Early the following morning, when the first rays of the sun were lighting the heavens, a frightful scene was revealed, in and around Bayazid. Now the result of the massacre, which had been carried on by the barbarism for three days and three nights, was clearly to be seen. A deathly silence reigned over the city, broken only by the croaking of ravens who flew about in flocks to batten on carrion.

The streets of the unfortunate city presented a sad and mournful spectacle: houses had become reduced to heaps of ashes; here and there smoke arose from ruins; beside the ruins lay the charred remains of old and young, women and children. Half-famished dogs dragged forth the corpses, growling and snapping at the flocks of ravens which disputed the feast with them. From every quarter arose the stifling stench of putrid corpses.

Rising above this city of the dead, stood the citadel Of Bayazid, waiting for its melancholy fate.

The siege increased in rigor. Mountain, valley, hill, field and plain were covered with armed men-besides a host of freebooters. The camps were separated into distinct groups, and each was the scene of great activity. Fanaticism and cruelty had made men become worse than the wild beasts, who put to death their fellowmen with unspeakable outrages. After having satiated their lust for blood, in some measure, they began to gratify their greed for plunder. The supposedly wealthy Armenians of the city were collected together in one spot, and were being put to torture to force them to reveal the hiding places of their money. The wretched men wept and groaned, protesting that they had delivered up all they possessed and nothing remained. They were not believed, so their children were butchered before their eyes, to force them to reveal their hiding place.

In another spot, the Kurds were dividing the heaps of plunder, and their wives were joyfully loading their individual shares to take to their homes.

A little further on they were loading their horses with Armenian slaves, and many were the fights among themselves over the more beautiful girls.

In another spot, some distance from the bustling multitude, wolves, wildcats, and birds of prey were breakfasting off the unburied corpses. And not very far from these, pious Moslems were zealously performing their morning devotions, and raising their bloody hands to heaven, giving thanks to the God of Islam for His blessings.

The smoke rising from the fires and hearths, clouded the horizon with a thick fog which prevented the sunlight from shining through.

The cannon still thundered; shot and shell poured down upon the fortress, but it stood firm, and seemed to deride the constant attacks of the enemy.

But in one part of the camp one individual attracted the attention of the whole camp. Leaping about and clapping his hands he proceeded to the middle of the camp, chanting as he went, a nonsensical Kurdish song:

"An old granddad became a frog, Became a frog and went to sea; Drew up some sand from out the sea; The sand it turned to shining gold. The gold he spent to buy a goat, Oh, such a hobbling, scurvy goat: Goat, goat, goat my love, Bless you, goat my love: Oh, tell me why, oh, tell me why, You scurvy are, and hobble so?"

"A crazy man!" shouted the Kurds, and they flocked around him to have him repeat the song.

And truly, he seemed to be a crazy man. He was dressed like a clown or juggler's assistant who performs tricks between acts to amuse the audience.

He was a tall, wild-looking fellow. He wore a tall square-topped cap with bells attached to the four corners which jangled harshly at his every motion. He had smeared his face with shoe-blacking and streaks of red, yellow and blue paint. His clothing consisted of a single garment, a ragged military cloak fastened at the waist with a piece of rope. His feet were bare.

"Now bray like a donkey," they commanded.

The crazy fellow stuck his fingers in his ears, stooped, opened his mouth and began to bray with all his might. The crowd applauded his performance and threw him some copper coins. He picked up the coins and looked at them stupidly, then throwing them aside he said, "Give me bread." They gave him some. He snatched it from their hands and thrusting great chunks into his mouth swallowed them whole.

"Now let us see you dance like a bear," said they. The fellow then went through a number of grotesque motions, creeping on all fours, walking on his hands and various other tricks.

The fellow remained in the Kurdish camp all day, entertaining crowds of men. He spoke Kurdish like a Kurd; he swore; he cursed the Russians; he raved against the "giaours" (infidels) saying, "kill the giaours." His voice could be heard all over the camp till after midnight. But the next morning the "fool" had disappeared.