The New York Times
September 7, 1890
If it be true or not that the only perfect goodness and happiness ever known in the world were once the blessings of a garden in Armenia, certain it is that little trace of them is left. If the wretched inhabitants of that unhappy country may still seek refuge from the blazing sun of the Orient beneath the shade so welcome to Adam and Eve, if their lips may still touch the fruits that nourished this sinless pair, there is nothing else to remind them of the quiet and contentment, the peace and security, that once dwelt on the banks of the Euphrates, for Satan, in the shape of "the unspeakable Turk", now has possession of the terraced gardens, the shadowy groves, and the snow-capped peaks of that loveliest of lands: and only by a miracle is it that the firebrand of insurrection does not burst in flame and scorch and wither its varied charms.