" Once upon a time, a worthy widow found herself the happy possessor of no less than forty small grist-mills strung along this stream.  Soon after her husband’s death, the lady’s amiable qualities-and not unlikely her forty mills into the bargain-attracted the admiration of a certain wealthy owner of flocks in the neighborhood, and he sought her hand in marriage.  ‘No,’ said the lady, who, being a widow, had perhaps acquired wisdom; ’ no; I have forty sons, each one faithfully laboring and contributing cheerfully toward my support; therefore, I have no use for a husband.’ ’ I will kill your forty sons, and compel you to become my wife,’ replied the suitor, in a huff at being rejected.  And he went and sheared all his sheep, and, with the multitudinous fleeces, dammed up the stream, caused the water to flow into other channels, and thereby rendered the widow’s forty mills useless and unproductive.  With nothing but ruination before her, and seeing no alternative, the widow’s heart finally softened, and she suffered herself to be wooed and won.  The fleeces were removed, the stream returned to its proper channel, and the merry whir of the forty mills henceforth mingled harmoniously with tlie bleating of the sheep.”  Two days are spent at the quiet missionary camp, and thoroughly enjoyed.  It seems like an oasis of home life in the surrounding desert of uncongenial social conditions.  I eagerly devour the contents of several American newspapers, and embrace the opportunities of the occasion, even to the extent of nursing the babies (missionaries seem rare folks for babies), of which there are three in camp.  The altitude of Erzeroum is between six thousand and seven thousand feet; the September nights are delightfully cool, and there are no blood-thirsty mosquitoes.  I am assigned a sleeping-tent close alongside a small waterfall, whose splashing music is a soporific that holds me in the bondage of beneficial repose until breakfast is announced both mornings; and on Monday morning I feel as though the hunger, the irregular sleep, and the rough-and-tumble dues generally of the past four weeks were but a troubled dream.  Again the bicycle contributes its curiosity-quickening and question-exciting powers for the benefit of the sluggish-minded pupils of the mission school.  The Persian consul and his sons come to see me ride ; he is highly interested upon learning that I am travelling on the wheel to the Persian capital, and he vises my passport and gives me a letter of introduction to the Pasha Khan of Ovahjik, the first village I shall come to beyond the frontier.