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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



head of the Gulf and across the utmost 

 extremity of the Jordan Valley rift and 

 entered the town of Akaba. It is a beau- 

 tiful spot — seen from a distance — because 

 of its oasis-like clusters of palm trees and 

 the shimmering seat at their base. 



But the town itself inside is wretched- 

 ness and filth personified. Rain seldom 

 falls here and the dirty inhabitants drink 

 from brackish and almost putrid wells. 

 The old castle or caravansary is half in 

 ruins and the other houses are moulder- 

 ing mud heaps. If one heavy rain ever 

 came these houses would crumble into 

 complete ruin in a few hours. The peo- 

 ple are despicably poor in their persons 

 and characteristics, having lived like 

 leeches on the Egyptian caravans to 

 Mecca for centuries.' 



For us, however, the town was a mem- 

 orable camping place. It marked the 

 successful close of our journey across the 

 Peninsula., The commander of the Tur- 

 kish troops handed us telegrams that 

 brought us into contact with the modern 

 world again. Only fifteen minutes be- 

 fore our caravan of 22 slowly moving 

 camels came around the seashore and 

 into the shadow of the palm trees 

 another caravan of 18 horses and mules, 

 led by two fine soldiers from Beersheba 



and riding swift camels, dropped their 

 burdens at the same spot. They had 

 made a journey of 19 days down from 

 Beirut, via Sidon, Tyre and Jaffa, to 

 Beersheba, and then across the wilderness 

 to meet us at Akaba. They brought us a 

 fresh supply of provisions and charcoal, 

 and two boxes of oranges from the 

 groves at Jaffa and, best of all, letters 

 from home. There was great joy in the 

 camp that night. 



The next day we dismissed the camel- 

 eers and started them back to their desert 

 tents about Sinai, while we took up the 

 more familiar journey over the fourth 

 section of the route of the Exodus. A 

 guard of twelve horsemen, seyen foot-sol- 

 diers, and our two soldier cameleers from 

 Beersheba, accompanied us over the 

 rough and almost waterless valleys to 

 Maan and Petra. We pitched our tents 

 in Edom, Moab, and the Land of Gilead, 

 at the Arnon, at the Jabbok, and then at 

 the Jordan. Our last climb was up the 

 slopes of Judea, and when we entered 

 the earthly Jerusalem, the city of David, 

 the city of its Greater King, it seemed as 

 though we had lived through all ancient 

 history, so freighted were our memories 

 with the events and scenes of the desert 

 and the Exodus. 



PHARAOH S ISLAND AND RUINED CASTLE 



