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Stribling, T. S., 1881-1965

"Birthright A Novel"

The
thought disturbed him somewhat. It kept him sufficiently on the alert to
stand tapping the balls of his fingers against the glass and looking
steadily toward the Arkwright house.
Presently the watcher perceived that a myriad spider-webs filled the
sunshine with a delicate dancing glister. It was the month of voyaging
spiders. Invisible to Peter, the tiny spinners climbed to the tip-most
twigs of the dead weeds, listed their abdomens, and lassoed the wind
with gossamer lariats; then they let go and sailed away to a hazard of
new fortunes. The air was full of the tiny adventurers. As he stared up
the street, Peter caught the glint of these invisible airships whisking
away to whatever chance might hold for them. There was something epic in
it. It recalled to the mulatto's mind some of Fabre's lovely
descriptions. It reminded him of two or three books on entomology which
he had left in his mother's cabin. He felt he ought to go after them
while the spiders were migrating. He suddenly made up his mind he would
go at once, as soon as he had had dinner; somewhere about one o'clock.


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