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Updated: May 7, 2025
"I have pricked my finger," she declared to Jeanne as she returned to her, by way of explaining the exclamation that escaped her lips. However, betwixt the spare branches of the spindle-tree the child had seen the incident. Amid the surrounding greenery the soldier's red trousers and greyish shirt were clearly discernible.
A numerous variety of heaths are brought from the Cape of Good Hope, and afford great pleasure to the amateur of exotic plants, being the greatest ornaments to our green-houses. EUONYMUS europaeus. SPINDLE-TREE. An ornamental shrub. The wood is in great request for making skewers for butchers, as it does not impart any unpleasant taste to the meat. FAGUS Castanea.
'Of course it is no affair of ours, a spindle-tree said after they had whispered together, 'but you know quite well you ought not to be here, and perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think yourself? 'I think you should not, Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that they said petulantly there was no arguing with her.
Amongst those which produce the most brilliant autumnal tints, the following are found almost everywhere in the hedges in England: Bramble, hawthorn, wild strawberry, dock, spindle-tree, herb robert, cranes-bill, silver weed, hedge maple, dogwood, black bryony, ivy; while in the kitchen gardens nothing can exceed the beauty of the asparagus and the common carrot.
Zephyrin, meanwhile, raking away, had turned the corner of the path. He was now hidden by a big spindle-tree, and was darting side-glances at Rosalie, luring her on against her will with the strokes of his rake. When she had got near him, he pinched her roughly. "Don't cry out; that's only to show you how I love you!" he said in a husky whisper. "And take that over and above."
Then, while a grand liturgy is recited, the "heaven-startling" Kami, having girdled herself with moss, crowned her head with a wreath of spindle-tree leaves and gathered a bouquet of bamboo grass, mounts upon a hollow wooden vessel and dances, stamping so that the wood resounds and reciting the ten numerals repeatedly.
Walking some forty paces away, Sergey Ivanovitch, knowing he was out of sight, stood still behind a bushy spindle-tree in full flower with its rosy red catkins. It was perfectly still all round him. Only overhead in the birches under which he stood, the flies, like a swarm of bees, buzzed unceasingly, and from time to time the children's voices were floated across to him.
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