The people, we are told, bitterly complained of the length of ‘the way.’ It was not strange. The Promised Land, so constantly in sight, seemed always to recede as soon as it was approached. They had vainly attempted to enter it from the south; the Philistines kept garrison in the cities on the Mediterranean coast; and now, when a third and last mode of approach was undertaken, their brethren of Edom closed the path. The road, too, which they were thus forced to adopt led them through a desert, which the Assyrian king Esar-haddon describes as a land of drought, inhabited only by ‘snakes and scorpions, which filled the ground like locusts.’[232] These were the ‘fiery serpents’ that bit the Israelites and increased their miseries. A memorial of their sufferings lasted down to the age of Hezekiah. The brazen ‘seraph’ or ‘fiery serpent’ which had been wrought by order of Moses, and planted on the top of a pole, was religiously preserved in the chief sanctuary of the nation. Incense was burned before it, for it had been the means of preserving the people from the fiery poison of the snakes. But the idolatry of which it was the object brought about its destruction. The relic, which had been spared by the earlier kings and priests of Judah, was destroyed by Hezekiah, who realised at last that it was but ‘a piece of brass.’ It is true that doubts have been cast upon its having actually been a monument of the life in the wilderness; but it is difficult for the historian to understand how a modern critic can be better informed on such a point than the contemporaries of Hezekiah.[233] Zalmonah, Punon, and Oboth were the next stages on the journey after Mount Hor. Then came Iye-ha-Abârim, ‘the Ruins of the Hebrews’—a name, it may be, which contained a reminiscence of the settlement of the Israelites in the country.[234] Iye-ha-Abârim was in the plain east of Moab, under the shadow of the mountain-range of Abarim. Then the stream of the Zered was crossed, and the emigrants found themselves in Moab. The banks of the Arnon were the next resting-place. The nation retained but little recollection of the dreary years that had been passed in the wilderness. A few incidents alone were recorded which had broken the monotony of their desert life. But here, on the verge of Canaan and of conquest, the national consciousness awakened into new life. The song was handed down which had been sung when at some station in the desert the ground had been pierced and water found. ‘Spring up, O well!’ it said; ‘sing ye unto it. O well that hast been dug by princes, that hast been pierced by the nobles of the people, by (the direction of) the lawgiver, with their staves!’ Similar songs, according to Professor Goldziher, were sung in old days by the Arab kinsmen of the Israelites when they too dug wells in the desert and the refreshing water bubbled up from below.[235]