SYRIA: THE LAND LINK OF HISTORY'S CHAIN 



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*4fc 



Photograph by Maynard Owen Williams 

 A NOONDAY SIESTA AMID HISTORIC PETRA^S TEMPLED HILLS! THE PHOTOGRAPH 

 WAS TAKEN PROM THE ROOP OP THE ANCIENT BUILDING KNOWN AS THE DEIR 



This is not a victory emblem on the forward turret of the latest battle cruiser, but a 

 studied pose of eight missionary teachers on the ground in front of one of Petra's most 

 famous rock temples. The distance to the ground is 130 feet and the whole structure is 

 really a part of the sandstone hill from which its face was carved. The florid fagade is as 

 deceptive as the false front of a boom-town emporium, for the plain interior is less than 

 forty feet square. 



habited. The spirit of man animated 

 the scene with the sad, shrill cry of a 

 creature in pain. The figures of the 

 room were blotted out. This was no 

 concert music, designed for bright lights 

 and well-dressed audiences. A soul was 

 stirring in that flute, an out-of-door spirit 

 communing with its God across vast dis- 

 tances, but with a sense of sympathetic 

 nearness. 



He began to sing. I started at the first 



note. It was a protest against the wrongs 

 of the Angel of Death, a plea for mercy at 

 the hands of a determined despot. Each 

 note was wrung from the heart of a de- 

 spondent soul, fearing, pleading, crying 

 out for a relief that would never come. 



The eyes of the singer were fixed ; the 

 cords of his throat were visible under his 

 swarthy skin. The veins of his forehead 

 stood out under his dark kaffiyeh, and with 

 each line he seemed to swallow, to choke 



