ot of the poor became precarious. The food of the
country, just about sufficient for self-support, was to a large extent
commandeered for the troops, and while prices rose the poor could not
buy, and either their appeals did not reach the benevolent or funds
were intercepted. Deaths from starvation were numbered by the
thousand, Jews, Christians, and Moslems alike suffering, and there
were few civilians in the Holy City who were not hungry for months at
a time.

When I reached Jerusalem the people were at the height of their
excitement over the coming of the British and they put the best face
on their condition, but the freely expressed feeling of relief that
the days of hunger torture were nearly past did not remove the signs
of want and misery, of infinite suffering by father, mother, and
child, brought about by a long period of starvation. That a people,
pale, thin, bent, whose movements had become listless under the lash
of hunger, could have been stirred into enthusiasm by the appearance
of a khaki coat, that they could throw off the lethargy which comes
of acute want, was only to be accounted for by the existence of a
profound belief that we had been sent to deliver them. Some hours
before the Official Entry I was walking in David Street when a Jewish
woman, seeing that I was English, stopped me and said: 'We have prayed
for this day. To-day I shall sing "God Save our Gracious King, Long
Live our Noble King." We have been starving, but what does that
matter? Now we are liberated and free.' She clasped her hands across
her breasts and exclaimed several times, 'Oh how thankful we are.' An
elderly man in a black robe, whose pinched pale face told of a long
period of want, caught me by the hand and said: 'God has delivered us.
Oh how happy we are.' An American worker in a Red Crescent hospital,
who had lived in Jerusalem for upwards of ten years and knew the
people well, assured me there was not one person in the Holy City who
in his heart was not devoutly thankful for our victory. He told me
that on the day we captured Nebi Samwil three wounded Arab officers
were brought to the hospital. One of them spoke English--it was
astonishing how many people could speak our mother tongue--and
while he was having his wounds dressed he exclaimed: 'I can shout
Hip-hip-hurrah for England now.' The officer was advised to be
careful, as there were many Turkish wounded in the hospital, but he
replied he did not care, and in unrestra