took the letter, and the Moldavian clerk forthwith resumed his occupation.  The back of the letter bore my name, written in Armenian characters; with a trembling hand I broke the seal, and, unfolding the letter, I beheld several lines also written in the letters of Mesroub, the Cadmus of the Armenians.

I stared at the lines, and at first could not make out a syllable of their meaning; at last, however, by continued staring, I discovered that, though the letters were Armenian, the words were English; in about ten minutes I had contrived to decipher the sense of the letter; it ran somewhat in this style:—­

’MY DEAR FRIEND—­The words which you uttered in our last conversation have made a profound impression upon me; I have thought them over day and night, and have come to the conclusion that it is my bounden duty to attack the Persians.  When these lines are delivered to you, I shall be on the route to Ararat.  A mercantile speculation will be to the world the ostensible motive of my journey, and it is singular enough that one which offers considerable prospect of advantage has just presented itself on the confines of Persia.  Think not, however, that motives of lucre would have been sufficiently powerful to tempt me to the East at the present moment.  I may speculate, it is true, but I should scarcely have undertaken the journey but for your pungent words inciting me to attack the Persians.  Doubt not that I will attack them on the first opportunity.  I thank you heartily for putting me in mind of my duty.  I have hitherto, to use your own words, been too