When the dawn rose, we again stood on the peak, where perhaps the old sun-worshippers used to await the great orb, which here rises from the desert horizon. Often in other places have I seen the first white streak and the glory of the aurora behind mountain ranges; but here, as the red globe appears in the mists over a boundless plain, the great shadow of Hermon stretches far across the dim Mediterranean--a sight not often seen by those who watch the dawn. Wherever a single peak stands out alone, such a shadow may be seen from the summit. In Teneriffe it stretches over the Atlantic, and the watchers on other mountains have seen it; but in Palestine there is nowhere else such a sight or so glorious a panorama, because nowhere else does a solitary mountain stand up twice the height of the surrounding hills. The great peak of Monte Viso, rising above the Italian snowy ranges, has a finer outline, but Hermon is unlike any mountain with which I am acquainted. It appears as the centre of every view in northern Palestine, and its snowy dome is seen from the plains near Jaffa, and from the valley of Jericho; while on the north its outline is equally impressive from the plains of Cœle-Syria, or from the heights of Lebanon. It is this scone which rises in the mind of Hebrew poets in many ages, and which inspires the Song of Songs: “Look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir, even Hermon, from the lions’ dens, and from the mountains of the leopards.”
The survey of Western Palestine was happily complete in 1877, and the map was out in the following year; but the Memoirs were still not half published when, in 1881, I was again given command of a party instructed to carry the work east of Jordan. The adventures of the fifteen months which followed were far more exciting than any encountered west of the river. Even in 1877, when it was thought that some trouble might arise, the condition of affairs was really favourable, as the Turkish Government was very cordial, and all the dangerous characters were drafted out of the country to the war, leaving only peaceful elders, women, and boys. But in 1881-82 there was great excitement preceding the Alexandria massacres and the expectation of a Moslem Messiah in the year 1300 of the Hegira. In addition to this, our relations with Turkey had altered. The new Sultan refused to prolong our firman or to allow any exploration. The British Government served me with a notice that any expedition I might undertake was at my own risk, and that they would not be responsible for the consequences. We had, therefore, no support on which to rely, and were yet expected to work in the wildest districts, against the will of the Government of the country, and in a time of religious and popular excitement, finally culminating in massacre.