I had many reminiscences of Martyn, at Marand particularly. I quitted this place at midnight, just at the time and under the circumstances which he describes. ‘It was a most mild and delightful night, and the pure air, after the smell of the stable, was reviving.’ I was equally solitary with himself. I had attached great interest to my resting-place, believing it to have been the same on which Martyn had reposed, from his own description, as it was the usual reception for travellers, the munzil, or post-house. Here I found myself almost alone, as with Aliverdy, my guide, not three words of understanding existed between us. Martyn says, ‘They stared at my European dress, but no disrespect was shown.’ Exactly so with me: the villagers stood around questioning my attendant, who was showing me off, I know not why.

Martyn’s description of the stable was precisely what I found it; thus—‘I was shown into the stable, where there was a little place partitioned off, but so as to admit a view of the horses.’ He was ‘dispirited and melancholy.’ I was not a little touched with this in my solitariness, and sensibly felt with the poet:

Thou dost not know how sad it is to stray
Amid a foreign land, thyself unknown,
And, when o’erwearied with the toilsome day,
To rest at eve and feel thyself alone.

At Khoi, on my return, I witnessed the Persian ceremony related by Martyn in his Journal of the death of Imam Hussein—the anniversary of which is so religiously observed in that country. At Tabreez I heard much of him who was

Faithful found
Among the faithless—faithful only he,
Unshaken, unseduced, unterrifed,
His loyalty he kept—his zeal—his love.

I scarcely remember so bright an ornament to the Christian profession, on heathen land, as this hero of the Cross, who was ‘patient in tribulation, rejoicing in hope;’ and I heard him thus spoken of by those who could estimate the man, and perhaps not appreciate the missionary—‘If ever there was a saint on earth, it was Martyn; and if there be now an angel in heaven, it is Martyn.’ Amidst the contumely of the bigoted Mussulmans, he had much to bear, as to the natural man, amongst whom he was called an ‘Isauvi’ (the term given to Christians).

I know of no people where, to all human calculation, so little prospect opens of planting the Cross. The moollas are by no means averse to religious discussion, and still remember the ‘enlightened infidel,’ as Martyn was called; but so bigoted are these benighted Moslems, and show so much zeal, as I noticed at their Ramazan, that they scorn us, and, I may say, they shame us. It is interesting, when looking at those dark regions, to inquire—when shall the Cross triumph over the Crescent? when shall the riches and power of the Gospel spread over their soil, root up the weeds of error, and produce the fruits of righteousness?

Since the days of Martyn but little effort has been made by the Missionary Society to turn the tide of Christian philanthropy towards this country; but I would say, spite of the discouragements, Send your missionaries to this stronghold of Mahomet; here plant your standard of redeeming love to the wretched devotee of the impostor; to the sometime worshipper of the sun hang out the banner of the Sun of Righteousness; kindle in his bosom the flame of Divine truth, that the Holy Spirit, of which his former god was the emblem, may enlighten and guide him into the fold of Christ.

It is gratifying to find from a paper in the Asiatic Register, the writer of which spent a few weeks at Shiraz, that the love and work of this distinguished missionary, although he saw no fruits from them, have in one instance proved that his labour has not been in vain in the Lord. He relates that in that city he met with an interesting character, Mahomed Rahim, who had been educated for a moolla; a man of considerable learning, and much attached to the English. He found him reading a volume of Cowper’s Poems, and was astonished at the precision with which he expressed himself in English; this led to the subject of religion, when he acknowledged himself to be a Christian, and related the following circumstance.