march we arrived at a clear running stream, the nearest approach to an English brook I had seen in this country: this stream was bordered with grassy banks and full of fish, 8 of which I managed to catch with a bent pin while waiting for my washing to dry. There was a Turkish Hospital post here – hospitals in this country do not bear description, still less a post.
On June 2nd we reached Nesebin, on the Djachdjach, a small stream running into the Chabur which is a tributary of the Euphrates. Nesebin is a small town surrounded by poplars and has a moderately good bazaar so we were able to shop and lay in a store of provisions to take us onto Ras-el-Ain. We also bought donkey loads of fire wood and tried to conceal it in our carts, but the drivers discovered them and reported it to Essad, who made us throw it away on the grounds that we were overloading the carts. Thus the drivers got some of their own back for several had been recently flogged by Essad for stealing our kit. When buying cherries at Nesebin, an arab refused to give me proper change, but Essad happened to be passing by and took the miscreant off to the police station and had him flogged! Here we saw the first evidence of Turkish cruelty to the Armenians –