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Updated: May 4, 2025
The dreamy silence is only broken by the voices that rise from the river below, by the clacking of the sarong weaver's shuttle or the dull boom of a far-away tom-tom. Under such circumstances the conditions necessary for perfect physical enjoyment are very fully realized.
What tortures I endure no words can tell, Far greater these, than those which erst befell From the dire terror of thy consort, Jove E'en stern Eurystheus' dire command above; This of thy daughter, Oeneus, is the fruit, Beguiling me with her envenom'd suit, Whose close embrace doth on my entrails prey, Consuming life; my lungs forbid to play; The blood forsakes my veins; my manly heart Forgets to beat; enervated, each part Neglects its office, while my fatal doom Proceeds ignobly from the weaver's loom.
Yet it is said that she remained victor in a contest with the goddess Athene." "That is perfectly true," answered Bias, "but she had to atone cruelly for this triumph; the goddess struck her on the forehead with the weaver's shuttle, and when, in her shame and rage, she tried to hang herself, she was transformed into the spider."
If their remarks had fallen on an unheeding ear, there were always young men enough, in a different rank from her own, who were willing to compliment the pretty weaver's daughter as they met her in the streets. Besides, trust a girl of sixteen for knowing it well if she is pretty; concerning her plainness she may be ignorant.
Beasley's dark, swarthy face changed its hue. What of the subtle reflection in Weaver's slow speech! One of the men came out of a corral leading Beasley's saddled and bridled horse. This fellow dropped the bridle and sat down among his comrades without a word. No one spoke. The presence of the horse was significant.
"Should I be disappointed I owed your husband no love, my dear, for he had jilted me in the most scandalous way and I thought there would be time to declare the little weaver's son for the true heir.
"I am awaiting with impatience the reflections of Pantophile Diderot on Tancrede," wrote Voltaire: "everything is within the sphere of activity of his genius: he passes from the heights of metaphysics to the weaver's trade, and thence he comes to the stage."
I ought to take room, just here, too, to say that the president of the board was really glad that an issue had come, and that they could now rid the school of Parson Weaver's boy.
See yo; that's one ov her letters!" "Come, child of misfortune, come hither! I'll weep with thee, tear for tear." The weaver's wife spoke very feelingly of the young governess who had been so good to the family.
Colonel Pembroke cleared his throat two or three times upon hearing this last suggestion, and actually took up the weaver's bill with some intention of paying it; but he recollected that he should want the ready money he had in his pocket for another indispensable occasion; for he was obliged to go to Brookes's that night; so he contented his humanity by recommending it to Mr.
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