on, a place of bitumen and smoke of incrusted
salt and sulphur, of rock and fiery heat--known to the Arabs as the
Mouth of Hell. It guards the garden from approach by the nature of its
inhospitable ground, and so I have called it, this burning wilderness,
the Desert of the Flaming Sword, The town of Hit, evil smelling and
grim, stands sentinel between the fertile river-bank and the
ever-smoking plain.

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
watere