It had been arranged that he and Mr. Rhea, should translate the Scriptures into Tartar-Turkish for the benefit of the Mussulman population of Azerbijan and the regions beyond; but Dr. Wright's work was finished. His disease was typhoid fever, and during much of his sickness he was unconscious.
In the twenty-five years of his service, he performed a great variety of labors,—as a preacher, a physician, a co-laborer in the department of the press, and, not least, as a shield to the poor oppressed Nestorians; for he was greatly respected by their Mohammedan rulers. And these duties he performed with marked ability, scrupulous fidelity, and an almost unerring judgment.
In this year, also, died the Rev. Thomas L. Ambrose, on the 19th of August. The three years he spent in the mountains were to him years of suffering, the result of an ardent mental and moral temperament, as well as of the labors he performed. He returned home in 1861, hoping to resume his missionary work; but feeling that his country had claims upon him, and receiving an unsolicited appointment as chaplain of a New Hampshire regiment, he entered the service, was wounded while passing from entrenchments to a hospital, and after a few weeks died in the General Hospital at Fortress Monroe. In his relations to the mission and the Nestorian people, he beautifully exemplified the spirit of his Lord, in not desiring "to be ministered unto, but to minister."
The harvests of 1865 were abundant, but there had been a famine in several of the previous years; and this had given a stimulus to the vagrancy, so frequent and annoying among the Nestorians. "Of the four thousand vagabonds," writes Dr. Perkins, "from the less than forty thousand Nestorians of Oroomiah, who made want their pretext for scattering themselves over Russia and other parts of Europe, as common beggars, hardly less greedy for lucre and for vice, than are locusts for every green thing, only a moiety return; many dying in those distant regions, from diseases induced by strange climates, or oftener by criminal indulgence; and many who survive, lying in prison for crimes, or preferring their vagabond life to the decent restraints of home. Many who do return are worse than lost to their people; coming only to spread a moral pestilence, being thoroughly demoralized; recklessly squandering their ill-gotten treasures till hunger drives them off again to beg. Happily they are now shut out of Russia by the government, and they have little hope from England. But Germany is still a golden land to them."
Mr. Rhea, another very able member of the mission, was suddenly removed from earth on the 2d of September, 1865. He was on his return from Tabriz, with his wife and children. The whole scene, as described by Mrs. Rhea in the Memoir of her husband, is one of the most touching in missionary history.[1] He was ill when they left Tabriz, and not until they had gone too far to return did his wife awake to the alarming fact, that his disease was cholera.
[1] See The Tennesseean in Persia and Koordistan, being the Scenes and Incidents in the Life of Samuel Audley Rhea, by Rev. Dwight W. Marsh, for Ten Years Missionary in Mosul, pp. 338-349.
She then hoped to reach Ali Shah, a village four hours from Oroomiah. It was necessary to put the bedding on one of the loaded horses, and then to place Mr. Rhea upon it, and for two men to hold him on; which was done by the faithful Nestorians, Daniel and Guwergis. The motion of the horse extorted frequent, though gentle, groans of pain. He was very thirsty, and both the children were crying for water. There was none. At a brackish brook he had tried to drink, but spit out the bitter draught in disgust.
"At length the moon rose, and the children became quiet. Daniel passed a rope around Mr. Rhea's back, and over his shoulders, to keep him from shaking about on the horse; and, taking off his hat, protected his head with a flannel. He grew quiet, and I said, 'He sleeps.' So we rode on and on in the still night; no sounds except from the horses' feet, or an occasional word about the precious load. 'Will the village never appear?' They said it was very near. O, how long the way seemed!
"My mind was very active, picturing that comfortable room where we should rest, the refreshing water, the quiet rest, the soft bed for the dear invalid, the quick cup of tea, his sweet words, our subsequent journey home in the takhterawan, our safe arrival there. All this time my eyes were on him, and my ears strained to catch a sound. 'How long he sleeps! How still he is!'
"At length the weary, weary road was passed. We reached the village, and stopped at a house where they said we could find a room. Daniel and I ran in to see it first, opened the windows, and spread down the shawl and pillows where he could rest; then went back to the gate, and I charged the men not to let him exert himself at all, but to take him down like a little child, and carry him carefully in. I ran forward then, opened my satchel, and got out the wine and camphor, and spreading a pillow on my lap, received him in my arms.