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It was a sinister figure that crouched in the corner of the deserted smoking-room, like a black spider lurking for his prey. At that moment the porter rushed in, and collared the Mexican. The reason was not far to seek.
There is a kind of eloquence which weaves its thread around the hearer, and gradually draws him into its web, fascinating him with its gaze, entangling him as the spider does the fly, until he is fast: such is the eloquence of C.C. Burleigh. As a debater he is unquestionably the first on the Anti-slavery platform.
Seized with panic at the sight of the approaching enemy, the Spider drops to the ground, with her belly upwards and her legs gathered together. The other dashes forward, clasps her round the body, explores her and prepares to sting her in the mouth. But she does not bare her weapon.
Could this Thing have vanished down the shaft? I lit a match, and, looking down, I saw a small, white, moving creature, with large bright eyes which regarded me steadfastly as it retreated. It made me shudder. It was so like a human spider! It was clambering down the wall, and now I saw for the first time a number of metal foot and hand rests forming a kind of ladder down the shaft.
The surveyor would stop with a sort of bovine surprise, and break out in irritable parenthesis. "That branch on the t'other side o' Panther Ridge? Why, man alive, that thread o' water wouldn't turn a spider web."
There is a deep, crafty old merchant sitting like a spider over his pile of sheeny silks in the corner he hopes to get good prices from the unwary tourist; there is another with a stall of beautiful brass and copper hand-worked things, and others with jewellery and carved ivory.
Then Thistle was very angry, and while the dragon-fly was sleeping among the flowers that hung over the lake, he led an ugly spider to the spot, and bade him weave his nets about the sleeping insect, and bind him fast. The cruel spider gladly obeyed the ungrateful Fairy; and soon the poor fly could move neither leg nor wing.
Some of them hit and flattened on the gable of the railway-official's house, one went through the leathern splashboard of the spider. Saxham moved instinctively to place himself between the closely-standing group of nuns and possible danger. "No, no!" they cried, as one woman, their placid, cheerful tones taking a shade of anxiety. "You must not do that!"
Andover hardly wanted to take the risk." "So The Spider pays for everything!" Pete shook his head. "I don't just sabe." "I saw him watching you once when you were asleep," said Doris. "He seemed terribly anxious. I was afraid of him and I felt sorry for him " Pete lay back and stared at the opposite wall. "He sure was game!" he murmured. "And he was my friend."
He had been fed on Wallace and Bruce, and when things looked darkest, even in very early years, his national hero, Wallace, came to mind, and his struggles against fearful odds, not for selfish ends, but for his country's independence. Did Wallace give up the fight, or ever think of giving up? Never! It was death or victory. Bruce and the spider! Did Bruce falter? Never! Neither would he.
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