"I wanted to be at the light,
and have somehow unfortunately involved myself in the
intricacies of your web, from which I cannot get dear without
doing you a great injury. Pray do lend your experienced hand to
extricate me."
"May aw the pearls o' damnation light on your silly snout, an I
dinna estricat ye weel enough! Ye ditit donnart, deil's burd that ye
be! What made ye gang howkin in there to be a poor man's ruin?
Come out, ye vile rag-of-a-muffin, or I gar ye come out wi' mair
shame and disgrace, an' fewer haill banes in your body."
My feet had slipped down through the double warpings of a web,
and not being able to reach the ground with them (there being a
small pit below) I rode upon a number of yielding threads, and,
there being nothing else that I could reach, to extricate myself
was impossible. I was utterly powerless; and, besides, the yarn
and cords hurt me very much. For all that, the destructive weaver
seized a loom-spoke, and began a-beating me most unmercifully,
while, entangled as I was, I could do nothing but shout aloud for
mercy, or assistance, whichever chanced to be within hearing.
The latter at length made its appearance in the form of the
weaver's wife, in the same state of dishabille with himself, who
instantly interfered, and that most strenuously, on my behalf.
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