I found Amman (the Philadelphia of the Romans) rich in old Græco-Roman architectural remains. A mighty amphitheatre, still in a fairly good state of preservation, stands out boldly amidst the ruins. Judging by the number of shattered columns and broken arches strewn about over a wide area, it must have been a very important city in the days when Rome was mistress of the world. Little or nothing of the old Rabbah Ammon is left. The walls of a very ancient citadel still crown a hill-top close by the Roman city, but whether it is the citadel which so long resisted Joab, or a later structure, I cannot say.
I remained at Amman all night, in the shadow of the great ruined amphitheatre. Once it must have rocked to the roar of the multitude encircling its spacious arena. Now all was silent. Only bats and owls circled through its broken arches or flew from its tilted columns, alarmed perchance by the curse of an Australian trooper sleeping uneasily amidst its ruins. While the bivouac fires yet flickered on this hoary pile I sought the shelter of a motor lorry, in which, rolled in a blanket, I lay snug and warm throughout the night.
From my own observation I can testify that the words of the Prophet Ezekiel were literally fulfilled when he wrote: "And I will make Rabbah (Ammon) a stable for camels, and the Ammonites a couching place for flocks."—(Ezekiel, Chap. XXV. verse 5.)
It must have been a very pleasant city in the old days, and I see no reason why its glories should not be revived under a stable form of Government. The country all round is fruitful and its waters sweet and abundant.
In the present straggling town there is a large colony of Circassians, and in the two previous raids made by the British on this place these people had in each case made a treacherous attack on our rearguard. The New Zealand Mounted Rifles suffered somewhat severely in the raid made on March 30th, 1918.
I left the ancient capital of the Ammonites soon after daybreak and, as I journeyed towards Es Salt, I had a magnificent view of the snow-capped Lebanons away in the far distance, while Gilead and Bashan lay spread out before me to the foot of Mount Hermon.
Es Salt and the hills surrounding it form the gateway to a vast rich hinterland. I have never seen grapes as large as those that grow in Gilead, or tasted any to compare with them in flavour. Figs, too, were delicious and abundant in and about Es Salt.
