Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: September 20, 2025
Through these are seen the "Singhi's Garden" with its cluster of huts and tank, and on the edge of the tank the dairy of our milkwoman, Tara; still further on, mixed up with the tree-tops, the various shapes and different heights of the terraced roofs of Calcutta, flashing back the blazing whiteness of the midday sun, stretch right away into the grayish blue of the eastern horizon.
As it was getting gloomy, he took the glass and its contents to the window, and told Gertrude to watch them closely. They leant over the table together, and the milkwoman could see the opaline hue of the egg-fluid changing form as it sank in the water, but she was not near enough to define the shape that it assumed.
Full morning now, with the winter sun shining on the beggars in the market, on the crowds in the parks, on the flower sellers in the Stephansplatz; shining on Harmony's golden head as she bent over a bit of chiffon, on the old milkwoman carrying up the whitewashed staircase her heavy cans of milk; on the carrier pigeon winging its way to the south; beating in through bars to the exalted face of Herr Georgiev; resting on Peter's drooping shoulders, on the neglected mice and the wooden soldier, on the closed eyes of a sick child the worshiped sun, peering forth the golden window of the East.
The Devonian lost heart at so many refusals. He had not the impudence to beg; although, as he said, "when I had money of my own, I always gave it." It was only on Saturday morning, after three whole days of starvation, that he asked a scone from a milkwoman, who added of her own accord a glass of milk.
It was deserted, the shops were still shut, and a milkwoman, with her donkey by her side, was quietly arranging her cans on the pavement. I have not seen M. de la R again. I learned since that he wrote to me in my exile, and that his letter was intercepted. He has, I believe, quitted France. May this touching page convey to him my kind remembrances. The Rue Caumartin leads into the Rue St. Lazare.
Surya Bai hearing a great clatter of horses' hoofs, was frightened, and ran home as fast as possible, and hid herself; and when the Rajah reached the place there was only the old Milkwoman to be seen standing at the door of her hut. Then the Rajah said to her, "Give her up, old woman, you have no right to keep her; she is mine, she is mine!" But the old woman answered, "Are you mad?
"Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!" said she, putting her hand on the head of the little glutton. "He has had no breakfast," puts in one of the others by way of excuse. "Poor little thing," said the milkwoman; "he is left alone in the streets of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good God!" "And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?"
"Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!" said she, putting her hand on the head of the little glutton. "He has had no breakfast," puts in one of the others by way of excuse. "Poor little thing," said the milkwoman; "he is left alone in the streets of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good God!" "And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?"
So the Milkwoman called the girl, and as soon as the old attendant saw her, she knew it was none other than Surya Bai, and her heart jumped for joy; but she remained silent, wondering much, for she knew her mistress had been drowned in the tank.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking