The Silken East v
Nature, romantic and terrible, confronts one ; and the civilised man sojourning here for a night feels himself
the valley of the mahtoon
an alien of the moment, standing upon the brink of vast and awful arcana.
Half an hour before the dawn I wake to find all the mists of the night gathered in, like a white sea, in the valley of the Mahtoon. The clear blue hills rise up about them as if to protect them in their secluded home. The full moon, gathering splendour from the growing dawn hangs above the crest of the western hills. The first waves of light come streaming over