Gathering a few flowers and olive leaves for loved ones at home, I left the garden with impressions as blessed as they are imperishable, and began the ascent of Olivet. The Mount of Olives is no less memorable in the annals of Jewish and Christian history than its aspect is impressive to the eye of the beholder. Rising 2800 feet above the Mediterranean, its base is 1000 feet from the city, and its summit half a mile from St. Stephen’s Gate. Having an elevation of more than 400 feet above the bed of the Kidron Valley at “Absalom’s Pillar,” it is 104 feet higher than the crown of Zion, and rises 127 feet above the summit-level of Mount Moriah. Owing to its irregular outline, both its form and cardinal points are difficult to define. Its general direction is north and south, with spurs shooting out toward every point of the compass, and its location agrees with the description by the prophet, who places it before Jerusalem on the east.[196] Including the Hill of Scandal, it may be said to have three peaks, though with equal propriety Scopus might be enumerated among them. Topographically this may be correct, but historically the Hill of Scandal is too far southwest to be included as a part of Olivet, as Mount Scopus is too far north. The two adjacent peaks are distinct, the northern one bearing the name of Galilee, from the supposition that there the angels addressed the Galileans, and the southern one, called by the Arabs Jebel et-Tûr, but by the Christians the Mount of Ascension. The sides of the mountain gently descend east and west, and are streaked horizontally with stripes of green and gray. From base to summit it is terraced and planted with olives, from which the mount derives its name. Though rough and stony, yet in spring-time and summer flowers bloom upon it luxuriantly. On its broad and level summit is the small village of Jebel et-Tûr, clustering around the Church of the Ascension, and, in turn, is surrounded by fields of grain. From Gethsemane three paths lead to this Arab town; one strikes up boldly along a projecting cliff, a second winds up more gradually to the south, while the third follows a gentle ravine, and is the most ancient of the three. It was up the latter path David fled from the rebellion of Absalom, “weeping as he went up, with his head uncovered, and his feet bare.” On the summit, where he lingered to worship, he was met by the faithful Hushai, who, by the king’s command, returned to the city to defeat the counsels of Ahithophel. Just over the hill-top the kind Ziba met the royal fugitive with refreshments. And not far down the eastern declivities is Bahurim, where the cowardly Shimei cursed the king, and where the heroic Abishai was impatient to vindicate his insulted master.[197]