This was an interesting case which was in the women's hospital for some

weeks. The patient was a young woman about sixteen years of age. She

was under the delusion that she had swallowed a "saba' saba'een"

(a horny centipede, measuring some seven or eight inches, common

in Mosul). She declared she could not eat anything, for every time

she swallowed, the saba' saba'een opened its mouth and ate the food

just partaken of! She absolutely refused to touch anything of her own

accord, so we had to force food down her throat. Two or three women

would hold her hands and feet while I fed her with a spoon. As time

went on she became worse instead of better, and was always beseeching

my husband to operate on her and take out the saba' saba'een. After

a time he consented to give her an anaesthetic and operate. On the day

appointed she was taken to the theatre and given a whiff of chloroform,

while the doctor made a slight incision in her skin. This was stitched

up, and she was shown her wound and assured that the doctor had cut

her and found nothing. After this she was much happier, and was soon

well enough to leave the hospital.

Women never know their age in Mosul. On dispensary days each woman is

required to give her name and age. The first difficulty is over the

name. Many do not know their surnames at all. When asked, "What is your

father's name?" they say, "How do I know?" and then add with a laugh,

"Say Bint Abdulla" (daughter of a servant of God). Abdulla is often

a very convenient name when the parentage is uncertain.

With regard to their age, women are quite hopeless. I have often

seen an old lady, bent double with the weight of many years, come

into the dispensary.

"Well, mother, how old are you?" I ask her.

"How old am I? How do I know, my daughter?"

"Do you think you are fifteen?"

"Well, I may be."

"Are you twenty yet?"

"Perhaps I am," replies the fair damsel of eighty. "I know I was born

two years before the year that the locusts ate all the corn."

As to how many years ago the locusts destroyed the crop she has not

the remotest idea.

Or another woman will come, certainly not more than twenty or

twenty-five, the mother of a baby in arms. On being asked her age

she replies, "About sixty"! The natives never have any idea when

their birthdays are, but keep their name-days instead. Thus amongst

the Christians all Johns will keep the feast of St. John as their

feast-day, and so on.

Parents have a convenient way of forgetting the date of the birth

of their daughters. A girl who is not betrothed will remain twelve

or thirteen for much more than one year; for when she has passed

fourteen or fifteen years she is no longer considered young, and not

very likely to be betrothed at all if her real age is known.

The natives of Mosul are very superstitious; more especially, perhaps,

is this true of the women. One curious superstition they have with

regard to scent. Now an odour which is filthy and dangerous, such

as may be felt in most of the houses, is not at all injurious from

their standpoint, but a sweet-smelling scent is an abomination to

the women. If by any chance I have been using anything in the way of

scent (though as a rule I am very careful not to), the first thing

I see on entering a room is that the women all immediately apply

their handkerchiefs to their olfactory organs. At first this custom

appears, to say the least, not too polite; but when you realise \

what it means to them, you understand and excuse them. They firmly

believe that a sweet smell brings sickness and sorrow--that it is

equally fatal to mothers and young children--hence the great fear of

anything in the way of scent. One day our reception-room was full of

women who had come to visit me. Suddenly a visitor was announced (a

native of the country, but not of Mosul); immediately all the women

crowded into one corner, burying their heads in their chuddars. I

could not make out what had disturbed them till I discovered that

the new-comer was strongly scented. She was left severely alone by

all the others, who kept as far away as possible from her, some even

leaving the room, fearing lest evil should overtake them.

Another day I went to visit a little patient of my husband's in whom

he took a great interest. This little boy was the spoilt darling of

his parents, the father especially idolising him, watching over him

carefully lest any harm should befall him. Great was his consternation

and distress when it was found that an operation was necessary to save

the life of the boy. When the little chap was convalescent I went

to see him. After talking to the mother some time in another room,

she suggested our going to see the boy. No sooner had I appeared at

the threshold of the door, when the boy buried his face in his hands,

calling out, "Oh, you smell, you smell!" I assured both the mother

and the boy that I had no scent of any kind on me, but the boy would

not be pacified, and continued crying out, "Go away--you smell!" As

he was still weak, I thought I had better depart, as excitement was

bad for him. When visiting amongst the women it is better not to use

scented soap, as they detect even that sometimes!

Birds have a good many superstitions connected with them. Last year,

while we were waiting for the decision of our committee regarding

the future of the mission in Mosul, some women informed me that "good

news was coming." Good news meant to them that the Mission was to be

kept on. On asking how they knew, they told me they had just heard

a bird singing which is supposed never to raise his voice except as

the harbinger of good tidings. Storks are looked upon as omens of good

luck. These birds return every spring to Mosul, hatch their eggs, and

migrate in early autumn. The natives of Mosul always hail their return

with great joy, especially if they nest on their roofs. Some will even

go so far as to put baskets on the roofs, hoping that the storks will

be attracted by them and make them their home for the summer. They

agree with Longfellow in his love of storks, as expressed in his poem--

"By God in heaven

As a blessing, the dear white stork was given."

If there had been any truth in this superstition, we ought to have been

very prosperous; for at one time we had no less than three families

of storks on our roof. Personally I think they are not altogether

too desirable, for when sleeping on the roof they are apt to become

very noisy companions. I do not think I like to be laughed at by

these birds. In the early morning they stand close by one's bed,

throw back their heads till they rest on their backs, and then laugh

aloud at the idea of any one sleeping when once dawn has appeared.

The common name for storks in Mosul is "the thieves," as they

sometimes steal small articles of clothing hanging out to dry, such as

handkerchiefs; and no one would ever dare to go to the nest to hunt,

lest they should disturb the birds and cause them to fly away. These

birds are rather a convenience sometimes for the washerwoman: when

blouses disappear it is easy to lay the blame on the "thieves." They

are almost as useful as the proverbial "cat."

Our servant Judy is a little woman full of queer superstitious

ideas. While in Mosul I received the sad news of the death of my

father: poor Judy was so distressed lest by over-much mourning I

should tempt God to take my husband too. As dressmaking is rather

primitive in Mosul I decided to have some things dyed black. Judy

would not hear of such a thing, saying that only widows must wear

dyed clothes, and that if I wore dyed dresses for my father, she was

sure something would happen to my husband.

Another thing she never would do, and that is to step over our feet! In

the summer evenings we used to sit in our verandah, which was rather

narrow, and if by chance we should place our feet on a hassock in

front of us there remained no room for any one to pass. I could not

make out why Judy would never pass that way when it was necessary to

enter the room at our back. At last she told me that if she stepped

over our feet, she would be in danger of "cutting our life," and that

if we died it would be her fault. After this I often tried to make

her step over my feet, by blocking her pathway, but she never would,

so strong was her belief that by so doing she would cut short my life!

It is surprising how ignorantly superstitious some of the better-class

people are. A wife of a very wealthy Christian merchant in Mosul had

a child who suffered terribly from sore eyes. She brought him to the

dispensary for some time, but finding that the treatment pained the

child and made him cry, ceased to bring him. We heard afterwards that

she had resorted to the following superstitious method of healing.

A sheep was bought, killed, and opened: while the blood was still hot

the head of the child was inserted into the middle of the sheep's body

and allowed to remain there about fifteen minutes. Could any treatment

be more revolting and disgusting than this? and yet these people,

rich and influential members of Mosul society, really believed that by

doing this their child's eyes would be cured. Needless to say it had

not the desired effect, and months afterwards they again brought the

child to the dispensary, and having learnt their lesson by experience,

were content to leave the child in the English hakim's hands, with

the result that after a couple of months' daily treatment the eyes

were quite healed.

I do not know what virtue is supposed to exist in the killing of the

sheep or goat, but it is a custom very much in vogue in Mosul. On

our return from Beyrout, after having been absent three months, a

live goat was brought out into the desert to meet us, and the moment

we alighted from our carriage this poor creature was slaughtered

right under our eyes. In Persia the custom amongst the Armenians at

a wedding feast was for a sheep to be killed just as the bride and

bridegroom were stepping over the threshold of their new home. It

was not considered lucky if the bride did not put her foot into the

blood as she passed. In Mosul, too, I believe a sheep is sometimes

slaughtered at weddings in this way, but I have never seen it done.

When a wife is desirous of becoming a mother, there are various

superstitious methods to which she may resort, but perhaps the

favourite one of all is that connected with Sheikh Matti. This is a

monastery situated some twelve hours' ride from Mosul, on the side

of a lonely mountain. The woman makes a pilgrimage to this place,

and is then told that she must spend a night in the solitary chapel

there. While she sleeps an angel will visit the building, and if her

request is to be vouchsafed her, will place an apple by her head. If

the angel desires to be especially kind to the woman, he will place

two, or even three apples near her, the number of apples indicating

how many children God is going to honour her with. Strange to say,

these angel visits do not take place unless provoked by a fair amount

of backsheesh!

There are a good many superstitions regarding medical treatment of

diseases and accidents, but these, I believe, are fast dying out in

the face of European learning and skill. The people are learning by

experience how much better are the English methods than their own. For

instance, it used to be the common custom for those suffering from

fever to go to the mullah, who would lay his hands on the patient's

head while reading a few verses from the Koran. If the fever did not

go at once, well, it was the fault of the fever, not of the mullah. I

fancy fever patients are beginning to prefer English medicines rather

than to trust to the laying on of hands by the mullah. When any one has

been bitten by a mad dog, which, considering the number of street dogs,

is of very rare occurrence, he goes at once to a sheikh, who will give

him an antidote. This consists of a date from which the stone has been

taken, and into which the sheikh has spat two or three times to fill up

the gap caused by the removal of the stone. Upon eating this, the man

is supposed to be free from all fear of the development of hydrophobia.

These are merely a few of the superstitious customs found in Mosul

to-day. Had we time or space they might be multiplied many times over,

but enough, I trust, has been said to awaken love and sympathy in our

hearts for these simple folk, whose minds are so easily influenced

and guided by these useless and often degrading

"Heart-chilling superstitions, which can glaze

Even Pity's eye with her own frozen tears."

Coleridge.

CHAPTER X

THE YEZIDEES

Gratitude to the English--Persecutions--"Devil-worshippers"--Sun

and fire worship--Priesthood--A visit to Sheikh Adi--Peacock

wands--A sacred shrine.

"Whoever thou art, if thy need be great,

In the Name of God, the Compassionate

And All-Merciful One--

For Thee I wait."

Whittier.

The Yezidees, or, as they are commonly called, "devil-worshippers,"

are a very remarkable tribe living in the near vicinity of Mosul. Very

little is really known as to their religious beliefs, and whether

they worship the devil or only fear him, has never yet been discovered

by Europeans.

These curious people are very favourably disposed towards the English,

as many years ago the British representative in Mosul was able

to assist them very materially. The Mohammedans have always been

very bitter against this people, and have done all in their power

to exterminate them. A former Pasha at one time captured the high

priest of the Yezidees, whose name was Sheikh Naser; he somehow

managed to escape, substituting in his place a priest under him

in authority. The priest never revealed this fact, and bore with

resignation the tortures and imprisonment inflicted upon him. The

Yezidees applied to Mr. Rassam, who was the British Vice-Consul at

Mosul, and he obtained the release of the priest by paying a large

sum as ransom money. This debt was faithfully repaid, and since that

time the Yezidees have cherished very grateful memories of the English.

Many years ago these Yezidees were a very powerful tribe. They had

two principal strongholds, one in the mountains lying to the west of

Mosul, and the other only twenty-four hours' journey to the north. By

means of continual attacks and massacres at the hands of the Kurds,

their population has been reduced considerably, only about one-third

remaining of their original number.

Mohammedans are always very bitter against any sect which is supposed

to have no "Book." The Yezidees, coming under this category, receive

little mercy from them, and for centuries have been exposed to

persecutions from these their oppressors. Of late years the Yezidees

have seen the uselessness of rebelling against their fate, and,

acknowledging their defeat, are patiently bearing their misfortunes.

These so-called devil-worshippers recognise one Supreme Being, but

apparently do not offer any prayers directly to Him. The name of God

is often on their lips in the form of oaths, but that of the evil

spirit is never to be heard. So far do they carry this superstition,

that not only will they not use the word Shaitan (Satan), but any

word beginning with "sh" is also shunned by them. Then, again, such

a veneration have they for Satan, that it is prohibited amongst the

Yezidees to utter any word containing the letter sh (shin), being

the first letter of the Arabic word for Satan. Thus they have to

find other words to express such commonly spoken of objects as the

sun, river, water-melon, &c., as they each begin with the prohibited

letter. Layard, in his Travels amongst them, tells of one instance

illustrating this superstition. He was standing in the midst of a

large crowd of Yezidees gathered to take part in their yearly feast,

when he espied a boy climbing a tree at the apparent risk of his

neck. He says, "As I looked up I saw the impending danger, and made an

effort by an appeal to the chief to avert it. 'If that young Sheit--'

I exclaimed, about to use an epithet generally applied in the East

to such adventurous youths. I checked myself immediately, but it

was too late; half the dreaded word had escaped." He goes on to say

that the effect was instantaneous, a look of horror spreading over

the faces of all present. Fortunately for him, he was a favourite

amongst the Yezidees, and so they allowed it to pass. So great is

the horror of this letter, that they have often killed those who

use it wilfully. When speaking of the devil they do so reverently,

calling him the "mighty angel."

The symbol of their religion is the "Malek el Taous," a peacock, and is

held in great reverence by them. Satan is said to be the head of the

angelic host, and he is supplied with seven archangels, who minister

to him and exercise great influence over the world; they are Gabriel,

Michael, Raphael, Azrail, Dedrail, Azrapheel, and Shemkeel. Our Lord

is also counted amongst the angels, though not one of these seven,

and is acknowledged to have taken upon Himself the form of man. They,

in common with the Mohammedans, do not believe in His crucifixion; but

declare that He ascended to heaven just before that event took place,

some saying that the angel Gabriel took our Lord's place on the Cross,

while others say Judas was the real victim. They are looking forward

to the second coming of Christ and also to the reappearance of the

Imam; this latter being also the Mohammedan's hope. Their patron

saint is one called Sheikh Adi, who is supposed to have lived many

years before Mohammed; but very little is known of his history.

They reverence the sun, and are in the habit of kissing the object on

which its first rays fall. Fire as a symbol is also connected with

their worship, the disciples frequently passing their hands through

the flame, kissing them, and then rubbing them over their faces. They

have four orders of priesthood, which is hereditary, and consists of

the Pirs, Sheikhs, Cawals, and the Fakirs.

The Pirs (from a Persian word meaning old man) are the most reverenced

next to their great sheikh or head of the sect. These are believed to

possess the power not only of interceding for their adherents, but also

of curing disease and insanity. They are supposed to lead a life of

great sanctity, and are in consequence much looked up to by the people.

The Sheikhs come next in order of rank. These are supposed to know a

little Arabic, as their work is to write the hymns which are chanted

at their religious services. They guard the tomb of Sheikh Adi,

bring fuel to keep up the holy fire, and provisions to those who

dwell within the shrine.

The third rank of priesthood is perhaps the most active of all. These

are called Cawals or preachers, and it is their duty to go from

village to village teaching the doctrines of the Yezidees. They are all

musicians, being taught to sing when very young; they also perform on

the flute and tambourine, both of these instruments being looked upon

as holy. Before and after playing they often kiss their instruments,

and pass them to the audience for them to do likewise. They dress as

a rule in white and wear black turbans, while the sheikhs always wear

nothing but white. They are generally venerable-looking men with long

beards. They act as emissaries for the sheikh, and yearly go forth

and collect the revenues. Their emblem of office is a wand, on the top

of which is perched a brazen peacock, and they boast with pride that

never have their enemies been able to capture one of these staves. They

relate how on one memorable occasion a priest, being chased through

the desert by Arabs, in the heat of the pursuit stopped his mare,

descended, and buried the precious badge of office; then, marking the

exact site for future reference, resumed his flight. Having escaped

with his life, six months later he managed to recover the buried staff,

creeping down by night into the desert from his mountain shelter. Now

why should they place such a high value on these emblems? A possible

solution was given me by the Rev. Dr. St. Clair Tisdall, who recalled

to my mind an old Mohammedan tradition that it was the peacock who

admitted Satan into the garden of Eden. This would strengthen the

suspicion that the Yezidees really do worship the evil one.

The lowest order in the priesthood are called Fakirs. These wear coarse

dresses of black or dark-brown canvas, which reach only as far as the

knees. Their office is to perform all the menial work connected with

the tomb of Sheikh Adi, sweeping and cleaning the sacred buildings,

trimming and lighting the holy lamps. These lamps are offerings made

by pilgrims who have visited the tomb in times of danger or sickness.

A yearly sum is subscribed for the oil necessary for the lamps and

for the support of the priests. At sunset each evening these lamps

are lit, and give the appearance of a multitude of stars glittering

on the side of the mountain; for not only are the lamps placed in the

shrine and walls of the courtyard, but they are also scattered about on

rocks and ledges and in the dark corners of the woods. As the priest

goes from lamp to lamp lighting each one, men and women pass their

hands through the flame and smear their foreheads, and those who have

children do the same to them. This reverence for fire reminds one of

the Parsees of Persia, whom these people in many ways resemble.

Unfortunately I was unable to visit these interesting villages,

but I hope to do so on a future occasion. We had intended to spend

a month amongst them during the summer of 1906, the sheikh having

extended a cordial invitation to us. My husband accordingly went up to

reconnoitre, and see if there was any place possible either to stay in

or to pitch our tent. He found, however, that it was hardly a suitable

place for a summer holiday, as the climate was not very satisfactory,

besides which it was difficult to find a place for the tents; so we

decided we would not go that year at any rate. Both my husband and the

men with him were quite ill for a few hours after visiting Sheikh Adi,

so they were not anxious to return. The natives say that this illness

is caused by drinking the water, but that the effect passes off after

a few days, when one has become accustomed to the water.

My husband, however, much enjoyed his visit amongst these strange

people, and in writing of that time he says:--

"These interesting people dwell in the mountains round about Mosul,

the ancient Nineveh. They are ruled over by a sheikh, who claims

to be able to put some ten thousand armed horsemen in the field. On

account of their suspected devil-worship they are detested by Moslems

and Christians alike. The Turks have more than once endeavoured

to exterminate them; but, entrenched in their mountain fastnesses,

they are very hard to overcome.

"When in Mosul their sheikh called on me and asked me to pay him a

visit up in his mountain home. Thus I was able to see their homes

for myself, also the sacred shrine, hidden away in the mountains,

where their reputed founder (Sheikh Adi) lies buried, from whom it

derives its name.

"The Yezidees, like the Druses of Mount Lebanon, are very reluctant to

discuss their religion, and it is said that death is the penalty for

any one among them who reveals the truth concerning what they worship.

"On paying a visit to their sacred shrine (Sheikh Adi), I found it

hidden in the hollow of thickly-wooded mountains, and composed of

two large compounds, the inner compound containing the shrine in

a church-like building with a newly-built steeple. On the right

side of the entrance porch is the figure of a huge serpent graven

in the stone of the building, with its head uppermost. This serpent

is kept blackened daily with charcoal by the two or three old monks

who live in the shrine. Upon inquiring the meaning of this symbol,

the monk told me it was graven there to remind the worshippers to

remove their sandals from off their feet, as the ground around the

shrine is holy. If any should be careless or wicked enough to disobey,

it was said that they would be bitten on the heels by some of the

snakes that were said to infest the place.

"The steeple rises immediately from the room in the church that once

contained the body of their founder, Sheikh Adi. This sheikh was a

great Mohammedan teacher who many centuries ago used to preach and

teach in Damascus. He gathered around him many disciples, and it

is said he was accustomed to vary the monotony of his teaching by

drawing a circle on the ground, and, placing therein himself and some

favourite disciple, would enable the latter to hear and understand

the teaching of another famous mullah speaking in far-away Baghdad.

"This Sheikh Adi some years before his death retired to this place

in the mountains, two days' journey from Mosul, and there he was

visited by many, as his fame spread abroad, and in this place he died

and was buried. The Yezidees claim that, ere he died, he forsook

Mohammedanism and instituted a new religion. The Moslems, however,

reverence his memory, and say that the Yezidees, after his death,

started a new religion of their own.

"In the church there was to be seen a pool of water, said by them to be

used as a baptistery, and little else but bare walls. My guide assured

me it used to look very different, but fifteen years previously the

Turks had captured the place and destroyed all they could lay hands

on. On the roof near the steeple are two stones, facing east and west,

said to be used as prayer-stones, the Yezidees praying as the first

ray of the rising sun appears, and as the last ray of the setting

sun departs, and use these stones as indicators. This, again, is

interesting, as (according to Dr. Tisdall) it is a curious fact that

Mohammedan tradition avers that it is alone at these two times daily

that the devil has power to intercept the prayers of the faithful, and

they are, therefore, to be scrupulously avoided by all true Moslems.

"The Yezidees are loath to venture into the city, but a few have

already commenced to attend the Mission Dispensary. They are easily

recognised by their costume, and by the fact that no Yezidee is allowed

to wear any garment exposing the breast. One of these patients informed

me that when he wanted to worship he went to the priest (cawal),

paid him a small fee, and was placed in a small room, the filthier

the better, and made to sit on the floor. The priest would then sit

in front of him and make him imagine himself to be in Paradise (the

Eastern idea of Paradise--lovely garden, flowing stream, trees laden

with fruit, houris, &c.). If (and it is a big 'if') his statement

was true, it would point to their priests having some knowledge of

hypnotism, but the Yezidees will say anything to mislead an inquirer.

"We had a little Yezidee boy in hospital with his mother. He had

been successfully operated upon for stone, but developed jaundice

and gradually sank. One evening, ere his mother took him back to

her village, a message was brought to us imploring my wife and me to

wash our hands in the water our servant brought us; the same water

was then to be given by the Yezidee mother to her dying boy that he

might drink and live!

"One longs to be able to tell them of Him who is the Water of Life: but

they have a language of their own, and understand but little Arabic.

"Will not my readers pray that the Mosul Mission may be strengthened

and properly equipped; that the Gospel may be preached to these poor

Yezidees, as well as to their Mohammedan neighbours; and that they

may learn to love Him who alone has power to cast out devils?"

CHAPTER XI

TRAVELLING IN THE DESERT

Monotony of desert travelling--A puppy and a

kitten--Tragedy--Accident by the river Euphrates--Riots in

Mosul--Robberies and murder excited by love of gold.

"Of moving accidents by flood and field,

Of hairbreadth 'scapes....

The shot of accident, nor dart of chance

Could neither graze nor pierce...."

Shakespeare.

Travelling in the desert is apt to become rather monotonous when

each day goes by with nothing to mark it from the preceding one,

so that when some event out of the common does take place it is

quite exhilarating. For instance, once during our mid-day halt,

which happened to be on the site of a newly-deserted Arab encampment,

we heard a cry, and looking about found a wee puppy about two days

old. This puppy afforded us amusement for at least two days, much

to the amazement of our muleteers. We wrapped it in flannel, placed

it in the sunshine to try and instil some warmth into its chilly

body, and presently we had the satisfaction of hearing its wailing

gradually cease as the sunshine penetrated the flannel. We managed

to keep life in the poor little beast for two or three days, but,

as milk is scarce in the desert, it was impossible to feed it properly.

One evening we arrived at an Arab encampment, and thought it would

be kinder to leave the poor puppy with one of the Arabs, who are

supposed to be fond of dogs. So we persuaded our servant to take the

puppy and deposit it in one of the tents. He did so very reluctantly,

thinking he might be shot at for venturing near after dusk. However,

he crept up quietly and placed the puppy just inside one of the

tents. Immediately the owner demanded who was there, but Aboo (our

servant) fled without waiting to answer. We heard the Arab using

some strong language, and then, catching sight of the poor puppy,

he took it up and threw it out into the desert. We could hear the

little thing squealing and crying, so my husband went to rescue it

once more from an untimely end. He found it on top of a rubbish heap,

brought it back to our tent, and we tried again to warm and soothe

it. The next day, however, the little spark of remaining life was

quenched. So the short story of this little forsaken waif ended in a

sad tragedy, and my husband undertook the dismal duty of committing

its body to the deep waters of the river.

Another day one of our escort galloped up with great excitement to

show us a kitten he had just found in the desert--the poor little

mite was so thankful to see a human being again, and had evidently

been left behind in much the same manner as the puppy when the Arab

tribe was migrating.

These are small episodes of the desert which help to break the

monotony. I may perhaps be allowed to misquote the well-known lines

of S. Gregory:--

"A little thing is a little thing,

But 'excitement' in little things

Is a great thing"--in the desert.

On one occasion we passed an Arab lying on his back and covered with

his aba, the native cloak worn by all classes. We heard afterwards that

it was a case of murder; that the man had been dead three days, and

only then had been found by his sons, who were out searching for their

father. Hastily covering him with one of their cloaks, they had rushed

off to try and find the murderer and avenge their father's blood. We

met them soon afterwards, and they told the whole story to our escort.

In the preceding chapters we have seen how often the cry of "Wolf,

wolf!" was raised when there was no wolf, till we began to think that

the much-talked-of robbers of the desert did not exist at all, or, if

they did exist, would not dare to touch a European caravan. However,

we soon learnt to our cost that this was not the case.

Two years ago we were travelling from Mosul to Aleppo, and had almost

reached our destination when we met with the following adventure.

Having reached the end of our stage one day, we had encamped within

a stone's throw of the river Euphrates, just outside the town of

Beridjik. Our tent was pitched beneath a lovely spreading tree,

under which ran a sparkling stream on its way from the mountains

to the river. We thought what an ideal camping-ground it made, and

apparently the same thought entered the minds of some others, only from

a different standpoint. All round us were signs of the industry of

the villagers in the form of huge stacks of corn freshly reaped, now

waiting for the threshing time to begin. Ere we retired for the night

we were strolling by the stream and amongst the corn, where we noticed

two men sitting in the field, who gave us the evening salutations as

we passed by. We did not attribute any importance to this fact, as it

is not unusual for the villagers to set watchmen to guard their corn

during harvest time and afterwards, till the grain is safely housed.

So, committing ourselves to the care of Him who never slumbers or

sleeps, we retired to our tent, hoping for a good night's rest to

prepare us for the journey of the morrow. Our "ideal camping-ground"

I found to have at least one great disadvantage--a disadvantage

common to all grounds which are used by flocks of goats and sheep for

their resting-places. That night these "pilgrims of the desert" were

particularly active, and gave me no peace or chance of sleep till the

early hours of the morning; then at last, worn-out with the unequal

warfare, I fell asleep. I could not have been sleeping long when I

was awakened by a movement on the part of my camp bedstead. Sleepily

I decided in my mind that our donkey had loosened his tether and was

trying to pay us a friendly visit. Often in the night some animal would

get loose, and rub himself against our tent ropes till he had succeeded

in rooting up one peg, when he would go and practise on another.

Thinking this was the case now I promptly fell asleep again, only

to be reawakened in a short time by the same sensation. This time I

was quite awake, and in an instant flashed my electric torch round

the tent, just in time to see a man decamping by the door. I roused

my husband (whose sleep is never disturbed by pilgrims of the night),

and told him what had happened. He immediately rushed out and gave the

alarm to the camp. Unfortunately it was a very dark night, and nothing

could be seen a yard ahead, so the robbers had ample opportunity for

beating a retreat. Our tent was some little way from the village, so

my husband returned to the tent to put on some more garments before

going to interview the head-man of the village, who is always supposed

to be responsible for the safety of caravans. When he came to look

for his clothes, the only article he could find was one shoe, the

thieves having cleared the tent of everything available, even to our

tooth-brushes! Not only did they clear off everything from the tent,

but also emptied a large box which was standing outside the tent,

and also took a large valise containing my husband's portmanteau

and my "hold-all." Had they been content with these, we should never

have known of their nocturnal visit till the morning; but in their

desire to secure the small carpet which lay in the middle of the tent,

they awoke me, hence the movement of my bed which twice disturbed my

sleep. We felt there was nothing to be done till daybreak, so retired

once more to rest.

As soon as dawn appeared some of the caravan party rode off in

different directions to see if they could find any trace of the

thieves, but of course they had disappeared long ago under cover of the

darkness. The search party, however, brought back a few garments picked

up along the road, which the thieves had evidently dropped in their

hurry when the alarm was given. Our escort, a soldier from Beridjik,

was sent back to the town to notify the Government officials of the

robbery. In a short time the governor of the place rode out with six

or seven other officials, all evidently much disturbed in their minds

lest they should get into disgrace for allowing any harm to come to

a European caravan. The first thing the governor did was to send for

the head-man of the village and have him bound and beaten. I was so

sorry for the poor man, who had a flowing white beard. I could not

bear to witness his beating, so retired to the tent, and tried to shut

out the sound as well as the sight of the old man's sufferings. As

a matter of fact I do not think the beating was a very severe one,

but the victim made the most of it.

This proving of no avail, they all set out for the neighbouring

villages, and spent the whole of that day and the next scouring the

country for the thieves, returning each day at sunset and renewing

the search early next morning. My husband accompanied them the

first day, and was very much amused by the behaviour of some of the

villagers at sight of the officials. At some villages they would find

nothing but women, the men all having fled at the news that soldiers

were coming. They found plenty of other stolen goods buried in the

ground of the huts, but none of our belongings. In one village a man

confidentially whispered to one of the soldiers that he knew where

the stolen goods were. On being told to lead the way to the place,

he led them all to a large field in which were some hundred or more

large corn-stacks, and said that the goods were in one of those. I

expect he much enjoyed his little joke, for after turning over a dozen

or so of these ricks under the scorching sun, the soldiers gave up

the task as hopeless. All efforts proving unavailing, we had perforce

to proceed on our journey, managing as best we could till we reached

Aleppo, where we were able to replenish that which was most lacking

in our wardrobe. The fame of our adventure preceded us to Jerusalem,

where a month or two later we heard a most exaggerated account of

our state when we entered Aleppo.

My husband went at once to our consul on reaching Aleppo, laying

before him the whole story. Fortunately for us, Mr. Longworth was

a most energetic and painstaking man, having great influence with

the Government officials. He asked us to write out an estimate of

our losses, which he presented to the Vali, assuring us he would

either make the Government pay full compensation or produce the lost

goods. After six months of endless work and worry, Mr. Longworth sent

my husband a telegram saying that compensation to the full amount had

been given. We were very thankful to our consul for his unceasing

energy in the matter, and sent him our very grateful thanks. Thus

happily ended No. 1 of our chapter of accidents. When we think of what

"might have been" that night with those wild men of the desert in our

tent while we were sleeping, our hearts go up with great thankfulness

to God, who ever watches over His children, and who can keep them as

safely in the deserts of Mesopotamia as in the homeland.

The two men we had noticed sitting amongst the corn had probably been

hired for the purpose of robbing us, but the real culprit was suspected

afterwards to have been one of the leading men of Beridjik--in fact

we were told that he was a member of the "town council." Doubtless he

wished to procure for himself and his hareem some European clothing,

without the expense of buying it.

Another peril from which in God's mercy we were delivered had its

origin in Mosul.

The Vali, in obedience to orders from Constantinople, endeavoured to

register every woman in Mosul. To accomplish this it was necessary

to find out the number and "write" a list of every woman in each

house. Moslems and Christians alike rose in revolt at the idea of

their women being "written," as it appeared to them contrary to

all the laws of God and Mohammed that such a thing should be. The

whole town was in an uproar, the shops were shut, no business was

done in the sook (bazaar), and men congregated everywhere, talking

angrily and making ugly threats. This went on for five days; such a

thing had never been known before. Sometimes, in times of trouble,

work has been suspended for three days, but no one could remember

the sook being shut for such a length of time as five days.

The Christians began to be very much alarmed for their safety, as it

was rumoured that, unless the Vali gave way, at the expiration of the

fifth day a general massacre of Christians would take place. The French

convent was guarded by soldiers; our agent wired to the Consul-General

at Baghdad for a like guard for the English, which happily, however,

was not needed. When my husband was in the house I did not feel at

all nervous, but if he was called out to see a patient after dark I

certainly felt very anxious till he returned; for all around us was

heard the continual firing of guns and pistols, and I pictured to

myself the possibilities and probabilities of some of those stray

bullets. "Alhamd'llillah!" nothing happened, and we realised again

once more that the traveller's God is able to keep, as expressed in

those incomparable words commonly known as the Traveller's Psalm.

On the evening of the fifth day the governor recalled his order for

the names of the women to be written, and all was quiet once more,

at least outwardly. For some time, however, a feeling of unrest was

abroad, several murders taking place that week, one of which still

remains wrapt in mystery. A Moslem enticed a Jew into the country on

the pretext of having some work for him to do; he then made the man dig

a grave; after which he stabbed him, and threw the body into the grave

made by the victim's own hands. The reason of the murder is unknown.

One evening we were having dinner, when in rushed my husband's

chief assistant, in a great state of excitement, to say that his

brother had been stabbed in the sook, and they had brought him to

our outer compound. My husband immediately went out and found the

young man with a wound in his thigh. Had it been a little higher

up the result would probably have been fatal, but happily it was

a comparatively trivial wound, and a few stitches and a week's rest

soon put him right again; but naturally Daoud (the name of the victim)

was very much alarmed, and it was some time before he quite recovered

his nerve and could walk through that sook again. It seemed such an

absolutely meaningless assault, that we could only hope it was a case

of mistaken identity. Daoud had been an assistant for over a year,

and as far as he knew had not a single enemy in the town.

Matters of private dispute and jealousy are often settled by means

of the revolver. An Armenian doctor, a short time ago, was shot when

riding home from visiting a case. He was passing under a dark archway,

when suddenly he heard bullets whizzing and became aware that he was

the target. His horse was so badly hit that he was afraid it could

not recover, but fortunately he himself escaped with only a slight

graze or two. He attributed the motive of this attack to private

grudges borne against him by some of his professional brethren.

There is in Mosul an Armenian woman, whose husband was a doctor who

had been celebrated for one special kind of operation. On his death

his widow thought she might as well continue her husband's practice,

as she had often assisted him with the operations. Accordingly she

set herself up amongst the many quack doctors of Mosul. Many of her

operations were successful, while the results of a still greater

number remain in obscurity. Her charges were tremendous; no matter

how poor her patient, she would do nothing till a very large fee

had been paid. In this way she made a rich harvest while no European

doctor was in the city, but after our arrival I am afraid her income

was considerably lessened. Upon our departure from Mosul I imagine

she again started her lucrative profession of grinding money out of

the poor, for we heard not long ago that she had been stabbed five

times while walking in the streets one evening.

Robberies are very common in Mosul. Almost every evening may be heard

on all hands sounds of shooting, telling of houses being visited by

robbers. Fortunately, so far, they have not favoured us with a visit,

and I sincerely hope they never will. One evening we were sitting

quietly in the verandah when a woman came rushing in from the women's

hospital compound, saying that there were three men on the roof. We

all rushed out, armed with anything we could lay hands on, and made

a dash for the roof on which the men had been seen, but no sign of

them could be found. One of our servants climbed on to the top of

the wall connecting our house with our neighbour's, flashing his

lantern all round in his endeavours to see any trace of the supposed

thieves. Excited voices were at once heard asking "Who is there?" "Why

do you throw a light here?" &c.; and the lantern-bearer found to his

horror that he was illuminating with his lamp the whole of the hareem

of our next-door neighbour, who were all sleeping on the roof, the

time being summer. His descent was much quicker than his ascent, as

he was in deadly fear of being shot by the irate owner of the hareem.

As a rule thieves only think it worth while to go after gold. Silver is

not accounted of any value in Mosul. The natives, especially perhaps

the Christians and Jews, always have a great deal of gold in their

houses, and in consequence live in terror of the robbers coming to

relieve them of it.

Shortly before we left I heard of a very sad case of robbery and

murder. A young Christian girl, who had just been married, was awakened

one night by a man roughly forcing the gold bracelets from her wrist,

holding at the same time a revolver at her head, and telling her if

she made a sound he would shoot her dead. For a time she suffered

in silence, but an extra sharp wrench from the rough hands of her

tormentor made her cry out in pain. Her cry roused her husband,

and he immediately made a dash for the robber, who calmly turned the

revolver at the man's head and shot him dead. Thus the bride of only

a few days' duration was left a widow. Another day two women belonging

to one of the leading Christian families were returning from an early

service at their church, when they were attacked by a Moslem man,

who tore the gold coins from their heads and necks. The terrified

women could hardly reach their own homes, so stunned were they by the

harsh treatment of the robbers. The strange sequel to this story is,

that after a few days a parcel arrived at the house to which the women

belonged, which on being opened was found to contain all the gold which

had been wrested from them a few days before. Another lady in Mosul,

also a Christian, was the proud possessor of a most valuable set of

jewels. One day everything disappeared. She neither saw nor heard a

robber, but evidently one must have gained admission to the house,

for all her jewels were taken; and to this day she has never had a

clue as to their fate.

I often say to the women in Mosul who sometimes commiserate me on

having no gold: "Which is better--to have gold for the robbers to

get, or to have none and be able to go to rest with a quiet mind?" I

think most of them would prefer to have the gold and risk the rest,

so devoted are they to it and all jewellery. Every woman, except the

very poor, has on her marriage, gold coins for her head, gold chains

for her neck, a golden band for her waist, gold bracelets for the

arms, and the same for her ankles. Is it any wonder that these form

attractions which prove too strong for the average robber to resist? I

was once visiting at the house of a poor Jewess. She was telling me

how poor she was, as her "man" was ill and could not work; but I said,

"I expect you have gold?" "Oh yes, of course," was the answer; and

going to a cupboard she pulled out a secret drawer and showed me her

store of gold coins and bangles, valued at about L200. Before putting

away her "gods," she asked me if I thought her hiding-place was secure

enough against the invasion of robbers. These people certainly lay

up for themselves treasures where thieves break through and steal,

the result being that when their "treasures" are taken they are left

disconsolate. Having nothing better to live for, are they not worthy

of our love and pity?

CHAPTER XII

THE PLEASURES OF DESERT TRAVELLING

Desert blossoms as a rose--Flowers of the desert--Arabs, their

occupation and women--Arab dancing--Robbers of the desert--An

army of ten thousand--Five hundred armed men--False alarms--Lost

in the desert--Delights and disturbances of travelling.

"Truth is truth: too true it was,

Gold! She hoarded and hugged it first,

Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it--

Alas!

Till the humour grew to a head and burst,

And she cried at the final pass.

Talk not of God, my heart is stone!

Nor lover nor friend--be gold for both!

Gold I lack, and, my all, my own...."

R. Browning.

"O that the desert were my dwelling-place."

Byron.

It can with all truth be said that in springtime the Desert of

Mesopotamia blossoms as a rose. Two years ago we travelled from Mosul

to Aleppo by the northern route via Mardin, Diabekir, and Orfa. We left

Mosul about the 20th June, just as the harvest had all been gathered

in and the earth had once more resumed its parched-up appearance for

another summer. No sooner had we left the neighbourhood of Mosul behind

us than we were surrounded again on all sides by fields of waving

corn, in many instances still green, and this continued the whole way

to Aleppo; the harvest becoming later as we travelled north. Where

the land was not cultivated the wild flowers were a perfect delight,

and the desert air was filled with their sweetness. In one place the

effect of these flowers was peculiarly enchanting. As far as the eye

could see, the fields were covered with hollyhocks of all hues, the

different shades being grouped together; thus a vast expanse of red

hollyhocks would be succeeded by a field of white ones, these again

changing to a delightful mauve. I have never anywhere seen such a

wealth of wild flowers as we saw in that so-called desert journey from

Mosul to Mardin. To try to enumerate the countless tiny flowers of the

desert would be futile; they go very near to rival in number and beauty

the wild flowers of Palestine. Once we were sitting in a field waiting

for our caravan, and my husband said he would see how many different

kinds of flowers he could pick without moving. In a minute or two

he had gathered over a dozen, all within arm's reach. In that field

alone there must have been at least a hundred varieties of flowers.

As we approached Aleppo the flowers became scarcer, and fruit-trees

took their place. One day I was riding on the top of the pack mule,

when suddenly the animal (who had only one eye) stumbled, and I was

deposited on the ground before I realised what had happened. Feeling

rather hot and bruised, I looked about for a place to rest

in. Fortunately we were near an orchard, so finding a delightfully

shady tree, we decided to make this our lunching-ground. As we sat

and rested ripe apricots fell from the tree into our laps. The owner

of the orchard informed us we could eat as many as we liked--for

a consideration!

But desert travelling is not all as pleasant as this. Were we to

retrace our steps a month or two later we should see no beautiful

flowers or waving corn-fields, nothing but burnt-up desert land.

The direct route from Mosul to Aleppo lies through land almost entirely

desert. For two whole days nothing is to be seen save an occasional

Arab encampment, and sometimes not even that.

The Arabs of Mesopotamia belong as a rule to the great Shammar

tribe. They wander up and down the country living in black tents made

from camel or goats' hair. When wishing to seek pastures new they

migrate from one place to another with all their flocks and herds,

the tending of which forms one of their chief occupations. The Arab

women are most industrious: in addition to the ordinary cares of

the family, they fetch the water, carrying it home from the well or

river in large jars balanced on their heads; they drive the flocks

to pasture, milking them night and morning; they spin the wool of

the sheep and goat, and weave it into cloth for the men's garments or

for the tent canvas. In fact, there is hardly anything the Arab woman

does not do, while her lord and master passes the time in scouring the

country on horseback, or settling quarrels with his neighbours. Arabs

of different tribes are very quick to go to war against each other,

and will fight for the merest trifle, though blood is rarely shed,

the consequences of a blood feud being so dreaded. With the Arab it

must be blood for blood, and once blood has been shed, there can be

no rest till vengeance has been satisfied.

The Arabs are very proud of their horses, as they have every reason

to be, a true Arab horse being a lovely creature. As a rule they do

not shoe their horses at all.

One day two men from an encampment near Mosul were walking along when

they saw something on the road which attracted their attention. Picking

it up, they examined it very carefully, turned it over and over, but

could not come to any satisfactory conclusion regarding it. The object

under discussion was a horseshoe, but as neither of them had ever seen

such a thing before they could not guess its use. After discussing it

gravely for some time one Arab said to the other, "Of course I know

what it is. This is an old moon which has fallen down from heaven!"

The Arabs are very hospitable people, and were often profuse in their

invitations for us to eat with them. I have once or twice joined the

women in sitting round a big cauldron full of "borghol" (crushed corn

boiled with plenty of fat) and dipping with them into the one dish, and

thoroughly enjoyed it. When you have a desert appetite it is possible

to enjoy anything. Once my husband and I accepted an invitation to a

meal with an Arab, and were regaled with chicken boiled with a green

vegetable called "barmiya," and pillau. Our host would not eat with us,

but employed himself brushing the flies away from the food as we ate.

The Arab dance is a very weird performance to watch. The men and women

all join hands, and shuffle with their feet, at the same time working

every muscle of the body in a most grotesque fashion. As they warm

to the dance they get very much excited, yelling and shouting in a

frantic manner.

These Arabs are the dreaded robbers of the desert, and our guard always

impressed upon us, when travelling, what a dangerous set of people they

were. Every speck on the horizon is magnified into a probable Arab;

and if by chance one is met in the desert, the excitement is great. On

one occasion we were riding in a very lonely spot when suddenly an Arab

horseman rode into view. Immediately our gallant guard swooped down

upon the unfortunate man, asking him what he meant by spying upon our

movements, for they did not think it possible that he would be there

alone if it were not for that object. The Arab assured us he had no

such intentions, but had only come to meet a friend whom he believed

to be in our caravan. However, our escort would not credit his story,

so took him prisoner till we had safely passed the dangerous part,

and then allowed him to return. We could not help wondering whether,

if there had been twenty Arabs instead of one, our guard would have

been so brave.

Another time we were crossing a huge track of waterless desert,

said to be infested with marauding Arab tribes, when suddenly we

saw the escort becoming highly excited, waving their guns about,

preparatory to galloping off. Before we had time to ask what it

was all about they were off. We were then driving in a carriage,

so making inquiries from our driver were assured it was nothing,

only he pointed ominously to a long black line seen far away in the

distance. Our servant assured us this was the shadow of the mountain,

but this was only said to reassure us in case we felt alarmed.

The "black line" appeared to be steadily advancing, every moment

becoming more and more like a huge army of mounted men marching

straight for us. Our driver, thinking, no doubt, of the probable

capture of his horses by the robbers, lashed up the poor beasts into

a gallop, urging them on ever faster and faster till they could go no

quicker. Our servant, who was sitting on the box-seat, made valiant

attempts to draw off our thoughts from the impending danger, as he

thought the "khatoun" would be much frightened. But the "khatoun" was

not to be blindfolded, and much preferred to see and know what was

going on. By this time the "army" had assumed enormous proportions,

for as each section appeared in sight, another one loomed behind,

away in the distance. Already in my mind I resignedly (?) bade

farewell to all the contents of our boxes, as I pictured the Arabs

ruthlessly breaking them open and spreading the contents on the

ground for inspection and division. We soon saw that we must give

up the race, for every moment brought us nearer our dreaded enemies;

till just as we reached the top of a small rise in the ground we came

face to face with our "army of soldiers." "Alhamd'llillah!" they were

nothing more alarming than a huge cavalcade of about 10,000 camels

being taken to water in companies of 500, each company being in charge

of a drover, the order and regularity with which they walked giving

the impression that they were regiments of mounted soldiers. I fancy

the alarm of the guards and driver was only assumed for our benefit,

for on our return journey they began the same story at the identical

spot, and there again, sure enough, was the steady advancing line;

but this time we were wiser, and could laugh at our would-be alarmists.

Another time we had just crossed a river at the end of a long day's

march, and were enjoying a well-earned rest and cup of tea, when our

escort came up in great distress of mind to say that he had just heard

that a band of 500 armed men had that morning crossed the river with

the avowed intention of lying in wait for the Feringhi caravan and

attacking it. We were getting used to alarms of this kind, and at first

only laughed at their anxious faces; but they were so persistent in

their entreaties that we should not remain on that side of the river,

that we began to think that perhaps, after all, this time they might

have foundation for their fears. So we made a compromise to the effect

that, if they wished, we would pack up and move on to some village,

although we were very tired. So with this they had to be content, and

it was arranged that at midnight we were to start. However, just before

turning in for a short rest, the guard again made their appearance,

this time to say they had considered that it would not be at all

safe to travel by night, and that we had better wait till daylight,

adding in the usual way: "But do not be afraid; we will watch all

night long." So we all retired very thankfully to rest. It was a very

hot night, and being unable to sleep I went outside the tent door

for a little air, and found our gallant guard all fast asleep and

snoring. In the morning they assured us that they had never closed

their eyes all night, but had sat up watching for robbers!!

We had experienced once in Persia the pleasant sensation of being

lost when alone in the desert. In the Turkish-Arabian desert we,

in company with the whole caravan, were once lost, and spent many

weary hours wandering about seeking for our right road in vain. It

was a day or two after leaving Diabekir; our escort, reduced to one

soldier as the road was considered fairly safe, was quite sure he

knew the way. Our muleteer and servants had never travelled that

road before, so we were completely in the hands of one man; but as

he seemed quite sure, we did not trouble about it, knowing that these

men are always on the road acting as escort. But we soon found that we

were trusting to a broken reed, so far as his knowledge as a guide was

concerned. We started one day on what we supposed to be a short stage,

but to our surprise it seemed to lengthen out into a longer one than

usual, till we began to despair of ever reaching the end. At last,

when sunset was a thing of the past, we began to suspect that our

guide was not too sure of his where-abouts; and this suspicion soon

changed to certainty when we suddenly found ourselves on the top of a

steep bank, down which it was impossible for the animals to climb. Our

clever guide then confessed that he did not know where we were.

It was now quite dark, and we had been riding since early morning,

so felt pretty tired; but our muleteer said it was quite out of the

question to stay where we were, as there was no water for the animals,

and the hills with which we were surrounded were known to be full of

robbers. So we wandered on and on and on, listening in vain for some

sound of habitation and hearing none, longing even to hear the joyful

sound of the barking of dogs or croaking of frogs, telling of life and

water; but our longings were not to be realised that night. At last,

about ten o'clock, we said we could not possibly go any further; so,

amidst much discontent and fear on the part of the men, we dismounted

and declared our intention of staying where we were till dawn. The

animals were all tethered, and we all sat round in a circle, so that

if the robbers came we should be able to show a good front. The men

appeared to be quite frightened, and declared they would not sleep,

but each would take his turn at watching. We were too sleepy to

care much whether the robbers came or not, so wrapping ourselves in

blankets we were soon fast asleep. Awaking about half-an-hour later,

I looked out to see how the "watchers" were getting on, and saw that

they were all fast asleep, covered up in their abas or long cloaks. I

soon followed their example and slept till morning, no robbers having

come in the night to disturb our slumbers. We discovered that we had

wandered a good distance out of our way, but found the right path soon

after nine o'clock, and very thankful we all were to obtain water to

drink--the animals more so than any of us, perhaps.

Travelling in the desert is very pleasant if the stage is not a very

long one. To start about sunrise or a little after, ride three or

four hours, then have a lunch of bread and melons, and finish up

with another three hours' ride, makes a very pleasant picnic; but

when the stage takes twelve or thirteen hours to do, the pleasure

becomes a burden. At the end of a short stage it is delightful to

sit outside our tent and enjoy the cool breeze of the desert, and

watch the stars peeping out one after the other. Sometimes, however,

the weather is not such as to allow of this form of enjoyment. When we

were coming home in 1907, in crossing the desert we came in for some

tremendously heavy thunderstorms. One night we were simultaneously

awakened by a tremendous gust of wind which threatened to bring

down the tent. We sprang up and clung to the poles; but thinking the

whole structure was bound to fall, and preferring to be outside, I

forsook my pole to which I had been clinging, and rushed out into the

pouring rain. My husband went to call some of the men, and found them

all happily asleep in the carriage: with great difficulty he awoke

them, and together they made secure all the tent-pegs. By this time

the great fury of the storm was over, and we crept inside the tent,

wet, cold, and miserable. Wonderful to say, neither of us caught cold

after our adventure. The next morning we spread all our wet bedding,

&c., in the sun to dry; and just as it was nearly ready, down came

another storm and soaked everything again. Such are some of the joys

of travelling in the desert.

CHAPTER XIII

PIONEER MEDICAL MISSION WORK IN MOSUL (NINEVEH) [6]

Winning the confidence of the people--Native surgery--Difficulties

to be overcome--Backward patients--Encouraging work--Prevalent

diseases--Lunatics--Possible future of Mesopotamia.

"... My soul is full

Of pity for the sickness of this world;

Which I will heal, if healing may be found!"

Sir E. Arnold.

It is often thought that in the East, whenever an English doctor

arrives at a city, patients throng to him from all quarters. This

is only partially true, at least in the near East. If medicine and

attendance are granted free indiscriminately, doubtless at first

crowds will attend the out-patient department, many coming merely out

of curiosity. If good work is to be done, it is better to make some

charge, however small, exempting only the very poor. This principle

has, I believe, been adopted by all our medical missionaries, and

fees thus earned go to help in making the work self-supporting.

The European doctor in Persia or Turkey has first to win the confidence

of the people, and this is sometimes no easy matter. On our arrival

in Mosul we rented a house in the centre of the city, which had two

compounds. We lived in the inner compound, and made the outer into

a dispensary and small hospital. At first everything looked rather

hopeless, the house being an old one and nearly in ruins. However, we

made a big stable into a waiting-room for the patients; other rooms

were patched up and transformed into consulting-room, dispensary,

operating theatre, and wards, all of a most primitive kind. In this

great city of 60,000 to 80,000 people our staff consisted of my wife

and me and two native assistants, who had been trained in our Baghdad

Medical Mission.

There was no lack of physicians in the city, but excluding two or

three Turkish army doctors, and one or two others with Constantinople

diplomas, the rest were quacks of the most pronounced type. Nearly

every old lady in the city thinks herself competent to treat

diseases of the eye, the barbers are the surgeons, bone-setters

abound, hereditary physicians are by no means scarce. These latter

inherit "herbal prescriptions" from their forefathers, and though

now forbidden to practise by the Turkish Government, yet contrive

to visit many houses as a "friend" after dark, and earn enough for

a livelihood. The Dominicans (who have a large Mission in Mosul)

also give away many medicines, and have now a qualified native

doctor. But though there is much "physicking" in Mosul, but little

surgery is done, and that gives the opportunity for the European

doctor to step in. Arab surgery is of the crudest description. Let

one sample suffice. A poor Arab woman was brought to the dispensary,

soon after we started work, by her father. She complained of not being

able to breathe through her nose. On examining her throat I found that

the upper air passage had become shut off from the back of the throat

as a result of old inflammation. Upon further inquiry I elicited the

following history. Two years before, the patient had developed a bad

sore throat. Her father took her to the native surgeon, who had the

poor woman's mouth held forcibly open, while he proceeded to cure

the sore throat by rubbing it with a red-hot flattened piece of iron!

Gradually we commenced to win the confidence of the people: they

came in ever-increasing numbers to the dispensary. Gathered together

in the waiting-room would be a crowd composed of many different

nationalities--Christians, Moslems, Jews, Kurds from the mountains,

Bedouins from the desert, Yezidees (the so-called devil-worshippers),

a motley throng, listening quietly and without interruption to the

reading and exposition of the Gospel, ere passing one by one through

the doctor's consulting-room, for the treatment of their multitudinous

diseases. The medical missionary is called upon to do his best to cure

every ailment; he must be ready to accept heavy responsibilities,

there are no "specialists" to consult, often he is without the

help of any trained nurse, and in pioneer work, at least, he has no

properly equipped hospital, and must perforce perform most serious

operations under the worst possible conditions. In addition to all

this, in lands under Mohammedan rule there is always the risk of a

riot if a patient should die in a Christian hospital, especially on

the operating table. Yet despite all these drawbacks, it is a grand

life, revealing to a man his own utter weakness, and making him rely

more and more upon his God.

Soon we were able to commence admitting in-patients, being forced to

limit admission to surgical cases. At first there was considerable

difficulty in getting the patients to come on the actual day fixed

for the operation; each one was anxious for his neighbour to be the

first. Finally I was compelled to threaten to put a black mark against

the name of any patient who had agreed to come in for operation and

then failed to put in an appearance, adding that that patient would

have to wait a long time before having a chance offered a second

time. This had the desired effect, a woman needing a small eyelid

operation being the first to brave the terrors of the Feringhi

hospital.

In due course, instruments and dressings all having been prepared,

the patient, in a condition of mortal terror, was led into the

operating room, and induced to lie on the table. But alas, her fears

gained the mastery, and she instantly jumped up, ran out of the room,

and disappeared from the dispensary. This was not encouraging, but a

few days later a little Jew boy suffering from vesical stone (a very

common disease in Mosul, especially amongst children) was brought to

the hospital by his father. We persuaded him to enter the hospital

with his boy, and thus finally gained our first in-patient. The stone

having been removed, and the boy making a good recovery, we had no

further difficulty in getting in-patients. Our six wooden beds soon

all had occupants, then we added six more beds; finally, obtaining

a neighbouring house for our own residence, we made our old house

(the inner compound) into a small hospital for women and children.

Thus we were able to accommodate twenty-four patients, and as each

had at least one friend, we often had over fifty people resident

on the premises. It is this in-patient work that gives the most

encouraging opportunities to the medical missionary. There in his

little hospital he has patients of all creeds, lying side by side;

many have been relieved or cured by operation, and will listen

gratefully to all the teaching they can get. Each patient before

the operation hears the doctor pray a short prayer, asking God to

bless the operation and cause it to be successful. Day after day,

week after week, he receives instruction, and gains an entirely new

idea of what Christianity really is, and when he leaves the mission

hospital and returns to his home, whether in the city or in a distant

mountain village, all his old bitter opposition to Christianity has

disappeared, and often he will send other patients for treatment to

the English mission. The following statistics, for two years only,

may prove interesting, as showing the far-reaching influence of even

a badly equipped, undermanned medical mission:--

Total attendance of out-patients 24,519

Operations performed {197 Major} 569

{372 Minor}

Total number of in-patients 288

Number of villages and towns, excluding Mosul,

from which patients have come to the dispensary 348

This last item is especially interesting; excluding Mosul (from which

naturally most of our patients are drawn), 348 different towns and

villages (some as many as ten days' journey) have sent us patients,

and yet the work is barely started!

To illustrate the effect of a medical mission in disarming opposition,

I may add that, in 1907, when it was feared that, owing to the need

for retrenchment, the Society would have to close the work in Mosul,

a petition, signed by most of the prominent Mohammedan residents,

including the chief mullahs, was brought to me, asking that I would

remit it at once to the Society. It was a request that the Medical

Mission should not be withdrawn, as it had been such a boon to the

inhabitants of the city. In a very wonderful manner God heard and

answered our prayers, and the Mission is not to be closed, but rather

it is hoped to equip it more thoroughly.

The operations most frequently called for in Mosul are those for

"cataract" and vesical stone, but patients come with many other

diseases, both surgical and medical. The city is full of phthisis; the

insanitary conditions under which the vast majority of the inhabitants

live favour its rapid dissemination. Smallpox and typhoid fever are

very common, and once these diseases have been definitely diagnosed,

neither the patient nor his friends will permit any further medical

treatment. For the latter disease the patient is kept on fairly strict

diet until he "perspires." This to the native mind denotes the end

of all possible danger, so he is then pressed to eat anything and

everything, with disastrous results. Malaria, dysentery, hepatic

abscesses are also rife; there have also been epidemics of cholera

and plague, but not of late years. Once the projected Baghdad Railway

(which will pass through Mosul) is an accomplished fact, we may expect

the importation of plague from the south, unless the most stringent

precautions are taken.

The Bedouin Arab can rarely be persuaded to stop in the city; after

the freedom of life in the desert, he feels stifled within the four

walls of a house. Ere leaving Mosul I had a curious demonstration of

this fact. An old blind Arab was brought to me by his son, suffering

from double cataract. I told him that by means of a simple operation

he might once again be able to see, but that he would have to stay

in the hospital for a few days. He indignantly refused, saying he

would rather remain blind the rest of his life than sleep beneath a

roof. In vain did his son plead with him, and finding that I would

not operate at once and allow him to be treated as an out-patient,

the old man went sorrowfully away.

Every in-patient admitted had to bring a friend to help to nurse him,

as we had no proper hospital equipment and no trained nurse. Only twice

in the three years did I break this rule, both times with disastrous

results. The first was a poor old man from a village some days' journey

from Mosul. He was poor and friendless, also blind with "cataract";

reluctantly I allowed myself to be influenced by his pathetic

pleadings, and admitted him without any one to look after him. Prior

to his admission he had been bitten on the calf of one leg by a dog,

and complaining of pain from this wound, we dressed it with a simple

boracic fomentation. Unfortunately this dressing was forgotten and

left on the leg. The eye was in due course operated upon successfully,

and the patient received the usual strict injunction to lie still for

twenty-four hours. At the first dressing everything seemed all right;

two days later I found to my sorrow that the eye had suppurated, and

that there was no hope of saving the vision. The strictest inquiry was

at once instituted, but for some time we could discover no clue as to

how the eye had become infected; then the truth came out. It appeared

that the second night after the operation the old man commenced to

feel a slight pricking pain in the eye that had been operated upon

(not an uncommon symptom after "cataract" extraction, with no bad

significance as a rule). The pain seemed similar to that which he

had felt in his leg, which had been relieved by the application of

the boracic fomentation. The patient reasoned thus with himself:

"It is night time, I had better not call for the doctor; but the

medicine on my eye is evidently doing no good, while that put on my

leg cured a similar pain to this at once, so I had better take off

this bandage from my eye and replace it with the one on my leg"! This

he had proceeded to do, and consequently lost his newly acquired sight.

The other case was somewhat similar, but the patient was a fanatical

Moslem priest, whom I afterwards found out was a well-known "majnoon"

(madman). He also had been admitted alone, and we had but little

trouble with him until after the operation (also for "cataract") had

been performed. A few hours later my assistant came running to me,

and said: "Doctor, that old cataract patient declares that he must

and he will say his prayers. We have done our best to prevent him,

but in vain." Now a Mohammedan, before he prays, performs certain

ablutions, which include washing his hands and face; so I at once ran

up to the ward, but, alas! we arrived too late. The old priest had

taken off his bandage, washed his face and hands, said his prayers,

and was quite unable to understand why the Hakim Sahib should be

angry! We gave the poor old man some lotion and a shade for his eye,

and sent him back to his home (as he lived in Mosul), refusing to

accept any further responsibility. Some weeks later my assistant met

the old priest in the bazaar, quite pleased with himself, for he had

actually obtained sufficient sight to find his way about alone.

Fortunately the majority of the patients are more reasonable,

and quickly learn to submit more or less to "hospital

regulations." Children sometimes proved troublesome, especially boys,

when accompanied by a crowd of relations. I remember one morning, when

making my daily round, coming across a group of people surrounding a

little boy six years of age. He had been ordered a dose of castor oil,

and had made up his obstinate little mind that he would not take the

nasty stuff. Being a boy, and only son and heir, he had been spoilt

most royally. Father, mother, aunt, grandmother, and friends each

in turn tried persuasion, varied by gentle threats, all in vain. He

beat and (I am sorry to say) cursed the women, his mother included,

and sullenly refused to accept the medicine from his father, despite

sundry promises of sweets, money, &c.

After watching the scene with some amusement I stepped forward, took

the cup containing the obnoxious castor oil, and forcibly administered

the dose without regarding the boy's shrieks and tears. Then I read

the parents a little lecture upon the evil result of spoiling their

children, which I fear had but scant result.

Often do I feel ashamed as I note how patiently pain and diseases

are borne by these poor people. It is always "the will of God," and

therefore there is no use complaining, and little use rebelling. Time

after time have I had to gently break the news to some poor patient,

who may have come long distances to see the English doctor, that his

blindness could not be cured by operation, being caused by what is

popularly known as black cataract (glaucoma). A few (usually women)

would go away weeping, but the vast majority both of men and women

would quietly respond, "Alhamd'llillah" (Praise be to God), with but

little sign of emotion.

So far as I know there is but one asylum for cases of mental diseases

in the whole of the Turkish Empire, and that one is at Asfariyeh,

near Beyrout, and belongs to an English society. The usual method of

dealing with lunatics in Mosul is, if they are apparently harmless,

that they are allowed to wander about freely and treated kindly;

but once they develop symptoms of mania they are treated as wild

beasts, put into a dark room, and chained to a wall. But we possess

a specialist in "mental diseases" in Mosul, belonging to an old

Mohammedan family, who has a great reputation for the treatment of

"lunatics." In the courtyard of his house he has had dug several

deep wells, and beside each well is placed a large tub, having a hole

in the bottom which communicates with the well. The poor madman is

made to work from sunrise to sunset, drawing water from the well and

pouring it into the perforated tub, being told that he may leave off

when he has filled the tub. If he refuses to work, he is unmercifully

beaten. Several cures are said to have resulted from this treatment.

There is nothing so potent as the in-patient work of a hospital in

overcoming opposition. Amongst our numerous "cataract" patients was

an Arab from Singar (a mountainous district near Mosul). He came

armed with a perfectly unnecessary introduction, in the shape of a

letter from one of the chief Mohammedans in the city. After he had

regained his sight and had left the hospital, ere returning to his

mountain home he went to this "big" Moslem to thank him. He found

himself the centre of a large and curious throng, who questioned him

severely upon his experiences in the "Christian" hospital. Some of

the more fanatical (it was in the early days of the Mission) did

not scruple to speak against the hospital and the English hakim;

but, like the man in St. John's Gospel, this Arab was not afraid to

testify of what had been done for him, "for," said he, "you can say

what you like--one thing I know, before I was blind, now I can see."

But enough--I fear to tire my readers; but ere closing I would like

just to refer to the possible future of Mesopotamia. One thing is

certain, a few years more will exhibit great changes. I have already

referred to the Baghdad Railway. As I write it is rumoured that the

German Government have at last obtained a further concession from

the Sultan of Turkey, which will allow them to continue the line

another five hundred miles, piercing Mount Taurus and reaching near

to the city of Mardin (some ten days' journey north of Mosul). When

this is accomplished the rest of the work is quite simple. The line

from Mardin to Baghdad (passing through Mosul) should present no

difficulties, and Mosul (with the ruins of Nineveh) will become easy

of access from Europe.

In the next place there is the question of the navigation of the

Tigris. Ere long there is no doubt that boats will be allowed to come

up the river from Baghdad to Mosul, and possibly on up to Diabekir

(300-400 miles north of Mosul). This will mean an enormous increase

in trade, both in imports and exports.

Finally, there is that fascinating problem of the irrigation of the

Mesopotamian desert. The remains of old canals are still visible,

and it needs nothing but an energetic government willing to spend

a comparatively small sum, plus the services of a capable engineer,

to transform the whole of that desert between the two great rivers

Euphrates and Tigris into a veritable Garden of Eden, even as it

must have been in the days of old, when huge armies were able to

find sufficient provender for man and beast throughout the whole of

that vast region. The "finale" of that great province, containing the

ruins of so many ancient cities, has not yet been written; and there

are many signs which tend to suggest to the thoughtful observer that,

ere another century has passed, Mesopotamia may once again take its

place, and that no mean position, amongst the kingdoms of the earth!

NOTES

[1] "A Year amongst the Persians."

[2] By Dr. A. Hume-Griffith.

[3] By Dr. A. Hume-Griffith.

[4] By Dr. A. Hume-Griffith.

[5] Extract from "The Literary History of the Arabs," by

R. A. Nicholson, M.A.

[6] By Dr. A. Hume-Griffith.