We reached this region in a car from Felujeh, travelling through Dhibban, where we crossed the Euphrates by a bridge of boats and on to Rhamadie.  Thence the track is a rough one through desert country, undulating in places and becoming rougher.  Some ridges of barren hill cut off the view from time to time as we approach Hit, and we surmount one of these, obtaining a goodly prospect of the river, to plunge down again into a wilderness glittering with crystals.  At first sight we might be entering the valley of diamonds of the Arabian Nights, but, alas, a close inspection shows the glittering objects to be merely pieces of rock, a sort of white marble.  Then we come to mounds of curious pale earth and ground yellow with sulphur, and then, far descried beneath its black coils of smoke, the walls of Hit.

The car was boiling by this time, and owing to some breakage we had to stop, as we drew close to the town.  We left the driver, however, to tinker about with the old Ford, and plunged into the wilds, Brown being particularly anxious to see what all the smoke was about.

The sun heat was still intense, and it was difficult to tell the real size of anything owing to the mirage.  A sort of temple seemed to detach itself from the ground, and it was apparently floating about in an ever-changing lake.  Little black men were stoking a furnace, and a river of some black substance, well banked up with earth, was flowing at our feet.  I think I have seldom seen so weird a sight.

The ground is full of bitumen, and to make lime the Arabs stack up alternate stones and blocks of bitumen, setting fire to the pile.  The effect of these kilns with their great columns of heavy, black smoke, writhing and coiling up into the still sky, was indescribable.

The shadow of coming night crept across the desert, turning the gold and purple of the ground to the colour of ashes.  The high walls of the town still caught the sunset and glowed dull red against the darkening sky.  A fringe of palms, beyond, showed where the river flowed, the river that watered the garden where the land was green and good.  But the grim ramparts of Hit stretched like a line of fire between, forbidding and impassable.  Higher and higher the shadows climbed till the tall minaret stood out alone, a sentinel and a flaming sword.  A hundred sooty figures toiled and grovelled in the ground.

In the sweat of their faces shall they eat bread.

X

THE KINGS OF THE EAST

[Illustration:  Hit.]

[Illustration:  SAMARA]

THE KINGS OF THE EAST