of excitement and reports of uprisings.

Christmas came and the different officers' messes organized celebrations.
The mess we had joined was largely Scotch, so we decided we must make a
haggis, that "chieftain of the pudden race." The ingredients, save for the
whiskey, were scarcely orthodox, but if it was not a success, at least no
one admitted it.

As soon as the weather cleared we made a run to Kerbela--a lovely town,
with miles of gardens surrounding it and two great mosques. The bazaar was
particularly attractive--plentifully supplied with everything. We got
quantities of the deliciously flavored pistachio-nuts which were difficult
to obtain elsewhere, as well as all sorts of fruit and vegetables. There
were no troops stationed in the vicinity, so the prices were lower than
usual. The orders were that we should go about in armed bands, but I never
saw any marked indication of hostility. The British, true to the
remarkable tact and tolerance that contributes so largely to their success
in dealing with native races, posted Mohammedan sepoys as guards on the
mosques, and no one but Moslems could even go into the courtyards. If this
had not been done, there would have been many disturbances and uprisings,
for the Arabs and Persians felt so strongly on the question that they
regarded with marked hostility those who even gazed into the mosque
courtyards. Why it is so different in Constantinople I do not know, but
there was certainly no hostility shown us in Santa Sophia nor in the
mosque of Omar in Jerusalem. Be that as it may, forbidden fruit is always
sweet, and the Tommies were inclined to force an entrance. During a change
of guard a Tommy who had his curiosity and initiative stimulated through
recourse to arrick, the fiery liquor distilled from dates, stole into the
most holy mosque in Kerbela. By a miracle he was got out unharmed, but for
a few hours a general uprising with an attendant massacre of unbelievers