Marash, Nov. 26th.

e survived the massacre of Nov. 18th, though we had given up all hope for hours. For four weeks previously Christians had been shot at sight in the streets, houses plundered, men's heads put on pikes, and two cases in my knowledge where little girls had been disemboweled. It was a reign of terror, culminating in the butchery of the 18th. Early that morning the three church quarters were fired, and the steady report of the guns told us of the work of annihilation.

"We took the girls (of the college) and crossed the seminary yard into the one occupied by the Lees and McCalloms. It was not a moment too soon, as the houses overlooking their walls were then being plundered, and we plainly saw what was in progress. It was about g o'clock. The Arab soldiers had been turned loose on the city. A number of regiments were drawn up west of the city ready to lend assistance if there should be any opposition. A company was on a hill near us, not regulars, but still in uniform, to see that no one interfered here, and the Arab fiends had possession. I cannot now describe the scenes we witnessed. The raiding of tlie houses in the seminary yard, the killing of our two men and a third riddled with bullets. Finally they were held up and chopped and hacked with the sword as mercilessly and with as little purpose as a child attacks a mullein head. After the soldiers had left to carry away a load of our academy stores, the old women and children came in to carry away what was left. It seemed the plan that everything must go. I had said, `There will be a larger and better organized force come here, for they may think we can resist.' There were 290 people in the two houses, chiefly women and children, and as still as death; and our girls, our sweet-faced girls, who tortured us with uo wailing, but looking, in a heart-rendering manner, into our faces for the comfort and assurance that had never failed before. Everything was given over. The smoke and dusk were closing in around us. The seminary yard was nearly finished. A lull of perhaps a moment. We peeped through the curtains (Miss B. and I), and turning to each other, quietly said, `They've come.'

"A large force of Arabs was in the street, drawn up in order, each with his gun ready for firing, I thought, and started to go below to our girls, to be with them to the last. Someone was pounding on the street door, and we heard friendly calls. Mr. McCallom gave a glance at his wife and babies and said, `I must go,' and he went. The calling continued and we were puzzled. But the gate, on being opened, let in some of our people and a colonel who had come with a guard-the first in all that day. We had seen the man on horseback in the afternoon, riding among the soldiers and playfully hitting them on the shoulders as if pretending to drive them away.
This only made us feel sure that the government had doomed us and wanted a pretext for trying to protect us. Fortunately for me, the two wounded theologues were brought in, and I had my hands full till midnight, when one of them died. The other was shot and hacked up terribly, but I dressed his wounds and he is still alive. The condition in the city is beyond description. Starvation on every hand; the best of our people gone. The soldiers estimate as their day's work 4,700 dead, but it is too much. They were occupied with plunder. One young man was given the alternative of death or becoming a Moslem. He chose death and they struck his head off. His poor body was taken to his mother, who, taking his hand and kissing it, said: 'Rather so, my son, than living to deny our Lord and Saviour.' He is one of thousands to sacrifice his life rather than deny Christ."