From my tent. Tues 20. Ayun Musa ['Ain Musa]. My dearest Father. Oh would that you were here! It's too delicious and amusing. But you shall have a day to day diary and keep my letter, for I write more fully to you than in my diary. Well. I left Jerusalem [(El Quds esh Sherif, Yerushalayim)] yesterday soon after 9, having seen my cook at 7 and arranged that he should go off as soon as he could get the mules ready. (His name is Hanna - sounds familiar doesn't it! but that H is such as you have never heard.) I rode down to Jerusalem alone - the road was full of tourists, caravans of donkeys carrying tents for Cook and Bedouin escorts. I made friends as I went along, and rode with first one Bedouin and then another, all of them exaggerating the dangers I was about to run with the hope of being taken with me into Moab. Half way down, I met my guide from Salt, east of Jordan, coming up to meet me. His name is Tarif, he is a servant of the clergyman in Salt and a Christian therefore, and a perfect dear. We rode along together some time, but he was on a tired horse, so I left him to come on slowly and hurried down into Jericho where I arrived with a Bedouin at 1 - famished. I went to the Jordan hotel and while I was seeing to my horse, appeared Kremer, the Austrian painter and welcomed me with open arms. He sat with me while I lunched and then took me up to his room to see his work which is awfully good. When I tell you that he is the founder of the Secessionists in Vienna [Wien], you will realize that his exhibition is the one you and I would always fly to see! He is very modern, but oh so good! I've always thought that the bare Jordan valley was unpaintable, but I am beginning to think I'm wrong. We then proceeded to the Mudir's for I wanted to find out the truth of the tales I had been told about Moab, but he was out. By this time Tarif and Hanna had arrived and reported the tents to be 1½ hours behind, which seemed to make camping at the Jordan impossible that night. Anyhow, an attendant, Kremer and I walked up to Elisha's Well through fields and over Spina Christi hedges. It was almost tropically hot and heavenly. All Jericho was scented with orange blossom and the fields were sheets of white and gold, the gold being yellow daisies. It was most enjoyable. I came in about 5 to find that my tents had just arrived with my 2 muleteers, Ali and Mohammed, but Tarif opined that it was too late to go down to Jordan so I determined to pass that night in Jericho and make an early start - to Kremer's delight! At this moment appeared the Mudir and we 3 had a very comic tea together. The conversation was conducted in 4 tongues - English to the hotel servants, French to my 2 guests, but a French which I had to put into German for Kremer and into Arabic for the Mudir as they were both very shaky in that tongue. The Mudir was very full of a carriage he had just bought with 4 wheels, but no horses! (Yet it was not a motor car!) When he heard my plans, nothing would suit him but that he should come to Madeba [Madaba] with me and see about my guide to Mashetta [Qasr el Mushatta] (of all these more anon, inshallah) and rather to my embarrassment he bustled off to see about a horse for himself. I need not have troubled myself as you will see later. Kremer and I then went to see a great encampment of Cook's and on down wonderful fields full of yellow daisies and a single scarlet ranunculus, most exquisite, of which we gathered a lot to send to Nina. The hotel was full of tourists and I made friends with a charming English clergyman and his pretty daughter - I don't even know his name. He was an old dear and hurried up to light my candles when I went to bed! Kremer and I dined together at a little table (so you see we had quite a pleasant time!) and I went to bed very early, a peerless wonderful night. This morning I got up at 5 and at 6 was all ready, having sent on my mules and Hanna to the Jordan bridge. I knocked up the Mudir and he appeared vowing he was going with me to Ayun Musa, I begged him not to trouble and he said he wd come as far as the bridge and send a guide to Madeba to make the necessary arrangements for me, and on my still further urging him, he turned back half way, at the slime pits, and left me his servant Ismael which was just what I wanted. I think he never had the slightest intention of coming! We parted with many expressions of the deepest friendship and many wishes from me that God wd increase his good. The morning was divine, hot as Persia and with the delicious fresh dawn feeling even in that low valley. We got over the bridge, though I believe we payed an exhorbitant toll - Hanna thought so, at any rate and very indignant. As it only came to 3 frcs all told I didn't care. The river valley is wide on the other side and was full of tamarisks in full white flower, willows in the newest of leaf, there were almost no slime pits and when we reached the level of the Ghor [El Ghor] (that is the Jordan plain) behold the wilderness had blossomed like the rose. It was the most unforgettable sight - sheets and sheets of varied and exquisite colour - purple, white, yellow and the brightest blue (this was a thistly sort of plant which I don't know) and fields of scarlet ranunculus. 9/10ths of them I didn't know, but there was the yellow daisy, the sweet scented mauve wild stock, a great splendid sort of dark purple onion, the white garlic and purple mallow and higher up a tiny blue iris and red anemones and a charming pink thing like a linum. We were now joined by a cheerful couple, from Bethlehem [(Beit Lahm)], a portly fair man in white with a yellow keffiyeh (that's the thing they wear round their heads bound by ropes of camel hair and falling over the shoulders) and a fair beard, riding a very small donkey and a thinner and darker man walking. The fat one looked like a portly burgher. He asked me if I were a Christian and said he was, praise be to God! I replied piously that it was from God. So we all journeyed on together through the wilderness of flowers and every now and then the silent but amiable Ismael got off to pick me a new variety of plant, while the other enlivened the way by stalking wood pigeons, but the pigeons were far too wily and they let off their breech loaders in vain and stood waist deep in flowers watching the birds flying cheerfully away - with a "May their house be destroyed!" from my Christian friend. A little higher up we came to great patches of corn sown by the Adwan Bedouins - Arabs we call them east of Jordan, they being the Arabs par excellence, just as we call their black tents houses, there being no others. Tarif told me that the rainfall was not enough for the corn but that there was enought water to irrigate all the Ghor - but then goodbye to the flowers! All this time I had not, since the bridge, met a single soul; now we saw a group of black tents far away on a little hill covered with white tombs - Tell Kufrein [Kafrein] it is called - and here the barley was in ear and, in the midst of the great stretches of it, little watch towers of branches had been built and a man stood on each to drive away birds, pig and people. One was playing a pipe as we passed - it was, much more Arcadian than Arcadia. We had now reached the bottom of the foothills, the Hemra they are called, and leaving the Ghor behind us, we began to mount - not without many a look behind at the flowery plain and the slime pits and the hills of Judea. We crossed a stream flowing down the Wady Hesban [Hisban] (which is the Heshbon of the fish pools in the Song on Songs) at a place called Akweh - that's what it is called but there is no place there, only a circular enclosure of dolmens and menhirs (which I didn't see because it was buried in flowers). The country is full of them. Chemosh, the Moabite god, is supposed to have been worshipped at them. It was so wet here that we rode on to a place where there were a few thorn trees peopled by immense crowds of nesting[?] birds - they sieze on any litle bush for there are so few and the Arabs come and burn the bush and catch and cook the birds all in one! There was a grave near by, very old said Tarif, and the place was called after its owner - Salih. Sualih, in Arabic Arabic. To say that it was a garden of flowers would give you no idea of what it was like. Here we lunched and the mules caught us up and passed us, and we rested an hour and started again uphill at 12.45. Our road was too exquisite, the flowers - but I fear I am becoming tedious! On top of the first shoulder we came to spreading corn fields. The plan is this - the "Arabs" sow one place this year and go and live somewhere else lest their animals should eat the growing corn; next year this lies fallow and the fallow of the year before is sown. Over the second shoulder we got onto a stretch of rolling hills and here we parted with Ismail, who went straight on to Madeba (with 10 francs from me in his pocket) and we descended the valley to Ayun Musa, a collection of beautiful springs with an Arab camp pitched above them. I found the loveliest iris I have yet seen - big and sweet scented and so dark purple that the hanging down petals are almost black. It decorates my tent now. Half an hour later my camp was pitched a little lower down on a lovely grassy plateau looking up to the waterfall of Ayun Musa and down, down across the Ghor and the mountains of Judea. They, however, were soon swallowed up in a hot mist which filled the Ghor, while a beautiful scarlet sunset stretched up to the zenith. We got in at 3.30 and were soon surrounded by Arabs who sold us a hen and some excellent sour milk, laban it is called. While we bargained the women and children wandered round and eat grass, just like goats. The women are unveiled. They wear a blue cotton gown 6 yards long which is gathered up and bound round their heads and their waists and falls to their feet. Their faces, from the mouth downwards are tattoed with indigo and their hair hangs down in two long plaits on either side. Our horses and mules were hobled [sic] and groomed, Hanna brought me an excellent cup of tea and at 6 a good dinner consisting of soup made of rice and olive oil (very good!) an Irish stew and raisins from Salt, an offering from Tarif. My camp lies just under Pisgah [Pisga]. Isn't is a joke being able to talk Arabic! We saw a great flock of storks today (the Father of Luck, Tarif calls them) and an eagle. I am now amongst the Bellka Arabs but these particular people are the Ghanimat, which Hanna explains as Father of Flocks.

Wed 21. [21 March 1900] Well, I can now show you the reverse side of camping, but it's not been very bad so far. I woke this morning at dawn to find a strong wind blowing up clouds from the east. It looked like varying weather so I got up and breakfasted and walked down to the cave Bellow the waterfall which I found to be very beautiful and hung with maidenhair. At 7 it began to rain but I nevertheless started off for the top of Siagheh, which is Pisgah [Pisga], sending the others straight to Madeba [Madaba]. At the top of the hill the rain ceased, the clouds blew northwards up the Ghor [El Ghor], leaving the Dead Sea [(Yam Hamelah, Bahret Lut)] and half the Judean hills in sunshine while the mists that hung over Jerusalem [(El Quds esh Sherif, Yerushalayim)], though they obscured my view made what I saw more wonderful. There are 2 tops to Siagheh, one crowned with the ruins of what was apparently a fort, the other nearer the valley and commanding a still more beautiful view. I could see from it 2 of the places from which Balaam is supposed to have attempted the cursing of Israel and behind me lay the third, Nebo [Mt. Nebo] - Naba in Arabic. The Moses legend is a very touching one. I stood on the top of Pisgah and looked out over the wonderful Jordan valley and the blue sea and the barren hills, veiled and beautified by cloud and thought it was one of the most pathetic stories that have ever been told. I then rode to Nebo, the clouds sweeping down behind me and swallowing up the whole Ghor, as though the valley and the hills themselves were only a legend into which I had accidentally stepped. I past a splendid menhir and the top of Nebo was crowned by a circle of stones and all around the stones were laid in curious orders, for this was a high place sacred to Baal and these the vestiges of a faith that has gone under. As I left Nebo it began to stream. We cantered across rolling slopes of corn, through a ruined village - the whole country is full of them - picked up the mules and passed them and arrived at Madeba about 11.30, wet through. As I rode through the squalid muddy little streets, to my surprise I was greeted in American by a man in a waterproof. He's a photographer, semi-professional, and his name is Baker and he is very cheerful and nice. He is travelling with a dragoman. I selected my camping ground on the lee side of the village and Mr Baker took me to the Latin monastery where he is lodging to keep out of the wet while my camp was being put up. To beguile the time he showed me photographs and dressed up in Bedouin clothes. I was very fortunate in getting here early, before the ground was too wet. I had my tent thoroughly well trenched all round - though it streamed steadily till 2, I was quite comfy. I changed into dry clothes, lunched and read books about Madeba. At 2 Mr Baker came to fetch me, dressed me in his waterproof as it was still raining a little and we were both shown all the sights by his dragoman. It's an extraordinary place; every time they turn up a clod of ground they find a Roman capital, or a Byzantine mosaic. It dates from the earliest Jewish times, there was a Roman town, then a Christian with 7 big churches - and now is a miserable cluster of hovels built up with the columns and squared stones of former times and resting on acres of mosaic. I should think we saw 10 separate pieces - and these are only what they have happened to discover. The homes are vaulted caves innocent of windows, and but for a few holes in the roof would be quite dark. One was actually the apse of a Byzantine church, another had a Greek inscription in the middle of its pavement to say that it was dedicated to "the mother of our Lord Christ" - here the inhabitants were very friendly and made us coffee while we examined their house - and the most interesting of all is now covered by a modern church and well protected. It is a map of Syria, and fortunately the part containing a picture of Jerusalem, the Jordan, Madeba and far out into the desert eastwards is perfect. I came home to tea and sent up to Government House, so to speak, to find out what my Mudir's letter had done for me in the matter of tomorrow's escort. The answer came that this Mudir was away but that Amr Effendi was coming to see me. He appeared, a tall middle aged Turk; I invited him into my tent with all politeness and offered him cigarettes (you see a bad habit may have its merits!) while Hanna brought him a cup of coffee. But - the soldier was not to be had! No, another English lady had come, an old one (Mrs Th. Bent!) and asked for a soldier for Mashetta [Qasr el Mushatta] and hadn't got one. There weren't enough. I determined to wait till the coffee and cigarettes begun to work and turned the conversation to other matters - with as many polite phrases as I could remember. Fortunately I fell upon photography and found that his great desire was to be photographed with his soldiers. I jumped at this and offered to do him and send him copies and so forth and the upshot of it was that for me (this was much underlined) he willl send a soldier tomorrow at dawn. This being satisfactorily settled, our talk proceeded most swimmingly for another half hour. Amr Effendi took another cigarette and told me the story of his life which was most interesting. He is a Circassian and left his country when the Russians took it, has been here 7 years and is heartily sick of it, poor dear - and lots more besides. We then discussed the advantages and disadvantages of marriage with myself as an example and parted the very best of friends. I think it's rather a triumph to have conducted so successful a piece of diplomacy in Arabic, don't you. The wind has dropped and the sky is clear, but it's cold and dampish. I had however the brilliant idea of sending into the town for a brazier which was brought me full of charcoal and put into my tent. I have been drying my habit over it. From my camp I look over great rolling plains of cornfield stretching eastwards.

Thurs 22. [22 March 1900] This has been a most wonderful day. Hanna woke me at 5.30, the weather looked promising though there was a good deal of cloud. By 6.30 I had breakfasted and was ready to start when Mr Baker appeared and asked whether he might come too. I cheerfully agreed and sent up to know if my soldier was coming. He arrived in a few minutes, a big handsome cheerful Circassian mounted on a strong white horse, and a little before 7 we started off. I took Tarif and Mr Baker his dragoman and a man carrying his elaborate photographic appliances. We rode across the corn fields for 3 or 4 miles, enveloped part of the time in blowing mists, past a ruined village called Jelul [Jalul], then the mists cleared and {showed us} we saw a most wonderful country - miles and miles of rolling grass stretching far away to a dim horizon of low hills, and dotted over with black tents and white flocks. In a dip we came suddenly upon a great encampment of Christians from Madeba [Madaba] and stopped to photograph them and their sheep. They were milking them, the sheep being tied head to head in a serried line of perhaps 40 at a time. We went on and on, the ground rising and falling and always the same beautiful grass - no road, we went straight across country uninterrupted by fence or tree - till we came to the first builing we had seen since Madeba, a square Khan, half ruined, standing on the edge of a great cistern, broken and empty of water. Bellow it was another big encampment of Christians and we again stopped to photograph while they brought us salted cakes made of goats' milk, rather nasty, and excellent laban. This place is called Ziza [Jiza], it was once a big town, of which the ruins crowned the neighbouring tell. We went to the top of the Khan and saw Mashetta [Qasr el Mushatta] some 5 miles away across the grass. The people were most friendly and one man insisted on mounting his little mare and coming with us, just for love. So we all cantered off together, through many flocks and past companies of dignified storks walking about and eating the locusts, till we came to the next object of interest which was the Haj [Hajj] road, the pilgrim road to Mecca [Makkah]. Road of course it is not; it is about 1/8th[?] of a mile wide and consists of hundreds of parallel tracks trodden out by the immense caravan which passes over it twice a year. We next came to some camps and flocks of the Beni Sakhr, the most redoubted of all the Arab tribes and the last who submited to the Sultan's rule - "very much not pleasant" said Tarif - and now we were almost at the foot of the low hills and before us stood the ruins of Mashetta. It is a Persian palace, begun and never finished by Chosroes I who overran the country in 611 of our era and planned to have a splendid hunting box out in these grassy plains which abound with game. But his reign came to an abrupt close, Mashetta was abandoned and forgotten by all except the Arabs who wintered their flocks under its brick domes, until Canon Tristram rediscovered it. It is four square; a magnificently carved gateway leads into a great open court at the end of which stands the brick palace with a columned door, from which the arch has fallen in some earthquake, and roofed with great gaping vaults of brick, half fallen in. It looked indescribably beautiful and pathetic, standing solitary in the rolling plains with no inhabited place within 30 miles of it but the black tents of the Arabs. The day was soft and warm, the light glorious, with an occasional great soft cloud sending its long shadow over the plains, the beauty of it all was quite past words. We stayed about 2 hours, lunching and photographing - it's a thing one will never forget as long as one lives. At last, most reluctantly, we turned back on our 4 hours' ride home. We hadn't gone more than a few yards, before 3 of the Beni Sakhr came riding towards us, armed to the teeth, black browed and most menacing. When they saw our soldier they threw us the salaam with some disgust and after a short exchange of politenesses, proceeded on their way - we felt that the interview might have turned differently if we had been unescorted, all the more when Tarif told me that one of them was Fa'is, Sheikh of the Sukhur and son of the great Sheikh Zottam whom Tristram talks of. We rode on to the Beni Sakhr tents and were greeted with enthusiasm and given the most excellent sheep's milk. Once past the inspection of the Sheikh all was well. Many of these people were negroes - one of the Sheikh's companions was a full blooded negro to all appearance. They were all armed with pistols, guns and knives. We now parted with our Christian - his name was Salem Yacoub, may god increase his good! - and rode on straight across the plains putting up several foxes, and a little grey wolf. Unfortunately we did not see the white gazelles of which there are said to be many. Tarif says there are also jackals and hyenas. Just as we came to the edge of the cornfields, again two of the Beni Sakhr sprang up seemingly out of the ground and came riding towards us. Exactly the same interview took place as before and they retired in disgust. We got in at 5, quite delighted with our day. The good Hanna had seen me coming from afar and brought me my tea at once. I parted with Mr Baker, who has been a most agreeable companion and a distinct addition to the pleasure and success of the day. The Effendi then came to call and was much pleased to hear that I was so well satisfied. In all the country we have been over today and for Heaven knows how many miles before, there is not a tree or bush, nor any running water till you reach the Euphrates. The nomads depend entirely on their tanks. I don't think I have ever spent such a wonderful day.

Fri 23. [23 March 1900] Hanna woke me at 6.30 just in time to see a lovely sunrise across the Madeba [Madaba] plains. At 7.30 I went up to the Serai to see if the Effendi wanted to be photographed but I found him so busy that he had not had time to get into his swell clothes, so we arranged that it was to be for when I came back. Hanna then took me to see his fiancÇe who is extremely pretty and I photographed them together to their great delight. The Effendi insisted on sending a soldier with me to Kerak [Karak]. It is quite unneccessary, but this is the penalty of my distinguished social position! and also, I think, of my nationality, for the Turks are much afraid of us and he probably thinks I have some project of annexation in my mind! The Circassian - for he is again a Circassian, is good looking and pleasant. They are an agreeable race. His name is Mahmud. I soon discovered the reason of the Effendi's "much work". Three months ago a Circassian bashibazouk disappeared and has never been traced, and a miserable Madeba Christian has been accused of murdering him, his own Mohammadan servants bearing witness against him. His religion is almost a sufficient proof of his guilt in the eyes of the government and he and his whole family, together with the servants, were being packed off to the Mutassarif at Karak. He will probably be imprisoned and heavily fined, for he is well off. There seems to be no proof at all against him. We all travelled together the whole morning. I was off at 8 and had a dull 3 hours across the uplands, mostly in cultivated country and with no view, for there was always a little roll of the ground between us and everything. We then reached the top of a deep and beautiful valley, the Wady WÉly, into which we descended and lunched by the edge of the stream in a thicket of oleanders. There were the ruins of a Roman bridge close by and I saw several dolmens scattered up and down the valley. I had a long talk with the prisoner, poor dear! but I could give him nothing by my deepest sympathy. The baggage mules passed us and went on and after an hour's rest I too started off up the hill. Half way I met an English clergyman, Mr Hall (I know of him though I don't know him) and sent messages by him to the Rosens. From the Wady WÉly there was again a very dull 2 hours, up and down and very hot. You know what this sort of travelling is like, gorgeous fun but with moments of tedium and weariness. Then, quite suddenly, I found myself on the edge of a perfectly magnificent gorge, 2000 ft deep I should think - the Mojib [Mujib (Arnon)] is its name. It took me a full hour to walk down and the mules were 2 hours at it. We were on the Roman road all the day - paved on the flat, hewn out of the rock in the gorges. I saw milestones and the fallen pillars of Heaven knows what temples or guard houses. There are the ruins of a bridge over the stream just by my camp. Oh my camp is too lovely tonight! I am in a great field of yellow daisies by the edge of a rushing stream full of fish and edged with oleanders which are just coming out. (I have a bunch of them in my tent) On either side rise the great walls of the valley and protect me from every breath of wind. I have just been having a swim in the river under the oleander bushes and Tarif has shot me a partridge for dinner. It's a pleasant change from my ugly little camping ground on the Madeba plains. Such a croaking of frogs! Between the WÉly and the Mojib I passed the ruins of Diban [Dhiban] where the Moabite stone was found and which was probably a great place in Mesha's day but has now scarcely one stone left upon another. I'll tell you something curious - you know how much of a Christian I am as a rule, well, you can't think how much more of a Christian I am here! The mere fact of having been brought up in a common superstition draws one to - shall I call them one's co-religionists? - here and I quite sympathise with the man in Sir A Lyall's poem who found himself obliged to die for a faith in which he did not believe. I now feel as if I must move Heaven and Earth to get a Protestant church built in Madeba, which my friend Salim begged me to do - but I daresay I shan't! There is a very pretty white broom flowering, Mashallah! Oh the nice sound of water and frogs and a little screaming owl!

Sat 24. [24 March 1900] GrÃ…sse aus Kerak [Karak]! do you know where to find it on the map? it's quite a big place I assure you. To begin at the beginning - I got up at dawn and bathed in the river which was delicious. We were off about 8 as usual and for an hour and a half climbed up the steep side of the valley. On a little plateau near the river there were many broken columns and further up agreat four square ruin - a Roman guard house. The scarlet tulip was in flower, very lovely. At the top of the gulf there was another big Roman ruin and a tiny modern guardhouse with 2 soldiers in it who brought me coffee. The place was remarkable for possessing 2 trees - terebinths; they are the only trees I have seen for 4 days. We now rode on under the base of a little hill called Shihan which I can see from my windows in Jerusalem [(El Quds esh Sherif, Yerushalayim)]. It is covered with ruins of a Moabite town, supposed to be the capital of King Sihon and therefore very old. I could see the terraced lines of the old vineyards though now over all the wide rolling plains there was nothing but a very few patches of wheat far away - and the Roman road stretching straight as an arrow in front of us, paved and edged with a low double wall, one stone high. There were lots and lots of ruins, villages and towns - what a country it must have been! At 12.30 we reached a place that had been a landmark for miles in that great emptiness - Kasr Rabba, the castle of Rabboth Moab, the Arabs call it. It is not a castle at all, but a Roman temple, the strong stone walls of which are still standing up to some 15 ft high. Inside it is filled up with fallen stones and columns and Corinthian capitals over which the lizards run. White garlic sprouted in clusters out of the cracks in the walls. We lunched here and rested an hour and then on again over the endless plains. In half an hour we came to the ruins of Rabba - Rabboth or Ar Moab, a Roman town built on a Moabite. The ruins cover a big extent of ground and consist of heaps of cut stones and any amount of cisterns and vaults, and one temple more or less standing upright - at least there are two columns standing and a bit of the end wall. We came in by the Roman road and I saw quite clearly the ruined walls protecting the gateway, and the grooved lintel stone. There was a milestone lying a little way off, face upwards, but with the inscription quite effaced. Then came a boring 2 hours, up and down over ridges, which were exactly like the furrows of a gigantic field, and never anything to see but the next furrow nor anything to think of but whether there would be another - and there always was. At length, quite suddenly, there opened Bellow us an enormous valley, splitting in the middle to made place for a steep hill almost as high as the plateau on which we were standing, and the top of the hill was set round with great Crusader forts with acres of mud roofs between - it was Kerak. We went down and down and up and up and at 5 o'clock passed under the northern fort and entered the town. The mules were ages behind so I filled up the time by going to see the English doctor, {Wheeler} Johnson is his name, to whom I had letters. I found him in and friendly; he took me into his house and left me with 2 Arabs while he went off with my people to show them the best place for my camp. While he was gone his wife came in; they have been married 18 months and have a baby which they have called Ruth - obviously. She is quite a nice woman, she was 4 or 5 years teaching in a school in Jerusalem before she married. She gave me tea and Dr Johnson came back and we sat talking for an hour, the great subject of discussion being whether I could get leave from the government to go to Petra which is 3 days from here and most most wonderful. Time will show! at any rate I stay here tomorrow. After tea Dr J. took me down to my camp where we found an official who had come to find out who I was and whither going; we satisfied him and they all went off and left me in peace. My camp is pitched in the north west angle of the town. The steep valley goes straight down Bellow me; I am just under the great n-w fort and beyond it I look right down the valley across the Dead Sea [(Yam Hamelah, Bahret Lut)] to the hills of Judea and Jerusalem. A beautiful clear sunset and the flocks of goats coming home up the rocky paths - these are as yet my chief impressions of Kerak.