About the same time that I had come to England, there also arrived a young Druse Sheikh from the mountains of Lebanon, who, attended by his two servants, had left his home to be educated; and government had placed him under the tuition of the Rev. Mr. ---. Some time afterwards, one of the servants from some misunderstanding, attempted to stab that gentleman, but was fortunately prevented. A great disturbance, however, occurred, and the police were obliged to interfere and disarm them. In 1843 the Prince went raving mad, and was sent back to his friends. One day, paying a visit to Aali Effendi, at that time Turkish ambassador here, he suddenly flung a beautiful and expensive watch which he wore into the fire, exclaiming that he would no longer carry the devil in his pocket. I afterwards met him on one occasion on the Lebanon, and he told me that he was very ill, as the English had put a charm into his stomach; and he begged of me to give him an English lancet to perform an operation and cut the charm. Luckily there are instances directly opposite to this case, or else one might be discouraged in carrying out the good cause of Syrian education. The fate of Assaad Shidiac (whose brother is considered one of the first Arabic and English scholars, and has been for many years employed by the Church Missionary Society in translating the Bible from English into Arabic), who fell a martyr to the cause, shews triumphantly that few people can be more sincere converts than the Syrian Christians.
This admirable young man was originally a Maronite, but having been educated by the missionaries, was led to see the errors of the Romish faith. While travelling amongst his own native villagers he was seized, and the people tried to force him to renounce the faith he had adopted. On his refusal, they imprisoned and otherwise ill-treated him. A merchant residing at Beyrout very soon flew to his rescue; but alas! he arrived too late, the noble soul of Shidiac had fled for ever, and the immediate cause of his death remains to this day enveloped in mystery.
I remember well that on first arriving in England I had a habit of sitting cross-legged on a chair or an ottoman. This position used to amuse my English friends very much, and on one occasion when I detected a number of young ladies laughing among themselves and pointing at me, I anxiously enquired the cause of their merriment, and one of them volunteered to tell me that it was only tailors in this country that resorted to the use of such a droll position. I assured them that in Syria the nobles of the land sat cross-legged; but thanking them for this gentle correction, I ever after endeavoured to sit as much like an Englishman as I could, a task which I at first found both difficult and disagreeable.