laurel

„BEHOLD! „ cried Sabul Ahmid, with an upward sweep of his bare, brown arm, „behold the Sacred Temple of the people of Astrea! „ I stood up in the boat, my portfolio under my arm. High on the mountain’s side, crowning a thick mass of laurel undergrowth, and flanked by a grove of deep, cool, byana trees, was the building to which my servant was pointing. The material whereof it was fashioned I could...