It was too late to give my letter today, and I
therefore seated myself composedly against the luggage, in the
belief that I should have to pass the night so; but a Persian came
to me and pointed out a niche to sleep in, carried my luggage there,
and, after a little while, brought me some bread and water. The
kindness of this man was the more admirable, as it is known how much
the Mahomedans hate the Christians. May God reward him for it. I
was truly in want of this refreshment.
22nd July. Today I presented my letter, and the Persian merchant
received me with a welcome. He conducted me to a Christian family,
and promised to make arrangements for the continuation of my journey
as soon as possible. In this instance, also, the conversation was
carried on more by the means of signs than words.
There were twenty Christian families in this town, who are under the
care of a French missionary and have a very pretty church. I looked
forward with pleasure to conversing again in a language with which I
was familiar, but learnt that the missionary was on a journey, so
that I was not better off than at Ravandus, as the people with whom
I lived spoke only Persian.
The man, whose trade was that of a carpenter, had a wife, six
children, and an apprentice.
