[5 April 1918] Baghdad Ap 5. Darling family. I continue to write though we are told that no mails are at present going out from India. There are also no mails in, so there you are. I've had rather a nice week, now I come to think of it. On Sunday afternoon Mr Bullard and I rode miles up the Tigris and dropped in to call on a charming old gentleman who owns a large garden by the river bank. We were received by his servants with enthusiasm and led out into the garden where we found Faik Beg budding orange trees. He appeared to be much gratified by our visit and we all sat down on the ground under the palm trees while he explained the process of setting buds into the orange saplings. He then took us through his fruit garden and cornfields, out to the edge of the desert. It was all green and wonderful with the barley in the ear and deep grass under the fruit trees. So we went back with him to tea, which consisted mainly of dates and oranges and he entertained us the while with his shrewd and amusing talk. His two boys also joined the party, one the model scholar, the pride and joy of all his teachers, the other a smiling round faced little rogue who would learn nothing at all. And I liked him the best. But I do love these country people who till their own gardens, receive you with perfect dignity in the midst of their work and offer you improvised hospitality without embarrassment - or apology for shortcomings - and when the serving man who is giving you your tea cleans the spoon with his thumb as he hands it to you, and the plate with his sleeve, that's all part of the picture. My other gardener host, Haji Naji, came in to see me this week. He was dressed in beautiful purple cloth and looked very imposing. "Do you sit here all day and work?" said he, inscribing imaginary epistles in the air with his forefinger. "Very laborious!" and he tapped his forehead to indicate his sense of my mental effort. "You must come out again to my garden and be happy among the fruit trees."
Mr Bullard and I rode back from our tea party with Faik Beg against a raging south wind, which brought that night a wild storm of rain - rain which lasted intermittently for 3 days and that's unusual at this time of year, but very fortunate, for it keeps the world cool and fresh. On the second afternoon the rain held up a little and I, not being able to bear sitting in the office any longer, waded out through the mud and had tea with the French nuns, darling creatures, whom I found trembling with anxiety about the news of the battle - as who is not? It has been a week of tea parties, for next day the C. in C. came to tea with me, stayed a long time and was very pleasant. The main object of his visit was to discuss how we are to amuse the Willingdons who are coming here next week for a little excursion, and to ask whether I would personally conduct them to Babylon. Yesterday the rain stopped and on a gloriously lovely afternoon I rode for a long time through wonderful gardens by the Tigris. Finally today I've just been on the nicest of expeditions with Captain Gillan, P.O. Baghdad. We had long had a plan that he should take me to call on the Keeper of the great mosque at 'Adhimiyah [Azamiyah, Al], 3 miles north of Baghdad. It is the shrine and tomb of a famous Sunni of the 8th century who founded the Hanifi sect, one of the 4 orthodox sects of the Sunnis. I often ride through 'Adhimiyah which is a delicious place but I hadn't made the acquaintance of any of the notables. You come into the village through date groves and corn fields and find yourself in a quiet little square, the mosque on one side, tiled dome and minaret rising above a wide, walled-in court, and opposite, set back a little, delightful irregular houses, with shuttered, wooden balconies and the palm trees behind them. It has an air of peace and sanctuary, like a little cathedral town in Europe, and indeed reminds me always of a French country town, bathed in a soothing atmosphere of ancient repose under the shadow of its famous shrine - one of the most famous of all Sunni shrines. Our host lived in one of the houses overlooking the mosque and we sat in his balcony room above the quiet square while he provided us with tea, coffee, sweet lemons and lettuce - an unusual diet at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, but welcome. The Kiliddar (Treasurer) was also there and when I had eaten the last of the lettuce (for it was very good) they offered, rather to my surprise, to take me into the mosque and show me some old prayer carpets which are in use there. So in we went - I was careful to pull off my riding boots at the door. The building is modern, but well proportioned and spacious, and the carpets, though much worn - some of them worn to shreds - were extremely fine and ought to be put into a museum. We were presented as we left with tight bunches of La France roses and tiny clustering white Banksias, and invited to a luncheon party by the river on Sunday week. - It was most enjoyable. We are also going to the luncheon. I shall take the C. in C. some day to look at the carpets, for he is a bit of a connaisseur. But what I like even better than carpets is the simplicity and dignity of the East at its best, the kindness and courtesy of the entertainment it offers you.

I think that's all I've done this week, except ride one afternoon, before the rain, with General Stuart Wortley, who is always an agreeable companion. As for work I'm busy at every spare moment putting my tribal stuff into shape and it is coming out very well.

Behind all one's doings lies the terrible sense of these days in France. The first assault seems to have spent itself - at what cost! - and we now, with deep anxiety, await news of the second. Goodbye my Belloved family Gertrude