I had now only to deal with the wife of my guide.  She laid siege to me the whole day, coming as near to me as possible, and teasing me to give her some of my things.  I gave her a few trifles, for I had not much with me, and she then wanted everything.  Fortunately her husband came out of the house just then; I called him and complained of his wife, and at the same time threatened to leave his house, and seek shelter somewhere else, well knowing that the Arabs consider this a great disgrace.  He immediately ordered her harshly out, and I at last had peace.  I always succeeded in carrying out my own will.  I found that energy and boldness have a weight with all people, whether Arabs, Persians, Bedouins, or others.

Towards evening I saw, to my great delight, a cauldron of mutton set on the fire.  For eight days I had eaten nothing but bread, cucumber, and some dates; and, therefore, had a great desire for a hot and more nutritious meal.  But my appetite was greatly diminished when I saw their style of cookery.  The old woman (my guide’s mother) threw several handsful of small grain, and a large quantity of onions, into a pan full of water to soften.  In about half an hour she put her dirty hands into the water, and mixed the whole together, now and then taking a mouthful, and, after chewing it, spitting it back again into the pan.  She then took a dirty rag, and strained off the juice, which she poured over the flesh in the pot.

I had firmly made up my mind not to touch this food; but when it was ready it gave out such an agreeable odour, and my hunger was so great, that I broke my resolution, and remembered how many times I had eaten of food the preparation of which was not a whit cleaner.  What was so bad in the present instance was that I had seen the whole process.

The broth was of a bluish black in colour, and with a rather strongly acid taste—­both the result of the berries.  But it agreed with me very well, and I felt as strong and well as if I had undergone no hardships during my journey from Baghdad.

I hoped soon to have had a similar dainty meal, but the Arab does not live so extravagantly; I was obliged to remain satisfied with bread and some cucumbers, without salt, oil, or vinegar.

26th June.  We left the village and passed Kerku.  At sunrise, we ascended a small hill, from the summit of which I was astonished by a beautiful prospect:  a majestic lofty chain of mountains extended along an enormous valley, and formed the boundary between Kurdistan and Mesopotamia.

In this valley there were the most beautiful flowers, mallows, chrysanthemums, and thistly plants.  Among the latter, there was one which frequently occurs in Germany, but not in such richness and magnificence.  In many places these thistles cover large spaces of ground.  The country people cut them down, and burn them instead of wood, which is here a great luxury, as there are no trees.  We saw, today, some herds of gazelles, which ran leaping past us.