On the 30th of June we halted at the village of Sab. We here crossed the great river Sab by means of rafts, the mode of constructing which is certainly very ancient. They consist of leathern bottles, filled with air, fastened together with poles, and covered with planks, reeds, and rushes. Our raft had twenty-eight wind-bags, was seven feet broad, nearly as long, and carried two horse-loads and six men. As our caravan numbered thirty-two loaded animals, the crossing of the river occupied half a day. Four or five of the animals were tied together and drawn over by a man seated across an air-bag. The weaker animals, such as the donkeys, had a bag half filled with air tied on their backs.
The night of the 30th of June, the last of our journey, was one of the most wearisome: we travelled eleven hours. About half-way, we came to the river Hasar, called Gaumil by the Greeks, and made remarkable by the passage of Alexander the Great. It was broad, but not deep, and we therefore rode through. The chain of mountains still continued at the side at some considerable distance, and here and there rose low, sterile hills, or head-lands. The total absence of trees in this part of Mesopotamia is striking: during the last five days I did not see a single one. It is, therefore, easy to imagine that there are many people here who have never seen such a thing. There were spaces of twenty miles in extent, upon which not a single branch was to be seen. However, it is fortunate that there is no scarcity of water; every day we came once or twice to rivers of various sizes.
The town of Mósul did not become visible until we were within about five miles. It is situated upon a slight elevation in a very extensive valley, on the west bank of the Tigris, which is already much narrower here than near Baghdad. We arrived about 7 o’clock in the morning.
I was fresh and active, although during these fifteen days I had only twice had a hot meal—the ink-coloured lamb soup at Kerkü and Ervil; although I had been obliged to remain day and night in the same clothes, and had not even an opportunity of once changing my linen, not to say anything of the terrific heat, the continual riding, and other fatigues.
I first dismounted at the caravansary, and then procured a guide to the English Vice-consul, Mr. Rassam, who had already prepared a room for me, as he had been previously informed of my coming by a letter from Major Rawlinson, at Baghdad.
I first visited the town, which, however, does not present any very remarkable features. It is surrounded by fortified works, and contains 25,000 inhabitants, among which there are scarcely twelve Europeans. The bazaars are extensive, but not in the least degree handsome; between them lie several coffee-stalls and some chans. I found the entrances to all the houses narrow, low, and furnished with strong gates. These gates are relics of former times, when the people were always in danger from the attacks of enemies. In the interiors, there are very beautiful court-yards, and lofty, airy rooms, with handsome entrances and bow-windows. The doors and window-frames, the stairs and walls of the ground-floor rooms, are generally made of marble; though the marble which is used for these purposes is not very fine, yet it still looks better than brick walls. The quarry lies close to the town.
Here also the hot part of the day is passed in the sardabs. The heat is most terrible in the month of July, when the burning simoom not unfrequently sweeps over the town. During my short stay at Mósul, several people died very suddenly; these deaths were ascribed to the heat. Even the sardabs do not shelter people from continual perspiration, as the temperature rises as high as 97° 25’ Fah.
The birds also suffer much from the heat: they open their beaks wide, and stretch their wings out far from their bodies.
The inhabitants suffer severely in their eyes; but the Aleppo boils are not so common as in Baghdad, and strangers are not subject to them.
I found the heat very oppressive, but in other respects was very well, especially as regards my appetite: I believe that I could have eaten every hour of the day. Probably this was in consequence of the hard diet which I had been obliged to endure on my journey.