But, alas! the Constitution did not bring the expected changes. The revolutionary movement had been superficial and had won only the liberal youth and university students. After the first months of intoxicating joy, the old hatred of the Mussulman for the infidel awoke again, and the disheartened Christians found only enemies where they had looked for brothers. The government did not keep any of its promises; the best positions were held by inefficient men, who obtained them at a high price; the “bakshish” (bribe) system prevailed everywhere, as before. Employees in subordinate positions remained unpaid; the roads and railways which the Young Turks had proposed to build, as well as the schools which they had planned to establish, existed only on paper.

The Christians, seeing the old hatred thus springing up afresh from its ashes, began to tremble for their life. Alas! the reality was to exceed their worst fears.

A religious Conference of Christians from all parts of Asia Minor was to be held at Adana during Holy Week, and Jousif hodja and his wife stopped at Aintab on their way to this gathering, to the great delight of Archag and Levon. The journey from Van had been a hard one for Nizam; she was hoping that a few days’ rest would set her right, but when the time came to resume the journey, she was still so weak that Dr. Spencer advised her to wait at Aintab until her husband should return.

The AintablÉs (residents of Aintab) responded eagerly to the invitation from their brethren of Adana, and a hundred and twenty of them undertook the journey. With them went the two Americans, Dr. Mills and Dr. Spencer, Professor Pagratian and Professor Piralian, the pastors and elders of the three Protestant Churches, and a few of the college students; among these were Boghos Poladian, whose parents lived at Adana, and Archag, who was allowed to go with his brother-in-law. They all started out together, a happy company, waving their handkerchiefs, and gayly calling “Au revoir” to their friends and acquaintances. Little did the ill-fated travelers suspect that this was the last time they should ever see their friends.

They had good horses and reached Adana in five days. Archag and his brother-in-law accepted the hospitality offered by Boghos’ father, who was Secretary of the American Mission at Adana. He lived in a small house beside the hospital; both courtyards were entered by the same gate.

The Christians were conscious of a great deal of stir and excitement among the Mussulmans, but they were not alarmed by it. The first meeting of the Conference was held and Professor Pagratian preached a sermon on the immortality of the soul. His words made a deep impression on those who heard him.

“Our friend,” said Professor Piralian later, “was filled with the Spirit of God; we had never heard him speak like that, and I am convinced that he had a presentiment that his death was near.”

On their return to the house, the Poladians and their guests knelt to pray together, and then retired for the night. Jousif hodja, Archag and Boghos shared one room. About two o’clock in the morning Archag was awakened by fearful cries. The room was bright with the glare of flames, and he ran to the window, and saw the Mission school on fire. There were men running through the streets, shouting: “Death, death to the Christians! Long live Allah!”

Archag, in mortal terror, woke his companions and, they dressed hastily, hoping to be able to take refuge in the American hospital, but even now they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and the next moment a band of Kurds burst into the room. In a flash the three young men were dragged into the courtyard, where there were perhaps a hundred other Christians, among others the Poladian family and Professor Pagratian. The Kurds heaped insults upon them and struck them in the face; then they called upon the men to become Mussulmans, on pain of death. A few of the younger men, mad with fright, yielded, and twisted the white turban around their heads, but the others refused with firmness and decision.

“Fire!” commanded the chief of the Kurds. His men obeyed, and many of the Armenians fell. Professor Pagratian and Jousif hodja were struck in the heart, and killed instantly. Boghos was only slightly wounded. A Kurd went up to him and commanded him to abjure his faith.

“No,” he replied in a clear tone, “I will not deny my Saviour; kill me, if you will. I will die a Christian.”

The savage, in his fury, dispatched him with one blow of his axe. Noble boy! He was faithful unto death, and now he wears the martyr’s crown.

The brigands, now stirred up by the sight of blood, proceeded to commit the most unheard-of atrocities. They respected neither age nor sex; they tore babies from their mothers’ arms, and dashed out their brains against a wall; they tied children together, and after pouring petroleum on them, set them on fire. As the poor little creatures writhed in agony, their tormentors uttered yells of delight.

“See the monkeys of the Constitution dancing the polka!” cried one.

After a complete massacre and pillage, they left the courtyard, to give themselves over to fresh deeds of carnage elsewhere.

Archag had been wounded in the shoulder, and had fainted from pain; his enemies therefore thought him dead. When he recovered consciousness, the sun was shining full upon the scene of woe. Carefully making his way among the bodies of the dead, he managed to drag himself to the gate of the hospital, where he was helped in by a nurse. A violent fever set in, and for a long time his life was in danger.

For three days, the Kurds kept up their hideous work; the soldiers sent by the government to establish order, joined the murderers, and committed crimes so abominable that the pen refuses to record them. The massacres extended throughout the province; about thirty thousand Armenians were killed, and the vali (provincial governor), with his customary indifference, let it be done.

Dr. Spencer was a victim to his devotion; a bullet struck him full in the chest, while he was making strenuous efforts to check the fire at the Mission school. He fell at his post, a true soldier of Jesus Christ.

Several days passed before the news of the doctor’s death reached Aintab. As Mrs. Spencer was sitting on the veranda at the Normal School one day, she saw Dr. Mills coming toward the house. But where was her husband? The poor lady’s heart was torn with an agony of fear.

“Not here, not here? Where can he be, then?”

When Dr. Mills came in he grasped her hands, and said simply:

“Your husband is with the Lord: you may be proud to be the widow of a martyr, and of one so brave and faithful. Our friends Rodgers1 and Pagratian have gone with him.”

At first Mrs. Spencer was stunned by the blow. She withdrew to her room and fell on her knees, begging God for strength to accept His will. But keenly as she felt her own grief, she thought of many others who had been afflicted as severely as she, and were in need of her help.

When she had become quieter, she went to the Pagratians’ home. There she found the professor’s widow and children, and poor Nizam, prostrated by the dreadful tidings; and their grief was pitiful to see. When Mrs. Spencer appeared, her face transfigured by suffering, they all felt as if an angel of the Lord had come down among them. They prayed together for a long time, and rose from their knees almost happy in their thought that their beloved ones were with Jesus.

Archag had to stay at the Adana hospital three weeks before he was able to return to Aintab. Nejib, Aram and Garabed were told when he was expected, and went out to meet him.

“Poor Archag!” said Nejib. “What a sad way to come back! He went off so gayly.”

“Yes,” said Garabed. “I can hear him now talking with Boghos about a trip to Tarsus which they were planning to take when they left Adana. We must try to comfort him, for Dr. Mills told me he was very sad.”

But the reality exceeded their expectation, and they could hardly repress a cry of surprise when they saw Archag. His hair had turned entirely gray; there were dark circles around his eyes, and his mouth was disfigured by a badly-closed wound. His friends welcomed him with a warm grasp of the hand.

“We are so happy to see you again, dear Archag,” said Garabed. “You don’t know what anguish we have suffered. For several days we thought you must be dead, because the report had gone about that all the AintablÉs had been massacred.”

“It seems to me like coming back from the abode of the dead, it was so frightful, and the scenes of bloodshed are before my eyes all the time. I can’t help thinking about it by day, and every night I dream of it, and am perfectly exhausted when I wake up.”

The poor lad was trembling as he spoke, and had to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Aram patted him on the shoulder.

“Courage, old man! Think of your parents, and of your sister who has lost everything; you will have to be the one to console her.”

Archag made no reply, and his friends, feeling constrained by his silence, stopped talking, too. When the carriage entered the college courtyard, it was immediately surrounded by the students, all waiting for the traveler and eager to show their sympathy. But Archag left them very soon, and went to the Pagratians’ cottage. A woman dressed in black was sitting by the door, and he ran to her and threw himself into her arms, sobbing. Brother and sister wept together long, and after their first grief was spent, Nizam took Archag into the house, where he told the story of that terrible night.

“When our tormentors were about to fire,” said he, “we began to sing our favorite hymn:

“Our calmness in the face of death seemed to terrify those men, and the chief, furious at their hesitation, gave the order again: ‘Fire! Fire!’ At last they fired. Even then I could hear our dear Professor Pagratian saying, ‘Jesus, Jesus, we are coming to Thee!’ Then I fainted away.”

The Pagratian children were sobbing: “Papa, papa, what shall we do without you?”

“What miracle prevented your being killed like the others?” asked Nizam.

“It really was a miracle. My swoon only lasted a few minutes, and when I came to myself, the Kurds were killing the women and children. I had strength enough to drag myself a little way and hide behind a pile of wood, then the sights all around were so terrible that I fainted again. After a long time I regained consciousness; it was broad daylight, and the courtyard was deserted. You know already how they took me in at the American hospital, and took care of me till I was healed.”