Sheik Salah could not rest without hearing more, and becoming determined to obtain employment at Cawnpore, he undertook to copy Persian manuscripts for Sabat, and was lodged by him in one of the numerous huts in Mr.Martyn's compound.

He was a well-educated, graceful man, exceedingly handsome, looking like a hero of the Old Testament; and probably Sabat was afraid of a rival, for he never mentioned to Mr.Martyn the stranger who, Sunday after Sunday, listened to his preaching, and no doubt would have as thankfully profited by his individual teaching as he would have joyfully given it.
Sabat was at this time a great trial to Mr.Martyn, who in the flush of enthusiasm had let him be put too forward at first, and found the wild man of the desert far too strong for him.

Sometimes, when they differed about a word in the translation, Sabat would contend so violently for a whole morning that poor Mr.Martyn, when unable to bear it any longer, would order his palanquin and be carried over to the Sherwoods to escape from the intolerable brawling shout.

What Sabat could be was plain from the story of his wife Amina; his seventh, as he told his friends.

When he was trying to convert her, she asked his views upon the future lot of those who remained Mahometans, and, when he consigned them to the state of condemnation, she quietly replied that she greatly preferred hell without Sabat's company to heaven with him.