Tuesday Feb 7. Dearest Mother. I passed the funniest evening yesterday. My host was a well to do inhabitant of Salt, Yusef Sukkar [see also Succar] by name (upon him be peace!) He established me in his reception room which was well carpeted and cushioned but lacking in window panes and therefore somewhat draughty. He and his nephew and his small boys held it a point of curiosity - no, that was involuntary, I meant of hospitality - not to leave me for a moment and they assisted with much interest while I changed my boots and gaiters and even my petticoat, for I was deeply coated in mud. That being accomplished they brought me an excellent dinner, meat and rice and Arab bread and oranges. When I had finished it was placed before my cook who had joined the party. Then I held an audience. Paulina, the daughter of the old man at Haifa who used to teach me Arabic, her brother in law, Habib Effendi Faris, the school master and the doctor all "honoured themselves" ("God forbid! the honour is mine!" is the answer). We drank lots of bitter Bedouin coffee and at last settled down to business, which was this: how am I to get into the Jebel ed Druse [Duruz, Jabal ad]? Finally Habib Effendi, who was kindness itself, arranged to send me out to his brother in law, Namrud, who inhabits a ruin on a tiny hill called Tneib [Tuneib, Et], 3 hours east of Madeba [Madaba]. Now Madeba is east of the Dead Sea [(Yam Hamelah, Bahret Lut)] and you will find it on a map. At 9.30 they left me, and my host, who was a magnificent looking old man, began to lay down the quilts for my bed. Then came my hostess; though they are Christians her husband keeps her more strictly than any Muslim woman and she sees no men. She was a very beautiful woman, dressed in the dark blue Bedouin clothes, the long robe falling from the head and bound round the forehead with a dark striped silk scarf. Moreover her chin and neck were closely tatooed [sic] with indigo after the Bedouin fashion. At 10 they left me and I went to bed and slept like a top till 6. The only drawback to my comfort was that I could not wash at all. You see I was lodged in the drawing room and naturally there were no appliances for washing there - if there were any anywhere. This morning Yusef gave me a very good breakfast of milk and eggs and bread and honey. Habib provided me with a guide and I set off about 8.30 for a long day's ride. It was fortunately heavenly weather. It had rained all last night and rained itself out. We had a perfectly clear sky all day. I love this East of Jordan country. We rode through wide shallow valleys, treeless, uninhabited and scarcely cultivated. Every now and then there were ancient ruined sites, once or twice we met a rider coming from the Bedouin, now and then we saw a flock of goats sheperded [sic] by an Arab with an immensely long gun. About 4 we came out onto the great rolling plain that stretches away and away to the Euphrates. The first few miles of it are all under corn. A mile or two in front of us lay the little hill round which my friend Habib has his property. The Hajj railway, which follows the Hajj road is about 2 miles to the East of it. We got in at 5.15 and pitched camp on the edge of the hill, looking south. Namrud was away, but he has been sent for. There are some 50 inhabitants of the ruins who work in Habib's corn land, and a few of the black Arab tents are scattered over the plain. A gorgeous clear sunset over it all, a new moon and absolute stillness. And I have just enjoyed the greatest luxury of my camp - my evening warm bath! It is all too delightful for words. Wed 8. [8 February 1905] All is well. At 10 last night came Namrud. We fell on each other's necks, metaphorically speaking, and swore friendship and he left with the prospect of good talks next day. It was awfully cold in the night. After waking several times I had to get up and put on all my clothes. Today was delicious, cold but fine. Namrud appeared after breakfast, we had out maps - but my next 3 or 4 days' journey appears on no map - and settled exactly how I should get to the Jebel ed Druse [Duruz, Jabal ad]. I am now waiting for my Arab guide and praise be to God! I think I have slipped through the fingers of the Government a second time. It was delightful having a day in camp with this wonderful plain stretched out before me like the sea. After lunch Namrud and I rode into the hills behind to see a ruined site where there was a temple and a very interesting tomb, all of which I photographed, measured and planned. Namrud knows every sheikh of all the Bedouin for miles and miles round and we had lots of interesting talk about them. He is about 35 I should think, a Christian, by origin from Mosul [Mawsil, Al] and he is the man I have been looking for for long. We have planned an immense journey for the winter after next, no less than to Ibn Rashid. I think it will come off this time. Thurs. 9. [9 February 1905] Today we are weather bound. The rain began this morning on a strong south wind which turned into a real storm - such rain as we seldom have in England - and it was absolutely impossible to move. However, we are not badly off. All the horses and mules have been put into a big cave and as for me, my tent is without doubt the most remarkable edifice that has ever arisen from the mind of man. Though it has streamed all day with a raging wind not a drop of water has come in. The servants have a big Egyptian tent through which the rain has come a little on the weather side, but not much. This afternoon there arrived half a dozen Bedouin, or more, of the tribe of the Beni Sakhr, the biggest tribe hereabouts, driven out of their black tents by the rain. NB they had left their women behind in the black tents. They came to Namrud for hospitality and he has lodged them in the big cave in which he and all his people live. I went in for an hour or two this evening and sat with them talking and drinking the bitter black coffee of the Bedouin. The dusk fell and we were lighted by the fire over which two women were cooking the guests' meal ("They eat little when they feed themselves but when they are guests, much - they and their horses" said Namrud.) We sat round the embers of another fire by which stood the regulation 3 coffee pots and smoked and told tales, and behind us, with a barrier of bags of chopped straw and corn between, some 20 cows mooed and munched. We made great friends the Beni Sakhr and I. "Mashallah! bint arab," said they: As God has willed! a daughter of the desert. Sat 11. [11 February 1905] And I am still at Tneib [Tuneib, Et]. Yesterday it stopped raining, but the weather was still so very doubtful that we decided not to risk matters by setting out for the desert. For ourselves it does not much matter, but our beasts have to stand out in the rain all night and it is bitter weather for them. So I sent into Madeba [Madaba] for more corn and myself employed the afternoon in riding out across the plain to a Roman camp called Kastal [Qastal, El], rather interesting. On my way home I stopped at the tents of the Beni Sakhr and dined with them. It was a charming party. We sat round the fire and drank tea and coffee and were presently joined by 3 of the Sharàràt, raggeder and dirtier even than most Arabs. They had come from a day or two out in the desert to buy corn from Namrud - much as Joseph and his brethren must have come down into Egypt. The Sheràràt are a very big and powerful tribe, but of base blood. The high born Arabs like the Sukhur won't intermarry with them. But their camels are the best in Arabia. They were very cold - it was a bitter evening - and crouched round the fire of desert scrub. Then came dinner, rice and meat and sour milk, very good. Namrud and I eat out of one dish and all the others out of another. While we were eating we were joined by a fair and handsome young man whom all the Sukhur rose to salute, kissing him on both cheeks. He was Gablàn son of one of the sheikhs of the Da'ja, the tribe to which I am going as soon as the weather clears. He had heard that Namrud was looking for a guide for me and had come in to take me to his uncle who is the head of all the tribe. He sat down in a corner, eat little and spoke little and very soon after we had finished eating, one of our hosts called Namrud aside and talked long in a whisper to him. He came to me and said we had better go, so we gave the salaam and rode off with Gablàn home to Tneib. It then appeared that there was blood between the Sheràràt and the Sukhur; the 3 Sheràràt had not known who Gablàn was, but he knew them and feeling the situation to be strained, our hosts, the Sukhur, had hastened our departure. Today, however, the Sheràràt have come up for their corn and have spent the morning sitting peaceably enough with Gablàn in Namrud's cave. Today it has poured nearly all day and is still at it. So we were obliged to remain here - it's boring but unavoidable. Meantime I am entirely acclimatised. It's very cold, you understand, and everything in my tent feels damp, bedding, clothes, everything. The match boxes are so damp that the matches won't strike. I feel perfectly warm and as for catching cold I don't dream of it. I live in my fur coat and at night I have a hot water bottle in my bed, a most excellent luxury. Today Namrud lunched with me that he might eat curry, a delicacy he had never tasted. Then Gablàn and one of the Sukhur came in and drank coffee and smoked - I fortunately have a brand of Egyptian cigarettes they don't like much, so the smoking is limited. We laid plans for my journey and Gablàn asked me whether I thought I should have to fight the Turkish soldiery as if so he would take his rifle. I assured him I did not intend to come into open conflict with the Sultan and I hoped to avoid the soldiers altogether. But he has decided to take his rifle which I daresay is as well. There was a gleam of fine weather and I went out to watch the Sheràràt buying corn. The corn lives in an ancient well, a very big deep cave under ground, and is drawn out in buckets like water - only the buckets are of camels' hair. Then it has to be sifted for it is stored with the chaff to protect it from damp. This is a mighty long business and entails an immense amout of swearing and pious ejaculations. We all sat round on stones and from time to time we said "Allah! allah!" "Praise be to God the Almighty!" Not infrequently the unsifted corn was poured in among the sifted or among the chaff. Namrud loq: "Upon thee, upon thee, oh boy! may thy dwelling be destroyed! may thy life come to harm!" Beni Sakhr: "By the face[?] of the Prophet of God, may He be exalted." Sheràràt (in suppressed chorus) "God! God! and Muhammad the Prophet of God, upon him be peace!" A party in bare legs and a sheepskin: "Cold! cold! wallah! rain and cold." Namrud: "Silence, oh brother! yallah! descend into the well and work." At 4 I went into the servants' tent, to have tea over their charcoal fire. Namrud joined us and remained till 7 telling us bloodcurdling tales of the desert. The muleteers and I listened breathless and Mikha'il cooked our dinner and put in an occasional comment. He is a most cheerful travelling companion is Mikha'il. Namrud gave us a warning which I will tell you as it is an indication of the country we are travelling in. Between the Beni Sakhr and the Druses there is always blood. There is no mercy between them - if a Druse meets an ibn Sakhr one of them kills the other. Now one of my muleteers is a Druse. He has to pass for a Christian till we reach the Jebel Druse [Duruz, Jabal ad], "for" said Namrud "if the Sukhur here" (my hosts of last night, you understand) "knew that he was a Druze, they wd not only kill him, but they wd burn him alive." Accordingly we have rebaptised him for the moment and given him a Christian name. Sun. 12. [12 February 1905] It was still rather stormy, but I decided to start whatever happened. We got off a little before 9, Namrud, Gablàn and I riding together. In about half an hour we crossed the Mecca [Makkah] railway which is the true boundary between towns and tents. We rode for some two hours across the open plain till we reached the foot of a low circle of hills and here we found Gablàn's people, the Da'ja, a group of 6 or 7 black tents, and were made welcome by his uncle, Fellàh al 'Isa who is a very great man in these parts and a charming person. We went into his tent and coffee making began. It takes near an hour, from the roasting of the beans onwards. By this time the mules had arrived, I lunched hastily and rode off with Namrud and Gablàn to see a ruin in the hills. It proved rather interesting, with carved capitals and bits of mouldings and great cisterns and stables. I take it to have been built by the Ghassanids any time between the 6th and the 10th century. I came back to tea in my own tent and at 6 o'clock Gablan summoned me to dine with the Sheikh Fellàh. I hope you realize what an Arab tent is like. It's make of black goats' hair, long and wide, with a division in the middle to separate the women from the men. The lee side of it is always open and this is most necessary, for light and warmth all come from a fire of desert scrub burning in a shallow square hole in the ground and smoking abominably. We had had a discussion as we rode as to the proper word for the traces of former encampments, and at dinner I produced the Mu'allakat (pre Muhammadan poems) and found 3 or 4 examples for the use of various words. This excited much interest and we went near[?] the fire to read the text which was passed from hand to hand. Then came dinner, meat and sour milk and flaps of bread, all very good. All my servants were "guests" too, but their meal was spread for them outside the tent. I had left one of the muleteers to look after our tents in my absence, and to him too was sent a bowl of meat and bread "for the guest who has remained behind." Dinner over, we drank coffee and smoked cigarettes round the fire and I spent a most enjoyable evening listening to tales of the desert and of Turkish oppression and telling them how things are in Egypt. Egypt is a sort of Promised Land; you have no idea what an impression our govt. there has made on the Oriental mind. Indeed there is now a general exodus from Syria either there or to the Soudàn [Sudan] and I don't doubt that we shall very considerably profit by Turkish misrule, for we shall get all the best of the population here. And they are worth having. Not the Arabs, of course; they could never settle down to sedentary life nor can I honestly say, much as I like being their guest, that they would be very good citizens. My eyes smart so with the smoke of the fire that I can scarcely see to write. Mon 13. [13 February 1905] And today the weather has turned out lovely, so we were right to wait those tedious 4 days. After many farewells and much coffee, I set out with Gablan a little before 8 and we rode up the low hills and across the rolling tops of them. The country was rather like our own border country, but bigger and barer. From time to time we came across little encampments, first of our friends the Da'ja, then of the Beni Hassan. There was sorrow in the tents of the children of Hassan. Yesterday a great ghazu, a raid, swept over this very country and carried off 2000 head of cattle and all the tents of one of the small outlying groups. In one tent we found a man weeping; everything he had in the world was gone. I could not help regretting a little that the ghazu had not waited till today that we might have seen it. 500 horsemen they say there were. We ourselves rode all day till past 3, up and down the great sweeps of the hills, with the Jebel ed Druse [Duruz, Jabal ad] always before us, far far away to the north. And Gablàn told me tales of ghazus, as we went. We are now camped near a big village of houses of hair - the Arabs never say tents - Bellonging to the Hassanieh. It's a heavenly evening and looking west from my tent door I can see the country which, if I were in it, I could not have left and I laugh to think that I am marching along the Turkish frontier, so to speak, some 10 miles beyond it, and they can't catch me or stop me. It's rather fun to have outwitted them a second time. I wonder what Mark Sykes is doing. 3 rather niffy ladies are sitting at my tent door watching my every movement. I must tell you what will happen to the destitute of the Beni Hassan. They will go round to the rest of the tribe and one will give a camel, and one will give a few sheep, and one some pieces of goat's hair for the tent until each man has enough to support existence - they don't need much. So they will bide their time until a suitable moment, when they will gather together all the horsemen of their allies and ride out against the Sukhur and the Howeitàt who were the authors of their ills. And then if they are lucky they will take back the 2000 head of beasts and more besides. It seems a most unreasonable industry, this of the ghazu - about as profitable as stealing each other's washing, but that's how they live. Meantime, Gablàn is rather anxious, for the Da'ja and the Hassanieh are close friends and the Sukhur are the foes of both and this latest exploit may lead to a general commotion. Tomorrow is the great feast of the Muhammadan year: the Feast of Sacrifice. They are going to kill and eat 3 camels in this encampment. One of them ie the camels, is walking about outside my tent, all dressed up. And there has been a great washing - it occurs once a year I have reason to Bellieve. All the tents are hung with white shirts drying. After sunset there was a mighty firing off of guns. I too contributed - by request - in a modest way, with my revolver, the first and, I expect, the only time I shall use it. Tues 14. [14 February 1905] Beit Umm ej Jemàl: The Mother of Camels, that's where we are, in short we have arrived, praise be to God. But our ride today was not without excitements. The first was a river which the rain had filled very full and which was running with some speed. The water came well up onto the horses' girths and the donkeys almost disappeared. Moreover the banks were deep steep mud. Gablàn was invaluable. He put his mare backwards and forwards through the stream and brought each mule safely over. I was truly thankful to see them across. From this point we got into the black volcanic rock of the Hauran, the tents of the Beni Hassan grew scarcer and scarcer, and finally we came out onto a great plain, as flat as could be, stretching away 2 days' journey to the Druze [Duruz, Jabal ad] mountains. Gablàn was anxious; he more than half expected to encounter enemies, for the Arabs of the mountains and the Da'ja are never on comfortable terms. Moreover we did not know exactly where in that immense plain the Mother of Camels was. So we rode on and on and at last on a little mound we saw some shepherds. At the same moment, 2 came running across the plain towards us from the right and as they came they fired - at us - which is the customary greeting to anyone you don't know. Gablàn rose in his stirrups, threw his fur cloak over his arm and waved it above his head, we riding slowly towards the 2 as he did so. This reassured them and we were presently exchanging salutes on the best of terms. They directed us on our way and before long we saw the towers and walls of Umm ej Jemàl before us. It looks like a great city and when you get near you find it is an empty ruin, streets of houses 3 stories [sic] high, all of solid beautiful stone, with outer staircases of stone and arched windows. I have pitched my camp in an open space in the middle and there are a few Arab tents near me, the Arabs of the mountains who have turned out to be a most obliging race, but tiefish [sic], Hugo will be interested to hear - at least Gablàn says they are. At sunset I was climbing about the ruined streets at some distance from my tents when Gablàn came running after me in a terrible state of mind, saying that if any of the Arabs were to see me in my fur coat in the dusk, they would certainly take me for a ghoul and shoot me. Gablàn leaves us here, I am sorry to say. He has been a delightful companion. A gentleman called Fendi, from here, guides us tomorrow. Wed 15. [15 February 1905] Umm er Rumman[?] (the Mother of Pomegranates - but there aren't any) We are encamped in the first Druze village where we have been warmly welcomed. We had a tedious 6 hours' ride across the endless stony plain, enlivened by a little rabbit shooting. They were asleep under the stones, the rabbits; it was not a gentlemanly sport but it fills the pot. We passed also 2 ruined towns quite deserted like Umm ej Jemàl which I visited hastily. The Sheikh of this town is an old man called Muhammad and he is one of the great Druze family of Attrash, who are of old friends of mine. I've just been drinking coffee with him and having a pleasant talk. The coffee was made and served by a charming boy, Muhammad's only son. His mother, too, was an Attrash, and he looks as if he came of a great race. It's very pleasant travelling in this weather, but the nights, after midnight, are bitter cold. This morning the water in my tent was frozen. It's no small matter, I assure you, to get oneself out of bed and dress before sunrise with the frost glistening inside one's tent. Thurs 16. [16 February 1905] Without doubt this is a wonderful world. Listen and I will tell you strange things. I began my day in a most peaceful manner by copying inscriptions and was rather fortunate for I found several Greek, one Cufic and one Nabathaean - Lord knows what it means but I put it faithfully down and the learned shall read. Then I breakfasted with Sheikh Muhammad el Attrash and enjoyed myself very much. Then I rode off with a friend, name of Saleh and we had a most pleasant journey to Salkhad. He was a remarkably intelligent young man and questioned me as to every English custom down to the laws of divorce which I duly explained. He was also very anxious to know what I thought about the creation of the world, but I found that a more difficult subject and I fear his views as to my opinions are somewhat confused. So we reached Salkhad and I went straight to the house of the Sheikh, Nasib el Attrash - he is another of the great family - and was made very welcome. Now I must tell you that there is a Turkish garrison here and a Kaimakam et tout le bataclan. I have not yet had a word in private with Nasib for whenever we began to talk, a Turkish official draws quickly near till he is well within earshot - and then we say how changeable is the weather. He came down about 5 to my tent, but I had gone to the castle to see the sunset and missed him and when I went to his house again I found the Turkish Mudir who lives side by side with Nasib and acts as a sort of spy upon him. The case is this - I want to go out east to a wild country called the Safa, and under the protection of the Druzes I can go, but the Turks don't like this at all and spend their time telling me how horribly dangerous it, not a word of all which talk I Bellieve. Salkhad is a little black lava town hanging on to the Southern slope of a volcano; and in the crater of the volcano there is a great ruined castle, most grim and splendid. Moreover when we had rain last week they had snow and the N slope of the volcano is white and even round my tent the snow is lying in patches. This evening as I dined, deeply engaged in thinking of the intrigue which I am about to develop, I heard a great sound of wild song together with the letting off of guns, and going out I saw a fire burning on the top most top of the castle walls. You who live in peace, what do you think this meant? It was a call to arms. I told you the Beni Sakhr and the Druzes were bitter foes. A month ago the Sukhur carried off 5000 sheep from the Druze folds in the plain. Tomorrow the Druzes are going forth, 2000 horsemen, to recapture their flocks and to kill every man woman and child of the Sukhur that they may come across. The bonfire was a signal to the countryside. Tomorrow they all assemble here - Nasib rides at their head. There was a soldier sitting at my campfire. He wears the Turkish uniform but he is a Druze from Salkhad and he hates the Turk as a Druze knows how to hate. I said "Is there refusal to my going up?" He replied: "There is no refusal: honour us." And together under the moon we scrambled up the snowy side of the mountain. There at the top, on the edge of the castle moat we found a group of Druzes, young men and boys, standing in a circle and singing a terrible song. They were all armed and most of them carried bare swords. "Oh Lord our God, upon them! upon them!" I too joined the circle with my guide. "Let the child leave his mother's side. Let the young man mount and be gone." Over and over again they repeated a single phrase. Then half a dozen or so stepped into the circle, each shaking his club or his drawn sword in the face of those standing round. "Are you a good man? are you a true man? are you valiant?" they shouted. "Ha! ha!" came the answer, and the swords glistened and quivered in the moonlight. Then several came up to me and saluted me. "Upon thee be peace" they said "the English and the Druze are one." I said: "Praise be to God! we too are a fighting race." And if you had listened to that song you would know that the finest thing in the world is to go out and kill your enemy. When it was over we ran down the hill together, the Druzes took up a commanding position on the roof of a house - we happened to be on it at the time for one always walks for choice on the roofs and not in the streets to avoid the mud - and refomed their devilish circle. I listened for a little and then took my leave and departed, many blessings following me down the hill. This is not quite the end. It seems that my friend the Druze soldier was specially sent to me by Nasib and told to bide and his time and offer me his service wheresoever I would go. Fri. 17. [17 February 1905] I've spent an 'appy day with Nasib. The Ghazu is put off for a day or two by reason of some difficulties between various Druze sheikhs and I'm afraid I shall not see the assembling of the Druzes. Nasib paid me a visit early in the morning; when he left I went to see the Kaimakam who proved a charming person from Tiflis [Tbilisi], we talk French together and he is most aimiable [sic]. I found Nasib there and we all drank coffee and conversed. Then we had a great photographic seance and I obliged to the extent of some 6 portraits. By this time it was 11 and Nasib and his brother invited me to lunch. After lunch Nasib was going to ride out to a village to the south and I wanted to visit a shrine on a neighbouring hill, so we rode part of the way together, he and I and some 20 Druze horsemen, all armed to the teeth - including me! I have heard of an interesting place to the SE which I don't Bellieve has been visited by Europeans and I'm going to try and get there. Sat. 18. [18 February 1905] No, that place if off, for I find DusSa'ud went there and I need not bother. Today was bitter cold, with some snow, like a stormy February day in England. I determined therefore not to move till tomorrow and this evening is clear and promising. I spent the time making close friends with the Turkish officials, especially with the Mudir who is a charming and intelligent man, a Christian from Damascus [Dimashq (Esh Sham, Damas)]. The upshot of which is that I may go wherever I like and no one will lift a finger except to help me. I hear that Mark Sykes has come into the Jebel Druze [Duruz, Jabal ad] with an official escort so that I might probably have got permission if I had asked for it. But I am very glad I came up through the desert for it has been a most amusing journey and a very valuable experience for a future expedition. You see I have laid the foundations of friendship with several important people - of desert importance that is.

Monday 20. [20 February 1905] We had the devil's own ride yesterday. It was a bright morning with a bitter wind and I determined to start. So after prolonged farewells I set off with a Druze zaptieh, name of Yusef and we plodded through the mud and the stones gradually rising into the hills. All went well for the first 3 hours or so except that it was so cold that I rode in a sweater (Molly's, bless her for it!) a Norfolk jacket and a fur coat, then we began to get into snow and it was more abominable than words can say. The mules fell down in snow drifts, the horses reared and bucked and if I had been on a side saddle we should have been down half a dozen times, but on this Belloved saddle one can sit straight and close. So we plunged on, the wind increasing and sleet beginning to fall, till at last we came out onto a world entirely white. The last hour I walked and led my horse for he broke through the deep snow at every step. Also I was warmer. By the time we reached Saleh, our destination, it was sleeting hard. The village was a mass of snow drift and half frozen mud and pond. There wasn't a dry spot. So I went up to the house of the Sheikh, Muhammad ibn Nassār, and there I found a party of his nephews who took me into the mak'ad, which is the reception room, and lighted a fire in an iron stove and made me tea. The mak'ad was a good sized room with closely shuttered windows, by reason of there being no glass, felt mats on the floor and a low divan all round on which carpets were spread for me. Rather a fine place as mak'ads go. As I sat drinking my tea and conversing with the nephews - who were delightful intelligent young men - in came the Sheikh, a tall, very old man, and offered me every hospitality he could in the most charming way. Some interest surrounds me for I am the first foreign woman who has ever been in these parts. Sheikh Muhammad insisted that I should spend the night in his house, and I gladly agreed for indeed even for a lover of tents it was not a promising evening. All the family (males) came in one after another, he has 6 sons and more nephews than I ever saw, and I established myself on the divan, all the Druzes sitting round in rows, and answered all their questions about foreign parts, specially Japan, for they are thrilled over the war, and explained to them how we lived. They asked particularly after Lord Salisbury and were much saddened to hear he was dead. They knew Chamberlain by name - the real triumph of eloquence was when I explained to them the fiscal question and they all became Free Traders on the spot! Two of the sons had been to school in C'ple [Istanbul (Constantinople)] and the Sheikh had been honourably imprisoned there for 3 years after the war, so that they were all a little acquainted with the world and, as is the habit among the Druzes, wonderfully well informed as to what was passing. Presently came dinner on a big tray, bowls of rice and chicken and a curious sort of Druze food, made of sour milk and semen (which is grease) and vegetables - a kind of soup, not very good. My Zaptieh, Yusef and I, being the guests, eat together; then the others sat down round the tray. So we reestablished ourselves on the divan, drank coffee and continued the conversation, chiefly about the state of things in Russia, till 9 o'clock, when wadded quilts were brought and spread in 3 beds, one on each side of the mak'ad, and Yusef, the sheikh and I coiled ourselves up and went to sleep. But I wish you could have assisted for a moment at that evening party and seen all the white turbans and keen handsome faces of the Druzes, and their interest and excitement at all I said. For my part I slept sound and woke a little before sunrise. The Mak'ad felt rather stuffy so I slipped on my fur coat and went out into the silent frozen village. There is a very attractive old fountain down by the khan and there I stood in the snow and watched the sun rise and said a short thanksgiving appropriate to fine weather. My servants slept in the khan, they and the horses all together under the dark vaults. They seemed happy, oddly enough. So I breakfasted with the Sheikh on tea and Arab bread and a sort of treacle they make from grapes, dibis is its name, and I like it particularly. We rode off with one of the nephews as a guide, Fa'is, we are fast friends. We plunged for half an hour or so through snow and water and ice and then suddenly left the winter country behind us and had a charming ride all along the eastern edge of the Druze [Duruz, Jabal ad] mountains. Bellow us was spread out the great plain as far as the horizon, flat and black for it is all volcanic stone and sheets of lava, and to the north and south low lines of volcano cones like islands in a wide sea. We are camped tonight in a village called Umm Ruweik, the Sheikh of which is brother to Fa'is, I've just been dining with him, and tomorrow -

Thurs. 23. [23 February 1905] Oh my dear Mother! Such a travel I've had! I often wished you could have seen me at it and wondered what sort of a face you would have made. Listen then: on Tuesday morning, I rode off with my invaluable cook, Mikhail, and the best of my muleteers (he is as good as anyone could wish) Habib, on the best of his mules, and 6 Druzes, my friend Fa'is, his brother Ghishghash who is sheikh of Umm Ruweih, and the sheikh's son Ahmad and 3 more of less importance. I left my tents behind, took some rugs, 5 chickens and plenty of bread, a fur coat and a camera. This was our modest all for 3 days. We rode down the Druze mountains [Duruz, Jabal ad] for an hour, then for an hour through a shallow winding valley of volcanic rock, then we came out onto the wide desolation of the Safah [Safa]. It is almost quite flat, with low gentle billowings[?] just deep enough to shut out the world from the traveller while he journeys for an hour or more. And it is all covered with black stones. How they got there I can't think. They are not very big, from 6 inches to 2 or 3 ft long and where there is any space between them you see that the earth they lie on is yellow like sand, but quite hard, and nothing grows but a few plants of desert scrub, of which there are many kinds, but I won't trouble you with their names at the present time. Once in a while you see a small flock of goats or herd of camels quarrying their dinner, so to speak, and from space to spce a few black tents belonging to the Ghiath Arabs who are a very poor tribe that spend the winter in the Safah and come in spring to the Druze hills. They shepherd the Druze flocks. There are paths, almost invisible, but you are soon conscious of the difference when you leave them. Hundreds of generations of passing feet have pushed the stones aside a little and cleared a narrow way over the yellow earth. Through this wilderness of stones we rode for 3 hours and then we met one in rags whose name was Hound of God - it sounds like a pretence mystery tale, but it's the real thing. He was exceedingly glad to see us, was Hound of God, having been a friend of the family for years - at least 80 years I should judge. He told us there was a pool of water near and Arab tents 2 hours away - we found the water and lunched by it, sharing it with a herd of camels, but in the matter of the Arabs he lied, did Hound of God - or we misunderstood him. We rode on and on over all the stones in the world and at last, half an hour before sunset, just as we were deciding that we should have to sleep out, waterless, one of the Druzes caught sight of the smoke of some Arab tents. We got there in the dusk and stumbled in over the stones with the camels and the goats which were returning home after a laborious day of feeding. Very miserable the little encampment looked - I should think a couple of hundred pounds would buy up all the worldly goods of all the Ghiath at a handsome price. They have nothing but a few camels, the black tents and the coffee pots. They eat nothing but bread and all their days they wander among the stones in fear of their lives, for the Safah is swept by the ghazus of the big tribes from north to south and they harry the Ghiath as they pass. We scattered, being a big party. Ghishghash, my servants and I went to the house of the Sheikh whose name was Understanding. His 2 sons lighted a fire of desert thorns and we all sat round watching the coffee making and the talk began to the accompaniment of the coffee pounding, a great accomplishment among them, they pound in a delightful sort of tune, or rather a sort of tattoo. We dined on flaps of fresh bread and bowls of dibis and then I curled myself up in a blanket and went to sleep in a corner of the tent. The smoke of the fire was abominable, but it blew out after a bit, one side of an Arab tent is always open you know. The fleas didn't blow out. I woke in the middle of the night. There was a big moon shining into the tent, the Arabs and the Druzes were all sleeping round the cold hearth, a couple of mares were standing peacefully by the tent pole and beyond them, on the stones, a camel lay champing. Then I slept till dawn. Half an hour after the sun was up we were off, the party increased by one of our hosts, a very cheery soul called 'Awad who rode a camel and conversed in a shout without ceasing. About 2 hours from our camp there was a line of little volcanos surrounded by an immense tract of lava. We rode all round to the back of it, sometimes over stones, sometimes over the hard yellow clay which is even more barren than the stones. The lava lay on our left hand like a horrible black nightmare sea. And presently I discovered that the narrow trench we were riding in was a road as old as time. It was marked at intervals by piled up heaps of stones and at one place there was a stone which had been a well stone for it was worn a couple of inches deep with the rub of the rope - it must have served a respectable time for this black rock is extraordinarily hard - and in another there was a mass of rock all covered with inscriptions, Nabathaean, Greek, Cufic, and one in a baBell which I did not know but it was very like the oldest script of Yemen, Sabaean and last of all the Arabs had scrawled their wasm, their tribe marks there. I recognised the mark of the Sukhur which is this: [vertical line with circles at the top and bottom] or this: [vertical line with circle at top] indifferently. So each according to his kind had recorded his passing. At the back of the lava hills we came out onto a great plain of yellow clay which stretches for many miles and is called the Ruhbe. I know it stretches out because I have seen it from the top of the Druze hills, but when we rode there it seemed not wider than half a mile and beyond it lay a wonderful great lake of bluish misty water. The little volcanoes far away out to the east lay like islands in the sea, and I saw their reflections in the water - only petence [sic], it was mirage. Then on the edge of the lava hills we caught sight of a grey tower and this was the thing I had come out to see. It is called the White Castle and it has walls and towers of the finest masonry of dressed stones and inside there is a tall square keep evidently later, for it has beautiful bits of carving built into it which belonged to the earlier castle. It stands on the lava sea looking out over the plain of the Ruhbe, the last outpost I suppose of Rome [Roma], and perhaps earlier than Rome. I had about a couple of hours there, to lunch and to photograph and then we rode back our 5 hours' ride to the Ghiash camp. We just did it in time. We caught sight of the tents after sunset but before it was dark and that was as well, for as all the Safah is exactly alike it's not easy to be sure of your way unless you can see an immense distance from every rise in the ground. The second night in Arab tents was rather wearing I must admit and I felt quite extraordinarily dirty this morning. We started early and I got back to my tents at 4 - the bath that followed was one of the most delightful I have ever had. It was an interesting journey, however, hard work but well worth the trouble. I don't know that I shall often travel in the Safah again. I refused a very pressing invitation to dine with my Druse friends, feeling that I really must have a Christian meal, but I went up and drank coffee with them afterwards and we had a long talk which ended in their declaring that they regarded me as one of the family. They were quite delightful all the time they were with me and I have the highest esteem for them, bless them.

Sat 25. [25 February 1905] I may just mention in passing that a running stream outside my tent was frozen quite hard and silent this morning. I explored a few villages at the foot of the hills and rode down into the plain along the road I followed 5 years ago - the only day I have been on it. I got out of the Druze country about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Just before I left it I met 2 Druzes with laden mules coming from Damascus [Dimashq (Esh Sham, Damas)]. They gave me a very friendly greeting and I said "Are you faring to the Mountain?" They said "By God! may God preserve you." I said "I come from there, salute it for me." They answered "May God salute you; go in peace." Tonight I am camped on the edge of the volcanic country in a village of Circassians and in the matter of pens I don't think there is much difference between me and Caroline Hershall[?]. I wish the weather would be a little warmer.

Mon 27. [27 February 1905] Damascus [Dimashq (Esh Sham, Damas)]. Here we are. I arrived yesterday afternoon, alighted at the most fascinating hotel with a courtyard, a fountain and orange trees, washed and sent for my letters. A most splendid supply. 4 from you, bless you! up to Feb 14 and I love the Dialectics of Conversation and enjoyed it thoroughly and sympathised with every word. I'll write a word to Father to Athens [Athinai] or C'ple [Istanbul (Constantinople)] but not all my journey so he must see this letter.
I find the govt. here has been in an agony of nervousness all the time I was in the Jebel ed Druze [Duruz, Jabal ad]! They had 3 telegrams a day from Salkhad about me and they sat and wondered what I was going to do next. The governor here has sent me a message to say would I honour him by coming to see him so I've answered graciously that I counted on the pleasure of making his acquaintance. An official lives in this hotel, by name Selim Pasha Thabit. He spent the evening talking to me and offering to place the whole of the organisation of Syria at my disposal. He also tried to find out all my views on Druze and Bedouin affairs but he didn't get much forwarder there. I have become A Person in Syria!

Now I'll telegraph to you. Your affectionate daughter Gertrude