Excerpt from The Knight of the Silver Cross: Or Hafed, the Lion of Turkestan, a Tale of the Ottoman Empire
A Beautiful evening it was, soon after the summer of the year 1299 had passed away, and the autumnal clouds began to hover over the city and suburbs of Palmyra. The surrounding fields were covered with the shining yellow grain, ripe for the sickle, and waving in the gentle breeze, which now and then passed over its surface, and then, after sighing among the tops of the many tall old palm trees that raised their lofty heads towards the sunset sky, seemingly in sorrow at leaving a scene so beautiful and pleasant, took its reluctant departure for the chilly regions of the wintry north, laden with the flowery sweets of the torrid zone.
The evening was far advanced into the silent night, the silvery moon shone brightly in the heavenly firmament, and all nature was at peace.
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