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Updated: May 1, 2025
You make me tired!" He did not wait for an answer to the query, but plodded away; and Weston sat still a few minutes longer, with a wry smile in his eyes. He resented being over-driven, though he was more or less used to it, and now and then he found his superior's vitriolic comments upon his efforts almost intolerably galling.
To this paper, which minimizes nearly to the vanishing-point all mention of Corsica, and emphasizes his services as a Frenchman by its insidious omissions, the over-driven officials in Paris took no exception; and on February sixth, 1794, he was confirmed, receiving an assignment for service in the new and regenerated Army of Italy, which had replaced as if by magic the ragged, shoeless, ill-equipped, and half-starved remnants of troops in and about Nice that in the previous year had been dignified by the same title.
This was written in his hotel room, as soon as he returned. Elodie, unnerved by an over-driven dentist's torture, lay resting in her bedroom with closed windows and drawn shutters.
There stood the gray mare, her head down, and her tail bobbin'. 'You've over-driven her, Phelim, says I. 'Perhaps, says he, 'but I knew you were sittin' up for me. The curse of Ireland, says he, 'is that her women sit up for her men. 'How is the poor woman? I says.
Coming from half-starved, over-driven India, it is a revelation to see the animals in Burma. The village ponies and cattle and dogs in India are enough to make the heart bleed for their sordid misery, but in Burma they are a delight to the eye. They are all fat, every one of them fat and comfortable and impertinent; even the ownerless dogs are well fed.
That no Tripoline, or other Ottoman subject, should purchase a slave out of the provinces of Tripoli. 2nd. That the slaves en route for Tripoli should be accompanied by a Government officer, who should watch over them and see that they are not over-driven or inhumanly flogged. 3rd.
You must try to forgive your poor old dad, for he has had a trying time; and now when it is over, the doctor wants me to take my shotgun and go to the Adirondacks for a change. You must not fancy I am sick, only over-driven and under the weather.
By degrees he lapsed into a sort of lethargy, a wretched counterfeit of sleep, his eyes half closed, his breath irregular. But, such as it was, it was infinitely grateful. The little, over-driven cogs and wheels of the mind, at least, moved more slowly. Perhaps by and by this might actually develop into genuine, blessed oblivion. But there was a quick step outside the door. Gretry came in.
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