. Buz, or, The life and adventures of a honey bee. e her blood; but even at thatmoment poor little Buz did not lose her pluck. ** He shall not triumph over me, she thought,* more than I can possibly help. I will not sayanother word, nor attempt to move him to the worst come to the worst, I can but die !And if he ventures near me before I am quite gone,let him look out for himself! So she remained perfectly still ; and the spidersat motionless at the mouth of his den, watching. CHAPTER X. BATTLE. VICTORY. DEATH. [IE nice tidy little old man wholived in the cottage, had anice tidy littl
. Buz, or, The life and adventures of a honey bee. e her blood; but even at thatmoment poor little Buz did not lose her pluck. ** He shall not triumph over me, she thought,* more than I can possibly help. I will not sayanother word, nor attempt to move him to the worst come to the worst, I can but die !And if he ventures near me before I am quite gone,let him look out for himself! So she remained perfectly still ; and the spidersat motionless at the mouth of his den, watching. CHAPTER X. BATTLE. VICTORY. DEATH. [IE nice tidy little old man wholived in the cottage, had anice tidy little old wife. Theyhad no children, and as he hadearned good wages all his lifeat the mill down below in thevillage, they had put by anice tidy little sum of this, the kind old peopleTii,7-^-^ had promised to give twenty pounds to their nephew Jack, who was on the pointof leaving the old country, and going off to seek hisfortune as an emigrant. As it had been arranged that Jack should call forhis money next day, the old man had been over to. Battle— Victory—Death. 127 the neighboring town to draw it out of the Savingsbank ; and while poor Buz remained a prisoner inthe cobweb, the old couple sat by the fire, countingout the yellow gold which it had taken them so longto collect, but which they were giving away withsuch ready generosity. It looked so bright and beautiful—quite tempt-ing ! Tempting ? Yes, indeed ; too tempting by far ! For as they were counting it over, a face appearedat the window outside. It was an evil face, deeply carved by many vices—drunkenness, cruelty, theft, and even bloodshedhaving stamped their ugly marks upon it. It was the face of a convict recently dischargedfrom prison, who, coming to the cottage to seewhat he could pick up, was having a stealthy lookround before knocking at the door. As his cruel, cunning eyes peered into the room,they suddenly caught sight of the money, whichhad been counted out on a small round table infront of the f
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