LAND & WATER 
August 9, 1917 
Mosul 
Samarra. It is the first of a series of ruins, mostly dating 
from the days of tlie Caliphate, which stretch away from 
Samarra in all directions. How one regrets to have forgotten 
all one's ancient histor}' ! In this country there really should 
1)6 an official archaislogist attached to c'ach unit, to explain 
places and events as we move along. But for many of the 
relics the explanation would appear to h&ve been lost, and 
there is a curious fascination about those ancient remains 
that have left no impress whatever on history. It is appalling 
to think of the number of civilisations that have waxed and 
waned beneath the indifferent eyes of the inscrutable Arab, 
who has been in them, but not of them. The Arab 
makes one feel very small. We are fighting in 
whati-the Turk is pleased to call Turkish 
territory, and we have won what we shall hope 
to call a British province. But at the back of 
the Arab's eyes there is a look of calm, con- 
temptuous assurance. Turk and Briton are 
passing phases. There have been many before, 
there will be others anon. They come, and 
strut awhile, and go. The Arab cringes to 
them, or harries them, according to expediency 
and opjiortunity, and witliout discrimination. 
But he has been the continuous possessor of 
his own countr}', and he is sure that he will 
always so remain. 
Meantime, we get our first glimpse of Samarra . 
by far the most striking of all the towns of the 
Tigris U stands back a little on the higli 
bank, a hundred feet above the river. It fs 
small and comj^letely walled, and is absolutely 
dominated by its noble mosque, which is for the 
moment all we see. A well-proportioned dome, 
gleaming gold in the sun, flanked by two slender 
and graceful minarets, with a second tiled 
dome a little away from the main group, the whole standing 
in bold outline, poised on rolling gravel hiUs, it is a picture 
different from anything we have seen before in this country. 
Behind the town stands up an enormous tower, a real tower of 
Babel, Mith a wide spiral path winding to its summit. Here 
is where our amateur arclijeology sei^^es its opportunities. 
My companion informs me that this is the tomb of the Em- 
peror Hadrian, and comments on the wide sphere of activity of 
an empcrorwhobuilds a wall in Britain, and is buried in Meso- 
potamia. Seeing that my map shows the tomb 
of the Emperor Juhan, a large mound a fewmiles 
further off, I suspect some confusion of ideas. 
Later inquiries establish the fact that (a) 
this is a monument to Caliph Haroun al Raschid ! 
(b) it is simply a fort and watch-tower of the 
days of the Caliphate ; (c) it is but three hundred 
years old, and has nothing whateverto do witli 
the Caliphs. How much nicer this is than 
hearing one cut and dried explanation ! One 
feels, too, that if none of these alternatives 
suit the mood of the moment, one is at 
perfect liberty to go on guessing until some- 
thing really attractive suggests itself. 
Some miles above Samarra, on the right bank, 
there stands a fine bold ruin of very solid brick, 
with enormous underground Vaults. My map 
calls this " All Ajik Ftit (ruined)," but our 
amateurs tell me that its name is the " Abode 
of Love," and that here, in the days of Al 
Raschid, a languorous lady projected the glad 
eye upon a desirable cavalier dwelling in what is 
now " Lequel (ruin) " upon the further bank. 
Details of this romantic episode are lacking, and I fear the 
unromantic map makes out a better case. Certainly it seems 
more like fort than bower. Near Lequel a Teuton gentleman had 
his headquarters with a Decauville railway running from his 
courtyard out to the scene of his excavations, between 
Julian's Tomb and the spiral tower. He has departed, 
leaving behind him " forty-two boxes all carefully packed " 
— to be precise, there were thirty-four — of which we have 
assumed possession. If this campaign has achieved nothing 
else, it will at least have saved the world from the intolerable 
burden of another monument of German erudition. 
Bagdad 
Gorge in the Upper Tigris 
Had I possessed an orderlj' mind, I should have reached 
Samarra railway station first. But perhaps it is not a bad 
point at which to close this rambling narrative. Here the 
Turks have blown up the station buildings and workshops 
and made an attempt to wreck all of the sixteen engines 
standing upon the rails. This, they wished to do l^y 
blowing all the cylinders of one side, but in their haste 
they did rot notice that the engines were not all facing 
the same way, and so, with a little readjustment, we have 
been able to get some of the engines in working 
order, and we have our Bagdad-Samarra 
express train duly running. 
The Turk is licking his sores at Tekrit. He 
has two or three steamers with him, but they 
will not be able to come dbwn stream until 
the winter. We ha\'e all his railway material. 
His means of transport are limited to camels 
on land, and rafts on inflated goat-skins on 
water. It is not very likely therefore, that 
lie will make any attempt to recover Bagdad 
before the autumn, and even then we shall 
havti him at a very considerable disadvantage. 
But until then we shall probably be left to 
perspire in peace through the rapidly approach- 
ing hot weather — the thermometer is somewhere 
about no degrees at the moment of writing, 
but that is not hot weather in Mesopotamia — 
with high gravel banks upon which to camp, 
a clear river rippling and rattling over its 
shingle bed, plentiful supplies arriving daily 
by train, and always Samarra to feast the eye 
upon. It is not too bad beyond Bagdad. 
