Wed. March 8. Kuseir [Qusayr, Al]. Dearest Mother. Yesterday morning was tolerably fine - at least it did not rain - so we set off at 8 on our way to Homs [Hims]. We had a terrible adventure: as we were about to start I found that my dog, Kurt, was missing. He had followed the mules from the Khan and had then disappeared. I sent Mikhail and Habib looking for him through the town and Habib presently discovered him tied up in the house of one who though to steal him. Chained up, and Habib with some promptness claimed the dog and appropriated the chain and upon the thief's protesting, he knocked him down and came away. I did not see the incident, but I can't say I regret Habib's action. It will larn [sic] our friend to be a dog stealer. So we rode down the wide and most dreary valley between the Lebanon [Liban, Jebel] and the Anti Libanus [Sharqi, Jebel esh (Anti-Lebanon)] and after 4½ hours we came to a place called Lebweh [Laboué] where one of the principal sources of the Orontes ['Asi] bursts out of the hillside in a number of great springs very beautiful to see. Nearby are the remains of a temple; a solid podium of 4 or 5 courses of huge stones is all that is left. I guess, however, that it was never very fine for the stylobate on which the columns stood has a moulding which is extremely rough and poor. Just before we reached Lebweh, I was overtaken by 2 soldiers who were sent by the Kaimakàm of Baalbek with a polite message saying would I not like an escort. I kept one, in order not to hurt the Kaimakàm's feelings, and sent the other back. We camped in a village up in a gorge of the bare hills, rather attractive. Ras Baalbek was its name. It has stopped freezing, praise be to God! but it is still pretty cold. This morning as I dressed and breakfasted the sleet was beating against my tent, and though it stopped as I rode out, we had the devil's own wind all day. But for the honour and glory of the thing I might as well be camping out in Yorkshire in rather exceptionally stormy March weather. I sent my camp by the desert road and rode with my soldier to a Roman monument which stands on a tell in the middle of the Orontes valley and can be seen a day's journey on either side. It is a tall tower of solid stone work capped by a pyramid and decorated with pilasters and a rough frieze carved in low relief with hunting scenes and trophies of arms. They say it stands to {represent} commemorate some great fight in the Roman conquest of Syria, but there is no inscription. We rode on for 4 hours more down the valley, which is indescribably desolate, between mountains topped with snow and ragged cloud, and at 3 got in here, arriving at the same moment as the mules. I have seldom been more thankful to get into camp. We found a sheltered spot hard by the graveyard. I am now in the land of the Hittites. I think it must be they that Kurt is barking at so furiously, for there is no one else in sight. I am also in the land of a strange sect called the Nosairiyeh. They have a secret religion of which rumour speaks very ill, and I am told that the visible signs of their faith, as expressed by their conduct, leave everything to be desired. The learned suppose them to be a remnant of aboriginal Canaanites - whatever that may mean. I believe the learned think the Canaanites were Cretans, or of the same stock. Dans le doute, Crétois, nowadays. The wind has dropped and peace reigns in my camp, moral and physical. They were both a little disturbed by the elements. Even Mikhail lost some of his customary good temper, but Habib was as smiling as ever and I kept the silence of the imperturbable philosopher!

Thurs 9. [9 March 1905] Homs [Hims]. Exquisite weather, quite perfect for travelling, neither hot nor cold with a bright beautiful sun. May it continue! I sent my camp by the direct road and went off with Mikhail to a curious great mound called Tell el Mendil, which is Kadesh on the Orontes ['Asi], the southern capital of the Hittites. There is nothing to see but the mound and the river flowing by and a little scattered village round it and on it, but I could not pass by a Hittite city without saluting it - Uncle Tom will sympathise I feel sure. It is indeed a striking situation, the great mound with the Orontes flowing round it, set in the plain a little to the north west of the parallel ranges of Lebanon [Liban, Jebel] and Anti Libanus [Sharqi, Jebel esh (Anti-Lebanon)], both snow covered at this moment and very splendid. From the top of the mound you look north over the Lake of Homs [Hims, Bahrat], a 6 mile stretch of water, and beyond it the plain goes on to the horizon, broken by one or two more mounds, partly artificial, I should think, for they are supposed to be sites of other Hittite towns. Tell Mendel was a great city under the Seleucids, one of the many Laodeceas, but my interest was so deeply engaged in the battle between the Pharoah of the day and the Hittite king which took place here and is recorded in the hieroglyphs thaat I could not bring myself to think of anyone so recent as a Seleucid. Before we reached the lake we passed by another most curious place. The Arabs call it the Ark of the Prophet Noah and the archaeologists say it is an Assyrian fortress - I really can't decide which is the most reasonable explanation of its origin. It is a huge mound, 4 square and exactly oriented to the 4 quarters of the compass, some 40 or 50 ft above the level of the plain and surrounded by a great ditch. This is the profile of it [sketch]. The angles of the ditch are still sharp enough to be evident. It is thus an immense solid platform of earth, an 8th of a mile square or more, with the 4 corners raised a little as if there had been towers there, and corn growns over it all. I wonder what they did it for - it must have been mighty tiresome to make. So we rode on and I lunched by the shores of the lake, the water lapping up at my feet, and then we crossed more plain and more and at 2.30 we reached Homs and I found my camp pitched in a grassy open place in front of the Serai. I had tea and a bath and went up to the Serai to call on the Kaimakam who had already sent to inquire after my health. I found him an agreeable and well informed man, with very little of the Arabic, but the rest of the assembled party, some 20 persons in turbans, interpreted between us. Then I took a walk through the bazaars, but that was not as pleasant as it might have been on account of the interest my appearance excited. It was an interest purely benevolent but none the less tiresome, for I was never without the company of fifty or sixty people. When I returned, the Kaimakam came to see me, and we had a long talk, his secretary piecing out his Arabic and my Turkish. One of the principal inhabitants of Homs, Drury Pasha, to whom I had a letter of introduction from Damascus [Dimashq (Esh Sham, Damas)], has also sent to ask if he may call tomorrow. Oh Merciful! what fun I am having! Don't you think so?

Friday 10th. [10 March 1905] Homs [Hims] is not much of a place, but such as it is, it has a character of its own. It is all built of black tufa and the best houses have inner courtyards with a simple but very excellent effective decoration of white limestone let into the black either in patterns or in straight courses like the Pisan building. Moreover the minarets of the mosques a [sic] tall slender towers, four square, for all the world like an Italian campanile, like the towers of San Gimignano, except that they are capped with a white cupola, very pretty and decorative. I spent the morning sight seeing, with a soldier in attendance so that I was not bothered by the people. Sightseeing takes a long time in these parts for when anyone of importance meets you in the streets he invites you in to drink a cup of coffee. This happened to me 3 times and gave me the opportunity of seeing the inside of some of the big houses. There are occasional scraps of column and capital built into the walls of them, for Homs was the Roman Emesa and a big important place. There are also remains of city walls, but all that I saw were Saracen. After lunch I rode down to the river, the Orontes ['Asi], to see the fashionable lounge[?], a delicious stretch of meadow and willow trees by the water side. But the trees are not yet in leaf nor the flowers out. I received a card from one Hanna Khabbaz who signs himself "the preacher of the protestant church at Homs." It was couched in the following terms: Madam, my wife and I are ready to do every service you need by the name of Christ and the humanity. We should like to visit you if your kindly accept us. I am your obedient servant! I replied in the name of Christ and the humanity that he might come at 5 o'clock and am now awaiting his bonne visite! Meantime Drury Pasha came to call, a most charming old man. He brought a learned Sheikh with him and they sat talking for over an hour. I loved them and I shall return his visit as soon as the preacher is gone. He is the richest man in Homs and a most distinguished and delightful person. Muslim of course.
I am off tomorrow to Hamah by a round about route. You know I shall telegraph from Aleppo [Halab] and await your reply - address to the Consulate. Drury Pasha tells me the news is that Mukden [Shenyang] has fallen - I wonder if it is true.

They are all wildly Japanese in this country.

There are perhaps 400 people round about my tent! Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude