Standard Post with Excerpt
I quickly followed suit, and descending into the bar-room accosted the grinning landlord very pleasantly. I cherished no malice towards him, though he had been skylarking with me not a little in the matter of my bedfellow.
Kate was a wondrous sight. The wood was green as mosses of the Icy Glen; the trees stood high and haughty, feeling their living sap; the industrious earth beneath was as a weaver’s loom, with a gorgeous carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine tendrils formed the warp and woof, and the living flowers the figures. All the trees, with all their laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message carrying air; all these unceasingly were active. Through the lacings of the leaves, the great sun seemed a flying shuttle weaving the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy weaver! unseen weaver whither flows the fabric. What palace may it deck? wherefore all these ceaseless toilings. One single word with thee the shuttle flies the figures float from forth the loom; the freshet-rushing carpet for ever slides away.
The weaver-god he weaves and by that weaving is he deafened, that he hears no mortal voice. That humming we who look on the loom are deafened. Only when we escape it shall we hear the thousand voices that speak through it. For even so it is in all material Factories. The spoken words that are inaudible among the Flying Spindles. Those same words are plainly heard without the walls.
Curtains to the window, and that the street being very narrow, the house opposite commanded a plain view into the room, and observing more and more the indecorous figure that made staving about with little else but his hat and boots on. I begged him as well as I could, to accelerate his toilet somewhat, and particularly to get into his pantaloons as soon as possible. He complied, and then proceeded to wash himself at that time in the morning any Christian would have washed his face to my amazement contented himself with restricting his ablutions to his chest, arms, and hands. Then donned his waistcoat, and taking up a piece of hard soap. On the wash-stand centre table dipped it into water and commenced lathering his face. I was watching to see where he kept his razor, when behold he takes the harpoon from the bed corner and striding up to the bit of mirror against the wall begins a vigorous scraping. Rather harpooning of his cheeks.
Production Connie & Clark