the
greater part of his education in the United States. He possessed a
delightful spirit, and developed far more talent than he was
commonly credited with in America, where he could communicate his
thoughts only through the medium of a strange language.

The mission suffered a painful bereavement on the 14th of November,
1850, in the death of Mrs. Hamlin, at Rhodes, whither she had gone
with her husband in the hope of relief.[1]

[1] See an account of her last sickness in _Missionary Herald_, for
1851, p. 82; also in her Memoir, _Light in the Dark River_, by Mrs.
Lawrence.

Another bereavement occurred at Aintab in the death on the 3d of
June, 1851, of the Rev. Azariah Smith, M. D. Such was his peculiar
adaptation to different fields, that he had labored in many places,
but had a special attachment for Aintab. The uncommonly rapid
development of the active Christian graces at that station was
largely owing, under God, to his skillful efforts, and he wished
there to spend the remainder of his days. In this he was gratified.
He returned from laboring at Diarbekir greatly in need of quiet. But
finding so much to be done in the absence of Mr. Schneider at the
annual meeting in Constantinople, he allowed himself no relaxation.
His labors for the last six weeks of his life were incessant. A
violent fever did its work in a fortnight. At the outset he gave
specific directions as to the treatment of his case, feeling that
soon he would be unable to prescribe for himself; and expressed a
wish that no native physician should be employed, as there was no
competent one to be had at Aintab. While in full possession of
reason, he spoke of his departure with the composure of one on a
short journey, and soon to return. As the native brethren came in
one by one and in companies, he reminded them how often he had
preached to them salvation through Christ alone. "In his lucid
intervals," says his missionary brother, "and even in his delirium,
his soul seemed intent on measures for the good of this people. At
last he appeared to be at the gate of heaven. When no longer able to
articulate words, he would utter faint syllables expressive of his
growing rapture. Then he would move his lips as if in prayer; and,
again, for minutes together, he would attempt to sing. It was a
blessed privilege to be by his side." Mr. Dunmore was present at the
funeral, and says: "The chapel was crowded, and the roofs of the
surrounding buildings were cover