We found the Howar much cast down and vexed by his recent misfortunes. The chiefs of the tribe were with him, in gloomy consultation over their losses. A Bedouin, wrapped in his ragged cloak, was seated listlessly in the tent. He had been my guest the previous evening at Nimroud, and had announced himself on a mission from the Shammar to the Tai, to learn the breed of the mares which had been taken in the late conflict. His message might appear, to those ignorant of the customs of the Arabs, one of insult and defiance. But he was on a common errand, and although there was blood between the tribes, his person was as sacred as that of an ambassador in any civilised community. After a battle or a foray, the tribes who have taken horses from the enemy will send an envoy to ask their breed, and a person so chosen passes from tent to tent unharmed, hearing from each man, as he eats his bread, the descent and qualities of the animal he may have lost. Amongst men who attach the highest value to the pure blood of their horses, and who have no written pedigree, for amongst the Bedouins documents of this kind do not exist, such customs are necessary. The descent of a horse is preserved by tradition, and the birth of a colt is an event known to the whole tribe. It would be considered disgraceful to the character of a true Bedouin to give false testimony on such a point, and his word is usually received with implicit confidence. The morning following, though the Howar and the Arabs refused to accompany me, I set off for the ruins, which are in the deserted district between the Karachok range and the river Tigris. The plains in which they are situated are celebrated for the richness of their pastures, and are sought in spring by the Tai and the Kurdish Kochers. We kept as much as possible in the broken country at the foot of the mountain to escape observation. The wooded banks of the Tigris and the white dome of the tomb of Sultan Abdallah were faintly visible in the distance, and a few artificial mounds rose in the plains. The pastures were already fit for the flocks, and luxuriant grass furnished food for our horses amidst the ruins. The principal mound of Mokhamour is of considerable height, and ends in a cone. It is apparently the remains of a platform built of earth and sun-dried bricks, originally divided into several distinct stages or terraces. On one side are the traces of an inclined ascent, or of a flight of steps, once leading to the summit. It stands in the centre of a quadrangle of lower mounds, about 480 paces square. I could find no remains of masonry, nor any fragments of inscribed bricks, pottery, or sculptured alabaster.